Silver Wedding (32 page)

'And of course he'll be here tomorrow and the next day and the next.'

'And why he couldn't stay in his own home

'Mother, Brendan's back now, isn't that what we all hoped?

He's staying with me because it's easier, handier. He's going to

be here every day seeing you.'

'His father could easily have moved all those boxes and files from his room.'

'It's not his room any more, no more than every room is mine, it'd be pointless having them waiting for us, much better letting them be offices and for filing and everything.'

'Helen's room is still there, and she's off in a convent.'

'It's always wise to give Helen somewhere to lay her head, you never know when she'll need it.' Anna sounded resigned.

'Will I change now, do you think?'

'Why don't you wait a little bit longer, Mother, we'll get hot and sweaty if we get into our finery too soon.' 'I hope it's going to be all right.'

'It's going to be magnificent. Everyone you want is coming to it... we don't have to raise a finger. . . they'll all be as impressed as hell.'

'Not that we're trying to impress anyone,' Deirdre said firmly to her daughter.

'No indeed, what would be the point?' Anna asked, wondering could her mother be serious. What was this about if it wasn't to wipe eyes around the place, show Grandmother O'Hagan what style they lived in, let Maureen Barry know that life in Pinner was full of sociability, point out to Frank Quigley that though Desmond hadn't married the boss's daughter he had still done well for himself. Show Father Hurley what a good strong Catholic way of life went on in what he probably thought of as Heathen England. Let the neighbours see what a team they could field, thirty people, and caterers, and speeches and a good non-vintage champagne for the toasts. What was all that if it wasn't intended to impress?

When they heard the commotion downstairs of someone beating on the side door and voices being raised they knew Helen had arrived. She didn't want to come in the front door to inconvenience people so she had been trying to push open the side door, and because boxes of wine were against it she had been having difficulties. She was handed a cup of tea very briskly by Philippa of Philippa's Caterers and pointed upstairs.

Helen came into the room, they knew by the droop of her shoulders that something was wrong. Anna hoped that they might get away without discussing it.

'Doesn't Mother look terrific, Helen?' she cried.

'Great,' Helen said dutifully and absently.

'And Brendan's going to be here any moment.' 'Is he staying here?' Helen asked.

'No, we ... er ... thought it would be ... more suitable if he stayed at my place. He's there now changing, I left the key for him under a plant pot. More suitable, more central, closer to things.'

'What things?' asked Helen.

'Any things.' Anna gritted her teeth.

'So he's not sleeping here tonight?'

'No, he wouldn't even consider...' Deirdre was beginning.

'Anyway his room is an office for Dad now, so ...'

'Is my room an office for Dad?' Helen asked.

'No of course not. Why do you ask?'

'I thought I might sleep here tonight,' Helen said. 'If it's no trouble, that is.'

Anna held her breath. She didn't trust herself to speak. So Helen had decided to leave her convent. And she chose now to tell everyone. Now, one hour before Mother's and Father's silver wedding party. Anna fixed her eyes on the two dressing gowns that hung on the back of the door. Father's had a long cord. Perhaps Anna could take this and strangle Helen, or would that in the long run mean further disruption? It was hard to know.

She was saved from having to work it out because Brendan had arrived. He ran lightly up the stairs and his mother and sisters ran to meet him. He looked tanned and well, they thought, and handsome too, in a smart navy jacket, a sparklingly white shirt and a tie with a discreet design on it.

'I got silver colours in the tie, I thought it would be suitable,' he said.

Deirdre Doyle looked at her only son with pride. There would be no need to apologize for Brendan today nor explain him away. Whatever kind of life he was leading in that backwoods, at least he had dressed up today when it mattered. And he was going to be pleasant to people, not hanging back and muttering. She would not have dared to hope for this much.

Desmond came back in plenty of time to wash and change, and at five minutes before the official starting time Philippa was able to pronounce that they all looked magnificent, and that everything was under control.

More and more in her business she felt it was a matter of calming down the hostess and family just as much as preparing a good menu and serving it well.

