Tara Road

by Maeve Binchy

  Marilyn felt her shoulders getting tense. Perhaps she had managed to persuade them that she didn't want to be part of some big holiday camp with them all.

  As Gertie was leaving, she paused and congratulated Marilyn on the work she had done. 'You have a fierce amount of energy, Marilyn,' she said.

  'Thank you.'

  'I hope it gets better for you, whatever it is that's wrong,' Gertie said, and then she was gone.

  Marilyn flushed a dark red. How dare these people assume there was something wrong? She had confided nothing to them, answered their very intrusive questions vaguely and distantly. They had no right to presume that there was anything wrong. She had been tempted to tell Ria during that very first conversation the extent of her grief, but now she was glad she hadn't. If she had told Ria Lynch, nerve centre of all the information and concern of the city it appeared, then it would probably have been published in the newspapers by now.

  Marilyn had intended to call Ria in Westville but held off. There was nothing to say.

  The phone rang in the sunny kitchen where Ria was busy making her scrapbook of Things to Do for when the children arrived.

  'Hi Ria? It's Heidi! I've found a course for beginners on the Internet. Shall we sign on?'

  'I'm sorry to be so wet, Heidi. I don't know if I'd understand it, I might be left behind.'

  'But it's for people like us who aren't computer literate. It's not for bright kids. All we need is basic keyboard skills, you've got those.'

  'If I can remember them.'

  'Of course you can, and it's only five lessons.'

  'Is it very expensive, Heidi? I hate sounding like my clinically mean sister and brother-in-law but I do have to hold on to my dollars for when the kids come out.'

  'No it's not expensive at all, but anyway it's my treat. We get a reduction through the Faculty Office and anyway I want someone to go with.'

  'I can't.'

  'Wednesday and Friday this week and then three days the following week and hey we're on the World Wide Web.'

  'Oh, I'm not sure about this Wednesday,' Ria began.

  'Come on, Ria, you're not doing anything else are you?'

  'No, no, it's not that… it's just…'

  'I'd love you to come, it's only for an hour—they think rightly that we can't concentrate any longer… it's twelve to one.'

  'Oh it's in the daytime,' Ria said with relief. 'Then of course I'll come, Heidi. You tell me where to go.'

  Greg telephoned Marilyn from Hawaii. 'Thank you for your letter,' he said. 'It was still very stilted, I tried to say more,' she said.

  'Still, we're talking, writing. That's good. Better anyway.'

  She didn't want him to begin defining things too much. 'And are you all right, Greg?'

  'I'm okay… summer courses, kids who know nothing, then graduate. Then there are graduate students, far too many bright kids who'll never get appointments. What else is new in university?' He sounded relaxed. This was as near as they had been to a real conversation for a long time.

  'I wish they had e-mail here,' Marilyn said.

  'You could have taken your laptop, I suppose?' he said,

  'I know. I didn't think of it at the time.'

  'I spoke to Ria Lynch by the way. She called me here, she sounded very pleasant.'

  'Nothing wrong?'

  'No, just to check if Andy was who he said he was. He was passing through Westville and wanted to contact you.'

  'That was good of Andy. And did Ria meet him?'

  'No, no she just called him at the motel.'

  'I hope she's getting on okay. I don't want to call her there too often; it sounds as if I'm checking up on her,' Marilyn said.

  'I know what you mean,' Greg said. 'And what sort of feeling do you get about her, from being in her home?'

  'What do you mean, feeling?'

  'Does she sound a bit odd or anything?'

  'Why do you ask that?' Marilyn's voice was cold now. 'I thought you said you had a conversation with her yourself?'

  'Sure. I just got the impression that she might be very religious, spiritual or something.'

  'I never got that,' Marilyn said puzzled. 'In Ireland of course the place is coming down with churches and bells ringing and statues but I didn't think she was into all that.'

  'No, maybe I got it wrong. It was just something she said.'

  'What exactly?'

  'Well, no, nothing important I guess. As I said, I got it wrong. What's the place you're staying in like?'

  'It's a beautiful house, everything's so old here. People are different, they keep dropping by but they don't stay long. Oh, and there's a cat, Clement, an enormous ginger cat.'

