“None whatsoever,” William said, getting to his feet to turn off the radio. “Bring them in and let’s hear all this wonderful talent.”
“Great!” Madeleine dashed off along the hallway and a few moments later returned with her guests in tow.
“Come in,” Elisha said brightly, lifting the piano lid up. “We’re looking forward to hearing all this musical genius that Madeleine has been telling us about.”
Vincent Byrne played first. He played a few American jazz tunes very competently and then he played some traditional Irish airs. Everyone sang along to ‘Danny Boy’, ‘The Meeting of the Waters’ and several other well-known songs. When Vincent finished playing, Madeleine and Gabriel played a funny little duet that they had learned years ago, and everybody laughed and joined in the chorus.
When they had finished, Elisha looked to the back of the group and said: “What about you, Tara? Madeleine tells us that you’re very accomplished on the piano.”
Tara blushed and looked slightly flustered. “The music I play is not very entertaining – it’s not really party stuff.”
“If you don’t know any other pieces, you could play us a nice hymn – one we all know the words to.” Madeleine reached her hand out to take her friend’s. “Try something – please?”
Tara looked back at her and then slowly nodded her head. All eyes were on her as she squeezed through the group of teenagers and went to sit behind the beautiful grand piano.
As she had passed her by, Elisha noticed that Tara had taken her suit jacket off. She looked now at the girl’s simple, short-sleeved burgundy dress which complemented her slim figure and her hair so perfectly. She noticed her smooth blemish-free arms, and her long artistic fingers as they roamed along the keyboard preparing to play.
William Fitzgerald had moved away from the group, to a side table which held a variety of bottles and decanters. He poured himself another generous whisky, to help him to withstand the next hour or so until the party broke up. Although he was a communicator of great skill when it came to business matters, he tended to take a back seat in social occasions, especially when it involved his own family. He returned to stand at the fire, his elbow leaning on the lower part of the fireplace, where he could observe Tara Flynn from a good vantage point.
The picture of this strikingly attractive girl descending the staircase had flitted in and out of his mind all evening. He watched her closely now, her slender hands poised above the keyboard and her green eyes closed against distractions.
Neither he nor Elisha had any expectations and were both caught off guard when they recognised the first few bars of Beethoven’s ‘Moonlight Sonata’, being played by a very talented and practised hand. They looked at each other with surprised, raised eyebrows.
William listened and watched intently as Tara’s whole body moved in time to the perfect music. Her eyes, when they occasionally opened, looked only at the keys, and when she tilted her head slightly he could see a faraway look in them. His gaze was drawn to her arched back, and thrust-out breasts, as she played the more passionate parts of the sonata.
As he listened, images floated in his mind of Tara Flynn sitting on the piano stool quite naked. Then he fantasised that she was sitting astride him – both naked now – as he made love to her.
When the piece came to an end, there was utter silence followed by a rowdy applause – jolting William back to reality.
Much later – after all the other guests had gone home, and Madeleine, Gabriel and Tara were asleep in their respective bedrooms – Elisha Fitzgerald turned over in bed and said to her husband: “I wish we could find a reason to have Tara Flynn stay here more often. I really feel that she has a calming effect on Madeleine, and I’m sure the party would have been a complete disaster if it hadn’t been for her.”
William shifted onto his side, his back to his wife. “If you feel the girl is a help to her, then we must make sure Madeleine spends more time in her company.” He gave a little cough. “Did I hear someone say that she was good with figures – accounts and suchlike?”
“Yes,” Elisha replied, “Gabriel mentioned it to me. Apparently she attends night classes, and has passed a number of exams already. Have you noticed how well-spoken she is? And her taste in clothes is impeccable. It’s extraordinary to think she’s from local people – she’s such a striking girl.”
“I didn’t really notice her until she played the piano,” William lied, “but yes – I suppose she is rather striking.”
“Gabriel seems quite taken with her,” Elisha commented. She thought for a moment. “I don’t think he has his eye on her or anything . . . do you? It would cause more trouble than it’s worth, if we were to encourage any interest in that direction.”
“No,” William replied, “ I don’t think we need worry there. Gabriel spends most of his time in Dublin.” He paused for a moment. “Perhaps if I were to offer Tara a position in the auctioneering office in Tullamore, she could work alongside Madeleine, showing her the ropes, and being a sort of companion at the same time. What do you think?”
“Oh, William!” Elisha raised herself up on her elbow and turned towards her husband in the darkness. She reached a hand out to touch his shoulder – and waited for a few seconds. There was no response. He kept his back to her.
“I think that’s a marvellous idea,” she said quietly, trying not to show just how delighted she was. She had prayed and prayed for weeks – since the hair episode – for a solution to this problem. And the solution had come, in the shape of Tara Flynn.
Then, as she eased her head back down on to her pillow, William unexpectedly turned towards her. Without a word, he took her in his arms. Then – since they were in the same bed for the first time in ages – he made love to her.
And, for the first time in a long time, Elisha did not resist him.
She did not resist him for two reasons. One – because he had been unusually attentive to her earlier in the evening, and two – because he had now handed her the solution to a major problem.
