by Maeve Binchy
'No, wait till you hear.'
'Honestly, Cathy, it's just because she's your sister you're making all this fuss. That church hall where they've never had a wedding in their life, where you didn't want to have it, will become the place, believe me, Ricky's going to take pictures of it…'
'But you haven't heard…'
'The priest is delighted, and I think that we'll make a fortune out of it for us and for him too,' Tom said hastily. Cathy watched helplessly. 'My father's men have it all painted up already, the priest has got the parishioners to plant window boxes. It's going to look—' He broke off at the sight of her face. 'What is it?' Tom asked.
'They want a traditional Irish wedding, Tom, they want us to serve corned beef and cabbage.'
'What for, in the name of God?'
'That's what they think is traditional Irish food.'
'But Marian was brought up in St Jarlath's Crescent, she can't think that.' Tom was aghast.
'She's been a long time in Illinois,' Cathy shrugged.
'We are not going to serve them corned beef and cabbage,' Tom said.
'I know.'
'So who's going to tell her?' he asked menacingly.
'You have the better turn of phrase,' Cathy said.
'She's your bloody sister,' Tom answered.
'It's a question of what else we can persuade them is typically Irish.'
'But there are a thousand things, for God's sake. Wicklow lamb, Irish salmon, loads of lobster, mussels, we could have a centrepiece of Irish shellfish. I would have thought they'd have liked huge ribs of Irish beef. Isn't Chicago the sort of home of the stockyards and everything? They'd be used to big steer on their plates.'
'They don't want what they're used to. They want Irish dancers, shillelaghs, colleens saying top of the mornin' to them.'
'They don't?' Tom was aghast.
Cathy waved the letter at him again. 'Well it sounds very like it from this… All Harry's relations are so looking forward to the whole Irish experience, steeping themselves in another culture, experiencing the simple, unspoiled peasant cuisine.'
Tom put his head in his hands. 'Come on, Cathy, let's think what we'll offer them. Imagine, we once thought this was going to be an easy number.'
'There's no such thing as an easy number in this game,' Cathy said, with such a sigh that he looked up suddenly.
'Are you all right?' he asked, concerned at the expression on her face.
'Of course I'm not. We can't go on fooling ourselves. There's no way we can do this wedding.' She was bent double now, her head in her hands, her whole body shaking with tears. 'We can't possibly go ahead, it's ludicrous, we were mad to take it on…' she sobbed.
'Cathy, Cathy…' He got up from the chair in the front room and came to kneel down beside where she was hugging her knees and making no attempt to hide the tears or the fact that she had dropped her guard so completely.
'We'll think of something,' he said.
'But what is there left to think of,' she wept. 'Marian's gone mad, we should never have listened to one word she said, we should have told her we were done over and we couldn't cope, why do we have to keep on pretending and say that everything's all right when it's not.'
'Because that's the only way we stay in business.' He was very gentle and stroked her head soothingly.
'No, we don't have to pretend, we're finished, aren't we, we're never going to get back up and running…' She stood up suddenly, and looked at him, red-eyed and distraught. 'Can't you see we're only fooling ourselves, every step we take we're only sinking in further, it just makes it more difficult for us to get out, deeper and deeper in debt…'
Tom had stood up and now he pulled her to him in a big bear-hug.
'Now this is not going to go on, it's not, you have to help me. When I hear you saying all this, I half-believe you, do you hear?'
She cried in his arms as he stroked her hair over and over. It was a luxury not having to hold back, to keep a permanently false grin on her face in front of June and Con and anyone else who came in and out.
Her shoulders shook and he held her until the sobs died down. She mumbled something he couldn't hear into his sweater.
'What did you say?'
'I said it's over, Tom, we have to be strong and face it.'
'There's nothing strong about letting your sister down on the biggest day of her life.'
'Tell her to get some other leprechaun outfit.'
