No Enemy but Time (24 page)

‘How could he have loved my mother and feel as he does about me?'

She had no explanation. It was not the moment to pretend. ‘I don't know,' she admitted. ‘Perhaps you're too alike. Perhaps if you looked like her, he would have loved you. I don't know,' she said again.

‘He regrets it,' he said. ‘He regrets marrying her, falling out with his own family. And so long as I'm around he can't forget it. He can't pretend it didn't happen. Can't you see it, Claire? It's like a haunting. She dies, but I survive. Then years and years later her brother comes back and buys Claudia's old home. Just a few miles down the Naas road. It must have crucified him.'

‘If you go on like this, you'll end up in St Pat's,' Claire said.

‘I've got to get my life straight,' Frank said. ‘I've got to find out who I really am and what I want to do. I'm not crazy, Claire, but I feel as if I'm in a vacuum. I'm planning to open a bank in Dublin; there's a lot to do to improve the estate. I'll have Riverstown one day. But it doesn't seem to have any meaning for me.'

‘It's leaving home,' she said. ‘That's what makes you feel like this. Thinking Dad doesn't love you.'

He looked up at her. ‘Do you think he does? Honestly?'

‘I think he's uncomfortable with you,' she said after a pause. ‘He finds it difficult to show his feelings. And he's very obstinate and proud. Frank darling, I've got an idea. Why don't I talk to him about it? Not at the moment, but when I come home next. He may be feeling just as unhappy as you are. Why don't I do that?'

‘Haven't you already done it?' he asked her, and she couldn't deny it. She tried to forget that chilling relief in her father when his son had finally gone.

‘Yes, of course I did. But you'd just had the row. Time heals everything.'

‘Not with the Arbuthnots,' he said.

They were silent then, each watching the spurt and flicker of the firelight. Once she ran her hand over his hair. She had never known him in need like this. He had always been the strong one, giving her security. Now it was her turn to mother him. And he's never really had a mother, she thought sadly. My mother was kind and dutiful, but I don't think she ever put her arms round him and did what I am doing now.

‘Why don't I get us both some more of that brandy?' she suggested.

‘It makes a good nightcap,' he said. ‘I've taken to having one in the evenings.'

Claire brought him a glass and slipped down on to the floor by the fire, leaning against his chair. ‘So long as it's not two or three,' she said.

‘It isn't,' he answered her. ‘Not that at times I haven't been tempted.' He looked down at her, with the bright hair gleaming in the rosy light, and her sweet face puckered in anxiety about him. He thought, Wouldn't it be wonderful if she could stay? Wouldn't the whole house come alive? Instead he said, ‘I've talked enough about myself. Now I want to hear what you've been doing.' Something nagged at the back of his memory. Something she'd said in that brief telephone call. A special friend, was it?

For a moment Claire hesitated and then made up her mind. ‘You remember that man I met at Butlers Castle, the English MP?'

He frowned. ‘Yes, I remember him.'

‘I've been seeing a lot of him in London,' Claire said. ‘He seems very keen.'

‘I'm sure he does,' Frank said. ‘He was pretty keen that night, I remember. Are you keen too?'

She paused. ‘I don't know. I was so miserable when I first went over. I nearly came home. Then he turned up, and started taking me out and introducing me to lots of people. He's very nice,' she added. She thought suddenly, I won't say I've slept with him. Frank'd have a fit. I wonder if it shows?

‘You're not even twenty-two yet,' he said. ‘For God's sake don't rush into anything. I didn't like him, I told you so.'

She sighed. ‘I know you did.'

‘He's so bloody English,' Frank went on. ‘Have a good time if you like, but don't get too involved. That kind of man is not for you.'

Claire didn't argue. She wasn't going to lie to him, but she didn't want to upset him either. He was prejudiced against Neil, without knowing anything about him. If she did decide to marry him, Frank would come round. And as he hadn't even asked her yet, what was the point of making an issue?

‘Your home is Ireland,' he said. ‘You won't be happy anywhere else.

Marie Dempster was nervous. She had smoked one cigarette after another while she waited for Sean Filey. He was late, which was unusual. He was a punctual man, rather rigid in his habits. He came into the bungalow and called out.

