Light a Penny Candle

by Maeve Binchy

  ‘Then you know?’ cried Aisling with a face full of horror.

  ‘Know? Know? What do I know, how can I know anything? Aisling, be reasonable. I don’t even know what you’re talking about. I was only giving you a sort of general rule about confidences.’

  ‘You don’t want me to confide in you, is that it?’

  ‘God, girl, you’re very prickly. Listen I’ll tell you something. When your Dad and I got married, I remember this bit always and I’ll never forget it. Well we didn’t have a honeymoon or anything, just a weekend in Tramore in a guesthouse, and neither your father nor I were able to talk about the whole business of being in love or making love or anything, you know, we just did things … not talked about them.’

  ‘I know,’ said Aisling miserably.

  ‘So there were some of the things about making love and all that when your father started them … well, I didn’t know whether this was all right or not. You see he would only have been told about it from ignorant men working on the farm with him when he was a lad … his mother was dead, God rest her, and then he’d only have heard more things from ignorant fellows when he was serving his time in that hardware store. …’

  ‘Yes, Mam?’ Aisling was sympathetic and sorrowful.

  ‘So I didn’t know whether what he wanted to do … whether what we were doing was right or whether it was a sin, or what. Now, I had nobody to ask. Nobody in the world. I couldn’t ask my mother in one million years. She was as strict then as she had been when I was a child. To her I still was a child. She died five years later … and you know, Aisling, I wasn’t much older than you … but I never had a real conversation with her. Then Aunt Maureen was a nun, and she wouldn’t be much use, and your Aunt Peggy and Aunt Niamh were in America and I couldn’t write off to them and ask for advice … so.

  ‘So I never asked anyone. I just went ahead and did the things I thought were right and a few of the ones I didn’t, and didn’t do some of the ones I didn’t like, and that’s the way it always was. Now, some might say I was wrong not to have asked openly something that a girl had a right to know … but I was always glad that I never, sort of, betrayed us if you know what I mean. It was very intimate. It may have been silly, but it was between your father and me and to talk about it diminished him and us.’

  ‘I see,’ said Aisling.

  ‘So. I’m just saying that if it’s something that’s really personal it’s probably no harm to keep it to yourself for a while in case you could work it out.’

  ‘I have Mam.’

  ‘Yes. I’m sure you have. But love, we’re talking about thirty years ago in Old God’s time when we’re talking about me. Suppose when we’re talking about you and it’s something like … oh, let me see, like is it all right to have the woman on top and the man underneath … well, the answer is yes, of course. Do you see what I mean? I’m trying to gauge how personal it is to you.’

  ‘It’s more personal that that, Mam.’

  ‘I see. I see, child.’ Eileen sat still. Then, ‘I’ll always listen, I’ll always be here, but if you tell me don’t run away then and be sorry you told me … that’s what I don’t want.’

  ‘I’d never do that.’

  ‘You might. Here, since I’m confiding so much I’ll tell you more. I never let Maureen tell me anything bad about Brendan Daly. Never.’

  ‘Then it must be hard to have a conversation with her, she rarely talks of anything else, except when she’s giving out to me,’ said Aisling.

  ‘No, when she starts I turn it into an attack on the weather, the house, the mother-in-law, anything except Brendan, because, you see, she is very fond of him most of the time … and if she was feeling all lovey-dovey with him and then remembered she had told me he was the greatest criminal walking free from gaol, she’d feel she had to be defensive.’

  ‘I don’t feel that about Tony, Mam.’

  ‘I know, I’m trying to give you an example, child. I’m not saying it’s the same thing. You couldn’t dislike Tony, he’s a great fellow, and he’d give you the earth.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘So I’m still here … you can tell me anything. I just pointed out all those things in case… well, just in case. …’

  ‘You’re very good, Mam. I never realised when I was young how good you were.’

  ‘You’re still young. And I’m not good. I’m full of self-preservation. Maybe that’s what I should teach you instead of how to make scones. Anyone can be a good listener. It’s easy. All you say is, “Go on, go on, tell me. Yes. No. Never.” That’s easy. It’s hard to be a wise listener.’

