Chapter Twelve

DECEMBER

One of Muttie's associates went to have acupuncture and his back straightened up; in fact he wondered had he been to Lourdes, so great was the transformation. Cathy told June about it just in case it would help her husband.

'Nothing will help Jimmy, he's like Interpol these days, what time did the job end, why was I so long coming home. It would drive you right up the walls and down again.'

Cathy took Jimmy's side. 'To be fair, now you gave him a bit of reason to be jealous… going off to parties and clubs.'

'I never slept with anyone else since I married him a hundred years ago, more than you can say for most people, but there's no telling him that. He's put a halt to my gallop recently, and me the only blameless soul left in Dublin.'

Cathy wondered was that right. Were most people unfaithful? She never had been. And Neil? Hard to know, very hard to know nowadays. The thought shocked her, that he could be in bed with red-haired Sara, for example, saying the same things that he said to her, doing the same things. It was unthinkable. But then, so were so many other things.

'Cathy. You've put seventy into that box, not sixty…' June snatched it from her. They were doing their Christmas freezer order, flat boxes of canapes. Sixty per box.

'You're miles away,' June grumbled.

'You're right.' She pulled herself together sharply. 'And we must finish quickly because we're having Power Elevenses, remember?'

'All right, I'll speed up if you put your mind on them.'

'All right. I'll keep my mind on them if you give Jimmy the name of the acupuncture man. He deserves a crack at it.'

And with that they went into fast mode, laughing as they bumped into each other, but the boxes got filled and labelled and filed deep in the heart of the rented freezers. By eleven o'clock Tom was well back from Haywards and the cash and carry. Con and Lucy had turned up as requested to, and they were all sitting in the front room, five Scarlet Feather mugs of coffee and a plate of shortbread on the table that used to hold Cathy's beloved punchbowl.

'Now this is like a council of war. Cathy and I thought it only fair that you all realise how near the edge of the precipice we are. Our only hope is to work the arses off ourselves this month. There will be nothing whatsoever to do in January, there will be no money out there, so our only hope is in the next four weeks. Now what we have to do is to know how many days and nighTs we can all work, otherwise we'll be taking on more than we can handle and we'll fall on our faces.'

'I can work every night except Christmas Day,' Con said.

'But Con, the pub?' Tom gasped.

'I've asked for the day shifTs there. I prefer it. Anyway, it's messy in December.'

       'If you're sure?'

I'm sure. I'm going skiing with a bird in January, so I need all the dough I can get.'

'And you, Lucy?'

'Any night except Christmas Day, most lunchtimes too.'

'Lucy, have you given up university?'

'No, but there's not much on between now and February when we have to put our heads down and study, anyway, I'm going skiing with a fellow so I'll need to buy a few clothes.' She laughed conspiratorially with Con.

'June?' Tom said.

'Every night including Christmas night,' she said.

'But Jimmy?' Cathy began.

'Isn't bringing in any money, and will be glad of my wages.'

'Cathy?' Tom asked.

'Any night, obviously, and any day. This is our last throw.'

'But won't you have to… ?'

'No,' she said.

'The holiday, the weekend?' He was mystified.

'Won't happen. I'll be here for the duration.'

'And I'll be here all the time, so there was hardly any need for a Power Elevenses at all.' The team would be there, every one of them, every night. They were going to do it, all five of them; they would see that Scarlet Feather didn't go under. All they had to do now was go out and get the bookings.

It was a matter of leaflets; they'd put them up everywhere, in Lucy's university, in Con's pub, on the food counter in Haywards, in Geraldine's friend Mr Ryan's chain of dry-cleaners. Geraldine and Shona would deliver them around Glenstar, Lizzie would leave them in the apartment blocks where she cleaned. Stella and Sean, still starry-eyed from their wonderful wedding, would give them out in their area. Tom was to go to the printer's that morning. Cathy would go to the market and see if any of the stallholders might put them up. Geraldine was on the phone; she was delighted to hear they were all so enthusiastic, she would call in a favour from Harry, a journalist she knew, and ask him to give Scarlet Feather a mention in one of those Countdown to Christmas columns. They agreed to report progress to each other before the day was out.

Their progress was strange. When Tom went to the printer's the man remembered him.

'You lot were in a year ago, you bought Martin Maguire's place.'

'That's right.' Tom was surprised.

'Any word on how the poor divil is getting on these days? Terrible business that was, terrible.'

'I think he's fine. Cathy, my partner, met him during the summer; he was going to come and see us, but at the last moment he didn't.'

'Ah, you couldn't expect the man to set foot in that place again after all that happened in there.'

'I'm afraid that I don't know. What did happen?' Tom said eventually.

'Don't mind me, I talk too much,' the printer said.

'Please tell me.' Tom was gentle but insistent.

'His son Frankie went and hanged himself there, right in the premises. They never did another day's work in that place.'

Cathy went to the market, it was gearing up with Christmas gifts, and there would be huge crowds passing through. But most of the stalls and stands didn't look suitable places to advertise their party service. Perhaps there was a community noticeboard on that building at the end; she walked towards it, and on her way she saw a bric-a-brac stall, and noticed a silver punchbowl just like hers. She picked it up and looked at the base.

There it was. 'Awarded to Catherine Mary Scarlet for Excellence.

'How much?' she asked the stallholder in a whisper.

'Not sterling silver or anything, but a nice piece.'

'Please?' she asked again.

'Thirty?' he said doubtfully.

'Twenty?' she suggested, and got it for twenty-five pounds.

It doesn't matter to me in the slightest, but would you have any idea where you got it?' she asked.

'Not an idea in the world,' he said.

'It's not important now,' she said, and totally forgot about finding a place for their advertisement.

Geraldine dropped into the newspaper and gave in the little piece about Scarlet Feather that she had typed out. It was ready to run. Harry was an old mate. She had known him for ever, and had recently given him the telephone numbers of two politicians, so he owed her.

'Will you come and have a drink, Ger, it does me good to be seen with a young dishy piece like yourself, makes my street cred go up.'

It was flattering to be called a dishy young piece, but then Harry was considerably older than she was. Everything was relative.

'I won't, Harry, thanks all the same, I've a lot to do.'

'Pity, I'm a bit down. I needed to be cheered up.'

'I'm sorry, what has you down?'

'All my old friends dying off like flies, poor Teddy's the latest, I suppose you heard.'

Geraldine had heard not a word about the one man she had ever loved, the man who had left Ireland for Brussels with his wife and family twenty-two years ago. She felt faint, but she hid it. 'I heard something,' she murmured. 'But tell me…'

'Oh, the usual, he's not going for the chemo this time. wants to come back to Ireland to die. Funny, he hardly came back at all over all that time, and he must be gone about fifteen years.'

'Longer, I think,' she said.

'Maybe. Did you know him at all back then?'

'A bit,' she said, and got out into the fresh air before her legs went from under her in the warm office.

'Do you get enough money to make it all right for us to live here,Muttie?' Simon asked.

'Cathy said you're not to ask people about what money they get,' Maud was reproving.

'I didn't ask how much Muttie got, I just wanted to make sure it was enough.' Simon was outraged to be misunderstood.

'We have plenty, son, we lack for nothing,'Muttie said.

'You lack a good coat,Muttie, yours is very thin.'

'But I have a great thick jumper,'Muttie said cheerfully.

'Father always had a good coat with a velvet collar, and I'm sure they got a lot of money for The Beeches.' Simon was distressed at the unequal nature of things.

'Ah, but now remember, your poor father lost his house and your mother lost her health, so not everyone has everything, that's the most important thing to remember,'Muttie said.

'There are new people going into The Beeches after Christmas,' Maud said.

'Will that upset you, child? Will you miss the place?'

