by Maeve Binchy
She felt a wave of sadness that he regarded the birth of his only child as a detail, but perhaps that was too harsh, maybe the whole memory of Mother was painful. She would ask no more.
‘Imagine poor Henry taking work home for Christmas, I think he’s too dedicated … I can’t see the others doing it.’
‘I think he’s very sensible.’ Father had a view! Elizabeth was surprised, she had expected a monosyllable.
‘He’s very sensible, the most important thing for a man to do is to get on top of his work. Once a man feels able for his work everything else falls into place.’
Elizabeth looked thoughtfully at him. ‘It’s not the most important thing, is it, Father? The most important thing is to get the most out of life, and give to people, you know, not just getting on in work.’
‘I didn’t say getting on, I said getting in control of it.’ Father looked quite animated. ‘You know in your world, in the art business it’s not the same, there aren’t the same pressures, not like law or the bank.’ (Of course, it was all men together in the big, stress-filled business world, while silly women just dabbled in art.) Elizabeth didn’t care very much about the argument, she was just glad to see Father lively, almost spirited for once.
‘Do you wish you had taken work home at Henry’s age?’ she asked almost playfully. She wasn’t prepared for Father’s face.
‘I tried to, my dear, I tried to advance myself, or even just keep up with my colleagues. I wanted to do evening classes when I first got married. I wanted to buy banking magazines and study them, I could even have sat for examinations in the Institute of Bankers if I had wanted to. But Violet never wanted me to do it. It was, let me see, stuffy, and pathetic, I think those were her objections. …’
‘Surely not, Father? Mother would have been eager for you to do well.’
‘But I wasn’t doing well, I was just doing it to keep up, she knew that. Petty little clerk she called me sometimes. Once she asked me was I the office dunce that I had to have help to do a job that a child could do. Your mother could be very cruel sometimes.’
‘But you could have gone on studying, couldn’t you?’
‘No, not really, not if it irritated your mother so much and made her so scornful … there was no point in making her angry. …’
Elizabeth hated the defeated tone in his voice. It was the voice of a weak man in a film – the coward who blamed other people for his own mistakes. She tutted sympathetically.
‘You see, things come easily to you, Elizabeth, you’re like Violet in that way. She was very quick, and inclined to be impatient with those who were not so quick. A lot of the world are not so quick. … remember that.’
Was Father warning her, was he actually going so far, interesting himself enough in her well-being as to offer her some kind of advice? Far from resenting it Elizabeth was pleased. She regarded what he had said as nonsense, but the very fact that he said it gladdened her soul. She didn’t want to break his mood, but he changed the subject himself.
‘We were thinking of having a nice brisk walk in the park, Henry and I, and a beer and a sandwich at the pub afterwards. And then I’ll push off back to Clarence Gardens.’
‘You’re very welcome to stay here, Father.’
‘I’d like to have my things right for tomorrow,’ Father said.
What possible things could he mean? He had been working in the bank for thirty-four years. What on earth could he have to get ready for the morning?
Henry came back from the pub glowing with the frosty weather, the brisk walk and the unaccustomed midday pints.
‘Your father’s got on a bus,’ he said. ‘He asked me to say goodbye and thank you again. I think he really enjoyed himself.’
‘So did I,’ Elizabeth said. ‘And next year we shall have a six-and-a-half-month-old baby with us, isn’t it unbelievable?’
Henry sat down by the fire and warmed his hands. ‘I’ll have to do a lot of hard work to provide for us all. But I’ll enjoy it.’
‘But sweetheart, I’m not going to give up work, not all of it. I’ll keep on Stefan and the college, I’ll give up the school.’
‘Well, we don’t know darling, we don’t know.’ Henry looked worried. ‘We mightn’t be able to get anyone to look after the baby, you may have to give up work altogether.’
‘No. It’s not necessary. We went over all this.’
‘But whatever we do it will mean a cut in our income and you already earn more than I do.’
‘Henry, I do not earn more than you do.’
‘Count it up, the salary from the college, the salary from the school, the fee from Stefan, the art courses, of course you earn more than my salary.’
