Foreign Affairs

by Patricia Scanlan

  ‘The trouble with that girl is she gets away with too much,’ Helen muttered as she cleared the table and flung the knives and forks into the wash basin.

  ‘The first time I ever refused to let her do anything and look at the carry-on.’ She felt wretched. There had never been bad feeling between them before. She would have liked to let Paula go to the party. She wasn’t very strict with her, but this time she had to put her foot down. Helen knew that Maura and Pete would not approve. They had been so good to allow Paula to come and live with her in Dublin. They trusted her to bring up their daughter responsibly. She couldn’t allow her to go to a party where there would be plenty of drink. It just wasn’t on. That would be to fail in her duty to Maura and Pete. Helen could not do that. No matter how annoyed Paula was.

  Helen sighed. She felt very down in the dumps. She could have done without having a tiff with Paula today of all days. She’d been trying her best to stay upbeat, to pretend that today was just another day, and she’d almost succeeded. An afternoon at the pictures would have helped to keep her mind occupied for another couple of hours. She’d planned to take Paula for a meal as a treat afterwards. Now it looked as if that plan was scrapped, she thought dejectedly. Whether she liked it or not she was on her own this afternoon. On her own with the thoughts she’d been trying to avoid this past week. In another life, in happier times, Helen had always greatly looked forward to her wedding anniversary. Anthony always brought her out for a champagne dinner and made a big fuss of her. Once, he’d given her the surprise of her life and whisked her off to Paris for the weekend. That had been a really happy time. Helen smiled at the memory and sat down at the kitchen table and poured herself another cup of coffee. There had been many happy times, especially at the beginning. It hadn’t all been bad. Now that she’d got over that first intense hurt, Helen realized that, unpalatable as it was, she had to take some responsibility for the break-up of their marriage. Those horrible words when her husband had accused her of nagging him and emasculating him had struck deep. Over and over she’d remembered how he’d said it was an ordeal to make love to her. God, that had killed her. No wonder he’d become impotent with her. She had been so selfish in her desire to have a child. She’d pressurized Anthony until, without her being aware of it, she’d destroyed her marriage and sent him into the arms of another woman. She didn’t condone it, but now, much as it still distressed her, Helen could understand how her husband had turned to Molly for comfort.

  Anthony and she had little contact now but at least when they did meet they were civil towards each other. The last time they’d met was at the funeral of a mutual friend. They’d gone for a drink after the funeral. Their grief had united them and they’d shared memories and talked of old times. Swallowing her pride, Helen had apologized for treating Anthony the way she had during their marriage.

  ‘I didn’t realize what I was doing to you . . . to us,’ she said huskily. ‘I’m as much to blame as you are.’ It had been hard to say that, but once she’d said it, she’d felt much less angry, less self-pitying. She could see that her husband was much happier and more relaxed than when they’d been together. Life with Molly obviously suited him. He’d never come back to her.

  Sometimes anyway, she knew she wouldn’t want him back. Helen enjoyed single living. Doing what she liked when she liked. It was nice not having to cook if she didn’t feel in the humour. It was wonderful to have a lie-in on a wet Saturday, with magazines spread all over the bed. She loved her job too. Going back to work had been the making of her. She had to make decisions. Pay her own bills. All this helped to give her back the confidence that had been so badly dented by Anthony’s affair. There were times, now, when she felt quite resigned to her lot, and could even look to the future with equanimity. But today wasn’t one of them. Today she felt she had failed Anthony and failed herself. Would she ever have another relationship? Would that be a disaster too? It would be nice to love someone and have them love her. She felt very much alone.

  ‘Sorry, girls, the party’s off,’ Paula told her friends the following day at school. ‘Helen’s doing her responsible aunt bit. What a drag!’

  ‘You can’t really blame her,’ Jenny said. ‘If my parents thought I was going to a party like that, they’d freak.’

  ‘Oh for heaven’s sake, Jenny, we’re not children!’ Paula scoffed. ‘It’s not an orgy we were going to.’

  ‘I know that, Paula!’ Jenny retorted. ‘But all the same.’

  ‘Do you think you could persuade her to change her mind?’ Beth queried.

  ‘No,’ Paula said glumly. ‘But when she goes on holidays with Mam in a few weeks’ time, I just might have a party myself and invite them.’