'No,Muttie, I mean there's no one there any more, Mother's going to be in a home mainly, Father's travelling with old Barty and Walter's gone away. There's no one there any more to miss.'

'And this is your home for as long as you like. For ever, really. I know it's not a grand place like you are used to, but we'd miss you to bits if you weren't here… We did, you know.'

'We know you did,' Simon reassured him. 'Didn't you come all the way down to Kilkenny to find us?'

'I wonder where Walter is,' Maud said. 'He never sends a postcard or anything.'

'I'm sure he will one day,'Muttie reassured them.

'I hope he has a good job,' Maud said. 'He was so nice to come and find us too, the day you did; I didn't expect him to.'

'No, I thought he wouldn't bother with us, but he must have been worried about us,' said Simon.

'We thought he had gone away himself that night, I don't really remember it all clearly,' Maud said with a troubled face.

Muttie decided it was time to change the subject. 'They always say you should never look back. Do I look back to the day I meant to put the tenner on Earl Grey, and I wasn't seeing things clearly, so didn't I mix up the names and put it on to King Grey instead? A dark day that was, but do I look back on it? I do not.'

'Tom, don't hang up, it's Marcella.'

I'm not going to hang up,' he said.

'Listen, I can't talk long, there's this television game giving dream prizes, you know, a flight in a helicopter, someone to cook a dinner party for you...'

'I know.' Tom sighed. 'Geraldine tried to get us in there, but…'

I'm having dinner with the director, I'm actually at Quentin's with him now. Why don't you and Cathy get down here, and I'll introduce you, and Brenda will praise you to the skies. Wouldn't it be a great chance—'

'You're very good to think of it, but…'

'But what, Tom, it's eight o'clock at night. I'll be here with this guy for at least another hour and a bit. Go on, get Cathy, I bet she'd think it was worth it.' She was gone.

They met at Quentin's. Tom was wearing a dark suit and white shirt.

Cathy looked at him with admiration. 'You scrub up very well,' she said. She wore her blue velvet trouser suit, and her hair hung loose on her shoulders.

'And you've put on make-up!' he said.

'Let's only have a starter, we can't afford a whole meal,' she said, looking at the menu anxiously.

Tom was looking over at Marcella, smiling up at a square-jawed man with glasses. The director who had the power to make Scarlet Feather's name. He realised with a sense of loss that he really didn't love Marcella any more.

Brenda came to the table. 'I know what this is about,' she said. 'They're having their coffee now, don't order anything yet and they can sit with you for five minutes on their way out; you don't want the table covered with food.'

'You're a genius,' Cathy whispered.

'No, it's just that I love these kind of dramas, trying to change people's lives, it's what makes the business worthwhile. You should know, you do it yourselves.'

It worked like a dream. Marcella showed surprise to see them, Tom begged them to sit down for five minutes. Douglas, the JfC director who seemed a nice sort of fellow, the only one in the dark about the whole thing, talked easily. Nobody mentioned the television show.

'What are you doing nowadays, Marcella?' Tom asked.

'I hope she'll decorate our television programme as one of the prize-givers,' Douglas said, smiling.

At that point Brenda arrived and congratulated Douglas on having discovered Scarlet Feather, the best-kept catering secret in Ireland. 'Patrick and I always quiver when they come in here, they have such high standards,' Brenda said.

'Tell me, what kind of a dinner party would you cook for eight people… ?' Douglas began. And they knew it was theirs. Under the table, they squeezed each other's hands very tightly.

Kay Mitchell was in a nursing home. It was thought that she would never be able to look after herself fully; sheltered accommodation was mentioned as a long-term plan. The nursing home had been chosen with a view to easy access for the children, who could get there on one bus journey from school or from St Jarlath's Crescent. There was a cheerful sitting room where she could come and meet them every week. And would, of course, meet her husband Kenneth if he ever came back from his travels with old Barty. And Walter, if anyone could tell her where he was and when he was coming back. Sometimes she asked the twins, but they didn't know. Sometimes she forgot that The Beeches had been sold and asked about the garden. There were even days when she wasn't sure who Maud and Simon were, exactly. But the twins remained good-tempered throughout.

'I expect if you've got bad nerves people sort of slip out of your mind like down through a grating,' Simon said as they went home after a visit where their mother had constantly asked them who they had come to see.

'And then when the nerves get better, she finds them again,' Maud agreed, as they went back to the comfort of St Jarlath's Crescent, where everyone knew who they were and welcomed them home for supper.

Geraldine did not take long to find which hospital Teddy was in, and learned that he had a private room. Twice she went to the hospital with the intention of visiting him, twice she left without doing so. She had even got as far as the corridor and seen that there was nobody else with him… But still something stopped her. Why had he come back to Ireland? He hardly knew anyone here now, his family had grown up in Brussels, he wasn't close to his brother and sister. Did she want to see him now, when he was so very ill? Did he want her to see him this way? Was there a wild possibility that now, in this last part of his life, he had wanted to see her again, but did not dare to ask her to visit. On her third visit she was determined not to run away. The door of his room was slightly open; she could see the end of a bed and a nurse talking to him. But still she couldn't go in. She had the phone number of the hospital and her mobile… She moved further down the corridor and made the call; they put her through to his room. She could hear the phone ringing beside his bed and then he answered.

'Teddy, it's Geraldine O'Connor,' she said.

'I'm sorry?' His voice was frail, he sounded confused.

'You know… Geraldine,' she said, and paused.

'Have you got the right person?' he asked.

'Teddy, it's Geraldine, for God's sake, Geraldine.' She moved nearer to the room. He was not going to forget her or pretend that he had forgotten her. This was not going to happen. She had behaved so well for over half of her life, she only wanted to say goodbye, tell him that she had never stopped loving him.

I'm sorry,' he apologised. 'I'm on a lot of medication and I'm afraid I don't recall everyone's names.'

'So why did you come back here, then, Teddy, if you don't remember anyone?' She knew her voice sounded hard.

'Please forgive me,' he said, and put the phone down.

She saw the nurse moving around his bed. Geraldine didn't go into the room. She stood without moving in the corridor and watched the pleasant-looking girl go back to the nurses' station at the corner. Geraldine didn't know how long she stood there. One or two people asked her if she was all right, and she must have answered satisfactorily. She saw people going into the various rooms, but nobody went into Teddy's. Eventually she turned away and went to the elevator. She was too shaky still to drive her car, so she had a cup of tea in the restaurant downstairs. It was all for the best, she told herself. What could she have talked about with him, anyway? How he had ruined her life, how his doctor friend had ruined her chances of ever having a child? Would she have told him about all the men who had replaced him in her life, but none of them loved as he had been loved? A man about to die would not want to hear such tragedy. She wiped away the tears that were falling into her cup of tea. It had all been for the best that he hadn't remembered her.

It had been such a wonderful night at Quentin's that Tom had not wanted to darken the mood by telling the story of young Frankie Maguire, who had killed himself at the premises. Sometimes he looked around wondering which room it might have happened in. But it wasn't something Cathy had to know now, nor indeed any of the others. And anyway, there wasn't a free moment for anyone to tell anything. The television dinner party was on… Tom and Cathy would be in the studio… The leaflets were beginning to yield some resulys, the five of them worked non-stop, cooking, packing and unpacking the van, delivering, serving and clearing up, taking more bookings. So much was happening that Tom couldn't sleep. It was no effort to get up and go to bake bread at Haywards at a time when most people were asleep.

Shona wasn't asleep; she was letting herself in at the same time.

'I'll make you breakfast,' he offered.

'Done.' She came and sat in the kitchen and watched as he got the place to life, prepared his doughs and got them both coffee and toast.

'What on earth has you in so early, Shona, they work you too hard?'

