Evening Class (23 page)

‘But he’s not famous.’

‘His wife is, he married Marianne Hayes.’ Fran waited to see the effect this would have.

‘My father is married to one of the richest women in Ireland?’

‘Yes.’

‘And he gave a measly four thousand pounds to get rid of me.’

‘That’s not the point. He wasn’t married to her then.’

‘It is the point. He’s rich now, he should give something.’

‘You have enough, Kathy, we have everything we want.’

‘No, of course I haven’t everything I want, and neither do you,’ Kathy said, and suddenly the tears that were waiting came and she cried and cried, while Fran, whom she had thought for sixteen years was her sister, stroked her head and her wet cheeks and her neck with all the love a mother could give.

The next morning at breakfast Joe Clarke had a hangover.

‘Will you give me a can of cold Coca Cola from the fridge, Kathy, like a good girl? I’ve a bugger of a job to do today out in Killiney, and the van will be here for me any minute.’

‘You’re nearer to the fridge than I am,’ Kathy said.

‘Are you giving me cheek?’ he asked.

‘No, I’m just stating a fact.’

‘Well, no child of mine is going to be stating facts in that tone of voice, let me tell you,’ he said, face flushed with anger. ‘I’m not a child of yours,’ Kathy said coldly.

They didn’t even look up startled, her grandparents. These old people she had thought of as her mother and father. The woman went on reading the magazine and smoking, the man grumbled. ‘I’m as good as any other goddamn father you ever had or will have. Go on, child, give me the Coke now to save me getting up, will you.’

And Kathy realised that they weren’t in the business of secrecy or pretending. Like Fran, they had assumed she knew the state of affairs. She looked across at Fran standing with a rigid back looking out the window.

‘All right, Dad,’ she said, and got him the can and a glass to pour it into,

‘There’s a good girl,’ he said, smiling at her as he always did. For him nothing had changed.

‘What would you do if you discovered you weren’t your parents’ child?’ Kathy asked Harriet at school.

‘I’d be delighted, I tell you that.’

‘Why?’

‘Because then I won’t grow up to have an awful chin like my mother and my grandmother, and I wouldn’t have to listen to Daddy droning on and on about getting enough points in the Leaving.’ Harriet’s father, a teacher, had great hopes that she would be a doctor. Harriet wanted to own a night club.

They let the matter drop.

‘What do you know about Marianne Hayes?’ Kathy asked later.

‘She’s like the richest woman in Europe, or is it only Dublin? And she’s good looking too. I suppose she bought all those things like good teeth and a suntan and all that shiny hair.’

‘Yeah, I’m sure she did.’

‘Why are you interested in her?’

‘I dreamed about her last night,’ Kathy said truthfully.

‘I dreamed that I had sex with a gorgeous fellow. I think we should get started on it, you know we are sixteen.’

‘You’re the one who said we should concentrate on our studies,’ Kathy complained.

‘Yeah, that was before this dream. You look awful pale and tired and old, don’t dream about Marianne Hayes again, it’s not doing you any good.’

‘No, it’s not,’ Kathy agreed, thinking suddenly of Fran with her white face and the lines under her eyes, and no suntan and no holidays abroad. She thought of Fran saving money every week for her for sixteen years. She remembered Fran’s boyfriend Ken going off to America, had he too found some rich woman? Someone who wasn’t a plumber’s daughter who had dragged herself up to the top in a supermarket, someone who wasn’t struggling to support an illegitimate child. Ken had known about her. It didn’t appear that Fran had gone to any trouble to keep it all a secret.

As she had said last night there were many, many households all over Dublin where the youngest child was really a grandchild. And Fran had said that in many cases the mother had not stayed at home, the eldest sister had left to start a new life. It wasn’t fair.

It just wasn’t fair that Paul Malone should have his pleasure and no responsibility. Three times that day in class she was reprimanded for not paying attention. But Kathy Clarke had no interest in her studies. She was planning how she should best visit Paul Malone.

‘Talk to me,’ Fran said that evening.

‘What about? You said there was nothing more to say.’

