Foreign Affairs

by Patricia Scanlan

  It’s better this way, he told himself firmly, heading for Mulligan’s of Poolbeg Street. After the fright he’d got when her last period was late, and Brenda said they’d have to get married if she was pregnant, he knew that was the end of it between them. Getting married was the last thing Eddie wanted to do. He thought Kenny and Kathy were nuts and had told his mate that very emphatically. But Kenny said Kathy was the girl for him, he wanted no other and the thought of marriage held no fear for him. Well it wasn’t for Eddie, and once Brenda started putting on the pressure he started feeling extremely trapped. His feelings for Brenda began to be coloured by resentment. They seemed to be fighting all the time. The pregnancy scare had been the straw that broke the camel’s back. A wife, kids and a mortgage had loomed terrifyingly. It was like a nightmare come true. He was only in his teens, for God’s sake, and so was Brenda. Why did she want to be smothering herself in marriage? Why did she take it all so seriously? There was so much living to be done. Women! These things meant so much to them. Eddie sighed.

  Never again, he vowed, as he ordered himself a pint of Guinness. No more serious relationships. From now on it was strictly love ’em and leave ’em. Brenda had taught him a serious lesson. She was a great girl, they’d had fun and if Kathy and Kenny hadn’t decided to make eejits of themselves they might still be dating. Brenda would get over their split. In time, like him, she’d enjoy her freedom and see that getting hitched so young would have been a terrible mistake. Maybe she was even thinking like that this minute. Feeling much more cheerful, Eddie ordered another pint, and one for his friend Noel, who had just arrived. This was his first night of freedom and he was going to enjoy it.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  ‘I’m going to fail maths. I just know it,’ Paula moaned as she struggled to remember the theorem she’d learned off by heart twenty minutes ago.

  ‘Whoever invented the Leaving Cert should be strung up by the goolies,’ Jennifer muttered as she fretted over a balance sheet that would not tally.

  ‘How do you know it was a man?’ Paula leaned back in her chair and stretched and yawned. Jennifer gave her a pitying look. ‘Don’t be daft. You don’t think a woman would be that stupid?’

  ‘You’ve a point there,’ Paula conceded, reluctantly getting back to the task at hand. The girls were up to their eyes in revision. It was the Saturday before the start of the Leaving Certificate exams. Intense swotting was the order of the day. They were studying in Paula’s bedroom. All that disturbed them was a blackbird singing in a deep pink cherry blossom tree that flowered in exuberant profusion outside Paula’s bedroom window. Jennifer gave a deep sigh. She felt restless. It was a lovely day outside, there was a real hint of summer in the air, heat in the sun, and the breeze was balmy. And she was sitting inside, with her head stuck in a balance sheet.

  Brenda had gone on a hike for the weekend. Her mother was on a flower-arranging course. Beth had taken her niece to the Zoo. Practically everyone Jennifer knew was having an interesting and exciting weekend. It would be such a relief to have this blooming Leaving Certificate over. The way adults went on about it, you’d think it was the be-all and end-all of life itself. Jennifer frowned, sucking the top of her pen. What was she going to do when she left school in June? She didn’t have a clue. So much depended on her results. She didn’t particularly want a job in the bank, like Kathy, Beth’s sister. She certainly didn’t want to be a punch card operator like Brenda. Her sister was always moaning about how boring her job was and what a bitch Bugs Bunny Powers was, it didn’t sound at all appealing to Jennifer.

  Paula, who was good at languages, was going to do courses in Spanish, French and German. She wanted to work as an interpreter in the EEC or the UN. So she maintained. She certainly wouldn’t consider anything as mundane as a career in the civil service. Jennifer smiled. Paula’s self-confidence was breathtaking. She oozed it, and always had, from that first eventful day two and a half years ago, when Sister Imelda had put her sitting beside Jennifer at school.

  Everything about Paula was colourful and vibrant. She was by far the most sophisticated girl in the class. She had a well-paying part-time job. Her aunt had just started to teach her to drive. Most daring of all, she’d just had a rip-roaring affair with the PE teacher. Paula had done an awful lot for someone who had just turned eighteen. Jennifer, who’d be eighteen in August, often felt that her life was deadly dull in comparison.

  The ink started leaking from the top of Jennifer’s pen. That was the last thing she needed. ‘God, I’m really browned-off,’ she muttered grumpily as she wrapped the ink-stained pen in a sheet from her jotter.

