by Maeve Binchy
Fiona hoped that Rosemary would be gracious and thank her properly, but hadn't much hope. She had tried to persuade Ania to leave her gift in the front room with the other parcels, but no, she was determined to hand it over herself. “This place is so unsuitable. It's full of stairs and steps. Bobby needs somewhere flat, for heaven's sake,” she couldn't help observing.
“Maybe one day,” Ania said.
“Lady Rosemary leave this palace? Never. Come on, Ania, let's explore.”
“I don't like to push myself forward.”
“Have one of those quail's eggs, Ania. It will be a long time before any of us sees those again. Then we'll go out onto the balcony and look at the view.”
Declan was talking about rugby to a man in a corner and seemed well settled in. Carl was on the other side of the room. He waved to them but implied that he was stuck where he was for a while. Fiona gently guided Ania out onto the broad balcony, where patio heaters dealt with the evening breeze coming up from the huge bay below them.
Groups of middle-aged, well-dressed, highly vocal people were pointing in wonder at the various landmarks they could see. That was the church, that was the town center. The harbor was around the corner where there was a luxury liner moored in the bay. What a place to live. Rosemary Walsh's heart must have been gladdened by all the admiration and envy.
“Look at those apartments over there. I do their window boxes,” Ania said. “I go there with Mr. Chen, and last week we put in lots of bedding plants. I can almost see them from here. I must tell him.”
Everyone else was wondering how much the Walsh house was worth and whether they would get planning permission to build a block of apartments in their grounds, but Ania was pointing proudly to her work, tending window boxes.
Fiona saw Rosemary was moving toward them.
Suddenly Fiona wanted to be miles from here. She couldn't bear to see this woman talking down to Ania, dismissing her beautiful dress, barely thanking her for the little red glass jam dish.
Fiona slipped quietly away. Ania was happy to look out at the view. Imagine, Carl had grown up here and known this all his life.
Rosemary hadn't recognized the girl in the striking designer dress standing in the sunset on the balcony. She must be somebody's daughter. She approached and realized it was Ania. She looked at her, dumbfounded. This was the Polish maid from the clinic.
“Ah, Mrs. Walsh, may you and Bobby have many returns of this day. I have brought you a little ruby wedding present.”
Rosemary steadied herself from the shock by holding on to a small table.
“I hope it will be useful to you.” Ania's face did not reveal that she had spent a week's earnings on this gift.
“How good of you to come, Ania,” she said in a slightly choked voice.
Ania saw, with disappointment, that she had taken the gift, then put it down on the table and showed no sign of opening it. Possibly Fiona had been right: she should have left it with the other presents in the front room.
“What a beautiful house you have, Mrs. Walsh.”
“Thank you, yes. Well, it was very good of you to come. You're a very helpful girl, they all tell me.”
“That's nice to hear!” Ania felt her face go pink with pleasure.
“So I suggest you give them a hand in the kitchen,” Rosemary Walsh said.
“The kitchen?” Ania was startled.
“Yes, out that way, towards the back.” Mrs. Walsh was shepherding her out.
Ania didn't want to leave the little glass dish on the table. “Your present, Mrs. Walsh?” she said, trying to reach for it.
“Go on, dear, don't keep them waiting. They're dying for some help.”
“Help?” Ania was bewildered.
“Washing-up, dear. Hurry now.”
This couldn't be right. She had a printed invitation. Nobody could have thought she was coming to do the washing-up. Is this what Carl had meant when he said that naturally she would be at his parents’ party? That he couldn't do it without her? He had meant she would be working in the kitchen?
She felt she had no choice but to do as she was told.
There was nobody in the kitchen. The waiters were all out serving the buffet. Some glasses had been brought back and the colored plates and trays that had held the canapés were on the table.
Sadly Ania filled a sink with soapy water and began to wash the glasses. She was polishing them by the time a tall young woman came in.
“Hi, I'm Cathy” she said. “Who are you?”
“I'm Ania,” she said in a low voice.
“And what are you doing washing the dishes?”
“I am helping you.”
“No, no. We stack all these in racks and put them into our van. They get washed back at base.”
“But Mrs. Walsh said—”
“Mrs. Walsh is a horse's ass!” Cathy said.
“A what?”
“It doesn't matter.”
Just then a tall, handsome man came into the kitchen. Cathy spoke to him. She sounded very angry.
“Tom, this is Ania. That cow sent her in here to do the washing-up.”
Ania was upset to have caused all this trouble. “You see, I thought I was a guest but actually I was the help,” she said.
Tom and Cathy exchanged looks.
“We'll get you back into that room at once!” Cathy said.
“No, please, please don't upset Mrs. Walsh any more. I have already annoyed her by coming here. Her son invited me and I must have misunderstood.”
“Where's the son? I'll find him.” Tom was all action.
“I beg you not to,” Ania said. “Really, I am begging you on my knees. It would make everything so much worse. Just let me stay here. I can put the plates into the racks if you show me.” She was holding Cathy's arm as she spoke.
“But her son? Your friend?” Cathy said.
