The Lilac Bus

  ‘Well, no one could think that,’ Mikey cried loyally.

  ‘No, he said I’d been the best wife and mother in the world, and that he couldn’t tell me how sorry he was, he was just heartbroken, he said. All the papers were to show me that the chip shop is in my name, and the thousand pounds in the building society is for me, and the name of a solicitor who’d be able to find him, who’d pass letters on.’

  ‘And where does he think he’s going?’

  ‘To England. Where else?’

  ‘And how will he earn a living for himself and this floosie?’

  ‘She’s not a floosie – Eileen a floosie? Billy would earn a living on the planet Mars, don’t worry about that.’

  Mikey was struck dumb.

  ‘But the thing that upset him most was his father, your father.’

  ‘Billy never gives much time to poor old Dad.’

  ‘No, but he thought it wasn’t just for me to be left with him – to have to look after an old man who isn’t my own father. I said that Da was the least of the problems, what I wanted to know was how he could leave me, his wife, his friend for years and years, for fourteen years married, and a year before that mad about each other. That’s when he explained all this In Love business.’

  ‘What did you do?’

  ‘What could I do? His mind was made up, he was leaving. He had a list of things he wanted me to do. There was a special sum of money left in one envelope that was for me to have driving lessons. I was to find out who taught Mrs Casey: whoever taught her could teach the divil himself. He was leaving the van. I was to ask Bart Kennedy to give me a hand and pay him a proper wage, I was to decide whether he should write to the children or not and what I should tell them, if anything. He thought I should say he had gone away for a bit and then they’d grow used to it.’

  Mary stood up to get another bottle of stout.

  ‘He had been packing his things too, it nearly broke my heart to see his good shirts stuffed in all creased, and he had forgotten all his shoes. I asked him to say goodbye to your father – he’s been very clear the past couple of days, knows all of us – but no, he wouldn’t. I said he might never see him again and he said that he’d never see any of us again. That’s when I got a bit frightened about it all. I knew there’s never any changing his mind. So I decided I’d let him go, without screaming and roaring and begging.’

  ‘You let him walk out . . .’

  ‘No, I said I’d go out and let him finish at his ease. I said he needn’t bother about the letter now, he’d said it all, that I’d go out and get more flowers and things and keep out of his way for an hour or two until he left. That he could leave all the insurance papers where they could be found, and the solicitor who would pass on the messages to him if there was anything we hadn’t thought of. He was SO relieved: you should have seen his face – you see he was afraid there’d be this big scene. He said that maybe I’d be glad of the change too, and I said, oh no, I wouldn’t, I would miss him every day of the year and so would his children, and on the days when his father was clear his father would miss him too. I wasn’t going to give him the nice comfortable feeling that he was doing us any favours. And out I went. I crept along the back way and he finished his packing and his leaving things out on the table, and your one came along in her car and he put the boxes and cases in and she kissed him just standing at our door and they drove off.

  ‘When I came in it was all in neat piles on the table and a piece of paper saying, “Thank you very much, Mary. All the best, Billy.” So now you know everything, everything that’s to be known.’

  ‘Isn’t he a callous bastard, isn’t he the biggest most selfish . . .’

  ‘That won’t bring him back.’

  ‘I’ll bring him back, I’ll get him back. He’s not going to desert you, there’s ways of bringing him back.’

  ‘Not if he doesn’t want to come back! Will you have your fish and chips now, they’ll go all hard otherwise?’

  He hardly slept all night; it was only when the dawn came that he fell off and it wasn’t long after that the twins were in the room followed by Gretta carrying a cup of tea. That was always their excuse to wake him: it was called bringing him his tea in bed. Most of it was in the saucer and some of it was on the stairs but it was still an excuse. They were full of plans for the day. They’d come down and wait while he was feeding Grandpa and changing him: they accepted that routine as part of life like sunsets or having to wash your hands before meals. They wanted to show him a new game that had arrived in Brophy’s shop. It was a huge thing like a Space Invaders but it cost twenty pence a time and they could only have three goes altogether unless of course Uncle Mikey wanted an extra game. And Mammy had said they could go on a picnic in the afternoon because since Daddy was gone to Dublin for a bit there’d be no work to be done around the house and no one coming in about insurance who had to have tea. And hadn’t he better get up now in case all the good went out of the day.