  ‘Join the club.’ Paula sighed.

  ‘I don’t know what you’ve got to be browned-off about.’ Jennifer snorted. ‘Do you fancy going to the disco tonight? You haven’t been out with me and Beth for ages.’

  Paula shook her head. ‘I’m not in the mood.’

  ‘Oh,’ Jennifer murmured. Paula hadn’t been to the disco because she’d been dating Barry.

  ‘Are you and Beth going?’ Paula asked brightly.

  ‘Dunno.’ Jennifer was unenthusiastic. She didn’t feel like going to the disco. She wasn’t in the humour for doing anything.

  ‘I think it’s time we had our lunch,’ Paula said briskly. ‘Then I’m going to get you to ask me my French verbs, and that’s me finished. I’ll go down and make lunch and we’ll have it sitting out on the patio.’

  Jennifer stood up abruptly and gathered her books. ‘Actually Paula, I’m not hungry. I don’t feel great. I think I’ll go home.’

  ‘Are you sure, Jenny? What’s wrong?’ Paula was concerned.

  ‘Oh, just my period. I’ll see you in school on Monday,’ Jennifer said hastily. She left Paula’s bedroom and hurried down the stairs with Paula in close pursuit.

  ‘Do you want me to walk home with you?’ Paula asked anxiously.

  ‘No, no, I’ll be fine, see you,’ Jennifer muttered as she opened the door and let herself out, leaving her friend standing mystified behind her. She walked rapidly, feeling agitated and unhappy. Her own behaviour had surprised her, let alone Paula. But she’d felt terribly resentful. Paula hadn’t been to the disco for ages. You’d think she’d make an effort once in a blue moon to go out with her friends on a Saturday night. If she was going with a fella, she wouldn’t drop her friends like hot potatoes, Jennifer thought dourly.

  She slowed her pace. It was warm and she was beginning to feel hot and bothered. She’d treat herself to a Coke in the Winkel. Jennifer exhaled a deep breath. She felt very down in the dumps. Everything seemed uncertain lately. What was she going to do when she left school? How was she going to do in her exams? Would she ever have the nerve to do the things Paula did? She crossed the Ballymun Road and went into the shop. She was parched with the thirst. A nice cold Coke would do the trick.

  Jennifer treated herself to a packet of Tayto and a bar of fruit-and-nut. Her period was due. She hadn’t told Paula a fib. She always craved sugar and salt coming up to it. The chocolate and crisps would assuage the craving, that was her excuse for a little binge, she thought wryly. There was a good magazine selection too, so she browsed for a while and finally bought Photoplay, a film magazine.

  ‘Oh, and could I have a straw as well for the Coke?’ she asked the pleasant woman behind the counter.

  ‘Certainly, dear, it’s a lovely day, isn’t it?’ She handed Jennifer the straw.

  ‘Yes,’ Jennifer agreed, ‘it is.’ In fact it was so nice, she just couldn’t face the idea of going home to spend the rest of the afternoon indoors studying. She saw a 13 bus coming down the road. On impulse she ran across the road and raced to the bus stop. Panting, she got on and sat on the long seat near the door. She wasn’t going far. Only to the Botanic Gardens.

  She wanted to be on her own for a while. She couldn’t face going home to listen to Grandpa Myles giving out about ‘The Youth of Today.’ His current favourite gripe. He was always on at Sean and Gerard, her younger brothers,
telling them constantly that their hair was too long and asking them were they men or monkeys. No, today she needed peace and quiet. She might even get a bit of swotting done in the sun. Paula would just have to ask someone else to hear her French verbs today. It wouldn’t kill her to come out with Beth and me on Saturday night, would it? Jennifer asked herself crossly.

  Brenda maintained that Paula had dropped the girls like bricks when Barry came along. Well he was off the scene now. Paula could make an effort. According to Brenda, Paula only used Jennifer when it suited her. Of course Brenda would say things like that. Brenda and Paula didn’t get along very well. They always tried to score points off each other. The other day Brenda had, all in fun, or so she’d pretended, remarked that one of the reasons young girls went with older men was that they were looking for a father figure. ‘Is that true, Paula? You’d know. You were dating a teacher,’ she’d asked innocently.

