Maeve Binchy - Tara Road

'No, I mean how deeply unpleasant of the man who is married to my sister asking a professional singer to do anything like that at a stag night. You misunderstood me totally. I'm obviously sure that the sight of your breasts would be a great delight to anyone but not under such circumstances.'

'You speak like a barrister sometimes.'

'Well I might need one if your dreams come true.' Colm spoke in a slightly tinny voice.

'Monto told me that… well, he sort of said that…' Orla stopped.

'Yes?'

'He sort of hinted that he had a few problems with your sister Caroline.'

'Yes, I think he has a problem remembering he is married to her.'

'He says more than that. He sort of says there's a dark secret.'

'There is, you know, it's called Bad Judgement. She married a man whom you so rightly describe as a shit. Not much of a dark secret, but there you go. Anyway, Orla, you'd like to sing on Friday? A couple of pointers. You sing as background not as foreground. They want to talk to each other as well as listen to you. Is that understood?'

'Right, boss.'

'You'll sing much more Ella and lots less Lloyd Webber. Okay?'

'You're wrong, but yes, boss.'

'You keep your hands and eyes off Danny Lynch. He'll be here with his new wife and his two kids and his mother-in-law.'

'It's not a new wife, it's his pregnant girlfriend so don't be pompous, Colm.'

'Hands and eyes. A promise or no slot and you never work again here or anywhere else.'

'A promise, boss.'

Colm wondered why he had warned Orla off, after all it might be some small pleasure for Ria out in America to hear that the love-nest was less secure than everyone imagined. But business was business and who wanted a scene in a restaurant on a Friday night?

'We're going to take Mrs. Dunne out to dinner on Friday night,' Danny told his children.

'Mam's going to ring on Friday night,' Brian objected.

'She told us to call her Finola, not Mrs. Dunne,' Annie objected.

'She told me to call her Finola, she didn't tell you.'

'Yes, she did.'

'No, Annie, she didn't. She's a different generation.'

'We call Rosemary Rosemary, don't we?'

'Yes, but that's because she's a feminist.'

'But Finola's a feminist too, she said she was,' Annie insisted.

'Okay, so she's Finola. Fine, fine. Now I thought we might go to Quentin's, but it turns out that she… Finola… wants to go to Colm's so that's where we're going.'

'Dead right too,' Annie said. 'Colm has proper vegetarian food not some awful poncy thing that costs what would keep a poor family for a month like the token vegetarian dish in Quentin's costs.'

'But what if Mam rings?' Brian asked.

'There's an answering machine and if we miss her we'll call her back.' Danny was bright about it all.

'She might have been looking forward to talking to us though,' Brian said.

'We could change the message and say we were all at Colm's maybe?' Annie suggested.

'No, I think we'll leave the message as it is.' Danny was firm.

'But it's so easy, Dad.'

'People ring Bernadette too, and they wouldn't want to hear all about our fumblings and foosterings.'

'It's not fumbling just to let Mam know that we hadn't forgotten she was going to call,' Annie said.

'Well, call her! Say we're going out.'

'We can't afford to phone her,' Brian said.

'I just told you you can. A quick call, okay?'

'But what about the second mortgage and all the debts and everything?' Brian asked.

'What do you mean?' His father was anxious.

Annie spoke quickly. 'You know you often said that everything costs so much we might have to get a second mortgage, but Brian doesn't realise how cheap it is to call for thirty seconds.'

'I didn't say anything about…'

'Dad, we're just going to love a night out in Colm's, and Finola will love it and so will you. Stop worrying about Brian, who as I have so often told you, is totally brain-dead. And let's get on with it.'

'You're a great girl, Princess,' he said. 'I look around Dublin and I see all the bright young men who are going to take you away from me one day.'

'Come on, Dad, who are you fooling? You don't meet kids of my age anywhere.'

'No, but you're not going to run off with a kid, are you, Princess?' her father asked.

'You did, Dad.'

There was a silence.

'Who will I marry?' Brian asked.

'A person who has been deprived of all their senses, but very particularly the sense of smell,' Annie said.

'That's not right, is it Dad?'

'Of course not, Brian. Your sister is only making a joke. You'll marry a great person when the time comes.'

'A lady wrestler, maybe,' Annie suggested.

Brian ignored her again. 'Is there any way of knowing it's the right person, Dad?'

'You'll know.' His father was soothing.

'You didn't, Dad. You thought Mam was the right person and she turned out not to be.'

'She was the right person at the time, Brian.'

'And how long's the right time, Dad?' Brian asked.

'About fifteen years, apparently,' Annie said.

'Supper everyone, I have bought lovely fish and chips,' Bernadette called from the kitchen.

Marilyn had taken a chair and a cup of coffee out to the front steps; she sat in the sun examining the garden.

There was so much that could be done with it. Such a pity they hadn't given it any real love and care, unlike the house itself. She saw there had been interesting trees planted. Somebody at some stage had known what would flourish and had wanted to make an impression, but the arbutus had not been pruned or shaped, it had been allowed to become rough and woody, it was almost beyond saving. The palm tree was scraggy and untidy and almost unseen because other bushes had grown up around it and taken it over.

Outside the gate she noticed a woman in her sixties with a very misshapen and unattractive dog. The woman was staring in with interest.

'Good morning,' Marilyn said politely.

'And good morning to you too, I expect you're the American visitor.'

'Yes, I'm Marilyn Vine. Are you a neighbour?'

'I'm Ria's mother Nora, and this is Pliers.'

'How do you do?' Marilyn said.

'Ria said most definitely that we should not call in on top of you unannounced.' Nora had come up the step to continue the conversation but she looked doubtful. Pliers gave a wide and very unpleasant yawn as if he could sense a tedious exchange of courtesies ahead. Marilyn remembered her from the photograph, she knew the woman lived near by. 'I can tell you one thing for a start, Ria didn't grow up in a home like this with all those antiques around her.'

Marilyn could hear the resentment in the woman's voice. 'Really, Mrs. Johnson?'

Nora looked at her watch with a scream and said she'd be late for St Rita's. 'You must come with me one day… it's an old people's home, a visit would be a great thing,' she said.

'It's very kind of you but why exactly?' Marilyn was bewildered.

'Well, they like unusual things to happen in their day. I take my grandchildren there sometimes, and I once brought a juggler I met in Grafton Street. They like Pliers as a new face, I'm sure they'd enjoy meeting an American, it would be different anyway.'

'Well, thank you. Some time, perhaps.'

'Has Lady Ryan been around yet?'

'I beg your pardon?'

'Ria's friend, Rosemary?'

'No, she left a note though. People have been so kind.'

'Well, they're interested in you, Marilyn, it's only natural.' Nora Johnson was gone, having said she wanted to know every little detail about Marilyn Vine and having asked or discovered absolutely nothing at all.

After Ria's mother left Marilyn took out again the wallet of photographs that she had been given. She had to know who these people were when they all turned up as they would, so when Gertie arrived, slightly hesitantly, Marilyn recognised her at once.