Tara Road

'I'm going to see my granny today, Bernadette.'

'Oh good.'

'So I don't know exactly what time I'll be back.'

'Sure.' Annie gathered up her tote bag of things which included a very short lycra skirt and a halter-neck top. 'Before you go, call your dad in the office, will you?'

'Why should I do that?'

'Because you forgot to tell him at breakfast that you were going to your grandmother's.'

'Oh, he doesn't want to be bothered with every detail.'

'He does actually.'

'I’ll tell him tonight.'

'Would you prefer me to tell him for you?' Bernadette's voice was without any threat. It sounded like a simple question, which it most definitely was not.

'There's no need to behave like a gaoler, Bernadette.'

'And there's no need to lie to me either, Annie. You're not going to your grandmother's with all that gear. You and Kitty are off somewhere entirely different.'

'What's it to you if we are?'

'It's nothing to me, I couldn't care less where you go or what you do, but your father's going to be upset and that I don't want.'

It was the longest sentence that Annie had ever heard from Bernadette. She considered it for a while then she said enquiringly, 'He won't be upset if he doesn't know.'

'Nice try. No way,’ Bernadette said.

'I have to ring Kitty,' Annie said defeated.

Bernadette nodded to the phone. 'Go ahead,' she said and went back to her book.

Annie looked around once or twice during the conversation but there was no evidence that Bernadette was listening. 'No, I can't explain,' Annie said mutinously. 'Of course I tried. Don't you think I did? Who do you think? Yeah. Yeah. Even worse than Mam if you ask me.'

She hung up disconsolately and looked over at Bernadette curled up in her armchair. She thought she had seen a flicker of a smile but she might have only imagined it.

'What's she like?' Myles and Dekko wanted to know.

'She's all right, I suppose,' Brian said grudgingly.

'Do they have lots of sex all the time?'

'Oh no, of course they don't.'

'Well, why else did he go and live with her and get her pregnant?' Dekko asked.

'That was all in the past. I don't think they do that sort of thing now.' Brian was puzzled at the notion.

'They never stop doing it.' Myles was still gloomy about the new baby that had blighted his own life. 'They go on and on until they drop dead from it.'

'Do they?' Dekko was interested.

'I know they do.' Myles was an authority on this. 'But in your house, Brian, they must be at it all the time. What with the situation and everything.'

'Yeah, I see what you mean.' Brian considered it carefully.

'Don't you hear them gasping and being out of breath from it?'

'No,' he shook his head. 'Not in front of us anyway.'

'Of course it's not in front of you, you eejit. It's when they go to bed… that's when you'd hear it.'

'No, they just talk in low voices about money.'

'How do you know?'

'Annie and I listened. We wanted to know if they were talking about Mam, but they never mentioned her, not once.'

'What kind of talk about money?'

'Oh, desperate boring things about second mortgages. For hours and hours,' said Brian.

'Are they total monsters?' Finola Dunne asked her daughter on the phone.

Bernadette laughed. 'They're not too bad, very loud of course, and restless.'

'That's all ahead of you,' her mother said sagely.

'I know.'

'Anyway, it's swimming today. I'll be able to report myself. I like the boy, he's got a sense of humour.'

'It's much harder on Annie.' Bernadette sounded sympathetic.

'Yes, she needs watching.'

'That's always been your motto, Mum.'

'Fine lot of good it did me with you!' Bernadette's mother rang off.

At the swimming pool Annie was astounded to see her friend Kitty.

'What a coincidence!' she said four times.

Kitty was equally amazed. 'Who would have thought it?' she asked the air around her.

'This is my friend Mary, Mrs. Dunne.' Annie introduced her. 'She's been feeding my cat Clement. Can I go around to Tara Road with her to see Clement after the swimming lesson?'

'I don't see why not,' Finola Dunne said. There was an easy bus service back to Danny and Ria's house. Mary seemed a nice little thing, kind of the child to feed the cat.

'Why are you calling her Mary?' Brian asked.

'Because it's her name, you fool,' Annie hissed.

'It never was before,' Brian protested.

'It is now, so will you shut up?'

The swimming coach was blowing a whistle to get their attention.

'See you later, Kitty,' Annie called.

'I'm sorry, I got her name wrong, I called her Mary,' Finola Dunne said.

'Oh, um, she's both… really.' Annie's face was red.

Brian grinned in triumph.

While the swimming lesson was in progress Finola Dunne made a phone call. Her eyes were steely when it was time to go. 'Tell Mary that the American lady is feeding the cat in Tara Road and that you won't need to go and visit it at all.'

Annie hung her head. 'Did you ring Bernadette?' she said eventually.

'Yes, and she had a message for you.'

'What did she say?' Annie was apprehensive.

'She said I was to say to you nice second try, third try your dad deals with it.'

Heidi and Carlotta told Ria that they had never in their whole lives drunk a bottle of wine each. They were astounded with themselves and each other. They blamed it entirely, they said, on the bad influence of their new Irish friend. Ria assured them that she had never done anything so outrageous herself and that at home she was very much a one-drink-a-night person.

'But this is the United States,' wailed Carlotta. 'We count units, we count calories, we all know people like about half my clients in the salon at a rough guess… who are in recovery and detox and now we're heading that way ourselves.'

'And I'm a middle-aged faculty wife. We all hear tales of how they go on the bottle at exactly this time of life. And rot away. Our husbands don't have the salary cheques to get us into the Betty Ford Clinic.'

'Ah, but I'm a sadder case than either of you,' Ria laughed. I'm a deserted wife from Ireland over here to sort out my head and on my first day in America I fall in with two lushes and get pissed out of my brains.'

They had learned a great deal about each other. Carlotta's alimony from her three husbands, all paid at the time in large, agreed lump sums, was revealed and even details of how well it had been invested. Heidi's first marriage was described. It had been to a man so totally unsatisfactory in every way that he was only equalled in horror by Henry's first wife. It would have been a wonderful poetic justice had they met and married each other but they had gone on to marry and upset other people. And of course Danny Lynch was introduced to Westville. The story was told of how Ria met him the day before her twenty-second birthday, the afternoon she first slept with him in Tara Road and the night he told her that he was indeed planning to be a father but not of her baby.

'Let's see what Marilyn left in the icebox,' Heidi said.

They could have talked for ever. But when they had eaten a spinach quiche which they found in the icebox, and had two sobering cups of coffee, Ria felt they were both slightly guilty and even embarrassed at the confidences shared. It was not that they regretted having talked so openly, more that this was an inappropriate place to have done so. She was disappointed to see the warmth of the evening beginning to trickle away. She had thought she had found two wonderful new friends the moment she arrived. Perhaps it wasn't going to be like that. She must learn to move more slowly, not to assume huge warmth where it might not exist. She let the evening wind down without begging to meet them again. This seemed to suit them. And Ria also felt that they were very pleased she had not mentioned to Marilyn that they were all sitting together having a little party in 1024 Tudor Drive. In all their revelations and discussions and debates, they had mentioned not once the woman who lived in this house.

When they left at about ten o'clock, which was three o'clock in the morning at home, Ria walked slowly around Marilyn's house. In Ireland her husband Danny was in bed with a child who was expecting his child. Her son Brian was lying on his back with the bedclothes in a twist at the end of the bed, and the light on. Her daughter Annie would have filled her diary with impossible plans of how to escape to somewhere dangerous with Kitty. Her mother would be asleep surrounded by pictures of the saints and vague unformed plans to sell her little house and move herself into St Rita's.

Hilary and Martin would be asleep in their pokey little house in the bed they had bought at a fire sale, the bed where they no longer made love because Martin said that unless you thought you were conceiving a child there was no point in it. Their big round red alarm clock would be set for six thirty. During the vacation Hilary still had to go up to the school to do secretarial work and Martin had a job marking exam papers to make ends meet. Rosemary would have been asleep now for four hours and as Gertie's life had obviously been tranquil enough to allow her to be at Tara Road to welcome Marilyn, so perhaps she too was asleep beside the big drunken boor that she thought of as some kind of precious and fragile treasure which it was her mission to protect.

Clement would be asleep somewhere in the kitchen on a chair. He chose a different one every night with great care, and a sense of hurt. He was never allowed upstairs to the bedrooms no matter how much he had tried or no matter how often Annie had pleaded.

Was Marilyn asleep? Maybe she was awake thinking about her. Ria went into the room that she had just glimpsed before she had somehow instinctively shut the door against Carlotta. She turned on the light. The walls were covered with pictures of motor bikes, Electra Glides, Hondas.

A bed had boy's clothes strewn on it, jackets, jeans, big shoes… as if a fifteen-year-old had come in, rummaged for something to wear and then gone out. The closet had clothes hanging neatly on a rail and on the shelves were piles of shirts and shorts and socks. The desk at the window had school papers on it, magazines, books. There were photographs too, of a boy, a good-looking teenage boy with hair that stuck up in spikes and a smile not at all impaired by the braces on his teeth, always with a group of friends. They were playing basketball in one, they were swimming in another, they were out in the snow, they were in costume for a school play. The pictures were laid out casually.

She looked at the photographs. It must have been intentional. She longed to know more about the woman who was asleep in her bed back in Tara Road. There must be something in this house which would give her an image of what Marilyn Vine looked like. And then she found it. It was attached with sticky tape to the inside of his sports bag. A summer picture of a threesome; the boy in tennis clothes, all smiles, with his arm around the shoulders of a man with thinning hair and a check open-necked shirt. The woman was tall and thin and she wore a yellow track suit. She had high cheekbones, short, darkish hair and she wore her sunglasses on her head. They were like an advertisement for healthy living, all three of them.

Rosemary left a note in the letterbox.

Dear Marilyn,

Welcome to Dublin. When you wake up I'm sure you may want to go straight back to sleep and not to get involved with nosy neighbours but this is just a word to say that whenever you would like to come round for a drink or even to have a lunch with me in Quentin's which you might enjoy, all you have to do is telephone.

I don't want to overpower you with invitations and demands but I do want you to know that as Ria's oldest and I hope dearest friend I wanted to welcome you and hope you have a good time here. I know she is very excited about going to your home.

Most sincerely, Rosemary Ryan.

Marilyn had the note in her hand before Rosemary had run back to her car which was parked outside the gate. She had felt wide awake after her conversation with Ria in the night, and knew that sleep would not come again, despite the hugely affectionate purring of Clement who had reluctantly come downstairs again to be with her and sat on one of the chairs in this beautiful old room. Through the window Marilyn saw the tall blonde elegant woman in a very well-cut suit that was most definitely power-dressing. With a flash of very elegant smoky tights and high heels she was getting into a black BMW and driving away. This was the woman that Ria had described in her letters as her great friend, who was a business tycoon and Ms Perfect but absolutely delightful at the same time.

Marilyn read the letter with approval. No pressure but generous. This was a woman who went to work at six thirty in the morning, owned her own business and looked like a film star. Rosemary Ryan drove the streets in her BMW. Marilyn read the note again.

She didn't want to meet this woman, make conversation with her. It didn't matter how important these people were in Ria's life, they weren't part of hers. She would leave the letter unanswered and eventually if Rosemary called again they would have a brief meeting.

Marilyn hadn't come to Ireland to make a whole set of superficial acquaintances.

'I dreamed about you, Colm,' Orla King said as he came into the restaurant.

'No you didn't. You decided you wanted to ask me could you sing here on Friday and you needed an excuse to come and see me.' He smiled at her to take the harm out of his words.

Orla laughed good-naturedly. 'Of course I want to sing here on Friday and Saturday, and every night in August during Horse Show week when you'll be full. But I actually did dream about you.'

'Was I a successful restaurant owner, tell me that?'

'No, you were in gaol for life for murdering your brother-in-law Monto,' Orla said.

'Always very melodramatic, Orla,' Colm said, but his smile didn't quite go to his eyes.

'Yeah, but we don't choose what we dream, it just happens,' Orla said with a shrug. 'It must mean something.'

'I don't think I murdered my brother-in-law,' Colm said as if trying to remember. 'No, I'm sure I didn't. He was here last night with a big crowd from the races.'

'He's a real shit, isn't he?' Orla said.

'I'm not crazy about him certainly, but I definitely didn't murder him.' Colm seemed to find it hard to hold on to the light banter of this conversation.

'No, I know you didn't, he was on the phone to me today trying to get me to go to a stag night. Singing, he said. We all know what he means by singing at a stag night.'

'What does he mean, Orla?'

'It means show us your tits, Orla.'

'How unpleasant,' Colm said.

'Not everyone thinks so, Colm.'

'No, I mean how deeply unpleasant of the man who is married to my sister asking a professional singer to do anything like that at a stag night. You misunderstood me totally. I'm obviously sure that the sight of your breasts would be a great delight to anyone but not under such circumstances.'

'You speak like a barrister sometimes.'

'Well I might need one if your dreams come true.' Colm spoke in a slightly tinny voice.

'Monto told me that… well, he sort of said that…' Orla stopped.

'Yes?'

'He sort of hinted that he had a few problems with your sister Caroline.'

'Yes, I think he has a problem remembering he is married to her.'

'He says more than that. He sort of says there's a dark secret.'

'There is, you know, it's called Bad Judgement. She married a man whom you so rightly describe as a shit. Not much of a dark secret, but there you go. Anyway, Orla, you'd like to sing on Friday? A couple of pointers. You sing as background not as foreground. They want to talk to each other as well as listen to you. Is that understood?'

'Right, boss.'

'You'll sing much more Ella and lots less Lloyd Webber. Okay?'

'You're wrong, but yes, boss.'

'You keep your hands and eyes off Danny Lynch. He'll be here with his new wife and his two kids and his mother-in-law.'

'It's not a new wife, it's his pregnant girlfriend so don't be pompous, Colm.'

'Hands and eyes. A promise or no slot and you never work again here or anywhere else.'

'A promise, boss.'

Colm wondered why he had warned Orla off, after all it might be some small pleasure for Ria out in America to hear that the love-nest was less secure than everyone imagined. But business was business and who wanted a scene in a restaurant on a Friday night?

'We're going to take Mrs. Dunne out to dinner on Friday night,' Danny told his children.

'Mam's going to ring on Friday night,' Brian objected.

'She told us to call her Finola, not Mrs. Dunne,' Annie objected.

'She told me to call her Finola, she didn't tell you.'

'Yes, she did.'

'No, Annie, she didn't. She's a different generation.'

'We call Rosemary Rosemary, don't we?'

'Yes, but that's because she's a feminist.'

'But Finola's a feminist too, she said she was,' Annie insisted.

'Okay, so she's Finola. Fine, fine. Now I thought we might go to Quentin's, but it turns out that she… Finola… wants to go to Colm's so that's where we're going.'

'Dead right too,' Annie said. 'Colm has proper vegetarian food not some awful poncy thing that costs what would keep a poor family for a month like the token vegetarian dish in Quentin's costs.'

'But what if Mam rings?' Brian asked.

'There's an answering machine and if we miss her we'll call her back.' Danny was bright about it all.

'She might have been looking forward to talking to us though,' Brian said.

'We could change the message and say we were all at Colm's maybe?' Annie suggested.

'No, I think we'll leave the message as it is.' Danny was firm.

'But it's so easy, Dad.'

'People ring Bernadette too, and they wouldn't want to hear all about our fumblings and foosterings.'

'It's not fumbling just to let Mam know that we hadn't forgotten she was going to call,' Annie said.

'Well, call her! Say we're going out.'

'We can't afford to phone her,' Brian said.

'I just told you you can. A quick call, okay?'

'But what about the second mortgage and all the debts and everything?' Brian asked.

'What do you mean?' His father was anxious.

Annie spoke quickly. 'You know you often said that everything costs so much we might have to get a second mortgage, but Brian doesn't realise how cheap it is to call for thirty seconds.'

'I didn't say anything about…'

'Dad, we're just going to love a night out in Colm's, and Finola will love it and so will you. Stop worrying about Brian, who as I have so often told you, is totally brain-dead. And let's get on with it.'

'You're a great girl, Princess,' he said. 'I look around Dublin and I see all the bright young men who are going to take you away from me one day.'

'Come on, Dad, who are you fooling? You don't meet kids of my age anywhere.'

'No, but you're not going to run off with a kid, are you, Princess?' her father asked.

'You did, Dad.'

There was a silence.

'Who will I marry?' Brian asked.

'A person who has been deprived of all their senses, but very particularly the sense of smell,' Annie said.

'That's not right, is it Dad?'

'Of course not, Brian. Your sister is only making a joke. You'll marry a great person when the time comes.'

'A lady wrestler, maybe,' Annie suggested.

Brian ignored her again. 'Is there any way of knowing it's the right person, Dad?'

'You'll know.' His father was soothing.

'You didn't, Dad. You thought Mam was the right person and she turned out not to be.'

'She was the right person at the time, Brian.'

'And how long's the right time, Dad?' Brian asked.

'About fifteen years, apparently,' Annie said.

'Supper everyone, I have bought lovely fish and chips,' Bernadette called from the kitchen.

Marilyn had taken a chair and a cup of coffee out to the front steps; she sat in the sun examining the garden.

There was so much that could be done with it. Such a pity they hadn't given it any real love and care, unlike the house itself. She saw there had been interesting trees planted. Somebody at some stage had known what would flourish and had wanted to make an impression, but the arbutus had not been pruned or shaped, it had been allowed to become rough and woody, it was almost beyond saving. The palm tree was scraggy and untidy and almost unseen because other bushes had grown up around it and taken it over.

Outside the gate she noticed a woman in her sixties with a very misshapen and unattractive dog. The woman was staring in with interest.

'Good morning,' Marilyn said politely.

'And good morning to you too, I expect you're the American visitor.'

'Yes, I'm Marilyn Vine. Are you a neighbour?'

'I'm Ria's mother Nora, and this is Pliers.'

'How do you do?' Marilyn said.

'Ria said most definitely that we should not call in on top of you unannounced.' Nora had come up the step to continue the conversation but she looked doubtful. Pliers gave a wide and very unpleasant yawn as if he could sense a tedious exchange of courtesies ahead. Marilyn remembered her from the photograph, she knew the woman lived near by. 'I can tell you one thing for a start, Ria didn't grow up in a home like this with all those antiques around her.'

Marilyn could hear the resentment in the woman's voice. 'Really, Mrs. Johnson?'

Nora looked at her watch with a scream and said she'd be late for St Rita's. 'You must come with me one day… it's an old people's home, a visit would be a great thing,' she said.

'It's very kind of you but why exactly?' Marilyn was bewildered.

'Well, they like unusual things to happen in their day. I take my grandchildren there sometimes, and I once brought a juggler I met in Grafton Street. They like Pliers as a new face, I'm sure they'd enjoy meeting an American, it would be different anyway.'

'Well, thank you. Some time, perhaps.'

'Has Lady Ryan been around yet?'

'I beg your pardon?'

'Ria's friend, Rosemary?'

'No, she left a note though. People have been so kind.'

'Well, they're interested in you, Marilyn, it's only natural.' Nora Johnson was gone, having said she wanted to know every little detail about Marilyn Vine and having asked or discovered absolutely nothing at all.

After Ria's mother left Marilyn took out again the wallet of photographs that she had been given. She had to know who these people were when they all turned up as they would, so when Gertie arrived, slightly hesitantly, Marilyn recognised her at once.

'Let's not be awkward about this,' Gertie began. 'I know Ria told you I need a few extra pounds a week, but it seems unfair on you to have to dig into your holiday money…'

'No, that's perfectly fine and I'd love to know that this beautiful house is being kept the way it always is.'

Gertie looked around her. 'But you've got the place looking great, there's not a thing out of place. It's just putting out my hand and asking for charity.'

'No, that's not the way I see it.'

'I'm not sure if Ria explained…' Gertie began.

'Oh, sure she did. You are kind enough to come and help to keep her house in its fine condition twice a week.'

'Yes, but if that's all right with you?' Gertie had big black circles under her eyes. There was some background of dependency here. Marilyn knew Gertie was both friend and employee, still, it was none of her business. 'And would you like me to make you a cup of coffee?' Gertie began.

