by Maeve Binchy
Danny and Bernadette were out with Barney McCarthy meeting some possible investors in a new development. It had not gone well, they had asked rather too searching questions about previous financial returns and too many details about building specifications. Bernadette had been quiet and respectful, looking from one to another with interest but no understanding. Ria would have had some kind of sparky input into the conversation which might have taken the dead edge of an unsuccessful pitch for unlikely business off the whole thing.
Danny was tired when they got up to leave. 'Will we go to Quentin's tonight?' Barney suggested.
'No. A family dinner. Long arranged.'
'Never mind, I just thought it would be relaxing to drop into Tara Road, have a drink, a shower, and then just the two of us head off and sort out the financial problems of the world.'
'It would have been,' Danny said.
Then they both looked at each other in alarm. They had both actually forgotten that Danny didn't live in Tara Road any more.
Possibly that was what made Danny drive home that way. It was only slightly out of his way to cut through that neighbourhood. As he looked out at the house that had been his home Danny Lynch saw a tall slim woman in dark jeans and a white shirt, quite striking in a sporty kind of way, digging urgently at the undergrowth in his front garden. On the tarmacadam drive was a huge sheet of plastic that held what she had already hacked out.
'What the hell does she think she's doing?' he said, slowing down immediately.
'Drive on, Danny.' Bernadette's voice was calm but insistent.
'No I won't. She's tearing my garden to bits.'
'Drive on a little bit further anyway so that she won't see you.'
'She'll see me, by God she'll see me. I'm not letting her get away with that.'
But he did go on further, and parked near Rosemary's house.
'Don't go in, you're upset.'
'But she'll have the whole place cut down,' he protested.
'Don't upset her. She might storm back to America.'
'Good.'
'Then there'd be nowhere for the children to go on holiday,' said Bernadette.
'They're having a bloody holiday with us next week on the Shannon, isn't that enough for them?' But he took her advice and drove home.
'I brought you Martinis in honour of the visiting American,' Colm said. It proved to be a great success.
Marilyn told them about her happy day in the garden, she was never happier than when up to her elbows in earth. If the other two thought that she might have checked with Ria before embarking on it they said nothing. And of course it was quite possible that she had. Gertie told them about a man in the launderette who came there every Saturday and washed an entire bag of women's black lacy underwear. Quite unconcerned as people saw him taking them out and folding them neatly into a big carrier bag. Gertie said that she'd love to be able to tell these little things to Jack but that sadly you never knew how he would take them, he might come rushing in and calling the man a pervert. And if the other two thought it was a poor life if you couldn't even tell your husband a pleasant story about work they gave no hint of it.
And when a good-looking blonde began to sing 'Someone to Watch Over Me', they told Marilyn that this was about the most troublesome woman in Dublin and that she had been known to cause spectacular scenes in her time.
'She's a good singer, though,' Marilyn said, struggling to be fair and looking at the girl who played and sang as if every word had a huge meaning for her.
'Bit of a high-risk factor. I always tell Colm but when does anyone listen to me?' Rosemary said in a tone that suggested almost everyone else listened to her and was wise to do so.
'Maybe he just likes giving her a chance, Colm's great at helping the underdog,' Gertie said.
'She doesn't look like much of an underdog to me,' Marilyn volunteered. At that moment Danny Lynch and his party came into the restaurant and they were settled at a table across the room. Marilyn recognised them immediately from the photographs on the walls and in the wallet Ria had sent her. 'Is that Ria's husband?' she asked very directly. And the other two nodded glumly.
Until this stage in the meal Ria had not been spoken of at all. Now her whole personal story was here in the restaurant and they couldn't skirt around it any more. A glamorous, well-made-up woman in a black sequinned jacket was being very much the centre of things, pointing at where people were to sit.
'She doesn't look like a twenty-two-year-old to me, she's my age if she's a day,' Marilyn whispered.
'You're not going to believe this, Marilyn, but that's the twenty-two-year-old's mother,' whispered Rosemary.
