Heart and Soul (49 page)

“I think that is something you should discuss with Bobby and Carl, not with me.”

“But if you say that you'd be a backup, a carer, you know, then they'd agree.”

“I don't think so. Bobby is very set on a new place. He was showing us brochures, advertisements.”

“That's only because he thinks Carl won't be around for him.” Rosemary looked almost beseeching.

“I think Carl is happy here and Bobby is happy for us to be here, Mrs. Walsh. So I will not say anything at all to change things.”

Rosemary looked at her long and hard. “They're right. You
are
intelligent. You're sharp. I made a mistake. I apologize for that as well. At what must have seemed rudeness.”

“It was a misunderstanding, Mrs. Walsh. It's over now.”

“You are very clever. I see that. Too late.”

“It is not too late.”

“It is. I'll go now, Ania.”

“Are you sure you would not like some wine?”

“I'm sure. Thank you.”

There was laughter from the next room.

Rosemary looked at the door. “Carl never brought any friends home to dinner when he lived at home.”

“Well, maybe he needed a place of his own.”

“Good-bye, Ania.”

“Good-bye, Mrs. Walsh.”

Fiona wanted to tell him something. Declan didn't have to be Einstein to know this. Even Dimples the dog seemed to know. He lay quietly examining his paws and making no sounds. Declan's father, Paddy, was off with Muttie and their associates in the pub.

His mother, Molly, was talking finery with Fiona's mother, Maureen.

“Declan?”

“There's something wrong, isn't there?”

“You feel it too?” She seemed relieved.

“I feel that you are upset about something certainly.”

“I can't marry you,” she said.

“You've met another fellow.” He smiled at her indulgently.

“You know that's not true.”

“So it's me, then? You've gone off me?”

“As if, Declan Carroll.”

“So, what is it, then, pet?”

“It's a long story,” Fiona said.

“We have all the time in the world,” said Declan and folded his arms to listen to the most complicated rambling tale, of which he understood hardly a word. Except that because of bad judgment— in fact, worse,
no
judgment—Fiona wasn't going to marry anybody.

Ever.

Fiona thought that more marriages must have taken place between people who just didn't want to upset the arrangements than between people who really
should
have got married. She understood it only too well. Look at all the people she was upsetting by this decision. She didn't even dare to think about her parents and Declan's parents and her sisters, who would not now be bridesmaids. The fallout from that would last a generation. Then there were all the cousins, aunts and uncles on both sides who had ordered wedding outfits and even, in some cases, had already sent wedding presents. They would be incensed.

And Vonni coming to Ireland for the first time in decades. David coming over from England for his first-ever visit. The whole staff at the clinic, who had been so excited and supportive. Father Flynn, whose first wedding it would have been in this center by the Liffey, would feel like a fool. The twins, Maud and Simon, who had told almost everyone in Dublin that this was the start of their career, would be crushed. Ania, who was happy and smiling again, and who had made a beautiful dress, would not now see her creation walk down the aisle.

It was easy to see why other women had given in over the years rather than alienate half the planet. But then, other women hadn't known the great insight that had become clear to Fiona.

The day she had read that newspaper item, which summed up Shane O'Leary's short life and sordid death, Fiona realized that she had, at one period of her life, been prepared to marry this man. She was expecting his child. She had been distraught when she had miscarried. She had
longed
to hear him propose marriage and suggest that they live by the sea in Aghia Anna and bring up their child there.

How could she be capable of making
any
decision?

She would go far away from here and all the people she had let down. She would go abroad and find herself.
Do
something worthwhile rather than getting swept along in some insane project that had now become completely out of control, with opals and buffet feasts and decisions on who was to make what speech.

Had Declan really understood,
really
understood that it was over? That the wedding was not going to happen. He had been too calm. He had said the past had nothing to do with them. He also had said that of course she should just do what she wished to do. He would be brokenhearted all his life and he would never marry either. There were ways in which it would all be a giant waste.

But if that's what she wanted, then that's what would happen.

No, he wouldn't hear of taking back her ring. She must get it made into a brooch or a pendant. And he wanted one week before they told people.

“A week? But people will be busy making their plans, Declan. We
have
to tell them now.”

“But it's about
me.
I haven't got used to making
my
plans to live without you. Give me just one week,” he asked.

“This isn't some awful, devious scheme?”

“No,” he said sadly. “If I had an awful, devious scheme that might work, I would have one, believe me.”

“All right, then.”

“Yes and we tell nobody. Nobody at all.”

“But they'll go on making arrangements.”

“Let them. It's only for a week. Then we tell them. Okay. Swear.”

“I swear.”

“Not even Barbara?”

“Not even Barbara,” she agreed.

“Good girl,” he said.

Fiona noted that he hadn't tried to argue with her, change her mind, tell her that she was wrong. All he had asked was a week's grace, and that she should keep the opals. He must have known in his heart that it would have been doomed.

Clara was surprised to see Frank Ennis standing at her desk.

“A rare and unexpected pleasure,” she said.

He came straight to the point. “Can you give that girl Amy a reference?”

“Yes. She was fine. If we had a job for her, we'd give her one.”

“That's all right, then. She looks a bit weird.”

“But then, what a mistake it would be to judge people by their looks.” Clara smiled.

“Sure. So the wandering Pole has returned?”

“Yes. Ania's crisis is over, I'm glad to say. Everyone was delighted to see her back.”

“And I gather you have a wedding coming up?” Frank said. Clara wondered how on earth he could have known that.

