Christmas in Cathedral Street

The doll stared at Eileen through the Christmas window at Clery’s Department Store, her long dark eyelashes so lifelike that Eileen watched, entranced, waiting for her to blink. Eileen desperately wanted a doll with eyes that blinked. The doll’s blonde hair fell in ringlets to the shoulders of her green satin frock. She sat in splendour on a big pile of wrapped presents. Eileen wanted that doll more than anything. She had wanted it for ages.
“Hurry up Eileen, Mammy’s waiting. I thought you didn’t like green anyway.” Her little sister, Maura, was tugging at her coat.
“I don’t. But I asked Santa to bring her with a blue dress instead,” Eileen explained, as Maura pulled her away from the shop window and along O’Connell street after Mammy. Eileen reluctantly allowed herself to follow. She was in the bad books anyway, no need to make things worse. They had to run to catch up with Mammy.
Eileen thought Mammy was the most elegant lady in the world. She had beautiful legs (The Walsh legs - they ran in the family, Mammy said) and she always wore heels to set them off. She walked with a distinctive, deliberate step. Even going to the market in Moore Street, she wore heels and today she was wearing her fox fur. She usually only wore this on special occasions but today was Christmas Eve. Maybe that’s why she’s wearing it, thought Eileen, giving a little skip of joy. Christmas Eve was the best day of the year, almost better than Christmas Day. You didn’t have to go to Mass on Christmas Eve, for one thing and besides, Eileen loved the bustle and preparations at home and in the Shop the day before Christmas.
Mammy looked around and took one girls’ hand in each of hers as they crossed the busy street, the biggest street in Dublin. It was early in the day, but still there were lots of horses and carts, trams and motor cars, and the crowds were starting already.
“Stay close now, girls.” Mammy ordered as they reached Henry Street and made their way down to Moore Street. Both the girls were carrying shopping bags and they felt very important. Mammy was going to buy the vegetables for the Christmas dinners and they were going to help. The goose and the hams were arriving later today with Granny Moore, all the way from the farm in the country and Peg Malloy, the girl who helped Mammy in the kitchen, would be cleaning and preparing the bird tonight, whilst Mammy made the stuffing herself.
Already Eileen could hear the Moore Street market traders calling out their wares. Mammy said they were the biggest ‘chancers’ in Dublin. They’d sell you a pig in a poke as soon as look at you, she said and you had to be up to them. Mammy was more than up to them. She demanded to see every sprout before it went in the bag and examined each carrot carefully. The women knew her well and had learned not to take advantage. It was a tough way to make a living and they felt they had a right to use every trick they knew to make a sale. Eileen was scared of their loud voices and the way they had of yelling out insults to those who had displeased them, collapsing into shouts of laughter as their insults hit home and their embarrassed prey scuttled out of sight with red faces.
“Lookatyerwan! Dere she goes, sorry yer Majesty, me sprouts not good’nuff fer ya? Not what yer used to at de Palace?”
But they never shouted at Mammy.

On the way home, Mammy bought some jellied sweets for the girls - a real treat - and they chewed happily as they trotted behind her. She often stopped to talk to people and wish them a Happy Christmas and sometimes she would press a small bag of something into a grateful hand.
As they came round the corner from O’Connell Street into Cathedral Street, Eileen and Maura saw a pony and trap outside ‘the Shop‘. Granny Moore had arrived for Christmas. To the girls, this was a mixed blessing.
“Why does Granny have to sleep in our room?” Eileen had asked that morning, as Mammy and Peg were stripping the beds and putting on fresh sheets for Granny. “She snores - and besides, her mouth is all funny.”
“Don’t make personal remarks, Eileen,” her mother had said crossly. “Granny sleeps in with you girls, like every year. I can’t put her in with the lads, now can I?”
Peg had made Eileen laugh by making a funny face at her - widening her eyes and ‘throwing them up to heaven’ as she called it herself. Eileen giggled, which made Mammy look at her sharply.
“I’ve my eye on you, Miss,” she had said shortly and left Peg to it, leaving the room in her brisk way.

