by Maeve Binchy
Still, things were good nowadays, and this morning she was going to get injections and vaccinations, shots needed for the journey. Frank would go to work as he did almost every Saturday, he said it was so quiet in the big Palazzo building that he could dictate peacefully and get more done in an hour than he normally did in a week of ordinary days. She reminded him to get a haircut. He was looking a bit shaggy around the neck.
Frank didn’t need to be reminded, he would go to Larry and have hot towels as well as a trim. He would wear his best suit, and the new shirt. If Maureen Barry was going to look at him she would admire what she saw. That was why he had asked his wife to dress up too. When Renata had the full works she looked very well. Maureen Barry would not be able to say that the man she rejected had to marry a colourless mouse with money.
Father Hurley had a great place to stay when he came to London, he always described it as a cross between a luxury hotel and a gentlemen’s club. It was in fact a religious house, a simple place now where they rented most of their high-ceilinged rooms as office space. Once these had been parlours with polished tables holding copies of Missionary Annals. It was an oasis to come back to after a day in such a big noisy city. Father Hurley found the morning a little overtiring, it was good to know that he could come back to this house and have a rest.
His friend Daniel Hayes was Principal, a soft-spoken man who seemed to understand a great deal without having to have things explained in words. He had known last night when he asked after Father Hurley’s nephew that this was not an avenue to travel any further. Diplomatically and with the polished ease of years Father Hayes slipped to another topic. Father Hayes also seemed to know that his old friend James Hurley was somehow uneasy about the silver wedding he was going to attend.
‘I can tell you, Daniel, you don’t know them from a hole in the ground, a nice young pair, she a real product of Dublin Four … though we didn’t know the phrase then. He was a bit of a rough diamond from the West of Ireland without a penny to bless himself. Anyway the usual story, and she was well and truly pregnant, and I knew the family, her family that is, and could I marry them in a flash.’
‘And you did?’ Father Hayes prompted.
‘Well I did of course, what else did we do in those days? Cover the shame, hide the sin, get the thing regularized as soon as possible …’
‘And did it not work out … they are still together?’
‘I know, Daniel, it’s just that there’s something odd there. Firstly they didn’t have a child.’
‘What?’
‘Oh, they did later, three of them. But not at the time. They sort of played at being married, pretended it … as if they were taking parts in a play … Right, Desmond will play the Husband and Deirdre will play the Wife.’
‘I expect a lot of people do that.’
‘Yes, I expect they do, and there’s ways in which we’re playing at being priests. But do you know what I mean? As if the whole thing didn’t ring true. Like Deirdre sending me a picture of them all on a picnic or somewhere, blinking into the light, as if she had to prove it to people.’
‘Prove what?’
‘Lord, I don’t know, that they were a normal family or something.’
‘They might be just very unhappy,’ Daniel Hayes said. ‘A lot of people are, seriously. They go into these marriages with such ridiculous expectations. I never thought that all the celibacy bit seemed too much of a hardship to me …’
‘Me neither,’ Father Hurley agreed. His face was sad.
‘Of course when it does work, it must be the greatest thing in the world, a friendship so real and true you’d trust the other with your life … We never had that, James.’
‘No indeed.’ Father Hurley still seemed down.
‘But your sister had it, didn’t she? I remember your telling me that you thought she had a totally good relationship, that they seemed to know each what the other was about to say, and then smiled when they said it.’
‘True, but their life hasn’t been easy …’
Father Hayes interrupted him. ‘Of course not, but it’s only that kind of relationship we’re talking about … It would surely buoy them up when things were bleak. You don’t see anything like that in this wedding you’re going to in Pinner.’
Father Hurley had been successfully diverted. ‘No, it’s going to be a lot of empty phrases, like it was a quarter of a century ago.’
‘Ah, that’s what we’re here for, James,’ laughed his friend. ‘If the priests can’t put a bit of conviction into meaningless comforting phrases … then I ask you … who can?’
