Chapter Eleven

NOVEMBER

'Come in, Marcella,' he said wearily.

They walked in silence up the stairs to the flat where they had lived together so happily once. She looked around her as if seeing it for the first time. Neither of them had spoken yet. Tom sat down at one side of the table, which still had the pink velvet cloth on it. And with his hand, made a gesture for her to sit at the other. There had never been any point in offering Marcella food or drink, she had taken none of it, so he didn't start now. He looked at her as he waited for her to speak. She looked very tired, beautiful, of course, with the tiny face and all that dark hair. She wore a black leather jacket and a white sweater, a red scarf tied around her long, graceful neck. She carried only a small leather handbag on a chain; she hadn't brought any luggage with her.

'Thank you for letting me in,' she said.

'Naturally I'd ask you in,' he said.

'But you don't talk to me on the phone?'

'It's late, I'm tired, I have to get up very early to bake bread, you and I don't want to go through it all again, now do we?' He spoke gently, trying to be reasonable rather than showing the hard, hurt side of himself as he must have done before.

'I just want to tell you something and then I'll go,' She sounded very beaten and down. Not pleading or sobbing, but just as if all the life had gone out of her.

'Then tell me,' he said.

There was a silence. 'It's quite hard. Do you think I could have a drink?'

He went to the kitchen and looked around him, confused about what to offer her. 'Anything at all,' she said. He took a can of lager from the fridge, picked up two tumblers and brought her an ashtray as well. She seemed to take ages lighting her cigarette. Eventually she began to speak.

'Paul Newton does have a model agency, and I know he does have quite well-known models that go through it. It's well established over there. But it wasn't what was going to work for me. It didn't work at all, not at all, not even from the start.'

She looked so bleak and sad that Tom felt he had to say something. 'Well you tried it, that's what you wanted to do.'

'No, I never got a chance to try. He didn't want me for that kind of modelling, not for shows and what I thought… Only glamour modelling. First he sent me to people who did lingerie pictures for catalogues… and they wanted what they called glamour shots, which is topless.' There was such shame and sadness in the story, Tom closed his eyes rather than see her face. It was terrible, so I said to them there had been a mistake, that I was a real model on Mr Newton's books and they only laughed, saying I could take it or leave it.' There was a silence. 'I left it, of course, and went back to Paul Newton to tell him. I thought that he'd be furious with these people.' She paused to sip the lager that he had never seen her touch before. 'He was very busy that day. I waited ages to see him. I remember all the people coming in and out, all the kind of people I had wanted to meet all my life, stylists and designers and other models. And then after a long time I got in to see him, and I told him and he said… he said…' She stopped, hardly able to repeat the words. 'He said what else did I expect at my age… and I said that he had promised to have me on his books as a model, and he got really impatient and said he had done that for God's sake, so what was I complaining about? And do you know what happened then? Joe called him about something and obviously asked after me, and Paul Newton said that not only was I fine but I was right here in the office, finding it all a bit strange in the beginning but getting to know the ropes.' Tom drank his beer in silence; he could sense how hurtful it must have been. 'Anyway, he finished with Joe and he said to me that now I must be a big grown-up girl, act my age and get on with it… But I said, "You promised," and then he got really annoyed. "I told you the truth," he said, over and over…'

Tom looked at her. 'And suddenly it was just like my sitting talking to you, where I told you that I had told you the truth but you said it wasn't the same as being honest, and that there was a difference. I didn't see it until then.'

'Oh, Marcella.'

'Yes, so anyway I had enough money for a month's rent, and then I didn't have any more. I took my portfolio around, and when I showed them the pictures of you and me that we did for Celebrity Couples, people asked what I was doing over there when I could be here. And I had no answer. And then the next month I didn't have the rent, so I did the topless pictures, and oddly enough it wasn't as disgusting as I thought. Everyone was quite professional and got the job done as quickly and as high-quality as possible, they were all quite respectful in an odd sort of way. And the money went through Paul Newton's office. I collected it at the end of each fortnight. I never saw him, except, except for the day… the day that I rang you

'What happened… tell me?' Tom asked.

'He was at the reception desk when I was picking up my envelope, and he asked me to come in. He said he was sorry we had parted bad friends, and that I was very good at what I was doing, and now he had something else to offer me. I was pleased because I thought he had a real job for me at last. And first he showed me magazines with me in them topless, I'd never seen the pictures before, and I felt upset when I saw them and then he said I didn't have to do this kind of thing all my life. I waited and he said that if I wanted to I could earn real money, and he showed me other magazines, hard-core porn ones, and I felt so sick when I saw where he thought my future lay.' She stopped again, shaking her head in memory of the shock. 'He said that these people were very detached about their job, and there would be no pawing or anything, that wasn't the way it was done, it was just a day's work for everyone in the end, and I thanked him and said I'd call him the next day and I moved flats and never saw him again.' A long pause. 'And then I came home.'

'And where… ?'

'I'm staying at Ricky's for the moment. I clean the place and help him around the studio. I've worked in bars a couple of nights too, and in a sandwich bar at lunchtime. You know that I'd be a real asset nowadays to Scarlet Feather?' The longing in her voice was almost too much to bear.

But he said what had to be said. 'No, believe me, this is not spite, nor sulking, but it's no.'

'I'm not saying we should get back together immediately… I'd go on living at Ricky's for a while…'

'No.'

'I'll ask you again, it's all I want to do. Be back the way we were. Suppose it were you that had made the mistake, and had upset me by stretching too far in some direction. And just suppose you realised it was the most stupid thing and begged me to start again, wouldn't you like me to say something hopeful rather than a cold, blank no?'