  ‘You wouldn’t dare.’ Beth was deeply impressed.

  ‘I would, too,’ Paula declared defiantly.

  ‘What about the woman who’s going to be staying with you at night?’ Jenny asked.

  ‘Oh I don’t know.’ Paula’s defiance wilted. ‘Imagine having a baby-sitter at my age. It’s humiliating.’

  ‘You wouldn’t stay on your own in a house at night, would you?’ Beth demanded.

  ‘Of course I would,’ Paula exclaimed. ‘That wouldn’t bother me at all. Would you not?’

  ‘You’re dead right I wouldn’t.’ Beth shuddered.

  ‘Beth, I despair of you,’ Paula said loftily. ‘Have you no sense of adventure?’

  ‘None whatsoever!’ Her friend giggled.

  ‘Are you coming to the disco then?’ Jenny asked.

  Paula shook her head. ‘Naw. I’ll just have a night in for a change.’

  ‘You mean you’re just going to sulk in your room and make your aunt feel bad,’ Jenny said tartly.

  ‘So what!’ Paula growled. Jenny could be very astute sometimes. The bell went just then and the conversation was forgotten.

  Paula lay in bed listening to the sound of the Dubliners singing The Rocky Road to Dublin. The party next door was in full swing and she was feeling totally fed up. She would have given anything, anything, to be in there flirting and dancing. So near and yet so far, it was unbelievable. She and the girls had spent so much time admiring Green Car and tonight could have been the night when she got to know him. She could have been dancing with him at this very moment if Helen hadn’t been such a spoilsport. Paula had tried once more to persuade Helen to relent this morning, but she was adamant. Paula gave her the cold treatment all day and spent most of it in her room. She’d gone to bed at nine. It was now one a.m.

  There seemed to be a huge crowd next door. People had been arriving since the pubs closed and the sound of car doors banging was constant. The windows were open and the noise of the party vibrated through the normally peaceful close. Helen had been right about the noise. It was loud, and getting louder by the minute.

  By five a.m. that morning, Paula ruefully admitted that her aunt had known exactly what she was talking about. There were ructions going on next door. There had been two rows already. Neighbours knocked on the door and demanded that the music be turned down. A squad car arrived at one stage, but it didn’t stay long. There was a lot of laughter and cheers from the revellers when the guards knocked on the door and were welcomed to the party.

  Paula lay in bed feeling a bit of a heel. She hadn’t been very nice to Helen. In fact she’d behaved childishly. As the Wolfe Tones belted out The One Road Paula slid out of bed and walked out to the landing. In the darkness she could see a glimmer of light under Helen’s door.

  She knocked softly and entered. Helen was reading.

  ‘I’m sorry, Helen.’ Paula was contrite.

  ‘That’s OK, Paula, I know you were disappointed, but you can see now why I wouldn’t let you go,’ Helen said wryly.

  ‘I acted really childishly, sorry about that.’ Paula was abashed.

  ‘Ah forget it,’ Helen grinned. ‘Isn’t it some carry-on though? The neighbours are crazy to bother ringing the police. They’re not going to do anything because half of them in there are p
olicemen or detectives. I’m afraid grinning and bearing it is the only solution. It shouldn’t go on for much longer. It will be daybreak in another hour or so.’

  ‘I bet the house will be in some state,’ Paula commented as someone started singing It’s a Long Way to Tipperary and the rest of them joined in with gusto.

  ‘Poor Nick,’ Helen frowned. ‘I hope they straighten the place up before he comes home.’

  ‘What’s this Nick like then?’ Paula yawned and hopped into bed beside her aunt.

  ‘He’s a nice man,’ Helen said. ‘He’s a structural engineer, he owns his own company. He oversees projects abroad sometimes. That’s why he’s in Africa. His marriage broke up too. That was one of the reasons he went away the last time.’

  ‘What happened?’ Paula asked.

  Helen sighed. ‘He found his wife in bed with his best friend. It was dreadful. He was terribly cut up and bitter about it. I never felt so sorry for anybody in my life. At least Molly Kelly wasn’t my best friend. It’s bad enough finding out your husband or wife is having an affair. But imagine finding out the affair was with your best friend? Imagine catching them in the act? How horrible!’

