by Maeve Binchy
Cathy knew he had sold them.
'We're not too old for a television set, though,' Simon said.
'And I liked the rocking horse, too,' Maud complained.
'Well, perhaps Walter has some gifts for you instead in his room… ?' Cathy suggested.
'Listen to me, Sara, is this a witch-hunt or what? You're here to make sure this is a fine family scene for Simon and Maud to come back to… and then suddenly it's down to me to show off whether I've made my bed in my room or not. Now come on…'
He looked so genuinely upset and put upon that Cathy could see that Sara was falling for it.
'Of course we don't want to examine your room, but we do want to know what contribution you can make to your brother and sister's return.'
Walter paused to give a slow, triumphant smile in Cathy's direction. There would be no inspection.
Then he turned to Sara. 'What I hope now that our family is reunited is that we should all get to know each other better. That I should learn about their interesIs and concerns… Like I don't want to go giving away rocking horses again. Do I, Maud?'
'Or television sets,' Maud said.
Cathy loved her with a passion at that moment. There were many more points also answered very vaguely by the children's parents, and with warmth and enthusiasm by their elder brother. Time now to take Maud and Simon back to St Jarlath's Crescent. There were no hugs; Kay kissed them both on the cheek and looked at them vaguely and proudly. Sara and Walter were outside, comparing bicycles. Sara's was the folding type.
'Handy for taxis when you get tired or drunk,' she explained.
'Why don't I give you a lift back to the office? I've got the van, your bike can go in the back,' Cathy said suddenly.
'Oh, I couldn't,' Sara said.
'She's not drunk yet,' Simon noted.
'No, but she could be fairly tired, and this way we can go by St Jarlath's Crescent and you can introduce her to Hooves.'
'I've seen St Jarlath's Crescent, and I am totally aware of the splendid care your parents have been doing as a stopgap,' Sara said.
'You haven't seen Hooves yet, Sara. Come on, and Simon and Maud would love to show you their outfits.'
'That's a great idea, Cathy,' Simon approved as they climbed into the van. 'This way she'll see the really important things.'
Cathy and Sara exchanged glances. And spontaneously they both started to laugh
.
James Byrne's second cookery lesson was on Thursday.
'Did he say what he'd like?' Tom called out to Cathy in the kitchen of the premises.
'No, he's leaving it up to us. Oh, shit.'
'Have you burned yourself again?' He came running.
But this time she had cut her finger on the jagged edge of a can.
'Serves you right for using cans anyway. We're not meant to be a convenience-food outfit.'
'Tell me how to add tomato puree to something without opening a can of it?' She held up her finger to be inspected.
'You don't need a stitch, come on and wash it. By using a tube and squeezing it, or if you have to have a tin, then by using the electric thing on the wall instead of going at it with a stone-age can-opener.'
'I was in a hurry.'
'Sure you were, and now you'll be wearing Elastoplast. Great advertisement for the company,' he grumbled to himself as he bound up her finger. 'Come into the front room and sit down to get over the shock,' he said.
I'm not in shock,' Cathy protested.
'No, but I am. Come on.'
'There you go again, a broody old hen cluck-clucking,' Cathy said.
'You can stem your own pouring blood next time,' Tom said good-naturedly.
They loved a chance to sit down in their front room and relax in the big chintz sofas that Lizzie had covered for them. Cathy put her feet up on the low table with its elegant cookery magazines.
'Someday we'll have time to read some of these,' she said.
'Food will be out of date then,' said Tom.
It was pleasant to sit here and look up at the plates on the shelves, and see their discreet filing system looking for all the world like an elegant desk in a gracious home. Joe had found that for them at an auction, he said. They worried about it once or twice.
'I know he has a bit of an aversion to paying tax, but I don't think he deals in stolen goods,' Tom had said at the time.
'Of course he doesn't,' Cathy had stroked it lovingly—it was just right.