'No thank you.'

'Well, shall I start doing the cleaning then?'

'I'm sure you know this house very well, whatever you think…'

'Well, she always liked the front room polished.'

'Sure, that would be fine.'

'And would you like me to do anything for you like ironing maybe?'

'That's very kind. I hate ironing. I'm going out now, so shall I see you next time?'

'That's fine, and you're very welcome here, Marilyn.'

'Thank you,' Marilyn said. She took her keys and walked up Tara Road. Lord but this house was going to be full of people. Not exactly the rest she had been looking for.

Gertie thought that for a woman who absolutely hated ironing all Marilyn's clothes were very crisp and well pressed, and that she had already found time to take out Ria's iron since her arrival. But she decided not to argue it any further. There was something about Marilyn that appealed to her. She didn't seem to want to know why Gertie, who already ran a launderette, needed extra money in cash, nor did she seem anxious to talk about her own situation. In a life where too many people wanted to move in and alter the situation, Gertie found this lack of involvement very pleasing indeed.

'What does it say?' Brian asked.

'It's an American woman's voice saying she's not there and to leave a message for the people who are there,' Annie replied.

'There aren't any people… there's only Mam.'

'Shut up, Brian. Hallo Mam, it's Annie and Brian, and everything's fine and it's just that we'll be going out to a big dinner with Dad and… well, what I mean is that we'll be going out to dinner in Colm's restaurant on Friday so we won't be back until maybe eleven o'clock our time. We didn't want you to ring and find nobody at home. That's it, Mam. Brian's okay too.'

'Let me say I'm okay,' Brian cried.

'You're not to waste the call, Mam knows you're okay.'

Brian snatched the phone. 'I'm okay, Mam, and getting on at the swimming. Finola says the coach told her that I'm making fine progress. Oh, Finola's Bernadette's mother by the way. She's coming to the dinner too.'

Annie snatched the phone back and hung up. 'Aren't you the greatest eejit in the whole wide world to mention Finola? Aren't you a fool of the first order?' she said to him, her eyes blazing.

'I'm sorry.' Brian was crestfallen. 'I'm so sorry, I just didn't think. I was excited leaving the message for Mam.'

He looked so upset that even Annie Lynch's hard heart relented. 'It's not the end of the world, I suppose,' she said gruffly. 'Mam won't mind.'

Ria came in from the pool wearing one of Marilyn's towelling jackets. For the first few times she had just flopped around luxuriating in the cold water and the beautiful flowers and the lovingly kept garden all around her. But she had taken to reading Dale's sports books all laid out so neatly in his room. There had been a swimming notebook recording how many lengths he and his friends had done on different days. One entry said: 'Mom has decided to stop behaving like a dolphin and be a proper swimmer. So she's doing four lengths each time, it's nothing but she's going to build it up.'

By the time Dale stopped writing his records Marilyn Vine was doing thirty lengths. Ria felt there was a message for her here. By the time her children came out she wouldn't be like a dolphin any more, she would be purposeful, competitive even. She had done six lengths today and was utterly exhausted. What she needed was a cup of tea and a rest.

She saw the little red light flickering on the phone and rushed to play back the message. She sat at the breakfast bar listening to her children speaking to her from thousands of miles away. The tears poured down her face. What was she doing out in this place wearing herself out playing silly games in a swimming pool? Why was she not at home with them instead of leaving them to become bosom pals with Bernadette's bloody mother? And why was Danny being so cruel and insensitive as to go back to the very restaurant where they had had such a scene on the night she first learned of Bernadette? And would Colm make a fuss over them and offer them a complimentary drink as he always did?

The Lynch family on an outing the same as usual, only a few small things changed. The wives, for example. The one put out to grass and a newer model installed. The mothers-in-law. Nora Johnson wouldn't be there but Mrs. Dunne with her shiny copper shoes and her smart suit would. Like probing a sore tooth she insisted on playing the message over and over. She couldn't even smile at the argument between the children. She knew that once they had hung up Annie had laid into Brian for his tactlessness. At this very minute some huge argument was taking place. How would Bernadette react? Would she stop them fighting or would she pretend not to notice?

Ria didn't care which she did. It would be the wrong thing to do anyway. And maybe this woman who was somehow Finola to Ria's children and yet was Mummy to Bernadette was now a huge influence in their lives. She was going out to dinner with them, for heaven's sake. That hurt more than anything.

It was too much to bear. Ria put her head down on the breakfast bar in the sunny kitchen and cried and cried. She didn't see a man come to the glass doors and pause before knocking. He, however, saw a woman doubled over in grief. He couldn't hear her sobs or the choked words. He picked up his canvas bag and moved silently away. This was not the time to call and say that he was Greg Vine's brother passing through and that he had come to see Marilyn. He walked down to his rented car and drove to a motel.

It had been such a house of tragedy since the accident he had hardly been able to bear visiting it. And now he had come across a strange woman in a pool wrap, crying with a kind of intensity he had never known. Still, he had promised his brother that if work took him east he would look up Marilyn. He had thought, wrongly, that it would be better to come without warning, otherwise she would have certainly found some excuse not to meet him.

He had a shower, a cool beer at the motel and then he telephoned his brother's house. The words said Marilyn and Greg were both away but to leave a message for the people staying in the house. On a whim he spoke.

'My name is Andy Vine. I'm Greg's brother, passing through Westville staying at the… sorry…' he hunted for the name and number of the motel. 'I know Greg's in Hawaii obviously, but perhaps you might kindly call me and tell me where Marilyn is? I would much appreciate this. Many thanks in advance.'

Ria sat listening to the message. She did not pick up the receiver. Marilyn had mentioned no brother-in-law. Perhaps there was a coldness. If he was a brother of Greg Vine then surely he'd know that Greg's wife was in Dublin. If he was a brother-in-law of Marilyn and had thought she was at home, why had he not called around? But then was she being ridiculously suspicious over nothing? And would it be childish and nit-picking to call Marilyn in Ireland and check? It would also be somehow involving herself in Marilyn's doings, which she realised now was the last thing Marilyn seemed to want. She couldn't ask Carlotta and Heidi since they seemed to know nothing whatsoever about their friend Marilyn's lifestyle. She decided she would call Greg Vine in Hawaii.

She was put through to him with great ease. He sounded younger and more relaxed than his photograph had suggested.

'Yes, of course,' he said when she gave her name.

'First, I must assure you that there's no problem here. Everything in your beautiful house is in fine shape,' she said.

'That's a relief, I thought you were going to tell me the plumbing wasn't working.'

'No, nothing like that, and I suppose in a way because I'm living in your home… I wanted to introduce myself to you… but not at length on your phone bill.'

'That's most courteous of you, I hope you have everything you need.' His voice was polite but cold.

Ria told him about the call from the motel. Greg assured her that he did have a highly respectable brother called Andy who worked in Los Angeles but came to Boston and New York City on business from time to time.

'That's fine then, I'll call him, I thought it wiser to check it out because he didn't seem to know anything about Marilyn's movements.'

'I appreciate your caution very much. But Marilyn was, let us say, a trifle reserved in telling people anything about her movements.' He sounded bitter.

Ria decided to ignore the tone. 'Well, you'll be glad to know she's arrived there safely and is as well installed as I am in Tudor Drive. It would be good if you had the chance to go over there yourself.'

'Oh, I don't think that's in the master plan.' Again his voice sounded icy.

'I asked would you be going, she said she didn't know.'

'Really? And will your husband be joining you in Westville?' he asked.

Ria took a deep breath. Marilyn had certainly been fairly short on her explanations of anything to anyone. 'No, Danny is now my ex-husband. He is living with a much younger woman called Bernadette. It's the reason why I am actually here in your house. My son and daughter will however be joining me here next month. Did Marilyn not even tell you that much?'

There was a pause, then he spoke. 'Yes, she did, and I apologise for my manner. It was uncalled for. I was confused by Marilyn not wanting to come here, I still am.'

'That's perfectly all right. I think it was a search for somewhere completely different.'

'Obviously.'

There was another pause.

'And your son?'

'Yes?'

'He likes Hawaii?'

'I beg your pardon?'

'I suppose it's a place that all young people would like.' Ria felt flustered, although she did not know why.

'Oh yes. Certainly.'

'I expect he's missing his mother.'

'I'm sorry?'

'They never pretend, but they do in a way that they can't even define.' She knew she was gushing. 'Boys…' said Ria nervously.

'Well, yes.' He seemed anxious to end the conversation.

'I won't keep you any longer,' she said. 'I'm not clear about what's going on in anyone's lives these days, but just be sure that your house is in fine shape. I had hoped to reassure you of that anyway.'

'Of course, of course. And is it working for you being over here?'

'It was,' Ria said truthfully. 'It was working quite well but I just got a message from my children on your answering machine.'

'Are they missing you? Is that the problem?'

'No, Greg. They're not missing me, that's the problem.'

'Marilyn? This is Rosemary Ryan.'

'Oh yes, thank you for your note.'

Rosemary was to the point. 'I wondered can I take you and Gertie to Colm's restaurant on Saturday for dinner? He has a special seafood evening, and you might enjoy it.'

'I don't want to intrude.'

'This would be a casual easy girls' night out. Gertie doesn't go out socially. Do say yes.'

'Thank you so much, Rosemary, I'd love to join you,' said Marilyn Vine.

Ria called Andy Vine at the motel, told him who she was and where Marilyn had gone.

'We both needed a little space in our lives and thought it would be a good idea,' she said.

He seemed happy enough with the explanation.

'And in the normal turn of events would you be staying here in Tudor Drive, I mean if Marilyn had been at home and everything?'

'Well, I might,' he said.

'So you shouldn't be paying for a motel really, should you? If you expected to stay here in your brother's house?' She was eager to do the right thing.

'No, please, Maria. Please don't think like that. It's your house now just as the house in Ireland belongs to Marilyn.'

'I feel bad about it. How long are you going to be in Westville anyway?'

'I had thought that maybe I'd spend tonight and Saturday night here, you know, if Marilyn were about… then drive up to Boston on Sunday. The conference starts on Monday morning.'

'I'm sorry she didn't think of telling you. It was all arranged in a bit of a hurry,' Ria apologised.

This couldn't be the woman he had seen crying like no one had ever cried before. 'I had been going to ask Marilyn out to dinner in a new Thai restaurant.'

'Maybe next time,' she said.

'Would you like a Thai dinner, Maria?' he asked.

She paused. It was the last thing on earth she thought would happen to her in America, a man who hadn't even seen her inviting her out to dinner within a week of her arrival. But it was a Saturday night. Back in Ireland her children were being taken to Colm's restaurant with a lot of strangers. 'Thank you so much, Andy, I'd be delighted to accept,' Ria Lynch said.

'Monto wants to bring in a crowd tonight,' Colm said.

'What did you tell him?' Caroline was immediately anxious.

'I told him we were full.'

'Oh.'

'He said I was to have a word with Caroline and that he'd call back later and see if we had an unexpected cancellation for six people.'

'Give it to him, Colm.'

'Why? It upsets you when they're here. We don't need the business those guys bring in, six overdone steaks and round after round of double gins.'

'Please, Colm…?'

'It's utterly terrifying for me to see you so afraid of him.' He looked at her big sad eyes with such compassion that he could see the tears form in the corners. 'Still I'll do what you say. Which table will they be least noticeable at, do you think?'

She gave him a watery smile. 'Look, do you think I'd be like this about him if there was any other solution?'

'There is a solution.'

'We've had this conversation a thousand times.'

'I'm so sorry, Caroline.' He put his arms around his sister and she laid her head on his shoulder.

'What have you to be sorry for? You've done everything for me, you've saved my life.'

He patted her on the back as he held her and behind him he heard the cheery voice of Orla King.

'Well, hallo everybody. I thought I'd be on time to show you my sheet music but, boy, did I come a little early.'

Bernadette's mother had decided to teach Brian Lynch to play chess.

'Isn't it hard?' Brian asked suspiciously.

'No, it's not hard at all to learn to play, it's hard to be good at it. You'd pick it up in half an hour then you'd know it for life.'

'Right then,' said Brian agreeably.

'Would you like to learn too, Annie?'

'No thanks, Finola, if you don't mind.'

'Not at all.' She had known Annie would refuse to do anything in tandem with her younger brother, and also she might have felt it somehow disloyal to her mother. Bernadette was right. Annie was a complicated child, and of course fourteen-and-a-half was the very worst age in the whole world.

Danny and Bernadette were out with Barney McCarthy meeting some possible investors in a new development. It had not gone well, they had asked rather too searching questions about previous financial returns and too many details about building specifications. Bernadette had been quiet and respectful, looking from one to another with interest but no understanding. Ria would have had some kind of sparky input into the conversation which might have taken the dead edge of an unsuccessful pitch for unlikely business off the whole thing.

Danny was tired when they got up to leave. 'Will we go to Quentin's tonight?' Barney suggested.

'No. A family dinner. Long arranged.'

'Never mind, I just thought it would be relaxing to drop into Tara Road, have a drink, a shower, and then just the two of us head off and sort out the financial problems of the world.'

'It would have been,' Danny said.

Then they both looked at each other in alarm. They had both actually forgotten that Danny didn't live in Tara Road any more.

Possibly that was what made Danny drive home that way. It was only slightly out of his way to cut through that neighbourhood. As he looked out at the house that had been his home Danny Lynch saw a tall slim woman in dark jeans and a white shirt, quite striking in a sporty kind of way, digging urgently at the undergrowth in his front garden. On the tarmacadam drive was a huge sheet of plastic that held what she had already hacked out.

'What the hell does she think she's doing?' he said, slowing down immediately.

'Drive on, Danny.' Bernadette's voice was calm but insistent.

'No I won't. She's tearing my garden to bits.'

'Drive on a little bit further anyway so that she won't see you.'

'She'll see me, by God she'll see me. I'm not letting her get away with that.'

But he did go on further, and parked near Rosemary's house.

'Don't go in, you're upset.'

'But she'll have the whole place cut down,' he protested.

'Don't upset her. She might storm back to America.'

'Good.'

'Then there'd be nowhere for the children to go on holiday,' said Bernadette.

'They're having a bloody holiday with us next week on the Shannon, isn't that enough for them?' But he took her advice and drove home.

'I brought you Martinis in honour of the visiting American,' Colm said. It proved to be a great success.

Marilyn told them about her happy day in the garden, she was never happier than when up to her elbows in earth. If the other two thought that she might have checked with Ria before embarking on it they said nothing. And of course it was quite possible that she had. Gertie told them about a man in the launderette who came there every Saturday and washed an entire bag of women's black lacy underwear. Quite unconcerned as people saw him taking them out and folding them neatly into a big carrier bag. Gertie said that she'd love to be able to tell these little things to Jack but that sadly you never knew how he would take them, he might come rushing in and calling the man a pervert. And if the other two thought it was a poor life if you couldn't even tell your husband a pleasant story about work they gave no hint of it.

And when a good-looking blonde began to sing 'Someone to Watch Over Me', they told Marilyn that this was about the most troublesome woman in Dublin and that she had been known to cause spectacular scenes in her time.

'She's a good singer, though,' Marilyn said, struggling to be fair and looking at the girl who played and sang as if every word had a huge meaning for her.

'Bit of a high-risk factor. I always tell Colm but when does anyone listen to me?' Rosemary said in a tone that suggested almost everyone else listened to her and was wise to do so.

'Maybe he just likes giving her a chance, Colm's great at helping the underdog,' Gertie said.

'She doesn't look like much of an underdog to me,' Marilyn volunteered. At that moment Danny Lynch and his party came into the restaurant and they were settled at a table across the room. Marilyn recognised them immediately from the photographs on the walls and in the wallet Ria had sent her. 'Is that Ria's husband?' she asked very directly. And the other two nodded glumly.

Until this stage in the meal Ria had not been spoken of at all. Now her whole personal story was here in the restaurant and they couldn't skirt around it any more. A glamorous, well-made-up woman in a black sequinned jacket was being very much the centre of things, pointing at where people were to sit.

'She doesn't look like a twenty-two-year-old to me, she's my age if she's a day,' Marilyn whispered.

'You're not going to believe this, Marilyn, but that's the twenty-two-year-old's mother,' whispered Rosemary.

'Mother!' said Marilyn in disbelief.

Then she saw, beside the two animated children familiar from their pictures, the waif in the shapeless blue jumper and skirt. A pale child with long straight hair who could definitely be taken for Annie's not very much older sister. Marilyn felt a pain that was almost physical to think that Ria Lynch had to endure this. Danny Lynch was still the excitable boy that he had been all those years ago. And Ria loved him deeply still. How could anyone bear the pain of losing a man to this, this strange unformed young girl? No wonder poor Ria had run three thousand miles away to get over the grief of it all.

Orla began to sing 'The Man I Love'. Colm frowned. He frowned even more deeply when she went straight into 'They're Singing Songs of Love but Not for Me'. 'Cool it, Orla,' he said as he passed with the steaks for Monto's table.

'Pure Gershwin, boss, as you suggested. Coming up with "Nice Work if You Can Get It". That should set a few hearts fluttering, don't you think?'

'You have a reasonably nice voice but you don't have all that much of a career. And while you're at it, if you go on like you're going on tonight, forget the Horse Show next month.'

'Be fair, Colm. You said Cole Porter and Gershwin. George I've done, they liked it. I'm coming up to Cole now. "I Get a Kick outa You". "I've Got You under My Skin". "The Lady Is a Tramp". Can I help it, boss, if the titles have a bit of innuendo? I don't write them, I'm only singing them at your request.'

'Don't be a fool, Orla, please.'

'Hey, who are you to ask me not to be a fool? A man who's in love with his sister. Great bloody role model, Colm Barry.'

'I warn you, you'll be so very, very sorry tomorrow. I'll still have a restaurant, you won't have a job or a chance of ever getting one in Dublin.'

'Do you remember something we used to hear every week called "One Day at a Time"? Okay, this is my day, this is my time.' Her eyes were too bright.

'Don't do it, Orla.'

'He left me, he could have had me and he went for an old trout in a sequinned jacket.'

'That's not who's with Danny.'

'He's holding her bloody arm, who else is he with? The others are children.'

'The one in the blue sweater; the black sequins is his mother-in-law.'

She looked over again, astounded. 'You're making it up.'

'I'm not, but you're not going to have a chance to check it.'

'She's under the age of consent, it's not legal. Any more than you and Caroline are.' She was standing up now, prepared to go over to Danny Lynch's table.

'Orla, sit down, this minute. Play. Don't sing. Play "Smoke Gets in Your Eyes".'

'It's the kind of shitty philosophy you believe in.'

'Play it, Orla, or leave. Now.'

'You and whose army will make me?'

'Monto's army.' He looked over at their table. Six rough vulgar men whom he disliked intensely.

'They like me, why would they throw me out?'

'I'd ask them nicely.'

'And I'd tell Monto that you're screwing his wife.'

'And who would believe you, Orla? Out-of-control weakling that you are.’

'Hey, where's the solidarity tonight?'

'Where did you put it? The drink? I was on to you the moment you came in, I checked your grapefruit juice.'

She threw her head back at him and laughed. 'It's in the flower vase, you fool. First line of defence. Half-bottle of vodka in with the carnations.'

He picked up the vase and emptied the contents into an empty wine bucket and indicated to a waiter to take it away.

'What will I do with it, Mr Barry?'

'Down the drain outside. Save the flowers, wipe the stems.'

'You believed me.' She looked both anxious and triumphant at the very same time.

'Not until I saw your eyes when I threw it out. Then I knew it was there all right.'

'Self-righteous prick,' she said.

'Hey Colm, are you going to stand there looking down the singer's tits all night, or serve us our steaks ?' Monto called from his table.

A few people laughed nervously. Others looked away.