  ‘Does he know about you and Anthony?’

  Helen shook her head. ‘I wouldn’t imagine so. He’ll get a bit of a surprise when he comes home.’

  ‘You can say that again.’ Paula grimaced as the unmistakable sound of breaking glass came from next door. A man cursed vehemently and loudly.

  I think I’ll skip the party when Helen’s away, Paula thought drowsily a half an hour later as the last car door banged and shouted goodbyes were said. A horn beeped loudly before blessed silence descended on the road.

  It was amazing how quiet the house was without Helen, Paula reflected as she dusted and polished one Saturday several weeks later. Her aunt and her mother had phoned that morning from Marbella, giggling and laughing like schoolgirls. They were having a ball abroad. Paula was delighted for them. Especially for her mother. Maura really deserved the break.

  Since she left home Paula had begun to realize that her mother had a hard enough life. Constantly in the kitchen, cooking meals for her brood. She washed and ironed and managed to look after them all on a not very substantial budget. And she was rarely in a bad humour. Paula smiled as she thought of her mother’s laughter on the phone when Paula warned her not to go having any affair with one of those hunky Spanish waiters. Maura had come up to Helen’s for a few days before the holiday proper. Paula made a great fuss of her. She brought her breakfast in bed. Took her into town. Went for walks down to the Botanic Gardens. Maura enjoyed every minute of it and Paula had been glad to have the time with her mother and make her feel very special. Sometimes she felt she’d been a little bit selfish taking off out of St Margaret’s Bay the way she had. Her eagerness to leave must have been a bit hurtful to her parents, although they’d never said anything. When she’d finished tidying up, she’d write a nice long letter to her dad, she decided. He was so proud of how well she was doing at school. He’d been very chuffed by her Inter Cert results. He always made a fuss of her when she went home. Her dad was the best in the world, Paula thought fondly as the phone rang.

  It was Miriam, Helen’s friend, to say she’d be in a bit late tonight, and not to worry. Paula assured her that it was fine. Jenny and Beth were coming over to stay for the rest of the weekend so she wouldn’t be on her own. Miriam was a very nice woman and great fun, but Paula quite enjoyed the few hours on her own and would have been perfectly happy to spend the entire fortnight by herself. She was cooking dinner for the girls tonight and as a special treat she’d bought a bottle of wine. They weren’t going to go to a disco. They were going to have a nice meal and flop in front of the fire and watch TV. It was going to be A Girls’ Night In sort of a night. She’d want to get her skates on though, Paula decided, catching sight of the time. She still had a lot to do and she wanted to make a cheesecake for dessert.

  An hour and a half later she was like a demented lunatic in the kitchen. ‘Why, when you want something to turn out right, does it always turn out a disaster? And when you don’t give a damn, you toss something up in five minutes and it’s bloody perfect?’ she muttered as she gazed in dismay at the cheese sauce, which had gone terribly lumpy. A brainwave struck. She’d let it cool a little and blend it, and it would be fine. The cauliflower florets were all ready to be lightly steamed. Roast stuffed pork steaks were giving off the most mouth-watering odours from the oven. The roast potatoes were crisping nicely. As soon as she’d blended the cheese sauce she’d run upstairs and change her sweatshirt and brush her hair. She washed up the dirty crockery and set three trays. The plan was to eat in front of the fire.

  The sauce had cooled sufficiently so she poured it into the blender and stuck the plug into the socket. The blender roared unexpectedly to life and she, the wallpaper and the ceiling were splattered liberally in creamy, lumpy, yellow sauce. Frantically, Paula pulled out the plug and the noisy whirring stopped. She must have touched the on/off switch when she was bringing the blender over to the socket and not realized. ‘You idiot! You great bloody pillock,’ she cursed herself. There was cheese sauce everywhere. In her hair, on her face, on her top. Horrified, she clambered up on a chair and onto the counter top and started to wipe the ceiling with a damp dishcloth. Would it stain? she fretted. Or would the marks go away when it was dry? She needed this like a hole in the head. She didn’t want the girls to come and see this chaos. Or Helen to come home to find the ceiling destroyed. A glance at the kitchen clock told her she had half an hour to go before Beth and Jenny were due to arrive.

