Part Five

‘Now, I have good news for you,' Father Walsh said as soon as he came into the reception room at the Manse.

‘I really appreciate you seeing me,' Nancy said.

‘I love hearing good news,' Father Walsh said. ‘And we're all delighted that you're getting married again.'

‘You know, we haven't told anyone yet, no one except you.'

‘It will be time enough to tell them. Now, the priests here have no problem at all about you getting married in Rome. We have an old friend in Rome, Father Seán Anglim. He will find the right chapel. He suggests you stay a week, if not more. And he says the weather will be perfect, not too hot.'

‘Does he know where we might stay? A small hotel?'

‘I can ask him. We have plenty of time.'

When they were sitting on facing armchairs with tea and biscuits on the low table between them, he asked her if she thought one week in Italy would not be too short.

‘I know you both have businesses to take care of but every couple needs time to get to know each other. I'd stay for two weeks if I were you.'

Nancy noticed the priest rubbing his hands together slowly. She nodded. She wondered how he would respond if she told him that she had been visiting Jim late at night and did really feel that she knew him well enough. Before going to Rome, she thought, she would drive to Wexford and queue for confession in the Franciscan Friary and hope that the friar who was known for his sympathy and under- standing was on duty.

‘Are you kind?' this friar had asked her on her last visit to the confessional.

‘Yes, I hope I am.'

‘Are you a good, conscientious mother?'

‘Yes, I am.'

‘Then say an act of contrition and go in peace.'

Suddenly, she found that Father Walsh was looking at her curiously as she smiled to herself at the memory.

‘Do we need to fill in forms?' she asked him.

‘All the church side of things will be done for you,' he replied. ‘We are glad to be of service and the cause is good.'

‘The cause?'

‘Holy matrimony,' he replied and quietly bowed his head and then looked at her, smiling.

‘You know, I saw Jim Farrell,' Father Walsh continued, ‘on the street yesterday. Of course, I said nothing to him about anything. But he seemed happy. I hear so much bad news that it lifted my spirits to see him in such good form. Your children must know him already?'

‘Oh yes, they do.'

‘I'm sure the news, when they hear it, will bring them great joy.'

He sounded for a moment as he did when he was preaching to a large congregation.

‘But it must be hard to keep a secret like that,' he said.

‘My policy,' Nancy said, ‘and Jim's, is to tell no one. So the only others who know are you and your colleague in Rome. And perhaps some of the other priests as well?'

‘And we keep secrets. It's our job, if you can call it that.'

He pointed to his collar.

—

At the top of Cathedral Street, Nancy did not feel like going home. Gerard had still been in bed as she was leaving. If he were up now, she would have to discuss further what had happened on Saturday night.

Brudge Foley, who normally came to help in the chip shop at the weekend, had called off sick on Saturday afternoon. It really was impossible for anyone to run the shop alone on a Saturday night, so Nancy had suggested to Gerard that he cancel his plan to go to the dance in Whites Barn. And he had bluntly refused, even though he understood perfectly that his mother could not manage on her own.

‘We agreed that I don't have to do Saturday,' he said. ‘If I do all three weekend nights, I'll have no life at all.'

‘What about me?' she asked. ‘Should I have no life either?'

‘You can take Friday or Sunday off,' he replied. ‘There's no one stopping you.'

‘I can't do tonight on my own. You know that better than anyone.'

‘I have arranged to go to Whites. All my friends are going.'

‘Next week, I'll have help. You can go then. If Brudge can't do it, I'll get someone else.'

He turned away from her.

‘Ger, I need you here tonight.'

An hour later, as she was cleaning behind the counter, he appeared again.

‘I'm really sorry that I can't do tonight. You'll have to try and get someone else.'

‘Have you any suggestions?'

He shrugged.

Close to midnight, a man whom she did not recognise joined the crowd waiting to be served and then began to vomit over several customers before vomiting further on the counter itself and the floor. Nancy immediately thought of phoning Jim, but then she realised that he would want to know where Gerard was. Also, she did not think she could ask him to help her clean up the vomit. She would have to do it herself, having told the customers to wait outside.

On the way to get a bucket of hot water and a brush, she realised that she had forgotten to lower the heat of the cooking oil. The chip shop was soon full of acrid smoke so that she had to open the door to the street, telling those waiting outside that they still could not come in.

