Letter to Molly, January 10th, 1946
Dear Molly,
Heard that you got thrown out of the Collegiate because you threw the blackboard duster at Miss Blackburn. She was a dark miserable little creature but did you have to go so far? So now you are studying at the convent with the nuns. What a riot, Molly. Sounds like you’re out of the frying pan into the fire. I heard that, when you graduate, you are going to France to be an au pair girl. You do have some experience with children because I well remember being pestered by your four rowdy little brothers.
The last few months have been incredibly miserable. Remember Dad died almost a year ago? Mum’s dead broke and she came up with this weird idea when Miss Sullivan, an elderly lady, came to visit in Ireland. She had known Mum’s family when they all lived in Glasgow. Mum decided that I should be apprenticed to Miss Sullivan and learn the millinery trade. Before I knew it, I was on the boat to Glasgow, accompanied by my uncle who still had a business there. On a dark wintry evening, we arrived at the Sullivan home on Duke Street. They lived not too far from the Gallow Gate that was a slummy area though not quite as bad as the infamous Gorbals. They lived in a gloomy flat above a grocery store. Sooty windows and grimy lace curtains. There were two Miss Sullivans and a Mr. Sullivan. He was the brother who was a drover at the wholesale meat market. That was my uncle’s business.
That night I retired early, hoping for a good night’s rest. This was not to be because the bedroom was as unpleasant as the rest of the flat. My bedroom walls were hung with family portraits of grim-faced Sullivans of yesteryear. The blankets stank of fumes from the gas fire. I wept into my pillow, overcome with home sickness.
Next day, Miss Sullivan walked me to her shop through the smog of a dark morning. It was then that I knew how Dickens felt when he had to work in that awful factory. I found a total sweatshop but with only one employee. Maggie was a scrawny woman , so slug-white in the face, that she looked as if she had spent her life under a rock. The back of the shop was filled with smelly second- hand dresses that we had to cut up and stitch over hat frames. I did it all day to return home with Miss Sullivan who walked very very very slowly. Dinner was sausages and grey lumpy mashed potatoes. All evening, I had to put up with the Misses Sullivan’s copious tears ; they were mourning a sister who had recently died. Then I understood why they were dressed in black from head to toe.
Later in the week, a man who worked in the meat market visited. The Sullivans muttered darkly that he was divorced. So what? He was just an old man in my eyes. However, as things transpired, he might have had a fancy for me.
My second cousins, Alec and Fanny, lived in an affluent suburb. I had had Sunday dinner with them and they drove me home. They were about to leave when the phone rang. It was that divorced man who asked if the Sullivans were home. When I replied in the negative, Alec and Fanny lit into me: seemed that one should never even suggest that one was home alone in dirty Glasgow. Next thing, the old man arrived, very drunk. Soon, I was on my way back to the suburb with my concerned cousins ; I hardly had time to pack my clothes. So home again in Ireland; my millinery career lasted one week !! One nice thing, my uncle paid my airfare home. My first air flight was so fun!!
I still hear from my boyfriend in Canada. His letters are full of gloom. He doesn’t think that he will make his university year. I will have to look for a job pretty soon. There is nothing here in the country. Maybe, I will try Dublin; it might be better than black evil Glasgow.
Write soon and tell me your news. I don’t know how you can put up with the convent. Old women , who wear black clothing, give me the creeps!!
Love
Jane
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