Maeve Binchy - Evening Class

Connie looked around the pizza place. They were mainly young people, her children's age. They were animated and lively, interrupting each other laughing. Very alive and aware. Suppose this were to be the last place she was to see. Suppose it were really true and someone stalked after her leaving frightening messages at the hotel. But she couldn't be killed in front of everyone here? It wasn't possible. And yet how else to explain the letter? It was still in her handbag. Maybe if she were to write a note to leave with it just in case, a note explaining how she feared it might be from Harry, or one of his associates, as he always called them. But was this madness? Or was he just trying to make her go mad? Connie had seen films where this happened. She must not let it happen to her. A shadow fell over the table and she looked up, expecting the waiter or someone to ask for one of the spare chairs. But her eyes met those of Siobhan Casey, her husband's mistress of many years. The woman who had helped Harry salt away money not once but twice.

Her face was different now, older and much more tired. There were lines where they had never been before. Her eyes were bright and wild. Connie suddenly felt very afraid indeed. Her voice dried in her throat. No words would come out.

'You're still alone,' Siobhan said, her face scornful. Connie still couldn't speak. 'It doesn't matter what city or how many deadbeats you travel with, you still end up having to go out by yourself.' She gave a little bark of a laugh with no humour in it.

Connie struggled to remain calm, she must not let the fear show in her face. Years of pretending that everything was normal stood to her now. 'I'm not by myself any more,' she said, pushing a chair towards Siobhan.

Siobhan's brow darkened further. 'Always the grand lady with nothing to back it up. Nothing.' Siobhan spoke loudly and angrily. People began to look at them, sensing a scene about to begin.

Connie spoke in a low voice. 'This is hardly the setting for a grand lady,' she said. She hoped her voice wasn't shaking.

'No, it's part of the slumming duchess routine. You have no real friends so you go and patronise a crowd of no-hopers, and you come on their cheapo trip with them and even then they don't want you. You'll always be alone, you should prepare for it.'

Connie breathed a little more easily. Perhaps Siobhan Casey did not intend to launch a murderous attack on her after all. She wouldn't speak about an empty, lonely future if she were about to kill her. It gave Connie a little courage. 'I am prepared for it. Haven't I been alone for years?' she said simply.

Siobhan looked at her, surprised. 'You're very cool, aren't you?'

'No, not really.'

'You knew the letter was from me?' Siobhan asked. Did she seem disappointed, or was she pleased she had instilled such fear? Her eyes still glinted madly. Connie was unsure which way to react. Would it be better to admit that she had no idea, or was it more clever to say that she had rumbled Siobhan from the start? It was a nightmare trying to guess which way would be the right one.

'I thought it must be, I wasn't sure.' She marvelled at how steady her own voice was.

'Why me?'

'You're the only one who really cared enough about Harry to write it.3

There was a silence. Siobhan stood leaning on the back of the chair. Around them the babble and laughter of the restaurant went on as before. The two foreign woman did not appear to be about to have a fight, as had looked possible. There was nothing of interest there any more. Connie would not ask her to sit down. She would not pretend that matters were so normal between them that they could sit together as ordinary people. Siobhan Casey had threatened to kill her, she was literally mad.

'You know he never loved you at all, you do know that?' Siobhan said.

Tn truth possibly he did, the very beginning, before he knew I didn't enjoy sex.'

'Enjoy it!' Siobhan snorted at the word. 'He said you were pathetic, lying there whimpering, tight and terrified. That was the word he used about you. Pathetic.'

Connie's eyes narrowed. This was disloyalty of a spectacular sort. Harry knew how she had tried, how she had yearned for him. It was very cruel to tell Siobhan all the details. 'I did try, you know, to get something done about it.'

'Oh yes?'

'Yes. It was upsetting and distressing and painful, and in the end did no good at all.'

'They told you that you were a dyke, was that it?' Siobhan stood swaying, mocking, her lank hair falling over her face. She was hardly recognisable as the efficient Miss Casey of former times.

'No, and I don't think that was it.'

'So what did they say?' Siobhan seemed interested in spite of herself.

'They said that I couldn't trust men because my father had gambled away all our money.'

'That is pure bullshit,' Siobhan said.

'That's what I said too. A little more politely, but it's what I meant,' Connie said, with weak attempt at a smile.

Unexpectedly, Siobhan pulled out the chair and sat down. Now that Connie didn't have to look up at her any more she saw close up the ravages that the past months had worked on Siobhan Casey. Her blouse was stained, her skirt ill-fitting, her fingernails bitten and dirty. She wore no make-up and her face was working and moving all the time. She must be two or three years younger than I am, Connie thought; she looks years older.

Was it true that Harry had told her that he was finished with her? This was what must have unhinged her. Connie noticed the way she picked up the knife and fork and fingered them, moving them from hand to hand. She was very disturbed. They were not out of the wood yet.

'It was all such a waste when you look back on it. He should have married you,' Connie said.

'I don't have the style, I couldn't have been the kind of hostess he wanted.'

'That was only a small and very superficial part of his life. He practically lived with you.' Connie was hoping that these tactics would work. Flatter her, tell Siobhan that she was central to Harry's life. Don't let her brood and realise it was all over now.

'He had no love at home, of course, he had to go somewhere,' Siobhan said. She was drinking now, the Chianti from Connie's glass.

Connie with a glance and an indication of her finger managed to let the waiter know they needed more wine and a further glass. Something about her also communicated itself, so that instead of the usual friendly greetings and banter of a place like this he just left the bottle and glass on the table and went away.

'I did love him for long time.'

'Fine way you showed it, shopping him and sending him to gaol.' - 'I had stopped loving him by then.'

'I never did.'

'I know. And for all you may hate me, I didn't hate you.'

'Oh yeah?'

'No, I knew he needed you, and still does, I imagine.'

'Not any more, you put paid to that too. When he gets out he'll go to England. That's all your fault. You made it impossible for him to live in his own land.' Siobhan's face was blotched and unhappy.

'I presume you'll go with him.'

'You presume wrong.' Again the sneer and the very, very mad look.

Connie had to get it right now. It was desperately important. 'I was jealous of you but I didn't hate you. You gave him everything, a proper love life, loyalty, total understanding about work. He spent most of his time with you, for God's sake, why wouldn't I

have been jealous?' She had Siobhan's interest now. So she continued. 'But I didn't hate you, believe me.'

Siobhan looked at her with interest. 'I suppose you felt it was better that he should have just been with me than having lots of women, is that it?'

Connie knew she must be very careful here. Everything could depend on it. She looked at the ruined face of Siobhan Casey, who had loved Harry Kane for ever and still loved him. Was it possible that Siobhan, who was so close to him, didn't know about the girl from the airline, the woman who owned the small hotel in Galway, the wife of one of the investors? She searched the other woman's face. In as much as she could see, Siobhan Casey believed herself to have been the only woman in Harry Kane's life.