Light A Penny Candle (44 page)

‘There are more ladies amongst the guests than gentlemen,’ hissed Miss Donnelly, annoyed to hear the complaints beginning before people sat down. The buzz of conversation had died down as people came in to the dining
room
, a silence almost like the respectful hush of a church came over them. Elizabeth was hoping that she might be between Donal and Eamonn. She knew that neither of them wanted to make conversation with uncles or priests and she herself felt a bit at a loss. But the endless negotiations had put her beside Shay Ferguson on one side and Father Riordan on the other. Half the people had settled into their seats, and some of them, like the Halleys, had already begun to eat the bread and butter when there was a loud cough.

Father Mahony, the elderly parish priest who had married Tony and Aisling, was clearing his throat.

‘I think, if we’re all settled,’ he said looking over his glasses disapprovingly at those who had the daring to sit down, ‘I think that it’s about time to say grace.’

Red-faced, the unlucky people trapped in their seats shuffled and scrambled to their feet again.

‘Bless us, O Lord, and these thy gifts, which of thy bounty we are about to receive. …’

‘Amen,’ they all said and blessed themselves firmly. It was a signal for conversation as well as for eating. The grapefruits were attacked, more sugar was requested across the table. Slowly the buzz rose … how well Aisling looked, quite like the pictures you saw of the Honourable Lady this and that in the Dublin papers. And wasn’t she lucky to make such a match? Elizabeth could hear some speculation about how strange it was that Aisling had married so well, while Maureen, who had the better education, had only married into the poor Dalys. She hoped that they would change the subject or lower their
voices
before Maureen stopped her own conversation and might overhear them.

Shay Ferguson was a tireless talker. He swivelled his head left and right, entertaining Elizabeth on his right and Joannie Murray on his left.

‘Amn’t I well placed now, between two spinsters of this parish? Huh, huh?’ he said roaring with laughter.

‘Jesus Christ,’ said Joannie, and so he looked for a better reaction from Elizabeth.

‘I’m not strictly speaking from the parish … though I often feel that I am,’ she said pleasantly.

‘Is that what you feel, is that all you feel?’ he said.

‘I beg your pardon?’ Elizabeth asked politely.

‘Never mind,’ said Shay. ‘When are they pouring the drink? Murrays are providing buckets of drink you know.’

‘I think the Murrays are offering champagne for the toast, but the rest is being given by the O’Connors, the red and white wine,’ Elizabeth retorted, anxious that this should be understood even by someone as loud and insensitive as Shay Ferguson.

‘Yah, well, where is it? They should have it poured by now.’

She turned to Father Riordan.

‘You’re not a Catholic at all, they tell me,’ he said.

‘No Father, that’s right, my parents were both Church of England.’

‘And in all your years here in the convent with the good nuns, and with a good Catholic woman like Mrs
O
’Connor you saw nothing to convert you to our faith? Isn’t that a sad thing. Isn’t that a lack in us all somehow?’

‘Oh, I wouldn’t say that, Father. I did learn a great respect and admiration for the Catholic faith.

‘Sure, respect and admiration are no use if you’re not going to be able to bow the head in humility and say I believe. That’s what the church is about you know. Bowing the head in humility.’

‘Yes, I suppose it is Father,’ said Elizabeth dutifully. To herself she thought that Father Riordan had it all wrong. Whatever the Roman Catholic church was about it seemed to have little to do with bowing the head in humility.

The waitresses must have heard Shay Ferguson’s plaintive pleas for wine. They began to dart in and out between people’s faces with a, ‘Red wine or white wine?’

‘I’d prefer a drop of whisky, just a very small drop,’ said Father Riordan.

I’ll go and investigate, Father,’ said one of the waitresses.

‘Thank you, Deirdre, good girl,’ he said.

Deirdre, anxious to please the parish priest, went to whisper a word to Aunt Eileen before filling the wine glasses of Elizabeth and Shay Ferguson. The best man’s face was not a pretty sight.

‘Mother of Jesus, where has that one gone?’ he said to Elizabeth. ‘Did you send her off for something or what?’

