I understand, Kit wrote. But I don’t know why you said you read in a paper that Mother died. You must have known at once when she stopped writing to you.
I only said that in the first letter, Lena explained, so that I could get on to introduce myself to you. Perhaps you might not have wanted to write, to stay in touch, out of loyalty to your mother. I didn’t want to tell about our letter writing.
It’s all so confusing, Kit wrote. You’re such a mystery woman, I know nothing about you, nothing at all. And yet you know everything about me. Did you tell my mother about yourself? Did she destroy your letters? There was nothing found when she left. Nothing at all that would make us know of you.
I’ll tell you anything you like, Lena wrote. Just make a list of questions and I’ll try to answer them.
She knew it was risky, she was getting in too deep. She would have to invent a persona for Lena, a past that had never existed. She feared what questions would be asked.
But in fact there were no searching questions. It was as if Kit had decided it would be impolite. Instead there was something much more heartbreaking…something Lena could never have foreseen. And yet, of course, it was the normal response of a friend. Kit wanted her to come to Ireland.
Can you come and see us? You have plenty of money. And if you want it all to be a secret still you could just stay in O’Brien’s Hotel.
There were ways in which Kit hoped she wouldn’t come. Maybe she would be a disappointment to meet. Perhaps she would have a funny Cockney accent from living in England. Perhaps she wouldn’t be nearly as nice to talk to as to write to.
But it was getting to be silly now…and if Lena was mother’s age she must be in her middle forties, too old really for having a life writing to a teenage girl in Ireland about events long ago. Lena sounded very normal, and she had a husband who was a hotelier. And she worked in a big employment agency somewhere. And she lived in the house of some woman called Mrs. Brown.
And maybe she was mad like Miss Havisham. Anyway, if she came Kit would know.
Dear Sister Madeleine,
You have been acting as a postbox for me for nearly five years. I want to thank you for your discretion and lack of curiosity. Kit McMahon speaks of you with such admiration and devotion I wonder if I could ask you a great favor. Kit has suggested that I come to Lough Glass. For a great variety of reasons I do not want to do so. It would not be good for her or for anyone. But I am not thinking about myself first in this instance, I am really thinking of others. From what Kit tells me you can always come up with some solution to a seemingly impossible situation. If there was any way you could help Kit to see that it would be a good thing for us not to meet in Lough Glass or at all, I would be forever in your debt.
I don’t want to invent a string of lies, I just know you will believe me when I say it would not be for the best.
Yours in despair, dear Sister Madeleine,
Lena Gray.
My dear child,
I have always believed that there is a life of the imagination which suffers when it is mixed with reality. Two worlds can be kept separate. Lives can live in parallels and never meet. I wish you peace and happiness and the knowledge that you have friends, and have always had them, here.
Sister Madeleine,
Lough Glass.
“She knows, doesn’t she?” Lena handed the letter to Ivy.
“I expect so,” Ivy said. “What now?”
“She won’t tell,” Lena said. “That much I know for certain.”
“ARE you doing a line with Philip O’Brien?” Clio demanded to know.
“God, Clio. I wish I had a different friend. I’ve been saying it forever, of course I’m not doing a line with Philip. Whatever that means.”
“He’s always here. Hanging around. Or else you’re in there,” Clio grumbled.
“Well, we do live beside each other.”
“Has he kissed you?”
“Shut up.”
“So he did kiss you, but because you and he are in love you can’t tell me, is that it?”
Kit couldn’t stop giggling. “That’s not it, okay? He sort of kissed me, but he missed because I didn’t know it was happening, and I looked the other way and he got my chin. And he said sorry, and I said sorry and we tried again, and it seemed a bit awkward. So you know every single thing. Now, will you leave me alone.”
“You never told me.”
“I’ll tell you what I will tell you. Stevie Sullivan’s got a new girl.”
“No!” Now this did seem a matter of interest and some disappointment to Clio.
“Yes. An American girl staying at O’Brien’s Hotel. Her parents came here to look for their roots. They’re up in the graveyard most of the time, and she went across the road and got talking to Stevie.”
“I bet she did.”
“She’s gorgeous-looking according to Philip. And anyway, Stevie came over to the hotel and she said to her mom and pop that he was taking her to meet a gang of kids across the lake, and they said fine. And there was no gang of kids at all, of course. It was just Stevie putting on the act.”
“Well, she’ll be gone soon,” Clio said grimly. “Once the parents have found their roots they’ll be out of here like bats from hell. And it’ll be bye-bye from Mr. Stevie Sullivan’s little new pal.”
“It’s another careers talk this afternoon,” Kit groaned.
“Yeah, hopeless,” Clio said. “I suppose they have to tell us what’s available.”
“Nothing’s available except nursing and teaching, and that’s only if you get called.”
“And I’d hate both of those,” Clio said.
“Mother Bernard’s mad keen for you to be a doctor,” Kit said.
“That’s because she wants to say that a doctor came out of the convent here, and because she’d like me to have my head down studying for seven years.”
