Authors: Maeve Binchy
“Yes, Fiona Ryan. She's a cardiology nurse in the clinic.”
“A nurse,” Molly repeated.
“And is she a nice girl, Declan?” Paddy asked.
“Very nice.” He knew he sounded clipped, but it had to be done.
“And where are you going?” Molly was taking no prisoners on this one.
“Oh, somewhere around. We're not fussy” he lied, hoping it didn't sound as unlikely as it sounded to him.
“Well, I hope you have a nice time. I have to go.
Some
of us have work to do.” Molly went away, her stiff little body showing the intense disappointment and hurt that she was being relegated to very much second best.
Fiona said that she would meet him at the restaurant. Declan wondered should he have suggested that he call for her in a taxi. Was he being cheapskate? But Fiona said that the bus went straight to the door of Quentins from her flat. “It's not often they get a customer coming off the bus,” she had said.
“Well, they got me getting off a bike yesterday,” he said and could have killed himself.
“You go to Quentins
twice
in one week!” Fiona's eyes were round with amazement.
“No, no. I just went in to book.” He was shamefaced.
“I'm just dying for it,” Fiona said with the same enthusiasm that
she had been dying for a coffee break, or lunch, or something on television, or last week the big function that had never been mentioned since.
How great to live life at such a high level of excitement, Declan thought. He hoped that he wouldn't be too dull for her. Too plodding. But then, she didn't
have
to go out with him.
Somehow he got through the day. Declan had never known time to drag before, but this day it did. He wondered did Fiona feel even one little bit of anxiety about the evening ahead?
He was waiting outside the door of Quentins when she got off the bus. He had never seen her dressed up before, only in the white-and-black hospital outfit. She wore a sparkling sequin-covered jacket over a rose silk dress. She looked stunning.
Brenda Brennan welcomed them in as warmly as if they had been captains of industry, ambassadors or international politicians. She offered them a glass of Champagne on the house and wished them a pleasant evening.
“How did she get to be like that?” Fiona whispered in wonder.
“Women are better at it,” Declan said admiringly.
“Not all women. I wouldn't be able to do it in a million years.”
“She wouldn't be able to do what
you
do every day. You're terrific with people.” He was full of genuine admiration.
The waiter wondered would they like oysters. Fiona had seen how much they cost and said that she thought she would prefer a small salad to start.
“Do have the oysters if you like, Fiona.” He was so eager that she enjoy herself.
“Honestly, I only tasted them once and I thought it was like drinking a bit of sea,” she said.
Declan smiled with relief. The oysters were astronomically expensive. He could breathe again now.
Brenda Brennan had supervised their meal from afar. She never interrupted their conversation, but she was always nearby to refill the water glasses, the coffee cups, the bread basket.
The meal was over before they realized it.
When Declan paid the bill, Brenda Brennan said, “Thank you, Dr. Carroll.”
“She knows you're a doctor.” Fiona was impressed.
“I didn't tell her. Honestly,” he said.
“I know you didn't,” said Fiona. “You're far too nice.”
Declan said he would get a taxi to take her home, but Fiona said it would be pure madness. The bus still went to her door. She said she had loved it and asked him would he come to supper at her mam and dad's next week.
“Won't you have to check with them first?” Declan thought about the sheer impossibility of ever inviting a guest to his own home.
“No, why would I? Please come. Then you'll see me as I am, and if you like me we can go on going out.”
“I like you very much,” he said.
“And I like you too,” said Fiona.
Declan could see Brenda Brennan observing them with a pleased smile on her face.
They were up at home when he got back. His dad's friend Muttie Scarlet was with them.
“There's Declan coming in now.” Paddy Carroll was pleased. Dimples raised his head from his paws in greeting.
“Declan was taking a young lady out, a nurse,” Molly sniffed, still resentful and disapproving.
“Ah, isn't that grand now!” said Muttie.
“And what did you eat?” his father asked.
“We had a salad and some fillets of sole.”
