by Maeve Binchy
“…and she saw the sense of that.”
“She does know how to get cheap flights online …”
“We went down to the Aghia Anna Beach Hotel and showed her how to get online. The manager says he'll boot her up.”
“So there shouldn't be any problem.”
“And of course, it sorted out our career,” Simon said.
“We know now what we want to do,” Maud said.
“And what's that exactly?” Declan asked.
“We are going to be in the catering industry,” Simon said proudly as if he was about to open his restaurant that night.
Fiona told Ania all about the Greek feast the next day as they were getting the treatment rooms ready.
“They sound wonderful,” Ania said.
“It's better than being at a play, watching them. They've decided to go into catering and they're going to do some kind of night lectures and then learn all that can be taught while actually on the job. Their cousin-in-law runs this company, Scarlet Feather, and they're going to get some practice there.”
“Scarlet Feather! It is the catering company that is doing the food for Carl's parents’ ruby wedding!” Ania was pleased to be part of things.
“Well, you might even meet them there, or maybe it's too important a do for them to let Maud and Simon loose on it.”
“Oh, I haven't been invited,” Ania said.
“But you will be. You're Carl's girlfriend.”
“I am Carl's friend, yes, and I am a girl, yes, but I am not a girlfriend,” Ania said. “I do not want to raise my hopes too high.”
“But he comes in to teach you English once a week. He always talks to you when he's here with his father. You and he have been to art galleries and museums and the theater.” Fiona was confused.
“That's only to make me less stupid. Less thick,” Ania said.
Fiona suddenly wished that Declan hadn't said that they would go to this bloody party. If Ania wasn't there it would be like an act of betrayal. Then on her way out to lunch, Fiona saw Carl Walsh coming in. She debated asking him whether or not Ania was being invited to the ruby wedding. But suppose the answer was no? Anyway, she mustn't try to play God. It wasn't her business.
“What will people give to your parents as gifts on their ruby wedding day?” Ania asked Carl.
“Red glass, apparently. Some of them are getting together in groups. There's going to be a Bohemian glass decanter and six wineglasses—that's from one group. Red coffee cups from another. And another are getting two huge salad bowls. It's all nonsense really—they have enough dishes and glass to last them the rest of their lives.”
“Perhaps their friends want to celebrate,” Ania suggested. “You live in a happier, more honest world,” Carl said to her. “This is all to show off the house, the caterers, the view, everything.”
“But people will have a good time? Yes?”
“Er …well…you will have a good time, I hope …”
“I am to be invited?” Ania's eyes were bright with excitement. “Of course. You're my great friend, aren't you?”
“I will receive an invitation, like the other guests?”
“Yes, if you want one, Ania. But I always assumed you were going to come. I can't do it without you.”
“Thank you so much, Carl. I was afraid, well, you know … I didn't really think…”
“Just think how miserable I would be there if I didn't have you to talk to.”
“But you will need to be talking with your parents’ friends, passing the drinks, making the conversation.”
“Just making conversation, not the conversation …” He always corrected her gently and she tried hard to remember each time.
“It will be wonderful,” she said happily. “I will make good conversation to people and I will dress well to do you credit.”
“You couldn't notdo me credit,” he said, and he looked at her for a long time over their tomato sandwiches until eventually he broke the moment and got out the English grammar book to carry on where they had left off last time.
The days passed quickly then. Ania got yet another job. She needed extra money to pay for her dress. Not one cent of her savings would be taken from the fund she was building up for her mamusia.
While clearing tables and collecting glasses, she came across a Chinese man who was offering a boy the chance to work four hours a week helping to weed and replant window boxes in a big apartment block. The boy said the hours didn't suit, so Ania offered to do it. She was astounded at the luxury of these sea-view apartments as she went in and out of the lavish places. It wasn't far from where the Walshes lived. In fact she passed their house every time she went out that way to the tree-lined roads of the coast.
She wore cheap cotton gloves and covered her hands in Vaseline. Yes, it was a job, and a good one, but she didn't want to go to this great party with rough hands full of earth and soil. The Chinese man, whose name was Mr. Chen, was silent and helpful. She learned quickly, turning the soil, feeding the plants and replacing those that had been allowed to die of neglect. She also had a tin of white paint to touch up the window boxes where they were showing wear and tear.
Ania looked in wonder at the stylish furnishings in the apartments: the elegant chairs and the padded window seats, where the owners could sit and look out at the sea. It was a different world from her own. When she woke up in her flat she saw rooftops from the small window. There were no window boxes, no wide marble stairs with great fern planters on the landings. But Ania hadn't any sense of envy. All these people, or at least their parents, must have worked hard to get such great wealth. It was open to anyone who might work.
And then Barbara and Fiona took her to their favorite thrift shops to find something to wear for the party. They moved confidently through the rails of clothes, offering a garment here and there. But Ania shook her head. They were too short, too tight, too revealing. Too much like the clothes that Marek had wanted her to wear in the Bridge Café to attract the clients to come and dance. She just shook her head.
“God, if I looked like you, I'd wear that,” Barbara said, looking admiringly at a black leather dress with metal decorations.
