by Maeve Binchy
'I'm not likely to forget her, but I wouldn't put money on it being quiet tonight.'
'Can we have the Maines to stay? Our visit was cut a bit short when we were there.'
'I know, Annie, but there was a reason.'
'Still. Please?'
'I don't know…'
'But Mam, this is the last good holiday we might ever have, you know if we're going to be broke, and Dad gone and everything. It would be nice to have something to remember.'
'It would,' Ria said.
'Are you all right, Mam?'
'Yes. I don't want you getting too fond of a boy that you're going to have to say goodbye to in ten days' time.'
'No, Mam, you'd much prefer that than one I might see every day and night for the rest of my life,' Annie said, her eyes dancing.
'Ask them,' Ria said. It didn't really matter now. Nothing did.
Rosemary called at Number 16. 'Just passing by, I heard from Gertie that your husband came over.'
'That's right.'
'Good visit?'
'Very nice, thank you.'
'And is there any news of Ria?' If Rosemary thought it odd that she was being left on the doorstep to ask these questions she showed nothing of it.
Suddenly Marilyn opened the door wider. 'Yes, there is as it happens. Come in and I'll tell you about her news.'
Bernadette was home from hospital. She lay on a sofa and Danny brought her a bowl of soup.
'That's nice,' she said. 'What is it?'
'It's just a tin of consomme and a little brandy in it. To make you strong.' He stroked her face.
'You're the kindest man on earth,' she said.
'I'm useless. I have to sell our new home before we've even begun to pay for it.'
'I don't care. You know that.'
'Yes, I do.'
'And what about Ria?' It was the first time she had asked. 'Is she all right about selling Tara Road?'
'I think she is,' Danny said. 'She seemed all right about it when I was out there but she sounded different on the phone, I don't know why.'
'Phones are bad,' Bernadette reassured him. 'Did she say anything about the baby?'
'She said she was very sorry.'
'I'm sure she is,' Bernadette said. 'And the children too. Remember when Brian asked did he have webbed feet?' She smiled at the memory and cried at the thought of the little boy they had lost.
Marilyn sat opposite Rosemary in the beautiful drawing-room. 'Would you care for a glass of sherry?' she asked in a very formal and courteous tone. She picked up a decanter and filled two of the small cut-crystal glasses that stood on a tray. 'Ria is thinking of going into business when she comes back.'
'So she told me.'
'She won't need a premises or kitchens or anything but she's a very talented cook, as I suppose you know.'
'She's good, yes.'
'And Colm's pastry-cook has left so she can do that. I gather she'll have an introduction to Quentin's, too, to do something different that won't compete.' Marilyn looked quite fierce and determined. Rosemary wondered where all this was leading. 'She'll also approach that big delicacy shop, you know the one I mean on the junction of three roads?' Rosemary supplied its name. 'Exactly… and do cakes for St Rita's. Her mother and I have been there already discussing it.'
'You have been busy.' Rosemary was impressed.
'But what she really needs, Rosemary, is someone to help her professionally, someone like you.'
'I can't cook. Heavens, I can barely open a tin,' Rosemary said.
'To write and print a brochure for her, business cards, menu suggestions.'
'Well, of course… if there's anything I can do to help…'
'And to give her a series of introductions, small receptions in your office, in places you visit.'
'Come on, Marilyn, you're making it sound like a full-time job.'
'I think you should invest a fair amount of time in it, yes certainly.' Marilyn's voice was steely now. 'And even some money, Rosemary.'
'I'm sorry but I don't really know what business…'
Marilyn cut straight across her. 'I'll be talking to Ria again tomorrow on the phone. I'd like her to know how much is being set up in advance for her. She needs all the practical help she can get just now. She has loads of goodwill already, that's falling off the trees for her, what she needs is the hard practical help that you can give her.'
'I don't invest in friends' schemes, Marilyn,' Rosemary said. 'I never have. It's just been a policy I've always had. I worked hard enough for my money and I want to keep my friends. If you don't lose money in their businesses then you've a better chance of keeping them as friends, if you see what I mean.'
There was a silence.