'There isn't one, we're the only leprechaun outfit in town.' He looked down at her face. It had worked a little. There was a half smile.
'You never thought of quitting?'
'No, not ever.'
'Right then.' She blew her nose loudly. 'Right then, if we're not quitting, then we'll have to redefine.'
'What, come up with something traditionally Irish that Scarlet Feather can actually live with?' He looked at her. She was better. They were back in business.
Their computer had escaped the vandalism by the sheer good luck of having been out for repair at the time. Cathy sat down in front of it.
'We'll send an e-mail, you come up with the creative, persuasive bit and I'll do the dear long-lost sister part.'
'We must make her think she'sgetting it just right,' Tom said thoughtfully.
'Whatever made us think that a catering business had anything to do with producing food?' Cathy laughed.
'It's only for the trade, Mam,' Joe Feather said to his mother for the twentieth time.
'But there was a thing in the paper saying it was for everyone.' 'Everyone in the rag trade, Mam, believe me I'd invite you if there was anything there you'd like to see.' He spoke the truth. His mother would not like to see her future daughter-in-law, of whom she already disapproved mightily, dressed in next to nothing. Nor would she like to see her son Tom's face as this was going on. Joe had seen him at the rehearsal, and had realised how hard he was taking the whole thing, and yet trying to face up to it as well. Which wasn't really necessary at all. Marcella hadn't a chance in hell of making it on the modelling circuit. Beautiful-looking woman, but wooden on stage and built so that you only saw her body, not the garments she was modelling. She wouldn't last five minutes in the big world out there. Surely Tom didn't take any of this business about finding work across the water seriously. Surely.
Cathy came back from the cash and carry and Tom helped her unpack the van.
'Just one message—Simon and Maud don't love you any more.'
'Simon and Maud? What have I done now?'
'It's what you've not done. They want to come and polish your treasures again.'
'But we don't have any treasures,' Cathy wailed.
'We never did, technically,' Tom said ruefully.
'They'll tell everyone, it's worse than having it on the nine o'clock news on television. They can't come here, they'll have Muttie and Lizzie up to high doh, the folks in Chicago will cancel, everyone would cancel if they knew what we were working out of.' She felt guilty about the twins, but she knew that she had total right on her side.
But Tom wouldn't let her get away with it. 'They think you've gone off them, they want to know what they've done.'
'Shit,' said Cathy. 'We don't need this now.'
Tom said nothing. He continued unpacking.
'All right, you win, to be fair they've enough to cope with, they don't need it either. I'll take them out somewhere.'
'I left their number there on the desk,' he said. 'Poor little devils, I'd say life is no bed of roses up in The Beeches.'
She went to the telephone.
The twins' father answered the phone. Cathy couldn't remember whether she called him Kenneth or Mr Mitchell.
'My name is Cathy Scarlet. I would like to speak to Maud Mitchell or Simon Mitchell, please.'
'Oh, yes indeed, um… er… we have met, if I'm not mistaken,' the voice said.
She could hear him saying 'extraordinarily rude woman' as he called the children. Cathy felt a moment of guilt when she heard their excitem
ent.
'For us?' Simon was saying. Normally they wouldn't get any calls.
'Who is it?' Maud asked him, and got no reply, so she got to the phone first.
'It is, it is,' she called. 'It's Cathy.'
And Cathy felt a sudden rush of tears, which she beat back as she suggested they go on an outing.
'I thought we'd go to the cinema and have a burger, then I'll drive you home,' she offered.
'Will we come and pick you up at the premises?' Simon offered. 'No, I mean, no thanks, Simon, just get the bus in to O'Connell Street… and I'll see you there for the four o'clock show.'
'Come with us, Tom,' she suggested.
'No, only two days to the show. Marcella's nerves are frazzled, and she says she wants to talk this evening.'
'Right. I suddenly thought you could do with a relax too.'
'I could have,' he said. 'But these are stressed times, and you've not forgotten we're having a supper after the show?'