‘Marie?'

‘I'm in here,' she replied. He came through the doorway into the sitting room, and grimaced.

‘Ach, look at the smoke in here. Why can't you give up that dirty habit? If you could see what it does to the lungs!'

Marie said angrily, ‘They're my lungs and I'll smoke if I want to.'

He didn't argue. He took off his overcoat and gloves, unwound the scarf from his neck and laid everything neatly on the back of a chair. She looked tense and irritable. He wondered what had gone wrong with her date with Arbuthnot. The first evening had been a success. She was jubilant when she reported to him. Perhaps a little over-confident, he thought at the time. He'd warned her not to rush. Arbuthnot needed careful managing.

‘Any coffee?' he asked. She got up, obviously unwilling.

‘I'll make some,' she said irritably.

He followed her into the kitchen. He preferred it to the drab and stuffy sitting room. Kitchens were cosy places. His own family always gathered there.

He said, ‘Let's have a cup in here.' He gave her time to relax before he asked the question. ‘What happened on Wednesday night?'

‘Nothing,' she said flatly. ‘I went down to his house; we talked about this and that, we had dinner and he said goodbye.'

Filey looked up sharply. ‘Why the change?'

Marie shook her head. ‘I don't know,' she said. ‘He was very nice, the perfect gentleman, as you'd expect, but his mind wasn't on me, Sean. I tried to get him up to the flat this weekend, but he said, no, his sister was coming over from England and he was spending the weekend with her.'

Filey knew she had expected to stay the night and consolidate the advantage gained after Frank came back from America. He sensed that she was furious and bewildered by the rebuff.

‘I couldn't get through to him at all,' she said. ‘It was like a shutter coming down. I didn't know whether to push myself or take the hint and pretend the other night had never happened.' She moved her empty mug away. ‘I should've slept with him then,' she said. ‘Compromised him properly.'

‘I don't think so,' Filey answered. ‘I told you, this will take time. He had family matters on his mind; did he say why his sister was coming to see him?'

‘No,' she said. ‘It didn't sound like trouble either. He sounded happy enough.'

Filey saw the lowered look and wondered how she could be jealous when she hardly knew the man.

‘I'll ring him up and try again,' she said. ‘The sister will have gone home by now. He showed me a photograph of her.'

Sean said with a little cruelty, ‘Is she pretty?'

The answer surprised him. ‘She's a beauty. Very blonde. Not like him at all. You'd never dream they were related.' She opened her bag, lit a cigarette. ‘Sean, I've been thinking.'

‘About what?'

‘About this idea of recruiting him,' she said. ‘It sounded great when we discussed it. But I sat in that house the other night and I thought to myself, Is it really going to work? He's from a different world; he's one of
them
. Oh, he plays with the idea of being Irish, but to me it's just a lot of bloody fantasy. It's a big romantic gesture and he's loving it … that's what's Irish about him if you like, but how real is it? Could we ever trust him, supposing he does join?'

Sean Filey looked at her. ‘He has a role to play for us,' he said quietly. ‘Beyond that he knows nothing. We'll trust him as far as it suits us and no further. We need that bank of his, Marie. We need him because he
is
one of them. So far as his motives go – if he likes to play-act, good luck to him. Just so long as he does what we want. You're discouraged. Don't be. The grand house put you off, didn't it?' he asked gently.

‘A bit,' she admitted. ‘And he was different, too. He was part of it. I saw the old bitch of a housekeeper looking at me when she brought the dinner and I knew she was wondering what some little piece from Dublin was doing sitting there.'

Sean reached over and laid his hand on hers. It was friendly, but he sometimes regretted they no longer slept together.

‘You won't contact him,' he said. ‘I'll do that. I'm having some friends in for an evening. There's a poet I can get to come and read his verse. He'll accept, Marie, and you'll be there. Then it's up to you.'

Neil Fraser met Claire at the airport. She'd told him the time of her flight back, but didn't really expect to see him. The House was sitting for an important debate. Monday was a bad day, he said, but he'd come if he could. He was in the arrivals hall by the gate. He hurried up, took the little overnight bag and kissed her.