'Of course I'll be happy to mention her name,' Rosemary said. Still silence. 'And if ever I hear of anything…'
'I think we should get a list ready now of exactly what you'll do. We could write down what a good kind friend like you has done for Ria while she was away.' It sounded like a threat. Rosemary looked at her wildly. It couldn't be a threat, could it? 'Because she needs to know that friends can do things as well as say them. What good would a friend be, who betrayed her?'
'I beg your pardon?'
'Well it would be a betrayal, wouldn't it, if a friend took the things she most wanted in the world, while still pretending to be a friend?'
Rosemary's voice was almost a whisper now. 'What do you mean?'
'What do you think she wants most in the world, Rosemary?'
'I don't know. This house? Her children? Danny?'
'Yes. And of course you can't restore the house to her, her children she has already. So?' Marilyn paused.
'So?' Rosemary said shakily. The woman knew, she bloody knew.
'So, what you can help with is her dignity and self-respect,' Marilyn said brightly.
Danny's name had been left out of the list.
They began to write down what Rosemary would do to help Ria's career.
Gertie had been ironing a dress for Marilyn. 'That's a beautiful shade. Fuchsia, is it?'
'I think so. It doesn't fit me properly, I rarely wear it.'
'That's a shame, it's a gorgeous colour. Years ago when I worked in Polly's dress-hire place we had an outfit that colour; people were always renting it for weddings.'
'Would you like it?' Marilyn asked suddenly. 'Seriously I don't wear it, I'd love you to have it.'
'Well, if you're sure.'
'Wear it tonight to Colm's, the colour would suit you.' Gertie's face seemed to have a shadow. 'It's still on, tonight, isn't it?' Marilyn thought she would kill Gertie if she chickened out now.
'But of course it's on, Jack's pleased for me. I don't think he'd like to see me wearing such a classy dress though. One he didn't buy for me himself.'
'Change here on our way to the restaurant then.'
'Why not? Won't it do me good to dress up?' said Gertie with that heart-breaking smile which made Marilyn glad she hadn't said anything terrible about Jack.
At seven o'clock Monto and two friends arrived at the restaurant. And headed for the table that they thought they had booked. The restaurant was still empty. No one would arrive for at least thirty minutes. This was better than Colm had believed possible.
'Sorry, Colm, there was some mistake. You didn't get the message that we are meeting some friends here. Two are coming over from England and one down from the North. We have an important meeting and this is where we are having it.'
'Not tonight, Monto.’
'Tell me a little more.’ Monto smiled a slow smile. He had very short hair and a fat neck. His expensive suit did nothing to hide his shape, and the regular manicures little to help his pudgy hands and square nails. Colm looked at him levelly.
'You have a short memory, not long ago you told me you owed me.'
'And I paid you. You've done enough deals in this place.'
'Deals?' Monto looked at the other two associates and laughed. 'Isn't the word "meals'" Colm? That'
s what you run, it's a restaurant isn't it? They serve meals, not deals.'
'Goodbye, Monto.'
'Don't think you can talk to me like that.'
'I just have and if you know what's good and wise you'll go.’
'Give me a reason or two.’
'The number of the car from Northern Ireland has already been taken down. Your guests from the UK will be interviewed. Everything you have will be searched.’
'Big talk, Colm… and who'll look after your sister? She hasn't enough to get her to the weekend,’
'She's being looked after, thank you.’
'Nobody in this city will supply your sister, they know she's my wife. They know she's with me.’
'Well, they know more than you do. She hasn't been with you for three days.’ Colm sounded very calm.
'You'd start a drugs war in your own place just because you got her a new source?'
'No, I'm starting nothing, I'm asking you to leave.’
'And what makes you think I will?'
'The Guards in the car just outside.’
'You set me up.’
'No, I didn't as it happens. I told them that there would be no meeting, no deal here tonight or ever again.’
'And they believed you?'
'They felt pretty sure that I meant it all right. Goodnight, Monto.'
When Marilyn and Gertie arrived Colm was calm again.
'Gertie, don't you look lovely! That's a colour you should always wear.'
'I will, Colm, thank you,' she said, delighted with the compliment.
'And are we going to have fireworks tonight?' Marilyn asked.