'No, indeed. Where are we going?'
'The little Italian place, Geraldine's coming. Ricky and Joe too, I think, if he can get away, Shona and half a dozen more. We'll be able to get away nice and early when the show is finished. No coming back here with the van or anything. Haywards says we can clear into their kitchens and just lock up. I'll cope with it when I get in to do the bread on Saturday.'
'You work too hard,' she said sympathetically.
'So do you. Was there a lot of standing and hanging around when you were up there at the cash and carry?'
She looked at him sharply. It had been exhausting, she had an ache in her back and some of the food she saw revolted her. She thought that the visit there would never end.
'Not too bad today,' she said. This would be another very hard conversation, the day she would have to tell him she would be taking maternity leave. But she would face it when she had to.
'And you're sure we didn't do anything bad?' Maud persisted.
They were having their burger after the movie.
'No Maud, remember what I told you about not being the centre of the world.'
'Yes, but we were afraid you thought—'
'I wasn't thinking about you at all, we've been very busy.'
'So how do you know when someone is really cross with you, or if they're just busy and not thinking about you?' Simon wondered.
'It's something that comes with time, you do get to know, Simon.'
'Were you older or younger than us when you got to know?' Simon asked.
'A bit older, about six months older, I think.' Cathy felt very tired.
The more the children talked on and on about some madman called old Barty and the strange food they ate, and Mother being in bed a lot during the day and Father out a lot at night, she knew it had been a great, great mistake to let those children go without a fight. Neil had given the wrong advice there. She knew it. It had nothing to do with flesh and blood.Muttie and Lizzie Scarlet sitting alone up in St Jarlath's Crescent would have made much better parents to these children than the ones who had actually brought them into the world.
'Why don't I take you up to see Hooves before we go home?' she suggested suddenly.
They looked at each other awkwardly. Embarrassed, Maud shuffled her feet and Simon looked out of the door of the restaurant.
'What is it?' Cathy looked from one to the other.
'Well, you know the bargain. We weren't to go back to St Jarlath's Crescent except on Saturdays,' Simon began.
'But the bargain was all about you being good children and going straight home from school. It's the holidays now.'
'Sara said it was the same term or holiday.'
'But it's just a drive, you're allowed to go out with me, can't I drive you where I want?'
'Better not, Cathy… Sara said that Mother and Father are a bit jealous of what a good time we had at Muttie and his wife Lizzie's… And they don't like us going back there… in case it shows that it's where we prefer.'
'And is it?' Cathy asked.
'You told us not to say anything about preferring one place to another. You told us that would be bad-mannered,' Maud said, confused.
'Did I? I must have been very intelligent back then.'
'It's not all that long ago,' Simon said. 'You couldn't have lost a lot of intelligence in such a short time.'
'I love you, Simon,' Cathy said suddenly. 'And I love you too, Maud. Right, if everyone's finished I'll take you home to your parents' house.' Cathy busied herself about the departure so that she wouldn't have to see the looks of total shock on the twins' faces. Nobody had ever said I love you to them like that before. They hadn't an idea how to cope with it. Back at the house, she was about to drop them at the door.
'Please come in,' they begged.
'No, truly, it's better not.'
'But you're not afraid of them like Muttie is,' Simon cried.
'And we could do our dance for you,' said Maud.
'Certainly I'll come in,' Cathy said, and marched into the house purposefully. 'Kenneth, Kay, thank you for lending me your magnificent son and daughter, we had such a nice evening, or I think we did.' She looked at them, waiting for the polite, enthusiastic response she had taught them that people expected.
'Terrific film,' said Maud.
'And Cathy paid for two burgers each,' Simon said.
'So they won't need any supper.' Cathy looked around to see any signs that someone had been preparing a meal for the children at eight o'clock on a summer's evening.
'There's some ham in the fridge,' Kay said defensively.
