Echoes (58 page)

She was without words. Looking at him.

He moved toward her. She stiffened as if forbidding him to touch her.

“I don't know what to do, Mummy,” he said, using the form of address he hadn't used for years. “I really don't. You see I want to talk to you about it all now, and tell you about how happy I am and how much Clare means to me. But I'm afraid . . . I'm afraid you'll say something so hurtful that I'd find it hard to forgive.”

She nodded mutely.

“So I'm going to go out with Bones for a bit. I'll come back in at half-past eight. And then I'm going to meet Clare at nine in the hotel. She will have told her family then too.”

“David . . .”
It was a sad cry.

He left the room and, pretending he didn't see his father hovering at the study door, called for Bones. He looked back at the end of the drive, and he saw the two silhouettes in the window. He saw his father put his arms around his mother, who was obviously crying on his shoulder.

 

Ben had been taken on at the garage, so Tom O'Brien returned in a fine good humor.

“What's all this? The
Closed
sign on the door?” he asked. “Ben's not going to be able to keep the lot of us with the job he's got. Why are we closed—will you tell me?”

“Clare's home. She came unexpectedly. We were having a chat.”

“Clare's back?”

“She's engaged, Tom. Engaged to be married.”

“Clare? Never! To some college fellow, is it?”

“To David Power.”

“Our David Power? But I thought she hardly knew him in Dublin?”

“That's not the way it would appear.”

“Well, that would beat the divil.” He scratched his head, not sure what to make of it, looking at his wife's face for guidance. Agnes's eyes looked a bit too bright, but she showed no signs of crying.

“Isn't that a bit odd?” He searched her expression, but got nothing. “Isn't the whole thing odd?”

Clare came down the stairs. “Have you heard my news?”

“You have me stunned,” he said.

“Is that all I get? Where's the congratulations? And the delight? Where's the looking at my ring . . . ?” She held out a small diamond for admiration. It had been bought with the remains of her savings and the money the pawnbroker gave David for his good sheepskin coat.

She approached her father to give him an unaccustomed hug. He looked at Agnes and, seeing what he considered approval, gave her the hug. Then she hugged her mother.

“Mam says it won't be easy. But nothing's easy, is it?”

“I suppose it isn't, child. But I'd say you've taken on the World Champion when you're taking on Molly Power.”

 

She didn't mention the baby to her father, and though his eyes seemed to ask many a time, neither she nor her mother took him up on the unspoken questions.

Clare looked at the clock. There was still half an hour before she met David in the hotel.

She had a sudden feeling of fear. Suppose they had talked him out of it? Suppose she had come all this way to meet him, and to agree to going back cheerfully to Castlebay, suppose she had made all those concessions and somehow that mother of his had talked him out of it? Suppose he was at the hotel gate, and said with fallen face that he had agreed to wait until the baby was born before they married. Then she really would feel
cheap,
and
betrayed.

 

They were both in the hotel lounge by five to nine. They entered by two different doors. Bones was with David, refusing the polite request to sit in the corridor outside.

They nodded at each other.

The worst was over.

“What will I get you to drink, Mrs. Power?” he asked gently.

She smiled at him.

Rose Dillon was behind the counter. She had always tried to include David in her parties and picnics without success. She smiled at him coquettishly still. “To what do we owe this honor? We don't see nearly enough of you in Castlebay.”

Clare watched fascinated: Rose Dillon didn't even acknowledge that she existed, sitting in the chair by the window. She only had eyes for David.

“I'll be coming home for good soon.”

“Oh, that will cause a flurry—they'll be dying to marry you off,” she twinkled.

“I'll be married off sooner than you think,” David said.

Rose frowned. She looked over at Clare O'Brien and shook her head.
No.
That would be
ridiculous.

 

They walked up to Angela's cottage to tell her. She was the one person they hoped would be totally delighted. She could see that from their faces. She was touched.

“Will you come to the wedding? Please? It's going to be a bit tense.”

“I'm great at tense weddings,” Angela said.

“Father Flynn will be marrying us.”

“He and I could nearly set up a company, awkward weddings catered for. A specialty in fact.”

“Will you though?”

“If Immaculata lets me. I don't want to anger her too much—after all, the big guns will be out in the summer when the prodigal returns.”

“What's that?” David asked.

“You didn't tell him about Sean? That was good of you, Clare, but in love and marriage you can tell all. It's allowed.”

David looked bewildered.

“Listen, David. Your marriage, which is going to raise a few eyebrows and the imminent birth of your child—which has not been announced to me but I am sure is a likelihood—will raise a few more. But let me assure you that those eyebrows will have you long forgotten when the other excitement hits the streets of Castlebay. When Father Sean O'Hara, much respected missionary priest, returns to stay in a caravan with his Japanese wife and his two children.” She laughed when she saw David's face.

“I hate to take the limelight away from the pair of you, but prepare to live in obscurity . . .”

 

Dr. Mackey delivered a nine-pound baby to Chrissie Byrne. It was a boy, and Chrissie and Mogsy said he was going to be called John Fitzgerald after the President of America. Clare went to see her. And got little thanks for her visit.

“You were always one to steal someone else's thunder, Clare. You must have announced your engagement just to spite me as soon as you heard that John Fitzgerald had arrived.”

“Don't be a goon.”

“Always the same,” grumbled Chrissie.

“Here, let's see him.” Clare was eager.

“Don't touch him. You'd drop him.”

“I just want to look at him.” Clare peered in at the little bundle in her sister's arms—a red face and lots of black hair.

“He's beautiful,” she breathed, with such admiration that Chrissie was slightly mollified.