  ‘A six-year age gap hardly makes Barry a father figure, Brenda,’ Paula drawled. ‘Barry and I had a very adult relationship. I suppose that’s a bit difficult for you to understand as you haven’t had one yet,’ she added with a sweet smile. Brenda was fit to be tied. She rarely got the better of Paula. There was a pair of them in it, Jennifer thought, and invariably, she got caught in the crossfire. It could be wearing at times.

  The great grey high wall that encircled the Botanic Gardens was fringed spectacularly by magnificent flowering cherry blossom trees. The branches, laden down with voluptuous pink and white flowers, dipped over the walls scattering petals on the footpath. It was lovely to see all the colour and vibrancy, after the stark bleakness of winter. As she passed through the tall green entrance gates, Jennifer could see neat beds of tulips and crocuses and snowdrops. Under the trees clumps of rippling daffodils and jonquils were a glorious yellow and white contrast to the emerald grass. Jennifer’s spirits lifted at the sight. Summer was here and that always cheered her up, no matter how down she was. When the hassle at home got too much or Brenda was in one of her moods, a walk on her own in a park or tree-lined street always helped restore her equilibrium. She quickened her step past giddy children playing at the drinking fountains. There was a lovely tranquil spot down near the Rose Garden and the river. She’d have her little picnic and then settle down to study.

  Other students had had the same idea, she saw as she walked along the curving riverbank path, and enjoyed the gurgling bubbling melody of the river as it meandered towards the small waterfall that was edged by weeping willows.

  Jennifer found herself a spot in the sunlight on a mound of grass near the river. Two other girls sat together studying. Two fellas sat further away. One of them, a brown-haired cheery-faced bloke, lifted his head and smiled at her. Jennifer smiled back. He must be a student too, she deduced. He had a satchel overflowing with thick tomes and he was sitting on an old army jacket. He looked a bit older than a Leaving Cert student.

  She laid her jacket on the grass, opened her crisps and Coke and took a long satisfying draught of the chilled drink. She raised her face to the sun and enjoyed the feel of its warmth and brightness. Contentedly, she licked the last traces of salty crisps from her fingers and took out her Exploring English poetry book and began to read Tennyson.

  The afternoon passed pleasantly. Several hours later Jennifer was pleased with what she’d achieved. Geography had followed English poetry, and then business organization, and Spanish. Her efforts helped banish her previous bad humour. Jennifer stretched and rooted in her bag for the bar of chocolate.

  ‘Did you get much done?’ she heard a voice ask, and looking up she realized that only she and the affable student remained.

  ‘Yeah, loads. Much more than I thought. Did you?’ She responded to his friendliness.

  ‘I’m pleased enough. Are you doing the Leaving Cert?’

  ‘Yeah, unfortunately,’ grimaced Jennifer, unwrapping the bar of chocolate. ‘Would you like a piece?’

  ‘Oh, yes please.’ His eyes lit up as he sat down beside her. ‘I’m starving now. Fresh air gives you an appetite.’ He accepted half the bar gratefully and wolfed it down. Jennifer smiled. He reminded her of her brothers.

  ‘What exams are you studying for?’ she asked, munching her own portion of chocolate rather more sedately.

  ‘I’m doing electronics in Bolton Street Tech,’ he said. I knew he wasn’t a Leaving Cert, Jennifer thought triumphantly. ‘I was studying in the library but it was so fine I couldn’t concentrate. I decided to come up here instead. It doesn’t feel as much like work here.’ He grinned and Jennifer smiled back. He had an open sort of face. His eyes, a lovely hazel, were wide and clear. His skin was a ruddy weather-beaten colour. He looked like someone who spent a lot of time outdoors. Jennifer couldn’t quite make out his accent. It was not a Dublin one, or Cork or west of Ireland. Her curiosity got the better of her.

  ‘You’re not from Dublin, are you?’ she asked.

  He shook his head. ‘No, I’m from a place called Rathbarry. It’s a village in Wicklow, not far from Bray.’

  ‘I knew you weren’t from Dublin,’ Jennifer declared. ‘Where do you stay? In a flat?’

  ‘Naw, I wish I did. I’m in digs in Phibsboro, and the landlady can’t cook for buttons.’ He threw his expressive eyes up to heaven. ‘If it wasn’t for the chippers I’d starve. You should see her version of Irish Stew!’ He made a horrible face and she laughed.

