It Was Only Ever You (10 page)

It was true. If Rose had been out in the open about their relationship from the beginning, this could have happened ages ago and his parents would have been spared their upset.

*

Patrick left for Dublin the following week. He wrote Rose a letter explaining everything and saying goodbye. John assured him he would deliver it as soon as possible, and pass on his details in New York.

‘She will be upset at first, but you know you’re doing the right thing, don’t you?’

Patrick explained it all to his parents. His father said nothing. His mother was upset that he was leaving, but told him he was right to take the opportunity when it was handed to him.

As he left the house for Dublin with his small suitcase strapped to the back of his bike, he kissed his mother and said, ‘Don’t cry, Ma, I’ll be back soon. I have to come back anyway, to get my Rose. She’ll be mad as hell at me – but she’ll know it was something I had to do.’ Then he turned to his father. ‘A man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do, Da – isn’t that right?’

His father raised his pipe at him, winked and smiled as his mother wiped her tears away with the hem of her apron.

‘Back soon,’ he shouted as he wobbled down the drive on his bicycle, ‘with my first million!’

If he had turned round in that moment, Patrick would have been hurt to see that neither of his parents looked entirely convinced.

T
HE
SUIT
was delivered to their home in Yonkers three days before the wedding. Ava hung it on a hook behind her bedroom door then opened the bag. It was as beautiful as she remembered it, but she didn’t try it on in case she didn’t ever want to take it off again. Ava was afraid the reflection she had seen in Sybil Connolly’s Plaza studio might have been a mirage, a fluke of lighting that made her appear better-looking than she was. So she decided to wait until the day of the wedding before putting it on again. In the meantime her mother’s years of nagging paid off. Ava decided her new suit needed a new hairstyle to do it justice. She made an appointment with her mother’s local hairdresser, Miss Parrish, where she picked out a picture from a magazine of a hairdo similar to Miss Connolly’s – a short, ear-length bob. Two hours later, Ava’s mousy hair had been dyed a few shades lighter, cut short and set into rollers. As Miss Parrish took Ava out from under the dryer and began to brush out her curls, even the matronly hairdresser was shocked at how different her young client looked. From a gawky lump of a girl to a sophisticated young woman.

‘We have found your style at last,’ she said, delighted with herself. Then Miss Parrish went to her handbag and took out a compact and well-worn Revlon lipstick. She patted Ava’s nose and chin with the powder, applied a slick of pink and said, ‘There you are. The prettiest young woman in Yonkers.’ She felt a tear come to her eye. Turning ugly ducklings into swans was her calling.

Ava smiled at her own reflection. She could not help it. Everything about her face looked different. Her neck longer, her nose shorter, and her skin creamier. First the suit, and now this. How her life had changed in just two days.

‘Thank you,’ she said to Miss Parrish. ‘I feel like a new woman.’

Ava indeed felt like a different person walking back towards her car. The new Ava. She was the sort of woman who could walk into a shop and buy a new outfit for herself, just like that. Could acquiring this new confidence really be as simple as knowing her own style? It seemed so. Ava flicked her new hair and held her chin high, proud of her tallness and the elegant demeanour it gave her.

She could not wait to get to the wedding to show off her new self.

The following morning the Brogans drove to Our Lady of Dolours Catholic Church in Westchester County to Gloria Dolan’s wedding. Nessa was in a bad mood with her husband and he was not sure why. Earlier that morning she had said to him, ‘Doesn’t Ava look wonderful?’

‘Very smart,’ he had replied, barely looking up from his paper.

The two women had been fussing around the kitchen putting on lipstick and readjusting their outfits and he was worried they would be late. On their way out to the car Nessa had taken him to one side and berated him for not making more of a fuss of his daughter’s new look.

‘Can you not see how she looks so much better?’

‘Better than what?’ he asked. Ava joined them before she had the chance to tell him off any more, but Nessa gave him the silent treatment all the way to the church.

As they got out of the car Tom finally got the message and awkwardly told Ava, ‘You look lovely.’

Ava laughed and said, ‘Thanks, Pop,’ and winked to let him know she knew Nessa had put him up to it.

Tom was flooded with such love in that moment for his little girl that he said, ‘You always look beautiful to me, Ava – you know that, right?’

