Heart and Soul

  “Oh, she's so pleased with everything, Bobby. If you could see what they're doing to her house! Even my sisters are pleased with me too. Which usually they are not.”

  “Did you meet them all, Carl?”

  “I did. They were very welcoming. At least I think they were. I couldn't understand a word anyone was saying!”

  “Oh, they were, Carl, very welcoming indeed.”

  Bobby cleared his throat. “Rosemary is very sorry about the misunderstanding …” he began. He saw Carl's face harden, but Ania laid her hand on his arm.

  “Please tell her that it's all forgotten. In many ways it was all helpful. It forced us to do what we all wanted to do.”

  “I'm not sure that Rosemary wants to move house, but it's going to happen. And she will get used to it. It's most generous of you, Ania, to see things so positively.”

  “I have a lot to be positive about,” she said.

  “Carl, I was wondering?”

  “No, Dad, not yet. I don't have a lovely, positive soul like Ania.”

  “You could grow one,” Ania said.

  “Yes, and I might one day.”

  “Or maybe soon, Carl, so that your father could enjoy more peaceful days in these busy, stress-filled times.”

  “Maybe,” Carl said. But he had no intention of speaking to his mother.

  Ania bought the material for Fiona's wedding dress. It was a cream and yellow Indian silk. It would be beautiful.

  Fiona stood like a statue, raising her arms to be measured and for Ania to pin a kind of underslip that would act as a pattern for the real thing. She hardly said anything. She didn't ask Ania about the trip to Poland, about the new apartment, about what Carl had said when he arrived at her mother's house.

  Normally Fiona would want to know every detail.

  She didn't talk about her own wedding either. All the conversations that Ania started seemed to run into the ground. Yes, it was great to be getting married by Father Brian. Yes, the center sounded a terrific place for a wedding breakfast. Oh, indeed, many of the friends were coming from abroad. And certainly, the two mothers were having a good time.

  Ania put down her box of pins. “Fiona, be honest with me. Do you want someone else to make your wedding dress?”

  “No, Ania, how can you even think that?”

  “So what is it, then?”

  Fiona looked at her, stricken. “I can't marry Declan,” she said suddenly. “I'm not a person who has any judgment about men. I can't go through with it.” She began to cry with heavy sobs.

  “And what does Declan say?” Ania asked.

  “He doesn't know.” Fiona wept harder.

  “Well, you must tell him.”

  “I can't.”

  “You'll have to. I'm right in the middle of making him a waistcoat trimmed with the material of your dress. He has to know, Fiona. For heaven's sake.”

  Carl had invited his friends Nora and Aidan Dunne to supper in the new apartment. Ania had cooked some salmon for dinner. Carl had brought her flowers. Life could not be better.

  They were so nice, the Dunnes, and so fond of each other. You could see it immediately, the way they listened to each other's stories, touched each other's hands. Aidan was a patient at the clinic, so Ania had already met them there, but she had had no idea what interesting lives they had led. She sat and chattered happily as if she had been accustomed to entertaining like this all her life. At nine o'clock there was a ring at the door.

  Ania went to answer the buzzer. Who could be coming to call at this time of night? She looked at the little screen. It was Carl's mother.

  “Please excuse my not telephoning, but I know Carl doesn't want to see me.”

  “It's not that, Mrs. Walsh. It's just that we have people here for dinner, you see.”

  “It will only take a minute. I have something to say to you. I need not bother Carl.”

  “Perhaps this is not a good time, Mrs. Walsh.” She could see Carl roll his eyes up to heaven.

  “Tell her to go away,” he mouthed.

  But Ania was too kind. “Come in, Mrs. Walsh, but it can't be for long. I hope you will excuse us.” She buzzed the door so it would open.

  Ania returned to the table. “We'll offer her a glass of wine.”

  “She deserves a boot up the arse!” Carl said.

  Ania smiled apologetically at the guests. “Bit of a long story,” she said.

