The Glass Lake (63 page)

“So nobody wanted to come with us?” He looked at her playfully.

“That's the way it turned out,” she said.

He opened the door of a very smart car indeed.

“What is it?” she asked in wonder.

“It's an E-type,” said Stevie casually.

“Well now, if they'd seen this we'd have been killed in the rush,” she said.

“No good, Kit, if they just want you for the car. They have to want you for yourself,” he said.

He was easy company, semi-flirting, more admiring really. She found it easy to play her role.

“Ah, I'd say you have no trouble in that department,” she said.

“What department?”

“The department where they want you for yourself. Queuing up, from what I hear.”

“Come on out of that, you're the girl next door, remember. You never saw any queues form at the garage.”

“I saw enough,” Kit laughed.

He looked at her and she smiled quite deliberately, like people did in films. It felt corny inside but he liked it. “You've certainly changed since those days,” he said.

“Have I? I feel just the same.”

“No you don't. You were a silly giggling schoolgirl with Clio. You laughed at everything and everyone.”

“And now I'm all morose, is that it?” Again she looked up at him from under her eyelashes. Kit wondered was she overdoing this.

Stevie wasn't a fool, he would know what she was trying on, and despise her. But apparently not. “That's a nice crowd of friends you have,” he said. “Yes…that's the great thing about Dublin, isn't it. There's a chance to meet so many more people than at home. Is the big blond guy your boyfriend?” He was very direct.

“Why do you ask?” She had raised her eyebrows. Surely he'd tell her to stop playacting. He seemed very attentive. “He's in my year at the catering college.”

“Is he that O'Connor, of the hotels?” How quick he was. He had learned Kevin's name, and put two and two together.

“That's it,” she said. She had an urge to tell him that Kevin O'Connor was a great ignorant loudmouth who had told all his friends that he had slept with her, and paid dearly for it. That he was afraid out of his life of her now. That he would probably run one at least, if not all, of his father's hotels into the ground by the time he had finished with them.

But that wasn't part of the game. The game had to do with making him just a little jealous. Letting him think she was rushed off her feet. So she said none of these interesting facts about Kevin. But then, going out with a fellow like Stevie wasn't like going out with a friend.

“So he's the one, is he?”

“Frankie's brother the law student? No, just a pal but as you said, he's attentive. I think that describes it well.”

“And young Philip O'Brien from the hotel, attentive as well! Lord, you're notching them up, Kit McMahon.”

“Oh no. Philip's just a friend.”

“And why wasn't he at tonight's do?”

“I think he had to go home,” Kit lied. She felt sure he could see through her like glass.

“Well, I'm glad you asked me. I'm having a good time,” said Stevie. He swung the car around and parked it in a place that looked as if it were reserved for visiting celebrities. Hardly anyone visiting tonight would have a smarter car, so a judicious discussion with a porter made sure that it was all organized.

Then, with his hand under her elbow, Stevie Sullivan led Kit into the hotel, where the others in their party were gathered, looking open-mouthed at the car that Stevie had parked so casually.

“That's some motor,” Kevin O'Connor said, the envy oozing from his every pore.

“Oh, I don't know, they're a bit flash. I think you're just paying for all that chrome. You say you have a Morris? I think they're the best thing on the road these days, fast too if you need it.”

Kevin was appeased. “Yeah sure. That's what I thought.” They came nearer to the ballroom and they heard the music of the band. “Kit, can I book you for the first dance?” Kevin said.

It was loud rock and roll. It wasn't a seducing number. Nothing she would need to concentrate on with Stevie. “That would be great, Kevin,” she said in a low, breathy voice. Kevin straightened his bow tie and led her by the hand onto the floor.

Men are such idiots, Kit said to herself. And for some reason a vision of her mother flashed in front of her.

         

“Are these the bright lights of Lough Glass coming up ahead?” Michael O'Connor asked Clio.

“You're not going to make me defensive about my hometown,” she laughed at him.

“No, it must be very deep and important, coming from a place the size of this,” said Michael O'Connor.

