by Maeve Binchy
When I come back next Saturday around three o’clock, it would be nice if you were all here. It will not help matters, it will only make them worse, if you come to Mrs Hart’s house to discuss it there.
It’s been going on for months. It can wait another week.
Elizabeth
She found three envelopes, and addressed one to Father. She left it propped beside the dirty milk bottle.
Then she walked to the lodging house where Mother still stayed and dropped it in the door. Then she squeezed the third envelope in through a slit between the door and the side of Harry Elton’s van which she saw parked near the lodging house. It fell on the floor where he would see it. Hitching her bag up on her shoulder she headed towards the Harts’ house. Monica saw her coming and ran to the door, delighted. With a wry sort of a smile Elizabeth thought that Aisling would be proud of her.
Elizabeth woke the following Saturday with the taste of dread in her mouth. There had been a message, a note slipped into the Harts’ house late on Sunday night. Nobody had seen who delivered it. It had been as brusque as Elizabeth’s own letter.
You are perfectly right, nobody has been business-like, and it has taken you to show us. George, Harry and I will be happy to make plans with you next Saturday. You can reassure the Harts that it will all be solved by then. Violet
Elizabeth thought with a pang, as she read and reread the note, that she must indeed have grown up suddenly if Mother was referring to Father as George and to herself as Violet.
Throughout the week she had accompanied Monica absentmindedly on various outings with the unsuitable boyfriend; they went to the cinema a great deal and Monica and Colin kissed while Elizabeth stared at the screen. Monica had said that Elizabeth should say her parents had sent the fifteen shillings for entertainment money for the girls. Mrs Hart had thought this very reasonable, and indeed generous. Mr Hart had grunted and warned them not to stay out too late and not to injure their eyes by being too close to the flickering screen.
Now it was time to go home and face what had to be faced. Elizabeth washed her hair and sat in the garden while it dried.
‘You have a beautiful head of hair,’ Mrs Hart said approvingly, ‘it’s like silk.’
‘That’s very nice of you, I think it’s a bit wishy-washy,’ Elizabeth said.
‘No, in fact women try to dye their hair your colour, flaxen, you’re very lucky.’
Mrs Hart was shelling peas. Elizabeth started to help her. ‘You’re very helpful,’ Mrs Hart said. Monica was up in her room reading a movie magazine and working out a complicated method of meeting Colin next week.
‘I always get on with other people’s mothers better than with my own,’ said Elizabeth sadly.
‘Everyone does,’ Mrs Hart said cheerfully. ‘It’s the law of averages, isn’t it? If you see someone too much you learn to hate them. Monica hates me, Mr Hart would hate me if he didn’t go out so much. People shouldn’t see each other too much. It leads to trouble.’
‘That’s a bit depressing isn’t it?’ Elizabeth stopped with the peas in the pod open and ready to fall. ‘I mean, there’s not much point in love and families and friends if you’re going to get tired of people when you see a lot of them. …’
‘It may be depressing,’ Mrs Hart said, ‘but it’s the truth. Look dear, haven’t you got the living proof of it in your own house this afternoon?’
Even the front garden looked neater as Elizabeth crossed the road to 29 Clarence Gardens. She had her own key, but lest she catch people unawares she decided to ring at the door. It was just ten past three, she had dawdled on the way in case it looked too business-like to arrive spot on time. With a lurch of her heart she noticed Harry Elton’s van parked outside the gate.
Father answered the door.
‘Welcome home, dear,’ he said. ‘How are all the Harts?’
‘Oh, they’re fine,’ Elizabeth said. She left her case in the hall, hung her school blazer on the hall stand, and noticed with a quick glance that the place had been cleaned. The carpet was swept, and the paintwork had been wiped. So far, so good.
In the kitchen, Mother and Harry sat at the table rather awkwardly and stagily; for the first time since the whole business had begun they seemed ill at ease and self-conscious.
‘Here you are,’ boomed Harry in a falsely cheerful voice.
Mother stood up. She was twisting a handkerchief in the way she did when she was upset.
