Double Wedding

by Patricia Scanlan

  the poem

  The Interview With God

  I dreamed I had an interview with God.

  ‘So you would like to interview me?’ God asked.

  ‘If you have the time,’ I said.

  God smiled. ‘My time is eternity.

  What questions do you have in mind for me?’

  ‘What surprises you most about humankind?’

  God answered . . .

  ‘That they get bored with childhood,

  they rush to grow up, and then

  long to be children again.

  That they lose their health to make money . . .

  and then lose their money to restore their health.

  That by thinking anxiously about the future,

  they forget the present,

  such that they live in neither

  the present nor the future.

  That they live as if they will never die,

  and die as though they had never lived.’

  God’ s hand took mine

  and we were silent for a while.

  And then I asked . . .

  ‘As a parent, what are some of life’s lessons

  you want your children to learn?’

  ‘To learn they cannot make anyone

  love them. All they can do

  is let themselves be loved.

  To learn that it is not good

  to compare themselves to others.

  To learn to forgive

  by practising forgiveness.

  To learn that it only takes a few seconds

  to open profound wounds in those they love,

  and it can take many years to heal them.

  To learn that a rich person

  is not one who has the most,

  but is one who needs the least.

  To learn that there are people

  who love them dearly,

  but simply have not yet learned

  how to express or show their feelings.

  To learn that two people can

  look at the same thing

  and see it differently.

  To learn that it is not enough that they

  forgive one another, but they must also forgive themselves.’

  ‘Thank you for your time,’ I said humbly.

  ‘Is there anything else

  you would like your children to know?’

  God smiled and said,

  ‘Just know that I am here . . . always.’

  –author unknown

  Tears slid down Liz’s cheeks as she read the last line, but they weren’t tears of sadness. It was as if her loneliness was being shared and she wasn’t alone.

  She sat peacefully looking out of the window, enjoying the way the sunlight dappled the patio through the leafy, fringed foliage of the Japanese maple that Jessica had given her a few years ago for her birthday.

  Today was a good day, she told herself. She would live in the present, like it said in the poem, and make the most of it.

  * * *

  ‘I hope you didn’t mind me not going on our walk last night, Nancy,’ Liz said as they walked briskly down the road towards the town.

  ‘Not at all – you had to be there for Jessie and Mike. Anyway, I did some gardening out the back and I enjoyed it, to be honest. Mind, my poor ass was aching after it from all the leaning into the flowerbeds. I’d like to have the place a bit tidy when Carol and Gary come down again. I got a chap to cut the grass for me and I’ll be able to do it myself from now on.’

  ‘I like cutting the grass,’ Liz remarked. ‘It’s something that gives a very visible result, if you know what I mean. I always feel I’ve achieved something satisfying when I’ve cut the back garden. Sad, I know, but there you go.’

  ‘I don’t think it’s sad, I felt a bit like that myself.’ Nancy was privately chuffed that she was pacing her friend. Carol had promised to come down soon and she was looking forward to her daughter’s reaction to her new health and fitness regime.

  She’d gone swimming with Liz and Tara early one morning during the week and afterwards had gone for coffee and a fry-up with them in Anne’s Bakery, something she hadn’t done in years. It had been a real treat.

  She’d been a little awkward and nervous at the beginning with Tara, not knowing her that well. But Liz’s sister had soon put her at her ease with her outrageous sense of humour and devil-may-care attitude. She’d found herself laughing heartily at some of the other woman’s witty asides and had wondered privately in amazement if it was really her, Nancy Logan, nervous, jittery recluse, sitting in public, eating and chatting and laughing and actually having fun. Sometimes she felt she needed to pinch herself.

  The bad days came too, but she seemed to be able to deal with them more easily, not allowing herself to sink into the apathy of depression like she used to. It was a habit, she supposed, but habits could be broken and she found that these days she tended to go out into the garden if depression threatened to overwhelm her. The fine, warm summer had been her ally for sure, she thought gratefully.

