‘Did you come up here all alone?’
‘You taught me our phone number. I kept trying to dial it, then some voice told me to put extra numbers in front.’
‘But did you not hear me knocking on the glass?’
‘I heard you shouting at Daddy this morning. You never let me tell him about the hospital. Why do we have to go home?’
‘Because somebody else needs our room tomorrow, pet.’ Alison lifted her daughter up. ‘There’ll be other holidays, lots of them. Year after year till you’re a big girl and want to go away by yourself.’
‘I’ll never want to go away. I miss Daddy.’
‘I know, but there’s no point in phoning. He wouldn’t be at home now.’
‘No.’ Sheila reached for her ragdoll. ‘There was only men arguing.’
‘What men?’
‘I don’t know. One said “hello”, then another shouted not to touch the phone. He sounded cross. I got frightened and put the phone down.’
The child started crying again. It was a mistake, Alison thought, a wrong number. Surely nobody had broken into the house. But could she be sure? She pressed the redial button to check what number Sheila had dialled. A phone rang, then Peadar’s voice came on the answering machine.
‘Go into the bathroom,’ Alison told Sheila, trying to keep calm. ‘Wash the tears from your face, close the door.’
The blips came, seven messages waiting, then silence.
‘Whoever the hell you are,’ Alison spoke loudly into the receiver, ‘you’d better leave quick because I’m calling the police.’
She had almost put the phone down when a man’s panic–stricken voice came on.
‘Who the hell is that?’ he asked.
‘Who the hell are you?’
‘Seamus.’
‘Who the hell is Seamus? Have you got my husband there?’
‘Is that Mrs Gill? You’re not supposed to know we’re here.’
‘Am I not?’ She was both relieved and furious. Whoever Seamus was, he sounded too rattled to be a robber. ‘And who the hell says so?’
‘Your husband. He told us to leave the phone alone. It’s ringing the whole time. I think the fitted kitchen we’re putting in is meant to be a surprise for you.’
She remembered Peadar’s voice yesterday, changing as these workmen must have entered the room. God knows where he had found the money, but that was typical of his contradictions. It was also like him to do this quietly for her, just like he always had a coming–home treat for the kids. Still she wasn’t a child to be fobbed off, if he couldn’t explain where he was last night. Seamus sounded as concerned as if he’d given state secrets away.
‘My apprentice picked up the phone by mistake to some child. I hope he didn’t frighten her.’
‘No, that’s okay.’
She replaced the receiver. Chris entered the room. Sheila left the bathroom and ran to her.
‘Is everything okay?’ he asked.
‘Everything is fine.’ Alison hugged her daughter.
‘Look after that princess.’ He turned to go.
‘Chris? Tonight … the last night … maybe you’d like to join me for dinner. I mean, it’s crazy us both sitting alone.’
He looked back. ‘Call me romantic,’ he said, ‘but I asked them to set the table for two. Absent friends. I hope you don’t mind but I sort of like it that way.’
‘It’s a nice thought.’
‘I’ll pick a wine Jane would have liked. Still if you feel embarrassed on your own …’
‘No, it was just a thought.’
Chris smiled and left, closing the door over.
‘Do we really have to go home?’ Sheila asked. ‘Why can’t things last forever?’
Alison sat on the bed and held her daughter.
The magic show was on before the children’s dinner. Alison brought Sheila down, making a great fuss of her and the boys. They could have as many drinks as they liked. She didn’t care if they ate their dinners or not. Let them enjoy every minute of their last day. Alison didn’t know if she would ever return. Not if each corridor reminded her of how she had let somebody, who once loved her, die here. When the show began she wanted to run back to the room. To phone the school, the solicitors, McCann, anyone who could track Peadar down. He would know what to do. Sally came across, shaking her head and smiling.
‘You missed it,’ she said. ‘God, it was priceless.’
‘What?’
