Maeve Binchy - Tara Road

And, worst of all, Danny's niggling fear that the personal guarantee he had given to Barney on Number 16 Tara Road would be called in and that he would lose the house. And not only would there be no home for Ria and the children but there would be nothing to sell. Some things were too huge to talk about, Bernadette was quite right not even to attempt it.

Clement sat in his chair but glanced wistfully at the door that would take him back to the big comfortable bed with its white counterpane where he had been sleeping happily for so long.

As she served Colm's food, Marilyn told them more about Westville. She explained the alumni weekend and how everyone would come back and tell each other how young they looked. 'My husband will be coming back from Hawaii so you'll meet him then.'

'Will he be staying in the house, your house?' Annie asked.

'Yes, apparently your mother very kindly said he could.'

'Will your son be coming back too?'

'I beg your pardon?'

'Your son? Isn't he in Hawaii with Mr Vine?'

'My son?'

Annie didn't like the look on Marilyn's face. 'Um yes.'

'Who told you that?'

'Mam did.'

'Your mother said that Dale was in Hawaii?'

'She didn't say his name but she said his room was all there ready for him to come back.'

Marilyn had gone very white.

Brian didn't notice. 'Will he be there when we're there? Maybe we could have competitions with the basketball?'

'Did your mother say anything more?' Marilyn's voice was scarcely above a whisper now.

Annie was very alarmed. 'I think she said she'd asked Mr Vine about him but she didn't get any details so she doesn't know if he's going to be coming back or not.'

'Oh my God,' Marilyn said.

'I'm very sorry… should I not have asked? Is anything… wrong?' Annie began.

'What is it?' Brian asked. 'Is he not in Hawaii? Did he run away?'

'I see now what he meant,' Marilyn said.

'What?'

'Greg said that your mother sounded very religious…'

'She's not a bit religious,' Brian said disapprovingly. 'Nora always says she's heading for the hob of hell.'

'Shut up, Brian,' Annie said automatically.

'What a stupid thing to do. I never stopped to think that of course that's what she would imagine.' Marilyn looked utterly anguished.

'So he's not in Hawaii?' Annie asked.

'No.'

'Where is he then?' Brian was getting tired of this.

'He's dead,' Marilyn Vine said. 'My son Dale is dead.'

Danny felt a lot calmer after an hour. Perhaps he was just exaggerating the situation. Bernadette drifted into the kitchen to prepare the smoked chicken salad. There was never any hiss of pots boiling, souffles rising, pastry-making covering the whole place with flour. He had never known how gentle and undemanding life could be, how free from frenzied activity. And there was more than enough of that in the office.

'Have I three minutes to make a call?' he asked.

'Of course.'

He dialled Finola. 'This is Danny Lynch. I wanted to apologise very sincerely for my bad temper with you.'

'I expect the children asked you to do this.'

'No, not at all, they're not here.'

'Or Bernadette?'

'You know your daughter better than that, she has never mentioned it. Not once. No, this is from me. I was out of order.'

'Well, Danny, what can I say?' She sounded totally nonplussed.

'The answer to your question is that our company is in financial trouble, but I am utterly certain we will get out of it. We have plenty of assets. Bernadette will not be left destitute, believe me.'

'I believe you, Danny, and thank you. Perhaps I should not have asked. It's just that you have so many other responsibilities as well as Bernadette.'

'They'll be looked after, Finola. Are we friends now?'

'We always were,' she said.

He hung up and saw Bernadette watching him from the doorway. 'You are a hero,' she said. 'It's just as simple as that.'

In the kitchen of Number 16 Tara Road a silence had fallen.

Eventually it was broken by Brian. 'Did he have an awful disease or something?' he asked.

'No, he was killed. A motor-cycle wreck.'

'What did he look like? Did he have red hair like you?' Annie asked.

'Yes. Even though we have no Irish blood at all, both Greg and I have reddish hair, so for poor Dale there was no escape. We're both tall, so he was tall too. And lean. And sporty. He had braces on his teeth, you know lots of the kids in the States do.'

'It's coming in here a bit too,' Brian said, not wanting Ireland to be left behind.

'Sure it is. He was one great kid. Every mother thinks her son is the best in the world, I was no different.'

'Have you a picture of him, a photograph?' Annie asked.

'No, none at all.'

'Why not?'

'I don't know. It would make me too sad, I suppose.'

'But you have pictures of him at home; Mam said he was very good-looking and he had a lovely smile. That's why I was sort of hoping he'd be there,' Annie said.

'Yes.'

'I'm sorry.'

'No, it's all right, he was good-looking.'

'Did he have any girlfriends?'

'No, Annie, I don't think so, but then what does a mother know?'

'Bet he did, you can see it in all the movies. They start very young over in America,' Brian said wisely.

And they sat and talked on about the dead Dale until Annie realised that Commanding Officer Bernadette would be on the warpath and they'd better go.

'I'll drive you,' Marilyn offered.

They saw Rosemary on the street. Marilyn looked at Annie as if asking whether she wanted to stop and say goodbye to her mother's friend. Imperceptibly Annie shook her head. Marilyn accelerated so they wouldn't be noticed. She was very relieved. She found it increasingly hard to give the barely civil greetings that were required between neighbours. Interesting that Annie seemed to feel the same way.

Marilyn left the children at the end of their road. She had no wish to engage in any kind of conversation with Danny Lynch or his new love. She drove back to Tara Road, her mind churning.

When she parked at Number 16 she realised with a sense of shock that she didn't really remember the journey. Yet she must have taken the correct turns and given the appropriate signals. Marilyn felt very ashamed. This was how accidents were caused, just as much as by speeding, people driving with their minds somewhere else. She was shaking as she parked Ria's car and let herself into the house. She went and sat down at the table. Ria had left three cut-crystal decanters on the sideboard. In her note she had said that they were mainly for show, since she and Danny had always drunk bottles of inexpensive wine. She hoped that the contents were still drinkable and if so Marilyn was to help herself. There was a little brandy in one, something that looked like port in another and sherry in the third. With a shaking hand Marilyn poured herself a brandy.

What had happened today? What had changed so that she could talk about Dale, tell strangers that he had freckles on his nose and braces on his teeth? Admit that she couldn't carry a picture of him in case she would convulse with grief just by looking at it? Why had the direct questions of two children whom she hardly knew released these responses that her husband, friends, colleagues could not make her give?

It was almost dark now but the reds and gold of the sunset had not disappeared totally from the sky. She was living in a house and a city that Dale had never seen. Nobody here had known her when she was a mother, a loving fulfilled mother with a future ahead of her. They only knew her as frosty, buttoned-up Marilyn Vine, and yet some of them still liked her. She had met people who had problems as bad as hers. For the very first time since the tragedy she now knew this was true.