‘Let’s go mad together.’ I returned his kiss. ‘It’s the only way. I don’t want to be sane and sensible and go on living without you.’
‘Well, then.’ He ran his hand from my armpit down to my hip. ‘Let me love you, darling, darling Bobbie, while I have you.’
We made love again, more fiercely than before because a horrible, cold certainty that this happiness would not be ours much longer began to intrude itself however desperately we pushed it away.
‘I love you,’ I said for the thousandth time that night, as we lay quiet in each other’s arms, later. ‘I’ll always love you.’ But he made no answer. His slow breathing told me he was asleep.
I woke once towards dawn. I remembered everything immediately and sat up to lean over him, to watch him sleeping, to learn every line and angle of his face so that I should never forget it. Then I dozed. Dreaming of him, seeing him, tasting him, feeling his body inside mine. When I woke again I found his face was turned towards me and he was looking at me intently.
‘What time is it?’ I asked.
‘Seven o’clock.’
I felt tears threaten but managed to keep them back. ‘You ought to go now.’
‘Yes. Don’t get up. I want to think of you, lying there, so beautiful, when I’m on the road to Dublin, feeling as though my heart’s been torn out of me … Oh, Bobbie!’ he groaned and rested his head on my arm, ‘Say you’ll stay! I can’t send Violet away. There isn’t anywhere for her to go. And I can’t divorce her because of the laws of this strange backward-looking land. But you and I could live here together and no one will know. And if they do, so what?’
‘Every cell, every atom of my body wants to say yes to that.’ I felt as though I was struggling in the grip of a terrible illness. ‘And half my mind. But let’s look into the future a little. When I imagine Flavia’s face as she discovers that Violet is wretched because of me, I feel … I feel ashamed. What good is experience unless we learn from it? I know what it’s like to be the secret part of a man’s life. The guilt. The jealousy. I can’t bear to think of Violet and the children hating me. I love your children. I love them for their own dear selves as well as because they’re yours. And I’m very fond of Violet. When I see her talking and laughing I feel so proud of my part in that. She needs you so desperately. I don’t want to be the reason that your marriage fails again, when this time it might work.’ I thought of Kit and Violet then but stifled the sneaking, ignoble impulse that prompted me to save myself by telling him. It was not a lifebelt, anyway. If Finn had been there she would not have been interested in Kit. And Finn had not been there because of me. ‘When your children have grown up, with the example before them of two people who worked hard to make a life together, you’ll know I’m right. Sex isn’t everything; nor, I think, love. It’s doing the decent thing, putting the interests of other – innocent – people before one’s own. A good conscience is a continual feast. I can’t remember who said that but I know it’s true. And you, of all men, will feel that. I couldn’t bear to see you disillusioned with me. I don’t want us ever to look at each other and feel … regret.’
‘You’ve decided then. We must part.’ Something of bitter weariness in his voice, of the man who yet again faces what he hates made me hesitate. But it was possible that Finn and Violet might yet be happy. I made myself think of Burgo. I had convinced myself then that the world was well lost for love and it had turned out not to be true. I had been thoroughly punished for my selfishness. This time I must get it right.
Finn was silent for a while, staring up at the canopy that bulged and rose here and there with the pressure of paws and haunches. ‘I haven’t much to offer any woman, encumbered as I am. I fear’ – he screwed up his eyes as though in pain – ‘you might come to hate me if I could only give you half-measures. Very well. We’ll do the decent thing. Behave like good citizens. What the hell, I’m nearly forty-one. Half my life is gone and a fine mess I’ve made of it. Probably one cares less about one’s own happiness as one gets older.’
‘I shall always care about your happiness.’ I turned his face towards me so I could look into his eyes. ‘Always. Whatever you’re doing, whether you’re elated or in despair, I shall care. I won’t know but I’ll go on hoping that you’re happy.’
He took a lock of my hair, wound it round his finger and pressed it to his lips. ‘You’re only twenty-seven. There’s time for you to build something marvellous for yourself. A good job in which you can use that sharp brain, that instinct for beauty, all that remarkable will-power. A husband. Children. A place in society where you’re honoured and respected.’
