“And where is she now, this marvelous girl?” Nora wanted to know.
“In a village in the south of Poland. She doesn't want to talk to me.”
“And when will she be back?”
“They don't think she is coming back.”
“I'm sure she will, Carl. You're a good lad. They're not easy to find.”
“I'm not a good lad, Nora. I'm a clown.”
“We're all clowns from time to time, believe me. I'm only sorry you're spoken for. I had such high hopes of you and Aidan's daughter from his first marriage. Ah, well!”
Ania walked up the hill with a heavy heart.
She didn't really believe Clara that lots of people missed her. But she was back home now, with a bag full of money for her mother. Hardly an hour had passed when Ania had not been working. It would all be worth it when she saw her mamusia's face take in the amount of the gift.
She hoped that Mamusia would not cry. Ania felt that if she herself started crying again she might never stop.
Fiona and Declan bent over the rings and tried them on her finger.
This one had a lovely setting. That one had huge colors in it whichever way you turned it. Eventually, they picked one that had three little opals in a line.
“That was the very first one you went for. Always a good sign,” said the young man who sold stones all day and was very good with the patter.
“And when will the great day be?” he asked, as he polished the opals one more time.
“Not for ages and ages,” Declan said hastily.
“The end of this summer,” Fiona said.
“That's right, girl. You nail him down,” said the young jeweler, enchanted with it all.
They went to lunch at Quentins and showed the ring to Brenda, who said all the right things and brought them a glass of Champagne.
Then they rang Fiona's parents and told them that the ring had been bought. There was huge excitement and they invited the Carrolls to come for a Chinese takeaway that evening. Fiona wrote e-mails to Tom and Elsa in California, to David in England and to Vonni in Greece.
She said she was very happy and that she wanted them all to meet Declan.
“Why did you change your mind about the timing?” he asked.
“I think because I saw the mess poor Carl and Ania made of it all and I didn't want us to get into a scene like that.”
“Where's Carl staying?” Declan asked.
“Don't know. Amazing it took him so long to see through his mother.”
“He was keeping the peace for his father's sake,” Declan said.
“You always have the kind word,” Fiona said adoringly, turning her finger to admire the ring again.
Dear Fiona,
How great that you are getting married—congratulations, and of course I'd love to come. It will be a great chance for a holiday.
When I sold my father's business my mother was upset, but now she thinks it's all for the best. I am going to open a business of my own importing pottery. Maybe I will find some marvelous Irish things when I am there. You must point me in the right direction.
It will be magic to see you again and share in your wedding day. Let's hope Vonni, Tom and Elsa can come too.
Love,
David
Fiona,
Only for you would I take my old bones back to Ireland. I swore never to go there again, but what you tell me about this man Declan sounds too good to miss. I did ask Andreas to come with me, but he says no. He will see all the pictures.
Those great twins have invited me to stay in their house with people called Muttie and his wife, Lizzie. Is this for real? They also tell me they're in catering and they hope they might even do your wedding. You don't know this now—I thought I'd forewarn you. Now that I have decided to go I am quite excited. Thank you for keeping in touch—you are a good friend.
Love,
Vonni
Dear Fiona,
We can't come for the most amazing reason. We are pregnant!
Elsa is having our baby and it's due just that week. I thought for years I couldn't have children, but there was a new treatment and we're expecting a daughter the very day you will be married. I wish we could be there. But we will come and see you as soon as our little princess is old enough to travel.
Life couldn't be better.
Didn't we all have an amazing time that summer. I can't bear to think we will miss Andreas and Vonni and David. Please take lots of pictures and we will want to hear every detail.
Love from us both,
Tom
Simon and Maud were learning that catering was utterly exhausting.
“I think we may well be burned out by the time we're twenty-five,” Simon said.
“Cathy and Tom survived it,” Maud said, not ready to give up yet.
“Yes, but they were mad about each other,” Simon grumbled.
“Well, we get on all right.”
“But we're not in love like they were.” Simon worried at it like a dog with a bone.
“God, Simon, suppose we were to get partners that we were in love with? Would that make it all right?”
“It would get us over the worst bits, I suppose.”
“I think we should try to attract business. That's what we should be doing.” Maud was very firm.
“Like what?”
“Like Fiona and Declan's wedding. We could present them with a buffet choice and give them a price.”
“But where would we do it, Maud? We don't have any venues, as Tom and Cathy call them.”
“We could look for them. Tired tennis clubs? Old schools? There must be something, Simon.”
“And if we did find a venue?” Simon was anxious.
“We just come up with a menu.” Maud was confident.
“Brian?”
“James?”
“You've been running this hall already as a café, haven't you?”
“Yes, you know I have.”
“So, what's the problem?”
“What do you mean?”
“If Health and Safety says it's okay as a café, it should be okay for a wedding.”
“But the alcohol?” Brian asked.
“You're not selling alcohol, Brian. You don't have a liquor license.”
“That's what I mean.”
“And couldn't these people bring their own?”
“I don't think it works like that,” Father Brian said.
“It works the way you want it to work. How are you to be blamed if a whole lot of Poles turn up with their own firewater?”
“James, it won't work.”
