Evening Class (34 page)

But at the physical examination the problems began. She tensed so much that he could not examine her at all. He stood there despairing, his hand in its plastic glove, his face kind and impersonal at the same time. She did not feel that he was a threat to her, it would be such a relief to discover some membrane that could be easily removed, but every muscle in her body had seized up.

‘I think we should do an examination under anaesthetic,’ he said.

‘Much easier for everyone, and very probably a D and C, then you’ll be as right as rain.’

She made the appointment for the next week. Harry was loving and supportive. He came to the nursing home to settle her in. ‘You’re all that matters to me, I never met anyone like you.’

‘I bet you didn’t,’ she tried to joke about it. ‘Beating them off was your trouble, not like you have with me.’

‘Connie, it will be fine.’ He was so gentle and handsome and concerned. If she couldn’t be loving to a man like this there was no hope for her. Suppose she had given in to the persuasion of people like Jacko in the past, would it have been better or worse? She would never know now.

The examination showed that there was nothing physically wrong with Mrs Constance Kane. At work Connie knew if you went down one avenue and came to a dead end you had to go back to where you started from and go down another. She made an appointment with a psychiatrist. A very pleasant woman with a genuine smile and a matter-of-fact approach. She was easy to talk to, she seemed to ask shortish questions and expected longer answers. At work Connie was more accustomed to be in a listening mode, but gradually she responded to the interested questions of the psychiatrist, which never seemed intrusive.

She assured the older woman that there had not been any unpleasant sexual experiences in her past because there hadn’t been any. No, she hadn’t felt deprived, or curious or frustrated by not having had sex. No she had never felt drawn to anyone of her own sex, nor had an emotional relationship that was so strong it overshadowed anything heterosexual. She told the woman about her great friendship with Vera, but said that in all honesty there wasn’t a hint of sexuality or emotional dependency in it, it was all laughter and confiding. And how it began because Vera was the only person to treat the whole business of her father as if it were a normal kind of thing that could happen to anyone.

The psychiatrist was very understanding and sympathetic and asked more and more about Connie’s father, and her sense of disappointment after his death. ‘I think you’re making too much of this whole business about my Dad,’ Connie said at one point.

‘It’s quite possible. Tell me about when you came home from school each day. Did he get involved in your homework, for example?’

‘I know what you’re trying to say, that maybe he interfered with me or something, but it was not remotely like that.’

‘No, I’m not saying that at all. Why do you think I’m saying that?’

They went around in circles. At times Connie cried. ‘I feel so disloyal talking about my father like this.’

‘But you haven’t said anything against him, just how kind and good and loving he was, and how he showed your picture to people at the golf course.’

‘But I feel he’s accused of something else, like my not being able to be good in bed.’

‘You haven’t accused him of that.’

‘I know, but I feel it’s hanging there over me.’

‘And why is that, do you think?’

‘I don’t know. I suppose it’s because I felt so let down, I had to write my whole life story all over again. He didn’t love us at all. How could he have, if he was more interested in some horse or dog?’

‘Is that the way it looks now?’

‘He never laid a hand on me, I can’t tell you that enough. It’s not that I’ve suppressed it or anything.’

‘But he let you down, disappointed you.’

‘It couldn’t be just that, could it? Because one man let us down as a family I’m afraid of all men?’ Connie laughed at the notion.

‘Is that so unlikely?’

‘I deal with men all day, I work with men. I’ve never been afraid of them.’

‘But then you’ve never let any of them come close to you.’

‘I’ll think about what you say,’ Connie said.

‘Think about what
you
say,’ said the psychiatrist.

‘Did she find anything?’ His face was hopeful.

‘A load of nonsense. Because my father was unreliable I think all men are unreliable.’ Connie laughed in scorn.

‘It might be true,’ he said to her surprise.

‘But Harry, how could it be? We are so open with each other, you would never let me down.’

‘I hope I wouldn’t,’ he said, so seriously that she felt a shiver go the whole way up and down her spine.

