City Lives

by Patricia Scanlan

  Richard took a gulp of white wine. ‘I’ll have to do it at the weekend. The practice is going up for sale on Monday. She’ll freak. I don’t know what will be the worst, telling her about the divorce or that I’m emigrating. It will probably kill her.’

  Caroline frowned. ‘Your mother’s the toughest nut I know. She’ll get over it.’

  ‘Well, you know how she depends on me—’

  ‘Now, Richard,’ Caroline cut in sharply, ‘we’ve been over that before. Your mother’s a controller. She’s never let you live the life you wanted. This is your chance to make the break. She’s loaded. She has a housekeeper now who can drive her wherever she needs to go. She’s in the best of health. Seventy isn’t that old. She has another ten years at least, if not more.’

  ‘I know, I know, it’s just she’s going to give me such an ear-bashing about the Church and mortal sins. You know the way she is.’

  Sarah Yates was a staunch Catholic. In her eyes divorce was worse than a cardinal sin. Divorce was the devil’s invention. She wouldn’t entertain the idea that her son was gay. Homosexuality was even worse than divorce, in her opinion. It was nonsense for him to think that he was homosexual. She hadn’t given birth to one of those dreadful creatures, she’d assured him when he’d finally told her of his sexual orientation. He only thought he was a homosexual because he wasn’t having satisfactory relations with his wife. And that was all Caroline’s fault, she’d informed Richard. And, in an angry phone call that evening, had said the same thing to Caroline.

  She might be a staunch Roman Catholic but she was no Christian, Caroline thought wrathfully. Sarah hadn’t an ounce of compassion. She was an interfering, controlling, cold, rigid woman and she’d wreaked havoc on her son’s psyche. She was an expert at emotional blackmail. If Richard didn’t jump when Sarah said jump she made him feel very guilty. She niggled and nagged and exerted subtle but insidious pressure until she got her way. Caroline loathed her.

  Richard interrupted her musings. ‘Are you sure you wouldn’t come with me when I’m telling her we’re divorcing?’ he urged.

  ‘Absolutely not. Remember that phone call when she said it was my fault that you thought you were gay? Remember when we told her we were separating when you went to Boston and I went to Abu Dhabi? She wiped the floor with me. Remember the scene when she told me I was common and that if I’d been a proper wife all this would never have happened? No, Richard, I’m not going near that woman. I might say something I’d regret. You have to do this on your own. You have to stick up for yourself at least this once. Just keep saying to yourself, “This is my life and I’ll live it my way.” She’s lived hers.’

  ‘I know. I’d prefer to face the toughest judge in the law courts than her,’ Richard admitted.

  ‘That’s because you’re doing something for yourself. It’s always much harder to do something for yourself than for someone else.’

  The waiter arrived to clear away after their first course. Caroline and Richard sat back in their chairs and smiled at each other. The rippling hum of laughter and talk eddied and flowed around them. It was an elegant restaurant, luxuriously but tastefully decorated. The tables were well spaced, giving privacy. Rich gold damask curtains with crimson tassels hung at long narrow floor-to-ceiling windows, giving a cosy old-fashioned air. Candles flickered on all the tables. Discreet up-lighting threw shadows on the crimson and gold flock paper that adorned the walls. Touches of crimson in the lampshades and tiebacks picked up the colour in the wallpaper. It reminded Caroline of a salon in a stately home, but the nice touches, like the real log fire and the fresh cut flowers, lent a homely air. She had dined in all the top restaurants in the city, some of them so pretentious she’d dreaded going to them. This was one of her favourites. She was glad they’d had their last meal here before announcing the divorce.

  When the silent, efficient young man had glided away, Richard remarked quizzically, ‘You know, you’re so different from the shy quiet mouse that I married. You’re much more assertive and assured now, aren’t you? You wouldn’t say boo to a goose then.’

  Caroline grimaced. ‘I know. I was a disaster. I was terrified. But I’ve been through a lot. It leaves its mark and makes you stronger. I hope I’ll never go back to the way I was. But there are still times that I have those scary, fluttery, panicky fears. I want to let go of fear. The only way you can do that is by walking up to the thing you fear most and facing it. And for me that’s the fear of being on my own.’ She sighed. ‘That’s one of the reasons I want the divorce, Richard.’

