Foreign Affairs (63 page)

They had a most pleasant journey to Clonmel. Rachel enjoyed looking at the countryside and the fine houses as she listened to Pauline’s non-stop chatter. They stopped in Kilkenny for a
meal. Rachel thought it was a beautiful city. The huge castle looked very dramatic in the evening sun and Pauline promised that they would spend a day shopping in the town during her few
days’ break. Rachel began to feel almost exhilarated. This was just what she needed. She should have done it ages ago. Theresa would be very pleased if she was looking down on her now, Rachel
thought sadly.

They were scorching through Callan, a village built on a narrow street, when disaster struck. A plume of steam erupted from under the bonnet, causing Pauline to curse volubly. ‘Balls on
it, I think the radiator’s run dry. For God’s sake don’t tell my father.’ A young lad stood watching as Pauline waited for the steam to cool and then tried to twist off the
radiator cap. She couldn’t manage it. Her language was vicious and Rachel listened in admiration to the way her friend expressed her anger. She could imagine her father’s face if he
ever heard her cursing the way Pauline was.

The youth could take no more. He sidled over, took a dirty handkerchief out of his pocket, gave the cap a twist and off it came. ‘Stay there and I’ll get some water,’ he
instructed.

‘I’m hardly going anywhere,’ Pauline muttered a dry aside to Rachel. ‘Steve McQueen he ain’t.’ The two of them looked at each other and started to giggle.
Twenty minutes later they were on the road again with a full radiator and a bottle of water just in case.

‘I’m a disgrace to the feminist cause,’ Pauline declared. ‘I must do a course in car maintenance. Imagine breaking down in Callan of all places.’ They drove on, the
countryside getting more beautiful by the mile, until Pauline pulled in at a gorgeous spot that overlooked a spectacular valley. ‘This is called the V, I always feel I’m home when I get
here. You should see it in the autumn, the colours are breathtaking.’ Rachel could imagine it as she stared out at the stunning views.

Soon after that they reached the perimeter of the town. Pauline lived in a big detached bungalow on the outskirts. Her parents greeted them warmly and Rachel was shown to a pretty guest room and
invited to make herself at home. Pauline was an only child and it was clear that her parents doted upon her.

Around eleven, she dragged Rachel to her feet and told her they were going to a disco. Mr and Mrs Hegarty never batted an eyelid. Obviously this was par for the course. Rachel marvelled at it
all. If she arrived home and then said she was going to a disco at eleven, William would have a fit.

‘I’ll need a holiday after this,’ Rachel declared the following Monday. It was eight-thirty, and Pauline was calling her to get up. She’d been to discos and parties.
She’d gone on pub crawls and sung in ballad sessions. She’d played tennis and badminton and gone to a barn-dance on the Sunday night. That was great fun. At first she’d been shy,
and couldn’t make head nor tail of the steps, but everyone else was in the same boat and half the fun was turning left when you should be turning right as the MC bellowed the instructions
from the stage.

‘Today we’re going to flop,’ Pauline announced. ‘The sun is splitting the trees, there’s clear blue skies. Let’s hit the beach.’ Mrs Hegarty made them a
sumptuous picnic and they set off for Waterford in trusty old Jemima. Rachel had her new bikini on under her new shorts and T-shirt. Pauline had insisted she go on a little spending spree and
advised that you got a much better suntan in a bikini.

Pauline was an avid sun-worshipper. Rachel watched in amazement as she spread her towel on the beach and laid out an array of creams and lotions beside her. ‘Come on. Strip,’ she
instructed, ‘I’m going to teach you how to get a suntan.’ Rachel felt embarrassed as she slipped out of her shorts and T-shirt to expose an expanse of milky-white limbs.
‘Now cover yourself with that.’ Pauline handed her a big yellow bottle of suntan milk, called Delial. Rachel sniffed it. It had a gorgeous smell. She did as she was told.

‘Now make your bag into a pillow, put it on your towel, lie down with your book, listen to the sea and the birds and if you don’t feel relaxed after today, I’ll eat my
hat,’ Pauline declared. Twenty minutes later she was snoring her head off.

Rachel lay on the warm sand, feeling the heat of the sun soaking into her skin. It was a lovely sensation. The sound of the sea was like a lullaby. The sky was blue above her. A warm breeze
rippled across her stomach like a caress. She felt a wonderful lethargy spread through her. Rachel emptied her mind and lay, thinking of nothing in particular, just listening to the sea and the
birdsong and the gentle shushing of the balmy breeze. Her eyelids grew heavy. She slipped into a dreamless snooze.

