There was no point stressing. Enough people on the canal were already blowing their horns at nothing, marooned in their cars, looking for some small acknowledgement from their fellow drivers, or the world. Ray could call home when they were on the road. Though Ray had enough to be dealing with at the moment—a new job, and a new flat share that they all hoped was temporary. Kate was sure Liz would let him come home once they’d sorted out their problems. Selfishly, Kate was happy that Liz wasn’t coming this evening. Mammy and the anniversary were plenty to be getting on with. Kate’s therapist had warned her it might be difficult. The brain didn’t know the difference between a trauma and the memory of a trauma, apparently. Once the alarm was tripped, it went on ringing. Approach with caution was how the therapist had put it. Kate had laughed out loud. She’d spent her life approaching the house with caution. There was no other way to get to Cranavon, or even the vicinity of Cranavon. But she was going there now as a thirty-three-year-old woman who had stopped yearning for a different past. At least that was the plan.
The traffic inched forward. A group of kids in costumes and a wet, harried-looking mother were going between the Georgian houses set back from the canal. Up the slope towards Portobello bridge, she could see the lights changing colours without a car getting through. The horns went off again. An old pop song came on the radio and her mood lifted. There was a lot to be grateful for this past year: her therapy sessions, reconnecting with college friends, the apartment with Diya off Pearse Street, her new job in HR (the surprise pay rise, the even more surprising friendship with Rachel). What else? Well, she drummed the steering wheel in time to the music, there was learning to drive, of course. And, also, slowly, slowly, learning to live. These days she was trying, really trying, and somewhere along the way the world began to try with her. Last week one of those human statues on Grafton Street, a young woman, painted head-to-toe in the colours of a unicorn, had jumped off a silver box to give her a coiled-up piece of paper. Kate had dropped a euro in the basket at her feet and was rewarded with a circus smile and the heavy flutter of the girl’s lashes. On the bus home, Kate had read the message, which was written in Spanish and yet somehow understandable. Si no cambiamos, no crecemos; si no crecemos no estamos vivos. If we don’t change, we don’t grow; if we don’t grow, we are not alive.
Well, it was a bit too real and timely. But maybe life was like that if you gave it a chance. She’d wanted to shout it on the upper deck of the bus, to the half-dozen passengers that were dotted in a zigzag pattern in the seats in front of her. Hello, sir, she’d wanted to say to the man in the plaid peak cap, are you giving life a chance? Instead she’d smiled at him and swung down the stairs just in time for her stop.
Kate almost caught the lights at the bridge, but the car in front stalled at amber and now its bonnet was poking into the oncoming line of traffic. A concert of horns started as cars tried to get round. Kate could see Ray standing under the awning of the café on the corner. She gave a beep but it got lost in the noise. He looked cold and uncomfortable, his back pressed against the shutters. He was staring at the footbridge, where the swans had come together in a fleecy white mass to shelter from the rain. Kate beeped again. The driver in front turned around and gave her the fingers. She pointed helplessly at her brother.
When she was through the lights, Ray hopped into the car, smelling of rain and cigarettes. ‘It’s wicked out there,’ he said. ‘We’re going to be dead late.’
‘Mind the bag,’ she said.
‘Fancy.’ He put it on the back seat, along with her handbag and his rucksack. ‘Were we supposed to bring presents? It’s not a birthday party, you know.’
‘That’s not funny,’ she said.
‘Sorry,’ he said sullenly.
She turned down the radio. ‘Will you ring home and tell them we’re going to be late?’
‘Wait till we’re off the canal.’
‘Ray—’
‘Kate, I’m not in the mood. I’ve had a rubbish day.’
‘OK, OK,’ she said.
‘Two cancellations—it’s like I’ve brought the curse with me. And everyone else in there is booked out.’
‘Can you not take some of their clients?’
‘It doesn’t work like that,’ he said.
They inched on in silence. Ray slumped against the window, half-dozing. When they got to the Red Cow, she gave him a dig and he took out his mobile. She turned down the radio and listened to the rings, picturing the old rotary phone in the hallway, though they had replaced it years ago with a sleek, cordless one with a terrible signal.
