‘What are you doing?’ he asked presently as I cut sections from Father Deglan’s newspapers and put them in the fire.
‘Some bits are too wet to keep,’ I said, falling immediately by the wayside in the pursuance of truth.
Some of the Irish papers had photographs of Burgo and me. Father Deglan had given me several penetrating looks. When he saw me in the better light of the drawing room he would undoubtedly recognize me. I ought to have taken Constance into my confidence from the beginning. But I had been reluctant to make a bad first impression.
‘What’s that?’ Flurry stirred something in a bowl. ‘It looks horrible.’
‘Sardine pâté. I found dozens of tins in the pantry.’
Maria’s golden eyes loomed from the semi-darkness of the floor and a string of saliva dropped from her jaws. I gave her a taste of sardine, hoping it would put her off, but she licked her lips greedily and resumed her intense watchfulness of my face.
‘Dr Duffy said sardines would help Granny’s bones. Only they don’t seem to. Sometimes I hear her groan when she doesn’t know I’m listening. But she never lets on it hurts. And if anyone asks her how she is, she gets into a bate. Why does she? I don’t mind people knowing if I feel sick or anything.’
‘Some people can’t bear to be pitied. Perhaps it’s courage. Or good manners. I don’t know your grandmother well enough to say. I’ll do the toast while you go and tell everyone dinner’s ready. Then come back, please, and help me carry things in.’
‘That’ll be worth another two sleepers if I do.’
‘Done.’
‘How are the plans going for the Holy Father’s visit?’ asked Constance. She turned to me. ‘The whole country’s in a fever of excitement about the Pope’s visit at the end of September. He’s actually coming to Galway after Dublin. Everyone’s having the day off and new clothes for the whole family and Eddy Murphy, the hairdresser in Kilmuree, says he’s already booked solid for two weeks before the visit with women having perms and sets. As though the Holy Father will see them in the crowd that’s going to be there.’
‘Gosh!’ I said, trying to imagine the population of, say, Yorkshire, getting into a fluster about a visit from the Archbishop of Canterbury. But then he was, through no fault of his own, so familiar and accessible and so lacking in mystery that the man in the street was thoroughly bored by the whole idea of him.
‘I was going to speak to you about that,’ said Father Deglan. ‘We’re getting up a subscription fund to hire three coaches to take us from Kilmuree to Galway Racecourse. Will you make a contribution, Constance?’ It was hardly a question.
‘Certainly,’ replied Constance. ‘Put me down for five pounds.’
‘Thank you, my child.’ Father Deglan’s good eye went round the table. ‘Anyone else?’
Eugene was absorbed by the chandelier from which hung veils of spiders’ webs. I made a mental note to cajole the children into helping me wash each lustre and polish it to its original brilliance.
‘Come now, Florence, my boy.’ Father Deglan smiled indulgently. ‘You’ve some pocket money to spare for a good cause, I’m certain.’
‘No,’ said Flurry. ‘I need it all for my railway.’
‘That’s very selfish. Surely you want to help those less fortunate than yourself have the joyful experience of seeing the Holy Father?’
‘No,’ said Flurry again.
‘Tsk, tsk!’ Father Deglan began a lecture but abandoned it, seeing that Flurry’s eyes were shut and he had his fingers in his ears. ‘Well, well. We must forgive the lad, I suppose, as he isn’t quite like the rest of us. Phyllida!’ The indulgence was wiped from his face as he saw that she was examining her face in the back of a newly polished spoon. Under my direction every piece of flatware and every salt and pepper pot and candlestick had been cleaned that afternoon. ‘You had better set an example to your little brother.’
Liddy blew out her breath through closed lips like a horse. ‘Oh, all right. Fifty pee is all I can spare. And it’s no good trying to bully me because I won’t even give that if you do.’
Father Deglan frowned. ‘I’m disappointed in you, girl. Now, my little Flavia, what are you going to—’
He looked astonished when Flavia leaped to her feet, crying ‘No! No! No!’
