Two Fridays in April (26 page)

They walked down the lane that swung around behind the street, backing onto a line of low redbrick houses on the other side, each with a little yard to the rear. Halfway up the lane
Theo’s father opened a gate, and immediately a dog set up a furious barking.

Una stopped again – was she about to be attacked? – but beside her Theo said,
It’s OK, it’s only Dolly. She wouldn’t harm a flea
.

His father had caught the dog by its collar and was beckoning Una in.
I won’t let her near you
, he said,
shush, Dolly
– and Una entered the little yard and walked past the dog that strained to leap at her.
Shush
, Theo’s father repeated, more firmly.
Theo
, he said,
open the door
.

But before Theo could get to it the back door of the house was flung open by a very round little woman – as round as her husband was spare – who was wiping her hands on a blue apron and smiling broadly at Una, as if she’d been expecting her.

Introductions were made. The woman was called Judy. Una offered a hand to be shaken – and instead found herself enfolded in the woman’s arms, pressed to her very ample chest and held there. She hadn’t hugged anyone, or been hugged, since her father’s funeral, when so many people had clasped her in an embrace that the gesture had eventually become utterly meaningless, each one over almost before it had begun, as if it was something that had to be got out of the way as quickly as possible.

This was different, this was comforting. She was gently rocked, the woman’s hand cradling the back of her head.
Thank you, pet
, she whispered,
thank you
.

And even though they’d only just met, there was nothing forced or awkward about it. You could tell by the unselfconscious way the woman did it that she was well used to hugging people.
You could tell that putting her arms around someone came very naturally to her.

Now
, she said, loosening her hold but still with a warm hand encircling Una’s waist, leading her into a small kitchen that smelt delectably of fresh-baked bread,
you’ll have tea and a scone. They’re just made
. It wasn’t a question.
Kevin, pull out that chair. Theo, get the milk. Do you need to wash your hands before you sit down, love?

The bathroom at the top of the stairs was tiny. It didn’t have a bath, just a shower with a flowery plastic curtain around it. On the windowsill sat a handle-less cup that held a clutch of brightly coloured toothbrushes, like a bunch of flowers, and a crumpled tube of toothpaste without a lid, and next to it a can of shaving foam and a razor, and a curve of pink soap sitting in a small puddle in a little white dish.

Una’s face was a mess, all blotchy cheeks and swollen eyes. She splashed it with cold water a few times, ran fingers through her messed-up hair, scrutinised herself in the little spotted mirror above the basin. No better, but it would have to do.

She made her way down the narrow stairs and back into the kitchen, feeling horribly self-conscious: what was she
doing
there? Theo and his father were already at the table.
Sit
, Theo’s mother ordered, pouring tea, and Una sat beside Theo, who immediately placed a scone from a dish on the table onto her plate.

Blackberry jam
, he said, indicating the pot on the table from which he was ladling a large spoonful onto his own scone. His father, who sat across the way nursing a mug of tea, nodded encouragingly at her.
Help yourself
, he said.

She had the sensation that this wasn’t really happening – but she was also, she realised, incredibly hungry. She split the scone, releasing curls of steam. She spread butter that immediately melted into each half, and topped it with jam. She took a bite – and it was like the best thing she’d ever tasted.

Warm, sweet, light, buttery, the tartness of the jam a wonderful contrast.
Mmm
, she said involuntarily – and immediately felt herself reddening, but nobody seemed to notice.

Aren’t they good?
Theo’s mother said, settling herself beside her husband, reaching for the milk jug.
Nobody can resist my scones. I add a bit of cream; that’s the secret
.

Una noticed that Theo’s father wasn’t eating very much of his, just cutting it into tiny pieces, most of which still sat in front of him. Nobody remarked on this, although the other two must have seen it. She wondered if he’d become as thin as he was now in the two months since the accident. Maybe before that he’d eaten plenty of scones.

The mother did most of the talking, and while her remarks were addressed mainly to their visitor, to Una’s relief they didn’t demand much in the way of a response. She told Una about Theo’s Leaving Cert exams.
He’s hoping to get enough points for catering college. He loves to cook, don’t you, pet? And he’s very good at it – you should taste his spaghetti Bolognese
.

She spoke about a week in a cousin’s mobile home in Wexford that the family was planning in August.
They let us have it every year. It’s right on the beach, although I get a desperate heat rash if I sit in the sun for too long. Not like Kevin, he goes brown as a nut. I tell him he must have some African blood in him
.

She talked about Theo’s sister Charlotte’s wedding, scheduled for the following April.
They’ve had the hotel booked since Christmas, imagine. She and Brian grew up together – he’s from just over the road, beyond the green you would have passed. Not that he was her only boyfriend, mind you. But I always thought they’d end up getting married, and wasn’t I right? He’s a nice lad, we’re very happy
.

It was constant flowing monologue – half of it delivered through a mouthful of scone – and designed, Una suspected, to put her at her ease. The few direct questions she was asked were the kind that didn’t need more than one-word answers –
Are those beautiful curls natural? I always wanted curls as a girl … Were you ever in Gorey? It’s a nice little spot, I must say, and piles of lovely beaches nearby … Don’t some weddings go on a bit long, though? I sometimes think they’d be better if they were half the length
.

Have another one
, she urged, when Una finished her scone,
go on, they’re only small
– so Una had another. Theo was on his third, while his father across the table from her still played with his first. He caught her eye a few times, and each time he gave her a small, encouraging smile. She decided she liked him. Who would have imagined it?