‘How nice you look darling, your hair is lovely.’
‘Thank you Mother, hello Harry.’ Elizabeth was so accustomed to jollying everyone along and pretending that nothing was amiss that she almost fell into the role again. She had to steel herself to remain aloof rather than creating some bustle and air of business to tide over the awkwardness around her. She stood very deliberately waiting for the next move.
It came from Mother.
‘We’ve made some tea. It’s cooling a little, shall we make some more?’ She was awkward. It wasn’t her kitchen any more. She looked to her husband. ‘George? What do you think?’
‘I don’t know. Would you care for some tea Elizabeth?’ he asked politely.
‘No thank you, we had a late lunch at the Harts’,’ Elizabeth said, bouncing the ball right back to them. Time could not be spent with kettles, artificial activity could not be generated.
‘Well, it’s not my place really, but won’t you sit down, my girl,’ said Harry. Mother darted him a nervous glance and Father a resentful one.
‘Thank you, Harry,’ said Elizabeth and took the proffered chair.
There was a silence.
‘Monica all right is she?’ Mother asked.
‘Oh fine,’ said Elizabeth.
Father cleared his throat. ‘We did have discussions during the week … er … we faced the things that had to be faced, and … er … as you requested we are all here. You see.’
George stopped. Elizabeth looked at him levelly. ‘Yes Father.’
‘And it’s only fair that you should be brought into the discussion and your views … sought … on aspects of what we discussed.’
Elizabeth remained silent.
Mother took over. ‘It hasn’t been easy, you’ll know yourself some day that the big things in life are not easy to discuss, and they cloud everything else. But as you pointed out, we were all ignoring the little things as well. So, what it boiled down to is this. … Your father is very generously going to give me evidence, let me divorce him. He will agree to do this because it is a courteous thing to do, and a gentleman’s attitude. I do not deserve it, since as you know I am the one who is at fault. In return I shall ask your father for no allowance of course, no settlement. Harry and I will start again as if I were a girl with no stake, no belongings. I shall keep my clothes and some small pieces of china and furniture. Your father will employ a woman, whom I shall find, to come twice a week to do the laundry and cleaning. I have already cleaned out the entire kitchen and cupboards and listed what brands we buy … used to buy. It’s all there.’
Elizabeth raised her eyes and looked approvingly at the cupboards, which had even had a new coat of paint.
‘Harry has dug the back garden. From now on if your father doesn’t like working it himself he could give some as an allotment. Plenty of people do that. There is a back entrance so you would not be disturbed. …’
‘We should wait and see how it turns out, perhaps you might enjoy doing it now that the basic stuff has been done.’ Elizabeth stood up and looked out at the tidied squares and the cut-back briars and thorns. Harry must have worked all week on it.
Harry spoke. ‘I’ve been able to get you a stove, an oil stove for your room. Vi was saying you would want a place to study on your own so that George could have the wireless on.’
‘That’s nice,’ Elizabeth said.
‘And I got a bookcase, a small bookcase at the second-hand shop, it fits in nicely under your window,’ Father said eagerly.
‘Thank you.’
�
��There are new curtains too. Very luckily exactly the same size – they were changing curtains in the family hotel where I’m staying so I took the opportunity. They’re blue, like the bedspread. …’
‘Thank you very much.’
A silence.
Mother said, ‘Does all that seem suitable darling? I mean, I know we’re talking about inessentials, but you know, for the moment, the sort of nuts and bolts.’
‘Yes, Mother, I think that’s fine.’
‘Your mother wants to know whether you will go on living here with me or whether you want to tell us what you would prefer.’
‘I’ll go on living with you Father, if that’s all right. And if we’re both fairly tidy and don’t make demands on each other I’m sure we’ll get along just fine. I think you should go out more, Father, in the evenings. Go to meet people, or to play cards. I won’t be much company in the evenings, I’m going to study, and it would be dull for you if you didn’t go out a bit.’
‘Yes, yes, of course, of course.’
‘Mother, will you and Harry be nearby, will you want to come round and see us?’
