No Enemy but Time (29 page)

They didn't care about being rich. They were the least material-minded human beings he had ever met. Money bought a good horse or paid for a day's betting on the Curragh. It helped maintain the big houses nobody could afford to heat and look after properly, but the houses weren't status symbols and if they had to be sold off, nobody thought the less of you. It was all so different from the attitude in England. Victorian values would have been greeted with hoots of laughter in that easygoing company. Men of ambition were suspect. If he'd been required to live in Ireland, Neil would have withered with boredom and frustration. He found the relentless drinking very difficult. And he hated the changeable climate, where sun blasted briefly through the heavy clouds before the next downpour of rain.

But he said nothing to Claire. He didn't want to say or do anything that might disturb the wonderful harmony between them. Neil had expected pre-wedding storms and rows. Everyone had them, he was told. But Claire was sunny and sweet, joyously excited about their marriage. He loved her so much that it was like a physical ache when they were apart. He had made an effort to get on easy terms with her brother, but that proved impossible. One family lunch at Riverstown was not enough to break through to him. It was an uncomfortable experience. Neil wasn't over-sensitive to atmosphere, but the chill between father and son and the painful anxiety of Claire made him squirm. And filled him with impatience. He thought it a poisonous situation and the sooner Claire was out of it the better.

He woke up that morning to see the sky bright blue outside the hotel window and his marriage only a few hours away. By eight o'clock they would be on the plane for Paris. And then on to Cannes the next morning. He had asked her to wear his pearls on the day. He didn't understand why it was so important to him. He would have denied that it was laying claim to her against her family. If she would break the tradition and defy the idiotic Irish superstition about pearls and sorrow, he would feel she'd taken a further step to independence. By which he meant dependence upon him. But he would have hotly denied that too.

‘Of course I'll wear them, darling.' Her response had been instant. ‘I'm wearing the little blue brooch Frank gave me. I'll have something from the two people I love best in the world.'

He had needed all the warmth of her kiss to reassure him, even so.

Marie Dempster was at the back of the crowd that gathered outside the church in Naas. She had slept so badly the night before, the dark glasses were a boon as well as a disguise. There was no need for Frank to stay at Riverstown. Risking a quarrel, she had reminded him of the way he'd been turned out, of his rejection and humiliation because he refused to submit and deny his mother's family. He didn't see through her; he thought she was reproaching him for being weak and compromising. But the attack bounced back at her.

‘I don't have your bitter heart,' he said, and she recoiled. ‘This is my sister's wedding. Nothing is going to spoil her day. She hopes my father and I will make it up. I don't believe we will. But we'll all be together at home for that one night. If you see it as a betrayal, I see it as just good manners. Now, let's drop the subject.'

She was frightened that she'd gone too far. She didn't mention it again. So she set out in the car to drive to Naas and see the famous wedding. See the sister come out in her white finery and stand there smiling, while Marie skulked in the crowd to get a glimpse of her. It was self-torture, but she couldn't help it. There had been a brief shower and some threatening clouds which lifted, driven by a light wind. The crowd round the church door was growing denser as passers-by joined in. The Irish love weddings and funerals, Marie thought. Any excuse to gawp, be it a bride or a corpse. There was a burst of organ music and the knots of people, mostly women and girls, craned forward. The sun actually shone as Claire stepped out of the doorway on her new husband's arm.

There was an official photographer snapping at them, calling for the bridesmaids to come forward. Claire and Neil stood smiling and posing for a few minutes. She didn't see the woman in the headscarf and sunglasses. There was no portent of the future. Then they got into the big car with its festoon of white ribbons, and drove off to waves from the crowd. Marie turned and vanished before the guests came pouring out. She couldn't risk Frank seeing her.

The reception went on long after the bride and groom had driven off to Dublin airport. Everyone kept saying what a grand party it had been and what a beautiful girl she was. Claudia had a lot of champagne. She was tired, triumphant and happy. Claire was married and from now on all would be well. She saw her step-son and her smile died away. His power was broken now. Thank God. Thank God she wouldn't have to pretend any more. He moved towards her. She looked round for Philip, but couldn't see him. A number of guests were staying on in the hope of being asked to have dinner. She hoped he wouldn't be one of them. Frank came up.