The caterers arrived at three o’clock. It had all been arranged weeks ago. But Philippa of Philippa’s Catering knew a fusser when she saw one, and Mrs Doyle had all the characteristics of someone who could raise a Class-A fuss. There were to be canapés and drinks for an hour or so then the party would proceed to a Roman Catholic church where there would be a Mass, and the Doyles would say aloud that they renewed their marriage vows. Then pink and triumphant they would return to Rosemary Drive, it would now be heading on for seven, there would be more drinks and the guests would be asked to help themselves to a cold buffet – salmon, and cold chicken in a curry mayonnaise. There would be warm herb bread with it. Philippa, having seen the size of the house and the smallness of the oven, had advised against hot food, she had convinced Mrs Doyle that people would most certainly think it was a real meal even if it was cold and there were no potatoes.
As Philippa unloaded crates from her van and set up her centre of operations in the Doyles’ small kitchen she hoped that someone might have been detailed to distract this woman with the freshly done hair and the obviously new manicure who held her hands awkwardly as if the varnish would chip.
Mercifully a daughter arrived, a sensible-looking girl, dark and intelligent. She was carrying her own outfit on a hanger. Through the kitchen window Philippa had seen her thanking a man who had driven her. The girl had leaned back into the car and kissed him. Philippa liked to see something like that, it made a change in the highly tense homes she often found herself working in.
Still if it weren’t for the weddings, the barmitzvahs, the silver weddings, the retirement parties, where would her business be? She thought that Mrs Doyle and her husband must both be barking mad to go back into a church and say publicly that they were still married. As if it weren’t obvious. As if anyone else would have either of them! However, question it not, just keep unpacking, get the table decoration started, and maybe send in a tray of tea to the bedroom so that the mother and daughter could be kept up there.
‘You look absolutely beautiful, Mother,’ Anna said. ‘You haven’t a line on your face, did you know that? You’re like a young girl.’
Deirdre was pleased. ‘Oh stop it now, you’re going too far.’
‘I mean it. And isn’t your hair great! Very elegant in all those swoops.’
Deirdre looked at her daughter’s short dark shiny head of hair.
‘Of course if you went to the hairdresser a bit … just now and then for a nice set … you’d look very much better. I know it’s smart nowadays to wash your hair every day in the shower …’ Deirdre was trying to be helpful.
‘I know, Mother … Oh look, isn’t this marvellous, a pot of tea … brought to us on a tray! This is the life, isn’t it?’
Deirdre frowned. ‘I wish your father was back, he’s going to be running late. I don’t know what he had to go down to Patel’s for …’
‘It’s not Patel’s, it’s the Rosemary Central Stores, Mother, and Dad is the joint owner, and Saturday is very busy, so obviously he’s going to help Suresh and he’ll be back in plenty of time. You know Dad.’
‘What time’s Brendan coming?’
‘He should be here anytime. He was looking round a bit, he said he didn’t want to come too early and be in the way.’
‘Lord, wouldn’t you think he’d come …’
‘And of course he’ll be here tomorrow and the next day
and the next.’
‘And why he couldn’t stay in his own home …’
‘Mother, Brendan’s back now, isn’t that what we all hoped? He’s staying with me because it’s easier, handier. He’s going to be here every day seeing you.’
‘His father could easily have moved all those boxes and files from his room.’
‘It’s not his room any more, no more than my room is mine, it’d be pointless having them waiting for us, much better letting them be offices and for filing and everything.’
‘Helen’s room is still there, and she’s off in a convent.’
‘It’s always wise to give Helen somewhere to lay her head, you never know when she’ll need it.’ Anna sounded resigned.
‘Will I change now, do you think?’
‘Why don’t you wait a little bit longer, Mother, we’ll get hot and sweaty if we get into our finery too soon.’
‘I hope it’s going to be all right.’
