by Maeve Binchy
'Well, that was very kind of him, Maud, and it is nice to have a chat from time to time, but—'
'We have a day off school on Friday, we wondered could we come and polish your treasures, we want to earn money to buy Muttie a coat.'
'I don't think you'd earn enough in an afternoon, to be honest.' Poor Tom was desperate.
'There's a coat in the thrift shop for three pounds,' said Maud.
'Oh, well then, we'll see you Friday,' Tom said, and hung up.
'I don't believe you,' Cathy said.
'I had to,' Tom said. 'You would have had to if you'd been here. Well, come on, take off your hat. Let's see the new you…'
'I look like a plough boy with a straw in his mouth,' Cathy said.
'I know, you've always looked like that, but let's see the hair.'
'Come on,' June said. 'Why else do you think I hung about?'
'Did Jimmy go to the acupuncturist?' Cathy fought to buy time.
'We've had this discussion, he did and he feels a bit better, now let's see your hair.' June was giving no quarter.
She took off her hat. Unlike other women who cared about their appearance, she didn't go to a mirror to fluff it up, and explain that it was probably a bit flat by now.
Tom, June, Lucy and Con looked at her in silence.
'Oh, Jesus, is it as bad as that?'
'You look beautiful,' June said simply.
'Beautiful,' Tom agreed.
Con and Lucy clapped and beat saucepan lids on the work surfaces.
'That's enough, I will not be mocked,' she threatened them. But they could see she was pleased, and when she got a chance she went into the cloakroom and looked at it herself. It wasn't at all bad; it looked as if it were meant to be that way. It was shiny and sort of glamorous, not scraped back out of the way as if it were an embarrassment. She must send a postcard to Gerard to thank him. Now all she had to do was cook a dinner in front of half a million people.
The day in the studio passed in a horrible blur. Hot lights melted things, the food had to be pinned together eventually, sprayed with a terrible kind of starchy substance so that it would keep a shine. Over and over they were told that it didn't matter what it tasted like, the audience was not going to eat it, only to see what Tom and Cathy could prepare for the winner. They had to unpack things from refrigerated boxes so that the viewers could imagine them turning up in simple kitchens anywhere in Ireland and producing this gourmet meal. Douglas, the director looked not at all hassled in the studio. Tom and Cathy watched him admiringly; they had never been so alarmed and so self-conscious, yet this man was as cool as anything. Oddly, he seemed equally admiring of them that they could cook under such circumstances.
'You're naturals,' he said. 'I wouldn't be at all surprised if you are invited back. Nice little earner that, the new celebrity cooking couple. Have you been long together?'
'We've been working together as Scarlet Feather for a while, but we've only had the premises for under a year.' Cathy said.
She knew he thought they were a real couple, as so many people did.
'I bet your guests get well fed in your home,' he said.
They hadn't the energy to disabuse him. They nodded glumly as the make-up girl came to powder their faces again.
'She's a lovely girl, your friend Marcella, isn't she?' Douglas said.
Tom and Cathy's eyes met.
'Lovely,' Tom said. 'Very special.'
'She's been a friend of ours always,' said Cathy.
And then they were back into countdowns, and settle down studio and good luck everyone for the final rehearsal before they went out live.
The phone hardly stopped ringing the next day. In the front room Lucy sat coping with the requests, taking details and sending out brochures all morning. It had done exactly what they had hoped -brought them right out there into the public eye.
'You'll never be able to thank Marcella enough,' June said.
'I'm going to send her a bunch of flowers from all of us,' said Cathy. 'Here's the card, let's all sign it now and we'll get it delivered round to Ricky's.'
They let Tom be the last to sign before it went into the envelope. He wrote, 'Marcella, you have been a very generous and good friend, love from Tom.'
Cathy noticed that Lucy was stretching her muscles. 'Here, I'll take over the phone for a while, go and move around the kitchen for a bit,' she said. It was peaceful there in the front room. Her punchbowl back on the table, a little Christmas tree in the window, their coloured box files filling up with more and more addresses, contacts, customers. And it was quiet. It gave her a chance to think between calls. Think about Neil. Last night when she got home, Neil had been working as usual. He had smiled, glad to see her. And then suddenly a look of guilt came over his face.
'Oh, my God, it was tonight, the television thing.'
'You didn't see it?'
'I'm so sorry…'
'Or record it… ?'
'I can't tell you…'
She had gone straight to bed. And she had left this morning before he had got up. Things had never been so bad. He would call sometime today to say he was sorry; she needed time to think what she would say. It wasn't a matter of sulking or refusing to forgive him. Because in many ways it didn't really matter all that very much. Not in itself; more what it seemed to say about them both.
'Geraldine, Neil Mitchell here. Did you by any chance make a video recording of Cathy's thing yesterday?'
'Yes, I did, wasn't she great? They were marvellous, the pair of them.'
'Could I see it?'
'You don't have one yourselves, there's casual,' she laughed.
'Can I have a loan of it please, Geraldine?'
