Se\u00e1n and Deirdre were in their sixties now. He\u2019d taken early retirement from the bank and she no longer gave piano lessons, though she went out to golf with such regularity that an elderly neighbour, Mrs Furlong, could not be dissuaded that Deirdre Brennan had a job.<\/p>\n
They were still Mass-goers, but now went to whatever church took their fancy: sometimes it was Belfield, sometimes Booterstown; sometimes they just went up the road to the Saturday evening service: the children\u2019s choir was brilliant. The Brennans had one daughter in Canada, another in New Zealand, and a son God knows where.<\/p>\n
Thanks to the golden handshake, they could afford a bit of a lifestyle. On top of the timeshare in Majorca and the tigeen in Donegal, there were the trips related to their new interests: for Deirdre that was genealogy; for Se\u00e1n, cooking. The beauty of the week they\u2019d booked down in Clare was that it encompassed both: Se\u00e1n was going to spend his days learning how to do new things with fish, at the school run by the Swiss fellow in Lahinch, while Deirdre drove from graveyard to graveyard photographing the headstones of her mother\u2019s people.<\/p>\n
But they never got to Clare. The week before they were meant to go, Deirdre came home early from her Tuesday morning golf. She always stayed up at the club for lunch, so Se\u00e1n was alarmed to see the green Starlet pulling into the drive, too fast, at a quarter to twelve. He\u2019d been sitting at his worktable in the study examining the foxed pages of a spineless first edition of The Charwoman\u2019s Daughter<\/i>\u2014book repair was another one of his new interests\u2014but he was in the hall by the time she had the key in the door. Looking pale and cross, she stopped his questions with a sharp hand and rushed up the stairs to the toilet. He followed her as far as the return and could hear her getting sick.<\/p>\n
In the kitchen afterwards, wrapping her hands around the mug of chamomile tea Se\u00e1n had made her, Deirdre explained how it had started.<\/p>\n
\u2018I got a fierce pain in my stomach on the long par three and the next thing I knew I was vomiting between the rocks.\u2019<\/p>\n
\u2018Jesus Mary and Joseph\u2014just like that?\u2019<\/p>\n
\u2018Just like that\u2014out of the blue.\u2019<\/p>\n
\u2018Maybe you weren\u2019t a hundred per cent to begin with, Deirdre. You must have been off your game to end up in the rocks.\u2019<\/p>\n
\u2018I didn\u2019t end up in the rocks,\u2019 she said quietly. \u2018In fact, I was dead centre on the fairway.\u2019<\/p>\n
\u2018Then what were you doing up in the rocks, love?\u2019<\/p>\n
She took a loud sip of tea before replying.<\/p>\n
\u2018Those magic bloody mushrooms are back, and I wanted to give them a good hack with my five-iron.\u2019<\/p>\n
\u2018Ah Deirdre, Deirdre,\u2019 Se\u00e1n said with tender impatience. \u2018I\u2019ve told you before: leave those yokes to what\u2019s-his-name\u2014Paddy. He needs to put down poison.\u2019<\/p>\n
She nodded, but it was her non-committal nod.<\/p>\n
\u2018Maybe,\u2019 he said, \u2018you should make an appointment with Quigley.\u2019<\/p>\n
Deirdre shook her head, frowning. \u2018I don\u2019t need to see Quigley. It\u2019s just an upset stomach. Must have been the chicken.\u2019<\/p>\n
\u2018Yes,\u2019 Se\u00e1n replied, \u2018I suppose it was.\u2019 Though he\u2019d had the chicken too and his stomach was not upset.<\/p>\n
\u2018Besides,\u2019 she said, brightening, \u2018this tea is working wonders.\u2019<\/p>\n
*<\/p>\n
She kept down a late, light lunch and a decent dinner and that seemed to be that, but the next morning Se\u00e1n was woken not by the eight o\u2019clock news on Radio \u00c9ireann but by the sound of retching coming from the toilet; the alarm glowed 6:35. He came to the door of the bathroom as she was scrubbing her hands.<\/p>\n
