I'm still down here, they sort of thought I should wait until Maud and Simon were collected.'
'Good.' She was crisp.
'It's just, I was wondering, who is collecting them you know…'
'My mother, father and their social worker.'
'And will there also be… do you think?'
'Yes, I think there will
'I see,' he said. There was a silence between them. Then he spoke again. 'It's too late, I suppose, to ask you to—'
'Much too late, Walter, it's all in hand, your parents have been informed.'
'I see,' he said again.
'Would you like to talk to Neil, or will I just say goodbye, then?' she asked.
There was a pause. 'Goodbye then, Cathy,' Walter Mitchell said.
Tom Feather had been so pleased to hear the good news that he made a cake and delivered it round to St Jarlath's Crescent. He had attached a card with the words 'Happy Birthday and Welcome Home to Maud and Simon and Hooves' on it, and left it with Muttie and Lizzie's neighbours. He was delighted they had been found safe. Such funny little things. He had once said to Marcella that he hoped they'd have children like that one day, real individuals with their own personality through and through. He remembered she had smiled indulgently, as if he was saying that one day he'd fly his own spaceship to Mars. Perhaps Marcella had never intended to have children. He had been sorry to hear Joe's cryptic remark that things were not going well in London for her. He guessed that this must be so after her phone call to Cathy. It was not what he wanted to hear. The only thing that made sense out of all this hurtful, tragic business was if she got what she wanted by doing what she had done. If she hadn't got a modelling career, then what on earth was the point of the whole thing?
Neil had wanted to make love that night, but Cathy said she was too tired.
'Well, now. Tired, is it?' he repeated.
'I am too tired actually, I have to get up very early, I'm going to pick up the kids from Mam and Dad's and take them to school, everyone thinks they should go straight back, it would cause the least disruption.'
'Certainly, whatever madam the educationalist thinks,' he said, hurt and annoyed at her rejection.
'Don't be so sneering and bitter,' she said.
'I'm not.'
'You're making fun of me,' she said, 'mocking me.'
'And you're keeping me at arm's length.'
'Goodnight, Neil,' she said.
And it was one of those increasingly frequent nights where they slept as far from each other as possible.
Nick Ryan left Glenstar discreetly half an hour before Geraldine did the next morning. It had been a memorable evening, 'a delightful and important evening,' he said. Geraldine murmured her agreement. Nick Ryan obviously felt slightly uneasy about the situation, and the fact that he would not be free to come back to this welcoming flat that evening.
'I really wish…' he began.
Geraldine stopped him. 'Let's not waste any time wishing,' she said as she poured the excellent coffee into beautiful china cups. 'Let's just look forward to another lovely evening, whenever it turns up.'
She knew when he left that he was already besotted with her. For all the good that that would do in the long run. She sighed and went to phone Lizzie. Everything was wonderful in St Jarlath's Crescent. The twins were going to stay there for the time being, Cathy was coming round to drive them to school, the dog's paw didn't need to be amputated, only a splint. And Sara, the nice social worker, who had been kindness itself, said that Muttie and Lizzie should apply to foster the children. She thought that they might have a very good chance ofgetting them.
Shona Burke rang James. 'Great news, those children have turned up.'
'I am pleased to hear that,' he said. 'Where are they now?'
'With Muttie and Lizzie Scarlet.'
'Well, please God that's where they'll stay,' James said, very aware of the issue that hung between them.
Simon and Maud were just ten. They were nearly five years younger than Shona was when the law said she must leave the place where she was happy.
'Please God indeed,' Shona said.
'The world is a saner place nowadays, Shona,' he said. There was a silence. 'Let's hope Muttie Scarlet has a lot more courage than I did,' James said.
'Let's hope he has just as much love as you did,' Shona said gently.
James Byrne felt better than he had done for a long time. A few minutes later, he got a call from Cathy.
'Good news for once.'
'I've just heard about the twins, isn't it wonderful?' he said.
'No, this good news is actually about their brother. The guards are looking for Walter Mitchell, they've retrieved enough items from The Beeches and they know now that he did the break-in.'