Orla got up, and taking her microphone with her began to wander around the room. 'I'd like to do requests for people,' she said. 'I think this is what makes a night out special. But so often people don't always quite know exactly what they want to hear. So I thought that possibly tonight I could choose songs for people, something that could be appropriate. And sing a few bars at each table.'

People were laughing and encouraging her. To the customers who didn't know her, Orla King was an attractive, professional singer. Now she was doing something a little more personal, that was all there was to it. But many people in the room froze and they watched her edgily.

First she came to Rosemary's table. 'We have three lovely ladies here,' she said. 'Feminists, oh definitely. Lesbians? Very possibly. Anyway, no men. My grandmother used to sing a song called "There Were Three Lovely Lassies from Bannion". But it's a little too old even for this group. Suppose I were to sing "Sisters" for them…?'

'Did I do anything except help you all your life?' Rosemary asked, with the mask of a frozen smile on her face.

'You had your reasons,' Orla said. She judged that a few bars were enough and moved to Monto's table. 'Six men, powerful men, rich men. Nothing pouffy about these men, believe me, I know.' She smiled radiantly around the room. 'Now what song should we choose for them? Oh I know, there was one they all sang at this stag night, they asked me to perform and they loved it. No, it was not "Eskimo Nell", everyone knows that. No, it was "The Ball of Kirriemuir". "Four and twenty virgins came down from Inverness and when the ball was over there were four and twenty less."' She smiled and moved to the Lynches' table.

At the same time Colm Barry was at Monto's table, whispering feverishly. 'Well well, what a wonderful family group. Let me see.' She smiled at them all, playing them like little fishes on a line. 'What would you like?'

Only Brian thought it was a real question. He chose a Spice Girls song. 'Do you know "Whaddya Want, Whaddya Really Want"?' he asked eagerly.

His innocent face halted her in her tracks. Just for one moment, but for long enough to throw her. 'What about "Love and Marriage"? No, that's not permanent enough. What about that nice song "She Was Only Sixteen"? No, she must be older than that. This is your new wife, isn't it, Danny?' She was just turning to point to Finola, but as she turned Monto and one of his henchmen had lifted her bodily and were carrying her to the door. 'Don't think people don't know, Danny. They know what you and I had, just as they know what Monto's wife had… and still has…'

Her voice was no longer heard. She was outside the restaurant. If Colm had hoped that he could get by with the help of some of his friends he was disappointed. The embarrassed silence that fell on the restaurant seemed to last for ever. Rosemary, usually so quick to know what to do in a crisis, sat white-faced and furious at her table, with the new American woman from Ria's house confused and bewildered beside her. And with them was Gertie, terrified to see yet again at first hand the damage drink could do.

Monto's party were more triumphant and hilarious than could be imagined, imitating some of Orla's more drunken lurches.

Jimmy and Frances Sullivan, entertaining some guests up from Cork, embarrassed at the turn the evening had taken. Two fellow restaurateurs that Colm knew who had come in specially to see how his business was getting on. A party of two families getting to know each other before a wedding at the weekend. His sister Caroline standing stricken by the accusations that had been made. And Danny Lynch's party he didn't even dare to look at. All of them upset by that destructive little Orla King. Why had she done it? Because she was unhappy.

But we're all unhappy, he told himself. Why should she have the luxury of throwing a scene and upsetting everyone else? He saw his waiters looking at him as if waiting for a lead. It could only have been seconds, he realised, since Orla's struggling body had been carried out of his restaurant. It felt like a lifetime. Colm straightened his shoulders, indicated by a gesture that one table should he cleared, that the wine bucket should be placed nearer to another. He touched Caroline's shoulder and looked at the kitchen, and zombie-like she walked towards it.

Then he approached Rosemary Ryan's table. 'Well well,' he said, looking directly at Marilyn Vine. 'You can't say we don't show you life in the fast lane in Dublin.'

'No, indeed.' Her face was impassive. He wished she didn't have to be so po-faced. She was the guest, she should have said something warm-hearted and funny to show that she was a good sport, to show that it didn't matter. But she didn't.

'I'm embarrassed that this should have happened the first time you come to my place,' he said. Marilyn nodded her head as if accepting his apology. He felt a dark flush of annoyance at being dismissed so regally.

'She'll never work again, Colm,' Rosemary said, but not with the solidarity he might have liked. There was a hint that he might have known this would happen, that the fault was partially his.

'It was all a bit like a cabaret really,' said poor Gertie, trying to put some favourable gloss on it.

At the Lynch table they hadn't quite recovered either. 'Sorry about the cabaret.' Colm had decided to play it low key, he wasn't going to crawl to these people.

'Was it something she ate, do you think?' Brian Lynch asked with interest.

'I very much hope not, speaking as a restaurant owner.' Colm forced a smile.

'More like something you gave her to drink.' Danny Lynch's voice was cold.

'No, Danny, you know I wouldn't do that. Like myself, Orla can't drink like all you people can, but she was upset by something and she had hidden vodka in the flower vase.'

Bernadette clapped her hand over her mouth to stop the giggle. 'The flower vase? It must have tasted awful,' she said.

'I hope it did.' Colm smiled at the strange girl that he had thought he would never speak to. She really was only a child, more a friend for Annie than for Annie's father. What a nightmare for Ria to take on board. 'Anyway, you'll have to rely on conversation rather than music,' he said.

'That's better in a way,' Annie said. 'You can hear music anywhere, we'd rather chat as it happens.'

'Yes, we were asking Bernadette whether the baby inside her had webbed feet,' Brian said. 'And we were wondering was that the American? You know, Mam's friend Mrs. Vine, over there with Rosemary and Gertie?'

'Yes, that's Marilyn Vine,' Colm said.

'Some welcome to Tara Road for her,' Danny said.

'That's what I told her, she thought it was very funny,' Colm lied and moved on to placate the next table.

Somehow the night ended for everyone. Monto and his friend came back.

'Where exactly?' Colm hated having to talk to this man.

'We thought of a lot of places, but settled on an Out-Patients' in a hospital eventually,' Monto said with a smirk.

'She'll leave, she'll come back. Close the door of the restaurant.'

'No, we gave a folding note or two to someone there who will make sure she doesn't.'

'Thank you, Monto, I owe you for tonight.'

'You owe me for a lot more than just tonight and you know that. So you'll never tell me again that your restaurant is full.'

'No, of course not, a mistake.'

'Exactly.'

At Danny's table they had paid the bill and were leaving. 'I took the price of the wine off to compensate for the unpleasantness involved,' Colm said.

'Thank you.' Danny was cold.

'It wasn't Colm's fault,' Annie said.

'Of course not.' Danny was still chilly.

'Nor was it your father's fault that Orla picked on him specifically,' Colm said in an even icier voice.

'No indeed, and thank you very much for your generous gesture about the wine,' said Danny Lynch, changing his tack so swiftly it knocked them all off course.

'Was it a great dinner?' Ria asked her daughter.

'It was extraordinary, Mam. This singer got pissed or stoned or something and started going around with her bosom falling out upsetting everyone. Then she was sort of carried out. Mrs. Vine was there and the drunk singer headed straight for her table and said they were all lesbians! Honestly, Mrs. Vine, Gertie and Rosemary.'

Ria held her head in her hand. 'Come again, Annie? Gertie, Rosemary… I don't believe any of this, Annie.'

'Well, Mam, the only one who's going to confirm it to you is that brilliant observer Brian Lynch, who was there for it all and who's waiting to get on the phone.'

'I'm sorry, Annie, of course I believe you, love. It just seems so unlikely. And did Bernadette and… um… Finola enjoy it all too?'

'Well I think they were a bit stunned.'

'I love you, Annie,' said Ria.

'Oh Mam, for heaven's sake. I'll put Brian on now.'

'Mam?'

'Brian, was it a great night?'

'It was mad, Mam. You just wouldn't believe it. Mam, what's a lebsian? Nobody will tell me.'

'A lesbian, is it?'

'Yes, whatever.'

'It's a lady who likes other ladies more than she likes men.’

'So, is that a big deal?'

'Not a bit. Tell me about the night in the restaurant.'

'Do you know any lebsians?'

'Yes, I know a few, sure.'

'Are they awful?'

'No, of course not.'

'So why do people whisper about them?'

'They don't, believe me.'

'They did, Mam, tonight. Believe me.'

'I'm sure you misunderstood.'

'I don't think so. Do you want to say goodnight to Finola? She's just off.' Ria could hear Annie scream.

'Brian, you are so stupid,' she could hear Annie crying.

'Yes, sure, I'd love to say goodnight to Finola,' Ria heard herself say.

There was a fluster and then a woman came on the line. 'Well, I just want to say that your children are great company,' she said desperately.

'Thank you for saying that. They seem to have taken to you greatly also,' Ria gulped. 'And I gather there was some kind of night to remember?'

Finola considered. 'Unless there had been someone there with a video camera you would never believe it.'

Neither used the other's name. Perhaps it was always going to be like that between them. 'Good luck to you,' Ria said.

'And great good luck to you too,' said Bernadette's mother.

Ria hung up the telephone. She had two hours to get ready for her date with a man who was in technical publishing in Los Angeles and was en route to a conference in Boston. She had just finished a pleasant conversation with the mother of her husband's mistress. The apparently manic-depressive woman with whom she had exchanged homes had been out partying in Colm's restaurant. The world had tilted.

Andy Vine didn't look at all like his brother when he came in and had a lemon drink by the pool, so she was glad she had telephoned Hawaii about him. About her own age or younger, slight and red-haired. Somewhat academic and assuming that she knew much more about college life than she did. 'Forgive me, I keep making the wrong assumptions,' he said when she knew nothing of any faculty or alumni association in either Ireland or Connecticut. 'I thought that's how you and Marilyn met.'

'No, not at all. Other people thought we met over an obsession about gardens, in which I have no interest at all.' She was all smiles and wearing her best summer outfit, a blue-and-white dress that she had got for a wedding last summer and had never worn since. It had looked great with a hat from Polly Callaghan, but there was never anywhere smart enough to wear it since. She should have dressed better. Would everything have been all right had she been an elegant wife?

'Do you know Thai food at all?' he was asking.

'Well, there are Thai restaurants in Ireland now, we are very international. But I've only been twice so I don't remember it all and I'd love you to choose for me when we get there.'

This seemed to go down well. Maybe it was easier making fellows interested in you when you were old and way past it and it didn't matter any more.

They talked easily in the Thai restaurant. He told her about the kind of publishing his company was involved in. Books that you would never hear of unless you happened to be in that field, and then you not only heard about them, you bought them because you had to. He explained how it had all changed so radically because of technology and CD-roms. His grandfather had been a door-to-door salesman for encyclopaedias. The man would spin in his grave if he saw the size of an encyclopaedia now and knew how they were sold. Andy lived in LA in an apartment. He had been married, and was now divorced. There were no children.

'Did you leave her or did she leave you?' Ria asked.

'It's never as simple as that,' he smiled.

'Oh it is,' she insisted.

'Okay, I had an affair, she found out and she threw me out.'

Ria nodded. 'So you left really, by ending the marriage.'

'So you say, so she said. I didn't want it to end but who listened to me?'

'Would you have forgiven her, if she were the one who had the affair?'

'Sure I would.'

'You'd have gone on as if nothing had happened?'

'Look, Maria, people let each other down all the time, don't they? It's not a perfect life with everyone delivering on every promise. Marriages survive affairs if there's something there in the marriage itself that's bigger than the affair. I thought there was in our case, I was wrong.'

'If you had your time all over again… ?' She was keen to know.

'You can't rewrite history, I have no idea what I'd do. Tell me, are you divorced also?'

'I think so,' Ria said. He looked at her, startled. 'That's not as mad as it sounds. You see, divorce was only recently introduced in Ireland. We're still not entirely used to it. But the answer is yes, I am about to be.'

'Did you leave him or…?'

'Oh, he left me.'

'And you won't forgive him?'

'I'm not being given the chance.' There was a pause, 'Andy, can I ask you about Dale?'

'What do you want to know exactly?'

'It's just that when I talked to Greg, well, I think I may have somehow said the wrong thing. He seemed a bit startled, upset almost.'

'What on earth did you say?'

'I don't know, ordinary things, you know, good wishes, and so on.'

Andy shook his head. 'Well, of course people are not all the same the way they respond. Everyone takes things differently. Marilyn's never really accepted it, that's the way she copes.'

'Can't she and Greg talk about it?'

'Greg wants to but she won't apparently.'

Ria felt stung by the way men shrugged things off. Dale was in Hawaii, his mother clearly missed him and yet things were stuck in this impasse. She and Danny hadn't made a brilliant job of sorting their children out, but they had tried. Both of them, she gave Danny that much. This matter of Dale was very baffling. 'Surely all Greg has to do is to work it out with her, dates and times of visits.'

'He was trying to and then she disappeared to Ireland.'

'But when does she think he will come back?'

'In the fall.'

'That's a long time and she still leaves that room like that?' Ria was puzzled.

'What did she tell you about it all?' Andy asked.

'Nothing at all. She never mentioned she had a son at all.'

Andy looked upset and a little silence fell between them. And then they didn't speak about the matter again. There were plenty of other things to talk about. He told her about his childhood in Pennsylvania, she told him about her mother's obsession with the movies, he explained the passion for baseball and she told him about hurling and the big final every year in Croke Park. He told her how to make a great Caesar salad and she explained about potato cakes. She enjoyed the evening and knew he had too.

He drove her back to Tudor Drive and they sat awkwardly for a few moments in the car. She did not like to invite him in in case it would be misunderstood. Then they both spoke at once.

'If ever business takes you to Ireland…' Ria began.

'The conference ends on Wednesday at lunchtime…' Andy said.

'Please go on…' she said.

So he finished what he was going to say. 'And I was wondering if I drove back this way and made you a Caesar salad would you cook those potato cakes?'

'It's a deal,' Ria said with a big smile and got out of the car.

Years ago when they went out with fellows the big question always asked was 'Are you seeing him again?' And now she was back in that situation, a fellow had asked to see her again. With all that implied.

Ria stood in her bedroom and looked out on the beautiful garden that this strange woman had created. From what she had heard, Marilyn Vine spent every waking moment with her hands in the earth pulling and changing and turning the soil and coaxing the flowers and climbers to come up out of the ground.

She felt very out of place here. The friendship that she had thought she might have with Carlotta and Heidi had not bloomed. Both women seemed embarrassed at the effusion of the first night, and had made no attempt to arrange another jolly threesome. Despite the admiration in Andy Vine's eyes she felt no real sense of being pleased and flattered. He was just a strange man from a different world to hers. True, Westville was peaceful and beautiful, a place of trees and a river and a gracious easygoing lifestyle with superficial courtesy and warmth everywhere. But it wasn't home. And at home her children had gone out to Colm's restaurant for a hilarious evening with their new family. And Marilyn Vine had been across the room at a table with Rosemary. And I was here alone. Tears came down her face. She must have been mad to think this was a good idea. Totally mad.

It was dawn in Tara Road. Marilyn had not slept well. What an ugly scene that had been at the restaurant. Everything had suddenly slipped out of control. All these people were like characters playing their parts in a drama. And not a very pleasant drama. Rosemary and Gertie had filled her in on some of the background. Stories of Ria's broken marriage, the new relationship, the puzzlement of the children, the known unreliability of that offensive drunken singer, the possible criminal connection of the heavy men who had eventually taken her away. These people knew everything about everyone and were not slow in discussing it. There was no dignity, reserve, self-preservation.

Rosemary had talked about it being natural that people might assume she was gay since she was single and had a sister who was already 'out' with a partner who was a lawyer. Gertie had told her about her husband's problems coping with drink and violence. She spoke as if Jack had been prone to getting chest colds in the winter. Colm had approached their table with a casual apology over the incident as if it had not been the most excruciatingly embarrassing moment of her life. The two women had told her how they had initially thought Ria was mad to go to America and leave her children but they hoped it would all work out for the best.

Marilyn could not take in the degree of involvement and indeed interference that these people felt confident to have in everyone else's life. They thought nothing of discussing the motives and private sorrows of their friend with Marilyn who was after all a complete stranger, here purely because of an accidental home exchange. While she felt sympathy for Ria and all that had happened to her, she also felt a sense of annoyance.

Why had she not kept her dignity, and refused to allow all these people into her life? The only way to cope with tragedy and grief was to refuse to permit it to be articulated and acknowledged. Deny its existence and you had some hope of survival. Marilyn got out of bed and looked down on the messy garden and the other large redbrick houses of the neighbourhood. She felt very lost and alone in this place where garrulous people wanted to know everything about you and expected you to need the details of their lives too.

She ached for the cool house and beautiful garden in Westville. If she were there now she could go and swim lengths of her pool safe in the knowledge that no one would call and burden her with post mortems about last night. Clement the cat who slept on her bed every night woke up and stretched and came over to her hopefully. He was purring loudly. The day was about to begin, he was expecting a game and a bowl of something.

Marilyn looked at him sadly. 'I don't usually talk to animals, Clement, but I'm making an exception in your case. I made the wrong decision coming here. It was the worst decision I ever made in my life.'

CHAPTER SIX

'Do you think when we're talking to Granny we should call her Nora?' Brian asked.

'What?' Annie looked up from her book.

'You know… if we call Bernadette's mother by her first name maybe we should do the same with Granny.' Brian wanted to be fair.

'No, Brian, and shut up,' said Annie.

'You always say shut up, you never say anything nice, not ever at all.'

'Who could say anything nice to you, Brian, honestly?'

'Well, some people do.'

'Who apart from Mam and Dad? And they have to because you're what they got.'

'Finola often says nice things.'

'Tell me one nice thing she said to you today, go on tell me.'

'She said it was good that I had remembered to let my knights command the centre of the board.'

'And had you?' Annie still refused chess lessons and she couldn't accept that Brian had mastered it.

'Well, only by accident in a way. I just sort of put them out there and they were commanding and she was very pleased with me.' Brian smiled at the triumph of it all.

Sometimes he was more pathetic than awful, Annie thought, you'd feel sorry for him. And he didn't really understand that their lives were going to change. He thought that after the summer everyone would go back to their own homes. He had even asked Bernadette's mother if they could go on playing chess in the autumn when they came back from America. Their games wouldn't have to end then, would they? Finola had said that they could surely continue to play whenever he came to visit his dad and she happened to be around. Stupid Brian had just looked bewildered. In his heart he thought that Dad might be coming home. He hadn't taken on board that this was the way things were always going to be.

Kitty had said that Bernadette must be very, very clever to have got her claws into Annie's father. Despite the ban Annie still managed to see Kitty by dint of visiting the library. Since Annie read a lot now, from sheer lack of anything else to do as she kept telling them, it was considered legitimate that she visit the library. Kitty would come along too and report on the real world of motorbike rallies, of discos and of great crowds who hung out in bars. Annie listened wistfully to the freedom of it all.

But Kitty was more interested in the sexual side of it all, and was fascinated by Bernadette. 'She looks so dumb and half asleep you'd never have thought it. She must be like one of these sirens, one of these famous courtesans who had captured people by wiles. There were women who could make men their sexual slaves. It would be interesting to know exactly how.'

'She's hardly likely to tell me,' Annie said drily.

'But you all get on so well,' Kitty said, amazed. 'I thought you'd hate her taking your mother's place and everything.'

'No, she hasn't taken Mam's place, she's just made a new place. It's hard to explain.'

'And she lets you do what you want, that's good anyway.'

'No, I said she doesn't bother us, that's a different thing. She doesn't make any rules except about you. She's obviously got a heavy message from Dad that you're a no-go area,' Annie grinned.

Kitty was puzzled. 'I always thought he liked me, I even thought he fancied me a bit, that I was in there with a chance. Your mother was on to me—that's why she didn't want me round the place.'

Annie was shocked. 'Kitty, you wouldn't have.'

'I wouldn't have wanted to be your stepmother. I thought a bit of clubbing, going to fancy places…' Kitty wiggled her hips. 'A bit of you know… he's a good-looking man, your dad.'

