by Maeve Binchy
'But you see…' Andy began.
'No, to be honest I don't see. Do you know what I said to your brother Greg when I was talking to him in Hawaii? I'll tell you what I said, I asked him how Dale was enjoying it out there. My flesh is creeping when I try to think why he thinks I said what I did.'
'He'll know.' Andy soothed her. 'He'll realise that Marilyn couldn't have told you.'
'Look, I'm as sorry as hell that it all happened. I went into that room again and I cried over the child that I thought was out surfing in Honolulu. I cried to think he's dead and buried, but still we should be able to talk about it. Not all the time, as people say we do in Ireland, but just acknowledge it. She left his room like that and didn't tell me. That's not natural, Andy. Even you freeze up at the mention of that kid Hubie's name. Maybe if nobody else tells me what happened I'll talk to Hubie about it.'
'Don't do that.'
'No, of course I wouldn't but I am pointing out that it's odd.'
'Don't you think we all know that?'
'What do you mean?'
'Listen, in this world there was only one marriage that any of us could think was truly happy and that was Greg and Marilyn's. And yet from the night of the accident they were never able to relate to each other as human beings again.'
'Did they blame each other or something?'
'Well, there's no way they could have. Hubie and two other kids and Dale were all crazy about motor bikes, but they were too young and they all had parents who would have as soon let heroin into the house as let a motor bike into their backyards. So on Hubie's birthday the kids went out somewhere. It was meant to be a picnic, I know because I was here at the time.' He got up and started to walk around the study. 'And they drank some beer and they found two bikes and they decided that this was a gift from the gods.'
'They found them?'
'Yes, found as in stole them outside a restaurant. Hubie and the other kid who died, Johnny, were a little bit on the wild side. Not hugely wild but the signs were there. Older too, but not much. But at that age a few months counts.'
'I know.' Ria thought suddenly of Kitty, a year older than Annie but several years ahead of her always.
'And they went for what was described at the inquest as a kind of test drive and they went round a corner and one of the bikes was hit by a truck. Which wasn't surprising really because the bike where Dale was hanging on to Johnny was on the wrong side of the road. Johnny was killed instantly. Dale was on a life-support machine for six months and then they agreed to let him go.'
They sat in silence at the tragedy that had come to this house.
'And Marilyn said that she would never forgive any of them as long as she lived, and Greg said that they would have no peace until they learned to forgive.'
Ria had tears in her eyes. 'And is that what drove them apart?'
'I imagine so. Greg doesn't say much about it. You know how hopeless we men are for talking about feelings.'
'You're not too bad; you've told me that story very sympathetically and it wasn't just idle curiosity on my part, you know.'
'I know,' he said.
'Do you understand how I felt sort of protective about her, how I didn't want to ask Carlotta and Heidi and anyone else?'
'Sure I do, and you understand also why it wouldn't be good to ask Hubie. That kid has had a lot to live with: his birthday, he got them drunk, his friend Johnny driving a stolen bike, and he and another kid walk away alive. I'm kind of impressed with him that he's setting up something like this to make his college tuition.'
'I know, and of course you feel bitter about him,' Ria said.
'It wasn't his fault; he didn't set out to kill Dale or anything,' Andy soothed her.
'But it's awkward, isn't it? I'm sorry to have become involved.'
'Look, it's got nothing to do with you. Come on, Maria, homework time; let's get our assignments done.'
They sent Hubie a message and he sent back Congratulations Mrs Lynch! You're a natural. Then they sent one to Heidi.
'She's going to die when they tell her in the Alumni Office tomorrow that there's a message for her from me!' Ria pealed with laughter.
'I wish we knew someone else with an e-mail,' she said.
'Well, we could send one to my laptop back in the motel,' he said.
'And you could ring me tonight to say that it had arrived,' she said.
