Circle of Friends (45 page)

Mother Francis smiled grimly as she read the letter, particularly the part about how they had “invited” Mother Clare. But it was wonderful that she had been able to forewarn Eve of the surprise visit that Mother Clare had intended to pay. Mossy Rooney had come along quietly with his cart and removed all the bottles and boxes. The cottage was flung open to the winter air to clear the fumes of smoke and drink from the previous night.

Mother Clare, to her great rage, had discovered Eve sitting blamelessly studying instead of what she had hoped to find as the aftermath of a party, and would have found had it not been for Mother Francis.

Mrs. Healy read the letter carefully, word by word, and then nodded approvingly at Sean Walsh. It was never any harm getting these things in writing she told him, with the best will in the world people could always go back on what they said. And not a word against Eddie Hogan. He was the nicest man you’d meet in a day’s walk, but it was time someone realized Sean Walsh’s worth, and acknowledged it.

Eddie Hogan died on Saturday at lunchtime. After he had finished his cup of tea and queen cake, he stood up to go back to the shop.

“If Sean has his way, there’ll be no closing for lunch.…” he began, but he never finished the sentence.

He sat down on the sofa with his hand to his chest. His face was pale and when he closed his eyes his breathing was strange. Patsy didn’t need to be asked to run across the road for Dr. Johnson.

Dr. Johnson came in his shirt sleeves. He asked for a small glass of brandy.

“He never takes spirits, Maurice, you know that!” Annabel’s hand was at her throat in fear. “What is it? Is it a kind of fit?”

Dr. Johnson sat Annabel Hogan down on the chair. He handed her the brandy.

“Sip it slowly, Annabel, that’s the girl.”

He saw Patsy with her coat on as if to go for Father Ross.

“Just a little drop at a time. It was totally painless. He never knew a thing.”

The doctor beckoned Patsy over.

“Before you get the priest, Patsy, where’s Benny?”

“She’s in Dublin for the day, sir. She went up to meet Eve Malone. They were going to a special lecture, I think she said.”

“Get Eve Malone to bring her back,” said Dr. Johnson.
He had managed to take a rug and cover the figure of Eddie Hogan, who lay on the sofa looking for all the world as if he were taking a quick nap before he went back to the shop.

Annabel sat rocking to and fro, moaning in disbelief.

Dr. Johnson went to the door after Patsy.

“No need to tell that bag of bones in the shop yet.”

“No sir.”

Dr. Johnson had always disliked Sean Walsh. He could almost see him picking one of the best black ties from the stock and combing his thin lank hair. He could visualize him putting on the correct expression of grief before he came to offer his condolences to the widow, and her daughter.

Whenever they found her.

Benny and Jack walked hand in hand over Killiney Hill. It had been one of those cold, crisp winter afternoons, which was going to end soon. Already they could see the lights of Dun Laoghaire twinkling far below them, and then the great sweep of Dublin Bay.

They would meet Aidan and Eve later in Kit Hegarty’s house. Kit had promised them all sausages and chips before they went into the town on the train to the Literary and Historical Debating Society. Tonight the motion was going to be about sport, and Jack had half threatened to speak. He said he didn’t know whether he needed huge encouragement and masses of support, or if it would be easier to speak quietly one night on his own when there were no friends to hear him make a fool of himself.

Not since the great dance before Christmas had Benny been able to spend a night in Dublin. Jack had been increasingly impatient.

“What am I going to do with my girl always miles away, it’s like having a pen friend,” he had complained.

“We see each other in the day.” But her throat had narrowed in fear. He sounded cross.

“What’s the use? It’s at night I need you to go to things.”

She had wheedled this Saturday by pretending there was a lecture, and asking if she could tack the night on as well.

And she had another worry. He was very insistent that she go for a weekend to Wales with him.

His team were going to play a friendly match. There would be lots of people going. He really wanted her to go.

“It’s not normal,” he had fumed. “Anyone else could go. Rosemary, Sheila, Nan, they all have families who’d realize that if they’re old enough to have a university education they’re old enough to be let out on a simple boat trip for two days.”

She hated him saying her family weren’t normal. She hated them for not being normal enough to let her go.

Soon it was more dark than it was day. They came down the springy turf together and walked along the Vico Road looking down at Killiney Bay, which people said was meant to be as beautiful as the Bay of Naples.

“I’d love to go to Naples,” Benny said.

“Maybe they’ll let you when you’re about ninety,” Jack grumbled.

She laughed, though she didn’t feel like it.

“Race you down to the corner,” she said, and laughing they ran down to the railway station where they caught a train to Dun Laoghaire.

As soon as Kevin Hickey opened the door to them Benny knew something was wrong.

“They’re in the kitchen,” he said, refusing to meet her eye. Behind him she saw the tableau of Kit and Eve and Aidan waiting to give them some very bad news.

It was as if everything had stopped. The sound of the traffic outside, the clocks ticking, the seagulls over the harbor.

Benny walked forward slowly to hear what they were going to tell her.

Shep seemed to be in everyone’s way, all the time. He was looking for Eddie, and there seemed to be no sign of him. Almost everyone else in Knockglen seemed to be in and out of Lisbeg, but no sign of the master.

Eventually he went out and lay down beside the hen house; only the hens were behaving normally.

Peggy Pine arranged two big trays of sandwiches. She also asked Fonsie to collect drink from Shea’s.

“I think your man is going to get some at Healy’s.”

“Well, your man will be too late then,” Peggy said, taking ten pound-notes from her till. “We’ll have paid cash. There’s nothing he can do about that.”

They smiled at each other. The one bright spot in a dark day being the thought of besting both Sean Walsh and Mrs. Healy at the same time.