Annie looked at her with a sick feeling. Kitty had had sex with fellows, and she said it was usually great. Sometimes it was boring but mainly it was great. Annie shouldn't knock it until she'd tried it. But Annie knew she was never going to try it, it was frightening and urgent and out of control and horrible. Like what she had seen in the lane that day. And like Orla King, the woman who sang and made all the trouble in Colm's, she had been singing and talking about sex. It was a horrible, upsetting, confusing business. She remembered her mother explaining it all to her years back and saying that it was very good because it made you feel specially close and warm when you loved someone.

Some good it had done poor Mam feeling close and warm. And it wasn't as if at her age she was ever going to feel close and warm to anyone again, like Dad had done. So easily.

Ria decided to have her hair done for her date with Andy on Wednesday night. But she would not go to Carlotta's. She would not let these women think that she was clingy and dependent even if it were true.

There were other beauty salons in Westville or near by. In fact she remembered seeing one in a shopping mall that she had driven to not long ago. She would go and investigate. Expertly she backed Marilyn Vine's car out of the carport and by chance met Carlotta who was collecting her mail.

The greeting was warm. 'Hi! Now isn't this a bit of luck, I was hoping to see you.'

'Here I am,' Ria said with a smile fixed to her face.

What did the woman mean, she was hoping to see her? She lived next door for heaven's sake. 'Yes, well, I didn't want to keep coming on top of you. I know Marilyn values her privacy…'

'Marilyn is Marilyn,' Ria said tartly. 'I'm Ria.' She felt it was a childish, petulant outburst, something Brian would have said a few years ago. She must be getting unhinged.

If Carlotta was startled she managed to hide it. 'Sure, well what I was going to say was that Tuesday evening we have a hair product company coming to the salon, you know? They want us to buy their line so, as an encouragement, they offer four or five of our regular customers a Special, shampoo, treatment, conditioner, the works… then if we all like what we see we buy into their range. It happens with various companies a couple of times a year. I wondered would you like to take part? It's not being a guinea-pig or anything, they won't turn your hair purple!'

Ria was astounded. 'But you must have more regular clients.'

'Do come,' Carlotta pleaded.

'Well of course, what time?' It was all arranged. Ria wished she could feel more pleased.

Carlotta was obviously not being cold and distant as she had thought, and it would be good to meet some neighbours. But her heart wasn't in it. Her feelings from Saturday night were still with her. This was a strange place, not her home. It was foolish to build up hopes that she would fit in and get to know everyone.

She had been meaning to ring Marilyn in Ireland but couldn't think of anything to say. Still, she shrugged to herself, it was something. And as Hilary would say, it was a free hairdo.

Marilyn braced herself for endless discussions about the scenes in the restaurant when Gertie next arrived. But the woman looked frail and anxious, and wasn't at all eager to speak. Possibly Jack had not appreciated the girls' night out and had showed it in the way he knew best. Gertie for once seemed relieved to be left alone to iron and kneel down and polish the legs of the beautiful table in the front room.

Marilyn worked on in the front garden. She always left Gertie's money in an envelope on the hall table with a card saying thank you. Colm worked in the back garden; there was no communication there either. Rosemary had driven by but hadn't felt it necessary to call. Ria's mother and the insane dog hadn't been in for two days.

Marilyn felt her shoulders getting tense. Perhaps she had managed to persuade them that she didn't want to be part of some big holiday camp with them all.

As Gertie was leaving, she paused and congratulated Marilyn on the work she had done. 'You have a fierce amount of energy, Marilyn,' she said.

'Thank you.'

'I hope it gets better for you, whatever it is that's wrong,' Gertie said, and then she was gone.

Marilyn flushed a dark red. How dare these people assume there was something wrong? She had confided nothing to them, answered their very intrusive questions vaguely and distantly. They had no right to presume that there was anything wrong. She had been tempted to tell Ria during that very first conversation the extent of her grief, but now she was glad she hadn't. If she had told Ria Lynch, nerve centre of all the information and concern of the city it appeared, then it would probably have been published in the newspapers by now.

Marilyn had intended to call Ria in Westville but held off. There was nothing to say.

The phone rang in the sunny kitchen where Ria was busy making her scrapbook of Things to Do for when the children arrived.

'Hi Ria? It's Heidi! I've found a course for beginners on the Internet. Shall we sign on?'

'I'm sorry to be so wet, Heidi. I don't know if I'd understand it, I might be left behind.'

'But it's for people like us who aren't computer literate. It's not for bright kids. All we need is basic keyboard skills, you've got those.'

'If I can remember them.'

'Of course you can, and it's only five lessons.'

'Is it very expensive, Heidi? I hate sounding like my clinically mean sister and brother-in-law but I do have to hold on to my dollars for when the kids come out.'

'No it's not expensive at all, but anyway it's my treat. We get a reduction through the Faculty Office and anyway I want someone to go with.'

'I can't.'

'Wednesday and Friday this week and then three days the following week and hey we're on the World Wide Web.'

'Oh, I'm not sure about this Wednesday,' Ria began.

'Come on, Ria, you're not doing anything else are you?'

'No, no, it's not that… it's just…'

'I'd love you to come, it's only for an hour—they think rightly that we can't concentrate any longer… it's twelve to one.'

'Oh it's in the daytime,' Ria said with relief. 'Then of course I'll come, Heidi. You tell me where to go.'

Greg telephoned Marilyn from Hawaii. 'Thank you for your letter,' he said. 'It was still very stilted, I tried to say more,' she said.

'Still, we're talking, writing. That's good. Better anyway.'

She didn't want him to begin defining things too much. 'And are you all right, Greg?'

'I'm okay… summer courses, kids who know nothing, then graduate. Then there are graduate students, far too many bright kids who'll never get appointments. What else is new in university?' He sounded relaxed. This was as near as they had been to a real conversation for a long time.

'I wish they had e-mail here,' Marilyn said.

'You could have taken your laptop, I suppose?' he said,

'I know. I didn't think of it at the time.'

'I spoke to Ria Lynch by the way. She called me here, she sounded very pleasant.'

'Nothing wrong?'

'No, just to check if Andy was who he said he was. He was passing through Westville and wanted to contact you.'

'That was good of Andy. And did Ria meet him?'

'No, no she just called him at the motel.'

'I hope she's getting on okay. I don't want to call her there too often; it sounds as if I'm checking up on her,' Marilyn said.

'I know what you mean,' Greg said. 'And what sort of feeling do you get about her, from being in her home?'

'What do you mean, feeling?'

'Does she sound a bit odd or anything?'

'Why do you ask that?' Marilyn's voice was cold now. 'I thought you said you had a conversation with her yourself?'

'Sure. I just got the impression that she might be very religious, spiritual or something.'

'I never got that,' Marilyn said puzzled. 'In Ireland of course the place is coming down with churches and bells ringing and statues but I didn't think she was into all that.'

'No, maybe I got it wrong. It was just something she said.'

'What exactly?'

'Well, no, nothing important I guess. As I said, I got it wrong. What's the place you're staying in like?'

'It's a beautiful house, everything's so old here. People are different, they keep dropping by but they don't stay long. Oh, and there's a cat, Clement, an enormous ginger cat.'

'That sounds good, and have you things to do?'

'Yes, I garden a lot, and I walk and... it's all okay, Greg.'

'I'm glad you're happy,' he said.

'Yes. Well.'

'But you're all right anyway?' He sounded anxious.

'Sure, Greg, I'm all right,' she said.

Marilyn went back into the garden and dug with renewed vigour. She would not ask Greg why Ria had sounded odd. It didn't matter. Nothing mattered except that she put in her time here and got on to whatever happened next.

A shadow fell over her and there was Colm standing beside her. She put up a hand to keep the sun out of her eyes.

'Hallo,' he said.

'Hi,' Marilyn said.

'I'm not a great believer in words as apologies, so I brought you some flowers instead.'

'It wasn't your fault.'

'It was my place where it all happened. Anyway it's over. Please Almighty God may it be over! In all my anxiety-dreams about running a restaurant, and they were pretty vivid let me tell you, I never thought up that particular scenario.'

In spite of herself Marilyn found that she was smiling. 'As you say, it's over. Thanks for the flowers. I also need your advice about where to get soil and fertiliser when I've cleared that undergrowth.'

'I’ll take you.' Colm looked amazed at her achievement. She had done the work of three men uprooting and cutting back. Soon the earth would be ready to function.

'Danny Lynch must be very grateful to you.'

'What on earth for?' She was genuinely surprised.

'For improving the value of his property, that sort of thing is a big priority in his life.'

'You don't like him very much.'

'I don't like what he did to Ria and how he did it, that's true. But I don't know now whether I liked him before or not. I think I probably did.' Colm tried to remember.

I'm not doing it for him, I'm doing it for Ria and the house,' Marilyn said.

'Well, same thing. They'll have to sell it eventually.'

'Never!' Marilyn was shocked.

'Well, how can he keep two families and keep this place going?

But enough about Danny Lynch and all the trouble he causes everywhere he goes.'

'Was he the problem with the little blonde chantoosie as my dad used to call them.'

'Chantoosie! That's a marvellous word. Yes, he was one of her problems, another was a carnation vase filled with vodka.' She looked at him open-mouthed. 'Come to Ireland, Marilyn, and see it all, nature red in tooth and claw. Will you come out to dinner tonight? I want to check out some of the opposition. I'd love your company.'

'Thank you so much,' said Marilyn Vine.

She would not mention it, however, when Gertie next came in to clean the house and iron her clothes. Nor did she refer to it in the thank-you note she wrote and left at Rosemary's elegant house. No need to overburden people with information.

'I was wondering would you like me to call you Nora, Granny?'

'Have you gone off your head, Brian?' his grandmother answered.

'Told you but you wouldn't listen,’ Annie said triumphantly.

'What's all this about?' Nora Johnson looked from one to the other suspiciously.

'It's one more sign that he should be in a strait-jacket,' said Annie.

'Well I know you're pretty old, Granny, but you're not that old, are you? And I thought it would be more friendly, make us all the same somehow.'

Annie raised her eyes to heaven. 'And will you call Dad "Danny" when we go down to the boat tonight? And will you have a few more upsetting things to say to your friend "Ria" when she rings up from America next?'

Nora Johnson looked at her grandson. His face was troubled. 'You know what, Brian? I'd actually like to be called Nora, on reflection I would. That's what they call me in St Rita's.'

'But they're a hundred and ten in St Rita's,' cried Annie in rage. 'Of course they call you Nora.'

'And of course Pliers calls me Nora,' said her grandmother.

Annie looked at her in horror. 'The dog calls you Nora, Granny?'

'In his heart he does, he doesn't think of me as a Mrs. Johnson figure. Yes, Brian, I'm Nora to you from now on.'

'Thanks, Granny, I knew it was for the best,' said Brian happily.

The entire family was going mad, Annie decided. And now they had to go to Tara Road and say hallo to Mrs. Vine before they left for the boat on the Shannon. Mam wanted it. It would be friendly she said, and courteous. Mam lived in a different world when all was said and done.

Mrs. Vine had a plate of horrible ginger-snap biscuits that would break your teeth and she had made some ham sandwiches.

'Nothing, thank you,' Annie said firmly.

'But please do, I got them ready for you.'

'I'm very sorry, Mrs. Vine, I don't eat dead animals, and I find the biscuits a bit hard, so is it all right if I just drink the tea?'

'Of course, let me see… I have some frozen cheesecake, I could defrost that for you, it won't take long.'

'I eat ham sandwiches,' Brian said. 'I’ll eat them all so that they won't go to waste. I mean apart from the ones you'll be eating yourself.' He reached out for the plate. 'We could divide them up.'

Annie didn't have to say 'Brian', her face said it fairly loudly.

'Or indeed leave them where they are and eat them as the urge comes on us,' he said apologetically.

Marilyn felt that she couldn't have made a worse start. 'I hope you'll both enjoy your visit to Westville,' she began.

'Do they have proper biscuits there?' Brian wondered.

'Yes, quite a range,' Marilyn assured him.

He nodded, pleased.

'I'm sure it will be great, Mam says she loves it. We were talking to her on Saturday night.' Annie was trying hard to be polite and to make up for rejecting both kinds of hospitality. 'I think she's getting to know the place. She was going out to dinner in a Thai restaurant.'

This was puzzling. Who could have invited Ria to that new place that had opened a couple of months back? Or would she have gone on her own? 'Does your mother like different food tastes?'

'She's always cooking certainly.'

Brian looked around the kitchen of Tara Road, empty of its normal wire trays filled with scones, breads and cakes. 'You don't do much cooking yourself, Mrs. Vine?' he said slightly censoriously.

'Daddy's friend Bernadette doesn't either. Her mother Finola does but only when she's in her own place. Though I think she's going to cook on the boat… do you think she is, Annie?'

'I hadn't given it much thought,' Annie said through gritted teeth. 'And I'm not sure Mrs. Vine wants to hear all about it either.'

'I wonder if I could ask you both to call me Marilyn?' she asked them suddenly. The much-repeated address of Mrs. Vine was beginning to grate on her nerves. The girl resented her somehow for being in their mother's house. Or maybe she resented her mother for having gone away.

Brian accepted that eagerly. 'Yes I think it's much better, if you ask me,' he said.

'Is that you digging up the garden or is it Colm? We saw an awful lot of stuff out there.'

'Well it's mainly me, I just love it. But Colm is going to help me get new soil and plant things where they can reach the light. Maybe you'd like to choose some plants?' she asked without much hope.

The telephone rang just then. They heard the sound of their mother's voice on the machine. 'Hi Marilyn, it's Ria. I was just calling to say…'

'It's Mam,' cried Brian, running for the phone.

'Brian, wait,' Annie called.

'No, please,' Marilyn insisted.

'Mam, Mam, it's Brian, we're here, how did you know?'

Marilyn and Annie's eyes met. Somehow in that moment Marilyn felt the hostility beginning to depart. It was as if they were both adults looking at the baby Brian who thought his mother had tracked him down.

'Yeah she's fine, she's chopped down most of the front garden.'

Annie sighed. 'You get to expect a lot of that sort of thing with Brian,' she explained to Marilyn. 'He always manages to say the one thing you don't want him to say. I'll sort it out.'

And to give her great credit she did sort it out.

'Hi Mam. It's Annie. Yes, we're here having tea. Yes, very nice indeed. I read a lot… it's all so boring in Dad's place I've had to become a compulsive reader. Catch 22 and The Thorn Birds. Yes, she did ask us to call her Marilyn. No, that is not Brian being mad this time, but don't mind him about the garden, it's only a few weeds, and Colm's helping her so stop panicking. And we're off tonight but we'll ring you on Saturday.'

When Marilyn finally did get on the telephone Ria was very apologetic.

'I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to make it a family conference.'

'It was just good timing, and it's all going well?'

'Oh yes, brilliantly, and with you?'

'Couldn't be better.'

'You were at Colm's restaurant, I hear?'

'Yes, the resident pianist drank a vase of vodka. And they tell me you went to the new Thai restaurant in Westville. You liked it?'

'Yes, terrific, lovely green shrimp curry.' Ria didn't say that she had been there with Marilyn's brother-in-law. 'Look, it's silly us talking now, why don't you call me back later tonight using my phone?'

'I'm going out tonight.'

'Oh good, where are you off to?'

'I arranged to go out to the cinema, there's a movie I really want to see,' lied Marilyn who did not want to say she was going out to dinner with Colm Barry.

They agreed to talk later in the week.

'Is Bernadette up to high doh packing and everything for the holiday?' Barney asked.

'No, not at all.' Danny was constantly surprised at how gently she moved through life. There would be no lists, no plans, checking through things, emptying fridges, cancelling people, phone calls. Twenty minutes before they left she would put a few items in a bag. He would pack his own case. The children had lists of what they should take taped to their cases by Ria. 'No, she's amazing, Barney. I don't know where she gets her serenity. It's infectious too, seriously, it's catching. Sometimes when I get fussed, I only have to be with her for ten minutes and it's all all right again.'

'What do you get fussed about, Danny?'

'Lots of things. Money, work, a madwoman living in my house cutting down my front garden, Ria being so unaccepting of everything that's happened.'

'Hey, is it that bad?' Barney asked.

'I don't usually give a long list of moans, but you did ask and today's not a good day. There's a long drive ahead, then a cramped cruiser for seven days that I can ill afford to be out of the office,

Bernadette's mother thinking I'm made of money, and the kids seem to be on top of us all the time.'

'And there was a bit of trouble with Orla King on Saturday night?'

'God, you know everything, Barney! How did you hear that?'

'A friend of Polly's was with Monto's party. He said the owner came over to them with barked instructions that Orla be got out before she got to your table. It wasn't quite in time.'

'No, but nearly.'

'You'd want to watch it, Danny.'

'Tell me about it. I'm watching it so feverishly I'd need a dozen eyes.'

The river was full of families getting on to their Shannon cruisers.

Bernadette's mother had arranged a box of groceries from a local store. 'I telephoned ahead to order them,' she explained to Danny.

'Great, Finola.' He seemed relieved.

It had been a long car journey. In the beginning, as they left the Dublin late-afternoon traffic, he was tense. His shoulders were cramped, he had a dozen worries and his conversation with Barney had not helped. Twice he had made foolish mistakes pulling out of the traffic without checking. Tactfully Finola had offered to drive and eventually he accepted.

Bernadette sat in the front and played them tapes which she had assembled specially for the holiday. It was a restful choice, gentle Irish music, harpists or uileann pipes, non-strident Greek bouzouki, nocturnes by Chopin, deep soulful French songs that none of them understood, pan-pipes, violin music that no one recognised. Danny sat in the back of his own car between his daughter and son and slept fitfully as Finola Dunne drove them to the Midlands.

He dreamed that Ria was waiting for them on the boat. 'Aren't you going to go home?' she asked Bernadette in the dream. And Bernadette had just shrugged, and said 'If you like.' Danny had wanted to run after her but his feet were rooted to the ground. The dream was still very real to him as they got out of the car and began to settle into their boat.

'So will you then?' Finola said to him.

'Will I what?' Danny was genuinely puzzled.

'Will you pay this man for the groceries?'

'What? Yes, of course.' He took out his credit card; the man shook his head, so he took out a cheque-book. He saw the last cheque stub. It was a payment for their mortgage to the building society. The grocery bill was enormous. The cost of the cruiser was on his credit card. He didn't even want to think about it.

But he knew he would have to think about it one day soon.

Colm took Marilyn to Quentin's. He said he wanted to show off Dublin's finest. Also he knew the Brennans who ran the place.

'Very full for a Monday, that's the booming economy for you,' he said approvingly, looking around the many tables that were occupied.

'Nonsense, Colm. You should explain to Mrs. Vine that they come because the food is so brilliant,' said Brenda Brennan.

'This I can believe,' Marilyn murmured politely.

'I see you've got Barney McCarthy in with a crowd,' Colm observed.

A shadow crossed Brenda's face. 'Yes, indeed we have,' she said. Colm raised his eyebrow as if to ask what was the problem. 'I'll let you study the menu,' Brenda Brennan said, and moved way.

'Does she not like those people?' Marilyn had picked up a vibe.

'No, it's not that. I think she may have had the same problem as I've had.'

'Which is?'

'A very big cheque returned from the bank.'

'Really!' Marilyn put on her glasses and studied the party by the window. 'They look very substantial people, not the kind that would bounce a cheque.'

'No, they never did before. And the problem is they're important. They know everyone; you wouldn't want to insult them, and also to be fair they have brought in big business in the past. So it's all a bit tricky.' He looked over at the large man who was being expansive as a host to nine other people. A smart, much younger woman was laughing.

Ts that his wife?'

'No, that's Polly. His wife's at home in a mansion.'

'Will you sue him?'

'No. I'll be full next time he books, I'll just kiss one big bill goodbye. No point in going to court over one dinner.'

Marilyn looked at him admiringly. 'You're so right. In the States we are much too litigation-conscious. You're sensible to think of it as one big dinner and not to worry too much about it.'

