Authors: Maeve Binchy
The days flew by at the clinic. He learned a great deal from Clara, who taught him without appearing to do so. They would have case conferences where she would ask as many questions as she answered. He got to know his colleagues. He was now a legend among the patients because he had minded Judy Murphy's dogs while she had gone into hospital for a procedure. Judy had bought a wonderful bowl with
DIMPLES
painted on it for the big soppy Labrador. Declan's mother said that Judy was
much
too old for him and he mustn't get notions about a woman like that who could be his mother. Paddy raised his eyes to heaven, begging Declan not to engage on the subject.
“I'll take very good notice of what you say, Mam, as always,” Declan said.
He had become very friendly with Hilary in the clinic. She had asked him to cover for her one lunchtime. She simply had to go home. The neighbors had phoned to say her mother was out in the garden in her nightdress. Like everyone, Declan had suggested that Hilary's mother might be ready for residential care. And, like everyone, he was gently refused. Nobody could begin to understand what this woman had done for Hilary. She was not going to be tidied away in the twilight of her years just in order to give Hilary a less-complicated lifestyle.
“You'll have to give up work soon, Hilary,” Declan said in his calm voice.
“No, no. My son, Nick, is a great help. He's there a lot. He's composing music, you see, and he keeps an eye on his gran.”
Declan thought that it wasn't much of an eye if the old lady was out in the garden in her nightdress. But, agreeable as ever, he said he would mind the desk during lunchtime and take any calls.
That evening Fiona was going to a hen party, so Declan had dinner at home with his parents. His mother had to go through a scene of pretending to be surprised to see him home. He listened patiently
while Molly said she was glad the place was good enough for him tonight. She then produced a steak and kidney pie with a carefully fluted edge.
“Does your young lady make a pie like this?” Molly asked.
“Don't you know she doesn't, Mam.”
“And are we ever going to meet her, do you think?” Here it was, his opportunity.
“I'd love to invite her to supper, Mam. Maybe you could make her a pie like this.”
“I will not make a pie. If there are guests coming to this house, they'll get a proper roast,” Molly said.
“So can we pick a night?” Declan begged.
“When your father has painted this room,” Molly said.
“That's a coincidence. I thought I'd do it this very weekend,” Paddy Carroll said. And Declan looked at his father's face and saw the same look of love that had come there when he first saw Molly at the dance in her white blouse and her red velvet skirt.
It took them two days to empty the room and three hours to choose the color for the walls. Paddy thought magnolia white, Molly wondered about lime green, Declan said that he really loved a peachy color called Indian Summer.
The date of the dinner party was fixed and then Declan asked Fiona.
“Sure,” she said, as if it was something normal. “I'd love that, Declan. Thank you
andyour
mother too.”
“She will be delighted with you,” he said in a very uncertain tone.
“Am I better than your ex, then?”
“I have no ex. No ex I brought home, anyway,” he said, flustered.
“I'm sure the place is littered with them,” Fiona said cheerfully. “What will I bring her? My ma just loved the orchid.”
“Maybe a small tin of biscuits,” he said, thinking hard. Was there
anything
that Fiona could buy that would not be criticized? Very unlikely.
• • •
When Declan was doing his rounds, Judy Murphy surprised him by saying that she worked part-time as a bookkeeper in Quentins. She did the VAT for them once a week and they told her that the nice young doctor, who sounded like the one who had walked her dogs, had been in for a meal with a beautiful fair-haired girl.
“Was it our friend?” Judy nodded down the room toward Fiona.
“Yes, it was, actually. How did you know?”
“Everyone knows,” she said.
“God!” Declan was alarmed.
“She's a lucky girl,” Judy said, as if she meant it.
Barbara was going to a wedding in Kilkenny. She would be away all night. She told this to Declan twice in case he hadn't understood it the first time. He approached Fiona, who was with Lar.
“Have you a moment?” he asked.
“I have indeed.” She seemed eager.
“Thanks,” she said when they left the cubicle. “I'm meant to know four of the major cities in Tennessee. I can't remember any of them. Is there a Tennessee City by any wonderful chance?”