‘The crazy golf final. I nearly wet myself. That gob–daw with two teenage daughters was playing Heinrich. But he starts beating the poor lad, taking five minutes over every putt. He’s four holes up after four. Another hole and he’s won it. None of us can say anything with Heinrich present, not even Geraldine who’s trying to drop hints. But the guy is oblivious. Then your friend, Chris, stands in front of him. “You’re disturbing my concentration,” the man says. “I hate this slope.” “It looks flat to me,” Chris says quietly. “As flat as the fucking tyres of your BMW.’”
‘Who won?’
‘Heinrich, strangely enough.’ Sally laughed. ‘Your friend, he’s so carefree. He doesn’t care what anyone thinks, does he?’
The magician was calling for an assistant, scanning the forest of hands. Shane’s was only slightly raised, half frightened of being chosen. But the magician seemed to home in on it, calling him up to cheers. Shane was given a hat that almost covered his eyes and told to hold a wand. Alison’s name was being called on the PA system, a call holding for her. She got them to transfer it to her room.
She was out of breath by the time she sat on the bed to lift the receiver, half embarrassed by her earlier anger with Peadar, yet still unsure of where he was last night. Peadar couldn’t mask his disappointment that she had found out about the kitchen.
‘I picked the one you liked in the brochure,’ he said. ‘I wanted it as a surprise. I know things haven’t been great between us lately, but I didn’t know how bad they were until this morning.’
‘I just wanted to know where were you last night.’
‘Nowhere and everywhere,’ Peadar replied. ‘Places so silly I felt embarrassed mentioning them. I think it was seeing Chris Conway again that set me off, memories I’d forgotten about. From the first day we met I’ve envied you, you know that?’
‘What do you mean?’ she asked.
‘Your ability to be content. I’ve never known it. All my life I’ve felt guilty if I’m just standing still.’
‘You were always ambitious.’
‘It’s not ambition, it’s running scared. These last months I’ve ignored everything except the blasted school. And I’ve seen it in you. You’ve been so quiet. Even if I touch your breast at night I can feel you tense up. I’ve made you unhappy.’
‘It hasn’t just been that,’ she told him.
‘I’ve been stuck between two worlds, only half paying attention at meetings because I want to be with you and then – when I am with you – driving us both daft with this guilt because I’m not at the school. It’s always been the same. I can’t stop pushing myself to achieve things I don’t even want any more. I just want us to be happy.’
‘We can be,’ she told herself as much as him.
‘This builder going bust at least gave me some time alone. Nothing to do at night but walk around sensing your absence, opening your wardrobe, fingering your clothes. I spent all last night out in Drumcondra. Remember your flat there and the streets and the park behind St Pat’s.’
‘You weren’t in that park at night?’ she asked, worried.
‘I stood on the pedestrian bridge. That weeping willow is still by the river. The last time we stood there you were pregnant with Danny and you got scared that a child would change us, that we wouldn’t still be here the same for each other.’ Peadar paused. ‘You sounded so cross this morning, I’ve barely been able to eat all day. Where did you think I was?’
‘You know my imagination. I don’t know …’
He was silent for
a moment. She could hear the thud of tennis balls outside, distant voices.
‘I’ve never … in all these years. I’ll be honest, more than once I’ve been tempted. Other men telling me what they got away with, weekends in hotels. But I could never do it on you, even if we were separated. Last night I kept thinking of that summer we met. How young we were. Just you and me back then. That’s all there will be again when the kids have flown. We need to keep it alive, you understand?’
‘Yes.’
‘I’d drive down to you now only I’ve had a few drinks. Here, in your new kitchen, which looks bloody marvellous if I say so myself. Will you be all right for another night on your own?’
‘Peadar?’ She didn’t know how to phrase the question. Once she mentioned her suspicions they would both be implicated, negligent in some way if Chris died.
‘What, pet?’
‘Supposing someone was going to do something and you felt you should stop them.’
‘Something illegal?’ he asked.
‘Something you felt you should stop them doing for their own good.’
Peadar laughed. ‘They won’t thank you. People’s good is generally their own concern.’
‘But say it was something that would really harm them?’ Alison was desperate to have this decision taken from her hands.