‘Well, no dear, that’s what I was going to say, darling. Actually, your Uncle Harry and I … I mean Harry and I, are thinking of going north. It won’t affect your visiting us in the slightest. If there’s a chance that you’ll come to see us you’ll have the train fare right away. …’
‘Even sooner,’ said Harry.
‘And our home will be your home. But for a lot of reasons, if it doesn’t seem too harsh we thought. …’
Elizabeth looked at Mother helpfully, but did not finish the sentence for her.
‘We thought a new start… and a clean sheet … a fresh start. …’ Her voice trailed away.
Harry butted in. ‘And, as I said, you only have to ask – you don’t even have to ask – once we get settled you just turn up, any day any night. It’s as much your place as this is.’
Father gave a kind of snort – it might have been a cough.
‘Thank you,’ Elizabeth said.
‘So that’s about it, I suppose,’ Father said. ‘Unless there’s anything else you want to discuss.’
Elizabeth’s voice was very calm. ‘No, that’s fine, really. I think that covers everything. Have you all discussed everything, I mean, there’s nothing more you have to clear up about arrangements and money and divorces and everything …?’ She sounded as if she were talking about a shopping list. Detached, anxious to help, efficient.
‘No, I think that side of things is all. …’
‘Sorted out…’ Father finished for Mother. She gave him a little smile and he half-smiled back. Elizabeth’s heart nearly burst. Why couldn’t they make the smiles last, and maybe they would all burst out laughing and Harry Elton would go out and drive away with a wave and it would all be perfect.
But that didn’t happen. Mother picked up her bag and gloves, looked proudly around the kitchen that she had decorated in order to leave it with a clear heart. Harry pinched the small geranium on the window sill.
‘Give that a lot to drink, Elizabeth, thirsty little devils, geraniums.’
Father stood politely holding the door open for the man who was taking his wife away. Elizabeth walked out to the van.
‘I’ll write in a week,’ Mother said.
‘Great,’ Elizabeth said.
‘I mean it, you know, whatever home we get will have a room for you, Elizabeth, we’ll put blue curtains in that too,’ said Harry.
‘I know you will, thank you, Harry.’ Elizabeth shook his hand. He gripped her around the elbow as well as shaking hands; he was very eager to give her a hug but didn’t dare. …
Mother didn’t look to see whether Father was at the door or not.
‘Oh, I wish things were different.’ Her eyes were full of tears, she looked very lost and young somehow. ‘Oh if you knew how … how I wished that things could be different.’
Elizabeth sighed. Mother blinked away the tears.
‘I’ll say no more now. I’ll say it all in the letter. Bless you my dear, dear Elizabeth.’
‘Goodbye Mother.’ Elizabeth touched Mother’s thin cheek with hers, Violet held on to her, shaking.
‘Say it in a letter, that’s best,’ Elizabeth said. Wordlessly, Mother got into the van and waved.
They were gone.
Father was standing at the kitchen table. ‘We’ll take it in turns to wash up after meals,’ Elizabeth said. ‘You do this one, I’ll do supper. I’m going up to my room now.’ She managed to get out without breaking down. She grabbed the bag she had brought back from the Harts’ and ran up the stairs. She closed the door and threw herself on the bed with its new blue bedspread. She stuffed the pillowcase with its new blue frill into her mouth to muffle the sobs. She cried until her throat was sore, her ribs ached and her nose was so stuffed up she could hardly breathe. If she had taken the pillowcase away from her face the sound that came out would have been like a long, lonely wail.
*
Aisling thought that Elizabeth was extraordinary to have been so worried, in case something would happen to her Mam and Dad, and then when it did happen she turned out to be as cool as cucumber. She had written a very unworried kind of letter which had been more about new curtains and fresh painting in the kitchen than it was about what it felt like to be in the middle of a broken marriage. Mam had been very insistent that Aisling did not talk about it.