  “We know a lot of it,” Nora said. “Should we leave?”

  “No, please, no. I will take Carl's mother into another room and talk to her.”

  “You don't have to do this, Ania. She behaved so badly”

  “You were polite to my mother when you could not understand one word she was saying. I will be polite to yours.”

  Ania ushered Rosemary Walsh into the bedroom where Fiona's wedding dress was hanging on the wall.

  “And is this going to be … ?”

  “For Fiona.”

  “I see.” Rosemary didn't attempt to disguise her relief.

  “Won't you have a chair?” Ania sat on the bed.

  “One bed,” Rosemary Walsh said.

  “That's right. I brought you in a glass of wine,” Ania said.

  “I don't want any wine, thank you. I wanted to say that my words to you on the night of the party were wrong. I should not have said what I did. You were Carl's guest. I knew that. I behaved very badly.”

  “You must have had your reasons.”

  “No, looking back on it, I can't think what my reasons were.” Rosemary Walsh was at a loss.

  “So that's all right, then, Mrs. Walsh.”

  “No, it's not all right. I want you to tell my husband, Bobby, that he cannot sell our house. That you will come and live there with Carl and help with getting Bobby bathed and upstairs and everything.”

  “I think that is something you should discuss with Bobby and Carl, not with me.”

  “But if you say that you'd be a backup, a carer, you know, then they'd agree.”

  “I don't think so. Bobby is very set on a new place. He was showing us brochures, advertisements.”

  “That's only because he thinks Carl won't be around for him.” Rosemary looked almost beseeching.

  “I think Carl is happy here and Bobby is happy for us to be here, Mrs. Walsh. So I will not say anything at all to change things.”

  Rosemary looked at her long and hard. “They're right. You are intelligent. You're sharp. I made a mistake. I apologize for that as well. At what must have seemed rudeness.”

  “It was a misunderstanding, Mrs. Walsh. It's over now.”

  “You are very clever. I see that. Too late.”

  “It is not too late.”

  “It is. I'll go now, Ania.”

  “Are you sure you would not like some wine?”

  “I'm sure. Thank you.”

  There was laughter from the next room.

  Rosemary looked at the door. “Carl never brought any friends home to dinner when he lived at home.”

  “Well, maybe he needed a place of his own.”

  “Good-bye, Ania.”

  “Good-bye, Mrs. Walsh.”

  Fiona wanted to tell him something. Declan didn't have to be Einstein to know this. Even Dimples the dog seemed to know. He lay quietly examining his paws and making no sounds. Declan's father, Paddy, was off with Muttie and their associates in the pub.

  His mother, Molly, was talking finery with Fiona's mother, Maureen.

  “Declan?”

  “There's something wrong, isn't there?”

  “You feel it too?” She seemed relieved.

  “I feel that you are upset about something certainly.”

  “I can't marry you,” she said.

  “You've met another fellow.” He smiled at her indulgently.

  “You know that's not true.”

  “So it's me, then? You've gone off me?”

  “As if, Declan Carroll.”

  “So, what is it, then, pet?”

  ?
??It's a long story,” Fiona said.

  “We have all the time in the world,” said Declan and folded his arms to listen to the most complicated rambling tale, of which he understood hardly a word. Except that because of bad judgment— in fact, worse, no judgment—Fiona wasn't going to marry anybody.

  Ever.

  Chapter Twelve

  Fiona thought that more marriages must have taken place between people who just didn't want to upset the arrangements than between people who really should have got married. She understood it only too well. Look at all the people she was upsetting by this decision. She didn't even dare to think about her parents and Declan's parents and her sisters, who would not now be bridesmaids. The fallout from that would last a generation. Then there were all the cousins, aunts and uncles on both sides who had ordered wedding outfits and even, in some cases, had already sent wedding presents. They would be incensed.