I smiled. ‘That all sounds rather old-fashioned to me. I don’t know that those things matter very much. If at all.’
‘I’m an old-fashioned man, I suppose. This is an old-fashioned place.’
‘It’s another world. And it will almost kill me to leave it. But I know it’s the right thing to do.’
‘Could we meet sometimes? Just so I can be sure I’ve remembered you right?’
‘Perhaps. After a long time. When we’ve got over missing each other.’
‘As long as that? I’ll be grey and toothless and in a wheelchair. But even then I’ll still want you.’ He gave a shuddering sigh. ‘Let me make love to you one last time.’
I pressed myself to the length of his body, tried to lose myself in desire, felt again the sensation of wild joy … that this time turned to grief before it had ebbed.
Finn kissed me gently and then slid out from the bedclothes. I memorized his body as he dressed, determined to forget nothing. The scar on his rib cage – I would never know what caused it – the way the hair grew on the back of his neck, the breadth of his shoulders, the graceful hands. He buttoned his shirt, pulled on his disgraceful old corduroys, worn smooth on the knees by rough usage, picked up his jersey, gave me a last, long look and went to the door. I was hanging on to tears until he should be through it. He turned the key in the lock. He was going out of my life. The pressure on my throat was intense. He fought with the door handle.
‘I can’t undo the bloody thing,’ he said. ‘It just turns round in my hand. What are you laughing at?’
‘It’s despair. I know what’s happened. The screw’s fallen out on the other side. We’re locked in.’
I got out of bed and ran over to rattle the handle, ineffectively.
He laughed too and held me, in my naked state, tightly against him. ‘God! I want to make love all over again. This is cruel of fate. I don’t know how many more times I’m capable of tearing myself away.’
‘What are we going to do?’
‘We could hammer on the door? Shout from the window. Ring Scornach Mór.’
‘And have the fire brigade break in to find you locked in my bedroom. That would give them something to talk about in Kilmuree.’
I started to throw on my clothes.
He folded his arms and leaned against the door. ‘Is it impolite of me to stare? Because I’m going to, anyway.’
‘Put your mind on our predicament.’
‘You’re asking too much of any man, let alone a man who’s so desperately in love.’
‘Think, darling, do!’ I urged. ‘Can’t you do something masculine and splendid with a nail file?’
I stopped at the sound of knocking.
‘Bobbie?’ It was Flavia’s voice. ‘Can I come in? I’ve got something for you.’
Finn and I looked at each other, our eyes signalling dismay.
‘Just a minute, sweetheart,’ I called while making frantic gestures to Finn to get under my bed. ‘I’m in the middle of dressing. Won’t be a minute. Just putting my jersey on. Com-ing,’ I said as I saw Finn’s foot disappear beneath the valance. ‘I think the screw’s fallen out again,’ I called through the door. ‘Can you find it?’
A moment’s silence before Flavia said, ‘Here it is. Hang on a mo.’ Then the handle turned and Flavia came in. ‘It was lucky I came up, wasn’t it? I thought Timsy mended it.’<
br />
‘Not well enough it seems. It was lucky.’
‘Did Daddy get Dervla down all right?’
‘Yes, straight away. What is it you’ve got for me?’ I added, seeing that she held a piece of paper in her hand.
‘The postman brought it. It’s a telegram. Is it something important?’
‘Probably not. The telephone still isn’t working, that’s all. I expect it’s the colonel wanting to know if we’re all right after our ordeal.’ I tore open the envelope.
‘Where’s Wee Willie Winkie?’ Flavia looked around for the white kitten that was her favourite though she tried to be stern with herself about loving them all equally. ‘There he is! Come here and be stroked, you bad little cat!’
The kitten ran over to the bed and disappeared beneath the valance. In a trice Flavia was on her knees beside the bed stretching out her hand to find him. She gave an exclamation of astonishment.
‘Daddy! What on earth are you doing under Bobbie’s bed?’
‘I came up to – make sure there were no cats up the chimney. Then the door blew shut. I was looking for the screw.’
It was not bad for split-second thinking.
Flavia began to giggle hysterically. ‘You do look funny lying there. Come out. Laughing a lot always gives me a stitch. Mummy wants you to bring her down specially early.’
