Circle of Friends (21 page)

Several people were out walking in the wintry sunshine which would soon turn into a sunset.

“Where will we go?” he asked at the Hogans’ gate.

“Through the town out the other side, and up to Westlands. That’ll undo the harm of all the apple tart.”

“Poor Mr. Kennedy’s dying. He wanted to talk to my father about it. He doesn’t get much joy out of the local man apparently.”

“That’s very sad. He’s not old,” Benny said. “That’s where the local man, as you call him, lives.” She waved across the road to Dr. Johnson’s house, where the children were throwing sticks for a dog.

“I didn’t mention that to your parents …” Jack began.

“Nor will I, don’t worry,” Benny said.

They knew the story would travel the length of the one-street town.

Benny pointed out places, and gave a little commentary. Bee Moore called out from the doorway of Paccy
Moore’s cobbler’s shop that there were lovely new skirts arrived into Peggy Pine’s.

“They’re just right for you, Benny,” Bee said, and added, with no sense of offense, “they’d fit an elephant, and there’s a great stretch in them.”

“Beautiful!” Jack commented, with a grin.

“Ah, she doesn’t mean any harm,” Benny said.

In Mario’s, both Fonsie and his uncle blew extravagant kisses out to Benny. And in Dessie Burns’ hardware shop they wondered who could have written “Useful Gift” over a saw. They passed Kennedy’s chemist swiftly without saying anything about the man inside sitting talking to Jack’s father. Benny took him across to point out some of the finer points of Hogan’s Gentleman’s Outfitters. And to look out of the corner of their eyes at Mrs. Healy and speculate about her corset.

Jack admired the shop courteously, and said it was very discreet. You’d never know from the outside what it was like on the inside. Benny wondered was that a good thing, but decided it probably was. Country people were different. They didn’t like anyone knowing their business.

She asked Jack to keep staring in the window and to notice the reflection of Mrs. Healy across the road watching them beadily from her hotel. Jack heard about Mrs. Healy’s corsets, and what amazing structural feats they were. There was a rumor that Mrs. Healy was quite a plump, soft person, but nobody except the late Mr. Healy would have had any proof of this. New and ever-more taxing underpinnings were bought every time she went to Dublin, and there was a rumor that she had once gone to London on a corset-buying spree, but this might only be a rumor.

When she had gone back into her hotel Benny felt it safe to move on. She showed Jack the clean white slabs of Mr. Flood’s the butchers. She said that Teddy Flood, his son, didn’t really want to work there, but what else could he
do. It was hard to be born into the business if you were a boy. Mr. Flood was becoming very odd these days.

Jack said he could see that without being told. It was surely highly questionable to have so many cows and pigs and lambs painted around the wall in a highly colored gamboling state. It must make people feel sensitive about buying them in their very dead condition, and eating them. Benny said that this was nothing. Mr. Flood had always had piteous-looking animals peeping at you from the walls. The real thing was that he now had a fairly permanent vision of something up a tree. A saint possibly, but definitely a nun. It was a source of worry to the family and a cause of great fits of giggling among the customers when he would suddenly pause in sawing or chopping and go out-of-doors for a brief consultation upward.

They passed the church and paused to study the details of the Men’s Mission, which would be coming to the church shortly. Benny said that during the two weeks of the Missions little wooden stalls selling prayerbooks and beads, and holy objects and Catholic Truth Society pamphlets did huge business outside the church. Was it the same in Dublin? Jack was apologetic. He didn’t really know. He had gone to the Mission of course, but like everyone he and Aidan had always wanted to try and find out which had the lecture on sex. That was the one that was usually packed out, but the Missioners were becoming more and more cunning. They sort of hinted each night that the big sex sermon would be tomorrow and they had crowds coming in every night, in case they missed it.

Benny said that men were much more honest than women really. Girls felt exactly the same but didn’t admit it.

She showed him the square where the bus came in. Mikey was just drawing up.

“How’s Benny?” he called out.

“Great altogether,” Benny said, with her big smile.

They paused in front of the gates of St. Mary’s and she
pointed out the landmarks to him. The big long lawns, the camogie field, the glasshouse, the windy path through the kitchen gardens that went uphill to the quarry path, where Eve had her cottage.

She knew everything and everyone, he told her, and there was a story attached to whatever they saw.

This pleased her. At least he wasn’t being bored.

Neither of them saw Sean Walsh looking at them from inside Birdie Mac’s sweetshop. Birdie often made tea and toast of a Sunday afternoon and Sean Walsh had taken to dropping in. His eyes were cold as he watched Benny Hogan and the arrogant young pup that she had gone off with that very first day, trick-acting and showing off right outside the convent gates in full view of the town. It didn’t please him one little bit.

They stood on the five-bar gate that had a good view down over the Westwards’ land. Benny pointed out places to him. The graveyard where all the Westwards lay. The small war memorial in it that had wreaths of poppies in November, because so many of them had died in wars.

“Wasn’t it odd to think of them all fighting in those wars when they lived here,” she said.

“But that would be their whole culture and tradition and everything,” Jack said.

“I know, but when the others would be talking about homeland and fatherland and king or queen and country … they’d only be talking about Knockglen.”

“Don’t knock Knockglen,” he said laughing.

“Don’t let Fonsie in the chipper hear you say that, he’ll be trying to turn it into a hit single. Move over Bill Haley … that’s Fonsie …”

“Where did he get the name?”

“Alphonsus.”

“God.”

“I know. Didn’t you escape lightly, Jack Foley, with your nice normal name.”

