Evening Class (43 page)

Mr O’Brien who was the Principal of the whole school came and sat beside him. ‘How are you?’ he asked.

‘
Bene, benissimo
.’ Signora had told them to answer every question in Italian.

‘Great stuff… And do you like the classes? What’s your name again?’

‘Mi chiamo Lorenzo.’

‘Of course you do. Well, Lorenzo, is it worth the money?’

‘I’m not sure how much it costs, Signor. My nephew’s wife pays it for me.’

Tony O’Brien looked at the big simple man with the beginnings of a lump in his throat. Aidan Dunne had been right to fight for these classes. And they seemed to be going like a dream. All kinds of people coming there. Harry Kane’s wife of all people, and gangsters like the fellow with the low brow.

He had said as much to Grania but she still thought that he was patronising her, patting her father on the head for his efforts. Maybe he should learn something specific so that he could prove to Grania that he was interested.

‘What are you doing today, Lorenzo?’

‘Well, all this week it’s parts of the body for when we get heart attacks or have accidents in Italy. The first thing the doctor will say when you’re wheeled in is
Dov’è il dolore?
Do you know what that means?‘

‘No, I don’t. I’m not in the class. The doctor would say to you
Dov’è il dolore?‘

‘Yes, it means: where is the pain? And you tell him.’

‘
Dov’è
is where, is that it?‘

‘Yes, it must be, because you have
Dov’è il banco; Dov‘è I’albergo
. So you’re right,
Dov’è
must be where is?‘ Laddy seemed pleased, as if he hadn’t made the connection before.

‘Are you married, Lorenzo?’

‘No, Signor, I wouldn’t be much good at it. My sister said I should concentrate on snooker.’

‘Well, it doesn’t have to be one or the other, man. You could have had both.’

‘That’s all right if you’re very clever, and run a school like you do. But I wouldn’t be able to do too many things at the one time.’

‘I’m not either, Lorenzo,’ Mr O’Brien looked sad.

‘And are you not married, then? I’d have thought you’d have big grown-up children by now,’ Laddy said.

‘No, I’m not married.’

‘Maybe teaching’s a job where people don’t get married,’ Laddy speculated. ‘Mr Dunne in the class, he’s not married either.’

‘Oh, is that so?’ Tony O’Brien was alert to this piece of news.

‘No, but I think he’s having a romance with Signora!’ Laddy looked around him as he spoke in case he was overheard. It was so daring to say such a thing aloud.

‘I’m not sure that’s the situation.’ Tony O’Brien was astounded.

‘
We
all think it is. Francesca and Guglielmo and Bartolomeo and I were talking about it. They laugh a lot together and go home along the road after class.’

‘Well, now,’ said Tony O’Brien.

‘It would be nice for them, wouldn’t it?’ Laddy liked everyone pleased about things.

‘It would be very interesting, yes,’ Tony O’Brien agreed. Whatever he had wanted to find out to tell Grania, he had never expected this. He wondered about the piece of information. It might be this poor fellow’s over-simple interpretation, or it might in fact be true. If it were true then things were looking up. Aidan Dunne could not be too critical if he himself were involved in something a little unusual to put it mildly. There was no high moral ground he could claim and preach from. After all, Tony O’Brien was a straightforward single man wooing a single woman. Compared to the Aidan-Signora relationship, this was totally straight and uncomplicated.

But it wasn’t something he would mention to Grania yet. They had met and the conversation had been stilted, both of them trying to be polite and forget the cruel timing that had upset them before.

‘Are you going to stay the night?’ he had asked.

‘Yes, but I don’t want to make love.’ She spoke without coyness or any element of game-playing.

‘And shall we sleep in the same bed or will I sleep on the sofa?’

She had looked very young and confused. He had wanted to take her in his arms, stroke her and tell her that it would all work out in the end, it would be all right eventually. But he didn’t dare.

‘I should sleep on the sofa, it’s your house.’

‘I don’t know what to say to you, Grania. If I beg you to sleep in my bed with me it looks as if I am just being a beast and after your body. If I don’t it looks as if I don’t care. Do you see what a problem it is for me?’