  Mikey felt the day was very heavy on his hands, that things kept happening as if he were outside looking in at all the things that were happening instead of being part of them. He saw himself feeding his father slowly with a spoon, he saw himself cutting crusts off the sandwiches for the picnic, and climbing for the blackberries. It was like playing a part in a play.

  He was glad when it was evening and the children went to bed; they went easily because he had promised them the most monstrous surprise of their lives tomorrow. Something that he absolutely guaranteed they would never expect. He assured Gretta that it was something she could share too and that there was a small non-birthday present for her as well.

  ‘I don’t know what I’d have done without you and that’s the truth,’ Mary said. ‘The day just flew by for me.’ He was glad it had. He had arranged for two girls to help Treasa in the chip shop.

  ‘Will Eileen not be in again?’ Treasa complained. Her tone was guileless, she didn’t know.

  ‘No she won’t, she’s gone off somewhere; we’ll get you these two young ones you’ve had in there before on bank holidays and high summer,’ he said firmly. ‘Mrs Billy and I are going to be down in Ryan’s for a bit, so you’ll know to send one of them down there if there’s any problem, but a big bright girl like you, Treasa, you’ll manage it. Don’t you know it all like the back of your hand?’

  Treasa was delighted with him.

  ‘Oh go on, Mr Mikey, you and your Dublin chat,’ she said.

  ‘Are we going off down to Ryan’s?’ he asked her.

  He was going to make a joke and say something about stepping out together or hitting the high spots but he felt it would have been the wrong thing to do. She looked up at him, pleased and surprised that he seemed so eager.

  ‘I’m not much company for you.’

  ‘I think we should go out though, don’t you? From the start like. No hiding away in corners, no crawling out when people think you’ve got two heads. Be out there from the word “go”. After all YOU haven’t done anything.’

  ‘I’ve failed to hold onto my husband, that’s a great crime around these parts.’

  ‘Oh I don’t think so; aren’t they all stuck into television every night here? I think you’d have to do far more than that to be a disgrace.’

  ‘I hate you to be involved in it, Mikey, you’ve been nothing but kindness itself, every weekend as nice as anything and look what happens to you: caught up in all the scandal, all the gossip.’

  ‘There won’t be scandal and gossip, and that’s up to you to make sure of!’ He heard his own voice in his ears. He thought it sounded very confident, very sure. Mary must have thought so too.

  ‘You’re a great help to me taking all these decisions, I’m like one of those things in films that just walk about not knowing what they’re at.’

  ‘Zombies,’ he said.

  ‘Imagine you knowing that,’ Mary said.

  ‘I see a lot of films,’ Mikey said. ‘What else have I to do?’

  Ryan’s was crowd
ed. He put Mary in a corner and went up to the counter. Celia was going full strength and Bart Kennedy was giving her a hand. Mikey remembered his brother’s instructions about paying Bart a proper wage and bile against Billy rose in his throat. To be able to calculate like that, to plan for her desertion, to deceive her so long.

  ‘It’s not like you to be short of a word, Mikey Burns.’ Celia was standing in front of him. She must have asked him his order and he hadn’t heard.

  ‘I’m sorry.’ He had to force his sense of outrage down before he could speak.

  ‘Are you all right?’ Celia’s voice was concerned.

  Mikey shook himself. He was full of brave words to his sister-in-law about how SHE was to behave, now he must do the same for himself. He could speak again, but he hadn’t the heart for jokes.

  He gave his order and carried the pint and the glass of Snowball across to Mary. As he was passing young Biddy Brady’s engagement party, Nancy Morris of all people put her hand out as if to stop him. Wanted him to come and tell them some funny stories. And he always thought she was such a superior acting kind of a one, always looking in on herself and never having time for other people. Well, well.

  ‘Not now, Nancy,’ he had said and he saw her face turning away embarrassed. He hadn’t meant to be so short with her, but honestly, now of all times.