'It's over, amazingly. All wilted at the first touch of winter frost,' he said.
'You two have lots of secrets,' Gertie giggled.
'Only the secrets of those who share a garden,' Colm said.
Across the restaurant they saw Polly Callaghan. She was with a very distinguished-looking man.
'Isn't Barney very understanding that he lets her go out to dinner,, with other men.' Gertie was full of admiration.
'I don't think Barney is in the picture these days,' Colm said.
'Of course you're right. Come to think of it she's leaving her flat tomorrow I hear.' Gertie had forgotten.
'Now how on earth do you know all these things, Colm?' asked Marilyn Vine who would not have been remotely interested a few weeks ago.
'In a restaurant you see and hear everything and say nothing,' he said, and left them the menus and moved on.
Rosemary Ryan waved at them from another table.
'Who is she with? Marilyn asked.
'Her sister Eileen and her sister's girlfriend Stephanie. And now they really are lesbians,' Gertie giggled.
'Let's hope the lady who drank the carnations doesn't come back and out them all,' Marilyn said.
'They're so out you wouldn't believe it, Rosemary hates it.'
'Does she now?' Marilyn smiled.
Jack was sitting up waiting when Gertie came home. 'Nice evening, was it?'
'Yes, Jack, it was a nice girls' night out.'
'And who gave you the whore's purple dress?'
'Marilyn did, it doesn't suit her.'
'It wouldn't suit anyone except a whore,' he said.
'Ah Jack, don't say that.'
'All my life I loved you and all you did was betray me and let me down.' He had never spoken like this before.
'That's not so, Jack. I never looked at another man, never.'
'Prove that to me.'
'Well, would I have stayed with you all these times you've been under the weather?' she asked.
'No, that's true,' he said. 'That's very true.'
They went to bed. She lay there hardly daring to move in case she might feel his fist. Out of the corner of her eye she saw him. Jack Brennan was awake and looking at the ceiling. He was dangerously calm.
'Hallo Marilyn, it's only Ria. Don't bother to ring back, I'll be here and there and everywhere. I've no news. Sorry I sound a bit down. It's stupid to ring up and then sound like something from a depressives' ward. It's just… it's just… Anyway the real reason I rang was to thank you so much for the e-mail you sent from the Cyber cafe. Isn't Rosemary wonderful to do all that? Wouldn't we all be lost without our friends? I'll say goodbye now, I've got to drive the Maine children back home, and Annie's heart-broken, she seems to be crazy over Gertie's nephew. Everyone just laughs at first love, but then Danny was my first love and look how long it lasted. For me anyway. All the best, Ria.'
The next morning Jack Brennan got very drunk very early. He went first to Nora Johnson's house at Number 48A. 'Does my wife clear up after your daughter and all her friends?' he shouted.
'I have nothing to say to you drunk or sober,' Ria's mother said with some spirit. 'I have never met your wife without telling her that she should leave you. I'll bid you good-day.'
He moved on to Rosemary's house. 'Swear to me on a stack of bibles that Gertie never cleaned for you or anyone.'
'Oh get the hell out of here before I call the Guards,' Rosemary said, and pushed past him.
Next he stopped at the dentist's house. Jimmy Sullivan saw him from the window and answered the door himself.
'Tell me.'
'I'll tell you nothing, Jack Brennan, except that I fix your wife's teeth every time you hit her and I'm not in a mood to do so again.'
Then he went and knocked loudly on Marilyn's door. 'Did you give Gertie a whore's dress?'
'Did she say I did?'
'Stop being Mrs Clever with me.'
'I think you should go, Jack.' She slammed the door and looked out the window to see where he went. She saw him run across the road to the bus stop.
Polly Callaghan had everything ready. Today she was moving to rented accommodation. An unfurnished flat so she could take her own things with her. Those at least had not been seized by that woman, Barney's mouse-like wife, who had been stacking away thousands upon thousands.
Last night Polly had gone to dinner with a pleasant man who had long been pestering her for a date. It had been a deadly dull evening. She dreaded to think of a lifetime without Barney. She wished she could hate him but she couldn't. She just hated herself for having taken the wrong decision so long ago.
