Despite the Angels (48 page)

“Okay, so you need to get Lucy to the next tea dance. They have a few through the summer and David usually goes. Carmel will help get them together, I reckon, she’s almost adopted him!”

Lucy was looking in her wardrobe in despair. In a moment of madness she had promised Jen that she would go to a tea-dance with her and Peter on Saturday, but she had nothing that vaguely resembled a dancing outfit. I’ve only jeans, tracksuits and tee-shirts. And work clothes, but I’m not going to a dance in navy slacks and a white tunic. No skirts to speak of, just that one mini that I bought in a sale in another mad moment. I’m not wearing that anywhere, it might have even worse results than the time I wore it to go out with Martin, that time he put his hand up it and refused to take it down and everyone noticed. She pulled the miniskirt off the hanger and threw it in the waste basket.

“Shame, David would have liked that skirt.”
Lucy stood and looked down into the basket, at the skirt lying crumpled among used tissues. She thought of retrieving it, but resisted and looked again at her cupboard.

“Okay, so I can’t convince you. In that case let’s go shopping.”

I’ll have to buy something. And I’ll have to bring the kids, we’ll have to go now, I only have the one free afternoon between now and the weekend. Though I could go on Saturday morning after Martin collects them. But that’s cutting it fine. Suppose Dunnes’ has nothing and I have to go into town?

“Aisling, Robbie, into the car please, we’re going to Cornelscourt.”

“Oh no, why?” There was a chorus of groans.

“Because I’m going out with Jen on Saturday and I have nothing to wear.”

“I need some things too, Mum,” Aisling stopped groaning and was winsome.

“Is there a toyshop?” Robbie also switched on the charm.

“No. We are just going to get something for me, so I don’t make a show of myself at a dance. I can’t afford to buy something for everybody.”

The children grumbled a bit more, but got into the car and put on their seatbelts. They chugged carefully to the shopping centre. This car had been hers for less than a year, but it had been old long before she got it and needed careful handling. Its huge advantage was that it was so tiny, so she could fit in the smallest parking space.

The clothes shop was almost deserted. Everyone with sense is out in the sunshine, thought Lucy, not trying to buy a skirt to go to a dance that probably only geriatrics will be at. Jen thinks it’ll be ‘a laugh’. But she has Peter, to save her from the wheezing fat old men who’ll want to dance with us. I see enough of those at work, I don’t want to have to be charming to them socially as well. The only reason I’m going, is because I like dancing and haven’t done it for years. Can only waltz, really and then only if my partner is really good. Must learn the other dances sometime.

“Yes, learn to dance. Soon.  Oh look, here are some great blouses, see, all flowers? Buy one of these, we need flowers.”

“No, Mum, they look like wallpaper. Yuck.” Aisling was dismissive. “You need something elegant.” She was off, rummaging along the racks. Why did I think I should come on my own, thought Lucy, she’s more interested in this than I am, as Aisling pulled out one thing after another, passing judgement on each. The pile deemed suitable to try on grew slowly. Robbie grew bored and began to whine.

“Okay, Ash, that’s enough. I’ll try these on and something will have to do.”

They went into the changing rooms and Aisling was put in charge of Robbie while Lucy struggled into and out of clothes. At last she reluctantly chose an ankle length skirt and a short sleeved blouse with a lowish neckline. They’ll do, she thought and I could wear them for other occasions too.

“They’ll be fine. But we still need a flower.” Trynor wondered what to do and talked to Aisling and Robbie’s guides.

Lucy led the way across the shop to the sign saying ‘Pay Here’, paying no further attention to the racks of clothes. They walked through the children’s section to get to the till and as they queued up, Robbie delved into a sale bin and came out with a tee-shirt, which he thrust at Lucy.

“I’d like that,” he said very firmly. Lucy looked at the bin. All at forty pence, well he wasn’t asking for much. She looked at the shirt. It had a large sunflower on it.

“Do you really want to wear a flower?” Robbie looked puzzled, looked at the flower and shrugged. “I suppose.”
“Good boy,” said his guide.

“Don’t be sexist, Mum. If he wants a flower, why shouldn’t he have one?”

