by Maeve Binchy
“Just buy me a week, then. Tell her Wednesday of next week.”
“Lunch or dinner?”
“Oh, God, lunch.”
“She has her eyes on dinner,” Teddy said.
“An early-bird dinner, then.” Anton was resigned.
“She does work her butt off for this place. I don’t think we ever pay her anything.”
“Nobody asked her to slave.” Anton strained to hear what the newly united father and son were saying to each other. The conversation seemed to be limping along.
“Wouldn’t families make you sick, Teddy?” Anton said unexpectedly.
Teddy paused before answering. Anton’s family had not troubled him very much. Teddy didn’t understand what was wrong with families from Anton’s viewpoint, but he knew enough to agree with him.
“You’re so right, Anton, but think of all the business we get out of the guilt that families create! Half the people here today are here from some kind of family guilt. Anniversaries, birthdays, engagements, graduations. We’d be bankrupt without it.” Teddy always saw the bright side.
“Good man, Teddy.” Anton was slightly distracted. That man, Mr. Ennis, was making heavy weather over his meeting with his son. Even from across the room you could cut the atmosphere with a knife.
Clara always said that when in doubt, you should speak your mind. Ask the question that is bothering you. Don’t play games.
“What’s wrong, Des? What has changed? In your letter you were eager to meet.… Why are you so different?”
“I didn’t know the whole story. I didn’t know what your family did.”
“What did they do?” Frank cried.
“As if you didn’t know.”
“I don’t know,” Frank protested.
“You don’t fool me. I’ve got documents, receipts, forms signed—I know the whole story now.”
“You know more than I do,” Frank said. “Who was writing these documents and filling in these forms?”
“My mother was a frightened girl of seventeen. Your father gave her a choice. She could leave Ireland forever and she would get a thousand pounds. One thousand pounds! That’s how much my life was worth. A miserable grand. And for this she was to sign an undertaking that she would never approach the Ennis family claiming any responsibility for her pregnancy.”
“This can’t be true!” Frank’s voice was weak with shock.
“Why did you think she had gone away?”
“Her mother told me she had gone to America to stay with cousins,” Frank said.
“Yes, that’s the story they all put out.”
“But why shouldn’t I have believed them?”
“Because you weren’t a fool. If you played according to their rules you were in a win-win situation. Troublesome girl irritatingly pregnant, out of your hair, out of the country. Everything sorted. You leapt at the chance.”
“No, I didn’t. I didn’t know there was anything to sort out. I never knew until I got your letter that I had a child.”
“Try another story, Frank.”
“Where did you hear all this about my parents asking Rita to sign documents?”
“From Nora. Her sister. My aunt Nora. I went to see her in London and she told me everything.”
“She told you wrong, Des. Nothing like that ever happened.”
“Give me credit for some brains. You’re not going to admit it now if you didn’t then.”
“There was nothing to admit. You don’t understand. All this came to me out of a clear blue sky.”
“You never got in touch with her. You never wrote to her once.”
“I wrote to her for three months every day. I put proper stamps for America on them, but got no reply.”
“Didn’t that ring any alarm bells?”
“No, it didn’t. I asked her mother if she was forwarding the letters and her mother said she was.”
“And eventually you gave up?”
“Well, I was getting no response. And her mother said …” He stopped as if remembering something.
“Yes?”
“She said I should leave Rita alone. That she had moved on in life. She said there had been a lot of fuss made, but the Ravens had done everything according to the letter of the law.”
“And you didn’t know what she meant?” Des was not convinced.
“I hadn’t an idea what she meant, but now I see … no, it couldn’t be …”
“What couldn’t be?”
“My parents—if you had known them, Des! Sex was never mentioned in our house. They would be incapable of any discussion about paying Rita off.”
“Did they like her?”
“Not particularly. They didn’t like anyone who was distracting me from my studies and exams.”
“And her folks, did they like you?”
“Not really, same sort of reasons. Rita was skipping her classes to be with me.”
“They thought you were a pig,” Des said.
“Surely not!” Frank was surprised at his calmness in the face of insult.
“That’s what Nora says. She says you ruined everyone’s life. You and your so-grand family. You broke them all up. Rita never came back from Australia because she had to swear not to. A perfectly decent family, minding its own business, ruined because of you and your snobbish family.” He looked very upset and very angry.
Frank knew he had to walk carefully. This boy had been so excited and enthusiastic about meeting him; now he was hostile and barely able to sit at the same table as the father he had crossed the world to meet.
“Rita’s sister in London—Nora, is it? She must be very upset.”
“Which is more than you are,” Des said mulishly.
“I am sorry. I tried to tell you that, but we got bogged down in a silly argument.”
“Silly argument is what you call it? A row that destroyed my mother’s family!”
“I didn’t know any of it, Des. Not until I heard from you.”
“Do you believe me?”
“I believe that’s what Nora said to you, certainly.”
“So you think she was lying?”
“No, I think she believes what she was told. My parents are dead now. Your mother is dead. We have no one to ask.” He knew that he sounded weak and defeated.
