New Girl in Little Cove by Damhnait Monaghan (fun books to read for adults .TXT) 📕

mummers ’lowed in?” Bill had been quite pedantic about Sheila not saying allowed. It had to be ’lowed.

The door opened wider and our prospective host smiled broadly. “Lord lightning Jaysus, come in out of it ’til we gets a look at ye.” Then he shouted over his shoulder, “Nettie, there’s mummers after coming.”

His wife came running, a dishtowel still in her hands. She waved shyly then invited us into the kitchen. Then she went to the bottom of the stairs. “Eugene,” she called. “Run next door and tell Phil and Bessie to come ’round and see the mummers.”

Eugene was a student at the school. With no sign of recognition, he ran past us and out into the cold, wearing only a T-shirt. His sister Darlene galloped down the stairs after him. “What crowd is this?” she asked, staring hard at us. She left the kitchen, and I heard her dialling the phone and then her breathless voice saying, “We got mummers here, come over the once!”

Within minutes a dozen people had crowded into the kitchen.

Bill began to talk in an exaggerated whisper:

’Twas on my fateful wedding day

I should have been bright and gay.

But me darling sweetheart crept away

And married a girl from Witless Bay.

Amidst laughter and clapping, Bill began to sob hysterically and fell to his knees in front of Judy, who pointedly ignored him. He clasped his hands to his enormous bosom and jerked a finger at Sheila.

“That’s the hussy who stole him.”

Sheila strode into the centre of the kitchen. She put her hands on her hips and wiggled them from side to side. Then, with one hand on her sombrero and the other on her heart, she spoke loudly, not bothering to mask her own voice:

It was a shocking thing to do

I’m a bad one, through and through.

But please don’t put the blame on me

A little birdie made me, see?

There’d been more discussion about whether I should try to disguise my voice. Bill wanted me to hold up a sign, rather than speak. But in the end, I convinced him I could pull off an Irish brogue. As Sheila left the centre of the room, we gave each other a high-five and I took her place, wriggling my shoulders in an effort to flap my wings.

The Wren the Wren

The Queen of all birds

On St. Stephen’s Day she got caught in the furze.

She dipped her wing in a pint of beer

And bid everyone a Happy New Year.

Although she is little, her honour is great

So rise up now lads and give her a treat.

And if you don’t believe the words that I say

Here’s the old skipper to show you the way.

Someone grabbed my arm, but I pulled away and made for Bill and Sheila. Judy stepped forward and spoke her lines in a deep, low voice, ending with a flourish:

We fine mummers brave and true

Have now put on a show for you.

Guess who we are, go on now, think

While you’re at it, we needs a drink.

We bowed to great applause. We were then offered drinks, which we slipped under our various veils and coverings, sipping with difficulty. Then we waved goodbye and headed off to the next stop. As we walked single file up the road, we talked excitedly about our triumphal appearance.

“We nailed it,” crowed Sheila.

We visited a few more houses and no one guessed who we were. At each house, we had a drink. At the penultimate one, they served neat rum. I was starting to flag when we rounded a corner and saw a house with every light on and music flowing out of its open front door.

“Looks like Eddie Churchill’s on the go tonight,” said Bill. “Funny, he never said anything.”

“We were invited,” said Judy. “But I said we were busy.”

“Now why would you do that?” Bill asked.

“So we could show up in disguise and they wouldn’t be expecting us.”

“You’re a fine woman,” said Bill. “Someone should marry you.”

We walked up the path to Eddie’s house and made our way in. People stepped aside to make room for us, and we ended up in the middle of the kitchen. I spotted Lucille and the hookers clapping time with the musicians. When the song ended, the musicians ceded the floor to us and once more we performed our skit.

“Sacred Heart of Jaysus,” said Lucille. “Who are ye at all?”

I kept my gaze on the linoleum floor, anxious not to give myself away. Also, I didn’t want to catch Sheila’s eye, in case we got the giggles.

Lucille began prodding Bill’s stomach, making him jump about.

A young man came right up close to Sheila and peered in her face. “It’s that French one down to the school, right?”

Lucille circled Sheila, conducting a close inspection. “That’s not Rachel,” she said. “I’d stake me life on it.”

“Well,” said an old man standing by the wood stove. “She talks like her, but I seen that Miss O’Brine at church one time and she’s right short.” He put his hand to his waist. “Only comes up yay high.”

I managed to restrain myself from a defence of my stature.

The young man looked down at Sheila’s feet. “She’s wearing heels though, right?”

Despite Lucille’s protestations, the majority decided that Sheila was me. After some prolonged urging and with a nod from Judy, Sheila took off the sunglasses and sombrero. The room was silenced.

“Who knit you?” asked the young man.

Sheila, ever the wit, replied, “Aunt Pearl.”

There was laughter. Then another question, “What are you doing out this way?”

“Visiting friends,” said Sheila.

“We’re not friends anymore,” said Bill. “Since you stole my Judy.” He clapped his hand over his mouth, but it was too late.

“Bill, my son,” howled Eddie. “You had us fooled.” He jerked his hand at Judy. “I expect this is the missus.” Judy pulled off her headgear and Eddie gave her a hug.

“I needs a drink after being stuffed under that pillowcase,” Judy said.

Sheila, Judy and Bill were all enjoying a drink but I was still disguised, which