'No, this is my own life. I'm in because I want an uninterrupted hour on the Internet. I'm the one in charge of booking a holiday and I'm not very used to it.'

'How many of you are there going?' Tom asked absently.

'Two,' she said.

He looked up with a smile. 'That's nice,' he said.

'Not what you think, Tom.'

'Nothing's what you think,' he said. 'The older I get, the more I realise that.'

Cathy went into the hairdressing salon at Haywards. 'I want a totally new image for a television show tomorrow,' she said.

'What kind of an image?' asked Gerard, the senior stylist.

'I want to dazzle everybody,' she said.

Gerard had been given better guidelines in his life. 'What will you be wearing?' he asked.

'A red T-shirt, black trousers and a white pinafore. I have to have my hair sort of hidden in a hat I think, or something to make it look as if it isn't falling onto the food.' Gerard asked not unreasonably why, if her hair was going to be hidden by a hat, she needed a new hairstyle or any hairstyle, in fact. Maybe it was a hat she needed, a smart, white hat. 'I have to have a nice hairstyle because months ago my mother-in-law gave me a token here,' she said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

'What did you do with it?'

'I gave it to my friend June who got purple streaks,' Cathy said.

'I see,' said Gerard.

'And I only have three-quarters of an hour, Gerard, so could you think of something quick.' Gerard sent down to the store for a white hat so that they could examine the situation more clearly. 'This will take for ever!' Cathy wailed.

'You're a pro and I'm a pro. You wouldn't let your food go out looking like swill. I don't want you going on the television with my hairdo looking like a bird's nest after a party.'

Cathy's saw the point; he had to protect his reputation too. Gerard fixed on the white cap at a jaunty angle, and then proceeded to cut her hair to just above her shoulders.

'I look like a simpleton in a pantomime,' Cathy said, staring at herself.

'Thanks a bundle, and I bet your food tastes like shit too,' said Gerard, insulted.

They caught each other's eye in the mirror, and both began to laugh. The sedate clientele of Haywards was startled to see the near hysteria as Cathy and Gerard laughed until they thought they would never stop.

'Tom, you know we wouldn't annoy you in a million years,' Maud said on the telephone.

'I know that, like you know I wouldn't offend you in a million years, but it's just that we're so busy now, you wouldn't believe it.'

'I would believe it. I heard Muttie tell his wife Lizzie that the two of you will be in your coffins before St Patrick's Day with the amount of hours you're working…'

'He said that?' Tom reached over and grabbed a saucepan just before it began to burn.

'He did, he said if ever he got a lot of money that he'd go out and he'd invest it in your company.'

'Well, that was very kind of him, Maud, and it is nice to have a chat from time to time, but—'

'We have a day off school on Friday, we wondered could we come and polish your treasures, we want to earn money to buy Muttie a coat.'

'I don't think you'd earn enough in an afternoon, to be honest.' Poor Tom was desperate.

'There's a coat in the thrift shop for three pounds,' said Maud.

'Oh, well then, we'll see you Friday,' Tom said, and hung up.

'I don't believe you,' Cathy said.

'I had to,' Tom said. 'You would have had to if you'd been here. Well, come on, take off your hat. Let's see the new you…'

'I look like a plough boy with a straw in his mouth,' Cathy said.

'I know, you've always looked like that, but let's see the hair.'

'Come on,' June said. 'Why else do you think I hung about?'

'Did Jimmy go to the acupuncturist?' Cathy fought to buy time.

'We've had this discussion, he did and he feels a bit better, now let's see your hair.' June was giving no quarter.

She took off her hat. Unlike other women who cared about their appearance, she didn't go to a mirror to fluff it up, and explain that it was probably a bit flat by now.

Tom, June, Lucy and Con looked at her in silence.

'Oh, Jesus, is it as bad as that?'

'You look beautiful,' June said simply.

'Beautiful,' Tom agreed.

Con and Lucy clapped and beat saucepan lids on the work surfaces.

'That's enough, I will not be mocked,' she threatened them. But they could see she was pleased, and when she got a chance she went into the cloakroom and looked at it herself. It wasn't at all bad; it looked as if it were meant to be that way. It was shiny and sort of glamorous, not scraped back out of the way as if it were an embarrassment. She must send a postcard to Gerard to thank him. Now all she had to do was cook a dinner in front of half a million people.

The day in the studio passed in a horrible blur. Hot lights melted things, the food had to be pinned together eventually, sprayed with a terrible kind of starchy substance so that it would keep a shine. Over and over they were told that it didn't matter what it tasted like, the audience was not going to eat it, only to see what Tom and Cathy could prepare for the winner. They had to unpack things from refrigerated boxes so that the viewers could imagine them turning up in simple kitchens anywhere in Ireland and producing this gourmet meal. Douglas, the director looked not at all hassled in the studio. Tom and Cathy watched him admiringly; they had never been so alarmed and so self-conscious, yet this man was as cool as anything. Oddly, he seemed equally admiring of them that they could cook under such circumstances.

'You're naturals,' he said. 'I wouldn't be at all surprised if you are invited back. Nice little earner that, the new celebrity cooking couple. Have you been long together?'

'We've been working together as Scarlet Feather for a while, but we've only had the premises for under a year.' Cathy said.

She knew he thought they were a real couple, as so many people did.

'I bet your guests get well fed in your home,' he said.

They hadn't the energy to disabuse him. They nodded glumly as the make-up girl came to powder their faces again.

'She's a lovely girl, your friend Marcella, isn't she?' Douglas said.

Tom and Cathy's eyes met.

'Lovely,' Tom said. 'Very special.'

'She's been a friend of ours always,' said Cathy.

And then they were back into countdowns, and settle down studio and good luck everyone for the final rehearsal before they went out live.

The phone hardly stopped ringing the next day. In the front room Lucy sat coping with the requests, taking details and sending out brochures all morning. It had done exactly what they had hoped -brought them right out there into the public eye.

'You'll never be able to thank Marcella enough,' June said.

'I'm going to send her a bunch of flowers from all of us,' said Cathy. 'Here's the card, let's all sign it now and we'll get it delivered round to Ricky's.'

They let Tom be the last to sign before it went into the envelope. He wrote, 'Marcella, you have been a very generous and good friend, love from Tom.'

Cathy noticed that Lucy was stretching her muscles. 'Here, I'll take over the phone for a while, go and move around the kitchen for a bit,' she said. It was peaceful there in the front room. Her punchbowl back on the table, a little Christmas tree in the window, their coloured box files filling up with more and more addresses, contacts, customers. And it was quiet. It gave her a chance to think between calls. Think about Neil. Last night when she got home, Neil had been working as usual. He had smiled, glad to see her. And then suddenly a look of guilt came over his face.

'Oh, my God, it was tonight, the television thing.'

'You didn't see it?'

'I'm so sorry…'

'Or record it… ?'

'I can't tell you…'

She had gone straight to bed. And she had left this morning before he had got up. Things had never been so bad. He would call sometime today to say he was sorry; she needed time to think what she would say. It wasn't a matter of sulking or refusing to forgive him. Because in many ways it didn't really matter all that very much. Not in itself; more what it seemed to say about them both.

'Geraldine, Neil Mitchell here. Did you by any chance make a video recording of Cathy's thing yesterday?'

'Yes, I did, wasn't she great? They were marvellous, the pair of them.'

'Could I see it?'

'You don't have one yourselves, there's casual,' she laughed.

'Can I have a loan of it please, Geraldine?'