‘I’m your daughter,’ she said. ‘You’re prejudiced.’

But still, it felt good to be told.

After the church service they followed the other cars to the Westchester golf club where the lavish reception was being held. Tom was a member here, although he played seldom. His position as chairperson of the Connaughtman Association kept him busy most weekends. The charitable organization ran a supper club in their local church centre once a month to help support young Irish immigrants. They raised funds and gathered clothes and care parcels to send back home to the impoverished communities, as well as providing support to help them find work and settle in New York. Barely a week went by when Ava and her parents were not at some function or another. Most of these family events were held in the half-dozen Catholic church halls and Irish clubs around the area of Yonkers/Riverdale where they lived. However, this wedding was fancier than most. The Irish community was tight-knit, so Ava saw plenty of people she knew. One or two of them passed her by, seeming not to recognize her, which delighted her even more. The style was top drawer; all the men wore expensive suits and the women were filling the room with wide new-look skirts, and some in candy-coloured day suits like herself; the older women in hats, the younger women wearing jewelled headbands cut close to their coiffed hair. Ava was delighted that she could match any of them. So was Nessa, who was dressed head to toe in an emerald-green ensemble. She was in her element. Ava knew what was on her mother’s mind but, for once, it didn’t bother her. In fact she was delighted to see her mother so happy.

As they entered the lobby, Nessa nodded at a passing hat and said out of the side of her mouth, ‘There’s Kitty and Kevin Flanagan – the crème de la crème,’ then seeing her husband was about to remove his jacket hissed, ‘Don’t even think about it!’

Tom raised his eyes to heaven and headed towards the bar, while Nessa grabbed her daughter’s arm and rose up on her toes exclaiming, ‘Holy God! Is that Rose Kennedy?’ then deflated. ‘No. Bridie Connor. Same hair – similar height – still,’ she said, taking heart as they walked through the elegantly laid-out lobby with its swirling patterned carpets and Formica side tables, ‘with this upmarket crowd I wouldn’t be at all surprised.’

They wandered over to the seating plan and Ava saw that she was at a different table to her parents, at the same table as Niall and Dermot Dolan, sons of the judge. Nessa was temporarily dumbstruck with excitement and before she had the chance to open her mouth Ava gave her a look that said, ‘not a word’.

Ava knew Niall Dolan from her Thursday nights at the Emerald Ballroom. While he was great fun and they liked each other, like all of the young men she was friendly with, Ava knew he wasn’t interested in her romantically.

She had never met his older brother Dermot before, although she had heard about him from her mother’s endless gossip of who was (and wasn’t) eligible in the Irish community. Dermot was eligible. A lawyer, he had followed in his father’s footsteps, graduating with honours in law from Harvard five years before, and his star, as a brilliant young defence attorney in the New York District Attorney’s office, was rising. He was known for using his charm and legal skills to great effect when representing the underdog, and had a reputation for compassion as well as a sharp mind. However, he was still single at pushing thirty, which meant he was probably a charmer and an impossibly good-looking womanizer, like his younger brother. The mere thought of sharing a meal with a dashing man who would doubtless dismiss her, would normally have made Ava feel inadequate and sad. However, today was different. Today, Ava was feeling hot-to-trot.

Walking away from her mother, towards her table, Ava could feel her body inside the armour of her outfit; the prickle of the snug lace against her skin, the movement of her buttocks as they brushed against each other in the tight skirt, the broadness of her shoulders against the smallness of her waist – it all made her lift her head and straighten her back with a poise that felt unfamiliar and yet, utterly as it should be. Ava found herself walking with confidence and grace; like a panther in pink. As if the instruction from her frustrated deportment teacher in finishing school had finally sunk in!

She got to the table early and when she saw she was sitting next to Dermot Dolan she reached down to move her place card to another part of the table. She was feeling too good about herself to be ignored by some snooty lawyer. However, she caught the cuff of her silk blouse on the name placeholder. As she went to release it she noticed the white lace of Sybil Connolly’s blouse peeping out from under, and the perfectly turned cuff of her pink suit with its three pearl buttons, and she felt a clip of pride again at her beautiful outfit.

‘Won’t you sit down?’ Dermot Dolan appeared next to her. ‘It’s Ava Brogan, isn’t it?’ he said. ‘I think we’ve met before.’

