Maeve Binchy - Evening Class

It would be dreary, like everything always had been in that school. But at least it wasn't the kind of outing that you'd bother dressing up for. Five pounds for a bit of pizza and a band that would deafen you belting out Italian songs. God almighty, what she did for her family!

Grania and Brigid were getting dressed for the festa .

CI hope it goes well, for Dad's sake,' Grania said.

'Dad can take anything if he accepts that you go to bed with his boss. Nothing's going to knock him off his perch now.' Brigid was back combing her hair in front of the sitting room mirror.

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Grania was annoyed. 'I wish you'd stop dwelling on the going to bed bit. There's a lot more to it than that.'

'At his age would he not get exhausted?' Brigid giggled.

'If I were into talking about it I'd have you green with jealousy,' Grania said, putting on her eyeshadow. Their mother came in. 'Hey, Mam, get a move on, we're going in a few minutes,' Grania said.

'I'm ready.'

They looked at their mother, hair barely combed, no make-up, an ordinary dress with a loose cardigan over her shoulders. There was no point in saying anything. The sisters exchanged a glance and made no comment.

'Right then,' said Grania. 'Off we go.'

This was Nessa Healy's first outing since she had been in hospital. The woman who had done her colours had given her very good advice.

Barry thought he hadn't seen his mother looking so well in years. There was no doubt but that Fiona had been a wonderful influence on her. He wondered should he ask Fiona to go on the viaggio with him. It was implying a lot, like they would share a room, and that side of things had not progressed very far in the weeks they had been together. He wanted to, but there was never the opportunity or the place or the right occasion.

His father looked uneasy. 'What kind of people will be there, son?'

'All the people who go to the class, Dad, and whoever they could drag like I'm dragging you. It'll be great, honestly.'

'Yes, I'm sure.'

'And, Dad, Miss Clarke says I can drive the supermarket van even though it's a social outing. So I can take you home or Mam home if you get bored or tired or anything.'

He looked so eager and grateful that his father felt ashamed. 'When did Dan Healy ever leave a party while there was still drink on the table?' he asked.

'And Fiona's meeting us there?' Mrs. Healy would have liked the moral support of this lively young girl she had grown so fond of. Fiona had made her promise to hold off about confronting everyone with Nell. Just for a week. One week. And reluctantly Nessa Healy had agreed.

'Yes, she was very insistent She wanted to go on her own,' said Barry. 'Right, are we off?' They were off.

Signora was there in the hall.

She had looked at herself in the long mirror before she left the Sullivan's house. Truly she hardly recognised herself as the woman who had come to Ireland a year ago. The widow, as she saw herself, weeping for her dead Mario, her long hair trailing behind her, her long skirt hanging unevenly. Timid, unable to ask for work or a place to live, frightened of her family.

Today she stood tall and elegant, her coffee and lilac dress somehow perfect with her odd-coloured hair. Suzi had said that this dress might have cost £300. Imagine. She had let Suzi make up her face.

'Nobody will see me,' she had protested.

'It's your night, Signora,' Peggy Sullivan had insisted.

And it was. She stood there in a hall with flashing coloured lights, with pictures and posters all over it, with the sound system playing a loop tape of Italian songs and music until the live band would arrive with a flourish. They had decided that Nessun Dorma, Volare and Arnvederci Roma should be played often on the tape. Nothing too unfamiliar.

Aidan Dunne came in. 'I'll never be able to thank you,' he said.

'It's I who have to thank you, Aidan,' He was the only person around them who had not been given an Italianised form of his name. It made him more special.

'Are you nervous?' he asked.

'A little. But then, we are surrounded by friends, why should I be nervous? Everyone is for us, there's nobody against us.' She smiled. She was putting out of her mind the fact that not one of her family, her own family, would come to support her tonight. She had asked them gently but had not begged. It would have been so nice, just once, to have said to people, this is my sister, this is my mother. But no.

'You look really terrific, Nora. Yourself, I mean, not just the whole place.'

He had never called her Nora before. She hadn't time to take it in because people were arriving. At the door a friend of Constanza, an extremely efficient woman called Vera, was taking the tickets.

In the cloakrooms, young Caterina from the Italian class and her friend, a bright girl called Harriet, were busy giving people cloakroom tickets and telling them not to lose them. Strangers were coming in and marvelling over the place.

The Principal, Tony O'Brien, was busy passing all compliments their way. 'Nothing to do with me, I'm afraid, all down to Mr. Dunne whose project this is, and to Signora.'

They stood there like a bride and groom accepting compliments.

Fiona saw Grania and Brigid come in with their mother. She gasped. She had met Mrs. Dunne many times before, but tonight she hardly recognised her. The woman looked a complete wreck. She had barely bothered to wash her face.

Good, thought Fiona grimly. She felt a horrible sensation in her chest, as if she'd swallowed a lump of something that would not go up or down, like a piece of very hard potato or a piece of raw celery. She knew it was fear. Fiona, the mouse in spectacles, was going to interfere in everyone else's life. She was going to tell a whole lot of people a pack of lies and frighten them to death. Would she be able for it, or would she fall on the floor in a swoon and make everything worse?

Of course she would be able for it. Remember that night around in the townhouse when the old man had gone out and Grania had bought the Chinese takeaway. Fiona had changed her whole style then, and look how much good had come out of it. She had single-handedly persuaded Nessa Healy to dress up and come to this party. That wasn't the action of a mouse in spectacles. She had gone so far she must get over this last fence. She must end the affair that was breaking everyone's heart. As soon as she had done this then she could get on with her own life and begin her own affair properly.

Fiona looked around her, trying to fasten a confident smile on her face. She would just wait until it began to warm up a bit.

It took no time at all for it all to warm up. There was the roar of conversation, the clink of glasses and then the band arrived. The dancing started to serious sixties music which suited every age group.

Fiona went up to Nell Dunne, who was standing on her own looking very scornful. 'Do you remember me, Mrs. Dunne?'

'Oh, Fiona?' she seemed to drag up the name with difficulty and not great interest.

'Yes, you were always nice m me when I was young, Mrs. Donne, I remember that.'

'Was I?'

'Yes, when I'd come to tea. I wouldn't want you to be made a fool of.'

'Why would I be made a fool of?'

'Dan, the man over there.'

'WHAT?' Nell looked to where Fiona was pointing.

'You know he goes round telling everyone he has this frump of a wife, and that she's always committing suicide and he can't wait to leave her. But he has a string of women, and he tells them all the same story.'

'I don't know what you're talking about.'

'And you're probably, let me see, Wednesday's woman and one other day. That's the way he works it.'

Nell Dunne looked at the smart woman with Dan Healy, laughing easily. This couldn't be the wife he had spoken of. 'And what makes you think you know anything about him?' she asked Fiona.