Voice of the Heart (100 page)

‘Jesus, you’ve been quick!’

‘Not really, Nicky. Don’t you remember, I started it in March 1961, immediately after handing in
Sabres
? I’ve been working on it for well over two years. Besides, Richard III is an old friend, figuratively speaking. It’s proving to be a little easier than the first. How’s your novel progressing?’

‘Slowly but surely,’ Nick answered, then addressed Ryan: ‘Have you enjoyed your week in New York?’

‘It’s been splendid, thanks to Francesca.’ Ryan glanced at Katharine. ‘I feel terrible, Sis, we’ve hardly seen each other. How are rehearsals going?’

‘Pretty good, thanks. I was a bit nervous at first. I mean, about doing a play after so long. It’s been seven years since I walked the boards, you know. But it’s all coining back very naturally, and Terry’s as marvellous as he always was.’ Katharine talked on animatedly, answering Ryan’s questions about the play with enthusiasm. She kept them entertained with anecdotes about the cast and the director, and titillating backstage gossip.

Nick lolled in the chair, enjoying Katharine, happy to
see her so relaxed, less jittery than usual. As he sipped his wine he could not help studying her brother surreptitiously. And through critically appraising eyes. Ryan was more expansive than he had been in the past, and Nick found himself laughing along, caught up in his gay and effervescent mood. Ryan was an engaging young man, there was no doubt about that, articulate and smooth of tongue, and he had a dry humour, a knack for telling a good yarn. The gift of the gab, Nick thought, with a flash of cynicism. Typically Irish. But then so are his looks. Ryan O’Rourke had a broad, open and guileless face, a wide Celtic mouth, sparkling green eyes and reddish-blond hair. With his tan, and the sprinkling of freckles across his nose, he gave an impression of college-boy wholesomeness, and his strong muscular body and height evoked images of the All-American athlete. He bore hardly any physical resemblance to Katharine, except for his mouth. His white and sparkling teeth were slightly prominent like hers. It suddenly occurred to Nick that this was not the only thing they had in common. There was also something of the actor in Ryan, and he had the ability to hold an audience, as he was so adroitly displaying. I suspect that’s a trait that will be honed to perfection, Nick said under his breath. A professional charmer, Ryan O’Rourke.

Turning his head slightly, Nick stole a look at Francesca. Cool, contained and slightly removed though she seemed on the surface, her eyes gave her away. They not only expressed her amorous feelings for Ryan, but they never once left his face. So much for that, Nick decided. She’s fallen for him all right, and very heavily. He was not sure why this dismayed him. O’Rourke appeared to be nice enough, harmless really, and unlike his sister, he was ingenuous, as transparent as water. He totally lacked her guile, her subtleties of mind; obviously he was neither as clever nor as complex a person as Katharine. On the other hand, he did not seem to possess her devious and manipulative characteristics, which was a plus for him. Yes, a nice kid, but weak and indecisive somehow.
Nick knew he was judging again, hated himself for making a sweeping assessment. It was hardly fair, in view of his short acquaintanceship with Ryan. Oh what the hell, Katharine’s right, he thought. Francesca is entitled to a little fun, and she should get into the mainstream of life.

Shutting off his ruminations on the merits and flaws of Ryan O’Rourke’s character. Nick stood up purposefully. ‘How about lunch everybody? And where do you want to eat? Inside, or out here?’

Katharine rose, tucked her arm in Nick’s and said, ‘It’s getting too hot in the yard. I’d prefer to eat in the dining room, if no one else objects.’

They all trooped indoors.

***

Ryan said, ‘By the way, Katie, I start my new job tomorrow.’

Katharine had the coffee cup halfway to her mouth. She put it down with a clatter and stared at Ryan, her face filling with surprise. ‘I thought you liked the job on the newspaper,’ she exclaimed.

‘Yes, I did, but it was only a stop-gap, Katie.’

‘And what are you going to do? What’s the new job?’ she demanded.

‘I’m going to work for the mayor… Mayor Daley,’ Ryan said, looking at her nervously.

Katharine’s heart sank. So all her persuasive words had fallen on stony ground. Her father had won this round. ‘That can only mean one thing,’ Katharine said in a voice of dismay. ‘You’re going into politics after all.’

Ryan cleared his voice, ‘Well, er, yes, I guess I am. Eventually.’

