1

On the day of the reception they were all at high doh in the clinic. They had set up tables for wine and soft drinks and coffee at one end of Lavender’s room and another where food would be displayed at the other end. They lined the wall with chairs for those who needed to sit down. The doors were

opened into the other parts of the clinic, with Johnny’s equipment pushed well back, but his exercise charts prominently displayed on the walls. The treatment cubicles had been

changed into a highly acceptable cloakroom with rails for people’s coats, and two girls from a nearby school would hang up each person’s coat and give them a coloured ticket.

There had been huge competition to do this job as it was rumoured that two pop stars, a well-known actor and several television personalities were going to be among the guests.

The patients had been invited too, and all the members of the board.

‘What do we have to do?’ Mrs Reilly asked suspiciously.

Everyone knew what Mrs Reilly would do. She would tell

them that her improved heart condition was entirely due to the personal intervention of some saint and hand out leaflets about the curative powers of the said saint. The clinic would not feature in her praise. But they couldn’t leave her out.

Mercifully, she decided that she had other fish to fry that night.

‘Our Holy Mother must have explained to Our Lord that

Mrs Reilly would be better not at the clinic,’ Ania said cheerfully.

Clara and Hilary looked at each other. They had often

said that the marvellous, pious, Polish people who had come to Ireland had done the great service of making Irish Catholicism look modern and liberal by contrast. But they said

nothing, apart from nodding gravely in agreement.

Other patients might be more supportive, like Judy Murphy who would tell anyone that the clinic was essential to those W

 

who wanted to live independent lives. Or that great woman Nora Dunne, with her piebald hair and her burning eyes,

whose husband Aidan had regained his will to live. She was such an advertisement for them, particularly since she was a convert, with all the zeal that a convert brings. She had been so sure that the life with her gentle husband was over when he had his heart attack and now they seemed to feel immortal as a couple.

Even Lar, with his obsessive wish to make everyone learn something new every day, would be a good ambassador for

what they were doing. Lar was remorselessly cheerful. If anyone asked him how he was, he always said that he was fighting fit and that a lot of rubbish was talked about heart failure. All you had to do was control it. If they had hired a PR firm to send out the message, they could never have come up with anything as good as Lar.

Ania had made them all name badges in big clear writing:Ś

green ones for patients, red ones for the staff and yellow forI the guest lecturers.

‘You haven’t done a label for yourself,’ Clara said, surprised.

‘Oh, I wouldn’t be worth a label,’ Ania said. ‘What would I know if somebody asked me about the clinic?’

‘More than most people. Do the label, Ania, this minute, or else I’ll do one for you!’

‘That’s very kind of you, Clara.’

‘And Johnny has a friend who is a photographer who’s

going to do a staff picture before it all begins, all of us with our names on us. There’ll be a copy for everyone and if we like it we’ll put it up on the wall here.’ Clara was full of enthusiasm.

‘I can send a copy to Mamusia, to my mother. She will be so proud to see me as part of a team over here.’

Clara swallowed hard. There was something about this girl that made people feel protective about her and ashamed at the same time. Ashamed that they weren’t more grateful for all

they had compared to Ania. Clara had bought a new jacket for the night. A cream-coloured brocade, piped with red. It fitted her perfectly. She had been back to Kiki the hairdresser and looked as good as she had ever looked. She did a fashion parade in the kitchen before she left.

‘You don’t look as if you should be parking your own car.

You should be drifting out of a limousine.’ Adi was full of admiration.

‘You know, you could be in your fifties,’ Gerry said admiringly.

‘I am in my fifties, Gerry.’

‘Early fifties,’ he said, ‘forties even …’ His voice tailed away.

‘Are you on the pull, Clara?’ Linda asked with interest.

‘Sorry?’

‘I mean are you after some man there tonight?’

‘No. I’m after many men, and many women, too. What I’m

after is getting recognition and support for work which I think is important.’

‘But you’re all dressed up like a dog’s dinner,’ Linda said.

‘I have to try and sell the whole concept of this to people who are successful and they wouldn’t listen to me if I went in a cardigan, with my hair in rat’s tails and wearing some kind of a pillow case!’

She looked so totally different from this image that they burst out laughing.

‘Oh, and do you know what I’d really like, Linda? If I get over-excited and have a glass of wine too many, could you come and collect me?’

‘Sure,’ Linda said. ‘Don’t get too bladdered now and spoil the whole effect.’

‘No, I’ll try not to get … er … bladdered,’ Clara said and left for the clinic.

‘I shouldn’t have said she looked in her fifties,’ Gerry said.

 

‘No, honey, it’s fine. She knew what you meant,’ Adi

consoled him.

Linda rolled her eyes to heaven and said nothing. It was absolutely terrifying what people did for love. Adi used to have a sort of a mind of her own. Once.

 

They had the group picture taken.

Johnny’s friend Mouth Mangan was a kindly man who

understood that this was the picture of the night for the people involved. He had arranged it in such a way that the smaller members would be standing on a step and the others not.

They would look very equal, which was the purpose of it all.

Mouth said they were all to look over his left shoulder as if they had seen something amazing there and say the words

‘beer mat’. This made them all laugh and he took the picture at once. Then they were to say the word ‘sympathy’ and they all looked more serious. That was it. Over and done. Mouth had taken away his tripod and was setting up his other camera to take pictures of the celebrities.

‘Do you do weddings?’ Declan whispered to Mouth.

‘I’m great at weddings,’ Mouth Mangan confided, ‘I can do all the officials in eight minutes flat!’

‘Officials?’ Declan was bewildered.

‘You know: Bride, Bride and Groom, Bride and Groom and

attendants, Bride’s parents, His parents, all parents. Makes it easier and quicker if there are no divorces, remarriages and second families?’ He looked at Declan questioningly.

‘No, nothing like that.’

‘Then I mix and merge among the guests and give you a

contact sheet and you order what you want and put what you want on a website. When is it? The wedding?’

‘We haven’t set a date yet,’ Declan said a little wistfully.

‘Well, she’d better get a move on.’ Mouth was practical. ‘I

don’t have too many Saturdays free in the next year and a half.’

 

The place was filling up. The staff with their red badges introduced themselves to everyone. Frank Ennis watched, surprised,

as they swung into action.

‘Do I get a red badge too?’ he asked Barbara.

‘Wouldn’t say so, Mr Ennis, you’re only the hospital, aren’t you? It’s not as if you were a member of the clinic here,’

Barbara said.

‘Or even a friend to it,’ Clara said sweetly.

‘You look very lovely tonight, Dr Casey,’ he said.

‘And you scrubbed up well too, Frank. Nice tie. Did your wife choose that for you?’

‘Sadly, Dr Casey, I am not blessed with a wife,’ he said.

‘You mean you’re available?’ she said in mock excitement.

‘Lord, I wonder do the many unattached ladies coming here tonight know that?’

‘I didn’t say I was available,’ he said loudly.

And Hilary covered her mouth to stop laughing aloud.

 

Bobby Walsh arrived with his wife and son. Carl was pushing his father in the wheelchair. Mrs Walsh’s hard eyes ranged the open-plan clinic with some surprise. They showed even more surprise when she saw some well-known faces there. Surely that was … ? And that woman was definitely a television celebrity. What was she doing here? A well-known businessman was talking to an actor. How had that shrewish woman

who ran this place brought them all together? The bad

tempered Clara Casey was looking extraordinarily well tonight.

Probably had a face lift. Rosemary Walsh wished she

had dressed more carefully herself. She hadn’t known it was going to be so smart.

 

She saw Ania, the clinic’s Polish maid, nearby so she took off her coat and handed it to her.

‘Make sure it’s put on a hanger,’ she said.

Clara had seen. ‘How good to see you, Mrs Walsh. Looking for the cloakroom, are you? Just down there at the end.’

‘I thought … ?’ Rosemary Walsh began.

‘Yes, I thought everyone could read the sign easily, but apparently not. Next time we must make it bigger. Come with me, Ania, I want you to introduce me to Father Flynn.’ And they moved off, leaving Rosemary Walsh more fuming than

she had ever been in her life.

The speeches were short and to the point. Frank Ennis, who had of course insisted on speaking, was actually quite good.

He was even rather gracious about the clinic and its elegant director, Dr Casey.Ś

Then the formalities were over and when everything seemedI to be going well, Clara rang Linda.

‘Sorry, love, it’s Clara here.’

‘And you’re pissed!’ Linda said, proud to have identified the situation.

‘I wouldn’t say that, but then us hopeless drinkers always say that, but I think I’m beyond driving.’

‘Okay, will I come down now?’

‘Yes. Come in and have a glass of wine.’

‘How’s it all going?’ Linda remembered to ask.

‘Amazingly well, and you should see the style,’ she added.

‘You don’t sound too pissed,’ Linda said grudgingly.

‘You know what it’s all about. Holding it all together.’

‘I’ll get a bus there now,’ Linda promised.

‘Take a taxi. You don’t want to be parading your finery in the bus. Take a taxi. I’ll pay.’

‘Oh, I’m to get dressed up too?’

‘Well, I know you won’t come in your jeans,’ Clara said.

She dared not say any more or Linda would be suspicious. But

she knew her daughter well enough to realise that she had sent enough messages about smart attire.

Clara introduced Bobby to a man who had once played

rugby for Ireland; he was animated in the conversation. She noted too that Ania was deep in conversation with Bobby’s son Carl. Rosemary Walsh stood on her own, her mouth set in a fury. She reminded Clara of someone. Then she remembered.

Rosemary Walsh’s face was like Clara’s own mother’s

face. Ready and willing to disapprove of whatever presented itself.

Clara’s mother had not come. She’d been invited but said she had a bridge game and that she couldn’t be expected to support every lame duck cause that her daughter came up

with. It was a relief that her mother wasn’t there.

It would also be a relief if Rosemary Walsh would collect her coat from the cloakroom and leave now. But life didn’t work like that.

Clara fixed the smile back on her face and introduced

Rosemary to a bank manager.

‘You’re never a heart patient?’ he said gallantly. It was exactly the right thing to say to Rosemary, so Clara joined in to reinforce it.

‘Mrs Walsh’s husband, who is much older than she is, is

one of the people who has done very well here at the clinic.

Hasn’t spent a day in hospital since he came to see us first.

He’s a great supporter, and he’s here tonight, over there with his son.’

The bank manager was impressed, and Rosemary looked

less beached than she had.

Clara had also introduced the good-tempered priest Father Flynn to a millionaire with the instructions that he wasn’t to divert the millionaire’s money entirely to his own centre.

It was going better than she had dared to hope.

Nick arrived first. Clara saw him talking to his mother and

had to steel herself not to go over and greet him. She watched as Hilary got him a glass of wine and introduced him to a couple of colleagues. He was tall and relaxed, as at home there as he would be anywhere. Would he be right for her troubled Linda?

Linda came in then. Clara saw her looking around the

roaringly successful party in wonder. Clara felt a wave of pride at being able to show this to her over-critical daughter. Cake sale indeed!

 

She saw Hilary move Nick into Johnny’s physiotherapy room and so Clara headed that way too with Linda.

‘You need to look at these amazing exercise plans he has on the wall,’ she said. ‘I’ll try not to be too long.’

‘You’re great at hiding the signs of drink,’ Linda said

grudgingly. ‘I thought you’d be on all fours.’

I

Clara waved her wine glass around airily. It was her first drink tonight but Linda must never know this. ‘Oh, I fear I’m well over the limit,’ she said. ‘I’m glad I sound all right. I have two or three more people to talk to.’

‘Take your time, Clara.’ Linda was cheerful about it all. At least she wasn’t going to have to carry her mother to the car.

She was glad she had put on her black and white silk dress. It looked good on her and she had extremely uncomfortable

shoes which went with it. She had dropped her sneakers into the boot of the car as she passed by. She would never be able to drive in these shoes. Linda looked around at the people there. She recognised one or two faces from the television. SheI saw politicians whose faces were familiar. Ah, God, why hadI she called this a cake sale? She wondered where this awful man her mother hated called Frank was and she’d love to met this boringly angelic Polish girl who seemed to be everything a mother wanted wrapped up in one small hardworking parcel.

She noticed a pleasant-looking man across the room

 

studying the exercise charts. He wasn’t wearing a badge. He must be a visitor like herself. She thought he had looked at her admiringly when she came in. But then she must stop thinking things like that. Usually people weren’t fancying her at all, just looking with a passing interest at someone with long legs.

It had been her downfall thinking that people were admiring her when more often than not there was no admiration at all.

It was Fiona who introduced them in the end. Clara told

her to do it.

‘Just say this is Nick Hickey. This is Linda Casey. Please, Fiona, now.’

‘Why don’t you or Hilary do it?’

‘I’d tell you, but then I’d have to kill you, so it’s better you just go and do it,’ Clara urged her.

‘Ooh, is it a touch of matchmaking? Are we going to be

talking about two weddings soon?’ Fiona joked.

‘If you mention anything like that, even remotely, I will take you to one of those treatment beds and skilfully remove your entire heart and transplant it into someone else,’ she said, with such intensity that Fiona backed down.

‘Yeah, sure, I get the message.’

‘This conversation is over and did not take place,’ Clara said.

‘What conversation? You’ll have to excuse me, Clara, I have a couple of things to do.’ Fiona escaped to Johnny’s room and did the job.

She was very beautiful, Clara’s daughter. She didn’t need any mother trying to find her a fellow. And as far as Nick was concerned, he was so easy-going he didn’t look like Last Chance Saloon either. Still, this was her mission.

‘I came to pick up my mother because she’s drunk,’ Linda said.

‘So did I, in a way. Snap!’ he laughed.

‘Who is your drunken mother?’ Linda asked.

 

‘Hilary Hickey,’ he said, ‘she’s the office manager.’

‘My mother is Clara Casey,’ she said grumpily.

‘Oh, the head honcho,’ he said. ‘I see.’

‘She looks quite sober though.’ Linda felt defensive now.

She didn’t want to let this office manager hear that Clara was a dipso or anything.

‘Better to be sure though these days,’ he said approvingly.

‘Are you involved in the clinic here?’

‘Not enough,’ Nick said ruefully. ‘I didn’t realise exactly how much they had all done here. I must say I’m impressed.’

The too,’ Linda said. He hadn’t said what he did for a

living. Well, that was okay. She hated those people who immediately pinned you down and classified you by your job.

Her ex-boyfriend Simon said that you should always ask

someone what they did for a living the moment you met

them so that you wouldn’t waste any time with nobodies and losers. But that was very Simon. Not necessarily anything you’d want to live by.

This Nick was nice. And he revealed his job himself. He

said he didn’t get much exercise as he taught music, which was a sitting-down job, and he played in a club which involved sitting around and then standing up to play in an intense atmosphere.

Linda said she worked in a record shop and told him where it was.

‘They’re terrific,’ Nick said, ‘they’re starting a whole new jazz section.’

‘And I’m in charge of it,’ Linda said proudly.

‘Never!’ He was very impressed.

‘Yes, I have a rack of Count Basie, Duke Ellington and

Miles Davis already, and they’ve given me funds to get more.’

‘Will you have Artie Shaw,’ he asked, ‘and Benny Goodman?’

 

‘Sure I will. I was going to get going with jazz women. You know, Billie Holiday, Ella … ?’

‘And Lena!’ he cried. ‘You’ll have lots of Lena Home.’

‘Oh yes, yes. My favourite, Lena is. “More Than You

Know”.’

‘Mine is “At Long Last Love”,’ Nick said.

The guests were all leaving. Clara and Hilary, the two

ostensibly drunken mothers, were peeping around the door.

Linda and Nick were oblivious to it all.

All the scheming ladies had done was to speed it up a little for them. And now they must stand back and hold their

breath and never ever, as long as they lived, admit this little plan to either of the young jazz fans who stood in their own world in the middle of Johnny’s exercise room.

 

Fiona was invited to come to supper in St Jarlath’s

Crescent. The twins were going to cook a Greek meal

and they had asked Molly if she’d mind.

‘And did she?’ asked Fiona, knowing how proud Molly

Carroll was of her cooking skills, her roasts and her casseroles.

‘Apparently she’s delighted. She’s talking meatballs and kebabs with them as if she grew up on a Greek island.’

‘She’s one dote, your mother,’ Fiona said affectionately.

‘You made her what she is now. When I went to the hospital she was so difficult. I dreaded you ever having to meet

her. Now you’re the best of pals.’

‘Well, why wouldn’t we be? Aren’t we both mad about

you?’

‘So, when do you think we should give my mam a day out?’

‘She has plenty of days out,’ Fiona said. ‘Weren’t we up at the zoo, the pair of us, last week? She told me it had been years since she was there and I loved it too.’

‘You know full well what I mean,’ Declan said.

‘Oh, a wedding day!’ Fiona said, with a laugh.

‘Yes, sweetheart, a wedding day …’

‘Haven’t we all the time in the world to arrange that?’ Fiona said. ‘Would Wednesday be okay?’

 

I

 

‘To get married?’ He looked up gleefully.

‘To go to supper with the twins at your house, you eejit.’

 

Bobby Walsh told Declan that he and his wife were having a ruby wedding party. That was forty years married. He sighed with pleasure about it, though Declan couldn’t see why. That sharp-tongued, restless, impatient Rosemary! Imagine being married to her for four decades. But maybe she hadn’t seemed like that when they started out.

‘So, we’re having about seventy people to the house and I was wondering, would you and Fiona like to join us?’

Declan was taken aback. ‘Well, that’s very nice of you,

Bobby, but you don’t want to be bringing dreary old doctors and nurses in on top of all your friends.’

‘On the contrary. I owe you everything. I wouldn’t be here planning to celebrate if it hadn’t been for you all. And there was a bit of a misunderstanding between Rosemary and Clara.’

‘Ah yes!’ Declan looked calm and understanding. He had

heard all about the ‘misunderstanding’ from Clara. It had, in fact, been a shouted attack from Rosemary — but better let sleeping dogs lie there, he thought to himself.

‘So, it’s on the twenty-first, but I’ll send you a proper invitation. That’s really great, now. I’m so happy you’ll be there.’ .

And indeed he sounded happy, Declan thought.

‘Rosemary with you today?’ he asked, as they completed the blood tests and the chart filling.

‘No. She’s out talking to caterers. Carl brought me. He has a day off from the school.’

‘He’s a great son, you must be delighted with him!’ Declan said.

‘Yes, he is, he’s a great boy and he loves that teaching job.

Of course Rosemary thinks it’s not nearly good enough for him, tells everyone he’s doing an MA, but there’ll be white

blackbirds before that lad goes back to university. He’ll go on at that school until he’s drawing his pension.’

‘Great to have found something which makes you happy,’

Declan said, as he helped Bobby on with his coat.

‘If he finds as good a woman as I did, then he’ll be a lucky man,’ Bobby said.

Privately, Declan hoped that young Carl would find a

much better woman than Rosemary, but his face showed

nothing of this.

‘We’d been waiting for him for over ten years. We’d almost given up hope. And then he arrived.’ Bobby was so goodnatured and cheerful about everything, including his bad

tempered wife. It was fortunate that the boy they had waited so long for had inherited most of his father’s characteristics rather than his mother’s.

‘Fiona will be thrilled,’ Declan said, as he shook Bobby’s hand.

‘And when are you two … ?’ Bobby began.

‘Don’t ask,’ Declan whispered. ‘It’s like not mentioning the war, everything functions fine if you don’t start looking for a date for the Big Day or whatever. If you do, all hell breaks loose.’

‘You’re a wise man, Declan,’ Bobby said. ‘It will all turn out absolutely fine. Believe me.’

Declan found it hard to believe anything from a man who

was pleased to be married to Rosemary for forty years, but he smiled his thanks, as he did so often. It was easier than gut wrenching confrontation. Sometimes, he wondered, might he be a bit dull?

 

Ania knew that Clara and Hilary had a secret, but she didn’t know what it was. Sometimes they giggled like schoolgirls.

Other times they sat, heads together, making lists. But they never told her. She didn’t mind. She hadn’t told them all

about Marek coming over and how she had got over him in just one minute, standing there in that restaurant when he was assuming she would dance naked for men to make him

money.

Maybe it was about Hilary’s son and Clara’s daughter, who had got together at the big reception. That had been a lovely night, Ania remembered wistfully. Carl had admired how well she looked. He had said her English was coming on by leaps and bounds and he had laughed at her fondly when she paused to write down leaps and bounds. It was a lovely phrase,

reminded you of a hare in the grass, leaping and bounding ahead.

He had even kissed her on the nose as he left.

‘You are so sweet, Ania, and so clever. I wish I had students like you in my class.’

‘I am not clever, Carl. Truly I am not.’

‘Excuse me. From where I stand you are very clever. And

look, you can turn your hand to anything.’

‘That’s only because I need to work hard to make money. I just have to try many things.’

‘This is what I mean. One moment you’re running a

laundry, the next you’re running this clinic …’

‘I would not say that! Working here, yes.’

‘I have listened to you all evening. You’re such a good ambassador for the work that is done here. Then you work in a

jeweller’s—’

‘I just clean there!’

And in that international centre. And you mind children. And you go round to people’s houses and clear up after their dinner parties.’

‘That was a good idea. I thought of that myself.’ Ania’s eyes were shining. ‘It is nice for the hostess that she can go to bed and come down to a nice clean kitchen.’