‘So nothing’s changed?’ Fran asked. Her eyes were anxious. She didn’t have expensive creams to take away the lines on her face. She never had anyone to help her bring up a child. Marianne Hayes, now Marianne Malone, must have had help everywhere. Nurses, nannies, au pairs, chauffeurs, tennis coaches. Kathy looked at her mother with a level glance. Even though her world had turned upside down she wouldn’t add this to Fran’s trouble. ‘No, Fran,’ she lied. ‘Nothing’s changed.’

It wasn’t hard to find out where Paul and Marianne lived.

There was something about them in a paper almost every week. Everyone knew of their house. But she didn’t want to go and see him at home. She must go to his office. Talk to him in a businesslike way. There was no need to involve his wife in what she wanted to say.

Armed with a phonecard she began to telephone large accountancy firms. On the second call she got the name of where he worked. She had heard of the company, they were accountants to all the film stars and theatre people. This was a show business kind of place. Not only did he have all the money, he had all the fun too.

Twice she went to the offices and twice her courage failed. The building was so enormous. She knew they only occupied floors five and six, but somehow she didn’t have the confidence. Once in she could talk to him, tell him who she was, how her mother had worked and saved. She would beg for nothing. She would point out the injustice, that was all. But the place was too impressive. It overawed her. The commissionaire in the foyer, the girls at the information desk downstairs who called up to see if you were allowed access to the prestige offices above.

She would need to look different to get past these groomed dragons at the desk if she were to meet Paul Malone. They wouldn’t let a schoolgirl in a navy skirt up to see a senior accountant, particularly one married to a millionaire.

She telephoned Harriet.

‘Can’t you bring in some posh clothes of your mother’s tomorrow to school?’

‘Only if you tell me why.’

‘I’m going to have an adventure.’

‘A sexual adventure?’

‘Possibly.’

‘Do you want nighties and knickers then?’ Harriet was very practical.

‘No, a jacket. And gloves even.’

‘God Almighty,’ said Harriet. ‘This must be something very kinky altogether.’

Next day the clothes arrived slightly crushed in a games bag. Kathy tried them on in the girls’ cloakroom. The jacket was fine but the skirt seemed wrong.

‘Where’s the adventure?’ Harriet was breathless with excitement.

‘In an office, a smart office.’

‘You could sort of hitch your skirt up, you know the school one. It would look okay if it was meant to be short. Will he be undressing you or will you be doing it yourself?’

‘What? Oh, yes, I’ll be doing it myself.’

‘That’s all right then.’ Together they made Kathy look like someone who might gain access anywhere. She had already taken Fran’s lipstick and eyeshadow.

‘Don’t put it all on now,’ Harriet hissed.

‘Why not?’

‘I mean you’ve got to go to class, they’ll know something’s up if you go in like that.’

‘I’m not going to class. You’re to say you got a message that I had the flu.’

‘No. I don’t believe it.’

‘Go on, Harriet. I did it for you when you wanted to go down and see the pop stars.’

‘But where are you going at nine o’clock in the morning?’

‘To the office to have the adventure,’ Kathy said.

‘You are something else,’ said Harriet, whose mouth was round in admiration.

This time she didn’t falter.

‘Good morning. Mr Paul Malone, please.’

‘And the name?’

‘The name will mean nothing to him but if you could say it is Katherine Clarke, come here about the matter of Frances Clarke, a client from a long time ago.’ Kathy felt that this was an office where people had full names not Kathys and Frans.

‘I’ll speak to his secretary. Mr Malone doesn’t see anyone without an appointment.’

‘You may tell her that I will wait until he’s free.’ Kathy spoke with a quiet intensity that was far more effective than her attempts to dress for the part.

One of the gorgeous receptionists seemed to shrug slightly at the other and make the call in a low voice.

‘Miss Clarke, would you care to speak to Mr Malone’s secretary?’ she said eventually.

‘Certainly.’

Kathy walked forward, hoping that her school skirt would not fall suddenly below Harriet’s mother’s jacket.

‘It’s Penny here. Can I help you?’

‘Have you been given the relevant names?’ Kathy said. How wonderful that she remembered that word relevant. It was a great word, it covered everything.

‘Well, yes… but this is not actually the point.’

‘Ah, but I think it is. Please mention these names to Mr Malone and please tell him that it will not take very long. Only ten minutes at the very most of his time, but I will wait here until he can see me.’

‘We don’t make appointments like this.’