‘I don’t think it is more … anyway, it’s not mine or yours, it’s ours, isn’t it?’
‘Yes, but I worry, I’m not as light-hearted as you are, I’m not a believer in things turning up, I’m more of a plodder really.’
She tousled his hair and laughed at him and made faces at him and eventually she made him laugh at himself. But there had been a note of warning there in something he had said, it was uncannily an echo of what Father had said a couple of hours before.
How odd that she had never noticed before that Henry and Father very often thought alike about things.
‘I’m not going to tell the whole world yet, but just a few friends,’ Elizabeth had said when Stefan and Anna had kissed her and examined her complexion and said it was true that pregnant women did look more beautiful.
Johnny came in during the hugging and kissing, so he had to be told too.
‘Well, isn’t that fantastic? The new generation for Worsky’s, eh? Make sure he grows up with a keen business sense … that’s all we need in this firm. We’ve got flair and taste and bright ideas, but nobody who knows how to make real money. When young Mason goes to school impress on him that he’s to be a financier. Do you hear me?’
They laughed. ‘What if young Mason turns out to be a girl?’
‘We’ll wait for the boy,’ Johnny joked. Later he spoke less lightly, ‘I’m very happy for you, honey lamb, it’s what you want, isn’t it? This is really what you wanted all the time. Home, husband, kids. …’
‘I am happy. I don’t know whether I wanted it all the time, but I certainly want it now.’
‘A little person no less. I’d quite like that.’
‘You would?’ She looked at him, surprised, and with a catch in her throat like the old days.
‘Yes, I often thought I’d like a kid, without all the marriage bit. Difficult though, some would say impossible.’
‘Tucked away somewhere quietly with his mother, and you could call now and then and teach him things and take him for walks.’
‘Yes, that sort of thing. Can’t find the partners for such an endeavour.’
‘Oh, I don’t know, look harder, suggest it to people, it might work.’ She thought to herself that he could have had it, exactly that, and the child would have been nearly eight by now.
Harry was delighted when she rang and told him the news. He said he would make a cradle, he used to be good at woodwork – but perhaps Elizabeth would have a fine cradle ordered already? On the spur of the moment Elizabeth invited him to come and stay for the weekend. She said she would send him his fare too because she said she wanted him as a consultant for the nursery.
Henry said he was delighted that Harry was coming, but was it not a bit much for Elizabeth’s father to know that Harry would be a house-guest?
‘Of course it’s not a bit much, Father knows well that Harry is a great friend of mine.’
‘But coming to stay,’ protested Henry, it’s almost saying that we don’t think he was the villain of the piece, to put it very dramatically.’
‘Well, I don’t think he’s the villain of the piece, I haven’t thought that about him for ages. Remember we decided that it may have been the best thing for everyone? Remember?’
‘Yes, I remember,’ said Henry, ‘but I never thought it w
as the best thing for George.’ Henry always called Father George when he talked about him. But when he was actually speaking to him he called him Mr White.
Simon had not been told about the baby because, well, that would be telling the whole office and it was all too soon to do that, wasn’t it? Henry agreed readily. Elizabeth was marvellous at knowing exactly what things were like in there he said, she always knew little nuances and subtleties without being told.
‘I think it’s a bit like the staff room at school,’ Elizabeth said.
‘You say they’re a lot of old women, in the staff room,’ Henry protested.
‘That’s exactly what I mean,’ Elizabeth said and laughed.
Simon called around on the evening after Boxing Day. Their office was closed until Monday, so in theory they had no work to do, but Henry had been working so much at home that there was little difference between this and a normal day.
Simon was full of his wonderful Christmas, Barbara had been a great hostess, people had dropped in all day, there had been a permanent buffet. Barbara sent everyone lots of love and hoped that the little nest in Battersea was superb.
‘I hope you told her it was,’ Elizabeth said, jokingly. Henry still looked slightly foolish when Barbara was mentioned to him, she wanted to relax him.
