by Maeve Binchy
'Are you crying?' Maud asked with interest.
'Sort of. People of my age do cry sometimes, quite unexpectedly. It's a nuisance,' she said matter-of-factly and blew her nose.
'Our mother used to cry like that in the hospital, and she didn't know why either,' Maud said kindly, as a sort of reassurance.
'But in her case it was really due to her bad nerves.' Simon was anxious always to be fair.
She hadn't realised just how very much she was going to miss them. It was nonsense to say that they belonged with this ridiculous couple, Jock's brother Kenneth and his wife.
'Come on kids, let's take Hooves for a walk. I know he's not mine but I feel very close to him, even though I don't live here.'
It won't be much of a walk, it's more a waddle,' Maud said, and ran for the lead. Up and down St Jarlath's Crescent they went, telling the people that they met about the puppy. They divided the time meticulously between them.
'I never thought we'd have a real puppy of our own, I thought we'd be able to play with someone else's, but not one of our very own, living in the house,' said Simon when it was Maud's turn to hold the lead.
'Sure, and he'll always be yours. The actual house where Hooves sleeps isn't all that important, not as important as the fact that he belongs to you.'
Simon looked up at her, troubled. 'Why do you say that?'
'Well, you know,' she shrugged vaguely.
'I know now,' he said. The old solemn look was back.
'What do you know?' she asked fearfully.
Maud had joined them, and was looking from one to the other.
Simon spoke very slowly and deliberately. 'Father has come back from his travels, Mother is coming out of the nervous hospital and we'll be leaving Muttie and his wife and we're going back to live with them and leave Hooves behind us.'
Maud looked up, stricken, waiting to hear it wasn't true. 'We're to call Muttie's wife Lizzie,' she corrected. 'Remember.'
'Yes,' Simon said flatly. 'Sorry, I forgot. Yeah, it's Lizzie all right.'
There was a silence. 'It's your turn with Hooves,' Maud said to Simon.
'I don't want him, Maud. Thank you all the same,' Simon said, and walked ahead of them back home. His shoulders were hunched and his head was down. Cathy let him go. She knew that he was trying very hard not to show how upset he was.
'Are we really going to be leaving St Jarlath's Crescent and you and Neil, Cathy?' Maud's face was paler than ever.
'It's not really leaving, you know friends don't leave each other, you'll be coming back to us and to Dad and Mam and who knows, maybe things are much better now and you can take Hooves with you.'
'You didn't know Mother, did you?'
'No, not really know, so to speak.'
'Her nerves would never let her make a home for Hooves,' Maud said sadly.
Marcella was talking earnestly to Ricky, but her face lit up when Tom came into the bookshop.
'You'll never guess what Ricky's going to try and get,' she said excitedly.
'No, tell me.' Tom was tired. His mother had worn him out, the passivity of his father had depressed him, he feared they hadn't costed the breads right for tomorrow's demonstration. Cathy had rung him on the mobile to say that St Jarlath's Crescent was plunged into gloom and the only person giving her the time of day was the black puppy, who had peed several times into her shoe.
'I just wondered if you felt like a cheering drink,' she had asked.
'I'm on my way to have one, come and join us. We might make a pitch for the bookshop trade as well,' he offered.
'Will I get in? I wasn't invited,' Cathy wondered.
I'd say they'll be out in the highways and byways dragging people in off the street,' he said.
'Tom, don't look now,' Marcella warned, 'but that woman over there in the hat… She's the editor of the new magazine I was telling you about, well, Ricky thinks he could sell her a picture story. Big, hunky photos of you… wearing a much classier sweater than that… Huge publicity for Scarlet Feather, too… you know, at home and at work or wherever.'
'Yeah, I mentioned it to her, she seems to be interested, but you know they never tell you yes or no. Still, I think she'll bite.'
'You do, Ricky?' Tom's eyes lit up. This would be truly wonderful. Everyone who was ever going to hire a caterer read this publication. He could see Cathy and himself taking the tray of bread into Haywards, the van with its jaunty little logo. Maybe they could give a recipe, and get a perfect picture taken of the completed dish. Like the scallops and ginger Cathy did so well, that would really show up well. They would never in a million years be able to get this kind of coverage. Wasn't Marcella great to talk Ricky into this. Ricky would persuade the woman in the silly hat.