‘I can’t believe it!’ She sat back with a jerk, scrutinizing him through chilly eyes. ‘You’ve said, and constantly, that you loathed the idea, that you didn’t savour the prospect of a political career. Now, suddenly, you’ve changed your mind.’ She laughed with enormous coldness, added scathingly, ‘This is not
your
decision, Ryan, it’s Father’s.’

He coloured slightly and, unable to meet her piercing stare, he glanced away. ‘It
is
my decision, Katharine,’ he declared after a moment. ‘I’ve given a lot of thought to my future in the past couple of years, and I’ve come to the conclusion Dad is right, has always been right. Men like me, with a vast family fortune behind them,
should
go into public office… it’s their duty, then responsibility, Dad says. I agree. And Dad has always wanted me to be a politician. He brought me up with that in mind, as you well know. It’s been the great dream of his life.’

‘
He
doesn’t always get what he wants, nor do all of
his
dreams come true. Fortunately,’ Katharine snapped, and a triumphant gleam flickered in her eyes briefly.

Ignoring the comment, Ryan hurried on, ‘Dad makes a lot of sense, Katie, and I’ve come around to realizing this lately. He’s mapped out a whole programme for me, a total plan, in a sense. In a couple of years he wants me to run for the House of Representatives, and after several terms he says I’ll be ready to stand for the Senate.’

‘And one day you’ll be President of these good old United States! Is that what he promised you?’ Katharine’s laughter was disdainful. ‘One thing’s for sure.
You
won’t be the First Irish Catholic President of this country, as he boasted you would be when we were children. Someone else got there before you.’

‘So perhaps I’ll be the second,’ Ryan retorted, and then flushed again, shifted in the chair, and, attempting to assume indifference, he lifted his cup.

Nick, who had listened to this exchange with considerable interest, glanced at Ryan quickly, saw that he seemed more nervous and uncomfortable than ever. Leaning forward, Nick took a cigarette, lit it, sneaked a look at Katharine, detected a cold but controlled anger in her. A number of things fell into place. Francesca caught his eye. Her own were pleading and signalled her acute embarrassment, told him to intercede.

Straightening up in the chair, Nick said, ‘How about another cup of coffee and a cognac, Ryan? Katharine? Francesca?’

Ryan said, ‘Thanks, Nick, but I’m afraid I’m running late. I’ve got to get back to the Carlyle to pick up my luggage.’ He peered at his watch. ‘It’s turned four already.’

Recognizing an opportunity to escape, to bring this to an end, Francesca stood up. ‘I
do
think we ought to be going, Nick. Thank you for a lovely lunch.’ She kissed Katharine. ‘I’ll see you later, darling, at home,’ she murmured, and began to edge away.

Katharine nodded her goodbye, then said to Nick, ‘I think I will have a cognac, please.’

‘No sooner said than done, my fair one,’ Nick cried and, taking Francesca’s arm, he diplomatically led her out.

Ryan had risen, hovered next to Katharine. He put his arm around her shoulder, kissed the top of her head. ‘Please, don’t be like this, Katie darling. It’s what I want, really it is.’ She made no response, and he hurried on, ‘It’s been a marvellous week, and I’ll be here for your first night, standing in the aisle, cheering my beautiful, brilliant sister.’

Katharine pushed aside her disappointment and her dismay. He had been lost to her for too long. She could not risk losing him again. Why antagonize him? The closer she was to Ryan the more influence she could exercise over him. Her smile flashed and she stood up, hugged her brother. ‘You’d better be at my opening, darling! Take care, have a good flight.’

Ryan beamed at her. ‘I knew you’d understand, Katie. And
you
take care, and don’t work so hard,’ he admonished and hurried out.

After a few minutes Nick joined Katharine in the garden, carrying two brandy balloons. ‘Here you are, love,’ he said, placing them on the table. ‘I’ve got another pot of coffee brewing. Incidentally, I didn’t know what you wanted to
do later, so I told Ryan to send the limousine back here from La Guardia. Okay?’

‘Yes, thanks.’ She sniffed the brandy, took a small tentative sip, settled back in the garden chair.

Noting the remote expression in her eyes, Nick said, ‘Want to talk about it?’

She exhaled heavily. ‘Oh, I don’t know.’ She shook her head. ‘He’s power hungry.’

Frowning, Nick exclaimed, ‘Ryan? Surely not. He seems far too—’

‘No, no,’ she interrupted. ‘My father. He’s a terrible man. And he’s always manipulated Ryan, turned him into a puppet.’

