And it wasn’t just older people who were easily shocked, there were plenty of the girls at school who would think along the same lines. It might be the Swinging Sixties in London where anything went, but things were still the same old way in Tullamore.
She felt her face flushing now and she glanced up at the calm expression on her sister’s face, trying to read what Angela really thought about her going off with a man she had only met. But she could not tell.
“You won’t say anything to Mam about it?” Fiona said. “It’s easier if I let her think it’s one of the girls from school.”
“I wouldn’t dream of saying anything to anyone,” Angela said. “It’s your own business. And he does sound like a lovely man.”
There was a pause then Fiona said, “He is, but I suppose it would be better if I could talk to someone who knows him really well.”
“Your own instincts are the best about people. I’ve found that out over the years, being up in Dublin on my own.”
Fiona felt a little stab of irritation at Angela, for referring to the time she spent in hospital. What, she wondered, had that to do with her telling her about Michael O’Sullivan? It felt as though Angela was just making a point. She wrinkled her brow now as though she didn’t quite understand what her sister meant.
“You learn to trust your own instincts, especially when you have to mix with different people –” Then, as if something had just occurred to her, Angela suddenly stopped. She looked at Fiona and smiled. “So, this American – where did you actually meet him?”
“In the bar at home,” Fiona said, glad the conversation had returned to the main subject. She then went on to relate the story about him meeting Maggie and her friend who suggested that he ask in the pub if they had a spare room. And she explained how they had all sat chatting together with Patrick that first night and how she had cooked Michael breakfast.
“Well,” Angela said, “Maggie is a nice person and I think that she wouldn’t have encouraged him in any way if she didn’t feel he was decent.”
“I thought that too,” Fiona agreed.
“And did Patrick have any opinion about him?”
“They seemed to get on very well. Patrick said he thought he seemed a nice, friendly lad. He said he was intelligent and well-educated, but not too intelligent that he couldn’t talk to ordinary people.”
“I would put a lot of stock on what Patrick thinks. I know he can be quiet, but he’s certainly no fool when it comes to people. He has a good way with the customers – I’ve seen and heard him manage the most awkward and difficult people in the bar.”
“I don’t know what we’d do without him. He’s been fantastic since Daddy died. He’s there every morning to open the place and is there most nights, even when he’s supposed to be off, to lock the place up.”
“He has always been like that,” Angela said. “He obviously loves his job.” She tilted her head to the side, thinking. “Although you would wonder at him devoting all his time to his work and to his parents. He seems to have little time for his own life.”
“I suppose so,” Fiona said. “But I don’t know how we would manage without him.” She shrugged. “We wouldn’t – I wouldn’t.” Her voice cracked now and then she felt her face crumpling and knew that if she didn’t catch herself she was going to dissolve into tears. She turned away now, rummaging in her pockets for a hanky.
Angela leaned towards her. “Are you okay?” she asked in a concerned voice.
Fiona looked up and tried to smile, but she couldn’t, and her gaze moved downwards again. She suddenly felt upset – a mixture of missing her father again and missing Michael O’Sullivan. And if she was honest, she just felt generally sorry for herself. She cleared her throat and then rubbed the hanky to her nose. “I’m fine,” she said.
Then, a group of two men and two women came towards them carrying bulging shopping bags and dripping umbrellas. They had to turn sideways to squeeze between the tables and Fiona moved her handbag to the other side of the floor away from them, then stood to pull her chair in further to allow them more space to pass by. They thanked her and one of the men smiled first at her and then at Angela. She noticed, without any feeling, that his eyes lingered for a moment longer on her sister, as men’s eyes usually did.
He then laughed and said something along the lines of it being the wettest day he’d seen in a long time – a day so wet that you wouldn’t put ducks out in it. She smiled back at him and said she hoped the rain would ease off soon, and then sat back down in her seat, glad as the distraction had shifted her away from the threat of tears. She turned back to lift her handbag and put her hanky away.
Angela reached over and touched her hand. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Honestly,” Fiona said, giving a proper smile, “I’m fine. It’s just that occasionally things get on top of me, missing Daddy and then thinking of Mam and what’s going to happen.”
“She’s a lucky woman that you care so much about her, but you need to look after yourself too. This shingles thing with Mam won’t last forever. She’ll hopefully be up on her feet soon and able to go back to work.”
Fiona shook her head and sighed. “I don’t see any great improvement in her these last few weeks.”
“Has there been any more talk about getting someone else to work in the shop and the bar?”
“Not at the minute. I keep hoping Mam will suddenly get better and come back to work.”
“What a pity she wouldn’t agree to Joseph working there.”
“Don’t mention it,” Fiona said, rolling her eyes. “That was a big mistake, not taking him on, and I’m sure he and Patrick would have got on great.”
“Oh, they would have. They would have been great friends.” She gave a little sigh. “Anyway, he seems well settled in his new job in England, so thankfully it turned out okay for him.”
Just then the waitress appeared at their table with the tray with their sandwiches and drinks. They sat in silence waiting until she had finished putting everything on the table.
