by Maeve Binchy
'He is, you know, I'm doing the invitations to the first night.'
'Which may easily be his last night,' Danny said.
Rosemary was annoyed at the way he dismissed Colm, even if it was exactly her own feeling about it all. She decided to say something to irritate Danny. 'Let's ask him anyway, Ria. He has the hots for Orla King, like all those fellows who see no further than the sticky-out bosom and bum.'
Ria giggled. 'We're all turning into matchmakers, aren't we?' she said happily.
Rosemary felt a great wish to smack Ria. Very hard. There she stood, cosy and smug in her married state. She was totally confident and sure of her husband and it never occurred to her that a man like Danny would have many people attracted to him. Orla King might not be the only player on the stage. But did Ria do anything about it? Make any attempt at all to keep his interest and attention?
Of course not. She filled this big kitchen with people and casseroles and trays of fattening cakes. She polished the furniture they bought at auctions for their front room upstairs, but the beautiful round table was covered with catalogues and papers. Ria wouldn't think in a million years of lighting two candles and putting on a good dress to cook dinner for Danny and serve it there.
No, it was this big noisy kitchen with half the road passing through and Danny's armchair for him to fall asleep in when he came home from whatever the day had brought. She looked at Danny and admired his handsome smiling face. He stood there in the kitchen of his big house holding his beautiful daughter in his arms while his wife planned a party for him. A man so confident that he could take a girlfriend to within a few short miles of where his own mother and father lived. And in front of Barney McCarthy too. Rosemary had heard the laughing tale of how Ria's father-in-law had got the wrong end of the stick as usual. Why was it that some men led such lucky lives that nobody would blow a whistle on them? Things were very, very unfair.
Ria baked night and day to have a great spread for the party. Twice she had to refuse invitations from Mona McCarthy and remember not to tell her why she was so busy. She hated doing this to the kind woman who had shown her such generosity. But Danny had been adamant. This was a do that Polly would enjoy. The party would not be mentioned to Mona.
Ria's mother knew the score and would not say anything untoward. Living now so close to Ria meant that she was a constant visitor and aware of everything that went on in the household. Nora Johnson never came to Number 16 Tara Road for an actual meal, she was not a lunch guest or a dinner guest. That way you made yourself unpopular, she always said. Instead she was a presence just before or after every meal, hovering, rattling her keys, planning her departure and next visit. It would have been vastly easier had she come in properly and sat down with everyone else. Ria sighed over it but she put up with her mother. It was comforting, too, to have someone around who knew the whole background to things. Like the Barney McCarthy saga.
'Close your eyes to it, Ria,' she advised on several occasions. 'Men like that have their needs, you know.' It seemed unusually tolerant and forgiving on her mother's part. Usually people's needs were dismissed with a sniff. But Nora Johnson was a very practical person. She said once to Ria and Hilary that she would have forgiven her late husband much more if he had had his needs and dealt with them rather than doing what he did, which was failing to provide her with an adequate life insurance or pension.
'We must have plenty of soft drinks,' Ria said to Danny on the morning of the party.
'Sure, with people like Orla and Colm off the sauce,' he agreed.
'How did you know she was in AA?' Ria asked.
'I don't know, didn't you or Rosemary say? Someone did.'
'I didn't know; I won't say anything,’ Ria said.
'Neither will I,' Danny promised her.
As it happened it was a night when Orla lapsed from her rule. She had arrived early, the first guest in fact, to find Danny Lynch and the wife that he had said meant nothing to him in a deep embrace in their kitchen. The home where Danny Lynch claimed he felt stifled was decorated, warm and welcoming, and about to fill up with their friends. The little girl in a new dress toddled around. She would be four shortly, she told everyone, and she thought that this was her party. She was constantly trying to hold her daddy's hand. This was not the scene that Orla had expected. She thought she might have one whiskey.
When Colm arrived she was already very drunk. 'Let me take you home,' he begged.
'No, I don't want anyone to preach at me,' Orla said, tears running down her face.