 

‘Yes, but when do you sleep, Ania? How many hours are

there in the day for you?’

‘Not enough,’ she had said seriously. ‘I would need forty hours in the day if I were to earn enough to give my mother the life she deserves.’

‘Maybe she just wants you to be happy,’ he had said. He

wouldn’t say all that unless he liked her a little. Would he?

 

Father Brian Flynn was having what he thought was an exhausting run with his friend Johnny, who thought it was a

casual walk. They had taken the little DART train that went south from Dublin, out to Killiney on the coast, and then they climbed what Father Brian thought was a mountain

and Johnny said was a slight incline and looked down over Dunlaoghaire harbour, where the boats came in from England and the rich yachtsmen moored their craft; then they descended from the mountain, or incline, to Dalkey, drank two

pints in a friendly pub, after which they’d take the DART

back to Dublin.

Brian was always knocked out by it. Johnny, who must have had different muscles and sinews, felt no pain at all.

They sat in Dalkey and discussed the world. Brian was

having the odd problem about financing the centre. He had been told to make it self-funding. How could he do that? He’d already roped all his friends in to paint the place. He’d asked Ania to make curtains and tablecloths for him. He couldn’t increase the prices they charged — these young people sent so much money home already they had barely anything left to live on.

If only there was a way of making money out of the

premises. It was a big hall with a few little rooms off it where people held meetings. They served tea, coffee and soup and sandwiches in the hall. Attached to it was a small chapel.

After mass on a Saturday night or Sunday morning, Brian

 

welcomed the various young Europeans, still a little lost in the big city, and glad to have a place for coffee and a chat.

He couldn’t charge them high prices to make the place self funding.

‘Can you do a dance or a nightclub or something?’ Johnny suggested.

‘Aw, come on, Johnny, it hardly goes with the wholesome

image, does it?’

‘I didn’t mean a strip club.’ Johnny was offended.

‘No, I know you didn’t, but judging by what nearly knocks my eyes out going along that street, we wouldn’t be out of place.’

‘There must be something,’ Johnny said, refusing to be

beaten.

‘Lord, it was nearly easier back in Rossmore, where people would say that we should all go up to the Holy Well and ask St Ann what to do.’

‘But I thought you left to get away from all that?’ Johnny was puzzled.

‘I did, but like everyone, I’m beginning to wonder was there something in it? They all came back from that mad well

delighted with themselves.’

‘She told them what to do?’

‘She planted the seeds in their heads, apparently. Don’t get me started.’

‘And what does Father Tomasz think?’

‘Ah, Father Tomasz. Nicest man that ever wore shoe

leather. Mad about the bloody well. It’s going stronger than ever. People want to get married there and all!’ Brian stopped talking. ‘God Almighty!’ he said suddenly.

‘What is it?’ Johnny thought something was wrong.

‘God - that’s the solution. We can have weddings at the

centre. I’ll marry them first in the chapel, or Tomasz can come

up and do the Polish ones, and then we give them a wedding breakfast in the hall. What a fantastic bloody idea!’

 

Clara was holding her breath about Linda. She had been to Nick’s club twice. He had been to her record shop almost every day. He had said she was a genius and what’s more he had told the boss that he was mad not to take her on full-time.

Linda had thought about it for six minutes and said that was fine with her. A proper salary and a budget for promotion.

‘What will you promote?’ the boss had asked her, not unreasonably.

‘Your

store and its fine support for Irish or visiting jazz

artists. You could even have a happy hour on Thursdays at late opening, get somebody to play, bring in the punters.’

The boss listened with interest. He had thought she was a silly, brainless blonde with long legs who would stay for three weeks. Now she was planning on running an empire.

 

Hilary was also holding her breath. Nick had got a haircut. He had smartened himself up considerably. He had asked Hilary did she know of any hall he could rent; a place to give a music class. Lovely as home was, it wasn’t the place to hold a big class with twenty people. He had been talking to somebody who had said it made more sense to teach twenty kids four chords all at the same time for a series of six Saturdays at an agreed fee. Somebody had also told him that he was nearly thirty and it was time he made people aware of how good he was. Since Hilary had been telling him the same thing for twenty years, she gasped in disbelief to think that somebody — who happened to be Clara’s daughter - had been able to make him listen.

Linda had stopped wearing those ludicrously short skirts and high boots. Nick had bought a sweater that wasn’t full of holes with threads running loose. Linda didn’t talk much

about Nick at home. Nick didn’t speak of her to his mother.

But at the heart clinic two middle-aged women talked about them all the time and were once even seen doing a little dance around Clara’s desk.

 

On the Wednesday of the Greek feast, the twins came round early to Molly Carroll’s.

‘A lot of it is in the presentation …’ Maud began.

‘The way you lay the dishes out,’ Simon added.

‘We brought these little pottery plates …’

‘So we can display the meze …’

‘And we are giving the plates to Fiona …’

‘And you and Declan too …’

Molly felt dizzy listening to them. You had to turn your head left and right as if you were watching a tennis match. But they were completely delightful and chattered on as if she was their oldest friend.

Their conversation was filled with people she had never

heard of: this Vonni, and Andreas, and Andreas’s brother Yorghis and the local doctor, Dr Leros, who had taken bits of broken plate out of Simon’s feet when he had danced too

enthusiastically in a restaurant. And all the time they talked they were decorating the table with bowls of olives, flat pitta bread, plates of hummus and taramasalata and things like squid that Molly wondered if she would ever be able to eat.

They had made what looked like an ordinary shepherd’s pie but called it moussaka and filled it with evil-looking purple vegetables; a Greek salad of tomatoes, cucumber and feta cheese stood on the sideboard and a dessert which looked like sheets of brown paper with almonds and honey.

Molly sighed. She could have done such a good joint - nice normal food — not all these silly little bowls. Paddy would have given her the best loin of lamb or rib of beef from the butchery department where he worked. But these children’s

uncle or grandfather or whatever he was, Muttie, was important in Paddy’s life and they had become obsessed by this

celebration.

Molly was getting better about sitting back and letting

other people get on with things. It hadn’t been easy. For years she had been running this house herself as well as working in the launderette. Every morning she had ironed one shirt for Paddy, one for Declan. She had been home to welcome

them with their supper. But everything had changed.

Declan spent most of his free time with Fiona now. And she was such a good girl, too. Totally mad about Declan of course, and good for him too. He had much more confidence these

days. And Fiona made everyone laugh. She went off with

Paddy and Muttie and drank pints in their pub; she had taken Molly herself off to the zoo for a great day and Fiona had talked to everyone and they spent hours looking at the exotic birds and went nowhere near the lions.

So, if Fiona liked all this greasy food served in tiny dishes, then why not? Molly would join in. She was wearing her smart new tartan dress and tried desperately to understand the ramifications of the people the twins were talking about.

‘Of course Adoni says our tomatoes are wrong for the horiatiki salad but …’

‘But Vonni said that Irish tomatoes are fine if you brush a little honey over them …’

‘It’s a kind of creative thing to do, making a meal …’

Simon seemed surprised by the thought.

‘Molly knows this. She’s been making Paddy and Declan

meals for years.’ Maud was more tactful.

Molly let it all wash over her until she heard the key turn in the lock. Declan and Fiona were home. They had picked

Paddy up at the pub. The feast could now begin.

The twins carefully explained every dish as if they had

invented it. The Carrolls listened, entranced, as the twins

told of the midnight cafe, the market in the square, of the crowds that came up every night to Andreas, how Simon and Maud had worked there at night as well as in Vonni’s shop during the day. Adoni had even organised a truck that left the square every hour to ferry people up and back.

‘Oh, they’re not nearly as tough now as they were in my

day. We had to haul ourselves up there all by ourselves!’ Fiona said.

‘Was your day a long time ago?’ Simon asked.

Fiona waited politely for Maud to finish the sentence, but Maud was uncharacteristically looking down at the tablecloth.

‘Oh, yes, sorry, we weren’t to talk about your day,’ Simon said, remembering.

‘It’s just that Vonni said it wasn’t the best of times for you,’

Maud said.

‘No, it wasn’t, but the place was terrific and even though I was being very foolish over a fellow at the time, I met a lot of good friends, and I’m thrilled that you met some of them too.’

So it hadn’t been a disaster after all. Simon let his breath out slowly. ‘Oh, they were wonderful people and we’ll never be able to thank you enough for introducing us,’ he said.

‘I heard you were great workers and great company. She

misses your chats,’ Fiona said.

‘We showed her how to text but I don’t think it’s going to be her thing.’

‘No, I can’t see her doing it,’ Fiona agreed.

‘But she is thinking of coming to your wedding,’ Maud

said.

‘We haven’t actually set the date yet,’ Declan pointed out.

‘We said it wasn’t definite …’ Simon said.

‘… but it would probably be before the end of the summer …’ Maud explained.

‘… while the good weather is still here …’

‘… and the days are longer.’

 

‘Great,’ Fiona said, laughing. ‘You seem to have covered all the main points, and do you think she’ll come?’

‘She wasn’t going to and we told her that you considered her a great friend …’

‘… and that friendship should never be one-sided …’

‘… and she saw the sense of that.’

‘She does know how to get cheap flights online …’

‘We went down to the Aghia Anna Beach Hotel and

showed her how to get online. The manager says he’ll boot her up.’

‘So there shouldn’t be any problem.’

‘And of course, it sorted out our career,’ Simon said.

‘We know now what we want to do,’ Maud said.

‘And what’s that exactly?’ Declan asked.

‘We are going to be in the catering industry,’ Simon said proudly as if he was about to open his restaurant that night.

 

Fiona told Ania all about the Greek feast the next day as they were getting the treatment rooms ready.

‘They sound wonderful,’ Ania said.

‘It’s better than being at a play, watching them. They’ve decided to go into catering and they’re going to do some kind of night lectures and then learn all that can be taught while actually on the job. Their cousin-in-law runs this company, Scarlet Feather, and they’re going to get some practice there.’

‘Scarlet Feather! It is the catering company that is doing the food for Carl’s parents’ ruby wedding!’ Ania was pleased to be part of things.

‘Well, you might even meet them there or maybe it’s too

important a do for them to let Maud and Simon loose on it.’

‘Oh, I haven’t been invited,’ Ania said.

‘But you will be. You’re Carl’s girlfriend.’

‘I am Carl’s friend, yes, and I am a girl, yes, but I am not a

girlfriend,’ Ania said. ‘I do not want to raise my hopes too high.’

‘But he comes in to teach you English once a week. He

always talks to you when he’s here with his father. You and he have been to art galleries and museums and the theatre.’ Fiona was confused.

‘That’s only to make me less stupid. Less thick,’ Ania said.

Fiona suddenly wished that Declan hadn’t said that they

would go to this bloody party. If Ania wasn’t there it would be like an act of betrayal. Then on her way out to lunch, Fiona saw Carl Walsh coming in. She debated asking him whether or not Ania was being invited to the ruby wedding. But suppose the answer was no? Anyway, she mustn’t try to play God.

It wasn’t her business.

 

‘What will people give to your parents as gifts on their ruby wedding day?’ Ania asked Carl.

‘Red glass, apparently. Some of them are getting together in groups. There’s going to be a Bohemian glass decanter and six wine glasses - that’s from one group. Red coffee cups from another. And another are getting two huge salad bowls. It’s all nonsense really - they have enough dishes and glass to last them the rest of their lives.’

‘Perhaps their friends want to celebrate,’ Ania suggested.

‘You live in a happier, more honest world,’ Carl said to her.

‘This is all to show off the house, the caterers, the view, everything.’

‘But

people will have a good time? Yes?’

‘Er … well … you will have a good time, I hope …’

‘I am to be invited?’ Ania’s eyes were bright with excitement.

‘Of

course. You’re my great friend, aren’t you?’

‘I will receive an invitation, like the other guests?’

 

‘Yes, if you want one, Ania, but I always assumed you were going to come. I can’t do it without you.’

‘Thank you so much, Carl, I was afraid, well, you

know … I didn’t really think …’

‘Just think how miserable I would be there if I didn’t have you to talk to.’

‘But you will need to be talking with your parents’ friends, passing the drinks, making the conversation.’

‘Just making conversation, not the conversation …’ He always corrected her gently and she tried hard to remember each time.

‘It will be wonderful,’ she said happily. ‘I will make good conversation to people and I will dress well to do you credit.’

‘You couldn’t not do me credit,’ he said and he looked at her for a long time over their tomato sandwich until eventually he broke the moment and got out the English grammar

book to carry on where they had left off last time.

 

The days passed quickly then. Ania got yet one more job. She needed extra money to pay for her dress. Not one cent of her savings would be taken from the fund she was building up for her Mamusia.

While clearing tables and collecting glasses, she came across a Chinese man who was offering a boy the chance to work

four hours a week helping to weed and replant window-boxes in a big apartment block. The boy said the hours didn’t suit, so Ania offered to do it. She was astounded at the luxury of these sea-view apartments as she went in and out of the lavish places. It wasn’t far from where the Walshes lived. In fact she passed their house every time she went out that way to the tree-lined roads of the coast.

She wore cheap cotton gloves and covered her hands in

Vaseline. Yes, it was a job, and a good one, but she didn’t want to go to this great party with rough hands full of earth and

soil. The Chinese man, whose name was Mr Chen, was silent and helpful. She learned quickly, turning the soil, feeding the plants and replacing those that had been allowed to die of neglect. She also had a tin of white paint to touch up the window-boxes where they were showing wear and tear.

Ania looked in wonder at the stylish furnishings in the

apartments: the elegant chairs and the padded window seats, where the owners could sit and look out at the sea. It was a different world from her own. When she woke up in her flat she saw rooftops from the small window. There were no

window-boxes, no wide marble stairs with great fern planters on the landings. But Ania hadn’t any sense of envy. All these people, or at least their parents, must have worked hard to get such great wealth. It was open to anyone who might work.

And then Barbara and Fiona took her to their favourite

thrift shops to find something to wear for the party. They moved confidently through the rails of clothes, offering a garment here and there. But Ania shook her head. They were too short, too tight, too revealing. Too much like the clothes that Marek had wanted her to wear in the Bridge Cafe to

attract the clients to come and dance. She just shook her head.

‘God, if I looked like you, I’d wear that,’ Barbara said, looking admiringly at a black leather dress with metal decorations.

‘Why

don’t you wear it?’ Ania asked.

‘Because I couldn’t squeeze my huge bosoms into it.’

‘I would so love to have huge bosoms,’ Ania said.

‘It’s a known fact that no woman is satisfied with the size of her breasts,’ Fiona said sagely.

‘But you, Fiona? You don’t want different bosoms surely?’

Ania was startled.

‘Indeed I do, and so does everyone in this shop. But the main thing is not to spend any time worrying about it. What about this red dress? It would look terrific on you.’

 

m

 

‘It has no sleeves and I have arms like the little matchsticks.’

‘Do you know what would be lovely?’ Barbara was thoughtful.

‘If we could just find someone who can sew, they could

put lovely lacy sleeves on to that red dress and it would be perfect.’

‘Sew? I can sew,’ Ania said.

And soon they had found an old lace blouse which Ania

said would be child’s play to unpick to make sleeves for the dress.

‘We’ll knock that awful Mrs Walsh’s eyes right into the

back of her head,’ Fiona said, triumphantly.

‘No, no. Don’t say that. She has been kind. She invited me.’

Ania would not be brought down. This had been a wonderful visit. The cost had been tiny. Ania still had money for a hairdo.

Things were really looking up.

 

Dearest Mamusia,

It is i a. m. and I am sewing lace sleeves on to a red dress. I wish I were with you and you could show me how to make the best use of the material I have.

You know this nice young man called Carl who help me to

learn English, I have often written to you about him, his father is a patient here at the clinic; well, his parents are forty years married which is a ruby wedding and they have invited me to their house, which is a big white mansion near the sea coast. And I have been asked to the celebration. It’s very exciting and I will tell you all about it. Say a prayer for me so that I don’t do anything foolish and silly.

Father Flynn is doing up the hall where I made the

curtains and tablecloths. He thinks we might have weddings there. A Polish priest will come to do the marriage service and we will provide the food and entertainment. Perhaps if one day I marry an Irish man, the wedding will be there and you

and Mrs Zak and everyone can come from Poland to dance at the wedding feast. But I do not think it will happen soon.

I love you always and think of you every day.

Your fond daughter,

Ania

 

Cathy and Tom looked around the house. It was as airy and elegant as they would have expected from the outside. But they were more interested in working out the technicalities: where to park the catering vans so that they were not too obvious; where they would set up the bar; would the guests have their drinks out on the big balcony; which room to set up the coat rails. They checked the power points and the cloakrooms.

Mrs Walsh was a sharp-faced woman with a slight whine in her voice. ‘How many staff will you have?’ Her husband was in a chair with a stick beside him; he was so full of smiles and enthusiasm, it almost made up for the wife.

‘We will both be here with a barperson and a waiter and

also you will be glad to know we have two trainees, excellent young people, so they will be here as back-up.’ Cathy managed to be both calming and efficient, but Rosemary Walsh

was determined to find fault.

‘We thought we were paying for a professional service.’ The whine in her voice had become more pronounced.

‘And indeed we will offer you a highly professional service, Mrs Walsh. The Mitchell twins will be here to observe: they will stay in the background, take coats, help with parking.

Very often a hostess likes extra hands to pass around canapes at the start of an evening to break the ice. We thought you would be delighted to have two extra people at no extra cost.’

Rosemary Walsh felt she was being corrected, very politely, but it annoyed her.

 

‘Yes, well, it’s just this is the last big party we will have,’ she began.

‘Oh, never say that, Mrs Walsh. There’s the golden wedding, and then you might have a wedding in the family, a

christening. There’s always a reason for a party.’

‘I doubt if we’ll see our fiftieth, Ms Feather, and we only have a son, so any wedding will be his bride’s department — if he ever finds a bride. So let’s concentrate heavily on the party in hand.’

‘Indeed, and it will be a pleasure to help at such a happy occasion,’ said Cathy Feather, soothingly. She wondered over and over how it was that women like this often ended up with kind men and huge houses and enough money to host a party for seventy people. In several years of catering, it was a thought that had crossed her mind more than once.

 

Simon and Maud tried on their uniform: the shirts with

Scarlet Feather on them; smart black trousers. They were told they must have very clean nails and Maud’s hair must be

tied well back. They stood and watched in the kitchen as the canapes were assembled. Over and over they repeated what each one contained.

‘This is a shortcrust pastry boat with asparagus and a

hollandaise sauce,’ Maud pronounced.

‘These are choux pastry with a slice of rare beef and served with a horseradish and cream sauce,’ Simon said.

‘Suppose someone asks you what’s in a Kir Royale?’ Cathy asked. They looked at each other blankly.

‘I’d say we’d ask the barperson,’ Maud said.

‘I’d say it was a mystery ingredient,’ Simon said firmly.

‘Wiser to know what it is,’ Cathy suggested. ‘Here, look at these bottles: this is Creme de Cassis, and this is an inferior champagne.’

‘But we don’t tell them it’s inferior, do we?’ Maud asked.

 

‘No, indeed, you do not. I think you two will be great. Tom and I will have to watch out for our own business when you get started …’ And the twins grinned at the compliment.

 

On the day of the ruby wedding, the weather was perfect. A warm day with a little breeze coming in from the sea.

‘Didn’t we make a wise choice all those years ago, Rosemary?’

Bobby Walsh said as he gave her a ruby necklace.

‘Yes, we did, Bobby.’ And for once her voice was soft.

Carl was coming to take them both out for a light lunch in a smart place. These catering people seemed to know what they were doing, even though that woman had a bit too much attitude. Rosemary’s hairdresser was coming to the house at three o’clock. It was all going according to plan.

 

Other people were getting ready for the party too. Fiona and Declan were doing a fashion parade for Molly. Declan was wearing his very smart jacket, dark green and well cut. Fiona looked very chic in her own outfit. It was a very bright orange and red silk dress worn with a demure black jacket. Ania had been able to make her a matching silk flower to pin on the jacket. It looked like a designer outfit.

‘The shoes will crucify me but it’ll be worth it,’ she said.

‘Why not wear ones you’re more comfortable in?’ Declan

suggested, but his mother and girlfriend didn’t even dignify this with an answer.

Then their taxi arrived and they set off to pick up Ania. She said she would be standing on the corner of her street.

When the taxi drove around the corner they saw a little

crowd. Johnny was there; a priest, whom they had met briefly, was part of the group; Ania’s friend Lidia and Tim the security man. She was getting a great send-off.

She looked stunning with her shiny black hair, her dancing eyes and the red dress which fitted her like a glove. The long

lacy sleeves looked as if they were part of a high-fashion statement. This girl shouldn’t be scrubbing floors, Fiona thought, she was so talented. Please let it be a good night for her. Let the awful Rosemary not say anything unforgivable.

 

Nick and Linda were going to be on a radio talk show on

the night of the Walshes’ party. Clara had invited Hilary to supper. Since the young lovers would be safely in the radio studio, the women could afford to have an evening together without arousing any suspicion.

They tuned the radio to the right station and Clara grilled them some salmon and served it with green beans.

‘Lord, wouldn’t Lavender be proud of us,’ Hilary said.

