Mrs Logan looks across at her daughter Lisa at the sink. There is a certain stance of Lisa's that she knows signifies boredom.
- You've not said a word since we got back from mass. What's the matter with you?
Lisa turns round and stares at her mother.
- I'm peeling the spuds. Not the most exciting chore in the world.
- Normally, you're chatting the legs off a pig, but this morning you've a mood on you.
- I've not got a mood.
- You have. I can see it in your eyes. Those eyes of yours reveal more of you than you know.
Lisa turns and starts to peel the potatoes again. What does she know of eyes. She's no optician. She sighs.
- I can tell with you. Your silence says more than your noise.
Lisa turns again; holds a potato in her hand. I could throw this at her the way she goes on. Yap, yap.
- Your da said your mind's not on the job.
- I'm just doing what I'm asked.
- If you've a worry, you can tell me.
I'd rather tell the Pope. Tell anyone, but her. Lisa puts the potato down in the sink. She wipes her hands on her apron.
- There's nothing wrong. I just like my silence sometimes. I don't have to be yakking all the time.
- Your manners are bad I've noticed recently. The sisters have told me.
- They exaggerate. It's the life they lead. Shut up from the world like that.
- They are good women. I won't have a word spoken against them. God, if your da heard you now he'd lay you one.
Lisa looks back at the sink; picks up a potato and begins peeling again. She sighs. Better not get too over the top or she'll not let me go to tea with Mona. Better be all polite and say the words.
- Sorry. I'm just not in the mood for talking. The sisters are as you say, good women. Although I'd not want to be a nun myself.
- I'm thinking so are they.
Lisa laughs. Looks over her shoulder. Her mother, who is preparing other vegetables, has a grin on her face.
- I can go to tea, can't I?
- I've said you can, so long as the chores are done.
Mrs Logan wipes her brow with the back of her hand; looks at Lisa for a few seconds. Lisa is peeling the potatoes with her head hung to one side, her body betraying utter boredom.
Lisa stares at the potatoes. Mona and I were so close this morning; couldn't touch hands even. I saw her eyes and those lips; I wanted to grab her; kiss her lips off. Side by bloody side; not so much as a touch of her flesh.
- Your da says that Collins boy was hanging about the other night.
Lisa stops and turns.
- He's always hanging around. He's nothing to me. It's Jamie he's after.
- Jamie says it's you the boy's after.
- What would I want with the likes of him?
Mrs Logan stares at Lisa. Her eyes narrowing.
- I've no idea, but your da doesn't like him hanging about here.
- Then tell Da to tell him.
- Why would he hang around if you'd not encouraged him?
- You get bees around a honey pot; is the honey pot to blame?
- Just tell him to stay away or you da will.
Lisa nods. He's a real idjit. I've told him I'm not interested in him or his stupid games. Mother of God, why's he so stupid. He looks half-witted. People are allowed to be dumb, but he abuses the privilege.
- Make sure you wear something nice for this tea. I don't want those Molloys thinking badly of you.
Lisa nods. What shall I wear? Something to stun Mona into submission. I can borrow some of my mammy's powder. Oh, I can't wait. These damned spuds. Wish these were her hands; I'd hold them, smooth them, kiss them, and kiss them repeatedly until my lips were bruised with it all.
- And make sure you brush your hair tidily, too. You will go around with it all over the place.
Lisa looks over her shoulder; smiles at her mother.
- I'll look like a glamour girl.
- Not too glamorous. Don't want them thinking you're that sort.
What sort is that? Funny ideas the mammy has. Age and that. Time and tide. She wipes her hands again on the apron.
- What now? I've done them spuds.
- See if your da needs you. He said something about you doing something, but I've forgotten what it was.
Lisa pulls a face.
Her mother puts the vegetables in a saucepan. Turns away from Lisa. Then as if Lisa wasn't there, she goes out the back door to the washing.
Lisa shrugs her shoulders. Wish to hell the hours'd go; need to see her. Want to be with her. Get to be with her again. Lisa sighs. Looks around the kitchen; then taking a deep intake of air, she goes out of the kitchen along the path to the milking shed. As she walks she puts on a wiggle of her hips, as if the path were a catwalk and she some fashion model like the one she'd seen in magazines in the shops in town. Put my arms about her; take her hand and kiss and kiss and kiss.