Maeve Binchy - Tara Road

They went to the pub across the road and without asking her what she wanted he bought them both a large brandy.

'I told Barney McCarthy he should put in a sound-proofed recording studio, with all that stuff on the walls. Cost him another twenty thousand.'

'Why on earth…?'

'He could sell it to pop stars. It's the kind of a place they'd want, carve out a helicopter pad as well.'

'And he thought it was a good idea?' Ria was weak.

'He asked why did those swanky auctioneers I worked for not come up with this idea.'

'What did you say?'

'I said they would probably think it was a bit of a young man's idea, that they were more conservative. And Ria, wait for this, I looked him in the eye and I said, 'And another thing, Mr McCarthy, I thought if I came to you directly with this idea that maybe I could sell it for you myself.’ Danny sipped his brandy. 'He asked me was I trying to take his business away from my employers. I said yes, I was, and he said he'd give me a week.'

'Oh God, Danny.'

'I know. Isn't it wonderful? Well, we can't do it from their place so I'll develop flu tomorrow, after I've taken all the addresses and contacts I need home. I've begun to make a list already and then I'll get on the phone. I may need you to send some faxes from the office for me.'

'We'll be killed.'

'Don't be ridiculous, of course we won't. This is what business is about.'

'How much will… ?'

'If I sell Barney's bloody house by next week we'll have the deposit on Tara Road and more. Then we can go to the bank, honeybun. Then we can go to the bank.'

'But they'll sack you, you won't have a job.'

'If I have Barney McCarthy's business any auctioneers in Ireland will take me. Just a week of iron-hard nerve, Ria, and we're there.'

'Iron nerve,' she agreed.

'And remember this day, sweetheart. March the 25th 1983, the day our luck changed.'

'Will Danny be back for my going-away drinks?' Rosemary asked Ria.

'Yes, I think his flu will be better by then,' Ria said loudly.

'Sorry, it slipped out. How is he, by the way?'

'Fine, he rings at night.' Ria didn't say how often he telephoned during the day too, asking for information.

'And did he find what he's looking for?' Rosemary asked.

Ria thought for a moment. 'He sounds cheerful enough. I think he is just in the process of finding it,' she said.

An hour previously Danny had rung to say that Barney's forces had sound-proofed a wine cellar already and the equipment was being installed today. Tomorrow the manager of a legendary pop group was flying over to inspect it; Danny would be travelling with him. It was looking very good.

And it was very good. Barney McCarthy got his price. And Danny Lynch got his commission. And Sean O'Brien got his sixty thousand pounds. And Danny told his employers what he had done, and that he would leave as soon as they wanted him to. They invited him to stay and keep Barney's business with them, but Danny said it would be awkward. They would always be watching him, he would feel uneasy.

They parted on good terms, as Danny Lynch did with everyone and everything in life.

They were like excited children as they wandered about the house planning this and that.

'This front room could be something really special,' Danny said. Now that the boxes and containers that held the secrets of poor old Sean O'Brien and his friends had been moved out, anyone could see what perfect proportions it had: the high ceiling, the tall windows, the big fireplace.

It didn't matter at all that a naked light bulb hung on an old knotted flex from the middle of the ceiling, or that some window-panes had been broken in the past and replaced with cheap and irregular bits of glass.

The stained and chipped mantelpiece could be renewed and made to look as it must once have looked when it was a gentleman's residence.

'We'll get a gorgeous soft wool Indian carpet,' Danny said. 'And look here, beside the fireplace do you know what we'll have—one of those big Japanese Imari vases. Perfect for a room like this.'

Ria looked at him with stunned admiration.

'How on earth do you know all this, Danny? You sound as if you'd done a course in fine arts or something.'

'I look at places, sweetheart. I'm in and out of houses like this all day. I see what people with taste and style have done, I just look, that's all.'

'A lot of people look but they don't see properly.'

'We'll have such a good time doing it up.' His eyes were shining.

Ria nodded, not trusting herself to speak.

The excitement of it all was nearly too much for her. Sometimes she felt dizzy, physically dizzy with the magnitude of what they were taking on.

The pregnancy test was positive. The timing could not be worse. As she lay awake at night, either in her mother's home or in the shambles that was now Tara Road, she rehearsed how she would tell him that she was pregnant.

The fear that he might not want the child was so great it stopped her opening her mouth. The days went by and Ria felt she was acting everywhere and to everyone, and that she had long ceased to be a real person with normal responses.

When she did tell him it was completely by accident. Danny said that the hall was much bigger than they had thought now that they had got the bicycles out of it and into the shed. Maybe they should have a painting party at the weekend, get everyone to do a bit of wall each. It wouldn't be permanent or anything but it might give them a bit of pride in the place.

'What do you think, sweetheart? I know the smell of paint will make us all sick for a day or two but it will be worth it.'

'I'm going to have a baby,' she said suddenly.

'What?'

'Yes, I mean it. Oh Jesus, Danny, I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry now in the middle of all this.' And she burst into tears.

He laid down his coffee cup and came over to hold her tight. 'Ria, Ria. Stop, stop. Don't cry.'

But she went on sobbing and shaking in his arms. He stroked her hair and soothed her as you would a child. 'Shush, shush, Ria. I'm here, it's all right.'

'No, it's not all right, it couldn't be worse. What a time for this to happen. I don't know how it happened.'

'I do, and it was all lovely,' he said.

'Oh Danny, please don't make a joke about it, it's a nightmare. I've never been so upset. I couldn't tell you, not with all this going on.'

'Why is it a nightmare?' he asked.

Oh please, please, may he not say that an abortion was no trouble. That he had the money now. They could go to London at the weekend. Please may he not say that. Because Ria knew that she didn't trust herself. She might do it just to keep him. Then she would hate him as well as loving him, which would be absurd but she could see it happening.

He was smiling his big wide smile. 'Where's the nightmare, Ria my sweet, sweet heart? We wanted children. We were going to get married. So it happened sooner rather than later. That's all.'

She looked at him in wonder. In as much as she could understand anything, he really did seem overjoyed.

'Danny…'

'What were all the tears about?'

'I thought, I thought…'

'Shush.'

'Rosemary? Can we have lunch? I've some marvellous news.'

'What makes me think it has to do with lover boy?' Rosemary laughed.

'Lunch or not?'

'Of course.'

They went to the Italian restaurant where they had gone that day with Danny last November—only a few months ago but imagine all that had happened since.

Rosemary looked better than ever. How it was that no drop of oil or spill of sauce would ever land on her light grey cashmere sweater Ria would never know.

'Well, tell me,' Rosemary said. 'Stop pretending to look at the menu.'

'Danny and I are getting married, and we want you to be the bridesmaid.' Rosemary was speechless. 'Yes, isn't it wonderful! We own the house and we thought it silly to wait any longer.'