‘That was a wonderful wedding, Claudia,' he said. ‘I don't know how you organized it all so well.'

‘It came together at the end,' she said. She drank more champagne. ‘The service was lovely, I thought. And she looked a dream. He's such a sweetie; they'll be very happy.'

He said quietly, ‘I hope so. I can't see my father. I want to say goodbye.' Claudia raised her eyebrows. Frank could see that she was a little drunk.

‘Oh, must you rush off? Well, it's been a long day. There's Philip, over there talking to Colonel Fraser. Goodbye, Frank.'

They didn't kiss or shake hands. ‘Goodbye, Claudia.'

Colonel Fraser said, ‘Are you leaving? Oh, what a pity. Well, it's been a wonderful day. Wonderful wedding.' He shook hands with Frank and said it again. ‘Simply splendid, the whole thing.'

Philip hesitated. He didn't want his son to stay. And yet it mustn't become embarrassing for Neil's father.

He said, ‘Are you sure you can't stay? We've provided some kind of buffet for the hangers-on.'

‘No, I'm sorry,' Frank said. ‘I've arranged something. I'll see you soon, Dad. Goodbye, Colonel.'

‘Nice lad,' Fraser said. ‘Strong family likeness between you. I suppose he'll be the next to take the step, eh?'

Philip ignored the remark. He saw his son edge through the group of guests, pausing to speak and then move on, till he left the marquee. Philip realized at that moment that he had lost his daughter and was suddenly sad.

‘I'm going to get a decent drink,' he announced. He went off to find the two things that always eased him if he were troubled. Whiskey and Claudia.

The flight from Dublin to Paris was smooth. Neil held Claire's hand. He felt the wedding ring on her finger. She was his wife now. Their life together had really begun. He pressed his knee hard against hers and whispered that he couldn't wait to get to the hotel. He wanted her so much. Everything about her excited him; it was as if they'd never slept together and it would be a new discovery. Claire let him touch her when nobody could see. The warm tide of sex lapped round her. It had been a wonderful day. A day of happy memories that she would savour long afterwards. And she loved Neil as well as wanting him to make love to her. They were going to be ideally happy.

Poor Frank, she thought. He's going to miss me. But maybe he'll find someone. Someone really special who'll make up to him for everything. I'll ask him to come over and stay for a few days as soon as we get back.

Frank didn't go back to Meath. He started the car and drove to the exit on to the Sallins Road. He stopped in the gateway and then turned right. Claire was gone.

He noticed the little sapphire pin, transferred from her wedding dress to her bright red suit, as she came and kissed him goodbye. She wore a flowery hat that pricked his cheek. He would never forget that moment, because it finally changed his life. More fundamentally than his leaving Riverstown. Her love had always been his anchor. It hadn't lessened, but there was another kind of love which Neil could give her. There would be children, a new life, a home made out of Ireland, so that the sea separated them. For all her promises that nothing would change their old relationship, Frank knew that from now on it could never be the same. He drove steadily down the road through Sallins, slowing as he came to the railway bridge. There was the familiar figure of Donny, engrossed in his wait for the train that didn't come. He didn't stop the car; Donny didn't notice him or wave.

He went on, driving with resolution now. His father's last remark was a slip of the tongue, he realized that. Philip would never be cruel in a petty way. ‘We've provided some kind of buffet for the hangers-on.' It was a Freudian slip, if you believed in that sort of thing. His friend Sean Filey would explain it in his grave way, as if that took the sting out of it. Frank didn't want Filey, or Marie, who'd be waiting, trying to hide her jealousy, when he got home. He indicated and swung left through the entrance to the Half House. It looked warm and friendly, with the lights blazing in the ground-floor windows.

Kevin Ryan opened the front door to him. ‘Frankie,' he exclaimed. ‘This is a turn-up for the book – come in, come in!'

Frank said simply, ‘Can I take a drink off you, Uncle?'

Kevin saw the morning suit and knew he'd come direct from the wedding party at Riverstown.

‘You can take supper and a bed for the night if you want,' he said.

