Foreign Affairs (62 page)

‘Thank you, Miss Johnson,’ Jennifer said, very pleased with herself. She’d worried that Miss Johnson would not be at all impressed after the disaster last night. But obviously
the supervisor thought Jennifer had handled it well. It was great for her self-confidence. She hoped Paula would be as lucky.

‘She never said anything like that to me, the poker-faced wagon,’ Paula exclaimed. ‘She just sat there scribbling in her folder and then gave me the lecture about behaving with
dignity while wearing the uniform. She never said
anything
about a good report. She’s probably going to tell Kieran that I’m totally unsuitable to be a courier.’

‘He knows you’re good enough,’ Jennifer said.

‘But she could say anything when she goes home. She doesn’t like me,’ Paula argued glumly.

‘Forget about her. Anyway I don’t think she’s malicious. She’s gone to torment the poor souls on the Costa. We can relax.’ Jennifer was light-hearted. They were
back in the office making up their reports. There was a ton of paperwork to get through and they were tired after their late night and client meetings all day. The phone rang. It was the hospital
in Palma. Jennifer listened and scowled.

‘What’s up?’ Paula asked.

‘It’s one of those idiots from Cork. He’s broken his leg and his wrist. I’d better go over. It’s a pity he didn’t break his neck while he was at it,’
she said crossly. ‘Where the hell are my car keys?’

‘The joy of being a courier.’ Paula smiled as she bent her head to fill in a report on a customer complaint.

‘If this is joy, I can’t wait to get to paradise!’ Jennifer snorted as she rummaged through her bag in search of the elusive keys. ‘Hasta la vista!’

Chapter Fifty-Six

Rachel arranged the strips of grilled bacon, sausage, pudding and tomato neatly on a warm plate and brought it to the table. Her father sniffed appreciatively. ‘That
smells very nice,’ he approved. ‘Where’s yours?’

‘I’m not hungry,’ she answered quietly. She felt extremely tense. She’d been putting off this moment for ages.

‘I hope you’re not on one of these silly diets. It’s very important to eat properly. You’re far too thin, Rachel,’ William said sternly as he cut his bacon into
neat pieces. He was such a prissy eater, she thought. Not like Ronan and Harry, who loved their grub and ate with relish. William was a dietician’s dream. He slowly chewed each mouthful and
took ages to eat a meal. Rachel once read that you were supposed to chew your food thirty times. William came close to that. She scowled watching his jaws working over a small piece of bacon.

She poured tea, buttered a slice of bread for herself and smeared it with blackberry jam. It was all she wanted. Even that made her feel nauseous. Tell him! Tell him! she urged herself, trying
to screw up her courage.

‘I’ve made arrangements for my TP,’ she murmured.

‘Pardon?’ William stopped chewing and put down his knife and fork. ‘I didn’t catch that, Rachel, speak up.’

She took a deep breath. ‘I said I’ve made arrangements for my teaching practice in September.’

Her father looked perplexed. ‘What arrangements? You don’t have to arrange anything. You’ll be doing it in my class.’

‘No, Dad. I decided not to. I thought it would be better to do it in an outside school. I think it’s more professional. I want the examiner to judge me on my own merits,’
Rachel said hastily.

‘Nonsense. Of course he’ll judge you on your own merits, my being headmaster won’t affect you at all. And you’ll be much more confident in familiar surroundings,’
William said dismissively.

Confident! In front of you. You must be joking, Rachel thought scornfully. She tried again. ‘I just feel—’

‘Whatever arrangements you’ve made, cancel them. I have it all worked out,’ William interrupted, forking a sliver of grilled tomato into his mouth. As usual, it was obvious
that he was not the slightest bit interested in what she felt. ‘You can take sixth class for maths and Irish. I’ll work on it beforehand with you.’

‘Dad, I’m doing my teaching practice in St Catherine’s Primary School, I’ve fixed it up with Sister James.’ Rachel pushed her bread and jam away from her.

‘Why didn’t you consult me about this?’ William glared at her. ‘Sister James must think that I’m a most negligent father if I wouldn’t organize my own
daughter’s teaching practice. You’ve made a show of me!’ he declared.