One of Muttie's associates was in carpet pieces, so they had got a perfect piece for the floor. It gave off such a good feeling when anyone came in to see them. If only a few more people would turn up, they would be less anxious about it all.
'What will we do with James?' Tom asked.
'We did smoked fish and chicken tarragon last time… something redder, more violent this time, I think.' Cathy pondered.
'Parma ham and figs to start, fillet steaks in mushroom and cream sauce?' Tom wondered.
'He'll say the starter's too easy, and he'd fuss too much with the steak,' Cathy was shaking her head.
'No he wouldn't, he's much less of a fusser than he used to be since you told him you can always lift the pan off the heat. Apparently he never realised that before. Imagine.' Tom was amazed.
'I wonder did he ever have children?' Cathy said.
'Why do you say that?'
'I don't know, it's a funny thing but I get the impression that he's not doing this dinner for someone he fancies… More for some young person that he wants to prove something to…"
'I don't know where you get that notion. Perhaps you should bring a crystal ball to the next party we do.' Tom often thought women were complicated, but this was ridiculous.
'No, think about it. You know it's something like that, he's doing something to show someone he cares, which is hard for him because he's so buttoned up.'
'You're so non-buttoned up, why don't you ask him straight out?' Tom challenged.
'You know I can't do that, Tom,' she said. 'I think I've spent so long dinning politeness into Simon and Maud I've sort of caught some of it myself. I hope it's not destroying my personality.'
'No sign yet, I assure you. But I'll keep an eye out in case it does.'
'Eejit,' said Cathy. 'What will we give him as a pudding?'
'Brown-bread ice cream,' he suggested.
'Okay, now all I have to do is sell it to him.'
'Come on, Tom, injury time over, back to work,' Cathy said, and went back into the kitchen for the telephone.
James Byrne objected to every course, but they held fast.
'It sounds too simple, as if it were bought in a shop,' he complained.
'Listen, we have to show you how to cut the figs, how to arrange the ham.'
'But steak. It's too… too…'
'It's a huge treat, and you can have small steaks. Wait till we show you the sauce.'
'She'll think I bought the ice cream in a delicatessen,' he said. At least they defined it was a she. That was some advance. 'Not when you can tell her how you made it, and honestly, it's great fun,' Cathy begged. She had a lot on her mind; she didn't want their accountant starting to grizzle about a perfectly reasonable menu. Her finger was throbbing, she was sick at heart about Simon and Maud, Freddie Flynn and his wife had asked them to do a dinner, she owed Hannah Mitchell a lunch. She had no idea what they were going to do as a great feast for her sister Marian's wedding in just over two months' time. She couldn't bear the thought of her poor father walking that hound to the betting shop every day and tying him up ouIside the door. Her hair looked awfully flat and dull. Hannah Mitchell had been right. She was not going to listen to one more word of James Byrne's fears that this was not a good dinner.
'James,' she said in a voice like the crack of a whip. Tom looked up from the dough in alarm. 'James. Do we question a balance sheet? No. Do we say that we don't think this input or output VAT return will work? No, we don't, we say James is the particular expert that we are paying for this adv
ice. We are the particular experts that you have paid for our advice. Yes, good. See you on Thursday, James.'
She hung up with a loud noise. She knew without looking that Tom was looking at her open-mouthed. 'Well?' she asked belligerently.
'Well indeed,' he said.
'Meaning?'
'Meaning that you most certainly haven't altered your personality,' he said.
She laughed and he crossed the room to hug her. He was such easy company, and defused so many situations for them both.
'Tom, I need your advice.'
'Of course you do, you sound as if you actually need a heavy tranquilliser, but my advice will have to do.'
'How am I going to entertain Hannah? I'm trying to build a hedge of olive branches, but I'm no good at it.'
'What does Neil suggest?'
'He asks why bother? He shrugs. He's a man.'
'Big disadvantage, we know that. Right, is it just the two of you?'