'He's going to ask her to come over and meet you in a minute -give her your biggest smile,' Marcella begged. She looked so beautiful, but extra lively and happy tonight in a very smart short, dark grey and white dress he had never seen before.
'New?' he asked admiringly.
'Tom darling, you are so wonderful but you know nothing about clothes. This would cost seven hundred pounds if you were to buy it.'
'So how did you…'
'Joys of working in Haywards. Someone returned it to the designer room, a flaw in one of the seams or something. All I pay for is the dry-cleaning.'
She was like a toddler at a birthday party she was so thrilled with it all. Just then he saw Cathy. She looked bedraggled in her raincoat, and instead of a bright ribbon holding her hair back she had an elastic band. She wore no make-up, and she had lines under her eyes. He would not have noticed except that the room was filled with overdressed women and he had just turned away from the immaculately groomed Marcella in her designer outfit.
Cathy smiled. 'Lead me to the cheapest red wine and let me loose on it,' she said.
'Not if you're driving the company van, no way,' he said.
'No, I parked it up at the premises. It's all tucked up there waiting for the dawn baker to arrive.' She was as tired as he was. Where did all these other people get the energy to yap so much to each other?
'My God, look at Marcella! She's utterly dazzling in that dress. Bet it cost a few quid.'
'Don't ask,' he said.
'Oh dear, domestic rows on this matter?'
'No, I meant don't ask because it's off Haywards rail tonight and back tomorrow, I understand.'
'No harm done then.' Cathy was cheerful. 'Lord, but this is truly dreadful wine, I'll be glad when I've had enough!'
The woman in the silly hat approached and was introduced by Ricky. 'This is the celebrated Tom Feather I told you about,' Ricky said.
'Mmm,' she said, looking Tom up and down.
'I hear the magazine's doing really well,' he said.
'And your business too.' Again she seemed to let her eyes run all over Tom's body slowly and appreciatively.
'Yes, well, let me introduce you to the other half of the business, half of Scarlet Feather, Cathy Scarlet.'
'Great to meet you,' Cathy said pleasantly.
The woman looked somewhat puzzled. 'How nice,' she said.
'We'd be very happy to cooperate in anything… everything,' he said with his huge smile.
'Well that sounds like the best offer I've had all night,' she said. She had a strange manner, this woman with the hat. Full of innuendo, as if a very obvious pass was being made to her and she was being coy and flirtatious about it. Cathy thought she was grotesque. But she had gone now, so it was immaterial.
'Marcella… you look stunning.' She was genuine in her admiration.
'You're sweet, Cathy, it's just fine feathers, borrowed feathers actually.'
'Wait till you know what's going to happen, thanks to Ricky.' Tom couldn't wait a moment longer.
'What?' Cathy had rarely seen him so excited.
'That woman who looked as if she was wearing two building blocks stuck to a coat hanger on her head. She's the head of the new magazine we couldn't afford to advertise in, and wai
t for it, there's going to be a photo feature about Scarlet Feather in it.'
'Well, Tom…' Ricky began.
Wo! You're not serious.' Cathy was utterly delighted but apprehensive. She was going to have to do so much, finally change her hairstyle, borrow some clothes, get a professional make-up… But it would all be worth it.
'When do they want to do it?' she asked, as excited as Tom was.
'Well you see, actually…' Ricky began looking ill at ease.
Marcella explained. 'Ricky was telling me she's a very difficult woman, she blows hot and cold, we won't really know when or what form it will take for quite some time.' She seemed to be looking very directly at Ricky as she spoke.
'Sure,' he said eventually. 'Marcella tells it as it is. Stay in this part of the room, honey. I'll get one of the guys from the Sundays to come over to snap you.'
'Photographers always use that word "snap" as a joke. It's like people calling the radio a wireless…' Marcella said.
