Maeve Binchy - Evening Class

Fran explained the facts of life to her and bought her the first packet of Tampax. Fran said that it was better to wait until you found someone you liked a lot to have sex with rather than having it with anyone just because it was expected.

'Did you find someone you liked a lot to have it with?' the fourteen-year-old Kathy had asked with interest.

But Fran had an answer for that one too. 'I've always thought it best not to talk about it, you know the magic sort of goes out of it once you start speaking about it,' she said, and that was that.

Fran took her to the theatre, to plays in the Abbey, the Gate and the Project. She brought her up and down Grafton Street and through the smart shops as well. 'We must learn to do everything with an air of confidence,' Fran said. 'That's the whole trick, we mustn't look humble and apologetic as if we hadn't a right to be here.'

There was never a word of criticism from Fran about their parents. Sometimes Kathy complained: 'Mam takes you for granted, Fran, you bought her a lovely new cooker and she still never makes anything in it.'

'Ah, she's all right,' Fran would say.

'Dad never says thank you when you bring him home beer from the supermarket. He never brings you home a present.'

'He's not the worst,' Fran said. 'It's not a great life with your head stuck down pipes and round S bends all the time.'

'Will you get married, do you think?' Kathy asked her once, anxiously.

'I'll wait until you're a grown up then I'll put my mind to it.' Fran laughed when she said it.

'But won't you be too old?'

'Not at all. By the time you're twenty I'll only be thirty-six, in my prime,' she assured her sister.

'I thought you were going to marry Ken,' Kathy had said.

'Yes, well I didn't. And he went to America, so he's out of the picture.' Fran was brisk.

Ken had worked in the supermarket too and was very go-ahead. Mam and Dad said that he and Fran were sure to make a go of it. Kathy had been very relieved when Ken had left the picture.

At the summer parent-teacher meeting Kathy's father wasn't able to go. He said he had to work late that night.

'Please, Dad, please. The teachers want a parent there. Mam won't come, she never does, and you wouldn't have to do anything, only listen and tell them it's all fine.'

'God, Kathy, I hate going into a school, I feel out of place.'

'But Dad, it's not as if I had done anything bad and they were giving out about me, I just want them to think you're all interested.'

'And we are, we are, child… but your mother's not herself these days and she'd be worse than useless and you know the way they go on about smoking up there, it sets her back… maybe Fran will go again. She'd know more than we would anyway.'

So Fran went and spoke about her little sister to the tired teachers who had to see legions of parents in a confessional situation and give a message of encouragement laced with caution to all of them.

'She's too serious,' they told Fran. 'She tries too hard, she might take more in if she were to relax more.'

'She's very interested, really she is,' Fran protested. 'I sit with her when she does her homework, she never neglects any of it.'

'She doesn't play any games, does she?' The man who was going to be the new headmaster was nice. He seemed to have the vaguest knowledge of the children and spoke in generalities. Fran wondered if he really remembered them all or was making wild guesses.

'No, she doesn't want to take the time from her studying, you see.'

'Maybe she should.' He was brusque and good-natured about it.

'I don't think she should continue with Latin,' the pleasant Mr. Dunne said.

Fran's heart fell. 'But Mr. Dunne, she tries so hard. I never studied it myself and I'm trying to follow it in the book with her and she really does put in hours on it.'

'But you see, she doesn't understand what it's about.' Poor Mr. Dunne was trying hard not to offend her.

'Could I get her a couple of private lessons? It would be great for her to have Latin in her Leaving. Look at all the places she could go with a subject like that.'

'She may not get the points for University.' It was if he was letting her down lightly.

'But she has to. None of us have got anywhere, she must get a start in life.'

'You have a very good job yourself, Miss Clarke. I see you when I go to the supermarket, couldn't you get Kathy a job there?'

'Kathy will never work in the supermarket.' Fran's eyes were blazing.

'I'm sorry,' he said quietly.

'No, I'm sorry, it is very kind of you to take such an interest.

Please forgive me for shouting like this. Just advise me what would be best for her.'

'She should do something that she would enjoy, something she wouldn't have to strain at,' Mr. Dunne said. 'A musical instrument, has she shown any interest?'

'No.' Fran shook her head. 'Nothing like that. We're all tone deaf, even the brother who's working for a pop group.'

'Or painting?'

'I can't see it myself, she'd only fret over that too, to know was she getting it right.' It was easy to talk to this kind man, Mr. Dunne. It was probably hard for him to tell parents and family that a child wasn't bright enough to get third-level education. Maybe his own children were at university and he wished that others would also get the chance. And it was good of him to care that poor Kathy should be happy and relaxed. She hated being so negative to all his suggestions. The man meant so well. He must have great patience too, being a teacher.

Aidan looked back at the thin handsome face of this girl who showed much more interest in her sister than either of the parents could summon up. He hated having to say that a child was slow, because truthfully he felt guilty about it. He always thought that if the school were smaller, or there were better facilities, if there were bigger libraries, extra tuition when called for, maybe then there would be far fewer slow pupils. He had discussed this with Signora when they planned the Italian classes. She said it had a lot to do with people's expectations. It took more than a generation of free education to stop people believing there were barriers and obstacles in the way.

It had been the same in Italy, she said. She had seen the children of a local hotelier and his wife grow up. The village had been small and poor, nobody ever thought that the children from the little school there should do more than their fathers or mothers had. She had taught them English only so that they could greet tourists and be chambermaids or waiters. She had wanted so much more for them. Signora understood what Aidan wanted for the people around Mountainview school.

She was such an easy person to talk to. They had many a coffee as they planned the evening classes. She was undemanding company, asking no questions about his home and family, telling little of her own life in that Jerry Sullivan household. He had even told her about the study he was making for himself.

'I'm not very interested in possessions,' Signora said. 'But a lovely quiet room with light coming in a window and a desk in good wood, and all your memories, and books and pictures on a wall… that would be very satisfying indeed.' She spoke as if she were a gypsy or a bag lady who might never aspire to something so wonderful, but would appreciate it as a reward for others.

He would tell her about this Kathy Clarke, the girl with the anxious face trying hard because her sister expected so much and thought she was clever. Maybe Signora would come up with an idea, she often did.

But he took his mind away from the pleasant chats he had with her and so enjoyed and back to the present. There was a long night ahead of him. 'I'm sure you'll think of something, Miss Clarke.' Mr. Dunne looked beyond her to the line of parents still to be seen.