And the week went on. Nothing got any better, but Connie clung to him and begged, ‘Please don’t give up on me, please Harry. I love you, I want our child so much. Maybe when we have our child I’ll relax and love it all like I should.’

‘Shush, shush,’ he would say, stroking the anxious lines away from her face, and it wasn’t all repulsive or painful, it was just so very difficult. And they had surely had sex often enough now for her to have become pregnant. Look at all the people who got pregnant who were doing everything on earth to avoid it. In the wakeful night Connie wondered could fate have also decided that she be infertile on top of everything else. But no. She missed her period, and hardly daring to hope she waited until she was sure. Then she told him the news.

His face lit up. ‘You couldn’t have made me a happier man,’ he said. ‘I’ll never let you down.’

‘I know,’ she said. But she didn’t know, because she felt sure that there was a whole part of his life that she could never share and that sooner or later he would share that side at least with someone else. But in the meantime she must do all she could to shore up the parts of his life she
could
share.

Together they attended many public functions, and Connie insisted that she be described as Mrs Constance Kane of Hayes Hotel as well as just Harry’s wife. She raised money for two charities with the wives of other successful men. She entertained in her own new and splendid home, where all the decorating had been done by Kevin’s family.

She told her mother nothing about the situation between them. She told Vera everything. ‘When the baby’s born,’ Vera advised, ‘go off and have a fling with someone else. You might get to like it and then come back and do it properly with Harry.’

‘I’ll think about it,’ said Connie.

The baby’s nursery was ready. Connie had given up her job. ‘No hope we could tempt you back, even part time, when the baby is old enough to leave with a nurse?’ Mr Hayes pleaded.

‘We’ll see.’ She was more calm and controlled than ever, Mr Hayes thought. Marriage to a tough man like Harry Kane hadn’t taken away any of her spirit.

Connie had made a point of keeping well in touch with Harry’s family. She had driven to see them more often in one year than they had been visited by their son in the previous ten. She kept them informed about all the details of her pregnancy, their first grandchild, a very important milestone, she told them. They were quiet people, in awe of the hugely successful Harry. They were delighted and almost embarrassed to be so well included and to have their opinions sought about names.

Connie also made sure that she had the partners and their wives well within her own area. She took to giving light suppers in their house on a Wednesday night. The partners would all have wined and dined well at lunchtime after their weekly meeting, they would not want a huge meal. But each week there was something delicious for them to eat. Not too fattening because one of them was always on a diet, and not too much alcohol served since the other was inclined to hit the bottle.

Connie asked questions and listened to the answers. She assured these women that Harry thought so highly of their husbands that she was almost jealous of all his praise. She remembered every tiresome detail of their children’s examinations and their home improvements and their holidays, the clothes they had bought. They were almost twenty years older than her. They had been resentful and suspicious at the outset. Six months after her marriage, they were her devoted slaves. They told their husbands that Harry Kane could not have found a more suitable wife, and wasn’t it great that he hadn’t married that hard-faced Siobhan Casey who had such high hopes of him.

The partners were unwilling to have a word said against the entirely admirable Siobhan. Because of discretion and male bonding they didn’t see any need to explain that Miss Casey’s high hopes might not have resulted in marriage but there was distinct evidence that a romantic dalliance that had once existed between them had begun again. Neither of the partners could understand it. If you had a beautiful wife like Connie at home, why go out for it?

When Connie realised that her husband was sleeping with Siobhan Casey she got a great shock. She hadn’t expected anything like this so soon. It hadn’t taken long before he had let her down. He hadn’t given the life they had together much of a chance. She was seven months married, three months pregnant, and she had kept her part of the bargain perfectly. No man ever had a better companion and a more comfortable lifestyle. Connie had brought all her considerable knowledge of the hotel industry to bear on their house. It was elegant and comfortable. It was filled with people and flowers and festivity when he wanted. It was quiet and restful when he wanted that. But he wanted more.

She could possibly have put up with it if it had been a one-night stand, at a conference or visit abroad. But this woman who had obviously always wanted him! How humiliating that she should get him back. And so quickly.