'I don't want to add a sour note…'
'But?' Cathy said.
'It wasn't technically a break-in, that has been the whole problem with the insurance company.'
'Well, that's what he did,' Cathy said impatiently.
'No, Cathy, look at it from their point of view… Your husband's cousin let himself in to your premises with a key. It won't make them think any less that the whole thing was an inside job.'
She thanked him politely and said goodbye. Then she crashed the receiver back and shouted at the phone. 'Thanks for ruining our day,' she yelled in a rage.
'Who did you just slam the phone down on now?' Tom asked mildly.
She told him.
'Walter's so slippery, he might even say that we were in on it all for the insurance money.' She sounded very upset.
'No, he's too stupid, he'd never think that one out for himself,' Tom soothed her.
'But much, much more serious is how did he get the keys?'
'He might have seen us doing the ceremony of the keys in the van and crept along to pick them up,' Cathy said.
'I've been over that, we didn't start doing it until Walter was sacked,' Tom said.
'You mean you thought they'd still think it an inside job even though we'd found the thief?'
'It's just bad luck his being a cousin,' Tom said.
'I know,' Cathy sighed. 'Oh, I really wonder where cousin Walter is, now this minute?'
Cousin Walter had made three phone calls since all the confusion at the races. There was the one to Cathy; then he phoned his father to say that he was sorry but the heat was on and he might not be home for a while.
'I know, I heard,' his father said gloomily.
'Still, it's good no harm came to the children,' Walter said.
His father was strangely distanced from this. 'They've brought all hell down around our ears over it all, social police, real police walking in and out of The Beeches as if it was their office, and that dreadful girl your cousin married, claiming you robbed her premises and getting people to search your room. And other people asking your mother how much she drinks really and truly.'
'I know, Father.'
'No, don't tell me about innocent, blameless children, they went to a licensed bookmaker and put on a bet at their age, they brought that Muttie's dog to a racecourse, the last place you should bring a dog, they all nearly got killed and somehow it's turned out to be our fault. Why they couldn't have stayed here like normal children is beyond me.'
Walter's third call was to Derek, to say that the guards would probably land there anyway, so to make sure there was no substance in the house that shouldn't be.
'Don't mind about that,' Derek said, 'I'm not going to be done for your stolen goods, am I?'
'No, it's all out of there.'
'And what are you doing?'
'I'll stay away for a few weeks until it all dies down. See you then, back in Dublin.'
'Take care of yourself, Walter, you're not the worst,' Derek said a trifle guiltily.
Walter caught the tone and went for a last throw. 'Oh, Derek, in about five hours' time you could report your credit card missing,' he said.
'You never took my credit card?' Derek roared down the
phone.
'No, but I know its number and I'm going to book myself a oneway ticket.'
'To where?' Derek asked in a panic.
'Relax, just to London, I'll be out the other side of Heathrow airport in five hours, so that's when you call them and notice it's missing.'
'Walter, that's not fair.'
'Not fair, not fair? Just one measly air ticket? When I'm facing jail? Get real, Derek!'
'Okay, five hours from now I get a new credit card number, and it had better only be the air ticket,' said Derek.
Sara seemed very ill at ease when Cathy went to see her.
'You know your parents want to foster the twins?'
'Yes, and I want to know what are the chances of Muttie and Lizzie getting them. Realistically. They just adore them, I don't want them to have to go through all this again.'
'You know we're talking about fostering, not adopting.'
'I know that. Poor people foster, rich people adopt,' Cathy said cynically.
'That's actually not true, and you know it's not, it's because Maud and Simon's parents are alive and could easily put up a case to have them back, and the law says…'
'The law doesn't know its arse from its elbow about things like this,' Cathy said.
'Believe me, I'm with you on this, my work every day is saying what you just said, but not as succinctly.'
'I know you are. You are tireless about things, just like Neil. Did he tell you, by the way, that he will be free after all to go with you to that conference next February? Remember when I was pregnant, he told you that he couldn't?'
'But won't you be gone by then?' Sara asked.
'Gone?'
'By February?' Sara was surprised.