'No, sorry, I gave it into a place to adapt it for America, you see, I thought Cathy's sister Marian would like—'

'Muttie, did you see Cathy last night on the television?' 'Wasn't half St Jarlath's Crescent in here watching.' 'Do you have a video of it?' Neil sounded urgent. 'Neil lad, the children took it to school today.' 'What in the name of God for?' He sounded almost angry now. 'For a project, they have a project every Thursday where the children have to stand up and present something. So Simon and Maud are going to show seven minutes of Cathy and Tom, then they're going to talk about the food industry. Aren't they gas little tickeIs,'Muttie said proudly.

'Gas tickeIs, yeah,' said Neil, and hung up.

'Mother, did you record Cathy last night on television?'

'No dear, why should I?' 'I just thought you might. Did you see it?' 'Yes, they were surprisingly good, don't you think?' 'Yes, yes, very,' Neil said.

'I'm delighted she finally did something about her hair, used that token I gave her, makes a lot of difference, don't you think?' 'Great difference, goodbye, Mother,' Neil said.

Sara rang him to arrange about a meeting later in the day. 'Hey, wasn't that a great plug for Scarlet Feather?' she said.

'You saw it?'

'Well, of course I did.'

'But how could you have seen it, you were in the cafe with us all when it was on.'

'I know, but I videoed it.'

'You did? That's great. Can I have the video?'

'No, I've recorded over it, a horror film later last night.'

'Sara, was Cathy's hair different?'

'Yeah, I hardly recognised her,' said Sara with her usual tact.

'What?'

'Well, I don't mean that, but it's pretty good, you have to admit.'

'I didn't notice it,' he said.

'Really?' Sara said, her spirits lifting.

Some of the calls that came in were of congratulation, clients who were proud of them, the Riordans, Molly Hayes, Stella and Sean, Mrs Ryan who had the apple strudels way back, even Mrs Fusspot. June's husband Jimmy rang to say they had been stars, and that he was also dead grateful about the acupuncture, some mad heathen kind of superstition but you wouldn't believe it, it seemed to be working. And then Neil rang.

'There's nothing I can say except I am so ashamed.'

'It's all right, Neil,' she said wearily, and she actually meant it. It was all right. Compared to the much bigger picture, the fact that the programme had slipped his mind was no big deal. 'Look, I know lunch wouldn't make it all right.' Cathy wasn't going to keep up the dark mood. It was no life living in a perpetual sulk. She knew he was devastated.

'I don't have time for lunch today, Neil, I'm not being cold, it's just a fact. The phone is jumping off the hook - you wouldn't believe it.'

'Congratulations, I'm very proud of you. I'll try to see it today.'

'No, don't, honestly, you're too busy, we'll get a copy of the video from Mam and Dad later on. Leave it, Neil, it's all right, believe me.'

'And your hair, Cathy?'

'Yes?'

'It's very nice.'

'You told me that.'

'When did I tell you?'

'On Tuesday. I asked you did you think it suited me, and you said yes.'

'And I do,' he said. 'When will you be home if you don't want lunch?'

'About seven,' she said. 'But you're going out.'

'I won't tonight,' he promised. 'I'll cancel that meeting.'

Shona Burke was having lunch with James in his flat. He had discovered that soups were very easy to make; he didn't know why nobody had ever told him this before. They talked about the great television programme, and how it could be the turning point for them.

'If only the insurance would pay up,' James said. 'I don't want to be the spectre at the feast, but it's serious, you know. How did that horrible boy gain entrance? We need to know, and he's unlikely to tell us.'

'There's five of them working flat out there today. I called in to congratulate them on my way here...'

'What do they think of us going to Morocco for Christmas?' he asked.

'I didn't tell them.'

'Why ever not?'

'Well, you're such a private person, you never talk about your own business. Neither do I. I didn't think you'd want them, or indeed anyone, to know… about us having found each other and everything…' she looked awkward.

'I used not to be a private person, Shona, I used to tell everyone everything, I brought your essays to the office to show my colleagues, that's how outgoing I used to be, once.'

'Me too. I just learned to be private. But I suppose we could unlearn it. Will I tell them, or will you?'

'We could even tell them together,' he suggested.

Cathy came in at exactly seven o'clock. She looked tired, he thought, and her hair was beautiful, very soft and feminine; how had he failed to notice it before, or admire it only in a perfunctory way on Tuesday night?

'I have turned the answering machine down, we won't even hear anyone if they call.' His infectious smile didn't get a response. 'I got oysters,' he said. 'To try to make amends… They aren't open. I don't know how to open them, actually, but I thought you might like…'

'To come home from eleven hours in a catering kitchen and open oysters?' she asked.

'No, perhaps not. Not a great idea.'

'It's beyond gestures now, isn't it, Neil?'

'What do you mean… ?'

'We're much too far apart, there's nothing left. Weekends, feasts, surprises, talk, oysters… It would only be acting.'

'It's a bad patch, certainly… We are missing each other a lot in a way that we never did before, but I did say that I was perfectly willing to try for another child.'

'That's the one thing that has driven us further apart than anything else.'

'What do you mean?'

'Neil, you can't say you'll give me a baby and put up with a baby just to shut me up.'

'I never used any of those words, nor felt them. Don't put things into my mouth.'

'It's what you were offering me as a last chance.'

'You're imagining it,' he said.

'You and I used to be able to talk about everything. It was the greatest thing in the world.'

'We can get it back, can't we?' He sounded unsure of himself.

'I don't think so.'

'You're not serious,' he said.

'I am. What you want is a different kind of wife entirely. Someone who idolises you, someone who will stay at home with you and have nice dinner parties for your colleagues…'

'I never said…'

'No, you didn't, and I'm not saying it's wrong to want that, but you don't need someone independent with a career, you need someone who will throw up everything and follow you. I'm not that person, but there are many of them out there. Sara, for example.'

'Sara? What are you talking about?'

'You have that ability to talk with her that you and I used to have once.'

'Sara… you're not suggesting?'

I'm just saying she's very young, she hero-worships you…'

'She's very concerned…'

'She's got a crush on you, but that's not the point, that's not what we're talking about.'

'What are we talking about?'

'I suppose about what we do now.' She felt exhausted and fatigued, almost defeated. Somehow once she had said the words they seemed less frightening. It was out in the open. They were admitting that things between them were very bad indeed.

'You still care about what I do, the work that has to be done, don't you?'

'Yes, I do, I really do. But I think you've forgotten about you and me in the whole thing. We don't talk… It's not that we have no time, it's just that we make no time. And much as I admire you, it seems to me that you bleed for everyone in the world and for big global problems, but you can't see the hurts and hopes and dreams on your own doorstep.'

'Now that's not really fair, you said you supported the same things as I did, then you suddenly went off on a tangent trying to be the world's biggest caterer. You said that you didn't want children, just like me, and then you got pregnant and I was the worst monster in the world because I wasn't suddenly delighted. Then you said you were sad and lonely and tired, and I said okay, let's have another baby, and apparently that was the worst thing I ever said in my whole life. So don't throw all the accusations at me.'

Cathy looked at him as if for the first time. He really and truly felt that she had totally misjudged him in all this. They were further apart than she had thought.

'I don't want a slanging match, Neil, I just said that you are so involved in everything else you don't see what's happening to us. There's nothing out there that you wouldn't fight for, but we are missing each other every step of the way.'

'No, that's not so, I won't have this. I've done everything I can, you're trying to put a label on me - it's not fair to say I'm Mister Rent-a-Cause. I just won't accept it.'

'What will you accept then?' she asked. 'Are you going to accept that things are very, very bad between us.'

'I can't believe this is happening,' he said, shaking his head as if to get a buzzing noise out of his ears.

She sat very still and said nothing.

'This is all a total mess. It's brought about by us both working too hard,' he began. 'Cathy, don't let us lose it, it's up to us… you know that… If we want something we can get it. We did it before.'

She was about to say that she thought it was too late, but the words didn't come out.

