Foreign Affairs

by Patricia Scanlan

  She saw Ronan before he saw her. Jennifer stared at him. He had changed so much. He’d been gaunt and lanky and skinny that last day when she held him close in Dublin Airport. The Ronan who got off the bus was broad and muscular, and very tanned and fit-looking. His wide hazel eyes hadn’t changed though. He looked at her, smiled that old familiar lopsided smile, and his eyes crinkled up in that much-loved way.

  ‘Ronan, Ronan,’ she said joyfully and threw her arms around him, laughing with happiness as he lifted her up in the air.

  ‘Ah Jenny! You look beautiful. I’ve missed you so much. I thought I’d never get here.’ They kissed eagerly.

  ‘I can’t believe you’re here,’ Jennifer said breathlessly, as she drew away from him and stroked a finger down the side of his cheek.

  ‘Me neither.’ Ronan hugged her again.

  ‘You’ve changed so much.’ She smiled. ‘You look . . . so . . . so healthy.’

  ‘Well fed, you mean.’ Ronan laughed. ‘The food’s so good over there I had to join a gym to work out or else I’d be a right pudding.’

  ‘I hope you’ll like Spanish food,’ Jennifer said.

  ‘You know me, Jenny, I’d eat anything. And right now I’d even eat one of my ex-landlady’s Irish Stews. I’m starving.’

  ‘Come on,’ Jennifer grinned. ‘I know this gorgeous little seafood restaurant, even you won’t be able to finish what’s on your plate.’

  ‘Want to bet?’ Ronan scoffed.

  They lingered over the delicious meal, delighted to be together again. It was wonderful to be able to tell each other all their news instead of having to put it in a letter. It was nearing midnight before they eventually got back to Edificio Rosa, Jennifer’s apartment block.

  ‘Are you sure your friend doesn’t mind me staying?’ Ronan asked.

  ‘Charlotte! Are you joking?’ Jennifer retorted. ‘She’s always having visitors. You’re my first one. And anyway,’ she added shyly, ‘if it’s OK with you, you’ll be sharing my room. I’ve made up a camp bed.’

  ‘Look, Jenny, I’ll sleep out in the lounge on a couch, I don’t want to put you out or make you feel uncomfortable,’ Ronan said earnestly.

  ‘You won’t. You’d never get a wink of sleep in the lounge, Charlotte keeps very late hours, and anyway I’d like you to share my room.’ Jennifer blushed.

  ‘I’d like that too, very much.’ Ronan drew her into his arms and kissed her lightly.

  ‘Well that’s settled then,’ Jennifer said briskly. If her parents knew she was sleeping in the same room as a fella they’d go spare, she thought a little guiltily. But she didn’t want Ronan sleeping on the sofa, it was far too short for his long frame. And besides, she wanted to be with him, she wanted them to become closer, more intimate. Through their letters to each other they had come to know each other’s innermost thoughts. Their letters were written from the heart. They hid nothing from each other. They shared their ups and downs. And now that he was here with her, she didn’t want to be shy and silly. She wanted to be as comfortable with him in the flesh as she felt when she wrote to him.

  ‘This is very nice.’ Ronan looked around approvingly as she led him into their second-floor apartment.

  ‘I like it,’ she agreed. ‘I like its simplicity.’

  The lounge dining-area was an L-shape. Painted white, in the Mediterranean tradition. It was a cool haven from the scorching heat of summer. The furniture was pine. A pine bookcase and sideboard lined one wall. A long, tweedy sort of sofa, covered in gay rugs and cushions, was placed along the other. Two old armchairs that had seen better days were placed one on each side of the huge french windows that led to a small balcony. Because they were on the second floor and on an incline, they were able to see the sea in the distance, over the rooftops of the apartment blocks across the street. It certainly didn’t compare with the magnificence of the view in Santa Juan but Jennifer didn’t mind. She was far happier here on the Costa than she’d been with the Curtises.

  The alcove at the other end of the room contained a pine dining table and four chairs. These were supplemented with the white chairs from the balcony when there were more than four for dinner. The floor throughout the apartment was tiled and very easy to keep clean. There was no clutter. And much to Jennifer’s joy, dusting and polishing were kept to a minimum. Often, she thought back to Saturday mornings at home and all that dusting and polishing of her mother’s brasses and ornaments which took a whole morning’s attention. The only ornament she and Charlotte had was a faintly lopsided candelabra with white candles in it, for use on the frequent occasions when the electricity went off due to thunderstorms.