“So what are you going to do?”
“I’m going to do a B.A. Aunt Maura says it’s a great stepping-stone.”
“Where will it make you step?”
“Into the arms of a rich husband, I hope.”
“You don’t want that.”
“No, I want him sexy as well, and experienced. I don’t want him missing my mouth and hitting me on the chin with his nose.”
“Is it a wonder that nobody’d tell you anything, Clio?”
“But you’re getting very secretive altogether,” Clio said with narrowing eyes.
“What about now?”
“You go down to Sister Madeleine’s when I’m not with you, for one thing.”
“Yes.”
“And then there’s this face-bashing with Philip. And you’re going off mysteriously to study.”
“Well, I do study. We are doing our Leaving exams in three months time, if you haven’t forgotten.”
“And are you studying now?”
“Yes.”
“You haven’t any books, you only have paper…”
“I’m making notes.”
“Let’s see.” Clio snatched the writing case and unzipped it. Inside she saw a stamped envelope and a half-written letter. “No you’re not studying, you’re writing letters…love letters.”
“Give it to me.” Kit’s face was white with anger.
“Let me read…”
“Give it to me, Clio.”
Clio was reading “‘Dearest’…Dearest what? I can’t read his name.”
With a cry Kit lunged at her. “You are such a selfish, greedy person. You have no manners, you have no decency.”
“No manners, no decency,” Clio mocked, holding the letter high.
But Kit gave her a totally unexpected punch in the stomach that winded her, then Kit grabbed the letter and ran out of the classroom.
She met Mother Bernard in the corridor. “Ladies are rarely seen running, Katherine.”
“I know. Sorry, Mother. I was running to the library to do more revision.”
“Right. But just walk briskly. Do yo
u feel all right? You look flushed.”
“I’m fine, Mother.” Kit escaped before the groaning lie should be discovered and further explanations sought.
“Emmet, will you deliver a note up to Kellys’ for me.”
“No.”
“I’ll pay you.”
“How much, threepence?”
“I was going to say a penny.”
“I won’t do it for a penny.”
“You’re a horrible, horrible person.”
“Okay. I won’t do it at all.”
“When I think of all I do for you.” Kit was stung.
“What exactly do you do for me?”
“I protect you.”
“Who do you protect me from?”
“From people shouting at you.”
“Oh, don’t be silly, Kit. You don’t protect me. People shout at everyone.”
“I always speak nicely about you. I even think nicely about you.”
“Well, why shouldn’t you? I’m not that bad. Why should you be giving out about me?”
“Everyone else gives out about their sisters and brothers. I don’t.”
“Who gives out?”
“Clio does. Stevie does. Patsy Hanley gives out about Deirdre.”
“Well,” Emmet shrugged, as if these were people with crosses to bear.
“Oh all right. Be as rotten as everyone else. I used to think you were special.”
“What did you want delivered?”
“A note to Clio.”
“Why couldn’t you walk up with it yourself? You and Clio have a path worn to each other’s house…”
“I’m not talking to her.”
“So it’s a note making it all up?”
“No it’s not. It’s a note saying how bad she is, and how she pokes her horrible nose everywhere it isn’t wanted.”
“That’ll only make things worse.” Emmet was philosophical.
“Yes, but I don’t care. They couldn’t be bad enough between us as far as I’m concerned.”
“But then you’ll go and apologize or she will, and it will all be back where it was.” Emmet had seen these fights ebb and flow over the years.
“I don’t think so this time.”
“That’s what you always say,” Emmet said. “You’ll forgive her or she’ll forgive you, and things will be the same for a while.”
Kit thought about it. He was quite right, that was the way the pattern always had been. But not this time. No, Clio had almost snatched her secret from her.
Out of nothing but sheer pique she had nearly found out that Mother’s friend Lena was writing these letters. And if Clio discovered that, then it would all have been over. In some way Kit knew that it had to be secret to continue. She wished that Lena had been able to say something sensible about why she couldn’t come to Lough Glass. It sounded like a load of excuses.
“So what happens now?” Emmet asked. He was wondering whether to bring his price down.
But life was full of surprises. “I’ll tell you what happens next,” Kit said cheerfully, tucking her arm into his. “I am going to buy you an ice cream, how about that.”
“What do I have to do for it?” Emmet asked.
“Nothing, nothing at all. Just admit that you have the best sister in these parts for miles.”
“I suppose I do really,” Emmet said thoughtfully. And together they ran up toward the shop before Kit might change her mind.
“SWEETHEART?” Louis rang Lena at the agency.
“The very person,” she said, and the smile came into her voice.
“You know this conference?”
“Oh, yes.” Did it sound casual enough? she wondered. Did it give any telltale hint that she had been thinking about nothing else for weeks?
“The rules have changed.”
“In what way…?”
“We are allowed to take spouses, partners, whatevers.” A great silence. “So…”
“So, Louis?”
“So, isn’t that great? Pack your glad rags and we’ll have a ball.”