“I’ll take the bill, please,” Angela said, holding her hand out.
The waitress gave it to her, saying, “I’ll check again when ye’ve finished, in case ye want anything else.”
Angela smiled and slipped the girl a coin. “You’re very good,” she said. “We’ll let you know if we want anything else.”
The waitress thanked her and then moved on to another table.
Fiona looked at her sister, wondering at her self-assuredness. It was almost like sitting with her mother, except that Angela had a nicer way with the waitresses. Her mother was polite, but Angela was genuinely friendly with them.
“If you want anything else like a cake or a pudding after you’ve finished your sandwich,” Angela said to her, “then let me know and I’ll order it.”
“If I manage this I’ll be doing well. But thanks anyway,” Fiona said. As she looked down at her substantial sandwich, she thought it was kind of Angela. Her office wages weren’t probably that big, but their parents had always given her a monthly allowance to help with the rent of her room and the higher cost of everything in Dublin. It was easy to tell by the style of her clothes that she paid a lot of money for them. Any time people complimented her on a suit or a coat and asked where she bought it, Angela usually told them Clery’s or Switzer’s in Grafton Street which were the best shops.
Fiona went shopping with her mother to Galway or Dublin before Easter and Christmas every year, and her father had always given both of them money for their new outfits. But her mother never suggested that they meet Angela to go clothes shopping in Dublin. Any time Fiona herself had ever suggested it, her mother had put her off, saying not to mention it to Angela, as she would be working and that a day’s shopping would be too hard on her leg. Angela obviously managed to go around the shops by herself or with her friends. Fiona now felt a pang of guilt that she had never pushed the point with her mother, instead of just accepting what she said. She became
aware of her sister’s gaze on her and she felt awkward, as though Angela had been able to read her thoughts.
Angela picked up a quarter of her sandwich, and took a little bite. “Just thinking about Mam – she needs to start making some changes. And she needs to realise she’s not the only one who misses Dad...losing him affected all our lives.”
“She’s lonely at times,” Fiona said. “Her friends have stopped calling because she told them she would ring them when she feels better, but she never has the energy. It’s a vicious circle. And she finds the house empty without Daddy.” She looked over at her sister now. “She’s mentioned a few times about you moving back home for a while … just to help out until she’s back to her old self.”
“I’m quite sure she would like it if I came home to help,” Angela said sharply. “But that’s not going to happen. I am not coming back to stay in Tullamore.” She took a little breath. “I’ll come next weekend while you’re away, and I’ll try to help out other weekends, whenever I can. But I’m doing it for you, Fiona. You need a break away and you deserve it after all you’ve done for her.” She took a sip of her coffee. “And when I’m down in Tullamore at the weekend, I’m going to talk very straight to Mam and tell her that she needs to take someone else on. I’m going to point out how good you’ve been to her, but how she can’t depend on you forever. She can’t expect you to take Daddy’s place.”
“But she’ll be completely on her own if I’m not there...”
“Well, she’ll have to do something about it, because I won’t be moving back to Tullamore. I didn’t grow up there and I just don’t feel as at home there as you do. But that’s not the only reason – I’ve actually just accepted a new job.”
Fiona looked at her. “When?”
“This morning.”
“Where will the job be?” For a moment, she wondered if the job might be nearer to Tullamore – within travelling distance – somewhere like Mullingar or Portlaoise.
“It’s in Ballsbridge.” Angela’s voice was even and calm.
“In an office?” Fiona asked, trying to sound as though it was a casual chat. Trying not to sound resentful that her sister could make choices so easily, without having to consider anyone else.
Angela’s hand came up to tighten the back of her earring. “It’s a clerical post – personal secretary. It’s a live-in position, so I’m going to be moving out to Ballsbridge. I’m going to be working for an army major, typing up his memoirs and helping him with research and his household accounts.”
“It sounds interesting,” Fiona said. “And you’re going to be living in a lovely area too. You’ve really fallen on your feet!”
“It’s a much better salary and I won’t be paying any rent, so I’m going to tell Mam that I don’t need her help any more – she can use the allowance they’ve always sent me to pay for full-time help in the shop and pub.” There was a silence, then Angela leaned forward and put her hand on Fiona’s. “Things will change, Fiona. I’m sorry I’m not moving back to Tullamore but it just wouldn’t work out. I’m not close to Mam the way you are...”
“I disagree with you, Angela,” Fiona said. “I’m sure she would love you to come home.”
“She’s scared, Fiona. She’s scared of being on her own and taking responsibility for everything, and she hopes you and I will take over things, the way Daddy did.”
“I can’t leave her.”
“When she gets better you have to leave her to lead her own life,” Angela said. “For your own good and for Mam’s. You’re not doing either of you any favours. Eventually the time will slip away and so will your plans for New York – or whatever else you want to do.” She paused. “Are you still as keen on going as you were last Christmas?”
Fiona thought of Elizabeth and the big apartment in Park Avenue. It no longer seemed as real to her. She could not picture all the places Elizabeth had described. She could not picture the children, Page and Tommy, who she was supposed to look after. Nothing came to her mind. It all seemed like a distant dream.
