Light A Penny Candle (55 page)

Francesca scampered into the kitchen happily to find a saucepan.

From his fevered face Johnny’s smile still looked good. ‘I didn’t know you’d come over, I thought … I thought. …’

‘I know, you thought I’d be discreet. It doesn’t matter.’

‘What?’

‘It doesn’t matter. I think the worst has passed now, it will get better after this.’

Johnny reached out for her hand. ‘It will change, I promise you, it won’t always be like this.’

She patted his hand and stood up. She was very good at misunderstanding conversations, she had been doing it deliberately for years. She insisted on believing they were talking about his bout of flu. ‘You’re absolutely right, it
will
change, tomorrow even, it will have lessened. Of course it won’t always be like this. …’ She blew him a kiss from the door. ‘Happy Christmas, Johnny, oh, and Francesca …?’

The tousled head appeared from the kitchen. ‘Oh … you go Eleezabett. So soon?’

‘Yes. I just wanted to say
Buon Natale
. That’s it, isn’t it?’

‘
Si, Buon Natale
.’ Francesca was delighted. As Elizabeth walked down the familiar stairs she could imagine Francesca sitting on Johnny’s bed spooning him the beef tea, saying how nice Eleezabett was. And she could imagine Johnny impatiently changing the subject.

Henry came back three days after Christmas. It had been very pleasant, very quiet, very seasonal. Why had he come back so soon, Elizabeth wanted to know? If it was so nice there why had he not stayed until the weekend, until New Year’s Eve?

‘Because I missed you,’ Henry said simply. ‘I wanted to see you again.’

Henry wondered if Elizabeth would like to go to dinner with him on New Year’s Eve.

‘Let me cook a dinner for you instead?’ she suggested. ‘Father will be away, there’s a New Year bridge gathering, he’s very excited about it.’

Henry had brought a bottle of champagne and Elizabeth had one already cooling, so they decided not to
wait
until midnight. They could drink one now and one then.

‘You know I’m very fond of you, I’ve become so very, very fond of you,’ Henry said at one stage.

‘I’m very fond of you too,’ Elizabeth said.

‘The problem is I don’t know quite … where I stand … you know.’

Elizabeth looked at him, puzzled.

‘You know I’m aware, of course, that you are very friendly with Johnny Stone … but I don’t know how. …’

Elizabeth still looked at him and said nothing.

‘You see, I don’t want to be foolish and hope that you might be interested in me, if this chap, if there’s something … so I hoped you might tell me what you think.’ He looked so hopeful and eager, and almost dreading her reply. Elizabeth had never known such a sense of power in her life, but she did not get any enjoyment from it.

‘It’s a long story. …’ she began.

‘Oh, I don’t want to know about the past … that’s got nothing to do with me … heavens, no. It’s just about what you feel now … what you want.’

‘I don’t love Johnny Stone any more,’ she said. Her voice echoed in her head. It was true. Henry’s face faded from her, she just thought of that fact. She did not love Johnny. It had happened without her knowing, for the love she always carried around for him had gone and she hadn’t noticed it disappearing, it was only now that someone asked her where it was that she became aware
that
it was missing. She smiled at Henry as his face came back into focus. ‘That’s true,’ she said simply.

‘Well, is it possible that you might in time love
me
?’ He was hesitant, unsure still. ‘I don’t want you to feel I’m rushing you or demanding you give me an answer, but if you thought that. …’

‘But I do love you already,’ she said.

Henry was so delighted he looked like a big child. He pushed his fair hair until it stood up around his head like a halo. Up to now he had kissed her lightly on the lips when he was leaving her, now he pulled her towards him and kissed her for a long time.

‘I think you are the most wonderful person in the whole world. You are such a beautiful girl … I can’t believe you might love me,’ he said happily as he looked at her proudly.

‘You’re very good to me … no wonder I love you,’ she said.

‘Will you marry me? Can we get married some time in the New Year?’

She sat up from his arms, startled. To Henry love meant marriage, to most people love meant marriage. Henry was anxious to give up all his other chances, close down any alternative options and live with her, Elizabeth White, for the rest of his life. That’s what he was aching to do. And she wanted it too. She wanted to be safe and happy and to look after him. She wanted the two of them to be together and plan things and share things. Yes, she would love to marry Henry Mason.