In 1937 everyone knew Tommy Moore’s pub, which was simply called ‘the Shop’. It was in Cathedral street, just across from the Pro-Cathedral. So close the girls were woken every day by the sound of the Church bells. The bar was on the ground floor and the family lived over the Shop on the three floors above. It was always busy, not just in the Shop, but in the kitchen too. There were always visitors up from the country. Now Granny Moore and the Christmas Goose were being helped out of the trap and into the Shop. Mammy hurried down the street to greet her mother-in-law, telling the girls to get the vegetables to the kitchen. But Eileen was dying to tell Daddy about the doll, so she waited just inside the door of the bar until Mammy and Granny had gone upstairs to the parlour. Then she ran after him as he made his way back behind the counter.
“Daddy, I saw the doll!! The doll with the blinking eyes.” ‘The Boss’ was a small, compact man with an air of quiet authority and a twinkle in his eye. He had a soft spot for Eileen but it was Christmas Eve, a busy day in the bar, and the children weren’t allowed to be in the bar anyway.
“Well,” he said, “For a young lady who recently ruined her mother’s Christmas cakes, you’ve a cheek coming in here talking to me about dolls.” There was a ripple of laughter around the room from the regulars - all of whom had heard the story. Eileen went red and ran back, up the stairs to the kitchen. She had just about forgotten about the cakes. Now she had been reminded, she began to worry again. She wasn’t sure she had been good enough this year and she just knew she would die if Santa didn’t bring the doll.

She dumped the bag of vegetables on the kitchen table and escaped before Mammy or Peg could give her a job to do. On her way up to the room she shared with Maura she paused outside the parlour door. She could hear Mammy and Granny talking.
“How’s that romance of Liam’s going? With the blondie one?”
“I don’t know, Granny,” Eileen heard Mammy say with a sigh. “Every night I pray that the right woman will come along for him. Someone sensible, who’ll look out for him. That’s my prayer.”
“I’d say the last thing that lad’s looking for in a girl is sense,” Granny said tartly.
Eileen started as fingers tugged at one of her pigtails. “Ouch!” She rubbed her head.
“Keyhole Kate! That’s what you get for eavesdropping. You know eavesdroppers never hear good of themselves.” Her eldest brother Liam was on his way down to help in the Shop. At nineteen, he was very grown up, or thought he was.
“Well, that’s all you know. They were talking about you!” She ran past, evading his long reach, and headed up to the bedroom she shared with Maura.
Peg had made the beds and Eileen looked at the bed she would share with Granny. She sighed. She had to share the big bed because she was thinner than Maura and Granny was just a little speck of a woman, Mammy said. Maura was only seven, but she was a stout little one. Eileen was ten and skinny as a stick. Eileen pictured the blonde doll with the blinking eyes, sitting on the end of the bed on Christmas morning, and closed her eyes tight.
“I wish, I wish,” she said aloud.
“What do you wish?”
Maura came in and jumped on her bed.
“I wish I didn’t have to share a bed with Granny.”
“Well, at least she calls you Eileen, she calls me Moll. I hate that. Anyway,
“Mammy wants you. There’s loads to do for the dinner. You‘ve to set the table”
Eileen sighed.

After the dinner, when all the boys from the Shop had gone back to work for the afternoon, Eileen helped Peg Malloy with the washing up in the kitchen. As Granny rose from the table to go up for her rest, she asked,
“Have ye the cakes iced?”
Eileen froze. Now Mammy would tell her the story, too.
“I have, Granny,” she looked over at the girls. “I’d to ice them twice.”
“So I heard,” said Granny.
“What were ye at?” she demanded. “Yer Mammy spends hours baking and icing and you destroy all that work?”
Eileen knew it was useless to defend themselves. But why Mammy had put the cakes on the little table in their bedroom to let the icing set, she did not know. Wasn’t she just asking for trouble? Anyway, Maura started it. She was always hungry and she couldn’t sleep that night. So she just stuck one finger in the soft white sugary topping and scooped up a fingerful. It was so delicious, she did it again. Well, how could Eileen resist? By the morning, there was very little icing left and sticky finger marks everywhere. They felt the back of Mammy’s hand that day but worse than that, she had told Eileen that they might not get what they wanted for Christmas. She was the older one, she should have known better, she said. Now they were talking about it again, and wouldn’t that only remind Santa?
Eileen felt the tears coming and bent her head to hide them. Just then, the Boss looked up from his paper.
“Arra, what’s the matter? Sure let them alone - isn’t it done with now? We’ll hear no more about it.”
Eileen beamed at him. “Go on with you now, the two of ye,” he said. “I want a word with your Mammy.”

