There was a silence then Fiona said, “What about the artist you thought Kim was seeing?”
He shrugged. “I didn’t even ask. I just needed to know that she was okay and was handling what had happened.”
“And do you still have feelings for her? If this hadn’t happened?”
“No, no. She’s a good person, but I think we both knew whatever was between us had kind of fizzled out anyway. It wasn’t going to go anywhere long-term. She was embarrassed and upset about the incident, and blaming herself for being stupid. I think I talked her out of that, and we left as friends.”
“How were your parents? That must have been awful for them.”
“Of course, they were really shook up with what happened to Greg. They had to take him to hospital, and when the doctors realised his injuries were the result of a fight, they wanted to call the cops in, but Greg refused. He could have done it and, depending on what he said, I could have been in real trouble, but I guess he knew he had crossed a line with us. I did lose my temper and I did hit him on the nose, but the way he fell off the deck caused the ribs and his shoulder injury.” He lifted his eyes to look at her. “You must be horrified hearing this – and I know what I did was bad, but you have to know it was totally out of character for me. I’ve never hurt anyone before and I never will again. Greg and I are done with each other.”
She reached over and touched his hand. “I understand. I think most people would.”
Later, as they left the restaurant to walk back to the car, Fiona looked at her watch. “It’s only ten o’clock. Do you want to go somewhere for a drink … or back to the pub?”
He put his arm around her and pulled her close. “I just want to be with you, so anywhere is fine.”
“To be honest, there’s not many bars around that women are really welcome in, unless we go to one of the hotels.” She smiled. “It must sound a bit old-fashioned to you?”
“Country towns are like that everywhere,” he said.
“Our own bar will be quiet tonight,” Fiona said. “I suppose we could go into the snug again.” It was not ideal, but she couldn’t think of anywhere else.
“Patrick will be there, and we’ll end up drinking and chatting to him like I did last night. He’s a really nice guy, but it’s not what I had in mind.”
Fiona suddenly had a thought. “There are some lovely lakes around Mullingar – Lough Ennell is actually on our way back home. We could pull in there for a little while if you like.”
“Sounds great.”
“Night is probably not the best time, but it mightn’t be too bad – it’s a good bright sky.”
“It is.” He dipped his head a little to look through the windscreen glass. “I think it’s a full moon.”
He started the car up and Fiona directed him back out of the town and out towards the lakes. She told him all she knew about Mullingar, about the lakes, little things she knew he would find interesting. Then, after about ten minutes, she pointed to a small laneway on the right, which she said would take them down to the lake.
“It’s a bit bumpy,” she warned him, “so go easy.”
They drove down the laneway then Fiona guided him between rows of trees until they were driving along by the lakeshore. There were two other cars there, which she suspected were other courting couples, so she suggested they drive along a little further until there was a good distance between them.
When the car pulled up Michael moved around, trying to see all that he could from the windows, then he turned back to her. “This looks amazing, but I think I need to get out to get a better view. Is it too cold for you, or will we take a little walk?”
Walking around in the dark at night would not normally have appealed to her, but everything seemed more interesting and somehow worthwhile when she was with him. He walked slowly with her, while she picked her steps carefully in her high heels. When they came to a stop, he moved to stand behind her with both arms encircling her and his chin resting on her head. Then, they stood in silence, looking out over the moonlit lake.
“This is spectacular,” he said. “The light on the water, the sky...it’s the sort of sight that inspires artists and poets and songwriters.”
“You’re on the ball,” Fiona laughed, “Although I’m not sure it’s the sort of writing you were thinking about – apparently the lake in front of us inspired Gulliver’s Travels!”
“Really?”
“Well, Johnathan Swift lived around here somewhere, and the story goes that he was in a boat on the lake, and when he looked back and noticed how tiny the people on the land looked at that distance, it gave him the inspiration for Gulliver’s Travels.”
“That’s amazing … although I must admit I’ve only read the children’s version.”
“Me too.”
“I was reading somewhere – a couple of years ago – that the original, adult version had a lot of interesting points in it.” He laughed and squeezed her tightly. “But that didn’t inspire me enough to seek it out and read it.”
Fiona put her arms over his and hugged him closer, and her gaze wandered around the nearby trees, the water, and back to the grey-and-red-streaked sky.
“Isn’t it all just amazing, to have all this so close to where you live?” he said now. “But then, that’s what Ireland is all about. It’s why my family have loved coming back here time after time.”
“The Midlands have nothing to compare with the mountains and all the spectacular scenery in the west – like in Connemara – I don’t think many tourists come here for the scenery.”
“I think they should. It has its own beauty – the canals and the bridges and the lovely old castles. I intend to get around and see more of them tomorrow while you’re working.” He paused. “And I think I’d like to come back and see the lakes in daylight, although the experience of being here at night has been wonderful. I don’t think I’ve been anywhere quite so silent.”
