Lilac Bus (6 page)

‘I think so,’ she said bewildered. ‘If you’re well enough, can you do me a favour? We’ve had another phone call from Fergal,’ her mother paused expectantly.

‘The wedding’s off?’ Dee said rubbing her eyes.

‘No, stupid, but they’re coming this evening, about six o’clock. Can you run me into town, I’ll want to get things.’ ‘Into town’ meant the big town seventeen miles away. ‘Down town’ meant Rathdoon itself.

‘What do we want to go into town for?’

‘You can’t get anything nice here, anything different.’

‘Mummy, in the name of God, isn’t it only Fergal? Why do we want anything
nice
, anything
different
for Fergal?’

‘But it’s Kate as well.’

‘But hasn’t he been living with Kate for a year? Are you losing your marbles or something, what would she want anything nice and different for? Can’t we go to Kennedy’s and get some ham or lamb or whatever we’d be having anyway?’

‘Well if you don’t want to drive me, you need only say so. I’m sure your father won’t mind giving me a quick spin into town,’ her mother was huffy now and annoyed.

‘It’s not a quick spin, you know it, it’s seventeen miles. It’s a bad road, it’s jam packed with shoppers on a Saturday in there, we’ll never get a parking place, the whole thing will take three hours.’

‘Well, don’t
you
worry about it, Madam: you’re so busy you can sleep on into the broad daylight – I see what a demanding life
you
have. No, your father may be able to give up his one game of golf a week to take me.’

Dee got out of bed, and picked up a dressing gown.

‘I’ll have a bath and I’ll take you now, but I want you to know that there’s a grave danger you’re going mad. Next week you’ll be going into town to get something nice and unusual for me.’

‘If you were bringing home a fiancé I’d be glad to,’ her mother said. ‘And by the way, do you never wear pyjamas or a nightdress or anything? Isn’t it very peculiar to wear nothing at all in bed?’

‘It’s very peculiar Mummy – I’d say I’d be locked up if anyone knew.’

‘Oh there’s nothing like a smart aleck, nothing as lovely as your own daughter turning into a smart aleck,’ said her mother and went downstairs happily to make a list.

Mrs Burke bought a new tablecloth and six napkins to match. Dee cast her eyes to heaven so often her mother asked her not to come into the next shop to be making a show of her. She was moved on three times by guards, hot harassed men who could never have dreamed that this is what it would be like when they joined the force. She saw a woman slap her three-year-old hard on the legs until he roared in fright and his father thought she had gone too far and gave the woman a hard shove. Marriage! Dee thought. Family life. If a Martian were looking at us, he would think we must be insane to run towards it like a crowd of lemmings. And it’s all we want, everywhere: romantic books,
Dallas
on the telly, everyone we know. Nobody seems to learn any lessons on the way.

Her mother came out weighed down with parcels just as a guard was coming at her again; she dragged
the parcels and her mother into the car with one movement.

‘You’re becoming very rough Dee, very ill-mannered,’ Mother said, annoyed and flustered.

‘It’s all this naked sleeping,’ Dee said, smiling up at the guard. ‘That’s the cause of it, I’m certain.’

Half-way home Dee realised what had happened. That stupid Nancy had got the weekend wrong. That was it. Hadn’t Sam said he’d be tied up with the family,
next
weekend. Imagine believing the daylight from Nancy Morris. She really was going mad, it wasn’t just a joke she made to her mother, of course that was it. Nancy was fussing and filling in her appointment book and complaining about the cost of living and she hadn’t heard.

The relief was immense: it was the joy of getting an exam, it was like going to confession, not that there had been much of that lately – it was like passing your driving test.

She laughed happily and her mother looked at her in alarm.

‘Mummy, I was just thinking of the day I passed my driving test,’ she began.

‘Well I don’t know whether you’d pass it if you had it to do again,’ her mother said. ‘You’ve been hitting those potholes at a great rate, your father wouldn’t like his car to be belted about like that.’

‘No, I was just thinking of the lovely feeling when
the man said I passed. Would you like me to teach you to drive, Mummy, seriously?’

‘I would not,’ her mother said. ‘And what’s more I don’t think I’ll ever sit in a car with you again. Will you look at the
road
, Dee!’

‘It’s an open invitation. One lesson on a Saturday, one on a Sunday – sure you could drive us all to Fergal’s wedding.’

