Aisling Gayle (53 page)

Aisling felt a stab of anger at her mother describing it as
carry-on.
“Yes!” she snapped. “Yes, I have told him. But none of that would have happened if we’d been getting on before I even thought of going to America. And you knew that.” She looked her mother in the eye now. “Tell me, did you advise Oliver to enquire about us adopting a child?”

Maggie sat up in the chair and folded her arms defensively. “I’m not going to deny it. I did suggest that you should adopt a child, Aisling – and I still think you should.” She got up from the armchair, and stood close to her daughter. “All this American nonsense has got to stop. Do you hear me?” Her voice now had a steely note in it. “It’s got to stop
right now
. There’s no future in it for you. You’re a married woman – and nothing can change that. Even your Auntie Jean thinks it’s for the best that you and Oliver make a go of things . . .”

Aisling’s heart skipped a beat. “Auntie Jean?” she said. “When were you talking to her?”

“Oh – one evening last week,” Maggie said with a wave of her hand. “And the impression I got from Jean was that the big American fella was getting on just fine there without you. She agreed with me that it would be the best solution all round if you just settled back in Ireland – if everyone just went back to the way it was before all this nonsense started.”

“But Mammy,” Aisling said pleadingly, “I don’t love Oliver any more. How can I stay for the rest of my life with a man that I don’t love?”

“
Love?
” Maggie snorted. “Love indeed!” She prodded Aisling’s shoulder. “It’s about time you grew up, Aisling. You’re living in a dream world. You need to face up to facts. You’re a
Catholic
– and being a Catholic means certain things. It means sticking to your marriage vows for better or worse. It means putting up with the bad – and making the best of it. There’s a lot worse husbands out there than Oliver Gayle.”

“But Mammy . . .” Aisling said, tears springing to her eyes.

Maggie held her hand up. “My advice to you is to go home and sort things out with Oliver as quick as you can.” Her voice dropped. “
If
he’ll have you back after your disgraceful carry-on. There’s many a man would have shown you the door as soon as he found out.”

“And what about
his
carry-on?” Aisling said. “I know you’re quite happy to pretend that he’s the perfect husband, just because he’s always got a smile on his face and a quick joke. If you want to know what kind of a reputation he has, you ask Pauline or Carmel!”

Maggie’s chest puffed out with indignation. “Pauline has never had a bad word to say for Oliver. In fact, I’m sure she used to have a bit of a
grá
for him when she was younger. I’ve often heard her say how lucky you are to have married Oliver Gayle.”

There was a sudden silence. Then, Aisling took a deep breath. “Look, Mammy . . . I don’t want this to cause a falling out between us.”

Maggie nodded her head slowly. “But it
will
, Aisling – if you don’t listen to reason, it most certainly will.” She halted. “The long school holidays don’t suit you, Aisling. I’ve seen you the same every summer, brooding there on your own, feeling sorry for yourself, when you should be thankful for your lovely home and all you’ve got.” More than a hint of bitterness was evident in her tone. “You’re well off and you don’t even know it.”

Just then, the door opened and Pauline came in with the basketful of turf. She banged it down on the hearth and with a loud sigh started to throw some sods on the fire.

“And there’s no point in you signalling your
disapproval,” Maggie rounded on her younger daughter now. “Don’t think I didn’t see you listening there at the back door.”

“Oh, Mammy, for God’s sake give it a rest, will you?” Pauline snapped back. “Aisling’s a grown woman, and what she does is her own business.”

“Is that right?” Maggie was up on her feet now, her voice high with indignation. “And I suppose what you did was your business, too? I suppose that you coming back here with an illegitimate child has nothing to do with the rest of us?”

Aisling stood up. “Don’t start on Pauline now, or I’m going home. I’m not feeling too bright, and I don’t need all these arguments.”

Pauline grabbed her jacket from the back of a chair. “Come on, Aisling,” she said. “I’ll get Bernadette and the bike, and we’ll come back to the house with you for a while. I could do with getting out of here.” Both girls started towards the door.

Maggie’s face dropped. “Now, there’s no need for all of this,” she said in a watery voice. “I’m only trying to advise A
isling . . . there’s the Church and the school and everythin
g to think of, and I’m only trying to do my duty as any good Catholic mother would.”

Aisling turned back. “It’s really not my fault, Mammy. If Oliver had done what he should have over the years, I wouldn’t be in this situation now.”

“Men are different,” Maggie stated. “Some of them are made that way, and it’s up to us women to keep them on the straight and narrow – not to be outdoing them.”

Aisling looked back at her mother, and then without another word, she followed her sister out of the house.

* * *

Back at her own house, with little Bernadette sleeping on the sofa, Aisling poured the whole story about Jameson Carroll to Pauline. She missed nothing out, and was so exhausted re-living the whole situation, that she finished up cradled in her sister’s arms.

“I can’t believe it!” Pauline said at the end of it, rubbing Aisling’s shoulders to comfort her. “I could never in my wildest dreams have imagined you going with another man.”

Aisling sighed, searching in her pocket for a hanky.

“Before I went to America, I would have never imagined it myself. Maybe it would have been better if I’d never gone . . . I can see it definitely would have been better for everyone else. And yet . . .”

“What?’ Pauline asked.

“And yet,” Aisling whispered, “I don’t regret a minute of it. It was the best thing that I’ve ever felt in my entire life . . . I would never have believed I could feel so happy with a man.” She looked at her sister now. “I can’t even begin to describe how he made me feel. The way I felt about Oliver at our very best . . . doesn’t even come close to this.”

Pauline bit her lip. “I really don’t know what to say . . . Mammy was right about what I think of Oliver. I’ve always felt you were really lucky being married to him.”

“But you must
know
the name he has around town for going with women,” Aisling said quietly.