The door closed firmly behind them both. It was late when he suggested that Frank might like to give Marie Dempster a call and get her to come over … wasn't it time she met Mary Rose anyway …? Frank didn't object. He'd forgotten she was at Meath; he'd almost forgotten the wedding and his father letting him go off alone while the ragtag of spongers were made welcome. He was drunk, and he had Kevin to thank for it. Not drunk so that he slurred his words or missed his footing. Anaesthetized was the right description. Feeling no pain, as the English said, and then brayed their empty laughter afterwards. He hated them. He hated the man who had taken Claire away from him. He hated his stepmother because she had encouraged the whole thing. He hated his father because he hadn't ever been as kind to him as his poor dead mother's brother Kevin. But he wasn't hurt any more.

Mary Rose whispered to her husband, ‘Do you think she ought to come over? I mean, okay they live together, but he's never introduced her socially.'

Kevin grinned. He knew what she meant, and he thought the mixture of snobbery and prudishness quite funny. But then he'd a few drinks in him too.

‘She's his girl,' he said. ‘It's her place to be with him tonight. She'll ease him.' He eyed Mary Rose and thought, And you'll ease me, whether you like it or not. We'll warm the bed tonight, and the house next week. He said, ‘We're all part of the same family, Rose. He's our kin, and she's a grand girl. I'll make the call. She'll come.'

He met Marie in the hall. Jesus, he thought, peering at her, Frank's the lucky one.

‘Your man's drunk,' he said. ‘And not surprising. He comes here like a stray dog after the grand Arbuthnot weddin'. Go in and look after him. Sure, you can stay the night with us.'

‘No thanks, Senator Ryan.' She answered formally, and without warmth. ‘I've come to take him home. He'll be better there with me.'

Ryan eyed her, and this time without admiration. A cool, uppity piece. She could do with a boot up
her
arse.

‘Suit yerself,' he said. ‘He's through in the sittin' room. Mrs Ryan's there with him.'

She wouldn't take a drink. She shook hands with the little American woman and wondered how someone so dainty in herself could fall for a yob like Kevin Ryan. Then she got Frank on his feet and, with her arm supporting him, he walked outside and got into her car. His own, she explained, would be collected later, if they didn't mind. He fell asleep as she drove. She glanced at him briefly. Sleeping, he looked vulnerable. Drunkards disgusted her, but there was nothing maudlin or undignified about him. Just sad, so that she ached to make him love her and be happy. She thought, maybe it'll happen now. Now that she's gone. Maybe he'll see me with new eyes.

Claudia woke the next morning with a hangover. Philip was already up. She called out to him.

‘Darling, are you in the bath?'

The door opened and he came out. ‘No. Don't you want to go back to sleep? You must be exhausted after yesterday.'

She smiled. ‘I am a bit tired. And I've got a fairly bloody hangover. But wasn't it a great success?'

Philip sat on the bed beside her. ‘Yes, it certainly was a good wedding. All due to you. Clever old thing.' He leaned forward and kissed her. ‘I miss her, don't you?' he said. ‘I keep expecting her to come in and say good morning.'

Claudia gripped his hand. ‘So do I. When I woke up I thought, I must ask Claire how she enjoyed it. Silly, but she's very dear.'

Philip said, ‘She'll be all right with Neil, that's the main thing. He's a good man. Bit stuffy and English, but she'll change all that. I must say, she looked a picture.'

Claudia looked at her watch. ‘Where's Sheena got to with the tea? She's always late, that girl. But they were good, weren't they? Worked like blacks to get everything ready. Those bloody Dublin caterers got my back up …'

Philip smiled. Claudia had declared war on the caterers from the start and the household staff had joined in the fun, running with complaints about the professionals from the city. Everyone had enjoyed watching the missus doing battle, and adding a little fuel to the fire.

She sighed and leaned back on the pillows. ‘We've got to drive Jack Fraser to the airport,' she said. ‘As soon as I've had my tea I'll get up. He's rather nice, when you get to know him a bit. He's very fond of Claire.'

‘So he should be,' Philip retorted. ‘He was even nice about Frank.'