Rachel fumed silently. The ego of him. He only cared about what his peers thought of him. He wanted to control every part of her life. How she longed to pick up his grill and dump it over his
bald head, and watch the runny yellow egg yolk dribble down his aquiline nose as she told him with great venom to get lost and leave her alone and not be annoying her. Why couldn’t he have
died of a heart attack, and not her mother? How idyllic life would have been then. There was something else she had to tell him too, she might as well get it over and done with. There was no good
time to tell William anything. He didn’t like being told things.
He
liked doing the telling.

‘When I’ve finished my TP and when I go back to St Pat’s in October, I’ve decided to spend my last year living in. Commuting is just too time-consuming. I don’t
want anything to interfere with my studies,’ she said in a rush.

‘Indeed and you won’t be living in. If there’s anything guaranteed to interfere with your studies, it’s living in a hall of residence with other students who just want to
party and have a good time and aren’t the slightest bit interested in their studies. No, Rachel. I won’t permit it. You’re managing perfectly well here.’

‘I’m going to live in,’ she argued.

‘As long as I pay your fees, Miss, you’ll do as I say!’ William roared, pointing his finger in her face. He was very taken aback by Rachel’s defiance. It was something to
be nipped rapidly in the bud. ‘Now, I don’t want to hear another word.’

Rachel stood up. Her knees were shaking. She knew this was her moment. If she flunked it she might just as well give up the idea of having any sort of a normal life.

‘If you don’t like it, you don’t have to pay my fees,’ she quavered. ‘I have enough money to pay my own. I’m doing my teaching practice in St
Catherine’s and I’m living in, and I’m going to Clonmel for a few days’ holidays with my friend Pauline this evening.’ She didn’t wait for her father’s
response. She walked quickly out of the room, hurried upstairs and grabbed her pre-packed bag. ‘Don’t falter now, Rachel Stapleton,’ she muttered as she heard her father’s
footsteps on the stairs.

‘Now just a minute, young lady—’

‘Sorry, Dad, I’m in a bit of a rush, I’ll be late for Pauline if I don’t hurry. See you in a few days.’ She brushed past him and ran downstairs.

‘You haven’t told me anything about this!’ he blustered. ‘I don’t know what kind of a girl this Pauline is.’

‘She’s very nice. Bye.’ Rachel flew out the door. She hadn’t exaggerated when she said she was in a hurry. She was meeting Pauline opposite Heuston Station at six and she
had to get the bus from Bray. She’d taken the precaution of ordering Danny Allen’s taxi to take her to Bray and she saw with relief that he was parked at the church, where she’d
asked him to pick her up. Rachel hurried along the street without a backward glance. Danny got out of the cab and took her bag from her. ‘I’m in an awful hurry to get to Bray,
Danny,’ she said hastily, afraid her father would come up the road and cause a scene.

‘No problem,’ Danny assured her. Rachel turned in the seat and looked out the back window. She could see her father in his slippers, arms akimbo, standing at the front gate. Safe in
the taxi, a sense of triumph made her feel uncharacteristically brave. She leaned forward. ‘Danny, could you drive down the street and go the tenacre field’s route, I just want to wave
to my dad, I left in a bit of a hurry.’

‘Sure, Rachel,’ the taxi driver said obligingly as he did a quick reverse and headed down the street. The expression on William’s face was more of amazement than anything else.
Up yours! Rachel thought exultantly as she gave him a demure wave. The face of him, when she’d told him she had her own money for her fees. The
power
having her own money gave her.
It had been worth saving every penny she’d earned in the Tea Rooms for this moment. Harry and Ronan had been right when they’d said she should leave her father and stand on her own two
feet. She’d taken her first step today and it felt marvellous.

Rachel settled back into the seat as Danny drove along the winding country road towards Bray. Her face grew sad. Harry and she had never got back together after the night of his ultimatum. Each
had let the other down. Harry, because he’d tried to bully her as her father had. Rachel, because, as Harry saw it, she’d chosen her father over him. Harry had gone grape-picking in
France that summer, less than two weeks after their contretemps, and she hadn’t seen him until the following October. They’d bumped into each other one weekend. They’d hugged and
said ‘hello.’ But the old intimacy was gone and there had been a sort of strain between them as they stood outside the chipper making polite small talk. It had been a relief to each of
them when a sudden shower started and they’d said hasty goodbyes and run for the shelter of their respective houses.