“You must be starving,” Molly said, looking as if she was going to get the chip pan out.
“No, no. We had lots of bread.”
“You could have had
that at
home.” Molly's hurt was plain to see.
“And maybe one day we will. I'll ask Fiona to one of your nice suppers, Mam. I'm sure she'd love that.”
“She would indeed,” his father said.
“I'd want plenty of warning before you even considered bringing her back here.” Molly went red with excitement. “This kitchen has to be painted, for one thing. We have to get a new surface for the worktops and maybe we should think of opening up the front room and making it a dining room.”
“No, Mam. We'll eat here, like we always do. It's absolutely fine.”
“Excuse
me,
but who will be putting the meal on the table? I will. And I say the place has to be done up before we bring strangers in here.”
The three men sighed. This was the way it was going to be.
The next morning, Jimmy arrived on time after a three-hour train trip from Galway He was looking very gray when Declan brought him into the cubicle.
“Any pain at all?” Declan asked.
“Well, the usual, you know.”
Declan looked at his chart: there had been no mention of pain anywhere in Jimmy's notes.
“Like sharp, is it?”
“Like as if someone had a very tight belt around me and was pulling tighter.” Jimmy was wincing.
“I'll be back in a minute,” said Declan, beckoning Fiona, who was nearby. “Is Clara here?”
“No, she's having one of her confrontations about funding. She won't be in until after lunch.”
Declan spoke quickly and quietly. “I'm getting an ambulance over here from A and E. Can you close the door of the waiting room when it arrives so that everyone in there doesn't see what's happening? And can you go in and talk to Jimmy? You'd reassure anyone, but try to find out who we should contact back home over in Galway, will you?” He noted that she sprang into action. Apart entirely
from the fact that he was mad about her, she had been a very good choice by Clara.
Jimmy died twenty minutes after they got him a bed in the hospital. Clara had miraculously appeared. She was full of praise for Declan and Fiona. They had done everything perfectly. Fiona had even managed to get details of a nephew and his severe wife who were after his farm, and the information that he had made a will and they would be unpleasantly surprised. She had held his hand and soothed him, traveled with him in the ambulance and was there for the whole business.
Clara asked them both to come back to her office with her. She would have to write a report on why a man who was attending their heart clinic had suddenly gone into cardiac arrest on their premises. She knew that everything that should have been done had been done, but these hospital people would need endless backup and details.
Ania went out and brought them soup and sandwiches. She was about to leave them alone to discuss it.
“Please stay, Ania. You are as much a part of this team as anyone,” Clara said. And Declan saw her face go pink with the pleasure of belonging.
Jimmy's funeral was on Tuesday in a tiny village on the rugged coast of County Galway Clara suggested that Declan and Fiona go and represent the clinic there. They were, after all, his only friends in Dublin. They took the train to Galway city and a bus to the church. It was an easy journey. Declan and Fiona felt as if they were old friends. Fiona had brought sandwiches in case there was no refreshment car. They were happy to have the day off and to watch the countryside changing as they crossed the River Shannon and approached the west where the fields were smaller, where the walls were handmade stone and where the sheep looked up with interest as the train snaked by. They talked about Jimmy and wondered why he had been so secretive. Yes, of course he qualified for free train travel, but really, all this distance just to avoid prying eyes.
There was a respectable crowd in the little church. Fiona and Declan were objects of interest as the only strangers. They met the nephew and his harsh wife, who was exactly the way Jimmy had described her.
“And how did
you
know Uncle Jimmy?” the sour-faced wife asked Fiona.
“Oh, you know the way it is”—Fiona was wonderfully vague— “it's an extraordinary world, isn't it, the way you run into people here and there.” They would get no more from her.
Their return train wasn't until six o'clock.
“Let's go back to the house,” Fiona suggested.
Declan had hoped they could stroll together in the woods nearby and go and walk the cliffs of Jimmy's neighborhood. But Fiona was determined. “We got the day off to come here. We must do him proud.”
“But we're
not
doing him proud, Fiona. We're not telling people that he was at our clinic.”