The furniture vans had arrived. Polly sighed and began to give the directions that would dismantle a large part of her life. The phone was disconnected but her mobile was still in operation. It rang just at that moment.
'Poll, I love you.'
'No you don't, Barney, but it doesn't matter.'
'What do you mean it doesn't matter?'
'It doesn't,' she said, and clicked off.
She was going to drive ahead of the van to direct them to the new address. One final look and she was ready to close the door. Polly sighed. It was hard to say to Barney that it didn't matter, but she must be practical. She had always known Barney for what he was. He was like Danny Lynch, although as far as she knew Danny had never had any strong partner-figure like herself. Barney would always remain married to a safe-haven person like Mona. Danny had moved from his safe haven, the faithful, loving Ria, to safe, compliant Bernadette. There had been some little dramas in between like that wild Orla King and one or two others. But that's the way things were. Polly did not think she had been fooled or betrayed. She had always known the score. And there was plenty of life ahead.
She gave one last glance out the window at the removal van.
Everything was packed now, she only had her hand luggage to take. There were sounds of shouting, some drunk was yelling abusively. Polly couldn't quite see what was happening. Then there was a thump, an impact followed by a screech of brakes. There were screams from everywhere. The boy who was driving was being helped from his seat.
'I couldn't help it, he threw himself, I swear,' he was stammering.
It was Jack Brennan. And he was dead.
CHAPTER NINE
The launderette was busy when they arrived. The shirt-ironing service had been
a big success, and Gertie had got orders from several business concerns as well. Colm had been high in his praise of her and personal recommendation was always very important. She looked up when she saw Polly Callaghan coming in and her hand flew to her throat when she saw that Polly was followed by two Guards.
'Jack?' she cried in a strangled voice. 'Has Jack done something? He was grand last night, very quiet, not a word out of him. What did he do?'
'Sit down, Gertie,' Polly said. One of the Guards had organised a glass of water from amongst the inquisitive staff and clientele. 'There's been an accident. It was very quick, he didn't feel a thing,' Polly said. 'The ambulancemen said it would have been over in a second.'
'What are you saying?' Gertie was white-faced.
'We would all be lucky to go so quickly and painlessly, Gertie, honestly, when you think of the length it takes some people to die.'
The young Guard handed her the glass of water. She had only been in uniform for a week. This was the first occasion when she had been sent to break bad news to someone about an accident. She was very glad that this Miss Callaghan had come with them. The poor woman who ran the launderette looked as if she were going to keel over and die herself.
'But Jack can't be dead,' Gertie kept saying. 'Jack's not even forty, he has years of good living ahead of him, ahead of both of us.'
'Mrs Vine, Marilyn, we met briefly. I'm Polly Callaghan. I'm with Gertie Brennan now.'
'Yes?'
'There's been a most awful accident. Gertie's husband Jack was killed and of course she's devastated, I'm here with her now, and they're getting her mother and everything… but I do have to go to let people into a new apartment and I was wondering…'
'Would you like me to come to the launderette?' Marilyn asked.
'If you can, please.'
Marilyn heard the urgency, almost desperation, in the voice. 'I’ll come right away.' She called out to Colm in the garden, I'm going out to Gertie, Jack had an accident.'
'Nothing trivial, I hope?' Colm said.
'Fatal, I believe,' Marilyn said tersely.
To her surprise Colm threw down his fork and rushed into the house. 'Jesus, what a stupid remark to make, I'll come with you,' he said. 'But I'll run on ahead and tell Nora Johnson, she'd want to come too.'
Marilyn thought to herself, not for the first time, that these really were extraordinary people. The very time when you wanted to be left alone with your grief they started assembling half the country around you. She tried to take it in. Jack Brennan who had called at this door under two hours ago was dead? Her last words to him had been, 'I think you should go.' Suppose she had asked him in for coffee, suppose she had tried to reassure him, would he be alive now? But Marilyn had been down that road before: she wasn't going to travel it again. What had happened to Gertie's husband was not her fault. She would no longer take on the guilt and responsibility of the universe. She would go and see what could be done for the living.