Maeve Binchy - Tara Road

'I don't think that's so at all, but then we all look at people's lives differently. I often think that your gran is crazy to spend so much time with those old people in St Rita's instead of with people of her own age but she's as happy as a songbird there.'

'Well, that's because they depend on her there, they need her. And she's only a young thing up in St Rita's, not an old bag as she is with other people,' said Annie as if it were dead simple to understand.

Ria told them she would telephone every Saturday and they could ring any time because there was an answering machine. But not to waste Dad and Bernadette's money on long calls.

'I don't think she has much money,' Brian said. 'I think it's mainly Dad's.'

'Brian, you have the brain of a flea,' Annie said.

Danny arrived at ten o'clock. With a shock Ria realised how physically attractive he still was to her and would always be. Nothing had changed very much since those first days when she had met him at the estate agency and the heady discovery that he had eyes for her rather than for Rosemary. The line of his face had something about it that made you want to stroke him. She had to control herself before she stretched out a hand to touch him. She must behave calmly, he must not know how much power he had to move her.

'We'll go out to the garden in a minute, it's so peaceful. But first what would you like? Tea? A drink?'

'Any lager?'

'Sorry, no. Is that a new taste?'

'I’ll have tea,' he said.

'Do we drive each other mad?' Ria asked companionably as she put on the kettle.

'No, I don't think so. Why do you ask?'

'The kids think we do.'

'What do they know?' he grinned.

'They say the new house is very nice,' she said.

'Good, good.'

'Can I ask you to keep a sharp eye on that Kitty? All right, so we know I never liked her, but she is a little madam and she really could lead Annie astray.'

'Sure, anything else?'

'Brian is by nature filthy, I mean truly filthy. You wouldn't believe it, it could be very unpleasant in close quarters like a boat. You might just insist on clean clothes every day, otherwise he'll wear the same things for a month.'

Danny smiled. 'I'll note that.'

'And is there anything for me to look out for when they come to Westville? Is there anything you don't want them to do?'

He looked surprised to be asked. And pleased. 'I don't know. The traffic I imagine, to warn them that it will be coming from a different side when they cross the road.'

'That's very sensible, I will warn them all the time.'

'And maybe they could do some educational things there, you know, museums or art galleries. Things that would help them at school.'

'Sure, Danny.'

They brought their mugs of tea out to the garden and sat on the stone bench. There was a silence.

'About money,' he said.

'Well I bought my air ticket, you've bought theirs. The rest is just as if we were here, isn't it? I mean the same household expenses except I'll be paying them there.'

'Yes.' His voice seemed a bit flat.

'That's all right, isn't it?'

'Yes, of course.'

'And the electricity, gas and phone are all paid by banker's order here…"

'Yes,' he said again.

'So that's money sorted out, is it?' Ria asked.

'I suppose so.'

'And I hope you all have a lovely time on the Shannon. Are you going south or north when you get on the boat?'

'South to Lough Derg. Lots of lovely little places to moor, it would be fabulous if we got the weather.'

They were talking like two strangers.

'I'm sure you will, the long-range forecast is good,' Ria said cheerfully.

Another silence.

'And I hope this place works out very well for you too,' he said.

'I'm sure it will, Danny, thank you for accepting it all. I appreciate that.'

'No, no it's only fair,' he said.

'I've left your telephone number for Marilyn.'

'Good, good.'

'And perhaps you might bring the children round here to meet her one day?'

'What? Oh yes, certainly.'

'Probably best to ring in advance.'

'Indeed.'

There was nothing left to say. They walked up the stairs and stood awkwardly in the hall which had been full of crates and boxes and bicycles on the day they had vowed to make it a great home for ever and ever.

Now the polished floor with its two good rugs glowed warmly in the evening light. The door to the front room was open. There on their table was a bowl of roses that Colm had picked to welcome the American guest. They reflected in the wood, the clock on the mantelpiece chimed and the wind moved the heavy velvet curtains.

Danny went in and looked around him. Surely he was full of regret not just for these pieces but for the time and energy and love that had gone into gathering them. He seemed to be swallowing as he looked around. He was very still. None of his usual quick movement and almost quivering approach to the world. He was like a photograph of himself.

Ria knew she would never forget him standing here like this, his hand on the back of one of the chairs. He looked as if he had just thought of the one final thing that this room needed. Maybe a grandfather clock? Possibly another mirror to reflect the window. His face had that kind of look. He did not look like a man about to go away from all that he had built up here to stay with a pregnant girl called Bernadette. He looked like someone about to put down his car keys and say he was home and that it had all been a ridiculous mistake. It would be too late now of course to stop Marilyn but they would find her another place to stay and everything would be as it was. And they wouldn't wake the children now to tell them, let them find out tomorrow. That was the kind of look he had and the aura that surrounded him.

Ria said nothing; she stood holding her breath as if waiting for him to begin to rebuild the dream. It was very important not to say the wrong thing now. She had been brilliant so far this evening, calm and undramatic. She knew he had valued it. His smile was warm, not strained. He had laughed aloud when she told him how smelly and dirty his son was, his arm had brushed against hers on the stairs and he had not flinched away as he had done during all their prickly conversations.

He stood almost transfixed in this room, Ria didn't know for how long; it felt like a long time. The room was working a magic of its own. He would speak, he would say it was madness, all of this total madness, he was so sorry that he had hurt so many people. And she would forgive him, gently and soothingly, and he would know that he had come back home where he belonged.

Why was he taking so long to find the words? Should she help him, give him a pointer in the right direction? And then he looked at her directly and she saw he was biting his lip, he really was struggling to say what was almost too huge to be said. How could she let him know how great would be her forgiveness and understanding, how much she would do to have him home with her again?

Words had been her undoing in the past apparently; he had thought she was babbling and prattling. Horrible, horrible phrases when she thought she had been talking, confiding. She knew that whatever the temptation she must say nothing. Their whole future depended on this.

She moved very slightly towards him, just one step, and it seemed to have been enough. He came and put his arms around her, his head on her shoulder. He wasn't actually crying but he was trembling and shaking so heavily that she could feel it all through his body.

'Ria, Ria, what a mess, what a waste and a mess,' he said.

'It doesn't have to be.' She was very gentle into his ear.

'Oh God I wish it had all been different. I wish that so much.' He wasn't looking at her, still talking to her hair.