‘Yes, she would, until she saw the rum babas in the fridge for dessert,’ Clara agreed. They were on the coffee stage when their children came on air in a discussion about great jazz classics. They talked easily and unaffectedly, sharing their enthusiasms and firing people up to go to jazz clubs and visit

record stores.

Linda spoke easily about the live performances on Thursday nights, and mentioned that Nick would be playing some

evergreens at the store next week.

‘That’s cosy,’ the interviewer said, ‘is that how you two met?’

‘We would always have met,’ Nick said with certainty.Ś

Clara and Hilary looked at each other in shock. They would_

have met anyway? Like hell they would.

But again the two women vowed that they would never

reveal their secret.

 

That night, as Brian Flynn, Johnny, Tim and Lidia waved

Ania off in her finery to the party, they knew that one of them would suggest a pint. It turned out to be the priest.

‘I have something which needs to be sorted,’ he said.

 

They followed him willingly into Corrigans.

‘What’s the problem?’ Tim asked.

‘I am. I am always the problem.’ Brian Flynn was gloomy.

‘Go on out of that, Brian, you’re usually the solution rather than the cause.’ Johnny was strong in defence of his friend.

‘Not this time. I was so thrilled with the notion of having weddings to pay for the centre, I went at it like a bull but there are all sorts of problems. You need a licence for this and a permit for that and Health and Safety. The whole thing is a nightmare. There’s people leaping out of the woodwork

shouting “no way” before you even get to first base.’

He looked like an injured bloodhound as he gripped his

glass, lines of disappointment etched into his face.

‘Can’t you rent it out privately? Wouldn’t that get round it?’ Tim was trying to help.

‘No, there’s a book full of rules about that, and a heavy shadow of insurance looming over it all. We couldn’t ask people in to have their wedding if we weren’t insured.’

‘Remember your friend James, the calm person?’ Lidia

asked. ‘When we had that other problem he was terrific. He brought out a pad of paper and put down all the possibilities.’

‘We could do that I suppose,’ Johnny suggested.

‘We’re not good at it, we get distracted,’ Tim said.

Brian took out his mobile phone.

‘James, I know life would be easier for you if I quit the Church entirely, but we’d love you to come and have a pint and help us see things clearly.’

‘Another stalker?’ James asked.

‘No, nothing like that, but we need the cool approach.’

‘Usual pub?’

‘Yeah, at the back.’

‘I’ll be there in thirty minutes,’ said James.

‘Let’s raise a toast to Ania,’ Lidia said.

‘She’ll be fine,’ said Johnny, who couldn’t understand why

Ania was getting dressed up and braving the horrific Rosemary Walsh in her lair.

 

The first people they saw when they went into the party were Simon and Maud, immaculate in their Scarlet Feather uniform and holding trays of canapes.

Maud stepped forward as if she had never met Declan and

Fiona in her life. ‘Might I offer you a quail’s egg? There’s a little celery salt for dipping.’

‘Or perhaps some artichoke heart with a cheese sauce?’

Simon added.

Fiona wanted to laugh out loud, but she knew they all had to play roles.

‘Thank you so much, it all looks quite superb,’ Fiona said, but she managed a wink and a thumbs-up sign as well.

‘Isn’t this an enormous house,’ Ania whispered to her.

‘Far too big for the three of them,’ Fiona said.

‘But it’s their family home.’ Ania was defending Carl’s family.

She was clutching the beautifully wrapped gift of a little red glass jam dish. A perfect gift for the occasion.

Fiona hoped that Rosemary would be gracious and thank

her properly, but hadn’t much hope. She had tried to persuade Ania to leave her gift in the front room with the other parcels, but no, she was determined to hand it over herself. ‘This place is so unsuitable. It’s full of stairs and steps. Bobby needs somewhere flat for heaven’s sake,’ she couldn’t help observing.

‘Maybe one day,’ Ania said.

‘Lady Rosemary leave this palace? Never. Come on, Ania,

let’s explore.’

‘I don’t like to push myself forward.’

‘Have one of those quail’s eggs, Ania, it will be a long time before any of us sees those again. Then we’ll go out on to the balcony and look at the view.’

Declan was talking about rugby to a man in a corner and

 

seemed well settled in. Carl was on the other side of the room.

He waved to them but implied that he was stuck where he was for a while. Fiona gently guided Ania out on to the broad balcony where patio heaters dealt with the evening breeze coming up from the huge bay below them.

Groups of middle-aged, well-dressed, highly vocal people were pointing in wonder at the various landmarks they could see. That was the church, that was the town centre. The harbour was around the corner where there was a luxury liner

moored in the bay. What a place to live. Rosemary Walsh’s heart must have been gladdened by all the admiration and envy.

Rosemary was moving towards them.

Suddenly Fiona wanted to be miles from here. She couldn’t bear to see this woman talking down to Ania, dismissing her beautiful dress, barely thanking her for the little red glass jam dish.

‘Look at those apartments over there. I do their window

boxes,’ Ania said. ‘I go there with Mr Chen and last week we put in lots of bedding plants. I can almost see them from here.

I must tell him.’

Everyone else was wondering how much the Walsh house

was worth and whether they would get planning permission to build a block of apartments in their grounds, but Ania was pointing proudly to her work, tending window-boxes.

Fiona slipped across the room. Ania was happy to look out at the view. Imagine, Carl had grown up here and known this all his life.

Rosemary hadn’t recognised the girl in the striking designer dress standing in the sunset on the balcony. She must be somebody’s daughter. She approached and realised it was Ania. She

looked at her, dumbfounded. This was the Polish maid from the clinic.

 

‘Ah, Mrs Walsh, may you and Bobby have many returns of

this day. I have brought you a little ruby wedding present.’

Rosemary steadied herself from the shock by holding on to a small table.

‘I hope it will be useful to you.’ Ania’s face did not reveal that she had spent a week’s earnings on this gift.

‘How good of you to come, Ania,’ she said in a slightly

choked voice.

Ania saw, with disappointment, that she had taken the gift then put it down on the table and showed no sign of opening it. Possibly Fiona had been right: she should have left it with the other presents in the front room.

‘What a beautiful house you have, Mrs Walsh.’

‘Thank you, yes. Well, it was very good of you to come.

You’re a very helpful girl, they all tell me.’

‘That’s nice to hear!’ Ania felt her face go pink with pleasure.

‘So

I suggest you give them a hand in the kitchen,’

Rosemary Walsh said.

‘The kitchen?’ Ania was startled.

‘Yes, out that way, towards the back.’ Mrs Walsh was shepherding her out.

Ania didn’t want to leave the little glass dish on the table.

‘Your present, Mrs Walsh?’ she said, trying to reach for it.

‘Go on, dear, don’t keep them waiting. They’re dying for some help.’

‘Help?’ Ania was bewildered.

‘Washing up, dear. Hurry now.’

This couldn’t be right. She had a printed invitation. Nobody could have thought she was coming to do the washing

up. Is this what Carl had meant when he said that naturally she would be at his parents’ party? That he couldn’t do it without her? He had meant she would be working in the

kitchen?

 

She felt she had no choice but to do as she was told.

There was nobody in the kitchen. The waiters were all out serving the buffet. Some glasses had been brought back and the coloured plates and trays which had held the canapes were on the table.

Sadly, Ania filled a sink with soapy water and began to wash the glasses. She was polishing them by the time a tall young woman came in.

‘Hi, I’m Cathy,’ she said. ‘Who are you?’

Tm Ania,’ she said in a low voice.

‘And what are you doing washing the dishes?’

‘I am helping you.’

‘No, no. We stack all these in racks and put them into our van, they get washed back at base.’

‘But Mrs Walsh said—’

‘Mrs Walsh is a horse’s ass!’ Cathy said.

‘A what?’

‘It doesn’t matter.’

Just then a tall, handsome man came into the kitchen.

Cathy spoke to him. She sounded very angry.

‘Tom, this is Ania. That cow sent her in here to do the

washing-up.’

Ania was upset to have caused all this trouble. ‘You see I thought I was a guest but actually I was the help,’ she said.

Tom and Cathy exchanged looks.

‘We’ll get you back into that room at once!’ Cathy said.

‘No, please, please don’t upset Mrs Walsh any more. I have already annoyed her by coming here. Her son invited me and I must have misunderstood.’

‘Where’s the son? I’ll find him.’ Tom was all action.

‘I beg you not to,’ Ania said. ‘Really, I am begging you on my knees. It would make everything so much worse. Just let me stay here. I can put the plates into the racks if you show me.’ She was holding Cathy’s arm as she spoke.

 

‘But her son? Your friend?’ Cathy said.

‘… would think I am even more stupid than I am. I am happy to help here and then I will go away.’

Her beautiful lace sleeves were all wet and soapy from

washing up.

‘This is all wrong,’ Tom said.

‘Sometimes that’s the way things are. All wrong,’ Ania said.

 

Fiona looked around for Ania and couldn’t see her. She must have gone to the Ladies room or maybe she had found Carl.

But no, Carl was there chatting away to a group. He came to greet Fiona.

‘Where’s Ania?’ he asked.

‘I left her out on the balcony,’ Fiona said and they went back out together to look. But there was no sign of her.

‘She’s looking terrific. She could be a model,’ Fiona said.

‘She’s very beautiful, yes.’ Carl was straining to see where she could be. Suddenly Fiona saw the small, unopened gift on a side table.

‘This is where she must have been standing after I left her.

I’ll take the parcel in case she wasn’t able to deliver it properly.

Let’s find Declan and go and see if we can find her.’ But Ania was nowhere to be found.

Eventually Carl and Fiona went into the kitchen. Tom and Cathy were supervising the lobster and salmon buffet and preparing to wheel it into the main room. The twins were carrying the trays round. The bar waiter was opening two kinds of wine and the waitress was laying out the plates and cutlery.

The party was in full swing.

There would be no speeches and no cake. Rosemary had

read that such things were vulgar and nouveau riche. Bobby had wanted to tell everyone how happy they had been but she

had won that battle. Much more sophisticated to let people see their happiness rather than braying about it.

‘Can I help you?’ Cathy had quite liked the young man at first, but now she felt only scorn for him.

‘I was just looking for a friend,’ he said.

‘Ania?’

‘Yes, yes,’ he answered quickly. ‘Is she all right?’

‘I think so. Yes.’

‘But where is she? I’ve been looking for her all over.’

‘She’s gone home,’ Tom said.

‘But was she sick? Is she okay?’

Cathy shrugged. ‘Not particularly now. She ruined her

dress doing the washing-up.’

‘What the hell was she doing the washing-up for?’ His face was very angry.

‘Your mother asked her to help us. It wasn’t necessary but then a taxi came with more ice and we sent her home in that.’

No, no. She can’t have gone home. My mother surely never asked her …’

‘Oh, she did, Mr Walsh,’ Cathy said. ‘And Ania didn’t

want us to call you,’ she added.

 

‘I am going to go into that room and punch Rosemary’s lights out!’ Fiona said. ‘Okay, Carl, so she is your mother, but this really is going too far.’

His face was like stone. ‘No need. I’ll do it myself,’ he said.

‘Carl?’ Fiona was nervous now.

‘Not physically. Relax.’

‘There are still people there. Maybe you should sort of wait.’

‘Go home now, Fiona. Take Declan with you. Make a big

fuss about how late it is. That’s what would help.’

‘Don’t forget that your father—’

‘I won’t forget that. Please, Fiona, go.’

She and Declan stood in the hall shouting goodbye to

 

people until finally the remaining guests realised that the party was over.

The Scarlet Feather vans had been stacked and were revving up to leave. Maud and Simon waved excitedly from the front seat. Declan’s taxi was waiting.

‘Was it a good night?’ the taxi driver asked.

‘No, it was shitty, actually,’ Fiona said.

‘Oh well, you can’t win them all,’ the driver said, shrugging-This

smartly dressed young couple, going to a party at

a house that was worth at least three million and they still couldn’t enjoy themselves. That was life in modern Ireland for you.

 

Ania was so grateful to the kind catering people who had got her out the back door so quickly and without fuss. Apparently there had been some misunderstanding, where they thought the Walshes were arranging the ice, and the Walshes thought that Scarlet Feather was doing it. Cathy had cut through any problems by ordering a taxi to deliver four bags of it.

It hadn’t been the only misunderstanding that night.

How could she have been so foolish, Ania wondered, as she sat in the back of the taxi. Carl was just being nice giving her an invitation. They had always meant for her to come and help. Her face burned with the shame of it all.

The taxi pulled up in her street and she got out. ‘Are you sure I don’t have to pay you?’ she asked fearfully.

‘No, they pay by the month. You’re all right.’

Please may there be no one around, Ania prayed. Everyone in the cafe knew she was going to this party. She had shown them her outfit only a few hours ago. She managed to slip through the door and up the stairs without catching anyone’s eye. The flat was dark and quiet. Ania lay down on her bed and let the tears come. She sobbed until her ribs ached. Then

she stood up and took off her new dress. She put it on a hanger, the sleeves, of course, totally ruined. When she felt strong enough she would take them out, but now she had

other things to do.

She dressed in her jeans, sweater and anorak then took out a big plastic wallet of money from under her mattress. She looked through the bundles of euros with unseeing eyes.

 

The last guest had gone. Carl helped his father get up from his armchair. Carl looked at the long, curving staircase. It would be a challenge.

‘Would you like to sleep downstairs, Dad, rather than

facing that journey up?’

‘You know, I would, son.’ Bobby Walsh had a sofa-bed in

his small study den, near the kitchen. It seemed very tempting.

‘I’ll run up for your pyjamas and dressing gown.’

Rosemary Walsh was touring the house, peering behind

objects in case glasses or cutlery had been overlooked. She examined the kitchen carefully. They had been true to their

word these caterers — everything was left in pristine condition.

The unused food had been wrapped, labelled and installed in either fridge or freezer. She jumped when Carl spoke right beside her.

‘Mother, can you come into the front room, please, I want to talk to you.’

‘Can’t we talk here?’

‘No, Dad is sleeping in the study and I don’t want to

disturb him.’

‘You shouldn’t encourage him to take the easy option. He’ll never get better if he doesn’t make an effort.’

‘The other room, Mother.’

Rosemary shrugged.

Carl sat on a tall chair.

‘That’s not very comfortable.’

 

‘I don’t feel very comfortable,’ he said.

‘What is it, Carl? We’re all tired. Can’t it wait until tomorrow?

The party went well, didn’t it?’

He said nothing.

‘I mean, they were expensive, those Scarlet Feather people, but they did deliver. And I”suppose they were polite to the guests, even if a little lacking in charm to those who actually pay them.’

‘They brought enough staff then?’

‘Yes, they had two odd young people who were apparently

trainees. We didn’t have to pay for them, and do you

know, they turned out to be relations of the Mitchells, the law family.’

‘So there were plenty of hands on deck?’

‘Yes. I think it worked fine. Don’t you think so?’

‘So there was no need for anyone else to help?’

Rosemary hadn’t got the drift. ‘No. Why?’

‘I was just wondering why you asked Ania to go into the

kitchen and help with the washing-up?’

‘Oh dear, is she bleating about that? I just asked her to give them a little hand.’

‘Why did you ask her to do that?’

‘Because she would have felt more at ease in the kitchen, darling. Carl, I know you’re very much for all people everywhere being equal, but she’s a little Polish maid. She’s here for a couple of years to make a few euros then go back. That’s what she is, she knows that’s what she is. She was perfectly happy to lend a hand with the washing-up.’

‘But you didn’t ask any of your other guests to help in the kitchen?’

‘Carl, please, be sensible.’

‘I am being sensible. She was a guest. My guest. I never got to see her because you had her out there working for you

when you admit that you had plenty of people working there already.’

‘Listen, she was out of place.’

‘She was not out of place. She had a beautiful dress. She had a new hairstyle. She had spent over a week’s wages getting you a present …’

‘Oh, God, she did give me a package. Where is it? I don’t know where it ended up.’

‘And your thanks for all this was to send her out to the kitchen because she would feel more at home there.’

‘Come on, Carl, I was being kind to her.’

‘No, Mother, you were never kind to anyone. You were

never kind to Dad or to me, and particularly never kind to anyone that you thought you might conceivably be able to boss around.’

‘I know you have kindly feelings towards her, Carl, but this cannot be. She’s from a different world. They work very hard, I know, but they’re not like us.’

‘Please stop, right now!’

‘I mean it. You have so many friends, you could have so

many more. This girl is nothing to you.’

‘I am very fond of her. In fact, I believe I love her.’

‘You believe!’ his mother scoffed.

‘Yes, I believe, because I’m not sure. I’m not at all sure about love. Father loves you deeply. I don’t know why. So I’ve learned nothing about love from him. You only love possessions.

You don’t love people, so what could I have learned

from you?’

Rosemary looked alarmed. ‘You can’t love this girl, Carl.

You’re sorry for her. You must know that. She would hold you back totally.’

‘From what?’

‘From a normal social life like tonight. She wouldn’t be able to cope, learn our ways.’

 

‘And your way to help her cope with what you call “our

ways” was to order her out of your party, to which she had been invited. Would you just listen to yourself for once?’

‘I just didn’t want anyone being embarrassed. That’s all.’

Rosemary was mutinous.

‘I am very embarrassed, Mother, more so than I have ever been in my life.’

‘Carl, this is all nonsense. Let’s go to bed.’

‘I am never sleeping another night in this house,’ he said.

‘Look, it’s just the drink talking.’

‘I didn’t have any drink. I was too busy being polite to your friends. People who are old enough to remember going to

England when there were signs in the windows saying “No

Blacks, No Irish”. I was talking to a man whose mother was a maid in Boston and she was sent away from the family where she worked because she wasn’t humble enough. She married a bank official and helped him climb to run a bank of his own.’

‘That’s a totally different—’

‘It’s exactly the same, except it’s worse for us. We have plenty. We have so bloody much in this country and we

should be delighted to see all these new people coming in to join us. But no, it’s a pecking order, isn’t it? Even for us, who were at the bottom of the pecking order until not so long ago.’

Rosemary blazed with anger. ‘It’s easy for you to have such high ideals living in a house like this. You’ve had everything!’

‘Not any more, I won’t.’

‘Oh, stop being so petulant, Carl. If you go now you’ll just be back here tomorrow. Let’s not go through the whole silly process.’

‘I will not be back, Mother.’

‘Come on, where will you live? You earn practically nothing at that school. How will you make a living, for God’s sake?’

‘I earn a teacher’s wage. I pay a quarter of it into a bank

account for you and Dad. I have done since I began work. I won’t do it any more when I don’t live here. I’ll survive.’

Rosemary looked at him. He seemed to mean it.

‘What do you think your father and I are doing all this for?’

She waved her hands around the elegant house. ‘It’s all for you, Carl. Don’t throw it back at us! What more do you want?’

‘I could have asked you not to throw my friends out of this home, had I ever known that it would even cross your mind to do so,’ he said.

‘Carl, please …’

‘I’m sorry for you, Mother, I really am.’

He moved to leave the room.

‘That’s right. Go to bed. We’ll all go to bed. It will feel different in the morning.’

‘I don’t know how it will feel for you in the morning and I couldn’t care less,’ Carl said. He took his car keys from the drawer in the hall table and ran down the steps.

As Rosemary looked out into the dark she saw him get into the car he had insisted on buying for himself. She shook her head. He could be very tiresome, but by this time tomorrow it would all be over and forgotten.

 

It was a noisy part of Dublin where Ania lived and even

though it was late at night, there were still cafes and clubs open. People spoke in many different languages.

Carl didn’t even plan what he would say when he found

Ania. There was no need to rehearse how he would apologise for his appalling mother and explain that he had left home.

Maybe she might even let him stay with her. The important thing was to find her and to hold her and to stroke her lovely face and hair.

He knew the address. He hadn’t been to her flat but he had eaten a couple of meals in the restaurant. She had told him about the different kinds of sausage and they insisted he have a

selection on his plate so that he could choose which he liked best.

He went into the restaurant and asked, ‘Is Ania at home, do you think?’

‘No, she has gone to such a fancy party. She was dressed like a film star,’ said one of the brothers who ran the place.

‘She left. I was wondering if perhaps …’

‘There’s Lidia. She will know.’

Lidia was on her mobile phone. She seemed very agitated.

‘But of course I’m worried, Tim, she just left a note saying not to fuss. She would be in touch. But the bad thing is that she has taken her passport.’

 

Molly Carroll had a phone call at 8 a.m. to say that

there were three customers standing outside the

launderette and nobody had opened up.

‘But Ania’s there at seven to open the place up.’ Molly was full of concern.

‘She’s not there today, Molly.’

So, clucking with disapproval, Molly Carroll left breakfast set out and bustled off to open the launderette. They depended on early morning people, knowing they could put in a bag of clothes in the morning and collect them later the same day.

It was so unlike Ania.

 

Hilary was listening to the overnight messages on the clinic’s answering machine. They all had to do with being sorry. A woman had chest pains in the night and had called the

emergency number, but it turned out to be a thing of nothing.

She was sorry for upsetting everyone. A man, who had got the wrong number, kept explaining that he was sorry to have

missed the appointment but would make it up in spades on another occasion. And one from Ania saying that there was a bit of a crisis. She was very sorry indeed and would explain everything in a few days. She had left the keys to the clinic in

an envelope in the restaurant under her flat. Johnny could pick them up.

A crisis that was going to last a few days? Ania? Hilary was very startled.