Then she thought of Michael who would be going back to America soon. Tears began to prick at her eyes. “I don’t know – so much has happened, I can’t think straight about it anymore.”
Angela put her coffee cup down now and reached her hand across the table. “Well, we’ll get the shop and the bar sorted, and then if you still decide you want to go to New York – even for a year or two – I want you to promise me you’ll just go.”
“But the job with Elizabeth will probably be gone!”
“Then you can always get another job.”
Fiona looked at her sister, wondering if any of this was possible. Just six months ago she had been full of hopes and dreams about the future. Full of confidence that they would all come true. And then, they had all come crashing around her in the most unimaginable way.
Was it possible, she wondered, that she could start planning for the future again?
Chapter 32
As she drove along the main street in Clifden, watching out for Foyle’s hotel, Fiona felt a surge of excitement at the thought of seeing Michael O’Sullivan.
On her journey there she hadn’t really known what to expect of Clifden – she just knew it was a town an hour or so outside Galway. The narrow, winding drive out from Galway seemed to take her longer and further into a landscape with a constantly changing patchwork of mountains and colourful fields and lakes. And, although it was a pleasant, sunny evening and she enjoyed the glorious scenery and the purple of the heather and the brilliant pinks of the fuchsia – all she could think of was reaching Clifden and reaching Michael.
It occurred to her several times, especially as she got nearer, that they had not discussed room arrangements. She knew they were staying in Foyle’s Hotel, because he had told her during one of their phone calls. She had been in the shop at the time, and was afraid to ask him about the sleeping arrangements in case anyone came in and overheard her, but it had been the uppermost thing she had thought of every time the weekend came into her mind.
Whilst she would have loved to have been brave and share a room with him, the more she thought about it, the more fearful of the whole thing she grew. She had no real sexual experience at all, and she knew he would soon find that out. She had kissed all her previous boyfriends – some more passionately than others – and had gone a little further than kissing with Paul Moore. But although he had been more confident and keen to go further again, he had always been respectful of her and stopped when she became uncomfortable.
She knew Michael was a similar type of person, and would understand that she wasn’t ready for such a big step when they had only known each other such a short time.
There were more people around the small town than she expected, and there were quite a few cars parked along the street. But then, she thought, it was Friday evening and she supposed it was likely to be their busiest time. She spotted the hotel sign across the road, and she was just indicating to pull over when she saw him, sitting on a bench outside, reading a newspaper. He was wearing a denim shirt with lighter faded jeans.
A tinge of excitement ran through her when he saw her and waved – and she knew with certainty that he had been sitting there – just passing the time – waiting for her.
When she came out of the car he came straight over to her and swept her up in his arms. “I have missed you very, very much.”
Fiona felt her heart skip a beat as he bent down to kiss her full on the lips, and she was glad she was in this small town on the edge of the Atlantic – far away from anyone who could possibly know her. She closed her eyes, and she kissed him back.
“I’ve missed you, too,” she said.
Then, when she drew away, he said, “Here, I’ll carry that for you,” and took her green flowery weekend bag off her shoulder and put it over his.
She shook her head and smiled, pleased with the gentlemanly gesture and amused that he didn’t care that he was carrying a woman’s bag.
As
they walked through the foyer, heading towards the check-in desk, Fiona slowed down, not quite sure how to word the question she needed to ask. “Do you mind me asking...” she could feel herself blushing, “what you’ve booked for us?”
“Two rooms,” he said, taking the keys out of his shirt pocket. Then he smiled and winked at her. “I didn’t want to be presumptuous or to tarnish your good reputation. So you will be safe under lock and key if that’s what you want.”
“You’re very kind, sir,” she said, grateful that he had made light of it. She could feel her face still hot with embarrassment, but she was beginning to feel the anxiety about the sleeping arrangements starting to seep away. “I have money with me,” she said. “So let me know what my half costs.”
“It’s all sorted,” he said, handing her one of the keys. “My treat. And I told the lady on the desk that we are down here on business looking at property. Which, I believe, is fairly accurate.”
“Okay …” Fiona wrinkled her brow in mock confusion, then she started laughing. “So are we auctioneers or are we wealthy clients buying loads of houses?”
“Neither,” he replied, leaning in close to her. He gestured to the middle-aged woman behind the desk, who was looking at them over her small glasses. “I’ll tell you all about it when we get upstairs to our rooms.”
The rooms were next door to each other, he told her as they walked upstairs and along the corridor. On the way he told her a few interesting snippets he had learned about the history of the hotel so far, then he pointed out the intricate detailing on the wooden bannister and the coving on the high ceilings.
“And you are a lucky lady,” he told her, “because you have your own bathroom adjoining your room, while I have to walk down the corridor to a shared one.”
“Oh, no,” she said, stopping to look at him. “That’s not fair. You’re the tourist, you should have the best room.”
“Well,” he said, “I like to think I’m a gentleman first, and the way I’ve been brought up, women have the first call on these things. I don’t think my mother would be too impressed if I took the bigger and better room.”
A Letter From America Page 27