No Enemy but Time (30 page)

Claudia said, ‘What are you going to do about that?'

‘About my will? I've done it.'

She sat upright, her eyes wide. ‘Oh, my God,' she said. ‘You mean you've changed your will already? Why didn't you tell me?'

‘You had other things on your mind,' he answered. ‘It's all done: signed, witnessed and lodged with Hunter. I've left Riverstown to you. Unentailed.'

Claudia heard the knock on the door and said, ‘Come in, 'morning Sheena,' as the tea-tray was set on the night table. Then she looked up at Philip. She chewed her lip, and then stopped because it hurt.

‘I don't think you should do this,' she said. ‘He is your only son. Can't you tie it up in a trust, put conditions round his inheriting?'

‘No,' Philip said flatly. ‘The conditions I'd place on his taking over Riverstown wouldn't stand up in any Irish court. That was Hunter's view. I've left the house and everything to you, darling. My hope is that you'll leave it to Claire's son, if she has one. But there are no strings. There's no way Frank can fight you because you're my wife and entitled to my property.'

‘Oh, Christ,' Claudia sighed again. ‘What happens when he finds out? What on earth is he going to say to me?'

‘Oh, I'm going to let him know myself,' Philip said. He took up the teapot and poured two cups. ‘Nobody's going to blame you. I've made the decision and if he wants to kick up a row, he can do it with me. Here you are, drink this.'

She took the cup and sipped. ‘What's Claire going to say?'

‘I'm safeguarding you,' he said. ‘That's what I'll tell her. We can't worry about that. She's got a life of her own now. She was far too wrapped up in Frank anyway.'

Claudia said, ‘She was rather. Darling, go and have your bath.'

When he had gone she poured some more tea and lit a cigarette. He hated her smoking in bed. It all sounded so calm and reasonable, but she knew it wasn't. It was a blow aimed at her step-son's heart. She wondered how clear her own conscience was in respect of Philip's decision. She didn't like Frank. Perhaps if she hadn't had Claire, she might have accepted him more as her own. And she had seen the brother and sister draw closer together when they should have been moving away. That had worried her, even frightened her. Philip had noticed too. It was the first time he had made any comment, but he had noticed.

Was that why he hated his son? Because only hatred could account for what Philip had done. First turning him out of the house. They'd quarrelled. She remembered the scene only too well, and her own furious reaction to the stupidity of both. But all families rowed, and then made up. Even if they weren't very fond, it was the tribal instinct to keep the family intact. Philip had thrust his son out. The excuse sounded thin, even to her. Perhaps he had always resented his existence and subconsciously wanted to be rid of him. Not because he felt he had too much influence over Claire; Claudia dismissed that. But for other, deeper reasons. Her head ached and she stubbed out the cigarette.

She didn't want to take Frank's inheritance. She didn't need Riverstown, and if Philip died first, she took it for granted that she would move out and his son would move in. She remembered her own Hamilton mother-in-law digging herself into the Half House till Claudia paid for a little house out of her own pocket to get rid of her.

She didn't like her step-son, but she didn't want to hurt him. She thought, Philip has left me an option. If I don't say anything, it might still be all right. If Frank sees sense, and there's plenty of time, then I can simply give it to him later on … She contented herself with that. Besides, she knew her husband. Once he had made up his mind, nothing she or anyone else could say would change it. She got up and started hunting for the aspirin.

The Boston Irish Bank opened with a lunch party and an evening reception on 15 July. The lunch was limited to investors from the United States and the Irish institutions. The Chairmen of the Bank of Ireland and of the Allied Irish Bank were present, with members of the Dail from both political parties. Marie made all the arrangements and hired staff and caterers. She had been appointed Frank's personal secretary and assistant. She didn't attend the lunch, which was for men only, but she stood close beside him at the large cocktail party that evening.