'Listen to me, Cathy, we can start again, leave here, leave all the pressures, start all over. I'll take the job, we can go away, put everything behind us, we'll have space and peace to work everything out, have our baby when we want to. We can put all this unhappy year behind us.'

She looked at him open-mouthed.

'That's what we'll do, they're on to me every day to make up my mind. We'll tell them that we'll go. We'll go together.'

'Please, Neil, no, please.'

But she couldn't stop him, he was in full flight now.

'It's what we've needed, to get out of here… People do get bogged down by things, you're right, we have been missing each other. What with rushing between the twins and the break-in and your parents and my parents and the American wedding and the insurance and the late nights and the never having time to talk…'

'It's got nothing to do with all that,' she attempted.

It has everything to do with it. Once we're on our own far way from everything here…'

'There is no way that…'

'We've been working too hard, we haven't given ourselves time to pause and think…'

'No, Neil.' Suddenly she snapped.

'Will you stop shaking your head at me and talking like a nanny. Honestly, even my mother wasn't as certain and definite as you are. I'm offering us the chance to save our marriage, we love each other. We fought hard to get each other, against a lot of opposition, we're not going to throw it all away just after one bad year are we?'

She said nothing.

'Are we? Don't just sit there looking at me reproachfully as if I were Maud and Simon. This is serious, this is our future for God's sake.'

'It's your future.'

'I want it to be ours, I want us to do it together…'

'But… ?' she said.

'But I don't know what you want, I really don't. If I did know what you want, I'd try to do it.'

'I've always wanted the same thing,' she said.

'No, that's not true, you want to be out all hours with stupid, vain, rich people making them ever more ludicrous food.'

'I see.'

'It's not a life, it's not a way to live. This was never our plan. Come away with me, come on, we can make it work.'

'No.'

'You're just being stubborn, you're making a point.'

'Not true.'

'We've been through this over and over. This is important. I am at the point that I can't bear us to go on having these endless rows. I'll go without you if you won't come. I mean it. They're on to me every day. I've only been stalling them for you. Now if you're not going to come, what's the point of stalling them any more?'

'No point,' she said blankly.

'I don't want to go without you.'

'No, no I see that.'

'But I will, I mean this is what I've always wanted. I thought it was what we had always wanted. I would turn sour, be very bitter, we'd have nothing left at all if I were to stay.'

'You have a very good career at the Bar, you do a lot of good for a lot of people, people like Jonathan.'

'I can do more on a bigger canvas.'

'And you'll go alone?'

'Yes, if I have to. I'm going to go now, before Christmas if I can, and leave it open for you to join me.'

'That's a non-starter. You know that. I know that. You can't railroad people into things.'

'Would you ever have come with me?' he asked.

She thought for a while.

'I might have, but not until the business was up and running, I had paid back my debts, found someone to replace me.'

'It mattered as much as that?'

'Did you think it was a game?'

'I thought it was something to show my mother you could be a person in your own right. I never thought you needed to prove that to anyone, but honestly, that's all I thought it was.'

'We'll have to tell her, you know.'

'Tell her what?'

'That your plans have changed, that you'll be abroad - we were going there for Christmas.'

'Yes, I suppose so.'

Funny, I think that's something that's going to stick in my throat badly, the fact that she was right all those years ago when she said I wasn't right for you.'

'Cathy…'

If you don't mind I won't stay for us both to get more upset. We can talk better in the daylight.'

'Please don't go,' he begged.

'It's for the best,' said Cathy Scarlet as she packed a bag and left.

She knew Tom was out with Con doing a rugby club party. There were kitchens at the club, so they would not be coming back here tonight. Before she lay down on the chintz-covered sofa, she left a message on Tom's phone back at his flat.

'Hope the company doesn't mind, I'm spending a couple of nights on its sofa.'

Then she went to sleep. When she woke to get a drink of water in the night she saw that a fax had arrived. It said simply, 'The company wishes you sweet dreams.' She knew he would never ask her a question any more than she had ever asked him. Somehow it was very restful.

She had every sign of her overnight stay carefully removed before anyone came. And as she knew there wouldn't be, there was no comment from Tom Feather. Once or twice he lifted a pot for her, or passed her oven gloves as if he feared she would do herself an injury.

'Shona said that she wanted to come and have coffee this morning,' she said. 'James will drop by too, and it won't take long.'

'God, what a morning to choose, we have the heavenly help force with us today.'

'What?'

'Had you forgotten? A team of highly skilled polishers have a half-day from school and are heading in this direction, on the invitation of someone who is Just a Boy Who Can't Say No.'

'Oh, God, Simon and Maud.' She had forgotten.

'Doesn't matter, the day will end sometime.'

The twins arrived early. They were wearing their oldest clothes, they said, and could do heavy work.Muttie's wife Lizzie had given them wire scrubbing pads and old toothbrushes for getting into the crevices of things which might have legs.

'I didn't know what she meant, exactly,' Simon said. 'Like chicken carcases or something.'

'No, like sauce boats or the handles of things,' Cathy explained.

'Oh, look, you've got another punchbowl,' Maud said, pleased.

'It's the same one, actually, look, my name is on the bottom,' Cathy said.

'How did you find it?' Simon asked. 'Was it here all the time?'

'No, no, it made a weary journey around the place from black plastic bag to garden shed to one market stall and then another. I bought it back.'

Then she remembered the twins didn't know of Walter's part in the burglary. She hoped they hadn't made the connection between the garden shed and their brother storing things there. But they were too happy and eager to start their work to notice anything at all. Cathy told them their duties, and stressed the need to keep out of people's way in the kitchen because there was a rush on.

'Do we have the relaxing hot drink and a scone like we had before when we came?' Simon wondered.

'Why not?' Cathy said. 'Come on, Tom, let's take five minutes to relax with Maud and Simon.'

The four of them sat in the front room while the twins told what a success the project had been at school. Everyone loved it, and was very impressed that Cathy was their aunt. Aunt! She would not be their aunt for much longer, when she and Neil divorced. The thought hardly seemed real; she had to run it past herself again. The children chattered on.

'Do you still have the same code to get in, nineteen and then six?' Maud asked.

'How on earth did you know that was our code?' Cathy asked, quietly.

'You told us. Remember, one day when you were driving us back to The Beeches in the van. You were doing a party, and you told us about the ceremony of the keys. What you did each time in the van and where you put them.'

Cathy could hardly breathe.

'And did you tell anyone else about it, do you think?'

'I don't think so,' Simon said. 'No point in telling your code to everyone we meet, some of them might be robbers and come in.'

'We did tell Walter that night,' Maud said.

Tom and Cathy let their breath out very slowly.

'You did?' Tom said, in a deceptively light tone.

'Yes, you see we had been telling him all about your treasures and polishing them and things, and he said we knew nothing about your business, so just to show him…' explained Maud.

It doesn't matter, does it?' Simon felt uneasy.

'No, it doesn't matter,' Cathy said. In fact, it's very good to know that, because a lot of things fall into place.'

'No, Cathy, you can't ask them,' Tom began.

'We can, we'll explain,' she said.

'It's too tough on them. Leave them something to hold onto.'

'Do you think Walter was your burglar?' Simon asked suddenly.

'And then that really was your punchbowl in our garden shed?' Maud said, horrified.

'But Muttie said everything was all broken into little pieces, why would Walter do that?' Simon said.

'Do you think he did it, Cathy?' Maud asked straight out.

'I do, yes, Maud.'

'Why?' she asked.

'I don't know, maybe he was short of money.'

'He was always very nice to us, except when we were stupid,' Maud said.

'I know, I know,' said Cathy.

'And he did come to find us that time.'

'Of course he did.' They must be allowed to believe that, at least.

