Foreign Affairs (24 page)

‘I’d better go out and say hello to your da.’ Harry uncoiled his long length from the chair. ‘As soon as you hear anything about the date, give me a shout.’

‘I will,’ Rachel promised shyly. ‘Thanks for coming.’

‘Thanks for asking me.’ Harry smiled. She watched him go out to join Ronan and her father and her heart soared with happiness. ‘Thanks, St Jude. Thanks a million,’ she
murmured as she rinsed his cup and plate and caught sight of her reflection in the strip across the top of the cooker. She had a big smudge of flour on her right cheek. So much for her notion of
looking glamorous and sophisticated for him. If he could agree to accompany her to her Debs when she looked like this she’d make damn sure she looked her best in September. Harry would be
proud of her, she thought happily as she raced upstairs to tell her mother.

Theresa was lying against the pillows, her big brown eyes enormous in the thin pallor of her face. She looked tired. Rachel was too overjoyed to notice. ‘Mam! Mam! Wait until I tell you my
great news,’ she exclaimed excitedly.

‘What’s that, pet?’ Her mother smiled.

‘Harry’s going to come to the Debs with me.’ Rachel sat on the side of the bed and took her mother’s hand in hers. ‘Oh Mam, will you make my dress for me? And can I
have something very glamorous? I want to look my very best that night. I’m not even going to wear my glasses.’

‘Rachel, that’s great news. I’m delighted for you, love. And of course I’ll make you a glamorous dress. We’ll go to Dublin next Saturday. Tell the Healys you need a
half-day off. We’ll get a pattern and the material and we’ll treat ourselves to lunch. How about that?’

‘Oh Mam, it sounds great.’ Rachel leaned over and kissed her mother’s cheek.

‘You’re the best mother in the world,’ she exclaimed.

‘And you’re the best daughter.’ Theresa smiled, holding her tight.

‘This has been one of my really happy days,’ Rachel declared. ‘I think Harry’s lovely.’

‘He’s only agreed to go to the Debs with you, mind. I’m sure he’s got a lot of girlfriends at university. Don’t start getting a crush on him,’ her mother
warned gently.

‘I know.’ Rachel smiled. ‘I won’t get a crush on him.’ Because I have one on him already, she thought happily. Maybe when Harry saw her all dolled up to the nines,
he might realize she was more than his best mate’s sister. Maybe it would be the start of a great love affair.

Harry left the Stapleton’s house having resisted a strong urge to box his former headmaster in the jaw. That William Stapleton was something else, he fumed. The way he
treated Ronan and Rachel was outrageous. Ronan had once again broached the idea of sharing a flat in September with Harry, and Mr Stapleton had the nerve to say that he certainly wouldn’t
allow Ronan to share with someone who was working in a bar. The way he’d said ‘bar,’ you’d think it was a den of iniquity that had nothing on Sodom and Gomorrah. What did he
think Harry did all day, drink himself insensible? Silly old bugger. If he was Ronan, he’d have split long ago. He knew Ronan would too, if it wasn’t for his mother.

Harry liked Mrs Stapleton. She was what his own mother would call ‘a real lady.’ She was a gentle sort. Much too soft to argue with old Willy, although Ronan had told him she could
be stubborn enough if she got an idea into her head.

As for Rachel, Harry shook his head as he walked past the Tea Rooms where she worked. It was just as well she was going to St Pat’s. It was her big chance to get out from under her
father’s thumb, and God knows she needed to. She was so shy and timid. The state of her when she’d asked him to go to the Debs with her. Just as well Ronan had put him in the picture
beforehand. Ronan had been a bit embarrassed when he’d mentioned that Rachel needed an escort to her Debs and that she was going to ask him.

‘She’s so shy, Harry, I know she has a hard time of it at school with those wagons, Mary Foley and Glenda Mower. If you could just take her to this Debs thing so she won’t feel
like a social outcast, I’d be dead grateful,’ Ronan said.

‘Sure I will,’ Harry’d assured him. If you couldn’t do a mate a favour, you weren’t much of a mate yourself was Harry’s motto. Anyway, she looked so pleased
when he agreed, it was nearly worth it. Poor old Rach, he thought sympathetically, remembering her flustered air and the trusting way she gazed at him with those big blue eyes of hers. She’d
a tough old life with that da of hers. No wonder she had no confidence in herself. She was a hell of a good cook though, Harry reflected as he turned left at the church towards home. And behind
those awful glasses, her eyes were as blue as cornflowers.