'It's not a cold, blank no, believe me it's not. There's nothing I'd like better in many ways than to wipe the past bit from our minds and start again…'

'Then why can't we… ?'

'It's just not the way things are. It would all be a pretence, an act, like playing at being in love again. Maybe I'm shallow and you're better off without me. I've told you that before.'

'I didn't believe it then, or now.'

'But I don't love you any more. I'll never forget all we had together, and if I do ever love someone else, that will always be special…'

'Love me again, don't look for someone new. Love me all over again.'

He felt no desire for her, no memory of a love shared in this very flat. He felt nothing but pity. 'It wasn't a great summer for me, and after you left a lot of things went wrong and I was very unhappy,' he began. 'But compared to yours, mine was nothing. I'm more sorry than I can say.'

'You must be pleased that you were right,' she said.

'No, I was right about nothing. I didn't have an idea all this was going to happen to you, I thought you'd be a great success, you were, and are, so beautiful. And truly I hoped you would because you wanted it so much.'

She picked up her handbag. 'I'll always be here, always around, if you change your mind,' she said.

'No you won't, not a treasure like you.' He tried to make her smile. But her face was sad. 'Come on, I'll drive you back to Ricky's,' he said.

'Will we be friends from now on, anyway?' she asked.

'We'll be much more than friends; weren't we together for four years?' he said.

'That's true, and there's so much I want to know.' But though he wanted to tell her all the adventures and dramas, and about the twins going missing and the guards looking for Walter for the break-in, he felt it wasn't the time for small talk, so they drove though the dark, empty, wet streets in silence.

'If you won't come on a holiday with me, will you come away for a weekend?' Neil asked.

'Sure, that would be nice,' Cathy said.

She didn't really like the sound of a weekend away. It sounded dangerously like a honeymoon and she wasn't ready for that yet. The doctor had said that Normal Married Life would of course resume, it took different people different times. But Cathy thought that in her case it might take a long time. It wouldn't really be fair to go away with Neil unless she felt ready. Then again, it wasn't something she could easily discuss.

If she said to him that she wasn't ready for love-making yet, he would reasonably say that he hadn't suggested it, he was only thinking of a weekend away. And in many ways a weekend would be nice. She would think about places to suggest to him. Not yet. In a few weeks time.

They had fallen into a disconcerting habit of one being out when the other was in. Breakfast was the only meal they shared, and even at weekends they were both out a lot of the time. Cathy was cooking less at home in Waterview now during the day, since the facilities had much improved back at the premises. In fact, she often spent time there in the evening, and found herself sitting to read and relax in the big comfortable sofa rather than going back home. If Tom noticed, he said nothing; sometimes he was there himself, other times out. Cathy knew that he occasionally took girls out on dates, but rarely anyone a second time. She knew that Marcella was back in town and staying with Ricky; that's all he had told Cathy. June, however, who heard everything, had it that Marcella had totally changed and was doing all kinds of jobs she would have turned her nose up at, and was aching to get back into Scarlet Feather. She had told someone that she would wash dishes all day if she could come back.

'Will he take her back, do you think?' June's eyes were round with interest.

'She never worked here to be taken back,' Cathy said defensively.

'No, stop playing games - you know what I mean.'

'He never, ever talks about it.'

'You surprise me. The pair of you have been through so much together, I thought he'd weep on your shoulder.'

'No, I think there's too much shoulder-weeping in this business as things are.' But she also knew that they needed their space from each other. She had been tempted to tell him how much Neil had upset her over the whole pregnancy thing. But she didn't even want to acknowledge it openly. And anyway, a lot of that hurt seemed less sharp now. She and Neil did get on very well on many levels. Only this morning he had said how he wished she were free to come to the big demonstration for the homeless, but he knew she had to work.

'Good luck, Neil,' she said. 'I hope you get a good crowd.'

'You never know, mid-week.' He sounded worried. 'But then, if it does take off it really will focus serious attention on everything.'

He had sounded so concerned, she was glad again that she hadn't decided to tell a whole self-pitying tale about him to Tom. Poor, tired Tom who had promised himself a nice quiet day at the premises when they were all out on this job.

'Oh, June, how are we going to get through this lunch today, this woman's a monster.'

'You say that about them all, and they turn out to be pussy cats.'

'Not this one: we are to use the back entrance to the house, and take the van and park it somewhere so the guests won't see it and be offended by it; we all have to have house shoes, which we put on when we come in the back door, only that way will she know that muck has not been walked in.'

'Oh, well, if it keeps her happy.'

'Wait till she sees your hair, June.'

'What's wrong with it?' June looked in the mirror and patted her head. She had never again been able to afford the outrageous purple streaks that she had got with the Haywards token, and they had grown out, leaving her with a slightly piebald appearance.

'Oh, Mrs Fusspot said that she hoped the staff would be decorous, because some of the guests are embassy wives.'

'Decorous? I wonder,' June made faces at her reflection.

'But if we're really good, then we might well get into a lot of embassies, that's what we must think throughout.'

Tom wasn't coming on this one, there would be Con as barman,

June and Cathy to prepare and serve the lunch. He urged them to leave in plenty of time, the lady seemed to think punctuality was highly important.

'Cathy, stop calling her Mrs Fusspot, will you? You'll say it to her face when you're there.'

'No I won't.'

'Do you know where the place is?'

'Yes, I looked it up just now.'

'Have you got your mobile?'

'Yes Tom, and let me tell you, you are rapidly becoming Mr Fusspot, perhaps the two of you are well met.'

He laughed and patted the van. 'Good luck,' he called after them.

The phone never stopped ringing.

'Hi Tom, Neil here, have I missed Cathy?'

'Yes, but she's got her phone in the van.'