Sean Filey was among the guests. He stood in the main hall of the handsome Georgian building in Merrion Square, with one of the principals from Boston. He noticed the flower arrangements, the efficient waiters, the smooth way in which Marie moved among their guests, greeting those she knew and asking others if they had everything they wanted. She had changed, he thought, changed as fast as only a woman can when she adopts a different lifestyle. There was little of the small-town secretary visible in the beautifully dressed woman playing hostess to the top men in Irish business and politics that night. She looked happy and self-assured. An actress revelling in a star part. Only Filey knew that the audience was just one man. She had become obsessed with Frank Arbuthnot. Everything she did was to gain his approval and draw him closer. She acted with Filey too, pretending that Frank was under her influence.

‘I'll talk to him,' she'd say, when they had their meetings in the house on the airport road. ‘He'll do it if I ask him.'

Filey wasn't deceived. He saw the insecurity behind the façade. Most of all, he saw the absence of emotional love in Frank Arbuthnot. Generous, yes. She had a red Mercedes, real jewellery, even the ultimate bourgeois status symbol: a mink coat. He was kind and considerate; Sean had seen them together often enough to notice how well he treated Marie. He gave her the kind of respect that a man gives to a woman he doesn't love, just because he doesn't love her. And in her heart, he reckoned, Marie knew. He was interrupted in his analysis by the American beside him.

‘Well, we're off to a helluva good start. Kevin promised and Kevin delivered. He always does.' He looked at Sean Filey and grinned.

‘I'd say it was Frank's father who delivered,' Filey remarked. ‘Come on over and meet our best young poet. He's there, talking to the crew from RTE.'

‘No,' the American said. ‘I don't want any goddamn TV coverage. What do you mean, Frank's father? I don't get you!'

‘He cut Frank off, left the family house and everything to his English wife. I think that's what really brought him over to our side. But don't let's spoil the Senator's claim to glory.'

He smiled, and Ryan's Boston friend thought, what a snide son of a bitch, and moved away.

It was a great success. There was wide coverage in the newspapers and on television. The new merchant bank was well supported in Ireland and its American affiliates were men of wealth and social prominence. Kevin Ryan was on the board, but he kept a very low profile, refused interviews and disappointed those who hoped he might enter political controversy on the side of the Catholic minority in the North. He brushed all suggestions aside. He was in Ireland as a private citizen. He and his family had a home in Kildare, close enough to his brother's place, and he was very happy to talk about that. The big house-warming party he gave was closed to the media, and gradually interest in him died down because not long afterwards he returned to the States.

By the end of September, Frank Arbuthnot joined his uncle in Boston. Marie stayed in Ireland. She was busy finalizing the transfer of the money from the Middle East via Italy and finally Lucerne, before Frank arranged its channel through to clients in the bank. The shipment of arms would set out from Holland as soon as the payment was completed. There was new staff at Meath. They came through Sean, who recommended them to Frank. A good couple, he said, very reliable and honest. One of their younger boys had got into trouble for doing drill up in the mountains. It was only kids playing at being patriots, but the boy got six months and the father lost his job. It would be a kindness to give them a home. Frank agreed immediately. Sean wasn't surprised. He knew how to make Frank Arbuthnot feel guilty. He would never have credited him with a kind heart. The Brogans' son had been sentenced for possessing explosives, and was a dangerous man with two violent robberies to his credit. The Brogans knew where their duty lay. And this time, Marie had no servant trouble. She talked like that sometimes, until Sean rebuked her.

‘You're becoming a little lady from Foxrock,' he said, and the contempt pulled her back on course.

The money for the arms deal went through and the shipment came into Ulster via a fishing boat. There was a notable rise in attacks on British troops during the next six months.

Frank Arbuthnot was committed now beyond any hope of opting out. His life assumed a regular pattern. He made three trips a year to the States on bank business. Once he took Marie with him and they flew down to Florida for a holiday. He and she worked a five-day week in Merrion Square.

There were regular secret meetings in the house on the airport road. He didn't know that Marie's visits to her family or to see old friends were a cover for her attendance at those meetings. Once she suggested that he might be included. Jim Quinlan, the senior Provisional officer, looked at her and said flatly. ‘No. He's with us because his own kind turned him out. He's still one of them. I've never trusted a bloody Anglo and I never will.'