Eventually she pushed back her chair and rose.
I’d better be getting home
, she said – and immediately Theo’s mother got up too.
Theo, you’ll walk her back
, she said, but Una said hastily,
No, no, there’s no need
– what on earth would they talk about? – and thankfully the offer wasn’t pressed.

I’ll see you out
, Theo’s mother said instead, and opened the door into the hall.
We’ll go out the front
, she said.
I can’t believe Kevin brought you in the back
.

Oops
, Kevin said, smiling weakly at Una.
Sounds like I’m in the doghouse again
. He shook hands with her.
Thanks for coming
, he said.
It means the world, it really does. Drop in and see us some other time, if you want
.

OK
, she said – but she doubted they’d meet again. She was glad she’d done it, but making a habit of it would be too weird. She turned to Theo.
Good luck with the exams
, she said, and he thanked her. He was OK.

She picked up her rucksack and followed Theo’s mother out through the hall to the front door, which led straight onto the path, like Mo’s house.

She got another hug on the doorstep.
You can’t know how much good you’ve done for us, coming here today
, Judy whispered.
I know it’ll help Kevin no end. Your daddy would be so proud of you
. The first time she’d made any mention of him – and the words were as welcome to Una as the warm feel of the woman’s arms around her.

They drew apart. Judy’s eyes as they met Una’s were sparkling.
Would you come back to see us?
she asked.
Next week, maybe, would you come for your tea? What about Wednesday? It’s shepherd’s pie night
.

And Una looked at her round, anxious face and imagined sitting at that table again, eating what she guessed would be a tasty shepherd’s pie. And she thought of the alternative: having dinner with Daphne, both of them going along with the façade that all was well.

If she came she’d have to lie to Daphne, say she was going to a friend’s house. Shouldn’t be too hard – Daphne was hardly going to check up.

Yes
, she said,
OK
– and a time was set for her return. And walking home, she realised that she
wanted
to go back, that she was looking forward to it.

That’s good
, Daphne said when Una told her she was having dinner with Ciara. Relieved, probably, to be having a break from her. Imagining, no doubt, that Una was getting over things, moving on. If she only knew.

And on Wednesday they invited her to come again the following week, and she accepted again, and so it began. She visits them once a week, occasionally more often. Usually it’s just the four of them, sometimes only three – Theo can’t always make it home from catering college in time for dinner, which they call tea – and now and again Charlotte drops in too.

They’re easy company. The event that caused them to come together is never mentioned. Invariably Judy does most of the talking: she never runs out of things to say. Little by little Una has got to know them, and to feel comfortable with them. She’s become attached to them, she’s come almost to need them.

Kevin eats better now; his face has filled in a bit. He’s back at work too, went back a few weeks after Una’s first visit to them. And he’s funny: it took her a while to notice that. He can make them laugh, even if it’s usually by poking gentle fun at Judy, who never seems to mind.

They’re helping one another, Una and the family she’d been determined to hate. A random act of kindness, or whatever it was, has brought her far more than she imagined. And nobody knows, not even Ciara.

Of course, Mo nearly messed everything up when she began working in the charity shop just across the lane, a couple of months after Una began visiting the Quirks – but when it turned out that she’d be doing mornings only, Una relaxed. Today is the first time she’s been at the house by day – but even so, there’s no danger. The two places are back to back, and what would bring Mo out to the rear of the shop?

So her secret has remained safe from Mo and Daphne. As far as Daphne knows, Una is eating at a friend’s house each time she misses dinner at home – and as far as Una is concerned it’s true. They
are
her friends: at this stage, they’re almost her family. And today she’s going to Charlotte’s wedding, just like a member of the family.

It’s the date of your daddy’s anniversary
, Judy said a few weeks ago, when it was just the two of them in the kitchen, sitting over mugs of tea and slices of Judy’s tea brack.
It was booked way back. Charlotte said they could change it, after … but I said no. I thought it might be good to have something to take Kevin’s mind off it. We were wondering if you’d like to come. We’d love to have you, we really would
.

A wedding, on what Una knew already would be the worst day in the year for her.

Of course
, Judy went on,
we’ll understand if you’d rather not, given the day that’s in it
– but it seemed to Una all the more reason to go. Take her mind off it too, help her to forget, if that was possible.

Yes
, she said.
I will – I mean, I’d like to. Thank you
.

It was a gift, and she accepted it gratefully, and made her plans. And now the day is here.

She finishes her sausages. Kevin continues to polish his shoes – surely only to annoy Judy at this stage. The kitchen door opens. A stoutly built woman she doesn’t recognise comes in wearing a figure-hugging strapless dress in a purple so deep it’s almost black. ‘Your turn,’ she tells Charlotte, who pushes away her plate and takes her mug and leaves.

‘I’m Gaby,’ the newcomer says, putting out a hand. ‘You must be Una.’ Her dark blonde hair is piled on her head. Her eyelashes are spiky with purple mascara. The dress shows a dangerous amount of cleavage. She takes Charlotte’s seat, begins to eat what food remains on the plate in front of her. ‘Any more sausages, Jude? I’ve a head on me after last night. I need feeding.’

‘There she goes,’ Kevin puts in, ‘eating us out of house and home again’ – but Gaby only laughs as she helps herself to a slice of bread and spreads it thickly with butter. ‘That’s because I’m a growing girl, Kevin – growing more beautiful every day. Pass over that jam there, Una.’ She brushes crumbs from her hands before grabbing the top of the dress to hoick it higher on her chest. ‘God, I wish this thing had straps – I’ve an awful feeling I’m going to let it all hang out today.’