Binchy ( 2000 ) Scarlet Feather

by Maeve Binchy

  'Because if it was a regular friend, then he or she would know what the flat looked like already.' Cathy spoke as she would to Maud and Simon, very clearly but as if talking to an imbecile.

  He thought about this for a while. 'Long-lost friend is about the nearest,' he said.

  'About your age, as it happens, that's why—'

  'Man or woman?'

  'Well, a woman, as it happens.'

  'A few flowers. You can come and borrow some of our potted plants if you like. Some brightly coloured cushions… and take all those papers off the desk there, and get your music centre out from under all those folded magazines or cuttings or whatever.'

  'So what it needs is…'

  'Some sense of colour, of light, a feeling of hope, of somebody actually living here.' She walked around the room as she spoke.

  Then suddenly realised what she had just said. How she had been so destructive about the way he lived. Tears came to her eyes.

  'James, I'm so very sorry,' she said, coming over and touching his arm.

  'No, please.' He moved away. 'I asked your opinion and I got it; what is there to apologise for?' He spoke stiffly.

  'I have to apologise for that totally unnecessary harangue about your place, which is perfectly fine except that it needs a little more colour.'

  'Yes, quite.'

  'James, I'm so nervy and anxious that I have upset almost everyone I know these days. Please let me believe that I didn't offer you a lift and then come in here and add you to the list.' He lost his stiffness and relaxed his shoulders. 'Would you trust me to make us some tea?'

  'I'd love that.'

  Is it any one big problem, or a lot of middle-sized ones?'

  'It's a lot of very big ones actually, James, but do you know the way that if you don't admit them or acknowledge them they sort of go away… Well, not really go away, but you know

  'I know. They don't really go away but they do stay outside the door, at any rate.' He was sympathetic.

  'You're very kind, James, a restful type of person to be with. I'm sure your dinner will be a big success.'

  'I hope so, I really do. So much depends on it, you see.'

  And they drank their tea peacefully, neither asking the other any more questions.

  Back at the premises she found Tom curiously quiet. 'Anything more I should know about the wedding? Hit me with it if there is.'

  'No.' He was far away.

  'Right,' she said.

  He didn't answer. It was very unlike him to be so taciturn. He had a lot of papers on the worktop.

  'What are you working on?' she asked.

  'This and that,' he said.

  Marcella must have been in. She would go on as if nothing was wrong.

  'I was talking to that priest who's going to marry them. He said we must never lose faith in prayer, even in the darkest hour.'

  'Well let's hope he would say that; not much point in being in his particular line of business if he can't see a bit of light at the end of the tunnel.'

  'No, you don't understand. He thinks we are the answer to his prayer.' Cathy laughed.

  'Because we did up his mouldy old hall?'

  'Exactly, he has an asset on his hands now: the community will get new life, money will roll in for good things.'

  'Like statues, I suppose.' Tom was scornful.

  'I think not… He talked about old folks' outings, literacy classes.'

  'Sorry,' Tom said.

  'No, I'm just cheering myself up by saying that at least you and I are very important to some people, anyway.'

  He understood. 'Yeah, let's list them: the dopey priest who didn't know he had a community hall until we showed it to him. That's one.'

  'James Byrne is two. I had tea with him. The guest by the way is a woman my age, someone he hasn't seen for a long time.'

  'Let's see,' said Tom. 'Mad Minnie, because we scrape bits of casserole into her dishes for her.'

  'Nonsense, we give her gorgeous food and keep her marriage going, but you're right, that's three.'

  'June. We keep her from killing Jimmy. Four Tom said.

  'Con, or is that pushing it?'

  'No,' Tom said, 'we are important to Con. That's five.'

  'We could easily get to a dozen if we talked about satisfied clients. We could even get out a bit of paper and write them down,' Cathy said.

  'Or we could do what you want me to do and get back to work,' he said with a laugh, and put the bits of paper away.

  Cathy saw the words 'Dear Marcella' written on one of them. Things were very bad for poor Tom, much worse than they were for her. Without intending to, Cathy gave him a hug. She just came up behind him and threw her arms around his neck.