‘It’s me,’ Ray said into his handset. ‘Traffic is a nightmare. It will be half seven before we’re down. The rain.’
Kate waited for the flurry, but it was Peter’s voice that came muffled into the car. She made out no bother and said a silent thank you for her brother, who was like a human fort down there in Carlow, so solid and steady and able to withhold any weather. She wondered what would have happened if he’d never come back from San Diego. Would they even be here? Would she be here?
Ray hung up. ‘No bother,’ he said, in Peter’s accent.
They both laughed, but she felt mean. ‘He’s great, you know—Peter,’ she said. ‘We’re lucky to have him.’
Ray played with his seat belt, yanking it from the holder.
‘Go gentle,’ said Kate.
‘Look who’s car proud,’ he said. ‘How’s the driving going? Have you figured out the roundabouts yet?’
‘Shut up.’
He laughed.
‘How are the girls?’ she said.
‘Ah, they’re OK. Lia’s been like a detective with the questions, but the other one doesn’t give a rats. We’ve told them I need to be near work. I see them most evenings.’
‘And Liz?’ Kate switched lanes as they passed the big garden centre. She went to fifth gear and sped after a van.
‘A bit better,’ Ray said. ‘We’re going to counselling next week, actually.’
‘Oh, yeah? That’s great news.’
‘Is it?’ he said. ‘I just want things to go back to normal.’
‘Seriously, Ray. It saved me. I can’t tell you how much.’
‘Yeah, yeah, you’re all New Age now.’
‘It’s not New Age! It’s just talking.’
‘Slow down,’ Ray said, pointing at the left lane. ‘Get back in there, boy racer.’
Without realizing it, she was twenty kilometres over the speed limit.
‘Whoops.’ She put her foot on the brake but stayed in the right lane. It was a release after the gridlock, to be hurtling down the motorway at last, the black road and the black sky and the bushes all black to match.
‘The counselling will be good for you,’ she said.
‘Or it will finish us off. Liz has been trying to get inside my head for years. She thinks I’m messed up.’
‘Yeah?’ said Kate. ‘But isn’t everyone.’
Ray took a protein bar out of his pocket. He went to take a bite but she asked him to split it. The pair of them chomped companionably through the cookie dough texture. She didn’t believe that protein bars were healthy, no matter what they claimed on the packet, but also she didn’t care. She could be dead tomorrow. It was her new motto.
‘What did it do for you?’ Ray said, after a while.
‘What?’
‘Counselling.’
‘Um,’ she said.
‘How did it work, like? She helped you with food,’ he said. ‘Obviously.’
‘Yeah. She helped me a lot.’
‘You look so much better.’
Kate bristled.
‘Well, it’s great,’ he said. ‘About the food.’
‘Yeah.’
But it was so much more than that. The weekly sessions had helped to change her outlook on the world. For the longest time she’d thought there were only two kinds of people—the ones who were all dramatic and needy, and the rest, the people who clung on silently. Kate had learnt
that it was better to talk about Elaine. And it was OK to be lonely, she didn’t owe anyone an explanation for that.
‘She taught me I could be someone else,’ she said. ‘Give up your story if you don’t like it.’
‘Right,’ he said sceptically.
‘Seriously. I guess—’
‘What?’
She looked left, at his troubled, familiar face, so lovely in the blue dashboard light.
‘I guess what I’m trying to say is that you don’t have to be the person you were when you were young.’
‘Jesus—no,’ he said. ‘I hope not.’
She laughed. ‘Get the money ready for the toll, will you? It’s there in the holder.’
When she turned into the driveway at Cranavon, the cattle grid gave a dull rattle. The front of the house was dark except for the light in the good room. It made the place look spooky, like a pumpkin with a half-smile. They parked behind Peter’s Jeep and moved quickly across the tarmac in the rain. Neither of them had thought to bring a key. Kate wasn’t even sure if she had one. A figure came down the hallway, shadowy in the frosted panels of the porch. Their mother opened the door and looked past them both, as if she was expecting someone else.