'Are you very cross with him?' Maud asked.

'No, not now, but there is something which would help us a lot without getting Walter into any more trouble.'

'What's that?' They looked at her with anxious eyes.

Gently Cathy explained that the guards already knew Walter had taken the goods, but didn't know how he had found the code and the keys.

'You won't get into any trouble,' Tom promised. 'It's my fault, I didn't tell you it was a secret.'

'And Walter isn't in Ireland anyway, so they can't find him, but it will mean that the insurance company might pay us. Do you mind doing that, telling people? If you do mind, then we'll leave it, but it would be such a great help.'

They looked at each other. 'We'll tell,' they said.

And in the middle of one of the busiest mornings that Scarlet Feather had ever known, hours were spent while Maud and Simon Mitchell told James Byrne, then the guards and then an insurance official about the night they had wanted to prove to their brother they knew all about the business. And everyone softened at the obviously true story and the mixed feelings about their big brother, who had crossed Ireland to find them because he knew they were in trouble.

'It's going to help a great deal, believe me, this is what we needed,' James said.

'What were you going to tell us, Shona?' Tom asked.

'James?'

'Hold on a minute. Simon, Maud, do you want to make an extra pound? Could you go down to the newsagent, it's at the end of the street, and buy me an Irish Times.'

'A whole pound?' Simon said.

'Should I go on polishing, do you think?' Maud wondered.

'No, go with him for company,' James said.

When they were gone, Shona spoke immediately. 'When I was young I was fostered with James and his wife Una in Galway, but I was taken away and brought back to my own home when I was fourteen. We've only just got to know each other again.'

Cathy and Tom exchanged glances. What else would this day throw at them?

James spoke in a different voice than usual. 'We were told it was for the best that we didn't make contact. I didn't question it; that's what I blame myself for, not questioning something that felt so wrong, like letting the child we loved go away without begging to have her back.'

'So now we're making up for lost time, meal after gourmet meal…' She laughed at the teachers who had taught her lost father to cook.

'And we're going to go away together for a three-week holiday,' James said proudly.

Tom blew his nose loudly. 'If I hadn't another ten hours' work ahead of me today. I'd say that we all went out and got drunk on this.'

'In the New Year,' promised James. 'You come round to my flat, I'll cook a Moroccan speciality for you.'

'Oh, be sure to buy those Tajine dishes and we'll make chicken and prunes and almonds,' Cathy's eyes danced at the thought.

'Weren't you and Neil going to go there?' James asked.

'No, that's not going to happen now,' Cathy said, and at that moment the children came back with the paper.

'Mam, can I have my Christmas dinner here?' Cathy asked.

'Well, of course you can, but I thought the pair of you were going to Oaklands.'

'Neil is, Mam, I'm not.'

'Ah, now, don't tell me you've fought with Mrs Mitchell again, that is very silly at this season of the year.'

'Mam, sit down, I have to tell you something,' Cathy said.

'Geraldine, will you be coming to Mam and Dad's on Christmas Day, as usual?' Cathy asked.

'Yup, that's what us naughty ladies never get to have, Christmas Day with a man. They have this habit of going back to base for the turkey.'

'I'll be joining you there on my own, and I'm relying on you to keep it all going.'

'A bad row?'

'No, a separation. Oddly enough, there have been very few rows.'

'Well then, why in the name of God? Why don't all those men I know who are in the middle of perfectly dreadful marriages not break up? Why leave it to you and Neil, who fought everything to get married and are so suited in every way.'

'Not any more, Geraldine. I need him to care about home and us and having a child and about Maud and Simon, and about maybe a dozen or two dozen people; he wants me to care about millions of people and principles and… issues.'

'You can do both.'

'Not the way we've been going at it, Geraldine.'

'Do you love him?'

'I thought I did, but I don't really. I'm very fond of him, though.'

'And is there someone else?'

Cathy laughed aloud. 'Me? I don't have enough time to keep one relationship going, how would I have time for two?'

'I just wondered.'

'Well, you wondered wrong.'

'You're being dangerously calm about it all,' Geraldine said. 'When I think of how you fought Hannah Mitchell and the world to marry Neil.'

'I know, I think about that too; it's hard to explain, but I get the feeling that I loved the idea of him rather than him himself. Does that make any sense at all?'

'I know exactly what you're talking about, as it happens.' Cathy looked at her doubtfully. 'You remember the man I told you about, the man from long ago?'

'Yes?' Cathy said.

'He doesn't remember me.' She told the story.

'Of course he remembers you,' Cathy said defensively. 'He just pretended, that's all. How could he not remember you at eighteen, and what happened? Tell me where he is. I'll go in and see him, beat the truth out of him.'

Geraldine's face was very sad. 'No, dear Cathy, thank you for the vote of confidence. I've said all that to myself over and over. But the truth is he doesn't. I was loving the idea of him, not the reality. I've thought about him for twenty-two years, and he must have hardly thought of me at all.'

'We'll help each other through Christmas Day,' Cathy promised.

'Not that it will be hard with that cast,' Geraldine said.

It wasn't really all that much easier to talk in the daylight, but then Cathy had never really thought it would be. Yet they managed a very creditable performance between them. They spent a few hours sitting peacefully in Waterview and made a list of who would take what.

'Live here, if you won't come with me. Stay here, it's your home.'

'It never felt like home. I have too much of St Jarlath's in me to like it. It's too minimalist.' She smiled ruefully when she said it, and so did he.

In so many ways it seemed quite natural to be sitting there, talking, making mugs of tea. But there was nothing natural, it was like reading lines in a play. They decided to put the house on the market in January; that would give them plenty of time to find a destination for the furniture they wanted. Neil said that there would be no problem in putting his share in a warehouse. Cathy said she would have found somewhere to stay by then. They looked at the pictures. There was the one they'd bought in Greece.

'Please take it,' she said.

'No, it was painted for you,' he said.

'Let's neither of us have it,' she said and it went into the great number of personal items which would find a home with neither Cathy nor Neil. He promised to finish off the insurance business for them and she assured him she didn't want the Volvo, the van was fine. Neither one of them could believe it was real sometimes. Yet they knew that there was no going back.

'Have you told many people?' Neil asked.

'Just my Mam and Geraldine really,' she said. 'And you?'

'Nobody.'

'The one thing we should really do together is go and see your parents. We owe it to them,' Cathy said. 'I'd really like to go tomorrow evening, about six.'

'That's fine for me. I will be there, I promise,' he said.

But of course he wasn't. They had arranged to call in for a visit at six o'clock the following evening. At five, she got a call to say that the meeting was going on.

'We can't have them sitting there wondering what it is,' she said.

'You don't have to go today, you can wait until I'm able to come with you.'

She hung up. She saw Tom looking at her.

'Thanks,' she said.

'What for… ?'

'You know what for, for not asking.'

'Oh, that's no trouble,' he said, smiling at her. 'You know how dim men are, they wouldn't even know if there was anything to ask about.'

'Oh, you came in the van,' Hannah said as she answered the door.

'Neil has the Volvo, he's been held up,' Cathy said, walking straight in the hall door, leaving her scarf and gloves on the hall table and hanging up her coat. She moved into the den, where Jock and Hannah had been sitting.

'Ah, Cathy, a drink?'

'Yes please, Jock, a small brandy would be nice. Lovely fire, it's very cold out.'

'And is Neil not with you?'

'No, you know the way he always gets tied up at things. Well, today there's a meeting and he sent his apologies.'

Hannah rushed to defend him. 'He has so many responsibilities, he couldn't drop them for a social call.'

'It's more than a social call, Hannah, we had something to tell you, but now I'll tell you myself.'

Jock looked alarmed. 'Nothing wrong, is there?' he asked suddenly.

