Maeve Binchy - Circle of Friends

As Emily Mahon stood in the kitchen she hoped that Nan would be warm and pleasant to her father this morning. Brian had been drunk last night, certainly, but there had been no dog's abuse out of him.

Emily turned the rashers expertly. There were three for Paul, three for Nasey and four for Brian. Neither she nor Nan ate a cooked breakfast. Just a cup of tea and a slice of toast each.

Emily filled the washing-up bowl with hot soapy water. She would collect their plates to steep when they had finished. Usually everyone left the house around the same time; she liked to have the table cleared before she closed the door behind her, so the place looked respectable when they came in again in the evenings.

That way nobody would raise too many objections about Emily going out to work. It had been a battle hard fought.

Nan had been so supportive during the long war waged with Brian.

She had listened wordlessly to her father saying, "No wife of mine is going to work. I want a meal on the table. I want a clean shirt.."

She had heard her mother say that she could provide these things, but that the days were long and lonely on her own and she would like to meet people and to earn her own money, no matter how small.

The boys, Paul and Nasey, had not been interested, but played the game to win and stuck with their father in the need to have a nice warm house and meals.

Nan had been twelve then, and it was she who had tipped the balance.

"I don't know what you're all talking about," she had said suddenly.

"None of you are ever in before six, winter or summer, and so there will be a meal. And if Em wants more money and will do all your washing and clearing as well, then I can't see what the fuss is about."

Nobody else could either.

So Emily had worked in a hotel shop since then; her own little world surrounded by nice things: glass and linen and high-class souvenirs for tourists. At first the hotel had been unwilling to employ someone with a young daughter. She would constantly need time off, they told her.

Emily had been able to look them straight in the eye even then and say that Nan would cause no trouble. And she had been right. It was only Brian who had ever interrupted the even style of her working life by phoning or calling, to ask idiotic questions about things that had already been agreed or arranged, but forgotten through drink.

She called them, as she did every morning. "Breakfast going on the table."

Down they came, her two big sons, dark like their father, square and looking as if they had been manufactured by a toy firm to look like younger versions of a father in a game. Then came Brian, who had cut himself shaving, and was dabbing the blood on his chin. He looked at his wife without pleasure.

"Do you have to wear that bloody garment in the house? Isn't it bad enough going out to work as a skivvy in someone's shop without dressing as a skivvy at home."

"It's to keep my blouse clean," Emily said mildly.

"And you have your clothes draped around so that the place looks like a hand-me-down shop," he grumbled.

Nan came in at that moment. Her blonde curls looked as if she had just come from a hairdresser rather than from the hand basin in her own bedroom which was where she had washed her hair this morning. Brian ~ahon might have skimped on comfort for the rest of the house, but his daughter's bedroom had the best of everything. A wash basin neatly boxed in, a big fitted wardrobe with even a rail for her shoes in it.

Nothing had been spared on Nan's room. Each item was an apology for a drunken bout. She wore a smart blue skirt, and her new navy three-quarterlength coat over her shoulders; a white lacy blouse with a navy-blue trimming. She looked like the cover of a magazine.

"That's right, attack Em for leaving her blouse there, but if it's seven of your shirts and seven each of the boys', that's twenty-one shirts ironed for you and there's no word of it being a hand-me-down shop then, is there?"

Her father looked at her in open admiration. "They're going to look twice when you walk in the door of University College," he said.

Nan showed no pleasure at the compliment - in fact Emily seemed to think it irritated her.

"Yes, that's all very well, but we never discussed the matter of pocket money.

Emily wondered why Nan brought it up now. If she were to ask her father on her own he would give her anything "There's never been any shortage of pocket money in this house." His face was red and angry already.

"Well, there hasn't been any question of it up till now. Paul and Nasey went in to work for you, so they got a wage from the start.

"A sort of wage," Paul said.

"More than any other human would give a lout like you, his father retorted.

Nan continued, "I wanted it to be clear from the start rather than having to ask every week."

"What's wrong with asking every week?" he wanted to know.

"It's undignified," she said shortly.

That was exactly what Emily had felt each week asking for her housekeeping; now she could work out a budget to suit herself.

"What do you want?" He was annoyed. "I don't know. I'm not really entitled to anything. I'm going to be dependent on you for three or four years. What do you suggest?"

He was at a loss. "We'll see."

"I'd prefer if we could decide today. It would get things off to a good start. I'd know what I could buy, how long it would take me to save for something.. a new dress or whatever."

"I bought you that coat there! It cost an arm and a leg it's an ordinary navy coat to me, and it cost as much as a fur."

"It's very well cut, that's why. It will last for years."

"I should hope so," he muttered.

"So you see in order not to have discussions like this all the time, don't you think.."

Emily held her breath. "A pound a week for.. "Fares and lunches, yes, that's fair.. ." She stood looking at him expectantly. "And what else is there.. ?"

"Well, I suppose there's cinema, newspapers, books, coffee, going to a dance."

"Another two pounds a week for that?" He looked anxiously at her.

"Oh, that's very generous, thank you. That would be marvellous."

"And what about clothes then.. ?" He nodded over at the coat that had cost him an arm and a leg.

"I could manage stockings out of what you've given me."

"I want you as well dressed as the next man's daughter." Nan said nothing.

"What would it cost?" He was like a child now. Nan looked at him thoughtfully, as if she knew he was in her power now. "Some people's fathers give them an allowance by the month for clothes. A sum like..

I don't know.. twenty ..

but I don't know..

"You'll have thirty pounds a month, nothing is shortchanged in this house." He almost roared it.

Emily Mahon watched Nan start to smile. "Thank you very much, Daddy, that's more than generous," she said.

"Well," he was gruff, "I won't have you saying I'm not generous."

"I never said that, never once," she answered him. "Well, all this business putting me on the carpet .. implying that I might leave you short."

"In your right mind, Daddy, you'd never leave me short, but I don't want to rely on your always being in your right mind."

Emily caught her breath.

"What do you mean?" He was like a turkeycock now. "You know exactly what I mean. You're two people, Daddy."

"You're in no position to be giving me lectures."

"I'm not. I'm explaining why I wanted it on a regular arrangement so that I wouldn't have to be annoying you when you're.. well, when you've had a drink I suppose.

There was a moment's silence. Even the boys wondered what would happen now. The usual way of coping with their father had been to make no reference to anything untoward that might have happened, for fear of bringing it all upon them again. But Nan had chosen her time and place well.