‘I’d love to marry you, Henry Mason. Of course I will,’ she said.

Sean had never found conversation with Ethel Murray easy: she was one of those women who spoke so firmly that there seemed nothing to add after any of her statements. He would have escaped her this time, only Eileen was in bed. She hadn’t been herself over Christmas – she said it was all the rich food. And there had been too much work in the shop coming up to Christmas. She had determined that they would find a good girl in the New Year and pay her a proper wage. Sean had agreed, had said he would enquire around immediately after the break.

Ethel Murray called unannounced. She wore gloves which she fiddled with and she seemed very ill at ease. They talked politely about how they had all got over Christmas, the nice new priest and what a grand voice he had, just what the choir needed. They remarked that the world had come to a bad state when the poor Pope had to spend his Christmas broadcast on the wireless talking about the danger of atom bombs.

Finally Ethel Murray managed to get to the point. She wondered whether Sean and Eileen might have any … well, any information about how Tony and Aisling were getting on. It was as simple as that.

Sean was astounded. Weren’t they getting on fine? Had there been any trouble? He had heard nothing – what was she talking about? Had there been an incident? Ethel Murray’s face revealed that she had talked to the wrong
person
. She tried to back-track but now Sean was even more upset than she was. Let her say it straight out what was in her mind.

What was in Ethel Murray’s mind was Aisling’s announcement during the Christmas lunch that she intended to ask her father for a full-time job back in O’Connor’s in the New Year. Her Mam was tired and overworked and a woman in her mid-fifties who should have a rest, and Aisling had nothing to do all day so she might as well fill in the time somehow. Tony had said nothing, but then poor Tony had been a bit under the weather. There must be something wrong, and hard though it was for Ethel to broach this to Sean and Eileen she thought she would do so in confidence … and ask their advice.

Sean was moved by her distress, and even more so by her bewilderment. It was not often that you found Ethel Murray not knowing what to do. He calmed her down, he insisted they both have a seasonal nip of whisky, he said he wouldn’t disturb Eileen now, but they would talk about it in the near future. He apologised for his own short temper, and she patted him on the knee with her gloved hand. He thought to himself that in her day she mightn’t have been a bad-looking woman at all.

Eileen was back on her feet and up at nine o’clock mass on New Year’s Day. She met Aisling just as they were coming out the door. Aisling’s eyes lit up.

‘Oh Mam, isn’t that great that you’re well again, come
on
, get into the car and I’ll give you a spin back home – or better still, come up to me?’

‘I’d like that, give me a bit of peace – but hold on, let me tell one of them where I’m going or they’ll have a search party out for me.’ Her eyes went through the crowd coming out into the cold morning, calling Happy New Year at each other. She saw Donal, well wrapped up. ‘Tell them I’ve gone up to Mrs Murray’s house for breakfast. Let them eat their own without me,’ she called.

‘Fat lot you’ll get to eat up in the Murrays’ house, I’ll tell them to put yours in the oven,’ Donal called back good-naturedly.

‘He’s only making a joke of you Aisling,’ said Eileen, tucking herself into the car.

‘He’s not far wrong,’ Aisling said and she revved up and headed for the bungalow.

Eileen was shocked to the core by the state of things. The sitting room was filled with dirty dishes, there were glasses on the table, crumbs on the floor. The gleaming kitchen which had been such a cause of envy to poor Maureen was a sorry sight. The oven was thick with grease, saucepans half rinsed but not cleaned stood around, cornflakes were scattered, the sink had not been emptied. It looked filthy and uncared for.

‘Child, you’re mistress in your own house, but in the name of the Lord would you not make an effort to keep the place a bit better?’ Eileen was aghast, she had to move a dirty dishcloth from a chair before she could even sit down.

‘Oh Mam, sure what’s the point, what in God’s name is the point?’ Aisling looked not the slightest bit contrite. ‘If I tidy it all up and clean it, he’ll only destroy it again.’

‘But Aisling … you can’t live like this … you can’t possibly. Where’s Tony now, is he still in bed?’ Eileen had lowered her voice.

‘He didn’t come home, Mam, he’ll be home around lunchtime, to change his clothes and go off down to the hotel.

‘But where on earth is he? On New Year’s Eve, were you all alone here? What happened to him?’