‘Please let me sleep on the sofa this time?’ she had asked.

And he tucked her in and kissed her on the forehead. In the morning he had made her Costa Rican coffee and she looked tired with dark circles under her eyes.

‘I couldn’t sleep,’ she said. ‘I read some of your books. You have amazing things I’ve never heard of.’

He saw
Catch 22
and
On The Road
beside her bed. Grania would not have read Heller or Kerouac. Possibly the gulf between them
was
too great. She had looked mystified at his collection of traditional jazz. She was a child.

‘I would love to come back for supper again,’ she had said as she left.

‘You tell me when and I’ll cook it for you,’ he had said.

‘Tonight? Would that be too soon?’

‘No, tonight would be great,’ he had said. ‘But a little later because I like to look in on the Italian class. And before we fight again I go because I want to, nothing to do with you or your father.’

‘Peace,’ she said. But her eyes had been troubled.

Now Tony O’Brien had gone home and got everything ready. The chicken breasts were marinating in ginger and honey, the table was set. There were clean sheets on the bed and a rug left on the sofa to cover every eventuality.

Tony had hoped to have something more appropriate to report from his visit to the class than the news that Grania’s father was rumoured to be having an affair with the very strange-looking Italian teacher. He had better go into the bloody classroom quick and find some damn thing to tell her about.

‘
Dov’è il dolore
?‘ he said as a farewell to Lorenzo.

‘
Il gomito
,’ shouted Laddy, clutching his elbow.

‘Right on,’ said Tony O’Brien.

The whole thing was getting madder by the minute.

The parts of the body class was great fun. Tony O’Brien had to keep his hand over his face to stop laughing as they poked at each other and shouted
eccola
. But to his surprise they seemed to have learned a hell of a lot of vocabulary and to be quite unselfconscious about using it.

The woman was a good teacher; she would suddenly hark back to the days of the week or the ordering of a drink in the bar. ‘We won’t spend all our time in hospital when we go on the
viaggio
to Roma.’

These people really thought they were going on an excursion to Rome.

Tony O’Brien, who could cope with the Department of Education, the various teachers’ unions, the wrath of priests and nuns, the demands of parents, the drug dealers and the vandals, and the most difficult and deprived of school children, was speechless. He felt slightly dizzy at the thought of the excursion.

He was about to tell Aidan Dunne that he was leaving when he saw Aidan and Signora laughing over some boxes that were changing from being hospital beds into seats in a train. The way they stood was the way people who cared about each other might stand. Intimate without touching each other. Jesus God, suppose it was true!

He grabbed his coat and continued with his plans to wine, dine and hopefully bed Aidan Dunne’s daughter.

Things were so bad in the hotel that Gus and Maggie found it very hard to cope with Laddy’s learning problems. His mind was full of words, he told them, and some of them were getting jumbled.

‘Never mind, Laddy. Learn what you can,’ Gus was soothing. Just like the Brothers years ago were soothing to Laddy, telling him not to push himself.

But Laddy would have none of it. ‘You don’t understand. Signora says this is the stage we must be confident and no humming and hahing. We’re having another lesson on parts of the body and I keep forgetting them. Please hear me,
please
.’

Two guests had left today because they said that the rooms were not up to standard, one said she would write to the Tourist Board. They had barely enough to pay the wages this week and there was Laddy, his big face working with anxiety, wanting to be heard his Italian homework.

‘
I’d
be all right if I knew I were going to be with Constanza. She sort of helps me along, but we can’t have the same partners. I could be with Francesca or Gloria. But very probably with Elizabetta, so can we go over them, please?’

Maggie picked up the piece of paper. ‘Where do we begin?’ she asked. There was an interruption. The butcher wanted to discuss when if ever his bill was going to be paid. ‘Let me deal with it, Gus,’ Maggie said.

Gus took the paper. ‘Right, Laddy. Will I be the doctor or the patient?’

‘Could you be both, Gus, until I get the sound of it back. Could you say the words to me like you used to?’