But oddly Des Raven seemed to recognize the honesty in his tone. “You’re right,” he said, almost grudgingly. “It’s up to us now.”
Frank Ennis had seen the waiter hover near them and leave several times. Soon they must order.
“Would you like something to eat, Des? I ordered an Australian wine to make you feel at home.”
“I’m sorry—I like to know who I am eating and drinking with.” Des was taking no prisoners.
“Well, I don’t know how well you’ll get to know me.… They say that I’m difficult and that I make a mess of things,” Frank said. “That’s what I’m told, anyway.”
“Who tells you that? Your wife?”
“No. I never married.”
Des was surprised. “So no children, then?”
“Apart from you, no.”
“I must have been a shock.”
Frank paused. He must not say the wrong thing here. It was a time to be honest and speak from the heart. But how could he admit to this boy that his instincts and first reactions had been doubt and confusion and a wish to check it all out? He knew that if he were wholly truthful he could alienate Des Raven forever and lose the son he had only just met.
“It may sound cold to you, Des, but my first reaction was shock. I couldn’t believe that I had a child—my own flesh and blood—without my having an idea about it. I am a tidy, meticulous sort of person. This was like having my whole neat world turned upside down. I had to think about it. That’s what I do, Des, I think about things slowly and carefully.”
“Really?” Des sounded slightly scornful.
“Yes, really. So when it had got clear in my mind, I called you.”
“And what had you to
get clear, exactly?”
“I had to get my head around the fact that I had fathered a son. And if you think that’s something that can be accepted as natural and normal in two minutes then you are an amazing person. It takes someone like me a bit of time to get used to a new concept, and as soon as I did I called you and you had already gone.”
“But you must have been afraid that people would find out.” Des was still taunting him.
“No, I wasn’t afraid of that. Not at all.” He had to think what Clara might have said, and it came to him. “I was proud to have a son. I would want people to know.”
“I don’t think so.… Big Catholic hospital manager having illegitimate child. No, I can’t see you wanting people to know.”
“There is no such word, no concept of an illegitimate child nowadays. The law has changed and society has changed too. People are proud of their children, born in wedlock or outside.” Frank spoke with spirit.
Des shook his head. “All very fine, very noble, but you haven’t told anyone about me yet.”
“You are so wrong, Des. I have indeed talked about you and said how excited I was to be going to meet you.…”
“Who did you tell? Not Miss Frosty in your office, that’s for sure. Did you tell your mates at the golf club or the racetrack or wherever you go? Did you say, ‘I have a boy too. I’m like you, a family man’? No way. You told nobody.”
Frank sat there, miserable. If he started to tell him about Clara it made it all the more pitiable. There was only one person to whom he had told the secret. At that moment Anton Moran appeared at their side.
“Mr. Ennis,” he said, as if Frank had been a regular customer since the place had opened.
“Ah, Mr. Moran.” Frank had the feeling of being rescued. It was as if this man were throwing him some sort of a lifeline.
“Mr. Ennis, I was wondering would you and your son like to try our lobster? It is this morning’s catch, done very simply, with butter and a couple of sauces on the side.”
Anton looked from one to the other. A sudden silence had fallen between the two men. They were looking at each other, dumbfounded.
“I’m sorry,” the younger man said.
“No, I’m sorry, Des,” said Frank. “I’m sorry for all those years.…”
Anton murmured that he would come back in a few moments to take their order. He would never know what was going on there, but they seemed to have turned a corner. At least they were talking, and soon they were ordering food. He looked over again and they were raising a glass of Hunter Valley Chardonnay to each other. That was a relief. As soon as he had mentioned the boy being the man’s son, Anton had felt a twinge of anxiety.
Possibly he had been indiscreet? But no, it seemed to be working fine. Anton breathed deeply and went back into the kitchen. Imagine—there were some people who believed that running a restaurant was all to do with serving food!
That was only a very small part of it, Anton thought.
Chapter Nine
Moira had an appointment with Frank Ennis. It was her quarterly report. She had to show the manager her case list and explain the work she had done that was costing the hospital a day and a half’s wages.
Miss Gorman, his fearsome secretary, asked Moira to take a seat and wait. Today she was, if possible, more fearsome still.
“Is Mr. Ennis very busy?” Moira inquired politely.
“They never leave him alone, pulling him this way and that.” Miss Gorman looked protective and angry. Maybe she fancied him and was annoyed that he had taken up with Dr. Casey.
“He always seems so much in control,” Moira murmured.
“Oh, no, he’s at their beck and call all day. It’s totally disrupting his schedule.”
“Who is doing this disrupting?” Moira was interested. She liked stories of confrontation.
Miss Gorman was vague. “Oh, people, you know. Fussing people saying it’s a personal matter. It’s so distracting for poor Mr. Ennis.”
She definitely fancied him, Moira thought, sighing over the way people wasted their lives over love. Look at that Lisa Kelly, who thought she was the girlfriend of Anton Moran despite all the women that he paraded around the place. Look at that silly girl in her own social worker team who had refused promotion because her plodding boyfriend might have felt inadequate.
