‘Oh.’ She blinked. She hadn’t been expecting that but suddenly her mouth twitched and that big goofy grin, the one she could never contain for long when she looked at Gerry, spread across her face. ‘I would love nothing more than to marry you.’
Present
CLIO GAZED AT THE LETTER she had clutched in her hand. It was the last correspondence she’d ever received from Gerry until the Christmas card that had arrived the other day had sent her into such a spin. Old memories seemed so fresh when they were brought out and examined like this, she mused, eying the words in that oh so familiar handwriting in front of her. Words she could almost recite by heart. The letter was dated the eighth of July 1958. Gerry had been home for three long months when she’d received it. She’d run up to her bedroom, ripping it open eagerly, as she did every Friday when his letters arrived like clockwork, and the ticket for her passage had fallen out along with a note from his mother.
It was real, it was really going to happen, she was going to Boston, she’d thought, picking the ticket up and staring at it with both fear and excitement. The note, she saw, was neatly written on embossed personalised stationery and it was intended to welcome Clio to the family. Mrs Byrne wrote how excited she and Mr Byrne were over her and Gerry’s engagement. How lovely it was going to be to welcome a daughter into the family, and that they were so looking forward to meeting her. She’d expressed sympathy, understanding the idea of setting sail for a new country must be daunting both for herself and her family, but that she, and her parents were not to worry. She’d be well looked after. Arrangements had been made for the sake of propriety for her to stay with a Mrs Geraghty who was used to lodging homesick young women and would look after her well. She ran a clean and respectable establishment where Clio would stay until the wedding. After which she and Gerry would be gifted a townhouse in which to start their married life. Cliona had skimmed over the rest of the note.
We’ve a lot to organize, my dear, with your engagement party and the wedding. John pulled some strings and the Holy Cross Cathedral is booked for the 9th of November. It’s quite the coup given the short notice. Wait until you see inside it, Cliona, my dear, it is breathtaking and the acoustics have to be heard to be believed. I get goosebumps just thinking about it all. You and Gerald will be the toast of the town! Now, given it’s to be a winter wedding I’m thinking Balmain for the gown. Audrey Hepburn wore a Balmain on her wedding day and the sleeves were magnificent and perhaps, Balenciaga for your engagement? Oh, we’re going to have such fun, you and I, Cliona. As for the invitations plain black ink on cream paper is simple but stylish don’t you think?
The rest of the words had blurred. It was like trying to read a foreign language. She’d put the note to one side and scanned Gerry’s letter, wanting to find comfort in hearing his voice through his words. It hadn’t helped quell her anxiety though, as he’d written his mother was driving him nuts because all she could talk about was the engagement party and the wedding. The engagement party was intended to formally introduce Clio to Boston society and Mrs Byrne was hopeful of the Kennedys attending both. She was getting herself very agitated over the arrangements and was impatient for Clio to arrive so they could finalise the details. There was a lot to be done, or so his mother said. He’d be just as happy for them to elope but he’d never be forgiven if they did. Don’t worry, my darling, he’d written. Once we’re married our life will begin.
The letter and its enclosures had arrived seven days before she was due to sail, plenty of time for Clio to begin to feel apprehensive about the idea of crossing the Atlantic on her own. She wanted Mammy to come with her but she couldn’t leave the littlies and ‘Besides,’ she’d said, ‘wasn’t it better they saved their pennies for the wedding? Sure, you’ll be grand, Clio, aren’t you a capable young woman, who’s going to be welcomed into her new family. There’s nothing to be anxious about.’ But Clio was anxious.
Mammy and Daddy were in raptures the more they learned of what she could expect on her arrival. ‘You’ll never have to work again, Clio. Sure, it’s a life of fine clothes and a fine home for you, my girl. You’ll be living in the lap of luxury,’ Mammy had trilled. She’d caught her telling Mrs Fitzpatrick two doors down that she and Gerry were being given a townhouse in Boston as a wedding present. ‘Imagine that?’ she’d said to the hard-faced old woman who used to tell Clio and her friends off for being boisterous when she was younger. Mrs Fitzpatrick had turned pea green. Mrs Byrne had said she and Gerry would be the toast of the town. Well, she was definitely the talk of the street, Clio had humphed to herself, because she’d also overheard Mrs Fitzpatrick telling Mrs Murphy in a voice designed to carry, that young Cliona Whelan had gotten ideas above her station.
When Mammy wasn’t telling anyone who cared to listen about Clio’s new life in Boston she was fretting over the Whelans showing her up. Worried they’d arrive in Boston looking like country hicks from over the sea. She’d been making cutbacks when it came to the food bill so as to deck them all out in clothes befitting a society wedding. This was to the disgruntlement of Clio’s brothers and sisters
