by Maeve Binchy
‘That’s where you are totally wrong, we all have to make very sure we don’t interfere in people’s lives. That’s the great sin.’
The unfairness of it stung Deirdre like the lash of a whip. How dare Mother come out with this preachy nonsense about not interfering in people’s lives. For a quarter of a century Deirdre had been trying to live up to some kind of image, some expectations for her. She was the daughter for whom there had been such hopes. The eldest of the family, very bright at university, an honours student, she might have taken the Third Sec examination and gone into the Department of External Affairs as it was called then, she might have been on the way to being an ambassador or marrying one. She might have done the Bar as her brother had done. She might have made the brilliant match that her sister Barbara had done.
Instead she had fallen in love one long hot summer, and trapped herself into a strange prison. Where since nothing was good enough for the O’Hagans and their hopes back home then everything must be made to look as if it were.
Deirdre had lived her entire life on this premise, to please the mother who was now sitting opposite her justifying her pitiable relationship with a common flashy man by saying that the main rule of living was not to interfere! It was not possible.
Deirdre spoke very slowly: ‘I know what you’re saying but I think it’s important too not to be entirely self-centred and to take the wishes of others into account as well. I mean, did I or did I not spend all my teenage years hearing about people who were suitable, and people who were not suitable?’
‘Not from me you didn’t.’
‘But you were always wanting to know what people’s fathers did, and where they lived?’
‘Out of interest.’ Mother was airy about it. ‘It’s always nice to know who people are in case you knew them years ago or something. That’s all it was about.’
‘No it wasn’t, Mother, you and Mrs Barry …’
‘Oh Deirdre, Sophie Barry had nothing in her whole life except some kind of nonsensical pecking order. Nobody who knew her took a blind bit of notice of it …’
‘Maureen did.’
‘Well more fool Maureen, and anyway I don’t think you’re right, Maureen lived her own life, made her own way despite all poor Sophie’s rubbishing on about being in trade.’
‘You mean to tell me that you and Daddy were perfectly happy that I married Desmond? Don’t try to tell me that. I won’t believe it.’
There were tears in Deirdre’s eyes, tears of rage, hurt and confusion. Suddenly the screen was falling away, the mask was being dropped, she knew she was on dangerous ground here. The polite pretence of years was being swept away.
The woman in the fawn linen suit and the cream blouse looked at her with concern. She began to speak and then stopped.
‘Now, you can’t deny it!’ Deirdre was triumphant.
‘Child, you’re talking about a lifetime ago,’ her mother said.
‘But what I say is true, you did care, you did care that Desmond wasn’t top drawer enough for us.’
‘What do you mean for us? We weren’t marrying him, you were, he was your choice, the words top drawer weren’t even mentioned.’
‘Not aloud maybe.’
‘Not at all. I assure you, your father and I thought you were too young, of course we did, you hadn’t taken your degree, we were afraid you would never get any qualification. In that I suppose we wished you would wait, that was all.’
Deirdre took a deep breath: ‘You knew we couldn’t wait.’
‘I knew you wouldn’t wait, that’s all I knew. You were very determined. I wasn’t going to oppose you.’
‘You knew why.’
‘I knew you loved him or thought you did, now that you’ve stayed with him and are dead set on having all this palaver in the autumn then you were probably right, you did love him, and he loved you.’
To Mother it seemed too simple, if you lived together for twenty-five years and were prepared to acknowledge it … you loved each other. Deirdre was thoughtful.
‘Well isn’t that what happened?’ Mother was waiting for a yes or a no or an I told you so.
‘More or less, but no thanks to anyone at home.’ Deirdre was still mulish.
‘I don’t know what exactly it is you’re trying to say, Deirdre. Of all my children I thought you were the most contented. You went for what you wanted, you got it. Nobody forced you to do anything, you had your freedom, you went to university, you could have worked for a living but you never did. Sophie and I used to say that you got everything on a plate, now it seems there’s some grievance.’