  'See, we are important to lots of people,' she said.

  To her surprise, he grasped her hands and held them to his chest.

  'God, I hope so, Cathy, I hope so,' he said and his face moved around a little so that they were cheek to cheek.

  Lizzie now had daily messages from Chicago about the upcoming visit and wedding. 'They sound very nice people, Harry's family. I hope they won't be disappointed in us,' she confided to her sister Geraldine. Apparently Marian had asked to see a video of the twins dancing. When she had asked for dancers she had really meant professional dancers, rather than children of Cathy's in-laws. She wanted to be sure that they were up to standard. Geraldine and Lizzie looked at each other in disbelief.

  'Tell her they're brilliant and the video is on its way,' Geraldine said.

  'But will we have to get one?'

  'Certainly not, that's just today's worry. She'll have forgotten it tomorrow.'

  'But suppose they're not good enough?'

  'Lizzie, for God's sake, if they're like two blind elephants they're going to dance, you know that and I know it, and anyway Marian will be so crazed with excitement on her wedding day she'll think they're marvellous, believe me.

  '

  'Cathy, you do realise you have taken on three weddings, not one, don't you?'

  'It's under control, Neil.'

  'It's not. If it were under control you would not be filling the freezer at eleven o'clock at night.'

  'Only four more trays of these; I will rest when the wedding's over, I promise.'

  'And the doctor, what does he say about it?'

  'He's easy,' Cathy said, not exactly truthfully, but she had to do her bit; the others were working flat out.

  Neil shook his head. 'Even Sara said you were doing too much in your condition.'

  'You told Sara?' She was shocked.

  'Hon, I had to tell her. She wanted me to join up for a big conference in England next year, I had to explain why I couldn't be a part of it.'

  'Yeah, sure.'

  'So she was concerned that you were working so hard.'

  'What did she say when you told her the news?'

  'She was very surprised, as it happens.'

  'Why was she so surprised? It is something that happens to couples.'

  'I know, Cathy, don't snap at me.'

  'Sorry. It's just that I have to keep walking round you.'

  'Oh, yes,' he moved slightly.

  'Well she was surprised because I had told her a couple of weeks ago that we were never going to have children.'

  'You talk about a lot of intimate things with Sara, don't you?'

  'Not really, only when things have to be told, and talking about that, really, don't you think we should tell Mother and Father?'

  'No, not until after the wedding, it's only a few days. Not until then, and… Neil could you ever stand somewhere that's not directly in my path to the freezer, and if you do want to help, perhaps you could slide that in for me.' She smiled at him brightly. 'Thanks a million, this will speed us up no end,' she said.

  'Drink that milk at your peril, Walter,' Kenneth Mitchell warned. 'Sergeant Sara could materialise at any moment to see if there's enough calcium in their diet.'

  'Where are they?' Walter asked.

  'Where
do you think? Up with those people in that housing development, dancing like complete idiots for a crowd of halfwits.'

  'Neil is going to make a speech at that wedding,' Walter said.

  'Nonsense,' his father said.

  I'm only telling you what they said.'

  'But what on earth would he be doing, visiting and speechifying with those Mutties and people like that?'

  'They are his in-laws, I suppose.' Walter shrugged.

  'She's a common, pushy girl that Cathy, not worth considering.'

  'You shouldn't underestimate her, Father. Great mistake to underrate her because of her accent, believe me, I know.'

  He did know. He had never believed that Cathy would go the distance that night when there had been the incident at the party. And he couldn't believe that her business was still up and running after his visit.

  'Shona!'

  'Lord, you look a busy shopper, Cathy. What have you got in all those bags?'

  'You name it. Mainly material to make aprons; we're going to have to wear aprons with shamrocks on them, apparently; I keep waking up at night and seeing a great page of a calendar saying August Nineteen, August Nineteen in red neon lights. Will it ever be over, Shona, will it ever, ever be over?'

  'August the nineteenth, you don't mean that you're going to be there?' She looked as white as a sheet.