'But I do worry about it. Barney McCarthy more or less owns Danny Lynch. If he goes down so will Danny, and what will happen to Ria then?'

Rosemary was legendary for the speed of her weekly business meetings. They were held early in the morning, a large dish of fresh fruit, a lot of strong coffee and a rapid agenda. Accountant, office manager, marketing manager, and her own personal assistant, all trained to present speedily their reports and follow-ups. They went rapidly through Accounts, New Business, Overtime and What the Rivals Are Up To. Then it came to Problems.

'A really big cheque returned from the bank, I'm afraid,' the accountant said.

'How much? Who?'

'Eleven thousand, Barney McCarthy.'

'That's an error, that's a bank oversight,' Rosemary said, about to go on to the next item.

'I see Polly's Dress Hire is for sale in this morning's paper.' The accountant was laconic.

'Thanks. Then it's not an oversight. I'll call the bank.'

'They won't tell you anything.'

'They'll tell me,' said Rosemary.

When the meeting was over she dialled Danny Lynch's mobile phone. It was not picking up. 'You're not doing this to me, Danny, you little bastard. You've done enough to everyone, and I can tell you straight out you're not doing this to me, not after all we've been through.' But she was speaking to herself not to Danny, since he was on the Shannon without a care in the world.

Hilary said that she was going to invite Marilyn to come for a swim out in the Forty Foot. They could go out on the DART.

'That's an unusual idea,' her mother said.

'Martin suggested it. He said it would save the cost of buying her a meal.'

'True,' said Nora Johnson.

'And still be entertaining her.'

'It would.'

Nora Johnson sighed a deep sigh. How had she raised a daughter who thought only in terms of saving money? Hilary hadn't been like that as a child, surely she hadn't. They never had much when she worked in the dry cleaners and the mother and two daughters were all slightly wistful about what they would buy had they the money, but it had not been obsessive. Martin had changed her, dragged her down. Still, at least he hadn't abandoned her for a teenage waif. Nora sighed again. Sometimes she felt it was all very hard.

Hilary looked at her in concern. She didn't like all this sighing. 'Mam, don't you think it's about time you moved into Ria's house?'

'What?'

'Well, not when Marilyn's there, of course, but as soon as she goes.'

'What would I do that for?'

'To have company for you and to pay Ria some rent.'

'I don't need company.'

'Of course you do, Mam. But whether you do or not Ria will definitely need someone to pay her something when Danny's grand plans are all sorted out.'

'You can't be serious.'

'I am. Get in there, Mam, before she asks someone else.'

'Hilary, have you a brain in your head? Poor Ria will be out of that house by Christmas.'

'What!'

'Barney McCarthy's on his uppers. I saw in today's paper that Polly Callaghan's business is for sale. If he's selling the floozy's dress-hire outfit he must be down to looking in kiddies' money boxes. And when he goes for the high jump then so will Danny Boy. Your brother-in-law will have one of his boards up outside that house before Ria gets back.'

They all took turns at steering the boat. It was simple while you were still in the river, but when it broadened into a lake there were real rules. You had to keep the black buoys on one side and the red on the other. They waved to Germans and Dutch people they had met already, more expert at mooring and casting off than they were. They bought ice creams when they drew in and tied up at the small villages, or went to pubs where they played darts.

'Wouldn't Mam love this!' Brian said once as a flight of birds came out of the reeds and soared above them. The silence was worse than any number of people telling him to shut up.

'Sorry,' he said.

Bernadette spoke dreamily. 'Brian, of course you must mention your mother, she's not dead or anything. And maybe one day you'll take her on a trip like this.'

Annie and Brian saw Danny reach out and stroke Bernadette's face in gratitude. He sort of traced it with his fingers and pushed her hair back. There was such love and tenderness in the gesture it was almost embarrassing to watch.

The boy Hubie who taught the course 'Don't Fear the Internet' looked about sixteen. In fact he was not much older. This was his first venture into business, he said, and he wanted to make sure all the customers were satisfied so if there were any areas they didn't understand then he wasn't doing his job right.

Ria found to her surprise that she seemed to understand it. It wasn't a world that only people like Rosemary understood, it was quite ordinary. A way of getting in touch. She saw how easy it would be to get sucked in and to spend all day browsing, looking up amazing facts and talking to strangers on the screen.

She had lunch with Heidi afterwards and they went over what they had learned and what they should practise before meeting Hubie again on Friday. He had asked them to send him messages which he would answer. It was easy for Heidi, she had all the computers and word processors in the Alumni Office. But where would Ria go?

'Marilyn has a laptop that she didn't take away with her. You could use that.'

'Oh, I'd be afraid I might break it.'

'No, of course not. Tell her on the phone you want to use it and I'll set it up for you.'

'Do you think it wouldn't be intrusive?'

'No, it's only machinery. But Ria… I don't think you should mention that Hubie is our teacher.’

'Why ever not?'

'Well, he was a friend of Dale's, you see.'

'Well, what's so bad about that?'

'You know…'

'I don't know. All I know is that Dale's in Hawaii…'

'What?'

'Well, with his father. Isn't he?'

Heidi was silent.

'Heidi, where else is he? He's not here, he's not in Ireland. His room is there waiting for him.'

'Dale's dead,' Heidi said.

'No, he can't be dead. You should see his room, that's not the room of someone dead.'

'Dale's dead, that's what it's all about. Marilyn won't accept it.'

Ria was more shocked than she had been for a very long time. 'Why didn't she tell me?'

'She won't speak about it. Not to anyone. Not even to Greg. That's why he's in Hawaii.'

'He left her?'

'No, he thought she'd come with him but apparently not, they had been there once with Dale.'

'How old was Dale?'

'Not quite sixteen.'

Oh God, thought Ria, Annie's age. 'How did he die?'

'A motorcycle accident.'

'But surely he was too young to ride a… ?'

'Exactly.'

'Why on earth didn't she tell me?' Ria shook her head. 'I was coming to live in her home after all. She'd know I'd see his room. I even dust it, for heaven's sake.'

Heidi was gentle. 'She doesn't have the words to tell people.'

'When did it happen?'

'March of last year. They turned off the machine in August.'

'The machine?'

'Life-support machine.'

'Poor Marilyn. What a decision to have to make.'

'She thinks they made the wrong one, that's why she has no peace.'

'Well, if she has no peace, I sure as hell wonder whether she'll find it in Tara Road,' said Ria.

Marilyn lay in her bath and Clement sat on the bathroom chair as if he were somehow guarding her. Gertie had told her that Clement didn't normally go upstairs.

'Well, he does now,' Marilyn had said.

'It's just that when Ria comes back, he might you know, being only a cat, still think he's welcome up here.' Gertie had tried to be tactful, but wasn't making a good fist of it.

'I'm sure Ria's doing things in my house that I don't approve of either but we agreed that we would put up with that for the summer.' Marilyn sounded brisk and firm.

'But are there any living things in your house?' Gertie wanted to know.

'No living things,' Marilyn had said.

As Marilyn added more hot water to her bath Clement yawned a great yawn.

'I fought for you, Clement. Don't yawn at me like that,' she said.

Clement closed his mouth and went back to sleep. Marilyn wondered at all the living things that Ria had left behind her.

Andy arrived with a cold-bag full of food. He had also brought a bottle of wine. 'You look very nice,' he said appreciatively. 'Very nice indeed.'

'Thank you.' It had been so long since anyone had paid her a compliment. You look fine, sweetheart was the most Danny had said to her for ages. And in the last years Annie had said little except You look absolutely terrible in that colour. Rosemary had said she looked well when she dressed up but the implication was that it was not often enough. Hilary had remarked that fine feathers make fine birds. Her mother had said there was nothing to beat a good navy costume and a white blouse and that it was a pity when people with as much class and opportunity as Ria wore streelish-looking things that you wouldn't see on a halting site. True, Colm sometimes said she looked well. But it was more a compliment to the house or the garden, or Ria as part of the scene, than to herself.

So it was unusual to be admired openly by a man.

Then the cooking began by rubbing the garlic around the bowl for the Caesar salad. There was a lot of gesture, flourish and fuss but it tasted very good. And then they began on the potato cakes.

'Oh, they're latkes,' Andy said, a little disappointed. He had thought it was something totally unknown.

'Are they?' Ria was disappointed too.

'But I actually like them a lot. And these are Irish latkes so that makes them special,' he said.

So they laughed over that and over a lot of things. He told her about the conference and the madwoman organising it who was at such a level of stress she was almost ready to ignite. Arranging the seating plan for the conference dinner, a matter of no importance whatsoever, had her on heavy sedation.

'How did it go, the dinner, in the end?' Ria asked.

'No idea, it's tonight.'

'And you didn't wait for it?'

'I thought this would be more fun, and I was right,' he said.

Ria had made a strawberry shortcake which they had with coffee.

'You mean you didn't buy this at the gourmet shop?'

'No, my own two hands,' she laughed and stretched out her newly manicured hands.

'But you bought the pastry surely?'

'No way. I make pastry quick as looking at you.' Andy was very impressed. She was enjoying this in a childish way. She told him about the Internet lessons and asked did he think Marilyn would mind her using the laptop.

'Not a bit, I'll set it up for you.'

'I should ask first.'

'Look, it's like using someone's telephone, or the vacuum… it's not like a finely tuned piano or anything.'

'But suppose…?'

'Come on, where does she keep it?'

'It's in the study.'

They went into the pleasant book-lined room and Andy opened the machine. 'I'll show you how to boot it up then you'll be able to do it for yourself.' As he spoke the telephone rang and because they were not in the room with the answering machine Ria answered it automatically.

'Hallo?' she said as if she were back in Dublin and this was her phone.

'Ria? It's Greg Vine.'

'Oh Greg. How are you?' Her eyes met Andy's across the desk. The natural thing, the normal thing would have been to say 'You won't believe it but your brother is here.' That's what people would say if it were an ordinary situation surely. But then it might need a lot more explanation than was necessary. And might imply things which didn't need to be implied. So she said nothing about Andy Vine being four feet away from her with a half-smile on his face as he watched her.

Ria listened to Greg's apologetic request that she find a file for him. It was in the study. 'I'm in the study as we speak,' Ria said.

'Oh good.' He sounded pleased. 'Very technical books I'm afraid and lots of student papers. That's what I want you to get for me, can I direct you?'

'Sure.'

From Hawaii Greg Vine directed her to the wall with Student Notes on it and gave her a year, then a name, then a subject. Each time she repeated them Andy moved and found the document.

'It's just the first page and title of the publications this kid has done, and we need it today.'

'Today?'

'I was going to ask Heidi and Henry as a huge favour to call round and pick it up and e-mail it to me.'

'Heidi and Henry to come round here to pick it up and e-mail it to you tonight?' She repeated every word as if she were a halfwit but she wanted Andy to get the other end of the conversation. He understood immediately. He pointed to the piece of paper, and to the laptop and to his own chest. 'I could send it to you by e-mail myself if you let me use Marilyn's laptop.'

'You know how to e-mail?' He was surprised and pleased.

'Well yes, by chance I do, I went to a lesson this morning with Heidi.'

'Well, well, what amazing luck. I don't need to get Heidi and Henry out at all.' He was overjoyed at the good timing.

Andy had written down 'Get the password and his e-mail address'. And in moments the information was put in, and the message sent.

'It's on my screen now, I can't thank you enough. Who is giving this course anyway? You learned pretty quick.'

Ria remembered that Hubie had been a friend of the dead Dale. 'Oh some man… I didn't get his name.'

'Never mind. He saved us all tonight whoever he was.'

When she hung up they looked at each other. One bridge had been crossed almost accidentally.

'Well now, since they think in Hawaii that you're an expert at this, let's make you one,' he said.

Was he sitting a little too close to her? she wondered. 'Let me get my notes.' She jumped up and went for the sheet of paper that Hubie had given them all at the class.

Andy looked at them. 'My God, Hubie Green, he was one of the kids with Dale on the night of the accident.'

Ria looked at him levelly. 'Why didn't you tell me Dale was dead?'

He was shocked. 'But you knew, surely?'

'No, I didn't. I had to wait until Heidi told me.'

'But you mentioned his room, the way it was all laid out.'

'I thought he was in Hawaii. I asked you when was he coming back, you said in the fall.'

'Oh my God, I thought you meant Greg.'

There was a silence while they each realised how the misunderstanding had happened.

'You see they're so very cut up they can't even bring themselves to talk about it. To mention that you knew Hubie Green would bring it all back.'

'I know,' said Ria. 'That's why I pretended I didn't know his name.'

'You did it very well.' Andy was admiring.

'You know a funny thing? At home I am always so honest and undevious, and since I came out here I haven't stopped pretending and covering up things for no reason at all.'

'Oh, there's always a reason,' he smiled.

'Pure misguided niceness, I think,' she said ruefully.

'Okay, so we have to pretend one more thing, which is that you understood this whole getting-on-the-Net thing by yourself and then we can stop pretending, okay?'

'Okay,' she said a little anxiously.

He was definitely sitting too close for friendship. 'Who do we know with e-mail?' he asked.

'Hubie! He said we could send messages any time.'

'Hubie. Yeah.'

'What's wrong? He's a nice kid.'

'Sure.'

'Tell me. I know nothing about what happened, nothing at all. Well, I get the feeling that Marilyn's so private. I felt she wouldn't want me to go round asking questions, that she'd tell me what she wanted me to know, and it's not very much.'

'Do you resent that?'

'I think she should have told me her son was dead. I don't want half of Dublin telling her about poor Ria, poor old Ria whose husband took off with a teenager. So since I get the feeling she's not going to be demanding information from my friends I shouldn't from hers… it's just… it's just…'

'It's just what, Maria?' He had never got the shortened version of her name and somehow she quite liked him calling her something different. It made whatever there was or might be between them something that was out of time.

'It's just that there's a mystery here. There's no mystery in my case, it's as old as time. Man marries wife, man sees newer younger fresher model, man says goodbye to wife. The only mystery is that there's not more of it.'

'Maria, please, you sound so bitter.'

'What, should I be overjoyed about it? At least it's plain to see what happened. Here it's different, quite different. There's like a conspiracy of silence about it all. That room is like a shrine to him. The fact that nobody mentions the accident.'

'But you see…' Andy began.

'No, to be honest I don't see. Do you know what I said to your brother Greg when I was talking to him in Hawaii? I'll tell you what I said, I asked him how Dale was enjoying it out there. My flesh is creeping when I try to think why he thinks I said what I did.'

'He'll know.' Andy soothed her. 'He'll realise that Marilyn couldn't have told you.'

'Look, I'm as sorry as hell that it all happened. I went into that room again and I cried over the child that I thought was out surfing in Honolulu. I cried to think he's dead and buried, but still we should be able to talk about it. Not all the time, as people say we do in Ireland, but just acknowledge it. She left his room like that and didn't tell me. That's not natural, Andy. Even you freeze up at the mention of that kid Hubie's name. Maybe if nobody else tells me what happened I'll talk to Hubie about it.'

'Don't do that.'

'No, of course I wouldn't but I am pointing out that it's odd.'

'Don't you think we all know that?'

'What do you mean?'

'Listen, in this world there was only one marriage that any of us could think was truly happy and that was Greg and Marilyn's. And yet from the night of the accident they were never able to relate to each other as human beings again.'

'Did they blame each other or something?'

'Well, there's no way they could have. Hubie and two other kids and Dale were all crazy about motor bikes, but they were too young and they all had parents who would have as soon let heroin into the house as let a motor bike into their backyards. So on Hubie's birthday the kids went out somewhere. It was meant to be a picnic, I know because I was here at the time.' He got up and started to walk around the study. 'And they drank some beer and they found two bikes and they decided that this was a gift from the gods.'

'They found them?'

'Yes, found as in stole them outside a restaurant. Hubie and the other kid who died, Johnny, were a little bit on the wild side. Not hugely wild but the signs were there. Older too, but not much. But at that age a few months counts.'

'I know.' Ria thought suddenly of Kitty, a year older than Annie but several years ahead of her always.

'And they went for what was described at the inquest as a kind of test drive and they went round a corner and one of the bikes was hit by a truck. Which wasn't surprising really because the bike where Dale was hanging on to Johnny was on the wrong side of the road. Johnny was killed instantly. Dale was on a life-support machine for six months and then they agreed to let him go.'

They sat in silence at the tragedy that had come to this house.

'And Marilyn said that she would never forgive any of them as long as she lived, and Greg said that they would have no peace until they learned to forgive.'

Ria had tears in her eyes. 'And is that what drove them apart?'

'I imagine so. Greg doesn't say much about it. You know how hopeless we men are for talking about feelings.'

'You're not too bad; you've told me that story very sympathetically and it wasn't just idle curiosity on my part, you know.'

'I know,' he said.

'Do you understand how I felt sort of protective about her, how I didn't want to ask Carlotta and Heidi and anyone else?'

'Sure I do, and you understand also why it wouldn't be good to ask Hubie. That kid has had a lot to live with: his birthday, he got them drunk, his friend Johnny driving a stolen bike, and he and another kid walk away alive. I'm kind of impressed with him that he's setting up something like this to make his college tuition.'

'I know, and of course you feel bitter about him,' Ria said.

'It wasn't his fault; he didn't set out to kill Dale or anything,' Andy soothed her.

'But it's awkward, isn't it? I'm sorry to have become involved.'

'Look, it's got nothing to do with you. Come on, Maria, homework time; let's get our assignments done.'

They sent Hubie a message and he sent back Congratulations Mrs. Lynch! You're a natural. Then they sent one to Heidi.

'She's going to die when they tell her in the Alumni Office tomorrow that there's a message for her from me!' Ria pealed with laughter.

'I wish we knew someone else with an e-mail,' she said.

'Well, we could send one to my laptop back in the motel,' he said.

'And you could ring me tonight to say that it had arrived,' she said.

'Or tomorrow?' he suggested gently. It took a moment for it to dawn on her what he was saying. 'It's so nice here, so good to hear laughter in this house again,' Andy said. 'And you and I have no ties, nobody who will be betrayed or hurt. Wouldn't it be nice if we spent the rest of the evening together?' He had a hand under her chin, lifting her face up towards his.

She swallowed and tried to speak. He took the opportunity of her not speaking to kiss her. Gently but firmly. And he put his arm around her shoulder.

She pulled away, startled. Ria Lynch would be thirty-eight this year. In November, on the anniversary of Clark Gable's death. Nobody had kissed her since she was twenty-two except the man who had tired of her and told her that there was nothing left in what she thought was a fine happy marriage.

'I must explain,' she began.

'Must you?'

'Yes. I've had a lovely, lovely evening, but you see I don't…'

'I know, I know.' He was kissing her ear now, gently nuzzling in fact, and it was rather nice.

'Andy, you have to forgive me if I have been giving the wrong signals. I couldn't have had a happier evening. I mean that truly, truly I do, but I don't want it to go any further. I'm not playing games, I never did, not ever, even when I was a kid going out with fellows. But I was often misunderstood and the fault is all mine if you thought things were different. I'm a bit inexperienced, you see.'

'I had hopes when you didn't tell my brother that I was here, you see,' he explained.

'I know, I know.' She knew that was a fair perception.

'But I agree it was a delightful evening. It doesn't have to end in bed, it would be much much nicer if it did, but if it's not going to let's remember the good bits.'

'They were all good bits.' She smiled at him, grateful that he hadn't turned on her, outraged that he had been misled.

'Those Irish latkes. Eat-your-heart-out Jewish cookery,' he said.

'That Caesar salad, Emperor of Caesar salads,' she said.

'And that strawberry shortcake. Home-baked pastry already.'

'And the stylish wine in its cool-bag.'

'Hey, there's lots of good bits,' he said.

'Look in your machine tonight, there may well be a Message Pending,' he said, and left.

