The Glass Lake (33 page)

“Tell me about it, then,” she said with a great smile.

She was choosing fabric for the curtains of the new flat when she ran into James Williams in Selfridges.

“More blue and gold for your agency?” he asked. He had remembered.

“No, just browsing.”

“You're looking fit and well.” He always eyed her rather overappreciatively, she thought.

“Thank you, James.” She smiled her routine smile, acknowledging the compliment.

“Enjoy Scarborough,” he said.

“Will you be there too?” she said, her voice coming somehow through the icy feeling in her throat.

“No, I have no excuse, unfortunately. They do some work, but mainly it's a thank-you to a lot of these guys who work so hard and such highly unsocial hours. Gives them a chance to entertain their wives properly without having to count the pennies.”

“And do all wives go?”

“Yes. They're not going to pass on a trip like that. Enjoy it anyway.”

“I will,” she said. And held the counter to steady herself.

It's probably all in my mind. Kit wrote, but I have this feeling that Dad and Clio's aunt Maura are walking out. I know that's a very old-fashioned expression, but I can't think what else to call it. And there's nobody I could say it to. They've had a couple of meals in O'Brien's Hotel. Philip told me their heads were very close, but Philip is always talking about people's heads being close. It's sort of on his mind
.

But would you think at their age they might
really and truly be thinking of getting married? I know it wouldn't come to anything like that without Dad discussing it with us, but I was very keen to know what you thought
.

This time the answer came to Kit very quickly. It must have been by return of post. It was a very short letter.

Kit, write and tell me. Do you think Maura would make your father happy? He has had a hard life. He deserves happiness. Then tell me would you and Emmet like it or would it make you upset to see another woman walking around where your mother did, in her room. When you tell me these things I'll write and tell you what I think
.

Kit wrote:

How did you know Mother had a separate room? I never told you that. I can't believe she would have told you. Please let me know
.

Lena paced her office.

She must never write quickly again, that's how mistakes happened. But it was all right. It could be covered.

How observant you are, Kit
, Lena wrote.

Your mother did indeed tell me that she had a separate room. She said she didn't sleep well at night with anyone else in the room. She didn't need to ask me to tell it to nobody, since I spoke to nobody about her. Our correspondence was a sort of secret life, in a way like yours and mine is. Other people might think it sad, pathetic even. But I don't. And I hope you don't. Your mother never
did. You have no idea how lonely I felt when her letters ceased. Tell me you understand
.

I understand
, Kit wrote.
But I don't know why you said you read in a paper that Mother died. You must have known at once when she stopped writing to you
.

I only said that in the first letter
, Lena explained,
so that I could get on to introduce myself to you. Perhaps you might not have wanted to write, to stay in touch, out of loyalty to your mother. I didn't want to tell about our letter writing
.

It's all so confusing
, Kit wrote.
You're such a mystery woman, I know nothing about you, nothing at all. And yet you know everything about me. Did you tell my mother about yourself? Did she destroy your letters? There was nothing found when she left. Nothing at all that would make us know of you
.

I'll tell you anything you like
, Lena wrote.
Just make a list of questions and I'll try to answer them
.

She knew it was risky, she was getting in too deep. She would have to invent a persona for Lena, a past that had never existed. She feared what questions would be asked.

But in fact there were no searching questions. It was as if Kit had decided it would be impolite. Instead there was something much more heartbreaking…something Lena could never have foreseen. And yet, of course, it was the normal response of a friend. Kit wanted her to come to Ireland.

Can you come and see us? You have plenty of money. And if you want it all to be a secret still you could just stay in O'Brien's Hotel
.

There were ways in which Kit hoped she wouldn't come. Maybe she would be a disappointment to meet. Perhaps she would have a funny Cockney accent from living in England. Perhaps she wouldn't be nearly as nice to talk to as to write to.

But it was getting to be silly now…and if Lena was mother's age she must be in her middle forties, too old really for having a life writing to a teenage girl in Ireland about events long ago. Lena sounded very normal, and she had a husband who was a hotelier. And she worked in a big employment agency somewhere. And she lived in the house of some woman called Mrs. Brown.

And maybe she was mad like Miss Havisham. Anyway, if she came Kit would know.

