Evening Class

  She had said no, it seemed cheating to hold back sex as if it was a prize, and then deliver it in consideration of an engagement ring. He had respected her wish to be a virgin when she married. There had been times in the last few months when she had felt aroused by him. Why had she not gone ahead then instead of waiting for this? A disaster. A disappointment that was going to scar both of them for life.

  After eight days and nights of what should have been the best time for two young healthy people but which was actually becoming a nightmare of frustration and misunderstanding, Connie decided to become her old cool self, the woman who had attracted him so much. Wearing her best lemon and white dress, and sitting with the fruit basket and the china coffeepot on their balcony, she called to him: “Harry, get up and shower will you, you and I need to have a talk.”

  “That’s all you ever want to do,” he muttered into his pillow.

  “Soon, Harry, the coffee won’t stay hot forever.”

  To her surprise he obeyed her and came tousled and handsome in his white toweling robe to breakfast. It was a sin, she thought, that she could not please this man and make him please her. But more than that, it was something that had to be dealt with.

  After the second cup of coffee she said: “At home in your work and indeed in my work, if a problem arose we would have a meeting and a discussion, do you agree?”

  “What’s this?” He didn’t sound as if he was going to play along.

  “You told me about your partner’s wife who drank too much and would talk about your business. How you had to make sure she knew nothing important. It was a strategy…you all told her in deepest secrecy things that never mattered at all. And she was perfectly happy and is perfectly happy to this day. You worked that out by a strategy, all three of you. You sat down and said we don’t want to hurt her, we can’t talk to her, what do we do? And you solved it.”

  “Yes?” He didn’t know where this was leading.

  “And in my job, we had this problem with Mr. Hayes’ nephew. Thick as two short planks…he was there, being groomed for a position of power. A vet with a curry comb couldn’t groom him. How do we tell Mr. Hayes? We talked about it; three of us who cared sat down and had a meeting and said what do we do? We found out that the kid wanted to be a musician not a hotel manager. We employed him to play the piano in one of the lounges, he brought in all his rich friends, it worked like a dream.”

  “So what’s all this about, Connie?”

  “You and I have a problem. I can’t understand it. You’re gorgeous, you’re an experienced lover, I love you. It must be my fault, I may need to see a doctor or a shrink or something. But I want to sort it out. Can we talk about it without fighting or sulking or getting upset?” She looked so lovely there, so eager, explaining things that were hard and distasteful to articulate. He struggled to reply. “Say something, Harry, say that after eight days and eight nights we will not give up. It’s a happiness that’s there waiting to happen for me, tell me that you know it will be all right.” Still the silence. Not accusing, just bewildered. “Say anything,” she begged. “Just tell me what you want.”

  “I want a honeymoon baby, Connie. I am thirty years of age, I want a son who can take over my business by the time I’m fifty-five. I want a family there over the next years; when I need them I come home to them. But you know all this. You and I have talked of aims and dreams for so long, night after night before I knew…” He stopped.

  “No, go on,” she said, her voice quiet.

  “Well then, before I knew you were frigid,” he said. There was a silence. “Now, you made me say it. I don’t see the point of talking about these things.” He looked upset.

  She was still calm. “You’re right, I did make you say it. And is that what I am, do you think?”

  “Well, you said yourself you might need a shrink, a doctor, something. Maybe it’s in your past. Jesus, I don’t know. And I’m as sorry as hell because you’re absolutely beautiful and I couldn’t be more upset that it’s no good for you.”

  She was determined not to cry, scream, run away, all the things she wanted to do. She had got on by being calm, she must continue like this.

  “So in many ways we want the same thing, I too want a honeymoon baby,” she said. “Come on, it’s not that difficult. Lots of people do it, let’s keep trying.” And she gave him the most insincere smile she had ever given anyone and led him back to the bedroom.

  WHEN THEY GOT back to Dublin, she assured him she would get it sorted out. Still smiling bravely, she said it made sense, she would consult the experts. First she made an appointment with a leading gynecologist. He was a very courteous and charming man, he showed her a diagram of the female reproductive area, pointing out where there might be blockages or obstructions. Connie studied the drawings with interest. They might have been plans for a new air-conditioning system in the hotel for all the relevance they had to what she felt in her own body. She nodded at his explanations, reassured by his easy manner and discreet way of implying that almost everyone in the world had similar problems.

  But at the physical examination the problems began. She tensed so much that he could not examine her at all. He stood there despairing, his hand in its plastic glove, his face kind and impersonal at the same time. She did not feel that he was a threat to her, it would be such a relief to discover some membrane that could be easily removed, but every muscle in her body had seized up.

  “I think we should do an examination under anesthetic,” he said. “Much easier for everyone, and very probably a D and C, then you’ll be as right as rain.”

  She made the appointment for the next week. Harry was loving and supportive. He came to the nursing home to settle her in. “You’re all that matters to me, I never met anyone like you.”

  “I bet you didn’t.” She tried to joke about it. “Beating them off was your trouble, not like you have with me.”