‘Did your father really say that? I mean promised Ryan he was going to make him the First Irish Catholic President?’

‘Yes,’ she said softly.

‘And Ryan believed it?’

‘I don’t know whether he did or not at the time. He was only ten years old. Mostly he was frightened. But
I
believed it then, and I still believe it now… my father boasted that with his money, his powerful friends and his clout he was going to propel Ryan into the Oval Office. It was never an idle boast. I’m sure he’s brainwashed Ryan over the years, convinced him he can hold the highest political position in the country. I feel sorry for my brother. Deep down he doesn’t want any of this, and ever since I returned to the States, and we became close again, I’ve been encouraging him to break away from my father, to get out on his own. I thought I’d succeeded.’ Another small weary sigh, and then, ‘If only Ryan had accepted my offer, and gone to Paris when he was twenty. To study art. He’s tremendously talented… I offered to pay for everything, support him, and Ryan agreed to go, was thrilled. Until
he
talked him out of it.’

‘I vaguely remember you being upset, troubled in your early days in Hollywood. Around 1957, I think. Vic told me
it was something to do with your brother. I hadn’t realized he had an artistic bent.’

She told him the story then, recounting slowly, and carefully, the details of the scene that had taken place in the old nursery in the house in Chicago, almost reliving it as she spoke. ‘I don’t think I’ll ever forget the look on our father’s face when he made that final announcement, boasted of what he was going to do, how he was going to manipulate Ryan’s political career. That was the day I knew my father really hated me. It was also the day I vowed I would save Ryan, no matter what the cost to myself.’

Nick was silent, staring into the distance. He said eventually, ‘Misplaced ambition is frightening. Your father is trying to live through Ryan, and I don’t envy your brother. His life isn’t his own.’

‘I know that, Nicky.’

He gave her a sidelong glance, said carefully. ‘Is that why you worked so hard for Jack Kennedy, campaigned so strenuously for him? Simply to thwart your father?’

‘No, of course not,’ she cried heatedly. ‘I believe in Kennedy. I thought he was just what this country needed, and needs. He’s unique. He fired my imagination, as he did yours and so many other people’s.’

‘And getting…
revenge
… on your father didn’t enter your head, or influence your action at all?’ Nick’s expression was sceptical, and his eyes narrowed as they held hers.

Surprised at his use of so strong a word, Katharine was about to mouth denials, but suddenly she smiled instead. It was a long slow smile that held a hint of self-satisfaction. ‘Let’s just say that the opportunity to twist the knife was an added incentive,’ she admitted, her mouth twitching with silent laughter. ‘Especially since
I
knew
he
knew how hard I was campaigning for JFK. I envisioned him having apoplexy at the thought of old Joe Kennedy stealing his thunder, getting his son there first. Later, Ryan told me that my father had been enraged by my activities, had called me a
traitor, among other rather choice nouns. It helped even the score, and I paid him back for some of the things he had done to me.’

Nick elected not to ask what these were. He said, ‘I can well imagine he was furious.’ Thoughtfully he swirled the brandy balloon, pursed his lips. Looking at her closely, he adopted a gentle tone and said, ‘People have to lead their own lives, Katharine. I think Ryan has enough to contend with right now, and coping with your father must be difficult. I know what such men are like. So step away a little, give your brother breathing space. Please don’t meddle. Please don’t play God, as your father is doing.’

‘No, I won’t!’ Katharine agreed with alacrity. ‘You’re absolutely right, Nicky.’ Privately she thought: Patrick Michael Sean O’Rourke is not going to be the winner. I am going to be triumphant in the end. I
am
going to save Ryan’s soul. He
will
be mine. And that will be sufficient to destroy my father.

Conscious of Nick’s appraising gaze resting on her, Katharine shrugged, and her laughter echoed in the little garden. ‘Oh enough of all this seriousness on such a gorgeous afternoon. Let’s talk of more pleasant things.’ Leaning her elbows on the table, she propped her chin in her hands, and her turquoise eyes became dreamy and soft. ‘I’ll tell you one thing, Nicky, I’m glad Ryan is getting so involved with Frankie, and it is pretty obvious how they feel. Yes, she’s a good influence on Ryan, and I think he’ll listen to her.’

‘Perhaps,’ Nick answered laconically. And then he asked himself if Katharine was encouraging the relationship in order to control her brother through Francesca. The idea troubled him, but he could not shake it off, and it nudged at the back of his mind for the rest of the day.