A Letter From America

by Geraldine O'Neill

  “You’ve nothing to worry about with the major,” he said. “He is a little eccentric, always has been – but Edward Harrington is a kind man.”

  “Oh, I’m sure he is,” Angela said, worried now that she might have given the wrong impression.

  “He’s very generous too. He has given substantial donations to the Fellowship, and is always there to help out anyone in need.”

  “He came across as a very nice man,” she said, “and the work sounds really interesting. I’m looking forward to it.”

  “Any problems at all, you know you can always ring down to the office.”

  “I’m sure there won’t be any problems,” she said, “and thanks for the support. I appreciate it very much.” Angela suddenly felt more confident than before. What could go that wrong? The worst thing that could happen was that she didn’t like living in Ballsbridge or didn’t get on with Major Harrington or like the work. And if that happened – as it could with any job – she just had to leave.

  And it wasn’t as if she was totally on her own. She had the Fellowship to help out, and if she couldn’t find another job, she always had a home back in Tullamore, and there would always be work for her in the shop or bar. She felt a little knot in her chest at the thought. Going home would be a last resort. Especially now that her father was gone. Before that happened she would turn to her Aunt Catherine in Dublin.

  There was no point in meeting trouble halfway. She looked around the office now and smiled. She had been happy here for several years, but it was time to move on. Over the coming week she would pack up her bits and pieces in the office and all her stuff in her lodgings. However things turned out, she would give this new opportunity every chance.

  On Tuesday evening when she arrived back at her lodgings after work, there were two letters for her. One was from Major Harrington, officially offering her the position of Personal Secretary, and also outlining the terms of her working conditions. She read down, and felt happy when she saw that she only had to give a week’s notice should she decide the position was not for her. It also gave the major the same rights with regards to him deciding that she was not suited to the job.

  The other letter was from Fiona. She hadn’t been expecting to hear from her sister so soon, and felt guilty as it was actually her turn to reply. She had intended to do so over the weekend and post it on Monday, but with the interview and then the visit to her aunt’s, and her head being so full of the new job, she hadn’t got around to it.

  She opened the letter, which was short and to the point. Fiona was asking if Angela could come home the coming weekend to be there with Mam as she had been invited to go to Connemara with a friend. She asked that Angela ring as soon as she knew if she could come, so that she could let her friend know.

  On reading it, Angela immediately felt a wave of guilt. She could tell from the tone of the letter that Fiona was desperate for a break, and she knew she needed to reassure her that she would do whatever she could to help. She would ask work tomorrow morning if she could have the day off on Friday and then ring Fiona later. She knew she was owed a few days’ holiday, and by rights should use them up before leaving for her new job, so hopefully it wouldn’t be too big a problem.

  Then, on a sudden impulse, she decided she could not wait another day to reassure her sister. She put her coat and hat back on and walked out to the nearest phone box and dialled the bar number, where she knew Fiona would be at that time of the evening. Patrick answered and, when he realised who it was, said how nice it was to hear from her. Angela asked him how he and his family were keeping, and how things were in the bar and shop.

  “Busy enough,” he said. “We’ve had a couple of funerals and big matches, which always bring in the crowds.” He told her a few bits of local news and then asked, as he always did, how things were in Dublin and when she told him everything was fine, he asked when they would see her down in Tullamore again.

  “I’m hoping to be home this coming weekend.”

  “Oh, Fiona didn’t mention it,” he said.

  “I’m going to talk to her about it now.”

  “Well, I’ll get her for you now,” he said, “and l’ll look forward to seeing you soon.”

  Fiona came on the phone.

  “I’m just ringing to let you know that I got your letter,” Angela said. “And I’m nearly sure I can sort things out at work to get Friday off. They’re very busy at the minute, but I am owed some time off, so hopefully it will be okay.”

  “Oh, that’s great,” Fiona said, the relief obvious in her voice.

  “I’ll confirm it one hundred per cent tomorrow after I’ve spoken to the office manager.”

  They chatted for a few minutes and then Angela asked how their mother was.

  “There are signs of small improvements. She’s out of bed nearly every day, but she’s still not able to stay up for more than a few hours at a time without feeling tired. Mrs Mooney helps during the day when I’m working, but it’s the evenings that are the problem. If I’m working down in the bar, she’s on her own for most of the time.”

  “Well, I’m sorry she’s not getting better quicker,” Angela said, “but I think you definitely need a break. I was just thinking...I’ve got a half day tomorrow as the rest of the staff are at a big conference. The shop is shut Wednesday afternoon, so why don’t you come up to Dublin for a change, and we could have a chat over lunch? I’ve a few bits of news about work as well, and you can tell me all about your trip to Connemara.”

  Fiona thought. “I suppose I could...I just need to sort a few things out with Mam and Mary Ellen, and check I’m not needed in the bar or anything.” She paused. “To be honest, I haven’t been shopping for ages, and I could do with picking a few things up while I’m in Dublin for going to Connemara.” She didn’t know what she would tell Angela about going with Michael, but she’d worry about that tomorrow.