  “Connie, it will be fine.” He was so gentle and handsome and concerned. If she couldn’t be loving to a man like this, there was no hope for her. Suppose she had given in to the persuasion of people like Jacko in the past, would it have been better or worse? She would never know now.

  The examination showed that there was nothing physically wrong with Mrs. Constance Kane. At work Connie knew if you went down one avenue and came to a dead end, you had to go back to where you started from and go down another. She made an appointment with a psychiatrist. A very pleasant woman with a genuine smile and a matter-of-fact approach. She was easy to talk to, she seemed to ask shortish questions and expected longer answers. At work Connie was more accustomed to be in a listening mood, but gradually she responded to the interested questions of the psychiatrist, which never seemed intrusive.

  She assured the older woman that there had not been any unpleasant sexual experiences in her past because there hadn’t been any. No, she hadn’t felt deprived, or curious or frustrated by not having had sex. No, she had never felt drawn to anyone of her own sex, nor had an emotional relationship that was so strong, it overshadowed anything heterosexual. She told the woman about her great friendship with Vera, but said that in all honesty there wasn’t a hint of sexuality or emotional dependency in it, it was all laughter and confiding. And how it began because Vera was the only person to treat the whole business of her father as if it were a normal kind of thing that could happen to anyone.

  The psychiatrist was very understanding and sympathetic and asked more and more about Connie’s father, and her sense of disappointment after his death. “I think you’re making too much of this whole business about my dad,” Connie said at one point.

  “It’s quite possible. Tell me about when you came home from school each day. Did he get involved in your homework, for example?”

  “I know what you’re trying to say, that maybe he interfered with me or something, but it was not remotely like that.”

  “No, I’m not saying that at all. Why do you think I’m saying that?”

  They went around in
circles. At times Connie cried. “I feel so disloyal talking about my father like this.”

  “But you haven’t said anything against him, just how kind and good and loving he was, and how he showed your picture to people at the golf course.”

  “But I feel he’s accused of something else, like my not being able to be good in bed.”

  “You haven’t accused him of that.”

  “I know, but I feel it’s hanging there over me.”

  “And why is that do you think?”

  “I don’t know. I suppose it’s because I felt so let down, I had to write my whole life story all over again. He didn’t love us at all. How could he have if he was more interested in some horse or dog?”

  “Is that the way it looks now?”

  “He never laid a hand on me, I can’t tell you that enough. It’s not that I’ve suppressed it or anything.”

  “But he let you down, disappointed you.”

  “It couldn’t be just that, could it? Because one man let us down as a family I’m afraid of all men?” Connie laughed at the notion.

  “Is that so unlikely?”

  “I deal with men all day, I work with men. I’ve never been afraid of them.”

  “But then you’ve never let any of them come close to you.”

  “I’ll think about what you say,” Connie said.

  “Think about what you say,” said the psychiatrist.

  “DID SHE FIND anything?” His face was hopeful.

  “A load of nonsense. Because my father was unreliable I think all men are unreliable.” Connie laughed in scorn.

  “It might be true,” he said, to her surprise.

  “But Harry, how could it be? We are so open with each other, you would never let me down.”

  “I hope I wouldn’t,” he said, so seriously that she felt a shiver go the whole way up and down her spine.

  And the week went on. Nothing got any better, but Connie clung to him and begged. “Please don’t give up on me, please, Harry. I love you, I want our child so much. Maybe when we have our child I’ll relax and love it all like I should.”

  “Shush, shush,” he would say, stroking the anxious lines away from her face, and it wasn’t all repulsive or painful, it was just so very difficult. And they had surely had sex often enough now for her to have become pregnant. Look at all the people who got pregnant who were doing everything on earth to avoid it. In the wakeful night Connie wondered could fate have also decided that she be infertile on top of everything else. But no. She missed her period, and hardly daring to hope, she waited until she was sure. Then she told him the news.

  His face lit up. “You couldn’t have made me a happier man,” he said. “I’ll never let you down.”

  “I know,” she said. But she didn’t know, because she felt sure that there was a whole part of his life that she could never share and that sooner or later he would share that side at least with someone else. But in the meantime she must do all she could to shore up the parts of his life she could share.

  Together they attended many public functions, and Connie insisted she be described as Mrs. Constance Kane of Hayes Hotel as well as just Harry’s wife. She raised money for two charities with the wives of other successful men. She entertained in her own new and splendid home, where all the decorating had been done by Kevin’s family.

  She told her mother nothing about the situation between them. She told Vera everything. “When the baby’s born,” Vera advised, “go off and have a fling with someone else. You might get to like it and then come back and do it properly with Harry.”

  “I’ll think about it,” said Connie.

  THE BABY’S NURSERY was ready. Connie had given up her job. “No hope we could tempt you back, even part time, when the baby is old enough to leave with a nurse?” Mr. Hayes pleaded.

  “We’ll see.” She was more calm and controlled than ever, Mr. Hayes thought. Marriage to a tough man like Harry Kane hadn’t taken away any of her spirit.