By teatime everyone in the town knew. And everyone was shocked. By no standards was Eddie an old man, they speculated happily. Fifty-two at most, at the very most. The wife was older. Maybe not even fifty. They tried to work it out. And not a man for the drink, and not a day sick. Hadn’t he and his wife taken to going on healthy walks recently. Didn’t that show you that your hour was marked out for you and it didn’t really matter what you did, you couldn’t put it off once it came.

And such a gentleman. Never a harsh word out of him. Not a one to make a quick shilling here and there, he’d not hurry a farmer who hadn’t paid a bill for a while. Not one to move with the times, the windows of Hogan’s hadn’t changed much in all the time he was there. But such a gentleman.
So interested in everyone who came in and their family and their news. All the time in the world for them. And he kept poor Mike on there too, long after he might have needed him.

The prayers that were added on to the family rosary that evening for the repose of Eddie Hogan’s soul, were prayers that were warm and genuine. And prayers that people said were hardly needed. A man like Eddie Hogan would have been in heaven by two o’clock.

Eve had managed to ward off Sean Walsh’s attempts to come to Dublin to collect Benny.

She had also managed to say that Benny was at a lecture where it was impossible to disturb her, because it was a kind of field trip. Nobody knew where they had gone. They would have to wait until she came home at six o’clock.

“They’re never bringing her father to the church tonight?” Eve had said.

It was unthinkable that Benny would not be there when her father’s body was brought to lie overnight in Knockglen parish church.

“They might have done, if they had known where to find Benny.” Sean sounded aggrieved.

Jack said he’d get his father’s car.

“They might need it.” Benny’s face was wan and empty. “They might need it for something important.”

“There’s nothing more important than this,” said Jack.

“Will we go with them?” Aidan Lynch asked Eve.

“No,” Eve said. “We’ll go down by bus tomorrow.”

She could hardly bear to look at Benny’s face as she sat looking unseeingly in front of her.

From time to time she said “Dead” in a low voice, and shook her head.

She had spoken to her mother on the phone, her
mother had sounded sleepy, she said. That too seemed hard to accept.

“They gave her a sedative, to calm her down. It makes her feel sleepy,” Kit explained.

But none of it made any sense to Benny, no matter what tablet you took. It couldn’t make you feel sleepy. Not when Father had died. Died. No matter how many times she said it, it wouldn’t sink in.

Mr. Hayes next door drove them in to the Foleys’ house.

Jack’s mother was at the door. Benny noticed that she wore a lovely woollen suit with a cream blouse underneath. She had earrings on, and she smelled of perfume.

She gave Benny a hug of sympathy.

“Doreen has packed you a flask of coffee and some sandwiches for the car journey,” she said.

She made it sound as if Knockglen was at the other side of Europe.

“We’re both very, very sorry,” she said. “If there’s anything at all we can do …”

“I think I’d better get her on the road.” Jack cut short the sympathies.

“Were they going out somewhere tonight?” Benny asked.

“No. Why?”

He was negotiating the early Saturday evening traffic in Dublin, and trying to get out toward the Knockglen road.

“She looked all dressed up.”

“No, she didn’t.”

“Is she like that all the time?”

“I think so.” He was surprised, glancing over at her.

She sat in silence for a while, staring ahead. She felt very cold and unreal.

She wished over and over the most futile wish. That it
could be this morning. If only it were eight o’clock this morning.

Her father had said that it was going to be a nice bright day.

“Isn’t it a pity you have this lecture now. You could have had a great day here in Knockglen, and maybe yourself and Shep would have come up and got me out of the shop early for a bit of a walk!”

If only she had the time again. There’d have been no lies about lectures that didn’t exist. There’d have been no shame at accepting his praise for her eagerness to study.

She’d have canceled everything, just to have been there, to have been with him when he began to leave this life.

She didn’t believe it was so instant that he didn’t know. She would like to have been in the room.

And for her mother too. Mother, who never had to make a decision of her own … being alone to handle everything.

Benny’s eyes were dry but her heart was full of shame that she hadn’t been there.

Jack couldn’t find any good words. Several times he almost had the right thing. But always he stopped.

He couldn’t bear it any longer. He pulled into the side of the road. Two lorries hooted at him angrily, but he was parked now up on a grass verge.

“Benny, darling,” he said, and put his arms around her. “Benny, please cry. Please cry. It’s awful to see you like this. I’m here. Benny cry, cry for your father.”

And she clung to him and wept and wept until he thought that her body would never stop shaking with the sobs and the grief.

They were all like characters in a play, Benny thought. People moving offstage and onstage all evening. One moment she would look and there was Dekko Moore talking earnestly
in the corner, the small teacup and saucer looking ridiculous in his large hands. Then she would glance again and in that corner Father Ross was standing mopping his brow as he listened to the visions of poor Mr. Flood and wondered how best to cope with them.

In the scullery Mossy Rooney stood not wanting to form part of the main gathering that spread through the whole house, but ready when Patsy called him to help. On the stairs sat Maire Carroll, whom Benny had so disliked at school. Tonight, however, she was sympathetic and full of praise for Benny’s father. “A very nice man with a word for everyone.”

Benny wondered wildly what kind of a word her father would have been able to dredge up for the charmless Maire Carroll.

Her mother sat in the middle, accepting the sympathy, and she was the most unreal figure of all. She wore a black blouse that Benny had never seen before. She worked out that Peggy must have produced it from the shop. Mother’s eyes were red, but she was calmer than Benny would have thought possible, considering.

The undertakers had told her that Father was lying upstairs. Jack went up with her to the spare room, where candles burned and everything seemed to have been miraculously tidied and covered. It didn’t look like the spare bedroom at all. It looked like a church.