'Yes. I can bear an hour and thirty minutes being patronised; I couldn't stand her doing it to someone else.'
'Do you want her to enjoy it, or do you want to show off to her?'
'Good question, but actually I'd quite like her to have a good time.'
'Okay, why don't you ask her here?'
'Here, to the premises?'
'Sure, ask her for lunch next Monday. We've nothing on, it will be nice and quiet. I'll serve you, then put the phone on answer and leave.'
'She'd think that very low-class.'
'No, she wouldn't: posh place that we are, nearly six months surviving. She gave it six days, I remember, the last time she was here.'
'Oh dear, yes, the opening. I sort of forgot the words we had then.'
'Bet she hasn't, though. Really, Cathy, this would be real olive-branch territory. Go on, ring her now. Ask her.'
'I'm not sure, Tom.'
'What did I just hear you saying about people taking professional advice? Ring her, Cathy.'
'You're not a professional in this area.'
'Like hell I'm not! We've been hearing you on the subject of Hannah Mitchell since we were at catering college. Call her now.'
'Absolutely fair. Pass me the phone.'
Hannah Mitchell accepted. It was a lovely idea. Quite a lot of her friends had heard of Scarlet Feather now. They would be very interested to hear what it was like inside.
It looks as if Maud and Simon are going back to base next week,' Cathy said.
'Yes, thank God, what a terrible episode for everyone, and wasn't poor Lizzie wonderful to step into the breach so well.'
Cathy allowed the silence to last for many seconds. Long enough for Hannah to remember.
'Ah, yes, what I meant to say was wasn't it great that, er, Lizzie and, er,Muttie were so helpful when poor Kenneth and Kay had such problems… That's what I meant.'
'Did that go all right?' Tom asked.
'Yes, better than I dared hope.'
'Say thank you Tom, then,' he said eventually.
'Thank you Tom,' she said.
It was extraordinary not to be afraid of that woman after so many years.
Tom went to pick Marcella up from work.
'Your brother was in today,' she said.
'He's never back in Ireland twice in a few weeks. What's it all about?'
'He said he's setting up this show… Feather Fashions… He wants trade to come to it as well as the public. He's full of ideas, he's here to see Shona and I think he's going to meet Cathy's Geraldine about doing extra PR.' Marcella sounded very excited.
Is he going to come and see us at all, do you think?' Tom felt an unexpected stab of jealousy that his only brother was in town contacting almost everyone except him.
'Of course he will, he just called to see me… because… Tom, you won't believe this, he's putting in a serious word that I should do some modelling during the show.' Her eyes were dancing.
Tom had said nothing in months that had pleased her as much as this.
'Just let me tell you that I hope and pray he gets you this job, with all my heart,' he said.
'I'm sorry I wasn't able to get up to The Beeches, the case went on for ever,' Neil apologised.
'No, that's okay, I didn't expect you.' Cathy was in the kitchen preparing supper. 'Things often turn up.' She spoke without any annoyance. In his life things did turn up. 'And anyway, you couldn't have done anything to help… they behaved like the family from hell, but still they'regetting the children back. That's showbiz and social workers for you.'
'Did you meet Sara, she's great, isn't she?' He sounded very enthusiastic.
'Yes, she is actually. I thought she was going to be boot-faced, but she doesn't miss much. Walter took her in, though.'
'I was very impressed with her, I must say, and she's going to help on this homeless project. It's good to have a social worker on the team, she has all the statistics from her end
Neil was excited about it in a way that slightly turned Cathy's heart. She had been going to tell him all about Walter's locked bedroom, about her plans to entertain his mother at the premises, about the menus they were dreaming up for the Chicago-style wedding in July. But they all seemed very trivial and like tittle-tattle compared to the project for the homeless. The one where Sara with the big boots and the hand-rolled cigarettes was being co-opted onto the committee. A long time ago Cathy would have gone to those meetings, taken notes and typed letters; that was before she had a proper career of her own.