 

Lidia and Tim hadn’t slept a wink. Where could Ania have gone? She gave no indication at all.

‘I know all her friends,’ Lidia said. ‘I’ve tried them all and no luck.’

‘What about Father Flynn?’

‘Not a word. He’s asking everyone at his centre, but no

word yet.’

‘She can’t have gone to the airport. It was too late,’ Tim said, mainly to reassure Carl Walsh who was almost mad with worry and claiming that it was all his fault because he hadn’t been there to meet her and welcome her in. Lidia hadn’t

understood the full details of what had gone on at the party and tried to calm him down.

‘It can’t have been your fault. She was so pleased to be invited.

And did your mother like her gift?’

‘Don’t talk to me about the gift!’ Carl cried, his face

distraught. ‘There must be someone we haven’t thought of!’

 

Fiona came by to tell Declan the news that Ania had disappeared and together they sat and ate the grapefruit Molly

had left out. It was better than the two fried eggs, sausages and fried bread she would have insisted on if she’d been there.

They had been talking on the phone to Lidia, Carl, Hilary and Father Flynn. There was the slight possibility that she might turn up at the heart clinic but they didn’t think it was likely. They were alarmed when Hilary told them about the message on the answering machine.

‘So should we get the Guards?’ Fiona asked.

 

‘She specifically asked Lidia not to make any fuss,’ Declan said.

‘But she must have been so upset.’

‘I know, Fiona, but what’s the point of asking your friends not to make a fuss if you can’t trust them to do what you ask?’

Fiona looked at him, surprised. ‘What kind of a doctor are you going to be, Declan Carroll?’

‘One who takes my patients’ wishes seriously.’

‘How far would you go down that road?’

‘Only time will tell. Time and the knowledge that I will have a good, wise wife beside me to mark my card. What are you doing on Saturday? I thought then we might go and look at rings. I was wondering, would you like an opal?’

‘You’re not to spend too much on it, Declan. Please - anything would do me. Honestly. I don’t need an expensive ring

— just to know you love me is enough.’

‘It’s your birthstone. I thought that was important. Now let’s go and look after sick people. That’s what we do.’

He looked so devoted, she felt almost weak. What had she done to deserve all this love?

 

Father Brian Flynn discovered a girl who had seen Ania waiting for an airport bus.

‘But there are no planes to Poland at night,’ he said.

‘I think she was going to London first.’

‘But there wouldn’t have been planes there until the morning.’

Brian Flynn couldn’t believe that the level-headed Ania

had disappeared into thin air.

‘I do not know, Father.’

‘Of course you don’t. I’m just worried, that’s all.’

‘You would have been more worried if you saw her last

night. She was like a person who had seen something terrible.’

 

Bobby Walsh came into the kitchen for his breakfast.

‘Didn’t they leave the place immaculate?’ he asked his wife as he helped himself to tea and toast.

‘Yes.’ She spoke sharply.

‘Where’s Carl?’

‘He went out last night and he didn’t come back.’

‘So, he went straight into the school then?’

‘I think not. They called here looking for him.’ Rosemary finished her coffee.

‘So where is he?’ Bobby was alarmed.

‘Being deeply silly,’ Rosemary said and left the house.

He heard her car starting up and leaving. The car sounded as angry as she had looked.

Bobby Walsh suddenly felt very lonely in the big house by the sea.

 

Clara looked up when Hilary brought in the mug of coffee.

‘Where’s Ania?’

‘Nobody knows,’ Hilary said. ‘She left an odd message.’

They puzzled over it. Anyone in the clinic could have called in sick. But not Ania. She would have crawled in, if she had breath in her body.

‘Is it love, do you think?’ Clara asked.

‘Well, yesterday she was all sunshine. She was going to a ruby wedding at Bobby Walsh’s. She’s very fond of Bobby’s son Carl.’

‘I wish her luck dealing with that Rosemary.’

‘No. She was mad about Rosemary. Rosemary had sent her

an invitation, apparently, and Ania had bought a lovely little red glass dish for her.’

‘Maybe the Walshes know where she is.’

‘I don’t fancy making the call, Clara.’

‘All right, cowardy-custard. I’ll do it.’

 

‘Hello, Bobby. Clara Casey from the heart clinic here. No, no, nothing to do with your tests, you’re doing fine. No, oddly it was something else entirely. I was wondering if you had seen our Ania? You see, she was going to your house last night to an anniversary party. No? Oh, I think she was there. No, of course, with so many people. I wonder, would Mrs Walsh

recall? Oh, she’s gone out? Right … Sorry for bothering you, Bobby. See you next week, as usual. Yes, right, of course we’ll let you know.’

Hilary looked at her questioningly.

‘That man Bobby Walsh should be canonised in his own

lifetime. He says he’s very sorry, he didn’t see Ania last night.

He’d love to have talked to her. No one told him she was there. We’re to let him know when she surfaces.’

‘If she surfaces,’ Hilary said.

 

Fiona was passing the desk when the phone rang. She picked it up absently, her mind still on buying an opal ring and what on earth could have come over Ania. It was Rosemary Walsh.

‘Is that Clara?’

‘No, Mrs Walsh, it’s Fiona.’

‘It was actually Ania, the Polish girl, I was looking for.’ She gave a tinkling laugh to underline the unexpected nature of her call.

‘We are all looking for her, Mrs Walsh.’

‘What do you mean?’ Mrs Walsh sounded alarmed.

‘She hasn’t been seen since she was sent into your kitchen last night.’

‘Er … yes. She’s a most helpful girl — she offered to help with the washing-up.’

‘No. I think you asked her to do the washing-up. She

thought she was a guest.’

‘Oh, that’s all been cleared up by now.’

‘No, it hasn’t. She hasn’t turned up for work. She’s left her

flat. Father Flynn has been looking for her. Carl has been on the phone every few minutes. I don’t think it’s been cleared up at all!’

‘Kindly don’t take that tone with me, Fiona.’

‘I’m not taking any tone, Mrs Walsh, I’m just telling you that the Guards are being called and they will be here shortly.’

Fiona had the great pleasure of hearing Rosemary Walsh gasp.

It wasn’t true about the Guards. But oh, it was worth it just to hear that intake of breath.

 

When Ania’s bus pulled into her village she got out and went into Mrs Zak’s shop.

‘This is a surprise, Ania, does your mother know?’

‘No, Mrs Zak - may I make one quick call to Ireland,

please?’

‘I was sure you would have a mobile phone like all these young girls are getting.’

‘They are too expensive, Mrs Zak. I will pay you for the telephone call.’

Mrs Zak watched astounded as Ania seemed to speak in

perfect English into the telephone. She couldn’t understand what the girl was saying but it sounded very fluent. Little Ania, who had been afraid to lift her eyes to anyone until she met that troublesome boy Marek. Now look at her! She was

speaking a foreign language as if she were a professor.

 

Ania spoke to Clara. ‘I am so sorry to do something so unexpected as to run away. You see I made a big mistake. Perhaps

Fiona told you?’

‘She did, Ania, and you’re not the only one who makes

mistakes with Rosemary Walsh. Her life is one long history of mistakes.’

‘But I embarrassed everyone. Carl must think I am a fool.’

‘He is so worried about you, Ania. Every few minutes he

 

rings to ask have we any news. Perhaps you could telephone him. He’ll be so relieved to know you are all right.’

‘No, I can’t do that. Please, Clara, perhaps you could ask Fiona to do it?’

‘And when will I say that you’re coming back?’

‘I have only just got here, Clara, I haven’t been to see my Mamusia yet. I do not know.’

‘All right, Ania. Don’t sound so worried. Everyone will be so happy that you are safe. You have many friends here, all very concerned about you.’

‘Thank you, Clara. I am sorry I was such a poor choice of a worker.’

‘You’re the best worker we have here. You’ve been here for months. You’ll always have a place here when you need it.’

Two big tears came down Ania’s face. Mrs Zak looked

at her over her glasses. The girl was probably pregnant. Why had she come back to upset her mother with further bad

news?

 

The word spread quickly that Ania was back in Poland having a rest. Clara phoned Carl first and then Frank Ennis in

hospital administration. They would need a temporary replacement.

‘Did

she give you adequate notice of her trip to Poland?’

‘It was an emergency.’ Clara was crisp.

‘Well, I’m not expected to find temps in trees,’ he said.

‘Right, will we appoint our own then?’

‘No.’ Frank wanted nothing more to escape his grasp.

‘Good. We’ll see a temporary replacement for Ania tomorrow.’

‘For

how long?’ Frank asked.

‘You will be informed,’ Clara said.

‘We don’t really need a replacement for Ania. We’ll all pitch in,’ Hilary said.

 

‘Where is your solidarity and sense of self-worth?’ Clara was shocked. ‘If Frank thinks we can manage without Ania then we’ll be managing without her forever. This is just to save her job.’

 

‘Bobby?’

‘Are you home, Rosemary?’

‘Yes, of course I am. Is everything all right?’

‘I’ve had nothing but phone calls all day, Rosemary. That little Ania from the clinic has disappeared. The last anyone saw of her was here, apparently.’

‘I’m sure that’s not right.’

‘Why didn’t you tell me she was here, Rosemary? I’m very fond of her.’

‘You’re not the only one,’ his wife said.

‘What do you mean?’

‘Your son has been sniffing after her too.’

‘I’m not sniffing after her, Rosemary.’

‘No, no, of course you’re not. Sorry … I would have paid her, Bobby.’

‘Sorry? Paid her for what?’

‘For working in the kitchen.’

‘I thought she was a guest. That’s what Clara said. What Carl said. What Fiona said.’

‘When did all these people say these things?’ Rosemary

looked drawn and frightened.

‘On the phone. Today.’

‘She wouldn’t have done anything silly, Bobby? Anything

really silly? Would she?’ Rosemary looked very worried.

‘Why would she have done anything silly?’

Rosemary breathed more easily. He hadn’t been told the

whole story.

‘Europeans,’ she said. ‘Very unstable.’

 

Declan went to a library and looked up opals. There was some bad luck attached to them, but then there was bad luck attached to all stones. He found a story about the Spanish King

Alfonso who gave someone an opal and she died, and everyone who got that opal died. Declan, who was practical, thought they would have died anyway. People had such a short life expectancy in those days. He wasn’t going to attract Fiona’s attention to it.

He went to the jeweller’s and told him the upper limits of his spending power. The jeweller said he would make up a tray and see him on Saturday.

 

The temp they sent was Amy Barry, daughter of Peter, the pharmacist. Clara looked at her with interest. Amy looked up from under her dark fringe.

‘Oh, it’s you,’ she said to Clara, without much enthusiasm.

‘Very nice to see you again,’ Clara said.

‘Don’t suppose I’ll get the job now, I mean, knowing I

worked in a bondage shop. Not much chance for me here.’

‘Why not?’ Clara seemed to think working in a fetish shop was fine preparation for a clerical job in a heart clinic.

‘Why didn’t you marry my dad?’ Amy asked with interest.

‘He was mad about you.’

‘We were too old and set in our ways. It would have been too much adjustment. Your own romance going well?’

‘Fine thanks. You know I always liked you,’ Amy said,

refusing to be deflected.

‘And I liked you too,’ Clara smiled easily.

‘But not enough to give me a job?’ Amy’s fists were ready for the fight.

‘Of course you can have the job, just tell me why you left the corsets and bondage, and that you do know that when

Ania comes back we have to let you go.’

‘The corsets and bondage are bankrupt, and I do understand about this being just a temp job,’ Amy grinned.

 

‘Right. You can start straight away.’

‘That’s great. Have you any hints for me?’

‘Yes - we are united in our hatred of Frank Ennis,’ Clara said. ‘You should regard him as the natural enemy of this clinic and you won’t go far wrong.’

 

Carl Walsh was staying with Aidan and Nora Dunne. They

were very easy company and asked him no interrogating

questions. If they wondered why a man whose parents owned a seaside mansion wanted to stay on the sofa of a poky little flat like theirs, they never made any reference to it. There was such affection in these small rooms compared to the icy-cold life his mother ran in her mansion. Carl could hardly believe it was all in the same city.

Aidan and Nora were planning a Sunday lunch party for

Aidan’s birthday. Again, Carl was stunned to see how little money they had and how things had to be considered carefully before they were bought. A revulsion for the showy anniversary party came over him. His mother hadn’t one ounce of

decency in her. He realised that now. Up to this, he had blinded himself to her ways, thinking that his father just needed an easy life. But now Carl realised that he must have been in denial. Someone should have stood up to Rosemary Walsh a long time ago.

‘Will you join us for the lunch, Carl?’ Nora was ever welcoming.

‘No

thank you, Nora, I’m not much company these days,

and I will have to go home and collect my things some time.

I’d better do it this weekend.’

‘You might even make peace with your parents.’ It was the first time that Nora had mentioned any friction.

‘I have always had peace with my father,’ Carl said.

‘Yes, but women are complicated. We twist things. Get

things wrong …’

 

‘You don’t.’ He spoke simply.

‘No, but I see it’s upsetting you and I don’t like to see you so down, Carl.’ Nora’s voice was full of sympathy.

‘I am down because I was so stupid. I met a marvellous girl and I let her get away.’

‘Did she like you?’

‘I thought so, but I’m such a fool. I’d do anything to have that night all over again.’

‘And where is she now, this marvellous girl?’ Nora wanted to know.

‘In a village in the south of Poland. She doesn’t want to talk to me.’

‘And when will she be back?’

‘They don’t think she is coming back.’

‘I’m sure she will, Carl. You’re a good lad. They’re not easy to find.’

‘I’m not a good lad, Nora, I’m a clown.’

‘We’re all clowns from time to time, believe me. I’m only sorry you’re spoken for. I had such high hopes of you and Aidan’s daughter from his first marriage. Ah well!’

 

Ania walked up the hill with a heavy heart.

 

She didn’t really believe Clara that lots of people missed her. But she was back home now, with a bag full of money for her mother. Hardly an hour had passed when Ania had not

been working. It would all be worth it when she saw her

Mamusia’s face take in the amount of the gift.

She hoped that Mamusia would not cry. Ania felt that if she herself started crying again she might never stop.

 

Fiona and Declan bent over the rings and tried them on her finger.

This one had a lovely setting. That one had huge colours in

it whichever way you turned it. Eventually, they picked one which had three little opals in a line.

‘That was the very first one you went for, always a good sign,’ said the young man who sold stones all day and was very good with the patter.

‘And when will the great day be?’ he asked, as he polished the opals one more time.

‘Not for ages and ages,’ Declan said hastily.

‘The end of this summer,’ Fiona said.

‘That’s right, girl. You nail him down,’ said the young

jeweller, enchanted with it all.

 

They went to lunch at Quentins and showed the ring to

Brenda who said all the right things and brought them a glass of champagne.

Then they rang Fiona’s parents and told them that the ring had been bought. There was huge excitement and they invited the Carrolls to come for a Chinese take-away that evening.

Fiona wrote emails to Tom and Elsa in California, to David in England and to Vonni in Greece.

She said she was very happy and that she wanted them all to meet Declan.

‘Why did you change your mind about the timing?’ he

asked.

‘I think because I saw the mess poor Carl and Ania made of it all and I didn’t want us to get into a scene like that.’

‘Where’s Carl staying?’ Declan asked.

‘Don’t know. Amazing it took him so long to see through

his mother.’

‘He was keeping the peace for his father’s sake,’ Declan said.

‘You always have the kind word,’ Fiona said adoringly,

twisting her finger to admire the ring again.

 

Dear Fiona,

How great that you are getting married— congratulations, and of course I’d love to come. It will be a great chance for a holiday.

When I sold my father’s business my mother was upset, but now she thinks it’s all for the best. I am going to open a business of my own importing pottery. Maybe I will find some marvellous Irish things when I am there. You must point me in the right direction.

It will be magic to see you again and share in your

wedding day. Let’s hope Vonni, Tom and Elsa can come too.

Love,

David

 

Fiona,

Only for you would I take my old bones back to Ireland. I swore never to go there again, but what you tell me about this man Declan sounds too good to miss. I did ask Andreas to come with me, but he says no. He will see all the pictures.

Those great twins have invited me to stay in their house with people called Muttie and his wife Lizzie. Is this for real?

They also tell me they’re in catering and they hope they might even do your wedding. You don’t know this now — I thought I’d forewarn you.

Now that I have decided to go I am quite excited.

Thank you for keeping in touch —you are a good friend.

Love,

Vonni

 

Dear Fiona,

We can’t come for the most amazing reason. We are

pregnant!

Elsa is having our baby and it’s due just that week: I

thought for years I would never have children, but we went

for AI treatment and we’re expecting a daughter the very day you will be married. I wish we could be there. But we will come and see you as soon as our little princess is old enough to travel.

Bill is delighted. Even Shirley is enthusiastic, so life couldn ‘t be better.

Didn ‘t we all have an amazing time that summer. I can’t bear to think we will miss Andreas and Vonni and David.

Please take lots of pictures and we will want to hear every detail.

Love from us both,

Tom

 

Simon and Maud were learning that catering was utterly exhausting.

‘I

think we may well be burned out by the time we’re

twenty-five,’ Simon said.

‘Cathy and Tom survived it,’ Maud said, not ready to give up yet.

‘Yes, but they were mad about each other,’ Simon grumbled.

‘Well, we get on all right.’

‘But we’re not in love like they were.’ Simon worried at it like a dog with a bone.

‘God, Simon, suppose we were to get partners that we were in love with? Would that make it all right?’

‘It would get us over the worst bits, I suppose.’

‘I think we should try to attract business. That’s what we should be doing.’ Maud was very firm.

‘Like what?’

‘Like Fiona and Declan’s wedding. We could present them

with a buffet choice and give them a price.’

‘But where would we do it, Maud? We don’t have any

venues, as Tom and Cathy call them.’

 

‘We could look for them. Tired tennis clubs? Old schools?

There must be something, Simon.’

‘And if we did find a venue?’ Simon was anxious.

‘We just come up with a menu.’ Maud was confident.

 

‘Brian?’

James?

‘You’ve been running this hall already as a cafe, haven’t you?’

‘Yes, you know I have.’

‘So, what’s the problem?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘If Health and Safety say it’s okay as a cafe, it should be okay for a wedding.’

‘But the alcohol?’ Brian asked.

‘You’re not selling alcohol, Brian. You don’t have a liquor licence.’

‘That’s what I mean.’

‘And couldn’t these people bring their own?’

‘I don’t think it works like that,’ Father Brian said.

‘It works the way you want it to work. How are you to be blamed if a whole lot of Poles turn up with their own firewater?’

‘James,

it won’t work.’

lMy advice, on very good authority, is to try it and to plead total ignorance, ifthe matter ever comes up.’

 

Molly Carroll said she really liked Fiona’s parents. Maureen and Sean Ryan and Fiona’s two sisters had made Molly and Paddy very welcome: they were level-headed people with no airs and graces.

She had thought it odd that they didn’t have a roast to

entertain their future in-laws, but then it turned out they had

only heard about the engagement very late in the day. And that Chinese food had been very tasty.

They had all agreed to stay out of it and let the young

people make their own arrangements. Lord knew what kind of ceremony or wedding breakfast they had in mind.

 

Simon and Maud had met Father Brian Flynn when they

heard he was looking for someone to prepare a christening party for some Slovaks.

‘It’s just eastern Mediterranean food,’ Simon said.

‘No problem. Heavy emphasis on aubergines, stuffed peppers, courgettes, olive oil,’ Maud agreed.

‘There’s a problem about alcohol,’ Father Flynn said.

‘Oh, we know all about that, Father,’ Simon said reassuringly.

‘Our

mother was the very same way.’ Maud patted him on

the hand.

‘Not me,’ Brian Flynn said crossly, ‘it’s the law, you see.

Rules about selling drink.’

‘Oh, I see,’ Simon said. ‘I thought you had a problem yourself.

So they just have to bring their own, is that it?’

‘Yes, I gather that’s within the boundaries.’

‘Fine. We could provide pitchers of fruit juice and whatever they have on or under the table isn’t down to us.’

‘Yes. That would work, wouldn’t it?’

‘From what we hear around the place, that should cover

everything,’ Maud said. Wise beyond her years.

On the way home from the centre, Simon said suddenly, ‘That’s where we could have Fiona and Declan’s wedding.

We’ve found our venue.’

 

‘You know that you and Fiona are going to be married this year?’ Simon asked Declan anxiously.

‘Yes, Simon, I had remembered that.’

 

I

 

‘It’s just I wondered, could you tell me is it going to be a religious or a civil ceremony?’

‘Oh, well, a bit of a church wedding first, to please the old folk.’

‘Yes, but what kind of a church?’ Simon seemed very

anxious. Declan wondered if he were some kind of zealot.

‘Um, well, an ordinary church, I imagine. You know, a

Catholic church somewhere.’

‘So you haven’t anywhere actually planned?’

‘No, not yet. Simon, could I ask you, exactly what is this all about?’

‘We thought of a terrific place for you to get married.’

‘Did you?’

‘We did.’

‘Why am I nervous about this?’ Declan asked.

‘There’s no need. It’s a real church, a real priest and everything.’

‘And

what’s the snag?’

‘There isn’t one.’

‘There always is. Come on, tell me.’

‘You have to bring the drink into the place … in paper bags.’

‘It’s a speakeasy,’ Declan said.

