Light A Penny Candle (40 page)

‘It’s no use, that kind of love, you’ve got to be cheerful. Suppose she were to get better and come out, what would she have to come out to? She won’t want to come here and see the place run down and you like an old sad sack.’

It worked. He didn’t become his old self, but he became something more like it than he had been for months.
Elizabeth
explained to the nurses and the doctor that she thought it might be a sort of therapy to give Harry some hope that things could return to normal, and they agreed. Without telling him any lies they encouraged him to think that a home visit would be likely.

Elizabeth sat and watched Harry telling her silent, abstracted mother about his plans for her return, and saw Mother pat his hand from time to time. The hospital had removed the pins and wires from the artificial violet and had sewn it to her cardigan. It must have been washed each time the cardigan was washed because it had faded from its hard purple to wishy-washy mauve.

Johnny was distressed about Mother. She only mentioned it to him after her third visit.

‘Why didn’t you tell me? That’s awful for you going up there to all that. It’s not like you to run off like that. You did tell Stefan some time ago. I asked him.’

‘Oh, well, no point in telling you.’

He looked hurt and a little annoyed.

‘What are you playing at?’

‘I swear I’m not playing at anything. I mean it, my love. Why tell you sad things? You’ve often told me that you don’t want to hear gloomy things, or problems, or low, bad things that depress you.’

‘But darling, if your mother, if Violet’s been taken into a mental home, that’s big. Why didn’t you …?’

‘Because there was nothing you could do.’

She looked at him clearly. It was obvious she was
indeed
playing no games with him. He put his arms around her.

‘You’re very dear to me, funny face. You know you are the only woman I’ll ever love properly.’

Elizabeth smiled at him. ‘And I love you, Johnny,’ she said.

XII

‘WOULD YOU SAY
that your romance with Tony Murray was passionate?’ Niamh asked Aisling one evening as she sat at Aisling’s dressing table and tried on bits of costume jewellery.

‘No, more an animal attraction I think,’ said Aisling without looking up from her letter.

Niamh giggled. ‘Seriously, some of the girls at school were wondering, Anna Barry said it was more a question of a suitable match. Not passion.’

‘Jaysus, it’s far from a suitable match, it’s about the most unsuitable match in Kilgarret from all the buzzing that’s going on,’ said Aisling.

‘Mam would kill you if she heard you take the Lord’s name,’ said Niamh prissily.

Aisling looked up. ‘And she certainly wouldn’t like
you
putting on lipstick. Take it off at once and leave that stuff alone. It’s mine. I work hard and I spend long hours earning the money to pay for it.’

‘If you married Tony Murray, you wouldn’t have to
work
any long hours. You could go to Dublin like his Mam and buy clothes there and three lipsticks at a time.’

Aisling didn’t answer.

‘I don’t know why you don’t marry him, you could lose him you know. Even though everyone says he’s keener on you than you are on him.’

Aisling still read her letter.

‘But they say you’d better not push your luck too far. He was seen with one of the Gray girls, you know, the one who was at school in England. She had a face like a horse once, but it’s got a different shape now. Anthea or Althea, you know. He was having coffee with her in the hotel. Honestly. So I thought I’d mark your card, you know, if ever there’s a chance of me being a bridesmaid I don’t want to lose it.’

Aisling looked up. Her face was very pale. ‘What? What are you saying?’

Niamh was shocked. ‘No, nothing, I don’t know if he was really with her or not, you know, it’s just Anna Barry and all those, their sisters tell them gossip. I’m sure it’s all made up. …’

‘Oh my God.’

Niamh was frightened now. She scrambled off the chair where she had been kneeling. ‘Listen, I said there was nothing in it, I was only repeating eejity old things, Aisling, it’s all
right
… sure don’t you know he fancies you like mad? Aisling answer me … don’t you know …?’

‘It’s Elizabeth’s mother, she’s … she’s tried to kill herself and Harry … my God isn’t that desperate. …’

Niamh was open-mouthed.

‘She’s in a mental home … oh, I don’t know whether Mam told you or not, she doesn’t tell you things sometimes … anyway, Harry … he was sitting talking to her quite normally, and she said she wanted him to cut off a trailing string from her cardigan with a penknife and when he took it out of his pocket she grabbed it and stuck it into him first and then her. Oh God, isn’t that terrible.’

‘And did she kill him …?’

