by Maeve Binchy
“It’s for charity,” she said. “I certainly don’t mind.”
Rosemary Ryan looked very annoyed. Nothing had been going her way this evening. Nan had won all the honors in this little incident and that big Benny across the table seemed to be smiling at her in some awful smug knowing way.
“Of course I’ll come too,” she said, jumping to her feet.
“Mind your ankle,” Jack said, and she looked at him sharply. He was probably just being concerned, but there was something about Benny’s eyes she didn’t like.
The man who thought he was streets ahead of Tab Hunter but just hadn’t got the breaks also thought he was a pretty good Tennessee Ernie Ford and went down to great depths in his version of “Sixteen Tons,” a song Benny had detested since it had been popular when they were studying for the Leaving Certificate and Maire Carroll had always managed to be singing it when she was near Benny.
Benny was dancing with Nick Hayes.
“You’re very light to dance with. It’s like holding a feather,” he said in some surprise.
“It’s easy to dance if someone leads well.” She was polite.
He was all right, Nick Hayes, but only all right.
Jack was dancing with Nan.
Somehow it was more disturbing than watching him dance with Rosemary.
Nan didn’t make those very obvious little efforts. She really made no play for him at all and that must be maddening to someone like Jack Foley who was used to everyone adoring him. In fact they were very much alike those two. She hadn’t really noticed it before.
Both so sure of themselves because they didn’t need to fight for anyone’s attention like everyone else seemed to have to do. But just because they were so sure they could afford to be nice and easygoing. Those kind of good looks freed you to be whatever kind of person you wanted to be.
“I never see you round anywhere in the evenings,” Nick was saying.
“Nobody does much,” Benny said. “What kind of places do you go?”
She didn’t care where he went. She just wanted to get him talking so that she could take her mind off the awful tune they were dancing to, and think more of Jack.
“I have a car,” he was saying right across her happy thoughts of the next dance when surely Jack must choose her.
“I could come and see you in Knockglen sometime. Jack said he had a very nice day when he went to your house.”
“He did? Good, I’m glad he enjoyed it.” This was hopeful. This was very good indeed. “Maybe you’ll come back together one time and I’ll try and entertain you both.”
“Oh no, that’s not the idea. The idea would be to keep you to myself,” Nick said with a leer. “One doesn’t want Jack Foley getting in on all one’s discoveries, does one?”
He was putting on an accent deliberately trying to pretend he was being posh. Somehow it was flat and silly and didn’t work. He couldn’t make people laugh like Aidan Lynch could, like she herself could.
She tried to dull the pain she felt watching Nan and Jack dance together.
Nick Hayes was looking at her waiting for a response.
“I always hate this song,” she said to him suddenly.
“Why, it’s quite nice I think.”
“The words.”
“ ‘I owe my soul to the company store,’ ” he sang along with the vocalist. “What on earth’s wrong with those words?” he asked mystified.
She looked at him. He genuinely didn’t remember the first line—“You load sixteen tons and what do you get?”
He had made no connection.
It was there only in her mind. Nobody else in the room heard the song title and swiveled their eyes to Benny Hogan. She must remember this. And she must remember that both Johnny O’Brien and Nick Hayes were asking her for a date.
These were the things she would remember from the night. As well as the dance with Jack when he asked her.
He asked her at twenty-five to twelve. When they had dimmed the lights and the vocalist had told them that since Frankie Laine hadn’t been able to show he would sing Frankie’s song. “Your eyes are the eyes of a woman in love.” Jack Foley leaned across the table and said, “Benny?”
They danced together easily, as if they had been partners for a long time.
She forced herself not to prattle and chatter and make fifteen jokes.
He seemed to be happy to dance without conversation.
Sometimes, looking over his shoulder she saw people looking at them. She was as tall as he was, so she couldn’t have looked up at him to speak anyway, even if she had wanted to.
He drew her a little closer which was great except that she feared the place he had his hand on her back was just the part where the heavy-duty bra ended and there was a small roll of flesh.
God, suppose he held that bit of her—it would be like a lifebelt. How could she get him to move his hand up her back. How? These were the things you needed to know in life, rather than what was set out in a syllabus for you.
Mercifully the number ended. They stood beside each other companionably waiting for the next one to start. He leaned over and touched a lock of her hair.
“Is it all falling down?” Benny asked alarmed.
“No, it’s lovely. I just pretended it was out of place so that I could touch your face.”
How extraordinary that he had wanted to feel her face as she had yearned to touch his all night.
“I’m afraid …” she began.
She was going to say “I’m afraid it’s a very sweaty face, your finger might get stuck to it.”
But she stopped herself.
“What are you afraid of?” he asked.
“I’m afraid other Fridays are going to seem very dull after tonight.”
“Don’t knock Knockglen.” He always said that. It was like a special phrase between them.
“You’re right. We have no idea what plans Mario and Fonsie have for the place.”
The singer was sorry that Dino couldn’t make it so he was going to give his own rendition of the Dean Martin number “Memories Are Made of This.”
Benny and Jack drew toward each other, and this time his hand was higher on her back. The devil roll of flesh like a lifebelt was not in evidence.