  And Vonni coming to Ireland for the first time in decades. David coming over from England for his first-ever visit. The whole staff at the clinic, who had been so excited and supportive. Father Flynn, whose first wedding it would have been in this center by the Liffey, would feel like a fool. The twins, Maud and Simon, who had told almost everyone in Dublin that this was the start of their career, would be crushed. Ania, who was happy and smiling again, and who had made a beautiful dress, would not now see her creation walk down the aisle.

  It was easy to see why other women had given in over the years rather than alienate half the planet. But then, other women hadn't known the great insight that had become clear to Fiona.

  The day she had read that newspaper item, which summed up Shane O'Leary's short life and sordid death, Fiona realized that she had, at one period of her life, been prepared to marry this man. She was expecting his child. She had been distraught when she had miscarried. She had longed to hear him propose marriage and suggest that they live by the sea in Aghia Anna and bring up their child there.

  How could she be capable of making any decision?

  She would go far away from here and all the people she had let down. She would go abroad and find herself. Do something worthwhile rather than getting swept along in some insane project that had now become completely out of control, with opals and buffet feasts and decisions on who was to make what speech.

  Had Declan really understood, really understood that it was over? That the wedding was not going to happen. He had been too calm. He had said the past had nothing to do with them. He also had said that of course she should just do what she wished to do. He would be brokenhearted all his life and he would never marry either. There were ways in which it would all be a giant waste.

  But if that's what she wanted, then that's what would happen.

  No, he wouldn't hear of taking back her ring. She must get it made into a brooch or a pendant. And he wanted one week before they told people.

  “A week? But people will be busy making their plans, Declan. We have to tell them now.”

  “But it's about me. I haven't got used to making my plans to live without you. Give me just one week,” he asked.

  “This isn't some awful, devious scheme?”

  “No,” he said sadly. “If I had an awful, devious scheme that might work, I would have one, believe me.”

  “All right, then.”

  “Yes and we tell nobody. Nobody at all.”

  “But they'll go on making arrangements.”

  “Let them. It's only for a week. Then we tell them. Okay. Swear.”

  “I swear.”

  “Not even Barbara?”

  “Not even Barbara,” she agreed.

  “Good girl,” he said.

  Fiona noted that he hadn't tried to argue with her, change her mind, tell her that she was wrong. All he had asked was a week's grace, and that she should keep the opals. He must have known in his heart that it would have been doomed.

  Clara was surprised to see Frank Ennis standing at her desk.

  “A rare and unexpected pleasure,” she said.

  He came straight to the point. “Can you give that girl Amy a reference?”

  “Yes. She was fine. If we had a job for her, we'd give her one.”

  “That's all right, then. She looks a bit weird.”

  “But then, what a mistake it would be to judge people by their looks.” Clara smiled.

  “Sure. So the wandering Pole has returned?”

  “Yes. Ania's crisis is over, I'm glad to say. Everyone was delighted to see her back.”

  “And I gather you have a wedding coming up?” Frank said. Clara wondered how on earth he could have known that.

  “Absolutely. Declan and Fiona. Big day out. And we have loads more romance going on. Ania is together with the son of one of our patients. My daughter and Hilary's son have fallen in love. All I need is to get a young fellow myself and we can say the objectives have all been achieved.”

  He was almost sure she was joking, but not quite.

  “I thought you were already spoken for, with the pharmacist in the precinct?”

  “Oh, Frank, that's old news now. Peter is history. He's actually involved with the lady who runs Lilac Court, the nursing home.”

  “Well, really!” Frank Ennis was dumbfounded.

  “And how did you know about Declan and Fiona's wedding?” Clara wondered.

  “Well, I'm invited, as it happens.”

  “Invited?”Clara was taken aback. Fiona and Declan had invited the Enemy to their wedding? Never.

  “Well, more or less. I'm a plus one,” he said. “Fiona's cousin, who's a social worker, was invited and her invitation said plus one, so that's me.”

  “Well, well, well.” Clara was, for once, without words.