'I won't preach, I'll just stay with you. You'd do that for me,' he said.
'No I wouldn't, I'd support you if your fellow was behaving like a shit. If your fellow was here and behaving like a hypocritical rat I'd have a whiskey with you, that's what I'd do, not a rake of sanctimonious claptrap about Higher Powers.'
'I don't have a fellow.' He made a weak joke.
'You don't have anything, Colm, that's your problem.'
'Could be,' he said.
'Where's your sister?'
'Why do you ask?'
'Because she's the only one you give a tuppenny damn about. I expect you're sleeping with her.'
'Orla, this isn't helping you and it isn't hurting me.'
'You've never loved anybody.'
'Yes I have.' Colm was aware that Rosemary was beside them. He looked at her for help. 'Should we try and find whoever this fellow is that she thinks she loves?'
'No, that would be singularly inappropriate,' Rosemary said.
'Why?'
'It's the host,' she said succinctly.
'I see.' He gave a grin. 'What do you suggest?'
Rosemary wasted no time. 'A further couple of drinks until she passes out.'
'I couldn't go along with that, I really couldn't.'
'Okay, look the other way. I'll do it.'
'No.'
'Go, Colm. You're not helping.'
'You think I'm very weak,' he said.
'No, I don't for Christ's sake. If you're in AA you're not meant to get a fellow member to pass out. I'll do it.' He stood aside and watched Rosemary pour a large whiskey. 'Go on, drink it, it's only tonight, Orla. One day at a time, isn't that what they say? Tomorrow you need have none. But tonight you need one.'
'I love him,' wept Orla.
'I know you do, but he's a liar, Orla. He takes you to Quentin's; he takes you down the country to hotels with Barney McCarthy and then he plays housey-housey with his wife in front of you. It's not fair.'
'How do you know all this?' Orla was round-mouthed.
'You told me, remember?'
'I never told you. You're Ria's friend.'
'Of course you told me, Orla. How else would I know?'
'When did I tell…?'
'A while back. Listen, come up here and sit in this alcove, it's very quiet and you and I'll have a drink.'
'I hate talking to women at parties.'
'I know, Orla, so do I. But not for long. I'll send one of those nice boys who lives in this house up to talk to you. They were all asking who you were.'
'Were they?'
'Yes, everyone is. You don't want to waste your time on Danny Lynch, professional liar.'
'You're right, Rosemary.'
'I am, believe me.'
'I always thought you were stuck up, I'm sorry.'
'No you didn't. You always liked me deep down.' Rosemary went to find the boys who rented the rooms in Danny and Ria's house. 'There's a real goer up in the alcove on the stairs, she keeps asking where are the good-looking men she met when she came in.'
Colm moved out of the background. 'You should be in the United Nations,' he said to Rosemary.
'But you don't fancy me?' she said archly.
'I admire you too much, I'd be afraid of you.'
'Then you'd be no use to me.' She laughed, and kissed him gently on the cheek.
'I don't sleep with my sister, you know,' he said.
'I didn't think you did for a minute. Don't I
know you're having a thing with that publican's wife?'
'How do you know that?' he was amazed.
'I told you it's a small forest and I know everything,' she said with a laugh.
Nora Johnson said afterwards it was amazing how much drink they put away, young fresh-faced people. And wasn't it extraordinary that young, very drunk, girl shouting at everyone. And she had gone into one of the boys' bedsitters. And what a funny chance that someone had opened the door and they had been seen in bed. Danny had said he hadn't thought that any of it was funny. Orla was obviously unused to drink and had reacted badly. She hadn't meant to go to bed with one of those kids. It was out of character for her.
'Oh come on, Danny. She's anybody's, we all knew that back when we worked in the agency,' Rosemary said in her cool voice.
'I didn't know.' He was clipped.
'Oh she was.' Rosemary listed half a dozen names.
'I thought you said that nice man Colm Barry fancied her,' Ria said.
'Oh I think he did a bit back a while, but not after last night's performance.' Rosemary seemed to know everything.
Danny glowered about it all.