William rolled back to his own side of the bed, feeling pleased with himself and guilty at the same time. When they had first got into bed, he had not considered that sexual intercourse might take place. Sexual relations had not existed between them for a very long time. Much longer than William cared to remember. He had hoped that when he had got his businesses on an even keel, that the physical side of their marriage – which had died when everything went wrong in Blackrock – might return. They had automatically gone into separate rooms when they moved to Ballygrace House. Even though things had certainly improved, Elisha had never once suggested that they share a bedroom again.
How tonight had happened was beyond him. He had presumed they would go into their own rooms when they came upstairs around half past one, with William carrying a tray with a final hot whiskey for both of them. Elisha had opened her bedroom door, and gestured to him to go on in with the tray, and then somehow, he had never got round to leaving the room.
In bed, his thoughts had returned to Tara Flynn, as had Elisha’s thoughts – although on an entirely different vein. They had the redheaded girl to thank for their conjugal bliss tonight. It was the thoughts of her that had coursed the blood through William’s body as he made love to his wife.
Elisha had never been interested in the physical side of marriage, and because of that, he had been left with no option but to seek physical comfort elsewhere. Of course, when the disaster had struck with his business finances and his foolishness over gambling, Elisha had suddenly hit him with knowledge of the various women he had kept company with.
She had crucified him with that.
And yet, when things had improved, she had made no move to rectify the situation, obviously expecting him to lead a celibate life, whilst confined to a loveless marriage.
For several years after the move to Offaly, he had lived the life of a monk. But it had made no difference and, up until tonight, he had firmly beli
eved that any intimacy between them was gone forever.
Some time ago, he had taken up with Philippa – an attractive English Protestant widow who lived in Athlone. A childless, discreet woman in her thirties, who missed the physical side of marriage even more than he did, she was a salve to his bruised male ego. He did not see her very often – given the time and distance in travelling – but when he did see her, he made up for the absence of pleasure with his wife. He had to be very careful indeed, for tongues wagged harder in the country than they did in Dublin. A word in the wrong place could jeopardise all that he had worked for.
Lately, Philippa had been making noises about moving back to England as she wished to marry again before it was too late. She had asked William outright about his intentions towards her and he admitted that their relationship could never be anything other than casual. Since his marriage had been solemnised in the Catholic Church, it was a marriage for life. She had subsequently, but sadly, told him that their days were numbered, as she wished to marry again and have children before it was too late.
He had not given much thought to the future or how he would cope without the female company he had enjoyed with Philippa. It had been sheer luck which had brought her into his life – through selling a few acres of land for her – and he was unlikely to come across another like her in the area. Another woman who would accommodate him in her own luxurious home, who had no inhibitions sexually – and who had asked nothing in return.
Perhaps, William thought to himself, Tara Flynn might be open to some sort of arrangement which might benefit them both. From the little he had seen and heard of her, perhaps she might be willing to trade her company for a step up the social ladder – via a career in his business.
He turned over in the unfamiliar bed. Tomorrow was another day. And after the pleasant surprises that he had encountered today, who knew what it might bring?
Chapter Eleven
Tara had been awake for over an hour when Madeleine came tapping on her bedroom door. “Are you awake?” she called in a high-pitched excited tone. “I’ve got something to show you.”
“Just a moment,” Tara called back. She reached to the bottom of her bed for her striped dressing-gown.
Madeleine came in, still in her night attire. “That’s lovely,” she said, pointing to Tara’s gown. “Considering your unfortunate background you have wonderful taste in clothes. Even Gabriel has commented and boys don’t usually notice things like that.”
Tara pulled the dressing-gown on, trying desperately to hold back the sharp retort which had sprung to her lips. “I may not have had the privileged upbringing you have enjoyed, Madeleine,” she said, failing miserably, “but I would certainly not describe my upbringing as ‘unfortunate’. For one thing – I was brought up to have the good manners not to insult people.”
“I’m sorry . . . I’m sorry . . . I’m sorry!” Madeleine said in a small, watery voice.
Tara paused, her feelings wrestling between hurt for herself and compassion for her confused friend. “It’s all right, Madeleine,” she said, putting her arms around her. “I’m sorry too, for being so snappy with you.” Tara guided her over to the bed and they both sat down on it.
“I really didn’t mean it,” Madeleine sniffed. “I was only trying to tell the truth – I didn’t mean to insult you.”
“It’s okay. It’s okay. We’ll just forget it – let on it never happened.”
Madeleine sniffed again. “It’s just that I’ve promised someone to always tell the truth – and please don’t ask me who it is, because I can’t tell you.”
Tara felt a funny shiver run down her spine. “It doesn’t matter, Madeleine. I’ve already told you that.” She paused, searching for the right words. “You can still tell the truth though and not hurt other people’s feelings.”
“How?” Madeleine looked genuinely interested.
“Well,” Tara said “you don’t have to say everything that comes into your head . . . for example, you could have just said that my dressing-gown was nice, without saying all the rest.”
“But all the other thoughts in your mind are the truth,” Madeleine protested, “and if you don’t say them, you’re committing a sin – the sin of omission. I really know what I’m talking about, Tara. I’ve been instructed by a very important person.”