'No, it's okay, just tell her I've booked us into Holly's for the weekend after next, that will cheer her up.'
'Simple question, Tom: I met Marcella, she said she'd like me to take her up to Fatima to see Mam and Dad, that you and she were good friends now. I just wanted an update.'

'She never wanted to go to see them in Fatima when she lived with me,' he said simply.

'You'd prefer not, then?'

'She must go where she pleases.'

'She's very broken, you don't know the kind of time she must have had over the water, she doesn't talk about it but it can't have been great.'

'No, and I do wish her well, and I really hope she finds happiness like I would for any friend.'

'Right Tom, matter dropped.'

'Tom, it's Muttie here. You see, the twins are making an Irish stew for Lizzie as a treat tonight, and they gave me a list…' 'You'd like us to make it for you… Okay,Muttie…' 'I beg your pardon, they wouldn't hear of you making it. This is to be all their own work. I have all of the lamb and carrots and onions, but it's just that it says stock on the list. What's that?'

Tom told him what little cubes to ask for in the local supermarket, and what they looked like. Cathy's mother probably had plenty of excellent stock in her freezer, but this was no time for opening the wrong things.

Is that Tom Feather? Nick Ryan here, I want to have a surprise birthday party for Cathy's aunt at her apartment, and for you both to cater it.'

'You know, Mr Ryan, we have a policy on surprise parties… we don't usually do them. They can go so very wrong.'

'But not with Geraldine, surely… she has so many friends?' He sounded uncertain.

'Could Cathy come back to you on this one? Please.'

'Well, all right then, I thought you'd be glad of the business.' He sounded huffy now.

'And indeed we are, Mr Ryan, as I say, Cathy will sort it all out as soon as she can.'

'Yes, well.'

'Tom?'

'Cathy, there's telepathy, I was just going to ring you.'

'Tom, have you her letter and the map there?'

'You mean you aren't there yet? Oh, my God!'

'Don't you panic, you're the one on dry land with the map, I've been to number twenty-seven, they never heard of Mrs Fusspot.'

'Well, if you called her—'

'Of course I didn't call her that, Tom, quick, will you.'

He ran to the desk and took down the file with that week's bookings in it. He came back to the phone and read out the address.

'That's where I am.'

'Well, it's on her writing paper printed there in front of me.' He read it aloud again, this time with the name of the suburb.

'What?' she screamed. There were two streets with the same name. People should be hanged for allowing this in any country. She was on the wrong side of Dublin.

'Tom, what will I do? If I ring her now she'll go to pieces. Tom, speak to me.'

'Just get there. I'm much nearer, I'll ring her and go round in a taxi with champagne and smoked salmon and hold them at bay until you get there. Drive carefully, don't take any risks. I don't want the entire company dead on arrival.'

He had a fairly horrific phone conversation with Mrs Fusspot, where he had to hold the mobile far from his ear. The taxi man looked at him sympathetically.

'You know your job is nearly as bad as mine,' he commented, when Tom had put the phone down, exhausted.

'I don't think it's always as bad as this, but give me yours today, I beg you.'

'Not today, you wouldn't want it,' the taxi driver said gloomily. 'There's some kind of protest in the centre of Dublin, people marching from O'Connell Street to Stephen's Green. We'll be all day and all night getting to your one on the phone, and the one you were talking about with the van of food will be lucky to get there by next weekend.' Tom lay back and closed his eyes. He must stay calm. Somebody somewhere in this city must be calm.

Mrs Frizzell was around fifty, tiny in an unwise emerald-green wool dress. She had black hair scraped up into an angry-looking chignon and was very bad-tempered when he arrived. He saw with relief that there were no other cars, and noted from the high volume of abuse with which she greeted him that she must be alone, and that he had at least made it ahead of the guests.

'There, there, there.' Moving quickly into the kitchen and finding suitable glasses, he said, 'You see, I told you, the traffic was terrible, they'll all be delayed, it's exactly the same for everyone.' He hadn't said anything of the sort, but he was picking up what the taxi driver had said.'I think it's some kind of protest march, Mrs Frizzell, it has totally disrupted the traffic and some streeIs are closed.' Her face was stony. Tom opened one bottle expertly and stood it in ice, then he swiftly arranged the smoked salmon pieces on the buttered brown bread, found a sharp knife and cut them into tiny pieces.

He had grabbed lemons and parsley to take with him, but he needed a plate. He looked around for one.

'I thought you said you provided all your own—'

'And indeed we do, and our china is on the way, it's just as I told you, the transport has been unavoidably delayed in this protest march.'

'Protest,' she scoffed.

'Iknow, it is inconvenient, but still, it's good that we live in a democracy, isn't it, and people can make their views known.'

Mrs Frizzell did not appear to think it was particularly good to live in a democracy, nor may ever have thought so. Meanwhile Tom had spotted a plain white platter. 'Let me use your lovely white plate, I'll take great care of it,' he soothed her, and produced in seconds an entirely acceptable dish of canapes. He noticed her beginning to thaw slightly.

'Let me take you back into the very nice sitting room I saw briefly on the way in, and give you a glass of champagne while you wait for your guests. They too will be anxious, being so late for you,' he said.

The guests were in fact not late at all, and to his annoyance he saw a big black car coming up the drive. He settled her down and ran back to the kitchen opening cupboards, fridges, drawers, anything to see was there any raw material from which he might make up a lunch, supposing Cathy never turned up. He did find a bottle of cheap brandy, and decided to add a few drops quietly to every glass of champagne he served. This was going to be the longest pre-luncheon drink in the history of catering: they might as well enjoy it.

'I don't believe this,' Cathy cried when the guard on traffic duty told her that the roads were closed. 'Has there been an accident?'