'Or tomorrow?' he suggested gently. It took a moment for it to dawn on her what he was saying. 'It's so nice here, so good to hear laughter in this house again,' Andy said. 'And you and I have no ties, nobody who will be betrayed or hurt. Wouldn't it be nice if we spent the rest of the evening together?' He had a hand under her chin, lifting her face up towards his.
She swallowed and tried to speak. He took the opportunity of her not speaking to kiss her. Gently but firmly. And he put his arm around her shoulder.
She pulled away, startled. Ria Lynch would be thirty-eight this year. In November, on the anniversary of Clark Gable's death. Nobody had kissed her since she was twenty-two except the man who had tired of her and told her that there was nothing left in what she thought was a fine happy marriage.
'I must explain,' she began.
'Must you?'
'Yes. I've had a lovely, lovely evening, but you see I don't…'
'I know, I know.' He was kissing her ear now, gently nuzzling in fact, and it was rather nice.
'Andy, you have to forgive me if I have been giving the wrong signals. I couldn't have had a happier evening. I mean that truly, truly I do, but I don't want it to go any further. I'm not playing games, I never did, not ever, even when I was a kid going out with fellows. But I was often misunderstood and the fault is all mine if you thought things were different. I'm a bit inexperienced, you see.'
'I had hopes when you didn't tell my brother that I was here, you see,' he explained.
'I know, I know.' She knew that was a fair perception.
'But I agree it was a delightful evening. It doesn't have to end in bed, it would be much much nicer if it did, but if it's not going to let's remember the good bits.'
'They were all good bits.' She smiled at him, grateful that he hadn't turned on her, outraged that he had been misled.
'Those Irish latkes. Eat-your-heart-out Jewish cookery,' he said.
'That Caesar salad, Emperor of Caesar salads,' she said.
'And that strawberry shortcake. Home-baked pastry already.'
'And the stylish wine in its cool-bag.'
'Hey, there's lots of good bits,' he said.
'Look in your machine tonight, there may well be a Message Pending,' he said, and left.
She cleared up everything and went into the study to see if there were any e-mails for her. There were two. One from Hubie. Just a test Mrs Lynch to see can you retrieve as well as send! Hubie Green. And then there was one from Andy. Thank you so much for the most enjoyable dinner I have had in years. I will definitely be back at the alumni weekend as will Greg but if there's a chance we could meet again before that I would so much enjoy it. Your new friend, Andy Vine.
Imagine! Boring old Ria Lynch, poor deserted Ria, dreary mumsy tiresome Ria had a new friend called Andy Vine. And had she not said a persuasive no, then she could have had a lover of the same name as well. She looked at herself in the hall mirror and wondered what it would have been like. She had never made love with any man except Danny. Danny, who knew her body so well and brought her such pleasure.
It would have been awkward getting undressed in front of this man. How did people do it? Be so instantly intimate with people they hardly knew? People like Rosemary. But then Rosemary looked like Rosemary. As near perfect as possible. Ria was afraid that her own bottom might be a bit saggy, that she would look floppy when naked. In a way it was a relief not to have to go through the motions of getting to know another body and fear the possible criticism of her own. Yet it would have been nice to have had arms around her and someone wanting her again.
She sighed and went
into Dale's room. She turned over the pages of Dale Vine's scrapbook, the pictures of motor bikes, the advertisements, the cuttings about various motor-cycle heroes. Marilyn had been strong enough to leave these here, reminders of the machines that had killed her only child, and yet she had not been able to tell the woman who was going to live in her house that her son was dead. This was a very complicated person indeed.
Marilyn had refused so many invitations that she feared she might now be causing offence. She had better go out with Hilary, Ria's discontented and unprepossessing sister. The woman had been very insistent, she had called several times to mention a picnic on the coast. It would be good to swim again, and Marilyn told herself she was a match for any of these inquisitive Irish. Just answer vaguely and ask them about themselves, then they were off, all you had to do was sit back and listen.