Look at poor Miss Gorman, sitting here fuming because these people, whoever they were, were actually daring to ring Frank Ennis saying that it was personal. She sighed again and settled down to wait.
Frank Ennis was much more cheerful than on earlier visits. He checked her figures and report carefully.
“You certainly seem to be taking a load off the main hospital … the real hospital,” he said.
“I think you’ll find that the heart clinic thinks of itself very much as the real hospital,” Moira corrected him.
“Which is why I wouldn’t use such an expression in front of them. Credit me with some intelligence, Ms. Tierney.”
“It’s very well run, I must say.”
“Well, yes, they do deliver a service. I give them that much, but it’s like a mothers’ meeting in there—this one is having a baby, that one is getting engaged, the other one is getting married. It’s like a gossip column in a cheap newspaper.”
“I couldn’t agree with you less.” Moira was cold. “These are professional women; they know their subject and they do their job well. They reassure the patients and teach them to manage their own condition. I don’t see that as being in any way like a gossip column or a mothers’ meeting.”
“But I thought I could talk to you about it. I thought you were my eyes and ears. My spy in there …”
“You suggested that, certainly, but I never accepted the role.”
“That’s true, you didn’t. I suppose you’ve been sucked into it like everyone else.”
“I doubt it, Mr. Ennis. I’m not easily sucked into things. Shall I leave this report with you?”
“Have I annoyed you in any way, Ms. Tierney?” Frank Ennis asked.
“No, not at all, Mr. Ennis. You have your job to do, I have mine. It’s a matter of mutual respect. Why do you think you might have annoyed me?”
“Because apparently that’s what I do, Ms. Tierney, annoy people, and you look disapproving, as if you didn’t like what you saw.”
Several people had said that to Moira, but usually in the heat of the moment when they were objecting to something she had to do in the line of work. Nobody had ever said it in a matter-of-fact way and an even tone like Frank Ennis.
“It must be the way my face is set, Mr. Ennis. I assure you, I’m not disapproving of anything you do.”
“Good, good.” He seemed satisfied. “So you’ll smile a bit from now on, will you?”
“I can’t smile to order. It would only be a grimace,” Moira said. “You know … twisting my features into a smile … it wouldn’t be real or sincere.”
Frank Ennis looked at her for a moment.
“You’re quite right, Ms. Tierney, and I hope we will meet under some circumstances that do call for a real or sincere smile.”
“I hope so,” Moira said. She thought that he was looking at her with some sympathy and concern. Imagine, this man pitied her!
How ridiculous.
It was a long weekend and everyone was going somewhere.
Noel and his parents were taking baby Frankie to the country for two nights. They had booked a bed-and-breakfast place outside Rossmore. There was a statue of St. Ann and a holy well there; Josie and Charles were very interested in it. Noel said he would probably give the holy well a miss, but he would take the baby for walks in the wood for the fresh air. He had shown Moira the case he had packed for the journey. Everything was there.
Lisa was going to London. Anton was going to look at a few restaurants there and she was going to take notes. It would be wonderful. Moira had sniffed, but said nothing.
Frank Ennis said that he was going to take a bus tour. It would take in some o
f Ireland’s greatest tourist attractions. It seemed a very unusual thing for him to do. He had someone he wanted to show Ireland to and this seemed to be the best way. It was certainly going to be interesting, he told Moira.
Emily said that she was going to see the west of Ireland for the first time. Dingo Duggan was going to drive the van, taking Emily and Declan’s parents, Molly and Paddy Carroll. They would have a great time.
Simon and Maud were going with friends to North Wales. They were bringing sleeping bags and a sort of makeshift tent. They would take the boat to Holyhead and then might find a hostel, but if not, they could sleep anywhere with all their gear. There would be six of them altogether. It would be terrific fun.
Dr. Declan Carroll and his wife, Fiona, were taking Johnny to a seaside hotel. Fiona said that she was going to sleep until lunchtime both days. They had baby minders there to look after young children. It would be magical.
Dr. Hat was going to go fishing with three friends. It was an all-in weekend with no hidden extras. Dr. Hat said he was a poor old pensioner now and had to be careful with his money—Moira never knew whether he was joking or not. It certainly wasn’t the time to bring out one of those rare smiles.
Most of her colleagues were going away or else they were having parties or doing their gardens.
Moira suddenly felt very much out of it, as if she were on the side of things looking on. Why wasn’t she going somewhere, like sitting in Dingo’s van heading west or going to see some statue in Rossmore or setting out for the lakes in the Midlands with Dr. Hat and his mates?
The answer was only too clear.
She had no real friends.
She had never needed them in life—the job was too absorbing—and to do it right you needed to be on duty all hours of the day. Friends would find it very tedious to go out to supper with someone who might well have to disappear in the middle of the main course.
But it was lonely and restless to see everyone else with plans for the long weekend.
Moira announced that she was going home to Liscuan. She talked so little about her private life, people assumed that there must be a big family waiting for her.
“That will be nice for you, to go home and meet everyone,” Ania said. “You will have a great welcome, yes?”