\u2018As soon as it turns seven,\u2019 he said, \u2018I\u2019m phoning Quigley.\u2019<\/p>\n
She turned off the taps. \u2018You\u2019ll do no such thing.\u2019<\/p>\n
After a moment, he dared to say it. \u2018But what if it\u2019s your nerves again?\u2019<\/p>\n
Her hands gripped the hot and cold. \u2018I know what nerves do to me, Se\u00e1n. This is not nerves.\u2019 Deirdre turned her head and gave him a bitter look. \u2018You\u2019d have me packed off to John o\u2019 Gods before breakfast.\u2019<\/p>\n
\u2018Well, the rest there did me<\/i> some good,\u2019 he muttered, backing off the threshold.<\/p>\n
She\u2019d turned to dry her hands. \u2018All I need is a bottle of 7up. Can you get me one when you go down for the paper?\u2019<\/p>\n
\u2018Of course,\u2019 he said, \u20187up.\u2019<\/p>\n
*<\/p>\n
She was fine by lunchtime. They got on with their day. It was April and there was a great stretch in the evenings. They went the long way around the park on their constitutional.<\/p>\n
\u2018Anything on the goggle box tonight?\u2019 she asked as they walked past the tennis courts, where there was great excitement over a doubles match.<\/p>\n
\u2018Nothing but rubbish,\u2019 he replied.<\/p>\n
\u2018I wouldn\u2019t mind a good thriller.\u2019<\/p>\n
\u2018There\u2019s a documentary on BBC 2 about cheese.\u2019<\/p>\n
\u2018Or a mystery.\u00a0Inspector Morse<\/i>. I love Inspector Morse<\/i>.\u2019<\/p>\n
\u2018So do I,\u2019 he said. \u2018I miss Morse<\/i>.\u2019<\/p>\n
She put her arm through his. They were entering the woods now. Behind them there were groans and a cry of let<\/i>.<\/p>\n
*<\/p>\n
The next morning, at 6:35 on the dot, she was throwing up again. This was Thursday, not only a golf day but the day of the Lady Captain\u2019s Prize. About eight o\u2019clock, she asked him to bring up the phone and rang her partner to make an elegant apology. Se\u00e1n eavesdropped on the landing. He couldn’t remember the last time Deirdre had missed the Lady Captain\u2019s Prize. She\u2019d played in the event even when she was low.<\/p>\n
Going down for the paper, and more 7up, Se\u00e1n met little Kitty Furlong coming up from the shops, trundling her trolley behind her. The contraption reminded him of something you\u2019d see in a cowboy film. Normally he liked to stop and have a chat with Mrs. Furlong. Her scored face and grey bob\u2014Deirdre insisted it was a wig\u2014reminded him that he was not that old.<\/p>\n
\u2018Morning, Kitty.\u2019<\/p>\n
\u2018And how\u2019s Deirdre?\u2019<\/p>\n
\u2018Oh, grand.\u2019<\/p>\n
\u2018It\u2019s just that I notice she didn\u2019t go out to work this morning.\u2019<\/p>\n
Se\u00e1n knew that it was futile to fight this delusion. He shook his head. \u2018No, no, you\u2019re right, she didn\u2019t.\u2019<\/p>\n
Mrs. Furlong\u2019s face became a mask of desiccated pleasure, as if she had just won a small sum from the Lotto. \u2018Ah, she was let go.\u2019<\/p>\n
Se\u00e1n\u2019s hand itched for the Irish Times<\/i>, rolled into a baton.<\/p>\n
\u2018Trevois,\u2019 he growled.<\/p>\n
The ancient face under his face tilted inquisitively \u00a0\u2018A foreign company, was it?\u2019<\/p>\n
\u2018No, Mrs. Furlong. Your trolley reminds me of a yoke the Indians used. I\u2019ve been trying to think of the word for years, but now all of a sudden it\u2019s come back to me. The trevois. They used it to drag their baggage.\u2019<\/p>\n
And with that he walked on.<\/p>\n
*<\/p>\n
The repetition was upsetting: Deirdre was fine by lunchtime, in good form Thursday evening, and sick again just before Morning Ireland<\/i> on Friday. This time Se\u00e1n put his foot down: no more 7up: Quigley or nothing.<\/p>\n