  While she had no time for ornaments, Jennifer was a sucker for paintings. Landscapes and seascapes mostly. She’d bought paintings of little Andalusian villages. Paintings of purple-pink bougainvillaea tumbling over the wrought-iron balconies of green shuttered windows. Paintings of whitewashed village chapels. Of boats fishing in the pearly mists of dawn and the flaming seas of sunset. Her favourite was of an old fisherman mending his nets in a small fishing village with the splendour of the Sierra Nevada behind him. This was the real Spain, not the gaudy neon-lit high-rise tourist town where she lived and worked. Charlotte teased her when she arrived home with a new painting, but Jennifer knew that when the time did come for her to leave the Costa, her paintings would always have the power to bring back the happiest memories of her life in Spain.

  ‘You’ve quite an art gallery, now,’ Ronan commented as he studied her collection. He, of course, knew all about them. Jennifer had written and described every one of her acquisitions.

  ‘There’s more in the bedroom.’ She laughed leading him down the hall, past the small kitchen, to the bedroom. The pretty room was a study in simplicity. Her small divan, with its colourful spread which matched the curtains, was under the window so that she could see the sea on waking. A white chest of drawers and wardrobe unit was the only other piece of furniture. A vase of wild roses on the windowsill, a vivid splash of colour against the white. The camp bed, neatly made up, was placed beside her own bed.

  ‘No wonder you don’t want to go home. Who’d want to face our wild winters and draughty houses after this?’

  ‘I’ll have to go sometime.’ She sighed. ‘I’ll be nineteen in another couple of weeks. I suppose I’ll have to go and get a “proper job,” as my dad calls it. I can’t be a waitress in Spain all my life.’

  ‘I’ve been checking out the situation at home.’ Ronan put his arms around her. ‘I’m not going to have any trouble getting a job there. Everyone is looking for experienced computer people. Dropping out of Bolton Street and going into computers in America was the best thing I could ever have done. Another year there and I’ll be able to pick and choose,’ he said confidently.

  ‘That’s brilliant, Ronan. You deserve everything you get, you’ve worked so hard for it.’

  ‘So have you,’ he said stoutly. Their eyes met. He put his arms around her and kissed her. Gently at first but then with an increasing urgency. She wanted to respond but couldn’t. A feeling of agitation and panic overtook her and Ronan, sensing her tension, drew away from her.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ he asked. ‘Don’t you want to kiss me?’

  Jennifer buried her face in his shoulder. ‘Yes Ro, of course I do,’ she said miserably.

  ‘But . . . ?’ he probed.

  ‘Ronan, I don’t want to go all the way. I’d be dead scared of getting pregnant, and I’d feel a bit guilty . . . you know . . . about having sex before marriage and all that,’ she blurted out.

  ‘Jenny, hey Jen, it’s all right. Whatever you want is fine with me,’ Ronan assured her. Jennifer burst into tears.

  ‘I’m sorry, Ronan, I know everyone’s doing it these days and that I’m just old-fashioned. I’d love to be like everyone else and have the nerve to do it. And now I feel a real failure. I’m nearly nineteen and I’m still a virgin. Charlotte’s slept with loads of fellas. Paula’s slept with two. I’m sure Brenda sle
pt with Eddie. There’s just me and Beth left. The last of the red-hot virgins,’ she said shamefaced.

  ‘Well there’s me as well,’ she heard Ronan say. ‘And I’m older than you.’ Jennifer stared at him.

  ‘You’ve never done it? After all this time living in America, with all those liberated women I’m always reading about in Cosmo?’ She was astonished.

  Ronan laughed and sat down on her bed drawing her down beside him. ‘Girls aren’t the only ones who feel scared and guilty, you know. Of course I get as horny as hell. Sure, I’ve had the opportunity. My father once told me if I denied a woman before marriage I was responsible for consigning her soul to eternal damnation as well as my own.’ Ronan scowled. ‘Jenny, I’m an adult. I’ve put myself through college and looked after myself in America but I sometimes still have to try and convince myself that my father’s word is not law any more and I can do as I please.’ He gave a rueful smile. ‘I could cope with consigning my own soul to eternal damnation, but I sure couldn’t cope with sending yours.’

