At a Time Like This (14 page)

But the words are not what I expect. They hint at probable delay, at potential trouble. It seems that things are not what they seem. The final line, of love and longing and poetry, is meant to
soothe and reassure. But it does just the opposite. And I cannot call back. That has been agreed between us.

This is not something that warm water, scented candles and heady words can fix. But I must settle and wait. I have no control. I must be patient and see what tomorrow brings.

5.
Nora

Frank says that from the first minute I walked into his shop, he knew that he was going to marry me.

It still gives me goose pimples, every time he reminds me of that. I had very slim ankles, he says, and he had always liked that in a woman. I looked at myself a bit differently after that. Me?
Nora? With sexy ankles? I don’t know, but I suppose I’d never thought much about my feet before. On the day we met, I was looking to buy a pair of flat navy shoes, more like walking
shoes, really, that I needed to match my new blue jeans. In fact, I had just recently managed to fit into a pair of size sixteen denims, my first pair ever, and I wanted suede walking shoes that
would also go with my new duffel coat. It was a bit like a uniform, Trinity rules for dressing that I never completely understood, if I’m honest. Or if I did, I never managed to pull it off,
not in the way the other three did. Claire could fall out of bed, throw on a bin-liner and still look gorgeous. She was always elegant. It hasn’t done her much good, though, has it, over the
years?

Maggie had to work a bit harder than that. She used to make most of her own clothes back when I knew her first. She said she had to, that she was way too small for the fashionable stuff. If she
wasn’t making herself things from scratch, she’d be altering bits and pieces instead to make them suit her better. Cheap things that she’d rummage at market stalls to find, or
that she’d buy from children’s departments during the sales. She was always able to adapt anything to suit her, even though she was curvy. She’d look bang up to the minute and
would do it so economically that I envied her.

And then there was Georgie. Well, Georgie had a style all of her own. Sometimes she’d go casual, sometimes tailored and old-fashioned, almost, but somehow she always got away with it. She
had a passion for knitting that started some time towards the end of first year, just before I left Trinity. I suppose that’s where her business idea came from later on, although the passion
for knitting didn’t last. At one stage, I used to think that Georgie might become a teacher, because she read so much. But she was much too selfish for a career like that. She cared about
surface things far too much. Georgie was like one of those animals that change how they look so that they can fit in with their surroundings. Chameleons, I think they’re called. Something
like that, anyway.

‘Can I help you?’ Those were the first words that Frank ever spoke to me. The thing I noticed about him was how kind his eyes were, how they creased at the corners when he smiled. It
was just a few months after I’d come back from London and nobody had smiled much at me there.

‘Yes,’ I said. And I remember thinking that this had to be a sign that things were going to start getting better for me. In fact, I’d found most of my first term at Trinity a
very unfriendly time. I was older than all the other first years, and there was nobody there from my old school, either. All of them had gone to UCD, but Daddy had insisted that Trinity was a
better choice for me. I wouldn’t know anybody there, he said. Nobody would know our family if I went to Trinity, but they might if I went to UCD. Stillorgan was just that bit ‘too close
for comfort’, was how he put it. The afternoon that I met Frank, someone who had promised to meet me for coffee hadn’t turned up at the Buttery. I’d met her at an English lecture
the day before. Blake baffled me. I understood nothing about the
Songs of Innocence and Experience
and I could see that she didn’t either. I knew it by looking at her blank face and
the way she held on to her pen. Her knuckles showed white and she didn’t take one note. Neither did I. I hoped then that she was someone who needed a friend just as much as I did.

Miriam Fuller, that was her name. Isn’t it funny that it has just come back to me now, after all these years? I can’t remember the last time I thought about Miriam Fuller. That day,
I’d sat at the table in the Buttery on my own and waited for her. I’m sure now that nobody paid much attention to me, but at the time I felt self-conscious. I sat there for an hour or
more and then it dawned on me that she wasn’t delayed. She wasn’t coming at all. Once I realized it, I couldn’t wait to get out. I’ll never forget how upset I felt. I could
feel my face grow red and couldn’t get out the back door fast enough. I told Maggie about it a few weeks later and she was kind.