‘I see it every day with parents,’ Peadar said. ‘People only ever learn from their own mistakes. I know who this is about.’
‘Who?’
‘Joan. If she wants to make a fool of herself over some man, then let her get on with it.’
‘I didn’t know whether to interfere or not,’ she lied, suddenly relieved at a way out of this conversation. It didn’t concern Peadar. This was her decision alone.
In the midst of her relief at his account of last night, she was surprised to find the tiniest, unaccountable spark of disappointment. Why did Peadar presume that she was always content with her life? Maybe her ambitions were more secretive, intuitive goals that he might never be aware of. When she was a girl sometimes in dreams she had found herself flying, soaring from the bed, not sure if she was asleep or awake as her hand touched the ceiling to steady herself. Her body tingling like during that first kiss all those years ago. The giddy sensation of specialness. That was what had become lost from her life. What did Peadar know of her or what did she really know about herself? Alison became aware of him again at the other end of the phone.
‘There’s something I should have told you,’ she said. ‘A health scare, but everything is all right now.’
She could hear the fear inside his silence.
‘I had to bring Sheila to hospital, but it was just tonsillitis. Nothing to worry about. You get some sleep. I’m glad we talked.’
She hung up and sat for a long time, knowing that she would never tell him about the mammogram now. The magic show would be over soon, with medals to be given out. Peadar had not been unfaithful, he still loved her. So why did she still feel so desperately alone?
Alison dined by herself. Perhaps Chris Conway had eaten earlier or not at all. Never swim on a full stomach. The macabre humour disturbed her. She ordered duckling àl’orange but it tasted of nothing. Couples were happy around her, unperturbed by what might occur on the beach later on.
There was an air of excitement around the Slaney Room. She went up the stairs to what she now considered as their table but Chris never appeared. People were up dancing to the band, anxious to make the most of their time. She walked out onto the balcony. The gardens were lit by soft light, waves crashing in a white line in the distance. Palm trees swayed. Below her the steps to the beach were empty. Perhaps Chris had already gone down there as soon as darkness came, unable to face one final meal, one last night of memories. He could be dead already, drifting out in the current past Carnsore Point or up towards Curracloe.
There was applause behind her. The activities manager had arrived to present the smaller prizes and then the holiday voucher for the winner of the golf competition. Alison walked back inside, hoping to spot Chris among the tables of drinkers. People were being called up to receive mugs for table tennis, badminton, indoor bowls, snooker, outdoor tennis and the table quiz. Mr Bennett had already collected three, with his wife one ahead of him. Heinrich was presented with a putter to a huge ovation, which dried to a trickle as Mr BMW collected his runner’s–up plate. Chris should have been there to enjoy the moment. The band gave a drum roll as the golfing result was announced. With a good score on his individual round and a superb result in his scramble, including an eagle, the prize went to Mr Irwin. The man looked shattered as he walked up, his wife almost in tears. Quiet, decent people. Alison was glad Peadar had never corrected the mistake on their scorecard. This was what Fitzgerald’s should be like, growing old together, resignedly and bravely, savouring tiny personal triumphs.
Mrs Irwin looked around to beckon Alison down. She knew she had to join them. They waited at the end of the stairs, holding the voucher like some sort of precious vindication.
‘Let me buy you a drink, please, let me buy you a drink,’ Mr Irwin was saying. ‘That eagle made my holiday. The first in my life, but I went to pieces after it. It was your husband’s scoring that carried me around.’
She had to stay for a drink and insist on buying them one back. All their talk was of Peadar and how marvellous her children were. But Alison could hardly focus on their words, her eyes darting around the room. Nobody here even noticed Chris’s absence. They had their own lives to lead. Ten forty–five. She excused herself but half the room wanted to talk to her. They’d noticed how well she coped with the children, they wanted her to join their groups, on her last night she shouldn’t be alone.
She managed to escape into the empty corridor and almost ran past the dining room up to her room. The babysitter was watching television with the sound turned off, the children asleep. The woman was chatty, repeating every remark Shane and Sheila had made. Danny had been quiet, absorbed in his book. He was near tears, the woman thought, at the prospect of going home, with his giraffe now hugged close to his chest.