\u2018You don\u2019t want to be sick on your holidays, love.\u2019 They had it planned perfectly\u2014they were booked in to one of the cottages on the grounds of the cookery school for the week, starting Sunday night.<\/p>\n
\u2018Fair enough,\u2019 she said, with great reluctance, he could tell. Nevertheless she made the appointment herself\u2014the doctor could fit her in at half ten\u2014and then wouldn\u2019t hear of Se\u00e1n driving her. To occupy himself he decided to get on with restitching the signatures of The Charwoman\u2019s Daughter<\/i>. Next thing he knew the electronic Angelus was ringing up the road, and no sooner had the last blurred tone died away than the Starlet was pulling into the drive. Deciding to play it cool, he stayed put. Eventually she came into the study, holding aloft a bag from the chemist\u2019s.<\/p>\n
\u2018Antibiotic,\u2019 she announced. \u2018I don\u2019t think I need it but he gave me an antibiotic.\u2019<\/p>\n
\u2018Take it now, Deirdre,\u2019 he intoned, swiveling back to his stitching.<\/p>\n
\u2018Of course I\u2019ll take it.\u2019<\/p>\n
\u2018And finish the course.\u2019<\/p>\n
\u2018You know I\u2019ll finish the course, Se\u00e1n. I\u2019m always telling you <\/i>that.\u2019<\/p>\n
The way she said it was almost flirtatious.<\/p>\n
*<\/p>\n
That afternoon they went to Stillorgan shopping centre for bits and pieces they needed for the trip. On the way to Dunnes Stores, Deirdre stopped in front of a mirrored strip between two shops and dabbed her scalp. \u2018My hair is a holy show,\u2019 she said, though it was up in a bun and there was not a strand loose as far as he could see.<\/p>\n
After Dunnes they went upstairs to the coffee shop; Se\u00e1n had a cappuccino and Deirdre a Ballygowan. They sat at a table overlooking the sculpture of the fiddle-player and the ring-around-the-rosy children.<\/p>\n
\u2018I think we should leave early on Sunday,\u2019 he said.<\/p>\n
She didn\u2019t respond, just looked solemnly at the bubbles rising in her glass.<\/p>\n
\u2018We can get Mass on the way down. Mass and lunch.\u2019<\/p>\n
This time she nodded, but as if she were listening politely to the details of someone else\u2019s schedule.<\/p>\n
\u2018Perhaps in Portlaoise.\u2019<\/p>\n
Suddenly she was passionate.<\/p>\n
\u2018I can\u2019t stand<\/i> Portlaoise.\u2019<\/p>\n
He tried to make a joke of it. \u2018What\u2019s wrong with Portlaoise?\u2019<\/p>\n
\u2018The prison gives me the willies.\u2019<\/p>\n
\u2018Well, you can avert your eyes when we pass by. The soldiers won\u2019t mind. We have to go through Portlaoise, Deirdre! How else are we going to get to Clare?\u2019<\/p>\n
She scowled at him. \u2018I don\u2019t have to go through anywhere<\/i>, Se\u00e1n.\u2019<\/p>\n
\u2018Of course you don\u2019t,\u2019 he answered calmly. \u2018But, if that\u2019s your attitude, I suppose we\u2019ll have to cancel.\u2019<\/p>\n
He said that expecting her to protest; after all, there was a deposit to be lost. But all she did was say, \u2018Suit yourself,\u2019 and stare out the window.<\/p>\n
Now he really wanted to cancel: there was something seriously wrong; it had to be her nerves. He reached across the table and touched her hand, which retracted like a creature in a rock pool.<\/p>\n
He withdrew his hand, but continued with his efforts to sooth.<\/p>\n
\u2018Deirdre, you\u2019re not<\/i> a hundred per cent. And there\u2019s no point in going if you\u2019re not feeling up to it. Holidays are for enjoyment. When we get home I\u2019ll phone the Forge and ask yer man if he\u2019ll give us credit for a different week. What do the Yanks say? Take a rain check.\u2019<\/p>\n
As she was responding now with small but definite nods, Se\u00e1n was beginning to think that everything was under control, but when he added, \u2018The Christmas course is meant to be good,\u2019 she looked scandalized, as if he\u2019d suggested she play golf during thunder and lightning.<\/p>\n
