by Maeve Binchy
'You were wonderful. They all said so.'
'Marcella, how have you the patience?'
'I ask you always how have you the patience to do all that fiddly work. Those little perfectly shredded garnishes, and rolling up those tiny bits of sushi… I would go mad rather than do it, I tell you.'
She stroked his brow and he wanted to go to sleep there and then. 'That's because you don't eat,' he said, smiling up at her. 'You've never had a lust for food like other fatter folk.'
'Oh, I might have had a lust for food once upon a time,' she said.
But he knew that she never had. Any of the few pictures of her childhood that he had seen showed a little waif-like girl. Marcella had never been a foodie.
'I have to go, alas,' he said, dragging himself up.
'Surely not? After all the work you put in already today?'
'We have a do. Cathy's been working on it all day while I've been posturing here. I have to go and help her serve it.'
'Sure you have to go. Though your posturing, as you call it, may well get you lots more business.'
'Marcella, be serious!'
'I was never more so. What is it tonight?'
'Our Lady's Ladies.'
'What?'
'I don't know. Some past pupils' group. They're all twenty years left school this year, and apparently two decades ago they swore a mighty oath that if they were alive today they'd have a party.'
'They're not really called that, are they?'
'Something like that. Anyway, off I go. Am I too casual, do you think?'
'I'd say Our Lady's Ladies will just about tear you to pieces,' said Marcella admiringly.
'Jesus, Cathy, what a day I've had: I'm so sorry for leaving all this to you.'
'No problem, Mister Cheesecake… I was glad to be distracted, I have to take those kids to meet some terrifying Nazi called Sara tomorrow, and ease them back to the madhouse… I preferred making salmon en croute.'
How they got through the night, they never knew. Tom, who was nearly dead from smiling at cameras for over seven hours and with the thought of the same thing again the following day, smiled and laughed and told the women that there must be some mistake, none of them could have left school twenty years ago. Cathy, who was nearly dead worrying about how to handle the horrific social worker Sara without putting anyone's back up managed to weave and duck around the room as the women shrieked and remembered funny things from years ago. Almost everyone had turned up, they told Cathy, only three had cried off. Janet who was in New Zealand, Orla who was in some kind of weird cult in the West of Ireland and Amanda who was in Canada running a bookshop with her lover. Was that Amanda Mitchell by any chance, Cathy had wondered, too much of a coincidence. Yes, it was, apparently! They were annoyed about Amanda, she always had plenty of money, her family owned that big house, Oaklands, so she could well have come back. It wasn't as if any of them were going to be worried one way or another about her lover.
'And who is he?' Cathy had asked politely.
'Aha, it's not a he at all, it's a she. Imagine! Amanda Mitchell is the only girl in a class of twenty-eight females who fancied a woman, what does that do to statistics?' asked the woman who had set up the party.
Cathy sat down in the kitchen. Her sister-in-law was a lesbian. What else would the day bring?
'They were a nice lot,' June said as she helped to pack the van.
'And they seemed pleased with it all,' Tom yawned.
'They gave me a good tip, too. And four of them asked me where I got my streaks done.'
'Did they like them?' Cathy was still doubtful about the startling violet sections of June's hair.
'They loved them, they were dead impressed that I could afford Haywards. Thanks again, Cathy, it was a great gift.'
'That bit was nothing, it's my hair we have to worry about with Hannah,' said Cathy.
They left June at a taxi rank. 'You know, I have a great life because of you two,' she said, and trotted off.
They drove in silence towards the premises.
'I didn't know it was all going to be so bloody exhausting,' Cathy said.
'Nor I. The food's no trouble, it's just the people who are a pain,'
Tom agreed.
They spent one hour and forty minutes unpacking the van, loading the dish-washing machines, wrapping and freezing the leftovers and preparing the kitchen and ovens for the morning bake. They worked companionably, and didn't waste one unit of energy by speaking to each other. When they were through, Tom drove the van slowly out into the street.
'I'm like a zombie,' he said. 'Can you watch me in case I fall asleep?'