They stood in their sitting room. The doors to the garden were open, they were ready. With as little comment as possible Anna had found an outfit to suit Helen among their mother's clothes. It was a simple green skirt and a long cream-coloured over-blouse. It was simple enough to have been the nunnish kind of clothes she wore ... if she wanted it to be. But also it was perfectly adequate as lay clothes too, if that was the route she chose.

Any moment now the guests would arrive. The Doyles had refused a drink from Philippa, saying that they would need to keep their heads clear.

Philippa noticed that there were no private moments between them. They didn't squeeze each other's hands and say: Fancy, a silver wedding! They didn't seem excited in themselves over the event, only that it was being marked.

The first to arrive was Grandmother O'Hagan. Deirdre's eyes raked the taxi to see if she would be followed by Tony. But mercifully Mother had decided to come unaccompanied. And just as she was being ushered in Frank's and Renata's car pulled up. The florist's van arrived with a huge floral arrangement from Carlo and Maria with many many regrets, and warmest wishes on a wonderful family occasion. It had been arranged the previous day by Frank Quigley's secretary who had also left a message with Carlo Palazzo's office noting that it had been done.

And when the West’s next door had peered out and seen the place filling up, they arrived, and they were followed by Father Hurley who had been driven there by his friend Father Hayes.

'Won't Father Hayes come in too and have a drink?' Deirdre Doyle had said. You couldn't have too many priests at something like this.

Father Hayes was tempted just to a sherry, he said it was wonderful in this world where so many people took marriage so lightly to find a couple whose love had survived for so long.

'Well yes.' Deirdre had been pleased by the compliment if somewhat startled by the way it was expressed.

At that moment Maureen Barry arrived.

She must have left her taxi at the corner of Rosemary Drive, she walked easily through the gate and up the little path to the door. The guests were both in and outside the house, it was one of those warm autumn evenings that made it not totally ridiculous to be in the open air,

Maureen seemed to expect all eyes to be on her, yet there was nothing vain or coquettish about the way she came in.

She wore a lemon-coloured silk suit, with a lemon and black scarf. She was slim and tall and her black hair shone as if it were an advertisement for shampoo. Her smile was bright and confident, as she turned with excitement from one to another.

She said all the right things and few of the things that were in mind. Yes, that was Brendan she had seen this morning struggling with a big green Marks and Spencer's bag. Obviously the outfit he was wearing now. Perfectly adequate, but think what a big handsome boy could look like if he had been dressed by a tailor.

Yes, amazingly it had been Deirdre's mother that she had seen that morning at breakfast with the rather over-obvious-looking man. Was it possible that the great and esteemed Eileen O'Hagan was having a relationship? How her father would enjoy hearing of that, when she went to Ascot to see him tomorrow.

She kissed her friend Deirdre and exclaimed with pleasure over the wonderful dress. In her heart she wondered how Deirdre could have fallen for the obvious-looking lilac, the matronly garment with the self-colour embroidery at the shoulder. It was a pastel Mother of the Bride outfit. Deirdre deserved better, she could have looked so well. And the dress had probably cost a fortune as well.

The Doyle girls didn't look smart either. Helen seemed to be wearing a blouse and skirt, perhaps that was the nearest that the Order could come to letting her wear home clothes. Anna, who was quite striking if she had just left herself alone, was wearing a very tarty-looking navy and white outfit: everywhere there could be a white frill there was one, at the neck, on the hem, at the wrists. It was like a child's party frock.

And Frank.

'How well you look, Frank, it must be years and years,' she said.

'But it's impossible that for you time has stood still,' he said, mocking her tones by imitating her, very slightly.

Her eyes hardened.

'Renata, this is Maureen Barry, she and I played bridesmaid and best man at the great occasion twenty-five years ago. Maureen, this is Renata, my wife.'

'I'm delighted to meet you.'

The two women took in each other's clothes at a glance.

Maureen saw a girl with a nondescript face and well-cut designer garments, carefully made up and wearing discreet jewellery. If that gold chain was what she thought it was Renata Quigley was wearing the price of several houses in Rosemary Drive around her neck.