Finn crawled out and wiped his hands on his shirt. ‘I found several dust-balls under there, Miss Norton.’ He shook his finger at me. ‘Make sure it doesn’t happen again.’
Flavia bent double holding her side. ‘Stop it, Daddy! I’m in agony! Don’t you want to know why you’re to bring Mummy down early?’
He smiled down at her. ‘Tell me.’
‘She wants to show you her walking. She managed last night to take two steps with Granny’s sticks. Isn’t it wonderful? Aren’t you so terrifically glad?’ She pressed her face against her father’s stomach.
Over Flavia’s head Finn sent me a look of love blent with hopelessness.
‘I’ve got to go home,’ I said. ‘At once. Today. My father’s had a heart attack.’
FIFTY-ONE
It was perhaps a good thing that the leave-taking was necessarily brief. I went up to Maud’s room first. Violet cried so much and clung to me so tightly that my conscience was only appeased by the knowledge that I was about to plunge myself into hell on her behalf.
‘I’m so grateful to you, Bobbie! Thank you, thank you!’ she wept. ‘I’ll miss you so badly! And you haven’t seen me walk!’
‘Don’t delay her,’ said Maud. ‘She has a long journey ahead. Go, Bobbie. I’ll see to her.’
She stood over Violet, bidding her wipe her eyes and stop behaving like a waterspout. I wondered whether I should shake Maud’s hand or even kiss her but before I could make up my mind she had shuffled away. ‘I don’t expect your father has much wrong with him.’ She turned her back to me. ‘Men always make a ridiculous fuss about nothing. But you’ll be glad to get back to civilization. I suppose we have Constance’s stew to look forward to. Goodbye.’
I went down to the kitchen. Pegeen threw her apron over her head and cried even more than Violet. ‘May the good Lord bless you, love you and keep you,’ she wailed. ‘Who’ll do everything now?’
‘Mrs O’Kelly’s coming to help,’ I said.
‘Is it Thady O’Kelly’s Nellie?’ asked Katty. She sniffed. ‘Bejasus! How are the mighty fallen! She’ll not like scrubbing and dusting and cleaning that fecking separator!’
‘Goodbye, Katty.’ I offered her my hand. ‘I shall always remember you with affection.’
To my surprise tears began to trickle down Katty’s ash-speckled cheeks and she set up a wail that must have rivalled the Irish cry in volume as well as sincerity.
In the hall, where the rest of the household was gathered, Flurry shook my hand several times, hard. ‘Thank you for helping me with the railway. I’m very sorry you’re going.’
I bent and kissed him on the cheek. ‘Goodbye, darling Flurry. I know you hate being kissed but I’m so fond of you.’
He straightened his spectacles, looked not actually displeased and said, ‘That’s all right.’
‘My best wishes go with you, Bobbie.’ Eugene stepped forward. ‘May I?’ He kissed both my cheeks with courtly grace, then seized my hand and squeezed it until my blood supply was in danger of being cut off. ‘Very sad to see you go. Very.’
‘Thank you. Now, Flavia, darling.’ I addressed the top of her head as she had thrown her arms around me and was weeping. ‘You’ll make me cry too if you go on like that. Look after the cats and the dogs and make sure Timsy milks Niamh properly.’ I turned up her face so that I could kiss her. ‘I’m relying on you.’
Flavia, her eyes swollen with tears, nodded. ‘I promise faithfully.’
‘Goodbye, Liddy dear.’ Liddy clung briefly to my neck. ‘We’ll have that week in London as soon as humanly possible.’
Liddy’s dark glasses hid most of her expression. ‘I bloody well wish you weren’t going.’ She sloped away, nibbling her fingernails.
I looked at Constance. I had to bite my bottom lip to stop it from quivering.
‘Well now, Bobbie,’ she said in a determinedly cheerful voice, her soft eyes bright. ‘We can’t have you going away thinking we’re all a lot of cry-babies. I hope you’ll change your mind and come back as soon as your father’s better. I’m not going to try to tell you what your being here’s meant to me because that would upset me and we want to end on a note of uplift. So, here’s to a safe journey, darling … Ohhh!’