Mammy had given me some money that morning to buy my shoes and tights and other bits and pieces that I needed, so that’s what I decided to do. Money was always so difficult with my
parents, particularly since Eddie. I think that they were afraid to give me more than my bus fare after that. It made things hard for me because the girls always expected me to buy my round and
help out with the parties that we held, maybe once every term. But I just didn’t have it. I never had it. Not till Frank.

I was glad to make my escape from Trinity that day, the day Miriam Fuller never showed up, and I made my way towards Henry Street. I’d always liked the look of Fitzsimons’s shoe
shop, but I’d never bought anything there before. Mammy always said it was a bit dearer than the others, but you couldn’t fault the quality. And that afternoon, I felt that I needed
quality more than anything else. I wanted something solid and dependable that wouldn’t let me down.

I pushed open the door of the shop and stepped inside. It was small and that surprised me. The window with its display of boots and shoes and even furry slippers had made me think that it would
be much bigger, but it wasn’t. In fact, there were only three chairs for customers and a cramped bit of corridor that led to the till. Most of the space was taken up with shelves piled high
with cardboard boxes. I wondered how anybody could know what was in all of them. The smell of new leather was everywhere, and so was polish and something else that I couldn’t name then, but
now I know was aftershave.

The shop was quiet and empty, apart from one tall, thin man behind the till. He had a bundle of what looked like receipts and he was concentrating on totting things up. It wasn’t a very
busy time in the shoe business. A late, grey Monday evening in early November. Afterwards, Frank told me that it was too long after the summer sales for crowds and too soon for the Christmas rush.
The man at the till, who of course turned out to be Frank, looked up from his papers the minute I closed the door behind me. He continued to look as I walked towards him, and then he took his
glasses off with the one quick movement I have come to know so well. Frank has never liked it that he needs to wear glasses. I’ve never minded and have always found his short-sightedness
charming. Now he grumbles that he’s both short-sighted and longsighted at the same time. He can’t see the number on the bus and he can’t read the small print, unless he holds the
newspaper at arm’s length. That day, though, he was able to see me well enough.

‘May I try these on?’ I pointed to the navy shoes I had just spotted. Suede, with one wide strap and a low, sturdy heel. In fact, I was pleased at how I sounded. I came across as
formal and polite, and I made sure not to seem too friendly with a shopkeeper. My father, in his precise, legal way, had always been very strict on the difference between ‘can’ and
‘may’. Right then, I was grateful to him.

‘Certainly, miss,’ Frank said, and I saw that his smile faded a little. He told me afterwards that he’d hoped I’d be a little bit more friendly, that I’d respond at
once to how deeply, instantly, he had admired me.

But I felt the need to be careful. I remember stepping away from him, further than was strictly necessary, just to make a point of the distance that there should be between us. He backed off
then, in every sense, and his face looked, I don’t know, a bit fallen. He was so different from Eddie. Poles apart. The two of them couldn’t have been more unalike. But still. I had
learned that it paid to be careful.

The navy shoes on display were a six, but they were too big. Frank suggested a five, instead of a five and a half, because he said that good-quality walking shoes tended to be of a generous
size. I wasn’t sure, but I said I’d try them on anyway. I remember how eager he looked as he trotted off to the stores to find me a pair of size fives. I thought what an obliging man he
was. He was gone a long time. Just my luck, I said to myself. He’ll be out of fives. But in fact he came back with a whole pile of boxes in his hands. I was glad that he had thought to bring
me lots of different styles to try on. I’d have hated to walk out of there without buying something, especially after all the trouble he’d gone to.

He sat on a low stool in front of me, shaped a little bit like a filled-in triangle with a sloping leather seat, and he pulled out the wads of tissue paper from one of the shoes. ‘These
are really good quality,’ he said, ‘and we stock a waterproof cleaner that keeps them looking good.’

‘Oh, okay’ I said. I had forgotten that suede often got stained and soggy in the rain. Then he took my right foot in his hands and eased on the soft navy suede. He had the shoehorn
ready, but he didn’t need to use it.