  ‘Why don’t you move into a flat and do your own cooking?’

  ‘My da doesn’t approve of flats and as I can’t afford to put myself through college, I don’t have any choice in the matter,’ he said glumly. Jennifer’s maternal heart melted. It must be awful to have to eat horrible food. If he was anything like her brothers, his grub would be of immense importance. Fellas were always scoffing.

  Impulsively she turned to him. ‘Would you like to come back and have some tea in my house? We usually have a fry-up on Saturday and my mother’s a very good cook, she does lovely homemade bread and scones and tarts and things.’

  ‘Thanks very much but I couldn’t really barge in on top of your family like that. I’m a stranger. I’m sure she wouldn’t be too impressed.’

  ‘Oh she wouldn’t mind at all and besides, she’s at a flower-arranging course. My dad’s working overtime until late tonight. My sister’s away so if you could put up with two noisy brothers and a cranky grandad, it’s no problem. I’ll be cooking the tea anyway and I won’t poison you, I promise. My name’s Jennifer Myles, by the way.’ She held out her hand.

  ‘Thanks very much, Jennifer, that’s very nice of you, I love a fry.’ He smiled broadly and shook her hand in a good hearty handclasp. ‘My name’s Ronan Stapleton.’

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  ‘That was lovely, Jennifer,’ Ronan said with heartfelt pleasure, as he mopped up the last of his fried egg and red sauce with a crispy piece of fried bread.

  ‘She’s not a bad cook is our Jennifer,’ Grandpa Myles noted. ‘You must be someone special. She’s never brought a lad home before. I was beginning to think that she was going to turn into an old maid like that sister of hers.’ Grandpa Myles belched and patted his stomach. Sean and Gerard guffawed. Jennifer was mortified. She didn’t know where to look. Trust him, just trust him to make a show of her. She was furious.

  Ronan glanced at her and gave the tiniest wink. ‘Jennifer could teach my landlady a lot about cooking,’ he remarked politely to the old man. ‘Yesterday the woman cooked cabbage. You could have poured it out of the saucepan.’

  ‘Let me tell you one thing, son. No woman knows how to cook cabbage. I’m always at me daughter-in-law to cook it in the bacon water, but she’ll have none of it. Cooking cabbage is an art, son, an art,’ Grandpa Myles proclaimed. ‘Some day I’ll cook you a feed of cabbage and you’ll see what I mean. Excuse me now, I want to watch the news. Why don’t you come in and watch it with me while Jennifer’s doing the washing-up?’ he invited.

  ‘I couldn’t leave her to do it on her own after a lovely f
eed like that,’ Ronan said firmly. ‘I’ll give her a hand here.’

  ‘Suit yourself so.’ Grandpa Myles marched out of the kitchen. Followed hastily by Sean and Gerard, who were eager to escape the washing-up.

  ‘Sorry about that,’ Jennifer apologized, pink-cheeked.

  ‘Aw, don’t worry, I know what it’s like. My dad’s the headmaster at the local primary school. Sometimes he’d embarrass you with the things he comes out with. I don’t mind so much now, but sometimes my sister Rachel gets really annoyed. He asked a friend of mine, who was bringing her to her Debs Ball, if his intentions were honourable.’

  ‘That’s awful! It’s exactly the kind of thing Grumps would do. She must have been very embarrassed,’ Jennifer exclaimed.

  ‘Oh she was. She’s very shy at the best of times too,’ Ronan said as he began to clear the dishes. ‘She’s training to be a teacher in St Pat’s in Drumcondra.’

  ‘Oh!’ Jennifer was surprised. ‘Is she in digs with you?’

  ‘Oh God, no!’ Ronan declared. ‘My dad wouldn’t allow that. He’s very old-fashioned, you know. He thinks she couldn’t manage on her own in Dublin. So he collects her off the bus in Bray. I feel sorry for her. She has to traipse into town to get the bus and she misses all the social life at college.’

  ‘How come you’re allowed to stay in digs then?’ Jennifer asked as she ran the hot water into the sink. Mr Stapleton sounded like a bit of a dictator – in the Grandpa Myles mould.

  ‘I’m doing a computer studies course at night. I want to get a job in computers eventually,’ Ronan explained. ‘My father wanted me to go to university and get my degree but the course in Bolton Street was right for me. I really had to stick to my guns.’