'Oh, no, it's only the homeless and those who care about them to the point of closing the city down,' he said, casting his eyes up to heaven. He was a weary man and he had little sympathy for those who made his job more difficult than it already was. 'Are you conjurers, the lot of you?' he asked them, interested. They had such a funny van with a red feather on it; they might be children's entertainers.

'No, Guard,' said Cathy before doing a perilous turn. 'But we may have to become conjurers before this day is over.'

'Who could have got them to close the streets?' Con asked in amazement.

'My husband,' Cathy said grimly.

Most of the women were very much at ease the moment they came in the door. They all signed a book on the hall table so that Mrs Frizzell could show her husband who had turned up… Tom moved among them, easily smiling, reassuring that there were no calories in smoked salmon. He fought down his own panic. There were twelve women, two of the four bottles of champagne he had brought were empty, the plate of smoked salmon was nearly finished. It would take an hour to set up the table and serve the lunch, and there was no sign whatsoever of the van.

The television cameras covered the march, which was all the more impressive for being done in heavy rain. The banners were held high and the people were of all ages.

'I can't believe it, Neil,' Sara said. He squeezed her hand; it was better than any of them had ever believed possible. He wished Cathy could have come, but he'd tell her about it tonight, and some of the speeches might even be on the nine o'clock news.

Tom ripped open three tins of sardines, drained them and squeezed lemon juice and ground fresh black pepper into the mixture, and then like lighIning he spread it over the contents of a packet of biscuits he had also unearthed.

'Very nice,' one woman said. 'What are they called?'

'Sardines au citron,' he said.

'They're good.' She smiled into Tom's eyes.

He smiled nervously and moved away.

He kept topping up the champagne with further drops of brandy, but never Mrs Frizzell's own glass, as he didn't want her to know why her guests seemed so animated. Tom tried to keep a mental note of all he had taken from Mrs Frizzell's stores; if this day ever ended he would have to restore as well as half a bottle of brandy many more items. He had opened jars of gherkins, chopped a cucumber and made a little bowl of dip out of various yoghurts he found in the fridge. Oh, please God, remember that Mrs Maura Feather of Fatima prayed night and day to Him, and surely there must be some credit in the prayer bank now which God could use to make the van turn up.

I'm afraid to go in,' Cathy said at the gate. 'They're here; and the place is full of cars. God, there are even chauffeurs.'

'Drive in, Cathy,' said June.

'Will I ring first?'

'Drive in,' Con begged.

Cathy drove right up to the front door, then remembered and reversed to go to the back door. Tom saw them coming, and thanked God and his mother for having answered the prayer.

'I've seen her somewhere before. I know her, and that dress,' Cathy said.

'Of course you haven't, you're hallucinating…' Tom hurried them on.

'Cold canapes of any kind - no time to heat anything, I have the ovens on, just fling the main course in,' he hissed to Cathy.

'And open more champagne, Con, they've drunk my lot. Quick, June, start the tables.'

There were twelve in total: she was going to have two tables of six, do her best. Cathy went into the dining room, stunned that Tom had been able to make these people stay so long without anything to eat. She urged them to have the little asparagus tips with Parma ham, and insisted that Mrs Frizzell have just one of the tiny caviar and sour-cream blinis… All the other guests seemed to be enjoying them. To her amazement, Mrs Frizzell said she was very sorry about those dreadful protesters who had delayed her; a lot of the guests had been upset by the traffic diversions too. Mr Feather had explained all about the march and had been marvellous. Cathy said she was delighted to hear it, and scooped up some really revolting-looking things on plates which were on the tables and the piano.

'God, what on earth are these?' she said scraping them into a bin.

'Those were my best efforts, and they loved them until you arrived with the cavalry,' he said. 'I'll go home now, and leave you to cope.'

'You can't go.'

'But there's three of you here!'

'Tom, our nerves have gone, you must stay and help.'

'Of course I won't, I'm off now to lie down for a month.'

'You don't understand, they love you, they can't stand the rest of us, you have to stay and help us get on with it.'

She saw he had only been joking. 'Of course I'll stay, you clown, anyway, I don't have the strength to walk down that avenue. I have to get a lift home in the van.'

And so it all went into its well-tried routine. They all moved around the kitchen, helping each other, passing things,getting rid of rubbish, totting up the number of wine bottles on the calculator, covering little delicacies in some of Mrs Frizzell's dishes for her to discover later in her fridge. Con gave them the word, the ladies were leaving, the van was loaded. Three of the eleven guests had been interested enough in the food to ask for cards. They were ready to roll. Tom had listed the sardines, brandy and other items he had taken, so there would be no misunderstandings. Mrs Frizzell thanked them grudgingly. It had, of course, been very distressing that everyone was so late, and extra precautions really should have been taken on a day when everyone knew that the city traffic would be difficult.

'Ah, but did they know' Tom said. In about eight minutes they would be out of here. Cathy had promised to buy them all a pint to apologise for having got the address wrong.

'Well, apparently they did, or should have; some of the ladies were telling me that that good-looking lawyer son of Jock and Hannah Mitchell you always see spouting on about causes was on breakfast television this morning warning everyone, so really you should have known. Still, in the end it had turned out all right, and you needn't pay for the items you used, just regard that as a tip.'

'You know the Mitchells then, Mrs Frizzell?' Tom said innocently.

'My husband plays golf with Jock. We were at their house once. Oaklands - big place, very nice.'

Cathy remembered her then, and the dress, from New Year's Eve. But mercifully Mrs Frizzell had no similar memory. They smiled until their faces hurt, until they got in their van. Then when they had driven out through the gate they played the scene out over and over for Con and June.