'Didn't you enjoy last night?' Ria looked anxiously at him.
'Yes, yes of course I did.' But he was absent, distracted. He had been startled, frightened even, by Orla's behaviour. Barney had been unexpectedly cold and asked him to get her out as quickly and quietly as possible. Polly had looked at him as if he had somehow broken the rules.
That wet Colm Barry had been no help at all. The kids who rented the rooms had been useful at the time but why, oh why, had someone left the door of a bedroom open? Only Rosemary Ryan had been of any practical use, shepherding people on and off stage as if she knew everything that was going on. Which of course she couldn't have.
A couple of weeks later, Hilary arrived with a birthday present for Annie; the first thing she wanted to know was if Barney McCarthy had been wiped out in the stock-market crash.
'I don't think so; Danny never said a word.' Ria was surprised at such a thought.
'Martin said that fellows like Barney who make all their money in England always keep it there, that he'd have lost his shirt,' Hilary said grimly.
'Well he can't have done because we'd have known,' Ria said. 'He seems to be doing just as much if not more.'
'Oh well, that's all right then,' said Hilary.
Sometimes Ria felt that Hilary would have been pleased if there was bad news—she and Martin, who had no money at all, watched the ebb and flow of the stock market with so much interest.
Gertie had been quiet and watchful during the party at Tara Road. Jack was with her, dressed in his one good suit. They had a babysitter and they couldn't stay late. Jack drank orange juice. Gertie's sister Sheila was going to come home from the United States this Christmas. It had never been made clear to Sheila and her American husband Max the extent of the problems with Jack Brennan.
Sheila was inclined to be boastful of her life in New England. Their wealth and status was always treated to an impressive show in her letters home. The fact that Gertie had married such an unstable man had never been mentioned in her own letters or phone calls. Gertie was hoping that the three-week visit could hold without one of Jack's moods.
It depressed her to see that pretty girl Orla behaving so badly. If someone like that could lose control, what hope was there for her Jack? But against all the odds he remained sober. Restless and anxious, but sober. There was a God after all, Gertie confided to Ria as she helped her serve the hot spicy soup and pitta bread.
'I know, Gertie, I know. Every time I look at Danny and little Annie I know this.'
Gertie winced slightly because she had heard one of the girls who worked for her at the launderette say that the good-looking Danny Lynch who lived at the posh end of Tara Road had a fancy woman just like his boss Barney McCarthy had a fancy woman. Gertie had so much wanted it not to be true, she had refused to listen or enquire anything at all about it.
Barney McCarthy never mentioned again the behaviour of Orla King at the party in Tara Road. He had assumed that the relationship would now be at an end. And he had assumed correctly. Danny called to Orla's flat to tell her so. He spoke very directly and left no area for doubt.
'You don't think you're going to get rid of me like that,’ Orla cried. She had indeed managed to stay sober after the upsetting events of the night in Tara Road, but this news was not helping her resolution.
'I don't know what you mean,' Danny said. 'We both went into this knowing the limitations, I was never going to leave Ria for you, we agreed that it would be fun and would hurt nobody.'
'I never agreed to that,' Orla wept.
'Yes, you did, Orla.'
'Well I don't feel that way now,' she said. 'I love you. You're treating me like shit.'
'No, that's not true, and if anyone is treating anyone like shit, it's you. You come to my house, you get as pissed as a fart, you insult my boss, you go to bed with at least one and possibly two of my tenants in full view of everyone. Who's treating whom badly, may I ask?'
'You've not done with me, Danny Lynch. I can still make trouble for you,' Orla said.
'Who'd believe you, Orla? After your behaviour in our house, who'd believe I touched you? Even with a forty-foot pole?'
'Hallo, Rosemary? Orla King here.'
'Hi Orla. Feeling okay again?'
'Yes, I didn't go back on the drink.'
'There. I knew you wouldn't. I told you, didn't I?'
'Yes, you did. I'm not a good judge of people as it turns out. I didn't know you were so nice.'
'Come on, of course you did.'