  ‘Oh, Ronan, that’s horrible!’ Jennifer protested. ‘Isn’t it awful that we’ve been brought up to feel such guilt about sex? I wish I could be different. I wish I could be like Paula.’

  ‘I’m glad you’re not like Paula. You’re perfect just the way you are.’ Ronan gave her a hug.

  ‘What a pair we are,’ she said wryly.

  ‘We’re a perfect pair,’ Ronan declared, and this time Jennifer kissed him. She felt safe within the circle of his arms, the relief of being able to explain to him exactly how she felt had eased all her agitation and tension.

  They spent fourteen carefree happy days together. Because it was not yet high season, her boss kindly allowed her to take time off and they hired a car and went exploring Andalucia and Granada. They stayed in little guest houses and enjoyed very much being a couple again. Tentatively at first, and then with growing confidence and delight, they learned ways of giving each other pleasure without taking that final step. Both of them longed to but couldn’t because it would have been ruined by guilt. Because they understood each other, it made it easier and in some ways it strengthened their relationship.

  The day before Ronan was due to leave, Paula phoned Jennifer to announce that she was coming to Spain the minute her exams were over. ‘I’ve wonderful news for you,’ she bubbled across the crackling telephone lines. ‘There’s a chance of a great job for the two of us next year. It will suit us down to the ground and we’ll be together. I’ll tell you all when I get there. Oh Jenny, I can’t wait.’ Paula sounded terribly excited.

  ‘What is it? Tell me,’ Jennifer demanded.

  ‘I’m going to be cut off, Jenny. I’ll be there soon. You’ll find out all then. Bye.’ Jennifer heard the click and then the line went dead.

  ‘What’s up?’ Ronan asked from the sofa, where he was sprawled reading the massive novel Exodus. A mighty thunderstorm raged outside and rain was bucketing down in sheets. They hadn’t been saying much to each other. Both of them dreaded the moment of parting.

  ‘That was Paula,’ Jennifer said excitedly. ‘She’s coming here after her exams. She says she’s got two jobs lined up for us that will suit us down to the ground. Then she was cut off.’

  ‘Ring her back,’ he suggested.

  Jennifer shook her head. ‘You know Paula, always the mystery woman. It will keep, whatever it is. She won’t tell me anyway over the phone. So there’s no point in me trying to worm it out of her. I wonder what it is though,’ she pondered. ‘Maybe it’s something to do with the hotel in St Margaret’s Bay. I don’t know if I want to work in a hotel.’ She made a face.

  ‘Don’t let Paula talk you into doing anything you don’t want to do,’ Ronan warned.

  ‘As if I would,’ Jennifer exclaimed indignantly.

  ‘Paula’s a very determined girl when she gets an idea into her head,’ Ronan said.

  ‘So am I.’

  ‘I know that, Jenny, it’s just you’re very soft-hearted and she winds you around her little finger sometimes,’ Ronan said firmly.

  ‘She’s a good friend,’ Jennifer was defensive, not sure if Ronan was implying some sort of criticism of Paula.

  ‘I know, and so is Beth.’ Ronan closed his book and stood up to put his arms around her. ‘You’re going to be faced with a bit of a dilemma because of them sometime in the future,’ he said seriously.

  ‘Why?’ Jennifer was mystified.

  ‘Actually,’ he teased, ‘you’re going to be in a very tough situation. Brenda’s got to be considered as well, after all she is your only sister.’

  ‘What are you wittering on about, Ronan?’ She gave him a dig in the ribs.

  ‘Bridesmaids,’ he said airily. ‘Which of them are you going to choose to be your chief bridesmaid? Or do you want to elope?’

  Jennifer stared at her boyfriend, gobsmacked.

  ‘Well?’ Ronan smiled at her and took her hand in his. ‘If there’s going to be a bridesmaid, there’s got to be a bride. Jenny, will you marry me?’

  Chapter Fifty-One

  ‘Oh, Ronan.’ Jennifer could hardly speak.