“And what about you … Benedicta was it?”

“No, nothing as exotic. Mary Bernadette, I’m afraid.”

“Benny’s nice. It suits you.”

It was dark as they walked back. The lights were on up in the convent. Benny told Jack of Eve’s life there, and the lovely bedroom where you could sit and look down the town.

“Now I have you home safely in good time,” she said, delivering him to the door of Kennedy’s chemist.

“Will you come in?”

“No, he might be upset.”

“Thanks, Benny. It was a lovely visit.”

“I enjoyed your being here. Wasn’t it lovely for me too.”

“Will you come out one night in Dublin?” He spoke suddenly, almost surprising himself.

“Not at night. I’m Cinderella remember. But I’ll see you round.”

“Maybe a lunch?”

“Wouldn’t that be grand?” she said, and walked off down the dark street.

“Poor Joe,” his father said after a long silence in the car.

“Has he got cancer?”

“Riddled with it. He’s only a couple of months I’d say, from the sound of things.”

“What did you tell him?”

“He wanted me to listen.”

“Has he no one here who’ll do that?”

“No. According to him there’s an arrogant, bad-tempered GP, a wife who thinks it’s all safe and in the hands of the Little Flower or the Infant of Prague or some such helpful authority and won’t brook any discussion on the matter.… However, enough’s enough. How was your friend? Joe said she was a nice girl, big horse of a girl he called her.”

“Isn’t it a pity he couldn’t have found a better way to describe people.”

“Let me get this straight again,” Nan said, her eyes wide with disbelief. “He asked you out. I mean he said the words, ‘I would like you to come out with me one night,’ and you said no?”

“No, I didn’t say no, and he didn’t ask me out like that.”

Nan looked to Eve for guidance. They were all three together waiting for the lecturer to arrive. They sat away from the main body of the students in order to get this matter sorted.

“Well, did he or didn’t he?” Eve asked.

“It was like you’d ask a friend. Casual. It wasn’t like a date.”

“It certainly wasn’t if you said no,” Eve said dryly.

“Don’t go on like that.” Benny looked from one to the other. “I swear, if he
does
ask me out I’ll go. Now are you satisfied?”

“And where will you stay the night in Dublin?” Eve asked.

“I could stay with you, couldn’t I, Nan?”

“Oh yes, sure.” The reply was half a second late.

Benny looked to Eve. “Or if there was any problem with that I could stay with you Eve out in Dun Laoghaire.”

“Easily.” That was said quickly, but of course Mother and Father would never let her stay in a guesthouse full of boys with a woman they didn’t know, even if Eve did live there in a semi-work capacity. Benny was philosophical. It wouldn’t happen anyway. What were all the plans for?

In the Ladies Reading Room stuck into the crisscross tapes on the notice board was a folded piece of paper. “Benny
Hogan, First Arts.” She opened it casually. It must be from that pale-faced clerical student who had missed the history lecture and she had promised to give him the notes. Benny had remembered to take carbon paper with her. He could keep the copy for himself. She didn’t know his name. He was a worried young man, definitely not strong, his white face made even whiter by the black clothes. She got an odd feeling when she saw that the letter was from Jack Foley. It was like the sudden jolt you get if you touch something too hot or too cold.

Love Jack. Love Jack. She said it to herself over and over. She closed her eyes and said it again. It was possible wasn’t it? Just possible that he did like her. He didn’t
need
to ask her out, or to remember that she had a free afternoon on Thursdays, or be so kind as to think of lunch. He could have sent a postcard if he wanted to be mannerly, as her father would call it. Jack Foley didn’t need to ask her to
lunch in a big posh hotel where the high of the land went. He must have done it because he liked being with her, and that he liked her.

She didn’t dare to believe it.

Benny heard Nan’s infectious laugh in the corridor outside. Hastily she pushed the note deep into her shoulder bag. It seemed a bit shabby considering how enthusiastic Nan and Eve always were on her behalf, but she couldn’t bear them giving her advice on what to wear and what to say. And worst of all she couldn’t bear them to think that Jack Foley might in fact fancy her, when she so desperately hoped it was true.

B
enny decided she would be thin on Thursday week. She would have hollows in her cheeks and a long narrow neck. It would, of course, involve eating nothing. Not easy to do at home where Patsy would put a bowl of porridge, a jug of cream and the silver sugar basin in front of her to start the day. Then there was the brown bread and marmalade. And on either side of her, a parent determined she should have a good start to the day.

Benny realized that you’d need great ingenuity if you were to lose an ounce of weight as a resident of Lisbeg in Knockglen. So she first pretended that she had gone off porridge. In fact she loved it, swimming in cream and dusted with brown sugar. Then she would leave her departure until as late as possible and cry, “Is that the time? I’ll take my bread and butter with me.”

When no one was looking she would tip it into Dr. Johnson’s hen run or drop it into the bin outside Carroll’s or Shea’s. Then there was lunchtime. She found it beyond human endurance to go into the cafes where the smell of sausage and chips in one kind of place or almond buns in another would drive her taste buds wild.

She told Nan and Eve that she had to work and stayed resolutely in the library all the time.

The stuffiness of the library and no food made her feel
headachy and weak all afternoon. It was another test of will to pass the sweetshops when she knew a packet of Rolos would give her the energy to struggle down to the quays and get the bus. Then back in Knockglen she had to cope with the meat tea as well.

“I had a huge feed up in town today,” she’d say apologetically.

“What did you do that for when there’s good food waiting for you here?” her mother would reply, puzzled.