“It’s funny how it seems totally silent until you start to really listen,” Fiona said, “and then you can hear all sorts of sounds like the water, the birds and even noise from the trees.”
They stood listening to all the small sounds and after a while Michael gently moved her around to face him. He bent his head and kissed her. “I hope I haven’t frightened you off with all the stuff about me and Greg back home? I know it’s early to confess your worst behaviour – I should still be trying to impress you at this stage, not scare you away.” He kissed her again. “I just want you to be clear that the behaviour I told you about is not any kind of indication of who I am. I’m ashamed I lost my temper and there’s no excuse for it.”
“I understand,” she told him. “I really do. It sounds like you spent years avoiding a clash with your brother, and then he did the most terrible thing to you and your girlfriend, and you reacted instinctively.” She touched his face. “Some people might say he had it coming. And in your defence, you did take him to hospital and you waited until you knew he was okay.”
“Yes,” he said, “I suppose I did.”
“And then you left to give you both some breathing space. I think you’ve handled it as well as anyone could.” She paused, thinking. “Do your parents know where you are?”
“I told them I was coming to Ireland – I wouldn’t worry them by just disappearing. They were actually okay about it, and said it was a good idea to take some time to myself.”
“You said they know what your brother’s like, the problems with drink and drugs. They probably think he nearly dragged you down along with him.” She squeezed his hand now. “You’ve checked everyone else is okay, which was really decent of you. Everything I’ve seen of you in Ireland, and what you’ve just told me, makes me think you’re a kind and caring man.”
He looked at her, his face still serious. “If that’s the case, you must know that I am really grateful to be spending this time with you, and would rather be on my own for the whole trip than be with anyone else.”
She smiled at him.
“That’s good to hear.”
He pulled her into his arms, and hugged her tightly. “Talking that thing out with you has put a lot of it in perspective.” He touched his lips to her forehead. “I feel a weight has been lifted off me. Thank you.”
She could see and feel a difference in him. “I’m glad you feel it helped. And now,” she said, “you really do need to forget about what happened back home, and get on with all the plans you have for over here in Ireland.”
“That’s exactly what I intend to do,” he replied.
Fiona looked out across the lake again, at the moon reflected in the middle, lighting everything up. “There’s a path that goes around the edge of water – will we have a bit of a wander?”
“I think that would be great.” He took her hand and then he started to break into a run, pulling her playfully behind him.
“I can’t!” she said, pulling out of his grip. “I’m wearing high heels!”
He came back to her and, before she realised it, he had lifted her up in his arms and started walking over to the path carrying her.
She began to laugh, and then as he came to a halt to put her back down, she buried her face in his chest. She laughed and laughed, and then, she suddenly realised she actually felt happy for the first time since her father died.
She also realised that she had never felt this free, uninhibited way with any other boy before – where she felt she could suddenly laugh or sing out loud. It was the elated way she had imagined she would feel when she went to New York and saw all the bright lights and the glamorous dance halls. Where she could be the person she really wanted to be.
And then it occurred to her – she didn’t need to go to America to feel like that.
America had come to her.
When they arrived back in Tullamore, Michael slowed down as they came towards Tracey’s house.
“Do you mind driving a little bit further down the street, please, so we can’t be seen from the windows on either side?” She gave a small laugh. “I don’t want my mother or Maggie O’Connell peering through the curtains at us. My mother is probably dying to know what you look like.”
“That’s understandable,” he said. “My mom will be as curious about you when I tell her about us.”
While he slowly drove another fifty yards or so, Fiona felt something akin to sadness come over her. She did not want this night to be over. She did not want to say goodnight and then have to leave him. It felt all wrong that they should be parted. It hit her with a jolt that she wanted to go back to a room with him and lie down beside him. What would happen next, if she did, she had no idea. All she knew is that she did not want to be parted from him.
He stopped the car at a quiet spot in the road that was midway between the house and the bar. He turned to her. “I suppose this is where we say goodnight?”
She nodded. “I suppose it is.”
“What are we going to do? When can we meet again?”
“I’m sorry but tomorrow isn’t good,” she told him. “I’m in the shop all day and then we have a busy night in the bar, so I’ll have to give Patrick a hand.”
“Could I help? Even just picking up glasses or something like that?”
She shook her head. “Thanks, but it wouldn’t work...” She could just picture the faces on the locals when they realised that the strange fella helping around the bar was a Yank.
“Okay,” he said, “I’ll head off to one of the local towns again in the afternoon. I’ll have a look at the book again and work out which place has the most interesting buildings, and then I’ll talk it over with you in the morning. I will see you at breakfast again, won’t I?”
“Of course,” she said. “Have you any idea what time you’ll be ready for it?”
“If it’s the same as this morning, any time from five o’clock...” He looked at her and smiled. “Hopefully, I’ll get a little more sleep tonight. Last night my head was too full of you.” He leaned over and kissed her. “Let’s see if we can work out a way to spend more time together in the next few weeks.”