“What’ll we do?” asked Maura.
“Let’s play in Mammy’s room!” suggested her sister.
“Bags I the fox fur!”
And they scrambled up the stairs together.
This was one of their favourite games. Mammy’s fox fur was the height of fashion - two small fox heads sewn onto either end of two fox brushes, which were joined in the middle, to make a scarf - when worn, the fox heads draped elegantly on either side of the wearer‘s shoulders. The girls would take it in turns to wear it, dressing up with Mammy’s high heels and lipstick or tie a piece of string to it, and drag it along the carpet, like a mutant dog with two heads.

Later, Eileen peeked in the door of her big brothers’ bedroom. Liam was choosing his tie for the evening. He saw her reflected in the dressing mirror and without turning, said rather ungraciously, “Well, what do you want?”
Eileen came in and sat on his bed. “I like the red one.”
“Do you?” he asked, in his big brother, sarcastic tone.
“Liam,” she asked, “How’s the romance going?”
“What? Who put that idea into your head? I’ve no romance going.”
“Not even with a blondie one?”
“For God’s sake, who have you been talking to?” he said, annoyed.
“Nobody. Are you off out tonight?”
“I am,” he said.
“You won’t be back too late, will you? ‘Cos we all have to be asleep in bed before Santa will come.”
He turned round from inspecting his reflection in the mirror and looked at her where she sat on his bed, big hazel eyes, twisting one untidy plait round her little finger. His gaze softened.
“Okay, I’ll try not to be too late.”
“Thanks!”
Eileen scampered out of the room and downstairs for tea. The kitchen was a maelstrom of activity. Peg, red-faced and harried, was peeling mountains of potatoes for the Christmas dinner tomorrow. The goose was plucked and ready in the cold pantry, waiting for Mammy to do the stuffing. Now Mammy was everywhere at once, preparing the tea for the Boss and for Granny, the boys from the Shop and any waifs and strays the Boss might produce for feeding. Hurlers from all over the country were fed in Mammy’s kitchen and Christmas Eve would be no exception. Then she had the preparations for the dinner tomorrow to start.
The puddings were standing ready for the two hours’ boiling on the day and the sprouts were waiting in their bags to be prepared. Mammy had made the puddings and the cakes months ago and Eileen’s mouth watered as she thought of what that pudding would taste like on Christmas Day. Black with stout, steaming and soft, brandy butter melting on your tongue. For Eileen, it would always be the taste of Christmas.
All the lads were in the kitchen except Eamon, in trouble again and working in the Shop. Eamon was two years younger than Liam and he was always in trouble. Eileen was wary of his sharp tongue. He had a way with words if he could learn to use it well. If only he could stop giving cheek to the Boss, he’d have an easier life, but he had a bad habit of answering back. When he felt like it, he would have them all in stitches. Eileen loved it when he was in a good mood. Lately, he hadn’t been in a good mood at all. Shem, who at one year old was the baby of the family and Joe, next in line at four, were getting under Peg’s feet and she picked up Shem before shooing Joe away. Tommy, a solemn eight year old, was sitting at the kitchen table, quietly consuming bread and jam and observing the activity around him. Peg caught sight of Eileen,
“Have you not had yer tea yet?” She snapped. “Get yourself some milk, there’s bread and butter and jam there. Eat up and then get these bold boys out with you. Can you not finish making your paper chains for the parlour?”
Eileen nearly gave herself indigestion bolting down her tea, then picking up the baby and with jammy face and hands, she led her little brothers off to the parlour, where they proceeded to make some rather sticky paper chains, which activity was greatly impeded by Shem’s determination to scrunch and destroy as much paper as possible and Maura’s loud protestations at being left out, when she discovered them all in the parlour.