‘It’s going to be magnificent. Everyone you want is coming to it … we don’t have to raise a finger … they’ll all be as impressed as hell.’
‘Not that we’re trying to impress anyone,’ Deirdre said firmly to her daughter.
‘No indeed, what would be the point?’ Anna asked, wondering could her mother be serious. What was this about if it wasn’t to wipe eyes around the place, show Grandmother O’Hagan what style they lived in, let Maureen Barry know that life in Pinner was full of sociability, point out to Frank Quigley that though Desmond hadn’t married the boss’s daughter he had still done well for himself. Show Father Hurley what a good strong Catholic way of life went on in what he probably thought of as Heathen England. Let the neighbours see what a team they could field, thirty people, and caterers, and speeches and a good non-vintage champagne for the toasts. What was all that if it wasn’t intended to impress?
When they heard the commotion downstairs of someone beating on the side door and voices being raised they knew Helen had arrived. She didn’t want to come in the front door to inconvenience people so she had been trying to push open the side door, and because boxes of wine were against it she had been having difficulties. She was handed a cup of tea very briskly by Philippa of Philippa’s Caterers and pointed upstairs.
Helen came into the room, they knew by the droop of her shoulders that something was wrong. Anna hoped that they might get away without discussing it.
‘Doesn’t Mother look terrific, Helen?’ she cried.
‘Great,’ Helen said dutifully and absently.
‘And Brendan’s going to be here any moment.’
‘Is he staying here?’ Helen asked.
‘No, we … er … thought it would be … more suitable if he stayed at my place. He’s there now changing, I left the key for him under a plant pot. More suitable, more central, closer to things.’
‘What things?’ asked Helen.
‘Any things.’ Anna gritted her teeth.
‘So he’s not sleeping here tonight?’
‘No, he wouldn’t even consider …’ Deirdre was beginning.
‘Anyway his room is an office for Dad now, so …’
‘Is my room an office for Dad?’ Helen asked.
‘No of course not. Why do you ask?’
‘I thought I might sleep here tonight,’ Helen said. ‘If it’s no trouble, that is.’
Anna held her breath. She didn’t trust herself to speak. So Helen had decided to leave her convent. And she chose now to tell everyone. Now, one hour before Mother’s and Father’s silver wedding party. Anna fixed her eyes on the two dressing gowns that hung on the back of the door. Father’s had a long cord. Perhaps Anna could take this and strangle Helen, or would that in the long run mean further disruption? It was hard to know.
She was saved from having to work it out because Brendan had arrived. He ran lightly up the stairs and his mother and sisters ran to meet him. He looked tanned and well, they thought, and handsome too, in a smart navy jacket, a sparklingly white shirt and a tie with a discreet design on it.
‘I got silver colours in the tie, I thought it would be suitable,’ he said.
Deirdre Doyle looked at her only son with pride. There would be no need to apologize for Brendan today nor explain him away. Whatever kind of life he was leading in that backwoods, at least he had dressed up today when it mattered. And he was going to be pleasant to people, not hanging back and muttering. She would not have dared to hope for this much.
Desmond came back in plenty of time to wash and change, and at five minutes before the official starting time Philippa was able to pronounce that they all looked magnificent, and that everything was under control.
More and more in her business she felt it was a matter of calming down the hostess and family just as much as preparing a good menu and serving it well.
They stood in their sitting room. The doors to the garden were open, they were ready. With as little comment as possible Anna had found an outfit to suit Helen among their mother’s clothes. It was a simple green skirt and a long cream-coloured over-blouse. It was simple enough to have been the nunnish kind of clothes she wore … if she wanted it to be. But also it was perfectly adequate as lay clothes too, if that was the route she chose.
Any moment now the guests would arrive. The Doyles had refused a drink from Philippa, saying that they would need to keep their heads clear.