'Oh, I'm quite sure there is, Kay, and that you would have made a lovely supper for them, according to all the agreement and everything, but tonight I don't think they'd be up for anything at all.'
'No indeed, thank you,' said Simon.
'Can we get our shoes and the tape recorder now?' Maud wanted to know.
The parents looked on in bewilderment as Simon and Maud waited, toes pointed, until the correct bar of the music, and danced solemnly up and down the kitchen. They had improved greatly since the last time Cathy had watched it, with her hand over her mouth to hide the nervous laugh and to beat back the feeling that her sister Marian would kill her dead for allowing them to get up in public.
'And this is for a wedding, apparently?' Kenneth Mitchell said, having clapped because his wife and Cathy had done so with such vigour.
'Yes, my sister's wedding next month… They'll be the star turn.'
'It's just that I'm not really sure…'
Cathy clenched her hands. This fool was not going to try to renege again on the wedding. 'Oh, you are sure, Kenneth, remember your brother Jock told you all about it, part of the terms of the agreement?'
'Yes, yes, of course.'
'And talking about the agreement, I want you to know how reliable Simon and Maud are about everything. You see, I had forgotten that you only want them to visit my parents' house once a week. I was going to drive them up there briefly to visit their dog…'
'Well, come on now, it's not exactly their dog, is it?'
'Yes it is, very exactly their dog, my father bought it for them himself and looks after it for them with pleasure until their weekly visit, but you interrupted me. I was telling you how proud you should be of them; they reminded me of the agreement which I had forgotten. I think it's sad myself, but I do think they were splendid to be so up front about it all, since it's your wish.'
'Well… um, yes, it… of course…'
'So I thought I'd mention that since they are being so generous and observing the letter of the law as regards your wishes, you might be equally generous next month and let them make a few extra visits around the time of the wedding, so that they can meet everyone properly.'
'Well, we'll have to see…' Kenneth began.
'Of course you will, I knew you would.' Cathy beamed at the children. 'Your father is just as reasonable as I said he would be, and there will be no problem at all about the various wedding parties… As soon as Nei
l is back from Africa, he and his father will be in touch to firm it all up.' The children looked at her, bewildered. 'Thank you all so much, it's been a very pleasant visit.' And then she was gone. She slowed down a little just to hear what Kenneth Mitchell would say.
'Extraordinary woman,' he said, and without looking, she could see him shaking his head from side to side.
'Love, before you even speak a word let me tell you that you'll be a sensation,' Tom said.
But her face was troubled, almost as if she hadn't heard him. 'Marcella, what are you worried about? Tell me, you look lovely, you knock the others off the stage, you are stunning—it's just actor's nerves, I know…'
'No, that's not the point.'
'But it is in a way. You tell yourself that in a day and a bit, tomorrow night at ten o'clock all this will be over and life goes on as normal.'
'But that's just it. I can't go back, not now.'
'What do you mean, go back?'
'To the salon to do nails.'
'But there'll be more jobs once people have seen you…' 'There will be no jobs unless I get an agent.' 'You said Mr Newton—'
'Paul Newton is interested in representing me and arranging for me to go over the water for some try-outs… But it's not definite… it depends.'
'I know you were saying you're afraid you won't be good on the night itself, but you will, I tell you, I can see confidence in every bone of your body.' He begged her to believe him.
'These are tough, selfish guys, used togetting what they want.' 'He'll see you perform tomorrow night, he'll know you're what he wants.'
'It's a bit different.' 'What do you mean?'
It's all in their court, they can make or break you. If you play according to their rules; you get to be part of it all, if you don't, you're not allowed to join.' She was twisting her hands uneasily. He had no idea what she was trying to say. 'So what's the problem? If you do right tomorrow on that catwalk, as you will, then you will be part of it, or whatever you say the expression is.' 'They say we have to go and party with them tomorrow night,' she said, looking at the floor. Tarty?'
