Dublin 4 (3 page)

She would find it eventually, she had all day, she had twenty-nine more days … there was no rush. She must not get fussed. She found it. Orange Vinaigrette. Ethel couldn’t say that that was unimaginative … you cut up oranges and black olives and onions and fresh mint … sounded terrific, you poured a vinaigrette sauce over it … it would be perfect. Carmel smiled happily. She knew that she was doing the right thing. All she had to do was go at it slowly.

She would go home now and rest; tomorrow she would come out and find a main course, and then a dessert. She had work to do at home too. Joe had said that if he was going to come and help her he would need co-operation. She mustn’t have turned into a dowdy middle-aged old frump, she must look smart and glamorous and well-turned-out. She had thirty afternoons to organise that.

*   *   *

Sheila dropped in on her way home from school. She seemed relieved to find Carmel there, and there was a look of worry on her face.

‘I was a little alarmed, Martin told me you had sent us a letter.’

‘It was only an invitation,’ Carmel smiled. ‘Come on in and we’ll have a coffee. I was in the middle of tidying out some cupboards … I’ve a lot of clothes that should go to the Vincent de Paul … but you know what always happens, you’re ashamed to give them the way they are, so you get them cleaned first. Then when they come back from the cleaners they’re better than anything else you have in the press so you never give them at all.’ Carmel laughed happily as they went into the kitchen and put on the kettle.

‘It just seemed so funny to write, when I talk to you nearly every day …’

‘Did it? Oh, I don’t know, I’m such a bad hostess I thought you have to write things down as invitations or people didn’t believe you. I suppose that’s why I wrote. I’d have told you anyway.’

‘But you didn’t tell me yesterday.’

‘No, I must have forgotten.’

‘There’s nothing wrong, is there, Carmel? You
are
all right?’

Carmel had her back to Sheila. She deliberately
relaxed her shoulders and refused to clench her fists. Nobody was going to see just how annoyed she became when people asked her in that concerned tone whether she was all right.

‘Sure I am, why wouldn’t I be, a lady of leisure? It’s you who must be exhausted coping with all that noise and those demons all day. I think you should be canonised.’

‘Tell me about the dinner party,’ Sheila said.

‘Oh, it’s not for a month yet,’ Carmel laughed.

‘I know.’ Sheila’s patience seemed strained. ‘I know it’s not for a month, but you actually put pen to paper and wrote so I thought it was a big thing.’

‘No no, just eight of us, I said it in the letter.’

‘Yes, Martin told me, I wasn’t at home when it arrived.’

‘He rang you? Oh, isn’t he good. There was no need to. I mean you could have told me any time.’

‘Yes, and you could have told
me
any time.’ Sheila looked worried.

‘Yes, of course. Heavens, we are both making a production of it! When you think how many parties Ethel goes to, and indeed gives …’

‘Yes, well, Ethel is Ethel.’

‘And you, I mean you and Martin often have people round, don’t you? I often hear you say you had people in.’

‘Yes, but that’s very casual.’

‘Oh, this will be too. Mainly people we all know well.’

‘But Ruth … Ruth O’Donnell … we don’t know her all that well, and honestly, do you know, I think that’s the night that her exhibition opens – in fact I’m sure of it.’

‘Yes, I know it is, I said that in the letter. Didn’t Martin tell you? So I know we’ll all be going to it … but it’s at four o’clock … it will be well over by six, and even if people go to have a drink afterwards … well, they’re not invited here until eight, for half past.’

‘Yes, but don’t you think on the night of her own exhibition she might want to go out with her own friends?’

‘But we’re her friends, in a way.’

‘Not really, are we? I mean, are you? She doesn’t normally come here?’

‘No, I don’t think she’s ever been here. I thought it would be nice for her … and she doesn’t live far away, in that new block of flats, so she won’t have far to go to change.’

Sheila put down her mug of coffee.