Philippa noticed that there were no private moments between them. They didn’t squeeze each other’s hands and say: Fancy, a silver wedding! They didn’t seem excited in themselves over the event, only that it was being marked.
The first to arrive was Grandmother O’Hagan. Deirdre’s eyes raked the taxi to see if she would be followed by Tony. But mercifully Mother had decided to come unaccompanied. And just as she was being ushered in Frank’s and Renata’s car pulled up. The florist’s van arrived with a huge floral arrangement from Carlo and Maria with many many regrets, and warmest wishes on a wonderful family occasion. It had been arranged the previous day by Frank Quigley’s secretary who had also left a message with Carlo Palazzo’s office noting that it had been done.
And when the Wests next door had peered out and seen the place filling up, they arrived, and they were followed by Father Hurley who had been driven there by his friend Father Hayes.
‘Won’t Father Hayes come in too and have a drink?’ Deirdre Doyle had said. You couldn’t have too many priests at something like this.
Father Hayes was tempted just to a sherry, he said it was wonderful in this world where so many people took marriage so lightly to find a couple whose love had survived for so long.
‘Well yes.’ Deirdre had been pleased by the compliment if somewhat startled by the way it was expressed.
At that moment Maureen Barry arrived.
She must have left her taxi at the corner of Rosemary Drive, she walked easily through the gate and up the little path to the door. The guests were both in and outside the house, it was one of those warm autumn evenings that made it not totally ridiculous to be in the open air.
Maureen seemed to expect all eyes to be on her, yet there was nothing vain or coquettish about the way she came in.
She wore a lemon-coloured silk suit, with a lemon and black scarf. She was slim and tall and her black hair shone as if it were an advertisement for shampoo. Her smile was bright and confident, as she turned with excitement from one to another.
She said all the right things and few of the things that were in mind. Yes, that was Brendan she had seen this morning struggling with a big green Marks and Spencer’s bag. Obviously the outfit he was wearing now. Perfectly adequate, but think what a big handsome boy could look like if he had been dressed by a tailor.
Yes, amazingly it had been Deirdre’s mother that she had seen that morning at breakfast with the rather over-obvious-looking man. Was it possible that the great and esteemed Eileen O’Hagan was having a relationship? How her father would enjoy hearing of that, when she went to Ascot to see him tomorrow.
; She kissed her friend Deirdre and exclaimed with pleasure over the wonderful dress. In her heart she wondered how Deirdre could have fallen for the obvious-looking lilac, the matronly garment with the self-colour embroidery at the shoulder. It was a pastel Mother of the Bride outfit. Deirdre deserved better, she could have looked so well. And the dress had probably cost a fortune as well.
The Doyle girls didn’t look smart either. Helen seemed to be wearing a blouse and skirt, perhaps that was the nearest that the Order could come to letting her wear home clothes. Anna, who was quite striking if she had just left herself alone, was wearing a very tarty-looking navy and white outfit: everywhere there could be a white frill there was one, at the neck, on the hem, at the wrists. It was like a child’s party frock.
And Frank.
‘How well you look, Frank, it must be years and years,’ she said.
‘But it’s impossible that for you time has stood still,’ he said, mocking her tones by imitating her, very slightly.
Her eyes hardened.
‘Renata, this is Maureen Barry, she and I played bridesmaid and best man at the great occasion twenty-five years ago. Maureen, this is Renata, my wife.’
‘I’m delighted to meet you.’
The two women took in each other’s clothes at a glance.
Maureen saw a girl with a nondescript face and well-cut designer garments, carefully made up and wearing discreet jewellery. If that gold chain was what she thought it was Renata Quigley was wearing the price of several houses in Rosemary Drive around her neck.
‘Frank tells me you are a very successful businesswoman, and you have high fashion shops.’ Renata spoke as if she had learned a little speech. Her accent was attractive.
‘He’s building me up a bit too much, Renata, two small outlets, but I am thinking of opening up over here. Not in London, more out Berkshire way.’