“No,” Tara said, shaking her head. “You’ve got it wrong. The sin of omission is when you deliberately omit doing something or saying something that could help someone else. What you said to me earlier on was not helpful in any shape or form – it was hurtful.”
Madeleine put her hands over her ears. “Oh – I’m so mixed up now. I don’t know what is the truth – and what is false. My brain gets so mixed up at times.”
Tara put her arms around her again. “You shouldn’t think about things so much, Madeleine. Just try to be nice to people and everything will be all right. If certain people are not nice to you, then just try to avoid them – that’s what I do anyway.”
Madeleine started to rock back and forward on the bed. “Oh, my God,” she began chanting out loud, “I am very sorry that I have sinned against thee, because thou art so good, and I will not sin again.”
“Madeleine, stop it!” A feeling of dread was washing over Tara. “You haven’t done anything wrong – so why are you saying the Act of Contrition?” She gripped her friend firmly by the shoulders and turned her round so they were facing each other. “You’d think you’d murdered somebody to hear you going on.”
Madeleine suddenly relaxed and a big smile spread over her face. “I feel much better now. I know that – if by mistake – I committed a sin, that God has forgiven me.” She delved her hand into her dressing-gown pocket. “I said I had something to show you, didn’t I?”
Tara nodded, trying not to show her bewilderment.
Madeleine took a folded paper from her pocket handed it to Tara. “I’ve been having some problems recently, trying to decide about my future – about whether I should stay on at school or not, that sort of thing.” She joined her hands now, as though in prayer. “Anyway, I decided to pray for guidance, for a sign – that sort of thing. And I received it. What do you think?” She waited expectantly.
Tara unfolded the paper. When she saw what it was, she folded it back up. “It’s about the Missions in Africa, Madeleine. Everybody got one when the Mission was on during the summer.”
“Oh sure, I know what it is.” She gave a big smile. “But I’d thrown mine in the fire when I came back from church and I never gave it another thought. And then, when I was worrying about what to do with my future, I said a prayer . . . and it appeared in the kitchen on the dresser. When you think about it, it’s nothing short of a miracle! At the least, it’s the answer to my prayer. God wants me to help in the Missions.” Madeleine suddenly grabbed Tara’s arm. “I think he wants me to be a nun, Tara! And you’re the first person I’ve told.”
Tara looked back down at the folded paper and then she looked back up at her friend. “Do you really want to be a nun, Madeleine? Is it something you’ve been thinking about for a long time?”
Madeleine wrinkled her brow in thought. “No, not really . . . I just know that I want to help people less fortunate than myself, and when I saw the paper about the Missions, I suddenly thought that maybe I should be a nun.” She turned towards the window, a faraway look in her eyes. “The world’s a terrible place, Tara. We need to do everything we can to save it. If people don’t stand up for what is good – then the evil forces will take over. I’ve been trying to explain that to people in school and when I went to the cemetery last week, but people just don’t understand.” She turned back to Tara, her eyes bright and shining. “The word of God doesn’t only come through priests. God works in very strange ways, you know. Sometimes he chooses someone very ordinary like myself to be his messenger. Sometimes you have to do things which other people think are strange, to bring his message to the world.” She looked down at the folded Mis
sion sheet. “I’m waiting for another sign . . . from the person who gives me my instructions. Soon, I’ll know what I have to do next.”
The hairs stood on the back of Tara’s neck. “Have you told your mother and father about this? Do they know about the person who’s giving you instructions?”
“No . . . I haven’t told them anything at all. It’s too early for them to understand that their daughter has been chosen for something so special. You’re the only one I’ve told.” Madeleine’s face suddenly creased with anxiety. “You won’t say anything, will you?”
“No,” Tara said slowly, “but I think you should tell them soon.”
Madeleine stood up now. “I feel much better now I’ve told you. I knew you’d understand, because you’re so clever. I’m actually surprised that they’ve chosen me to be the messenger and not somebody clever like you. It’s strange, because I’m sure people would listen to you quicker than they’d listen to me.” She walked towards the door and then she said in a surprisingly normal voice, as though the previous conversation had not taken place, “I’ll leave you to get dressed, then we’ll go down for breakfast. I’m sure I can smell father’s kippers frying.” She gave a childish giggle. “They make an awful smell, don’t they?”
The nerves that Tara felt at having to sit down to breakfast with the Fitzgeralds were multiplied by all the weird things that Madeleine had said to her upstairs. Thankfully, both Madeleine’s parents seemed in great form this morning and there was a pleasant chat going on at the table when she and Madeleine came down.
Everyone smiled and said ‘Good morning’, and Tara’s mother asked if she had slept all right, and if she had found the bed warm and comfortable enough. She also complimented Tara on her skirt and cardigan and said how fetching the checked ribbon looked in her hair.
There had been no awkward moments with the food this morning, as she was familiar with the hot buffet which had been laid out on the sideboard. Tara followed Madeleine as she lifted a warm plate and helped herself to sausage, bacon, black and white pudding and a fried egg.
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