  'That sounds good, and have you things to do?'

  'Yes, I garden a lot, and I walk and... it's all okay, Greg.'

  'I'm glad you're happy,' he said.

  'Yes. Well.'

  'But you're all right anyway?' He sounded anxious.

  'Sure, Greg, I'm all right,' she said.

  Marilyn went back into the garden and dug with renewed vigour. She would not ask Greg why Ria had sounded odd. It didn't matter. Nothing mattered except that she put in her time here and got on to whatever happened next.

  A shadow fell over her and there was Colm standing beside her. She put up a hand to keep the sun out of her eyes.

  'Hallo,' he said.

  'Hi,' Marilyn said.

  'I'm not a great believer in words as apologies, so I brought you some flowers instead.'

  'It wasn't your fault.'

  'It was my place where it all happened. Anyway it's over. Please Almighty God may it be over! In all my anxiety-dreams about running a restaurant, and they were pretty vivid let me tell you, I never thought up that particular scenario.'

  In spite of herself Marilyn found that she was smiling. 'As you say, it's over. Thanks for the flowers. I also need your advice about where to get soil and fertiliser when I've cleared that undergrowth.'

  'I’ll take you.' Colm looked amazed at her achievement. She had done the work of three men uprooting and cutting back. Soon the earth would be ready to function.

  'Danny Lynch must be very grateful to you.'

  'What on earth for?' She was genuinely surprised.

  'For improving the value of his property, that sort of thing is a big priority in his life.'

  'You don't like him very much.'

  'I don't like what he did to Ria and how he did it, that's true. But I don't know now whether I liked him before or not. I think I probably did.' Colm tried to remember.

  I'm not doing it for him, I'm doing it for Ria and the house,' Marilyn said.

  'Well, same thing. They'll have to sell it eventually.'

  'Never!' Marilyn was shocked.

  'Well, how can he keep two families and keep this place going?

  But enough about Danny Lynch and all the trouble he causes everywhere he goes.'

  'Was he the problem with the little blonde chantoosie as my dad used to call them.'

  'Chantoosie! That's a marvellous word. Yes, he was one of her problems, another was a carnation vase filled with vodka.' She looked at him open-mouthed. 'Come to Ireland, Marilyn, and see it all, nature red in tooth and claw. Will you come out to dinner tonight? I want to check out some of the opposition. I'd love your company.'

  'Thank you so much,' said Marilyn Vine.

  She would not mention it, however, when Gertie next came in to clean the house and iron her clothes. Nor did she refer to it in the thank-you note she wrote and left at Rosemary's elegant house. No need to overburden people with information.

  'I was wondering would you like me to call you Nora, Granny?'

  'Have you gone off your head, Brian?' his grandmother answered.

  'Told you but you wouldn't listen,’ Annie said triumphantly.

  'What's all this about?' Nora Johnson looked from one to the other suspiciously.

  'It's one more sign that he should be in a strait-jacket,' said Annie.

  'W
ell I know you're pretty old, Granny, but you're not that old, are you? And I thought it would be more friendly, make us all the same somehow.'

  Annie raised her eyes to heaven. 'And will you call Dad "Danny" when we go down to the boat tonight? And will you have a few more upsetting things to say to your friend "Ria" when she rings up from America next?'

  Nora Johnson looked at her grandson. His face was troubled. 'You know what, Brian? I'd actually like to be called Nora, on reflection I would. That's what they call me in St Rita's.'

  'But they're a hundred and ten in St Rita's,' cried Annie in rage. 'Of course they call you Nora.'

  'And of course Pliers calls me Nora,' said her grandmother.

  Annie looked at her in horror. 'The dog calls you Nora, Granny?'

  'In his heart he does, he doesn't think of me as a Mrs Johnson figure. Yes, Brian, I'm Nora to you from now on.'

  'Thanks, Granny, I knew it was for the best,' said Brian happily.

  The entire family was going mad, Annie decided. And now they had to go to Tara Road and say hallo to Mrs Vine before they left for the boat on the Shannon. Mam wanted it. It would be friendly she said, and courteous. Mam lived in a different world when all was said and done.