‘Hello, Mammy,’ said Kate.
‘Welcome home,’ her mother said. She was in her cream two-piece, as expected, though she wore no jewellery or make-up. Her face was pale, her grey eyes sunken.
‘Sorry we’re late,’ said Kate.
Her mother gave a small smile and stood back to let them in. ‘You’re here now,’ she said.
‘Hi, Mammy,’ said Ray.
‘Hello, Raymond.’
In the hallway they all reached for each other at the wrong time, Kate getting her mother’s shoulder, Ray taking Kate’s elbow and their mother twisting left and right, so bony and frail in the middle.
‘Oh,’ her mother said, frustrated. ‘Would you ever stand still.’
‘Thanks for the group hug, folks.’ Ray started down the hallway and they followed. Her mother’s cream slip-ons made no noise.
In the kitchen, Peter was at the cooker, his broad back so reassuring, the hunch at the shoulders, the bear-like dip to the head. He brought a wooden spoon to his mouth and tasted some sauce. Curry, maybe. The room was warm with spice and onions.
‘Ah,’ Peter said, turning off the fan. ‘Ye made it.’
‘Smells delicious,’ Kate said. ‘I hope we haven’t ruined it. The traffic was chronic.’
With the blind down on the big window, the space felt smaller than usual, the roof lower than she remembered, the red and white tiles brighter. She left her bags on the counter. Peter offered the spoon and she took a taste. The sauce had little lumps of meat, soft and fragrant—chilli con carne.
‘What is it?’ said Ray, sifting through the bowl of fruit on the island.
‘Just chilli,’ said Peter. ‘I didn’t have time for fancy.’
‘He’s barely home from his classes,’ said her mother. Somehow, Kate had forgotten she was in the room, hadn’t seen her sit down at the old oak table.
‘What classes?’ said Ray.
‘Spanish,’ said her mother. ‘Again.’
Peter was doing the beginner course in the language centre for the third time. You had to go all the way to Carlow town if you wanted the next level.
‘Is there any beer?’ said Ray.
‘On a Thursday?’ her mother said.
‘Yes, Mammy, on a Thursday.’ Ray picked up an orange and pretended to pitch it at Kate. A speck of meat lodged in one of her back teeth and she pushed her tongue into the crevice to free it.
‘Sure, it’s Halloween.’ Ray put the fruit back in the bowl and went to the fridge. ‘And we’re over eighteen.’
Her mother didn’t laugh. ‘It’s your sister’s anniversary.’ She put a hand to her chest. ‘My Elaine.’
‘I know,’ said Ray. ‘Isn’t that why we’re here?’
Kate gave him a look.
‘It’s not a party,’ said her mother. ‘That’s all I’m saying.’
‘You should tell that to Kate. She brought presents.’ Ray folded his arms and smirked. Even though he was wearing his physio uniform, the navy V-neck sweater and matching tracksuit bottoms, he looked like a boy again. She imagined his old Nirvana T-shirt under the sweater. And then she imagined giving him a dead arm.
‘Presents?’ her mother said, her face lighting up.
‘It’s nothing.’ Kate went to the counter for the gift bag and put the truffles on the table. ‘Just some chocolates for the chef. And a little something I spotted in town last week. I know you love the colour.’ She passed the bag to her mother, unable to look her in the eye.
‘Coral!’ Her mother took out the cardigan and held it up. ‘A beautiful colour. A stunning colour! For me? Aren’t you very good? A pet. Thank you. I love it. Thank you. Thank you.’ She took off her jacket and draped the cardigan over her silk blouse, fixed it this way and that, all the while thanking Kate. It was such a disproportionate response, it made the cardigan seem trivial and useless. It was only a wool-blend thing from M&S.
Her mother had gone to the utility door and was looking at her reflection in the dark columns of glass. Her delight continued to build, until it peaked, and they heard a soft sob.
‘Ah, Mammy,’ said Peter. ‘What’s wrong? It’s a lovely cardigan.’
‘I know,’ her mother said, sitting down. She held the corners like a little girl clutching a pinafore. ‘I know, I know. It’s beautiful.’