‘Yes, I said you had transformed Henry, that he was relaxed and languid these days. Barbara always thought Henry worried too much about little things, and fussed about minutiae.’
‘What rubbish, he’s practically a beach boy,’ said Elizabeth.
Henry laughed, almost an easy laugh. ‘I certainly do think I’ve unwound a lot,’ he agreed.
‘You’re perfect for me,’ Elizabeth said, ‘why don’t you get another drink for Simon while I go and tidy up all my old papers that I have strewn in the other room?’
‘Oh, was that your work?’ Simon said, ‘I thought old Henry had been doing his eager beaver bit again.’
‘At Christmas time? You must be joking,’ Elizabeth said as she went and tidied Henry’s papers neatly into her own briefcase.
Father telephoned that night to say that there had been a message from Ireland, it was from Violet’s friend, Eileen. She had been very specific, could Elizabeth please ring her at ten o’clock in the shop. Yes, that’s what the woman had said. Yes, he agreed, it seemed an odd time to telephone anyone at business, but that’s what she had said. Ten p.m. in the shop, Kilgarret 67, and to tell Elizabeth that there was no accident, nobody had died or was ill or anything.
‘Whatever can it be about?’ Elizabeth wondered.
‘My dear, how on earth should I know, they are your friends. The most important thing I was to tell you was not to ring her at home, not to ring Aisling and to make sure you got the shop.’
‘But why doesn’t she ring me here? Did you give her my telephone number?’
‘I tried to, but the woman kept repeating to me that she couldn’t make any more calls, she was in a friend’s house and was using the telephone secretly. It’s all a very odd business I must say.’
‘So must I say, a very odd business,’ Elizabeth said. ‘Never mind, I’m sure there’s some innocent explanation, shall I ring you and tell you about it?’
‘No, no dear. Ten o’clock is somewhat late to disturb me. No, tell me about it when I see you.’
Father hung up. Elizabeth realised that he had very little curiosity about people. He didn’t like many people enough to be curious about them. She felt a horrible sense of panic. There must be something very wrong indeed if she was not to telephone the house on the square, nor Aisling, but to go through with this charade. Oh dear it was only seven-thirty now, she would have to wait two and a half hours. Better persuade Simon to stay to supper, it would distract them.
‘Hallo, is that you Eileen, Eileen can you hear me?’ Elizabeth’s voice sounded high and nervous after the endless clicks and spelling Kilgarret and talking to the exchange. It was now ten past ten and she had begun making the call ten minutes ago.
‘Yes, child, are you all right?’ Aunt Eileen’s voice sounded just as usual.
‘I’m fine, we’re fine, but what is it, what’s happened?’
‘Have you heard from Aisling?’
‘I had a letter from her just before Christmas. Why, what’s happened to her?’
‘No, she’s fine, there’s nothing wrong with her – she hasn’t telephoned you?’
‘Telephoned me, no, not for ages. No, I rang her when we got back from our honeymoon. What is it, Aunt Eileen? Please?’
‘I’m trying to be discreet,’ Aunt Eileen said.
‘But aren’t you in the shop, isn’t this why I’m ringing you there?’
‘Yes, but, you know. …’ Eileen’s voice stopped.
‘No, what …? Oh, I see, yes, yes, of course, I see.’ Elizabeth remembered the legendary curiosity of the Kilgarret postmistress, Miss Mayes. She listened in to the beginnings of conversations that she thought might be interesting and did spot checks on others until she got a good one to settle down with.
‘I know what you mean,’ Elizabeth said. She could hear the sigh of relief.
‘Well, you know the problem that Aisling had, you know the problems like say your Henry?’
‘Yes, I know what you mean.’
‘It’s over.’
‘Dead?’ gasped Elizabeth, shocked.
‘No, no, wound up, like a business, you know.’
‘Can’t you tell me properly?’
‘That’s right, the line is very bad. So I was wondering if you had heard anything at your end. …’
‘No, no, nothing.’
‘You see I got notification of this, today, this morning in the office and naturally I would like to discuss it more.’
‘Of course.’