'Well, the very thought of you doing that might keep me awake, anyway,' Cathy said.
It will be May next month,' Tom said.
'That's true.'
There was a silence.
'Why did you tell me that?' Cathy asked eventually.
'I can't remember,' Tom confessed.
'Are we becoming geriatrics, do you think? We don't actually say things any more.' Cathy sounded worried.
'No, there's not much to say except that my brother has turned into a major pain in the arse,' Tom said.
'And it seems that my sister-in-law is going to give a few people at Oaklands a few major surprises,' said Cathy. She looked at Tom's face. 'You don't need to know now. Anyway, as you say, it will be May soon. I've a feeling that this means something.'
'Something good or bad?' Tom wondered.
'Jesus, Tom, if I knew that… wouldn't I be able to run the world,' said Cathy Scarlet, who then fell asleep until Tom drove her into the courtyard of Waterview.
Chapter Five
MAY
They told Hooves that they were only going out for a visit, and that they would be back later on. 'I know it sounds silly, but I think he does understand,' Maud said.
'Why wouldn't he understand? Isn't he a dog of pedigree?'Muttie asked.
'Do people have pedigrees too?' Simon wanted to know.
'No,' Cathy said, a little overemphatically. 'All people are born the same, they make their own pedigrees.'
She saw her parents looking at her and realised the futility of her statement. She could not accept that Neil was right to insist they be returned to their natural parents. Nothing would make her believe that this was the just or fair thing to do. But she had to go along with it.
'Come on, kids, into the van, and take me to see your house. I want to know where you were as babies.'
'Could Muttie and his wife come too?' Maud hung back.
'One day they'll come to see it, but today it's just us,' said Cathy, refusing to look at her parents watching the children leave.
The Beeches was in a road where a lot of other properties had been sold as apartment blocks, but it stood there in its own grounds… A large, shabby, ill-kept house a hundred and fifty years old, a gentleman's residence which had seen better days. Not as imposing as Oaklands—there was no great sweep of a drive coming up to it -but attractive, with good proportions and creeper growing among
the windows. A disused tennis court and a broken garden shed showed how grand it must have been at some stage. Before the parents of Walter, Simon and Maud lost interest in the business of keeping up a normal home. The children looked at Cathy anxiously as they drove in, watching her for a reaction.
'What a lovely house,' she said with a hollow feeling in her heart. 'It must have been a nice place to grow up.'
They looked at their home doubtfully. 'I'm sure St Jarlath's Crescent was nice to grow up in, too.'
These had been such horrible children, stealing food, referring to Cathy as a servant, throwing their clothes on the floor only a few short months ago, and look at them now! Cathy tried to keep the break out of her voice.
'It was indeed, Simon, thank you for saying that, it was a nice place to grow up. Now let's go and find your father and mother.'
Kenneth Mitchell welcomed them in as if they were the most honoured guests, rather than the two child
ren he had abandoned and his nephew's wife whom he had never acknowledged before.
'How perfectly splendid,' he said as Cathy arrived with the children.
'Hallo Father,' Simon said.
'Simon, good chap. Good boy,' his father said, 'and Maud too, of course, excellent.' He looked at Cathy vaguely as if trying to place her. He was quite like his brother Jock in appearance, but he had not run to fat. Being on the road, or however he described it, meant that he had no paunch. There was no sign of his wife. She decided to address him by his first name.
'Well, Kenneth, as you say, it's all splendid. Shall we wait for Kay and Sara before we do the tour?'
'Tour? Sara… um, Kay?' He was bewildered.
It was now Cathy's turn to be bewildered. 'Kay, your wife?'
'Oh, yes, she'll be here in a moment, she's getting ready.'
No welcome, no warmth, and in the case of their mother, not even an appearance. Maud seemed to feel uneasy as well.
'What time is Sara coming?' she asked.
Kenneth Mitchell looked confused. 'Sara?'
'The social worker,' Cathy said in a level voice.
'But I thought you were the social worker,' he said.
