January 29 – Thursday
It settled on Tess uneasily – the gradual realisation that perhaps Amanda King wasn’t such a bad old egg after all. Once you got a measure of whiskey into her, she loosened out and she was quite tragic really, but funny too. It was late when Amanda tottered back up to her house. They drank down past the neck of the bottle, both pleasantly soothed, after confidences shared that tripped easily across the glasses of malt. If they did this years ago, the fissures of resentment between them might never have been so intensely mined. They could have seen each other for what they were – two lonely women in need of a good friend.
Could they be friends now?
After last night, Tess thought they might well be. Amanda obviously thought they were, in some way, of course, drink had a habit of loosening tongues, so it was hard to know where you were with people. Without the whiskey, Amanda wouldn’t have been so candid about her marriage, or her husband’s affair or the Italian gardener who made her smile in spite of herself. Tess was glad she laid what she knew of the whole business out on the table. When she thought about it now, regardless of what her relationship had been with Amanda, the decent thing would have been to let her know immediately that her husband was having an affair. After all, they were both women and Tess more than any woman knew what betrayal felt like. That almost made it worse, because in her way, while she hadn’t helped the affair along, she had to admit that it had given her some measure of dark delight. It was the notion, that, on some level, debts were being meted out between them. For too many years, it seemed Amanda had it all and, yes, maybe Tess was a little jealous, certainly she was resentful. But that she had been nasty enough to enjoy what could ultimately pull a family apart was disturbing at best; at worst, it made looking in the mirror a shameful experience.
‘Seriously, you should try and get the kitchen out of him as well,’ Amanda had said when they were sipping their second drink.
‘No, really, the guilt of the bathroom has been nearly enough to finish me off,’ Tess had said feeling the effects of the drink on her usual reserve.
‘Well, no need to feel guilty anymore; you’ve got my full blessing to go right ahead.’ Then she’d paused for a moment, looked about the flat, ‘You know, it’s lovely and cosy here, I can see why you didn’t want to leave. I never really thought of this little flat as a home before.’
‘Well, it’s not so much about what it’s like, it’s just been mine for so many years I couldn’t imagine being anywhere else,’ Tess said and she’d bent to stoke the ends of the fire into a dancing flame. ‘I probably should have taken your offer all those years ago, but…’ Truthfully, Tess wasn’t really sure why she didn’t. Then she’d looked up at the card on the mantel.
‘An invitation?’ Amanda said, breaking into her thoughts.
‘It’s…’ Tess sighed. ‘It’s from my sister.’
‘Oh, I didn’t know you had any family, still…’ Amanda cleared her throat as if to double back on something she might have put her foot in. ‘I mean, well, I suppose, I probably never thought about it, so…’
‘Don’t worry, you haven’t said anything wrong,’ Tess smiled sadly. ‘We don’t keep in touch, she just wrote to tell me that my brother-in-law passed away and then…’ Tess had nodded to the unopened letter on the other end of the mantelpiece. ‘Well, that arrived, dropped in by hand.’
‘You haven’t opened it?’
‘No.’ Tess sighed, ‘You see, staying here, it was the only way Nancy could have gotten in touch with me, apart from that it would have been down to me and, well, you’ve probably noticed, I’m not one for holding out the hand of reconciliation all that easily.’ She smiled sadly, but she was glad Amanda knew when it was time to change the subject.
*
‘You look as if you have a lot on your mind?’ Kilker probed. He had dropped in with some excuse a few days ago and she’d offered him a cup of tea – he seemed to view it as an open invitation ever since. He spotted the unopened envelope on her kitchen table. She should have dumped it, couldn’t think how it hadn’t gone out with the rubbish. Of course, being Kilker, being a man, a doctor and the most annoying know-it-all sometimes, he was aghast that she had lost contact with her own sister. ‘Woman, do you need more X-rays, on your brain this time?’
‘No, there’s reasons for everything and there’s too much water under the bridge to even try and make our way back to the same side.’
‘Life is too short, if you haven’t learned that yet…’ He shook his head and she knew he thought she was as stubborn as she found him infuriating sometimes. ‘Whatever you fell out over is probably long gone now,’ he said and when he caught her eye, perhaps he knew he’d said the wrong thing, but he was at an age where he found it hard to leave things be. ‘It’s not as if you’re overrun with family, that’s all I’m saying.’
‘Yes, well, it takes two to fall out and two to make up again.’
‘She’s sent you a card, woman. What more do you want? That’s reaching out, right there, on your kitchen table.’ It bewildered him that there could be such animosity, but then not everyone led his charmed life.
‘Have you practised your hymns for Monday night?’ Tess cut him off. Honestly, he was a right old woman when he started. The mention of family always got under Tess’s skin and she had a feeling that Kilker knew it. It was all very well for him, his three sons scattered about America and his poor wife neatly put to rest up in Glasnevin cemetery. Kilker had been widowed in his fifties. Tess couldn’t decide if he’d been happily married or not, and he was much too loyal to ever let her know. He’d asked about her family before. It had taken her spelling ESTRANGED, in long slow exaggerated movements of her mouth, for him to finally grasp that she was on her own and content with the idea of that.
Still though, since that envelope had arrived, she found her mind casting back to happier times with Nancy. They had been happy, once. They had been close, or that was what she had believed, time had taught her otherwise. Her mother called them ‘Irish Twins’, born eleven months apart; it was meant to make them closer somehow, perhaps it made the disloyalty a hundred times worse. They’d gone to dances, shared lipstick – oh, yes, back then, Tess even wore lipstick. God, but she really had been a different person then.
