Part 18 (1/2)

'I feel sorry for you,' she said, putting her arms round me, 'now it seems you have two men to get over.' She sighed. 'It's such a pity you couldn't have fallen in love with Keith. He would have been so good for you.'

'Well, I didn't,' I said, a little annoyed. 'I tried but it didn't happen.'

'It's a bit ironic. You can't fall in love with Keith because you can't help being in love with Mike. Keith breaks up with you because you're in love with Mike, but even if you are in love with Mike it doesn't matter because you don't know if he's in love with you, and even if he is nothing can happen.'

I moved away from her and crunched on a fistful of Pringles. 'You're right,' I said. 'Nothing can happen.'

'Yes, I am,' she said, whipping the crisps out of my hand. 'I b.l.o.o.d.y well am right. Look, I've tried not to be too shocked but only because I thought you had the sense to know that you've got to get over this. He's still married to your sister, for G.o.d's sake.'

'It's just that '

'It's just that what?'

'Well... it would be so... right.'

'Right? How can you say that? Everything about it is wrong!' How can you say that? Everything about it is wrong!'

'Oh, I know that. I just mean... if he hadn't been married to Jean, he would have been the guy I fell in love with.'

'You don't know that. Different circ.u.mstances... Anyway, it doesn't matter. He was was married to Jean. He married to Jean. He is is married to Jean.' married to Jean.'

'Yeah.'

She pulled me round by the shoulders and looked me straight in the eyes. 'You do see it, don't you? You cannot do this. You cannot do it to Jean, you cannot do it to your parents, you cannot do it to Mike, for G.o.d's sake. He's already in a bad enough state. He doesn't need you to come crying to him that you might have a bit of a thing for him.'

'I just wanted to make sure.'

'Well, now you're sure.'

As I saw Colette into a taxi I knew she was right. That was what I'd been telling myself all along. Yet so much of me ached to see him again, to allow his musky smell into my nostrils, to feel his cheek, his lips against mine. Just once and then I really would surrender him.

By the day of the party I was more confused than ever. Anna and the family had arrived in the small hours of the morning the day before, and after a long sleep and a spot of breakfast she was demanding to see the family. I figured it was time I faced everybody, so I tarted myself up and headed over to Sycamore Lodge.

It was really strange, but from the moment I walked through the door and one of Anna's kids said, 'Hiya,' quite casually, I suddenly felt I'd really missed her and her gangly family. Then when she appeared behind her child, eight-year-old Ronan, I ran to give her a hug and felt I'd been very remiss in not making more of an effort to keep in touch. She was my sister, after all. She looked great, but distinctly different. Her hair was shorter, which made her face seen longer, more serious somehow. Anna has always combined a practical outlook with a fine appreciation of the absurd and I hoped, as I wrapped my arms round her, that she was as fond of the absurd as ever. Because I knew I was going to confess everything to her. She was family, but far enough removed for her judgement to be unclouded by that fact. She would be a good arbiter.

The perfect opportunity arose late in the afternoon. It had been raining most of the day, and as soon as it stopped Anna scouted for someone to accompany her on a walk round the area. I was first to volunteer and got us out of the house before anyone else could realize they needed exercise.

'You've got something on your mind,' she said, almost straight away.

'Have I?' I was surprised by her intuition.

'Yes. You've been hopping on one leg since you got here. Spit it out. Have you done something more sensational than leave your husband or become a lesbian?'

'I'm in love with my sister's husband,' I said.

'Which one? Not mine, I presume.'

'Jean's.'

'Ah, the lovely and talented Mike.'

'Yes. Is it terrible?'

'Well,' she said, looking up and down the road thoroughly before we crossed, 'it depends. How long has it been going on? Is that why Jean left?'

'No, no, no,' I stopped her. 'G.o.d, no! Nothing's happened. He doesn't even know. I've only just realized I'm crazy about him.'

'Wait a minute,' she said, stopping dead on the footpath. 'Aren't you about to get married to some Keith guy? I sent you an engagement present.'

'He broke it off because he thought I was in love with Mike. n.o.body knows yet. I can't bring myself to tell them.'

'I see.' She thought for a while, then resumed walking. 'Well, then, no, so far it isn't terrible. It's just an awkward fact. What are you going to do about it?'

'Well,' I said slowly, 'I feel I should do nothing. It would only cause unpleasantness for the whole family, especially Jean. I couldn't do that to her. And, besides, Mike would probably run a mile.'

'That's true I mean that it might be unpleasant. But if you believe that this could be the real thing and not some silly crush, then maybe you'd better find out how Mike feels.'

'Really? You think I should go for it?'

'You only have one life, that you know of. It's hard enough to find someone you can be happy with, and the older you get, the more complicated it's going to be.' She paused. 'Most of the family doesn't know this, but Tom was married when I met him.'

'What?'

'Yeah. We've always kept it quiet. At the time there was no divorce in Ireland and, apart from that, there was the shame.' She giggled.

'Is that why you went to New Zealand?'

'Partly. His marriage was eventually annulled, but it was easier to sit it out on the other side of the world. New Zealand's been brilliant. We've had opportunities there we could never have had here. And it's a great place to bring up kids.'

'Wow! I had no idea. Do Mum and Dad know?'

'They do, but they like to forget.'

'So... did you break up his marriage?'

'It was already a mess, but I should probably have run a mile he was older and he was married. But I didn't. And not a day goes by when I'm not glad I turned my back on everything the nuns taught us. So, you see, if you think this might be the real thing...'

I couldn't believe what I'd heard. I'd thought theirs was the most conventional of marriages. You just never know. And was she actually encouraging me to tell Mike I loved him, when I'd decided to give up hope? I couldn't decide whether I was excited about seeing him the following day, or so petrified that I mightn't even turn up myself.

Of course I turned up. I arrived on time in a new dress with a plausible excuse for Keith's absence. A relation had died. He'd had to go to the funeral. When Mum quizzed me on the details whose side was the death on, was it an aunt or uncle, how old were they, what name would she put on the Ma.s.s card? I realized I should have taken the time to create a back story. I mumbled some stuff about it being a shock and prayed I wouldn't be struck down for playing fast and loose with his family. I'd already done enough.

'Well, that's so disappointing,' Mum had concluded. 'I mean, it's terrible for poor Keith but Anna and Tom were really looking forward to meeting him. Maybe we'll see him tomorrow.'

'Maybe,' I said, as I backed away in the direction of the drinks table.

Mum had pulled out all the stops. From the entrance gate to the under-the-stairs loo to the compost heap in the back garden, she had painted, polished, lit up, dusted with glitter, reupholstered, revarnished you name it, she'd done it. The length of the avenue was lit with tiny white bulbs that, in the failing light of the late-August evening, suggested a gateway to an alternative reality. I had the feeling, as I wobbled up the drive in heels I knew were too high (but too fantastic to leave behind in the sale) that I might never be the same again. The lights continued round the hall door, which was wide open to give up the eerie sounds of an Air CD being played slightly too loudly in the sitting room. My sense of disorientation continued as I walked through the hall: n.o.body seemed to be at home. I was just beginning to talk sternly to myself when Lucy tumbled down the stairs.