“Okay, so you were born in Dublin, but your father wasn't, nor your mother. Everyone came from a place like this, it's just a question of when,” Clio said.

“I love you when you're angry, Miss Kelly.”

“I'm not angry,” Clio said.

“Good, so you're going to be real nice to me…”

“Yes, but we'll have to be quick.”

They parked the car in the drive. As she had expected, her parents' car was not there. They would be another hour at the Golf Club.

She opened the door and saw Michael O'Connor's eyes take in the house. It was comfortable and she felt no sense that it was not worthy of them. Her mother spent a lot of time and money choosing furnishing fabrics. The hall had an antique mirror and two old tables of elegant design. There was a light in the kitchen.

Clio saw the glum figure of her younger sister sitting reading at the kitchen table. “Oh shit,” said Clio. “It's Anna.”

“What does that mean?” Michael asked, peering over her shoulder.

“What you've guessed it means,” said Clio with her mouth a hard line.

Anna looked up from her book. “Oh hallo,” she said. “I thought it was them, back from tombstone city a bit early.”

“Why aren't you out?” Clio snapped. “It's a Saturday night.”

“Why aren't
you
out?” Anna retorted.

Michael just stood there.

“I am out,” Clio said foolishly. “I'm out from Dublin.”

“Great.” Anna went back to her book.

“Anna, this is Michael O'Connor, a friend of mine from Dublin. This is my younger sister, Anna, who's at school.”

“But not at the moment,” Anna said. “At the moment I'm committing what is apparently the worst crime in the book, I'm in my own house, sitting here reading my own book, and for some reason I have offended my big sister greatly by doing this.”

“Oh shut up, Anna. You're a pain in the arse,” said Clio.

“Well, I think I should be…” Michael was anxious to be far away from this kitchen.

“No, heavens, you must have a drink, a coffee or something. You can't drive me all this way and just…”

“Well, it looks as if I have driven you all this way and then just…” he said. And there was a look of real annoyance on his face.

“Perhaps, Anna, if I could ask you to go to your own room and read, Michael and I could…um…talk here with more comfort?” Clio didn't hold out much hope.

“There are six chairs.” Anna looked around as if to reassure herself. “And there's the drawing room and the dining room. I don't remember anyone saying that when I read a book I had to be confined to my own room.”

“Jesus,” Clio said to her, with a look that would have weakened a lesser sister.

“It's been great,” said Michael icily.

“Listen, come back. I'm sorry.”

“Come back for what exactly? For repartee in the kitchen? No, I'll just drive back to Dublin. It's what I love to do on a Saturday, drive to the middle of nowhere and back.” She heard the bang of the car door and he was gone.

With a look of murder in her eyes Clio returned to the kitchen.

         

Emmet had thought
The Blue Lagoon
a bit soppy and sentimental, but Patsy Hanley had liked it. She giggled a lot when she talked about it afterward and said
You know
and
I forgot what I was going to say
a lot. Maybe she was shy and that was why she talked so much. Emmet knew how hard it was to mean to say one thing and have another come out. But really Patsy was hard going. If it had been Anna…

If only it had been Anna. They could have talked about it properly…Anna was so bright, she had such imagination. Her mind went everywhere.

As he sat beside Patsy, who was prattling on about the film on the bus, he thought of Anna. She wasn't going out with that greasy Stevie, that was good. But had he been right to pass up the chance of taking her out tonight? Was it wise to take Patsy and make her jealous? Why did life have to be such a series of games?

When the bus stopped outside Paddles' bar Emmet and Patsy walked together along the street in Lough Glass. “Wouldn't it be great if there was a place to go for coffee or ice cream here?” Patsy said.

“Yeah.” Emmet didn't think he could take any more of Patsy and was quite relieved that there wasn't anywhere to go. They passed the Central Hotel and looked at it without enthusiasm. “It's a real mausoleum, isn't it?” said Emmet.

“A what?” Patsy asked.