The cause of her anguish was made clear a moment later when she hurled the book she had been reading under the table to the farthest corner of the room. ‘Poor, poor Bodger!’ she cried before bursting into tears and running out. It seemed that the starving and grievously wounded bull terrier had met his fate at the end of his incredible journey.
‘These children become more like savages every day,’ said Maud. ‘But then it’s hardly surprising, being brought up in this benighted country. It was a black day for Ireland when we repealed the penal laws.’
The spirit of mischief was in her eyes and Father Deglan rushed to take up the challenge. He leaned over the table to glare at her. ‘It’s a poor heart that does not leap up at the thought of Ireland free from its Protestant oppressors.’
‘Pooh!’ Mrs Crawley flung down her fork and picked up her cigarette case. She smoked unashamedly not only between courses but during them as well. The necklace of huge amethysts she wore was outshone by her eyes which seemed to catch up all the light in the room. ‘It’s we who’ve made something of this country. While you were preaching hell and damnation we were building fine houses and running the country. You kept the peasants in a state of guilt and repression and penury while we gave them employment and set standards and showed them what hard work was. The Irish would still be living in hovels up to their necks in mud if it weren’t for us Protestants.’
‘That hasn’t always been the case, Maud,’ said Constance in her usual gentle manner. ‘The Ascendancy had nothing to do with the building of this house.’
‘Exactly,’ said Maud. ‘We’d have knocked it down and built an elegant Palladian mansion instead of this draughty, pseudo-mediaeval monstrosity.’
This was not only unkind of Maud, it was also inaccurate. The mediaeval parts of the house were genuine and of course she knew it but liked to be perverse whenever possible. Perhaps it was an analgesic for pain. Also, though I was as fond as anyone of Palladian architecture, I admired the heterogeneous style of Curraghcourt, the elegant eighteenth-century front with its charming Gothick windows and battlements which had been wrapped round the earlier, sterner parts.
‘I like it here,’ said Flurry. ‘I never want to live anywhere else. Miss McFadden, our history teacher, says Ireland’ll never be united till all the Protestants have gone back to England and Scotland where they belong.’
Father Deglan’s chin glistened with sardine oil and he looked triumphant.
‘It’s very wrong of Miss McFadden to say that.’ Constance was indignant. ‘She’s supposed to be educating you, not airing her prejudices.’
‘Don’t worry, Aunt Con,’ replied Flurry calmly. ‘I don’t often listen.’
‘It’s your father’s fault for sending you to that appalling Catholic school,’ said Maud. ‘Those simpletons think the Pope has a direct line to God. With the Virgin Mary as telephone operator.’
‘Blasphemer!’ said Father Deglan.
Maud puffed smoke into his eyes. ‘Bog-trotter!’
I found this style of conversation fascinating. Everyone had some passionate conviction about which they were prickly and they did not hesitate to champion their pet loves or hates despite the general readiness to fly off the handle at the least sign of opposition. I thoroughly enjoyed this fanaticism as a contrast to the usual English phlegm. I was disturbed, though, to find Father Deglan’s good eye frequently trained on me with a look that was suspicious and even disapproving, while his weak eye, which was paler in colour, wandered about the tablecloth among the salts and peppers as though seeking extenuating circumstances.
‘Don’t take any notice of us, Bobbie,’ said Constance. ‘Though there’s always bickering and taking sides in this ho
use, it’s only talk. We don’t mean it.’
‘I mean every word I say,’ said Maud.
I brought in the next course. Maria, who had been sleeping on my foot, followed me faithfully until she was given the remains of the pâté. Constance insisted on helping though I was perfectly happy in my role of cook-general. It was not so different from Cutham, after all, except that everyone at Curraghcourt was touchingly grateful.
‘God save all here,’ said Sissy, bursting in halfway through the salmon. She seemed incapable of coming through a door quietly. Maria flew round the room, barking. ‘Good evening, Father.’ Sissy made a sort of half-curtsey in his direction.
‘Good evening, my child.’ I could tell from the way Father Deglan winked his eyes and thrust out his lower lip as he took in Sissy’s appearance that he was having to draw on his reserves of Christian charity to smile paternally upon her.
‘I suppose you tumbled into a bog.’ Maud put a good deal of venom into her voice. ‘That would account for the state of your clothes.’