Theresa smiled at the sound of her daughter humming in the bedroom next door. If she could get her hands on Harry Armstrong she’d kiss him. He’d really made
Rachel’s day by agreeing to go to her Debs. Her eyes were sparkling with excitement. She’d been bubbling about the bedroom making plans. It was wonderful to watch, Theresa thought a
little sadly. It grieved her to see how shy and unsure her daughter was. She had tried her best over the years to bolster Rachel’s confidence. But William never gave her a chance. He was
always pushing her to study more. When she tried to express an opinion he told her not to talk nonsense.

Theresa could see
exactly
what was happening. Ronan was testing the waters, spreading his wings. William knew he was losing him. Ronan was growing up to be his own man. It was a bitter
blow to her husband when he realized that he no longer had total control over his son. His authority was rapidly dwindling, especially when Ronan put his foot down over not commuting. It was
obvious that William was not going to relinquish his authority over Rachel. And she wasn’t a strong enough character to stand up for herself the way her brother did.

No doubt William would have a say about this Debs thing. He’d probably insist on her being home by eleven. Theresa drew a weary breath. She’d need to be in the best of health for
this one, she thought tiredly. She just couldn’t let Rachel down. For some reason, she remembered the time she’d discovered the bruises from Patrick McKeown’s compass on
Rachel’s little body. Rachel had pleaded with Theresa not to tell William. She’d been eight then, ten years ago. And William was still a figure of dread to her. Please God she would get
her place in college, Theresa prayed. She’d hate her daughter to leave home but Theresa knew it would be the making of her. If only she could wave a magic wand and protect her daughter from
all the pitfalls ahead. It was awful sending your children off out into the world knowing you could do nothing more for them. Theresa felt very guilty about Rachel. She should have stood up to
William on her daughter’s behalf much more than she had, she thought as a tear slid down her cheek. It was just that she always felt so tired and lifeless. She simply hadn’t the energy,
especially lately, to engage her husband in battle. There were times she felt that she had let her daughter down badly.

‘Five honours, not bad.’ Her father read her exam results and handed them to her.

‘It’s wonderful, Rachel, I’m proud of you,’ her mother exclaimed, flinging her arms around her. ‘You worked very very hard.’

‘Thanks, Mam. It should be good enough for St Pat’s.’ Rachel couldn’t believe it herself. Five honours was a very good result no matter what her begrudging father
thought. That trip to the school to get the results had been a nightmare.

Her hands were shaking when Sister Martha handed her the envelope. She couldn’t believe her eyes when she saw the three Bs and two Cs. Michelle got five honours too. Mary Foley and Eileen
Dunphy each got three, and Glenda Mower only got a pathetic one, although she got a C mark on a pass paper and was claiming it as an extra honour.

Rachel had been dying to get home to show her father her results. And then he came out with ‘not bad.’ It was good enough for St Pat’s anyway if it wasn’t good enough for
him, she thought defiantly.

‘Don’t count your chickens before they’re hatched. A lot depends on the type of interview you do before you get into teacher training. Five honours is no guarantee of
anything,’ he warned.

‘Yes, Dad,’ she agreed dutifully. Now that she had her exam results she was going to have to face the ordeal of an interview in St Pat’s. It wasn’t so much the interview
she was dreading, it was the singing test. She would have to sing two songs, one in English and one in Irish, in front of an examiner. The thought of it made her mouth go dry. She was practising
singing in front of her mother. But singing to your mother was one thing. Singing for a complete and utter stranger . . . was another. At least she had the Debs to look forward to.

If things went according to plan, Harry and she would meet for drinks in Dublin and who knows, maybe they’d end up dating. She had to do well in her interview if she wanted to go and live
in Dublin and be near Harry. That thought would get her through her interview, Rachel told herself firmly. This was her one big chance, she wasn’t going to mess it up.