'No I didn't. Danny Lynch is a cheat and a liar and I'm going round to his house to tell his wife what he's been up to.'
'Don't do that, Orla.'
'Why not, he is a liar. She should know.'
'Listen. You've just agreed I'm your friend, so listen to the advice of a friend.'
'Okay. What is it?'
'Danny's very dangerous. Suppose you did that, he'd hit back. He'd get you sacked.'
'He couldn't do that.'
'He could, Orla, he really could. He could tell your bosses that you photocopied stuff for him, gave them details of deals that were coming up.'
'He wouldn't.'
'What has he to lose? He's secure with Barney. Barney doesn't owe you any favours for what you said to him about that trip to the country.'
'Oh God, did I?'
'Yes I'm afraid you did.'
'I don't remember.'
'That's the problem, isn't it. Listen, believe me, I haven't steered you wrong. You're going to give yourself nothing but grief if you go round to Tara Road with the story. Danny will go for you bald-headed. You know how determined he is. You know how ambitious, how much he wants to get ahead, he won't let you stand in his way.'
'So what do you think…?'
'I think you should let him know you'd like to cool it a bit, men love that sort of thing. Agree to keep it on the back burner, some phrase like that, and once he knows you won't be any problem he'll start coming round to see you again and it will all restore itself to where it was.'
Rosemary could hear the tears of gratitude in Orla's voice. 'You're really so helpful, Rosemary. I don't know why I thought you were stuck-up and difficult. That's exactly what I'll do. And of course he'll come round when he knows there's going to be no drama.'
'That's it, it may take a bit of time of course,' Rosemary warned.
'How much time do you think?'
'Who knows with men? Maybe a few weeks.'
'Weeks?' Orla sounded horrified.
'I know, but it's for the best in the end, isn't it?'
'You're right.' Orla hung up.
Nora Johnson had been to bridge lessons. She was greatly taken by the game and somewhat inclined to tell lengthy tales about some hand that was dealt, called and played. She seemed to have the same kind of recall for bridge as she had about every film star she had ever seen
on the screen.
Ria had refused absolutely to learn. 'I've seen too many people get obsessed by it, Mam. I'm bad enough already, I don't want myself spending five hours every afternoon wondering are all the diamonds out or who has the seven of spades.'
'It's not like that at all,' Nora scoffed. 'But it's your loss. I'm going to suggest that I get some games going for them up in St Rita's.'
And it was a huge success. There were demon bridge sessions in one of the residents' lounges at the retirement home, often with as many as three tables playing. Nora Johnson played there almost every afternoon wherever they needed to make up a four. There were not enough hours in the day for her.
And as well as organising their games she organised the lives of the residents, advising them, cajoling and contradicting them. She was never happier than laying down rules and making decisions for other people. Including her daughter Ria.
'I wish you'd pray to Saint Ann ,' Nora Johnson told her daughter.
'Oh Mam, there's no Saint Ann ,' Ria said exasperated.
'Of course there's a Saint Ann ,' said her mother scornfully. 'Who else do you think was the mother of Our Lady. And her husband was Saint Joachim. Saint Ann's feast is the 28th of July and I always pray to her for you then, and say that basically you're a good girl and you'll remember your name-day.'
'But it's not my name-day. We're not in Russia or Greece , Mam, we're in Ireland and my name is Ria anyway, or Maria. Not Ann.'
'You were baptised Ann Maria, your own daughter is called Ann after the mother of Our Lady.'
'No, it's because we like the name.'
'There!' her mother was triumphant.
'But what should I be praying for, even supposing she was there listening? Haven't we got everything?'
'You need another child.' Her mother spoke with pursed lips.
' Saint Ann could do it. You may think it's superstitious but believe me it's true.'
Ria knew that if she stopped taking the contraceptive pill that would do it too. Something she had been thinking about a lot, and must discuss with Danny. He had seemed preoccupied about business recently, but maybe this was the time to bring the subject up.
'I might pray to Saint Ann,' she said gently to her mother.
'That's the girl,' said Nora Johnson.