“Why don't you wear it?” Ania asked.
“Because I couldn't squeeze my huge bosoms into it.”
“I would so love to have huge bosoms,” Ania said.
“It's a known fact that no woman is satisfied with the size of her breasts,” Fiona said sagely.
“But you, Fiona? You don't want different bosoms surely?” Ania was startled.
“Indeed I do, and so does everyone in this shop. But the main thing is not to spend any time worrying about it. What about this red dress? It would look terrific on you.”
“It has no sleeves and I have arms like the little matchsticks.”
“Do you know what would be lovely?” Barbara was thoughtful. “If we could just find someone who can sew, they could put lovely lacy sleeves onto that red dress and it would be perfect.”
“Sew? I can sew,” Ania said.
And soon they had found an old lace blouse which Ania said would be child's play to unpick to make sleeves for the dress.
“We'll knock that awful Mrs. Walsh's eyes right into the back of her head,” Fiona said triumphantly.
“No, no. Don't say that. She has been kind. She invited me.”
Ania would not be brought down. This had been a wonderful visit. The cost had been tiny. Ania still had money for a hairdo. Things were really looking up.
Dearest Mamusia,
It is one a.m. and I am sewing lace sleeves on to a red dress. I wish I were with you and you could show me how to make the best use of the material I have.
You know this nice young man called Carl who helps me to learn English, I have often written to you about him, his father is a patient here at the clinic; well, his parents are forty years married, which is a ruby wedding and they have invited me to their house, which is a big white mansion near the sea coast. And I have been
asked to the celebration. It's very exciting and I will tell you all about it. Say a prayer for me so that I don't do anything foolish and silly.
Father Flynn is doing up the hall where I made the curtains and tablecloths. He thinks we might have weddings there. A Polish priest will come to do the marriage service and we will provide the food and entertainment. Perhaps if one day I marry an Irish man, the wedding will be there and you and Mrs. źak and everyone can come from Poland to dance at the wedding feast. But I do not think it will happen soon.
I love you always and think of you every day.
Your fond daughter,
Ania
Cathy and Tom Feather looked around the house. It was as airy and elegant as they would have expected from the outside. But they were more interested in working out the technicalities: where to park the catering vans so that they were not too obvious, where they would set up the bar, would the guests have their drinks out on the big balcony, which room to set up the coat rails. They checked the guest bathroom and the tables and chairs for the guests to sit.
Mrs. Walsh asked questions with a slight whine in her voice. “How many staff will you have?” Her husband was in a chair with a stick beside him; he was so full of smiles and enthusiasm, it almost made up for the wife.
“We will both be here with a barperson and a waiter and also you will be glad to know we have two trainees, excellent young people, so they will be here as backup.” Cathy managed to be both calming and efficient, but Rosemary Walsh was determined to find fault.
“We thought we were paying for a professional service.” The whine in her voice had become more pronounced.
“And indeed we will offer you a highly professional service, Mrs. Walsh. The Mitchell twins will be here to observe: they will stay in the background, take coats, help with parking. Very often a hostess likes extra hands to pass around canapés at the start of an evening to break the ice. We thought you would be delighted to have two extra people at no extra cost.”
Rosemary Walsh felt she was being corrected, very politely, but it annoyed her.
“Yes, well, it's just this is the last big party we will have,” she began.
“Oh, never say that, Mrs. Walsh. There's the golden wedding, and then you might have a wedding in the family, a christening. There's always a reason for a party.”
“I doubt if we'll see our fiftieth, Ms. Feather, and we only have a son, so any wedding will be his bride's department—if he ever finds a bride. So let's concentrate heavily on the party in hand.”
“Indeed, and it will be a pleasure to help at such a happy occasion,” said Cathy Feather soothingly. She wondered over and over how it was that women like this often ended up with kind men and huge houses and enough money to host a party for seventy people. In several years of catering, it was a thought that had crossed her mind more than once.
Simon and Maud tried on their uniform: the shirts with SCARLET FEATHER on them, the smart black trousers. They were told they must have very clean nails and Maud's hair must be tied well back. They stood and watched in the kitchen as the canapés were assembled. Over and over they repeated what each one contained.
“This is a shortcrust pastry boat with asparagus and hollandaise sauce,” Maud pronounced.
“These are choux pastry with a slice of rare beef and served with a horseradish and cream sauce,” Simon said.
“Suppose someone asks you what's in a kir royale?” Cathy asked. They looked at each other blankly.
“I'd say we'd ask the barperson,” Maud said.
“I'd say it was a mystery ingredient,” Simon said firmly.
“Wiser to know what it is,” Cathy suggested. “Here, look at these bottles: this is crème de cassis, and this is an inferior Champagne.”
“But we don't tellthem it's inferior, do we?” Maud asked.
“No, indeed you do not. I think you two will be great. Tom and I will have to watch out for our own business when you get started …” The twins grinned at the compliment.
On the day of the ruby wedding, the weather was perfect. A warm day with a little breeze coming in from the sea.
“Didn't we make a wise choice all those years ago, Rosemary?” Bobby Walsh said as he gave her a ruby necklace.