'… that good-looking lawyer…' Tom said.

'… spouting about causes…' Cathy giggled.

They told Tom that the guard had thought they were conjurers. And Tom said if that guard had seen him scraping Mrs Frizzell's bits and pieces onto biscuits he would know that conjurors was exactly what they were. He told Cathy she was to call Nick Ryan sometime about a surprise fortieth birthday for Geraldine.

'That's a non-starter, she'd flay us alive,' Cathy said. 'Anything else happen when I was driving the wrong way round Dublin?' she asked.

'Yes, the handsome spouting lawyer rang and said he'd booked you both into Holly's the weekend after next.'

'Well, that's another non-starter for a variety of reasons,' said Cathy, looking straight ahead and not catching Tom's eye as he drove to the pub.

Neil came home just in time for the news.

It was a huge success, I gather,' Cathy said.

'Yes, people can't pretend any more that they don't know about the problem, and that's good.'

'Let's turn on the television and see what they say.'

She handed him a glass of wine and put a plate of warm Stilton tartlets on the table between them.

'These are nice,' he said. 'Leftovers?'

She was annoyed. She had saved them specially for him in waxed paper. 'Well, I suppose they are in a way, but I didn't see them like that.'

'Stop being prickly, hon.' She shrugged. The news hadn't yet begun. 'How did it go anyway, your do?'

'Fine. She knew your parents, as it happens…'

The signature time for the news came on. 'Shush. Here we go,' he said. The march got very full coverage, and there were aerial pictures too of the way Dublin transport had been brought to a halt. Somewhere in that television footage was the Scarlet Feather van, turning and twisting like a wounded animal. She half hoped they would see it. It would be hard to miss with its distinctive logo. Instead they saw Neil. About twenty seconds worth of him, young and eager, his hair blowing in the wind, his face wet from the rain, but there as always with the one short, telling phrase.

'Thank you for coming out on the streets today to say that in a country of plenty we are ashamed that people will sleep without a home tonight.' He looked straight at the camera. 'Let nobody's conscience feel easy by saying that the homeless have sought out their lifestyle. Which one of us here would choose to spend this November night in a doorway or under a bridge in the cold and rain?'

As he got down from the platform, supporters grasped him and hugged him in solidarity. One of the people reaching out to him was Sara. Cathy watched wordlessly.

And then the report went on to a politician saying what was being done, and a member of the opposition saying that not nearly enough was being done. Neil had stood out above them all. These were just grey people in a studio, without the passion of the young man standing in the rain.

'You were great,' Cathy said admiringly. And she meant it.

'It just might help to change things.' He was talking about the whole demonstration, not about his own little excerpt. 'It was great out there, Cathy; I wish you had been able to come, be a part of it.'

Cathy thought how she and June and Con had sat for what seemed like hours in their van, and cursed him to the pit of hell. In a way I was a part of it,' she said.

And then the phone began to ring. People congratulating him, further tactics to be agreed, newspapers and radio programmes wanting him to do more interviews. He was adept at passing the requests on to other people. He was only one person of a very big committee, and perhaps they should talk to this person or that; he could give them a phone number, an e-mail address. Neil knew too well the pitfalls in being seen as the only voice; he made sure that there was no danger of his taking the whole thing over. When people called him on his mobile, Cathy answered the ordinary phone. She was indeed kept fully busy for the evening as the assistant and helpmate he wanted her to be.

'Cathy, it's Sara.'

'Oh, Sara, good to hear from you. Did it all go well?'

'Well, sure it did, didn't you see, don't you know?'

'I haven't had time to ring my mam yet, but I hear that they're making an Irish stew to mark the day.'

'Who are? I don't understand.' Sara sounded totally confused.

'The twins, you know, all their belongings have gone into a lockup shed, my dad told me all about it. The Beeches is being boarded up today.'

'Oh, the twins,' Sara said. Cathy was silent. 'Sorry, Cathy, of course you meant the twins. Sorry.'

'And you meant the march?'

'Yes, I was walking a bit of the way with Neil. Wasn't he wonderful on television!' Sara said.

'He was indeed, will I put you on to him?' and she passed the phone to Neil. Cathy felt very tired, and out of things. In fact, she wanted to go to bed. These calls could go on all night. Yet it looked dismissive and cold to Neil on his big day to show so little interest. In something that meant so much. She would have been very happy to curl up on a sofa and hear all about it. But these weren't sofas you could curl up on; slim, clean lines, and there wasn't any chance of hearing anything except one end of a telephone conversation. A few months ago she would have told him all about Mrs Frizzell and they would have laughed at his being called a spouting lawyer. Tonight it would have been out of place. Things had changed a lot. They really did need to spend some time away from everything. Which reminded her that she must tell him that she wouldn't go to Holly's with him, but tonight was not a night for a row so she would leave that until tomorrow. So Cathy sat there, listening enthusiastically to Neil's side of phone calls. He waved away any offers of food, the adrenalin was enough. 'It will be real food, not leftovers,' she said. And immediately wished she hadn't.

'Oh, Cathy, you are getting very petty about a silly remark. Sorry if it offended you, anyway, I don't want any more, thanks all the same.'

The phone rang again and he seemed to take the call with some relief. Well why not? Cathy asked herself. The rest of Ireland thought he was a hero. His wife just made petty remarks about leftovers. Which would anyone prefer?

Next morning Neil was rushing, he had to get into the radio studio to do an interview on Morning Ireland before anything else. Cathy didn't tell him about Holly's then. It seemed inappropriate.

'See you at eleven,' she called as he was leaving. 'You'll knock them dead on the radio.'

'Eleven?' he said. „

'Remember, the meeting.'