Hilary arrived bristling with energy and fuss. 'We'll miss the rush hour on the train which will be good,' she said.
'Good. I'm ready whenever you are.'
'Merciful God, Ria'll go mad when she sees all that work in the garden. Are they digging for treasure or what?'
'Just a bit of clearing-out the undergrowth, it will be perfect when she comes back. Your sister has a very beautiful house, hasn't she?' Marilyn said.
'I'll tell you straight out what I think. I think that Ria and Danny got their money too easy and these things have a habit of coming home to roost.'
'How do you mean exactly? Should we have a cup of coffee or would you like to get on the road, the train?'
'We could have a cup of coffee, I suppose. Were you not cooking, baking like?' Hilary seemed to look around the kitchen with the same disapproval as Brian had, searching for something which was not there.
'Well no. We're going out, aren't we?' Marilyn was startled.
'I thought we might have a picnic out there.'
'Yes, yes what a good idea, will we pass a delicacy shop on the way?'
'A what?'
'You know, somewhere we could buy the picnic.'
'But it would cost as much to buy a picnic in one of those places as to have a meal out. I really meant sandwiches.' Marilyn was beginning to regret this bitterly, but it was too late to turn back. 'We could hard-boil two of those eggs, and take a couple of tomatoes and two slices of ham, bread and butter, and aren't we fine then?'
Hilary seemed to be restored to good humour. The two of them prepared the very basic picnic and caught a bus to the station and then took the little electric train out to Dun Laoghaire. It travelled south along the coast and Marilyn commented with pleasure on all that she saw.
'Martin and I knew you'd enjoy this.' Hilary was pleased.
'Tell me how you met Martin,' Marilyn asked. She listened to the strange downbeat story, told with great pride, of a house saved for and bought, investments made, savings tucked away, economies arranged. They got out of the train and walked along the coast to the place where they were going to swim. And as they walked by the shining but very cold-looking sea Hilary talked about property prices, about Martin's brothers getting the small farm in the west, about the children of fourteen getting pregnant in the school where Martin taught and where she worked in the office.
When they got to the swimming place Marilyn cried out in delight. 'Look at the Martello tower, and the Joyce Museum! I know where we are. This is where Ulysses opened. It's the very spot.'
'Yeah, that's right.' Hilary was not very interested in James Joyce.
She pointed out the much photographed sign that said Forty Foot Gentlemen Only, and said she remembered her mother telling her about the feminists first swimming in there to claim it back for everyone.
'But that can't have been in your mother's time surely?'
'It was probably in my time! I'll be forty this year,' Hilary said gloomily.
'So will I,' Marilyn said.
A first mark of solidarity between two totally different women. They had a swim which froze Marilyn's blood to the marrow, and then ate their makeshift picnic. Hilary did most of the talking.
'Tell me about Ria's marriage,' Marilyn asked.
They talked about Ria. Hilary told the whole story as she knew it. The sudden announcement and he was gone overnight. The utter folly of it all, the comeuppance which was near at hand. Barney McCarthy wasn't a golden boy any more, and his political pals were not in power. It was curtains for Mr Danny Lynch.
'Did you ever like him?'
'I was nervous about him, he was too smart for Ria, too good-looking. I always said it and it turned out I was right in the end. It gave me no pleasure being right. I'm happily married myself, I'd prefer her to have been. Are you happily married?' Hilary asked suddenly.
'I don't know,' Marilyn said.
'You must know.'
'No I don't.'
'And what does your husband think?'
'He thinks we're happily married. We have nothing to say to each other. But he wants to go on as normal.'
'Sex, do you mean?' Hilary asked.
'Yes. It was good once. But no, it would be empty. I had a hysterectomy two years ago, so even if a forty-year-old woman could conceive, which they can, there's no chance for me.'
'I think you're lucky that he still wants to be with you in that way. I can't have children and so Martin thinks we shouldn't have sex. And so we don't.'
'I don't believe you,' Marilyn said.
