Light A Penny Candle (52 page)

Aisling put on a clean dress and combed her hair. ‘I want to talk to you Tony, which is why I kidnapped you.’

He looked hunted. ‘All right, all right. We’ll talk in the bar.’

‘No. It’s not about anything that can be talked about in a bar. Take your choice. Here or we’ll go for a walk.’

‘What is it, what are you playing at?’

‘Just what I said. I want to talk to you. We have to talk.’

‘Oh God, not now Aisling, not now when we’re knackered from the journey … huh?’ He looked at her appealingly.

She said nothing.

‘Well if it’s quick say it here, and then we’ll go out. Isn’t that fair enough?’

‘It’s not quick,’ she said.

‘Can’t we find a nice quiet bar like two normal human beings and sit in it in a corner and you can tell me then? Wouldn’t that do?’

‘No.’

‘Why in God’s name not?’

‘Because it’s about sitting in bars that I want to talk.’

‘I don’t know what you mean.’

‘Of course you know what I mean Tony. I want to talk about how drunk you’ve been all the time we were in Rome. There wasn’t a day that you didn’t get maggoty.’

‘Oh, you don’t want to talk, you just want to nag. I knew there’d be a catch to it. Now why didn’t you say I want to have a nice nag at you, Tony, instead of pretending you want to talk?’

He seemed pleased that he had identified the problem. He even gave a little smile, a nervous smile.

Aisling’s lip trembled. She seemed to have difficulty in keeping calm. But if she wasn’t careful the whole thing would slip away as it had slipped away before. She forced a smile on to her face.

‘No, honestly, it’s talk, really.’ She smiled brightly, hoping to get some kind of response. She didn’t.

‘No, seriously it’s talk, you know, me saying something, and you saying something and neither of us shouting … so that we can. …’

‘So that you can nag me,’ he repeated triumphantly.

‘I don’t nag you.’

‘You don’t hell.’

‘I don’t. When did I last nag at you?’

‘You’re always nagging at me, sighing and groaning and throwing your eyes up at heaven. If that’s not nagging I’d like to know what on earth is.’

‘Please Tony, just tonight, just this one night. Not a bar,
not
a night on the jar, just a conversation. I swear I’ll not say one word more about your being jarred. Honestly.’

‘Well what do you want to talk about drink for if you’re not going to mention getting jarred?’ He was puzzled.

‘I was going to talk about why you drink so much, and whether this has anything to do with … well with us … and what we don’t have … and what we don’t do.’

‘Ah ha, that’s it. Psychology. Analysis. A psychiatrist’s couch. Lie down on this bed Tony, and tell me all your deep feelings. Why do you need a pint? I need a pint because I goddamn want a pint and I’m going to go out and have one, now are you coming with me or are you not?’

‘An hour. I’ll reduce it to an hour. Please.’

‘All right. After we’ve been to the pub.’

‘No. Before. Once we get to the pub, you’ll start us talking to old hangers-on and fools and there won’t be any chance
to
talk.’

‘I won’t, I promise, I won’t draw anyone on us.’

‘No. Because when you do it will be too late. The night will be gone.’

‘I can’t talk in here, it’s choking me. …’ Tony ran his finger around under his collar. ‘Come on Aisling, stop playing about like a child.’

‘Suppose I were to go and get us some whisky? Could you talk here then?’ She looked pleading.

‘What do you want to say? One hour, mind. It’s seven o’clock now. By eight we’re to be in a bar.’

Aisling slipped downstairs and out the door. She
remembered
that there was a bar around the corner from when she had last stayed here. Her sense of direction was good. In no time, with the half bottle of Jameson carefully wrapped by a mildly curious barman she was back in the bedroom.

Tony had lain down on the bed again. She poured two large amounts into the toothmugs that stood on the handbasin.

‘Your health,’ he said, almost draining his.

‘We are afraid to talk to each other about what’s worrying both of us,’ she said.

‘Go on,’ Tony said with a mock wave, as if giving her the floor.

‘We’ve been married for fifteen months and we haven’t consummated this marriage. That’s what we don’t talk about.’

‘Oh.’ Tony looked stricken.

‘Now, I don’t know anything about anything, really. But I think it’s the kind of thing we might have to go and see a specialist or somebody about, and I wanted to discuss it with you.’