‘I don’t think it’s a good idea. We don’t know her. Why ask someone we don’t know very well to a dinner? Let’s just have the six of us … it would be more friendly.’

‘No, I’ve asked her anyway, and I can’t think what you say that for. You’re the one who tells me to go out and meet more people.’

‘I didn’t tell you to go out and invite well-known artists to dinner,’ muttered Sheila.

‘Don’t lecture me,’ Carmel said with a laugh, and Sheila had to admit to herself that Carmel did look more cheerful and like herself than she had in the last while. She looked a bit more like the Carmel of the old days.

‘All right, I won’t. Let me see your cupboard cleaning. Maybe you could give something to me instead of the Vincent de Paul. I could do with it. A teacher doesn’t get paid much, God help us, when you consider how we put our lives at risk.’

‘How’s Martin feeling?’

‘Oh, he’s fine. He’s great, you know, he never complains. I’m sure he’s fed up but he never complains.’ Martin had been made redundant two years ago when two firms had merged. He had got a golden handshake. He was still only fifty-two and he expected to get another job, then he expected to write a book. Everybody else thought he was writing a book, but Sheila never lied to Carmel. To Carmel she admitted that Martin was doing the hoovering and the shopping. They pretended that Sheila loved being back in the classroom. Not many people knew how much she hated it. Her children didn’t know, not even Martin really knew. Carmel sometimes suspected, but Carmel was a long-time friend. It didn’t matter what she knew. It was just a bit worrying sometimes the things she did. Like inviting that woman to dinner. Was there a possibility that Carmel’s nerves were bad again? She sounded so well, and she looked fine. But it
was
the act of a madwoman.

‘Hey, you are doing a thorough job. You’ve taken everything out. Which is the good pile and which is the bad pile?’

‘I don’t know, they all seem the same. They’re like mouse clothes, aren’t they? Do you remember when we went to pantomimes years and years ago? People were dressed in mouse outfits and rat outfits … that’s what these are like!’

‘Carmel, you are preposterous! Of course your clothes aren’t like that, they’re smashing. Have you two of these blue cardigans?’

‘I think I’ve three of them. Whenever I go to a shop I can never think of anything to buy except grey skirts and blue cardigans. Have one of each.’

‘I mean it. Quite, quite preposterous.’

Carmel smiled happily. Other people said ‘Don’t be silly’; Sheila said she was preposterous. It was much, much nicer.

*   *   *

‘Well?’ Martin wanted to know.

‘I
think
she’s all right. It’s hard to know.’

‘You mean it was a joke about the invitation?’

‘No, she means it. She’s having the party, she just doesn’t want to talk about it.’

‘Then she’s not all right.’

‘I know, but she
seems
normal. She gave me a skirt and a cardigan.’

‘That makes her normal?’

‘No, you know what I mean. She was talking about ordinary things. She hadn’t gone off on any flight of fancy or anything …’

‘So did you talk her out of it?’ Martin wanted to know.

‘I couldn’t, she wouldn’t talk about it at all. I
told
you.’

‘Oh great,’ he sighed. ‘That’s all we need. You’re her friend, for Christ’s sake.’

‘Martin, I’ve had a bad day. Not just a bit of a bad day – every single bit of it was bad. I don’t want to talk about it any more. I did my best to talk to Carmel, she wouldn’t talk back, that’s all. Can’t you leave me alone!’

‘Yes, I know I should have had a drink ready and the fire lighting and tried to soothe away your cares … like a proper housewife. I’m sorry I’m bad at it. You don’t have to tell me.’

‘Jesus, Martin, if this is the night you’ve picked to do a wretched “I’m not a good provider” act, then you’ve picked the wrong night. Will you shut up and sit down. I love you, I don’t want you to fart around pandering to me just because
my
outfit didn’t close down … do you hear me?’

He was contrite.

‘I’m sorry. I really am. I’m just worried, that’s all.’

‘So am I.’

‘Do you think she knows about Ruth? Do you think she heard anything … ?’