Dermot was an ordinary-looking man, not at all like his dashing brother. He was also stout, a few inches shorter than she was, with a large, soft face, full of good humour and warmth. He was certainly not handsome, but he seemed kind, and Ava was relieved. He looked like the sort of man it might be fun to have lunch with.

Ava saw something in his eyes, too, that she had not seen in any man before. A sparkle that said he found her attractive. Inside, she smiled – a broad, triumphant smile. On the outside, however, she fought to keep her face aloof and somewhat imperious. She was in a Grace Kelly suit and she was going to play this ice-princess cool. That was the way to get a man. At least, that was what Myrtle always said. Ava hadn’t a clue herself.

‘Have we?’ she said, raising one eyebrow slightly before sitting down. ‘I really can’t remember.’ He looked crestfallen and Ava felt bad and quickly said, ‘Oh yes, I remember you now,’ even though she didn’t. ‘You’re a lawyer, aren’t you?’ For once she was glad of her mother’s eligibility briefings.

Dermot pulled her chair out and once he was sitting next to her he let out a large sigh saying, ‘Ah – that’s better. We’re the same height at last!’

Even though she was trying to play it cool, Ava could not help but let out a loud, impulsive laugh. Immediately she regretted it, thinking he might think she was laughing at him.

‘I’m sorry,’ she said.

‘No need to apologize,’ he said. ‘Thankfully my ego is as diminutive as my body.’ Which made her laugh again.

‘You have a beautiful laugh,’ he said. Nobody had ever said anything like that to her before. Ava thought it was strange, but also sort of wonderful.

‘Would you like a cigarette?’ Dermot’s younger brother Niall sat down on the other side of her and held out a box of Lucky Strikes. Ava did not especially enjoy smoking, but she took one anyway. Dermot had his lighter ready and clicked it before Niall had the chance to strike a match.

Niall gave Dermot a murderous look. Was it possible her new look had engaged Niall’s interest too?

‘There’s a really fantastic band booked for later, Ava. They’ll be coming on after all the old folks have gone to bed – it should be a blast.’

‘Fool,’ Dermot said. ‘Does Ava look like a teenybopper jiver to you? She’s a sophisticated lady – a woman of taste, am I right?’

Ava took a drag of her cigarette and smiled at him sideways. She could feel the excitement bubble up through her. Was it really possible that two of the most eligible brothers in the room were fighting for her attention?

‘Ava and I know each other, actually,’ Niall said. ‘We are regular dance partners, isn’t that right, Ava?’

Ava smiled and nodded – enigmatically, she hoped. She was enjoying this. How she wished Myrtle was here to witness her debut as a flirt.

‘All girls love to dance, Dermot, and if you didn’t have two left feet you might know that.’

Dermot blushed, and set his chin defensively at his brother.

‘I can waltz,’ he said, and then turning to Ava explained, ‘That’s the only dance a true gentleman needs. It is the dance of romance.’

‘Back in the eighteen hundreds maybe,’ Niall said, winking at Ava. ‘Dermot has broken more bridesmaids’ toes than I’ve done the jitterbug!’

Then another young man butted in from across the table, ‘Lots of rock and very little roll – that’s what they say about Dermot Dolan!’ And another joined in: ‘Remember the time you twisted your back pulling Mary Murphy under your legs at Josie Kane’s wedding?’ The whole table laughed.

Dermot was red-faced with embarrassment and mumbled to her, ‘I’m afraid dancing is not my forte.’ Ava decided that she definitely liked him. There was something soothing in his gentle manner and the way he was happy to put himself aside. Most men were such boastful bores.

Over lunch Dermot told her all about his life. She knew most of it already from her mother and from general gossip in their social circles. He told her about his volunteer work ministering to the legal needs of the poor in the area. He was proud of his Irish roots and asked how she felt about the Republican cause back home and how they were fighting to get their land back from the English oppressors.

‘My father fundraises for Sinn Fein,’ she said.

Ava knew a good deal about Irish politics from her father. She read the Irish newspapers as well as the American ones. Dermot seemed impressed that she knew something about both things and kept questioning her. The conversation made her feel clever and important in the way conversations with her father did.