“Okay, my little women’s libber. Give it here.” Lucy handed the tee-shirt to the cashier with her skirt and blouse.

“Thanks guys,” said Trynor to the children’s guides.

At home, Lucy put on her new outfit again and turned this way and that in front of the mirror. It looked quite good, more feminine than she had been wearing recently. The skirt would twirl a little. Robbie came into the room, followed by a giggly Aisling. He had the flowered teeshirt on and it reached nearly to his knees.

“Look at Rob’s dance dress!” laughed Aisling. Lucy looked at it, surprised.

“Why didn’t we notice in the shop it was huge? What size does it say on it?”

Aisling pulled the neck of the shirt out and peered down. “I think it’s a ten. Is that your size, Mum?”  Robbie pulled the shirt off and threw it on the bed. “I got it for you Mum, really,” he said.

“You did not, you liar!” Aisling advanced on him, making I’m going to tickle you movements with her fingers and the two of them ran squealing from the room. Lucy picked up the tee-shirt and held it up against herself. It would probably be tight, she really needed a twelve. But the flower was huge and bright and cheering. Deciding she could probably wear it sometime, she stuffed it in a drawer.

David’s phone rang, jolting him awake. He wondered for a moment where he was, he had been running through a field full of flowers, pursued by a purple pig and a cow with neon horns. He sat up and swung his legs out of bed, wondering who could have anything urgent to say to him on a Saturday morning at the crack of dawn. Suddenly curious, he went down the stairs two at a time,and lifted the phone with a breathless “Yes?”

“Hello, is that David Hyland?”

“Mmm”

“I’m so sorry to bother you, you don’t know me, my name is Eileen Sweeney. Carmel’s daughter.”

“?”

“My mother goes to the dance class with you.”

“Oh, yes, I’m sorry. I wasn’t with you for a minute. Is there a problem?” David sat down on the little stool beside the phone, feeling suddenly cold and wishing he had stopped for his dressing gown.

“I’m phoning from St Matthew’s. Mum has been brought into Casualty. She asked me to ring you to say she probably won’t be at the dance this afternoon.”

David looked at his watch. The ‘crack of dawn’ turned out to be half-ten.

“I’m sorry to hear that. Is she seriously ill?”

Eileen Sweeney described the symptoms and her worries. From his contact with nursing homes and hospitals down the years, David guessed that indeed, Carmel would not be at the dance. He said he would call in and see her later in the morning. “They might still know me there, a little. They’ll probably let me in. Give your Mum my love.” He rang off, fetched his dressing gown and went into the kitchen to put on the kettle. Poor Carmel. He hoped it was not her heart, but feared it might be. I’ll miss her at the dancing. There’s no-one else there that I go to see, really. Mary is pleasant, I’ll have to get to know her better.

“Don’t bother about Mary. Unless you want to ring her to go to the tea-dance. Or were you going to be brave and go on your own? That would be best. Saves Mary from having to make her own way home.”

David greeted the porter at the door of St Matthew’s Casualty Department, then squeezed past the waiting crowds to the nurses’ station. He recognised only one of the nurses on duty, but that was enough.

“Hello, Brenda! You still in charge of this madhouse? Well organised chaos as usual.”

“Mr Hyland, it’s a long time since you were going the rounds. I barely remember you and your brochures. What has you here today? I don’t suppose you’ve come to hand out free pens?”

“You’re right there. When you’re in management you never get your hands on anything. They only trust me with the one company biro for my own use. No, I’ve a friend in, I’m told. Carmel Sweeney.”

“Oh yes, she’s being transferred to Coronary Care for observation. I think she’s still in cubicle nine.”

David went over to the curtained cubicle and announced himself. “Knock knock? David here.” He peeked in and saw Carmel, attached to a monitor and with a drip in her arm, lying back on the pillows looking pale but still with a glint in her eye. She raised her unattached arm and beckoned him in.

“What did Eileen go and spoil your morning for, telling you I was here?”

“You asked me to, Mam. Do you not remember?”