  ‘You might meet someone,’ Richard said diffidently, fiddling with his soup spoon.

  ‘I’m not going looking. If it happens it happens, if it doesn’t . . .’ She shrugged her shoulders. ‘I was too needy with you, that’s why I married you. I don’t want to make the same mistake again.’

  Richard didn’t reply.

  They sat in silence for a while, awaiting their next course. ‘Have you told Devlin and Maggie that we’re divorcing?’ he asked. Caroline shook her head.

  ‘Not yet. I just wanted to get used to the idea myself first.’

  ‘I’m sure they’ll be delighted.’ Richard’s tone was caustic.

  ‘That’s not fair, Richard! Don’t be like that,’ Caroline retorted.

  ‘Sorry!’ His apology was half-hearted.

  ‘The girls were very kind to me when you were putting me through hell. They’ve always been there for me.’ Her voice held a note of anger.

  ‘I said I’m sorry. Don’t go on about it. It’s all water under the bridge now,’ Richard muttered uncomfortably. He hated it when she brought up the subject of his past treatment of her.

  ‘OK. Just don’t be nasty about my friends,’ Caroline said shortly. ‘I wonder who’ll buy the practice?’ she pondered, changing the subject.

  Richard gave a dismissive shrug. ‘I don’t care as long as I get plenty of cash. It’s worth a quid or two.’

  Caroline looked at her husband, so handsome, so successful, and so empty, and felt sad for him. He’d built up his practice to be one of the most lucrative in the country. Driven by the will to succeed. Pushed by his mother into a career he’d never wanted, so that he’d follow his father’s illustrious trail in the legal field. When she’d first met him, he’d been so ambitious. Now it meant nothing to him. Maybe it was good that way, she thought. That was why he could walk away from it so easily. His heart wasn’t in it any more.

  ‘I hope you get a fortune. You deserve it,’ she said warmly as the waiter arrived with consommé for her husband and potato and leek soup for Caroline.

  They ate in silence for a while, lost in their own thoughts, each wondering what the future held.

  Caroline squeezed some cleansing lotion into the palm of her hand and gently patted it onto her face in light circular motions. She’d been so tempted just to get into bed and bury her head under the pillows, but that way lay disaster, not to mention streaks of make-up and mascara on her pillowcases. The fine web of lines around her eyes was a clear indication that skincare was now a must, she thought ruefully. Once you were over thirty you couldn’t get away with slapping on the odd bit of cleanser and toner now and again. Men were so bloody lucky, she thought resentfully. Richard’s black hair had traces of grey and the lines around his eyes and mouth were deepening quite noticeably, but on him it looked attractive. Made him look mature and seasoned.

  Caroline felt suddenly depressed. Here she was, in her mid-thirties, and what had she to show for it? She was an alcoholic. She was childless. Her marriage was and always had been a sham and now she was getting divorced. Was she always going to be alone? Was this what was in the map of her life? Aloneness? How she hated the solitude of this bedroom, repository of so many memories of misery and pain. She should never have come back to the apartment. It had been a huge backward step. Why couldn’t she be more like her friends. They’d taken what was thrown at them and turned it around. She had run away, as usual.

  There was Devli
n, successful beyond dreams, married to the most beautiful man a woman could wish for, although Caroline admitted that her best friend’s life had not been easy and she’d overcome a lot of suffering to get to where she was. Still, she’d done it.

  And Maggie, OK, she might be married to a toad but she had three beautiful children and a successful career as writer. She had achieved.

  What had she achieved? Caroline asked herself as she slathered more cleanser on her face. Bugger all!

  ‘Stop that!’ she said irritably to her reflection. ‘You stopped drinking. You made a career for yourself.’

  Big deal! You drank because you were a coward and you made a career on Devlin’s coat-tails. That’s nothing to be particularly proud of. Now you’re going to be on the shelf again. You’ve come around full circle, that’s exactly where you’ve got to in life, Caroline Yates, that hated inner voice taunted.