‘Can’t I tell Joannie? Please?’ Aisling had begged. ‘You see I’ve told her up as far as the bit where she got to calling Mr Elton “Harry”, like I suggested, and Joannie will want to know what happened next. It’s not fair to tell someone the story and then leave them hanging without knowing the end.’
Mam had laughed and said all right, but not to broadcast it around the town. If Elizabeth came back to see them she mightn’t like to hear that everyone in the place knew of her private family matters.
‘Do you think she’ll ever come back?’ Aisling wished she would. But she wished she’d come soon, otherwise there would be too much to catch up on, too many things to explain.
‘Would she come back here, do you think, and start school again here in September?’
Mam thought not; she said she had written to Elizabeth and suggested it as a possibility; but Elizabeth had replied that bad and all as things were she would feel worse if she deserted her father entirely.
‘I don’t know why she writes such things to you,’ grumbled Aisling, ‘she only told me about the blue curtains.’
‘She told me about those too.’ Eileen looked worried. ‘I think she was very upset by the whole business. … You know all of them doing up the house but for the wrong reasons.’
‘Um.’ Aisling was vague. ‘Mam, would Mrs White, you know, Elizabeth’s mother … would she technically be in mortal sin and everything, living with Mr Elton? I know she’s not a Catholic, but she was at a Catholic school with you … and she was baptised … and it could be a sin.’
Mam ran after her with the tea towel she happened to have in her hands and started to belt her around the legs. … ‘Will you go away you stupid idiotic child and stop bothering me about sin! Sin, sin and more sin … what nonsense you all talk.’
But Mam was laughing. Laughing at somebody breaking their marriage vows. … Mam was hard to fathom sometimes. …
‘I wonder where they did it?’ Joannie speculated as they both rubbed Vaseline on to their eyelashes with the narrow bits of combs, flicking them upwards.
‘Did what? Who?’ Aisling concentrated intensely but the lash wouldn’t bend. ‘The best I can do is to make these look like spikes. Why do yours bend? Are they made of weaker fibre or what?’
‘I think they’re naturally curly, I have a feeling they might be.’ Joannie examined her eyelashes, pleased. ‘No, I was talking about the couple, you know. Elizabeth’s mother and that man … where did they make love?’
‘I never thought of that. His house maybe?’
‘But he didn
’t have a house remember, always in lodging houses. They couldn’t go there. Maybe they went to hotel rooms for the afternoons.’
Aisling thought about that. ‘I think you have to stay in a hotel once you book in. I don’t think you can leave at teatime and say that’s enough. Maybe they didn’t do it at all, maybe they only held hands and necked.’
‘Oh, don’t be silly!’ Joannie was very cross. ‘Of course they did it, wasn’t adultery mentioned and all? I mean, necking isn’t adultery. Anyway you’d never leave one man and go off with another unless you’d done it with the other. Stands to reason.’
Aisling didn’t agree with this. She put down her mirror and hugged her knees as she sat on Joannie’s bed. She looked around the big room with its windows down to the floor. The Murrays’ house was one of the best houses of Kilgarret. Eamonn always said, ‘Off to your friends the Rockefellers?’ when she went to Joannie’s house.
‘I think you’ve got it all wrong, Joannie,’ she said seriously. ‘I think you think that most of the world is much more interested in doing it than they really are. Elizabeth and I used to say we’d never mind if we never did it as long as we lived. …’
‘Ah, but that was ages ago … I bet you feel different now.’
‘No I don’t,’ said Aisling with spirit. ‘I really mean this. I think it’s something everyone goes on about and makes a big thing out of and nobody likes it at all. It’s love people want. That’s different to doing it.’
‘They’re meant to be the same.’ Joannie’s round face was puzzled. ‘Didn’t you listen when Sister Catherine said that love was the highest expression of doing it – or was it doing it was the highest expression of love? Remember, we nearly choked trying to keep straight faces in class? It was a scream.’
‘Sister Catherine never talked about doing it!’ Aisling was amazed at the very idea.
‘No, she didn’t use those words … she said something about the high something of married love resulting in the creation of children … if that’s not doing it what is?’