“They’ve pulled me and pushed me so much since I got into this bed it’s a wonder I remember my own name. But I’m fine now, David and I don’t want you fussing about me. You’re to go off to that dance anyway. It’s important.”

David took Carmel’s hand. “Why is it important? I go to dance with you and I don’t think you’ll be dancing today.”

“I don’t know why, but I have a feeling. You go and dance,” she shook her head and closed her eyes for a moment. “I don’t know what I was thinking, telling her to say I was here. You’re not to let it stop you. You go, d’you hear?” She closed her eyes again. “I’ll be still here tomorrow. Come and tell me all about it, all the news.”

Davis smiled. The news, indeed. The tea-dances were the most unexciting events he had ever been at. Pleasant, but not newsworthy. And now his friend would not be there and he’d be worried about her.

“But aren’t you always the news, Carmel? Why would I go there, when my pal is here?”

Carmel tried to lift herself up in the bed. “You go to that dance. You do it for me. I voted for you, so now, don’t be wasting my effort and putting my soul at risk for nothing.” She sagged back, exhausted. David looked at her and wondered. Did she know something? Maybe I should go and be nice to Mary. I’ll try it.

“Okay, Carmel, I’ll go. You rest now and don’t fuss. I’ll come and see you tomorrow.”

Robbie was standing on the armchair, leaning on the back of it, looking out the window. He was hoping to be the first to see Martin arrive. Martin had been on the phone during the week, telling Robbie what they would do this Saturday and how he expected to have a new car by then. So Robbie was in a fever of excitement each time a car passed, thinking each one was his Dad. But so far none had stopped.

“It’s only half ten, Rob. Dad never gets here before eleven.” Aisling was ever the older sister, calm and knowledgeable. She wanted to see her Dad
again too, though she was cautious. After all, she had heard the Big Fight, as she called it to herself.

“I wish he would come sooner, like he said,” said Lucy, “and bring you back at a sensible hour. I seem to spend my Saturdays waiting around for him. It’s worse than going on a date, all this anxious waiting.”

“I don’t think he means to be late, Mum,” Aisling was thoughtful, “I just think he’s surprised by things a lot.”

Aren’t you right there, thought Lucy, looking at her little girl in amazement. So young and so perceptive. Martin goes through life in a constant state of astonishment. Never predicts bad traffic and is caught in it. Forgets that if you have four pints, you end up drunk. Wonders that he gets cold when he goes outside without a coat in January. Is amazed that the people who collect car tax actually want him to pay it. Tries to rape his wife in a drunken stupor and is puzzled that she is cross about it. Oh feck, she said to herself, why am I thinking about Martin again? Wasting my energy trying to work things out. I’ll go and wash my hair, he’ll hardly come before I’m finished.

She came downstairs again with a towel round her head, to find Robbie sulking in the chair and Aisling glued to a children’s news programme.

“Look Mum, aren’t they sweet? They’re Chinese.”

Lucy looked at the screen. A group of English couples were in some sort of waiting area and some women in airline uniforms were handing them babies. There were lots of tears, but it was not the babies who were crying.

“They’ve come by plane from China. To be adopted, in England. Aren’t they lovely?” Aisling had gone misty, as she did whenever there was a baby around. Lucy sometimes wondered if she would have to lock Aisling up when she got into her teens, to stop her producing her own baby. A pity I can’t have a baby, Ash would love it and it would be good for Rob too.

“We’re working on you having a baby. At least, Mohmi is. I hope her plan works out, otherwise we’ll have to find an expert in vasectomy reversal. Don’t give up on the baby idea. Today’s the day you meet its father! I’m so excited!” Trynor did a little dance around the room, bumping into the children’s guides who laughed and pushed him away.

Lucy felt fidgety and went back upstairs to comb out her hair and try to blow dry it. She was still in her dressing gown, but thought better of it and pulled on jeans and Robbie’s  sunflower tee-shirt. It felt a bit tight, but it was clean and cheerful. It would do until she had to change for the dance. Downstairs, she pulled the ironing board from the cupboard under the stairs, fetched the basket of clothes and the iron and set herself up in front of the television, so that she could chat to the children while she did her least favourite job.