Eileen didn’t feel a bit sleepy when Mammy came and told them to go to bed, but she knew that Santa wouldn’t come while she was awake, so she did what she was told and helped Peg with the baby, said the ‘Now I lay me down to sleep’ prayer with Joe, Maura and Tommy and finally climbed into the bed she was to share with Granny. It wasn’t long before she heard the creak on the stairs outside the door and Granny crept into the room. The night light was on beside Maura’s bed and the two girls watched Granny’s shadow, huge on the wall, as the flannel nightdress went on and she knelt down with some difficulty to say her prayers. Granny always had a lot of prayers to say and they had to stay very quiet while the prayers were said, but finally she got to her feet slowly and Eileen could feel the mattress dip as she climbed in and settled herself, rosary beads still twined round her worn old fingers.
“Quinch the light, Moll,” she said, “The light of Heaven on us all.”

Eileen tried to go to sleep, she really did, but long after Maura and Granny had nodded off, she was wide awake with excitement. For a long time she lay and listened to the sounds of activity coming from far away downstairs. Now it was quiet. Suddenly she caught the smell of cigarette smoke. She got out of bed very carefully and padded to the door. Just as she had suspected, there was Liam, slightly dishevelled, tie askew, sprawled on the stairs outside the door, enjoying a late night smoke. Eileen slipped out onto the landing and closed the door softly behind her.
“I can’t sleep,” she said.
Liam glanced up and being in a mellow mood, patted the stair beside him. Eileen had been waiting for his invitation and now she joined him, her two little perfect feet beside his big shiny brown shoes. He took a puff, then passed the cigarette to her without thinking. Eileen took a pull, the way she’d seen him and Eamon do it. Her ensuing coughing fit was loud enough to wake the dead and wasn’t helped by Liam slapping her on the back a little too enthusiastically. With streaming eyes, she handed the cigarette back to him.
“Sorry,” he said. “How old are you again? When you’re fourteen I’ll give you another drag.”
Eileen wiped her eyes with a sleeve and tucked her nightdress round her knees. It was cold on the landing.
“Liam,” she asked. “Do you think Santa will bring me the doll with the blinking eyes?”
As he had just been wishing his mother goodnight downstairs where she sat at the end of a very long day at her sewing machine, making a small blue dress for the doll in question, he had no doubt that Eileen’s wish would come true. But being an older brother…
“Well,” he remarked, regarding his cigarette with a considering air, “If it wasn’t for that cake business…”
“I know, that’s what I’m afraid of - but I’m so sorry about that, and I did tell Mammy I was sorry and the cakes are iced again. I didn‘t mean to be bold,” she said in a rush.
Her little face was so woebegone that Liam took pity.
“I think,” he said to her, “If you go off back to bed now and do your best to get to sleep, you might have a nice surprise in the morning. I don’t think he’ll be too bothered about that cake business, myself.”
“Really?”
“Really. And listen - no need to mention that ‘oul drag of a cigarette to anyone, ok? I don’t think -eh- Santa would be too pleased about that.”
“Oh I won’t Liam.”
Eileen got to her feet and yawned suddenly. Maybe she would be able to sleep after all.
“’Night Liam. Merry Christmas.”
“’Night Eileen. See ya tomorrow.”
Back in bed beside Granny, Eileen rubbed her cold feet together to warm them up. The last thought she had as she fell asleep was that Liam had been wearing his red tie.

Granny woke early on Christmas morning, as she did every morning now. For a few minutes she lay there with her eyes closed and thanked God for granting her another day, another Christmas Day. The child in the bed with her was still asleep and Granny sat up slowly, not wanting to wake her. There, at the end of the bed, resplendent in a blue chiffon dress with a matching underskirt of satin and net, sat a large yellow haired doll with blinking eyes. A price tag was still attached to the doll’s ankle.
“The cross of Christ about my soul! Did Tom pay that for this yoke?”
And with that, Eileen’s Christmas Day began.