'Meeting?' He looked blank.

'Oh, Neil, at our premises, the bad guys are coming, and James...'

'God yes, of course, I'll be there,' he said.

James Byrne had asked for another meeting with the insurance company. He had been told that the position was still very unsatisfactory; apparently a cousin of one of the partners had let himself into the premises and destroyed everything for no apparent reason. This said cousin had now disappeared, and the insurance company was expected to pay up as if this in fact had been a de facto breaking and entering by criminals who were strangers. Neil hadn't turned up at eleven when they were meant to begin. Coffee was served in the front room, the phones put on the answering machine and James began. He would like the representatives of the company to look around the place, which had shown all the signs of two people trying to get their business back to where it had been. And until Neil Mitchell, barrister-at-law who was advising them arrived… perhaps James could step in and bring them up to date with the way things were progressing. He showed them the meticulous books he kept, the receipts for the equipment they rented, the ongoing calendar for work planned and booked. He explained that they were now not in any position to take on a job that meant large financial outlay, they didn't dare to accept anything which would not be paid for within the traditional ninety days that big companies insisted on. He painted a picture of a decent, hard-working, struggling pair who were anxious only for what was theirs by right and law.

'Law has to be interpreted, defined,' one of the insurance men said.

Cathy wished with a passion that Neil was here to answer him. Why did he have to be late on this of all days? Then her mobile rang.

'Neil?'

'Sorry, hon, you've no idea the impact all this has made, I'm literally besieged…'

'They're here for the consultation, and we need you...'

'I'm really sorry, and please give my sincerest regrets to—'

'No Neil.' Tears had sprung to her eyes. He did this too often. Everyone had been looking at the door for the last half an hour waiting for him, and now it turned out that he wasn't anywhere near them.

'If I could…'

'They've just said law has to be interpreted and defined, you should be here to do that for us.'

Tom and James started to talk loudly, at exactly the same moment, to gloss over what was obviously a husband-and-wife quarrel and the slightly humiliating non-appearance of their legal adviser. But Cathy had turned her phone off.

'Neil wasn't able to make it, he said to apologise to you all, so even though I'm furious with him for not being here, I'm passing on his regrets.'

Tom let his breath out. Slowly. She was in control again. They pointed out that Walter was not Cathy's cousin, merely a cousin of her husband, that they were most certainly not in touch with him, the guards believed that he was in London, and they had no idea where. The fact that Cathy's parents were hoping to foster Walter Mitchell's brother and sister did not mean a close and continuing relationship. Walter had nothing to do with anything at all. The meeting ended indecisively, the insurance men left saying that they would not come to another meeting or consultation until there was something new to put on the table. Meanwhile, investigations and negotiations would go on at their usual pace.

Tom, James and Cathy sat in silence after they had left. 'I could kill him,' Cathy said. 'Don't,' said Tom. 'We're in enough trouble already.'

'We are in trouble,' James said. 'Unless the insurance pays before Christmas, you won't be able to carry on.'

Sandy Keane wouldn't let those two children near his betting office again, so Simon and Maud had to wait outside when Muttie went to his office to meet his associates there.

'I'm calling the guards if they come in the door,' he said.

'You're a very extreme person, Sandy,'Muttie said.

'You're not the one who got grilled by the entire Garda station… They said a man who could take a bet off children under ten years of age was capable of doing anything, even abducting them.' Sandy shivered at the memory.

'Well why did you take their bet then?'Muttie wondered. I'd never sent them in before with money to you.'

'But you weren't there, you hadn't been seen for two days. Where were you, anyway?'

'I was about my business,'Muttie said. He wanted no mention or indeed memory of the hospital examination.

'Muttie, you don't have any business except coming in here tormenting me,' cried Sandy in despair.

There was a loud knocking on the door. The twins stood outside.

'No,' cried Sandy.

'We're not coming in, thank you, Mr Keane, it's just to tell Muttie that Cathy came by in her van and is going to take us for a drive, and as we were getting a bit wet out here…'

'Good, good, go on the drive, goodbye,' he shouted.

'We didn't want Muttie to think we'd gone missing again.'

'No, we'd all hate that,' Sandy Keane said drily.

'Thank you, Mr Keane,' Maud said.

Muttie came out to them. 'Man has a head like a block of wood. What harm on earth would two well-behaved children and a pedigree Labrador do to his betting shop? They'd raise its tone. He has no judgement whatsoever.'

Cathy brought the van up beside them. 'I needed a bit of nice company, so I thought of Hooves, and of course that means taking Simon and Maud too.'

'That's a joke,' Maud said to Muttie.

'Cathy was always a great one for the jokes when she was young,'Muttie said. 'She used to come home from school with a new one every day.'

'You don't have many jokes nowadays, Cathy,' Simon said.

'Oh, I'm full of them,' she said.

'When do you tell them and laugh at them?'

Cathy paused to think. She had laughed properly in the van when they were coming away from Mrs Frizzell's house. 'At work, at home, everywhere.'

'Does Neil like jokes?' Maud asked.

'He loves them. Dad, we can't tempt you… ?'

'No, I have a lot of work ahead of me. Will see you at supper, maybe; there's still some of that great Irish stew the twins made.'

'We made far too much, I'm afraid,' Simon said.

'No, you can never make too much, that's what God invented freezers for…'

'But God didn't actually…' Simon began. 'I see,' he said.

They went to an Internet cafe and the twins sat at a machine, while Cathy drank too much coffee and planned what she would say to Neil tonight. His presence there today would have alerted those people; things might have been moved forward. He must be made to understand that. Without nagging, whingeing and being… what was that word he used about her recently? Prickly. And even though she hated doing it, she felt it only fair to tell him about James's very dire forecast. Perhaps it might make him feel more guilty about letting them down today. And of course she hadn't had time to tell him that she wouldn't go to Holly's. It would be a conversation with very few jokes in it, she realised. At that moment Simon came back from the computer.