Emmet dug his hands into his pockets.

“Were you at the pictures?” called Philip O'Brien.

“It was terrific,
The Blue Lagoon
,” said Patsy.

Philip was always nice to Emmet McMahon. One day Emmet would be his brother-in-law; he wanted them to have a history of being friends. “Anna Kelly not with you?” he asked conversationally. He thought Emmet would be pleased to know that he, Philip, a much older man, would even know who his friends were.

He was unprepared for the glower he got from Emmet. “No, she's n-not,” he said with his stammer returning. He struggled out the words that people were free to come and go as they wanted to and then marched off with a red face. Patsy Hanley shrugged at Philip and followed. She didn't know what was wrong either.

“Well, I'm home,” Emmet said gruffly as they got to McMahon's pharmacy.

“Aren't you going to escort me home?” Patsy said. “You did ask me to the pictures.”

Emmet had opened the door, but he realized that it was just pure annoyance and bad temper on his part to dart into his house. Of course he should have walked her across to her house over Hanley's Drapery. “Sorry,” he muttered.

They walked through the quiet town. There was never much sound coming from Foley's bar up at this end, all the activity seemed to be down at Paddles' place.

Mrs. Hanley was waiting. “I thought the bus should be in about now,” she said. She had no intention of allowing her second daughter to follow the path of Deirdre and be regarded as an easy conquest. “Come on in, Emmet. I'll give you a cup of drinking chocolate,” she said.

“No really, thanks, Mrs. Hanley.”

“Ah, come on up, can't you? I've chocolate biscuits.”

Emmet went up. There would be nobody at home. His father and Maura were at the Golf Club and he didn't want to be alone thinking about Anna. This was more companionable.

         

Kit discovered that Stevie was a great dancer. She wanted to ask him where he had learned. She had learned at special lessons, an optional class provided by Mother Bernard on Friday afternoons up at the convent. They had mocked the teacher at the time but always looked back in gratitude.

But Stevie now. All his life spent in overalls, tinkering with engines. Living with that awful moaning mother of his and a wild young brother. Where had he found time and interest to make himself so smart and so skilled? When they danced to “Smoke Gets in Your Eyes” he laid his cheek against hers. Kit moved slightly away but only very slightly, so that he could follow.

“Do you know something?” Stevie said.

“No. What?” Kit was giggly and coy. It seemed to be working.

“The words of that song are utterly ridiculous. It's about some guy who had laughing friends deride him…listen…” They listened to the words. It was as he said. “What kind of a shower of friends would they be?” Stevie asked.

Kit agreed with him. She was about to give her views then she remembered her role. She was here to make him fall for her. What that involved was not having views yourself but talking entirely about the boy.

“Do you have friends?” she asked, looking up at him.

“You know bloody well I don't have friends. Haven't you known me all my life? What time have I for friends? Where would I find them?” He sounded bitter.

“I don't know you all my life,” she came back with spirit. “I hardly know you at all. You're a different man tonight, a person I don't know at all. For all I know you could have friends in Hollywood or the South of France. You look the part.” She realized she sounded angry.

But he took it as admiration. “Thank you,” he said. She longed to talk to him. But there was no time. “And have you many friends?” he asked as they stood on the dance floor. They didn't even bother returning to the table where the wine and the others were, they knew they would be dancing again.

“Not all that many really.” Kit was thoughtful.

“I thought you and Clio were still Siamese twins.”

“No, not at all. She's not here tonight, for example.”

“Anna says you're as thick as thieves.”

“Anna!” There was the word. This is what she must get back to—outsmarting Anna. “Anna knows nothing.” She put all the scorn in the world into her voice.

“She's brighter than you think, she's got a mind of her own,” he defended her.

Kit knew that this was true. Anna was bright and imaginative. She remembered that from when Emmet had been so sick and she had come to mind him. She mustn't protest too much. “She's pretty, mind you,” Kit said in a coquettish way that felt horribly alien. “I can see that people would think she was a little attractive, but bright…I don't think so.”