'No, sorry, I gave it into a place to adapt it for America, you see, I thought Cathy's sister Marian would like—'
'Muttie, did you see Cathy last night on the television?' 'Wasn't half St Jarlath's Crescent in here watching.' 'Do you have a video of it?' Neil sounded urgent. 'Neil lad, the children took it to school today.' 'What in the name of God for?' He sounded almost angry now. 'For a project, they have a project every Thursday where the children have to stand up and present something. So Simon and Maud are going to show seven minutes of Cathy and Tom, then they're going to talk about the food industry. Aren't they gas little tickeIs,'Muttie said proudly.
'Gas tickeIs, yeah,' said Neil, and hung up.
'Mother, did you record Cathy last night on television?'
'No dear, why should I?' 'I just thought you might. Did you see it?' 'Yes, they were surprisingly good, don't you think?' 'Yes, yes, very,' Neil said.
'I'm delighted she finally did something about her hair, used that token I gave her, makes a lot of difference, don't you think?' 'Great difference, goodbye, Mother,' Neil said.
Sara rang him to arrange about a meeting later in the day. 'Hey, wasn't that a great plug for Scarlet Feather?' she said.
'You saw it?'
'Well, of course I did.'
'But how could you have seen it, you were in the cafe with us all when it was on.'
'I know, but I videoed it.'
'You did? That's great. Can I have the video?'
'No, I've recorded over it, a horror film later last night.'
'Sara, was Cathy's hair different?'
'Yeah, I hardly recognised her,' said Sara with her usual tact.
'What?'
'Well, I don't mean that, but it's pretty good, you have to admit.'
'I didn't notice it,' he said.
'Really?' Sara said, her spirits lifting.
Some of the calls that came in were of congratulation, clients who were proud of them, the Riordans, Molly Hayes, Stella and Sean, Mrs Ryan who had the apple strudels way back, even Mrs Fusspot. June's husband Jimmy rang to say they had been stars, and that he was also dead grateful about the acupuncture, some mad heathen kind of superstition but you wouldn't believe it, it seemed to be working. And then Neil rang.
'There's nothing I can say except I am so as
hamed.'
'It's all right, Neil,' she said wearily, and she actually meant it. It was all right. Compared to the much bigger picture, the fact that the programme had slipped his mind was no big deal. 'Look, I know lunch wouldn't make it all right.' Cathy wasn't going to keep up the dark mood. It was no life living in a perpetual sulk. She knew he was devastated.
'I don't have time for lunch today, Neil, I'm not being cold, it's just a fact. The phone is jumping off the hook—you wouldn't believe it.'
'Congratulations, I'm very proud of you. I'll try to see it today.'
'No, don't, honestly, you're too busy, we'll get a copy of the video from Mam and Dad later on. Leave it, Neil, it's all right, believe me.'
'And your hair, Cathy?'
'Yes?'
'It's very nice.'
'You told me that.'
'When did I tell you?'
'On Tuesday. I asked you did you think it suited me, and you said yes.'
'And I do,' he said. 'When will you be home if you don't want lunch?'
'About seven,' she said. 'But you're going out.'
'I won't tonight,' he promised. 'I'll cancel that meeting.'
Shona Burke was having lunch with James in his flat. He had discovered that soups were very easy to make; he didn't know why nobody had ever told him this before. They talked about the great television programme, and how it could be the turning point for them.
'If only the insurance would pay up,' James said. 'I don't want to be the spectre at the feast, but it's serious, you know. How did that horrible boy gain entrance? We need to know, and he's unlikely to tell us.'
'There's five of them working flat out there today. I called in to congratulate them on my way here...'
'What do they think of us going to Morocco for Christmas?' he asked.
'I didn't tell them.'
'Why ever not?'
'Well, you're such a private person, you never talk about your own business. Neither do I. I didn't think you'd want them, or indeed anyone, to know… about us having found each other and everything…' she looked awkward.
'I used not to be a private person, Shona, I used to tell everyone everything, I brought your essays to the office to show my colleagues, that's how outgoing I used to be, once.'
'Me too. I just learned to be private. But I suppose we could unlearn it. Will I tell them, or will you?'
'We could even tell them together,' he suggested.
Cathy came in at exactly seven o'clock. She looked tired, he thought, and her hair was beautiful, very soft and feminine; how had he failed to notice it before, or admire it only in a perfunctory way on Tuesday night?
'I have turned the answering machine down, we won't even hear anyone if they call.' His infectious smile didn't get a response. 'I got oysters,' he said. 'To try to make amends… They aren't open. I don't know how to open them, actually, but I thought you might like…'
'To come home from eleven hours in a catering kitchen and open oysters?' she asked.
'No, perhaps not. Not a great idea.'
'It's beyond gestures now, isn't it, Neil?'
'What do you mean… ?'
'We're much too far apart, there's nothing left. Weekends, feasts, surprises, talk, oysters… It would only be acting.'
'It's a bad patch, certainly… We are missing each other a lot in a way that we never did before, but I did say that I was perfectly willing to try for another child.'
'That's the one thing that has driven us further apart than anything else.'
'What do you mean?'
'Neil, you can't say you'll give me a baby and put up with a baby just to shut me up.'
'I never used any of those words, nor felt them. Don't put things into my mouth.'