‘How could she have heard anything? Who does she meet? Where does she go? Unless it was on the
Gay Byrne Hour
or in the
Evening Press
‘Diary’ she’d not have heard.’

‘What are we going to do?’

‘I haven’t a clue.’

*   *   *

‘I’m sorry I’m late,’ called David. ‘The traffic was bloody terrible. There’s no point in taking a car in these days, I’ve said it over and over.’

‘So have I, the number ten would take you to your door.’

‘I can’t travel on the number ten. It never comes, or it’s full when it does.’

‘Anyway, why buy a big car and not show it off?’

‘What?’ David sounded bad-tempered in the hall.

‘Nothing. You said you’re sorry you’re late, get a move on then, if you want to change or wash or anything …’

‘For what?’ David sounded even crosser. ‘Oh God, I’d forgotten. Do we have to? Can’t we … ?’

‘We
do
have to and we
can’t
ring and say we’re tied up. We accepted two weeks ago.’

‘It’s all very well for you.’ David was pounding up the stairs crossly. ‘You have nothing to do all day but get yourself ready … titivate … titivate.’

‘Thank you,’ Ethel said icily.

She sat at the dressing table in their bedroom.
The door to the bathroom was open and he could see the thick coloured towels piled up on the chest of drawers. He knew he would feel much better when he had a bath, he knew it was unfair to blame her.

‘I’m sorry,’ he said.

He kissed her at the dressing table. She smelled whiskey.

‘Do they serve cocktails in traffic jams?’ she asked.

He laughed. ‘You’ve caught me out. I dropped into the club.’ He looked contrite.

‘Which is of course on the route home.’ She was still cold.

‘No, of course it wasn’t, but I took the lower road. Oh hell, I only had two, but do you know who was there? You’ll never guess what happened.’

She was interested. He rarely told tales of interest from the outer world; she had to prod and pry and ferret to find out anything that might be happening. She followed him into the bathroom. He flung off his coat and struggled with his shirt.

‘I met Dermot, Dermot Murray.’

‘Oh yes?’ She was as sharp as a hawk now, pique forgotten. ‘What did he say?’

‘Well, it’s amazing, it’s quite amazing.’

‘Yes? Yes?’

‘He was sitting talking to some fellows, I don’t know who they were. I’ve seen one of them, perfectly respectable, in the property business, I think, out the
Northside … anyway, he was in that corner place with them.’

‘Yes … what did he say?’

‘Wait, wait, I’m telling you.’ David had run the bath as he was speaking. The water gushed with powerful pressure from each tap, the room had steamed up in under a minute.

‘I said to him, “How are you, Dermot?”’

David stood in his underpants tantalising his wife by the meticulous way he was repeating the trivia of the conversation. She decided not to be drawn.

‘I’ll sit on the loo here and when you feel like telling me, do.’

He pulled the shower curtains around him when he got into the bath. This was a modesty that had grown somewhere around the same time as his paunch. When they had been younger they had often bathed together, and had always bathed in front of each other.

‘No, it’s really strange,’ came the voice from inside the curtain. ‘I said, “Thanks very much for that invitation,” and he said, “What invitation?” and I got such a shock I started to play the fool. You know. I said, “Come on now. You can’t welch on us now, an invite’s an invite.”’

‘What did he say then?’

‘He said, “You have me on the wrong foot, David. I don’t actually know what you mean.” He said it so straight, I felt a bit foolish. I just got out of it. I said
that I had probably made a mistake, or that you hadn’t looked at the letter properly.’

‘Thank you very much again,’ said Ethel.

‘I had to say something. Anyway he said, “Letter, what letter?” I was right into it then. I said, “Oh, it’s some mistake. I thought we’d got a letter from you and Carmel inviting us to dinner. I must have got it wrong.” He said it wasn’t very likely that she’d have invited people without telling him. Maybe it was a surprise party.’

‘Boy, some surprise if it is!’ said Ethel.