'Why did Ricky change his tack so suddenly? A few minutes ago he was saying it was in the bag. I can't understand it.' Tom was puzzled and annoyed.
The woman with the hat was leaving. She waved at him. 'Night, Tom, be good now. We'll be in touch soon. Ricky knows everything,' she said and was gone.
'Now,' Tom was triumphant. 'I'm going to find Ricky and tell him.'
'Please Tom, don't.' Marcella spoke seriously. Cathy looked up at her tone. 'There's been a misunderstanding.' Marcella looked awkwardly from Tom to Cathy as if unsure where to start or which of them to tell.
'Go on Marcella,' Cathy was gentle.
'Ricky was selling her a feature for a kind of Glamorous Couples thing… you know, you the big, gorgeous gourmet cook, me the model, our home, pics of us coming out of Stoneyfield together, you serving a meal to me, me at the gym, you piping cream on a dessert… Me doing the charity modelling show for that children's home… That kind of thing… So you see…'
'It's not about Scarlet Feather at all.' He was bitterly disappointed.
'Well, of course it is in part… after all, it's going to say what you do for a living, people will get to know your name.'
'But it's all a fake. I don't cook you meals, Marcella… you don't eat any meals.' Tom's face was red with indignation.
'Oh, come on, Tom, I thought you'd be delighted. She said you were gorgeous-looking. She told Ricky that when he showed her a picture he had taken of both of us. This is the chance I need. Why are you being so difficult? They can't have a feature on the business alone, that would be just advertising and the other catering companies would all go mad.'
'And what about all the other models or future models, won't they go mad also if it's about you?'
'About us, Tom, not just me, it's you too, how else are you going to get Scarlet Feather mentioned? I thought you'd be so pleased.'
Cathy saw this argument going nowhere except sharply downhill. 'I think it's great, Tom, this is the very best way that we could get publicity you know, it's exactly what we want.'
Marcella looked at her, a quick, very grateful glance.
But Tom had yet to be persuaded. 'I think it's silly. I'm not a male model, strutting about for knitting patterns, dressing up in a posh sweater or serving something in a cream sauce that you wouldn't eat in a million years…'
'Tom, stop the dramatics. How else are we going to get Scarlet Feather that kind of publicity? Tell me.'
'You're not being asked to behave like an arsehole.'
'And neither are you… I'd do it for the company. I would in a flash if I looked the part, and if Neil's bloody job would let him take part. But you know the way those barristers go on…' She had defused it.
'So do you really think… ?'
'Well of course I think… But listen, in the end it's all up to you and Marcella to fight about it. I'll leave you now to get on with it. Just know that I put on the table the view that it would be great for business.' She turned to go away, and saw herself reflected in a glass door. Of course it had been ridiculous to think that a glossy magazine would have wanted her in it. She had been even more idiotic than Tom.
'Don't go, Cathy, you wanted a drink and to be cheered up.'
'Well I am cheered up, very.' Her eyes were very bright, over-bright. 'We've got a load of great publicity ahead of us and all you have to do is smile.'
'I'm sorry. I thought it was the two of us.'
I'm not… I'm totally relieved,' and she was out of the bookshop.
'Do you think Mother will let us come back here to St Jarlath's?' Maud asked Simon hopefully.
'I don't think so, do you?' Simon had no idea.
'Not really. Her nerves might not be able to take it,' Maud said.
There was a silence. Eventually Simon spoke. 'I suppose it will be all right being back at home again. In a way.'
'Yes.' Maud was glum.
'At least we don't have to change schools again. Neil got that sorted for us,' Simon said.
'I suppose we'll just get ourselves home… I mean,Muttie and Hooves can't come and collect us any more.'
'No.' Simon was very sure on this.
'It's a pity Mother's nerves got better so soon in a way, isn't it?' Maud said.
'And that Father was found,' said Simon.
They looked at each other guiltily. But it had been said now, and it couldn't be taken back.
Cathy was around at the premises at dawn the next day.
I'm not here to interfere… just to make coffee and tidy up after you… This is your show,' she explained.
Tom was overjoyed to see her. 'God, I'm glad to see you. I'm having awful second thoughts about the fruit and nutty bread.'