'Mother!' said Marilyn in disbelief.
Then she saw, beside the two animated children familiar from their pictures, the waif in the shapeless blue jumper and skirt. A pale child with long straight hair who could definitely be taken for Annie's not very much older sister. Marilyn felt a pain that was almost physical to think that Ria Lynch had to endure this. Danny Lynch was still the excitable boy that he had been all those years ago. And Ria loved him deeply still. How could anyone bear the pain of losing a man to this, this strange unformed young girl? No wonder poor Ria had run three thousand miles away to get over the grief of it all.
Orla began to sing 'The Man I Love'. Colm frowned. He frowned even more deeply when she went straight into 'They're Singing Songs of Love but Not for Me'. 'Cool it, Orla,' he said as he passed with the steaks for Monto's table.
'Pure Gershwin, boss, as you suggested. Coming up with "Nice Work if You Can Get It". That should set a few hearts fluttering, don't you think?'
'You have a reasonably nice voice but you don't have all that much of a career. And while you're at it, if you go on like you're going on tonight, forget the Horse Show next month.'
'Be fair, Colm. You said Cole Porter and Gershwin. George I've done, they liked it. I'm coming up to Cole now. "I Get a Kick outa You". "I've Got You under My Skin". "The Lady Is a Tramp". Can I help it, boss, if the titles have a bit of innuendo? I don't write them, I'm only singing them at your request.'
'Don't be a fool, Orla, please.'
'Hey, who are you to ask me not to be a fool? A man who's in love with his sister. Great bloody role model, Colm Barry.'
'I warn you, you'll be so very, very sorry tomorrow. I'll still have a restaurant, you won't have a job or a chance of ever getting one in Dublin.'
'Do you remember something we used to hear every week called "One Day at a Time"? Okay, this is my day, this is my time.' Her eyes were too bright.
'Don't do it, Orla.'
'He left me, he could have had me and he went for an old trout in a sequinned jacket.'
'That's not who's with Danny.'
'He's holding her bloody arm, who else is he with? The others are children.'
'The one in the blue sweater; the black sequins is his mother-in-law.'
She looked over again, astounded. 'You're making it up.'
'I'm not, but you're not going to have a chance to check it.'
'She's under the age of consent, it's not legal. Any more than you and Caroline are.' She was standing up now, prepared to go over to Danny Lynch's table.
'Orla, sit down, this minute. Play. Don't sing. Play "Smoke Gets in Your Eyes".'
'It's the kind of shitty philosophy you believe in.'
'Play it, Orla, or leave. Now.'
'You and whose army will make me?'
'Monto's army.' He looked over at their table. Six rough vulgar men whom he disliked intensely.
'They like me, why would they throw me out?'
'I'd ask them nicely.'
'And I'd tell Monto that you're screwing his wife.'
'And who would believe you, Orla? Out-of-control weakling that you are.’
'Hey, where's the solidarity tonight?'
'Where did you put it? The drink? I was on to you the moment you came in, I checked your grapefruit juice.'
She threw her head back at him and laughed
. 'It's in the flower vase, you fool. First line of defence. Half-bottle of vodka in with the carnations.'
He picked up the vase and emptied the contents into an empty wine bucket and indicated to a waiter to take it away.
'What will I do with it, Mr Barry?'
'Down the drain outside. Save the flowers, wipe the stems.'
'You believed me.' She looked both anxious and triumphant at the very same time.
'Not until I saw your eyes when I threw it out. Then I knew it was there all right.'
'Self-righteous prick,' she said.
'Hey Colm, are you going to stand there looking down the singer's tits all night, or serve us our steaks ?' Monto called from his table.
A few people laughed nervously. Others looked away.
Orla got up, and taking her microphone with her began to wander around the room. 'I'd like to do requests for people,' she said. 'I think this is what makes a night out special. But so often people don't always quite know exactly what they want to hear. So I thought that possibly tonight I could choose songs for people, something that could be appropriate. And sing a few bars at each table.'