‘Oh, I suppose he slept where he fell, in Shay Ferguson’s, or one of those places. He sometimes sleeps in the hotel too, I’d have thought you’d have heard. …’

‘No, I heard nothing. Nothing.’

‘So I sat here last night by myself. And I boiled some potatoes – that’s that saucepan – he often feels like a few potatoes when he comes in with a feed of drink … then it got later, and I thought, well, he’s not coming home, so I’ll cook something for myself … So there was some bacon there and I began to fry it with onions and it burned, and that accounts for that pan. And that’s yesterday morning’s scrambled eggs which he didn’t touch, and that … I don’t know, I think it’s milk for something.’

Eileen felt a wave of nausea flow over her.

‘How long have things been like this …?’

‘Oh, I don’t know. Let me see, I’ve been married for one year and seven months … or is it seven years and one month …? About that long. …’

It was this dreamy self-parodying behaviour that snapped Eileen out of her shock.

‘Do you have hot water in the taps?’ she asked crisply.

‘What?’ Aisling was surprised.

‘Is the immersion on? They’ll expect me back in the square in an hour’s time or an hour and a half. This place is to look right by then.’

‘Oh Mam, it’s not worth the. …’

‘Shut up whining and complaining – get started. …’

‘Mam, I’m not going to do it, neither are you.’

‘You’re not crossing the door of my house again, you little slut, unless you get up off your backside this minute and get your place into order.’

‘It’s my place Mam, you said so.’

‘My God Almighty it is, and when you think of all the people who would love it, would make it into a little palace, but no, Miss High-and-Mighty-Aisling always has to know better than anyone else in the world. What your sister Maureen would give for a kitchen like this – I saw her face, you know. Think of Peggy out in a bothan on the mountain. What would she give for a house like this? But God didn’t see fit to give it to people who would appreciate it, he gave it to a self-pitying snivelling slut – yes, Aisling, that’s what you are. …’

Aisling was shocked. Not a word about Tony, not a speck of comfort, not a motherly arm around her shoulder about the terrible nature of men. Instead a lecture worse than any she had got when she was fourteen. Almost as a reflex action she stood up. Mam had taken off her coat.

‘Hang that up somewhere it won’t get covered in filth, and get me an apron or an overall … oh all right, get me one of your rags of dresses that cost pounds in Grafton Street, and I’ll put that on over my good outfit. Hurry up!’ She had found trays hidden away somewhere. ‘Keep clearing the sitting room, go on, keep them coming.’

‘Mam, I don’t want you to wear yourself out. …’

‘I’m not letting any outside person know the way I brought my daughter up. Do you hear me? Move!’

With a hysterical giggle Aisling thought that they must look like one of those old speeded-up films where the cops and robbers were running jerkily in and out doors.

‘The sitting room’s clear, Mam,’ she called.

‘I didn’t hear the Hoover,’ Mam shouted back.

They had it done in an hour and a half. Mam had opened all the windows to air the place.

‘We’ll get pneumonia,’ complained Aisling.

‘Better than diphtheria from the dirt there was in the place,’ Mam said.

Bins had been filled, floors had been cleared. Mam had left five saucepans soaking in soap powder, with instructions that they were to be scoured in a few hours’ time. She had opened the door of the bedroom and closed it with a bang.

‘You have about an hour or two before you expect your husband home. Get in there and clean up that room, take the sheets off the bed and make it properly, I’m coming back this afternoon to see you and I want to see the place perfect. Open those windows if you want to before you drive me back home, it might clear the place up a bit.’

‘You’re coming back, Mam?’ Aisling said fearfully.

‘Certainly I am, you invited me for a cup of tea, and, I don’t know whether you noticed or not, we never had it. So I’m coming for it this afternoon. And I wouldn’t like to drink it from a teapot that’s all tarnished either. I got no silver teapots for my wedding, but if I had they’d be shining.’

‘Tony may not be here Mam, I don’t think you realise how bad it is.’

‘I don’t think you realise how bad it is,’ Mam said grimly and put on her coat to leave.

Tony came in at midday. He looked terrible, Aisling thought. His suit was crumpled and had stains all over it as if he had vomited and it had been only superficially cleaned. His eyes were swollen and puffy. He smelt of drink even across the room with the draughts coming through the open windows.