‘No, but he had to have eleven stitches, and now she’s in a different ward, almost a cell I think, and she can’t have normal visitors and she thinks there’s going to be another war … and she says she couldn’t live through another one. Oh why do all these bloody things happen to Elizabeth …? It’s so unfair.’

‘Did Elizabeth go to see her?’

‘Oh yes, she’s been up there in the north of England for a week. She’s written from there, but she’s probably back in London by now. There’s nothing anyone can do, and she’s spent a week on her own going from the one hospital to the other and back to the little shop on her own at night. Did you ever hear of anything so awful?’

‘But her boyfriend … would he go up and help her? Why isn’t he there …?’

‘Because he’s a real beaut, that’s why, he’s the cat’s pyjamas, that fellow, there’ll be a good reason why he could never be involved in any trouble. …’

‘I thought you liked him, you said he was smashing-looking. …’

‘He looks like a Greek god. That doesn’t make him any help though.’

‘If these kind of things happened to you, I bet Tony Murray would stick by you … God forbid, if Mam went mad and stabbed Dad.’

‘Niamh will you shut your stupid face and go away?’

‘I’m just telling you to count your blessings that’s all … that’s all. I’m being sensible, I’m being grown-up. It’s you, you’re the one with the silly face. …’ Niamh left the room in confusion.

Aisling sat down and tried to decide, would Tony Murray be any use in a crisis? Well, there was no point in pretending that he would be a tower of strength but he would certainly be there. He might not know the solution or even be able to suggest a plan, but he would be standing there solidly with his face cross and scowling, which was the way it got when he had to cope with something unpleasant, He was definitely sympathetic rather than unsympathetic too. Aisling sat and thought it all out. Whenever she had been upset about Donal’s bad chest he had patted her on her back and let her cry. She had sobbed that she thought Donal might not be able to breathe during the night and might die, and Tony had considered this with a cross face and said no, it wasn’t likely. Tony wouldn’t run away to Dublin or back to Limerick or over to England if there was any crisis.

Very deliberately, Aisling combed her hair, and put on a little green eyeshadow. She drew a line behind her eyelashes which she normally only did when she was going to a dance. She put on her best blouse and her new shoes,
she
got out the pale turquoise suit that she had only worn once to mass. Then she scribbled a note to Mam who had gone on one of her rare visits to Maureen and Brendan.

Mam,

I’m leaving you Elizabeth’s letter to read, isn’t it really desperate news? Maybe we might ask her to come over here for a bit of a rest. I’m going up to Murrays’ for a bit now. I’ll be home later, before ten. If you haven’t gone to bed we might have a bit of a chat. I hope all the Daly Ogs weren’t too exhausting. By the way I gave out to Niamh and she’ll probably be sulking. She’s too pushy for twelve in my view, but then I suppose I was too.

Love,

Aisling

Dear Aisling,

You’re right, it’s like acting a part in a play, isn’t it? Writing to congratulate you and wish you every happiness. But I mean it, I mean it so much. I hope that you will be happy every day and every night and always. I am so looking forward to meeting him, but I know, and presumably Tony knows, that it’s never going to be as you hope. You’ve probably bored him to death about me, and all our adventures, and he will be disappointed. And I of course can’t see and won’t see in him all the things you love, so I too will be acting a bit. But isn’t it marvellous? You are so good in the
middle
of all your excitements to write so long about my problems, but why should you feel guilty about all your good news coinciding with Mother’s decline? That’s what it is now, there’s not any real hope, and even Harry knows it. He’s fine again, and there’s an awfully nice social worker who cheers him up. He’s so very very kind; that’s the one good thing that’s come out of all this, at least I’ve uncovered the sheer kindness of Harry Elton. Remember how terrified of him I used to be? Stefan Worsky sends you his love and so does Anna. They are utterly delighted, they want photographs and long descriptions. Johnny sends you a card, I’ll put it in the envelope. And of course I’ll come to the wedding, try to keep me away. Of course I don’t want to be a bridesmaid, I understand all the business about Protestants officiating at sacraments. I bet your explanation is not at all sound, but I know the thinking of Rome so there’s no panic. It’s nice of you to ask if Johnny would like to come too but I think I’ll just refuse for him without saying anything. I’d prefer to come back to Kilgarret on my own. Only three months now, and you’ll be a Mrs, but for me, the most exciting thing is that I’ll see you all again. My accent is not posh by the way, over here it’s considered very middle class.

