Chapter Fifty-Four

 

Aileen and Dermot sat on a bench in the park, facing the duck pond. It was cold, yet that was the last thing on her mind. She couldn’t imagine what must be going through Dermot’s head. He moved close and placed his arm around her shoulder.

‘Is this about your brother, Aileen? Is he… has something happened?’

She took an intake of breath. ‘This has nothing to do with Tom, Dermot.’ She looked down. ‘It’s difficult, I’ve been wanting to say something for weeks.’ She sniffed. ‘I’ve done something I’m not very proud of and I…’ She paused.

‘It can’t be that bad, Aileen?’ He frowned. ‘Is it?’

‘I went out with someone, for a meal, but it didn’t mean anything. We were just friends.’ She paused again when she saw the confused look on his face.

‘What! What are you saying? You mean when you were away?’ His arm fell away from her shoulder. ‘You’ve been out with another man, is that what you’re saying?’ He looked aghast.

Children ran past, bread for the ducks dangling from their small hands.

‘Dermot, don’t look at me like that.’

‘You’ve met someone else? Is that what you’re trying to say?’

She swallowed. ‘No, no, of course not.’ She glanced down to hide her tears. ‘Please, let me explain?’

He shook his head. ‘I knew there was something. When you came home at Christmas, you were distant. We hardly spent any time together. Is that… is that why you went back, to be with him?’

‘Oh, no, no. Not at all.’ She looked away from his shocked expression. His eyes sought answers, yet he wasn’t prepared to listen to her.

‘As I recall, you couldn’t wait to get back.’

She glanced up. ‘That’s not true. You need to hear me out, Dermot, please.’ But she could see he wasn’t listening. He had gone somewhere else in his head.

He leant forward and cupped his face in his hand, then abruptly got to his feet.

‘I’ll walk you back to the city. I need time to think.’

She remained sitting. ‘Please, Dermot. I need to tell you more.’ He threw her a furious glare. She’d never seen him like this; she felt tremulous. ‘Let me explain.’

‘Like I want to hear it.’

Aileen stared at him, then got up and walked alongside him in silence.

The celebrations were in full swing—marching bands and happy people decked in green while children sat high on shoulders squealing with delight as the last of the floats passed by.

Aileen couldn’t raise a smile in any direction, regretting every word that had brought them to this. A trust had been broken and she had no idea how to repair it. He walked with her as far as the shop, his expression one of contempt. Then, without a word, he turned round and stormed off, his hands deep in his pockets, leaving her bereft.

Aileen rushed upstairs to vent her frustration out on her pillow. Her da was outside tidying the yard. They were due at her aunt and uncle’s house at six, and she was only grateful that she hadn’t mentioned her engagement to anyone. Dermot had wanted to keep it a secret until the party. Now she had no inclination to go at all.

She had bought a new green and white check dress from Dunnes Stores for the occasion, but the incentive to have a bath and get ready had left her. She had always thought she could talk to Dermot about anything, but she hadn’t expected him to react the way he had. Now she wished she’d said nothing.

A solitary feeling gripped her. What if she lost him? She had come back to Dublin for her father’s sake, but Dermot had been a huge part of her plans, too. How could she make him understand that her life had little meaning without him? A birthday party was the last thing on her mind. What excuse would she give to the family if he didn’t turn up? And if he did, she would have to pretend for the whole evening that everything was all right between them.

When she heard her da come out of the bathroom, she knew she had little choice but to get up and make herself look presentable. After a bath, she felt better and decided that she had no choice but to face the consequences. She got dressed and piled her newly-washed hair on top of her head, sprayed it with lacquer, and placed a diamanté hair clip in the side. She painted her nails and applied the same red to her full lips.

Her da looked good in a new charcoal suit. ‘You look lovely,’ he said. ‘Your mother would have…’ He paused. ‘Well, we’d better be going. We don’t want to keep people waiting.’

She forced an involuntary smile and joined in light conversation with her da on the way, but her thoughts were with Dermot.

