The Glass Lake (39 page)

At three o'clock she heard a taxi drawing up at the door. She moved the curtain and looked out, but the taxi was not Ernest, it was a woman in a white sweater, with very blond hair, very red lips, and very high heels. She had got out of the taxi to kiss Louis Gray good-bye properly with a great deal of squeaking and lifting one leg at a time as she embraced him. She was oblivious to his shushing sounds as he paid the taxi and urged the driver to take her away as quickly as possible.

         

“Will I go to the funeral with you?” Lena asked.

“What?”

“You'll need someone to go with, you can hardly be up there in mourning with the family. I thought you'd need a friend as a sort of disguise.”

“Lord, Lena, you're great.”

“So I'll go with you, then. When is it?”

“Love, we're not going whenever it is. It would not be, as Ernest has put it, appropriate. Can you imagine Ernest knowing a big word like ‘appropriate'?”

“But of course we can go, anyone can go to a funeral.”

“In Ireland maybe, not here.”

“They don't sell tickets, do they? We'll go.”

“He doesn't want us, why push?”

“All right, all right. Maybe she has relatives, maybe it will be small. Maybe he's right not to want you there.”

“He doesn't want me anywhere. That's what I'm mourning, not bloody Charlotte,” Ivy said.

“A
RE
you definite about doing hotel management?” Philip O'Brien asked.

“Sure I am, Philip. You know that.”

“So we'll be together in Dublin.”

“At classes, yes, but not exactly together. I'm staying in the hostel in Mountjoy Square. It's just around the corner, I'd say it's a bit grim.”

“I'm staying with my aunt and uncle and I
know
that will be grim.” Philip was glum these days. He had agreed unwillingly when Kit had said she didn't want to get into kissing and groping and all that because of exams.

“It might distract me,” she had lied to him.

The day the Leaving Certificate finished, Philip came back. “It won't distract you now,” he had said, eager as the two Jack Russell terriers that terrorized people in the Central Hotel.

So Kit had to give him a different excuse. “It's an odd time for a girl being seventeen. Please be understanding. I promise I don't fancy anyone else, but I really and truly don't want to get involved at the moment.”

“But aren't you fond of me…?” Philip would ask.

“Very fond of you.”

“So then?” He was eternally hopeful.

“So then you'll understand.”

“And are you waiting for me and am I waiting for you? Just tell me,” Philip had begged.

“Let's say we're not hunting for anyone else, but if someone else turned up for you it wouldn't be a betrayal or anything. I'd quite understand,” she had said.

“And for you, Kit?”

“I won't have time for anyone else to turn up. I'm so busy.”

“No you're not. You're on holiday.”

“I'm going to London. Who could turn up in London?”

“You're only going to London for ten days.”

“Then I'll be back. Philip, please.”

And because he didn't want to be tiresome, he stopped. And they went to the pictures just on their own, and sometimes with Emmet, sometimes with Anna. Because, as Clio said, Anna was so awful and such a troublemaker the only thing to do was to let her come to places where she couldn't do much harm, like at the cinema, a place where nobody had to talk to her.

Dear Kit
,

I am so eager to hear the result of your exams. It will be so exciting to plan your course in hotel management. Do tell me more about it. And what are you going to do for the holidays? I'll be away a lot traveling, but your letters may be forwarded to me, so I can reply from wherever I am. It's a pity I won't be in London during the summer because, unlike everyone else, I actually enjoy the city when all the visitors come. If you have Sister Madeleine praying for you, and your father's nice friend, Maura Hayes, rooting for you, and if you've done all the work you say you did, I'm sure you don't need me on the case as well. But I do keep my fingers crossed for you
.

Love as always,
Lena

“London could be very crowded during the summer,” Maura Hayes said to Kit the day after she got this letter from Lena.

“I'd say it's nice when it's full of tourists, holiday-like,” Kit said.

“Not the best time to see it, in a way.”

“Oh, don't join all the others who say not to go, please, Maura.”

“I'm not saying not to go…”

“What are you saying?” Kit asked.

“I don't know,” Maura answered truthfully, and for some reason it made both of them laugh helplessly. Martin McMahon came into the kitchen and asked what the joke was. “If I were to go through the whole conversation there wouldn't be a laugh in it,” said Maura, wiping her eyes.

“They'd lock us up,” Kit agreed.

Rita was finishing the ironing. She had heard the whole exchange and all she could understand was that it was really time Mr. McMahon made a move. Miss Hayes was a very nice person. He would never find anyone who got on so well with his children.

         

Mother Bernard got a phone call in the school. It was from a lady in London. She wanted to know when the results of the Leaving Certificate were expected.