Since the pubs were closed, more people gathered in front of the shop. Even so, she did not feel she could call Jim and have him witness the scene. As soon as the shop was cleared of the smoke, she would shut for the night. There were too many people outside. She would never be able to heat the oil again and start to get the fish and burgers and chips and onion rings ready.

Maybe it was a lesson she needed to learn. She could never manage the shop on her own at the weekend. And maybe it was a lesson for Gerard also. He was not entitled to go to Wexford with his friends when she had no one to help her. He would have to take more responsibility for the business.

She cleaned as much as she could. When she finally closed the door, a few people began banging on the window. She responded by turning off the lights and going upstairs where she sat at the kitchen table, afraid to switch on the lights in the front room whose windows gave onto the square. She found that she was shaking. Even if she decided to phone Jim, she was afraid that he would find her in a state in which she did not want him to see her.

It was George that she found herself thinking about. If only he could come into the room now. If only he came, in his absent-minded way, to fetch some water or wonder where he had left his glasses, and if she could glance up at him from the newspaper she had spread out on the table. And Gerard could come in, spruced up for the dance, looking for the keys of the car or some money from his father.

If only George had not died, there would not be a belligerent crowd outside her chip shop in the Market Square. Even when she knew she was going to lose him, she had never once imagined that she would find herself worried that the shouting outside would cause the neighbours to come in the morning to remonstrate with her, and worried also that the smell of vomit might linger in the shop if she did not go back down now and wash the floor one more time.

What would it be like when she was married again, when Jim would have finished by one o'clock on a Sunday morning? He would have to wait until she, exhausted, finished cleaning up. What would that be like for him and for her?

—

Now, on Cathedral Street, she dreaded having to face Gerard. He had already mentioned to her that he had met several people, including their immediate neighbours on the Square, who had given him a description of the scenes outside the chip shop in the early hours of Sunday morning. He had made what happened seem like a failure on her part.

She had walked out of the room before he could go any further and had been careful to avoid him for the rest of the day.

As she walked by the Green, it struck her that she should go to visit Eilis Lacey. At the wedding itself, Nancy recalled, she had not spoken to Eilis much. Maybe Eilis would be going back to America soon. She went along the Back Road and then, when she had passed the Technical School, she turned down Hospital Lane.

The front door of the Laceys' house was wide open and there were workmen in the hall. Nancy was almost relieved at the possibility that this was the very wrong moment to call. She stood outside and waited. If Eilis did not appear soon, she would move on. Instead, Eilis's mother emerged from the kitchen.

‘I never wanted a fridge,' she was saying to one of the workmen, ‘and I never wanted a washing machine, and the cooker I had did me nicely. But what can I do?'

‘Go on out of that,' the workman said, ‘you'll be made up when we have it all connected.'

Mrs Lacey noticed Nancy at the door.

‘Who is that?' she asked. ‘Is it Nancy?'

‘I think I picked the wrong moment,' Nancy said. ‘Is Eilis here?'

‘She is in Dublin,' Mrs Lacey said.

‘I hope I haven't missed her altogether.'

‘No, you have not. She'll be back tomorrow with her two children. And I'm using the day to get overdue work on the house done. I have these nice men to help.'

Nancy could hear the sound of hammering from the kitchen.

‘No,' Mrs Lacey continued, as though Nancy had asked her a question. ‘I don't know why Eilis went up to Dublin this morning. She said she had shopping to do. But she'll be back in good time tomorrow.'

When Nancy said that she would call again soon, Mrs Lacey insisted that she should come in now.

‘We can have tea in the back room.'

In the kitchen, a plumber was installing a washing machine. The new fridge and oven looked strange among the old cupboards and the chipped tiles and the faded paintwork.

‘This will be a big surprise for Eilis,' Mrs Lacey said. ‘She won't know the kitchen. What I wanted was to get a modern kitchen so the children wouldn't feel they were visiting outer space. And haven't I done well? Doesn't it look great?'

‘They'll be delighted,' Nancy said.