She felt light-headed and happy. If she saw stupid Miss Mouse as Tom called her, she would have mown her down.

When Fergal and Kate arrived, Dee thought they both looked slightly touched. They were a revolting mixture of over-talkativeness and utter wordlessness. They explained at tedious length how they had become mature in the last few months and both of them had developed this sense of their immaturity and lack of responsibility at exactly the same time. They wanted to make their commitment now in front of everyone, rather than shilly-shallying any longer. Dr Burke, who looked as if he wouldn’t have minded if they never married, nodded and grunted appreciatively. Fergal’s mother gasped and pounced on every word, and reminded them of every detail of John’s wedding five years before, every detail that is except the one that his bride was four months’ pregnant. Dee switched off for a little and thought of Sam in London. He had said there would be papers all of Saturday afternoon but that he was going to
skip the official dinner. Together they had looked at an English newspaper and circled plays or shows he might see. She wondered was it a nice warm night in London as it was here. Then it hit her like a tennis ball coming suddenly into her stomach. He had asked Nancy Morris to pray for a fine weekend for the barbecue.
This
weekend.

She wasn’t able to eat the meringues which her mother had filled so carefully with a coffee flavoured cream to impress Fergal and Kate. She asked to be excused for a few minutes because she had remembered there was something she had to give Celia Ryan down in the pub.

‘Won’t it do later?’ her mother had asked.

‘No, she wants it now.’ Dee was standing up.

‘Will I come down with you and have a pint?’ She shooed Fergal away. ‘What a thought, after all this lovely meal Mummy’s got for you. No, I’ll be back in a few minutes.’

‘What does Celia want at this time of night?’ her father asked mildly. ‘Won’t she be pulling pints and trying to help that poor mother of hers to cope?’

‘See you,’ Dee called.

She ran up to her room for her handbag and swung down the road.

‘Can you give me a pound of change for the phone, Celia?’ she asked.

‘God you’re a great customer, if we had more like you we could open a singing lounge and have a
cabaret on the profits,’ Celia laughed.

‘Piss off, Celia. I’ll have a brandy in a minute, I just want to make a call to Dublin.’

Celia’s level glance never changed, she never enquired whether the Burke phone was out of order, she just gave her the money.

‘Could I get a call back in that box?’ Dee wanted to know.

‘Yes, I’ll give you the number but I don’t put it up – I don’t want other people to know.’

‘You’re a pal,’ Dee said.

‘Barry residence,’ said the Canadian voice she hadn’t heard since the one and only time she met its owner at that rugby party which was only a year and a half ago but felt like a lifetime.

‘May I speak to Mr Sam Barry, please.’

‘Well, it’s a little awkward just at this very minute. Who is this please?’

‘It’s Miss Morris, his receptionist.’

‘Oh Miss Morris, I didn’t recognise your voice. I am sorry. Sam is just getting the barbecue going, it’s a very delicate moment.’ There was a little laugh. ‘Once the thing has taken we can all relax. Can I ask him to call you, Miss Morris, I assume it’s urgent?’

‘I’m afraid it is, Mrs Barry.’ She sounded apologetic. ‘It’s just a short message, but I should speak to him. It won’t take a moment.’

‘Well, listen, I know he says that you are a rock of stability in a changing world, can I have him call you?’

‘In the next half hour, if he could.’ Dee gave the number that Celia had written down.

‘Rathdoon, what a pretty name!’ Mrs Barry was determined to be charming to the rock of stability. Or else she was so happy about the anniversary barbecue she was at peace with the world. Dee didn’t wait to find out.

‘Very pretty. Bye, Mrs Barry.’ She hung up; she was shaking. She sat on a stool at the bar. Celia made it a large brandy but charged only for a small one. Dee made a move to protest.

‘Nonsense, you’re always buying me drinks.’

‘Thanks.’ She held the glass with both hands. Celia must have noticed the shake.

‘They tell me your Fergal’s engaged,’ Celia said.

‘Lord, that didn’t take long,’ Dee grinned.

‘Oh, it’s stale news, I heard last night when I came off the bus.’

‘So did I: the parents are over the moon.’

‘Well, they don’t have to pay for the wedding,’ Celia laughed.

‘Celia, stop that, you sound like Nancy Morris.’

The phone rang. Celia refilled her glass wordlessly and Dee slipped into the booth.

