by Maeve Binchy
When the demonstration was over, Clara got a message to call her daughter Adi.
“Sorry, Mam. I was talking to Linda about something else and she said we're both to call you ‘Clara from now on. Is that right or is it just Linda being cracked?”
“It's Linda being cracked. She's calling me Clara. I said that was fine with me if she had something worthwhile to say. Do you know she said that the grand reception we're organizing here was a cake sale?” Clara's face got red with anger again.
“Yeah, she knows that was a mistake. She doesn't listen, Mam, that's all.”
“She'll need to learn to listen someday,” Clara said.
“She's sorry. She's cooking a dinner tonight to try and make it up, buying the things herself. It's so rare, Mam, I think we should sort of be there.”
“I don't want to sit and watch Linda mess up my kitchen and then say I'm organizing a cake sale.”
“She'll never say that again, Mam.”
“I don't want to go. Honestly, I don’t feel like it. And look at all the times Lady Linda has done or hasn't done things because of how she feels!”
“Oh, Mam, I'm having a bad day too, and I had to persuade Gerry to come.”
“Well, exactly.” Clara felt a surge of affection for the silent Gerry.
“No, that's not it, Mam. How will there ever be peace of any kind unless four people can sit down to a one-off meal made by Linda?”
“She'll have things that you and Gerry won't eat,” Clara countered.
“No, she won't. She checked with me. It sounds lovely: chickpeas and tomatoes and garlic and things.”
“Terrific,” Clara said.
“And she's getting you a fillet steak. And Gerry and I aren't to start wrinkling up our noses at it and talking about dead animals, and we've all agreed to that.”
“I don't want steak. I'll eat her bloody chickpeas!” Clara roared as she slammed down the phone.
To her annoyance she saw that Frank Ennis was watching her from the door with a smile on his face. “Sorry, Frank, a bit of a domestic,” she said, trying to make light of it.
“No, no, please. I'm just glad to see that you lose your temper with other people as well as with me,” he said and left.
“Take no notice,” Hilary said. “He's just trying to get at you.”
“I know,” Clara said.
“I know, Clara, I know. Ania's gone out to get us a nice healthy lunch.”
“I don't want a nice healthy lunch. I want a plate of French fries followed by an ice cream and washed down with a huge gin and tonic.”
“Kindly remember where you are, Clara. You'll get a salad sandwich on wholemeal with a piece of fruit.”
“It still won't bring down my blood pressure,” Clara said. “The drug that could combat Linda Casey hasn't been invented yet.”
• • •
Clara brought a bottle of wine to the feast.
Linda looked very pleased and said there was no need, but she opened it immediately, so it was obviously better than what she had bought herself.
She had to admit that Linda had made an effort. There was a bowl of crudités on the table with a series of dips. Linda had chopped all those vegetables up herself. She had warmed up some healthy, stone-ground bread. She bent, flushed and worried, over her casserole. The main course was surprisingly good and she had made coffee to serve with the fruit platter afterward. Nobody, not a cardiologist or two vegetarians, could have anything but praise and support.
Clara was about to tell a story about Hilary at the clinic, and then she remembered that if their plot was to work Linda and Nick must never know that the two women were friends. So instead she asked about the record shop and was surprised to hear that Linda had been promoted and asked to expand a section on jazz.
She had been about to say, “I never knew that you knew anything about any kind of music.” Instead she said, “That's good. Nice to see your interests being rewarded.” And she saw her elder daughter smile at her approvingly. Peace had been created, for a time anyway, in their kitchen.
After dinner there was a surprise call from Alan. Clara had been expecting some calls about the reception, so she answered the phone.
“Oh, hello, love. Are you on your own?” he said.
“No, Alan, we're having a family dinner.”
“Family?” he asked, startled.
“Yes, Alan. Our two daughters, Adi and Linda, and Adi's boyfriend, Gerry. You do remember them, I hope?” She could hear the others giggling behind her.
“Don't be such a bitch, Clara!”
“Sorry?”
“So smart-arsed,” he said.
“No, I mean, sorry, Alan, did you want something?”
“I did, but no, not with you in that mood.”
“Right, another time then.” She was about to hang up.
“Clara, please. Please!”
“What, Alan?”
“Can you come and meet me somewhere?”
“Not tonight, as I said. Another time.”
“I need to talk tonight.”
“I can't tonight. The evening isn't over yet, and anyway, I've had some wine so I can't drive. Give me a ring at work one morning.”
“She's thrown me out,” he said.
“Cinta? Never!”
“Yes, I'm afraid.”
“But the baby, it must be nearly due now?”
“In two weeks. But she's giving it away to her sister who can't have children.”
“But, Alan, that's your baby too.”
“Do you think that's making a blind bit of difference? She says that I didn't get divorced in time to be married for the child's birth and so I have no say.”
“But that's not fair. You started the divorce proceedings once you knew she was pregnant.”
“Yes, around then. More or less.”
“So are you going to let her give your child away?”
“What choice have I, Clara? She holds all the cards.”
“And has she found somebody else?”
“No. No way. She's going to study, she says, and needs her freedom.”