Filey didn't disagree. Afterwards he said to her, ‘That was stupid, Marie. Jim didn't like you saying that. He's told me to have a word with you.'

‘They've had more money in the last year through Frank than they've had since the trouble started,' she protested. ‘He works heart and soul for the Cause.'

‘So do we all,' was Filey's answer. ‘When's his next trip to England, by the way?'

She flushed. ‘What's that got to do with it?'

He said, ‘You don't mind then? You don't mind being left alone while he goes to see her?'

Marie turned away from him. ‘Why should I mind if he spends a few days with his sister? She's the only family he's got left.'

‘I'm glad you've stopped being jealous,' Filey remarked. ‘All the same, Jim's right. We trust him as far as we need to, and no further. Your first duty is to the Cause. That's why you're with him. Remember that.'

She went from the meeting first, to get home before Frank.

Jim Quinlan spoke to Sean Filey on one side.

‘Did you put her straight?'

‘I did. She meant no harm; she's a sensible girl.' He lit the senior officer's cigarette for him.

‘Keep a watch on her,' he said, drawing in smoke. ‘Sensible girl or not, she's living with the bastard. We don't want her getting too involved with him. Just in case we change our mind about him.'

‘Don't worry about Marie,' Filey assured him. ‘I'll vouch for her.'

Jim glanced at him. ‘Give her a miss for the next couple of meetings,' he said. ‘Let her cool her heels for a bit. I'll be off now, or I'll be late for duty.' He worked as a guard on the railway.

Marie drove home to Meath. The Brogans had everything ready when she got in. The fire was lit in the big drawing room, the curtains drawn. There was ice in the bucket and the drinks set out. They were efficient and hard-working, because they took their orders from her and not from Frank Arbuthnot who paid them. She poured herself a vodka and tonic, kicked off her shoes and sank down on the sofa. She was the mistress of the house and the mistress of the man who owned it. She could do what she liked, spend what she wanted, change this and that, and he never demurred. But the photograph of Claire Fraser stood inviolate in its silver frame on the piano. Once she had put it away. He hadn't been in the room five minutes before he noticed.

‘Don't you dare touch that,' he exploded at her. She hadn't made that mistake again. But hatred of the smiling image grew until she couldn't sit where she could see it. That bastard Sean, she thought, tasting the sharpness of the vodka. Putting the knife in and turning it. ‘You don't mind being left while he goes to see her.'

Mind! Those visits nearly drove her mad, and worst of all was the need to hide her feelings. She hadn't stopped being jealous, as he so cruelly suggested. She was more jealous and insecure than ever. Frank was isolated from his family, his sister lived in England, he had been totally rejected by his own father. He should have turned to her and responded to her love for him. But he didn't. He gave her presents and had settled money on her – Filey didn't know about
that
, she thought spitefully – they worked together and slept together, but he had never said he loved her. And now that bitch was having her first baby and he was booked in to fly over as soon as it was born.

She heard the front door open, and jumped up quickly, hunting for her shoes. She emptied the glass of vodka and put it back on the tray. When he called she came out to the hall to meet him. She smiled and kissed him. He put his arms round her. His affection had begun to cause her pain rather than hope.

‘Hello,' he said. ‘How was your mother?'

‘Not too bad,' she lied. ‘It cheered her up to see me. We had a good old chat, and she loves that. Were you busy?'

He nodded. She linked her arm through his and drew him into the room where the fire beckoned.

‘Busy enough,' Frank said.

‘Did you miss me?' She made it sound coquettish.

He smiled. ‘How could I? I had Mrs Warren sitting on my knee all afternoon.'

Marie trilled her laughter. Mrs Warren was the ugliest and stoutest of all the secretaries. So funny, but not the answer she craved: ‘Of course I missed you, darling.'

‘I'll get you a drink,' she said.

Frank relaxed in an armchair. All the chairs were giant-sized in the house. Marie nearly disappeared if she curled up in one.

‘I don't really want one,' he said.