People were laughing and encouraging her. To the customers who didn't know her, Orla King was an attractive, professional singer. Now she was doing something a little more personal, that was all there was to it. But many people in the room froze and they watched her edgily.
First she came to Rosemary's table. 'We have three lovely ladies here,' she said. 'Feminists, oh definitely. Lesbians? Very possibly. Anyway, no men. My grandmother used to sing a song called "There Were Three Lovely Lassies from Bannion". But it's a little too old even for this group. Suppose I were to sing "Sisters" for them…?'
'Did I do anything except help you all your life?' Rosemary asked, with the mask of a frozen smile on her face.
'You had your reasons,' Orla said. She judged that a few bars were enough and moved to Monto's table. 'Six men, powerful men, rich men. Nothing pouffy about these men, believe me, I know.' She smiled radiantly around the room. 'Now what song should we choose for them? Oh I know, there was one they all sang at this stag night, they asked me to perform and they loved it. No, it was not "Eskimo Nell", everyone knows that. No, it was "The Ball of Kirriemuir". "Four and twenty virgins came down from Inverness and when the ball was over there were four and twenty less."' She smiled and moved to the Lynches' table.
At the same time Colm Barry was at Monto's table, whispering feverishly. 'Well well, what a wonderful family group. Let me see.' She smiled at them all, playing them like little fishes on a line. 'What would you like?'
Only Brian thought it was a real question. He chose a Spice Girls song. 'Do you know "Whaddya Want, Whaddya Really Want"?' he asked eagerly.
His innocent face halted her in her tracks. Just for one moment, but for long enough to throw her. 'What about "Love and Marriage"? No, that's not permanent enough. What about that nice song "She Was Only Sixteen"? No, she must be older than that. This is your new wife, isn't it, Danny?' She was just turning to point to Finola, but as she turned Monto and one of his henchmen had lifted her bodily and were carrying her to the door. 'Don't think people don't know, Danny. They know what you and I had, just as they know what Monto's wife had… and still has…'
Her voice was no longer heard. She was outside the restaurant. If Colm had hoped that he could get by with the help of some of his friends he was disappointed. The embarrassed silence that fell on the restaurant seemed to last for ever. Rosemary, usually so quick to know what to do in a crisis, sat white-faced and furious at her table, with the new American woman from Ria's house confused and bewildered beside her. And with them was Gertie, terrified to see yet again at first hand the damage drink could do.
Monto's party were more triumphant and hilarious than could be imagined, imitating some of Orla's more drunken lurches.
Jimmy and Frances Sullivan, entertaining some guests up from Cork, embarrassed at the turn the evening had taken. Two fellow restaurateurs that Colm knew who had come in specially to see how his business was getting on. A party of two families getting to know each other before a wedding at the weekend. His sister Caroline standing stricken by the accusations that had been made. And Danny Lynch's party he didn't even dare to look at. All of them upset by that destructive little Orla King. Why had she done it? Because she was unhappy.
But we're all unhappy, he told himself. Why should she have the luxury of throwing a scene and upsetting everyone else? He saw his waiters looking at him as if waiting for a lead. It could only have been seconds, he realised, since Orla's struggling body had been carried out of his restaurant. It felt like a lifetime. Colm straightened his shoulders, indicated by a gesture that one table should he cleared, that the wine bucket should be placed nearer to another. He touched Caroline's shoulder and looked at the kitchen, and zombie-like she walked towards it.
Then he approached Rosemary Ryan's table. 'Well well,' he said, looking directly at Marilyn Vine. 'You can't say we don't show you life in the fast lane in Dublin.'
'No, indeed.' Her face was impassive. He wished she didn't have to be so po-faced. She was the guest, she should have said something warm-hearted and funny to show that she was a good sport, to show that it didn't matter. But she didn't.
'I'm embarrassed that this should have happened the first time you come to my place,' he said. Marilyn nodded her head as if accepting his apology. He felt a dark flush of annoyance at being dismissed so regally.
'She'll never work again, Colm,' Rosemary said, but not with the solidarity he might have liked. There was a hint that he might have known this would happen, that the fault was partially his.