  ‘Jenny, please!’ Ronan’s air of confidence disappeared. ‘Don’t keep me in suspense. Will you marry me? I love you. I knew the minute I saw you that day in the Botanic Gardens that you were special. I couldn’t imagine being with any other girl for the rest of my life. I can’t face going back to America until I know. I’ve been trying to pluck up courage all day to ask you.’

  ‘Yes, yes, yessss.’ Jennifer was ecstatic. ‘Oh Ronan, I’m so excited.’

  ‘Me too.’ Her new fiancé grinned boyishly as he swept her off her feet and kissed her soundly.

  Later, when their ardour and excitement had cooled a little and it had stopped thundering and raining, they walked along the damp beach and made plans. They decided they would wait until Jennifer’s twenty-first birthday to announce the engagement. Ronan would be home from America by then and would hopefully have a job. He would speak to her father then. Until then, their engagement would remain a secret. Their special secret. They spent the night talking, making plans for their wonderful future.

  They were both exhausted and bleary-eyed when they got up at the crack of dawn to get a taxi to the bus terminus. Ronan was flying home to Dublin via London. He wanted to see his sister Rachel before he flew back to America. His father wanted nothing to do with him so there was no point in going to Rathbarry. Rachel and he had arranged to meet in Dublin.

  They were very subdued on the journey. Saying nothing, just holding hands tightly.

  ‘At least you’ve got Paula and her news to look forward to,’ Ronan comforted her as the terminus came into sight.

  ‘I’m going to miss you so much. I wish we could get married today.’ Jennifer’s voice wobbled.

  ‘Come on now, Jenny. I need a job so I can provide for you when we get married and I won’t be in a position to do that for a few years,’ Ronan said earnestly.

  ‘And I thought I was old-fashioned,’ she teased, squeezing his hand as the taxi drew to a halt.

  ‘I love you,’ she whispered.

  ‘I love you too,’ he echoed, holding her tightly.

  ‘Keep writing,’ he said, as he pulled away from her reluctantly.

  Jennifer nodded, unable to speak. This was the second time they’d had to say goodbye. This time was infinitely harder. She felt as if her heart was being stung by a million nettles as she watched Ronan walk away from her. How could she wait until she was twenty-one before they were engaged? She wanted to be with him now. She’d suggested going to America with him, but he said no. It wasn’t that he didn’t want her, he explained. But her parents would not be happy about it and he didn’t want their marriage to be blighted by bad feeling. Jennifer knew he was right. Both their parents were very traditional. But it didn’t stop her from wishing that she could go and be with him. He gave a final wave and was gone from sight. She cried the whole way home.

  That night was lonely without hi
s reassuring presence on the camp bed beside her and she tossed and turned trying to sleep. She relived his proposal and smiled. Going on about bridesmaids like that. He was right too, she was going to have a dilemma about her bridesmaids. Brenda would definitely want to be chief bridesmaid, feeling it was her right because she was sister of the bride. Paula wouldn’t want to play second fiddle. Beth, bless her heart, wouldn’t give a toss. The thought of being Ronan’s wife made her exquisitely happy. She’d known exactly what he meant when he’d told her she was special and that he’d known from the first moment. So had she. Even though she’d met some nice blokes here in Spain, none of them compared with Ronan. Paula would probably think she was dull and boring but one man was more than enough for Jennifer as long as that man was Ronan.

  She was in for some exciting times ahead, she reflected, burrowing down under the flimsy sheet. What with choosing a chief bridesmaid and waiting to hear how her parents would react to news of her engagement. Not to talk of Ronan’s father and his sister. Imagine having William Stapleton for a father-in-law? She grimaced in the dark.

  Well if she was inheriting Mr Stapleton, Ronan would be inheriting Grandpa Myles. On the whole, she felt Ronan was getting the better bargain. Grandpa Myles liked Ronan. No doubt he’d be pleased for her when he heard her news. Her mother had written once that the old man lived in constant fear of Jennifer coming home with a ‘giggleeo’ as he called it. Jennifer chuckled. No fear of that. She caressed the gold cross and chain that hung around her neck. Ronan had bought it for her as an engagement present. It made her feel close to him. She yawned. She was dead tired. It had been an exciting forty-eight hours. Paula’s phone call and a proposal within minutes of each other. What was this new job going to entail? Would she be interested? Ronan’s words came back to her.