Mother was interested but not distressed, she was concerned but not unduly curious. She tossed a salad expertly and waited for an explanation.
‘Why did you let me marry Desmond if you thought I was too young?’
‘I only thought, let’s cause the least grief possible in the world. That’s what I always think. Your father did think you might be pregnant, but I knew you weren’t.’
‘How did you know that?’ Deirdre’s voice was a whisper.
‘Because nobody, not even in the far back year of 1960, would have got married to someone just for that reason if she didn’t want to. And you weren’t. Anna wasn’t born until months and months later, quite wiped poor Sophie’s eye, I think. I have a feeling she had the same thoughts as your father.’
‘Yes.’
‘So, Deirdre, what’s the federal case as they say? What am I meant to have done? We gave our permission. Was that bad? No. We came to the wedding, that’s what you wanted. You said you didn’t want a huge showy number and you wanted it in England, we went along with that. We took Barbara and Gerard out of school for the ceremony.
‘The house is there for you and Desmond to come over and see us but you never do, you came once and you were so touchy we didn’t know what to say to you, everything upset you. We came to see you a few times and we’re all heading over to see you again for your silver wedding, something it may be said that isn’t at all what we’re used to, and somehow still in spite of all this I am the worst in the world, and by implication your father was, and your sister and brother are.’
Eileen O’Hagan mopped up the dressing of her salad with a piece of French bread and looked at her daughter for an explanation.
Deirdre looked at her wordlessly.
The waiter came and took away their plates and discussed at length an apple tart and a burnt cream. Deirdre’s mother went into the option with animation, it gave Deirdre a chance to gather her thoughts.
‘I ordered one of each, I hate to be directive but I thought it best.’
‘That’s fine, Mother.’
‘And what were we talking about before? Oh I know, Daddy and I were meant to have hated Desmond or something, isn’t that it?’
‘Not exactly.’
‘Well not just not exactly, not at all. We both thought he was very nice, bullied within an inch of his life by you of course but then you’d be bound to be a bossy boots, you get it from me.’ Eileen O’Hagan was pleased to have passed on such sterling qualities.
‘What did you say about him to each other?’ Deirdre’s voice was small.
‘Daddy and I? Hardly anything. He was providing for you all right, that was what we worried about I suppose in those days, so it was good that this side of it wasn’t a problem. I think we were upset that you didn’t have a career.’
‘I had three children in rapid succession.’ Deirdre was defensive.
‘Yes, but afterwards. Anyway I suppose we thought that maybe it was a bit hierarchical in that set-up with the Italians, the Palladians …’
‘The Palazzos, Mother.’
‘Yes well, that’s about the only negative thought we ever had about Desmond, so you can stop doing your outraged lioness bit about him.’
Mother laughed affectionately.
Deirdre looked at her as if she were someone never seen before.
‘And Mrs Barry, was she not questioning you about us?’
‘No, sweetheart. To be very honest there wasn’t all that much interest at all. Nobody had. You know that yourself about Dublin, out of sight out of people’s minds and immediate conversation and interest.’
‘But not for you, surely you couldn’t have forgotten me, your eldest daughter.’ Her lip was trembling.
‘Of course I don’t forget you, silly thing, but not all the little bitty things that you think were never off our lips, this promotion, that remark that the Palladians passed about Desmond, the time that Anna was at the same reception as Princess Di.’
‘It was Princess Michael of Kent.’
‘Well you know what I mean, Deirdre, it’s not some kind of score card, you know, points for this, minus points for that.’
There was a silence. A long silence.
‘I’m not criticizing you, you do know that?’
‘Yes, Mother.’
‘And even if Kevin and I hadn’t liked Desmond, which was not the case, whatever we were allowed to get to know of him we liked very much … But suppose we hadn’t … what would have been the point of saying it or letting it be thought? We weren’t going to live your lives for you.’