  ‘Here we are,’ he said.

  She had her head down looking at the floor.

  ‘Look up Mary Burns, look up and smile.’

  She looked up and gave a watery smile.

  ‘That’s marvellous but it isn’t a patch on your daughter’s.’ She gave one of Gretta’s sudden grins, the kind of grin that split a face in half; they both laughed.

  ‘That’s better,’ said Mikey, ‘now let’s see what we’ll do.’

  They got out a writing pad and made out a list of things she had to do this week. Ring suppliers – their names were all on some kinds of bits of paper on various spikes around the office. Billy Burns hadn’t kept any books that would gladden the heart of a taxman but at least there was some method in his ways. They wrote out a kind of notice which she could give to anyone who called about insurance: ‘Mr Burns’ policies are all being dealt with by the following office . . .’ followed by the name of the solicitor’s. She would give these to anyone with a laughing explanation that unfortunately as a mere woman she was never kept informed of the Master’s doings. It seemed fairly sure that he hadn’t absconded with other people’s money, so his book had been passed on or sold to some other agent by now. The solicitors would know. They listed the people they could call on to work in the take away, and how much they should be paid. He went for two further pints and two further Snowballs, and by that time they had covered every eventuality and worn themselves out.

  ‘I’ll sleep tonight, I’m that exhausted,’ Mary said, letting out that she hadn’t slept the previous night.

  ‘I’ll sleep too: I’m less frightened,’ Mikey said. She looked at him gratefully: ‘You’re very very good to me, but there’s one thing you haven’t mentioned at all.’

  ‘What’s that?’

  ‘What about you? Will you still be coming home on the bus at weekends?’

  ‘I’ll get off the Lilac Bus before ten every Friday with the help of God,’ he said.

  ‘You’re very different tonight, you’re not always cracking jokes and making games out of things people say. I find it much easier to talk to you, but hard to believe it IS you, do you know what I mean?’

  ‘I think so,’ he said.

  ‘Like I want to ask you do you want to come home to Rathdoon even more than at weekends, but I don’t know how to put it. If I say, will you come back altogether, it looks as if I want you to come back and look after us all and take it all on, and that’s NOT it. And then, if I don’t ask you, you might get the notion you’re not welcome.’

  ‘I’ve thought all that out too,’ Mikey Burns said.

  ‘And what did you arrive at?’ She leaned over the glass with its rim of froth. She couldn’t wait to hear.

  ‘You’re still hoping in your heart he’ll come back. That it’s only a bit of summer madness. That it’ll be all forgotten by the end of the month.’

  ‘I’d like it, but I don’t think it’s going to happen,’ she said simply.

  ‘So, suppose I came home and settled myself in and Billy Boy came over the hill one fine day, where would that leave us all?’

  ‘As we were, wouldn’t it?’ She looked at him enquiringly.

  ‘No. I’d have to run away again, there wouldn’t be room for us all in the one nest.’

  ‘So are you not coming back to us. I always thought you had a great soft spot for us altogether.’ She sounded sad.

  ‘I’ll come back for good if he isn’t back for Christmas. That’s the best way. That’s the way to do it.’ He looked proud of his deductions.

  ‘It’s your home,’ she said gently. ‘You were always as welcome in it as the sun coming in the windows.’

  ‘You say that because you’re like that. My brother Billy didn’t say it, did he, when he was leaving. He told you to get Bart Kennedy and pay him a proper wage.’

  ‘He did say it but I didn’t repeat it. I didn’t want to be making you think you had to do anything.’ She looked troubled now.

  ‘What did he say?’

  ‘He said . . . ah it doesn’t matter what he said. He made it clear he thought of the place as your house too.’

  ‘I want to hear it.’

  ‘Why? What does it matter? We know he hardly knows what he’s doing: he’s half mad these days, he couldn’t string words together.’

  ‘Well I’d like to know anyway, please,’ he said simply but firmly. This wasn’t the giggling, jokey man of last weekend.