Pauline gave a little shrug. “I’m sure most of it was harmless . . . a bit of flirting.”

“If you were married to him,” Aisling said, “then you would find out that none of it was harmless.” Her voice dropped. “Sure, he left me with hardly an ounce of confidence in myself. And I know well what you think of him, Pauline – I was head over heels about him when we met. I thought I could change him – but I couldn’t.”

Pauline turned away, embarrassed. “What can I say, Aisling? I’m the last one to offer any advice. Look at the hames I’ve made of my own life already.”

“I’m not asking for advice,” Aisling said. “It’s too late for that now’”

“What do you
really
want to do, Aisling?” Pauline asked.

“I want to go back to America,” she said. “I want to go back to live at Lake Savannah with Jameson and Thomas. I know in my heart that it’s the right thing to do.”

Pauline bit her lip again. “
America?
” she said, with trepidation in her voice. She paused. “I suppose it would have to be America . . . there’s no way you could be with him over here.”

Aisling nodded slowly. “I know all that . . . that’s why it’s so difficult.”

“Have you heard from him since you came back?” Pauline asked.

Aisling shook her head. “I said I would wait until I sorted things out with Oliver. There’s no point in writing or phoning until I have something to tell him.” She rubbed under both her eyes with her hanky, then tucked a blonde wing behind her ear. “Anyway, I’m not even sure where he is at the moment . . . he’s probably still at his parents’ house in New York.”

“Oh, Aisling,” Pauline whispered. “I can’t believe it . . .
you were always the one that everything went right for. I always thought you were so lucky, with your handsome husband, your lovely house and your nice teaching job.”

Aisling smiled weakly at her sister. “You sound exactly like Mammy.”

Pauline laughed now. “For God’s sake, don’t say that! I really don’t mean it like Mammy. It’s just that I’m frightened in case you make a mistake.” She took a deep breath. “What if Oliver really has changed? What if you went ahead and adopted a baby and everything turned out fine?” Pauline realised now that that’s what she hoped with all her heart would happen. If things worked out fine with her and Jack Byrne, sure they could all be one big happy family, with her and Aisling out for Sunday walks with children running around and babies being pushed in their prams.

“I don’t believe he can change,” Aisling said. “I’m sure it would all be a big novelty for a while . . . but like everything else, it would become too ordinary and boring for him. He would be like a caged bird, hopping about to see what he could move on to next.” She looked at Pauline, tears starting again. “He’ll never change, and what chance would I have then – tied to him and a house with a baby?”

“You could be worse off,” Pauline said with a wry smile. She touched the sleeping child’s leg. “You could be in my shoes . . . stuck at home with Mammy and Daddy forever. As Mammy never fails to tell me, there’s no decent man will ever look at me again.” She still hadn’t told Aisling or her parents about Jack Byrne. The time wasn’t right. And anyway, what was there to tell at this stage? Just a few trips to the cinema, and a couple of walks out by the Mullingar lakes. There was enough going on at home with all Aisling’s problems, and Charles’s increasingly odd behaviour – coming in with cut eyes and boxed ears and refusing to say where they came from. There was enough going on, without Pauline throwing yet another spanner in the Kearneys’ works.

Telling them about Jack Byrne could wait. It was going too well to spoil it all by announcing their friendship at the wrong time.

Chapter 41

Charles slid down the bolts on one half of the shop door, and then went outside to check that there were no boxes or sacks left by mistake. There was nothing, Peenie had cleared the lot and swept up outside before heading home a few minutes ago. He stood for a while, his arms folded, looking up the street and then down. All was quiet. And indeed all was quiet in the house at the moment as well.

His parents had gone off to Tullamore earlier on with Pauline and Bernadette. They could be gone a while yet, as they said they might call in on Aisling on the way back.

This was all a very bad business, Charles thought, the carry-on between Aisling and Oliver. A very bad business indeed.

He pushed his glasses up on his nose. Things were more than a little fraught at home as a result of it all, and he was glad of the bit of peace and quiet for a change. His mother was like a cat on a griddle, watching and waiting for any bit of news that might indicate that things were settling back down to normal.

Charles stood for a few moments, watching the world go by, and then he turned back towards the shop. He would go in now, and make himself a cup of tea, and put his feet up with
Nostradamus.
What a fellow
, Charles thought,
and what a brain!
He had just started a chapter about Napoleon at his tea-break this afternoon, and was anxious to continue reading Nostradamus’s theory on the emperor being the first Antichrist.

Just then, he heard the familiar sound of Oliver Gayle’s car coming up the street. The engine had a very particular sound that Charles recognised immediately. He turned, wondering what had brought Oliver out here straight from work. Not more marital problems, Charles hoped.

The car pulled up and Oliver hopped out smartly. He held a hand up to Charles, and then went to open the back passenger door. Out stepped a sturdy female figure dressed formally in a hat and coat, followed by smartly dressed young boy. The sight of them almost brought a pain to Charles’s chest.

It was Mrs Lynch and her son.

One hand flew up to his chin and the other to his glasses. “Well, now . . .” he said, taking a step towards Oliver and then changing his mind and moving towards Mrs Lynch. “Well, now . . .” he said again.

“Mr Kearney,” Mrs Lynch said, coming towards him, taking off her gloves. “I had to come to explain about the Mulligans –”

“The Mulligans?” Charles said, stepping back into the closed door and banging the back of his head against the padlock.

Oliver stepped forward, and took young Dominic by the hand. “I’ll just find this fellow a packet of sweets or something in the shop,” he said, and moved discreetly in past Charles and Mrs Lynch.

“My neighbours,” Mrs Lynch explained solemnly. “I saw what went on that evening outside the house.”

Charles raised his eyebrows in surprise. “You were in the house, then?”