by Maeve Binchy
He put his books away in the silent apartment. His cousin Emily was asleep in her room, little Frankie was sleeping in the crib beside his own bed. He looked out of his window in Chestnut Court. It was late, dark, drizzly and very quiet.
He saw a taxi draw up and a young woman get out. What strange lives people led! Then, two seconds later, he heard his doorbell ring. Whoever it was was coming to see him—Noel Lynch—at this time of night!
“Lisa?!” Noel was puzzled to see her on the entry-phone screen at this time of night.
“Can I come in for a moment, Noel? I want to ask you something.”
“Yes … well … I mean … the baby’s asleep … but, sure, come in.” He pressed the buzzer to release the door.
She looked very woebegone. “I don’t suppose you have a drink? No, sorry, of course you don’t. I’m sorry. Forgive me.” She had forgotten with that casual, uncaring, shruggy attitude of someone who had never been addicted to drink.
Malachy had told Noel that it was this laid-back attitude that really got to him. His friends saying they could take it or leave it, bypassing the terrible urgency that the addicted felt all the time.
“I can offer tea or chocolate,” he said, forcing back his annoyance. She didn’t know. She would never know what it felt like. He would not lose his temper, but what was she doing here at this time of night?
“Tea would be lovely,” she said.
He put on the kettle and waited.
“I can’t go home, Noel.”
“No?”
“No.”
“So what do you want to do, Lisa?”
“Can I sleep on your sofa here, please? Please, Noel. Just for tonight. Tomorrow I’ll sort something out.”
“Did you have a row at home?”
“No.”
“And what about your friend Anton, whom you talk so much about?”
“I’ve been there. He doesn’t want to see me.”
“And I’m your last hope—is that it?”
“That’s it,” she said bleakly.
“All right,” he said.
“What?”
“I said all right. You can stay. I don’t have any women’s clothes to lend you. I can’t give you my bed—Frankie’s crib is in there and she’s due a feed in a couple of hours. We’ll all be up pretty early in the morning. It’s no picnic being here.”
“I’d be very grateful, Noel.”
“Sure, then have your tea and go to bed. There’s a folded blanket over there and use one of the cushions as a pillow.”
“Do you not want to know what it is about?” she asked.
“No, Lisa, I don’t. I haven’t got the energy for it. Oh, and if you’re up before I am, Emily, that’s my cousin, will be getting Frankie ready to take her to the health center.”
“Well, I’ll sort of explain to her then.”
“No need.”
“What a wonderful way to be,” Lisa said in genuine admiration.
She didn’t think she would sleep at all, but she did, stirring slightly a couple of times when she thought she heard a baby crying. Through a half-opened eye she saw Noel moving about with an infant in his arms. She didn’t even have time to think about what kind of mind games Anton was playing with her or whether her father was even remotely embarrassed by the incident in their home. She was fast asleep again and didn’t wake until she heard someone leave a mug of tea beside her.
Cousin Emily, of course. The wonder woman who had stepped in just when needed. She in turn didn’t seem remotely surprised to see a woman in a black and red lace-trimmed dress waking up on the sofa.
“Do you have to be anywhere for work or anything?” the woman asked.
“No. No, I don’t. I’ll just wait until my parents have left home, then I’ll go back and pick up my things and … find myself somewhere else to stay. I’m Lisa, by the way.”
Emily looked at her.
“I know. We met at Stella’s funeral. And I’m Emily. What time will your parents be gone?” she asked.
“By nine—on a normal morning, anyway.”
“But this might not be a normal morning?” Emily guessed.
“No, it might not. You see …”
“Noel left half an hour ago. It’s eight o’clock now. I have to go to the clinic with Frankie via the charity shop fairly soon … and I’m not quite sure what’s the best thing to do.”
“I’m a friend of Noel’s, from college …” Lisa began.
“Oh, I know that too.”