\u2018But it\u2019s in early <\/i>December,\u2019 he said, rushing to reassure her. \u2018We\u2019ve nothing going on then.\u2019<\/p>\n
She shook her head, looking grimly disappointed with him. \u2018You may have nothing going on in early December, Se\u00e1n, but don\u2019t speak for me.\u2019<\/p>\n
He had another go at offering comfort.<\/p>\n
\u2018You\u2019ll be better by then, love.\u2019<\/p>\n
\u2018It\u2019s not an illness,\u2019 she replied confidently.<\/p>\n
He didn\u2019t know what to make of that. Wasn\u2019t that something her own mother used to say? Maybe John of Gods was the best place for her; it had done him a power of good.<\/p>\n
Se\u00e1n stared down at the bronze sculpture. The fiddler\u2019s back had become very green over the years.<\/p>\n
*<\/p>\n
M. H\u00e9lier could not have been nicer: of course they could apply the deposit toward another week, which one were they considering? Se\u00e1n said he\u2019d get back to him about that soon. That evening they had a nice walk around the park, though there was no intertwining of arms. After the news they started to watch an Al Pachino film.<\/p>\n
As soon as they saw the streets of New York, Deirdre tutted and said, \u2018Seen it.\u2019<\/p>\n
\u2018No,\u2019 said Se\u00e1n, \u2018you\u2019re thinking of that other one.\u2019<\/p>\n
\u2018We saw this in the Stella.\u2019<\/p>\n
\u2018No. It was the other one we saw in the Stella.\u2019<\/p>\n
Deirdre was on her feet and marching to the door. \u2018You always have to be right about everything,\u2019 she said. She didn\u2019t slam the door behind her, but closed it so firmly that he felt sealed in, and sealed off.<\/p>\n
When the first shots were fired he realized this was the film they\u2019d seen up at the Stella. He went up to her. She was fast asleep. Tonight he left her alone.<\/p>\n
The next morning neither of them mentioned the little row. He\u2019d turned off the alarm and she slept until almost nine o\u2019clock, waking with a calm stomach. He brought her breakfast in bed. All quiet on the western front.<\/p>\n
Around noon Se\u00e1n was reading the paper in the drawing-room. Doonesbury had put him in good humour and now he was looking at the television highlights. The door opened and Deirdre spoke as soon as she stepped into the room.<\/p>\n
\u2018I need you to go back down to the shops.\u2019<\/p>\n
Resisting an impulse to mention 7up, he asked, \u2018What do we need?\u2019<\/p>\n
\u2018A pregnancy test,\u2019 she replied, as blandly as if they were out of bread.<\/p>\n
For a moment he thought she was making a bad joke, but only for a moment. He put the paper aside.<\/p>\n
\u2018Sit down, love, sit down,\u2019 he said softly, gesturing to the couch. And she did sit down, on the far end.<\/p>\n
He leaned forward. \u2018You know that would be impossible.\u2019 And shook his head. \u2018I feel like an eejit even saying it.\u2019<\/p>\n
\u2018So that\u2019s what you think I am?\u2019 she snapped. \u2018An eejit? A madwoman?\u2019<\/p>\n
\u2018No, no\u2014of course not. I just think \u2026 you might need a rest.\u2019<\/p>\n
\u2018I\u2019ll tell you what, Se\u00e1n. If I\u2019m wrong about this, then I will<\/i> go to John o\u2019 Gods. I\u2019ll book myself in.\u2019<\/p>\n
\u2018It may not come to that!\u2019 He tried to hold out reasonable hands, but they trembled. \u2018We\u2019ll see what Quigley says.\u2019<\/p>\n
\u2018Feck Quigley! And feck you too, Se\u00e1n Brennan, if you won\u2019t do me this favour!\u2019<\/p>\n
He got to his feet.<\/p>\n
\u2018Calm down, Deirdre! I\u2019ll go. But not down the road. And not till I\u2019ve had my lunch.\u2019<\/p>\n
And, very calmly, she stood up, smoothing out her skirt. \u2018I\u2019ll put some rashers on then.\u2019<\/p>\n