'It was all a bit like a cabaret really,' said poor Gertie, trying to put some favourable gloss on it.
At the Lynch table they hadn't quite recovered either. 'Sorry about the cabaret.' Colm had decided to play it low key, he wasn't going to crawl to these people.
'Was it something she ate, do you think?' Brian Lynch asked with interest.
'I very much hope not, speaking as a restaurant owner.' Colm forced a smile.
'More like something you gave her to drink.' Danny Lynch's voice was cold.
'No, Danny, you know I wouldn't do that. Like myself, Orla can't drink like all you people can, but she was upset by something and she had hidden vodka in the flower vase.'
Bernadette clapped her hand over her mouth to stop the giggle. 'The flower vase? It must have tasted awful,' she said.
'I hope it did.' Colm smiled at the strange girl that he had thought he would never speak to. She really was only a child, more a friend for Annie than for Annie's father. What a nightmare for Ria to take on board. 'Anyway, you'll have to rely on conversation rather than music,' he said.
'That's better in a way,' Annie said. 'You can hear music anywhere, we'd rather chat as it happens.'
'Yes, we were asking Bernadette whether the baby inside her had webbed feet,' Brian said. 'And we were wondering was that the American? You know, Mam's friend Mrs Vine, over there with Rosemary and Gertie?'
'Yes, that's Marilyn Vine,' Colm said.
'Some welcome to Tara Road for her,' Danny said.
'That's what I told her, she thought it was very funny,' Colm lied and moved on to placate the next table.
Somehow the night ended for everyone. Monto and his friend came back.
'Where exactly?' Colm hated having to talk to this man.
'We thought of a lot of places, but settled on an Out-Patients' in a hospital eventually,' Monto said with a smirk.
'She'll leave, she'll come back. Close the door of the restaurant.'
'No, we gave a folding note or two to someone there who will make sure she doesn't.'
'Thank you, Monto, I owe you for tonight.'
'You owe me for a lot more than just tonight and you know that. So you'll never tell me again that your restaurant is full.'
'No, of course not, a mistake.'
'Exactly.'
At Danny's table
they had paid the bill and were leaving. 'I took the price of the wine off to compensate for the unpleasantness involved,' Colm said.
'Thank you.' Danny was cold.
'It wasn't Colm's fault,' Annie said.
'Of course not.' Danny was still chilly.
'Nor was it your father's fault that Orla picked on him specifically,' Colm said in an even icier voice.
'No indeed, and thank you very much for your generous gesture about the wine,' said Danny Lynch, changing his tack so swiftly it knocked them all off course.
'Was it a great dinner?' Ria asked her daughter.
'It was extraordinary, Mam. This singer got pissed or stoned or something and started going around with her bosom falling out upsetting everyone. Then she was sort of carried out. Mrs Vine was there and the drunk singer headed straight for her table and said they were all lesbians! Honestly, Mrs Vine, Gertie and Rosemary.'
Ria held her head in her hand. 'Come again, Annie? Gertie, Rosemary… I don't believe any of this, Annie.'
'Well, Mam, the only one who's going to confirm it to you is that brilliant observer Brian Lynch, who was there for it all and who's waiting to get on the phone.'
'I'm sorry, Annie, of course I believe you, love. It just seems so unlikely. And did Bernadette and… um… Finola enjoy it all too?'
'Well I think they were a bit stunned.'
'I love you, Annie,' said Ria.
'Oh Mam, for heaven's sake. I'll put Brian on now.'
'Mam?'
'Brian, was it a great night?'
'It was mad, Mam. You just wouldn't believe it. Mam, what's a lebsian? Nobody will tell me.'
'A lesbian, is it?'
'Yes, whatever.'
'It's a lady who likes other ladies more than she likes men.’
'So, is that a big deal?'
'Not a bit. Tell me about the night in the restaurant.'
'Do you know any lebsians?'
'Yes, I know a few, sure.'
'Are they awful?'