‘And I heard all about the wedding,' Mrs Lacey said when they were settled in the back room. ‘Eilis is a good person to send anywhere. She comes home with all the news. She said the Waddings were lively, one and all. And your rig-out was, she said, most beautifully chosen and really suited you. And there was singing!'

‘Well, I didn't sing,' Nancy said.

‘I think widows at weddings are best to let others do the singing,' Mrs Lacey said. ‘How long is George dead?'

‘Five years last month.'

‘You don't get over it at all,' Mrs Lacey said. ‘Or at least I didn't. All we can do is thank God for the small mercies and take each day as it comes.'

‘That's the truth,' Nancy said. She tried to finish her tea so that she could go.

‘And Eilis said that Jim Farrell was at the wedding.'

Nancy nodded.

‘I always thought it was strange he never married.'

Nancy sipped her tea.

‘I asked Eilis if she spoke to him at the wedding, or did she even have a dance with him for old times' sake but she nearly bit my head off.'

Nancy looked at the floor and said nothing.

‘Jim is always very nice to me when I meet him,' Mrs Lacey continued. ‘I often think it's not good that he's there on his own in that big house over the pub.'

Surely, Nancy thought, the old woman must notice that she was not responding.

‘But everyone to themselves, that's what I always say. Amn't I right, Nancy?'

‘You certainly are, Mrs Lacey.'

‘Now, you'll have to excuse me as I must oversee the lifting of a bed into the attic room so that Larry, my American grandson, can have a place to sleep.'

—

Gerard was in the kitchen when Nancy got home.

‘It occurred to me that you might be better off getting a job,' she said.

‘I have a job.'

‘You have a job you don't do. I didn't see you on Saturday night. Unless swanning around Whites Barn is a job.'

‘We talked about that yesterday.'

Gerard stood up from the kitchen table and moved towards the door.

‘Most of our business,' Nancy said, blocking his way, ‘is at the weekend. You cannot take Saturday night off.'

‘I won't work Saturday nights. I'll do every other night.'

‘Even when I'm left on my own?'

‘Brudge will be here in future.'

‘She gave us two hours' notice that she couldn't come. That could happen any time again. Actually, on Saturdays all three of us should be there anyway.'

‘I won't do Saturdays.'

‘And that's why I think you should get a job. It's a pity you didn't study when you had a chance. Your sisters . . .'

‘Don't give me that stuff about my sisters.'

Eventually, she got out of his way and sat at the table. As soon as she heard the front door closing, something occurred to her and she went into the main room and stood looking over the Market Square.

Once she married Jim, she realised, she wouldn't go on running the chip shop. If Gerard were not involved, then she might consider selling the entire building. At nineteen, he was too young to handle the business on his own. But when she was married, she would not want to spend the weekend doling out fish and burgers and bags of chips to people and come away smelling of oil and fried food. Jim must have considered this. Maybe it would be enough for her to keep house for him, especially if they were to move to a bungalow with a garden.

The more she thought about the chip shop, the more she understood that the idea of her giving up work there would have to come from Jim. He knew that the business was lucrative. He had a better idea of her income than she did of his. But surely Jim made enough from the pub for them both to live.

If Jim said that she should stop working in the chip shop, she would pretend not to have considered it until now. She would express surprise. She wondered if it would help Gerard if Jim had some role in the business. Perhaps he could guide Gerard, even control him. She could pretend to be involved too but slowly she would leave the decisions to Jim. She would have to be careful, especially at the beginning, not to look as if she was angling to retire completely. Somehow, she would appear busy, but she would not join the golf club or take up bridge.

Since it was half past two and most of the lunchtime customers would have dispersed, she believed that it would be a good time to call in to the pub and have a talk with Jim. She had been tempted to do this several times before but had stopped herself. She would do it just one time. Shane would not be there until four and Andy did not start until much later. Jim had told her how peaceful it could become. It was the time he liked best, he said.

If she phoned, she imagined Jim would suggest that they meet much later when he had finished work. But she could pretend that she needed to share the news about Rome with him. She foresaw how they would move down the far end of the bar so she could explain in hushed tones what Father Walsh had said. She hoped that Jim had not heard too much about Saturday night. He might wonder why she had not called on him to help. She would have to pretend it was all nothing.

