Maeve Binchy - Tara Road

'Jack, there's nothing to discover.'

'Why did you send the kids to your mother's last night then? Answer me that.'

'Because I could see you are a bit… under the weather. I didn't want anyone getting upset.'

'You didn't want them hearing that their mother did it for a tenner with anyone who came in.' He hit her.

'Jack.'

'I'm a normal man, this is what a normal man would feel about a wife who couldn't explain ten-pound notes in her handbag.'

'I scrub floors for them, Jack.'

'Where? Where do you do that?'

'In Marilyn Vine's house where Ria lives, for Polly Callaghan sometimes, for Frances Sullivan…'

He laughed. 'You don't expect me to believe that.'

Gertie wept with her head in her arms. 'Well if you don't believe me, Jack, then kill me now, because there's not much point in going on,' she said through her tears.

'I've never had a real girlfriend before,' said Sean Maine to Annie. They sat on a window seat at the party. There was dancing in the room and they were building the barbecue in the garden. Sean had his arm around her shoulder proudly, protectively almost. Annie smiled at him, remembering that she must not encourage him to think she was going to go any great distance. 'It's just my luck that the girl I like is going back to Ireland in a short time.'

'We can write to each other,' she said.

'Or maybe I could come over to Ireland, stay with my Aunt Gertie and Uncle Jack, go to school and be near you.'

'Yes, I suppose.' Annie sounded doubtful.

'Would you not like that?'

'Oh I would, it's just… it's just…' She wasn't sure how to finish. Mam had told her not to go into details about Gertie's life, it wasn't necessarily known over here. She knew that somehow it was important. 'It's just that I think Gertie's pretty busy,' she said lamely.

'She'd find room for family.' He was confident.

'Sure.'

'It was a big surprise your dad coming back?' Sean knew the story.

'I'm not sure he is actually back.'

'But Brian said…'

'Oh Sean, what does Brian know? It's just that Dad looked a bit sad. And he was very taken with Bernadette. I can't see he's given her up already, with the baby and everything.'

'Still he's at home there in Westville with your mom, that can't be bad.'

'No,' Annie agreed. 'That can't be bad at all.'

The shadows of the trees in Memorial Park grew longer as Danny and Ria sat on the wooden bench. They held hands, not like they used to do when they were young. Not even like friends, but like people in a shipwreck, holding on for fear of letting go and being totally alone. Sometimes they sat and said nothing at all. Other times Ria asked questions in a flat voice and Danny answered. At no stage did he call her sweetheart, and he offered no false hopes and glib reassurances that they would be all right.

'Why did you come over to America to tell us?' she asked. 'Couldn't it have waited until we came home?'

'I didn't want you to hear from anyone else.'

They were still holding hands, and she squeezed his as thanks. There were no recriminations. They had both known that the personal guarantee was there. It was just something that neither of them ever thought would be called in.

'Was he very sorry about us and Tara Road?' Ria asked.

Danny struggled to be truthful. 'He's so shell-shocked about himself, to be honest, that it's only one part of it.'

'Still he sent you out here to tell me, he must care a bit?'

'No, I insisted on coming out.'

'And Mona?'

'Barney said Mona said nothing. Nothing at all.’.

'She must have said something .'

'If she did, he didn't tell me.' This was a very different Danny. No longer certain of anyone, anything. Even the great Barney McCarthy was no longer a fixed point in his life.

They spoke idly of what Danny would do now. There were other estate agencies where he might get a job. But he would go in on a very low rung of the ladder.

'What about Polly?'

'She's giving up her flat, getting a job, Barney says she's a brick or a sport, I can't remember which.'

Ria nodded. 'Yes, it would be one or the other.'

'And the staff, that's another very hard bit,' he said.

'Who told them?'

'I did as it happens.'

'You've had a lot of the telling to do.'

'Yes, well, I rode high and had a lot of the good times when they were there too.'

'I know you did, we both did.'

The silences that fell were not anxious or uneasy. It was as if they were both trying to take it all in.

'And what does Bernadette say about it all?'

'She doesn't know.'

'Danny?'

'No, she doesn't, truly, I'll tell her when I get back. She'll be calm. Her mother won't, but she will.'

A wind blew, lifting some of the leaves and blossoms up from their feet.

'Let's go back to the house, Danny.'

'Thank you so much.'

'For what?'

'For not screaming at me. I've had to give you the worst news anyone could ever give anyone.'

'Oh no,' she said.

'What do you mean?'

'You gave me much worse news than that before.'

He said nothing. They walked together across Memorial Park back to Marilyn Vine's car.

Colm Barry called at Number 16 Tara Road.

'You really did work on a rehab programme?'

'Oh yes, certainly.'

'So can you help?'

'You know I can't. Caroline will have to want to do it herself, then I can help.'

'But we can't drag her there.' He sounded very lost.

'There is a place, a centre?'

Colm nodded. 'Yes, a fine place. But what use is it?'

'You could go there, check out the programme, meet some of the people. Tell her about it.'

'She'd only close her ears.'

'She doesn't love that guy Monto?'

'No, but she loves what he provides for her, and now he's doing deals in my restaurant.'

'You're not serious.'

'Last night, I know that's what they were doing, I know it.'

'You can't have this, Colm. He'll get the place closed down, what hope for you or Caroline then?'

'What can I do? I can shop him, but that would be to destroy her.'

'You and Caroline have shared enough and have had enough history for you to be able to talk to her. Tell her that you may lose your restaurant, beg her to give this centre a try. Tell her I'll go with her and sit through the assessment with her if she likes.'

When he left, Marilyn looked at herself in the mirror. She still had the same auburn hair, slightly longer now than when she arrived. Her eyes were still watchful, her jaw firm. Yet she was totally different inside. How could she possibly have changed so much in these few short weeks? Getting involved with strangers and trying to alter the course of their lives. Greg wouldn't believe it was possible.

Greg. She decided to telephone him, but to her surprise they told her that he was taking some reading days. That wasn't like Greg, but she called him at home. His machine said that he would be away for a week.

For the first time in their married lives he had not told her where he was going or what he was doing.

Suddenly she felt very lonely indeed.

When they got back to Tudor Drive, Ria suggested they have tea.

'No, Ria, sit down, talk to me… try to talk, don't bustle about doing things like you used to do at home.'

'Is that what I did at home?' She felt very hurt, annoyed.

'Well, you know whenever I came in and wanted to talk there was this in the oven and that on the burner and something else coming out of the deep-freeze and people coming and going.'

'Only the family, our children if I remember.'

'And half the neighbourhood. You were never there to talk to me.'

'Is that what a lot of this was about?'

'I suppose it was to cover what wasn't there,' he said sadly.