Chapter Twenty-Two

‘
Báidín Fheidhlime
. . .’ Rachel tried again. Her voice was far too high and she got stuck on the top notes. She had sung her English song,
the old reliable
Skye Boat Song
, for the examiner. Now she was attempting to sing her Irish one. It was torture. Her mouth was dry and she could hear her voice quavering as she sang.
She’d never get in to St Pat’s after this performance.

The examiner gave a wry smile when she’d finished. ‘You’ll hardly be taking up opera-singing,’ he remarked as he made some notes. ‘You may start the sight-reading
now.’ Rachel was completely drained when it was over. She would have liked to go in to town and have a cup of tea and a cream cake and have some time to get over the ordeal, but her father
was waiting in the car outside. He had insisted on driving her to Dublin. He’d gone on and on for the whole journey up to the city, telling her what the interviewers would be looking for in a
prospective primary school teacher. By the time they’d arrived she’d been a bundle of nerves.

‘How did it go?’ a friendly girl called Pauline asked. She was next in line to be interviewed.

Rachel threw her eyes up to heaven. ‘I can’t sing for nuts,’ she murmured. ‘But he’s nice enough.’

‘Would you like to wait for me? We could go and have a look around and maybe have coffee,’ Pauline suggested.

Rachel shook her head. ‘I’d love to, but I have a lift outside. Maybe if we both get places, we could go do it when we’re living here?’

‘Sure,’ Pauline agreed. Then her name was called.

‘Good luck,’ said Rachel, watching the other girl take a deep breath before entering the room. Oh please let me get a place, she begged the Almighty as she walked slowly down the
corridor. She would have loved to explore the college and grounds. She liked what she’d seen so far.

The college was on the main road to the airport. On the other side of the road she’d seen a busy shopping area. A pub called the Cat & Cage was a little further up. She’d heard
some of the lads who were waiting for their interviews making plans to go there later and wet their dry throats. The college itself was set in well-kept tree-lined grounds. It was surrounded by a
huge brick wall that closed it off from the hustle and noise of the city. Rachel felt excited when she looked at the residential halls. Soon she might be living in one of them. Soon she might be
living a life of fun and freedom. Ronan was always telling her about the things students got up to in the Tech. Boozy nights at the pub, lively debates, parties, card games and Scrabble. It sounded
so different to her desperately boring existence.

No-one would know her here. No-one would know that her father was the headmaster of a village school and full of his own importance. No-one would know that she was dead shy and had never been
out with a fella, let alone been kissed by one. That girl Pauline had been very easy to talk to. She’d assumed Rachel was NORMAL.

Well she would be, when she came to live here. She wouldn’t let her shyness ruin her life as it had done until now. If people didn’t know she was shy, they wouldn’t treat her
as a shy person. So Rachel would pretend that she was an absolutely normal un-shy person and perhaps she would get to the stage where she wouldn’t need to pretend any more. Full of good
resolutions, she walked out into the grounds.

The sight of her father sitting reading his
Irish Times
in his Cortina sent a surge of deep resentment through her. If he hadn’t insisted on driving her to Dublin she would have
been able to go exploring with her new friend. He pretended it was out of the kindness of his heart, but Rachel knew it was just downright nosiness. He wanted to keep her under his thumb. Well not
for long, she vowed. Soon she would be her own woman.

‘How did you get on, Rachel?’ he asked as soon as she got in beside him.

‘All right,’ she murmured.

‘What kind of an answer is that?’ William asked crossly. ‘Tell me the questions you were asked and the answers you gave, so I can get some indication of how your interview
went.’

‘They asked me all the questions you said they would, and I gave them all the answers you said I should. And I’ve got a headache and I want to shut my eyes for a while,’ she
fibbed. This was the start of being a new woman, she decided with satisfaction, closing her eyes and ignoring her father’s tight-lipped annoyance. They didn’t speak once on the return
journey. Rachel kept her eyes closed and imagined her joyful new life. She’d go to the Cat & Cage with Harry. She’d share a communal kitchen with friends in the hall of residence.
They’d have long gossipy chats over coffee. It was going to be great!

William fumed. That Rachel one was getting to be an impertinent little madam. Brushing him off like that. She wasn’t a bit grateful that he had given up his whole morning
to take her to Dublin. And he’d given her pertinent advice for her interview. And
then
, when he asked her a civil question, a question that showed interest in her welfare,
she’d not been one bit gracious about it.