'Frank tells me you are a very successful businesswoman, and you have high fashion shops.' Renata spoke as if she had learned a little speech. Her accent was attractive. 'He's building me up a bit too much, Renata, two small outlets, but I am thinking of opening up over here. Not in London, more out Berkshire way.' 'I was sorry to hear that your mother died,' Frank said. He lowered his voice suitably.

'Yes, it was sad, she was very lively and opinionated always, she could have had many more years. Like Mrs O'Hagan over there.' Maureen nodded in the direction of Deirdre's mother who was holding forth in a corner.

Renata had moved slightly away to talk to Desmond and Father Hurley.

'Of course she hated me,' Frank said, not letting his eyes leave Maureen's.

'Who? I beg your pardon?'

'Your mother. She hated me. You know that, Maureen.' His eyes were hard now. Like hers had been.

'No, I think you're quite wrong, she never hated you. She spoke very well of you always, she said you were very nice, that one time she met you. I remember her standing in the morning room at home and saying, "He's a very nice boy, Maureen." ' As Maureen spoke she re-created her mother's little laugh, the unkind dismissal, the sense of amused wonder.

It was the most cruel thing she could have done.

But he was asking for it, arrogant, handsome and powerful, playing with people's lives, and planning what they would buy and where they would buy it.

'You didn't marry?' he asked. 'There wasn't anyone you could marry?'

'Not anyone I did marry, no.'

'But you were tempted, perhaps a little here and there...' His eyes still held hers. They hadn't faltered under her sarcasm, her reproducing her mother's deadly voice.

'Oh Frank, of course I've been tempted here and there, like all business people are. That has nothing to do with being married. I'm quite sure you have found the same in your life. I'd be very surprised if you didn't. But to marry and settle down, there has to be a reason for that.'

'Love maybe, or attraction even?'

'Not enough, I think. Something more prosaic like . ..' She looked round and her glance fell on Deirdre. 'Like being pregnant maybe, or else ...' She looked round the room again and stopped when she was looking at Renata.

But she wasn't quick enough, Frank said it first.

'Like money?' he said blandly.

'Exactly,' she said.

'Not very good reasons, either of them.'

'Well, certainly not the pregnancy one. Even more specially when it turns out not to have been a real one.'

'Did you ever find out what happened?' Frank asked.

Maureen shrugged. 'Lord, I wasn't even told that there was any question of it in the first place, so I wouldn't be told that the danger had passed or whatever.'

'I think she had a miscarriage,' Frank said.

'Did Desmond tell you that?' She was surprised.

'Not a bit of it, but it was their first Christmas in London, and I was in a bit of a bad way, a bit let down and feeling very lost. I asked could I spend Christmas with them, the excuse was Deirdre wasn't well. She looked badly too. I think that's what it was.'

He sounded much more human, her eyes had softened and she felt his had too.

'What bad luck to tie themselves into all this, for nothing, over a false alarm,' she said.

'They may like it, the children could be some consolation,' Frank argued.

They were talking like friends now, old friends who hadn't seen each other for a while.

Philippa was relieved when the party began to decamp towards the church. She had no idea and didn't even want to imagine what went on there, but she knew it was some kind of important landmark for them. Not just to serve food and drink but go back to the same kind of a church where the whole thing had begun. She shrugged cheerfully as she organized the collection of glasses, the airing of the room. At least this bizarre kind of two-tier arrangement gave them a chance to clear up the hors d'oeuvres part of things and let them lay out the salads without interruption.

The church was at a nice easy walking distance, that was why it had been thought a feasible plan. If they had all to get lifts and taxis and sort out who went with whom it would have taken forever.

They all knelt in a little group, the thirty people who formed the silver wedding party.

It was a perfectly normal Mass, many of them congratulated themselves that they didn't need to go tomorrow since a Saturday-evening attendance was sufficient in these liberated days.

Some like Anna who didn't go anyway did not see the great incidental advantage.

Brendan always found Mass a social event back home with Vincent. He didn't think his uncle believed in any kind of God, but he went to Mass on a Sunday as regularly as he would go to get petrol, or to the marts to buy sheep. It was part of the life they lived.