‘Hallo,’ she said.

‘A call for you,’ exchange said.

‘Miss Morris?’ Sam asked.

‘No, Miss Burke,’ Dee said.

‘What?’

‘Miss Burke speaking, can I help you?’

He wasn’t sure. ‘I’m sorry, I was asked to ring a Miss Morris at this number . . .’

‘No, you weren’t, you were asked to come in from the barbecue and talk to your mistress Miss Dee Burke. That was the message I gave your wife.’

‘DEE. DEE.’ He was horrified. There was actual fear in his voice.

‘Oh, she was very nice about it, she got a pencil from her purse and wrote down the number. She said Rathdoon sounded a pretty place.’

‘Dee, what are you doing?’ His voice was a whisper.

‘I’m at home for the weekend, like I told you I would be. The question is, what are YOU doing. Did they cancel the conference? Let’s see, you were leaving the airport about four thirty – gosh, did they tell you at London airport or did you have to get into town?’

‘Dee, I can explain exactly what happened but not here and now; what did you really say to Candy?’

‘Oh just that, and she really did say that Rathdoon sounded pretty – ask her.’

‘You didn’t . . . but why?’

‘Because I felt it was all so confusing, all this business of lies and saying one thing and everyone knowing it wasn’t true. Everyone. I thought it would be easier not having to pretend so much.’

‘But . . .’

‘I mean she knows, Candy does, that you’ll be spending Monday night with me, and so now you don’t have to lie to her about that, and I know that you and Candy are having a marvellous tenth anniversary barbecue and that Mr Charles is there and Mr White and all your friends and they were all watching you start up the fire. She told me all that, so there’s no more pretending: it will be much easier from now on.’

‘You didn’t, Dee. You didn’t really say those things to Candy.’

Her voice was very hard now. Very hard. ‘You’ll have to find out now, won’t you.’

‘But she said it was Miss Morris on the phone.’

‘Oh, I told her to say that.’ Dee sounded as if she were explaining things to a child. ‘Much simpler for your guests; I mean I don’t know what you want to tell other people, but we’ll talk about it all on Monday, won’t we?’

‘Dee, please don’t go, you’ve got to explain.’

‘I have explained.’

‘I’ll ring you back.’

‘Ring all you like, this is a pub.’

‘Where are you going now?’

‘I see the real Miss Morris over here in a corner. I think I’ll buy her a gin and orange and tell her all about us. That will make it easier for me to ring you at work; you see, I couldn’t before because she knew me, but now with all this new honesty . . .’

‘What new honesty?’

‘What Candy and I have been talking about.’

‘You’re a bitch, you told Candy nothing; this is a game, some vicious little game.’

‘Hush hush, don’t let them hear you.’

‘Where will you be tomorrow?’

‘I’ll see you on Monday night, as arranged: come any time, straight from work if you like now that there’s no need to hide things any more.’

‘I beg you, tell me what you told Candy.’

‘No, YOU must ask Candy that.’

‘But if you told her nothing then . . .’

‘That’s right, you’ll have walked yourself into it.’

‘Dee.’

‘Monday.’

‘I’m not going to be blackmailed into coming round to you on Monday.’

‘Suit yourself. I’ll be at home then, if I don’t get called away or anything.’ She hung up.

‘If he rings again, Celia, will you say you never heard of me and I haven’t been in all night?’

‘Sure,’ said Celia.

She went back to the house. Fergal was explaining that there came a time in your life when you couldn’t play any more – you had to face up to things.

‘Jesus Mary and Joseph, Fergal, you should have been a philosopher!’ Dee said admiringly.

‘Did you have a drink with Celia Ryan?’

‘I had two large brandies, mother dear,’ Dee said.

‘How much was that?’ Fergal the man saving for a mortgage was interested now in the cost of fun.

‘I don’t know, I only paid for one small one when I come to think of it.’ There were sudden tears in her eyes.

‘Dee, why don’t you and I go for a walk for a bit and let the wedding talk go on to a crescendo here?’ Dr Burke had his blackthorn stick in his hand.

They walked in silence. Down past the chip shop and over the bridge and on to the fork in the road.

It was only coming back that there was any chat.

‘I’ll be all right, Dad,’ she said.

‘Sure I know you will, aren’t you a great big girl and won’t you be a solicitor one day, a fierce terror making them all shake in the district court?’