There was no need for Pauline to eat her hat. Rachel went home energized and refreshed after her few days away. And she had her first proper tan. As she sat on the coach to Dublin, she decided
two things. She would save for a car. And from now on, whenever she had the chance, she would try and do some sunbathing. It was a marvellous way to relax, she’d discovered.

William was very cool with her when she got home. Curtly, he told her that there was some post for her. Letters from Ronan. He asked her nothing about her little holiday. Rachel didn’t
care. She just wanted to have a bath and unpack.

She was back at work the following day. The Tea Rooms were busy and the day passed quickly. At five o’clock she couldn’t wait to get home. She made up two ham and salad rolls. One
for William, one for herself. If her father thought she was going to turn around and cook a dinner on a lovely sunny evening, he could think again. She couldn’t wait to get out to top up her
tan. She raced home. She could see her father over in the newsagents, buying his evening paper and chatting to Mrs Morrissey. Perfect, Rachel thought, as she threw his roll on a plate and put a cup
beside it. She ran upstairs, got into her bikini and grabbed her towel and book and suntan cream. She peered out the window to see if he was coming yet and was pleased to see he was still chatting.
William loved the sound of his own voice. She poured herself a glass of milk from the fridge. Two pork chops reproached her. Thursday was pork chop day. She didn’t care, the sun was shining
and the top left-hand corner of the small patio was a sun trap.

Five minutes later, she was sitting against the wall, face up to the sun, welcoming its delightful bright heat. She heard her father’s footsteps come around the side of the house. She kept
her eyes tightly closed. William stopped short. ‘Good grief!’ she heard him say. Rachel ignored him. She heard him open the back door. ‘Where’s the dinner?’ he
growled.

‘On the table,’ she said airily. There was silence. Then the sound of pots clashing and muttered imprecations. Rachel stayed firmly put. She wasn’t his servant. He’d been
at home all day. He was on holidays now. Why hadn’t he cooked the dinner himself? The sun poured its heat down on her and delicious lethargy once again spread through her limbs. A smile
crossed her face as she heard the sizzle of meat on the pan. William could cook his own dinner from now on. As far as Rachel was concerned, the worm had turned, and not before its time.

Chapter Fifty-Seven

Rachel gently placed her mother’s photograph on her desk and smiled down at it. ‘Well Mam, here I am at last. Living in. I wish you were at home so I could tell you
all about it. Dad’s going mad, of course. But he didn’t try to stop me because he knows I have some money of my own saved. You’d be proud of me,’ she said sadly.

‘Don’t get into the dumps on your first day here,’ she told herself. ‘Be positive. Start as you mean to go on.’ Rachel stood in the middle of the room that was to
be her home for the next eight months. It was a nice room. The walls were painted pink. To her right was a wardrobe and bed and there were bookshelves along the wall. To her left was a sink and
mirror, more shelves and a desk and chair and noticeboard. The window was at right angles to the desk and had a view across the campus to the college buildings. It was clean, bright and airy but
best of all it was 35 miles from her father’s house. He had no say here. He couldn’t interfere in her life.

There was a knock on the door. Rachel jumped. Idiot! she thought to herself as she went to see who it was.

‘Hi, welcome to the Glen.’ Pauline’s cheery greeting made Rachel smile immediately. The Glen was the name of the hall of residence she was now living in.

‘Can you believe it! I’m here.’ Rachel laughed.

‘And about time too. Now we’re all going over to the Cat & Cage for a jar. Are you coming?’

‘I haven’t finished my unpacking,’ Rachel said hastily.

‘Get your purse and stop your nonsense. This isn’t Rathbarry!’ Pauline ordered.

‘OK,’ Rachel agreed. To hell with the unpacking, she’d a whole eight months to unpack. Now was the time to start living. She spent a most enjoyable evening in the pub, much to
her surprise. Her classmates were trying to outdo each other with horror stories about their teaching practice. Rachel found herself telling them how one child in her class was so hyperactive that
a strategy had been prepared in advance to deal with his disruptive presence.

‘So all the time I was being assessed, Billy Shields was going around from classroom to classroom with a “note for the teacher,” which said
Examiner in school hang on to
Billy for a while
. . . He had a wonderful time, everyone had little jobs for him to do and they kept him occupied until I was finished.’ Rachel grinned.