‘Sure. Now I have come in to the surgery and there’s something wrong with me and you’re the doctor, so what do you say?’

‘I have to say: “Where is the pain?” Elizabetta will be the patient, I’ll be the doctor.’

Gus never knew how he kept his patience.
Dov‘è il dolore
, he said through clenched teeth.
Dov’è le fa male
? And Laddy repeated it all desperately over and over. ‘You see Elizabetta used to be a bit silly when she came first and not learning properly but Guglielmo has forced her to take it seriously and now she does all her homework too.’ These people sounded like the cast of a pantomime to Gus and Maggie. Grown people calling each other ridiculous names and pointing to their elbows and having pretend stethoscopes.

And that, of all nights, was the night he invited Constanza in. The most elegant woman that they had ever seen, with a troubled face. Of all the bloody nights of the year, Laddy would have to choose this one. When they had spent three hours in the back room going over and over the columns of figures trying not to face what was obvious, which was that they must sell the hotel. Now they would have to make small talk to some half cracked woman.

But there was no small talk. This was the angriest person they had ever met. She told them that she was married to Harry Kane, the name on the papers, the contracts, the documents. She told them that Siobhan Casey was his mistress.

‘I don’t see how that could be, you’re much better looking,’ Maggie said suddenly.

Constanza thanked her briefly, and took out her chequebook. She gave them the name of friends whom she would like them to use in doing the work. Never for a moment did they doubt that she was sincere. She said without them she might never have had the information and courage to do what she was about to do. Lives would change and they must believe that the money was theirs by right and would be recovered by her when the wheels started to turn.

‘Did I do right telling Constanza?’ Laddy looked around fearfully at the three of them. He had never spoken of their business outside before. He had been afraid that they did not look welcoming when he had arrived in with her beside him. But now, in as much as he could follow it all, everything seemed to have sorted itself out marvellously. Far better than he could have hoped.

‘Yes, Laddy, you did right,’ Gus said. It was very quiet but Laddy knew that there was high praise hidden in there somehow.

Everyone seemed to be breathing more easily. Gus and Maggie had been so tense when they were helping him with his Italian words a few hours ago. Now it seemed to have gone away, whatever the problem was.

He must tell them how well he had done in class. ‘It all went great tonight. You know I was afraid I wouldn’t remember the words but I did, all of them,’ he beamed around.

Maggie nodded, not trusting herself to speak. Her eyes were very bright.

Constanza decided to rescue the conversation. ‘Did you know Laddy and I were partners tonight? We were very good,’ she said.

‘The elbow and the ankle and the throat?’ Gus said.

‘Oh, and much more, the knee and the beard,’ said Constanza.

‘
Il ginocchio e la barba
,’ Laddy cried.

‘Did you know Laddy has hopes of seeing this family in Rome?’ Maggie began.

‘Oh, we all know about it, yes. And next summer when we all go to Rome we’ll certainly see them. Signora has it all under control.’

Constanza left.

They sat together, the three of them who would always live together, as Rose had known they would.

FIONA

Fiona worked in the coffee shop of a big city hospital. She often said it was as bad as being a nurse without any of the good bits, like making people better. She saw the pale, anxious faces of people waiting for their appointment, the visitors who had come to see someone who was not getting better, the children troublesome and noisy, knowing that something was wrong but not sure what it was.

From time to time nice things happened, like the man who came out crying: ‘I don’t have cancer, I don’t have cancer.’ And he kissed Fiona and went round the room shaking people’s hands. Which was of course fine for him and everyone smiled for him. But some of those who smiled
did
have cancer, and that was something he hadn’t thought of. And some of those who did have cancer would get better, but when they saw him rejoicing over his sentence being lifted they forgot that they could get better and envied his reprieve.

You had to pay for tea, coffee and biscuits but Fiona knew that you never pressed for payment if someone was upset. In fact you pressed hot sweet tea into the hands of anyone suffering from shock. She wished they didn’t have paper cups, but it would have been impossible to have washed cups and saucers for the numbers that passed through every day. A lot of them knew her by name and made conversation just to take their minds off whatever else they were thinking.