‘A specialist. …’ Tony was amazed at the word. ‘A specialist in what might we ask? In ramming himself into people? Is that what we’re to look for? Would one of those leery Italian waiters have done? Why didn’t we think of it then? Wouldn’t that have been a great one to ask? He might even have been a free specialist. We mightn’t have had to pay him a penny. In fact he might even have paid you. …’

‘It’s very hard for us to talk about this anyway, but, God Almighty, you’re not going to make it any easier by shouting and mocking at me before we even begin. …’

‘No, I’m very sorry, let me go back, a specialist, have you found one? Is he perhaps waiting outside the door?’

‘Tony.’

‘No, go on. Go on, let me not interrupt you. You wanted to talk. Talk on.’

‘It’s not easy for me to talk, it’s a hard thing to talk about.’

‘Ah yes, but it’s a very easy one for me to listen to. …’

‘We can’t go on ignoring it, we’ve ignored it for months now. It doesn’t work for us, I don’t know why, maybe it’s something I’m not doing right – that’s what I mean about advice. I thought all I had to do was lie there. There must be more I should be doing and I don’t know. Please can’t you see how awful all this is …?’

‘But it’s you who wants to talk about it, my dear Aisling.’

‘And I’m trying to. I was wondering was it the drink?’

‘Was what the drink?’

‘Could it be because we both drink so much that we don’t manage to do it right, that it doesn’t happen for us. …’

Tony’s voice was cold. ‘But how could that be a serious suggestion, my dear Aisling, you hardly drink at all?’

‘You’re making me say it, aren’t you? Listen, before we were married, you were mad to … you couldn’t stop yourself, you said. You told me that it was cruel to you not
to
let you. Remember? Remember? In the car. In the orchard. Remember? You seemed to think that it was easy … like … and nothing to it. …’

There was a silence.

‘And because you used to want to so much in those days and everything … I was wondering, I was wondering could it be because you drink a lot more now than you used to then? Perhaps that’s what is complicating things and making it all so difficult.’

‘Is that your own conclusion or have you discussed it with assorted people and come to this view as a result of a conference …?’

‘Oh Tony, may God forgive you … who could I have spoken to about it?’

‘I don’t know, you spend a great deal of time out of the house, how do I know where you are and what you’re discussing?’

‘I only go out when you go out drinking. If you’re going to be home I’m always there, and then I only go down to Mam’s or over to Maureen’s. I’d prefer to be at home with you … but you’re never there. …’

‘I thought you weren’t going to nag, I remember you saying something about this not being a nagging session.’ Tony reached over and filled his tumbler with whisky.

‘Well, what do you think we should do? I mean this seriously, please take it seriously. Do you think we should go along like this trying to pretend it doesn’t matter? Isn’t it better to face it and discuss it? We’re meant to be great friends, you and I, we used to be. Now we can’t discuss
anything
. I feel if we could discuss the bed thing … we’d go back to being able to talk about everything else and you wouldn’t run off on me down to Shay and the fellows, and I wouldn’t be left alone. …’ She stopped and looked at him, his lower lip was trembling. He said nothing so she went on. ‘Because you know how much I like you and love you, and how you’re the one I want, and you’re my Tony … and it’s just ridiculous our pretending that nothing’s wrong and that it doesn’t matter. …’ She got up and sat down on the floor and laid her head in his lap. He patted her hair and twisted it in his fingers.

‘You always say it doesn’t matter … you know when it happens … when it doesn’t happen … you often tell me that it’s not the most important thing in the world … so I thought it didn’t matter all that much to you, now you say you’ve been pretending, that it does. …’

‘Of course it’s not the most important thing in the world … but not being able to talk about it … that’s what’s so dreadful, and I feel sure that there’s something simple we don’t know. If we read books, say, together. …’

‘I’ve read books,’ Tony said.

She raised her head. ‘And what do they say?’ she asked.

‘They say it’s nervousness and inexperience, and that people get over it.’

‘Well …’ She tried to smile.

‘And they say that the partner should be nice and consoling and say it doesn’t matter. I thought maybe you’d read books too.’

‘No I hadn’t. I meant it, it doesn’t matter.’

‘Then why are we sitting here agonising over it?’