  Caroline scowled at her reflection. She’d done very well giving Richard advice. What advice should she give herself, seeing as she was so smart? She should read some of her self-help books and try and lift her spirits and get into a meditative state of mind before going to sleep. She couldn’t summon up the right attitude. It was much easier to wallow in negativity. It always was.

  ‘Oh . . . Oh deal with it,’ she gritted, before snapping off the light and getting into bed where she curled up in a ball and tried to ignore the rage and fear and disappointment and resentment that battled within her.

  Seven

  Richard tossed and turned, desperate for sleep, desperate to try and forget the ordeal that lay ahead of him the following day. How could he, one of the most successful legal eagles in the country, a grown man in his thirties, possibly be apprehensive about telling his aged mother that he was taking a step towards a future that he hoped would bring him happiness? It was ridiculous, he told himself over and over, his thoughts chasing each other like whirling dervishes.

  He was doing the right thing, he assured himself, as he pummelled his pillow into a more comfortable shape.

  When Charles had died he’d lost heart. Charles had always been his rock. Encouraging, listening, advising. Richard would have spent his life with him and been content. He’d always been peaceful with Charles.

  When his best friend and lover had been diagnosed with cancer, Richard, for the first time in his life, had put his own needs and career aside and gone to Boston to live out Charles’s last weeks. The bond had deepened, strengthened and he had his first experience of living an openly gay life.

  America had been a revelation to him. Watching gay men holding hands and being openly affectionate towards each other had been a discovery of delight for him. For once he’d felt free to be himself. To be who and what he truly was.

  After Charles’s death he had come home to his practice but the buzz wasn’t there any more. The drive, the ambition to be bigger, more successful than his peers had gone. He was working on autopilot and he didn’t care. His life was an empty shell. He’d gone back to Boston for a week, six months later, and knew America was the place where he wanted to be. He’d got in touch with some old friends who’d been very supportive when Charles was dying. One of them, Martin, also a lawyer and an Irishman, had half jokingly suggested that he become a partner in his law firm.

  ‘There’s lots of Irish people here that need advice about buying property and suchlike at home. Wills are always being contested. You know, the few acres that were left behind, and that kind of thing. It would be good to have an Irish slant on things.’

  ‘Everything’s moved on a lot these days. We’re a booming nation,’ Richard reminded the younger man.

  ‘All the more reason we should have you on board. You’re up to date. Think about it, Richard,’ Martin urged, and Richard knew that his interest was more than professional.

  Richard had felt alive for the first time in a long, long time. His mind started ticking. Pros and cons were examined, rationalized.

  You’d be running away.

  You’d be living the life you want on your own terms.

  Mother would freak.

  Let her freak! You’d be thousands of miles away from her. You’d never have to be at her beck and call again.

  You’d have to give Caroline a divorce. It wouldn’t be fair not to.

  You should give her a divorce anyway, whether you’re in Dublin or Boston.

  Back and forth went the internal dialogue. But the push in him was strong. It was time to change his life and Richard knew it. If he didn’t do it now he never would. It was all a question of guts. Did he have the guts to do it?

  He’d come home and tentatively told Caroline. She had been taken aback at first. She couldn’t believe that he’d consider selling the firm and emigrating. It was such a radical step for him. But she’d encouraged him to go for it and had agreed that divorce was their most realistic option. They had talked about divorce before but had always put it on the long finger. Now that the reality was looming both of them were apprehensive.

  As he lay in the dark, alone and unable to sleep, Richard conceded that it was more than apprehension he was feeling. It was almost terror. Now that he was putting his law practice on the market he would be taking a leap into the unknown. He’d never done that before. He’d always known from day to day, hour to hour exactly what he was doing. And on top of all that he had to break the news to his mother.

  Richard groaned. It wasn’t too late. He could still change his mind. But if he did, he’d never be able to look himself in the eye again without seeing the coward he knew was there.

  At ten thirty the following morning it was a weary Richard who stood outside his mother’s big redbrick Clontarf home and felt like a guilty seven-year-old. His palms were sweaty as he took a deep breath and put his key in the lock.