“Well, we have Saturday night and all day Sunday. We could drive to Galway on Sunday.”
“That’s great,” he said. “And maybe we’ll think of something for the following weekend.” He looked thoughtful. “How would you feel if we could organise some time for us to go away for a few days together? Maybe to Galway or Connemara?”
Every reason why she could not do it – and why she should not do it – ran through her mind. It was against everything she had been brought up to know as good and decent, and it was against everything a young Catholic woman had been taught. And yet it seemed to her the right thing to do. This year she had done all the right things, giving up her dream and staying at home to look after her mother and the family business.
“I’d love it,” she whispered. “I’d love us to go away together.”
She had always done the right thing for other people – and now, she decided, she was going to do something for herself.
Chapter 28
Angela was typing up a document when the phone rang. She leaned across the desk to pick it up.
“It is Angela, isn’t it?”
The voice on the line was one of the directors of the Polio Fellowship, Stephen Hall, a big easy-going man who often called into the office.
“Yes, Mr Hall,” she said, moving the phone to rest between her ear and shoulder while she reached for a memo pad and pen in case he wanted her to take a message.
“Good, good,” he said. “You’re the very person I had hoped to speak to.”
“What can I help you with?”
“I was out with a few of my old friends for lunch at the weekend,” he told her, “and it came up in conversation that one of them, Major Harrington, is looking for a private secretary.” He paused. “Someone who can type and deal with household accounts and filing...that sort of thing. You get the idea?”
“I do,” Angela said, “and would you like me to pass that message on to the Office Manager?”
“Well, actually,” Mr Hall said, “you were the very person who came to mind. I would think a young lady like you might be ready for a bigger challenge in life? What do you say?”
“You’re asking me if I would be interested in the position?”
“I am indeed. For some reason you came straight to my mind. Major Harrington needs someone who can organise things for him, mainly his papers and accounts and that sort of thing. And of course the main thing he needs is someone who can type and edit his memoirs. I thought you might be interested as he’s offering a live-in position. I know you are out in Leeson Street in a shared house, and I heard that you were looking for a more private accommodation.”
Angela was intrigued now. “And where does Major Harrington live?” she asked.
“That’s a good question,” Mr Hall said, laughing. “No, really – his Dublin place is out in Ballsbridge – Merrion Road.”
Angela caught her breath. Merrion Road was in one of the most exclusive parts of Dublin.
“A very nice big house,” Mr Hall went on, “and he has a few staff out there already – a housekeeper and gardener. He plans to spend the next year or two working on his memoirs and family history, and apparently he has a lot of the books and documents in a library there and it would suit him very well if the clerical assistant could live on the premises, so to speak. If I remember correctly, there would also be some travelling involved back and forth to England. The major has another family residence outside Manchester, so he will be doing research there as well, and he will want his secretary to accompany him.”
Angela’s mind was ticking over quickly. “It sounds very different to what I’ve been doing...but very interesting.”
“I hoped you might think so. You’ve always been highly thought of by the Fellowship – great worker, very efficient and of course, always very well presented. I’ve mentioned it to one or two of the directors and they would be delighted to recommend you.” He paused. “You�
��re fairly mobile, aren’t you? Getting around wouldn’t be a huge problem to you.”
Her face flushed. “I’m fine, thank you. The last surgery made a good difference.”
“Well, from what I know of him, Major Harrington doesn’t live life in the fast lane physically. He tends to take life as it comes to him – and, in any case, you would be driven around so it wouldn’t entail any great exertion for you. What I do know is that he is keen to get started with his memoirs, so I think it would be a good idea if you and he were to meet up.”
“For an interview?”
“Yes, I suppose it would be an interview. I’ll ring him now, and then I’ll get back to you with the details of meeting up. I would say it will be in the next day or two.”
After he hung up, Angela sat for a while going over the unexpected turn of events in her mind. Whilst she had been planning at some stage to move out of the shared house, and also to look for work in a different office, she hadn’t expected them both to turn up at the same time. It had never occurred to her that the sort of clerical position that Mr Hall had suggested really existed and had certainly not thought it would be something that would be offered to her. She had always imagined that she would just move to a bigger office – something like Guinness’s or maybe a secretarial position in a legal office.
And the idea of moving out to Ballsbridge was something she would never have considered, as it was too expensive and that bit further out of town from where she currently worked. The fact that the position would be live-in, she thought now, put a whole different slant on it. But, she thought, it would all depend on what kind of person this old Major Harrington was. He was obviously of English extraction and a lot of those types tended to be cold and aloof with ordinary people. Whilst she did not expect an employer to be over-familiar or friendly, she did not want to work in a place where she would be made to feel beneath someone. She had endured those feelings with regards to her leg for most of her life. That was something she had no power over, but she could make the decision whether she moved jobs or not.
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