He collapsed back down in his armchair.<\/p>\n
At the door she said, \u2018And Se\u00e1n?\u2019<\/p>\n
\u2018Yes?\u2019 he answered weakly.<\/p>\n
\u2018Buy two.\u2019<\/p>\n
*<\/p>\n
He intended to drive to the chemist\u2019s in Donnybrook\u2014that would be far enough\u2014but before he knew it the car was going over Leeson Street bridge. Behind him he could hear the gleeful groans that going over the hump always produced.<\/p>\n
Past the canal the traffic was awful, but Se\u00e1n wasn\u2019t bothered. He hadn\u2019t gone through town to get to the northside in years, not since they\u2019d built the East Link. On Gardiner Street he remembered being in the back of a taxi on the way home from the airport (he\u2019d been in Frankfurt on bank business) and chuckling with the driver at the sight of the local kids dressed up for Halloween\u2014all those cowboys and princesses and Draculas\u2014out collecting already though it was still broad daylight. Was it that night the Guards came to the door because of the bangers thrown through the letterboxes?<\/p>\n
Se\u00e1n ended up driving all the way to Swords, where they didn\u2019t know a soul. The woman in the chemist\u2019s was very nice. She pretended his request was no stranger than Disprin. As he put the bag and the change in his jacket pocket, he caught sight of his reflection in the mirror behind the counter. There was only one way to describe that face, and it was by using a line that had been used on him one Christmas forty-odd years ago by a drunken cousin of his mother\u2019s who\u2019d found Se\u00e1n too serious: You look like a fella who\u2019s got a girl in trouble.<\/i><\/p>\n
*<\/p>\n
He avoided town on the way home, by driving half way across Meath, stopping off for a scone in Ashbourne. It was dusk by the time he got home; the porch light was on. Inside the house the lights were still off and the curtains still open.<\/p>\n
She was waiting for him in the hall.<\/p>\n
\u2018I thought you\u2019d left the country.\u2019<\/p>\n
\u2018Sorry I\u2019m late for dinner.\u2019<\/p>\n
\u2018That\u2019s what hotplates are for. Did you get them?\u2019<\/p>\n
\u2018I did, Deirdre, I did,\u2019 he replied coolly, reaching into his pocket.<\/p>\n
She snapped the bag out of his hand. \u2018Go inside,\u2019 she said, nodding at the drawing-room door. \u2018I\u2019ll be down to you when I\u2019m down.\u2019<\/p>\n
\u2018Are you sure this is a good time?\u2019<\/p>\n
\u2018There\u2019s not going to be a better time, Se\u00e1n. I\u2019ve been drinking tea all bloody afternoon.\u2019<\/p>\n
*<\/p>\n
He sat in his armchair and stared at the dead television. After only about five minutes he heard her coming down the stairs. Surely these things took longer to work their magic. Had something gone wrong? She came into the room brandishing the two white sticks in a V-shape. Their little windows were turned toward her face, which was defiantly neutral. She\u2019d freed her hair from the bun, perhaps to fill those ignorant minutes, and looked almost girlish.<\/p>\n
As if strong-armed by attendants, he found himself rising from the chair and moving to meet her. They met under the unlit chandelier. His hands hovered over the sticks, as if they were dandelions surrounded by nettles, then plucked them from her hand.<\/p>\n
Turning them in tandem, he saw green verifying green.<\/p>\n
\u2018Mother of God,\u2019 he muttered.<\/p>\n
*<\/p>\n
Later they sat in the dark.<\/p>\n
\u2018I don\u2019t understand,\u2019 he said.<\/p>\n
\u2018It\u2019s not a question of understanding, Se\u00e1n. It\u2019s a question of coping.\u2019<\/p>\n
\u2018I suppose,\u2019 he sighed \u00a0\u2018I suppose it is. And looking on the bright side, we still have time to travel.\u2019<\/p>\n