'It's true.'
'But since when?'
'We're married sixteen years… about eight years I'd say, since he knew we couldn't have children.'
'And did you know before?'
'I always knew. I went to a fortune-teller, you see. She told me.'
'Did you believe her?'
'Totally. She's been right about everybody.' Hilary tidied up the remains of their food, and put it into a paper bag.
She was so sure and confident in everything, including the fact that this psychic had told her she wasn't fertile. This was a very strange country. 'Is she a psychic?'
'I don't know, she just knows what's going to happen.'
'Is she a medium? Does she get in touch with the dead?'
'I don't think so,' Hilary said. 'I didn't want to anyway, I only wanted to know about the living.'
'And what else did she tell you?'
'She said I'd be happily married, which is true, and that I'd live in a place with trees but that hasn't happened yet.'
Marilyn paused for a moment to think about a woman who considered herself happily married to a man who thought about nothing except interest rates and didn't believe in sex without the possibility of procreation.
'Is she still around, this woman?' Marilyn asked.
They were getting the best weather ever known for a week in July. Everyone said so. The children were sun-tanned and loving it all.
'Can we take the dinghy out, Dad?' Annie asked.
'No, Annie, it's too dangerous.'
'Why did they give it to us then?'
'They gave it to us, Princess, not to you, not to children.'
'Let them, Danny,' Bernadette said.
'No, sweetheart, they don't know about boats.'
'Well, how will they ever learn?' Bernadette asked. 'Suppose they go where we can see them, would that do?' It was a compromise that did fine. Danny looked on proudly as his son and daughter rowed the little boat along the shore.
'You're so good with them, but you're fearless. Ria would have wanted to swim along beside them like a mother duck.'
'You have to let children go free,' she said. 'They hate you otherwise.'
'I know but when we have our baby will you feel the same?' He laid his hand on her stomach and thought about the son or daughter that would be in their home, a real person, by Christmas.
'Of course!' She looked at him in surprise. 'You don't want children, free spirits, all herded into some kind of corral, do you?'
Danny realised that this was exactly what he and Ria had built and why he so badly needed to escape. He lay with his head i
n her lap and closed his eyes. 'Sleep on, I'll look out at the dinghy,' she said.
'Isn't that amazing?' Finola Dunne was reading them extracts from the newspaper.
'What's amazing?' Danny asked. He was still lying in the grass and Bernadette was making a series of daisy chains which she was spreading over him like threads tying him to the earth.
'Polly's is for sale! That's been the main dress-hire place in Dublin for years.'
'It's never for sale.' Danny sat up suddenly.
'Well, so it says here.'
He took the paper and read the paragraph. 'I have to make a phone call,' he said. 'Where are those goddamn children on their bloody boat, and what the hell did you let them go off for?'
'Danny, they've tied up the dinghy. You were asleep. They've gone to get ice creams. Please, please be calm. You have no idea what's going on.'
'I have a fair idea.'
'Well, what do you think it is? Do you think that if Polly's is being sold Barney's running out of money?' Bernadette asked.
'And you can sit there making daisy chains if you think that?'
'I'd prefer to make daisy chains than to have a heart attack,' Bernadette said.
'Darling darling Bernadette, the world might be about to end for us. You don't understand, you're just a child.'
'I wish you wouldn't say that, you've always known what age I am,' she said.
'I have to talk to Barney, find out what's happening.' Danny's face was white.
'I should wait until you are calmer. You won't understand anything the way you are now.'
'I won't be any calmer, not until I know. And maybe not even then. I can't believe he wouldn't tell me, we're friends. I'm like a son to him, he's said so often.'
'Then if he is in trouble maybe it was harder to tell you than anyone else.' She saw it quite simply.
'And aren't you worried, frightened?'
'Of what?'
'Of what might be ahead?'
'You mean being poor? Of course not. You've been poor before, Danny. You'll live, you did before.'