We both cried heartily as we embraced. An impatient tooting came from the other side of the gatehouse. ‘That’s Finn now getting angry. You’d better go, dear Bobbie. Write to me the minute you can. I won’t come out.’ Constance put her handkerchief to her eyes. ‘I’m a fool, I know, but I can’t bear to see you driving away.’
‘Goodbye, dearest Con. Thank you for everything.’
She buried her face and flapped her hand. ‘Go! Go!’ she sobbed.
‘Oh dear,’ said Finn when he saw my face. ‘As bad as that?’
I nodded and got into the ancient Peugeot. I turned to wave goodbye to Flavia who was standing by the ticket table in the gatehouse, her face contorted, her chest heaving. I waved goodbye to the house, bathed now in a freak ray of sunlight, old and beautiful and infinitely dear. We drove by the walled garden. I prevented myself from breaking down altogether by reciting the alphabet backwards.
I had got as far as O when a figure broke from the trees and came running alongside the car. ‘Goodbye, Miss Bobbie,’ called Timsy, leaping energetically over ruts and bushes and stones to keep up with us. ‘Goodbye, you lovely creature.’ He waved his cap as tears flowed from his blue eyes into his mouth, round with emotion. He ran for half a mile behind us and stopped just short of the gate where he lay down in the road to recover from the unaccustomed exertion.
‘Will he be all right?’ I was more grateful to Timsy than he would ever know for making my last sight of the demesne comical as well as sad.
‘Timsy’s the one person I never worry about. We’d all do well to take some lessons in living from him.’
‘If anyone had told me ten months ago as I was coming along this road, lit only by the odd burst of moonlight, soaking wet, in the donkey cart with Timsy lying dead drunk among the cabbages, that I’d actually be truly sorry to say goodbye to him I’d have thought they were pitifully insane.’
‘Well, that’s the old Irish charm for you. Thoroughly fraudulent, just like Timsy. Look at those mountains!’ The sunlight had turned the rock to silver and the gorse to gold. ‘However often I see them, they seem to me one of the most beautiful sights on this earth.’
‘Didn’t your family own them once?’
‘Yes. But only by a flight of fancy. No one could own them really. They comfort me mightily. One’s petty concerns shrink to nothing before them.’
‘Tell me about you as a little boy – what it was like
to be brought up here.’
I folded my coat and put it over the handbrake so I could lean across and rest my head against him, my hand on his knee. He described playing in the woods and building camps and hunting on his pony, Duff. ‘You wouldn’t like that, I know. You’d be sorry for the fox. Well, so am I now, but then I never thought of it. Hunting is so much a part of the Irish way of life.’
‘Only above a certain social level. I don’t suppose people like Timsy go hunting, do they?’
‘Ah, now, you mustn’t take issue with me over the state of the world. Isn’t that true in England as well?’
‘Yes,’ I admitted. ‘Actually the division is greater if anything.’
‘Let’s not go too far the other way. Your trouble is you’re a helpless victim of fairy glamour. You see Ireland through rose-tinted spectacles. You’ll be saying next you like drisheen and rain.’
‘That black-pudding stuff? No!’ I shuddered. ‘But there is something extraordinarily beautiful about the rain when it slants across the landscape and sparkles in every imaginable colour. I’m hopelessly in love with some things Irish, that’s true.’
He bent his head to kiss the top of mine. ‘Tell me about your life in England. I want to know everything.’
We talked about ourselves happily for two hours. This unexpected time alone together seemed such a bonus, a blessing, that without actually admitting to it, we conspired to pretend that the future did not exist. Though I had a sick feeling that burned in the pit of my stomach I could be superficially gay and almost forget where this journey was taking us. We left Connemara behind and came to the Midlands, flat, featureless, dull but for me still an enchanted place because he was there. The hundred and fifty miles took three and a half hours. As we drew nearer to Dublin, the gaiety became more elusive, the sick feeling became a hard knot.
‘You’re worried about your father,’ Finn said when I became quiet.
‘Well, yes. I am, of course, though the telegram said he was in no danger but asking for me. I can hardly believe that. I’ve never felt that my presence gave him any pleasure.’
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