“I don't think so, but there's Memphis and Chattanooga and Nashville,” he offered.
“One more,
please,
Declan.”
“Isn't that where Knoxville is too?”
“I love you,” she said and kissed him on the nose.
“Wait!”
He caught her by the arm. “
Wait
one moment. I was wondering, Fiona, since Barbara will be away tonight, could I maybe, you know, stay over, in the flat?”
“I thought you'd never ask,” she said, and he heard her reciting the Tennessee names out to Lar as she took his blood pressure and reassured him that he would indeed live to see all these places if he spent less on the horses and more on building up his travel fund.
Declan went to phone his parents and tell them that he had to be on duty tonight. That's the way it was …
• • •
They were nervous of each other at first and making little jokes, almost putting off the moment. Eventually Fiona took the lead.
“We could always take our glass of wine into the bedroom,” she suggested. And after that it was all right. As he lay there afterward, Fiona asleep with her head on his chest, Declan knew that the happiness he had felt on the train had only been a very faint preparation for the happiness he felt now.
They woke late and had to scramble for the bus. They thought that everyone in the clinic knew what they had done, though this could not possibly be so. Declan didn't care if they did know. He would be proud for them to know. And in two days’ time Fiona was coming home with him to meet his parents to have supper in St. Jar-lath's Crescent. What could go wrong with life now?
Molly had got a new perm for the occasion and she had warned Paddy a hundred times that he was to wear a jacket and tie for the meal. She had ironed the table napkins, which had been a wedding present when they married and hardly ever used since.
Tim had told Declan that he would give him the loan of his car for a few days.
“Am I insured?” Declan wished that he weren't always so cautious.
“Sure, you're on my insurance, and have my permission to drive the car. Anyway, you're not a maniac driver, I'd say!” Tim laughed.
Declan rehearsed the journey so that he wouldn't be a complete amateur. On the day of the big meal he saw that Fiona had fixed her hair and had brought smart clothes into work. A cream silk dress and jacket. Her best outfit. Possibly too smart. His mother would find fault with that too. Back home, Dimples had been washed and brushed and refused permission to sit on his favorite chair. Dad's friend Muttie Scarlet had been warned not to call in and ask Paddy
out for a pint. Declan's mother was wearing lipstick at breakfast. She told them she was breaking it in since she didn't normally indulge. He wanted to hold her newly permed head to him and tell her that she was marvelous and he loved her and that he would never abandon them, but of course he did nothing except grin foolishly and say it would be a wonderful evening.
The day seemed endless. Bobby Walsh had been having chest pains, and his wife said he was not going into that ward where everyone from all parts of this country and the Lord knew what other countries was gathered. Whatever he came in with, he would be much, much worse when he came out.
Declan wished that their son, Carl, was with them. He would be able to calm his mother down.
For the second time since he had gone to work there, Declan found himself watching the clock. Finally it was time to leave and he opened the door of Tim's car proudly for Fiona. His girlfriend. They drove cheerily through the traffic, Fiona chattering happily about the day that had just ended. What a marvelous man Lar was, his mind so full of information. How Mrs. Walsh, Bobby's awful wife, had sighed and groaned at Lavender when she was giving her a diet sheet for Bobby.
“At least you're Irish. I suppose that's one thing that can be said about you,” was how Mrs. Walsh had finished.
“Right in front of Ania. Really, the woman is a monster!”
After a while she noticed that Declan wasn't responding. “Am I talking too much? I'll be quieter when we get there,” she promised.
“No, don't be quiet, please don't. Just be yourself. But you will realize that they are themselves too.” He looked very sad.
“But they're your mam and dad. I'll love them. They produced you. What's not to love about them?”
“They're awkward and shy. They're not normal and casual like your parents.”
“Ah, God, Declan! Would you come on! No one's parents are normal. It will be fine.”