Hannah's hand went to her throat.'I know what you're going to tell us, you've come to tell me that you and Neil are going to have a baby!'

Walter rang the premises, and Tom answered.

'Er, it was really Cathy I wanted,' he said.

'I'm sure she'll be overjoyed that you called, Walter,' Tom said. 'But sadly she's not here.'

'Stop pissing about, Tom, this isn't a joke.'

'You'd better believe it isn't a joke, Walter.' Tom looked around the premises that the boy had so nearly permanently destroyed.

'I wanted to ask her a couple of things.'

'Ask away,' Tom said agreeably.

'Can you put me on to her?'

'No, she's not here.'

'Has The Beeches been sold?'

'Yes. What else did you want to ask?'

'The twins, are they okay?'

'Much more okay than when they had you to keep an eye on them.'

'Are they with Cathy's parents?'

'Why?'

'I wanted to send them a Christmas present. I didn't know the address.'

'Send them to this address, this is one address you certainly know.'

'You think you're a comedian.'

'No, I think I'm a poor fool who actually goes out and works for a living to be able to buy Christmas presents, rather than steal and smash places up for them.'

'Tell Cathy I rang, anyway.'

'I will. I don't suppose you'd like to leave a number where she can call you back?'

'She and half the guards in Ireland,' Walter said. 'Could happen,' Tom said agreeably. 'Wise guy,' said Walter, and hung up.

Cathy sat for a moment and looked at her parents-in-law. It wasn't fair to keep them dangling, waiting about something as big as this.

'It's nothing like that at all. I came to tell you that Neil and I will not be spending Christmas here. He is taking this overseas job that he mentioned to you before and I'm not going with him, so he won't even be in Ireland for Christmas and under the circumstances I will go to my parents in St Jarlath's.'

They looked at her open-mouthed.

'Are you serious?' Jock asked eventually.

'I'm afraid so. Neil promised he would be here to tell you with me, but it hasn't turned out that way.' It's a matter of us both wanting different things

'Well, by heavens, you wanted him badly enough some years ago when we all told you that you were different people with different backgrounds.'

'I don't think the background has anything to do with it, it's more the future. Neil wants to go abroad and has his mind on a big job in Europe. I don't want to leave my business…'

'But surely your business isn't as important as…' Hannah began.

'Unfortunately, Neil didn't think it was important either, so we differed about that too.'

'A bit drastic, isn't it?' Jock said. 'It sounds a bit more like a tiff to me.'

'No, it's much, much more than that.'

'So what's going to happen?' Hannah asked. She didn't look triumphant and superior. She actually looked frightened. A now familiar world was changing.

'We're taking it slowly.'

'Have you someone else?'

'I have nobody else in my life, Hannah.'

'You're not suggesting that Neil does, I hope? Does Poor Lizzie know about all this?'

'Yes Hannah, Poor Lizzie knows.'

'You're so quick to take offence, you always were, when there's absolutely no need.'

'Well I'm sure you'll be glad that you were right about me all along,' Cathy said.

Jock interrupted. 'Now none of that, we're both very shocked at your news. It's out of the blue.'

Hannah spoke slowly. 'And no matter what you think, I am not pleased. I think you did make Neil happy. I get no joy of saying I told you so, no joy at all.'

'I've made your Christmas cake and plum pudding. Con will deliver them whenever it suits, and anything else you want, of course.'

'And when will Neil come and tell us all about it, what time will his meeting end?' Hannah looked bewildered, a little lost.

Cathy spoke gently. 'I really don't know, you see, he doesn't have to tell me his plans, his schedule any more. I know he'll come and tell you everything, I know he will.'

'It's really all very sad,' Hannah said flatly.

There was a silence. And then Cathy got up. 'You'll want to talk, and Neil will get in touch with you. I'll go now. You can always get me at work, and I've left the number I'll be staying at for the next three weeks, it's at Glenstar apartments. I'm minding Shona Burke's flat.' She paused at the door of the den. 'I'll see myself out, I don't think there's any real etiquette over all this, except to say that I hope we can always keep in touch. I really mean that. Even if Neil is abroad, we might meet through Maud and Simon.' And she left them to digest the news that they would have loved to hear half a decade ago. That she and their son might not have a future together.

'Ricky's having people in on Christmas Day, buffet all afternoon,' Marcella said to Tom.

'I know, we gave him a load of stuff for his freezer,' Tom said, pleased.

'At least they'll get something to eat. It's mainly for people who are on their own, people who don't want to sit down to endless turkey.'

'I'll be up in Fatima for the day,' Tom said.

'There's no strings attached, just a lot of nice people.'

'I know, but I'm still going to be in Fatima.'

'You're very stubborn, can't Joe go for once?'

'He'll be there too,' Tom said.

'And I don't suppose that…'

'I know, I don't suppose that either of us will stay awake for the whole afternoon, but it's something we've agreed to do, to have just the four of us,' he said, intent on heading her off at the pass. He knew Marcella wanted to come to Fatima. But it was too late for her to visit there now. He thought back on all the times he would have loved her to have been there.

On Christmas Eve they opened a bottle of champagne at the Scarlet Feather premises. And then another and another. It was a celebration that they had done what they hoped.

The insurance had paid up, they had been booked to do another television show, there was vague talk of a whole series of thirteen programmes. Between them they had worked all day and all evening for twenty-four days. Even James Byrne had begun to smile before he went off to Morocco. So they deserved a party. Jimmy was there, his back magically straightened by the man with all the mad needles. Geraldine sent her apologies, she was having a little drink with Nick Ryan as he made the excuse of last-minute shopping. Lucy's mother and father were there, disapproving at the start and thawing out gradually. Con was there with his mother, who watched Lucy steadily for the first two drinks and then relaxed considerably.Muttie and Lizzie came with the twins. Only Tom and Cathy had no one to field.

'There's a parcel for you two,' Tom said cheerfully to the twins.

'Is it from you?' they asked.

'No, my present is under your tree in St Jarlath's Crescent.'

They asked could they open it, and Lizzie thought definitely they could.

They tugged at it and produced two watches. Watches that you could use underwater, watches that would give you the time in America if you wanted it. They immediately worked out Chicago time, and set the little dial for that. They had never seen watches like that before. The card said, 'Love from Walter.' This was greeted by a total silence.

'Very nice of him,' Cathy said loudly, and they all murmured that it was.

'Hot?' Tom whispered to her.

'As the hob of hell, I imagine,' she said.

'But we'll leave it, won't we?' he pleaded.

'Of course we will, eejit.' She smiled at him.

'Will you come to Christmas Dinner in St Jarlath's Crescent tomorrow, Tom?' Simon offered graciously.

'Thanks, but I have to arm-wrestle my mother over the turkey, she's inclined to put packet stuffing in it and burn it to a crisp if I'm not there to fight her all the way.'

'It won't be very much the season of peace and goodwill, will it?' Maud said, worried.

'He's joking, Maud,' Cathy said.

'Not altogether,' Maud said.

'Sharp girl,' Tom said.

They were all off now until New Year's Day, when there was a big lunch and the team would gather again, but the main thing they were celebrating was that they had refused eleven bookings on New Year's Eve. They wanted to consider it an anniversary… one whole year since they had found the premises. Everyone went home. Tom and Cathy insisted that they do the clearing up.

'It's only putting things in a machine, don't our arms do that automatically?' Tom said.

The twins were going back to the best Christmas of their lives.

'Have you got a present for Hooves?' Maud asked Cathy.

'Would I forget Hooves?' asked Cathy, who had.

'I didn't see it under the tree,' Simon said.

'That's because he might have smelled it under the tree,' Tom intervened.

Their eyes lit up.