'Gone where?' Cathy asked. Sara made a big production out of looking for her mobile phone. 'Gone where?' Cathy repeated.
'No, I'm mixing it up with someone else who was going away to… um… to England around then. Take no notice of me, I'm in pieces these days.'
Cathy looked at her thoughtfully. Sara had gone quite pale.
She was very tired from the finicky work they had to do for Peter Murphy, a cocktail reception at his home with top-drawer finger food. The creme de la creme was there, he assured Cathy several times, and that she must tell her aunt. Cathy didn't believe people ever used phrases like that any more.
'He still fancies your aunt, you know!' June said, 'I hope we'll have as many people lusting after us when we turn forty.'
'I know it's not what you want to hear, but your husband is pretty anxious to put a stop to your gallop in the lusting department… He was onto Tom this morning to know what kind of a do this was.'
'Don't mind him, he's mad.' „
'He loves you,' Cathy said.
June laughed. 'God, he may have once for about twenty minutes when I was sixteen.'
'Don't put yourself down June, he must love you. Why else would he care and ring up about you?'
'I don't know, but I wouldn't put any money on it,' said June. 'Are you going straight home yourself when we're through?'
'Yes, tonight it's Tom and Con's turn to unload the van; you and I get home to our fellows.'
'Well you'll be delighted to see your fellow, and he'll be delighted to see you, there's the difference for a start,' June said. 'Be sure and keep a few of these prawn in filo pastry things for him, those will soften his cough.'
'I couldn't bear to look at any more of them, June.'
'But he hasn't been looking at them all day like we have,' June said with remorseless logic.
'Was it tiring tonight?' Neil asked.
'No, fine, sorry for grizzling about being tired last night.' Cathy was bright and cheerful.
'What are these?'
'I thought you'd like a few special prawns.'
He seemed pleased with them on their little plate. 'They're great, so light… Did you make them?'
She felt a great urge to say no, they had picked them up in a takeaway, what did he think she did for a living? But she smiled and said that she had.
'They're really great.' He didn't ask about the do tonight, he never asked about any do, whether it was Peter Murphy's cocktails, a fashion show, a wedding or a funeral. It was always still Cathy's funny job.
'You met Sara today,' he began. He seemed uneasy.
'I wanted to ask about the twins. Like whether there was a real chance of Dad and Mam fostering them full-time.'
'And what did she say… ?'
'Well, she told me that the law might come down heavy because of them being old and working-class, but I told her that was balls and she more or less agreed.'
'But did you talk about anything else?'
'Is this a guessing game, or what?' Cathy asked.
'Okay, straight out, she rang me and said she had put her foot in it.'
'About what?'
'You know, now it's you who's playing guessing games.'
'I don't know, tell me.'
'She said that she had let it slip to you that I was still interested in the refugee job.'
'Well of course you are,' she was perplexed. 'I assumed you wouldn't have thought of it so seriously and then suddenly just let it slip out of your mind, I supposed you'd be thinking about it, yes.'
'The thing is, they've put the offer to me again, with different terms.'
'And you're going to take it.'
'Of course I'm not going to take it just like that, but we need to talk about it seriously.'
'Meanwhile you talk to Sara about it seriously.'
'Cathy!'
'I'd love a nice long bath,' she said.
'Please don't be like that.'
'Look, Neil, of course we'll talk about it seriously, but not at this time of night. Now I'm going off to lie there and think about the world, and I'd prefer to do so as your friend than somebody having a silly pointless argument with you.'
'Enjoy your bath, friend,' he surrendered.
Tom Feather invited Shona Burke out to dinner. He meant it as a combination of a work dinner and a thank-you gesture. He took her to a small French place.
'I promise I won't spend the time examining and criticising the food,' he said with an apologetic smile. 'People tell me they see me cutting up things, analysing them and they spot me as a rival from a mile away.'
Shona said that she was exactly the same, she kept looking out for something that would be useful to her at work. And took notes. One man thought she was writing down what he was saying.