‘Is that comfortable?’ he asked me after a bit.

‘Yes,’ I said. ‘It feels fine.’

‘Would you like to try the left one, then?’

I nodded. ‘Thank you, yes.’

He did the same with the other shoe and this time, he had to use the shoehorn at the last minute. But his hands were gentle. He looked up at me apologetically.

‘Most people have one foot slightly larger than the other,’ he said. ‘It’s perfectly normal, nothing to worry about.’

I nodded. I found that those words said in such a kindly tone touched me and made my eyes fill with tears. I hadn’t had kindness in such a long time. I had to stand up and walk away from
him, down to the end of the shop, in case he noticed. I looked into the mirrors placed low on the floor that reflected only my feet and ankles. I could feel him looking at me still, but now it
didn’t make me uneasy any more. When I was able, I made my way back to my chair and sat down again. And then I smiled at him. It was the least I could do to thank him for his kindness.

‘These are very comfortable,’ I said. ‘I like them a lot. I think I’ll take them.’ I felt pleased. A full size smaller than the last ones I had bought in London.
Another good sign, maybe.

He nodded and looked satisfied. An excellent choice,’ he said. He took the shoes up to the till and I followed him. Even then, I remember feeling a bit sad that buying the shoes had taken
such a short time. I felt that I might like to linger for longer. The memory of his hand on the sole of my foot was a warm and comforting one.

‘Is there anything else I can help you with?’ he asked then.

I don’t know, I must have looked a bit blank because the next words he spoke came out all in a rush.

‘We’ve just got in a new range of Italian leather,’ he said. ‘Very fine, very feminine. I think the black or the navy court would suit you very well. That is, if you are
looking for a slightly more dressy shoe.’

I remember wondering why he seemed so nervous. As a matter of fact, I
was
looking for something with a higher heel to wear with my new skirts. Fine quality wool skirts, or so my mother
told me. Her voice had been very firm as she said it. She must have seen the disappointment on my face. Merino, I think she said they were, but I didn’t care what they were made of. I
didn’t like them. They were dull and dark and safe. They didn’t suit the Trinity uniform at all. But by then I had learned not to argue with her or with Daddy.

‘Actually, yes,’ I said. ‘I do need a more formal pair as well.’

Then he relaxed and smiled again in the way he had when I’d entered the shop.

‘You just sit yourself down there,’ he said, pointing to the chair I had only just got up out of, ‘and I’ll show you what I’ve got.’

And that was it, really. I left the shop with two pairs of shoes, one flat, one dressy, and although I didn’t know it at the time I had Frank’s phone number in
both
shoe
boxes. He told me afterwards that he’d always believed in taking no chances with the important things in life. He had been very discreet and very polite. He must have scribbled down his
telephone number on a couple of bits of till roll while he searched for the size fives in the store room.

‘Please don’t take this amiss,’ said the note. ‘I really enjoyed meeting you and would value your company again. Forgive me if I offend. My number is 8335584.
Respectfully yours, Frank Fitzsimons.’

Luckily, I took the shoes out of their boxes while I was still in my bedroom, on my own, otherwise I don’t know what would have happened. I was surprised but not surprised at the same
time. I folded both bits of paper and put them into my purse, where no one was likely to look. Then I took the two pairs of shoes down to the kitchen to show to Mammy.

I let a week go by and then I tried his number. He answered at once and I wondered if he’d been waiting by the phone all that time for me to call. I felt shy and anxious
and a little bit foolish, too.

‘Frank Fitzsimons?’ I asked.

‘That’s right,’ said a voice. It sounded hurried, as though he had been running somewhere and my call had stopped him in his tracks.

I didn’t know what to say. I was about to hang up because I felt my cheeks starting to burn with embarrassment. How could you say, ‘I’m the girl who bought two pairs of shoes
from you last Monday afternoon, one navy, one black.’ Then he might say, ‘What time on Monday afternoon?’ or ‘What sort of shoes?’ or something like that, and then
what would I say? For all I knew, he might be in the habit of putting little notes into all his women customers’ shoe boxes. In fact, he might even be another Eddie, only with a different way
of getting close to me.