\u2018I\u2019m not going to England,\u2019 she said, her indignation shining through the gloom.<\/p>\n
Sweet Jesus, he hadn\u2019t been thinking about that<\/i>. Had he?<\/p>\n
\u2018I didn\u2019t ask you to go to England,\u2019 he replied, hearing the sulk in his voice.<\/p>\n
Neither of them spoke for the best part of a minute. Then Deirdre asked, \u2018What will we tell the girls?\u2019<\/p>\n
He grunted. \u2018What will we tell Mrs Furlong?\u2019<\/p>\n
She laughed; he sobbed.<\/p>\n
\u2018Ah Se\u00e1n,\u2019 she said with husky affection. \u2018It\u2019ll be all right. We\u2019ll just get on with it, and it\u2019ll be all right.\u2019<\/p>\n
The emotion went out of his chest and into his words. \u2018What do you mean, it\u2019ll be all right<\/i>?\u00a0 Deirdre, have you forgotten your sums? We\u2019ll be in our eighties <\/i>by the time this child is in college!\u2019<\/p>\n
In response she was at first silent and then sensible.<\/p>\n
\u2018Well, there\u2019s no guarantee he\u2019ll get<\/i> into college, Se\u00e1n. He might not have the points.\u2019<\/p>\n
\u2018Oh God,\u2019 he groaned, raking a slow hand through his thin hair\u2014\u2018the Leaving.\u00a0 I\u2019d forgotten about the Leaving. And repeating the Leaving.\u2019<\/p>\n
\u2018Don\u2019t think about school, Se\u00e1n. We\u2019ll put his name down for Canisius; the Jesuits know their business. Think of the baby. The baby that\u2019s coming into this house.\u2019<\/p>\n
\u2018It\u2019s the baby I\u2019m thinking of, Deirdre. And I tell you: I don\u2019t have the energy for it. For the croup and the nappies and the teething. To go through all that again \u2026\u2019<\/p>\n
He felt so helpless he wanted to send up a flare. Why didn\u2019t people come equipped with flares?<\/p>\n
Deirdre was sounding more determined every time she spoke.<\/p>\n
\u2018You will <\/i>have the energy, Se\u00e1n. For bringing him to Shamrock Rovers and going to Blackrock to see the motorboats and making up all those stories about Finn McCool. You\u2019re so good at the stories, Se\u00e1n.\u2019<\/p>\n
He let out a little hiss. \u2018Finn McCool. A lot of good he did.\u2019<\/p>\n
\u2018That\u2019s right, Se\u00e1n. Tear it all down. Tear everything down.\u2019<\/p>\n
He leaned forward in his chair, though it brought him no closer to her. \u2018I\u2019m not trying to tear anything down. I\u2019m just trying to tell you that I\u2019m not able <\/i>for this.\u2019<\/p>\n
The silence purified the dark air before she replied, \u2018I am.\u2019<\/p>\n
\u2018You must be some class of saint, then,\u2019 he blurted back. \u2018I\u2019m not. This is beyond me. Utterly beyond me.\u2019 He was on his feet now. Where he was going? \u00a0He didn\u2019t know. Out of the room. Out of the house. To the pier. To the pub. To John o\u2019 Gods. To bed. \u2018I can\u2019t go through it all again, Deirdre. I just can\u2019t<\/i>.\u2019<\/p>\n
But early the next morning Se\u00e1n went up into the attic and, piece by precious piece, brought down the crib.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
Se\u00e1n and Deirdre were in their sixties now. He\u2019d taken early retirement from the bank and she no longer gave piano lessons, though she went out to golf with such regularity that an elderly neighbour, Mrs Furlong, could not be dissuaded that Deirdre Brennan had a job. They were still Mass-goers, but now went to […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":118,"featured_media":4705,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false,"jetpack_publicize_message":"","jetpack_is_tweetstorm":false,"jetpack_publicize_feature_enabled":true,"jetpack_social_post_already_shared":true,"jetpack_social_options":[]},"categories":[321,320],"tags":[324],"jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"yoast_head":"\n