‘It’s nothing of the sort!’ Simon was indignant.

‘So, what is it?’

‘It’s a lovely hall, down near the Liffey. It’s beside a church.

It’s where new Irish people come. Polish people; Latvians; Lithuanians. I thought you’d love it.’

‘And we might well love it,’ Declan said. ‘You haven’t

booked it or anything, have you?’

‘Sort of,’ Simon admitted.

 

Ania’s mother had been wonderful. It was so good to have Ania home, she said, over and over. Such a lovely surprise when she had walked through the door.

But there were no pleas to stay. Her mother had more

courage than Ania remembered. Nothing much had changed

her, while Ania’s whole life had altered.

Mamusia asked questions about Ireland. The nice man,

Carl, who had taught her English? He was well? Yes, he was well. And his parents’ fortieth wedding anniversary, that had been good? Yes, fairly good. Not great, but good.

Ania sat with her mother and took out the money she had

worked so hard for. This would pay for all the changes in the little house. The changes that would make it into a real business and not a cottage industry. One of Ania’s brothersin-law would do the building work. It could begin any day

now.

The light faded and it started to get dark. Mamusia pulled the curtains and turned on the lamps; Ania sat there wondering why she had ever left. Was this whole busy life in Dublin some kind of dream? She was very tired. She hadn’t slept since she had fled from Carl’s home. She’d been up all night waiting for the first flight to London and then the flight to Poland.

Her mother saw her nodding off and pulled a rug over her knees. She slept on and dreamed that Carl had sent her a big bunch of flowers with a card saying: ‘I love you, Ania. Come back to me.’

When she woke at four o’clock in the morning, she was very sad it was just a dream. And she went to her bed with tears in her eyes.

 

‘How sure were you when you married Dad?’ Linda asked her mother.

‘Too sure as it turned out,’ Clara said.

 

‘No, I mean what did it feel like when you decided you’d hitch your star to his?’

‘We didn’t put it that way then, Linda.’

‘I’m just asking for honest information.’

‘Okay. This is the truth. I fancied him. I fancied him

rotten. When he said “Marry me”, I thought of getting away from my mother who, as you might recall, is pretty difficult. I didn’t think people said “I love you” and didn’t mean it. I was there like a shot from a gun. Now, is that all right?’

‘Not really. Nick and I are wondering if we should get a flat together. But we’re nervous. I mean, we both have perfectly reasonable mothers. I wished you liked Hilary more, by the way.’

‘I do like her,’ Clara said.

‘Yes, but only in that sort of head-patting way. And we

wonder whether we should get a place of our own in case it sort of exposes all the weaknesses in our relationship.’

‘How wise of you both,’ Clara said.

‘You sound pissed off over something, Clara.’

‘No, I don’t. I had another lovely day at work. Ania has run away back to Poland because her boyfriend’s mother thought she had come to her party as a maid. Frank Ennis has made my life hell on wheels again. Peter Barry’s lunatic daughter turned up looking for a job, and I gave her one. Fiona and Declan have decided they are going to get married in an

immigrant centre on the Liffey. I wrongly thought I was

coming home to a nice bowl of soup, and I find you booted and spurred and wanting to discuss the meaning of life. Not even vaguely pissed off!’

‘You’re not the worst, Clara,’ her daughter Linda said.

High praise indeed.

 

Fiona and Barbara went to have a look at the hall in Father Flynn’s centre.

 

‘It’s a bit basic,’ Barbara said.

‘But we can do something with it — and we can afford it.

We can’t run to the wedding palace where Declan and I rise up in a swirl of dry ice … And anyway, you know that’s not what I want. I just wonder is it worth everyone’s time coming up here, you know, cousins from the country, David from

England, Vonni from Greece?’

‘They only want to see you happy and have a rake of food and drink. And this Vonni, and this David, would they think less of you because it’s not all chrome and glitter?’ Barbara persisted.

‘Of course they wouldn’t.’

‘So, last thing, is it grand enough for Declan?’

‘Barbara, you know Declan.’

‘Right, so all we have to do is make sure those twins don’tI poison us all. Let’s go and make Father Flynn’s day with aŚ

booking.’ť

 

Rosemary heard voices in the kitchen when she got back

home. Bobby was talking to someone. Her heart lifted for a moment, thinking it might be Carl. The silly boy couldn’t keep this up forever. She would be gracious and courteous to him. Show him that she could rise above his petty behaviour.

But it wasn’t her son. It was that imperious Clara from the heart clinic.

‘Imagine, they entertain you in the kitchen, Dr Casey!’

Rosemary sounded shocked. Her look at Bobby was intended to say that he would suffer for this later.

‘I called because Bobby didn’t come for his appointment

this morning and I was in the area anyway.’

‘Oh, and what exactly has you in this area?’

‘Concern, Mrs Walsh. Concern that Bobby didn’t turn up

to his appointment. There was no reply when I telephoned.’

 

‘Really, Bobby.’

‘I know. Sorry, love, I couldn’t make the phone, I was very out of breath.’

‘And also I’m looking for a Chinese gardener who services some of these blocks of apartments nearby. Our Ania, from the heart clinic, has gone missing. I wondered if he had anything to say.’

‘And had he?’ Rosemary asked.

‘Not really, except that he wanted to give her some money he owed her and said there was plenty more work if she

needed it.’

‘And where is she?’

‘She’s in Poland. She got upset about something and took herself off the day after your party, apparently.’

‘Rosemary would have paid her, whatever the going rate

was. I know she would,’ Bobby said suddenly.

‘Sorry?’ Clara hadn’t understood what he was saying.

‘Shut up, Bobby,’ Rosemary said.

‘No, it’s not fair that they should think any of this was your fault,’ Bobby said, his face burning with the will to make everything right.

‘I’m off now,’ Clara said. ‘Will Carl bring you into the clinic tomorrow, Bobby?’

‘Carl’s left home,’ Bobby said.

‘Yes, well, a taxi then?’

‘I can bring him in,’ Rosemary said.

‘Any time tomorrow morning is fine, Bobby. We’ll always

make room for you,’ Clara said and swept out. She paused and looked at the view of the yachts out at sea and the purple Head of Howth across the bay. This house was the last word in terms of a desirable property. But it hadn’t brought much happiness to the three people who had rattled around in it.

What a terrible waste.

 

Fiona was in the bus on her way to her parents’ house. She hoped they would be enthusiastic about this hall. The great thing was they could have it any time and Father Flynn said he would be delighted to marry them.

Someone had left an evening paper on the seat so Fiona

looked at it idly. There was the usual celebrity gossip: film stars visiting Ireland and news of soccer teams in England.

Then she saw a small paragraph. A young man had been

found dead in a city squat, most probably from a drugs overdose.

There was no identification and the Guards authorities were anxious to trace anyone who knew him. He was about twenty-five to thirty, small build, the only clue lay in a watch. It was engraved with a date and the words ‘Love always, Fiona’.

Shane?

Dead from an overdose in a Dublin flat?

Fiona thought she was going to be sick. She staggered to the doors and got off the bus still holding the newspaper. There was a number to contact. But wait, she didn’t want to get involved.

She hadn’t thought about Shane for months, years

even. Why bring it all back?

Why meet his mother under these circumstances? But she

couldn’t turn away either.

He deserved a burial, a mother, someone to identify him.

She sat on a bench beside the bus stop and considered her options. She could ring the Guards and give Shane’s full name and address. She could find his mother and warn her of what was in store. She could do nothing. If she hadn’t found that newspaper she would never have known.

But it was clear to Fiona what she had to do. She called the number printed in the newspaper. ‘I think the dead body is a man called Shane O’Leary. If you were to ring the police station in a place called Aghia Anna in Greece they would give you the phone number of the police station in Athens that

booked him three years ago. They will have his fingerprints and details. Who am I? I am nobody. Really, I’m not important.

It’s just to help you and maybe his mother, if she’s still alive. No, I have no more to say.’

Then she closed her phone and waited for the next bus.

That night, as she was going to bed, Fiona realised that she had no feelings at all about the dead Shane. She had hardly any memory of their time together or why she had loved him so much. It was impossible to remember why someone could love so madly, so one-sidedly. It must mean that she had been insane for a whole part of her life.

 

Father Flynn was showing off his hall proudly. He was explaining to a young Polish couple that his first wedding would

take place at the end of August, a marriage between a young doctor and a nurse from the heart clinic and they had given permission for this couple and another pair to come to the wedding and see if they liked it all.

‘They must be generous people.’ The couple were surprised.

‘They are good people, yes. And the caterers are marvellous.

You’d love them.’

‘They might be very expensive.’

‘No, I think not. They did a great buffet for a Slovakian christening. Unpronounceable char-grilled vegetables — none of the people had ever seen them before, but in the end

everyone was delighted with it.’

‘And perhaps we can make some decorations for the hall.

You have nice curtains, but not many pictures.’

‘We had a lovely Polish girl, Ania, who worked here with us but sadly she’s gone back home.’

‘Maybe she is very happy there,’ the young couple suggested.

‘Maybe

…’ said Father Flynn, who had heard a fair

 

amount of the story from Johnny, Declan and Fiona. Wherever Ania was, he didn’t think she was very happy.

 

Ania was, in fact, in discussion with Lech, one of her brothersin-law.

They were going to remodel the shop for Mamusia.

They would make a big, long window here and put two garments in it. A friend would write the sign.

‘You worked very hard to make all this money, Ania.’

‘She deserves it. I disgraced her.’

‘That’s all in your mind. You weren’t the only one that

Marek fooled. He’s in jail now. Did you know?’

‘No, I didn’t know.’ She was startled that she didn’t feel anything at all at this news. Neither relieved nor upset. Just indifferent.

Lech

had his metal measuring tape out and was writing

down figures in his notebook. Ania looked out and prayed that this would work. She hoped so much that ladies who

wanted a spring outfit would come up this hill and consult with her mother. Everything would have been worth it then.

Yes, even all her mistakes.

There was somebody coming up the hill as she watched. A

man with a bag on his back. He paused now and then to look around him, to take it all in. She looked again.

It was.

It was Carl.

 

Amy said that she liked working in the clinic. There was a good atmosphere. ‘I hope that this Ania never comes back. I hope she meets a rich Pole there who owns a dozen restaurants.

Then I can go on working here until I die,’ she said to

Clara.

‘I wouldn’t bet on it, Amy,’ Clara said. ‘I hear that her fellow went out there after her. We could look up any minute

and she might be right there, at that door.’

 

‘The nonsensical things people do for love,’ Amy said.

‘I know! Isn’t it just? Are you still with your fellow, Ben, the nice embalmer?’

‘Yes, I am as it happens. Fancy you remembering.’

‘Oh, I remember. I liked him.’

‘I suppose you and he being vaguely in the same business, you had quite a lot in common,’ Amy agreed.

If Clara was disturbed to be considered in the same line of business as an embalmer, she showed nothing.

‘Does your dad get on with him?’

‘I don’t think he knows what to talk to him about. He’s

always afraid that Ben will start to talk about dead bodies, which he rarely does. Anyway, Dad’s all caught up with your woman nowadays.’

‘Your woman?’

‘You know, Mrs Thing, from Lilac Court.’

‘Claire Cotter! Never!’

‘Is she awful?’ Amy asked eagerly.

‘No, she’s marvellous. Ideal for him actually.’ And Clara was relieved to find that she actually meant it.

‘Okay, if you say so. I’ll look at her with warmer eyes.’

 

Fiona listened as Bobby said Carl had taken a few days off school unexpectedly and he hoped the boy was all right.

‘You know, Bobby, I never met a fellow that was more all right than Carl. I wish I had had a teacher like him when I was at school.’

‘It’s just that he’s probably taking time off to think about his life. You know, he’s at the age he should be having his own home. Like you are, Fiona.’ Bobby admired the opal ring.

‘Like I am,’ Fiona said in an oddly quiet tone.

 

‘Will we go shopping for wedding outfits?’ Fiona’s mother suggested on Thursday, the late opening day.

 

‘I’ll go and look for something for you, Mam.’

‘It is customary for the bride to dress up too,’ her mother said.

‘Ania will make my dress. It was all arranged.’

‘But isn’t she …’

‘Yes, she is, but she’ll be back,’ Fiona said.

Fiona received a text message from Ania who had borrowed a mobile phone: ‘Mamusia and I spent a long time thinking about your wedding dress. I know what will look wonderful on you. Will you trust us? You will be the most beautiful bride in Ireland. I am happy in my heart. Love, Ania.’

 

Barbara was going to lose fourteen pounds for the wedding.

It was realistic, she said, as she ate an egg sandwich filled with butter and mayonnaise and that two pounds a week was the recommended weight loss.

Molly Carroll and Maureen Ryan were going to a place

called Big Day that specialised in Mother of the Bride outfits.

They were now firm friends and had urged each other not

to go to town, not to be too fussy, not to be over the top.

Their husbands knew this was only a rallying cry to go

completely mad.

They were discussing getting shoes dyed, coordinating

handbags and having a professional make-up person on the day.

 

The twins were sick with excitement. They begged Cathy and Tom for some help.

‘Why should we help you to do a rival gig?’ Tom asked

jokingly.

Cathy knew that you never joked with Maud and Simon.

‘Sure we’ll come along and look at the place,’ she said.

‘It’s not really a rival operation …’ Simon began.

 

‘They wouldn’t be able to afford you two …’ Maud

agreed.

‘The groom spent all the money on an opal ring.’ Simon

was censorious.

‘So there’s not a lot left over for the catering, you see.’

Maud wanted there to be no grey areas.

‘Show us the place and we’ll tell you what you need.’ Cathy cut across the ever-increasing complications of any conversation with Maud and Simon. ‘Show us the venue, kids,

and bring a notebook,’ she said.

 

Vonni had booked her ticket to Ireland. She showed it to Andreas.

‘Come with me, old friend,’ she entreated.

‘No. You won’t marry me, why should I go halfway across

the world to be your escort at a wedding party?’

‘Andreas, we would be mad to get married. I need you,

Andreas. I might go back on the drink unless you’re there.’

‘No, you won’t. You didn’t drink in Ireland before. Why

would you start now?’

‘I might become unhinged.’

‘No. It was my country and my countrymen that unhinged

you. You’ve recovered now.’

‘We never really recover.’

‘Well, you’re as near to it as anyone I know,’ Andreas said, patting her on the hand.

 

David Fine’s mother was surprised that he was going to

Ireland to a wedding.

‘Was that the girl who came here when your father was

diagnosed?’ she asked.

‘That’s right, Mother. Fiona.’

‘I thought at the time that you two were sweet on each

other back then.’

 

‘Oh no, not at all. She was in love with a madman back

then but fortunately she got over him,’ David explained.

‘So she’s not marrying the madman then?’

‘No, marriage was the last thing he had in mind.’

‘Will it be a Catholic wedding, do you think?’

‘Almost certainly.’

‘You’ll need someone to mark your card, David, when to

stand and sit and kneel.’

‘Oh, I’ll watch the others,’ David said airily.

‘And will it be a fancy wedding, do you think?’

‘I have no idea. She’s marrying a doctor. He’s got red hair and is very kind. She sounds highly excited.’

‘Of course she’s excited,’ David’s mother said, ‘isn’t she marrying a doctor?’

 

‘We should send flowers to the wedding,’ Elsa said.

‘Imagine. Vonni going back to Ireland for it,’ Tom said.

‘I wish we could be there. Where will we send the flowers, do you think?’ Elsa asked.

‘She mentions a church near the Liffey. I guess the florist would know,’ Tom said.

‘Or we have her home address.’

‘I’m glad she’s happy,’ said Tom. ‘This fellow sounds a

much better bet.’

‘Almost anyone in the world would be a better bet than

Shane,’ Elsa said.

 

Bobby Walsh knew more about what was going on than most

people thought. But he didn’t confront Rosemary with this information. Instead, he arranged to rent a flat for his son. It was nearer the city and would be handier for Carl going to the school where he taught. Nearer for Ania too. Little by little he had pieced it all together from what this one and that one said.

And mainly from what people didn’t say.

 

Johnny, in the exercise room, had told him most. And that new girl, Amy, who was dressed so oddly and doing Ania’s job, she had revealed that the Polish girl had gone home in a rage because some old bat had thought she was the hired help at a party when the son of the house had invited her as his guest.

Bobby’s face burned with shame, but this wasn’t the time to face Rosemary down.

And Bobby knew something that nobody else knew. He

knew that Carl and Ania were coming back on Saturday.

He had already texted Carl about the apartment. It was

furnished. They could walk straight in when they got back. It was theirs for a year until they had decided where they would like to go.

Then Bobby would buy them a place. He was going to sell

that big house by the sea. There were far too many steps. The estate agent was looking for a mews. He hadn’t told any of this to Rosemary yet but he would when the time was right.

The time was right on Friday.

Rosemary came home with some mackerel.

‘I thought we’d make that bloody woman’s recipe,’ she said.

‘She’s not a bloody woman. She’s called Lavender and she’s a helpful, kind person who’s showing us how to eat properly!

‘Okay, it’s only a form of words.’

‘Not a very good one,’ he said.

‘Don’t come after me, Bobby. I’ve had a tough day.’

‘So have I.’

‘You’ve had a tough day? What have you done? You don’t

even go upstairs any more!’

1 rue.

‘So tell me about your tough day.’ She looked very angry.

‘Well, I looked through what seems like a thousand flats on a laptop before choosing one to rent for Carl. Then I went

through a tedious amount of description about this house with the intention of putting it on the market.’

‘You are never thinking of selling this house!’

‘Yes, that’s exactly what I am going to do.’

‘Without consulting me?’

‘I was waiting for you to come home, Rosemary, before

going ahead finally. Now that I’ve told you, I can call them.’

‘Bobby, have you gone completely mad? You can’t get a flat for Carl. We don’t even know where he is.’

‘I do, Rosemary, he’s in Poland.’

‘He’s where?’ She looked ashen.

‘Yes.’

‘He went after that little tramp. I don’t believe it. It’s impossible.

He must see that.’

I

‘She’s not a tramp. She’s his girlfriend.’

‘Well, I may have spoken a bit in haste.’

Silence from Bobby.

Ś ‘And I am prepared to admit this to Carl when he returns to his senses.’

More silence.

‘So is all this silly protest over?’

‘There’s no silly protest.’ He spoke slowly.

‘So why wasn’t I consulted about this?’ She looked at him, horrified.

‘Because you’re not involved in this any more,’ BobbyI

Walsh said._

‘Why?’ Rosemary begged.™

‘You must know why by now,’ her husband said sadly.Ś

 

A couple of days later Fiona saw in the papers that the body of the young man had been identified as that of Shane O’Leary.

The deceased had apparently taken a lethal dose of drugs and was identified by his mother due to a tip-off to the Guards.

 

His father had died some years ago as a result of an accident in the construction industry.

Mr O’Leary had been travelling on the continent in

Europe. His family hadn’t been aware that he’d returned to Ireland. He was the eldest of four boys and the premises where his body was discovered was a vacant flat in a house that was in need of renovation. It wasn’t known how the deceased had come to be there.

Fiona read the short item over and over.

She hadn’t known that Shane had any younger brothers. He had told her nothing about his father being killed. He said the old man had gone off to England and abandoned them all.

What had his mother thought when the Guards came to her

door?

His brothers must still be young, at school even. How had they felt at the death of their absent brother?

She was puzzled that none of these questions meant anything to her. She didn’t care about the answers. It was as if she was reading about a total stranger. Yet this was the man she had left home with to tour the world. The man whose child she was expecting with joy.

Shane had hit her and she had miscarried, but even then she had believed he would come back to her and that they would spend their lives together. Had she been insane?

Although Fiona had not one feeling left for Shane O’Leary, she still had a lot of questions that needed answering.

Questions about herself. Like was she capable of having any normal relationship with any man whatsoever? She twisted her ring around and around on her finger. Nothing seemed real any more.

She hoped that neither her mother nor Barbara would see

the item in the newspaper. She didn’t want to talk about it or even think about it any more.

 

Father Flynn decided that he couldn’t go through with this shebeen mentality about people smuggling drink into his hall.

Either he was responsible enough to run a function or he wasn’t. A wedding day was too important to let any question mark hang over it.

He read the terms of the recent Health Acts. All it involved was that he applied for a licence to the HSE, the Health and Safety Executive. They would grant it and then there would be no hole-in-the-wall behaviour. Not everyone agreed with him.

Johnny said it would halve the price of drink if they got it on sale at a supermarket. James said that you never knew where you were with those guys. Brian might meet the bureaucratic official from hell.

Father Brian tried to discuss it with Fiona, but he could sense she wasn’t interested. Her mind seemed to be far away and she was looking through him without seeing him at all or listening to what he said.

 

Molly and Maureen had got very satisfactory outfits in Big Day. It had been a great outing: very nice staff with tea and sandwiches on the premises. They could have stayed there all day. They had more or less stayed all day. And the outfits weren’t silly. They could be worn again and again at whatever functions turned up. Like a christening, maybe. They giggled happily.

At Big Day the owner had said they were very relaxed

compared to a lot of brides’ mothers and grooms’ mothers.

She wished that all her customers were so easy to deal with. So Maureen and Molly bought more and more and said it was

the best day out they ever had.

But try as they might, they couldn’t make Fiona interested in the garments they had bought.