'We've found a really good website, Cathy, could we have another half an hour of it, or is that greedy?'

'No, that's fine.' She gave them the money.

'It's not too dear, is it, what with you being poor again after the robbery?'

So far the twins didn't really understand Walter's part in it all, and she kept it from them. Their mother and father had abandoned them yet again; there was no point in taking away the only remaining member of their immediate family, the one who had stood by them that time.

'No, we can afford another half an hour, and don't forget, you might well get a computer at Christmas. You'd never need to come to a place like this again.'

'Imagine, having it at home.' Simon's eyes were shining.

Cathy had arranged that Jock and Hannah give them this as a present. She would arrange for a good basic computer to be delivered to St Jarlath's Crescent. Neil had said that strictly speaking, since it was educational, the funds should come out of whatever trust there was for the twins. He might talk to Sara about it all. Cathy had sighed.

'Let your parents do something for them, Neil, they did so damn little that they were full of guilt. This will get them off the hook.'

He had been startled, but agreed.

'And you don't mind sitting here?' Maud asked.

Cathy didn't. She was in no hurry to go back to Waterview.

There was news when they got back to St Jarlath's Crescent. Marian had been on the phone. It was early days, but she and Harry were expecting a child, wasn't it wonderful? They would have the christening in Chicago in April, and everyone must come over.

'Do they dance at christenings?' Simon asked.

And Cathy found herself reaching out to squeeze her mother's hand at the same time as Lizzie reached for hers. Neither of them trusted themselves to speak.

Cathy was still putting off going home. She went to one of the new places hidden among the foodie streeIs in Temple Bar for a snack. Neil wasn't eating these days, it appeared, and there were plenty of what he called leftovers to offer him. To her great surprise she was served by Marcella. She looked very beautiful in a smart black trouser suit and a red necklace around her throat. They stared at each other in disbelief.

'You look lovely, Marcella, but then you always did.'

Tor all the good it did me,' Marcella said. There was a sudden awkward silence. 'Are you meeting anyone?' Marcella asked.

'No, I was… Well, I just wanted a glass of wine and something small.'

'We have a lovely plate of mixed tapas,' Marcella suggested.

Cathy nodded dumbly. 'That would be fine,' she said in a choked voice.

'And Cathy, I'm just on my break now. Would it annoy you if I sat down with you for ten minutes? I'd love that.'

'So would I,' said Cathy insincerely. Please may Marcella not want to cry and tell the whole story about just wanting to talk to Tom all over again. But in fact it was quite different. Marcella asked about Scarlet Feather and what had happened since she left. There was a lot to tell. Cathy told her about Marian's wedding, and her own pregnancy and miscarriage; she told about the twins' disappearance, about June's husband Jimmy being housebound, about Geraldine's new chap, how Con was now working almost full-time with them and about Walter being the thief. She left some things out. Like their very poor financial future. Like Tom looking like a ghost for so long that they all worried, and just now beginning to show signs of recovery. She didn't tell either about having grown so distant from Neil that she dreaded going home to see him tonight. Which was why she was sitting here eating tapas.

'I've been rabbiting on about myself. You can tell me or ask anything you like, Marcella, Tom and I never talk about personal things at all, it's just like an unwritten rule.'

'Do you think there's a chance he'd have me back?' It was so naked, humble and sad.

'I haven't an idea, Marcella, I really don't. I know one side of him so well, and nothing at all about the other.'

'And does he have anyone in particular… ?'

'No, no one in particular. I know he does take girls out, but I don't hear anything.'

'Thank you, Cathy.' She looked at her watch and got up.

'I'd better go, too.' Cathy took out her wallet.

'On me, Cathy.'

She knew that the wages in these places were not good, and there would be no tip. But dignity was also important. 'Thank you. It was delicious, and I'll send people here.'

A group of people had just come in. Marcella went to greet them, tall and beautiful, with that assured smile.

She called Neil at the town house. He wasn't home yet. She didn't want to sit there waiting. Where else could she go? It was eight o'clock on a winter's evening. It was tempting to go and sit in the premises for an hour, put on some music, sit in one of those deep sofas and close her eyes. But she might fall asleep. She would go back to Waterview. Funny how she hardly ever called it home now. Just Waterview.

They arrived together, her van pulling in beside the Volvo.

'There's timing,' he said, pleased. He had a lot of documenIs under his arm and a briefcase over his shoulder. He walked ahead of her and looked at the number of times the little red light flashed. 'Only three messages. Good,' he said.

'Leave them, Neil.'

He laughed. 'What on earth are you talking about, hon, you don't have a message machine, unless you want—'

'Please leave them. If you listen to them, you'll have to do something about them,' she said.

'Ah, Cathy, what is this?'

'An attempt to talk before we are both too exhausted and have to crash into bed,' she said simply.

T told you, I booked us into Holly's. We'll talk all weekend there.' He was moving towards the phone.

I'm not going to Holly's with you,' she said, her voice unexpectedly loud.

'You really are coming on very strong. You won't come on the holiday which I cleared with Tom, I told Tom how tired you were and he said they'd cover for you, I took the time off myself which was hard, cancelled a whole lot of things I now have to refix. Then you agreed to go to Holly's, now you change your mind. Honestly…'

'I said I'd like a weekend, I didn't ask you to go ahead and book it without discussion.'

'But you like Holly's.'

T don't want to go there,' she said.

'Why on earth… ?' he looked at her, bewildered.