She cleared up everything and went into the study to see if there were any e-mails for her. There were two. One from Hubie. Just a test Mrs. Lynch to see can you retrieve as well as send! Hubie Green. And then there was one from Andy. Thank you so much for the most enjoyable dinner I have had in years. I will definitely be back at the alumni weekend as will Greg but if there's a chance we could meet again before that I would so much enjoy it. Your new friend, Andy Vine.

Imagine! Boring old Ria Lynch, poor deserted Ria, dreary mumsy tiresome Ria had a new friend called Andy Vine. And had she not said a persuasive no, then she could have had a lover of the same name as well. She looked at herself in the hall mirror and wondered what it would have been like. She had never made love with any man except Danny. Danny, who knew her body so well and brought her such pleasure.

It would have been awkward getting undressed in front of this man. How did people do it? Be so instantly intimate with people they hardly knew? People like Rosemary. But then Rosemary looked like Rosemary. As near perfect as possible. Ria was afraid that her own bottom might be a bit saggy, that she would look floppy when naked. In a way it was a relief not to have to go through the motions of getting to know another body and fear the possible criticism of her own. Yet it would have been nice to have had arms around her and someone wanting her again.

She sighed and went into Dale's room. She turned over the pages of Dale Vine's scrapbook, the pictures of motor bikes, the advertisements, the cuttings about various motor-cycle heroes. Marilyn had been strong enough to leave these here, reminders of the machines that had killed her only child, and yet she had not been able to tell the woman who was going to live in her house that her son was dead. This was a very complicated person indeed.

Marilyn had refused so many invitations that she feared she might now be causing offence. She had better go out with Hilary, Ria's discontented and unprepossessing sister. The woman had been very insistent, she had called several times to mention a picnic on the coast. It would be good to swim again, and Marilyn told herself she was a match for any of these inquisitive Irish. Just answer vaguely and ask them about themselves, then they were off, all you had to do was sit back and listen.

Hilary arrived bristling with energy and fuss. 'We'll miss the rush hour on the train which will be good,' she said.

'Good. I'm ready whenever you are.'

'Merciful God, Ria'll go mad when she sees all that work in the garden. Are they digging for treasure or what?'

'Just a bit of clearing-out the undergrowth, it will be perfect when she comes back. Your sister has a very beautiful house, hasn't she?' Marilyn said.

'I'll tell you straight out what I think. I think that Ria and Danny got their money too easy and these things have a habit of coming home to roost.'

'How do you mean exactly? Should we have a cup of coffee or would you like to get on the road, the train?'

'We could have a cup of coffee, I suppose. Were you not cooking, baking like?' Hilary seemed to look around the kitchen with the same disapproval as Brian had, searching for something which was not there.

'Well no. We're going out, aren't we?' Marilyn was startled.

'I thought we might have a picnic out there.'

'Yes, yes what a good idea, will we pass a delicacy shop on the way?'

'A what?'

'You know, somewhere we could buy the picnic.'

'But it would cost as much to buy a picnic in one of those places as to have a meal out. I really meant sandwiches.' Marilyn was beginning to regret this bitterly, but it was too late to turn back. 'We could hard-boil two of those eggs, and take a couple of tomatoes and two slices of ham, bread and butter, and aren't we fine then?'

Hilary seemed to be restored to good humour. The two of them prepared the very basic picnic and caught a bus to the station and then took the little electric train out to Dun Laoghaire. It travelled south along the coast and Marilyn commented with pleasure on all that she saw.

'Martin and I knew you'd enjoy this.' Hilary was pleased.

'Tell me how you met Martin,' Marilyn asked. She listened to the strange downbeat story, told with great pride, of a house saved for and bought, investments made, savings tucked away, economies arranged. They got out of the train and walked along the coast to the place where they were going to swim. And as they walked by the shining but very cold-looking sea Hilary talked about property prices, about Martin's brothers getting the small farm in the west, about the children of fourteen getting pregnant in the school where Martin taught and where she worked in the office.

When they got to the swimming place Marilyn cried out in delight. 'Look at the Martello tower, and the Joyce Museum! I know where we are. This is where Ulysses opened. It's the very spot.'

'Yeah, that's right.' Hilary was not very interested in James Joyce.

She pointed out the much photographed sign that said Forty Foot Gentlemen Only, and said she remembered her mother telling her about the feminists first swimming in there to claim it back for everyone.

'But that can't have been in your mother's time surely?'

'It was probably in my time! I'll be forty this year,' Hilary said gloomily.

'So will I,' Marilyn said.

A first mark of solidarity between two totally different women. They had a swim which froze Marilyn's blood to the marrow, and then ate their makeshift picnic. Hilary did most of the talking.

'Tell me about Ria's marriage,' Marilyn asked.

They talked about Ria. Hilary told the whole story as she knew it. The sudden announcement and he was gone overnight. The utter folly of it all, the comeuppance which was near at hand. Barney McCarthy wasn't a golden boy any more, and his political pals were not in power. It was curtains for Mr Danny Lynch.

'Did you ever like him?'

'I was nervous about him, he was too smart for Ria, too good-looking. I always said it and it turned out I was right in the end. It gave me no pleasure being right. I'm happily married myself, I'd prefer her to have been. Are you happily married?' Hilary asked suddenly.

'I don't know,' Marilyn said.

'You must know.'

'No I don't.'

'And what does your husband think?'

'He thinks we're happily married. We have nothing to say to each other. But he wants to go on as normal.'

'Sex, do you mean?' Hilary asked.

'Yes. It was good once. But no, it would be empty. I had a hysterectomy two years ago, so even if a forty-year-old woman could conceive, which they can, there's no chance for me.'

'I think you're lucky that he still wants to be with you in that way. I can't have children and so Martin thinks we shouldn't have sex. And so we don't.'

'I don't believe you,' Marilyn said.

'It's true.'

'But since when?'

'We're married sixteen years… about eight years I'd say, since he knew we couldn't have children.'

'And did you know before?'

'I always knew. I went to a fortune-teller, you see. She told me.'

'Did you believe her?'

'Totally. She's been right about everybody.' Hilary tidied up the remains of their food, and put it into a paper bag.

She was so sure and confident in everything, including the fact that this psychic had told her she wasn't fertile. This was a very strange country. 'Is she a psychic?'

'I don't know, she just knows what's going to happen.'

'Is she a medium? Does she get in touch with the dead?'

'I don't think so,' Hilary said. 'I didn't want to anyway, I only wanted to know about the living.'

'And what else did she tell you?'

'She said I'd be happily married, which is true, and that I'd live in a place with trees but that hasn't happened yet.'

Marilyn paused for a moment to think about a woman who considered herself happily married to a man who thought about nothing except interest rates and didn't believe in sex without the possibility of procreation.

'Is she still around, this woman?' Marilyn asked.

They were getting the best weather ever known for a week in July. Everyone said so. The children were sun-tanned and loving it all.

'Can we take the dinghy out, Dad?' Annie asked.

'No, Annie, it's too dangerous.'

'Why did they give it to us then?'

'They gave it to us, Princess, not to you, not to children.'

'Let them, Danny,' Bernadette said.

'No, sweetheart, they don't know about boats.'

'Well, how will they ever learn?' Bernadette asked. 'Suppose they go where we can see them, would that do?' It was a compromise that did fine. Danny looked on proudly as his son and daughter rowed the little boat along the shore.

'You're so good with them, but you're fearless. Ria would have wanted to swim along beside them like a mother duck.'

'You have to let children go free,' she said. 'They hate you otherwise.'

'I know but when we have our baby will you feel the same?' He laid his hand on her stomach and thought about the son or daughter that would be in their home, a real person, by Christmas.

'Of course!' She looked at him in surprise. 'You don't want children, free spirits, all herded into some kind of corral, do you?'

Danny realised that this was exactly what he and Ria had built and why he so badly needed to escape. He lay with his head in her lap and closed his eyes. 'Sleep on, I'll look out at the dinghy,' she said.

'Isn't that amazing?' Finola Dunne was reading them extracts from the newspaper.

'What's amazing?' Danny asked. He was still lying in the grass and Bernadette was making a series of daisy chains which she was spreading over him like threads tying him to the earth.

'Polly's is for sale! That's been the main dress-hire place in Dublin for years.'

'It's never for sale.' Danny sat up suddenly.

'Well, so it says here.'

He took the paper and read the paragraph. 'I have to make a phone call,' he said. 'Where are those goddamn children on their bloody boat, and what the hell did you let them go off for?'

'Danny, they've tied up the dinghy. You were asleep. They've gone to get ice creams. Please, please be calm. You have no idea what's going on.'

'I have a fair idea.'

'Well, what do you think it is? Do you think that if Polly's is being sold Barney's running out of money?' Bernadette asked.

'And you can sit there making daisy chains if you think that?'

'I'd prefer to make daisy chains than to have a heart attack,' Bernadette said.

'Darling darling Bernadette, the world might be about to end for us. You don't understand, you're just a child.'

'I wish you wouldn't say that, you've always known what age I am,' she said.

'I have to talk to Barney, find out what's happening.' Danny's face was white.

'I should wait until you are calmer. You won't understand anything the way you are now.'

'I won't be any calmer, not until I know. And maybe not even then. I can't believe he wouldn't tell me, we're friends. I'm like a son to him, he's said so often.'

'Then if he is in trouble maybe it was harder to tell you than anyone else.' She saw it quite simply.

'And aren't you worried, frightened?'

'Of what?'

'Of what might be ahead?'

'You mean being poor? Of course not. You've been poor before, Danny. You'll live, you did before.'

'That was then, this is now.'

'You've a lot more to live for now.'

He held both her hands in his. 'I want to give you everything. I want the sun, the moon and the stars for you and our baby.'

She smiled at him, that slow smile that always made him feel weak. She said nothing more. This was what made him feel ten feet tall.

Bernadette didn't busy herself wondering was this strategy better than that. Having urged him to be calm she was now staying out of it. She was leaving it all to him.

'Where's Dad? Annie asked. 'We got him a choc-ice?'

'He went to make a phone call,' Bernadette said.

'Will he be long do you think or should we eat it?' Brian wanted a ruling.

'I think we should eat it,' said Bernadette.

'It's Danny.'

'Didn't you get the weather! I bet it's beautiful down there.' Barney sounded pleased for him.

'Barney, what's happening?'

'You're worse than I am about not being able to cut off and take a holiday.'

'Were you looking for me? My mobile's not charged up, I'm ringing from a bar.'

'No, I wasn't looking for you, I was letting you have your holiday in peace.' He sounded very unruffled.

'I saw the paper,' Danny said

'The paper?'

'I saw Polly's is on the market.'

'That's right. Yes.'

'What does it mean, Barney?'

'It means that Polly wants a break from it, she got a good offer and we're just testing the market in case there's an even better one out there.'

'That's bullshit. Polly doesn't want a break, she's hardly ever in there anyway.'

'Well, that's what she says. You know women… unpredictable.'

Danny had heard Barney so often talking to clients like this. Or when speaking to accountants, lawyers, politicians, bank managers. Anyone who had to be kept at bay. Simple, homespun, cheerful, even a little bewildered. It had always worked in the past. But then he had never talked like that to Danny before. Suddenly he thought of something. 'Is there anyone with you as we speak?'

'No, no one at all, why?'

'Are we okay, Barney? Tell me straight out.'

'How do you mean?'

'You know what I mean. Have we our heads above water? Are we in the black?'

Barney laughed. 'Come on, Danny, has the sun softened your head? When were we ever in the black? The red is where we live.'

'I mean will we be able to climb out this time?'

'We always did before.'

'You've never had to sell Polly's before.'

'I don't have to sell it now.' There was a slightly steely sound to Barney's voice. Danny said nothing. 'So if that's all, will you get on with having a holiday, and be in good shape when you're back here on Monday.'

'I could come back now if you needed me. I'd just drive straight up, leave the others here.'

'See you Monday,' said Barney McCarthy, and hung up.

Danny bought himself a small brandy to stop the slight tremor in his hand. The barman looked at him sympathetically. 'Family life all cooped up in a small boat can get a bit ropey,' he said.

'Yes.' Danny spoke absently. His mind was far away in Barney McCarthy's office. He had been dismissed on the phone, that was not an exaggeration. He had seen Barney do it so often to other people. Now he was at the receiving end.

'How many kids?' the barman asked.

'Two, and one on the way.'

'God, it must be pure hell for you,' said the man who had seen a lot of human nature in running a lakeside pub, but had never seen a face as white and strained as this fellow's.

'I'm going to go to a psychic with your sister,' Marilyn said to Ria on the phone. 'May I use your car?'

'I'm going to lessons on the Internet with your friend Heidi. Can I use your laptop to practise on?'

Sheila Maine was delighted to hear from Ria. Gertie hadn't told her that she was coming, what a marvellous surprise.

'Does Gertie write a lot then?'

'Usually an air letter every week. She fills me in on all that's going on.'

Ria's heart lurched to think of the fantasy life poor Gertie needed that she had to write a catalogue of imaginary goings-on. 'Gertie's great, I see a lot of her,' Ria said.

'I know, she tells me. She's in and out of your house all the time, she tells me.'

'That's right,' Ria said. Gertie didn't write and say why she was in and out of the house in Tara Road, that she was usually down on her hands and knees scrubbing floors in it to make Jack's drinking money. Still, people had to have some area of dignity. This was Gertie's.

'Will you come and visit me in Westville? I've a lovely house for the summer. The children will be coming out too in a couple of weeks' time.'

Sheila said she'd love to visit and that she'd drive over on Saturday with her children; Max was working shifts so he wouldn't be able to come. It was only an hour away. 'And you tell that handsome husband of yours that I'm really looking forward to seeing him again. He was so welcoming to us when we were in Tara Road that time.'

With a shock Ria realised that Gertie's letters about the never-never land that was Dublin must have failed to include mention of any kind of marital disharmony. Not only her own. She decided to wait until Sheila Maine arrived before telling her the story. It was too long and wearying for the telephone. It was a story told too often and becoming more incomprehensible with each telling. People thought she was over it all by now, they didn't realise that Ria still felt the phone would ring and it would be Danny. 'Sweetheart, forgive me' is what he would say, or 'Can we start again?'

Ria had answers for both questions. She would say yes and mean it. He was the man she loved and this had all been a terrible mistake. A series of incidents that had escalated and got out of control. Ria told herself that if she didn't think about, pray for it, and hope for it too much, it would happen.

Rosemary said that Mrs. Connor was amazing, Marilyn would be astounded by her. Rosemary looked particularly well today, Marilyn thought, in a very dressy rose silk dress. It was the kind of thing you might wear to a wedding rather than to entertain a neighbour. She poured tea in the beautiful roof garden where they had been admiring the planting that had been done by a nursery.

Rosemary said that Mrs. Connor should be investigated by the Fraud Squad. She saw nothing, revealed nothing about the future, charged a fortune and looked more and more poverty-stricken and tubercular.

'You've been to her?' Marilyn was surprised.

'Yes, a couple of times when we were kids. I went with Ria and Gertie.'

'And what did she tell you?'

'Nothing at all, but she told it with great pain and anguish in her face. She puts on a good show, I give her that.' Rosemary was being fair.

'But she must have told you something specific?'

'Interestingly she told me that I was a bad friend.' Rosemary laughed.

'And were you?' Marilyn had a slightly disconcerting way of asking questions directly.

'No, I don't think so particularly. Look, I'm in business, you have to be a bad friend to someone every hour doing deals.'

'I guess.'

'But I was a very good friend to Polly Callaghan last week. She came in and wanted a brochure printed. You know, full colour, big pic and everything. And I knew somehow that the bill might just not be paid. Now I like Polly. I didn't want to lose her friendship over this so I said let's do a straight swap. I take something from your stock and you have the printing free. And I got this dress. How about that for enterprise and the barter system?'

'And did she know why you did it?'

'She may have.' Rosemary was thoughtful. 'Barney McCarthy would know certainly when she tells him. Anyway enough about all that. Why are you going to Mrs. Connor anyway?' she asked Marilyn.

'To talk to the dead,' Marilyn said.

And for once in her life the cool confident Rosemary Ryan was at a loss for anything to say.

Marilyn realised that if she were to drive Hilary to this remote place where cars parked in a field she had better put in a little practice in driving. Even though she drove an automatic car at home she had been used to driving a stick shift too, so the gears were not beyond her. She had been warned by everyone about Dublin traffic, the way people fought for parking places and were leisurely about indicating when they moved from one lane to another. Nothing prepared her for the number of near incidents she encountered on her first outing. Shaking, she came back to Number 16 Tara Road. Colm saw her getting rather unsteadily out of the car and asked was she all right.

'I swear they pull out right in front of you,' she said. 'I nearly wasted a dozen pedestrians. They just roll across the road no matter what colour the lights are.'

He laughed easily. 'The first day is always the worst, anyway you're home now and are going to have visitors by the look of things.' He nodded towards the gate where Nora Johnson and Pliers were making their entrance.

'Yoo-hoo, Marilyn,' called Nora.

'Oh hell,' Marilyn said.

'Tut-tut, Marilyn,' said Colm in mock disapproval, but he slipped away out to the back garden and let her cope with the visit on her own.

'Hilary and I were going to have lunch together, we wondered would you like to join us?'

'Thanks, Mrs. Johnson, but I don't really feel like going out just now…' Marilyn began.

'Well, never mind, we can eat here.'

'Here?' Marilyn looked wildly around the garden.

Nora Johnson was almost inside the house already. 'Wouldn't it be much nicer, easier for us all?' she said. She was not a person who would sense when she might not be welcome. Not anyone to be rebuffed by a little coldness. There was no hint heavy enough to move her.

Aw, what the hell, Marilyn said to herself. I coped with Dublin traffic, I can make a lunch, can't I? Forcing a smile on her face she beckoned Ria's mother to come in.

Hilary came along not long after. 'Mam said we'd meet here, where are we going?'

'Marilyn's going to cook for us,' Nora said, pleased.

'It'll be like old times in this kitchen then,' said Hilary, settling down happily. 'What are we going to eat?' There were chicken pieces in Ria's fridge and some potatoes from the garden in a wire basket. 'I’ll peel those,' Hilary offered.

'Thank you,' Marilyn said, struggling to take in a recipe pinned to the inside of the store cupboard. It didn't look too daunting, it involved honey, soya sauce and ginger, all of which seemed to be on hand.

Pliers had settled down in his own corner, Clement on his own chair. It was, as Hilary said, like old times in this kitchen, only with a different woman standing at the cooker.

Annie and Brian had remembered something very important. If they were to enter Clement for the cat show the form had to be handed in today.

'You'll be back in Dublin in two days,' Finola protested.

'But that's too late,' Annie wailed. 'We thought Clement could get a Highly Commended. The form's probably on the hall table with all the mail in Tara Road.'

Bernadette shrugged. It was one of the many things in life good and bad that just happened. She was sympathetic but offered no solution. Danny was out phoning, he wasn't there to help.

Finola Dunne recognised a crisis when she saw one. 'Go and ring Mrs. Vine,' she suggested.

Gertie rang on the door of Number 16 Tara Road. 'This has to be the most embarrassing moment of my life, Marilyn.'

'Yes?' Marilyn was flushed and anxious. The mixture of honey, soya sauce and ginger looked very glutinous and was sticking to the bottom of the saucepan while the chicken still seemed raw.

'But you know the way I come tomorrow… could I come today instead?'

'It's not really suitable Gertie, I'm cooking a lunch.'

'It's just… it's just it would help matters greatly at home if I were to…'

'I'm so sorry. But if you want to be away from home would you care to join Ria's mother and sister for lunch?' Marilyn felt her head buzzing. She was dizzy from her first attempt to cope with Dublin traffic. She was cooking a complicated dish for people she had not wanted to entertain, under the eyes of a menagerie of watchful animals. Now she was asking a third and very stressed woman to join them.

'Ah, no thank you, Marilyn, that's not what it was at all.' Gertie was fidgeting with her hands, her eyes looked frightened.