“No, we can't do that. He was so determined it should be a secret. Still, I'd like this crowd to think he had some friends from elsewhere.”
And Declan agreed.
They had ham and tomatoes in the cottage that had once been Jimmy's home. He had never married and had lived alone in this little place; there were no pictures, no keepsakes, no personality. There was a small front parlor that was obviously rarely used. Fiona and Declan talked to everyone, while giving nothing away about their own connection with the deceased. They learned that once he had his sights set on this woman called Bernadette, but nothing came of it because his holding was too small a place and he was never going to amount to anything.
Then they announced the reading of the will. Declan and Fiona made vague efforts not to take part in this. They weren't family, they said. They would go and catch a bus back to Galway But by this
stage everyone had talked to them and they were very much part of everything.
Fionas eyes danced with anticipation as she thought about the will reading and the shock the cold nephew and his harsh wife were going to get. It turned out that Jimmy had applied for planning permission in his little smallholding. It had been granted, so the land was now much more valuable than anyone had thought. The nephew and niece could barely contain their excitement. Then it was read that he had left his entire estate to be divided between a hospital in Dublin and the lady Bernadette, whom he had admired so much in his youth. He wanted her and her family to know that he really
had
amounted to something in the end.
Declan decided they should get out of there fast. Certainly before anyone knew they were connected with a heart clinic. They were out on the road before the shock had dawned properly on the niece and nephew and before the conversation had reached the level of a roar. They hitched a lift to Galway and spent magical hours looking at an art exhibition, touring a bookshop and having a coffee in the open air.
On the way back to Dublin Fiona fell asleep with her head on Declan's shoulder, and as he saw the sun setting he told himself that he never remembered feeling quite so happy before.
He was hugely nervous of meeting Fionas parents, but she seemed utterly casual about it. And when they went together on the bus he hoped that he had done the right thing buying her mother an orchid in a pot. Fiona said she'd love it, but then Fiona thought everyone would love everything. She wasn't used to the atmosphere in St. Jar-lath's Crescent, where everything was analyzed and examined for days on end.
He dreaded the day that Fiona would come to visit his parents. That was, if the day ever arrived.
Fiona's father, Sean, was a very easygoing man. “Lord, you've
really raised the bar bringing an orchid to this house,” he said to Declan. “There'll be no getting away with a bunch of flowers from the petrol station for Maureen from now on.”
“I hope it wasn't the wrong thing to do,” said Declan fearfully.
“Not at all, lad. It was a grand thing to do.”
Fiona was relaxed and at ease. Nobody was fussing or insisting that people wash their hands or take the best chair, so different from what would happen in his house. Fiona was putting the salad and bright-colored napkins on the table. Her mother, Maureen, called the younger children, Ciara and Sinead, to the table and served a big bowl of chili and rice. They hardly seemed to notice that he was there. Once more he thought of the interrogation that Fiona would get whenever she came to his house. He shivered.
Why
couldn't Paddy and Molly Carroll be like this normal, relaxed family instead of groveling with inadequacy like his father or raking the conversation for a slight or an insult like his mother?
“Do you think they liked me?” Declan asked anxiously as they went to the bus stop.
“Sure, they loved you. But they would have anyway, you know.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, compared to the last fellow I brought home, you are like an angel with wings,” she said, as if that explained everything.
Declan put off the business of inviting Fiona to St. Jarlaths Crescent.
It was all going so well, why ruin it now? He had also put the whole matter of sex on hold. There had been fond kisses good night, and on the evening he had supper with Fiona in her flat, Barbara had been out. Perhaps that could have been an opportunity, or indeed an invitation, but he hesitated. He cared so much about her and wanted it all to be perfect. Was he a fool in this regard? Fiona was a normal girl.
Declan had had sex before. Not enough of it, of course, but he knew how much he had enjoyed it. And possibly Fiona might too. But he must be certain. Maybe they could go on a little holiday
together. By now they were seeing each other almost every evening after work.