  'Of course I am, aren't I, cooking the whole damn thing.'

  'He said there wasn't going to be anyone else, he wrote that he was cooking it all by himself.'

  'Shona, what are we talking about?' Cathy asked her.

  'What are you talking about?'

  'My sister's wedding, three endless days of it. What were you talking about?'

  'Sorry, I just thought for a moment… No, it's nothing… I've been invited out on August the nineteenth, and I thought you might be cooking for that.'

  'Oh really, where?'

  'No, just to a private house… I thought that by some chance you might be doing the dinner.'

  'No, I wish I were, it sounds nice and peaceful.'

  'I wouldn't bet on that,' Shona said.

  As Cathy left the store she wondered could Shona possibly be going to dinner with James Byrne? His party was on the nineteenth. He had said that his guest was about the same age as Cathy. But how could Shona be a long-lost friend? Anyway, this wasn't a village, this was Dublin, city of a million people. She was foolish to think that she knew everyone in the pond. And she had quite enough to worry about without drawing something still further on herself. Tonight, Wednesday, Marian and Harry were leaving Chicago, they would be here tomorrow morning. Their room was gleaming for them in St Jarlath's Crescent, Cathy remembered that nobody must sew the new aprons in front of them, or allow Simon and Maud anywhere near them. Tomorrow night, Thursday, the rest of the Chicagoans, dozens and dozens of them, were coming to various hotels near the city centre. They would all arrive on Friday morning. She felt dizzy thinking about it.

  Harry was a small, round man with a head of dark curly hair and a great warm laugh.

  'Muttie, I want you to know that I'm going to look after your little girl,' he said with a strong handshake.

  'From all accounts you've been looking after her fine for a good while now,' said Muttie.

  And the two men understood each other immediately. It turned out that Harry liked dogs and horses, and Muttie, who read more of the sports pages than people thought, knew all about the Chicago Bears. Marian was so excited she almost had to be tied to the table, she kept darting everywhere, saying she had no idea St Jarlath's Crescent was so small, so colourful, so elegant really. She couldn't believe the traffic, the number of posh cars parked outside the doors of the street where she had grown up. The fact that two of them, Geraldine's BMW and Cathy's Volvo, were connected with this house brought her further pleasure… She was not at all the neurotic, hysterical sister who had plagued them for weeks and months by phone, e-mail and fax. Her wedding dress was unpacked and admired, her ring was tried on by all the women, her choice of husband praised to the skies.

  'Where is he, by the way?' Cathy asked.

  'He's gone off. Dad said he'd show him his office and get him a pint.'

  'You know what your father means by his office.' Lizzie was still fearful of how all this would turn out.

  'Oh, Mam, I've been away, that's true, but not so long that I don't know where my da's office is. Harry loves a bet just like the next man; he'd much prefer to be there than here talking about clothes.' Marian looked happy and relaxed; she looked younger than her thirty years, her hair was short, she was trim and fit, and her eyes were alight with happiness.

  'Do you want me to take you on a tour, to show you where all the parties will be? Of course, they're not properly set up yet, but you'd get an idea,' Cathy offered.

  'Not at all, Cathy, I can see you've got it all under control,' Marian said, and Cathy breathed normally for the first time in a few weeks.

  'Tom Feather, my old friend, how are you?' Harry clenched Tom's hand at the pre-wedding party with a mighty grip.

  'Look, not a sign of a speakeasy,' Tom hissed at him as he took the groom on a tour of Ricky's basement.

  'And I got my folks to understand about the corned beef,' Harry whispered.

  'Are there any pitfalls we should know about?' Tom asked him. He felt he could trust this man to the ends of the earth.

  'My aunt over there, small, hatchet-faced, wearing purple -nothing has ever pleased her in this life… Nothing ever will…

  Oh, and Cathy's eldest brother Mike's been put off the sauce recently, finds it very hard.'

  'Thanks a lot. Let me see what I can tell you. Lizzie's not used to too much sherry,Muttie likes pints, the woman in the cardigan is a plain-clothes nun. And don't let the kids dance tonight or the party will be over, tomorrow is quite enough.'

