‘Will you sign this letter to the parents?’ said Mary, as she came into my office. I’d been staring out at the protestors and wouldn’t have been surprised if a few tents were erected and this went on for years. All the things we could do with the money kept flashing through my mind. The new surface for the playground, all the bits and pieces that the school needed. But my heart was saying no. But sometimes the head had to rule the heart. And I was, after all, the Head.
‘Lovely day, isn’t it?’ said Mary, letter in hand. ‘But that Bridget last night said it might rain. But she also said it might not.’
‘That’s useful,’ I said, turning round from the window.
‘She said it was an Irish summer and we all knew what to expect. The unexpected. Whatever that means but she has a point. More a philosophy on life rather than a weather forecast, though…’ She passed me the letter. ‘So, will you sign it?’
I nodded and took it from her. ‘Mary, what do you remember about school? Did you feel stressed at all?’
‘I hated it,’ she said. ‘For all their talk of love, the nuns didn’t show one ounce of compassion to any of us girls. It was a horrible place to be, and it made us girls suspicious of each other. They created an atmosphere where you didn’t know who you could trust. You didn’t know who was on your side. I used to take the bus into Cavan town every day. I was petrified that someone who knew Mammy would see me. But I couldn’t stop myself, I had to do something to prove to myself that the world was bigger than the school, than home, than Ballyjamesduff. Cavan town was as far as I got.’
‘Did you get caught?’
‘Of course I did! You couldn’t breathe without someone spotting you and telling on you. Mammy went, as expected, quite mad. Bulging eyes, the usual.’ She shrugged. ‘She thought I should join the Sisters of Charity. She was that worried for me. She thought if I was capable of deceiving her, my own mother, then she was terrified about how I’d get on when left to my own devices. She’s calmed down now.’ She laughed. ‘Only took her 30 years.’
‘And you headed off to London…’
‘Anywhere was better than the twitching curtains of home,’ she said. I knew I was gay back then. But wasn’t out, you know. London gave me the confidence. But everyone back home thought I’d gone off with a man. But he was gay too and so we both looked after each other,’ she said happily. ‘Australian, he was. Lovely fella. Martin from Alice Springs. He’d been working in Cavan Town. Took pity on me and was horrified when I told him about having to become a nun. Said he was heading off to London for a bit and told me I could come with him. Helped me find somewhere to stay and I found a job in a pub in Kentish Town. Time of my life it was. There were so many Irish girls, just like me, running away from home. We became quite the gang. Eight of us in all and all still in contact. Two of us turned out to be lesbians. What are the chances?’
‘And what happened to Martin?’
‘Back in Alice Springs. We still email at Christmas. I will go and see him one of these days…’ Her sentence drifted off. ‘Life is a series of unending possibilities, Tabitha, you just have to see it as that.’
Was it though? I thought of Rosie, in the four walls of her bedroom. There wasn’t much she could do about it. This was the system and it decreed that you must break your arse studying for two years or so and then… then only then was life was a series of unending possibilities.
I wondered what she was doing now. Working, I knew. In her room. I vowed, as soon as the exams were over I’d get her out of there. We’d go to Paris. Mary, I realised, was someone who was still adventurous, still a dreamer. I used to be like that, years ago. But along the way, I’d stopped dreaming. I felt something prickle inside me. I wanted some of that wanderlust for me too.
‘Tabitha?’
‘Yes?’
‘What’s it like being a mother? Have you ever regretted it?’
‘Regretted it?’ I said. ‘Never. Not for one moment. I don’t think any mother regrets it. Why?’
She shrugged. ‘Just wondering. It must be a worry having a little girl…’
Mary was obviously thinking of her own mother and the grey hairs she’d acquired when Mary bunked off school and all her other adventures. No wonder she wanted her locked up in a nunnery. It would make life easier if all our daughters could be protected in such a way.
‘Yes,’ I said. ‘It’s hugely worrying and you never stop. It gets worse, if anything…’
Mary had gone pale. ‘Are you all right?’ I said.
‘Quite all right, just haven’t much to eat yet… go on…’
‘Well, I was going to say, there is nothing which can bring you more pleasure than a daughter – or a son, I imagine. The deep, real joy of just watching them grow up… well, there’s nothing like it.’
There was a knock on the office door.
‘Busy?’ It was Red. ‘I just wanted to talk to you about… oh, hello Mary,’ he said, smiling. ‘A Bout de Souffle this Saturday, you still on?’
‘Is that about soufflés?’ I said, giving Mary a wink, ‘because if so, your Dad will want to come along.’
‘Is he still going on about soufflés?’ said Red. ‘Honestly. He’s always fancied one but has never had one.’
‘Never?’
‘He doesn’t go to restaurants that are posh enough for a start,’ said Red. ‘And I can’t make one. I mean, I could try but I’m not into precision cooking.’
‘I could make one for him,’ I said. ‘I mean, I wouldn’t mind having a go…’
‘Really?’
‘How difficult can they be?’
‘Very,’ said Mary. ‘It’s getting the eggs right, they need to be exactly three days old and at room temperature. It helps if you are making them in a French farmhouse kitchen because of the thickness of the stone walls creates the perfect ambient temperature. And then it’s all in the wrist action...’
Red whistled, impressed. ‘How do you know this?’
‘I did a cordon bleu course in Paris,’ she confessed modestly. ‘Years ago. I do know how to make a few classic French dishes.’
‘Johnny Logan and soufflés. You are quite the catch Mary Hooley,’ he said, teasing her.
‘I just happen to be a Europhile,’ she said. ‘I’m quite envious of my young cousin Lucy, living in Brussels, being at the centre of Europe,’ she said.