  “It would be nice for you to get a day away from Tullamore and the responsibility of Mam. Even a day away from the house will make a difference, and you’ll have your weekend to look forward to as well.”

  Fiona suddenly felt as if a weight had been lifted off her. The thought of a trip to Dublin tomorrow was great. Since Michael had gone away, she was already finding time dragging, and an afternoon out would take her mind off it and give her a bit of a lift.

  “Let me check if I can sort things for tomorrow,” she said, “and I’ll ring you back.”

  An hour later she rang to say she had organised everything. Mrs Mooney would sort her mother’s meal and anything that needed to be done in the house.

  Angela had only put the phone down when she received a phone call from Major Harrington enquiring as to when she might be moving out to Moorhill House. She told him that she hoped to be there the week after next, and would ring him as soon as she had an exact date.

  Chapter 31

  Fiona stopped in the doorway of Bewley’s Café to take her umbrella down and give it a good shake. She then closed it and secured the press-stud on it. She had an anxious feeling about meeting her sister, in case Angela might not have been allowed the time off work after all. And, she still had to break the news about going away with a man for the weekend.

  She had known Michael almost a week now, and in that time she felt she knew him better than any other boyfriend she had ever had. Last weekend they had spent every spare minute she had off from work together, and they had gone to Galway for the day on Sunday. Mary Ellen had come up to the house to cook dinner for Mam and had told Fiona she would spend a few hours with her in the afternoon and in the evening. Michael had stayed another extra night – until Tuesday morning – but then he had to leave as the auctioneer in Clifden was pressing him to come down and see the cottage, before they contacted solicitors and started the searches for deeds and land inventories.

  Michael also told her that he would have to phone the airport to book his flight soon. He planned to have about a week in Connemara, to sort out as much business as he could
, and then he said he would come back up to Tullamore, to see her before he left.

  “To make plans for us to meet again soon,” he told her. “I don’t know how we’ll do it, but I know we will.”

  Fiona felt something wrench in her stomach every time she thought of him going away, because she could not see a way out of things. He lived in Boston and she lived in Ireland – it was as simple and devastating as that.

  “Whatever happens,” she said, “I’m coming down to see you in Clifden. I don’t care how I do it, but I will find a way. I’ve already written to ask Angela to come home for the weekend, and I’m counting on her to help me out with Ma. We’re going to have that weekend together no matter what.”

  And so he had gone and Fiona already found herself lost without him. He had promised to ring her either during the day at the shop or in the evenings at home. And he was waiting to hear if her plans to come to join him were working out.

  They had to work out, she thought. She could not bear it if Angela let her down the first time she had asked for help. She was trying hard not to feel resentful about the fact that she was in the position where she had to ask for help. That she now found herself wholly responsible for their mother, the shop and the bar was making her feel overwhelmed, and she knew she would have to try not to let it show.

  She walked inside, the comforting warmth of the café hitting her along with the exotic smell of freshly brewed coffee. Bewleys Café was like nowhere else that she knew, and in normal circumstances it filled her with a sense of anticipation, of not knowing who she might see or meet or happen to sit beside. They were not the usual clientele she would run into in Tullamore or any of the other cafés or tearooms in Dublin. She loved the old, unusual building and the emphasis being on coffee, although tea was still a strong favourite.

  As she walked through the main dining area towards the back where she had arranged to meet her sister, Fiona glanced around her, pushing her fears about the weekend to the back of her mind. This afternoon, she noted, there was a mix of middle-aged married couples and well-dressed female shoppers gathered in groups to chat over coffee and cakes.

  There were other tables with men dressed in suits having business discussions plus the usual smattering of single professional males of varying ages who were sitting with a lone cup of coffee, leafing through a newspaper or studying official-looking documents. She passed a girl with curly hair and glasses, whose eyes were fixed on a paperback and who Fiona thought was probably a student. Further along she brushed past a table where a young man who reminded her of Joseph, with long curly hair, sat reading a heavy hardback book and taking notes.

  She had just come into the back part of the café when she saw her sister waving to her from a table in the corner. She smiled and waved back and then went towards her. Angela, she thought, looked as lovely as usual. Her dark hair was immaculate, swept up into a loose bun secured with a tortoiseshell clasp at either side of her head. She was wearing a green swing-coat with a black collar and cuffs. She could have stepped out of a fashion magazine, and their mother would have remarked on the outfit using words to describe it such as ‘classy’ or ‘stylish’.

  Fiona knew that she looked more like one of the students in comparison to her glamorous sister, but that would not bother either of them. They had long accepted they were different in many ways and that was fine. But, it struck her as she looked at Angela, how very much alike in fashion and attitudes her sister and mother were, and yet how very opposite they seemed in other ways.

  “What a day!” Angela said, her brow wrinkled in concern. “Was it a terrible drive up? I never thought to check the weather forecast before we arranged to meet today. Was the road up from Tullamore very bad?”

  Fiona thought her sister’s concerned comments about the weather were like something an older woman might say to a younger one.

  “It was fine, I took it easy,” she said, taking her raincoat off and putting it on the back of her chair. “The road was quiet enough, I just had to concentrate on the blooming potholes.”