Dear Sister Madeleine
,

You have been acting as a postbox for me for nearly five years. I want to thank you for your discretion and lack of curiosity. Kit McMahon speaks of you with such admiration and devotion I wonder if I could ask you a great favor. Kit has suggested that I come to Lough Glass. For a great variety of reasons I do not want to do so. It would not be good for her or for anyone. But I am not thinking about myself first in this instance, I am really thinking of others. From what Kit tells me you can always come up with some solution to a seemingly impossible situation. If there was any way you could help Kit to see that it would be a good thing for us not to meet in Lough Glass or at all, I would be forever in your debt
.

I don't want to invent a string of lies, I just know you will believe me when I say it would not be for the best
.

Yours in despair, dear Sister Madeleine,
Lena Gray
.

My dear child
,

I have always believed that there is a life of the imagination which suffers when it is mixed with reality. Two worlds can be kept separate. Lives can live in parallels and never meet. I wish you peace and happiness and the knowledge that you have friends, and have always had them, here
.

Sister Madeleine,
Lough Glass
.

“She knows, doesn't she?” Lena handed the letter to Ivy.

“I expect so,” Ivy said. “What now?”

“She won't tell,” Lena said. “That much I know for certain.”

“A
RE
you doing a line with Philip O'Brien?” Clio demanded to know.

“God, Clio. I wish I had a different friend. I've been saying it forever, of course I'm not doing a line with Philip. Whatever that means.”

“He's always here. Hanging around. Or else you're in there,” Clio grumbled.

“Well, we do live beside each other.”

“Has he kissed you?”

“Shut up.”

“So he
did
kiss you, but because you and he are in love you can't tell me, is that it?”

Kit couldn't stop giggling. “That's not it, okay? He sort of kissed me, but he missed because I didn't know it was happening, and I looked the other way and he got my chin. And he said sorry, and I said sorry and we tried again, and it seemed a bit awkward. So you know every single thing. Now, will you leave me alone.”

“You never told me.”

“I'll tell you what I will tell you. Stevie Sullivan's got a new girl.”

“No!” Now this did seem a matter of interest and some disappointment to Clio.

“Yes. An American girl staying at O'Brien's Hotel. Her parents came here to look for their roots. They're up in the graveyard most of the time, and she went across the road and got talking to Stevie.”

“I bet she did.”

“She's gorgeous-looking according to Philip. And anyway, Stevie came over to the hotel and she said to her mom and pop that he was taking her to meet a gang of kids across the lake, and they said fine. And there was no gang of kids at all, of course. It was just Stevie putting on the act.”

“Well, she'll be gone soon,” Clio said grimly. “Once the parents have found their roots they'll be out of here like bats from hell. And it'll be bye-bye from Mr. Stevie Sullivan's little new pal.”

“It's another careers talk this afternoon,” Kit groaned.

“Yeah, hopeless,” Clio said. “I suppose they have to tell us what's available.”

“Nothing's available except nursing and teaching, and that's only if you get called.”

“And I'd hate both of those,” Clio said.

“Mother Bernard's mad keen for you to be a doctor,” Kit said.

“That's because she wants to say that a doctor came out of the convent here, and because she'd like me to have my head down studying for seven years.”

“So what
are
you going to do?”

“I'm going to do a B.A. Aunt Maura says it's a great stepping-stone.”

“Where will it make you step?”

“Into the arms of a rich husband, I hope.”

“You don't want that.”

“No, I want him sexy as well, and experienced. I don't want him missing my mouth and hitting me on the chin with his nose.”

“Is it a wonder that nobody'd tell you anything, Clio?”

“But you're getting very secretive altogether,” Clio said with narrowing eyes.

“What about now?”

“You go down to Sister Madeleine's when I'm not with you, for one thing.”

“Yes.”

“And then there's this face-bashing with Philip. And you're going off mysteriously to study.”

“Well, I do study. We are doing our Leaving exams in three months time, if you haven't forgotten.”

“And are you studying now?”

“Yes.”

“You haven't any books, you only have paper…”

“I'm making notes.”

“Let's see.” Clio snatched the writing case and unzipped it. Inside she saw a stamped envelope and a half-written letter. “No you're not studying, you're writing letters…love letters.”

“Give it to me.” Kit's face was white with anger.

“Let me read…”

“
Give it to me, Clio
.”

Clio was reading “‘Dearest'…Dearest what? I can't read his name.”

With a cry Kit lunged at her. “You are such a selfish, greedy person. You have no manners, you have no decency.”

“No manners, no decency,” Clio mocked, holding the letter high.

But Kit gave her a totally unexpected punch in the stomach that winded her, then Kit grabbed the letter and ran out of the classroom.

She met Mother Bernard in the corridor. “Ladies are rarely seen running, Katherine.”