  At the beginning when she’d started walking with Liz, she’d been morose, finding it hard to talk; now she welcomed her chats with her neighbour and was careful not to talk about Bill or feel sorry for herself.

  It must be starting to work, she reflected. Nancy noticed she didn’t think of him as often, nor did she feel as sorry for herself as she used to. Liz was an inspiration to her. She was one of life’s truly kind souls and Nancy counted herself lucky to have been befriended by her.

  ‘I printed this off for you, it’s an email I got from Tara. I thought you might like it – I certainly did.’ Liz took a card out of the back of her jeans pocket and handed it to her. ‘See you tomorrow.’

  ‘See you, Liz, thanks for the walk,’ Nancy said almost light-heartedly. She was looking forward to a cup of tea, a cigarette and a read of a lovely book that Liz had lent her. It was called The Game of Life, a spiritual book that was making her see life in a whole different way. It was all about thinking positive and not judging and seeing the good in every human being. She had a long way to go to see the good in Bill, she thought wryly, but at least she had made a start.

  She made her tea, took her book and card and cigarettes and headed for the garden. This really was her favourite time of the day, this benign, soul-calming time with just the sound of the birds to keep her company. Nadine was working and probably wouldn’t be in until all hours, but Nancy wasn’t giving her grief. She was hoping that the change in her might rub off on her youngest daughter and she’d be happier to come home. She was certainly less abrasive these days and had complimented her a few times on her hair. One day she’d even done her nails for her.

  That had been nice, a real mother–daughter thing, and Nancy hoped there’d be more of it.

  She sat down, leaned back against her lounger cushion, took a sip of tea and lit up. Gratefully she drew the smoke deep into her lungs. Some day she’d give up the fags, but not yet. She needed her crutches.

  She opened the card Liz had given her and smiled when she saw WELL DONE and a picture of a grinning Cheshire cat. Liz had written: Just want to say you’ re doing great, and I enjoy our walks. Enjoy this. I did. Love Liz XXXX

  A page fell out and she unfolded it and read it slowly. As she read the last line a great lump came to her throat. A lump as big as a grapefruit. And then it was as if a knot of grief that had been stuck in her breastbone slowly came undone and she cried with abandon, all the sorrow of the years pouring out of her.

  Nancy cried for a long time. She cried for herself, she cried for Carol and Nadine, and she cried for Bill and what could have been. She was shaking after the torrent of grief that had flooded out of her, and her first thought after her sobs subsided was to go inside and pour herself a stiff drink. It would calm her, soothe her. She lit another cigarette. She knew if she went inside to take that drink a sip or two wouldn’t do. It would be a glassful, neat. And she’d be on a bender quicker than the blink of an eye.
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br />   Nancy took a few deep breaths and picked up the poem that had fluttered from her fingers. She read it again and lingered on the last line.

  ‘Just know that I am here . . . always.’

  ‘God! Don’t let me drink, please, please don’t let me drink!’ she prayed aloud. ‘Be with me and help me learn to forgive and not to hold on to the resentment.’

  She picked up the little book Liz had given her and, holding it between her hands as her friend had instructed, asked for a message of comfort. She slid her thumb between two pages and opened it slowly.

  ‘God sees man perfect, created in his own image,’ she read, and for a fleeting moment had a memory of herself radiant and carefree as a young woman playing tennis before life’s hard knocks had taken their toll. She hadn’t smoked then or drunk, and while she knew she’d never be youthful again she could be carefree and healthy. The longing for a drink was still strong but she kept the vision of herself as she’d once been and gradually a composure of sorts descended on her and Nancy fell asleep, face raised to the evening sun, and dreamt she was bathed in a beautiful light.