Sissy threw herself into the chair next to mine. ‘As it happens,’twas addled eggs I was looking for, to make a cure for birth fever. I found a blackbird’s nest with five. And a dead mouse full of maggots. They’re good for cleaning the pus in wounds.’
Eugene closed his eyes and pressed his napkin to his lips.
‘I know nothing of eggs but certainly your brain is addled,’ said Maud.
Sissy looked as though she had not only tumbled into a bog but stayed in it for some time. The whites of her eyes sparkled in her dirty little face. She was strangely dressed for dinner in the country. I knew something about historical costume. She was wearing a doublet and trunk-hose with short canions in the style of James I’s time but Sissy’s doublet was made of polyester instead of velvet or silk and the slashing and pinking was crude. Beneath her dishevelled hair which was woven with twigs was a collar edged with machine lace. I wondered if she intended to go to a fancy-dress party later. Sissy examined the table, which had been subject to a preliminary polish and was now free from dust and dirt.
‘’Twas here this morning.’ She looked at me. ‘Is it you that’s taken my hairbrush?’
If I had not known better I might have had my head turned by the praise heaped upon my ordinary little dinner. I doubt if Escoffier himself had ever been so complimented. Even Father Deglan, who subjected me to more searching glances and deeper frowns with each passing moment, paused in the consumption of tinned fruit cocktail and the meringues left from lunch to say, ‘No doubt it was in London that you got the knowledge of cookery. ’Tis well known there’s no shortage of good things to eat in that city.’
It was clear that for him there was little to choose between Sodom, Gomorrah and Knightsbridge.
‘I know your face from somewhere,’ said Father Deglan as I gave him a cup of coffee in the drawing room after dinner. ‘What is your Christian name again?’
‘Bobbie.’
‘’Tis not what your parents baptized you?’ He closed his weak eye to focus the other more keenly.
‘It’s a nickname.’
I left it to Constance to offer him milk and sugar and slid unobtrusively from the drawing room.
‘Jazzy? It’s Bobbie.’
‘Bobbie, darling!’ The receiver seemed to vibrate with her enthusiasm. ‘I’m so thrilled it’s you! When Teddy showed me that article in the Daily Spectacle I said it couldn’t possibly be my best friend in all the world. It had to be someone like you with the same name. I said I knew you’d never have an affair with a married man. Teddy called me a dear little idiot but I didn’t mind. I like him to tease me. Oh, but anyway, there was a picture of you in the Scrutiniser in that black dress you used to lend me so I knew then it was you. But why’ve you never said anything? I must admit I am a teeny bit hurt.’
‘I’m sorry, Jazzy. We had to be discreet, you see. Burgo’s position, and his wife … I know after all I’ve said about married men I must seem like a hypocrite but, well, I found him attractive and … I don’t know how to explain.’
‘Oh, I can understand all that! I thought he looked dishy. But why’s everyone so interested? Is he someone important? I didn’t quite gather who he was.’
‘He’s just been given a seat in the Cabinet.’
‘Is that that new restaurant in the Fulham Road?’
‘No, he’s been made a minister.’
‘Like a vicar, d’you mean?’
‘No. He’s an MP. And now he’s a member of the government.’
‘Oh.’ I could tell that for Jasmine this rated low. ‘So, you sneaky thing, all this while you’ve been lecturing me you’ve been having it away with this – this married minister person.’
‘I’ve behaved badly, Jazzy, I know.’
‘Darling, I forgive you. Just don’t do it again.’
‘I think I can safely promise you I won’t.’
‘So where are you now? Have you eloped with Mr Dreamboat?’
‘No. I’ve left him.’
‘What? Why? Where are you?’
‘In Connemara.’
‘Is that in Italy?
‘It’s in the West of Ireland. I’m housekeeper to a charming family.’ I thought of Maud. ‘Most of them are charming, anyway.’
‘How peculiar! What on earth are you doing? But first you must tell me all about this yummy man.’
‘I will, soon, but not now. I’ve got to go and do the washing up and tidy the kitchen.’