“And did this all come out of a clear blue sky?”
“To me it did,” Alan said sadly.
“Well, to whom did it not?”
“To my friends, our friends, anyone who knows her. There was a bit of a misunderstanding about something a couple of weeks back, but I thought it was all done and dusted. Apparently she was brooding about it. How was I to know?”
“Poor Alan.” She was actually sorry for him.
“So I was wondering …”
“No, Alan.”
“We are still man and wife. It's still my home.”
“Nonsense, Alan, there was a separation agreement. The divorce will be through shortly. You have no more right to come here than you have to go and stay with the president of Ireland up at Phoenix Park.”
There was a silence at his end.
“I wish you luck,” she said.
“I have nowhere to go, Clara.”
“Good night, Alan.”
The girls were looking at her with curiosity. Gerry had tactfully started doing the washing-up.
The questions hung in the air. Clara knew she must answer them somehow. He was their father: she mustn't be too flip and dismissive.
“It's complicated,” she began. “Your father doesn't change.”
“So he was caught at it again,” Linda suggested.
“Apparently,” Clara said.
“Will you take him back, Mam?” Adi asked.
“No, Adi. No, I won't.”
“And his baby?” Linda asked.
“Is being given away to the bimbo's sister.”
“And Dad isn't…” Adi could hardly believe any of this.
“No, darling, he isn't. It was different with you two. He really loves you both. Yes, in his funny, mad, complicated way he does love you.”
“And does he love you, Mam?” Adi asked.
“He lov
es the memory of me. He loves what I was twenty-something years ago. It's a kind of love.”
Linda spoke. “Clara's right. Alan is who he is. The sooner we all accept that then the sooner we can all move on.”
Clara stood up. “Talking of moving on, I suggest we have a liqueur as my treat. I think we've all earned it.” And she closed the curtains in case Alan drove by and looked in the window. He was a fool, but she didn't want to make his life a misery seeing what really had turned out to be a happy family dinner taking place in the household he had walked out of, causing so much pain and upset all those years ago.
“More cheerful?” Hilary asked the next day.
“Much, thank you. I'm sorry for being like a bear yesterday.”
“No, you were like a cabaret. Was the meal bearable?”
“It was great. Alan rang up in the middle of it to say his bimbo has thrown him out and is giving away their baby. And, as it happens, Linda made a huge effort to be normal and almost succeeded. I enjoyed it.”
“Well, now!” Hilary was surprised.
“So much so that I think all that's wrong with her is she hasn't met the right man yet.”
“ Clara! You and I are the old guard. We've spent years saying that we mustn't be measured by the man that we happen to have caught. What's happening to the sisterhood if you weaken?” Hilary was outraged.
“I'm not weakening for the sisterhood, only for Linda. Let's have dinner in the Italian place tonight and we'll plot the whole thing.”
“Tonight?”
“Go on, it's not as if either of us has anything else to do,” Clara said.
“You really have a way of making a girl feel special,” said Hilary. Then they got down to work.
Alan rang during the day and Ania took the call.
“Hold on, Mr. Casey, and I'll see if she's free. She was in a consultation .” Clara shook her head. “No, I'm sorry, it's going to go on for some time. Shall I tell her that you called?”
“Don't bother. She doesn't care. If she had cared about anything she would have called me. Good-bye,” he said.
Ania repeated it slowly to Clara.
“Sorry, Ania, to involve you in such childish behavior from people who should be well past that.”
“Oh, Clara, if you knew how important I feel here. To be able to be a part of everyone's lives. It gives me great…wait…wait… I know the words …self-esteem.”
“Your English has come on so well. They wouldn't know you back home!”
“Yes. I met somebody from home. He could not believe it. He knew nothing. It was very satisfying.”
“Was he a boyfriend?” Clara asked.
“One time, yes, I think, or maybe he never was a boyfriend. Maybe it was all in my own mind. But now it's over. You know when something is really over, don't you?” She looked inquiringly at Clara.
“Yes, indeed you do. The trick is not to feel sorry for the person.”
“No. In my case this would never happen,” Ania said very seriously.
Clara hoped she was equally certain. She had been feeling something dangerously like sympathy for Alan since last night. She wondered where he had slept. And what he had done that Cinta had discovered.
“So, let's approach this like a problem in the clinic. Something that has to be solved before Frank gets wind of it.” Clara opened the discussion at the Italian restaurant.
“Nick is a bit of a dreamer, very easygoing—too easygoing. You'd need to light a fire under him.” Hilary put her cards on the table. “He has no get-up-and-go. He plays in this club. He wouldn't go to university, said it was too expensive for me, and so he taught kids the piano and the guitar and then has played forever in this dead-end club.”
“Is it dead-end or is it just somewhere you and I wouldn't go to in a million years?” Clara asked.
“I think it's dead-end. They're always worried that they won't be able to keep up the lease. There are no crowds. No breakthroughs, or whatever people have in the movies, yet he turns up there night after night. He's very vague when I ask him how many people were there. He says there were plenty and they liked the music. He gets what they call a percentage of the door, which means, I think, a fifth of what they take in when people pay five euros to come in. But it's never very much. He makes up the rest by teaching.”