  Fine. My card is marked, and Tom, do you have a significant other here that I should meet?'

  'No, I've just broken up with my significant other,' Tom said ruefully.

  'I'm sorry. Her doing or your doing?'

  'Have you three hours and I'll tell you,' Tom grinned. 'No, seriously, a bit of both, I believe.'

  'Right, then you'll survive,' Harry promised.

  And for the first time since the night of the fashion show, Tom felt that somehow he might.

  They were back at the premises, and Neil apologised for not being able to come back to help. There was something tomorrow, papers he had to go through.

  'Where's Marcella? She should be on board for something like this.'

  'Marcella's not on board at all these days,' Tom said.

  'I'm very sorry.' Neil looked at Cathy accusingly, as if to say he should have been told this piece of information.

  'Yes, I'm sorry, I should have told you, Neil, but then I didn't know if it was going to be a long-term or a short-term break…'

  'None of us knew that,' June interrupted cheekily. 'But it's been a few weeks now, and no sign of her, so we think he's on the market again.' She winked at Lucy, the student who was working with them that night. 'What would you say, Lucy?'

  'Oh, definitely open season on Tom, I'd say,' Lucy said. 'Why else do you think I agreed to work here?'

  And as they worked on companionably to get everything done in readiness for the morning, Cathy glanced at Tom from time to time. He did seem to be less drawn and sad. Perhaps he was getting over her. But maybe it was an act. People who were as involved as Marcella and Tom didn't just part without a great deal of heartbreak. Wherever she was tonight, the silly girl would be thinking of big, handsome Torn Feather with his warm, loving ways. Cathy was thinking that she had never come across anyone so perpetetually good-natured when she heard him saying, ' I wonder, has that aunt of Harry's got any allergies? Maybe we could feed her nuts or magic mushrooms or something tomorrow, and kill her before she does any more damage.'

  'She asked me to bring her up and out into the fresh air, and then to bring her back down again,' Con said.
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  'She told me I needed a good girdle…' said June.

  'She's lonely, and old and frightened, just be nice to her,' Cathy said.

  They all looked at her in amazement.

  'Why are you taking that attitude?' June was astounded.

  'Because Tom, for once, isn't, and somebody round here has to play the role of angel if we're going to keep this company on the road,' Cathy said.

  The wedding day, 19 August, was a beautiful sunny day, which nobody could have guaranteed. The priest was warm and welcoming, which might not have been the case in every single parish church in the country. The congregation had assembled in plenty of time, and all the women wore hats in honour of the occasion. Harry stood there beaming as Muttie and Marian walked up the aisle. Slow, measured steps, not scuttling. It was a miracle. Lizzie looked like someone who could have been photographed at the races for the Best-Dressed Lady, in an elegant grey silk outfit and a smart black hat. Geraldine, who had hired hats for all of them, wore an apricot suit, and Cathy stood beside her in the silk dress she had bought the week before in Haywards.

  Neil had his best appearing-in-the-High-Court suit on to impress the in-laws. Soon, soon they would be finished with all this. He would take a day or two off and they would rest and talk about the future. He had promised this. Just as soon as Marian's wedding was over. In spite of herself, Cathy felt the tears come down her face when she saw Maud and Simon walking as solemnly as if their very lives depended on it behind the bride and Muttie. They were so good. Why had she thought they might behave stupidly and let everyone down? Their hair shining, their little kilts immaculate, their ordinary shoes polished to the highest degree. And she sniffed seriously when she heard Harry and Marian, who had been living together happily in Chicago for ages now, exchange their vows. For the first time she wished that she and Neil had organised something bigger and more celebratory themselves for their wedding day. But at that time to get married at all had been such a victory.

  The church hall where they had the wedding feast looked magnificent, draped in ribbons and greenery and flowers. When the church was emptied June and Con were sent in to bring the flowers out quickly from the altar to the top table. There was a glass of champagne offered as soon as the guests came in the door. Tom took charge of Mike, the brother who found being on the dry a problem.