But by Saturday Cathy felt well cheered and able to cope with all that lay ahead, like taking the children back on a visit to their real home. She drove to St Jarlath's Crescent to collect them.
'Mam, how old is Geraldine this autumn?' Cathy asked when the children had gone out with Hooves, and so were way out of hearing.
'Let's see, I'm the eldest, and then… Well now, she'll be forty next birthday. Imagine, the baby of the family forty!' Lizzie was smiling at the thought.
'I wonder, would she like a party?' Cathy mused.
'Don't you know her better than anyone, what do you think?'
'I don't know her all that well, Mam, I haven't an idea what she'd like in lots of areas. But would she like it mentioned that she was forty, that's what I don't know.'
'But aren't you in and out of each other's houses all the time?' Lizzie was surprised.
'Used to be, not so much these days. Mam, was she gorgeous-looking when she was young?'
'She certainly was, and wild! You wouldn't believe it… When we were married first Muttie and I couldn't come back into my mother's house without getting a list of complaints as long as your arm about Geraldine—she was out till all hours, never doing her homework… Dressed like a tramp… I wish my poor mother had lived to see the way she turned out in the end. The perfect lady, mixing with the highest in the land.' Lizzie spoke with admiration and amazement but no jealousy.
'And when did she change?'
'Oh, she had this fellow, I can't remember his name. Very posh anyway, and a good bit older; she began to smarten up her act to go out with him. Then after he was gone she went back to school again. My poor old ma used to think she was trying to educate herself so that Teddy—that's his name, Teddy—would think she was more top-drawer, but I said it was a bit late for that now. Anyway it didn't work out and there was no mention of him again. Teddy! I haven't thought of him in years.'
Cathy wondered if this was also true in Geraldine's case. She was going round there later, once she and Sara had made their second visit to the twins' family home. What she had said to her mother was true. There were many, many ways in which Cathy knew absolutely nothing about the glamorous, groomed, self-confident woman who took cars and jewelled watches and even an apartment from married men. She didn't even know whether Geraldine would want her fortieth birthday highlighted or buried.
This time the tea tray was on the table when they arrived. Kay poured from the heavy teapot with a frail, shaking hand. Kenneth seemed to be more aware of his surroundings and of the
fact that his children, whom he had abandoned for months, were not automatically being returned to him. He knew that he had to put on some kind of a show.
'Two charming ladies and my beloved twins as well… Too much happiness,' he said.
The children looked at him, startled. This was even more effusive than last time.
Sara spoke first. 'Can we run through a few outstanding matters,Mr Mitchell,' she said briskly.
'My dear lady… anything, anything.'
Kay came running in at that moment. 'I made scones,' she cried triumphantly.
'But Mother, you don't…' Simon began.
Cathy frowned a terrible frown at him, and he stopped in mid-sentence. Cathy looked at the small shop scones which the woman had heated up in her attempt to make this look like a normal home. She felt a lump in her throat. Kay had given birth to Simon and Maud nine years ago. They must mean something to her, even in her confused state of mind. She had looked so poorly when they visited her in hospital; Cathy had never seen the day coming when she would be in charge of a home again.
'Your nephew Neil was telling me about your financial arrangements last night,' Sara said. 'Apparently his father has arranged for this house to be mortgaged and has set up a trust.'
'Very good of Jock, sorted it all out,' Kenneth nodded and beamed eagerly.
'He gave me these figures, and it's agreed that this proportion goes towards their clothes, school needs, books, bus fares, and so on, and that there was a figure towards the upkeep of the house, including Mrs Barry three times a week and a gardener half a day once a week to keep the place in check.'
'It all sounds wonderful,' Kenneth said.
'And how much do you think Walter will contribute to the household?' Sara's face was expressionless as she asked the question that she must have known was futile.
'Oh, poor Walter doesn't have any ready money,' his mother said with a little laugh.
'But his room and board? After all, he does go out to work and earns a salary,' Sara was dogged.