‘Because it matters in a different sense. It doesn’t matter in the night at that minute when it matters to you … but it matters in long term … my not being able to give you all that pleasure, you know, and children …’ She stopped.

‘Yes?’ he said.

‘Well I suppose we might talk about whether there is any way of making it work … and if we decide there isn’t, then there’s a possibility that we might both be happier if we didn’t try, seeing as it upsets us. And we might adopt a baby.’

‘Are you serious?’ he asked.

‘Well, yes. If you’re not feeling deprived and missing that whole side of life, and if I didn’t feel that we kept on failing to do something then we might both be much happier and we could choose a boy or a girl and carry on from there?’ She was kneeling now on the floor smiling up at him, as if she were suggesting they make just trivial plans.

Tony stood up. ‘You can’t expect this to be a serious discussion can you, when you come up with preposterous ideas like that?’

‘But why is it?’

‘Utterly ludicrous … didn’t you hear what I said? If you want the whole thing spelled out, which a more sensitive person might not want, then let’s spell it out. I told you the book said it was temporary, get it? And normal? See? And nothing to be ashamed of? Right? And it passes. And it’s due to inexperience … because unlike all these fast people
and
sophisticated people you obviously admire so much I am inexperienced. I didn’t sleep around with the whole world. I only slept with you. …’

He stopped for a swig from the glass.

‘And, if I might add, words from your own mouth, there’s not much for the woman to do, is there? I mean you said it yourself, just lie there and wait. So I think we’ve covered most angles now, don’t you … or would you like to announce in tomorrow’s paper that. …’

‘Please. …’

‘No, you had your talk, I can have mine … you have told me you didn’t mind, then you told me you did, now you tell me you don’t care if we never do it. …’

‘Tony. …’

‘Listen to me … you have told me you have read nothing at all on the subject, but you think a specialist might help us; you think that you are doing everything such as there is to do correctly and that I am not; you tell me you would like to abandon the whole purpose for which marriage was invented so that I can bring up some other man’s son. There’s only one thing you said which is right … only one thing.’

‘What’s that?’ she whispered.

‘That you’re not going to be drunk tonight, and I am. I am going to be very drunk indeed.’ He poured the last grain of whisky into the mug and drained it. He turned the bottle upside down in the wastepaper basket. He smiled at her, a very forced, unreal smile.

‘So, would you like to join me, Madam? You are my
wife
after all, and a wife’s place is beside her husband … as well as underneath him.’

Aisling stood up. ‘I suppose this was our only chance of talking about it ever … wasn’t it? And we messed it up.’

‘So shall we sally forth then?’ Tony asked.

Aisling decided in two seconds’ reflection that it would be less worrying to go with him than to lie there in terror of his lurching home and waking Gretta Ross and her twelve house-guests.

‘Let’s sally,’ she said.

‘That’s better,’ said Tony, and he looked quite happy again.

Simon and Henry had behaved like a parody of the Western Brothers where one would begin a sentence and the other would finish it. Elizabeth thought that they were great company, when they took her to the smart French restaurant. They had even brought her an orchid to wear on her dress. Simon said that Henry knew a great deal about wine so they would have to sit back and listen to a lengthy discussion with the waiter.

Henry laughed. ‘Simon is so ignorant about wine that once someone asked him would he like red or white and he said, “Yes please.”’

When Henry laughed he looked younger, Elizabeth thought, less stooped, less conscious of himself, less awkward. He was really at his ease tonight … mocking himself, letting Simon mock him. Sometimes he had looked rather anxious and … yes, awkward. Perhaps it
was
because he was so tall, his elbows and his knees seemed to stick out a bit at angles. You felt that if he fell he might break into small pieces. Or if he stood up suddenly that he might knock everything over. And yet that was unfair, he wasn’t at all clumsy, he only looked as if he might be.

Tonight his fair or light brown hair looked well. He must have washed it before he came out. It was soft and shiny. His sandy face looked eager and enthusiastic. He had pale eyebrows and his eyelashes were very light too. If he had been a girl he would have darkened them, Elizabeth thought. Wasn’t it silly the way girls always felt they had to change their faces, and men didn’t?

There was nothing wrong with Henry Mason’s face, nothing that he should change. It wasn’t very definite, that was all, you had to look hard at it to remember it.