Her mind seemed to be a million miles away.

 

Ania came into the clinic on Monday.

She looked for a long time at Amy, who was passing around mugs of coffee.

‘You must be St Ania, the Polish girl,’ Amy said eventually.

‘And you are Amy, Peter Barry’s daughter,’ Ania agreed.

‘So, you’re back. I go. Right?’

‘I’m not St Ania. I am just so lucky that they will take me back.’

‘Aw, go on. They’re mad about you!’

‘Did you like it here?’

‘Yes, I did.’

‘I came in through the hospital this morning. They’re looking for people to work in A&E, taking records and notes to

leave the nurses free to cope with what they should be doing.’

‘Is that part of Frank Ennis’s territory?’

‘Yes, in that everything in the hospital is a bit.’

‘But isn’t he our natural enemy?’ Amy asked.

Ania laughed. ‘I think I got back here just in time. You have nearly taken over already.’

 

Ania and Carl couldn’t believe the new apartment that Bobby had arranged for them.

‘We can’t take this, Dad,’ Carl said with tears in his eyes.

‘And what did I work hard all my life for, if it wasn’t to give you a place to live?’ Bobby beamed with pleasure.

‘But it’s too much. Specially since you’re going to sell the house and buy somewhere else. You don’t want to have to

shell out for this place as well.’

‘We can pay the rent, Bobby,’ Ania said. ‘I will just get a few more jobs. It’s not difficult.’

‘No, child, you continue to send your earnings to your

mother. That’s what you came here to do.’

‘Oh, she’s so pleased with everything, Bobby; if you could

see what they’re doing to her house! Even my sisters are pleased with me too. Which usually they are not.’

‘Did you meet them all, Carl?’

‘I did. They were very welcoming. At least I think they

were. I couldn’t understand a word anyone was saying!’

‘Oh, they were, Carl, very welcoming indeed.’

Bobby cleared his throat. ‘Rosemary is very sorry about the misunderstanding …’ he began. He saw Carl’s face harden, but Ania laid her hand on his arm.

‘Please tell her that it’s all forgotten. In many ways it was all helpful. It forced us to do what we all wanted to do.’

‘I’m not sure that Rosemary wants to move house, but it’s going to happen. And she will get used to it. It’s most generous of you, Ania, to see things so positively.’

‘I have a lot to be positive about,’ she said.

‘Carl, I was wondering?’

‘No, Dad, not yet. I don’t have a lovely positive soul like Ania.’

‘You could grow one,’ Ania said.

‘Yes and I might one day.’

‘Or maybe soon, Carl, so that your father could enjoy more peaceful days in these busy stress-filled times.’

‘Maybe,’ Carl said. But he had no intention of speaking to his mother.

 

Ania bought the material for Fiona’s wedding dress in a

market. It was a cream and yellow Indian silk. It would be beautiful.

Fiona stood like a statue raising her arms to be measured and for Ania to pin a kind of underslip that would act as a pattern for the real thing. She hardly said anything. She didn’t ask Ania about the trip to Poland, about the new apartment, about what Carl had said when he arrived at her mother’s house.

 

Normally Fiona would want to know every detail.

She didn’t talk about her own wedding either. All the

conversations that Ania started seemed to run into the ground.

Yes, it was great to be getting married by Father Brian. Yes, the centre sounded a terrific place for a wedding breakfast. Oh indeed, many of the friends were coming from abroad. And certainly, the two mothers were having a good time.

Ania put down her box of pins. ‘Fiona, be honest with me.

Do you want someone else to make your wedding dress?’

‘No, Ania, how can you even think that?’

‘So what is it then?’

Fiona looked at her stricken. ‘I can’t marry Declan,’ she said suddenly. ‘I’m not a person who has any judgement about men. I can’t go through with it.’ She began to cry, heavy sobs.

‘And what does Declan say?’ Ania asked.

‘He doesn’t know,’ Fiona wept.

‘Well, you must tell him.’

1 can t.

‘You’ll have to. I’m right in the middle of making him a waistcoat trimmed with the material of your dress. He has to know, Fiona. For heaven’s sake.’

 

Carl had invited his friends Nora and Aidan Dunne to supper in the new apartment. Ania had cooked some salmon for

dinner. Carl had brought her flowers. Life could not be better.

They were so nice, the Dunnes, and so fond of each other.

You could see it immediately, the way they listened to each other’s stories, touched each other’s hands. Aidan was a patient at the clinic so Ania had already met them there, but she had had no idea what interesting lives they had led. She sat and chattered happily as if she had been accustomed to

entertaining like this all her life. At nine o’clock there was a ring at the door.

Ania went to answer the buzzer. Who could be coming to

 

call at this time of night? She looked at the little screen. It was Carl’s mother.

‘Please excuse my not telephoning, but I know Carl doesn’t want to see me.’

‘It’s not that, Mrs Walsh, it’s just that we have people here for dinner, you see.’

‘It will only take a minute. I have something to say to you. I need not bother Carl.’

‘Perhaps this is not a good time, Mrs Walsh.’ She could see Carl roll his eyes up to heaven.

‘Tell her to go away,’ he mouthed.

But Ania was too kind. ‘Come in, Mrs Walsh, but it can’t be for long. I hope you will excuse us.’ She buzzed the entry phone.

Ania returned to the table. ‘We’ll offer her a glass of wine.’

‘She deserves a boot up the arse!’ Carl said.

Ania smiled apologetically at the guests. ‘Bit of a long story,’ she said.

‘We know a lot of it,’ Nora said. ‘Should we leave?’

‘No, please, no. I will take Carl’s mother into another room and talk to her.’

‘You don’t have to do this, Ania. She behaved so badly.’

‘You were polite to my mother when you could not understand one word she was saying. I will be polite to yours.’

 

Ania ushered Rosemary Walsh into the bedroom where

Fiona’s wedding dress was hanging on the wall.

‘And is this going to be … ?’

‘For Fiona.’

‘I see.’ Rosemary didn’t attempt to disguise her relief.

‘Won’t you have a chair?’ Ania sat on the bed.

‘One bed,’ Rosemary Walsh said.

‘That’s right. I brought you in a glass of wine,’ Ania said.

‘I don’t want any wine, thank you. I wanted to say that my I

 

words to you on the night of the party were wrong. I should not have said what I did. You were Carl’s guest. I knew that. I behaved very badly.’

‘You must have had your reasons.’

‘No, looking back on it, I can’t think what my reasons

were.’ Rosemary Walsh was at a loss.

‘So that’s all right then, Mrs Walsh.’

‘No, it’s not all right. I want you to tell my husband Bobby that he cannot sell our house. That you will come and live there with Carl and help with getting Bobby bathed and upstairs and everything.’

‘I think that is something you should discuss with Bobby and Carl, not with me.’

‘But if you say that you’d be a back-up, a carer, you know, then they’d agree.’

‘I don’t think so. Bobby is very set on a new place. He was showing us brochures, advertisements.’

‘That’s only because he thinks Carl won’t be around for

him.’ Rosemary looked almost beseeching.

‘I think Carl is happy here and Bobby is happy for us to be here, Mrs Walsh. So I will not say anything at all to change things.’

Rosemary looked at her long and hard. ‘They’re right. You are intelligent. You’re sharp. I made a mistake. I apologise for that as well. At what must have seemed rudeness.’

‘It was a misunderstanding, Mrs Walsh. It’s over now.’

‘You are very clever. I see that. Too late.’

‘It is not too late.’

‘It is. I’ll go now, Ania.’

‘Are you sure you would not like some wine?’

‘I’m sure. Thank you.’

There was laughter from the next room.

Rosemary looked at the door. ‘Carl never brought any

friends home to dinner when he lived at home.’

 

‘Well, maybe he needed a place of his own.’

‘Goodbye, Ania.’

‘Goodbye, Mrs Walsh.’

 

Fiona wanted to tell him something. Declan didn’t have to be Einstein to know this. Even Dimples the dog seemed to know.

He lay quietly examining his paws and making no sounds.

Declan’s father Paddy was off with Muttie and their associates in the pub.

His mother Molly was talking finery with Fiona’s mother

Maureen.

‘Declan?’

‘There’s something wrong, isn’t there?’

‘You feel it too?’ She seemed relieved.

‘I feel that you are upset about something certainly.’

‘I can’t marry you,’ she said.

‘You’ve met another fellow.’ He smiled at her indulgently.

‘You know that’s not true.’

‘So it’s me then? You’ve gone off me?’

‘As if, Declan Carroll.’

‘So, what is it then, pet?’

‘It’s a long story,’ Fiona said.

‘We have all the time in the world,’ said Declan and folded his arms to listen to the most complicated rambling tale of which he understood hardly a word. Except that because

of bad judgement, in fact, worse, no judgement, Fiona wasn’t going to marry anybody.

Ever.

 

Fiona thought that more marriages must have taken place because people didn’t want to upset the arrangements

than between people who really should have got married.

She understood it only too well. Look at all the people

she was upsetting by this decision. She didn’t even dare to think about her parents and Declan’s parents and her sisters who would not now be bridesmaids. The fallout from that

would last a generation. Then there were all the cousins, aunts and uncles on both sides who had ordered wedding outfits and even, in some cases, had already sent wedding presents. They would be incensed.

And Vonni coming to Ireland for the first time in decades.

David coming over from England for his first ever visit. The whole staff at the clinic, who had been so excited and

supportive. Father Flynn, whose first wedding it would have been in this centre by the Liffey, would feel like a fool. The twins, Maud and Simon, who had told almost everyone in

Dublin that this was the start of their career, would be crushed. Ania, who was happy and smiling again, and who

had made a beautiful dress, would not now see her creation walk down the aisle.

It was easy to see why other women had given in over the

years rather than alienate half the planet. But then other women hadn’t known the great insight that had become clear to Fiona.

The day she had read that newspaper item, which summed

up Shane O’Leary’s short life and sordid death, Fiona realised that she had, at one period of her life, been prepared to marry this man. She was expecting his child. She had been distraught when she had miscarried. She had longed to hear him propose marriage and suggest that they live by the sea in Aghia Anna and bring up their child there.

How could she be capable of making any decision?

She would go far away from here and all the people she had let down. She would go abroad and find herself. Do something worthwhile rather than getting swept along in some insane project which had now become completely out of control,

with opals and buffet feasts, and decisions on who was to make what speech.

Had Declan really understood, really understood that it was over? That the wedding was not going to happen. He had

been too calm. He had said that of course she should just do what she wished to do. He would be broken-hearted all his life and he would never marry either. There were ways in which it would all be a giant waste.

But if that’s what she wanted, then that’s what would

happen.

No, he wouldn’t hear of taking back her ring. She must get it made into a brooch or a pendant. And he wanted one week before they told people.

‘A week? But people will be busy making their plans,

Declan. We have to tell them now.’

‘But it’s about me. I haven’t got used to making my plans to live without you. Give me just one week,’ he asked.

‘This isn’t some awful, devious scheme?’

 

‘No,’ he said sadly, ‘if I had an awful, devious scheme that might work, I would have one, believe me.’

‘All right then.’

‘Yes and we tell nobody. Nobody at all.’

‘But they’ll go on making arrangements.’

‘Let them. It’s only for a week. Then we tell them. Okay.

Swear.’

‘I swear.’

‘Not even Barbara?’

‘Not even Barbara,’ she agreed.

‘Good girl,’ he said.

 

Fiona noted that he hadn’t tried to argue with her, change her mind, tell her that she was wrong. All he had asked was a week’s grace, and that she should keep the opals. He must have known in his heart that it would have been doomed.

 

Clara was surprised to see Frank Ennis standing at her desk.

‘A rare and unexpected pleasure,’ she said.

He came straight to the point. ‘Can you give that girl Amy a reference?’

‘Yes, she was fine. If we had a job for her, we’d give her one.’

‘That’s all right then. She looks a bit weird.’

‘But then what a mistake it would be to judge people by

their looks,’ Clara smiled.

‘Sure. So the wandering Pole has returned?’

‘Yes, Ania’s crisis is over, I’m glad to say. Everyone was delighted to see her back.’

‘And I gather you have a wedding coming up?’ Frank said.

Clara wondered how on earth he could have known that.

‘Absolutely. Declan and Fiona. Big day out. And we have

loads more romance going on. Ania is together with the son of one of our patients. My daughter and Hilary’s son have fallen

in love. All I need is to get a young fellow myself and we can say the objectives have all been achieved.’

He was almost sure she was joking, but not quite.

‘I thought you were already spoken for, with the pharmacist in the precinct?’

‘Oh, Frank, that’s old news now. Peter is history. He’s

actually involved with the lady who runs Lilac Court, the nursing home.’

‘Well really!’ Frank Ennis was dumbfounded.

‘And how did you know about Declan and Fiona’s wedding?’

Clara wondered.

‘Well, I’m invited, as it happens.’

‘Invited?’ Clara was taken aback. Fiona and Declan had

invited the Enemy to their wedding? Never.

‘Well, more or less. I’m a plus one,’ he said. ‘Fiona’s cousin, who’s a social worker, was invited and her invitation said plus one, so that’s me.’

‘Well, well, well.’ Clara was, for once, without words.

Fiona and Declan would scream with laughter over this.

‘So you’ll have to save me a dance, Clara,’ Frank said.

‘I wouldn’t want to step on the toes of Fiona’s cousin,’

Clara murmured diplomatically.

‘No, no, you wouldn’t be. That’s not an affair or anything, not even an understanding or anything. Just a casual friendship.

I think she just thought it would be a nice day out.’

‘And it will be, Frank, it will be,’ said Clara.

‘And you can tell me all about your plans and where you go after here,’ he said.

‘After here?’

‘When your year is up,’ he said.

Clara had quite put it out of her mind that she had only been hired for a year, at her own heavy insistence at the time.

‘Ah yes, when the year is up,’ she said vaguely.

 

‘I’m sure you have your plans. Your career plan.’ Frank was eager to know.

‘You wouldn’t believe me if I said I had nothing planned,’

she smiled at him.

She had been right. He didn’t believe her. Clara Casey

without a game plan.

Please.

 

Clara sat at her desk when Frank left. What an extraordinary year it had been.

Alan’s bimbo becoming pregnant. Alan asking for a divorce, then asking if he could come back home. Adi and Gerry

planning to go and save a rainforest. Linda having a change of personality since she’d met Hilary’s son Nick. Then there was the episode with Peter Barry the pharmacist, who had wanted to marry her.

But most of all there was the clinic. That’s what amazed her. It was bigger in her mind than all the other life-changing things that had happened. They were making a difference.

They were managing to keep people out of hospital. They had restored confidence and given new hope to people with heart disease and they had made it part of ordinary life.

It had been well worth doing. She was in no way ready to move on.

 

Ania was in charge of the collection for Fiona and Declan’s wedding present. She had felt odd about it at first: it was a difficult situation. But then nothing had happened since Fiona’s outburst. There was no announcement that the wedding was cancelled. Everything seemed to be going ahead. It

was going to be all right.

It hadn’t been difficult to get donations and arrange for everyone to sign the card. The question was what to get them?

There was no wedding list registered in a store. There were no

helpful hints and no mention of a colour scheme for the new flat they were hoping to buy. And yet the money was flowing in. They had enough for Ania to buy a really good present.

Ania brought up the subject casually. Whether crystal-ware was worth the expense or did Declan prefer simpler glasses?

Was silver old-fashioned now or did young people still like it?

Was it possible to buy a work of art for someone else?

Declan brushed Ania’s careful detective work aside with a laugh.

‘Ania, we don’t want anything and if people are going to give something, then maybe a CD or a book or a vase. Please, Ania.’ Which had been no help at all.

On the other hand, it was a lot better than what Fiona had said this morning.

Ania had asked if in Fiona’s opinion cast-iron casserole dishes might be a good gift? She had tried to make it appear as if she was thinking of cast-iron casserole dishes in entirely general terms as a gift for unspecified people.

Fiona’s eyes had filled with tears.

‘Do you have a list of who gave you what, Ania?’ she asked unexpectedly.

Ania didn’t know what to answer. ‘Um … well …’ she said.

‘It’s just that you’d need to know what to give back to

people if, for example, the wedding did not take place.’

‘Fiona!’ Ania cried.

‘I have said nothing, nothing at all. You must remember

that. I said nothing except that if you are collecting money for anything, you should always write down what people give

you.’ And Fiona was gone, wiping her eyes.

Ania realised that she had to keep quiet about this. It was hard when Carl was asking her what kind of a suit he should wear for the wedding and when Fiona’s mother and Declan’s mother were busy trying to discuss the corsages Ania was

going to make for them to wear with their new outfits and when Maud and Simon were on the phone to her regularly

about table decorations and when Barbara was starving herself to fit into a kingfisher-blue dress which was a size too small.

Fiona and Declan really might not be getting married.

Should all these people be warned? Ania had a headache that wouldn’t go away.

 

Brian Flynn called into the heart clinic to pick up Johnny.

They were going to go south on one of their marathons. Or little strolls, as Johnny called them.

‘Will you come with us, Declan?’ Johnny suggested. ‘The

DART out to Bray and a few runs up and down the esplanade there, filling your lungs full of good, fresh, sea air.’

‘God, it sounds very healthy,’ Declan said. ‘Wait till I put on better running shoes.’

‘Then filling our gut with pints of good, fresh beer,’ Brian added.

‘That does it, all right,’ agreed Declan.

 

‘Afterwards, you can brief me about my duties as best man,’

Johnny added. ‘I’m not sure—’

‘But you’re totally sure we can all yomp these miles and climb these peaks,’ Brian grumbled.

‘Stop complaining, Brian, you know it’s good for you,’

Declan said, glad that the subject had been changed.

‘I thought you’d be up to your neck in arrangements,’ Brian said, still hoping to have an ally, any ally who might slow Johnny down.

‘No, I leave all that side of it to the women,’ Declan said.

No need to tell Brian and Johnny that Fiona refused to see him in the evenings.

She said she was keeping her part of the bargain by behaving as if nothing had changed during the daytime, but it

 

would be pointless going out in the evening and going over old ground again and again. She had explained her position and said she was sorry. What more was there that could be said?

 

Fiona said she would like to take Dimples for a good long walk. Molly and Paddy approved - Dimples was running to

fat.

Fiona and the large Labrador set off together. They walked into the centre of town and went towards Trinity College.

Fiona remembered a school trip which had taken them by

Sweeney’s Pharmacy, the old chemist shop mentioned in

James Joyce’s Ulysses, which didn’t look as if it had changed at all in over a hundred years. And she paused at the hotel where James Joyce had met Nora Barnacle. Now there was a love affair that shouldn’t have worked and yet it did.

Fiona didn’t know if they allowed dogs in there, but she didn’t ask. Dimples looked entirely at home anywhere, so no one was likely to stop them.

She found herself looking up at the old buildings which had been there since the first Elizabeth was on the throne of England. She saw the lines waiting to go and see the Book of Kells. Imagine monks decorating that, nearly seven hundred pages of it, instead of getting on with things. But maybe they weren’t doing anyone any harm.

Fiona wondered, was she in danger of becoming very bland and dull?

They came out and walked around Merrion Square. Fiona

showed off the various landmarks to the dog. Where Oscar Wilde had lived; the statue of the same Oscar with his oneline witticism engraved on it; the Georgian fan windows over the colourful doors; the foot-scrapers; the different door knockers.

She had seen them all many times before but somehow this was different. She realised she was printing it all in her mind.

 

Next week, when she and Declan told people that the

wedding was off, she would work out her notice, repair as many broken fences and crushed dreams as she could, then she would go away. Far away.

What she was doing tonight was saying goodbye to Dublin.

An elderly American couple stopped her to admire the dog.

‘That’s Dimples,’ Fiona said sadly.

‘And have you had him long?’ they asked, playing with

Dimples’ ears.

‘He’s not mine, he’s my fiance’s.’ Fiona looked at the opal ring and bit her lip.

‘Oh well, same thing.’ The lady found some chocolate in

her bag and gave it to Dimples who loved it and held up a huge paw to thank her.

‘Not really,’ Fiona heard herself say.

‘So, are you going to live in a place where they don’t allow dogs?’

‘No. We’re not going to get married,’ Fiona said, and it all came out in a gush. How she was a person of no judgement. It wouldn’t be fair. She had to go away, miles away.

The couple looked at each other, mystified.

‘And is everyone upset about this?’ the man asked

eventually.

‘Nobody knows,’ wept Fiona, ‘nobody knows except us. It

was a ludicrous promise he made me make, to keep it all secret for a week.’

‘How much of the week is left?’ The American woman was

very interested.

‘Four and a half days, but nothing’s changed.’

‘No, of course not. Look, it’s pretty simple, isn’t it? Do you think he loves you?’

‘Yes, yes, he does,’ said Fiona through her tears.

‘And do you love him? Because if you don’t, you mustn’t

marry him. But if you do …’

 

Brian Flynn couldn’t believe that they were going to do two more laps before they had their pint. He thought he was going to die on the spot.

‘We’ll revive you,’ Johnny said unsympathetically.

‘It’s good for you, Brian,’ said Declan, a veritable Judas Iscariot who turned out to love exercise too.

Finally they got the pint.

‘You’re curiously calm for a condemned man,’ Johnny said to Declan.

‘It’s all an act,’ Declan said truthfully.

‘And how’s Fiona?’ Brian asked.