‘I think you might be getting Eurovision mixed with the European parliament,’ said Red, ignoring the reference to Michael. I wonder what he thought of him when they met. ‘Easily done.’
Mary laughed. ‘Did you know that Red eats sweets in the cinema?’
‘What’s wrong with that?’ Red was laughing. ‘Anyone would think that there was something wrong with a small sweet now and then. Mary, however, frowns at anyone who dares to rustle a wrapper or crunch their popcorn. I bought some pick-n-mix and Mary almost fainted with shock.’
‘I never had you down as a pick-n-mix kind of person,’ she insisted, laughing. ‘I didn’t know that grown men ate sweets.’
‘Sorry to disappoint you, Mary,’ he said. ‘Real men do eat sweets.’ He turned back to me. ‘Anyway, so I had to eat each one so slowly and carefully so as not to make any noise. I was terrified that I would be subjected to the Mary death-stare. In the end, I was sucking on them as if I had no teeth.’
They were both laughing now, behaving like two old friends. He was always good for a laugh, was Red.
‘A Bout de Souffle, next Saturday.’ Mary gathered up files and went to leave. ‘Don’t forget. Now, I must be off, and stop all this gassing.’ She turned to me. ‘Tabitha, I wonder would it be possible if I made a long-distance call? Just with the time difference and everything, I have to make it now. I can leave the money. I wouldn’t like all our fundraising to go on phone bills.’
‘Would you like to use my office? For privacy?’
She hesitated. ‘No, no, it’s all right. It’s not a big deal. It won’t take long.’
‘Is everything okay?’
‘Oh yes.’ She smiled her bright efficient smile. ‘Everything’s fine. Just something I need to do… that’s all. I’ll be quick as quick.’
Before she left my office, I noticed that Red gave her a look, an encouraging ‘go on’ kind of nod. She gave a short tilt of her head and she was gone. Red knew what was going on, I realised.
‘So,’ I said, ‘what did you want to talk about?’
‘Annie. I was hoping we could perform some of the songs at the last school assembly.’
‘That sounds good. Who’s playing Annie?’
‘We’re working on it, everyone wants the lead role. I think I might share it out a bit. Have lots of Annies. Just need to buy a job lot of red curly wigs on eBay.’
I smiled, feeling better already. ‘Annie is theatrical catnip to girls. Annie is their Lady Macbeth, their Medea.’
He laughed. ‘Totally. I remember at school, we all wanted to be the Artful Dodger. All of us, practising our cockney accents in the playground. It was given to someone who didn’t want it. He wanted to be Fagin and was furious. The rest of us had to be nonspeaking urchins. Hours of accent-practising wasted.’ He grinned at me. I found myself grinning back.
‘How’s your cockney accent now?’ I said.
‘As bad as it was then. No wonder I didn’t get the part. Dick Van Dyke’s was better.’
I laughed. I wondered if he and Mary would mind if I asked to go to the cinema with them. Maybe they would. Maybe they wanted it to be just the two of them. But… I couldn’t just be friends with Red. It wasn’t that simple.
‘By the way,’ he said. ‘I was wondering about Rosie. How is she?’
‘I don’t know,’ I admitted. ‘She keeps saying she’s okay and for me not to worry. I don’t know what to think.’
‘She’s obviously under a huge amount of stress. Have you talked to your… your husband about it?’
‘Well, he’s very busy. Very busy. He’s very rarely around and…’ I looked at Red. I wanted to tell him everything about Michael. But it was all so pointless. Red wasn’t just some friend I could confide in. ‘Michael is… well, he’s determined that Rosie will do Law in Trinity, like he did… but I am starting to wonder if it’s what she wants. Or is she just doing it for him. And for my mother-in-law.’
‘Well…’ There was nothing he could say. He couldn’t pass judgment on any of us. He’d only briefly met Michael, but Celia not at all. ‘I hope,’ he said, ‘she’s feeling better, soon.’ He went to go. Oh, but I wanted him to stay. There was so much I wanted to chat about, innocuous things like cockney accents but seismic life-altering events as well. Everything.
‘Listen,’ he said, pausing, gratifyingly, at the door. ‘I know it’s none of my business, I know that. I’m just a supply teacher who is pushing my nose into places where I shouldn’t and I have no right. None whatsoever. So please tell me to butt out or whatever. But…’ He stopped, and looked at me, right into my eyes. ‘I was just wondering if you were all right. I’m worried about you.’
‘Worried. About me?’ I said, swallowing. ‘I’m all right. What makes you think I’m not?’
‘Listen, forgive me if I’m overstepping the mark. You look so different, Tab. I mean, you look the same, as though not a day has passed, but I can see it in your eyes, how much you’ve got on your plate. There’s a lot going on. And you keep on going…’
For a moment, I thought I was going to cry. When was the last time anyone cared how I was doing? ‘I’m fine,’ I said, sounding just like Rosie. ‘I’m absolutely fine.’
He took a pen out of the inside pocket of his jacket. And ripped a corner from a little black Moleskine diary. ‘Here’s my number,’ he said, writing it down. ‘Call me if you need a friend.’ He handed it to me. ‘I’m still that, you know.’
‘Thanks.’ I didn’t trust myself to say anymore.
‘She’s the image of you,’ he said. ‘Rosie.’
‘Really…’ I suddenly felt embarrassed. ‘I can see Rosaleen in her but I thought she was like her dad, but maybe… maybe she isn’t as much as I thought.’
‘There’s a definite look of you in her, it’s like going back in time,’ he said. impassively, betraying no emotion.
And then he smiled, the kind of smile that makes you feel as though someone is on your side. Encouraging you, cheering you on. And there he was being nice to me, when I hadn’t been nice to him.