Finally she was rid of the woman and alone. Alone and trapped, although it was she who had rushed back to her children. To endure this night and discover tomorrow if her suspicions were correct. But how could she possibly sleep? She undressed and had the sleeping tablet in her palm before she stopped. Chris had looked beautiful in the steam room today. His arms and shoulders, the matted hair on his thighs, saturated with rivulets of perspiration. Twenty years ago Chris had crushed up ten of these tablets for love of her. Could she simply let him die?
She could knock on his door at least to check if he was there, claim she wanted to say goodbye in case he left early in the morning. Maybe she could talk him out of it, show him there was something still to live for. She sensed that deep down he must know that, from the way his eyes had undressed her outside the hospital. But what was she suggesting and how far was she willing to go? What would Chris think if she arrived at his room like they had unfinished business between them?
Alison had raised the tablet to her lips a second time when she stopped again. She could phone Peadar and tell him the truth this time. But whatever feelings still existed between Chris and her were private. Peadar was a good man, never unfaithful to her. But she wasn’t Peadar, she was herself with her own needs, her own desires, her own decisions to make. Alison hurriedly threw on a sweatshirt and slacks, then checked the children. She would leave her own door open. That way Chris would know she could not stay.
The knock on his door was startlingly loud. She expected inquisitive heads to appear along the corridor. The second knock was louder but there was still no reply. She returned to her room and locked the door. Chris might be drinking in the Slaney Room now, oblivious to her, but still she couldn’t settle. Something told her he was dead already. When she closed her eyes she could picture his naked chest floating on the waves. Alison opened the French doors for some air. She stood at the curtain and looked
back at Shane who stirred slightly then settled again.
It was madness to leave them alone, to step from that room which contained her life. The gardens looked even darker than last night. A wind was up, tossing trees about. She fixed the curtains behind her, then closed the door, almost running on the gravel, blundering across the tennis courts. She grazed her knee on the steps, then stopped, unsure of which way to go. Lanterns among the bushes wove coloured patterns of shaky light, against a backdrop of vast shadows from waving branches. Her foot slipped into the water beside one of the golf holes. She fell with a muffled thud, trying not to shout. Complete darkness enveloped her. She had to navigate from memory, inching her way towards the wall by the stream to find the steps up onto the next tier. The boardwalk lay before her, with rope fencing protecting the sheer drop down onto the beach.
The crescent moon moved between wisps of cloud. The beach seemed deserted, with no trace of clothes, although the light was so poor that, at this distance, she couldn’t properly tell. Grains of blown sand hurt her eyes. She had to look away, then try to peer back down. The moonlight was clearer for an instant. A solitary set of footsteps led to the water’s edge. They become muddied in a churned circle of prints but no footsteps returned. She had almost turned away before a shape in the water caught her eye. But it wasn’t wading out into the waves, it was struggling inland. Chris Conway staggered and fell, being almost swept back out by the waves before he found his feet and stumbled up the sand.
He collapsed onto his knees with his head bent. At first Alison thought he was giving thanks, then, even at this distance, she realised he was cursing his own cowardice. His clothes and hair were drenched. He struggled to his feet and faced the waves again. Was it really this hard to die, even when you wanted to, when you had nothing left to live for? This wasn’t the first time he had tried to enter those waves. She knew that from how he stood, screaming in fury at them.
He looked back and she feared that he had seen her. But he was scrambling around, searching for stones. She watched him cram his jacket pockets with them. The tide was plunging in, already washing half his footprints away. He raised his head, then ran full pelt into the sea. When the waves reached his waist she saw him stop. She could almost sense his terror and self–disgust. What had she done with the lock of his hair? Every second of that day at Loughshinny flooded back to her, playing on the sand, both of them finding ways to touch as they pretended to throw one another into the waves. Everything building to a climax he could not deliver. Now here he was again, this time alone but still too scared to carry through his desire.
Temptation Page 17