‘I see.’
‘When I was married to Kevin my parents were delighted, they crowed and brayed and made me very very uneasy.’
‘You should have been pleased.’
‘No, I was suspicious. I thought that they wanted me off their hands and I also thought they equated money with some kind of happiness or success. Your father didn’t give me much of either.’
‘I don’t believe you!’ Deirdre’s mouth was wide open.
‘Why shouldn’t I tell you this? You and I are middle-aged women, we’re talking about life and love. Your father was what they call now a chauvinist pig, in those days we called it a man’s man and were meant to be grateful that he wasn’t chasing the ladies. He stayed at his clubs every evening until late, you remember that growing up, don’t you? I bet Desmond was at home to get to know his children.’
‘He wasn’t a member of any clubs.’ Deirdre sounded wistful.
‘And weren’t you the better for it? Anyway I always thought I would neither encourage nor discourage any of my children, let them choose for themselves and go along with it.’
‘Barbara’s wedding …’ Deirdre began.
‘Nearly put us in the workhouse. What a bloody shower, Jack’s family. They gave us a wedding list of their guests from their side of the family as long as your arm … we decided to do it the way the young couple wanted it. Though Barbara has often said to me she wished they had had less of a send-off, nothing ever lived up to it.’
‘Barbara said that?’
‘She says it every time she has a glass of sherry, it’s hardly breaking a confidence to tell you. She says it in the golf club, and she tried to say it the night she was in the audience at the Late Late Show but apparently they didn’t get a mike to her.’
For the first time Deirdre laughed a genuine laugh, and the waiter was so pleased he came running with a plate of bon bons and a refill of coffee.
‘And I know you think I should be happy with my six grandchildren, your three and Barbara’s three. But I never see yours. They grew up without us, and when we did meet them they were like white mice they were so afraid of us. And I was sick to death of Barbara’s three when they were at the poisonous stage, we were unpaid unthanked babysitters and now that they’re nice and interesting I don’t see hide nor hair of them. And I don’t think that Gerard is going to give us any news in that direction, but that’s his business. I don’t want to send him out to mate just so that I can have more people to call me Grannie.’
She looked lively and eager, she did not look like someone who wanted more people to call her Grannie, let alone someone who had grown-ups who did.
‘And suppose you and … er Tony … get on well on this cruise, why don’t you think there might be a chance of … well, something more permanent?’
Deirdre somehow felt that if he were accepted by Mother’s cronies at home and by her sister and brother he couldn’t be quite as common and unsuitable as she had thought at first.
‘No, that’s not on the cards.’
‘As you said earlier, it’s not such a barbarous idea.’
‘Well, it is really, Deirdre. Or his wife would think so anyway.’
‘He’s married. Mother, I don’t believe it.’
‘Oh but you must, I assure you.’
‘Does anyone know, is his wife sort of around, are people aware of her?’ Deirdre’s voice was very concerned.
Her mother was silent for the first time. She looked at Deirdre with a strange expression. It was hard to read her look. It was partly sad and partly as if she had known that things would be like this. There was a little frisson of impatience in the disappointment.
She didn’t answer Deirdre’s question, she never answered it. She called for the bill, and they walked together back to her hotel.
She said she had a little more shopping to do, and she sent her love to Anna, and to Helen. There was no point in sending love to Brendan, they both knew that he was only rarely in touch. No rapport of weekly phone chats had been established between Deirdre and her son on Sunday nights as there were between Deirdre and her mother.
Eileen O’Hagan said she wished Desmond well, and thought that he was quite right to have left the Palladians or the Palazzos or whatever they were called. A man had to do what a man had to do. And so had a woman.
She said she would send a postcard from somewhere that looked nice and exotic.
She said since Deirdre hadn’t offered that she would be sure and give Deirdre’s warm wishes to Tony and tell him that Deirdre had said Bon Voyage.