“So you wouldn’t have to worry about leaving me here when you go out, but then you might not want to.…”
Emily shook her head as if to get rid of any evidence of such deep thinking on her part. “No, I was thinking of breakfast, actually. Noel made a banana sandwich for himself and then he’ll have coffee on his way to work. I’m going to open up the thrift shop when I’ve given Frankie her bottle; I’ll have some fruit and cereal there. I thought you might like to come with me. Would that suit?”
“That would be great, Emily. I’ll just go and give myself a quick wash.”
Lisa hopped up and ran to the bathroom. She looked quite terrible. All her makeup was smeared across her face. She looked like a tart down on her luck.
No wonder the woman didn’t want to leave her in charge of the apartment. Nobody would let anyone who looked like Lisa did be in charge of anything at all. Maybe Lisa would be able to buy something at the thrift shop to take away the wild look of her. She cleaned her face and gave herself a splash wash, then put on over her dress a sweater Emily had given her.
Emily was ready to leave: she was dressed in a fitted green wool dress and she carried a huge tote bag. The baby in the pram was tiny—barely a month old—looking up trustfully at the two women.
Lisa felt a great wave of warmth towards the small, defenseless baby relying on what were after all two strangers, Emily and Lisa, to get her through this day. She wondered if anyone had looked out for her like this when she was tiny and defenseless. Possibly not, she thought bleakly.
It was the most unreal day Lisa had ever lived through. Emily asked nothing of Lisa’s circumstances. Instead she talked admiringly of Noel and the great efforts he was making on every front. She told Lisa how she and Noel had known nothing about how to raise a child but between the Internet and the health clinics they were doing fine.
Emily found a dark-brown trouser suit in the thrift shop and asked Lisa to try it on. It fit her well enough.
“I have only forty euros to see me through today,” Lisa said apologetically, “and I may need a taxi to take my things out of my parents’ home.”
“That’s all right. You can pay for it by working, can’t you?” Emily saw few problems.
“Working?” Lisa asked, bemused.
“Well, you could help me out today. For now, we need to feed Frankie and change her and take her to the clinic. Then you could come with me while I pop into the medical center and later we could walk down St. Jarlath’s Crescent, where I look after the gardens, and you could walk the pram around if baby Frankie gets bored. That would be a good day’s work and would well cover the cost of that trouser suit.”
“But I have to collect my things,” Lisa pleaded. “And find somewhere to live.”
“We have all day to think about that,” Emily said calmly.
And the day began.
Lisa had never met so many people in one working day. She, who worked alone at her desk tinkering with drawings and designs for Anton, often these days spent hours without talking to another human being. Emily Lynch lived a different life.
When Frankie was fed and changed, they moved to the health clinic, where Frankie was weighed and pronounced very satisfactory. There had been an appointment to see Moira, but when they arrived they heard that she had been called away on an emergency.
“That poor woman’s life must be one long emergency.” Emily was sympathetic instead of being annoyed that she had just made a totally unnecessary visit to the socia
l worker’s office. Then it was up to the doctors’ practice, where Emily collected a sheaf of papers and spoke pleasantly to the doctors.
“This is Lisa. She’s helping me today.” They all nodded at her acceptingly. No other explanations. It was very restful indeed.
Frankie was a pretty baby, Lisa thought. Hard work, of course, but babies were, weren’t they? Or at least they were supposed to be. She didn’t suppose she or Katie had ever got half the attention this one was getting.
Emily had left a parcel for Dr. Hat, who was expected in shortly. He did a day’s locum work at the doctor’s offices each week. Emily had discovered that he couldn’t cook and didn’t seem anxious to learn, so she always left a portion of whatever she and Noel had cooked the night before. Today it was a smoked cod, egg and spinach pie, plus instructions on how to reheat it.
“Only meal that Hat eats in the week, apparently,” Emily said disapprovingly.
“Hat?”
“Yes, that’s his name.”
“What’s it short for?” Lisa was curious.