  ‘Good heavens, Richard! You’re very early. I’m just arranging my flowers. I went out in the garden to cut some roses and the state of it! Leaves everywhere. I shall be having a word with Nolan when he comes,’ Sarah Yates grumbled as she took a spray of greenery from her basket and arranged it artistically in a vase of peach roses.

  ‘But Mother, it is autumn,’ Richard pointed out, feeling sorry for poor old Mick Nolan, who’d been doing Sarah’s garden for donkey’s years and who was stiff and arthritic and long past it.

  ‘That’s no excuse.’ Sarah sniffed. ‘Come into the parlour. Shall I tell Mrs Gleeson to bring you tea?’

  ‘No, no, thank you, Mother. I’m fine,’ Richard assured her. ‘I . . . ah . . . well . . . that is—’

  ‘Oh for heaven’s sake, Richard! Spit it out. You’re always the same when you’ve got something to tell me. And don’t tell me you haven’t. You wouldn’t be here at this hour of a Saturday morning otherwise.’ Sarah sat back in her hard wing-backed armchair and clasped her hands together.

  Richard looked at his mother. Ramrod straight. She might be seventy but she was as fit and sprightly as she’d been twenty years ago. Rake-thin and small-boned, she looked as if a puff of smoke would knock her over. But Sarah Yates was as tough as old boots despite her delicate air and ladylike ways. Bright blue eyes lasered in on him.

  ‘Well?’

  Richard’s heart galloped. ‘I’m putting the practice on the market. I’m emigrating.’ The words came out faster than he meant them to. He decided he’d leave news of the divorce until last.

  Sarah’s eyes registered shock but her gaze never flinched. ‘Don’t be ridiculous, Richard.’ Her tone was sharp. ‘Sell up, and you one of the most successful lawyers in the country! I never heard such nonsense.’

  ‘Nonsense or not, Mother. I’m going. I’ve had enough here. I’m going to Boston,’ Richard said steadily.

  ‘And whose idea is this? The drunk’s?’ Sarah’s nostrils flared disdainfully.

  ‘Mother!’ Richard jumped to his feet. ‘That’s very unfair. Caroline hasn’t had a drink in years and you know it.’

  ‘Huh! The woman’s unstable, Richard. And always has been. Remember our Christm
as shopping trip to London. She got so drunk she couldn’t get out of bed the next day. I’ll never forget it. And why else would she go off to the back of beyond – which isn’t even a Christian country - for six months and then go and live in a flat on her own until you took her back out of the goodness of your heart. I bet she’s behind this notion. The day you married her was a sorry day indeed. You married beneath you.’ Sarah twisted and untwisted her fingers in her lap. She was getting more agitated by the minute.

  ‘That’s enough, Mother!’ Richard said heatedly. ‘And anyway you won’t ever have to have anything to do with her again. We’re getting a divorce.’ There! It was said. Out in the open.

  Sarah’s jaw dropped and the pale tight parchment skin of her cheeks flushed bright red.

  ‘Divorced!! Under no circumstances. I’ll not permit it, Richard. Do you hear me? You will not disgrace the family name with a divorce. I’ll cut you out of the will again. You’ll be excommunicated. I’ve never heard such . . . such sacrilege.’ Sarah was livid.

  ‘Mother, I’ve all the money I need. I don’t need yours. And as for being excommunicated, I don’t believe in any of that bullshit. I don’t even go to Mass any more. I don’t know if I even believe in God any more,’ he retorted defiantly. Now that he’d told her his plans, it was as if a weight had lifted from his shoulders.

  The sharp stinging slap of her hand on his jaw shocked him.

  ‘How dare you! How dare a son of mine use such language to me and dare to deny the existence of God. How dare you come into this house in a state of mortal sin,’ Sarah raged.

  Richard rubbed his jaw. He had a crazy, reckless urge to laugh. She was so angry she looked as if she might drop dead of a seizure.

  What a relief that would be. The greatest favour she could ever do him. The thought came unbidden.

  ‘You’d better come and talk to Father Redmond.’ Sarah paced backwards and forwards. ‘It must be living with that . . . with . . . her . . . that’s caused you to become like this. Father Redmond will put you on the straight and narrow. It’s just a phase you’re going through.’