‘Hello, darling. The car's outside, come on, we've got to rush.'

It was sweet of him to come all the way to meet her; he had just got time before he'd have to go into the lobby and vote.

‘How was the weekend?' she asked him. She felt so pleased to see him, she hugged his arm and the car nearly swerved.

‘It was fine,' he said. ‘The Miltons were disappointed not to meet you. I said we'd go down for lunch in a fortnight. They were very nice, and I think he'll be a useful friend. How was your brother?'

‘Rather miserable,' Claire said. ‘He's in such a mess, Neil, you wouldn't believe it!'

He glanced quickly at her. ‘Mess? What do you mean?' Not a scandal, surely – not at this stage when he wanted to present Claire to the people who mattered.

‘Oh, he's got himself so mixed up,' she went on, not realizing why he was anxious. ‘It's all my bloody father's fault. Frank feels he doesn't fit in and he's always had this bee in his bonnet about his mother being bog Irish and it making a difference. I can't talk him out of it. If Dad had been a normal father, he wouldn't have given it a thought!'

Neil hid his relief. No scandal, that was all that mattered. He didn't understand what she was talking about apart from that.

‘My mother's done her best, but I don't think she ever gave Frank much affection. She's not a demonstrative type, except when it comes to a sick horse. No, that's not true, she's marvellous really. I'm just upset about Frank, and there's nothing I can do while I'm over here. Never mind; it's lovely to see you, and I'm so glad you came to meet me. How long will you be at the House?'

‘A couple of hours. I can get you into the Strangers' Gallery if you'd like to listen to the debate and wait for me.'

‘No, thanks. I'd rather go to the flat and wait for you there.'

He took his hand off the wheel for a moment and laid it in her lap. ‘I've missed you,' he said. ‘And I've missed this.'

‘So have I,' Claire answered. When they were in bed Neil made love so excitingly she could forget everything else. And she hoped it would help her forget Frank, at least until the morning. She guided his hand back to the wheel. ‘Watch the road,' she said, and they both laughed.

He dropped her at his flat in Fulham and drove off back to Westminster. He couldn't help thinking that her brother's identity crisis was hardly worth cancelling such an important date with the Miltons. But she was a determined girl; very strong-willed. He liked that in her, though it was a nuisance at times.

Sean Filey lived with his parents; there were five in the family and Sean was the youngest of the three boys. But he was the only one who had followed his father into medicine. Brian Filey had been a doctor for forty-seven years. He found his clever son too high-powered, and secretly he thought a lot of modern psychiatry was rubbish. But he was very proud of Sean all the same, and his wife doted on him. They hoped he'd settle for a nice girl and get married soon. He was the only one of the family still single. The house was a comfortable old-fashioned villa, built at the turn of the century. The Fileys had lived there all their lives and Sean had the upper floor to himself.

He arranged his party three weeks ahead, with alternative dates in case Frank Arbuthnot couldn't make one or other. There was a young poet gaining a wide reputation for his verse, and a group of people he hoped would enjoy something different.

He was friendly and relaxed when he spoke to Frank, reminding him of their meeting at the novelist's house. He slipped in a sly joke at the writer's expense, which made Frank laugh. Frank accepted. He wasn't interested in poetry, and he had an awful feeling some of it might be in Gaelic, but he liked Sean Filey. If he was going to be an Irishman, then he would break out of the old Anglo circle, with its talk of hunting and land prices, and mix with the Irish: the writers and artists and intellectuals who had never been welcomed to Riverstown, or to his grandmother Blanche's house.

When he arrived he felt ill at ease, in spite of Sean's efforts. He was introduced to everyone, but they all knew each other and after a few words they drifted away. The poet was a bearded, shabby man, with a sing-song Cork accent. Frank didn't think he was particularly young, but then there was so much hair on his head and his face it was difficult to tell. He shook hands limply with Frank and his eyes slid away, looking for someone else.

Twenty minutes after he'd arrived, Marie walked in. She was out of breath and very flushed, which made her look even prettier.