‘Oh, wouldn’t it be great to understand the mind of a

woman.’

‘They’re usually more focused than we are. Certainly about weddings.’

 

‘It would be much better if you could look at some of these properties, Rosemary,’ Bobby Walsh pleaded.

‘What for? Haven’t you said that you’re buying one anyway?

What does my approval mean one way or another?’

‘I just want somewhere all on one floor. I can’t make stairs any more. We have many good years left.’

‘Shuffling around in a crowded apartment? I don’t think

so.’

‘If we’re together isn’t that all that matters?’

‘We’re together here,’ she said.

‘I live in a bedsitter here, Rosemary. I can’t manage the steps up to the hall door. Let’s choose somewhere you like.’

She said nothing, just stood there like a mutinous child.

‘Then I’ll have to choose for you. There’s a very nice place I’ve been told about. It’s got a little garden. There’s a block of thirty just going on the market. If we offer the estate agents the chance to sell this place, then they’ll give us our pick of the

new apartments. The corner one on the ground floor looks the nicest. You can see the sea from the window, and they have a swimming pool in the complex.’

‘Where is this place you’ve set your heart on?’

He named the posh area and saw her eyes widen a little. She would have no trouble selling the idea of this move to her snobby friends. If he played this properly it might be plain sailing from now on.

‘It wouldn’t hurt to see it,’ she said.

 

Hilary Hickey was coping with two painters. They had come to touch up some neglected areas of the clinic - at the request of Frank Ennis. That was surprising enough. Then it was even more odd to see Rosemary Walsh come alone to the heart

clinic. It wasn’t a day when Bobby had an appointment. She hoped Mrs Walsh wasn’t here to make some kind of trouble.

Fortunately Ania had gone for her lunch so there wouldn’t have to be a confrontation there.

‘I wonder is there anyone who could give me some advice

about Bobby’s heart condition?’ Rosemary Walsh began.

‘Well, Clara is up at the hospital just now.’

‘Not Clara,’ Mrs Walsh said.

‘Declan’s here.’

‘Yes, Declan.’

She was imperious still. But she seemed to be readjusting her face somehow so as to turn on the charm.

‘Ah, Dr Declan, and we’re getting near the big day.’

‘Indeed, Mrs Walsh. Looking forward to seeing you and

Bobby there.’

‘And what kind of a gift would you like?’ Rosemary managed to make the word ‘gift’ seem somehow beneath her.

Declan smiled wanly. ‘Just your being there would be

enough, but if you do insist, then we would love a CD, some nice music that meant something to you and Bobby perhaps?’

 

She looked at him witheringly. ‘What I really came for was to know about Bobby’s heart. Would it increase his life

expectancy if we were to live somewhere on one floor?’

‘You know it would, Mrs Walsh, we’ve been over this many times. Clara and I showed you both the results of his stress test. Gentle exercise, a swim if possible, but no stairs.’

‘So I suppose I have to do it then,’ she sighed heavily.

‘Do what?’

‘Give up my lovely house by the sea and move to a cramped flat. Bobby has his eye on one,’ and she named the development.

‘Hardly

most people’s idea of a cramped flat,’ Declan said.

‘Most of Ireland would love to be able to afford a place there.’

‘Compared to what I was used to,’ she said coldly. Then

changing the subject abruptly, she said, ‘And could Johnny come round and do exercises with him there: try and build him up a bit?’

‘No, Johnny works here and in the hospital. He could give you a list of exercises, however, or the details of some other physiotherapist that you might like to employ personally.’

‘You mean he won’t come to a sick man’s house?’

‘Johnny works here for the Health Service. You and Mr

Walsh are lucky enough to be able to afford a private physiotherapist.

And indeed, Johnny can write out the exercises for

you, and you could do them with Bobby.’

‘You’re asking me to do exercises?’

Something snapped in Declan’s head. The strain of the last few days, of keeping up an act, pretending everything was all right when he wanted to howl at the moon - all of it crashed around him in the face of this dreadful woman.

‘Listen to me, Mrs Walsh. If I thought I could help Fiona’s life by doing exercises, by cooking her low-salt, low-fat meals, if I thought I could give her one more day in this world with me, I would do everything I could. I would stand on my head

if I thought it would help. And so would Nora for Aidan Dunne, and so would Lar’s wife, and so would so many of the relatives who come here. You may not feel like that. We’re all different.’

‘Are you criticising me, Dr Carroll?’

‘No, Mrs Walsh. Now can you tell me what exactly you

wanted me to say to you when you came in here?’ He turned away so that she wouldn’t see him shaking with rage and

annoyance.

‘Please, Dr Carroll—’ she began.

‘Just tell me, what did you hope for?’

She was so shocked by his voice that she answered him

truthfully. ‘I suppose I hoped you would say it didn’t really matter. That Bobby wouldn’t improve, no matter where he

was. Then we could stay where we were.’

‘That’s what you hoped to hear?’ Declan was trembling.

‘Yes, since you asked me.’

‘May you get what you deserve, Rosemary Walsh,’ he said

and turned away. He closed his eyes and tried to do measured breathing. ‘May you get what you deserve in life,’ he said and walked away. He was halfway down the corridor when he

heard the crash and the screams.

 

Hilary was already on the phone for an ambulance when

Declan burst back into the room.

Rosemary had pushed her way past the workmen’s ladders

and knocked one of them down. The ladder was supporting a long plank of wood where two painters stood working away.

They had been thrown to the ground in a welter of paint pots and falling timber. Right on top of Rosemary Walsh.

Declan knelt beside them. Was this all his fault? Where the hell was Ania? The one time they really needed someone to speak Polish.

 

‘Ania!’ he called out helplessly. Fiona appeared at the door and took in the situation at a glance.

‘She’s got a new mobile phone. I’ll call her,’ Fiona said. It was done in seconds. Ania was running back from the sandwich bar in the precinct.

‘Rosemary?’ Fiona said.

‘Unconscious. She has a pulse. I want to move the guys

first.’

Ania ran and knelt beside them. Declan barked questions

and Ania, holding their hands, translated quickly. Declan saw confidence coming back to their faces as they were being addressed in their own language.

‘Tell them they’re fine,’ he said.

‘I already have,’ Ania said.

Fiona suggested that Ania sit with the Polish men until the ambulance arrived. She took her place kneeling beside Declan.

‘She’s breathing,’ she said.

‘Barely,’ Declan said.

They knelt there looking at Rosemary Walsh, her face

cut from splintered wood and her legs at a very odd angle.

She might have a fractured spine. Declan ran his hands up and down her.

‘Broken arm. Broken leg. Her neck feels okay, but I don’t want to risk moving her.’

‘What would you do if there was no ambulance coming?’

Fiona asked.

‘What I’m going to do now. I’d start to resuscitate.’

‘But …’

‘Her breathing is very shallow. We could be losing her,’ he said. And in front of Hilary, Lavender, Ania, Fiona and the two groaning Polish boys, Dr Declan Carroll began a mouthto-mouth resuscitation of Rosemary Walsh, undoubtedly the least likeable person that any of them had ever met.

 

The ambulance men were full of praise. If it hadn’t been for the young doctor, they said … and shook their heads. They had her in the hospital in no time. She was badly injured but she would live. Someone would have to tell her next of kin.

‘I’ll tell Carl,’ Ania said.

Til tell Bobby,’ Declan said.

 

By the time Clara got back, Hilary had spoken to the Guards who were called to investigate the incident and told them in her clear voice how Rosemary Walsh had walked directly into the ladder and caused the accident.

‘And why did she not see the ladder?’ the young policeman asked.

‘She was in a stressed condition,’ Hilary said diplomatically.

‘Where’s Declan now?’ Clara wanted to know.

‘Out in the leafy suburbs, breaking the news to Bobby.’

‘And why didn’t Fiona go with him? I saw her as I came

in.’

‘Search me, Clara. I don’t think all is well in that area. I have a feeling that you and I will be wearing our new gear to our own children’s wedding sooner than giving it an outing for Declan and Fiona’s big day.’

‘Yes, I think you’re right. Pity. They are so suited. And I imagine it means we’ll lose Fiona.’

‘But why?’ Hilary asked. ‘Declan will be going anyway. His time here is nearly up.’

‘Fiona won’t want to hang around. Not if it’s all over. She’ll move on somewhere.’

‘I wonder what it’s all about?’ Hilary said.

‘Something utterly unimportant. These things usually are.

We’ll never know,’ Clara said with a sigh.

 

‘Bobby, it’s just Declan Carroll.’

‘Declan, how good to see you. How did you get in?’ Bobby was in his little bedsitting room.

‘I let myself in. I’ll sit down here beside you.’

Declan had in fact taken Rosemary’s keys from her handbag.

‘Rosemary

left the door open? That’s so unlike her.’ Bobby

was distressed.

‘No, no.’ Declan was soothing.

‘Let me get you a cup of tea.’ Bobby was always the polite host.

‘Let me make it. I make great tea.’ He made them a mug

each with a lot of sugar.

‘I don’t really take sugar,’ Bobby began.

‘You do today, Bobby. Rosemary had a bit of an accident.

She’s perfectly fine now, but she’ll be in hospital for a while.

Ania and Carl want you to go and stay in their flat. I’m to take you there now.’

Bobby’s face was drained of colour. His questions came

tumbling out.

‘Believe me, Bobby, she’s going to be fine. I’ll take you to see her. Please, Bobby, drink your tea.’

‘Oh, poor Rosemary. Where did it happen? Was she in the

car?’

‘No, nothing like that. She was walking down a corridor

and she bumped into a ladder and a great plank and tins of paint and two men who were painting all fell down.’

‘And how was she hurt?’

‘A lot of grazes and scratches. And she’s a broken arm and a broken leg.’

‘No!’

‘But it’s all under control. She has a great young surgeon and she’ll be going into theatre tomorrow.’

 

‘She’s

sedated. She’s very calm.’

‘And does she know you’ve come to see me?’

‘I told her, but she may not have taken it in,’ Declan said.

‘Bobby, can you direct me? I’ll pack a bag for you and we can meet Carl and Ania at the hospital.’

‘Carl is coming to the hospital? To see her?’

‘Yes, indeed.’

‘Oh, she will be pleased. They had a silly misunderstanding, you know.’

‘People have forgotten all about that,’ Declan said cheerfully.

Just

as well Bobby didn’t know what an uphill struggle Ania

was having asking Carl to go and see his mother. He was

resisting it as hard as he could.

 

Fiona was sitting in a bar looking out over Dublin Bay. It was so beautiful.

Declan used to say that they were so lucky to live in Dublin: a big roaring city and then the sea only ten minutes away and the mountains twenty minutes in the other direction. She noticed that she was thinking Declan used to say. After next week it really would be the past. She looked up as a shadow fell across the table.

‘Barbara, what on earth are you doing here?’

‘Once upon a time it was “Oh, Barbara, isn’t that great. Sit down and have a drink.” ‘

‘We’re ten miles from Dublin. You’re not here by coincidence.’

‘You’re

right. I’m not. I followed you.’

‘You what?’

‘Yes, I followed you. You don’t come home to our flat. You don’t talk at work. You’re not at your mother and father’s

house. You’re not up at the Carrolls’ house. Am I not entitled to know where my friend is going and what’s wrong?’

‘Nothing’s wrong.’

‘Yeah?’

‘No, seriously, Barbara, that’s not fair. You’re worse than any of them. Can’t you understand that I just want some time by myself?’

‘No, I can’t.’

‘Well, you should learn. That’s what people want from

friends. They want support and understanding. Not a load of detective work and following people out on trains.’

‘Tell me, Fiona.’

‘No, I won’t. I can’t.’

‘Why can’t you? We used to tell each other everything. I told you about the first time I ever went to bed with a fellow and he was so appalled by all the safety pins in my underwear it nearly turned him off. And you were great. You understood.’

‘I

know, but this is different.’

‘And you told me about Shane and I understood. Why

can’t I understand now?’

‘It’s about Shane. It’s all about bloody Shane.’

‘But he’s dead, Fiona. You must know he’s dead.’

‘How did you know?’

‘I saw it in the paper.’

‘And you said nothing to me?’

‘I waited for you to say something to me and you didn’t, so I thought you just didn’t want it mentioned.’

‘I felt nothing about him when I heard. I was the one who identified him to the Guards.’

‘You actually went to see his body? Oh, my God!’ Barbara was shocked.

‘No, I phoned the Guards.’

‘And what did you feel?’

 

‘Nothing. Nothing for him. I didn’t care if he lived or died.’

Barbara’s kind face was stricken.

‘Oh, sit down, Barbara, for God’s sake, sit down and have an Irish coffee.’

‘I haven’t had an Irish coffee in weeks. Remember the

kingfisher-blue dress, a size too small.’

‘Forget the bloody kingfisher-blue dress. There isn’t going to be a wedding.’

‘Then I’d like a large brandy,’ Barbara said.

 

‘Mother?’

‘Is that you, Carl?’

‘Yes, Mother. You’re going to be fine.’

‘I’m sorry, Carl.’

‘What for, Mother, it was all an accident.’

‘Yes. I’m sorry for not just dying there and then and leaving you all to get on with your lives normally.’

‘Mother, you’re going to be fine and we are all delighted that it wasn’t too serious.’

‘I’m sorry for what I said.’

‘We all say things we don’t mean.’ He patted her arm.

‘I didn’t wish to be hurtful,’ she said.

‘Neither did I, Mother.’

Rosemary closed her eyes. Carl left the room.

Outside the open door his father sat in a wheelchair pushed by Ania.

‘Thank you, son,’ Bobby said, with tears in his eyes.

‘No, Dad, it’s the truth. We all do say things we don’t

mean,’ Carl said. But his face was cold. They all knew that Rosemary Walsh had meant exactly what she said.

 

Declan was cleaning his shoes in the kitchen at St Jarlath’s Crescent.

 

‘Mam, will I do your shoes for you? I’m doing my own.’

‘No, Declan, but you could do something for me?’

‘What is it, Mam?’

‘Could you tell me what’s wrong between you and Fiona?’

‘What do you mean, what’s wrong?’

‘She came back here the other night with Dimples. She’d

walked about ten miles around Dublin and back and she had been crying her eyes out.’

‘And did you ask her why?’

‘I didn’t like to. I thought you and she might have had a row.’

‘No, we didn’t,’ he said simply.

‘If you could have seen her! She just handed Dimples back to me and walked down the crescent. She was bent over, as if she were in pain.’

Declan had stopped brushing his shoes.

‘It will all be sorted out by Monday,’ he said, speaking like an automaton.

‘Oh, Declan, if something needs to be sorted out why for the Lord’s sake wait until Monday?’ Molly Carroll asked.

‘That was what was agreed.’

 

In Dunlaoghaire, ordinary people with ordinary lives enjoyed the summer evening by the coast. They went for long, healthy walks the length of the pier. Some of them got into yachts and went out into the bay. Others settled into small restaurants.

Only Barbara and Fiona seemed out of touch with the

gentle summery feel of it all.

‘Tell me again,’ Barbara said. ‘You feel nothing over Shane.

You love Declan, but you can’t marry Declan because you

don’t trust your judgement? Is that it?’

‘Well, that’s a way of putting it.’

‘I’ve listened to you for half an hour, Fiona, and I’m on my

second large brandy. I can’t understand what you’re saying.

I’ve tried to sum it up. Am I right or am I wrong?’

‘Basically right.’

‘Then you are quite totally mad,’ Barbara said.

‘Why? I made one bad call. I might be making another.

What’s so hard to understand about that?’

‘Well, where do I start?’ Barbara said. ‘I could start by saying that Shane was a snivelling loser. A drug addict who hit you. Who dug deep and found the victim side of you. That’s Shane. Declan is Declan. Mad about you, funny, good, kind, wise. You have never been so happy and positive since you met him. You could take on any job. He builds up your

confidence. Look, why am I telling you all this, trying to sell him to you? I bet he doesn’t know any of this.’

‘I tried to tell him, but he said the past was over. I don’t think he understood — he made me promise not to say anything more until Monday.’

‘Because he’s normal, that’s why. Who could understand

your rantings and ramblings?’ Barbara called for the bill.

‘You’re going to talk to him now!’ she said.

‘No, he said Monday. That’s what was agreed.’

Barbara took Fiona’s mobile phone. ‘Hi, Declan, Barbara

here. Fiona and I are in a pub in Dunlaoghaire. Can you get here?’

Fiona looked like a guilty child.

Barbara continued, ‘It’s important that you know she didn’t tell me. I guessed. She’s still bleating on about doing nothing until Monday. Monday! God, Declan, we’ll all be dead by

Monday. Could you come out here quickly? I’ll try to hold her down until you get here.’

 

Barbara stood and watched as Declan and Fiona joined the groups of ordinary people walking in the evening sunshine. She knew that neither of them could see the sea or little boats

bobbing up and down. They weren’t aware of the other people: the man selling balloons; the children eating huge ice-cream cones. But they walked close together and seemed to be talking to each other. Barbara sighed.

It was going to be all right. They had just looked at each other and said nothing when they met. That was a good sign.

Oh well, she would walk some of the way home. She had to get rid of three hundred-plus extra empty calories she’d drunk.

It looked as if the kingfisher-blue dress might be needed after all.

 

‘My legs feel a bit wobbly,’ Fiona said, ‘could we sit down?’

Declan guided them to a stone seat. He sat there and held her hand.

‘You do know what it’s all about?’ she said after a while.

‘No, I don’t, to be honest.’

‘But I told yon. I explained for hours.’

‘I didn’t understand it fully.’

‘What did you think it was?’ she demanded.

‘Nerves,’ he said simply.

There was a silence.

‘I don’t have nerves,’ Fiona said eventually.

‘Good. Because neither do I. I am so sure we’ll have a great marriage.’

‘We can’t marry.’ Her voice was very level and calm.

‘Why not exactly?’

‘Because I once made a very stupid choice and fell in love with the idea of getting married and roaming the world. I’m afraid I’m doing it all over again.’

‘But we’re not roaming the world. We’re going to settle down here. We’re meant to be putting a deposit on a flat this week.’

‘No, Declan, too much has happened.’

‘And did it all happen since we agreed to get married?’

‘In a way, yes. Shane died.’

 

‘Shane?’

‘The fellow I went off with to Greece. Remember I tried to tell you …’

‘And I said what had happened in our past wasn’t important.’

K’But it is, Declan, it’s what shapes us.’

‘Well then, I was poorly shaped. I hardly had a. past.’

‘And I had Shane.’

‘This fellow you fancied way back? Were you upset because he died?’

‘I swear I couldn’t have cared less.’

Declan’s honest face was almost at the end of trying to

understand all this.

‘What has this to do with us? We don’t have a difficult

relationship. We want the same things or I thought we did.

Where’s the similarity?’

‘I might be making an equally mad decision. In a few years’

time I might care nothing about you. It’s just the way I’m made. My mad personality.’

‘It’s up to me to make you keep loving me,’ Declan said.

‘No, if it were only that simple. I’m a mad, damaged

person, incapable of making decisions. It’s better that I don’t make any ever again.’

‘You’ve got to help me here, Fiona. I’m focusing. I’m

concentrating, but I still don’t get it.’

‘I’ll tell you the whole story again then,’ she said.

‘Will you tell it slowly this time? Please, Fiona?’

She actually smiled. ‘I will,’ she said, ‘and if I go too fast, slow me down.’

And the telling did take a long time, but the talking took even longer.

 

And so everything was back on track. Nobody had been told anything of what went on out by the sea, what was said, what was not said and what was patted down.

 

The wedding dress fittings were cheerful. The waistcoat was made. The hall was decorated. Brian Flynn was duly licensed to serve alcohol. The twins brought tasting menus to the Carrolls’ house so that everyone could decide what they liked and what they didn’t. The two mothers brought their shoes to be stretched. Ania managed to wrestle from Fiona that if she were at a theoretical wedding, and she were the theoretical bride, she would love some heavy cut-crystal tumblers or a cut-glass bowl and Ania ran off and bought both as there was enough cash in the fund.

Declan suggested that Fiona find out where Shane’s grave was.

‘It’s making too much of him,’ she said.

‘You loved him for a while. He deserves some kind of

goodbye,’ Declan said.

His mother had no idea who she was.

‘There were so many girls,’ Shane’s mother said on the

phone, ‘and for what, in the end?’ But she told Fiona where the grave was and she and Declan went to see it. The headstone was not yet up. Just a simple cross and the number of

the plot. Fiona laid flowers on it.

‘I’m sorry you didn’t have a better life,’ she said.

‘May you sleep in peace,’ Declan said.

And oddly, she did feel better as they left the big city graveyard. Somehow peaceful.

 

Rosemary Walsh was very bruised and battered, but recovering.

Bobby

came to see her every day. Ania had offered to wash

her nightdresses, but Carl had been adamant.

‘You’re going to be her daughter-in-law, not her carer,’ he said.

‘But a good daughter-in-law would be happy to care for a sick woman.’

 

‘Dad can take the nightdresses home and Emilia can wash and iron them or they can be sent to a laundry.’

‘It would be such a little thing,’ Ania said.

‘To me, it would be a big thing,’ Carl said.

He went to see his mother once a week and helped his

father organise the move.

On one of his hospital visits he brought an inventory of what they had in the big house looking out over the bay: furniture, paintings, glassware, ornaments.