  34

  ‘Jessie, I got a phone call from the estate agent’s. The woman who owns the house has changed her mind all of a sudden and is letting it to someone in the family, so we’ll have to keep looking. Talk to you later.’ Mike’s message ended, and Jessica wished she hadn’t turned on her phone until after her lunch. She’d been in studio most of the morning and had turned off her phone, never thinking that she was going to hear such discouraging news. She looked at the quiche and salad on her plate and suddenly didn’t feel very hungry. She was sitting in the big canteen in RTE, and all around the hum of chatter and laughter and the clinking of cutlery faded away as disappointment so intense that she could almost taste it swept through her.

  She’d felt very at home in that cottage. It was so clean and well-furnished compared to the other two places they had viewed. It was completely disheartening.

  ‘Back in a second, I just need to ring Mike,’ she excused herself, and walked between the crowded tables to the relative peace outside. She dialled Mike’s number dejectedly.

  ‘What happened? They’d accepted us as tenants. The deposit was due tomorrow,’ she demanded as soon as she heard his voice.

  ‘I know. It’s a bummer.’ Mike sounded just as down. ‘Seemingly some niece that was supposed to be going to Australia has changed her mind and she’s going to rent it. I suppose we can’t compete against family.’

  ‘Well, I think it’s very mean of the landlady. She’d agreed to let it to us,’ Jessica moaned.

  ‘We might have had a chance if she’d cashed the deposit. Anyway, there’s no point in crying over spilt milk – we’ve just got to keep looking,’ Mike said stoically.

  ‘I know, I’m just pissed off. I really liked it.’

  ‘Me too. Anyway, I have to go. I’ll give you a call later, OK?’

  ‘OK, bye.’ She shoved her phone into her pocket and walked back into the canteen.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ her friend Judy asked when she got back to the table.

  ‘Ah, the house that we were looking at that we really liked has fallen through. So we’re back on the hunt.’ She sighed deeply. ‘I really liked it, Judy, it was a lovely house.’

  ‘Another one will come along,’ Judy comforted.

  ‘It would want to come soon. Time’s getting on,’ Jessica said despondently. ‘The location was good for us as well as the house. It was about halfway in terms of commuting.’

  ‘It’s hard to find houses to let in the country, you’ll probably have to come as far as Bray,’ Judy observed. ‘How about Greystones? And it’s got the train service.’

  ‘That’s a thought.’ Jessica perked up. ‘I’ll have a look on the internet and see what’s on offer. Good thinking, Miss Judy. Well done.’

  ‘So eat up your lunch there now and stop sitting there with a face on you like a smacked bottom,’ Judy ordered briskly.

  Jessica giggled. Judy was one of the most no-nonsense people she knew. Greystones wasn’t too far from Kilcoole, and it was by the sea. It was a little further from Wicklow than she’d like for Mike’s sake, but it was better for him than the trek to Bray.

  Another two colleagues joined them at the table, so, making an effort, she pushed her housing worries to the back of her mind and turned her attentions to the gossip and chat of the day.

  * * *

  Nadine sat on the bus gazing out at the city traffic. They were driving past RTE, she knew, because she recognized the big TV mast from seeing it on the television. And she knew that Jessica worked there. It must be a very exciting and glamorous place to work, she thought enviously as they drove along the Stillorgan dual carriageway. She didn’t know what she wanted to do when she finished school. She just wanted to get as far away from Arklow as she possibly could. A sliver of guilt flashed through her. Nancy had given her fifty euro to spend and told her to enjoy herself. She’d even given her an awkward sort of hug that had made Nadine feel embarrassed but pleased at the same time. Her mother was making a huge effort to straighten herself out, she acknowledged. Nadine knew that Carol thought Liz was a bossy-boots, but Nadine quite liked her. It was great the way she was going walking and swimming with Nancy and giving her books to read.

  Her mother was behaving much more like a normal person, doing grocery shopping, keeping the house tidy, and doing the garden. She seemed a lot happier in herself. Nadine didn’t dread coming home half as much as she used to. Nancy still took a drink, but nothing compared to the amounts that used to leave her comatose.