  Angela tutted and shook her head. “They need to do something about those country roads.”

  A young waitress wearing a long black dress and white pinafore and small cap came to stand at the side of their table.

  “What do you fancy?” Angela asked. “Would you like a sandwich or maybe soup?”

  Fiona thought. “A sandwich would be fine for me. What are you having?”

  “I think I’ll have the same.”

  They took a few minutes choosing their sandwiches from the menu and then they both ordered coffee made with hot milk.

  After the waitress had gone, Angela leaned forward. “This is my treat, you’ve had the expense of travelling up.”

  “Not at all,” Fiona said. “I’ll get it.”

  Angela said back straight in her chair. “I insist. You’ve come up here today because I suggested it, so I’m sorting it.”

  Fiona knew there was no point in arguing. “Okay,” she said, smiling. “That’s very good of you.”

  She had warmed up now, so she took her scarf off and settled herself into the chair. She still had the anxious feeling she’d had walking into the café.

  “Well,” she said, “any news?”

  Angela looked at her. “Yes,” she said, smiling. “I do actually. I have a few bits of news of my own but first – I’ve explained the situation to my office manager and she’s fine about me having this coming Friday and Monday off, so I’ll be able to come down.”

  Fiona felt the tension suddenly ease, as if a great weight had been lifted off her. “Oh, that’s great!” she said, nodding her head and smiling. “I’ll let my friend know I can go down to Connemara.” She felt tears of relief at the back of her eyes and had to blink them back.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t get a chance to reply to your first letter,” Angela said. “I’ve been really busy and I was planning to do it when the next one arrived.”

  Fiona waved her hand. “Don’t worry, I understand. It’s just that I really, really want this weekend away...”

  “I understand,” Angela said. “And you deserve it, all the work you do. And it’s awful the situation you’re in, Fiona – that you have to do all this organising to get a few days away. It must be hard for you, not being able to just go ahead and make your own plans.”

  “It is,” Fiona said. “It’s not what I imagined was going to happen. It’s not what any of us imagined. This is the first time I’ve been away since … since Daddy died.”

  “I know it is, and it will be good for you to have a break in Connemara.” She paused. “Have you arranged for Patrick’s sister-in-law to work in the shop on Saturday?”

  “Yes, that’s all sorted. She’ll have someone minding her children for the day. She’s one of the few people Mam is happy to have in the shop, but she’s not available very often as she has her own family and Patrick’s parents to cook for.”

  “I’ll go down to the shop and check everything is okay, so don’t worry. You go and enjoy yourself and don’t even think about it.”

  There was a silence, during which Fiona waited for Angela to say something else. She realised she needed her sister to say something about New York. She wanted her to at least acknowledge that all her plans for going to New York had been totally wrecked.

  “Is it a friend from school?” Angela asked. “The person you’re meeting?”

  Fiona was thrown off guard. For some ridiculous reason, she hadn’t anticipated that Angela would ask her anything about Michael. Her mind had been so full of organising her mother for the weekend that she hadn’t taken time to consider it.

  When she got no immediate reply, Angela’s face started to flush. “I didn’t mean to ask about your business. I was only chatting. You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. I don’t mind...”

  Fiona shook her head. “No, I don’t mind you asking...” She could hear her voice faltering. “It’s just I don’t want Mam to know.”

&n
bsp; She had planned to tell her mother she was meeting up with an old school friend, because she knew there would be a massive row if her mother thought it was Michael O’Sullivan – or any other man. She didn’t want to lie to Angela, but she could not really anticipate what her sister’s reaction might be.

  She decided to take a chance. “It’s actually a man I’ve recently met. He’s thinking of buying an old cottage in Connemara and he wants me to go down there for the weekend.” When she saw the look of surprise on her sister’s face she quickly added. “I know it must sound terrible, going away with someone I’ve only met. But he’s the nicest, most decent man I’ve ever met, and we’d be staying in separate rooms...”

  Angela raised her eyebrows and smiled. “You don’t need to explain anything to me, Fiona. It’s your own business. Did you say he’s buying a cottage in Connemara?”

  “It’s a bit of a long story,” Fiona said. “He’s an American.”

  “Ah well, I suppose that makes it slightly less surprising. If anyone is going to buy an old Irish cottage, it’s more likely to be an American.”

  Fiona bit her lip. “To be honest, I wasn’t sure if I was doing the right thing, going to meet him. But then I thought why not? I know it’s taking a bit of a chance meeting someone you hardly know away from home, but he’s very nice and respectable. He talks a lot about his mother – she was born in Ireland. Everything he says gives the impression that he’s from a good family.”

  “I’m sure he is. I’m sure you would know whether he was a decent sort or not.”

  Fiona was surprised that she felt comfortable telling Angela so much. Just talking about Michael made him feel closer to her. But then, when Angela said nothing for a few moments she wondered if she might have said too much. Then she began to worry that Angela might decide to tell someone else, and it could get to the wrong people. People like her mother or her aunts or uncles who would undoubtedly be scandalised and advise her not to go.