“… would think I am even more stupid than I am. I am happy to help here and then I will go away.”
Her beautiful lace sleeves were all wet and soapy from the washing-up.
“This is all wrong,” Tom said.
“Sometimes that's the way things are. All wrong,” Ania said.
Tom and Cathy were supervising the lobster and salmon buffet and preparing to wheel it into the main room. The twins were carrying the trays round. The bar waiter was opening two kinds of wine and the waitress was laying out the plates and cutlery.
The party was in full swing.
There would be no speeches and no cake. Rosemary had read that such things were vulgar and nouveau riche. Bobby had wanted to tell everyone how happy they had been, but she had won that battle. Much more sophisticated to let people see their happiness rather than braying about it.
Fiona looked around for Ania and couldn't see her. She must have gone to the ladies’ room or maybe she had found Carl. But no, Carl was there chatting away to a group. He came to greet Fiona.
“Where's Ania?” he asked.
“I left her out on the balcony,” Fiona said, and they went back out together to look. But there was no sign of her.
“She's looking terrific. She could be a model,” Fiona said.
“She's very beautiful, yes.” Carl was straining to see where she could be. Suddenly Fiona saw the small unopened gift on a side table.
“This is where she must have been standing after I left her. I'll take the parcel in case she wasn't able to deliver it properly. Let's find Declan and go and see if we can find her.” But Ania was nowhere to be found.
Eventually Carl and Fiona went into the kitchen.
“Can I help you?” Cathy had quite liked the young man at first, but now she felt only scorn for him.
“I was just looking for a friend,” he said.
“Ania?”
“Yes, yes,” he answered quickly. “Is she all right?”
“I think so. Yes.”
“But where is she? I've been looking for her all over.”
“She's gone home,” Tom said.<
br />
“But was she sick? Is she okay?”
Cathy shrugged. “Not particularly now. She ruined her dress doing the washing-up.”
“What the hell was she doing the washing-up for?” His face was very angry.
“Your mother asked her to help us. It wasn't necessary, but then a taxi came with more ice and we sent her home in that.”
“No, no. She can't have gone home. My mother surely never asked her …”
“Oh, she did, Mr. Walsh,” Cathy said. “And Ania didn't want us to call you,” she added.
“I am going to go into that room and punch Rosemary's lights out!” Fiona said. “Okay, Carl, so she is your mother, but this really is going too far.”
His face was like stone. “No need. I'll do it myself,” he said.
“Carl?” Fiona was nervous now.
“Not physically. Relax.”
“There are still people there. Maybe you should sort of wait.”
“Go home now, Fiona. Take Declan with you. Make a big fuss about how late it is. That's what would help.”
“Don't forget that your father—”
“I won't forget that. Please, Fiona, go.”
She and Declan stood in the hall shouting good-bye to people until finally the remaining guests realized that the party was over.
The Scarlet Feather vans had been stacked and were revving up to leave. Maud and Simon waved excitedly from the front seat. Declan's taxi was waiting.
“Was it a good night?” the taxi driver asked.
“No, it was shitty, actually,” Fiona said.
“Oh, well, you can't win them all,” the driver said, shrugging.
This smartly dressed young couple, going to a party at a house that was worth at least three million and they still couldn't enjoy themselves. That was life in modern Ireland for you.
Ania was so grateful to the kind catering people who had got her out the back door so quickly and without fuss. Apparently there had been some misunderstanding, where they thought the Walshes were arranging the ice and the Walshes thought that Scarlet Feather was doing it. Cathy had cut through any problems by ordering a taxi to deliver four bags of it.
It hadn't been the only misunderstanding that night.
How could I have been so foolish? Ania. wondered, as she sat in the back of the taxi. Carl was just being nice giving her an invitation. They had always meant for her to come and help. Her face burned with the shame of it all.
The taxi pulled up in her street and she got out. “Are you sure I don't have to pay you?” she asked fearfully.
“No, they pay by the month. You're all right.”
Please, may there be no one around, Ania prayed. Everyone in the restaurant knew she was going to this party. She had shown them her outfit only a few hours ago. She managed to slip through the door and up the stairs without catching anyone's eye. The flat was dark and quiet. Ania lay down on her bed and let the tears come. She sobbed until her ribs ached. Then she stood up and took off her new dress. She put it on a hanger, the sleeves, of course, totally ruined. When she felt strong enough she would take them out, but now she had other things to do.
She dressed in her jeans, sweater and anorak, then took out a big plastic wallet of money from under her mattress. She looked through the bundles of euros with unseeing eyes.
The last guest had gone. Carl helped his father get up from his armchair. Carl looked at the long, curving staircase. It would be a challenge.
“Would you like to sleep downstairs, Dad, rather than facing that journey up?”
“You know, I would, son.” Bobby Walsh had a sofa bed in his small study, near the kitchen. It seemed very tempting.
“I'll run up for your pajamas and dressing gown.”
Rosemary Walsh was touring the house, peering behind objects in case glasses or cutlery had been overlooked. She examined the kitchen carefully. They had been true to their word, these caterers—everything was left in pristine condition. The unused food had been wrapped, labeled and installed in either fridge or freezer. She jumped when Carl spoke right beside her.