'Then what is it, Gertie? I'm sorry, I'm not sure…'

'Marilyn, could you give me the money for tomorrow and I'll do the 'work of course later…?' It was so hard for her to ask.

So hard to hear. Marilyn flushed. 'Yes, yes,' she muttered, embarrassed, and went to find her wallet. 'Do you have any change?' she asked without thinking.

'Marilyn, if I had any change would I be here like this asking you for tomorrow's money?'

'No, how stupid of me. Please take this.'

'This will cover tomorrow and all of next week,' Gertie said.

'Sure, fine, whatever you say.'

'You could ring Ria in America and she'll tell you I always honour it.'

'I know you will, and well… goodbye now.'

Marilyn came downstairs flustered and unsettled by the conversation. 'That was Gertie,' she said brightly. 'She couldn't stay.'

'No, she had to get Jack's drinking money to him,' said Nora Johnson succinctly.

At that moment they all realised that one of the saucepans seemed to be on fire with what looked like a toffee coating on the bottom.

'That will never come off,' said Hilary. 'And those are very expensive saucepans.'

They left the saucepan to soak and Marilyn began again. As Hilary had said, it was a mercy she hadn't wasted the chicken fillets, the other bit was only old sauces.

The telephone rang. It was Annie and Brian from the River Shannon. Could Marilyn please find this form? She went upstairs again to the front room where she kept all the mail neatly on the sideboard. She found the form and called them back at the pub where they were waiting for news.

'Great,' Brian said. 'All you have to do now is drive it around to the address with the one-pound entrance fee.'

'Yes, well…'

'Thanks very much, we'd hate for him not to enter.' Annie had taken the phone by now.

'I don't have to take Clement to the show myself?' Marilyn asked anxiously. 'Walk him around a ring or anything?'

'No, they sit in cages actually, and to be honest I'd quite like to do that myself, but if you liked to come along or anything…?'

'Yes well, we'll see.' Marilyn ended the conversation.

'Are they having a good holiday?' Nora sniffed at the unlikely prospect of this.

'I didn't ask them,' Marilyn cried with a great wail because she saw that the second saucepan was burning and neither of these two women who were used to Ria Lynch being in total charge had lifted a finger to rescue it.

Was this what she had come all the way to Ireland for? This ludicrous, exhausting kind of day? Getting more and more enmeshed and involved in the lives of total strangers?

There was a letter from Mam in the mailbox on Tudor Drive.

Dear Ria,

I should have been better about writing letters but somehow God does not put enough hours in the day. And talking of God as we were, I hope you've found a Catholic church out in that place for my grandchildren to go to on Sundays. Marilyn said that she gave you all the details, phone numbers and Mass times and everything, but you don't have to pretend to me that you are a regular Mass-goer, I know better. Marilyn doesn't go to the Protestant church here, and of course she might be of the Jewish faith, but I didn't like to suggest the synagogue to her. She's a grown woman and can make her own choices. I'd be the last one to interfere in anyone else's life.

She was a bit stiff in the beginning but I think she's getting used to our ways all right. A mother should not criticise her daughter's friends, and I don't intend to but you know I don't like Lady Ryan and never will, and I regard Gertie as a weak slob who deserves what she gets by putting up with it. Marilyn is different, she's very interesting to talk to about everything, and very knowledgeable about the cinema. She drives your car like a maniac and has burned two saucepans which she has replaced. She's going to be forty on August 1st. I'm twenty-seven years older than her but I get on with her just fine. I think she's sleeping with Colm Barry but I'm not certain. The Adulterer Barney McCarthy is still prancing around the place. The children get back from the ludicrous boat holiday tomorrow. I'm going to take Annie out for a pizza and hear all the gory details. Annie's anxious to bring her friend Kitty as well, so we may include her in the party and then let them go home together.

Lots of love from your Mam

Ria looked at the postmark wildly. Five days since her mother had written all this. Five whole days. And she hadn't known anything that had been going on. What kind of friends' support system was there that nobody had told her all of this vital information? It was eight o'clock in the morning. She reached for the phone and realised that since it was lunch-time in Ireland her mother would be out on one of her insane perambulations. Why did people write letters like this that took five days and five nights to get there instead of using e-mail? She realised that it was a little unfair of her to blame her mother for not being on the Net since she herself had hardly heard of it a couple of weeks ago. But honestly.

She rang Marilyn. The answering machine was on but she had changed the message. 'This is Ria Lynch's house but she is not here at present. Messages will be taken and relayed to her. Marilyn Vine speaking. I will return your call.' How dare she do that? Ria felt a huge surge of rage. She could hardly contain her hatred of Marilyn.

This woman had gone into her house, driven her car into the ground, chopped down the garden, burned Ria's saucepans, slept with Colm Barry. What else was there to discover about her?

Ria rang Rosemary. She was at a meeting, her secretary said. She rang Gertie in the launderette.

'You're so good to entertain Sheila and the children, she loved her visit to you. She phoned and told me all about it. Loved it she did.' Gertie's voice was happy. What she was really thanking Ria for was keeping up the fiction that Gertie and Jack lived a normal life.

More lies, fantasy, pretence. Ria was so impatient she could hardly keep it out of her tone. 'What's Marilyn up to, Gertie?'

'She's great, isn't she?'

'I don't know, I never met her.'

'Is she sleeping with Colm?'

'Is she what? Gertie's laugh from the busy lunch-time launderette was like an explosion.

'My mother says she is.'

'Ria, your mother! You never listened to a word your mother said before.'

'I know, did she burn my saucepans?'

'Yes, and replaced them with much better ones. You'll be delighted. She got herself a couple of cheap ones in case she burned them again.'

'What is she… accident prone?'

'No, just not any good as a cook. But you should see what she's done with the garden!'

'Is there any of it left?'

'Ria, it's fantastic.'

'Like are there any trees or bushes? Anything I'd recognise? Brian told me she'd cut it all down.'

'You listened to Brian?' Gertie asked.

'She's not working in my thrift shop with Frances Sullivan as well, is she? I mean, in between doing tunnel excavations in my garden.'

'What is all this, Ria? She's a lovely person, she's your friend.'

'No, she's not. I never laid eyes on her.'

'Are you upset about something?'

'She's taken over my house.'

'Ria, you gave her your house, you took hers,'

'She changed the message on the phone.'

'You told her to when she was ready.'

'She's ready all right.'

'Annie helped her decide what to say.'

'Annie?'

'Yes, she comes round to the house a lot.'

'To Tara Road?' Ria asked through gritted teeth.

'Well I think she misses you, Ria, that's why she comes round.' Gertie sounded desperate to reassure her.

'Yeah, I'm sure she does,' Ria said.

'She does, Ria, she said that the holiday on the Shannon was bizarre, that was the word she used. She said that Brian said every day "Mam would like this" and she agreed.'

'Did she?' Ria brightened a little.

'Honestly she did. I was talking to her this morning when I went up to the house. She's actually gone out with Marilyn today. The two of them have gone shopping.'

'What?'

'Yes. Apparently Annie has some voucher or something for clothes which your mother gave her. She wanted to use it so they went off to Grafton Street.'

'I suppose she's there now, ploughing up and down the pedestrian precinct in my car.'

'No, she went on the bus. I honestly don't know why you've turned against her, Ria, I really don't.'

'Neither do I,' said Ria.

And she hung up and burst into tears.

There had been three false attempts to meet Mrs. Connor. Each time the line of cars had been too long. The anxious-looking boys who protected the vehicles said that it wouldn't be worth their while to wait. Fourth time lucky.

Marilyn looked into the haunted face of the thin woman.

'You're welcome to our country,' she said.

'Thank you.'

'You came to find something here.'

'Yes, I suppose we all do.'

'It's not here, it's where you came from.'

'Can you talk to my son for me?'

'Is he dead?'

'Yes.'

'It wasn't your fault, madam.'

'It was my fault, I should never have let him go.'

'I can't talk to the dead, madam.' The woman's eyes were very bright in her thin face. 'They're at peace. They are sleeping and that's how we must leave them.'

'I want to tell him I'm sorry.'

'No, madam, it's not possible. And it's not what the people who are sleeping would want.'

'It is possible.'

'Not for me. Would you like me to look at your hand?'

'Why can't you talk to my son, tell him I'm so very sorry? That I let him go that day, that I agreed they should pull out the plug? I took him off the life-support machine. After only a few months. They might have found a way to get him back. I sat there and watched him take his last breath.' Mrs. Connor looked at her with great sympathy. 'I held his hand in mine at the end and in case he could hear, I said, "Dale, your father and I are turning this off to release your spirit. That's what it will do." But it didn't release his spirit, I know that. It's trapped somewhere and I'll have no peace unless I can talk to him just once to tell him. Can't you find him for me?'

'No.'

'I beg you.'

'You have to find your own peace.'

'Well, why am I here?'

'Like everyone else who comes in here. People come because they are unhappy.'

'And they're hoping for a little magic, I suppose?'

'I suppose so, madam.'

'Well, thank you for your time and your honesty, Mrs. Connor.' Marilyn stood up to go.

'Take your money, madam, I gave you nothing.'

'No, I insist.'

'No, madam, I insist too. One day you will find your peace. That day, go out and give this money to someone who needs it.'

In the car going home Hilary asked almost nervously, 'Was she any help to you, Marilyn?'

'She's very wise.'

'But she didn't get to talk to the dead for you?' Marilyn felt a rush of affection for Ria's lonely, ungracious sister.

'No, she said he was asleep. Well, we agreed why wake him if he's peacefully asleep.'

'And was that worth it? I mean you didn't think you paid her too much?'

'No, not at all, it was good to know he was asleep.'

'And do you feel better now?' Hilary was hopeful.

'Much better,' lied Marilyn Vine. 'And now tell me, what did she tell you?'

'She told me that it was up to me to find the trees, that we had enough put by to choose where we lived.'

'And would you like to live somewhere with trees?' Marilyn asked.

'Not particularly, I've nothing against them, mind, but I never yearned for them either. Still if it's what's meant to be out there for me I think I should look for them.'

The line of cars waiting for Mrs. Connor had been still long as they left. People all looking for a little magic to help them through. That woman had said that everyone who came to her caravan was unhappy. What a sad procession. But somehow there was a curious strength about it. Everyone sitting in those cars had a sorrow. Marilyn Vine wasn't the only woman in the world racked with guilt and loss. Others had survived it too. Like people needing medicine, they had to go to a caravan or something similar occasionally just in case there was any magic floating by that would help.

She smiled to herself. Hilary saw the smile and was pleased.

Ria changed the message. 'This is the home of Greg Vine who is in Hawaii, and Marilyn Vine who is in Ireland. Ria Lynch is living here at the moment and will be happy to forward your messages to the Vines or return your calls.'

She played it back several times and nodded. Two could play at that game. That would sort Ms Marilyn out.

She called Heidi. I'm having a little supper party here, won't you and Henry come? Carlotta's coming and that nice couple we met at the Internet class, and those two men who run the gourmet shop you told me about. I've got friendly with them but I have to show off to them seriously with my home-cooked food. I'm hoping they may give me a job.'

'Mam?'

'Hi, Annie.'

'Mam, aren't you funny, you say Hi instead, of Hallo.'

'I know, I'm a scream.'

'You didn't call us so we called you.'

'I did call you. And I also left a message for your father. To which he hasn't replied yet, you might tell him.'

'He's out, Mam, he's out all the time.'

'Well, when next he comes in tell him that I'm waiting.'

'But it's only a message about business, Mam.'

'I know, but I'd still like to hear his answer.'

'Will it be a fight?'

'Not if he returns my call, no.'

'And how are you, Mam?'

I'm fine. How was your outing to the pizza place with Granny?' Ria had a bit of steel in her voice that Annie recognised.

'It was fine. Gran gave me a marvellous waistcoat. You'll see it, I'll take it over with me.'

'And did Kitty join you there?'

'No, she didn't as it happens.'

'How did that happen?'

'Because Bernadette rang Granny and said Dad had a rooted objection to Kitty.'

'How disappointing.'

'Well I was disappointed, Mam, but there you go. You and Dad don't like Kitty so what can I do?'

I'm glad your father's looking after that side of things anyway.'

'He didn't do it, he wouldn't know what day it was these times. I tell you, it was Bernadette.'

'And tell me about your shopping expedition with Marilyn.'

'Have you a fleet of detectives on me or something, Mam?'

'No, just friends and family who tell me about things I'm interested in, that's all.'

'You're not interested in clothes, Mam, you hate clothes.'

'What did you buy?' Ria hissed at her daughter.

'Pink jeans and a navy-and-pink shirt.'

'Sounds great,' Ria said.

'Mam, are you in a bad mood at me over something?'

'Should I be?'

'I don't think so, I'm having a shitty summer to be honest, everyone's upset the whole time. I'm not allowed to see my friend Kitty. Granny's going to live in an old people's home. Mr McCarthy's gone off somewhere without letting Dad know where. Rosemary Ryan is like something wired to the moon looking for Dad to give him urgent messages. Brian has Dekko and Myles back in tow again roaring and bawling and driving everyone mad. Dad had some kind of row with Finola and she's not around any more. Bernadette's asleep most of the time. Aunt Hilary's lost her marbles and keeps looking up into trees. Clement was coughing up fur balls and he had to go to the vet. Colm took him. It's not serious… but it was very frightening at the time. And then I ring you and you're in a snot with me about something that I don't know about. And honestly if it weren't for Marilyn I'd go mad.'

'She's helpful, is she?'

'Well, at least she's normal. And she recommends me books to read. She gave me To Kill a Mockingbird. Did you ever read it Mam?'

'I love you, Annie.'

'Are you drunk, Mam?'

'Of course I'm not drunk. Why do you ask?'

'I asked you did you read a book and you said you loved me. That's not a conversation.'

'No, but it's a fact.'

'Well I suppose, thank you, Mam. Thanks anyway.'

'And you? Do you perhaps love me?'

'You've been too long in America, Mam,' said Annie.

Danny Lynch was standing on the steps ringing the doorbell of what used to be his own house.

Marilyn, kneeling under the huge tree inside the gate, was invisible to him as he stood fidgeting and looking at his watch. He was a handsome man with all that nervous energy that she remembered from years back but now there was something else, something she had seen in the restaurant that night. Something anxious, almost hunted. Then he took out some door keys and let himself in. Marilyn had been about to get up and approach him but now she moved very sharply from her planting and ran lightly up to the house and followed him inside.

He was standing in the front room looking around. He called out: 'It's only me, Danny Lynch.'

'You startled me,' she said with her hand on her chest, pretending a great sense of alarm and shock. After all if she had come in without knowing he was inside she would have been very shocked.

'I'm sorry, I did ring the bell but there was no answer. And you're Marilyn. You're very welcome to Ireland.' Despite his restlessness he had great charm. He looked at her as he welcomed her. He was a man who would look at every woman he talked to and make them feel special. That's why she had remembered him, after all, when she had forgotten so many other people.

'Thank you,' she said.

'And you're happy here?' He looked around the room, taking it all in as if he were going to do an examination on its contents.

'Very. Who wouldn't be?' She wished she hadn't said that. Danny Lynch had obviously not been happy enough to stay here. Why, out of courtesy, had she made that stupid remark?

He didn't seem to have noticed it. 'My daughter says you've been very kind to her.'

'She's a delightful girl. I hope she and Brian will enjoy visiting my home as much as I like being in theirs.'

'It's a great opportunity for them. When I was Brian's age I had only been ten miles down the road.' He was very engaging.

And yet she didn't like the fact that he had let himself in. 'I didn't actually know that there was another key to the house out. I thought Gertie and I had the only two.'

'Well, it's not exactly having a key out,' he said. 'Not my having one surely?'

'No, it's just I misunderstood, that's all. I didn't realise that you come and go here, Danny. There were very precise notes about Colm having a key to the back gate and everything. I'll tell Ria that she forgot to tell me about you and how I thought you were an intruder.' She laughed at the silly mistake but she watched him carefully at the same time.

He understood what she was saying. Carefully he took the key to Tara Road off his key-ring and laid it on the table beside the bowl of roses. 'I don't come and go actually. It was just today I needed something and since you weren't in I thought… well you know, old habits die hard. It was my front door for a long time.' His smile and apology were practised but none the less genuine.

'Of course.' She was gracious, she could afford to be. She had won in this little battle, she had got Ria's doorkey back too. 'And what was it you wanted?'

'The car keys actually. Mine has packed up so I need to take the second car.'

'Ria's car?'

'The second car, yes.'

'For how long? I'd need it back in an hour.'

'No, I mean take it, for the duration,'

'Oh that's impossible,' she said pleasantly.

'What do you mean?'

'I mean I paid the insurance company an extra premium to cover my driving that car for eight weeks. Ria will be driving your children around Connecticut in my car. My husband can't suddenly appear and claim the car from her…' She paused. The rest of the sentence hung there unspoken.

T'm sorry, Marilyn, very sorry if you'll be inconvenienced but I have to have it. You don't need it, you're here all day digging in the garden. I have to go out and make calls on people, earn a living.'

'I'm sure your company will provide you with another car.'

'It suits me to have this one, and since you don't need…'

'Excuse me, you don't know what I need a car for. Today as it happens I'm meeting Colm to arrange that some organic fertiliser for your garden be delivered, and the nursery where we are meeting is not on a bus route. I am driving your first mother-in-law and three old ladies from St Rita's to a bridge tournament in Dalkey. Then I'm picking up your daughter and son and driving them to meet your second mother-in-law, with whom you have apparently had some quarrel, for swimming lessons. Then I meet Rosemary Ryan, who has been trying to get in touch with you urgently by the way, and she and I are going to a charity fashion show. I agreed to drive.' He looked at her open-mouthed. 'So can we now agree that regretfully there isn't a question of my giving you Ria's car?' Marilyn asked.

'Danny?'

'Jesus, Barney, where are you?'

Barney laughed. 'I told you, a business trip.'

'No, that's what we tell the bank, the suppliers, other people, it's not what you tell me.'

'That's exactly what I'm doing, on the business of raising money.'

'And tell me you've managed to raise some, Barney, because otherwise we're going to lose two contracts this afternoon.'

'Easy, easy. It's raised.'

'Where are you?'

'It doesn't matter, ring Larry at the bank and check. The money's there.'

'It wasn't there an hour ago.'

'It's there now.'

'Where are you, Barney?'

'I'm in Malaga,' Barney McCarthy said and hung up.

Danny was shaking. He hadn't the courage to ring the bank. Suppose Larry said he knew nothing of any money. Suppose Barney was in the south of Spain with Polly and wasn't coming back. It was preposterous of course but then people did that sort of thing. They left their wives and children without a backward glance. Hadn't he done it himself?

'Ms Ryan on the line for you, again,' the secretary said to him, rolling her eyes to heaven, pleading with him to take the call this time.

'Put her through. Sweetheart, how are you?' he said.

'Five calls, Danny, what's this?' Her voice was clipped.

'It's been hell in here.'

'So I read in the papers and hear everywhere,' she said.

'It's okay now, we're out of the fire.'

'Says who?'

'Says Barney. He's saying it from Spain, rather alarmingly.'

Rosemary laughed and Danny relaxed.

'We have to meet. There are a few things we must talk about.'

'Very difficult, sweetheart.'

'Tonight I'm going to one of Mona's dreary charity things with the woman who's living in your house.'

'Marilyn?'

'Yes. Have you met her?'

'I don't like her, she's a real ball-breaker.'

'Come round after ten,' Rosemary said and hung up.

Somewhere Danny found the courage to ring the bank. He must sound cheerful and confident.

'Hi Larry, Danny Lynch here. Is the red alert over? Can we come out of the bunkers?'

'Yes, some last-ditch Mafia money turned up.'

Danny went weak with relief but he pretended to be shocked. 'Larry, is that any way to talk to respectable property people?'

'There are some respectable property people, you and Barney aren't amongst them.'

'Why are you being so heavy?' Danny was startled.