'No, Kenneth, I am Cathy Scarlet, daughter of the people who have been looking after your children while you were abroad. I am also married to Neil, who is your brother Jock's son. The social worker is Sara, who is expected to meet us here…'
His embarrassment, if he had any, was spared by the sound of the bell ringing. They heard Kenneth out in the hall welcoming the social worker with great charm and even greater confusion. She looked as if she weren't seventeen or eighteen, a very tall, handsome girl with flaming hair and big laced boots. She seemed altogether too confident.
'Hi Maud, Simon, everything okay?' she asked.
'Well, Sara, you see…' Simon began, and Cathy felt a tug of jealousy.
'I mean, have you been to the bedrooms to check all your things are there?' She was so casual, so unafraid of Kenneth Mitchell, so out for the twins.
'We haven't been here very long, you see,' Simon said.
'We haven't even seen Mother yet,' Maud added. »'
'Okay, go and check the rooms and then come back to me.'
They scampered up the stairs obediently. Sara began to roll a cigarette.
'I'll smoke in the garden if you prefer, Mr Mitchell,' she said with such a threatening frown that Kenneth began to panic again.
'No, no, good Lord no, please, I mean, as you like…'
'How'ya, Cathy. I believe you hate my guts,' Sara said companionably.
'I'm sure in your job you must know how kids exaggerate,' Cathy grinned.
'And your husband? He seemed to think you had problems with their returning home.'
'No, Sara, I don't think I have any problems with it at all.' Cathy's voice became serious. 'I brought them along here for a visit, their father, who is my father-in-law's brother, thought that I was the social worker, which was a little startling and their mother wasn't here to greet them, which I found odd.'
'Neil says that you and your family have bonded with them to an extraordinary extent.' Sara watched her carefully.
'Someone had to bond with them,' Cathy said, exasperated. 'Listen, I'm doing everything by the book. They're here for their visit. Why don't you go and inspect the visit and leave me out of it? I'm going to be out of it anyway when they come back here.'
Kenneth Mitchell had looked from one to the other as if he were watching a tennis match. When they had stopped talking he asked would anyone like tea, and seemed surprised by the abrupt refusal from Cathy and Sara.
'I did prepare a tray,' he said in an aggrieved tone.
'Very hospitable of you Kenneth,' said Cathy in a tone which made Sara look up again.
'And where is Walter?' Sara asked, looking at her notes.
'Walter?' asked Kenneth vaguely.
'Your son,' Cathy said helpfully.
'The whole family was meant to be here,' Sara said.
'I expect he's at work.' Kenneth looked anxious to be helping in an ever more confusing world. He was constantly being rescued by other people's arrivals. The children came in at that moment, holding their mother by the hand. Kay Mitchell looked frail and as if a wind would blow her away. She had a nice smile.
'Hallo, how nice to see you,' she said to Cathy.
'You look much stronger now,' Cathy said.
'Do I? That's good. Did you come to see me in hospital?'
'Yes, from time to time, but the important thing was the children's visit.' Cathy slid a glance at Sara, to hope that she was taking this on board.
'So much of it took place in a sort of fog, as if it were all happening to someone else.' She beamed around at them all.
'Any sign of your brother Walter?' Cathy asked the children.
'He sort of made the beds for us,' Maud said.
'But he didn't really, it was just the sheets and pillowcases left at the end of the beds, and actually…'
'They were very damp, so Mother has been helping us put them into the hot press,' Maud explained.
'That wasn't really work for Walter. Isn't there a Mrs Thing to make beds?' Kenneth was puzzled.
'Mrs Thing doesn't start until next week,' Cathy explained sarcastically.
'Mrs Barry, I see from my notes,' Sara corrected.
'So now it's only Walter we're waiting for, is that right?'
'He's meant to be here,' Sara said disapprovingly.
'I'm sure… There must be a misunderstanding, should he be telephoned, do you think?' Kenneth wondered.
'Might be best.' Sara wasted no words.
'Well, does anyone… I mean where… exactly?' Kenneth began.