‘You can take about a fifth of this, Mother,’ he said.

Immediately she began to complain.

‘Dad says he doesn’t mind what he takes but that possessions are very important to you. You collected them over the

years. So just let me know and I will arrange that they be transferred.’

‘But it’s not at all certain that we really want to move. We might rent something.’

‘Dad has bought it, Mother. And you can’t go back to the old house. You couldn’t manage the steps either.’ He spoke as if her injuries were of no remote interest to him.

‘Will you always hate me, Carl?’ she asked.

‘No, indeed, Mother, I don’t hate you at all,’ he said in a flat voice with no tone of reassurance in it.

 

Frank Ennis came to discuss the accident with Clara.

‘Will we sue Mrs Walsh?’ he said.

‘I think not, Frank. The woman could have broken every

bone in her body. Her husband has serious heart failure.

Hardly likely to be helpful to him.’

‘But she did knock it down.’

‘Oh, I know she did, but not deliberately.’

‘That’s not the point. They will have plenty of insurance.’

‘So have we.’

 

‘But we’re blameless. There was even a sign warning people.

I checked.’

‘Leave it, Frank. We’re well covered. I checked that too.’

‘You don’t know how to save a no claims bonus,’ Frank

said, shaking his head.

‘No, I’m glad to say I don’t,’ Clara agreed.

‘What are you wearing to the wedding?’ he asked suddenly.

‘A moss-green dress with a black hat with ribbons of moss green around the hat.’

‘Sounds lovely,’ he said.

‘It’s not bad, certainly. And you, Frank, what will you wear?’

‘Well, it does say “Dress Smart Casual”. I wish I knew what that means.’

‘I think it means no jeans,’ Clara said.

‘That wouldn’t be an option,’ Frank said seriously. ‘But I was wondering about wearing a blazer.’

‘A blazer? Like with brass buttons and everything?’

‘No. It has ordinary cloth-covered buttons,’ he said. He looked very unsure.

Clara was touched, despite herself, and decided to be kind.

‘And light-coloured trousers?’ she suggested.

‘Exactly. I thought of pale grey and an open-necked shirt and a cravat.’

‘God, Frank, you’ll be beating them off you with a stick!’

she said.

 

Vonni arrived three days before the wedding.

She looked older than Fiona had expected. Or maybe it was that this was Vonni in unfamiliar territory. If she had been back in Aghia Anna among all the people she knew, greeting everyone and busy about her work, it might have been different.

Here, she was in a totally changed Ireland, in a capital city she hadn’t seen for decades. Her only friends were Fiona,

Maud and Simon. She looked bewildered, which was something Fiona had not seen before.

Fiona had arranged for Vonni to stay with Muttie and his wife Lizzie, where the twins lived. It had been touching to see how eager they were to see her again and show her their city.

And proud that she would be at their first professional wedding engagement.

Maud and Simon had gone to the airport to meet her and

chattered the whole way back to St Jarlath’s Crescent where Vonni met Muttie and Lizzie, and then Declan and his

parents, and finally Fiona. Fiona had arranged to take Vonni out for a meal to catch up.

They went to the Early Bird meal at Quentins, where

Vonni almost fainted at the prices. It was all so expensive, this new Ireland, compared to the country she had left. They talked long and affectionately of Tom and Elsa and the new baby. Who could ever have foreseen any of this? And of

David, who now got on well with his mother and was finally doing what he liked to do with his life. They were surprised that some woman hadn’t pinned him down. He would be

ideal husband material.

They talked of Andreas back in Aghia Anna, and his

brother Yorghis, and how Andreas’s son Adoni had taken to the business so well. How he was going to marry Maria, the widow of Manos, who had been killed in a boat accident.

‘The same Maria that David taught to drive!’ Fiona cried.

‘The very one,’ Vonni agreed.

And Fiona touched lightly on the forbidden world of

Vonni’s son. A blank look came across Vonni’s face. So no change there then.

‘I’m not trying to pry, I just wondered if there was anything at all?’

‘Nothing of significance. No.’

 

So they left that and Vonni touched gently on the closed subject of Shane.

‘Did he ever come back to Ireland?’ she asked.

There was a silence.

‘Sorry,’ Vonni said, ‘I shouldn’t have mentioned him.’

‘No. No problem. He did come back to Ireland. To die.’

‘Merciful God,’ said Vonni.

‘Yes. He died in a dirty bedroom from a drugs overdose.’

‘What a waste of a young life,’ Vonni said.

‘Yes, I suppose so.’

‘You’re not upset then?’

‘No, in fact I’m shocked at how un-upset I am.’

‘That part of your life is over. That’s why it hasn’t any power to hurt you any more.’

‘I believe that now. Declan convinced me.’

‘You told him about Shane?’

‘Yes. Declan is remarkable.’

‘You’re very lucky, Fiona. He is special, just like you wrote to me when you met him first. You’ll be very happy.’

‘I don’t deserve it.’

‘Yes, you do. You had guts when you needed them. You are kind to people. Don’t be so quick to put yourself down. That was one of my faults too.’

‘Are you better now?’

‘I think so, yes. I’ve stopped blaming myself that my sister doesn’t like me. It’s not my fault any more.’

‘You’re not going to see her while you’re here?’

‘No. I don’t think we’d have anything to say to each other.’

‘I could go with you on the train tomorrow if you like?’

Fiona offered.

‘Two days before your wedding! You have a million things to do, Fiona.’

‘I don’t, as it happens. We could have lunch with her and come back that evening.’

 

‘No, Fiona, honestly. It’s a long way to travel to have two old ladies sit and look at each other with disapproval. No, we’ll give it a miss. I’ll just continue with the Christmas and birthday cards.’

‘And does she … ?’

‘Not any more. She used to send postcards from places, just showing off that she visited Rome or New York. But she

doesn’t even bother now.’

Vonni was resigned and Fiona changed the subject.

I’Right, we’ll take you on a tour of Dublin instead. There’s a get-on get-off bus we could try.’

‘Correct me if I’m wrong, Fiona, but isn’t that what all buses are? You get on them, you get off them?’

‘No. This is a tour bus. We can stay on it all day if we want or get off and explore something and get back on another. It’s a great way of seeing Dublin. I’m going to suggest David does it too. Maybe we could go together, the three of us, and the twins, if they’re ever going to take any time off again.’

‘Fiona, what do people earn in this country to be able to pay prices like this? Look at what they charge for coffee!’

‘Why do you think we’re all racing out to Aghia Anna?’

Fiona laughed and patted the old, lined hand on the table.

 

When David arrived the next day, Fiona met him and took

him to his lodgings in Barbara’s flat.

‘She won’t mind?’

‘No, this is my room when I stay here. I’ve been wandering around for the last few weeks: Declan’s house, my parents’

house and here. She’ll be glad of the company.’

David gave her another hug.

‘I’m so pleased to see you so happy after … after everything.’

‘And

you too, David. I’m taking you off on a bus tour of

Dublin right now. We’re meeting Vonni at the start point.

 

And the twins. But I won’t even begin to explain who they are exactly.’

‘It’s all like a dream, Fiona. And the sun is still shining, like when we waved goodbye to the others at the Cafe Midnight in Aghia Anna,’ he said, taking out his notebook and pencil for the journey.

She had forgotten just how much she liked David. Wasn’t

he just great to have come over for her wedding?

 

The two days before the wedding were busy for everyone.

Vonni had been invited with Paddy Carroll and Muttie

Scarlet and their associates to have a drink in their pub. She explained that she didn’t drink herself due to early excesses, and they all nodded gravely as if that could have been their own problem had things not been different.

Barbara had taken David to a pottery exhibition where

he met a lot of craftsmen and women who invited him to

different parts of Ireland.

Clara’s daughter Adi had left for South America with Gerry to save some forest. Linda, on the other hand, had got a major arts programme on television to cover Nick Hickey playing alto sax at a jazz evening in the record shop. Clara and Hilary had been in the audience bursting with pride over the two of them.

Peter Barry and his new lady friend Claire Cotter had sent a wedding gift of a half-dozen linen table napkins and had already taken two dancing lessons so that they wouldn’t look foolish on the floor.

Father Brian Flynn had invited his Polish priest friend

Father Tomasz from Rossmore to attend the wedding in the hope that he might send more weddings their way and that it might also distract him from St Ann’s Well which he had become altogether too fond of.

 

The twins had practised so well that they were sure it would work. Their nerves had calmed down.

Lavender had seen the wedding menu and told her patients that if they stayed with the smoked salmon and salads they couldn’t go far wrong.

Johnny had said there was no better exercise than dancing and had shown some of his stiffer patients how to look and feel more limber. He had to borrow a tie for his role as best man.

Tim, the security man, who was coming to the wedding

with Lidia, thought privately that the place was a fire hazard and that those twins would probably burn it down on the day.

So he quietly installed more fire extinguishers and fire blankets just in case.

Ania had delivered the wedding dress to Fiona’s parents, delivered the waistcoat to Declan and the wall hangings to Father Flynn.

She had made a moss-green silk flower for Clara, arranged flowers for the two mothers and done buttonholes for Johnny and Carl.

‘What are you wearing yourself?’ Carl asked.

‘I haven’t thought,’ Ania said.

‘You know the dress you wore to my parents’ party?’

‘Ye-es.’ She spoke doubtfully.

‘I never saw it properly.’

‘It isn’t much to look at now. The sleeves had to be removed.

It looks a bit sad now.’

‘Could you make new sleeves?’ he wondered.

‘I’d need to get lace,’ she said.

‘Let’s go and buy some lace.’

‘You mean new lace in a shop?’ She was overwhelmed by

such extravagance.

‘That’s what I mean,’ Carl said affectionately.

Frank Ennis tried on his outfit. He was afraid he looked like

a mad old sailor. Maybe the blazer wasn’t a good idea. He wished he’d said no to the invitation, saying that sadly he would be elsewhere. He would be hopelessly awkward and out of place.

Lar and Judy and Mrs Kitty Reilly were all gearing up for it.

Kitty Reilly had now discovered St Ann’s Well in Rossmore and was praying that the place be made the new Lourdes or Fatima. Her children were very impressed that she had been invited to the wedding of a young doctor. That was class. They were less impressed by the venue. An immigrants’ church in the back streets of Dublin. A hall where these people ate their foreign food.

The Walsh family were going together. Carl was going

to push his mother in her wheelchair and Ania was going to wheel Bobby. Ania knew the church and the hall. She knew exactly where they would be settled.

The house move had taken place. Rosemary would be

coming to live in the new apartment in a couple of weeks’

time. She was only on day-release for the wedding.

She was very different now. She was grateful for suggestions, instead of scorning them.

Ania had said that she might want to wear something smart for the wedding and that Bobby should ask her to choose from her outfits. Rosemary said that this was very thoughtful of Bobby and she would like a long cream skirt and a brown

velvet top. She fussed about what gift they should send until Carl begged Ania to ask Fiona what they wanted and to tell, them quickly before everyone went insane.

Fiona said that she and Declan would just love a picnic

basket so that they could go up the Head of Howth or out to sit in Killiney Strand. Rosemary rang the top stores and ordered the last word in picnic baskets.

Fiona and Declan had stared at it dumbfounded when it

arrived. They had only meant an insulated bag that would

keep beer cool. This was a huge basket with leather straps and brass buckles and proper cutlery and plates and glasses and even napkins. They could hardly wait to take it on its first outing.

 

By the wedding morning, Barbara and David had become

great friends. They had been to the theatre together. They had walked by the Liffey and they had taken the DART out to the seaside where Barbara pointed out the houses of pop singers and actors.

He was interested in everything — including Barbara.

She told him about the dress and the fear the zip might

Ś split.

™’Why don’t I sew you into the dress?’ David suggested.

‘Are you serious?’

‘Totally. I can make big loopy stitches, give you room to breathe. Dance even?’

‘Dance? David, if I get down that aisle, I won’t move again for the rest of the day.’

‘Wait till you see the stitching job I’ll do,’ David promised.

‘You’ll be dancing until dawn.’

 

The two mothers were congratulating each other on getting this far.

‘I think it was your talking to Declan that did the trick,’

Maureen said.

‘No. You knocked some sense into Fiona.’ Molly was

anxious to give equal praise.

‘I don’t think I did that much, Molly. We’ve always been terrified of Fiona.’

‘She’s the sweetest, gentlest girl I ever met,’ Molly Carroll said, and not for the first time Fiona’s mother wondered at the different faces of ourselves that we showed to different people.

 

Fiona woke on the day to find her sisters standing by the bed.

‘We brought you scrambled eggs and toast,’ said Ciara.

‘And fresh orange juice,’ said Sinead.

‘Thank you so much. I’m going to miss you,’ Fiona said.

‘We never did this before,’ Ciara said anxiously.

‘No, that’s not true, but it’s still very nice. What time’s Barbara coming?’

‘She’s downstairs having coffee with Mam. She’s looking

terrific’

‘Is she dressed?’

‘Yeah, she’s all glammed up. She says you’re to take your time. Have a shower and she’ll come up and help you then.’

‘If I eat much more of this, she’ll have to sew me into my dress.’

‘That’s what your friend did to her apparently. David. He sewed her into her dress. She was telling Mam.’

Fiona shook her head. Her sisters were both daft. They

never got the right end of any stick in their lives.

 

There was a crowd outside the church when Fiona and her

father arrived. Father Flynn had encouraged everyone to come and cheer on the wedding. There were even photographers

and journalists asking where the bride and groom were from.

They were disappointed to find out that they were both Dubliners.

They were hoping this would be more exotic, maybe

even a celebrity wedding.

 

‘Thanks, Dad, for everything,’ Fiona said at the church door.

‘I can’t tell you how happy your mother and I are today.

Like when we think …’he stopped.

‘Let’s not think about things like that, Dad. Not today,’

Fiona said.

‘How did you get to be so bloody serene all of a sudden?’

Barbara hissed at her.

 

‘How did you get into that dress?’ Fiona hissed back.

‘David sewed me into it this morning. He’s a peach, David.

Why didn’t you ever tell me?’

‘I did tell you.’ Fiona was stung. ‘That’s why I got you to give him a room.’

‘Girls!’ Fiona’s father was very firm. ‘Enough of this, the music is playing. We have to walk the walk.’

And as the sun shone through the windows of what had

once been a biscuit factory, Fiona heard the music begin. If her life had depended on it, Fiona could not have identified what they were playing, even though she had chosen it herself.

She saw everyone in the church stand up and they got a nod from Father Brian on the altar.

They were off.

At the altar, Declan turned around. Walking slowly towards him was the most beautiful girl in the world. She looked dazzling in her Indian silk dress, she carried yellow and white roses in a bouquet. The dress was plain and classic, letting the fabric speak: it was like some designer creation, yet Declan knew it had been made by Ania, helped by her mother.

The church was crowded, but Fiona never once looked

around her to take in the surroundings: she walked on towards him, her face one big radiant smile. She was going to be his wife in a few moments from now.

Declan closed his eyes for two seconds at the wonder of it all.

Hilary didn’t care who saw her crying; she didn’t even

bother to wipe her face.

Clara felt a tear coming out of the corner of her eye; and to her astonishment Frank Enriis passed her a tissue.

There might have been fifty such scenes in the congregation — but Declan and Fiona saw none of them.

Nothing could take their eyes away from each other.

 

Father Flynn had asked only one favour, that the speeches be kept brief. He had been told by a very wise person that there was one rule to remember. You can never be too short or too flattering. He told this to Fiona’s father who might easily have been long-winded. He also mentioned it to Johnny, who as best man would certainly have felt it necessary to make some risque jokes; but he saw something in Father Flynn’s face that made him lose the original script.

The photographer, Mouth Mangan, was as good as his

word and remarkably speedy. There was no endless hanging about. Father Flynn took his business card in case they should need his services again.

The hall was a delight. The huge buffet tables were so

welcoming and a legion of Simon’s and Maud’s friends were doing what was called work experience: passing drinks around and helping people to fill their plates.

Everywhere Fiona and Declan looked they saw friends and

well-wishers. Fiona felt bathed in such happiness she could even be nice to Rosemary Walsh.

‘Thank you again for the really wonderful picnic basket,’

she said. ‘It was such a generous gift.’

‘Good, good. You wrote a very nice letter. One does try.

It’s such an odd thing to want. Bobby and I thought the only thing to do was to try and get you a top-class one.’

‘And you did, Mrs Walsh. It’s quite splendid. Can I introduce you to anyone? My mother? Declan’s mother?’

‘I don’t think so, dear. Who is that lady with the lined face and the coloured skirt? The one who looks like a gypsy.’

‘That’s Vonni. She came from Greece specially.’

‘And is she a gypsy?’

‘No, not at all. She runs a craft shop there.’

‘And is she Greek?’

‘Irish.’

‘Heavens! She does look interesting.’

 

‘I’ll bring her over to meet you,’ Fiona said and made

her way over to Vonni’s side. She clutched Vonni’s arm and whispered, ‘Only one really poisonous person here and she said she’d like to meet you. She was the one who behaved so badly to Ania. Remember, I told you?’

‘Lead me to her,’ Vonni said, with a gleam in her eye.

‘Gently, Vonni,’ Fiona warned.

‘Like silk,’ Vonni promised.

 

Everyone said the speeches were a delight: short and warm.

What more could you want?

The food was delicious and Fiona had asked for three cheers for the caterers whose first official function this was. Only the cake and the dancing remained.

Vonni had love-bombed Rosemary Walsh almost out of

her wheelchair with her praise and delight for the new Irish, and how they had arrived just when the Celts needed them.

Rosemary had never met such a forceful argument and found herself stammering agreement.

Linda and Nick told their mothers that they didn’t want

to upstage Fiona’s day, but they thought they might well get married in this church and have the reception in this hall. f’You’re getting married? Hilary and Clara spoke in unison, _ their mouths round in shock and pleasure.

™They had hoped and plotted that the two young people

would get together, but actually getting married? It was beyond their wildest dreams.

 

Ania kept an eye on the wheelchairs so that she could give any assistance if it was needed.

‘Ania?’

‘Yes, Mrs Walsh?’

‘I wanted to ask you something.’

‘Of course.’

 

‘It’s a bit awkward.’

‘Do you want to go to the bathroom, Mrs Walsh? I can take you there easily.’ Ania was ready to be helpful as usual.

‘No, no, nothing like that. It’s about what I said to you and to Carl. I am so sorry.’

‘But that’s all a long time ago. It’s long ago. Forgotten now.’

‘Carl hasn’t forgotten. His face is cold and hard. He is my only child. If you and he were to marry you would be my only daughter-in-law and your children my only grandchildren. I can’t bear to think that I have lost all this with my stupid remarks.’

‘No, no, believe me, Mrs Walsh.’

‘Could you call me Rosemary?’

‘No, that would be difficult. Look - Carl must take his own time to make his peace. Me? I have made my peace with you. I will always be your friend. I love your son. I hope to make him happy, but I don’t want to do anything to force his hand. Is that the expression?’

‘That’s the expression, Ania. You are very bright. I am just a blind person.’Ś

‘You are a person who needs some wedding cake. I will go and get you some,’ said Ania.

I

Rosemary watched her in her elegant dress go across the

room talking to this person and that. She realised that only a few weeks ago she herself was doing that at her ruby wedding party.

And look at her now.

 

Tom and Cathy Feather came in at the cake stage to see how f their proteges had fared. It all seemed to have been a glorious success. They had followed all their training too about leftovers.

These had been sealed in plastic bags and put into the

freezer.

 

The dancing had started. Bride and groom danced to the

music of’True Love’.

Then the parents and their spouses. The best man went

over to ask the maid of honour, but she was already dancing with David, so Johnny asked Ciara, one of Fiona’s sisters, instead. Then Declan’s uncle asked Hilary to dance. Carl and Ania were out on the dance floor. Linda and Nick danced

close together, planning their own wedding. Tim and Lidia danced. They had their plans too. They were going to buy and renovate a house out on the coast. Bobby reached over and took Rosemary’s hand.

‘That’s what I have for you, Rosemary “love for ever true”.

That’s the way it feels to me,’ he said.

‘Thank you, dear Bobby,’ she said.

It had been a long time since she had called him ‘dear

Bobby’.

 

Clara looked up as Frank Ennis approached her. He looked very well, almost roguish, in his outfit.

‘You promised me a dance,’ he said.

‘And I’m delighted you remembered.’

‘You’re the most stylish woman in the room,’ he said as

they danced together.

He was lighter and less blundering than she might have

expected.

‘Thank you. You look pretty racy yourself. What about the lady you’re meant to be escorting?’

‘She’s having an affair with a bottle of wine,’ Frank said.

‘Right, no guilt then.’ Clara smiled at him.

‘Are you properly divorced and everything?’ he asked as

they negotiated a corner.

‘Yes, I will be shortly,’ she said.

‘Good,’ he said.

‘What has this got to do with the hospital board?’

 

‘Nothing. It’s me. I won’t see you at work any more and I want to see you socially.’

‘Why won’t you see me at work any more?’

‘Your year is up next month,’ Frank Ennis said.

‘Oh, balls, Frank, I’m not leaving. There’s far too much to do. Far too many battles to be fought and won. You know that. I know that.’

And he said nothing. Just put his arms around her more

closely as the whole heart clinic and their friends and relations danced to the music of ‘Hey Jude’.