  Sean was tired that evening and for once it was only the two of them for supper. Niamh was meant to be doing her homework with her friend Sheila; Donal had gone to his book-keeping classes. Eamonn had announced he wouldn’t be home, a few of them were going out for a walk in the country.

  ‘That’s nice for him to get a bit of air these nice evenings,’ Eileen said.

  ‘Cock fighting, that’s what it is, a crowd from Hanrahan’s have arranged it. They think the rest of us are blind eejits and don’t know. I’d like to ring Sergeant Quinn and tell him where it is and have the lot of them caught. It’s a very cruel wrong thing that … grown men throwing pound notes and ten-shilling notes on the ground watching two animals tearing each other to bits.’

  ‘I suppose Sergeant Quinn knows well it’s on,’ Eileen said.

  ‘I suppose he does.’ Sean was reading the Irish Independent.

  She felt very lonely and foolish at the end of the table with nobody there, only a husband behind a paper.

  ‘Aisling was in today, for a long time. There’s something troubling her.’

  ‘What right has she to have something troubling her? Hasn’t she got all she wants for the rest of her life? Look at me, stuck in that shop with an amadan of a son who’s only a laughing stock. She’s not stuck in there with people so thick that Jemmy is the brightest of them some days.’

  ‘Oh, Sean, will you stop it, put down that paper, and stop pitying yourself? Stop it now. Haven’t we done a lot for ourselves and the children, and really and truly if it’s as bad as all that why don’t you sell it?’

  ‘Ah, quit talking rubbish, there’s no sense in you talking like that.’

  ‘Listen to me, I helped you build it up, I’m nearly fifty-five years of age, I’m tired, I’m very tired too when I come home in the evening. But today I came home early, so I don’t have the financial worries and burdens of the shop on my shoulders, I have a new worry about Aisling. That’s what I wanted to talk about, not let loose on myself an avalanche of complaints about everything from Eamonn, to tax men, to the rain in the yard, to O’Rourke’s bullocks breaking the door. They broke the bloody door two years ago – you were paid for it, can it be dropped from the catalogue now?’

  Sean laughed, ‘I didn’t mention O’Rourke’s bullocks this evening.’

  Eileen laughed too. ‘That’s because I didn’t give you time to … but it’s quite reasonable if you want to sell the place, quit. If Eamonn’s such a layabout and on his way to the gallows, well he’ll go won’t he, and he won’t need the shop after our time, and Donal will be a chemist, and Niamh will marry … so what have we to do it for? I ask you? Why is that rubbish?’

  ‘I’m sorry. You’re perfectly right. It’s just a manner of speech. I only complain because I’m tired.’

  ‘I really want whatever will make you peaceful, so I’m just pointing out to you that there are alternatives. Don’t think you work ten hours in there a day for necessity. It’s only because you choose to.’

  ‘That’s true, that’s true. I must stop flaring up over nothing. It’s bad for the blood pressure as well as being unfair on you. What’s ailing Aisling?’

  ‘I don’t know, she began to tell me and she stopped.’

  ‘Oh, I suppose she had a row with young Murray, she’ll get over it.’

  ‘No, it wasn’t like that.’

  ‘Ah, she’s well able for hi
m, probably gave him a telling off about all the beer he puts away. You know Aisling can be a bit of a boss. I wonder where she can have inherited that?’

  Eileen didn’t laugh as he had expected.

  ‘Maybe she’s starting a child? You remember how cranky you always were when you were carrying them? That must be it.’ Sean looked pleased.

  ‘No.’ Eileen was definite. ‘No, I have a feeling that that may be the very least likely explanation in the whole world.’

  *

  Johnny had to take more notice of the course eventually because it had been so successful. Elizabeth had managed to hit just the right note – informative without being above people’s heads, simple without being patronising. Already there was talk of another course to follow this one.

  ‘I’ll really miss it you know, when it’s over,’ she said to Stefan. ‘Only two more and that’s it, then it’s the summer and people all go away. It’s a bit flat.’

  ‘Why don’t you have a party to round it off?’ Stefan had said.