“They arrived today.” Mother Bernard sounded pleased. It had been a very good result as far as she was concerned. The lady wanted to inquire about the successes and failures.

“And to whom am I speaking?” Mother Bernard wouldn't reveal that the Wall girl and young Hickey had done so badly, not to any stranger on the phone.

“I am a distant relation of Cliona Kelly.”

If Mother Bernard thought it odd that this woman had not called the Kelly family she said nothing, instead she listed with pride the number of honors Cliona Kelly had got in her examination.

“And her friend, Kit McMahon?”

“Mary Katherine McMahon did very well also. The whole standard was very high.”

“And I believe the girls are coming on a visit to London, to your sister house?”

“That is so, but…”

“I was going to write a letter there to whoever you would suggest…perhaps arranging to meet Cliona. Can you tell me what date they are arriving?”

“Mother Lucy is in charge of the London house and our girls for the duration of their stay. They will be arriving on August ninth for nine full days…and you are…?”

“Thank you so much, Mother Bernard.” The connection was broken. Mother Bernard looked at the receiver. How did this woman know she was Mother Bernard?

         

At Mass on Sunday, Mother Bernard was talking to the Kellys. “Your relation rang up from England to inquire about Cliona's Leaving results,” she said.

“England?” said Peter Kelly.

“Relation?” said Lilian.

“That's what she said.” Mother Bernard sounded defensive.

What could she mean? they asked each other on the way home. “Getting a bit dozy maybe,” Lilian suggested.

“She seems sharp enough.” Peter was thoughtful.

“Let's hope she lasts out for Anna's time anyway.” Lilian was always practical.

…and so I am off on a tour leaving August 8th. I told you I'd be out of London for about two weeks. Still, it's a great opportunity for me. Hope your summer plans are going well, and that you have everything ready for your new life in Dublin
.

Again, I want to say how great it was to hear from you so quickly. Thank you so much for writing on the day you got your results. I kept crossing my fingers and got on with my work. I
drank your health last night with my friend Ivy Brown
.

It's so exciting to be on your way at last
.

“What will I do if Louis comes in?” Ivy asked.

“He won't.” Lena was grim. “As you very well know. He hasn't been in much.”

“He never stays out all night.” Ivy was aghast.

“No, but if Kit comes to look for me, it won't be at night. They won't clash.”

“And what about you, suppose she sees you on the street?”

“There's eight million people in this city.”

“Not in this road, there aren't.”

“She doesn't think I'm hiding on her, she doesn't know I'm me. Relax, Ivy.”

“You're not relaxed.”

“Well, that's because my daughter's going to be in the same city and I want to see her.”

“I have an awful feeling about it, I really do.”

“Nonsense, Ivy. Just let me spend the evenings in your back kitchen, that's all.”

“How do you know she'll come looking for you?”

“I know.”

T
HE
boat journey was marvelous fun. They met a great crowd of Irish builders who had been back home for their summer holidays. It was some relief that they were making the return journey to England and freedom.

“Why are they all singing about how wonderful Ireland is if they're leaving it?” Kit asked.

“That's the point of Irish songs. They're only good if you sing them while you're abroad.” Clio was very knowledgeable.

“Imagine! We're abroad,” Kit said.

“Nearly.” Clio was being lofty.

“We're in the middle of the Irish Sea, that's abroad. We're beyond the three-mile limit.”

The men asked them to come and listen while they sang
The Rose of Tralee
. It was always good to have beautiful girls listening when you sang that song.

“We really are going to London,” whispered Clio. “We'll see real teddy boys, real coffee bars, everything.”

“I know,” said Kit. “I know.” She was thinking about how she would find her mother's friend, Lena; the woman who knew much more about her mother than anyone. She would go to her house and ask Mrs. Brown where she was. Then she would go and surprise her.

         

If ever they had thought Mother Bernard was bad they soon realized that compared to Mother Lucy she was a wild and free soul. Mother Lucy assumed that they would all want to see cultural sights only, and that evenings would be spent playing table tennis and making cocoa once the Rosary had been said in the convent chapel.

Although they enjoyed the visits to Westminster Abbey and the Tower of London, the Planetarium and Madame Tussaud's, the girls were bleakly disappointed with their escorted tour. It was tantalizing being so near and yet so far.

“We could always escape,” Jane Wall said.

“Is it worth the bloody trouble?” Clio asked. “It will be painted as black as sin, they'll think at home we did the divil and all, and all just for a cup of coffee in Soho.”

         

“Your aunt rang again, Cliona,” Mother Lucy said on the third night.