“You’re a marvelous person to have in a party anywhere,” he said.
“Why do you say that?” Her face showed nothing of what she felt. None of the despair that he only thought of her as some kind of cabaret.
“Because you are,” he said. “I’m only an ignorant old rugby player. What do I know of words?”
“You’re not an ignorant old rugby player. You’re a great host. We’re all having a great night because you got us all together and invited us to your home.” She smiled and he gave her a little hug. And when he had held her tight he didn’t release her again.
Into her ear he whispered, “You smell absolutely lovely.”
She said nothing. She didn’t close her eyes. It looked too confident. She didn’t look around and see the envious glances as she was held by the most sought-after man in the room. She just looked down. She could see the back of his dinner jacket, and the way his hair curled at the back of his neck. Pressed close to her she could feel his heart beating, or maybe it was her heart. She hoped it was his, because if it was hers it seemed a bit overstrong.
Even when the third song, “The Man from Laramie,” was over Jack didn’t suggest going back to the table. He wanted the next dance.
Benny blessed that dancing teacher who used to drive around in a battered old car teaching the tunic-clad girls of Ireland to dance. She blessed her with all her heart as she and Jack did stirring versions of “Mambo Italiano” and “Hernando’s Hideaway.” Laughing and flushed they came back to the table. Sheila wasn’t even pretending to listen to Johnny O’Brien and Rosemary looked distinctly put out. Nan caught Benny’s eye and gave her a discreet thumbs-up sign. Eve sitting across the table with Aidan Lynch’s arm loosely round her shoulder gave her a huge grin
of solidarity. They were on her side.
“We thought we’d lost you for the night,” Nick Hayes said waspishly.
Neither Benny nor Jack took any notice. Aidan Lynch had won yet another spot prize—this time a huge box of chocolates which were opened. Carmel was busy feeding Sean with the soft-centered coffee ones he liked.
Rosemary foolishly grabbed the box to offer it to Jack.
“You must have one before they’re all gone,” she said. But her movement was too swift and she spilled them all.
Benny looked on. It was the kind of thing she would normally have done. How perfect that it should be Rosemary who did it tonight.
“You owe me another dance for the one we didn’t finish,” Rosemary said as people tried to retrieve the chocolates.
“I do indeed. I wasn’t going to let you forget it,” Jack said gallantly.
His fingers were still touching Benny’s slightly. She was sure he had been going to dance with her again.
Then suddenly and unbelievably the last dance was announced. They wanted to see everyone on the floor for “California Here I Come.”
Benny could have cried.
Somehow, yet again, she had lost the high ground to Rosemary Ryan. She was going to have the last dance with Jack. Nick had his hand out to her, and so had Johnny O’Brien. She thought she saw a look of regret on Jack’s face. But she must have imagined it, because when she and Johnny O’Brien took to the floor Jack and Rosemary were whirling around both laughing. Though she couldn’t be sure, she thought she saw him push some of the hair out of Rosemary’s eyes as he had done to her.
She kept a happy smile on her face for Johnny O’Brien as she clicked through her brain the possibilities that Jack Foley was just a fellow who liked everyone, and said nice things to every single woman he met. Not out of devious cunning, but because he genuinely did feel that every woman had some attraction for him.
This must be the case, Benny thought, because the way he had held her when they were dancing together was suspiciously like the way he held Rosemary when everyone was dancing to “Goodnight Sweetheart, see you in the morning.”
There was a lot of excitement at the door where the photographers gathered to take snaps. They gave out little pink cards with the address of the places where the small prints could be inspected next day.
Benny was leaving just as Jack called.
“Here,” he called. “Benny, come here and let’s pose for posterity.”
Hardly able to believe that he had called her, she leapt to his side.
Just then Nan came down the steps.
“Nan too,” he said.
“No, no,” she moved away.
“Come on,” he said, “the more the merrier.”
The three of them smiled at the flash. And then with a lot of calling good night, and see you, and wasn’t it great, they were all in the cars that Jack had organized. Nick Hayes was to drive Benny, Eve and Sheila home because they all lived on the south side. The others were in a couple of miles of the city center.
Nan was going with Sean and Carmel.
Rosemary, to her great rage, had a lift with Johnny O’Brien, who lived in the same road.
Kit had left sandwiches for them and a note saying that she had been out late playing cards so not to wake her until morning.
They crept up to bed.
“He’s really nice, Aidan Lynch,” Benny said as they got undressed. “I mean really nice. Not just all jokes and playing the fool.”
“Yes, but he talks like the goons nine-tenths of the time. It’s like having to learn a new language understanding him,” Eve complained.
“He seems very fond of you.”
“I ask myself what can be wrong with him then. Hereditary insanity maybe. His parents are like town criers. Did you hear them?”
Benny giggled.
“And what about you and Jack? You were doing great.”
“I thought I was.” Her voice was heavy and sad. “But I wasn’t really. He’s just a dreamboat who’s nice to everyone. He likes to be surrounded by the whole world, and have the whole world in a good humor.”
“It’s not a bad way to be,” Eve said. She lay in her bed with her arms folded behind her neck. She looked so much more cheerful and happy than she had a few short months ago.