  Seeing her dad yelling at her mother on that horrible Sunday afternoon had made her feel sick. When she’d seen Nancy dissolving into tears in front of everyone she’d wanted to scrab his eyes out. Living with Nancy, she understood her father’s frustration and fury with her mother, but he shouldn’t have made a show of her in front of the neighbours. Nadine had been petrified that Nancy would go on the mother and father of a bender, but the weird thing was, she’d never been on a bad bender since. It was like she’d hit rock bottom and could only go up. Whatever the reason, Nadine welcomed it. Things were different at home, different and better, and now she was going to Dublin to buy clothes and go clubbing. She couldn’t wait.

  * * *

  Carol ran down the steps of the Civic Offices, glad to be out in the fresh air. It had been a busy day. Half her staff were on annual leave and the work was piling up. She had changed into her running gear and it was a relief to start jogging. She needed to clear her head. She was meeting Nadine wherever they connected on the quays. She’d told her sister to walk along the quays from Bus Aras on the north side until they met. The sun glinted on the gunmetal waters of the Liffey as it surged between the quay walls. The tide was higher than normal and the boats bobbed like corks at their moorings. Carol inhaled the salty, pungent smell as she weaved her way between the throngs of people homeward bound. She was looking forward to her sister’s visit with more than a touch of apprehension. She didn’t know Nadine very well. They didn’t have a lot in common, and their encounters in the last year or so had been acrimonious because of Nadine’s wild social life.

  She’d spoken to her sister the day before, to make the arrangements, and Nadine was bubbling with excitement. She was dying to shop. Her targets included Top Shop and Miss Selfridge in Jervis Street, and River Island, Warehouse, Hairylegs and No Name, all recommended by her friends, and she was determined to sample them all, she informed Carol. They were then going to go back to the flat, change, meet Gary and head in to Temple Bar. Carol hoped it all went to plan.

  She waited impatiently for the lights to turn green on O’Connell Bridge. It was impossible to jog, the crowds were so dense. She wondered how far down the quays Nadine was. She scanned the crowds along the bridge but didn’t see her sister, so she crossed and turned right along Eden Quay. Then she saw her striding along purposefully, peering around on the lookout. Carol’s heart softened at the sigh
t of her bouncing along, listening to her Walkman. She was only a kid, despite the tough façade, she reminded herself. She waved to attract her attention and was rewarded by a smile of recognition. Nadine pulled her earphones down around her neck. ‘Hiya, Carol,’ she greeted her a little warily.

  ‘Hi, Nadine.’ Carol slid into step beside her, ignoring the slight tension. ‘How are things? Did you have a good journey?’

  ‘Traffic was crap.’ Nadine shrugged. ‘Can we have something to eat first? I’m starving!’

  ‘Sure. We’ll head up to the Jervis Street Centre and grab something there, and then you can go right into Top Shop and Miss Selfridge.’

  ‘Deadly.’ Nadine couldn’t hide her excitement.

  She wolfed down an enormous BLT, Coke and gooey dessert in short order. ‘That was good, Carol, thanks. Could we start shopping now?’ she asked impatiently.

  ‘Yeah – what are you thinking of wearing to the wedding?’

  ‘I don’t have to wear a dress, do I?’

  ‘You’re not going to wear jeans, are you?’ Carol asked in dismay.

  ‘Could I?’

  ‘No,’ Carol said firmly.

  ‘OK.’ Nadine made a face.

  ‘Let’s see what’s in the shops,’ Carol suggested lightly. There was no point in starting a row.

  Nadine’s eyes lit up as they battled through the late-night shoppers to get into Miss Selfridge.

  ‘Oh look! Oh, look at these tops. Oh, these are really cool,’ she enthused, pointing to some skimpy off-the-shoulder belly tops.

  Oh my God, Carol thought in dismay, as Nadine rampaged through the displays oohing and aahing and holding tops up against her.

  ‘You’d just need to go a little more formal,’ she explained as Nadine held up a pink halter. ‘How about this and this?’ She held up a little black vest top and a silver chiffony blouse with flowing sleeves. ‘You could wear it with a pair of black trousers.’