* * *

They arrived to the usual warm welcome from Bead and Paddy, who ushered them inside and took their coats. The front room was warm and cosy, and Aileen suppressed a sob when she saw all the baking her aunt had done. The table was groaning with delicious food. Bead had made neatly-cut sandwiches, apple pies, small cakes, and pastries. It looked perfect, with a birthday cake with cream icing sugar in the centre of a table.

‘It looks lovely, Aunt Bead. Thank you. But you shouldn’t have gone to such trouble.’

‘For our favourite girl.’ Paddy hugged and kissed the top of her head. ‘We’re so pleased to have you home, Aileen. We haven’t half missed you.’

‘Help yourselves to drinks,’ Bead said. ‘I’ve got in extra bottles of stout as it’s St Patrick’s Day and all.’ Paddy put a record on the radiogram and Bead slapped his wrist. ‘Oh, Paddy, what are you like? Aileen won’t want to listen to classical music on her birthday. Here, put this on. I got it especially for the party.’ She smiled. ‘It’s the new single by Nancy Sinatra, These Boots are Made for Walking. You can take it home with you.’

Aileen smiled her thanks, but inside she felt sick, wishing for Dermot to come through the door with that lovely smile of his and let her know that everything between them was all right.

‘Where’s Dermot?’ her da said, glancing towards the door.

‘He’ll be here soon.’ She looked at Bead, who was still putting out food. ‘Thanks for doing all this. It must have taken you ages.’

Bead beamed her a smile and then pointed towards the kitchen. ‘I’ve got chicken pieces in the oven.’

There were a few awkward moments where she struggled to remain positive, when after what seemed an age, the doorbell rang. Her heart did a somersault. She swallowed and quickly checked her make-up in the mirror over the fireplace. ‘I’ll get that.’ She hurried to the door and admitted Mr and Mrs Brogan. Dermot hung back, and Aileen wondered if he was going to refuse to come in.

‘I’ll just check I’ve locked the car.’ She waited for him to return while Bead welcomed the guests. He walked slowly, hesitating on the doorstep.

‘Come in, Dermot, please.’ She touched his hand, but he didn’t respond; he didn’t speak. Aileen felt as if a knife had pierced her heart. Dermot walked past her into the room and apologized for coming late.

The evening was torture, and at times, she wanted to make an excuse to leave. Most of the time, he sat in a corner of the room, his face in shadow. It wasn’t until towards the end of the evening that an opportunity arose for them to be alone. Dermot nudged her and, making her excuses, she followed him out to the hall. Her head ached with tension, and she was glad to leave the room.

She sat on the stairs next to him. She felt fearful, her nerves shattered, her hands folded in her lap. She longed for his touch, but he made no attempt to sit close to her and kept his eyes downcast.

‘Dermot, please speak to me. Say something?’

‘I came out here to save the embarrassment of pretence between us.’ He lifted his gaze. ‘Under the circumstances, I can’t put an engagement ring on your finger, in spite of how I feel and as beautiful as you look.’ His eyes misted, and Aileen felt a sob choke the back of her throat.

She moved in close. ‘But we can still be civil, can’t we?’

Someone passed through to the kitchen, and Dermot stood up. She thought he was going to leave, and her heart raced. He shuffled his feet. ‘It’s cut me up something awful to think of you seeing another man.’

‘But, I’m not. I wasn’t. Not in that way, Dermot.’

He put his hand up for her to stop. ‘I don’t know if I can forgive you.’

She stared at him, a host of thoughts flashing through her mind. She got to her feet and placed her hand on her forehead. ‘I don’t need your forgiveness, Dermot, because I’ve done nothing wrong.’

He glared at her. ‘I can’t do this, Aileen.’

‘Me neither, and I can’t go back in there now.’ She swallowed. ‘Can you at least drive me home? They’ll understand, and think we’ve gone off somewhere to be alone.’ Her heart heavy with disappointment, she choked back tears. ‘When you come back for your parents, you can say I had a headache?’