  ‘He said something like: “Mikey’s not likely to settle down anywhere with anyone at his age, and he’s very good to the old man, and the children love him. Maybe if he could find something for himself round here, he’d be in the place. Sure the house is half his anyway, he has a right to it.” It was something along those lines.’

  She didn’t look at him, and he looked hard at the beermat which had a puzzle on it.

  ‘Full of charm, my little brother, isn’t he?’

  ‘That’s what he is: your little brother, don’t ever forget that.’

  ‘And would it suit you, Mary, if I were to be about the place?’

  ‘Would it suit me? Wouldn’t I love it, isn’t it what I always wanted? There’s always been a living for us all in that take away alone, you’ve seen the takings, and if we were working in it together . . .’

  ‘Well then, I’ll come back at Christmas, that’s the best. I might even get myself made redundant up at the bank, and have a lump sum. Those fellows up in the bank, the porters, are fierce organised, you’d never know what kind of a deal they’d get for me.’

  ‘And wouldn’t it be dull for you, after Dublin?’

  ‘No, don’t I come home for nearly half the week as it is?’

  ‘And maybe finding yourself a girl?’ She was hesitant.

  ‘I think brother Billy was right on that one, the time is past.’ He smiled an ordinary smile, not a screwed up one.

  Rupert Green passed the table. ‘Did you see Judy Hickey at all?’ he asked.

  ‘No, I’m afraid we were talking, I didn’t notice,’ Mary said.

  ‘She could be round the corner behind the pillar there,’ Mikey pointed. Biddy Brady’s party had linked arms and were singing ‘Sailing’ and Celia’s mother was arriving with a golf club as if she were about to brain them but as they all watched horrified it turned out that she had no such intention: she was about to join in the singing, and was in fact calling for one voice only, her own.

  ‘I’ve met everyone from the Lilac Bus except the one I set out to meet,’ grumbled Rupert. ‘Dee Burke was just flying out the door, Miss Morris looks as if she’s had a skinful, Kev is cowering in a corner, and the rest of the cast is at the counter canoodling.’


  ‘If she comes in what I’ll tell her?’

  ‘Oh I’ll find her, I have to tell her something extraordinary.’

  Mary and Mikey looked politely interested.

  He was gone.

  ‘It’s probably about some toadstool or mushroom; they’re always talking about herbs and elderflowers and things,’ Mikey said. Mary laughed and tucked her bag under her arm.

  ‘Won’t you want another man?’ he said suddenly. ‘I mean you’re still young. Won’t living with a brother-in-law cramp your style?’

  ‘No,’ she said. ‘No, I won’t. I mean, even if I could have one and I can’t. But I think I’m through with all that sort of thing. I think I just want a bit of peace and for the children to be able to grow up happily enough and for me to have a place here, you know, just like you said, not running away. That will do me.’

  He remembered the dream that he had on the bus: the dream where there had been no wife but he was in charge of the children sending them on little messages up and down the street. He realised now there had been no Billy in the dream either. Some of the details were different, of course, but the central part was the same. He would be safe at home with them all. And there would be no demands made on him as a man. He could be just himself, and he’d be as welcome as the sun that came in the windows.

  JUDY

  There had been four customers in the shop that afternoon, Judy had been taking note recently and writing it down in a little book. After lunch two students came in and spent almost half an hour reading books on herbalism and the art of home-made wines. An elderly man bought a copper bracelet for his arthritis and said that when the savages who came into his house and robbed him blind were leaving they pulled his copper arm band off in case it had been valuable. A woman with a tight hard face bought some Evening Primrose oil and asked could you dilute it with ordinary vegetable oil or baby lotion to make it go further.

  It was a matter of weeks now before they had to close. Judy’s heart was heavy as she walked toward the Lilac Bus. She was tired too, and not in form for a long drive to the West. She had been tempted to opt out. To go back to her little flat and have a long long bath listening to some nice music on the radio. Then to put on her caftan and her soft little slippers and lie there until the aches in her limbs and the build-up of a headache behind her eyes was gone. Fine advertisement I am for a health shop . . . she smiled to herself as she strode on towards the bus. Aching and creaking and bankrupt. No wonder people live such unhealthy lives if they see what good living leads to!