“Never asked. I think it’s because he seems to wear a hat day and night,” Emily said.
“Night?” Lisa asked, with a sort of a laugh.
“Well, I have no way of knowing that.” Emily looked at her with interest and Lisa realized that this was the first time today she had allowed herself to relax enough to smile, let alone laugh. She had been like a clenched fist, unable to think about the only family she had known and the only man she had ever loved.
“Right. Where to now?” Lisa was determined to keep cheerful.
“The market and then St. Jarlath’s Crescent. We’ll give Frankie to her grandmother for a couple of hours, then I can make a start on this paperwork. I’ll ask Dingo Duggan to drive you up to collect your things. He can use the thrift shop van.”
“Hey, wait a minute, Emily, not so fast. I haven’t found anywhere to go yet.”
“Oh, you’ll find somewhere.” Emily was very confident of this. “You don’t want to delay once you make a decision like this.”
“But you don’t know how bad things are,” Lisa said.
“I do,” Emily said.
“How do you know? I didn’t even tell Noel.”
“It must have been something very bad for you to come to Chestnut Court in the middle of the night,” Emily said, and then seemed to lose interest in it. “Why don’t we see if they have any chicken livers down in the market. We could get some mushrooms and rice. Tonight’s one of Noel’s lectures. He’ll need a good meal to see him through. Well, of course, you know that, and you’ll need all your papers and files and everything.”
“Oh, no, I can’t go tonight. The world is falling to bits on me. I have no time at all to go to classes!” Lisa cried.
“Always the very time we must go—when the world is falling to bits,” Emily said, as if it were totally obvious. “Now, would you like a baked potato with cheese for lunch? I find it gives you lots of energy, and you’ll need that over the next couple of days.”
“Baked potato is just fine,” Lisa gasped.
“Good. Then off we go. And after the market we’ll go on garden patrol. Could you have a paper and pencil ready and write down what we need for the various gardens in St. Jarlath’s Crescent?”
Lisa wondered what it would be like to have a life like this—where everyone sort of depended on you, but nobody actually loved you.
Dingo Duggan said that of course he’d drive Lisa to collect her things. Where would he bring them?
“We will be discussing that over lunch, Dingo,” Emily explained. “We’ll let you know when we see you.”
Lisa was almost dizzy with the speed with which it was all happening. This small, busy woman with the frizzy hair had involved her effortlessly in a series of activities and at no stage had suggested she explain the situation at home and why she had to flee from it. Instead she had been to market and bargained at every stall. Emily seemed to know everyone. Then they had pushed the pram down St. Jarlath’s Crescent, where Lisa made lists of plants needed, weeds dug up, paint required for touch-ups. Some gardens were expertly kept, some were neglected, but Emily’s regular patrol gave the street a comfortable, established air of being well cared for. Lisa had only begun to take it all in when they arrived at Noel’s family home. Again, Lisa marveled at Emily’s speed.
The introductions to his parents were made briskly and briefly.
“Charles and Josie are very good people, Lisa. They do good works all day and are busy setting up a fund to have a statue erected to St. Jarlath. We won’t detain them from their good work for too long. This is Lisa. She’s a good friend of Noel’s from his college lectures and has been a great help today in looking after Frankie. And here is your beautiful granddaughter, Josie. She has been longing to see you.”
“Poor little thing.” Josie took the baby in her arms and Charles beamed up from his unappetizing-looking sandwich.
In Emily’s room on the ground floor a bottle of wine was produced.
“Normally I don’t have a drink anywhere around Noel, but today is special,” Emily explained. “We’ll wait until you’ve collected your things and then we’ll have lunch.”
“Yes, you must be worn out.” Lisa thought that Emily was referring to the hectic pace of the morning.
“Oh, no, that’s nothing.” Emily dismissed it. “I meant that today is a day of decision for all of us. A glass of wine might be badly needed.”