Harry had a car now and he was working in a big law firm in Dublin. He also had a new girlfriend. A long-legged brunette who looked extremely glamorous. Rachel had seen her in Rathbarry with
him, the odd weekend he came home to visit. She’d known that Harry wouldn’t be on his own for long. It didn’t bother her as much as she’d thought it would. Men were just a
load of hassle, she told herself. She was better off without them. Being manless wasn’t so bad. It would have been different if she’d never had a boyfriend. She’d experienced the
boyfriend bit, done the dating bit, and even the heavy petting bit. These all brought their own problems and the fewer problems she had to deal with the better.

Once she passed her finals and had a job she’d start to live again, Rachel promised herself. In the meantime, she was looking forward to spending a few days with Pauline in Clonmel. Rachel
couldn’t help smiling at the thought of Pauline Hegarty. Pauline was the complete opposite to her. A zany, bubbly flibbertigibbet, Pauline lived life to the full and only studied when she
absolutely had to. She would never have passed an exam without Rachel’s help. Rachel envied her friend her sunny optimistic nature. But Pauline also had a kind heart. When Theresa died,
Pauline had sat for many hours listening to Rachel talk about her mother. It helped Rachel greatly. Most people didn’t want to talk to her about her mother for fear of upsetting her.
Neighbours often crossed to the other side of the street when they saw her coming. Unsure of what to say. William was the last person she could talk to about her mother and Ronan had left home.

Pauline instinctively knew that Rachel wanted to talk, and with a sensitivity that belied her effervescent personality, she handed out tissues, made tea and let Rachel cry her eyes out as she
talked of Theresa. It had been a relief for Rachel to be able to talk about her mother. Pauline had given her no advice. She hadn’t expressed an opinion one way or the other as to whether
Rachel should stay at home or go to France with Harry. She just kindly said that Rachel shouldn’t make any hasty decisions. Making decisions when one was recently bereaved was not wise. Her
kindness was a balm to Rachel’s troubled soul. If it hadn’t been for Pauline, she would never have got through her exams, or through the misery that followed her row with Harry.

Pauline had often invited her to visit her home but Rachel always put it off. But she needed some respite after the stresses and strains of the exams. And Rachel had planned the confrontation
with her father in the knowledge that she could go and stay with her friend for a few days.

Pauline was sick of her summer job in a biscuit factory. She’d phoned Rachel and said she was leaving it and going home and invited Rachel to come with her for a few days. Rachel
impulsively decided to take her up on her offer. The Misses Healy had been understanding about her need for a few days off so Rachel made her plans to drop her bombshells and be ready to escape the
flak.

As Danny drove into Bray, Rachel felt pleased enough with herself. She hadn’t chickened out. She’d got the better of her father. She had her own money and she damn well deserved a
holiday.

‘I didn’t think you’d be here,’ Pauline said with a broad grin, as she pulled in opposite Heuston at six-thirty. Punctuality was not one of her virtues so Rachel
hadn’t quite got to the panicky stage. She got into her friend’s Volkswagen and they chugged along the Naas Road.

‘Jemima’s not in the best of form.’ Pauline grimaced as the car began to vibrate as she accelerated to fifty. ‘I think I’ve to get the wheels balanced or something,
she’s going a bit peculiar once I hit fifty.’ Pauline knew nothing about the mechanics of her car nor did she wish to know anything about what went on under the bonnet. She knew it
needed petrol to go, which she bought when the needle was well past the empty mark. She occasionally put water in the battery and in the radiator, when she thought of it. She couldn’t figure
out the air gauges and rarely, if ever, put air in her tyres. Oil was a rare treat for Jemima. Rachel was fascinated by this. Her father had a specific routine for looking after his car which never
varied. Everything was checked on a weekly basis. His car was washed and polished every Saturday. It was immaculate. Pauline never washed her car. It was always littered with empty crisp bags. She
cheerfully called it a tip-heap on wheels but nevertheless it was a much-loved car. Her father had given it to her as an early twenty-first birthday present to make life easier for her while she
was in St Pat’s.

‘Did you bring your bikini?’ Pauline asked out of the blue.

‘Oohh, no,’ Rachel said. ‘I didn’t know I’d need one.’

‘Well you will. Look at the weather. It’s glorious! We’ll go to the beach in Waterford. You can get one in Dunnes tomorrow.’

Rachel wasn’t sure if she wanted a bikini. She’d never worn one, she’d feel far too self-conscious. She’d buy a swimsuit instead.