'Your brother's office, Jock Mitchell's law firm.'
Cathy tried to hide the sarcasm in her voice. But Sara didn't miss it; there was a hint of a smile. Nobody helped with all the fumbling and looking up in the telephone directory. It turned out that Walter was on his way, he would be here shortly.
'And Walter lives here? This is his home?'
'Well, he's an adult man of course, he doesn't have to check in every night.'
'I see he sometimes stays with friends.' Sara was writing notes.
'But his room is here… For him, of course.'
'Locked,' said Simon.
'How do you know?' Sara was interested.
'We had a rocking horse and an old black and white telly. I thought maybe Walter had borrowed them when we were staying with Muttie and Lizzie… which would have been fine with us.' Simon's voice was straight and clear. He didn't want to get anyone into any trouble.
'Odd to lock a bedroom in a family home,' Sara said.
'When will we be coming back here for good?' Maud asked.
'Whenever you like,' her father beamed.
'The sooner the better,' her mother's smile was wide.
'When all the paperwork is complete,' Sara said.
'And Cathy, were you able to explain properly to Sara all about Hooves visiting, and the wedding of Lizzie's daughter to that man that she's sleeping in the same bed with in Chicago?'
'I say…' Kenneth began.
Yet again he was saved from having to say anything by the arrival of Walter. Dishevelled and out of breath, Walter had come on a bicycle.
'Hi kids, Mother, Father, Cathy.' He nodded to them all, then he put on the Mitchell smile.
'And you must be Sara? Aren't you terribly young and, um, gorgeous to be doing this job?'
Cathy looked at him in despair. Please may Sara not fall for it, the little-boy-lost bit, the hair in the eyes, the naked admiration.
'You were meant to be here forty-five minutes ago.' Sara was stern.
He tried to smile it away. 'But happily I'm here now,' he said.
Sara called the meeting to order with a cough.'If Maud and Simon are coming back here to live, can we run through the arrangemenIs, please?'
'Well, what arrangemenIs exactly?' Kenneth was finding all t
his above him. 'I mean, I'm here, and their mother is here and these, er kind people who looked after them when I was unavoidably away and Kay was ill have delivered them home. That's it, really, isn't it?'
'No, Mr Mitchell, it's not it. You know this. We've been down this road before, they are our responsibility, something which will not be given up until we know what's best for Maud and Simon and their future. So can we start with school.' Sara had her notes in order.
'Last September there was a problem with school for the twins. They needed to be driven there and people weren't really about to drive them. They missed a lot of days. But since they went to stay in St Jarlath's Crescent they have been doing well in their new school. You are content that they continue where they are, they have made friends and there is a bus journey if nobody can collect them.'
'Good to become familiar with buses,' said Kenneth.
'Quite. And meals. Will you do the cooking, Mrs Mitchell?'
'Well of course I will, and there's a Mrs… Mrs… Somebody who is coming to help with the awful things, isn't she?'
'Yes, a Mrs Barrington, darling,' Kenneth intervened.
'Mrs Barry,' Cathy and Sara said together with one voice.
'Silly of me, easy mistake.'
'Quite. Now about their sleeping arrangements. You say there are damp sheets on the beds.'
'Which will be aired, of course, by the time they come home,' Kay said.
'Yes indeed. And there's a matter of a missing rocking horse and a black and white television set.'
'I didn't say they were missing. They might be in Walter's room.' Simon wanted things to be clear.
'Which is locked.' Cathy added.
'I've every right to lock my room, everyone has.'
'Sure, but can we go and see if the kids' things are in it?' Cathy's eyes were narrow. She could sense his fear. There was something in that room that Walter didn't want seen.
'Excuse me,' he said, 'are you running this suddenly, Cathy? I thought it was Sara's job.'
'Do you know anything abut a rocking horse and a television set?' Sara asked him levelly.
'Oh, those. They were very old and past their sell-by date. I gave them away to friends ages ago. Sorry, you're both much too old for a rocking horse. I didn't know they were still needed.'