At his restaurant, Anton was planning menus and talking about Lisa. “I’d better call her,” he said gloomily.
“You’ll know exactly what to say, Anton. You always do.” Teddy was admiring and diplomatic.
“Not as easy as it sounds,” said Anton, reaching for his phone.
Lisa’s phone was switched off. He tried the number of the house where she lived with her parents. Her mother answered.
“No, we haven’t seen her since yesterday.” The voice was distant, not at all concerned. “She didn’t come home last night. So …”
“So … what?” Anton was impatient with the woman.
“Well … nothing, really …” Her voice trailed away. “Lisa is, as you must know, an adult. It would be fruitless, to say the least, to worry about her. Shall I give her a message for you?” Lisa’s mother had a voice that managed to be indifferent and courteous at the same time in a way that irritated him hugely.
“Don’t bother!” he said and hung up.
Lisa’s mother shrugged. She was about to go upstairs when her husband let himself in the front door.
“Has Lisa been talking to you?” he began.
“No, I haven’t seen her. Why?”
“She will,” he said.
“Will what?”
“Will talk to you. There was an incident last night. I didn’t realize she was at home and I had a young woman with me.”
“How lovely.” His wife’s scorn was written all over her face.
“She seemed upset.”
“I can’t imagine why.”
“She doesn’t have your sense of detachment—that’s why.”
“She hasn’t gone for good. I see her door is open. She’s left all her things here.” Lisa’s mother spoke as if she were talking about a casual acquaintance.
“Of course she hasn’t gone for good. Where would she go?”
Lisa’s mother shrugged her shoulders again. “She’ll end up doing what she wants to do. Like everyone …,” she said and walked out the door that her husband had just come in.
· · ·
“Where will we take your things?” Dingo asked Lisa.
“We’re just going to leave them in the van, if that’s all right?” Lisa said. She was feeling slightly dizzy from the many encounters that the morning had brought.
“Where are you going to live?” Dingo persisted.
“It hasn’t been decided yet.” Lisa knew that she sounded as if she were avoiding his questions, but she was actually telling the truth.
&
nbsp; “So where do you plan to lay your head tonight, then?” Dingo was determined to get all the answers.
Lisa felt very weary indeed. “Why do they call you Dingo?” she asked in despair.
“Because I spent seven weeks in Australia,” he said proudly.
“And why did you come back?” She must keep the conversation going about him and avoid cosmic questions about herself.
“Because I got lonely,” Dingo said, as if this were the most natural thing in the world. “You will too, mark my words. When you’re living with Josie and Charles and saying ten Rosaries a day, you’ll look back on your own home and there’ll be an ache in you.”
“Living with Charles and Josie Lynch? No, that was never on the cards,” Lisa said, horrified.
“Well, where am I to bring you when we’ve collected your things? Oh, look, here’s your house.”
“I’ll be ten minutes, Dingo.” She got out of the van.
“Emily said I was to go in with you and carry out your things.”
“Does she think she runs the whole world?” Lisa grumbled.
“There’s others who’d make a worse job of it,” Dingo said cheerfully.
It didn’t take Dingo long to pack the van. He already had a dress rail installed in there, so he just hung up Lisa’s clothes on that. He had cardboard boxes in which he expertly packed her computer and files, and more boxes for her personal possessions. It wasn’t much to show after a lifetime, Lisa thought.
The house was quiet, but she knew her father was at home. She had seen the curtain of his room shift slightly. He made no move to come out to stop her. No attempt to explain what she had seen last night. In a way she was relieved, yet it did show how little he cared about whether she stayed or left.
As she and Dingo got into the van, she saw the curtains move again. However much of a failure her own life had been, it was nothing compared to his and her mother’s.
She wrote a note and left it on the hall table.
I am leaving the house key. You will realise now that I have left permanently. I wish you both well and certainly I wish you more happiness than you have now. I have not discussed my plans with Katie. I will wait until I am settled, then I will let you have a forwarding address.