  ‘But where? The thought of having any kind of gathering in Father’s house. …’

  ‘You could have it here,’ Stefan said suddenly. ‘This is a huge room – you could have a hundred people here, if we pulled back all the furniture. It would be very nice, it would be a very good setting.’

  ‘And it would be an advertisement for your business, Stefan,’ cried Anna excitedly. ‘Think, all those people who like art to come at once into our shop.’

  ‘Perhaps it looks too commercial … perhaps people might think that was behind it,’ Stefan said, his face falling.

  But Elizabeth was thrilled. ‘It’s a wonderful idea, I can’t think of anything I’d like more. I did make a lot more money than I thought, so if I were to buy some bottles of wine and offer it around … it would be a nice gesture. But Stefan, it would be too much trouble … moving everything back against the wall. …’

  ‘Well, you can help, and Johnny. …’

  ‘Oh, Johnny.’ Her face was anxious. ‘I don’t think he would approve. He doesn’t think much of the art classes, you know. I think he’d say it was a waste of effort.’

  ‘Well he can say what he likes. I am not dead yet, I am still the senior partner. I say there is to be a party and a party there will be.’

  ‘And my sister, she will come to help pass the glasses of wine,’ said Anna.

  ‘But Johnny. …’

  ‘Leave Johnny Stone to me.’ Stefan smiled encouragingly. ‘You are not afraid of Johnny Stone, you are a director of this little company are you not? Johnny borrows things from the store like the chandelier when his posh friends have a party and he brings it back. Do you object? No. Do I object? No. Johnny will be very happy to help. It will be the first time that either of us has done anything for you in all your years of working here. Now go away and plan it all.’

  ‘Oh Stefan, thank you.’

  ‘And no apologies, excuses or anything to Johnny, mind.’

  ‘I understand.’

  ‘I hope you do.’

  She had never been directed so firmly by Stefan about how to behave towards Johnny, and she knew he was right. If she were to be full of explanations and excuses, Johnny’s irritation and scorn would grow greater. How wise of Stefan to warn her. As she walked home, a fleeting stab of annoyance about Johnny went through her. Why did everyone have to be so careful of him and walk around him as if he were an unexploded mine? Stefan was right, she was a director, even though that was only so that the shop could be a business and claim tax relief, and Johnny did do whatever he liked with the place and nobody commented, and, true, Stefan was not dead yet and if he wanted to give a party for Elizabeth and her art group so he damn well would give it.

  Laughing aloud at her resolution she turned in the gate of Clarence Gardens and almost bumped into Father.

  ‘Heavens, Elizabeth, you’re talking to yourself. You really are,’ he said in alarm.

  ‘No, Father, I’m only laughing to myself, that’s quite different, it’s almost respectable.’

  ‘It’s what mad old ladies do coming into the bank. They talk to themselves and mutter. Old spinsters, it’s awful to see them. Really Elizabeth, don’t be silly about it. It looks quite dreadful.’

  ‘Father, you’re going to have to face it. I am a mad old spinster, a quarter of a century old … why shouldn’t I talk to myself? But this time I insist I was only laughing.’

  ‘Well, there’s a letter from your mother’s friend, on the hall table. I’m sure that will stop you laughing.’

  Father went on gloomily out through the gate, head bent and sighing. Oh God, what could be wrong? Harry didn’t write letters. Please, please let Mother not be worse, please let Mother not need her this week when she was going to have the party in Stefan’s. Please.

  *

  … I got to thinking I never laughed or had a good time since Violet got unwell, only the time you and young Johnny came up here. And we had such a good night that evening, and I got a pain laughter, that I began to think you both enjoyed it too. So that makes what I am going to ask a bit easier. Could I come and have a holiday in London? And could I stay in Johnny’s place? You see, I can’t obviously go near George, I know that, fair’s fair. And I don’t have enough readies for a guesthouse, and I’m not too steady on my pins and I’d be happier with someone I knew. …

  Dear Harry,

  I’m sorry I took two days before replying to your letter, but I had to work things out, and here’s what we’re going to do. You’re to come down next weekend, on the train and I’ll meet you at the station with a taxi. It’s not possible to stay in Johnny’s flat because apparently there are a lot of people there at the moment. It’s like Clapham Junction. But you are going to stay with Stefan Worsky who is my boss in the antique shop and his lady friend – well, she’s about a hundred but she’s still a lady and a friend – her name’s Anna. They are doing up their room for you. I wish I had a house of my own Harry, and I’d paint a room like you once painted one for me. …

  She posted the letter grimly and patted the top of the red letter-box as if it had done her some kind good deal by accepting the letter. It wouldn’t know any more than Harry would ever know the two days of drama that had preceded its posting.