'The last time you and I went there I was telling you about how we were going to have a baby. You don't think I want to go back there again, Neil?' She felt guilty as she said it. It was valid, but only half the reason. Still, she had nothing to be ashamed of, no real secret. She would have told Neil that she had fallen asleep in Tom's room, had she been given a chance.

He looked at her, embarrassed. 'I'm afraid I didn't think of that. I'll book us somewhere else tomorrow.'

'Or maybe we could do it after some discussion between us,' she said.

Neil gave up thoughIs of checking the telephone. Is this what this is about? My not running everything past you before we do it? Is that it?'

'No, it's about much, much more. It's about your not turning up today when we really needed you so badly,' she said.

He had forgotten. It had been such a busy day for him. If they turned on the nightly current affairs programme he would be mentioned in it. How could he have thought to recall a conference with some insurance people, long agreed and then totally abandoned? 'Look, I told you at the time…' he began.

'You weren't there, Neil.'

'You knew how much in demand I was today after the march, for God's sake, you were there last night when the calls came in.'

'Then you should have cancelled our meeting.'

'But Cathy, it wasn't…' he began.

This time she didn't interrupt him, she waited. He said nothing. It wasn't what, Neil?' she asked, almost defying him.

'It was a matter of priorities,' he said eventually. 'We all have to make decisions every day about what to do and what not to do.' He was still calm, reasonable.

'And you decided at the last minute not to come to a very important meeting about your wife's company? Leaving the three of us looking so foolish you wouldn't believe it?'

He stopped being calm now. 'Cathy, please. There were things that had to be done, a joint committee is being set up, they needed someone to advise about the terms of reference…'

'We needed you at the premises, you had promised to come. You don't know what happened, they ran rings around us, they were supercilious and… And you won't believe this, but if they don't pay up in time we could be out of business before the New Year.' She waited for the shock on his face, but it wasn't there yet. 'Like go out of business, permanently cease trading,' she said, afraid that he hadn't understood.

'Cathy, I know this is a blow for you and Tom, and I'm sorry of course, but seriously, in terms of what else is going on… It's not something I could run away from everything else for. It's only a business, after all, it's only a small business, cooking food for rich people, giving them upmarket food.'

'What?' She looked at him astounded.

'You know I've always been very proud of you, and you've done very well. Very well…' He paused.

'Sorry, I don't understand. This is my job, Neil, this is what I do.'

T know, hon, but you can't compare what you're doing… You know, all these discussions about canapes and finger food, with what I had to do today.'

'There were no discussions about finger food today, there were people, big companies whose job it is not to pay up until they have to. You told me that yourself when we had the robbery.'

T know, I know.'

'So what are we talking about then? Tell me, Neil, tell me now why we, who had booked you for a consultation couldn't have you, couldn't rely on your being there as you had promised?'

'That is such a grossly unfair—'

'Tell me.'

'Because it was not as important as the setting up of a joint committee. Don't get carried away with the importance of a business, Cathy. They come, they go.'

'Even if you've slaved for them and played everything by the book like we've done all the way?'

'What are we talking about… You despise these people, you just make money out of them, I've heard you over and over groaning and pouring scorn on them, but you still take their fees.'

'And is that immoral, to do a service and get paid for it?'

'No, Cathy, it's not, but it seems to me that you are trying for a very high moral ground saying that I should have given up good work in defence of the homeless in order to protect what we all agree is something which in the end is fairly unimportant.'

'Just say that again, Neil.'

'Stop playing games, you heard me.'

'You think Scarlet Feather is unimportant.'

'Not in itself. It is filling a need, but in terms of—'

'Did you always think this, like, say, a year ago when I was so busy setting it up?' she asked. He sighed heavily.

'I need to know.' She was calm.

'Well, I thought it pleased you, you know, because of all this nonsense about your mother and mine, which never mattered to anyone.'

It mattered to everyone except you,' she said.

'So you say… '

'So you always thought it was a fairly trivial enterprise, something that started and could close.'

'That's what happens to businesses.' He shrugged. Uncaring.

'So why did you even bother to get involved when we had a break-in… a robbery that was actually masterminded by your own first cousin, as it happens?'

T wondered when we'd get to that,' he said.

'No, Neil, why did you bother taking it up if you weren't going to follow through?'

'I was going to follow through, and I am going to, but today was not the day. Anyone in Ireland could have told you, I had other things to do today.' He looked very hurt.

'But you thought it a Mickey Mouse, rich people's enterprise. Why then did you bother at all…'

'It was the principle of the thing, they should not be allowed to get away with it,' he said. There was a long silence. 'Cathy?'

'What?'

'Do you… um… um…' he asked.

She looked at him for a long time. 'Do I think you should listen to the phone messages now? Yes, I think that's a great idea,' she said.

'Don't piss me about.'

I'm not. Believe me.'

'You wanted to talk,' he said.

'And we did,' she said.

'Is there anything I could say or do to make you feel better?' he asked.

'No, no, there's not, Neil.'

'I know I'm very insensitive, like that thing about Holly's hotel.'

'Again, I tell you, it's not important, believe me there, too.'

'I love you,' he said. 'Maybe, Neil.'

'No, really and truly, and we have always been honest with each /other, always.'

'Yes,' she said thoughtfully.

'And I don't want anyone else in the world but you. So yes, I annoyed you today and maybe also a bit over the past months by not being here enough. I admit this. But I've come to a decision.'

'Yes?' She looked at him.

'I honestly didn't realise how much that whole baby thing meant to you.' He leaned forward and held both her hands. 'Cathy, I want to say it straight out. If you'd like us to try for another child, then I wouldn't mind, I really wouldn't mind at all.

'