Maeve Binchy - Tara Road

'Is that her?' Brian whispered when Brenda Brennan had gone.

'Who?' Danny was genuinely bewildered.

'The one, the one who's going to have the baby, the one that you're going to live with?'

'Don't be ridiculous , Brian.' Annie's patience was now exhausted. 'She's as old as Mam, for God's sake. Of course she's not the one.'

Danny felt the time had come to reclaim the purpose of the evening. 'Your mother and I have had a very good conversation today, very good. We had none of those silly fights that have been so upsetting for us and indeed specially for you.'

'Well, that makes a change,' Annie grumbled.

'Yes it does make a change, these have been a bad couple of days for us all, but now we're all able to talk again.'

'Are you coming back?' Brian asked hopefully.

'Brian, this is what your mother and I were talking about. It's a question of what words we use. I've not gone away, I haven't left you two, of course I haven't. I'm going to be living in a different place, that's all.'

'What kind of place?' Annie asked.

'Well it's only a flat at the moment, but it will be a house very soon and you'll come to stay there as often as you like. It's got a lovely garden, and it will be your home too.'

'We've got a lovely garden in Tara Road,' Annie said.

'Yes, well now you'll have two.' He beamed with pleasure at the thought of it.

They looked at him doubtfully.

'Will we each have our own room?' Annie asked.

'Yes, of course. Not quite immediately, not the day we move in, but there'll be alterations done. Mr McCarthy's people will divide a room for you. In the meantime when you come to stay one of you can sleep on the sofa in the sitting room.'

'Doesn't sound much like a second home to me, sleeping on the sofa,' Annie said.

'No, well it's only temporary and then it will be sorted out.' He kept his smile bright.

'And how many days will we stay there, in the house with the divided room?' Brian asked.

'As many as you like. Your mother and I talked about that very thing today. You'll be delighted when you go home and discuss it with her, we both agree that you are the important people in all this…'

Annie cut across his speech. 'And could one of us stay in one place, and one in the other? I mean I don't have to be joined at the hip to Brian or anything?'

'No, of course not.'

Annie looked pleased by this.

'And when the baby comes if it's crying arid annoying us, can we go back to Tara Road?' Brian asked.

'Yes, of course.'

'Well that's all right then.' Brian seemed satisfied.

'And will she be like Mam and say keep your room tidy and you can't come in at this hour?'

'Bernadette will make you very welcome. She's so looking forward to meeting you. When will we arrange that, do you think?'

'You didn't say if she'd be making rules and regulations,' Annie persisted.

'You'll be as courteous and helpful in this new house as you are in Tara Road. That's all that's expected of you.'

'But we're not helpful in Tara Road,' Brian said, as if this was something his father had misunderstood.

Danny sighed. 'Suppose we decide a time and place to meet Bernadette?'

'Does she have a big bump? Does she look very pregnant?' Annie wanted to know.

'Not particularly. Why do you ask?'

Annie shrugged. 'Does it make any difference where we meet?' Danny felt a tic of impatience; this was much harder than he had expected it would be. 'Do we have to meet her?' Annie asked. 'Wouldn't it be better to wait until the baby's born and everything, get all that out of the way?'

'Of course you'll meet her,' Danny cried. 'We're all going away on a boat on the Shannon for a holiday, all of us. We want to meet together long before that.'

They looked at him dumbfounded.

'The Shannon?' Annie said.

'All of us?' Brian asked.

'Can Kitty come too?' Annie put in quickly. 'And don't even think of asking about Myles and Dekko, Brian, don't think of it.'

'I don't honestly think Mam would like a holiday with… you know, her coming too,' Brian said slowly.

Annie and her father exchanged glances. It was the one moment of solidarity in a nightmare meal. At least his daughter understood some of the problems ahead. Annie said nothing about Brian being brain-dead. Instead they both began to explain to the boy who was, after all, only ten years of age, that his mother would not be coming with them on this long-planned, much discussed holiday.

In Marilyn's office there was much talk of the annual alumni picnic in August. They had to get a list of accommodation addresses ready. Hotels, guest houses, dormitories, private homes where the past students could stay. Many of them looked forward to this weekend as the high spot of the year. It was a highly successful fund-raiser for the college and maintained close contacts between present and past.

It had always been a tradition that those who worked in the Alumni Office would offer hospitality in their own homes. Marilyn and Greg had hosted many a family in 1024 Tudor Drive. Pleasant people all of them. They had always been delighted with the pool in the hot August weather and many had kept in touch over the years. The Vines had invitations in return to stay in Boston, New York City and Washington DC any time they liked.

The plans for the picnic were under way, the wording of the appeal in the first notifications, the details of tax deductions in any gift made to an alumni library and arts centre. They would have to debate the nature of the entertainment, the number of people allowed to address the gathering, the need to keep the speeches even shorter than they were. Soon work would be apportioned. Marilyn knew she must speak before then. She would not accept any tasks and projects which she would be unable to carry through.

She cleared her throat and addressed the Professor of Education who was taking the meeting. 'Chair, I must explain that I will not be here during the months of July and August. I have accepted the leave of absence so kindly offered to me by the college. I leave at the end of June and will be back after Labor Day, so can I ask you to give me maximum input to the early preparation work in the knowledge that I will not be here for the event itself?'

A group of faces looked up, smiling. This was good news. The taut, tense Marilyn Vine was finally giving in. At last she was going to join Greg, her bewildered husband, in Hawaii.

Almost two months before she left. That would give Ria plenty of time. And she wouldn't tell anybody anything until she was ready. The list had been invaluable. She couldn't understand why Danny had laughed at her, ruffled her hair and said she was a funny little thing. It was what people did , for heaven's sake. All right, if they were at work or in an office they used computers, personal organisers, filofaxes. But basically the process was the same. You wrote down what had to be done, and you clutched it to you. That way you didn't forget anything.

It would take a week at least before she got the documents from Marilyn. She didn't want to spring this on everyone without being able to show them something to back up that this was a good idea. She had prepared a little dossier of her own, which she would send off today or tomorrow. She had photographs of the house both inside and out and cuttings from the Irish Times newspaper's property section showing the kind of place that Tara Road was. She put in a map of Dublin, an up-to-date tourist guide to the city, a restaurant guide, a list of books Marilyn might like to read before she came. She gave the address of her bank, the name, telephone number and fax of their bank manager. Also a terse and unemotional note to say that the house was owned jointly between her and Danny; its ownership was not in dispute. He would look after the children for the month of July and later she would send a list of friends and contacts that would be of help to Marilyn when she arrived.