“I can’t.”
“You what?”
“I can’t, love. You know that. I’ve arranged to baby-sit Mrs. Park, and to keep the office open. No, there are too many people. I can’t back out.”
“We’ll never have anything like this again…you can’t turn it down.”
“If I’d known earlier I wouldn’t have set all this up.”
“Well, I didn’t bloody know earlier.”
Oh, how she would love to have gone on a train journey, all expenses paid, to Yorkshire. She would have taken out a map and wondered were they passing places like the Wash and the Humber.
They would have stayed, for the first time since the time of the miscarriage, that terrible visit to Brighton, in a hotel together. They would have had free time…time to talk and relax together. She could have looked well for him, and been happy. She could have sparkled in front of other people and made him proud of her. The tight knot in her stomach would have gone because he would have wanted her.
She had allowed a silence to fall between them. She heard him grumble. “Are you making your mind up or is that it?”
“Why didn’t you tell me earlier?” she asked.
“Because I didn’t know earlier,” he said, as if explaining to an idiot or a child.
“James Williams knew earlier,” Lena said.
“What do you mean?”
“I met him. And he asked me was I going. I said there were no spouses, he said he thought there were.”
“And he was right,” Louis cried triumphantly. “He was the one who said from the start that this was the way it should be.”
Lena felt very, very tired. What would someone else have done in her shoes? A cleverer woman? Would she have dropped everything and gone, gone with him, stormed her way back into his heart again? Or would she have allowed herself to be persuaded slowly, played hard to get?
“I can’t go, Louis,” she said. Because she had thought she would be alone for the weekend, Lena had set up so many activities to distract her that she was going to be busy every second of the time. Now she realized with bitter irony it would be impossible to unpick them. There were too many people depending on her. Louis believed she was sulking and trying to make a point about staying behind. She decided it would be best not to apologize or explain too much. Just to let him know that she would have loved the trip. “Let me take you to lunch on the Friday,” she suggested.
“I don’t know. If you’ve time to go gallivanting off to lunch with men like me, why haven’t you time to come to Scarborough?”
“Because, you idiot, I thought you couldn’t take me. Come on, let’s have a lunch like people do in the movies.” She had persuaded him.
But as Lena sat in her office and studied her face in the mirror of her compact she saw with alarm that she must look many, many years older than she was. There was a tight drawn look, a near permanent frown. Her hair seemed dull and her eyes lifeless. No wonder he had asked someone else to Scarborough. Someone who had let him down at the last moment. No, no. She would not allow herself to think that way. But what a dreary wife she would look.
“Jessie,” she said, suddenly standing up. “I have to go out on business. See you after lunch.”
She knew her voice sounded raspy and tinny. She saw Dawn and the two other assistants look up in surprise. Mrs. Gray always spoke gently and moved smoothly from place to place. She didn’t grab up a handbag and scamper out the way she had today.
Dawn looked after her in amazement. “What’s happened to her?” she asked.
Jessica didn’t like office gossip, and especially not about Lena. “Carry on, Dawn,” she said briskly.
But inside in the inner sanctum she confessed to Jim Millar that she thought Lena Gray was working too hard. “She’s looking after my mum while you and I go out, she’s coming in to deal with workmen here…carpenters she found herself. She’s got the girls doing overtime so that we’ll have the w
hole new filing system set up by Monday…I don’t know.”
“What’s that handsome husband of hers going to think if she’s working in here all hours of the day and night?”
“I think he’s going away on some conference or other.”
“Maybe that’s what has her on edge,” said Jim Millar.
“Grace, can you squeeze me in?”
“Sure thing. Come to the end cubicle.” Grace started to take out the shampoo.
“Not you yourself…you’re the manager…I meant one of the girls.”
“They’re all busy…I’m glad to say.” Grace’s singsong voice never sounded anything other than cheerful, yet Lena knew she had a hard life. The man Grace loved had two children by other women. They were not spoken of.
“I feel so awful, I look old and sad and no use to anyone.”
“Tired maybe?” Grace suggested.
“We know what ‘tired’ means.” They laughed. It was a polite way of saying that age was showing.
“Work is it?” Grace asked as her firm fingers massaged Lena’s scalp.
“No,” Lena muttered into the towel as she leaned over the basin. “No, work runs itself.”
“Me too,” Grace said. “Funny, isn’t it? Men had such a big deal about work. To women like you and me it’s nothing. Nothing at all.”
“He has someone else,” Lena said as she sat and looked at herself turbaned with a towel.
“No, I’m sure that’s not so,” Grace said.
“I’m sure it is.”
“I’ll give you a hot oil treatment, make your hair shinier, and I’ll find some nice makeup for you.”
“It won’t get him back.”
“Perhaps he has not gone.”
“I think he has…you know the way you know these things.”
Grace had massaged in the warm olive oil and replaced the towel with another one. “Has he said he has someone else?”
“No, of course not.”
“Well then…”
“I didn’t ask him,” Lena confessed.