  She had just shown Harry’s letter to Johnny without comment and then, without pleading, she had asked coolly, ‘Well, what do you think?’

  ‘Oh Jesus, the poor old sod,’ Johnny had said.

  ‘So can he come, or can’t he? I’ve got to write back.’

  ‘Oh Eliza, Eliza, a holiday, the daft old fellow wants to come and spend a holiday with me. I can’t have him … really and truly. …’

  ‘Right,’ she said, ‘I’ll tell him that.’

  ‘Put it nicely … put it sort of diplomatically, you know.’

  ‘No. I don’t know.’

  ‘I mean, don’t say it baldly, get round it, and tell him we’ll take him up West one night he’s here, and he can tell us what it was all like before the war, he’d like that. He’s a nice old fellow.’

  ‘Yes he is. And he obviously likes you too.’

  ‘Don’t blackmail me, Elizabeth, I’m not having it. I never ask you to take on any lame ducks for me ever, do I?’

  ‘No, no, indeed.’

  ‘So, I’ll be glad to see him, but there’s really too many people passing through here to make it sensible for him to come and stay.’

  ‘Right.’

  ‘So what will you do?’

  ‘Go to hell,’ she said calmly. ‘What I do has nothing to do with you.’

  ‘Oh dear, dear. A temper. Look, Elizabeth, you’re becoming very odd, sneaking behind my back to get Stefan to organise a party for the art lovers … trying to make me turn my house into a convalescent home for ailing stepfathers. …’

  ‘Why don’t you go all the way and say ailing stepfathers stabbed by mad mothers … that would round it off neatly.’

  Johnny looked stricken. ‘Look, I’m selfish and
low. I didn’t mean it. I’m very very sorry. I say it with all my heart. I am very sorry I lashed out like that.’ He looked at her levelly. He was sorry, she could see that.

  ‘That’s all right,’ Elizabeth said.

  ‘What?’

  ‘You said you were sorry and I accept your apology, I said that’s all right.’

  ‘Well. …’ Johnny was nonplussed, he had expected her to rush into his arms or to continue being upset. The calm reply seemed to bewilder him. ‘Well … that’s generous, and you know you’re my lovely funny-face, don’t you?’

  ‘Yes, indeed I do.’ She gathered up her handbag and gloves. She was leaving.

  ‘Why are you going away? You are still upset, I said I was sorry.’

  ‘I know, my love, and I said that it was all right. I’m not upset. I just have a lot of things to do. Arrangements to make. I’ll see you.’

  ‘When?’ he asked.

  ‘Soon.’

  Stefan sat silently and listened. She finished the whole tale. ‘I won’t start apologising and begging and everything. I’ll just ask you yet one more favour. Will you have him?’

  ‘Yes, of course,’ said Stefan.

  Harry walked very slowly and though he pretended his stick was just an ornament, he needed it to lean on.

  My mother did that to him, Elizabeth thought. My poor mother who loved him more than anything in the world did that to him. Left his insides so weak that he can’t even walk properly down a platform.

  She hated Euston. Mother had sent her away from Euston, she had come back as a grown-up and met Mother, the thin stranger, here. She had waited for Aisling to come that time, the time when she was so frightened, and she had seen Aisling off again when it was all over. No, she preferred the airport really. Big stations made her sad. And Harry’s face looked pathetic. Nonsense, it didn’t look pathetic. It looked fine. It was only because Elizabeth knew all that happened to Harry she thought he was pathetic. To himself and to everyone else he was not, and must never be.

  Harry was the life and soul of the party. He suggested that he sit at the door and give people little names to wear on their lapels. He would write these out himself in his funny curly script. Elizabeth thought that this was quite a good idea, but feared that it might look too business-like.