'He left a lot of small people who could ill afford it without their cash, and then when it started to get ropey he went down to the Costa del Crime and got some laundered drug money from his pals.'

'We don't know that, Larry.'

'We do.'

Danny remembered hearing that Larry's son was in a de-tox centre. He would have very strong feelings about money that might have been made through the sale of heroin.

Greg called Marilyn. 'No reason. Just to chat. I miss the e-mails.'

'So do I, but I gather Ria's making great progress on my little laptop. She sent an e-mail to Rosemary Ryan, a woman here—I'm going out to a fashion show with her shortly—and one to her ex-husband's office. They nearly collapsed.'

'Oh I know, she sends them to me too.'

'She does? What about?'

'Oh this and that… arrangements for the alumni weekend… Andy will be coming up too, and her children will be there, so it will be a full house.'

'Yes.' Marilyn couldn't quite explain why this slightly irritated her, but it did.

'Anyway, she seems to be getting on very well, she's cooking in John and Gerry's a couple of hours a day.'

'She's not!’

'Yes. Isn't she amazing? And Henry told me that he and Heidi were at a dinner party round there…'

'Round where?'

'In the house. In Tudor Drive. There were eight of them apparently and…'

'In our house? She had eight people in our house? To dinner?'

'Well, she knows them all pretty well now. Carlotta comes in for a swim every morning, Heidi's round there for coffee after work. It didn't take her long…'

'It did not,' said Marilyn grimly.

Mona McCarthy was on the committee. She sat smiling at the desk and had their tickets ready for them when they went in. People often wondered how much she knew about her husband's activities both in business and in his private life. But they would never learn from Mona's large face. There were no hints there. A big serene woman, dull even, constantly raising money for good causes. It might have been trying to put something back in order to compensate for the many sharp deals where Barney might have taken too much out.

'And a glass of champagne?' she offered.

'I'd love one,' Rosemary said. 'And I have a chauffeur.' She introduced Marilyn.

Marilyn was being unusually silent tonight as if she were thinking about something miles away.

Mona's face lit up. 'And little Ria's out in your house at the moment, isn't she?'

Marilyn nodded with a bright smile. She was wondering what percentage of the population of Westville was now installed in Tudor Drive tonight. Oh no, it was just after lunch back home, maybe a buffet party for thirty at the swimming pool. But she had to say something pleasant. 'Yes, I gather she's having a good time, settling in well.'

Mona was pleased. 'She really needs that, how wonderful you were able to provide it for her.'

'She's even got a job, I hear, in our local gourmet shop.' Marilyn wondered whether there was a tinny note in her voice, and she wondered further why there should be.

'Ria should have got a job years ago,' Rosemary said. 'That's why she lost everything she had.'

'She didn't lose everything,' Mona said quietly. 'She still has the children.'

Rosemary realised it had not been the right remark to make in front of the stay-at-home wife of Barney McCarthy who was in the south of Spain with his mistress. 'Yes, of course. That's right, she has the children, and of course the house.'

'Do you think that Danny Lynch's liaison, for want of a better word, is… permanent?' Marilyn wondered.

'No way,' Rosemary said.

'Not at all,' Mona said at the same time.

'And would Ria have him back when it does end, do you think?' Marilyn couldn't believe that she was asking these personal questions. Marilyn who was legendary about her reserve had changed entirely in this country, she had become a blabbermouth and busybody in a matter of weeks.

'Oh, I think so,' Mona said.

'No question of it,' said Rosemary.

If everyone seemed so sure… if it were all going to end with everyone back in their own boxes as they had been… then what a terrible amount of pain and hurt for the whole summer! And what would happen to the baby that was waiting to be born?

As they drove back through the warm Dublin night Marilyn talked easily to Rosemary. She spoke about Greg out in Hawaii. At no stage did she give any explanation why he was on one side of the earth and she was on the other.

"When Marilyn stopped the car outside Number 32 Rosemary thanked her for the lift. 'It was wonderful, it meant I could have four glasses of champagne. And I loved them. I would ask you in for coffee but I have such an early start… I thought I'd give the plants in the garden a drink of water and then go to bed.'

'Heavens no, and I want to get an early night too.'

Marilyn drove back and parked the car outside Number 16.

Just then she remembered that she had left the signed programmes she had got for Annie in Rosemary's purse. Annie and her friend Kitty were mad about two of the models. Marilyn had gone to the trouble to get the right ones, now she had stupidly left them in Rosemary's elegant black leather bag. She looked at her watch. Rosemary wouldn't be in bed yet. She had only left her two minutes ago, she would be watering the garden. Marilyn would just run up the lane, it would be quicker. They didn't lock their back gate in Number 32.

It was such a pleasant neighbourhood, this, in ways; she had been very lucky to find it. She looked up at the sky, slightly rosy from the lights of the city, a big moon hidden from time to time by racing black clouds that looked like chariots hastening across.

She wished that she didn't feel so mean-spirited about Ria's antics in Westville, but it was really most unfair of her. She was setting up precedents, establishing patterns which could now not be broken. Marilyn didn't want Carlotta's voluptuous figure diving into her swimming pool, she didn't need Heidi coming for coffee every day. And she felt absurdly jealous of what Ria would do for everyone at the alumni picnic.

She was at the back gate of Number 32 now and she pushed it open. She expected to see Rosemary in her bare feet, having taken off her expensive shoes, directing the hose towards the beautifully planted herbaceous border.

But there was nobody there. She walked quietly across the grass and then she heard two people talking in the summerhouse. Not so much talking, she realised as she got nearer, more kissing. Rosemary had indeed taken off her expensive shoes and also her expensive rose silk dress, the one she had got from Polly Callaghan in exchange for a printing job. She lay in a coffee-coloured silk slip across Danny Lynch and she had his face in her hands.

She was speaking to him urgently. 'Never, never again as long as you live, leave me with five phone calls unreturned.'

'Sweetheart, I told you…' he was stroking her thigh and raising the lacy edge of the slip.

Marilyn stood there frozen. This was the second time she had watched Danny Lynch without him seeing her. She seemed to be condemned to spy on this man. She was utterly unsure of which way to move.

Rosemary was angry. 'Don't, Danny. Don't play with me. There's too much history here. I've put up with too much, saved you, warned you too often.'

'You and I are special, we've always agreed that what we have is something that's outside everything else,' he said.

'Yes, I put up with your housey-housey marriage, with your affairs, I even put up with you getting that child pregnant and moving away from this road. God knows why.'

'You know why, Rosemary,' Danny said.

And Marilyn fled. Back to the safety of her garden where she watered Colm's vegetables and everything else in sight with a ferocity that they had never known and might not indeed have needed.

Clement came and watched her gravely, sitting at a safe distance. She was using that hose like a weapon. She was astounded at how shocked and revolted she felt. This was the falsest friend she had ever known. Poor, poor Ria, so unlucky in her man, which could happen to anyone. But so doubly unlucky to be advised and betrayed by her best friend as well. It was beyond understanding.

In a fit of generosity Marilyn decided she didn't care if Ria was entertaining whole coachloads of people in 1024 Tudor Drive, serving them platefuls of home-made delicacies. She deserved it. She deserved whatever bit of pleasure she could get.

Ria was in fact on her own in Tudor Drive bent over Marilyn's laptop.

Hubie Green had given her a computer game. She was going to master it and be able to show it to them when they got here. Sheila Maine's children had lots of these and both Annie and Brian did of course work on computers at school, but Ria had known nothing about them and had never been interested. Still this game was defeating her.

She sent Hubie an e-mail. 'Hubie, it would only take you thirty minutes to explain this game to me. It's worth ten dollars of my time to learn it. Do you think you could come by at some stage? A seriously confused Ria Lynch.'

The kid must live beside his screen: he answered immediately. 'It's a done deal. Can you call me on the telephone at this number and tell me where you live?’

She called him and gave the address.

There was a silence. 'But that's Dale's house. Dale Vine.'

'That's right.' She was solemn now. She had somehow thought he would have known. But then why should he know?

'Oh I couldn't go there, Mrs. Lynch.'

'But why not?'

'Mr and Mrs. Vine wouldn't like it.'

'They're not here, Hubie, I'm living in the house. Marilyn's in my house in Ireland, Greg's in Hawaii.'

'Did they split up?' He sounded concerned.

'I don't know,' she said truthfully.

'You must know.'

'I don't as it happens, they don't tell me. I think after Dale's death they needed to get away.'

'Yeah, sure.'

'But of course I understand, Hubie, if you don't want to come round here, if it has bad memories for you. I'm sorry, I should really have thought.'

She heard him take a breath. 'Hey, it's only a house, they're not there to get upset. Your kids have to play this game and ten dollars is ten dollars. Sure I'll come, Mrs. Lynch.'

It was so simple once he explained it, and also quite exciting. They played on and on.

'That was much more than half an hour, I'd better give you twenty.'

'No, we agreed ten. I stayed because I enjoyed it.'

'Would you like some supper?' She brought him into the kitchen and opened the fridge.

'Hey, you've got one of those lovely Irish flag quiches they sell at John and Gerry's.'

'I make them,' she said, pleased.

'You make them? Fantastic,' he said. 'My mother bought two of them for a party.'

'Good, well I'll give you some Irish soda bread with currants in it to take home to her when you leave, then I don't feel too bad keeping you out for so long.'

He walked around the kitchen, restless, uneasy maybe to be in this home again. Ria said nothing about the past. Instead she busied herself talking about the visit of Annie and Brian. Hubie picked up a picture of the children. Ria kept it out where she could see it.

'Is this her? Your daughter? She's real cute,' he said.

'Yes, she's lovely but then I would think so, and that's Brian.' She looked proudly at the son who would be here soon. Hubie showed no interest at all. They sat and talked companionably over the meal. Hubie used to come here a lot, he said. Great swimming pool and always a welcome. Not food like this, mind you, but cookies from the store and this was the house where the kids came. In fact his parents were quite friendly with Mr and Mrs. Vine before everything.

'And now?' Ria was gentle.

'Well you see how she is, Mrs. Lynch. You know what she's like now.'

'No, the funny thing is I don't know what she's like, I've never met her and I've only seen one photograph of her.'

'You don't know her? You're not a friend?'

'No, it was a home exchange, that's all, she's in my house you see, digging up my garden, buying my daughter pink jeans.'

'You don't want her to do that? Why don't you tell her?' To Hubie it was simple.

'Because we're old and complicated, that's why. Anyway to be fair I'm doing something now that she mightn't like, having you to supper.'

'She wouldn't like this, believe me, Mrs. Lynch.'

'It wasn't your fault.'

'Not the way she sees it.'

'I don't know all about it, people don't talk and I don't like to ask. I just heard it was your birthday.'

'Yeah it was.'

'But why is she upset with you?'

'You really don't know her?' He wanted to be reassured. 'You're not a friend of theirs?'

'No, I promise you, we just got in touch by accident. I had problems of my own, you see.'

'Did someone die?'

'No, but my husband left me and I felt bad and upset over there.'

'Oh.'

'And Dale's mother obviously couldn't come to terms with what had happened around here so…'

'Yes, that's true. She went insane, I think.'

'People do for a while, but a lot of them get better.' Ria tried to be encouraging.

'She hates me.'

'Why should she hate you?'

'Because I'm alive, I guess.' He looked very young and sad as he sat there trying to make sense of what had happened. And the lights went on in the garden as the darkness came down, as it did so quickly here in America, unlike at home where everything seemed to move much more slowly.

'But surely if she were to hate anyone it would be the other boy, the one who died?'

'Johnny?'

'Yes, Johnny. I mean he was the one driving. He was the one who killed her son.'

He said nothing, just looked out at the garden lights and the sprinklers beginning to play on the lawn.

'She can't hate Johnny. Johnny is dead, there's no point in hating him. We're alive, David and I. She can hate us, it gives her life some purpose.'

'You sound very, very bitter about her.'

'I do, yes.'

'But it must have been so terrible for her, Hubie. So hard to forgive. If Johnny hadn't been drunk…'

'Johnny wasn't driving. Dale was driving.' She looked at him in horror. 'Dale stole the bikes, Dale set it up. It was Dale who killed Johnny.'

Ria felt her heart turn over. 'That can't be true.'

He nodded sadly. 'It's true.'

'But why? Why did nobody… how did they not know?'

'You don't want to think what that wreck looked like, you don't want to think about it. I saw it and David saw it so we have to think about it for the rest of our lives.'

'But why didn't you…?'

'Everyone assumed it was Johnny driving and at that time we thought Dale was going to get better. They said he might survive; they had him on this machine. I went in once to see him before she had orders issued that I wasn't to be let near. I told him in case he could hear me that we'd let people go on thinking it was Johnny. He was under-age, you see, and also he had these parents that worshipped him. Johnny had nobody.'

'Oh God,' said Ria.

'Yes, I know, and now I don't think what we did was right but we did it for the best. We did it to help goddamn Mrs. Vine and then she wouldn't even let me come to Dale's funeral.'

'Oh God Almighty,' Ria said.

'You won't tell her, will you?' he asked.

Ria thought of the room along the corridor, the shrine to the dead son. 'No, Hubie, whatever else I may do in my life I won't tell her,' Ria said.

CHAPTER SEVEN

'Marilyn, this is Ria. Sorry to miss you. Nothing really. Just to say that the Dublin Horse Show will be on next month, you might enjoy it. And Rosemary can get you tickets for the show-jumping which is very spectacular. She's terrific about things like that, she'd do anything to help. She sent me an e-mail on your laptop and she's dead impressed that I know how to do it. Then maybe you might hate the Horse Show. I don't know why I'm burbling on, I think it's just I want to make sure you're having a good time. I hear from Gertie that you've done wonders in the garden, thank you so much. Okay. 'Bye now.'

Marilyn listened to the message. She felt such a surge of rage against Rosemary Ryan that she was glad she wasn't holding her coffee mug in her hand. She would surely have crushed it into her palm. She would not return the call yet because she didn't trust herself to speak about Ria's friend who was so terrific about things that she would do anything to help.

'Ria, this is Marilyn, sorry I missed you. Our machines are playing tag as they say. No, I won't ask Rosemary for any tickets to the show-jumping but I may well go to the Horse Show when it's on. I see a lot of advertisements for it already. You must tell me more about your Internet lessons. They seem to have worked very well for you, it took me ages to get familiar with it all. Glad to hear that you are getting to know people in Westville. Annie and Brian are coming to supper here tomorrow. I was terrified of cooking for them but Colm said he'd leave something suitable. The children are really looking forward to seeing you again. 'Bye for now.'

Ria listened to the message. For the first time she didn't feel excluded and annoyed that the children were going to supper with Marilyn. That woman needed any bit of consolation she could get. And she couldn't return the call because she had to work out with Heidi what they would say about Hubie Green.

'What did you and Dad fall out about, Finola?' Brian asked.

'Brian!'

'No, Annie, it's a reasonable question. And the answer is money.'

'Oh,' said Brian.

'People often do fall out about that.' Finola was brisk and matter-of-fact. 'I asked your father to tell me how his company was doing. I wanted to know whether he had enough funds to look after you both, your mother and Bernadette as well.'

'And has he?' Brain asked fearfully.

'I don't know, he asked me to mind my own business, which was fair enough in a way. It's actually not my business, but that's why we fell out.'

'Will you ever make it up?' Annie asked.

'Oh yes, I'm sure we will.' Finola was bright. 'And anyway I want to thank you both very much indeed for coming to say goodbye, I really appreciate that.'

'You were very good to us, with the swimming lessons and everything,’ Annie said.

'And with talking to us when Dad and Bernadette were being all sentimental and soppy on the boat.' Brian remembered it all with some distaste.

'I was going to give you a little present for the trip but I thought I'd give you twenty dollars each instead.' Finola Dunne said.

Their faces lit up. 'We shouldn't really take it.' Annie sounded doubtful.

'Why not, we're friends aren't we?'

'Yes but if you and Dad…'

'That will be blown over by the time you come back, believe me.' They believed her at once and pocketed the money with big smiles. 'And… I do hope it's all nice for you out there, the holiday with your mother.' Finola meant it.

'It will be,’ Brian said. 'I mean she's quite old, Finola, like you are, there won't be any soppiness going on out there.'

'Brian!' Annie said.

'I’ll see you both in September.' Finola had never thought she would like Danny Lynch's children and be sorry to see them leave Ireland for a whole month.

Greg Vine telephoned to say that he would like to stay in Tudor Drive for the alumni weekend in August. 'Normally I would leave you the house to yourself and stay in a motel, but there won't be a bed for miles around. Even Heidi and Henry won't have any room.'

'Heavens, no, you must stay here. And Andy too.'

'We can't all descend on you surely?'

'Why not? Annie and I can sleep in one room. You have two guest rooms, you and Andy have one each. Brian would sleep standing up, he doesn't have to be taken into consideration. And anyway there's a canvas bed that we can put anywhere for him.'

'That's very good of you, it will only be for two nights.'

'No, please, it's your house, stay as long as you like.'

'And when do your children arrive?'

'Tomorrow, I can hardly wait.'

When he had replaced the receiver Greg realised that she hadn't suggested that Brian sleep in Dale's room. It would have been perfectly acceptable. To him anyway. But not to Marilyn. Ria Lynch must have worked that out. She had been so odd the first time, talking about Dale's spirit being in Hawaii and the dead boy missing his mother. But maybe he had misunderstood her. This time she seemed highly practical and down-to-earth.

Marilyn went to Colm's to collect the food.

'I'd have brought it down to you,' he said.

'Nonsense, I'm grateful enough to you already. What have I got here?'

'A light vegetable korma for Annie, with some brown rice. Just sausage, peas and chips for Brian, I'm afraid. I did nothing special for you, I presumed you'd eat from both not to show favouritism.'

Marilyn said that seemed an excellent scheme. 'Let me get my billfold.'

'Please, Marilyn.'

There was something in his face that stopped her. 'Well, thank you so much, Colm, truly.'

'Let me get you a basket to carry them.' He called out to Caroline, and his pale, dark-haired sister whom Marilyn had only seen in the distance before came in carrying the ideal container, with a couple of check dinner napkins. 'You have met Caroline, haven't you?'

'I don't think so, not properly anyway. How do you do, I'm Marilyn Vine.'

Caroline put out her hand hesitantly. Marilyn glanced at her face and realised that she was looking straight into the eyes of someone with a problem. She didn't consider herself an expert but as a young graduate she had worked for three years on a rehab project. She had not a shadow of doubt that she was being introduced to a heroin addict.

'Do you think Dad has lost all his money?' Brian asked on the bus from Finola's house.

'No, don't be an eejit,' Annie said.

'But why does Finola think he has?'

'She doesn't know. Anyway, all old people like Finola and Gran ever think about is money.'

'We could ask Rosemary, she'd know,' Brian suggested. 'We'll be passing her house anyway.'

'If you so much as open your mouth to Rosemary about it I'll take your tonsils out with an ice-cream scoop, and no anaesthetic,' Annie said.

'All right, all right.' Brian wasn't going to risk it.

'But if we are going to Tara Road we might as well call in on Gertie,' Annie suggested.

'Would she know about Dad's money?'

'Not about Dad's money, you moron, to say goodbye, like we did to Finola.'

'Oh, do you think she'd give us anything too?' Brian was interested.

'Of course she wouldn't, Brian, you are a clown. You get worse all the time.' Annie was exasperated with him.

'No, well, I don't suppose she'd be cleaning the house for Mam if she had any money herself.' Brian had worked it out.

'I think Mam would like it if we called on her,' Annie said.

Gertie was very pleased to see them. 'You tell your Mam that the house is fine, won't you?' Gertie said.

'I think she's forgotten all about the house,' Brian said philosophically.

'She remembered that you told her the whole garden was cut down,' Gertie said.

Brian felt there was some criticism implied here but was not sure why. 'I was going to tell her that Myles and Dekko got into an over-eighteen film because they said they were dwarves, but I thought she might prefer to hear about the garden,' he said by way of explanation.