'And was he saying anything he didn't want written down?' Tom asked. He had been talking about motorcycles, apparently, and Shona had been writing down the name and address of an efficient air-conditioning system. 'And did you see him again?' Tom wondered.
'No, but I did learn something from the experience—I don't take my notebook on dates any more.'
'Very wise, I'd say. But then, what would I know. I haven't been out on a date myself for so long.'
'Do you miss her a lot?'
'Marcella?' he said, surprised.
'Sorry Tom, it's your business. I don't usually pry into other people's lives.'
He didn't seem offended. 'Well, the answer is yes and no. I miss what I thought we had rather than what we really had. Maybe that's the way it always is when something's over.'
After dinner, Tom took Shona back to Glenstar and refused coffee on the grounds that he had early-morning bread to make and needed his sleep. He drove home to Stoneyfield. As he parked he could see someone sitting on the steps outside in the cold night air. It was Marcella.
Chapter Eleven
NOVEMBER
'Come in, Marcella,' he said wearily.
They walked in silence up the stairs to the flat where they had lived together so happily once. She looked around her as if seeing it for the first time. Neither of them had spoken yet. Tom sat down at one side of the table, which still had the pink velvet cloth on it. And with his hand, made a gesture for her to sit at the other. There had never been any point in offering Marcel
la food or drink, she had taken none of it, so he didn't start now. He looked at her as he waited for her to speak. She looked very tired, beautiful, of course, with the tiny face and all that dark hair. She wore a black leather jacket and a white sweater, a red scarf tied around her long, graceful neck. She carried only a small leather handbag on a chain; she hadn't brought any luggage with her.
'Thank you for letting me in,' she said.
'Naturally I'd ask you in,' he said.
'But you don't talk to me on the phone?'
'It's late, I'm tired, I have to get up very early to bake bread, you and I don't want to go through it all again, now do we?' He spoke gently, trying to be reasonable rather than showing the hard, hurt side of himself as he must have done before.
'I just want to tell you something and then I'll go,' She sounded very beaten and down. Not pleading or sobbing, but just as if all the life had gone out of her.
'Then tell me,' he said.
There was a silence. 'It's quite hard. Do you think I could have a drink?'
He went to the kitchen and looked around him, confused about what to offer her. 'Anything at all,' she said. He took a can of lager from the fridge, picked up two tumblers and brought her an ashtray as well. She seemed to take ages lighting her cigarette. Eventually she began to speak.
'Paul Newton does have a model agency, and I know he does have quite well-known models that go through it. It's well established over there. But it wasn't what was going to work for me. It didn't work at all, not at all, not even from the start.'
She looked so bleak and sad that Tom felt he had to say something. 'Well you tried it, that's what you wanted to do.'
'No, I never got a chance to try. He didn't want me for that kind of modelling, not for shows and what I thought… Only glamour modelling. First he sent me to people who did lingerie pictures for catalogues… and they wanted what they called glamour shots, which is topless.' There was such shame and sadness in the story, Tom closed his eyes rather than see her face. It was terrible, so I said to them there had been a mistake, that I was a real model on Mr Newton's books and they only laughed, saying I could take it or leave it.' There was a silence. 'I left it, of course, and went back to Paul Newton to tell him. I thought that he'd be furious with these people.' She paused to sip the lager that he had never seen her touch before. 'He was very busy that day. I waited ages to see him. I remember all the people coming in and out, all the kind of people I had wanted to meet all my life, stylists and designers and other models. And then after a long time I got in to see him, and I told him and he said… he said…' She stopped, hardly able to repeat the words. 'He said what else did I expect at my age… and I said that he had promised to have me on his books as a model, and he got really impatient and said he had done that for God's sake, so what was I complaining about? And do you know what happened then? Joe called him about something and obviously asked after me, and Paul Newton said that not only was I fine but I was right here in the office, finding it all a bit strange in the beginning but getting to know the ropes.' Tom drank his beer in silence; he could sense how hurtful it must have been. 'Anyway, he finished with Joe and he said to me that now I must be a big grown-up girl, act my age and get on with it… But I said, "You promised," and then he got really annoyed. "I told you the truth," he said, over and over…'