‘So if you are contacted you will urge that contact be made here, won’t you?’
‘Oh obviously, at home or at work?’
‘At the shop around this time is good. Less questions asked, less people around.’
‘I see, and does Uncle Sean …?’
‘Not yet. …’
‘Who else …?’
‘Nobody … apparently.’
‘And the … er … problem itself?’
‘No word from there, no word at all. There’s a car outside the home but that’s all I know.’
‘And do you know why, why now, and so suddenly?’
‘An injury. …’
‘Oh God. …’
‘No, not serious.’
‘But if it’s done, it’s done, you know what I mean, the contract broken, the business wound up. Why not, well acknowledge that publicly, as it were, it will all have to be sooner or later won’t it?’
‘That’s what she said in her letter, but I’m hoping not.’
‘But if it’s as final as that, you know …?’
‘Child, business in this country is very different to business in your country … Violet and Harry’s solution isn’t open to people here.’
‘But is there another … another? Lord, I’m so confused about the words, don’t know which one I want. Does she have another problem like Mother having Harry?’
Aunt Eileen laughed. ‘No, no, that’s not it. But you see here there’s no way of ending the problem, she’ll have to come back.’
‘I see.’
‘You’re very good, child. Do you have people there as you’re talking to me?’
‘Yes, Henry’s here obviously and Simon, our friend …’ She smiled at Simon.
‘They must be mystified altogether … I’ll write to you tonight, and remember, when she gets in touch, what she’s to do. …’
‘But surely there must be a better way than all the code …?’
‘I’ll arrange to go and talk to her – anywhere, in England if needs be, but she must ring me first to tell me that she wants me to.’
‘You can’t come over here the whole way for that kind of thing. You wouldn’t even come for my wedding.’
‘I know, and the last time I was there was to bury young Sean. I don’t seem to have much luck with my trips to England these days.’
‘Perhaps she won’t contact me.’
‘She will, that’s the only thing I’m certain of.’
Aisling rang the next day.
‘Where are you?’ Elizabeth said.
‘In Brompton Road, just opposite the Catholic church, at the terminal.’
‘Are there taxis outside passing up and down?’
‘Yes. I saw some.’
‘Get into one fast and come here.’
‘Will it cost a fortune?’
‘Whatever it costs I’ll pay it. Come here at once.’
‘I look awful, you’ll be shocked.’
‘No I won’t.’
‘Is Henry there?’
‘No, he’s gone out to the library,’
‘Thank you, Elizabeth, thank you, I don’t know what I’d do.’
‘Just get into the taxi … tell me when you get here.’
She asked Henry if he would go to the library. ‘That’s a bit steep,’ he said. ‘Driven out of my own home.’ He was irritated at being asked so sharply.
‘I’m sorry, but it’s important, if it was Simon coming here in a crisis I would do the same – clear out and let you have the place to yourselves.’
‘Simon wouldn’t do that, men don’t,’ grumbled Henry, packing his things obediently.
‘I’m very grateful, very very grateful.’
‘Well,’ he said, not really mollified.
She went into the guest room and made up the bed. She laid out fresh towels. She thought that she hadn’t told Aisling about the baby but she would have to, of course, when she came to stay. What a bit of bad timing, she wished she had told her and got it over with.
She heard the lift coming up to their floor and she knew it was Aisling. Both Mr and Mrs Solomons across the landing went out to work. They would not be home at this time. Elizabeth steeled herself for Aisling’s injuries. Aisling had her head down as she struggled out of the lift with her two suitcases. Then she looked up.
The whole side of her face had a black and purple bruise, at the corner of her mouth was a dressing held on with Elastoplast.
‘Oh my God,’ Elizabeth said. ‘Poor Aisling. Poor Aisling.’ They stood at the top of the huge curved marble stairway with the ornate little lift behind them; the door of the lift was still open but they didn’t even hear the buzzing from below. They stood with their arms around each other and the cases on the floor, Aisling with her good cheek laid against Elizabeth’s and they both kept saying over and over, ‘It’s all right … It’s all right.’