Kate glanced at Ray for help, for distraction—anything. He was staring out the window at the darkness, his arms still folded in their brooding criss-cross.
‘Coral was Elaine’s colour too,’ her mother said now, worrying the material between her fingers. ‘Do you remember?’ she said.
Kate nodded, though in truth she could only remember her sister in black or grey or army green, was sure she’d never gone near coral. Hadn’t she hated the peach walls of their bedroom?
‘My Elaine.’ Her mother wiped her eyes.
‘Our Elaine,’ Peter said. ‘She’d love the cardigan. And she’d love that we were all here, together, for her.’
Her mother blessed herself. In recent years, she’d become very religious. God was no longer a piss artist who could go piss himself. She’d started to take mass every morning since she’d turned sixty-five, or sixty-nine on her passport—Kate remembered the shock of finding it last summer in the bureau, the absurdity of her mother’s lifelong lie. She gave an inappropriate giggle and they all turned towards her.
‘Everything OK, Katie?’ said Peter.
‘Beer,’ said Ray. ‘Where’s the beer?’
‘It’s in the utility room,’ said Peter. ‘I’ll have one too.’
Her mother dropped her head.
‘What about you, Kate?’ said Ray.
‘Oh, no,’ she said. ‘Not with the car.’
Her mother stood. ‘You’re not driving back tonight, are you? You’ll stay.’
‘Work,’ said Ray matter-of-factly.
‘Really,’ her mother said. ‘And how is work these days, Raymond?’
Ray ignored her and went out to the utility. Kate took a tea towel from the rad. She picked up the plates heating on the stove. ‘I’ll bring these in,’ she said.
‘Muchos gracias,’ said Peter.
‘No bloody Spanish tonight.’ Her mother blessed herself again. ‘Excuse my tongue, but he’d wear you out, Kate, with his muy biens and por favors. As if I have a clue what he’s talking about.’
‘You’re great at languages, Mammy,’ said Kate. ‘On holidays, you always knew the right things to say.’
‘All brains, that was my problem.’
The light in the room dimmed. Kate thought it was a trick of her mind until Peter told Ray to stop messing with the switch. He was over by the utility, fiddling with the dial, a six-pack of Heineken in his other hand, hanging loose, like a gorilla with its prey.
‘Let’s eat,’
said Kate, watching her mother watch the beer.
‘Yes,’ said her mother. ‘Good idea. Let us break bread.’ She drew the cardigan towards her neck like a cape and started to glide away. Kate put the serving spoons on top of the plates and followed her saintly walk.
In the good room, the light above the table was at full wattage, shining on the settings—the heavy silver cutlery and linen place mats. There was no tablecloth this evening, just the iridescent turquoise table runner that Liz had brought back from some holiday years earlier, maybe as long ago as their honeymoon in Morocco. Her mother had never liked it. Kate watched Ray pause for a second as he noticed it too. Beneath the runner, the table looked hard and unfriendly, the polished wood unprotected, easy to stain. The rest of the room was in semi-darkness, only the small Lladró lamp in the far corner turned on, its child figurine forever in prayer.
The three of them had just sat down when Peter called from the kitchen to say he’d ruined the rice. It had boiled over and was like a paste. Could they talk amongst themselves? Beside her, Ray sighed at the news, but Kate felt oddly delighted, elated even. Though she’d been hungry on the way down, her appetite had left her. She poked at the gap between her molars. The meat fragment was gone.
Across the table, her mother straightened a fork. ‘I’m ravenous,’ she said. ‘There’s nothing worse than waiting for food.’
‘Yes,’ said Kate.
‘So,’ her mother said. ‘Tell me everything. How’s the flat? How’s Daya?’
‘Diya,’ said Ray.
‘That’s what I said.’ Her mother frowned. ‘How is she to live with? Is she clean?’
‘Oh, very,’ said Kate, though this was not true at all. She spent her life picking up foil containers and half-finished bottles of Lucozade.
Her mother squinted at her.
‘We get on really well,’ said Kate, not wanting to tell another lie. How did her mother just know?
Dinner Party Page 21