If she saw that Jim was busy, she would go as soon as possible. But her hope was that, at some stage in their conversation, she would be able to give the impression that she was exhausted. She would let Jim know that managing the chip shop was running her down. And then, if they met later, she would encourage Jim to feel that the chip shop was not something she should do for ever, and soon, over a few meetings, Jim would understand that, once they were married, he would not like her to continue working in the chip shop.

Days like this, warm and windless in the town, could be stifling in houses like hers and his. She imagined a bungalow with double doors from the kitchen into the garden with a patio where she would have a table and chairs. She would position the house so that the patio space would bask in the morning sun.

She was sure about this plan. No matter what time of the day it was, or what mood she was in, she never wavered in her desire to live away from the town centre. But she found herself uncertain about smaller things, such as her suggestion to Gerard that he should go and get a job.

Gerard had been fourteen when his father died. While Miriam and Laura had never left each other's side in the days around the funeral, and had cried openly, Gerard had remained alone. He said nothing, showed no signs of any grief. He was frozen. No one could get through to him. And then when he went back to school the complaints began about his attitude towards the teachers. Nothing Nancy said or did made any difference to him. He stopped going to the tennis club and, when winter came, he got dropped from the rugby team because he did not come to practice.

—

As soon as she stepped inside the pub, she was greeted by Shane Nolan, who was behind the bar.

‘The boss is away,' Shane said.

‘What time will he be back?'

‘He didn't say but he told me to lock up later so it won't be soon.'

‘Do you know where he is?'

Nancy realised as soon as she had asked this that it sounded as though it might matter to her where Jim was.

‘He's in Dublin. He has business in Dublin.'

Nancy could not think what this business might be. Jim's accountant and his solicitor were both local, and she didn't understand why he hadn't told her he was going to Dublin.

‘Do you want to leave a message?' Shane asked.

‘No, no, I was just dropping in.'

Even that, she knew, sounded untrue.

‘Well, I'll tell him you were looking for him.'

‘Don't worry at all.'

—

How strange, she thought, that both Jim and Eilis were in Dublin. Jim normally travelled to the city on a Thursday and this was Monday. And Eilis's mother had wondered why she had gone to Dublin so early. And why would Jim need to stay in Dublin until late?

Nancy imagined them meeting by accident in Grafton Street. What would happen? Would they stop and talk? For a second, an image from Miriam's wedding came into her mind. She had seen Eilis and Jim talking to each other in a way that appeared casual, relaxed, almost familiar. It was odd because she had presumed that any encounter between them would be strained and uneasy. But then someone distracted her, someone demanded her full attention, and she did not think about that scene again.

But now it became more solid. Perhaps Jim and Eilis had had a conversation earlier during the wedding and all the tension between them had worn away. And that meant they could seem to be talking like two old friends.

But there was something else. There was something in Shane's expression just now, in his tone, and it was also in Mrs Lacey's when she spoke of Eilis's being in Dublin – a sense of uncertainty, a feeling that there was something that could not be explained. ‘He has business in Dublin,' Shane had said. No one talked like that in Enniscorthy. Shane had sounded too formal. But still, it was not impossible that Jim really did have things to do there that he did not want her to know about. Perhaps it was something to do with money. And it wasn't impossible that Eilis had gone to Dublin early simply to get away from her mother.

As she passed the monument in the centre of the Market Square, Nancy saw Gerard walking towards the house, his head down, his hands by his sides. She suddenly felt sorry for him and wondered if she should tell him, once they were both inside the house, that he could go to Whites Barn any Saturday night he wanted. But that would be a mistake. She wished Jim had been in the pub just now. Even telling him the story might have been a relief.

She felt helpless. She had built herself up to have a talk with Jim not only about Gerard but about how they both might live after they married. Jim had a way of reassuring her. He liked Gerard. Jim himself might want to consider living somewhere outside the town. It was such a pity he hadn't been there just now.

After what happened on Saturday night, and after her conversation with Father Walsh about Rome, she wasn't sure she could easily spend a dull afternoon alone. Something would have to change; something would have to happen. It struck Nancy as she waited for a car to pass so that she could cross the street, that she should tell Gerard of her plan to marry Jim, and tell him now, this minute. For a second, she felt almost excited. She walked briskly towards the house so that she could find him before she changed her mind.