'It's what you were offering me as a last chance.'
'You're imagining it,' he said.
'You and I used to be able to talk about everything. It was the greatest thing in the world.'
'We can get it back, can't we?' He sounded unsure of himself.
'I don't think so.'
'You're not serious,' he said.
'I am. What you want is a different kind of wife entirely. Someone who idolises you, someone who will stay at home with you and have nice dinner parties for your colleagues…'
'I never said…'
'No, you didn't, and I'm not saying it's wrong to want that, but you don't need someone independent with a career, you need someone who will throw up everything and follow you. I'm not that person, but there are many of them out there. Sara, for example.'
'Sara? What are you talking about?'
'You have that ability to talk with her that you and I used to have once.'
'Sara… you're not suggesting?'
I'm just saying she's very young, she hero-worships you…'
'She's very concerned…'
'She's got a crush on you, but that's not the point, that's not what we're talking about.'
'What are we talking about?'
'I suppose about what we do now.' She felt exhausted and fatigued, almost defeated. Somehow once she had said the words they seemed less frightening. It was out in the open. They were admitting that things between them were very bad indeed.
'You still care about what I do, the work that has to be done, don't you?'
'Yes, I do, I really do. But I think you've forgotten about you and me in the whole thing. We don't talk… It's not that we have no time, it's just that we make no time. And much as I admire you, it seems to me that you bleed for everyone in the world and for big global problems, but you can't see the hurts and hopes and dreams on your own doorstep.'
'Now that's not really fair, you said you supported the same things as I did, then you suddenly went off on a tangent trying to be the world's biggest caterer. You said that you didn't want children, just like me, and then you got pregnant and I was the worst monster in the world because I wasn't suddenly delighted. Then you said you were sad and lonely and tired, and I said okay, let's have another baby, and apparently that was the worst thing I ever said in my whole life. So don't throw all the accusations at me.'
Cathy looked at him as if for the first time. He really and truly felt that she had totally misjudged him in all this. They were further apart than she had thought.
'I don't want a slanging match, Neil, I just said that you are so involved in everything else you don't see what's happening to us. There's nothing out there that you wouldn't fight for, but we are missing each other every step of the way.'
'No, that's not so, I won't have this. I've done everything I can, you're trying to put a label on me—it's not fair to say I'm Mister Rent-a-Cause. I just won't accept it.'
'What will you accept then?' she asked. 'Are you going to accept that things are very, very bad between us.'
'I can't believe this is happening,' he said, shaking his head as if to get a buzzing noise out of his ears.
She sat very still and said nothing.
'This is all a total mess. It's brought about by us both working too hard,' he began. 'Cathy, don't let us lose it, it's up to us… you know that… If we want something we can get it. We did it before.'
She was about to say that she thought it was too late, but the words didn't come out.
'Listen to me, Cathy, we can start again, leave here, leave all the pressures, start all over. I'll take the job, we can go away, put everything behind us, we'll have space and peace to work everything out, have our baby when we want to. We can put all this unhappy year behind us.'
She looked at him open-mouthed.
'That's what we'll do, they're on to me every day to make up my mind. We'll tell them that we'll go. We'll go together.'
'Please, Neil, no, please.'
But she couldn't stop him, he was in full flight now.
'It's what we've needed, to get out of here… People do get bogged down by things, you're right, we have been missing each other. What with rushing between the twins and the break-in and your parents and my parents and the Am
erican wedding and the insurance and the late nights and the never having time to talk…'
'It's got nothing to do with all that,' she attempted.
It has everything to do with it. Once we're on our own far way from everything here…'
'There is no way that…'
'We've been working too hard, we haven't given ourselves time to pause and think…'
'No, Neil.' Suddenly she snapped.
'Will you stop shaking your head at me and talking like a nanny. Honestly, even my mother wasn't as certain and definite as you are. I'm offering us the chance to save our marriage, we love each other. We fought hard to get each other, against a lot of opposition, we're not going to throw it all away just after one bad year are we?'
She said nothing.
'Are we? Don't just sit there looking at me reproachfully as if I were Maud and Simon. This is serious, this is our future for God's sake.'
'It's your future.'
'I want it to be ours, I want us to do it together…'
'But… ?' she said.
'But I don't know what you want, I really don't. If I did know what you want, I'd try to do it.'
'I've always wanted the same thing,' she said.
'No, that's not true, you want to be out all hours with stupid, vain, rich people making them ever more ludicrous food.'
'I see.'
'It's not a life, it's not a way to live. This was never our plan. Come away with me, come on, we can make it work.'
'No.'
'You're just being stubborn, you're making a point.'
'Not true.'
'We've been through this over and over. This is important. I am at the point that I can't bear us to go on having these endless rows. I'll go without you if you won't come. I mean it. They're on to me every day. I've only been stalling them for you. Now if you're not going to come, what's the point of stalling them any more?'
'No point,' she said blankly.
'I don't want to go without you.'
'No, no I see that.'
'But I will, I mean this is what I've always wanted. I thought it was what we had always wanted. I would turn sour, be very bitter, we'd have nothing left at all if I were to stay.'