And as she left her daughter who would get the tube back to the station where the Metropolitan line would take her back to Pinner and the table full of preparations for a party 110 days away, Eileen O’Hagan reached out her hand and stroked Deirdre’s cheek.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said.
‘What for, Mother? Why are you sorry? You gave me a lovely lunch. It was really good to see you.’ And Deirdre meant it.
‘No, I’m sorry that I didn’t give you more.’
‘You gave me everything, I was only being silly, you said yourself that I was the most contented of your children. I never knew that.’
Her mother opened her mouth as if to speak but closed it again, and when Deirdre turned to wave she saw that Eileen O’Hagan’s lips were moving. She thought she was just mouthing goodbye.
She was too far away to hear her mother saying, ‘I’m sorry that I gave you no notion of happiness. Only how to pretend you are happy and that’s no gift at all. It’s a burden for your back.’
Deirdre waved again just before she went down the steps to the tube station, and she hoped her mother would stop mouthing at her. After all, here in Piccadilly Circus the whole world could be passing by, and there could be anyone, just anyone, who might see them. Someone from Pinner or someone from Dublin. The world was getting smaller and you should always behave as if you were under some kind of observation, because when it came down to it, that’s what we all were most of the time. Under observation.
9
SILVER WEDDING
THEY HAD SET the Teasmaid for seven o’clock.
Desmond had grumbled that it was too early, they would both be worn out by the time the thing began. But Deirdre said it was better far to be ahead of themselves instead of running after themselves all day. Be up and organized before the caterers came.
‘They’re not coming until three o’clock,’ Desmond had said.
‘Everything has to be cleared away for them.’
‘God Almighty, Deirdre, we’re not going to spend eight hours clearing the kitchen worktops. And isn’t it all done already anyway?’
She took no notice of him, she poured him out a cup of tea.
For years, since they had moved into separate beds in fact, they had this morning ritual o
f the electric teamaker on the table between them. It somehow soothed them into the day, took the little edges off the slight sense of morning disappointment that they each seemed to feel.
‘Happy anniversary,’ he said and reached out for her hand.
‘And to you,’ she said, smiling. ‘Will we give our presents now or later?’
‘Whatever you like.’
‘Maybe later.’ She sipped her tea and ticked off in her mind all the things to be done. She had an appointment at the hairdresser, and a manicure as a special treat. Her new outfit was hanging on the wardrobe under its cellophane wrapping. She hoped it was a good choice, the woman in the shop had been very pushy, kept calling her Madam and speaking to her as if she wasn’t there. Madam would look very well in pale colours, Madam doesn’t want to grow old before her time. Madam could do with a little detail on the shoulder if Madam really insists that she won’t wear shoulder pads.
Deirdre would like to have worn pads, almost everyone did nowadays like the women in Dynasty and Dallas, but she remembered that time years ago when she had bought a very upholstered-looking jacket and Maureen Barry had laughed at it and called it Deirdre’s Marshal Bulganin outfit. She daren’t risk that again. Or risk even the memory of it.
She knew that whatever Maureen wore today it would be stunning, it would take all the attention away from her, away from Deirdre whose party it was. The woman in the shop said she couldn’t believe that Madam was really celebrating a silver wedding, but that was in the shop. The woman was anxious to flatter her and make a sale.
The woman hadn’t seen Maureen.
She would take the limelight today as she had taken it twenty-five years ago. When the bride had looked pink and frightened and flustered, and the bridesmaid had looked dark and cool and elegant in a plain pink linen dress and a big pink flower in her hair. And Frank Quigley had never taken his eyes off her. From one end of the day to the other.
Would it be the same today? Would the great Frank Quigley remember his passion for Maureen Barry with regret as the one thing he didn’t win in his life? Knowing Frank he would probably have turned it into a success rather than a failure. Look at the bigger and better prize he had won. Married to the entire Palazzo fortune. He wouldn’t have had that if Maureen had accepted him all those years ago.