I’m so pleased, Aisling, and so very very happy and hopeful for you:

love,

Elizabeth

Hi Aisling,

Elizabeth tells me you settled for the Squire. If he turns out to be a mistake come back here and we’ll show you a good time. Happy days.

Johnny Stone

Mam had told her to try to pay a bit more attention to Maureen.

‘But why should I pay her any attention?’ wailed Aisling. ‘She’s never done criticising me, I’m too forward, I’m too backward, I’ve shocked Brendan’s aunt, I’ve scandalised them all, I’ve stood on Patrick’s toys. It’s a catalogue of complaints as soon as you get in the door of that place, why should I give her a bit more attention?’

‘Well, she’s feeling a bit in the shadow. There’s more fuss about your wedding than there was about hers, she’s tied down with three small children miles out of the town and all she hears is the excitement of your big day, your wedding dress. …’

‘Well, she doesn’t hear it from me, I’m never blowing about things now am I?’

‘Of course you’re not child, but can’t you be generous, try to put yourself in her position? She’s feeling a bit matronly and it would be nice if you brought her back into things. Just a bit.’

‘It’s a long old cycle Mam, and for nothing at the end of it.’

‘In a few months you can drive your husband’s car up there, so don’t pity yourself too much. Take her a pot of
gooseberry
jam from the kitchen. And tell her I’ll be over tomorrow.’

Mam was right, Maureen did seem in a very low spirit. She was surprised to see Aisling sailing up to the door on the bicycle.

‘Well now, to what do we owe the honour of this?’ she asked sourly. Brendan Og had jam all around his face and his feet were filthy from waddling around the yard. The twins in their pram set up a great wailing at the arrival of a new distraction. Aisling thought they all looked revolting and the worst advertisement for marriage that you could find, but she knew by now that you could criticise everything except children.

‘Hallo, pets,’ she cooed insincerely. She still didn’t know which one was which. ‘Patrick and Peggy, say hallo to your old Auntie Aisling, will you? Of course you will.’ She turned to Maureen. ‘Aren’t they gorgeous?’ she said, hoping that God wouldn’t strike her dead.

‘Oh, they’re gorgeous to you passing by once in a blue moon,’ said Maureen. ‘They’re not so gorgeous when you have to live with them morning noon and night. Here, Brendan Og, come back at once. Don’t
dare
to walk into the house with all that mud on you. Did you want something, Aisling, or were you just passing by?’

Aisling gritted her teeth. How could she be passing by? Once you had cycled the three miles to Daly’s, where else was there to go? Wasn’t Maureen becoming an old sourpuss? But she remembered Mam.

‘No, I thought I’d come out and have a bit of a chat
with
you. You know, married woman and all. Maybe you could set me straight on a few things.’

Maureen looked at her suspiciously, ‘I thought you knew more than any of us about how life is lived,’ she sniffed.

‘Come on, Maureen, come on, I show off like we all show off but what do I know, living at home with Mam to deal with everything?’

‘True, you’ve had it nice and sheltered. Still it’s into a sheltered life you’ll be going now. I suppose the Murrays are laying on a maid to welcome you back from the honeymoon. …’

‘You can’t be serious, Maureen, you’re having me on? Don’t you know what kind of a woman my future mother-in-law is …? She’d give you a pain in the bottom. …’

Maureen was thawing a bit. ‘Oh well, they say that Ethel Murray is a bit grand all right. …’

‘She’s dreadful. You’re dead lucky here, I mean Brendan’s mother is fine, isn’t she? You always have her around the place or you used to.’

‘She’s not that great shakes either, between ourselves. Come on in, and I’ll make you some tea. Brendan Og, I’ll give you a belt across the legs if you kick up any more of that dirt against the door. I don’t know what we have that great clutch of hens for, they don’t lay all winter, I’m sick to death of feeding them, another of Mrs Helpful Daly’s ideas. Wait till you hear the half of it. …’

Eamonn refused point blank to be an usher.

‘I’ll have no talk about it, Mam, not a word. If the fancy
Murrays
think for one minute that I’m going to dress up in a hired fancy dress and ask people we’ve known all our bloody lives are they for the bride’s side or the groom’s side of the church … they’ve got another think coming. I’d be the laughing stock of the town … there’d be a crowd from Hanrahan’s pub crowding the church just to have a laugh at me.’