  Mrs Vine had a plate of horrible ginger-snap biscuits that would break your teeth and she had made some ham sandwiches.

  'Nothing, thank you,' Annie said firmly.

  'But please do, I got them ready for you.'

  'I'm very sorry, Mrs Vine, I don't eat dead animals, and I find the biscuits a bit hard, so is it all right if I just drink the tea?'

  'Of course, let me see… I have some frozen cheesecake, I could defrost that for you, it won't take long.'

  'I eat ham sandwiches,' Brian said. 'I’ll eat them all so that they won't go to waste. I mean apart from the ones you'll be eating yourself.' He reached out for the plate. 'We could divide them up.'

  Annie didn't have to say 'Brian', her face said it fairly loudly.

  'Or indeed leave them where they are and eat them as the urge comes on us,' he said apologetically.

  Marilyn felt that she couldn't have made a worse start. 'I hope you'll both enjoy your visit to Westville,' she began.

  'Do they have proper biscuits there?' Brian wondered.

  'Yes, quite a range,' Marilyn assured him.

  He nodded, pleased.

  'I'm sure it will be great, Mam says she loves it. We were talking to her on Saturday night.' Annie was trying hard to be polite and to make up for rejecting both kinds of hospitality. 'I think she's getting to know the place. She was going out to dinner in a Thai restaurant.'

  This was puzzling. Who could have invited Ria to that new place that had opened a couple of months back? Or would she have gone on her own? 'Does your mother like different food tastes?'

  'She's always cooking certainly.'

  Brian looked around the kitchen of Tara Road, empty of its normal wire trays filled with scones, breads and cakes. 'You don't do much cooking yourself, Mrs Vine?' he said slightly censoriously.

  'Daddy's friend Bernadette doesn't either. Her mother Finola does but only when she's in her own place. Though I think she's going to cook on the boat… do you think she is, Annie?'

  'I hadn't given it much thought,' Annie said through gritted teeth. 'And I'm not sure Mrs Vine wants to hear all about it either.'

  'I wonder if I could ask you both to call me Marilyn?' she asked them suddenly. The much-repeated address of Mrs Vine was beginning to grate on her nerves. The girl resented her somehow for being in their mother's house. Or maybe she resented her mother for having gone away.

  Brian accepted that eagerly. 'Yes I think it's much better, if you ask me,' he said.

  'Is that you digging up the garden or is it Colm? We saw an awful lot of stuff out there.'

  'Well it's mainly me, I just love it. But Colm is going to help me get new soil and plant things where they can reach the light. Maybe you'd like to choose some plants?' she asked without much hope.

  The telephone rang just then. They heard the sound of their mother's voice on the machine. 'Hi Marilyn, it's Ria. I was just calling to say…'

  'It's Mam,' cried Brian, running for the phone.

  'Brian, wait,' Annie called.

  'No, please,' Marilyn insisted.

  'Mam, Mam, it's Brian, we're here, how did you know?'

  Marilyn and Annie's eyes met. Somehow in that moment Marilyn felt the hostility beginning to depart. It was as if they were both adults looking at the baby Brian who thought his mother had tracked him down.

  'Yeah she's fine, she's chopped down most of the front garden.'

  Annie sighed. 'You get to expect a lot of that sort of thing with Brian,' she explained to Marilyn. 'He always manages to say the one thing you don't want him to say. I'll sort it out.'

  And to give her great credit she did sort it out.

  'Hi Mam. It's Annie. Yes, we're here having tea. Yes, very nice indeed. I read a lot… it's all so boring in Dad's place I've had to become a compulsive reader. Catch 22 and The Thorn Birds. Yes, she did ask us to call her Marilyn. No, that is not Brian being mad this time, but don't mind him about the garden, it's only a few weeds, and Colm's helping her so stop panicking. And we're off tonight but we'll ring you on Saturday.'

  When Marilyn finally did get on the telephone Ria was very apologetic.

  'I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to make it a family conference.'

  'It was just good timing, and it's all going well?'

  'Oh yes, brilliantly, and with you?'

  'Couldn't be better.'