‘You’ll survive for a few minutes.’ Elizabeth smiled, trying to placate him and thinking what an unpleasant manner he had. She hoped for Aisling’s sake that he wasn’t
a
close friend of Tony’s. It was hard to know. He must be fairly close if he had been chosen as best man. Tony’s friends were spoken of very rarely … he was always said to be at the hotel with a crowd, or off with ‘the lads’ somewhere. Presumably Shay was one of ‘the lads’. Elizabeth looked around the room to see if she could identify any of the others.

It was a big horse-shoe table, and people sat close together because the hotel dining room had never been built with the thought of entertaining seventy-three people to a wedding breakfast. The spaces between the guests and the wall were very narrow and the waitresses were now squeezing awkwardly through with their plates of chicken and ham and salad. Elizabeth couldn’t see what she might identify as Tony Murray’s friends, there didn’t seem to be many men of his age in the company. Still, perhaps numbers had to be kept down because it was a family wedding.

‘It’s all very well for you,’ Shay burst into her thoughts. ‘You don’t have to make a speech. I have to read telegrams … and make a witty speech.’

‘I’m sure you’ll do it frightfully well,’ she said.

‘Frightfully, frightfully. …’ he imitated her accent. ‘Yeah, that’s what it will be, a fright. …’

He turned and called over to the bridegroom. ‘How are you, Tony me old divil? Eat up! That’s right, need all your strength for later. …’ Mrs Murray looked up from her conversation with Father Mahony and frowned, but Aisling smiled at him. Shay was encouraged. ‘That’s right,
Aisling
, feed him up, and plenty of red meat … when you get him home not chicken and ham but red meat!’ He laughed, delighted with himself, and at that moment the long-awaited wine arrived. He drained the glass in a gulp and before the waitress got to Joannie, he had it out for a refill.

‘That’s better,’ he said to Elizabeth, and belched.

When the jelly and cream was finished, the teapots had been refilled and the wine waiter from the bar had come in to open the champagne, there was much whispering with Uncle Sean, who shuffled to his feet and said, ‘I’d like you to know that the Murray family have kindly provided this excellent champagne for you to charge your glasses … when the time comes.’

Shay put his hand on his heart and said to Elizabeth, ‘God he gave me a fright there, I thought the old clown was about to lose the run of himself and make a speech.’

There was no point, Elizabeth thought to herself, in saying that she didn’t like to hear her Uncle Sean called an old clown. Anyway it was nearly time for the speeches. But first Father Mahony had to say grace, so they all shuffled to their feet again before settling back, chairs pushed back a little.

Shay read aloud the seventeen telegrams, stumbling over names, getting some of them so wrong that nobody knew whom he was referring to.

‘Who would they be, Jean and Jilly MacPherson,’ Father Riordan asked Joannie, leaning over Elizabeth and behind Shay’s chair to make himself heard.

‘Oh, he means Joan and Jimmy Matterson, you know from the bakery, he just can’t read.’

Then he said that the etiquette book told him he must praise the charm of the bridesmaid, so he would like everyone to consider the charm and beauty of the bridesmaid praised. He was sorry to see his old friend Tony Murray get hooked, trapped into the terrible penal servitude of matrimony but if he had to be caught at least his new wife was a fine-looking woman. He said that he hoped it wouldn’t be long before the Murrays had another wedding and their lovely daughter Joannie would get married. He said the hotel had done a great job on the wedding breakfast, and that it was grand to see Father Mahony in such good spirits … and so many more of the clergy able to attend. It was typical of the Murrays to send over some vintage champagne … but they were known as one of the most generous families in Ireland. He told a story about a Kilgarret man who was in Dublin and was walking home … he found the road lined with tombstones he said … all Dublin men of different ages but from the same family. They were all called Miles from Dublin; there was the Miles from Dublin who was twenty-five and then some way further along the road there was his brother who was thirty. People explained it to each other and the laughter and clapping went on a long time.

Uncle Sean said a few words too, only to introduce Father Mahony he said. It was a privilege and a consolation for Kilgarret people to know that Father Mahony was there to baptise them when they came into
the
world, to say their mass and give them the sacraments during this life and to see them out of it at the end with his blessing. It was a very happy occasion today that he was here to bless the marriage of Aisling and the fine young Tony Murray … he, too, would like to thank Miss Donnelly and everyone in the hotel for serving them so well … and now if Father Mahony could say a few words. …

Father Mahony said a great many words … he remembered Tony when he was at the Brothers’ before he went off to the Jesuits, he remembered Tony’s brother John … soon, thank God and please God, to be Father John … a fine, fine young recruit for the priesthood … he remembered the daughter of the house Joan, and he felt sure too that any day now he would be joining her in marriage … but of course there was all the time in the world. He remembered Mrs Murray, as brave in widowhood as she had been strong in marriage. Father Mahony talked about Murray’s and the place it had as the centre of Kilgarret … there could hardly be a town without it. It had employed so many and looked after them so well … and been a pillar of what a Catholic community life should have … a good family business, run on Christian lines.