“No, it’s not a bad way to be. But it’s not a good thing to hitch your star to. I must keep remembering that,” Benny said.
Next morning they were woken by Kit.
“There’s a call for you, Benny.”
“Oh God, my parents.” She leapt out of bed in her nightie.
“No, not at all. A young man,” Kit said, raising her eyebrows in approval.
“Hallo Benny. It’s Jack. You said you were staying with Eve. I asked Aidan for the phone number.”
Her heart was beating so strangely now, she thought she might fall down.
“Hallo, Jack,” she said.
“I was wondering if you’d like to have lunch,” he said.
She knew what lunch was now. Thank God. Lunch was a lot of people gathered together in a crowd around a table, with Benny entertaining them.
He certainly was someone who liked all his friends around him all the time. Benny was glad that she had identified that last night to Eve. That she hadn’t allowed herself to build up any hopes.
She paused for a couple of seconds before she accepted. Only because she was thinking it all out.
“I meant on our own,” he said. “This time just the two of us.”
ELEVEN
Eddie and Annabel Hogan had raised their eyebrows at each other in surprise as Patsy banged around the kitchen getting breakfast and muttering to herself. They had no idea what it was about.
They could decipher parts of her muttering … in all the years she had been in this house she had never been spoken to like that, shouted at, given dog’s abuse. Mutter, mutter, crash, crash.
“Probably had words with Mossy,” Annabel whispered as Patsy went out to give some scraps to the four hens in their little wire-covered run.
“If so, she must be the first who ever had. I never knew such a silent man,” Eddie whispered back.
They had managed to get the information that Benny had telephoned from Dublin shortly before she went to the dance while they had gone for a walk.
Dr. Johnson had said that Annabel should take more exercise and form the routine of a regular walk. Last night they had taken Shep on a long and invigorating journey half a mile out along the Dublin road. So they had missed the call.
“It was only to say thank you for the dress again, is that all Patsy?” Annabel asked, yet again.
“That’s what she said it was,” Patsy said darkly.
Benny’s parents were mystified.
“She was probably overexcited,” Eddie said, after a lot of thought.
“She was that all right,” Patsy agreed.
Clodagh Pine told her aunt they should stay open at lunchtime.
“Child, you’ll have us all in the County Hospital if we work any more.”
Peggy couldn’t believe that she had thought this niece of hers was going to be a lazy lump. Already she had increased the turnover of the shop significantly, and despite her own appearance, which was to say the least of it eccentric, she had managed not to alienate any of the old customers either.
“But look at it, Aunt Peg. When else would people like Birdie Mac be able to come down and look at cardigans? When would Mrs. Kennedy come over and see the new blouses? Mrs. Carroll closes the grocery for lunch. She doesn’t spend the whole lunch hour eating by the look of her, thin string of misery that she is. Wouldn’t she walk down and see what the new skirts are like?”
“It might seem a bit unfair somehow. Unfair on the others.” Peggy knew her thinking was confused.
“Tell me, Aunt Peg, have I missed something in my walks up and down Knockglen? Are there several women’s draperies, open and competing with us? Is there a whole circle of women running shops lik
e ours thinking that we’re a bit sharp opening at lunchtime?”
“Don’t be impertinent,” Peggy said.
“Seriously. Who would object?”
“They might think we were anxious to make money. That’s all.” Peggy was defensive.
“Oh, gosh, wouldn’t that be dreadful. And there you were all those years not trying to make a penny. Trying to lose it. How could I have been so stupid?” Clodagh put on a clowning face.
“We’ll be dropping off our feet.”
“Not when we get another girl in we won’t.”
“There’d never be the call for it.”
“Go over the books with me today and you’ll see.”
Mrs. Kennedy looked without pleasure on the picture of Fonsie who stood in her shop.
“How’s the drugs business, Mrs. K?” he asked. He always winked slightly at her as if she were engaged in something shady.
“What can I do for you?” she asked in a clipped voice.
“I’m looking for a nice fancy cake of soap.”
“Yes … Well.” She managed to suggest that it was not a moment before time.
“For girls, like,” Fonsie said.
“A gift?” She seemed surprised.
“No, for the new ladies’ room,” Fonsie said proudly.
He had spent a long time persuading Mario that they should do up the two outhouses as toilets. And make the female one look attractive. Girls liked to spend time painting themselves and doing their hair. Fonsie had driven out to an auction and bought a huge mirror. They put a shelf underneath it. All they needed now was a couple of nice towels on a roller and a bit of smart soap to start off with.
“Would Apple Blossom be a bit too good for what you had in mind?” Mrs. Kennedy brought out what was called a gift pack of soap.
Fonsie made a mental note to tell Clodagh to stock soaps and talcs. Sneak them in before Peggy could protest that they were taking business from the chemist. Mrs. Kennedy was an old bat, and a bad old bat at that. She didn’t deserve to have the monopoly on the town’s soap.
She wouldn’t have, not for much longer.
But in the meantime …
“That’s precisely what we need, Mrs. Kennedy, thank you so much,” he said with a great beam, and handed the money across the counter without even wincing at the cost.