  The doorbell rang. ‘Oh shit,’ she muttered, wiping herself off with the dishcloth. ‘Oh piss off and go away,’ she fumed as it ding-donged again. A third ring told her the caller was going nowhere. It was too early for the girls. Definitely. Beth Cleary couldn’t be on time to save her life, let alone half an hour early. Jenny was always giving out stink about being kept waiting when they were going anywhere. But if it wasn’t the girls, who was it? Miriam had a key, and Paula wasn’t expecting anyone to call.

  Crossly she flung open the front door and saw a man standing on the steps. He looked somewhat taken aback to see her. ‘Hello,’ he said politely. ‘Is Anthony in, please?’

  ‘No, sorry.’ Paula shook her head.

  ‘Oh! Do you know when he’ll be back?’

  ‘I’ve no idea.’

  ‘Would Helen be there, then?’ he asked courteously.

  ‘Sorry, no,’ Paula said curtly.

  ‘And you must be one of the nieces?’ the man remarked.

  What’s it to you? she wanted to retort rudely. ‘Yes, that’s right.’ Her tone was unfriendly. The man looked at her curiously.

  ‘Look, I’m sorry to disturb you. My name is Nick Russell, I’m Anthony and Helen’s next-door neighbour. I’ve been away and I just came in to apologize. I believe the lads gave a very noisy party recently. It won’t happen again.’

  ‘Right, I’ll tell Helen, thanks,’ Paula said agitatedly, aware that time was running out. She had to clean up the mess in the kitchen, as well as herself. Chit-chatting with a neighbour was not on her agenda right now.

  ‘Fine, just tell your aunt and uncle I called, I’ll see them around,’ the man said casually. Before he had even taken two steps down the garden path, Paula had closed the door and was racing back into the kitchen, Nick Russell and his apologies the last thing on her mind.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  ‘You should have seen the state of me, Helen. I looked like the Wreck of the Hesperus standing there with cheese sauce all over me.’ Paula giggled as she and her aunt drove home from the station after putting a tanned and glowing Maura on the Waterford train.

  ‘Poor Nick.’ Helen laughed. ‘Have you seen him since?’

  ‘No,’ Paula answered. ‘I don’t think he’s staying there at the moment. He seems to have decorators in. He got new windows and doors put in last week.’

  ‘I s
aw that,’ Helen remarked. ‘The house looks very well. It had got a bit run-down.’

  ‘Hmm,’ murmured Paula, who had more on her mind than Nick Russell and the state of his house. Yesterday, during basketball practice, Barry Keating, the school’s part-time games coach and PE instructor had massaged her calf when she’d got a bad cramp. Their eyes met. It was the most wonderful feeling. It was as if there was no-one else in the school yard. Paula knew Barry liked her. They always had good fun in a teasing sort of way. He was a very popular member of staff and he got on well with all the girls. He encouraged them, pushed them, and motivated them to win their matches. Lots of the girls fancied Barry and were always trying to show off in front of him.

  Paula played it cool. She treated him in an offhand sort of way and concentrated on perfecting her game. Barry went out of his way to pass a few comments to her, usually inconsequential remarks about the match or the training or whatever. It made Paula feel good when she was discreetly singled out for that special bit of attention. But it was no more than she expected.

  When the match was finished, Barry went over to her, ostensibly to find out how her leg was. But after asking her if she was OK, he very quietly asked if she’d like to go for a drink with him.

  ‘That would be nice,’ she murmured back.

  ‘How about Saturday?’

  ‘That doesn’t suit me,’ Paula said. ‘Sunday’s better.’

  ‘Sure, where would you like to go?’

  ‘Somewhere in town might be the best.’

  ‘Upstairs in the Oval is nice and private.’ Barry smiled. ‘We don’t want to run into any of this gang.’

  ‘Eight then,’ Paula said before striding off into the changing rooms.

  You handled that very well, she thought approvingly as she stood under the powerful jets of water, letting the heat and steam soothe her aching muscles. It had been a good move to say Saturday didn’t suit. She certainly didn’t want to give him the impression that she was over-eager. That was always fatal. Anyway Saturday didn’t suit her. That was the day her mother and Helen were due back from their holidays. She couldn’t take off on a date and leave Helen on her own, on her first night home.