“Yes, we did, Bobby.” And for once her voice was soft.
Carl was coming to take them both out for a light lunch in a smart place. These catering people seemed to know what they were doing, even though Rosemary thought that woman had a bit too much attitude. Rosemary's hairdresser was coming to the house at three o'clock. It was all going according to plan.
Other people were getting ready for the party too. Fiona and Declan were doing a fashion parade for Molly. Declan was wearing his very smart jacket, dark green and well cut. Fiona looked very chic in her own outfit. It was a very bright orange-and-red silk dress worn with a demure black jacket. Ania had been able to make her a matching silk flower to pin on the jacket. It looked like a designer outfit.
“The shoes will crucify me, but it'll be worth it,” she said.
“Why not wear ones you're more comfortable in?” Declan suggested, but his mother and girlfriend didn't even dignify this with an answer.
Then their taxi arrived and they set off to pick up Ania. She had said she would be standing on the corner of her street.
When the taxi drove around the corner they saw a little crowd. Johnny was there; a priest, whom they had met briefly, was part of the group; Ania's friend Lidia and Tim. She was getting a great send off.
She looked stunning with her shiny black hair, her dancing eyes and the red dress, which fitted her like a glove. The long pink lacy sleeves looked as if they were part of a high-fashion statement. This girl shouldn't be scrubbing floors, Fiona thought, she was so talented. Please let it be a good night for her. Let the awful Rosemary not say anything unforgivable.
Nick and Linda were going to be on a radio talk show on the night of the Walshes’ party. Clara had invited Hilary to supper. Since the young lovers would be safely in the radio studio, the women could afford to have an evening together without arousing any suspicion.
They tuned the radio to the right station and Clara grilled them some salmon and served it with green beans.
“Lord, wouldn't Lavender be proud of us,” Hilary said.
“Yes, she would, until she saw the rum babas in the fridge for dessert,” Clara agreed. They were on the coffee stage when their children came on air in a discussion about great jazz classics. They talked easily and unaffectedly, sharing their enthusiasms and firing people up to go to jazz clubs and visit record stores.
Linda spoke easily about the live performances on Thursday nights, and mentioned that Nick would be playing some evergreens at the store next week.
“That's cozy,” the interviewer said. “Is that how you two met?”
“We would always have met,” Nick said with certainty.
Clara and Hilary looked at each other in shock. They would have met anyway? Like hell they would.
But again the two women vowed that they would never reveal their secret.
That night, as Brian Flynn, Johnny, Tim and Lidia waved Ania off in her finery to the party, they knew that one of them would suggest a pint. It turned out to be the priest.
“I have something which needs to be sorted,” he said.
They followed him willingly into Corrigans.
“What's the problem?” Tim asked.
“I am. I am always the problem.” Brian Flynn was gloomy.
“Go on out of that, Brian. You're usually the solution rather than the cause.” Johnny was strong in defense of his friend.
“Not this time. I was so thrilled with the notion of having weddings to pay for the center, I went at it like a bull, but there are all sorts of problems. You need a license for this and a permit for that and Health and Safety. The whole thing is a nightmare. There's people leaping out of the woodwork shouting ‘no way’ before you even get to first base.”
He looked li
ke an injured bloodhound as he gripped his glass, lines of disappointment etched into his face.
“Can't you rent it out privately? Wouldn't that get round it?” Tim was trying to help.
“No, there's a book full of rules about that, and a heavy shadow of insurance looming over it all. We couldn't ask people in to have their wedding if we weren't insured.”
“Remember your friend James, the calm person?” Lidia asked. “When we had that other problem he was terrific. He brought out a pad of paper and put down all the possibilities.”
“We could do that, I suppose,” Johnny suggested.
“We're not good at it. We get distracted,” Tim said.
Brian took out his mobile phone.
“James, I know life would be easier for you if I quit the Church entirely, but we'd love you to come and have a pint and help us see things clearly.”
“Another stalker?” James asked.
“No, nothing like that, but we need the cool approach.”
“Usual pub?”
“Yeah, at the back.”
“I'll be there in thirty minutes,” said James.
“Let's raise a toast to Ania,” Lidia said.
“She'll be fine,” said Johnny, who couldn't understand why Ania was getting dressed up and braving the horrific Rosemary Walsh in her lair.
The first people they saw when they went into the party were Simon and Maud, immaculate in their Scarlet Feather uniforms and holding trays of canapés.
Maud stepped forward as if she had never met Declan and Fiona in her life. “Might I offer you a quail's egg? There's a little celery salt for dipping.”
“Or perhaps some artichoke heart with a cheese sauce?” Simon added.
Fiona wanted to laugh out loud, but she knew they all had to play roles.
“Thank you so much. It all looks quite superb,” Fiona said, but she managed a wink and a thumbs-up sign as well.
“Isn't this an enormous house?” Ania whispered to her.
“Far too big for the three of them,” Fiona said.
“But it's their family home.” Ania was defending Carl's family. She was clutching the beautifully wrapped gift of a little red glass jam dish. A perfect gift for the occasion.