His excuses were not even devious. ‘I’ll be in Cork on Monday, think I’ll stay,’ he had said, only the Cork partner had rung looking for him. So he wasn’t in Cork after all.

Connie had played it down, and appeared to accept Harry’s casual explanation. ‘That fellow couldn’t remember his own name if it wasn’t written on his briefcase. I must have told him three times I was overnighting in the hotel. That’s age for you.’

And then shortly afterwards when he was going to Cheltenham the travel agency sent the ticket around to the house, and she saw there was a ticket for Siobhan Casey as well.

‘I didn’t realise she was going.’ Her voice was light.

Harry shrugged. ‘We go to make contacts, to see the races, to meet people. Someone has to stay sober and write it all down.’

And after that he was away from home at least one night a week And perhaps two nights a week so late that it was obvious he had been with somebody else. He suggested separate bedrooms so as not to disturb her, let her have all the sleep she needed in her condition. It was, Connie realised, as lonely as hell.

The weeks went on and their communication grew less. He was always courteous and praising. Particularly of her Wednesday suppers. That had really helped to cement the partnership, he told her. It also meant that he spent Wednesday night at home, but she didn’t tell him that was her aim. She arranged taxis to take the partners and their wives to Hayes Hotel, where they had suites at a special discount.

She would sit with Harry when they left and talk about his business, but often with only part of her mind. She wondered did he sit in Siobhan Casey’s flat and talk about his successes and failures like this. Or did he and Siobhan feel such a swelling of lust that they took the clothes off each other as soon as they got in the door and were at it on the hearthrug because they couldn’t wait until they got to the bedroom?

One Wednesday evening he stroked the large bump of her stomach and there were tears in his eyes. ‘I’m so sorry,’ he said.

‘What for?’ Her face was blank. He paused as if considering whether to tell her something or not, so she spoke quickly. She wanted nothing admitted, acknowledged or accepted. ‘What are you sorry about? We have everything, almost everything, and what we don’t have, we may have in time.’

‘Yes, yes of course,’ he said pulling himself together.

‘And soon our baby will be born,’ she said soothingly.

‘And we’ll be fine,’ he said, unconvinced.

Their son was born after eighteen hours of labour. A perfect healthy child. He was baptised Richard. Connie explained that by chance this was Harry’s father’s name and her father’s name too, so it was the obvious choice. The fact that Mr Kane senior had been called Sonny Kane all his life was never mentioned.

The christening party in their home was elegant and simple at the same time. Connie stood welcoming people, her figure apparently slim again a week after the birth, her mother overdressed and happy, her friend Vera’s children Deirdre and Charlie honoured guests.

The parish priest was a great friend of Connie’s. He stood there proudly. Would that all his parishioners were as generous and charming as this young woman. A middle-aged lawyer friend of Connie’s father was there too, a distinguished member of the Bar, with a very high reputation. He wasn’t known for losing cases.

As Connie stood there in her elegant navy silk dress with its smart white trimmings, flanked by the priest and the lawyer and holding his baby son, Harry felt a frisson of alarm. He didn’t know what it was and dismissed it. It might be the beginnings of flu. He hoped not, he had a lot of work in the weeks ahead. But he couldn’t take his eyes off the tableau. It was if they represented something. Something that threatened him.

Almost against his will he approached them. ‘This looks very nice,’ he said in his usual easy manner. ‘My son surrounded by the clergy and the law on his christening day, what more does he need as a start in life in Holy Ireland?’

They smiled and Connie spoke. ‘I was just telling Father O’Hara and Mr Murphy here that you should be a happy man today. I was telling them what you said eight days after we were married.’

‘Oh yes, what was that?’

‘You said you wanted a honeymoon baby that would be able to take over your business when you were fifty-five, and a family that would be there for you when you needed it.’ Her voice seemed pleasant and admiring enough to the others. He could hear the hardness of steel in it. They had never discussed that conversation again. He had not known she would recall the words which, he remembered thinking at the time, were untempered. He had never believed it possible that she would repeat them to him in public. Was it a threat?