‘You haven’t been sold as a white slave and you don’t like to tell me because the slave-driver’s there in the room with you? Just answer yes or no and I’ll understand.’
‘No. I really am all right. I just wanted to give you my number here and when I’ve got more time we’ll have a really good talk. Is everything all right with you and Teddy?’
For the last ten months Teddy and Jasmine had been living in a rented house in Mayfair. Jasmine had sold all the jewellery her father had given her, which had raised a large amount of cash, and they had lived high, employing a Filipino couple to look after them, taking expensive holidays and going to restaurants and nightclubs. I had seen Jasmine only rarely, when I had gone up to London to meet Burgo, but we had kept in touch by telephone.
‘We’re still madly in love, if that’s what you mean. But we’ve run out of money, which is a bit of a bugger. Teddy’s having to go in to work more and we’re about to move into the country. I’ve never lived anywhere but cities but I expect I shall like it. As long as there aren’t cows. I’ve always been rather frightened of them. It’s their horns.’
‘There probably will be cows but they’ll be tucked safely away in fields.’
‘Oh, good. I’ll ring you up the minute I know where we’re going to be. I’m simply dying to hear all about him.’
I dictated the Curraghcourt number several times until Jasmine had got it right. We exchanged verbal pledges of fond friendship and then rang off. I returned to the kitchen. Katty and Pegeen were in their chairs, legs stretched out in front of them, feet rolled outwards, snoring. Timsy was spread-eagled in front of the fire, his head among the drifts of ashes. Elsewhere it lay like a sprinkling of powder over every surface I had scrubbed earlier that day. After washing up and putting everything away, I sat down at the table. While holding a cloth soaked in vinegar to my forehead – I had forgotten to dodge the dangling chain and had bruised my bruise painfully – I checked the newspapers again for mention of my name. I was in the process of trimming a brief reference from one of the gossip columns when a hand fell on my shoulder, making me start.
‘I know now who you are.’ Father Deglan continued to hold my arm with one hand while with the other he pointed to the article lying on the table which I had just cut out from the Globe. It contained a photograph of me coming out of the front door of the Fisherman’s Reel. ‘I never forget a face. Oh, woman! I wonder you’ve the temerity to come among decent people after the things that have been said of you! Committing lewd acts with fo
rnicators! Have you no care for your soul? Remember the sixth Commandment: thou shalt not commit ADULTERY!’
Pegeen opened her eyes and lifted her head to stare at us. We must have made a strikingly biblical composition with me cowering in my chair and Father Deglan, a patriarchal figure in his black soutane, speaking in a voice of thunder, one hand raised heavenward in remonstrance. Pegeen sighed, rolled up her eyes and fell back into slumber.
Despite my instant determination that I would resist anything like a scolding with every fibre of my being I felt hot blood rise to my eyebrows. ‘I don’t think you can know anything about it. And if we’re going to quote from the Bible I remember it says: “Judge not, that ye be not judged”, which seems sound advice to me.’
‘“All wickedness is but little to the wickedness of a woman.” That also is written in the Bible. Daughter, your impenitence, your determination to walk in darkness, to cleave to the ways of debauchery and immodesty, your hardness of heart is a greater sin even than the sins of impurity you have committed.’ He tightened his grip on my shoulder until I winced and his good eye bored alternately into both of mine. ‘Clothe yourself once more in innocence. Wash out your sins in the blood of the Lamb! Jesus said I am not come to call the righteous but sinners to repentance! The price of a virtuous woman is above—’
‘Just a minute,’ I interrupted, standing up to shake myself free of his hand. ‘For one thing, you shouldn’t believe everything you read in newspapers. Most of it is lies. And for another I’m not a member of your Church and you’ve no right to lecture me. My conscience is my own business.’
‘You’re a proud, unregenerate creature! As to what you say about the papers, I’m willing to grant that they’re a lot of lying inebriates. That’s as may be. But though you may not be of my flock I’ve the welfare of Constance and the little ones to think of.’
‘I resent your suggestion that I’m in some way unfit for the company of children.’ I was angry now. ‘I’m guilty of nothing except perhaps loving unwisely.’
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