He did speak about the O’Connors too. Elizabeth wondered whether she was becoming over-sensitive when she felt that he didn’t pay them as many compliments as he had paid to the Murrays. It was the O’Connors who were holding the wedding, it was their daughter who was the bride, they were four hundred per cent better people than the Murrays. … But then it was Tony’s turn. He
stood
up, red-faced and perspiring. Elizabeth felt a wave of sympathy for him and a hope that he would make a good speech.

‘Good man, Tony,’ called Shay. And then in an aside he said to Elizabeth, ‘Jesus, he really is a good man, he must have had five gin and oranges before he even got in here … and the wine has been flowing up at their end ever since. …’

Tony was getting through his speech, but only just. He looked down after every second sentence to his written notes. He thanked Aisling’s parents … but had to consult his notes to remember their names. He hoped he would make her a good husband. He read a list of relations whom he was glad to see, and he read them even more haltingly than Shay had read the telegrams. He thanked his mother for all the help and encouragement she had been, he said he looked forward to seeing Rome with his new wife and, if possible, if all went well, please God, going there again next year for his brother’s ordination. He wanted to thank everyone for their useful gifts. He hoped they would all enjoy the wedding. He sat down abruptly, and when the clapping ceased there was an uneasy silence. Elizabeth saw Mrs Murray looking at her watch yet again, Shay was fidgeting. She noticed Aunt Eileen lean over and say something to Uncle Sean who stood up again.

‘Would it be in order to ask Father O’Donnell to sing us a verse of a song … we all know what a beautiful voice he has.’ This was greeted with great clapping and cheers.

Father O’Donnell had already arranged his face and his hands and he sang ‘Bless This House’, and then ‘I think that I shall never see a poem lovely as a tree’, which was not nearly as successful. As if he knew that he had lost his following, Father O’Donnell said that a little bird has asked him to sing one last song which was a special favourite of the bride and groom. His true clear voice soared again into ‘Danny Boy’, and a strange unexpected pricking at the back of Elizabeth’s nose and eyes began. She looked over at Aisling, who smiled out of her veil and red curls. She had told Aisling about the time she had sung ‘Danny Boy’ for Mother and Harry and Johnny … Aisling had said it was only natural … everyone cried when they heard ‘Danny Boy’.

With a blur in her eyes Elizabeth looked around the room. Everyone’s face looked up at the young priest as he sang, and you could see that a lot of effort was going into keeping their expressions unmoved. There was a sense of rescue almost when it came to the last chorus and everyone joined in …

‘Oh come ye back, when sun shines in the meadow,

Or when the valley’s hushed and white with snow,

For I’ll be there in sunshine or in shadow

Oh Danny Boy, Oh Danny Boy I love you so …’

And they wiped their eyes and they sniffed and they took great slugs of their tea or their wine, and they clapped, and Elizabeth smiled again at Aisling, blinking back the tears, and thought that weddings are quite emotional enough without introducing a song like that into them.

*

Aunt Eileen said that her feet had grown twice the size and that they were going to have to cut the shoes off her when they got home. Uncle Sean said that his throat was closing over from all that sweet wine and that only a couple of pints would open it again. Eamonn had been formally released by Aisling. He shuffled and said it hadn’t been that bad and since he had been here for so long he might as well wait and see the send-off. Around the horse-shoe table, with the name cards scattered around on the floor and the children racing up and down, relatives sat in small groups and discussed other small groups.

Shay Ferguson had scooped up two very large whiskys which he carried in one hand together with a glass of water held precariously by the little finger. He made a noise like an advancing train. ‘Hoo, hoo, out of me way, I’ve got to get the bridegroom ready for the long journey ahead. …’ Tony was changing from his wedding finery into a less formal suit in the back of Miss Donnelly’s office.