“My advice, on very good authority, is to try it and to plead total ignorance, ifthe matter ever comes up.”
Molly Carroll said she really liked Fiona's parents. Maureen and Sean Ryan and Fiona's two sisters, Ciara and Sinead, had made Molly and Paddy very welcome: they were levelheaded people with no airs and graces.
She had thought it odd that they didn't have a roast to entertain their future in-laws, but then it turned out they had only heard about the engagement very late in the day. And that Chinese food had been very tasty.
They had all agreed to stay out of it and let the young people make their own arrangements. Lord knew what kind of ceremony or wedding breakfast they had in mind.
Simon and Maud went to meet Father Brian Flynn when they heard he was looking for someone to prepare a christening party for some Slovaks.
“It's just eastern Mediterranean food,” Simon said.
“No problem. Heavy emphasis on aubergines, stuffed peppers, courgettes, olive oil,” Maud agreed.
“There's a problem about alcohol,” Father Flynn said.
“Oh, we know all about that, Father,” Simon said reassuringly.
“Our mother was the very same way” Maud patted him on the hand.
“Not me,” Brian Flynn said crossly. “It's the law, you see. Rules about selling drink.”
“Oh, I see,” Simon said. “I thought you had a pro
blem yourself. So they just have to bring their own, is that it?”
“Yes, I gather that's within the boundaries.”
“Fine. We could provide pitchers of fruit juice and whatever they have on or under the table isn't down to us.”
“Yes. That would work, wouldn't it?”
“From what we hear around the place, that should cover everything,” Maud said. Wise beyond her years.
On the way home from the center, Simon said suddenly, “ That's where we could have Fiona and Declan's wedding. We've found our venue.”
“You know that you and Fiona are going to be married this year?” Simon asked Declan anxiously.
“Yes, Simon, I hadremembered that.”
“It's just I wondered, could you tell me is it going to be a religious or a civil ceremony?”
“Oh, well, a bit of a church wedding first, to please the old folk.”
“Yes, but what kind of a church?” Simon seemed very anxious. Declan wondered if he was some kind of zealot.
“Um, well, an ordinary church, I imagine. You know, a Catholic church somewhere.”
“So you haven't anywhere actually planned?”
“No, not yet. Simon, could I ask you, exactly what is this all about?”
“We thought of a terrific place for you to get married.”
“Did you?”
“We did.”
“Why am I nervous about this?” Declan asked.
“There's no need. It's a real church, a real priest and everything.”
“And what's the snag?”
“There isn't one.”
“There always is. Come on, tell me.”
“You have to bring the drink into the place … in paper bags.”
“It's a speakeasy,” Declan said.
“It's nothing of the sort!” Simon was indignant.
“So, what is it?”
“It's a lovely hall, down near the Liffey It's beside a church. It's where new Irish people come. Polish people, Latvians, Lithuanians. I thought you'd love it.”
“And we might well love it,” Declan said. “You haven't booked it or anything, have you?”
“Sort of,” Simon admitted.
Ania's mother had been wonderful. It was so good to have Ania home, she said, over and over. Such a lovely surprise when she had walked through the door.
But there were no pleas to stay. Her mother had more courage than Ania remembered. Nothing much had changed her, while Ania's whole life had altered.
Mamusia asked questions about Ireland. The nice man, Carl, who had taught her English? He was well? Yes, he was well. And his parents’ fortieth wedding anniversary, that had been good? Yes, fairly good. Not great, but good.
Ania sat with her mother and took out the money she had worked so hard for. This would pay for all the changes in the little house. The changes that would make it into a real business and not a cottage industry. One of Ania's brothers-in-law would do the building work. It could begin any day now.
The light faded and it started to get dark. Mamusia pulled the curtains and turned on the lamps. Ania sat there wondering why she had ever left. Was this whole busy life in Dublin some kind of dream? She was very tired. She hadn't slept since she had fled from Carl's home. She'd been up all night waiting for the first flight to London and then the flight to Poland.
Her mother saw her nodding off and pulled a rug over her knees. She slept on and dreamed that Carl had sent her a big bunch of flowers with a card saying, “I love you, Ania. Come back to me.”
When she woke at four o'clock in the morning, she was very sad it was just a dream. And she went to her bed with tears in her eyes.
“How sure were you when you married Dad?” Linda asked her mother.
“Too sure, as it turned out,” Clara said.
“No, I mean what did it feel like when you decided you'd hitch your star to his?”
“We didn't put it that way then, Linda.”
“I'm just asking for honest information.”
“Okay. This is the truth. I fancied him. I fancied him rotten. When he said ‘Marry me,’ I thought of getting away from my mother, who, as you might recall, is pretty difficult. I didn't think people said ‘I love you’ and didn't mean it. I was there like a shot from a gun. Now, is that all right?”
“Not really. Nick and I are wondering if we should get a flat together. But we're nervous. I mean, we both have perfectly reasonable mothers. I wished you liked Hilary more, by the way.”
“I do like her,” Clara said.
“Yes, but only in that sort of head-patting way. And we wonder whether we should get a place of our own in case it sort of exposes all the weaknesses in our relationship.”