'But everyone loves that,' Cathy protested.
'They love it when they've paid for it in advance, when it's in their house and they can't give it back,' Tom wailed, 'but will they love it if they have to pay so much a slice and wonder why if it's sweet they aren't buying a slice of gooey gateau instead. I think it was a stupid idea.'
'It's in the oven, isn't it?' Cathy checked.
'Yes, but—'
'I think it's a great idea… Come on, strong, strong coffee and lots of backbone… Which was Geraldine's great advice to me when I was a teenager. How's Marcella?' He had stopped worrying about the bread now.
'I proposed again last night. I said to Marcella that if we have to do this idiotic photo shoot let's make it an engagement celebration, but she won't hear of it.'
'Proper order. What an unromantic proposal!' Cathy said firmly.
'No, it's not that at all; she says she won't marry me until she's successful, until she believes that I'm getting as good a bargain as she is.'
'She's amazingly direct and straightforward, isn't she,' Cathy said with admiration.
'She is the only person I know in the whole world who has never told a lie,' Tom said.
'Hey, come on, what about me?'
'You lie from morning to night, as do I. We have to, we tell people their houses are terrific when they're terrible, we tell them this Chardonnay is better than that depending what price we get it for, we thank the butcher and tell him he's terrific to chop the meat for us even though he doesn't do it properly but at least he waves his cleaver at it. We're telling lies all day.'
There was a ping on the oven timer and the bread came out. It all looked perfect as it went onto the wire trays. Cathy shook Tom's hand formally. 'It's bloody great, Tom, I can't believe they won't take it. I know we're into Haywards today, I just know it.'
They delivered the baskets to Shona just before the big meeting. Shona looked so elegant in her dark suit and pale pink blouse, slightly severe but very much in control. You didn't stay in a senior job at Haywards just by looking pretty.
It smells utterly magical, but you know it's not down to me. I can only hope for you,' she said, and she was gone.
They would meet in the cafe at noon to hear the result. They had the time planned down to the last second: they would go to the market to buy t
he ingredients for James Byrne's cookery lesson that evening. They would price little breadbaskets in the market too. Just in case they got the Haywards job… They would check on a new laundry, what it would cost to do their tablecloths; they would walk around the new Eastern Delights delicatessen with notebooks at the ready, looking for more ideas. That would certainly fill up all their time until Shona was able to tell them the news.
Shona came running into the cafe, thumbs up in the air. Not only had they bought it as an idea, they had eaten it all at their coffee break. There had been little dishes of butter on the tray as well, to encourage them. They could start next week on a six-week trial period.
'Can we use our name?' Tom asked.
'Yes, but a bit smaller than you wanted… They'd like "baked fresh every day especially for Haywards", and then your name… But we can put your logo on, of course, and make it whatever size we like.' Shona was as eager as they were.
Cathy flung her arms around the girl. 'We'll never be able to thank you,' she said, her voice choked.
Then Tom folded Shona in a bear-hug. 'I swear I'll make it a success, for your sake as well as ours.' He was gruff with gratitude.
'You'll be responsible for putting two inches onto the hip measuremenIs of Ireland,' Shona said. 'You should have seen the way they went at it, and they want double the order of the fruit and nut one.'
'And they accept the price?' Tom was beaming all over his face.
'Yes, they think it's fair, but don't be appalled when you see what they charge, they didn't get to be rich by having a small mark-up,' she apologised.
'We'd take you out to dinner tonight to thank you properly, but we have a job,' Cathy said.
'No need, believe me, I'm the flavour of the month after that feeding frenzy upstairs!'
Tom and Cathy looked at each other in disbelief.
'Back to the market,' she said.
'To buy the breadbaskeIs,' Tom said with a great whoop of joy that turned every head in his direction.
James Byrne had explained to them that he wanted three cookery lessons. And that he would need to master a starter, a main course and a dessert at each lesson. Then he could mix and match, and when the time came he could serve whatever he liked best or possibly whatever was easiest. They didn't ask him what was the time that was going to come. You didn't ask James Byrne anything personal like that.