“Mother, can you come into the front room, please. I want to talk to you.”
“Can't we talk here?”
“No. Dad is sleeping in the study and I don't want to disturb him.”
“You shouldn't encourage him to take the easy option. He'll never get better if he doesn't make an effort.”
“The other room, Mother.”
Rosemary shrugged.
Carl sat on a tall chair.
“That's not very comfortable.”
“I don't feel very comfortable,” he said.
“What is it, Carl? We're all tired. Can't it wait until tomorrow? The party went well, didn't it?”
He said nothing.
“I mean, they were expensive, those Scarlet Feather people, but they did deliver. And I suppose they were polite to the guests, even if a little lacking in charm to those who actually pay them.”
“They brought enough staff, then?”
“Yes, they had two odd young people who were apparently trainees. We didn't have to pay for them, and do you know, they turned out to be relations of the Mitchells, the law family.”
“So there were plenty of hands on deck?”
“Yes. I think it worked fine. Don't you think so?”
“So there was no need for anyone else to help?”
Rosemary hadn't got the drift. “No. Why?”
“I was just wondering why you asked Ania to go into the kitchen and help with the washing-up?”
“Oh, dear, is she bleating about that? I just asked her to give them a little hand.”
“Why did you ask her to do that?”
“Because she would have felt more at ease in the kitchen, darling. Carl, I know you're very much for all people everywhere being equal, but she's a little Polish maid. She's here for a couple of years to make a few euros, then go back. That's what she is, she knows that's what she is. She was perfectly happy to lend a hand with the washing-up.”
“But you didn't ask any of your other guests to help in the kitchen?”
“Carl, please, be sensible.”
“I am being sensible. She was a guest. My guest. I never got to see her because you had her out there working for you when you admit that you had plenty of people working there already.”
“Listen, she was out of place.”
“She was not out of place. She had a beautiful dress. She had a new hairstyle. She had spent over a week's wages getting you a present…”
“Oh, God, she did give me a package. Where is it? I don't know where it ended up.”
“And your thanks for all this was to send her out to the kitchen because she would feel more at home there.”
“Come on, Carl. I was being kind to her.”
“No, Mother, you were never kind to anyone. You were never kind to Dad or to me, and particularly never kind to anyone that you thought you might conceivably be able to boss around.”
“I know you have kindly feelings towards her, Carl, but this cannot be. She's from a different world. They work very hard, I know, but they're not like us.”
“Please stop, right now!”
“I mean it. You have so many friends, you could have so many more. This girl is nothing to you.”
“I am very fond of her. In fact, I believe I love her.”
“You believe!” his mother scoffed.
“Yes, I believe, because I'm not sure. I'm not at all sure about love. Father loves you deeply. I don't know why. So I've learned nothing about love from him. You only love possessions. You don't love people, so what could I have learned from you?”
Rosemary looked alarmed. “You can't love this girl, Carl. You're sorry for her. You must know that. She would hold you back totally.”
“From what?”
“From a normal social life like tonight. She wouldn't be able to cope, learn our ways.”
“And your way to help her cope with what you call ‘our w
ays’ was to order her out of your party, to which she had been invited. Would you just listen to yourself for once?”
“I just didn't want anyone being embarrassed. That's all.” Rosemary was mutinous.
“I am very embarrassed, Mother, more so than I have ever been in my life.”
“Carl, this is all nonsense. Let's go to bed.”
“I am never sleeping another night in this house,” he said.
“Look, it's just the drink talking.”
“I didn't have any drink. I was too busy being polite to your friends. People who are old enough to remember going to England when there were signs in the windows saying ‘No Blacks, No Irish.’ I was talking to a man whose mother was a maid in Boston and she was sent away from the family where she worked because she wasn't humble enough. She married a bank official and helped him climb to run a bank of his own.”
“That's a totally different—”
“It's exactly the same, except it's worse for us. We have plenty. We have so bloody much in this country and we should be delighted to see all these new people coming in to join us. But no, it's a pecking order, isn't it? Even for us, who were at the bottom of the pecking order until not so long ago.”
Rosemary blazed with anger. “It's easy for you to have such high ideals living in a house like this. You've had everything!”
“Not anymore, I won't.”
“Oh, stop being so petulant, Carl. If you go now you'll just be back here tomorrow. Let's not go through the whole silly process.”
“I will not be back, Mother.”
“Come on, where will you live? You earn practically nothing at that school. How will you make a living, for God's sake?”
“I earn a teacher's wage. I pay a quarter of it into a bank account for you and Dad. I have done that since I began work. I won't do it anymore when I don't live here. I'll survive.”
Rosemary looked at him. He seemed to mean it.
“What do you think your father and I are doing all this for?” She waved her hands around the elegant house. “It's all for you, Carl. Don't throw it back at us! What more do you want?”
“I could have asked you not to throw my friends out of this home, had I ever known that it would even cross your mind to do so,” he said.