“How wise of you both,” Clara said.
“You sound pissed off over something, Clara.”
“No, I don't. I had another lovely day at work. Ania has run away back to Poland because her boyfriend's mother thought she had come to her party as a maid. Frank Ennis is making my life hell on wheels again. Peter Barry's lunatic daughter turned up looking for a job, and I gave her one. Fiona and Declan have decided they are going to get married in an immigrant center on the Liffey I wrongly thought I was coming home to a nice bowl of soup, and I find you booted and spurred and wanting to discuss the meaning of life. Not even vaguely pissed off!”
“You're not the worst, Clara,” her daughter Linda said.
High praise indeed.
Fiona and Barbara went to have a look at the hall in Father Flynn's center.
“It's a bit basic,” Barbara said.
“But we can do something with it—and we can afford it. We can't afford the wedding palace where Declan and I rise up in a swirl of dry ice …and anyway, you know that's not what I want. I just wonder is it worth everyone's time coming up here? You know, cousins from the country, David from England, Vonni from Greece?”
“They only want to see you happy and have a rake of food and drink. And this Vonni, and this David, would they think less of you because it's not all chrome and glitter?” Barbara persisted.
“Of course they wouldn't.”
“So, last thing, is it grand enough for Declan?”
“Barbara, you know Declan.”
“Right. So all we have to do is make sure those twins don't poison us all. Let's go and make Father Flynn's day with a booking.”
Rosemary heard voices in the kitchen when she got back home. Bobby was talking to someone. Her heart lifted for a moment, thinking it might be Carl. The silly boy couldn't keep this up forever. She would be gracious and courteous to him. Show him that she was above his petty behavior. But it wasn't her son. It was that imperious Clara from the heart clinic.
“Imagine, they entertain you in the kitchen, Dr. Casey!” Rosemary sounded shocked. Her look at Bobby was intended to say that he would suffer for this later.
“I called because Bobby didn't come for his appointment this morning and I was in the area anyway.”
“Oh, and what exactly has you in this area?”
“Concern, Mrs. Walsh. Concern that Bobby didn't turn up to his appointment. There was no reply when I telephoned.”
“Really, Bobby.”
“I know. Sorry, love, I couldn't make the phone. I was very out of breath.”
“And also I was looking for a Chinese gardener who services some of these blocks of apartments nearby. Our Ania, from the heart clinic, has gone missing. I wondered if he had anything to say.”
“And had he?” Rosemary asked.
“Not really, except that he wanted to give her some money he owed her and that there was plenty more work if she needed it.”
“And where is she?”
“She's in Poland. She got upset about something and took herself off the day after your party, apparently.”
“Rosemary would have paid her, whatever the going rate was. I know she would,” Bobby said suddenly.
“Sorry?” Clara hadn't understood what he was saying.
“Shut up, Bo
bby,” Rosemary said.
“No, it's not fair that they should think any of this was your fault,” Bobby said, his face burning with the will to make everything right.
“I'm off now,” Clara said, not wanting to be in the middle of their squabble. “Will Carl bring you into the clinic tomorrow, Bobby?”
“Carl's left home,” Bobby said.
“Yes, well, a taxi then?”
“I can bring him in,” Rosemary said.
“Anytime tomorrow morning is fine, Bobby. We'll always make room for you,” Clara said and swept out. She paused and looked at the view of the yachts out at sea and the purple Head of Howth across the bay. This house was the last word in terms of a desirable property. But it hadn't brought much happiness to the three people who had rattled around in it. What a terrible waste.
Fiona was in the bus on her way to her parents’ house. She hoped they would be enthusiastic about this hall. The great thing was they could have it anytime and Father Flynn said he would be delighted to marry them.
Someone had left an evening paper on the seat, so Fiona looked at it idly. There was the usual celebrity gossip: film stars visiting Ireland and news of soccer teams in England. Then she saw a small paragraph. A young man had been found dead in a city squat, most probably from a drug overdose. There was no identification and the Guards authorities were anxious to trace anyone who knew him. He was about twenty-five to thirty, small build. The only clue lay in a watch. It was engraved with a date and the words “Love always, Fiona.”
Shane?
Dead from an overdose in a Dublin flat?
Fiona thought she was going to be sick. She staggered to the exit and got off the bus still holding the newspaper. There was a number to contact. But wait—she didn't want to get involved. She hadn't thought about Shane for months, years even. Why bring it all back?
Why meet his mother under these circumstances? But she couldn't turn away either. He deserved a burial, a mother, someone to identify him. She sat on a bench beside the bus stop and considered her options. She could ring the Guards and give Shane's full name and address. She could find his mother and warn her of what was in store. She could do nothing. If she hadn't found that newspaper she would never have known.
But it was clear to Fiona what she had to do. She called the number printed in the newspaper. “I think the dead body is a man called Shane O'Leary If you were to ring the police station in a place called Aghia Anna in Greece, they would give you the phone number of the police station in Athens that booked him three years ago. They will have his fingerprints and details. Who am I? I am nobody. Really, I'm not important. It's just to help you and maybe his mother, if she's still alive. No, I have no more to say.”