‘Please give him the names.’ Kathy felt almost dizzy with excitement.

She waited politely for three more minutes then there was a buzz.

‘Mr Malone’s secretary will meet you on the sixth floor,’ said one of the goddesses at the desk.

‘Thank you so much for your help,’ said Kathy Clarke, hitching up her school skirt and going into the lift that would take her to meet her father.

‘Miss Clarke?’ Penny said. Penny was like someone from a beauty contest. She wore a cream-coloured suit and had very high-heeled black shoes. Around her neck she wore a thick black necklace.

‘That’s right.’ Kathy wished she were better looking and older and well dressed.

‘Come this way, please. Mr Malone will see you in the conference room. Coffee?’

‘That would be very nice, thank you.’

She was shown into a room with a pale wood table, and eight chairs around it. There were paintings on the wall, not just pictures behind glass like they had in school but real paintings. There were flowers on the windowsill, fresh flowers, arranged that morning. She sat and waited.

In he came, young, handsome, younger looking than Fran although he had been a year older.

‘Hallo,’ he said, with a big smile from ear to ear.

‘Hallo,’ she said. There was a silence.

At that moment Penny arrived with the coffee. ‘Shall I leave it?’ she asked, dying to stay.

‘Thanks, Pen,’ he said.

‘Do you know who I am?’ she asked when Penny had left.

‘Yes,’ he said.

‘Were you expecting me?’

‘Not for about two or three more years to be honest.’ His grin was attractive.

‘And what would you have done then?’

‘What I’ll do now—listen.’

It was a clever thing to say, he was leaving it all to her.

‘Well, I just wanted to come and see you,’ she said a little uncertainly.

‘Absolutely,’ he said.

‘To know what you looked like.’

‘And now you do.’ He was warm as he said it, he was warm and welcoming. ‘What do you think?’ he asked.

‘You look fine,’ she said reluctantly.

‘And so do you, very fine,’ he said.

‘I only just found out, you see,’ she explained.

‘I see.’

‘So, that’s why I had to come and talk to you.’

‘Sure, sure.’ He had poured them coffee and left her to add milk and sugar if she wished.

‘You see, until this week I honestly thought I was Mam and Dad’s daughter. It’s been a bit of a shock.’

‘Fran didn’t tell you that she was your mother?’

‘No, she didn’t.’

‘Well, when you were younger I can understand, but when you were older, surely…?’

‘No, she thought I sort of understood, but I didn’t. I thought she was just a marvellous elder sister. I wasn’t too bright, you see.’

‘You look fine and bright to me.’ He seemed genuinely to admire her.

‘I’m not, as it happens. I’m a hard worker and I’ll get there in the end, but I don’t have quick leaps of understanding, not like my friend Harriet. I’m a bit of a plodder.’

‘So am I, as it happens. You take after your father then.’

It was such an extraordinary moment there in this office. He was admitting he was her father. She felt almost light-headed. But she had no idea where to go now. He had taken away all her arguments. She thought he would have blustered, and denied things and excused himself. But he had done nothing like this.

‘You wouldn’t have got a job like this if you were just a plodder.’

‘My wife is very wealthy, I am a charming plodder, I don’t upset people. In a way that’s why I am here.’

‘But you got to be an accountant all by yourself before you met her, didn’t you?’

‘Yes, I got to be an accountant, not here exactly. And I hope you’ll meet my wife one day, Katherine. You’ll like her, she’s a very, very nice woman.’

‘It’s Kathy, and I couldn’t like her. I am sure she is very nice, but she wouldn’t want to meet me.’

‘Yes, if I tell her I would like it. We do things to please each other, I would meet someone to please her.’

‘But she doesn’t know I exist.’

‘Yes, she does. I told her, a long time ago. I didn’t know your name but I told her that I had a daughter, a daughter I didn’t see, but would probably meet when she was grown up.’

‘You didn’t know my name?’

‘No. When all the business happened Fran said she would just tell me if it was a girl or a boy, that was all.’

‘That was the deal?’ Kathy said.

‘You put it very well. That was the deal.’

‘She’s very kind about you, she thinks you were great in all this.’

‘And what message does she send me?’ He was very relaxed, gentle, not watchful or anything.

‘She has no idea I’m here.’

‘Where does she think you are?’