Robyn tried to talk her into make-up for the concert. In the end, they settled on curlers to tame her hair and just the slightest dab of powder to dull away a shine. It was a spring recital, just a warm-up for Easter, really, but she was looking forward to it. Amanda and Robyn promised to come along to hear her sing. Tess wasn’t sure if she was more nervous because of it, but still it gave her an unfamiliar feeling of warmth, at some level, she was no longer on her own. She was lucky, she realised, to have people who wanted to come and support her.
‘I’m so looking forward to it,’ Amanda gushed when she ran into them on the doorstep on their way to an extra practice before the big recital. ‘I’ll be looking out for you too,’ she said to Kilker and Tess marvelled at how he seemed to put every woman he met at ease without even trying.
‘Oh, I’m only cannon fodder – it’s Tess here who’s out front, carrying us all along,’ Kilker said as he opened the door for Tess. He tucked in her skirt before closing it firmly and suddenly she realised, Kilker had become her friend too. As unlikely and all as it might have seemed to her just weeks ago, he made her feel safe, and with him she could be herself and she suspected he liked her all the more for that.
*
Later that evening, Tess closed her eyes after dinner, just for a moment, it happened all the time now. She felt her lids heavy and tired and then an hour or sometimes two later she’d open them to find that time had scurried from her like a fox into the darkness. She had to face it; her body was marching on in years and inconvenient napping, no matter how pleasant, was just another symptom. The knock that wakened her was loud and viscous.
Robyn’s worried eyes cut through the glass when Tess opened the door to spit some light into the porch.
‘What is it, child?’ she asked, standing back to let Robyn trudge into the flat. She dived for Matt, who took the imposition very well.
‘They’re back.’ Robyn’s voice held that intangible note that tottered somewhere between distress and foreboding. ‘The O’Hara’s, I’ve just seen her at the door. They must have arrived earlier,’ she snuggled her face further into Matt’s fur.
‘Well, that’s that, I suppose.’ Tess felt a wrench, but she had to be strong. She was the adult here, even if at that point, she felt like barricading her door and keeping Matt a secret for as long as she could. She had a feeling he’d be up for it, he was less inclined to go outside with every passing day. ‘We should probably bring him back now.’
‘Maybe we could leave it a little while longer…’ Robyn’s eyes were pleading and Tess didn’t have it in her to gather him up and hand him over anyway.
‘Okay, we’ll give it an hour,’ she said, sitting back before the near exhausted fire. She bent forward and traded sparks with some dry fuel, content that it was set for a while longer.
‘I don’t suppose they’ve even noticed he’s missing yet?’ Robyn whispered into his fur while Matt purred loudly, oblivious to his imminent eviction. ‘Normally they leave him in the cattery at the local vets.’
‘Robyn,’ Tess sighed, ‘why didn’t you tell me that sooner. If I’d known he escaped from the cattery, I would have marched him straight back there. I really thought he’d just been abandoned in the garden. They’re probably going out of their minds with worry.’
‘No, I shouldn’t think so, they’ll be insured.’
‘That’s not the point. Would you want to be the one to tell Mrs O that you lost her cat?’
‘Well, he’s been happier here anyway. It mustn’t have been that nice if he felt the need to leave. Anyway, the main thing is, we have him here, safe and sound, and tomorrow is soon enough to return him.’ Robyn smiled and Tess knew it was impossible to be angry with her. ‘They only got him for Louisa and she went travelling last year. Mrs O’Hara told my mum she doesn’t even like cats.’
‘That’s unfortunate,’ Tess said and managed to keep her voice as neutral as she could. She’d never much warmed to the O’Hara’s, but recently the goalposts had shifted on her horizon of appraising people. She wasn’t sure anymore that her judgements were as accurate as she’d once believed. ‘Still, you can’t not miss a cat like Matt. Apart from the fact that he is their cat – he’s probably quite an expensive old moggy if you went out to buy one.’ Tess suspected that Mrs O’Hara would not entertain any old crossbreed cat in her pristine expensive world. A rescue dog might be good enough for a president, but Mrs O would have her eye firmly on a pedigree tomcat.
‘She’s a Burmilla,’ Robyn said indifferently. ‘They’re probably a couple of hundred to buy, but that wouldn’t mean a whole lot to Mrs O’Hara. She couldn’t just go out and give Louisa a regular cat, now could she?’ She was being facetious, but they both laughed when she threw her eyes up to heaven.
‘Well, there you go. You don’t want her to think we’ve catnapped her, do you?’ Tess smiled, but she dreaded handing Matt back.
‘You can’t bring him up now. They’ve probably gone to bed.’ Robyn couldn’t quite hide the smile that played about her lips. Perhaps she was right; the house was in complete darkness when Tess checked from the porch window. They had a reprieve and Tess thought she could see a look of relief in Matt’s eyes before he nestled deep into the crocheted blanket she left on the couch for him to curl into. There really wasn’t much point in putting him out into the cold night. After all, what difference did it make to Mrs O’Hara whether he slept on her couch or beneath the bush in the garden?
‘Well, first thing in the morning, my lad, you’re going home,’ she said in words that were far sterner than the sentiment he managed to tease up in her heart.
Tess went to bed that night and knew she wouldn’t sleep. So she lay awake fretting in the bargain double bed picked up many years ago, it had taken on her shape so much it was uncomfortable in its familiarity. Tonight it refused to let her rest. Her thoughts swirling about so there was no getting away from the truth that tomorrow she’d be on her own here. She’d become used to having that great big ball of fur around. She was inured to him trailing her about the place and sitting on her newspaper when she wanted to read it. She’d grown accustomed to having someone else here, Matt needed her and she could admit it, here in the dark, she would miss him terribly when he left.