“And now to be truthful about Linda. Even though she was terrific last night, she is a very self-centered little madam. She thinks a pair of shoes that costs a week's wage would be good value. Good value! Where is she coming from? She thinks the world owes her something. Maybe we shouldn't unload her on your boy!”
“He's been well able to let other girls disappear from his life. We needn't worry about him being overwhelmed.”
“But how could they meet?” Clara puzzled.
“If we introduce them, it's over before it begins,” Hilary agreed.
“So how can they get together?” Clara wondered. “Suppose Linda were to get free tickets for Nick's club?”
“No, she wouldn't go. She'd smell a rat. Or if she did go, she wouldn't necessarily meet him,” Hilary objected.
Clara was not going to give up. “What can we do, then?”
“Could we get Nick a voucher for the record store where Linda works?” Hilary asked.
“Wouldn't work. He could go to the wrong assistant or it might be a day she wasn't on. You'd actually need a degree in some kind of higher mathematics to work out her shifts,” Clara said, still mystified by her daughter.
“There has to be a casual way. Could we ask them to come to the clinic, do you think?” Hilary said.
“And then they'd see the two of us old crones cackling with laughter and they would both leave in disgust,” Clara said.
“But suppose they didn't see us? Suppose they came and we weren't there and they had to talk to each other,” Hilary persisted.
“Ah, come on, Hilary. How could we get them to the clinic and not be there? Think of a way and if you can, then I'll buy it.”
“What if we were to invite them to the reception …” Hilary began.
“No. They'd regard it as a chore.” Clara was definite.
“But suppose they were the only kindred spirits there. They might fall on each other.”
“We can't introduce them,” Clara said.
“I know, of course, it can't be you and me. But suppose Ania did it?”
“She wouldn't carry it off,” Clara said.
“If there was only something that could get us out of the scene there,” Hilary said.
“I know. We'll get drunk,” Clara said, her eyes shining.
“Now?” Hilary was alarmed.
“No, you clown. At the reception.”
“Excuse me, did you say that you and I should get drunk at this reception, which has been breaking our hearts for weeks? Drunk? Is that what you said?”
“Not really drunk. Not drunk drunk. Just pretending.”
Hilary emptied her glass of wine. “That's a good idea, you think, to pretend to be drunk at this, our big showpiece night? Drunk in front of people like Frank Ennis, like the whole hospital board. In front of whoever the minister of health sends. In front of the cardiologists. In front of the media. Clara, are you insane?”
“No one will see,” Clara said cheerfully. “Everyone else will think we are sober. Only Nick and Linda will think we're drunk.”
Hilary attracted the waiter's attention.
“Can we have another bottle of Pinot Grigio? Things have taken a turn for the worse here.”
Linda was pleased with the way the dinner party had gone. Clara had been very pleasant. She had produced a bottle of Cointreau and four little glasses. She had coped well with Alan on the phone. She had told them funny stories.
If only she could be like that all the time, it might be bearable to live at home. Odd that she had been so interested in the record store and how they had asked Linda to be in charge of the jazz section. She had been really surprised by that and wanted to know more. And t
he dreaded Gerry had been helpful and did the washing-up, which was useful when Mam, well, Clara as she now was, wanted to tell them their dad loved them. Maybe he did in his own mad dadlike way.
“Nick, you know this big reception we're going to be having at the clinic?” Hilary asked.
“Of course I do, Mam. Have you talked of anything else?”
“It's important. Sorry to go on about it.”
“No, that's fine. I just wonder why this Clara person doesn't take more interest in it. It's meant to be her show, isn't it?”
“Oh, she does work at it, in her own way,” Hilary said.
“Do you like her? As a person?”
“I don't know her very well. She's very efficient, certainly,” Hilary said, stifling her sense of disloyalty.
“Yeah, like Attila the Hun.” Nick grinned.
“I suppose.”
“So what were you going to tell me about the reception?” Nick asked.
“Oh, it was nothing really.”
“Mam! What was it?”
“I just wanted to tell you the date and I wanted a small favor.”
“Say it.” He was such a good-tempered boy. She hated all this subterfuge.
“Well, on the night I'll have to socialize with people and have a glass of wine with this one and that one. I shouldn't take the car and, Nick, I was wondering if you could come and pick me up at about nine o'clock?”
“Sure I will,” he said agreeably.
“It's just that would make me feel much better,” Hilary said.
“I'll be there, but where's the problem? Couldn't you just have called a taxi or something?”
“I could have, but it makes me look a bit lonely and sad. I'd love my nice son to come and pick me up.”
“I'll be there, Mam.”
“I'm not interfering? Upsetting a date or anything?”
“You know me, Mam. It'll have to be a very speedy girl to catch me.” He laughed.
“I mean it. We all hope to meet someone we like. I don't want to stand in your way.”
“You don't, Mam. You never did. Maybe I'm not the kind of guy anyone would fancy long term.”
“Oh, well, we'll see,” Hilary said.
“Adi, should we do something about Clara's reception?” Linda asked.
“What can we do?” Adi wondered.