  'You were at Colm's restaurant, I hear?'

  'Yes, the resident pianist drank a vase of vodka. And they tell me you went to the new Thai restaurant in Westville. You liked it?'

  'Yes, terrific, lovely green shrimp curry.' Ria didn't say that she had been there with Marilyn's brother-in-law. 'Look, it's silly us talking now, why don't you call me back later tonight using my phone?'

  'I'm going out tonight.'

  'Oh good, where are you off to?'

  'I arranged to go out to the cinema, there's a movie I really want to see,' lied Marilyn who did not want to say she was going out to dinner with Colm Barry.

  They agreed to talk later in the week.

  'Is Bernadette up to high doh packing and everything for the holiday?' Barney asked.

  'No, not at all.' Danny was constantly surprised at how gently she moved through life. There would be no lists, no plans, checking through things, emptying fridges, cancelling people, phone calls. Twenty minutes before they left she would put a few items in a bag. He would pack his own case. The children had lists of what they should take taped to their cases by Ria. 'No, she's amazing, Barney. I don't know where she gets her serenity. It's infectious too, seriously, it's catching. Sometimes when I get fussed, I only have to be with her for ten minutes and it's all all right again.'

  'What do you get fussed about, Danny?'

  'Lots of things. Money, work, a madwoman living in my house cutting down my front garden, Ria being so unaccepting of everything that's happened.'

  'Hey, is it that bad?' Barney asked.

  'I don't usually give a long list of moans, but you did ask and today's not a good day. There's a long drive ahead, then a cramped cruiser for seven days that I can ill afford to be out of the office,

  Bernadette's mother thinking I'm made of money, and the kids seem to be on top of us all the time.'

  'And there was a bit of trouble with Orla King on Saturday night?'

  'God, you know everything, Barney! How did you hear that?'

  'A friend of Polly's was with Monto's party. He said the owner came over to them with barked instructions that Orla be got out before she got to your table. It wasn't quite in time.'

  'No, but nearly.'

  'You'd want to watch it, Danny.'

  'Tell me about it. I'm watching it so feverishly I'd need a dozen eyes.'

  The river was full of families getting on to their Shannon crui
sers.

  Bernadette's mother had arranged a box of groceries from a local store. 'I telephoned ahead to order them,' she explained to Danny.

  'Great, Finola.' He seemed relieved.

  It had been a long car journey. In the beginning, as they left the Dublin late-afternoon traffic, he was tense. His shoulders were cramped, he had a dozen worries and his conversation with Barney had not helped. Twice he had made foolish mistakes pulling out of the traffic without checking. Tactfully Finola had offered to drive and eventually he accepted.

  Bernadette sat in the front and played them tapes which she had assembled specially for the holiday. It was a restful choice, gentle Irish music, harpists or uileann pipes, non-strident Greek bouzouki, nocturnes by Chopin, deep soulful French songs that none of them understood, pan-pipes, violin music that no one recognised. Danny sat in the back of his own car between his daughter and son and slept fitfully as Finola Dunne drove them to the Midlands.

  He dreamed that Ria was waiting for them on the boat. 'Aren't you going to go home?' she asked Bernadette in the dream. And Bernadette had just shrugged, and said 'If you like.' Danny had wanted to run after her but his feet were rooted to the ground. The dream was still very real to him as they got out of the car and began to settle into their boat.

  'So will you then?' Finola said to him.

  'Will I what?' Danny was genuinely puzzled.

  'Will you pay this man for the groceries?'

  'What? Yes, of course.' He took out his credit card; the man shook his head, so he took out a cheque-book. He saw the last cheque stub. It was a payment for their mortgage to the building society. The grocery bill was enormous. The cost of the cruiser was on his credit card. He didn't even want to think about it.

  But he knew he would have to think about it one day soon.

  Colm took Marilyn to Quentin's. He said he wanted to show off Dublin's finest. Also he knew the Brennans who ran the place.

  'Very full for a Monday, that's the booming economy for you,' he said approvingly, looking around the many tables that were occupied.

  'Nonsense, Colm. You should explain to Mrs Vine that they come because the food is so brilliant,' said Brenda Brennan.