'She's got him a bone' Simon said, excited.

'Or something in that area,' Cathy said.

They went off down the lane from the premises arm in arm with Lizzie. Tom and Cathy waved them goodbye.

'Get me something out of the freezer for Hooves, for God's sake. You're an utter genius, did you know that?' Cathy said.

'I could thaw a fillet steak if you like,' he suggested. 'We froze them in threes, remember. Well, I might eat one myself, I'm not going anywhere,' Tom Feather said.

'Neither am I,' said Cathy Scarlet.

The day passed as Christmas Day passes for so many people, in a sea of paper and presents and fuss about cooking.

Maura Feather asked them all to kneel down for the papal blessing, and to please her they did because she had given in on everything else, including the turkey.

Neil had an awkward lunch at Oaklands, where nobody was able to talk about the situation, and where Amanda rang from Toronto to wish them all well. It seemed very artificial.

Muttie was delighted with his new red overcoat that they had got him in the thrift shop, and said he would wear it everywhere. Including tomorrow, when they watched the races on television. He said that he had the accumulator of a lifetime on tomorrow at the races, everything he won on the first race would go onto this horse in the second race, and all the way through the card. It could be millions. And for a very small stake.

Simon and Maud planned spending the millions. They would get their mother a dressing gown like another lady had in the home. Mother hadn't known it was Christmas Day. It had been a bit sad, but Lizzie had said that the poor lady was in a bit of a dream and she was quite happy. Father had sent them five pounds to buy gifIs, and said he and old Barty would be home to see them sometime. And of course Walter had sent them the marvellous watches. They could hardly believe that Uncle Jock and Aunt Hannah had given them the computer of their dreams. They had been sure that Aunt Hannah hated them. Neil had left presents under the tree for them: they were marvellous computer games.

Cathy had got Hooves a wonderful steak wrapped up in silver paper with a big pink bow, and she even cooked it for him herself. She was smiling a lot, even when there was nothing particular to smile at. They had been warned by everyone to be particularly nice to her because of this separation thing. But she hadn't been cranky at all. It was a mystery.

The next day, as he sat in his new red coat in front of the television,Muttie's first horse won and so did his second. They were all standing behind his chair watching the television, willing the horses to win for him. When the third horse won they all began to get chest pains. Even Hooves began to howl at the tension in the air. Geraldine's face was contorted by the time the chosen horse started to pull away from the rest in the fourth race.

'I didn't know the meaning of the word stress until this moment,' she said in a strangled voice.

Lizzie said over and over that he should have done the races individually, then they'd have been fine. Why had he to do it this way and give them all heart failure? They were fairly short odds, some of them were even favourite, and his associates said he was as mad as a hatter, but Muttie said he had been studying form seriously. This time he really knew what he was doing, Sandy Keane up at the bookies' wouldn't know what hit him this time. The phone rang just as the fourth horse won. Tom answered it. It was Marian from Chicago. He spoke in clipped tones.

'Marian, no one in this house is able to speak now, including myself, so just hang up will you, like a good girl, and we'll call you back later.'

Then he left the phone off the hook. During the fifth race he had his arm so tightly around Cathy's neck she thought she was going to choke. When it won, they all leaped up and hugged each other; only one race to go.

Lizzie said, 'If he hadn't included the last race he'd have walked away with ten thousand pounds, Mother of God, imagine putting ten thousand pounds that would have solved our problems for ever onto a horse.Muttie, nobody puts that kind of money on a horse… I can't believe this is happening.'

'Lie down, Mam.' Cathy got her a fooIstool and a cold towel for her forehead. Hooves, sensing illness, laid his head in her lap…

'What are the odds on the next one?' Maud and Simon were screaming with excitement as they tried to work it out.

Tom got Muttie a glass of water, he got Geraldine a whiskey and then he drew up two chairs for himself and Cathy - they no longer had the strength to stand.Muttie's face was ashen, it was within his grasp. Tom and Cathy clutched each other's hands like people on a life raft. The horse was in the last three. One of the others fell.

'I can't bear it,' screamed Geraldine.

'Come on,Muttie. Come on,Muttie,' shouted the twins. There had been so many horses to cheer for in the afternoon, they had forgotten the name of this one.

'Listen, God, I'll give you another try if it wins,' Tom said.

'Please, please horse, win for my dad, please win for him, he's never done a bad thing in his life,' Cathy begged the horse, with tears streaming down her face.

'Ten thousand pounds that could have set us up for life thrown away on a horse.' Lizzie had her eyes closed, so she didn't see Muttie's horse, the only long shot on the list, come in at thirteen to one.

'That's thirteen thousand pounds, not bad for a day's work,' said Muttie with a beatific smile on his face, well satisfied with his efforts.

'No,Muttie, it's a hundred and thirty thousand,' said everyone in the room, except Lizzie and Hooves, at exactly the same time.

Nobody remembered much about what happened after that. Tom reminded them to ring Marian, and they told her that they would all be over for the baby's christening.Muttie took some of his associates for a drink, and told them firmly that the money would be invested by Lizzie, who was good at this sort of thing, and he would still get an allowance, though perhaps an increased allowance. All things considered. And some of the savings would be used to go to Chicago, and some to help finance Scarlet Feather, and some to buy a second-hand van in case Lizzie and himself wanted to go on outings or take the children somewhere educational.

'And what about yourself,Muttie?' everyone asked.

'Haven't I got everything a man could want?'Muttie would say with such sincerity that people got an odd feeling in their noses and eyes.

Tom said he'd drive Cathy back to Shona's apartment in Glenstar. Geraldine was going to stay the night in St Jarlath's Crescent; she said that someone had to mind this family, which had now gone totally insane.

She kissed Cathy goodnight. 'What a year,' she said.

'It had its moments, certainly.' Cathy tried to be light; then she saw Geraldine's face and remembered that Teddy had died, Freddie Flynn had gone and the future with Nick Ryan was uncertain. Cathy had been trying to put a brave face on it for herself and all that had happened to her.

'Next year will be better for all of us, I have a real feeling about that,' she said as she got into the van.

Just before the turn to Glenstar, Tom said, 'You know we never had any Christmas cake tonight.'

'After all the trouble we took icing it,' Cathy said.

'We could drop by the premises, maybe, and have tea and a slice of cake there?'

She thought it was a great idea. Neither of them wanted to go home to empty flats, but it hadn't been their custom to invite the other in at night. The premises had always been neutral ground.

They settled into the front room, drank their tea, and talked about Muttie's win.

'I think he's more pleased about beating Sandy Keane into the ground than actually getting the money,' Cathy said.

'I know, it's personal. We can't take any of his money though,' Tom said.

'We can let him invest,' Cathy said. 'At least that way it's here, rather than in Sandy's hot little hand.'

'I do wonder which is the sounder investment,' Tom said.

'Stop that at once, Tom Feather. We won. We've had a hard year, but in terms of the business, anyway, we won, didn't we?'

'Sure we did. It was a worse year for you than me, but we did win in the end.'

The phone rang.

At this time of night?

'Leave it,' Cathy said.

'I hadn't a notion of answering it,' he said.

They listened as the twins spoke their message. They were thanking them for the best Christmas ever. It had been magic, they said, pure magic. And Muttie's wife Lizzie, and Lizzie's sister Geraldine had said they could stay up until they were so tired that they fell down.

Tom and Cathy sat side by side on the sofa and listened while the twins talked on. They moved very slightly closer to each other and realised that they were holding hands. It seemed very natural so neither of them moved away.

'Goodnight, Tom. Goodnight, Cathy,' the twins said eventually when they thought the tape might be running out.

'They knew we were here,' Cathy said in surprise.

'Imagine,' said Tom Feather as he stroked her hair.