“Absolutely. Declan and Fiona. Big day out.
And
we have loads more romance going on. Ania is together with the son of one of our patients. My daughter and Hilary's son have fallen in love. All I need is to get a young fellow myself and we can say the objectives have all been achieved.”

He was almost sure she was joking, but not quite.

“I thought you were already spoken for, with the pharmacist in the precinct?”

“Oh, Frank, that's old news now. Peter is history. He's actually involved with the lady who runs Lilac Court, the nursing home.”

“Well, really!” Frank Ennis was dumbfounded.

“And how did you know about Declan and Fiona's wedding?” Clara wondered.

“Well, I'm invited, as it happens.”

“Invited?”
Clara was taken aback. Fiona and Declan had invited the Enemy to their wedding? Never.

“Well, more or less. I'm a plus
one,”
he said. “Fiona's cousin, who's a social worker, was invited and her invitation said plus one, so that's me.”

“Well, well, well.” Clara was, for once, without words.

Fiona and Declan would scream with laughter over this.

“So you'll have to save me a dance, Clara,” Frank said.

“I wouldn't want to step on the toes of Fiona's cousin,” Clara murmured diplomatically.

“No, no, you wouldn't be. That's not an affair or anything, not even an understanding or anything. Just a casual friendship. I think she just thought it would be a nice day out.”

“And it will be, Frank. It will be,” said Clara.

“And you can tell me all about your plans and where you go after here,” he said.

“After here?”

“When your year is up,” he said.

Clara had quite put it out of her mind that she had been hired for only a year, at her own heavy insistence at the time. “Ah, yes, when the year is up,” she said vaguely.

“I'm sure you have your plans. Your career plan.” Frank was eager to know.

“You wouldn't believe me if I said I had nothing planned.” She smiled at him.

She had been right. He didn't believe her. Clara Casey without a game plan.

Please.

Clara sat at her desk when Frank left. What an extraordinary year it had been.

Alan's bimbo becoming pregnant. Alan asking for a divorce, then asking if he could come back home. Adi and Gerry planning to go
and save a rain forest. Linda having a change of personality since she'd met Hilary's son, Nick. Then there was the episode with Peter Barry the pharmacist, who had wanted to marry her.

But most of all there was the clinic. That's what amazed her. It was bigger in her mind than all the other life-changing things that had happened. They
were
making a difference. They were managing to keep people out of hospital. They had restored confidence and given new hope to people with heart disease and they had made it part of ordinary life.

It had been well worth doing. She was in no way ready to move on.

Ania was in charge of the collection for Fiona and Declan's wedding present. She had felt odd about it at first: it was a difficult situation. But then nothing had happened since Fiona's outburst. There was no announcement that the wedding was canceled. Everything seemed to be going ahead. It was going to be all right.

It hadn't been difficult to get donations and arrange for everyone to sign the card. The question was what to get them? There was no wedding list registered in a store. There were no helpful hints and no mention of a color scheme for the new flat they were hoping to buy. And yet the money was flowing in. They had enough for Ania to buy a really good present.

Ania brought up the subject casually. Whether crystal was worth the expense or did Declan prefer simpler glasses? Was silver old-fashioned now or did young people still like it? Was it possible to buy a work of art for someone else?

Declan brushed Ania's careful detective work aside with a laugh.

“Ania, we don't want
anything
and if people are going to give something, then maybe a CD or a book or a vase.
Please,
Ania.” Which had been no help at all.

On the other hand, it was a lot better than what Fiona had said this morning.

Ania had asked if in Fiona's opinion cast-iron casserole dishes might be a good gift? She had tried to make it appear as if she was
thinking of cast-iron casserole dishes in entirely general terms as a gift for unspecified people.

Fionas eyes had filled with tears.

“Do you have a list of who gave you what, Ania?” she asked unexpectedly.

Ania didn't know what to answer. “Um …well…” she said.

“It's just that you'd need to know what to give back to people if, for example, the wedding did
not
take place.”

“Fiona!”
Ania cried.

“I have said nothing, nothing at all. You must remember that. I said nothing except that if you
are
collecting money for anything, you should always write down what people give you.” And Fiona was gone, wiping her eyes.

Ania realized that she had to keep quiet about this. It was hard when Carl was asking her what kind of a suit he should wear for the wedding and when Fiona's mother and Declan's mother were busy trying to discuss the corsages Ania was going to make for them to wear with their new outfits and when Maud and Simon were on the phone to her regularly about table decorations and when Barbara was starving herself to fit into a kingfisher-blue dress that was a size too small.

Fiona and Declan really might
notbe
getting married. Should all these people be warned? Ania had a headache that wouldn't go away.

Brian Flynn called in to the heart clinic to pick up Johnny. They were going to go south on one of their marathons. Or little strolls, as Johnny called them.

“Will you come with us, Declan?” Johnny suggested. “The DART out to Bray and a few runs up and down the esplanade there, filling your lungs full of good, fresh sea air.”

“God, it sounds very healthy,” Declan said. “Wait till I put on better running shoes.”

“Then filling our gut with pints of good, fresh beer,” Brian finished.

“That does it, all right,” agreed Declan.

“Afterwards, you can brief me about my duties as best man,” Johnny added. “I'm not sure—”

“But you're totally sure we can all yomp these miles and climb these peaks,” Brian grumbled.

“Stop complaining, Brian. You know it's good for you,” Declan said, glad that the subject had been changed.