Clare decided she had better ask her. Life would be intolerable if she didn't.

“David and I are having a very small wedding, as you know. Just his family and ours, and a couple of friends. Will you and . . . er . . . Maurice . . . be able to come?”

Chrissie looked doubtful. “It's very soon, altogether. I'd have John Fitzgerald with me. Maurice and I have been discussing it. I think with regret we will have to refuse.”

Clare looked just disappointed enough, but not too upset. Nothing that would make Chrissie go back on her decision. “I'll keep you some of the wedding cake,” she said.

“Imagine you marrying the gentry,” Chrissie said. “What I can't understand is why you're going back to college. Haven't you done it now? Haven't you got what you were out to get? A rich husband?”

 

It wasn't at all as she would have expected. Mrs. Conway had been pleased. She made a point of crossing the road to tell Clare that she wished them well. “I always thought my Frank could have done worse than marry you,” she said—which was a high accolade.

Josie, oddly, did not seem as pleased as Clare would have thought. She was very formal about the news and only offered the most distant of congratulations.

Josie had been walking out with Mr. Martin Harris, the auctioneer. Martin was
mature,
which meant old; and
responsible,
which meant dull. Josie, who had never been jealous of anything Clare had done, was now very envious of Clare coming back to Castlebay and snatching the only attractive man, and the only
catch,
from under their noses.

Father O'Dwyer wrote out her letter of freedom. It was an odd thing not to get married in your own parish, but this Father Flynn had been a very decent person and he was sure he would do it right.

Angela had begged her to call on Immaculata. There was great false excitement in the convent over the ring, which was admired by the whole community. There was genuine excitement about how Molly Power would take the new daughter-in-law.

 

They kept the meetings with the families as brief as possible.

David shook Tom's hand and thanked him for letting him marry Clare.

“Divil much a say I had in it one way or the other,” Clare's father said.

“I know you'll be pleased to have her back in Castlebay,” he said manfully to Clare's mother.

“I suppose it
may
turn out all right,” Agnes O'Brien said.

Up in the big house, Molly waited nervously at her fireplace; she had rearranged everything in the room a dozen times, and shouted at Nellie who was sulking in the kitchen. She had changed her dress twice.

She saw them walking up the drive. Laughing. The girl was
laughing,
instead of shaking in her shoes.

David had his own key.

“Mother, we're here,” he called.

Clare was tall. Molly had forgotten that. She was tall and thin, and her face seemed pale.

“Well.” Molly looked her up and down. It was just on the right side of being a calculated insult. But only just.

“Hallo, Mrs. Power,” Clare said. Her voice was steady.

“So,” Mrs. Power said.

I won't let her annoy me. I will not rise to her bait,
Clare told herself, fists clenched by her sides.

David wasn't saying anything, which was what they agreed.

“David has told you our news, and our plans, Mrs. Power.”

“Oh, yes.”

“So I just wanted to add that I hope very much that I will make him happy, and that eventually I will make you and Dr. Power pleased that we married.” Not too confident. It angered Molly more than anything had ever done in her life.

“I doubt if that will ever be the case,” she said, holding back the temper that was threatening to spill out. “I am here to greet you. Would you like me to ring for tea?”

“Thank you, but no, Mrs. Power. If I may, I'll just go and pay my respects to your husband. I have a lot of things to do before going back tomorrow. Thank you for welcoming me to the house, and I'll look forward to seeing you at the wedding.”

I could kill her,
Molly thought.
I wish she were dead.
The feeling swept over her and was gone. She felt shock and guilt. It confused her and she didn't make her farewells as she intended to.

“What . . . oh . . . yes. Yes, the wedding day. Yes.”

Clare had smiled and was out of the door.

“Thank you, Mother,” David said. His face was in a pleasant smile but his eyes were cold.

 

It was much later when she saw him. Sitting on the wall, by the hotel.

“You were going to run out of town without telling me.” He was cold and unsmiling.

“Don't be ridiculous.” She forced a light laugh that she didn't mean. “Of course, I was going to tell you. If I hadn't seen you tonight I'd have left a note for you.”

“You're a liar.”

“Now stop that,” she said, her anger rising. He was not going to upset her, she would not let him, but
hell
, he wasn't going to call her a liar. Especially since he was right.

“You had no intention of telling me,” Gerry said.

“Why wouldn't I tell you? Don't
dramatize
everything so much. I've been telling all my friends that I'm getting married. Why wouldn't I tell you?”

“Because you knew what I'd say.” There was no answering smile on his lips.

“And what would you say? What will you say?”

“That you're mad. You mustn't do it.”

One more attempt, thought Clare. Just one more, to get this on to some kind of normal plane and then I abandon it.

“Well, listen to me, just because you and I were the only people left, everyone else getting hitched, that's no reason why I'm going to stay single just to keep you company. I'm delighted with it all. And I won't put up with any nonsense from you.”

“Don't do it.
Clare.
”

“Stop it. Can't you wish me well? Like ordinary people?”

“I do wish you well. But not married to David Power. And you're not ordinary people. I've always told you that. Neither am I.”

“You're certainly not like generous people or mannerly people,” she said.

“You can't marry him. You have to marry me. You always knew that.”

She looked anxiously at his pointed face for the lopsided smile, the grin that made anybody else grin too. There was none of it there. She stared at him, shocked.

“Well, I don't suppose there's anything more to say.” Clare moved toward the entrance gate.

Lithe as a cat, Gerry leaped to the ground. “Don't go yet.”

“Of course, I'm going. I'm not talking to you for one more minute. How dare you upset me and say all these things? How
dare
you? If it were you that had got engaged, I'd be so pleased and wish you well.”