  Fiona and Declan would scream with laughter over this.

  “So you'll have to save me a dance, Clara,” Frank said.

  “I wouldn't want to step on the toes of Fiona's cousin,” Clara murmured diplomatically.

  “No, no, you wouldn't be. That's not an affair or anything, not even an understanding or anything. Just a casual friendship. I think she just thought it would be a nice day out.”

  “And it will be, Frank. It will be,” said Clara.

  “And you can tell me all about your plans and where you go after here,” he said.

  “After here?”

  “When your year is up,” he said.

  Clara had quite put it out of her mind that she had been hired for only a year, at her own heavy insistence at the time. “Ah, yes, when the year is up,” she said vaguely.

  “I'm sure you have your plans. Your career plan.” Frank was eager to know.

  “You wouldn't believe me if I said I had nothing planned.” She smiled at him.

  She had been right. He didn't believe her. Clara Casey without a game plan.

  Please.

  Clara sat at her desk when Frank left. What an extraordinary year it had been.

  Alan's bimbo becoming pregnant. Alan asking for a divorce, then asking if he could come back home. Adi and Gerry planning to go and save a rain forest. Linda having a change of personality since she'd met Hilary's son, Nick. Then there was the episode with Peter Barry the pharmacist, who had wanted to marry her.

  But most of all there was the clinic. That's what amazed her. It was bigger in her mind than all the other life-changing things that had happened. They were making a difference. They were managing to keep people out of hospital. They had restored confidence and given new hope to people with heart disease and they had made it part of ordinary life.

  It had been well worth doing. She was in no way ready to move on.

  Ania was in charge of the collection for Fiona and Declan's wedding present. She had felt odd about it at first: it was a difficult situation. But then nothing had happened since Fiona's outburst. There was no announcement that the wedding was canceled. Everything seemed to be going ahead. It was going to be all right.

  It hadn't been difficult to get donations and arrange for everyone to sign the card.
The question was what to get them? There was no wedding list registered in a store. There were no helpful hints and no mention of a color scheme for the new flat they were hoping to buy. And yet the money was flowing in. They had enough for Ania to buy a really good present.

  Ania brought up the subject casually. Whether crystal was worth the expense or did Declan prefer simpler glasses? Was silver old-fashioned now or did young people still like it? Was it possible to buy a work of art for someone else?

  Declan brushed Ania's careful detective work aside with a laugh.

  “Ania, we don't want anything and if people are going to give something, then maybe a CD or a book or a vase. Please, Ania.” Which had been no help at all.

  On the other hand, it was a lot better than what Fiona had said this morning.

  Ania had asked if in Fiona's opinion cast-iron casserole dishes might be a good gift? She had tried to make it appear as if she was thinking of cast-iron casserole dishes in entirely general terms as a gift for unspecified people.

  Fionas eyes had filled with tears.

  “Do you have a list of who gave you what, Ania?” she asked unexpectedly.

  Ania didn't know what to answer. “Um …well…” she said.

  “It's just that you'd need to know what to give back to people if, for example, the wedding did not take place.”

  “Fiona!” Ania cried.

  “I have said nothing, nothing at all. You must remember that. I said nothing except that if you are collecting money for anything, you should always write down what people give you.” And Fiona was gone, wiping her eyes.

  Ania realized that she had to keep quiet about this. It was hard when Carl was asking her what kind of a suit he should wear for the wedding and when Fiona's mother and Declan's mother were busy trying to discuss the corsages Ania was going to make for them to wear with their new outfits and when Maud and Simon were on the phone to her regularly about table decorations and when Barbara was starving herself to fit into a kingfisher-blue dress that was a size too small.

  Fiona and Declan really might notbe getting married. Should all these people be warned? Ania had a headache that wouldn't go away.

  Brian Flynn called in to the heart clinic to pick up Johnny. They were going to go south on one of their marathons. Or little strolls, as Johnny called them.