  Connie had made a point of keeping well in touch with Harry’s family. She had driven to see them more often in one year than they had been visited by their son in the previous ten. She kept them informed about all the details of her pregnancy, their first grandchild, a very important milestone, she told them. They were quiet people, in awe of the hugely successful Harry. They were delighted and almost embarrassed to be so well included and to have their opinions sought about names.

  Connie also made sure that she had the partners and their wives well within her own area. She took to giving light suppers in their house on a Wednesday night. The partners would all have wined and dined well at lunchtime after their weekly meeting, they would not want a huge meal. But each week there was something delicious for them to eat. Not too fattening, because one of them was always on a diet, and not too much alcohol served, since the other was inclined to hit the bottle.

  Connie asked questions and listened to the answers. She assured the women that Harry thought so highly of their husbands that she was almost jealous of all his praise. She remembered every tiresome detail of their children’s examinations and their home improvements and their holidays, the clothes they had bought. They were almost twenty years older than her. They had been resentful and suspicious at the outset. Six months after her marriage, they were her devoted slaves. They told their husbands that Harry Kane could not have found a more suitable wife, and wasn’t it great that he hadn’t married that hard-faced Siobhan Casey who had such high hopes of him.

  The partners were unwilling to have a word said against the entirely admirable Siobhan. Because of discretion and male bonding they didn’t see any need to explain that Miss Casey’s high hopes might not have resulted in marriage, but there was distinct evidence that a romantic dalliance that had once existed between them had begun again. Neither of the partners could understand it. If you had a beautiful wife like Connie at home, why go out for it?

  When Connie realized that her husband was sleeping with Siobhan Casey, she got a great shock. She hadn’t expected anything like this so soon. It hadn’t taken long before he let her down. He hadn’t given the life they had together much of a chance. She was seven months married, three months pregnant, and she had kept her part of the bargain perfectly. No man ever had a better companion and a more comfortable lifestyle. Connie had brought all her considerable knowledge of the hotel industry to bear on their house. It was elegant and comfortable. It was filled with people and flowers and festivity when he wanted. It was quiet and restful when he wanted that. But he wanted more.

  She could possibly have put up with it if it had been a one-night stand, at a conference or a visit abroad. But this woman who had obviously always wanted him! How humiliating that she should get him back. And so quickly.

  His excuses were not even devious. “I’ll be in Cork on Monday, think I’ll stay,” he had said, only the Cork partner had rung looking for him. So he wasn’t in Cork after all.

  Connie had played it down, and appeared to accept Harry’s casual explanation. “That fellow couldn’t remember his own name if it wasn’t written on his briefcase. I must have told him three times I was overnighting in the hotel. That’s age for you.”

  And then shortly afterward when he was going to Cheltenham, the travel agency sent the ticket around to the house and she saw there was a ticket for Siobhan Casey as well.

  “I didn’t realize she was going.” Her voice was light.

  Harry shrugged. “We go to make contacts, to see the races, to meet people. Someone has to stay sober and write it all down.”

  And after that he was away from home at least one night a week. And perhaps two nights a week so late that it was obvious he had been with somebody else. He suggested separate bedrooms so as not to disturb her, let her have all the sleep she needed in her condition. It was, Connie realized, as lonely as hell.

  The weeks went on and their communication grew less. He was always courteous and praising. Particularly of her Wednesday suppers. That had really hel
ped to cement the partnership, he told her. It also meant that he spent Wednesday night at home, but she didn’t tell him that was her aim. She arranged taxis to take the partners and their wives to Hayes Hotel, where they had suites at a special discount.

  She would sit with Harry when they left and talk about his business, but often with only part of her mind. She wondered, did he sit in Siobhan Casey’s flat and talk about his successes and failures like this? Or did he and Siobhan feel such a swelling of lust that they took the clothes off each other as soon as they got in the door and were at it on the hearth rug because they couldn’t wait until they got to the bedroom?

  One Wednesday evening he stroked the large bump of her stomach and there were tears in his eyes. “I’m so sorry,” he said.

  “What for?” Her face was blank. He paused as if considering whether to tell her something or not, so she spoke quickly. She wanted nothing admitted, acknowledged, or accepted. “What are you sorry about? We have everything, almost everything, and what we don’t have, we may have in time.”

  “Yes, yes of course,” he said, pulling himself together.

  “And soon our baby will be born,” she said soothingly.

  “And we’ll be fine,” he said, unconvinced.

  Their son was born after eighteen hours of labor. A perfect healthy child. He was baptized Richard. Connie explained that by chance this was Harry’s father’s name and her father’s name, too, so it was the obvious choice. The fact that Mr. Kane senior had been called Sonny Kane all his life was never mentioned.

  The christening party in their home was elegant and simple at the same time. Connie stood welcoming people, her figure apparently slim again a week after the birth, her mother overdressed and happy, her friend Vera’s children, Deirdre and Charlie, honored guests.