• • •
Back at St. Jarlath's Crescent, Molly and Paddy were ready. The kitchen was glowing with its peach-colored walls and gleaming white paintwork. The melon was sliced and each piece had a glacé cherry on top. The roast was cooking away in the oven, beef chosen carefully by Paddy Carroll, master butcher, that day. Was there anything else that should be done?
“That dog will want to have a wee the moment the girl arrives,” Molly declared.
“Right, I'll take him out now,” said Paddy Carroll, who thought this night would never be over.
“But be back in time!” Molly screamed.
Paddy put the big dog on the lead and marched him out, but at the gate Dimples saw a cat slinking along the road. He didn't like it. He growled. Paddy took no notice. He didn't realize how serious the growl was. Then the cat streaked across the road and Dimples was after her with his lead dangling behind him. Paddy watched as it all happened in slow motion. The car coming down the crescent, trying to swerve to avoid the dog and driving straight into the lamppost. He heard the sound of glass breaking, metal buckling and saw the blood of his only child all over the windshield.
He had never felt so powerless or shocked in his whole life. And as he stood rooted to the ground, Dimples came back penitently and licked his hand.
From the passenger seat in the car emerged a beautiful fair-haired girl, her face and dress covered in blood.
“Call an ambulance,” she shouted. “
Quickly!
Tell them that there are head injuries.”
Paddy realized that this was her, the nurse, the girl that Declan had said was really special. And she had been coming to dinner tonight, except that now Declan was dead. He looked at the angle of the boy's head. His neck must be broken.
He moved like a robot into the house, pushing past Molly, who had come out to see what was happening. “Come back inside,
Molly, I beg you,” he said, and picked up the phone. But she didn't and as he was giving the emergency services the address, he saw his wife with her hands to her face looking in disbelief at the car where Fiona was kneeling in the broken glass and talking in the driver's window. She was assuring Declan that help was on the way. And she was telling him that she loved him.
Dimples knew something was wrong, but he didn't know what it was. He sat down sadly beside the range and with a great degree of interest smelled the beef that was cooking.
Paddy had brought out a rug and people had gathered in the street.
“He can't hear us,” Fiona was saying to Molly. “Please believe me, he's unconscious. They'll be here any moment.” And amazingly they were.
The ambulance men were very relieved to see a nurse on the scene. Fiona held the crowds back, spoke reassuringly and took complete control. She insisted that she had only surface wounds in her forehead and she would see to them once they had Declan on the way to A&E. She wanted to go with him, but as they lifted his body from the front of the car, she knew that his parents needed her more.
“Anything?” she asked one of the men.
“A weak pulse,” he said.
“Better than nothing,” she said with a watery smile and then turned to the police, who had arrived in a Guards car and were beginning to take statements.
“Could we have the discussion inside?” she said. “These are Declan's parents and they must want to sit down in their own home after the shock.” She helped Molly back into her house, got a rug for her knees and rubbed her hands for her. She got a nip of whiskey to bring some color back to Paddy Carroll's face from a man called Muttie who had rushed over when he heard the commotion. And she turned off the oven, where an enormous joint of beef was cooking away. And then they began the interminable business of the dog who had seen the cat and had run out on the road, and the son of
the house who had seen the dog and swerved to avoid it and hit the lamppost.
Several times Fiona left to call a friend in the hospital, a friend who would be able to tell her more than the inquiries desk. The news was reasonable. He was on life support, but everything seemed to be working well enough. A fractured skull, a broken arm, but no internal injuries in the rest of his body. He would not be able to be visited by anyone until the next day.
At
n
p.m., five hours after she had arrived in St. Jarlaths Crescent, Fiona spoke to both her friend and the inquiries desk for the last time that evening. They were both able to say that Declan would live.
And so they took the beef out of the oven and the three of them sat and ate it with slices of bread and butter. And she stayed the night with them, in the same house where Declan had been born and brought up. And she actually managed to get some sleep as she lay in his bed.
In his hospital bed Declan Carroll slept a normal sleep and dreamed about the clinic. He was on the floor trying to reach up to the desk and Hilary kept telling him to rest where he was and let nature take its course. Eventually, after a few failed attempts, he decided to do that. Hilary was usually right.