Whenever Charlotte visited her brother’s rooms she took the chair next to Lochlann’s, and during the next hour her knee or arm would touch his ‘accidentally’ and her excitement when that happened was obvious to Harcourt, though Lochlann didn’t seem to notice. Sometimes when Lochlann was speaking, he would place his hand on Charlotte’s forearm for a minute or two to emphasise a point and Harcourt could see her change colour and radiate happiness. She even ventured to put her hand on Lochlann’s when he was talking but, surprisingly, had the sense not to let the touch linger too long.
On Friday nights it had become a tradition that whoever went to Harcourt’s rooms ended up having too much to drink. It became the highlight of Charlotte’s week. The two glasses of wine she allowed herself loosened her tongue and heightened her feeling of wellbeing. Lochlann, surrounded by clusters of friends, would always draw her in and she would stand close to him. Later, when the members of the group moved away out of politeness, some raising their eyebrows in disbelief and others smiling in amusement, she had exclusive access to him for long periods while the rest of the company talked about subjects that didn’t interest her.
It was disconcerting to discover that after she had made efforts to sound witty and affable in her conversations, quoting things that Cormac had said, Lochlann couldn’t remember one word the next day. She was forced to learn how to identify the point of inebriation at which he lost his memory so that she could save her best lines until the early part of the evening the following week and not waste them.
He spent Saturdays and Sundays with his family and school friends. Charlotte spent those hours wondering what he was doing and wishing Monday would come soon.
In this unvarying fashion one academic year slid into the next.
The medical students' final year was uneventful except for Niamh McCarthy’s news. Her boyfriend at home had met a girl at a dance and had fallen in love. It took him a long time to tell Niamh as he was afraid of causing her pain. She took it well and, to his relief, was instantly forgiving. He hoped she would meet someone who would suit her as well as this new girl suited him. She didn’t tell him she already had.
Harcourt relayed all this to Charlotte, while flicking through The Irish Times to make it look as if the news he was imparting was of little consequence. He felt sorry for her, but was relieved he had something definite with which to dash her unrealistic expectations. Her flirting during the Friday night socialising was becoming increasingly blatant.
Niamh now sometimes joined Harcourt and Lochlann in their study sessions. From the first time she met her rival, Charlotte analysed her looks, conversation and mannerisms, looking for flaws, trying to identify the ingredient that made her so attractive to men. She thought Niamh’s laugh was ‘common’, though it seemed to be one of the many characteristics Lochlann liked. There was no doubt the girl was friendly, but not as good-looking as Harcourt had led her to believe. Was she a little bit too long in the neck?
Niamh invited Charlotte to a performance of Bach’s ‘Mass in B Minor’ where she would be part of the choir.
“Good enough to be a soloist,” said Lochlann, “but went the medical route instead.”
Niamh laughed her big, throaty, common laugh. “He would say that. No, the amateur status suits me – all the enjoyment and none of the responsibility. Besides, I wouldn’t be good enough, so don’t mind him.”
At the performance Charlotte sat with Harcourt on her left and Lochlann on the other side. The shared chair-arm on the right occupied her more than the singing, which she found boring, all sounding the same and no distinguishable melody to be heard. “Sorry,” said Lochlann when the pressure on his arm made him think he was taking more than his share of space. He folded his arms and Charlotte felt bereft. When he once again became lost in the music, his arm returned and this time Charlotte made sure the contact between them was so light he wouldn’t notice, though it was enough to keep her in thrall until the end. Harcourt could see what was going on in the semi-darkness, and felt mortified on his sister’s behalf.