Firefly Summer by Maeve Binchy Read Free Book Online Page B

until she showed Dara the gorgeous yellow dress that had arrived in the parcel from America. There were often parcels from America for all of them. Not as many as years back, when Mountfern was poorer maybe, and American uncles and aunts more generous, or postage cheaper. An American parcel was a rarity nowadays. Mrs Daly probably would say nothing about it and its contents, but Maggie was so excited by the yellow net that she couldn’t wait to show it off.
    The bad thing was that Kitty was in the bedroom.
    Kitty yawned when Dara came in. ‘Going to try on the yellow, are you?’
    ‘Well look at it anyway,’ Dara said. Kitty was a pain.
    ‘Not at all, you’re coming to try it on. Half of Mountfern will pass through here trying it on, I can see that. The room will be full of people in vests and knickers bursting into the yellow dress.’
    ‘Are you going to wear it?’ Dara asked Maggie, deliberately ignoring the elder girl.
    ‘I don’t think so.’ Maggie was pleased to be consulted.
    ‘You see it’s a bit low-necked, and it’s a bit big, I’m kind of lost in it. And it’s so gorgeous it would be a pity to cut it down for me. Wasting so much material, you see.’ Her face showed her longing for the yellow satin with an overskirt of yellow net, and with yellow embroidery and sequins on the bodice. It was like something you’d see in the pictures; it was far too old for them in one way, and yet it was a girlish-looking dress with big puff sleeves. Dara was dying to put it on but she wouldn’t give Kitty the satisfaction of watching her.
    ‘You wouldn’t have to get much taken out of it, Maggie, wouldn’t Miss Hayes do a great job on it?’ Miss Hayes did some dressmaking in Mountfern but had never been let loose on exotic fabric like this, to their knowledge.
    Kitty was lying on her bed reading the life story of Helen Shapiro who had managed to escape from childhood by having a voice that took her into the hit parade. She’d never have escaped if she had been born in Mountfern, Kitty Daly thought darkly.
    ‘It would look ridiculous on Maggie, no matter what Miss Hayes did to it. That’s a dress that needs a chest. Maggie hasn’t got a chest to put into it.’
    ‘None of us has a chest to put into it yet,’ Dara cried with spirit. ‘While we’re waiting we could put a rolled-up pair of socks. Like you often do, Kitty Daly.’
    ‘You told her!’ Kitty’s face was dark red with rage, and she looked menacingly at Maggie.
    ‘I didn’t know!’ Maggie was transparently honest and terrified.
    ‘Come on, Maggie, let’s leave Kitty the room to herself, we’re only in the way.’ Dara felt it was time to escape. They hung up the yellow dress carefully and pulled back the transparent plastic cover that came with it. It was the most beautiful thing they had ever seen. They envied the cousin of the Dalys somewhere in America who had worn it to her Junior Prom. Whatever a Junior Prom might be.
    They were going to the Protestant graveyard at the top of the town. Nobody would disturb them there. Mr Williams the vicar had realised that the children didn’t tear around playing hide and seek among the headstones, there was no disrespect to the graves of the various members of the Fern family and the rest of the small Protestant community hereabouts.
    It was a peaceful place for the children to come and talk. Mr and Mrs Williams had no children of their own, they were indulgent with the children of others.
    Up Bridge Street the little band walked slowly. They looked wistfully at the Classic which was showing
The Glass Mountain
. Imagine having the money and freedom just to drop in to the pictures whenever you wanted to.
    ‘We’ll be able to do that when we’re old,’ Dara said.
    Tommy Leonard didn’t think so; he thought being old was going to be more of the same.
    They looked into Conway’s grocery and pub. At the back, hidden away, they saw the feet of three drinkers in the discreet bar area. They often