‘That was nice of them,’ Keith Nolan exclaimed. ‘Two little gurriers started a fight in my class and the rest of the little savages yelled, “Give ’im a puck in the
snot, Doyler, an’ kick the goolies off ’im.” How I longed for the days of corporal punishment. There’s a lot to be said for it.’

‘Huh,’ snorted Lillian Byrne. ‘I had a mother in to complain that her daughter was being picked on by the teacher and she wanted to know where the teacher was. So I tried to
explain that I was doing my teaching practice, and the other teacher was up in the staff room. She was furious and said no unqualified teacher was going to
practise
on her Charlene. She
was going to phone the department immediately. According to her, her husband didn’t pay his taxes so their Charlene would be taught by amateurs. I wouldn’t mind but Charlene’s as
thick as two short planks and isn’t a bit interested in learning anything.’ There was a chorus of guffaws. Rachel started to relax. This was good fun. She was going to enjoy this last
year to the full.

The following Friday, she was walking through the grounds after lectures, on her way to the Glen, when she spied a familiar grey Cortina. Anger suffused her. What the hell was he doing here?
Making sure that she came home for the weekend no doubt. Would her father ever let her live her own life? she fumed. She remembered that Pauline was going to visit an aunt in St Vincent’s
Hospital. Jemima was still parked outside the college so she hadn’t left yet. A reckless gleam came into Rachel’s eyes. She backtracked and took a different route so she didn’t
have to pass the car park. She was breathless when she got to her room. Hastily shoving her dirty laundry into her knapsack, she gathered her books together and put her coat on. She locked her door
and went downstairs to Pauline’s floor and knocked on her friend’s door. Pauline opened the door. Rachel was pleased to see that she had her duffel coat on, ready to go.

‘Hiya,’ she greeted Rachel.

‘Hi, listen, you’re going in to St Vincent’s, aren’t you? Could you drop me off as near to town as you’re going? I can get the bus on the quays.’

‘Sure,’ Pauline agreed. ‘I’m almost ready to go. I have to write the Get Well card, that’s all.’

‘I just want to pop over to the shop to get the paper to read on the bus. If I stand at the traffic lights can you pick me up?’

‘Fine,’ Pauline agreed. ‘See you at the lights.’

Rachel felt a glow of triumph. Ha! she thought scornfully, William would sit watching the main gate for her and she’d be gone through the side gate. Her father could sit stewing for as
long as he wanted.

She hurried downstairs and made her way across the lawns to the side gate of the grounds, looking neither to the left nor right. There was a gap in the traffic and she raced across the road to
the newsagents. There was a queue. Rachel sizzled with impatience as she waited to pay for her evening paper. She decided to treat herself to
U
magazine as well. She’d just paid for
her purchases when she saw Jemima’s purple bonnet edge out the main gate. Rachel waved away the offer of a paper bag, grabbed her change and ran. She was waiting at the traffic lights when
Pauline pulled up. The traffic was free-flowing but heavy. Another half an hour and it would be the usual Friday evening snarl-up. And William would be well caught in the middle. She was going to
enjoy her few hours of peace and quiet at home. She’d have a nice tea without having to listen to William pontificating.

She caught the bus by the skin of her teeth, and was lucky to get a seat upstairs. A few stops further on and the bus would be jam-packed. Rachel flicked through her magazine in a desultory
manner but she couldn’t concentrate. She sat back and peered out the window. It was raining heavily. The rain hopped off the surface of the Liffey causing little ripples. The tide was high.
One of the Guinness boats down on City Quay gave a mournful hoot. Rachel turned and watched as the ship steamed slowly down river on her journey to Liverpool. She’d like to go on a ship
sometime. A cruise would be exotic. She wished she was brave like Ronan’s girlfriend, Jennifer. She lived in Spain on her own. Ronan was mad about her. It was just as well Rachel liked
Jennifer. Imagine if Ronan got married to someone she didn’t like. That would be a disaster. Harry had a brother-in-law he couldn’t stand and he rarely saw his sister because of it.
He’d told Rachel that it put an awful strain on the family. His mother was very upset by it all.

Ronan was all she had. William didn’t count. Jennifer would be well able for William Stapleton. Jennifer was an independent young woman with a mind of her own. Rachel admired her
enormously. William would not bully Jennifer.