Page 131 of The Missing Sister
She stared at him open-mouthed. ‘No, I...’
‘It’s all right, Mary,’ Ambrose said gently, ‘I’m sorry to have upset you. I’m only trying to explain to you how people believe in different things. Like you and Katie believing in ghosts, while your other sisters don’t. It doesn’t make any of us wrong, it just means that you have different beliefs. And that’s perfectly all right.’
‘Yes,’ she nodded, because she did sort of see what he meant, but God wasn’t a ghost.
‘Now, shall we get to the story?’ he said. ‘So, we will begin...’
Merry was so gripped by the story, it took Ambrose to point to baby Pat to rouse her from her listening. ‘Perhaps we should stop there, Mary dear, as your little brother seems to be hungry.’
Merry came back into the real world with a jolt; they’d just got to the part where the Ghost of Christmas Past had arrived, seeming so jolly after the very scary Jacob Marley ghost. She turned her gaze towards the wailing Pat and only just stopped herself sticking out her tongue at him.
‘I’ll go and find Mammy.’ Sweeping up the offending baby, she marched him into the kitchen, where her mother was rolling out pastry.
‘Sorry, Mammy, but...’
Her mother sighed and brushed a floury hand across her brow, leaving a slight sprinkling of white dust across it.
‘He also smells,’ Merry added as she placed Pat in her mother’s arms, then swiftly turned towards the kitchen door, eager to get back to the story.
‘Now then, girl, would you not be changing him for me before you go? Unless you have better things to do.’
Merry rolled her eyes then turned back to her mother, resigned. ‘O’course, Mammy,’ she said.
It was almost time to leave for home when Ambrose beckoned Merry back into the study. She was still holding a grizzling Pat in her arms. Every time she’d put him down, he’d start up the racket all over again, so they hadn’t carried on with the story.
‘Today I’m nearly hating you, Patrick O’Reilly,’ she whispered to him as she walked down the corridor towards the study.
‘Why don’t I take Pat for a while?’ suggested Ambrose, and promptly took the babe from her. Pat stopped fussing immediately and just looked up into Ambrose’s owl eyes. ‘What a good boy he is,’ said Ambrose. ‘And that touch of dark hair, just like your daddy.’
‘I was hoping he’d be blond like me, so I wouldn’t be the only one in the family,’ she said. ‘Katie says ’tis because I’m the youngest sister. God ran out of colour and that’s why my hair is so light.’
‘Katie certainly has an imagination,’ Ambrose chuckled. ‘Now then, Mary, I’ll be here with Father O’Brien over the next few days, so perhaps it will be possible for us to continueA Christmas Carolbefore I leave. But for now...’
He pointed to a flat package on Father O’Brien’s desk that was wrapped in bright red paper with Santys all over it. It was proper Christmas paper, not the plain brown stuff that her family used for presents.
‘Ooh! Ambrose, I...’
‘Perhaps you should open it now, so your brothers and sisters don’t get jealous, eh?’
‘Do you think it’s all right to do that before Santy comes?’
‘Yes indeed, because this is frommefor Christmas. Now then, sit down and open it.’
Merry did so, quivering with excitement about what could be inside, although from the shape and feel of it, she’d a pretty good guess. She undid the ribbon and the wrapping carefully, because if Ambrose would let her, she wanted to keep it and use it for some of her own presents. Peeling it back, she stared at the words on the front cover of what she’d already known was a book.
‘’Tis beautiful. Thank you, Ambrose.’
‘Can you read the name of the book, Mary?’
‘Um... could I have a go?’
‘Please do.’
‘The My-thes and Leg-ends of the Gre... Greek Gods!’ Merry looked up at him to see whether she’d got it right.
‘That was a very good try indeed. It’s actuallyThe Myths and Legends of the Greek Gods. Myths and legends are similar words for the old Irish tales you’ve heard from your parents. These stories are about gods who lived in Greece long ago, on top of a mountain called Olympus.’
Merry was still transfixed by the front cover. The letters were all made of gold and she traced her fingers over them. The figure on the front was a man with a bare chest, but at least he had material covering his middle parts, so he looked like Jesus did on the cross. Except he had a pair of wings on his back, which Jesus didn’t have, because wings belonged to birds and angels.
