Saturday

Hello?”

“It’s Irene Dillon,” she said. “Please don’t hang up.” She’d found Pilar’s number in Martin’s phone. She’d known it would still be there, and it was.

Silence.

“I’m calling to apologize,” Irene said. “I realize I was difficult to work for.”

Another brief silence before Pilar said, “Is okay, Mrs. Dillon.” Another pause, and then: “How is Emily?”

“She misses you, a lot,” Irene said. “In fact—” she closed her eyes “—we’re wondering if you’d like to come back. For Emily.”

She waited for Pilar to say that she’d gotten another job, or to make up some other excuse—moving back to Lithuania, whatever. Or maybe just to tell Irene to go to hell, or words to that effect. A grey-and-white cat emerged from the hedge that separated them from the neighbors and padded across Irene’s lawn, stopping to sniff at something in the grass.

“Mrs. Dillon,” Pilar said, “Emily is beautiful girl, and I miss her too. But I think I cannot work for you. I think it is too difficult for me to make you happy. I am sorry.”

As Irene watched, the cat sat on the lawn and raised a hind paw to scratch under its chin.

“Pilar,” she said clearly, “just give me a minute. Let me explain.”

—————

“Dad,” she said quietly.

Michael turned. They were in the church grounds, waiting for Kevin’s coffin to be brought out. People were scattered in small huddles, talking quietly. Michael had seen his daughter earlier in the church and avoided her, thinking he wouldn’t be welcome if he approached.

“Hello,” he said. “How are you?”

She wore a purple coat he hadn’t seen before, and a green scarf splashed with purple daubs. Her hair was caught up at the back of her head. Her face pale, the tip of her nose pink, a slick of something shiny on her mouth. Beautiful, she’d always been so beautiful. The sight of her made him want to weep with love.

“Dad,” she repeated, “I’ve been horrible to you.”

Michael made a small dismissive gesture.

“No, I have,” she said. “I’ve been horrible.” Her eyes welled up, and she blinked rapidly. “I know you did the best for us, I know it wasn’t easy…with Ethan, I mean.” She bit her lip as she waved a hand vaguely towards the church. “This has made me realize how stupid, how petty I’ve been…I wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t want to have anything to do with me again.”

Michael smiled. “Well,” he said, “I’m afraid that’s never going to happen.”

She gave a sound that was halfway between a sob and a laugh. “I was hoping you’d say that.” Thumbing tears from under both her eyes, blinking again. “Dad, I’d like…can I come and meet them?”

Michael felt something lift away from him, something he hadn’t even known had been weighing him down. “Of course you can, anytime you want. When were you thinking?”

“Maybe tomorrow,” she said. “I’m working later today, but I’m off tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow’s fine,” he told her. “What time would suit you?”

“Maybe around five?”

“Five would be perfect. You could stay to dinner if you liked.”

Over Val’s shoulder he saw the woman who’d bought the little dog. Audrey. He didn’t have to think for her name, it just slid into his head. He lifted a hand and she smiled at him, a watery version of her usual smile. She wore a pink jacket and a red-and-blue flowery skirt. She looked summery, at the end of October. She probably looked summery all year. She probably didn’t own any black clothes.

Val followed his gaze. “You know Audrey?” she asked.

“I do,” he said. “She bought a dog from me.”

“You know she’s Pauline’s next-door neighbor?”

“I do.”

“Small world,” Val said. “She seems lovely.”

There was a stir at the church doorway then and they turned to watch Kevin being brought out. When the hearse began to drive away, Michael looked back at his daughter.

“Are you walking to the cemetery?”

She nodded and they fell into step with the rest of the crowd, and after a while she tucked her arm into his and he covered her hand with his, and in this way they traveled the short distance to Carrickbawn cemetery.

—————

There was nothing on television until the late movie, and that was still hours away. Audrey stopped flicking through the channels and turned to the newspaper she’d bought on her way home from the funeral. It had sat untouched all afternoon while she’d mopped floors and scrubbed sinks and pushed the Hoover under beds, trying to shake off the gloom that had settled around her. She hadn’t even lit the sitting room fire, so busy she’d kept herself, and now it hardly seemed worth the effort.

She leafed dispiritedly through the newspaper but nothing lifted her spirits. The letters page full of complaints, the usual spate of road accidents, the ongoing unresolved conflicts around the world, the never-ending political scandals. Really, why did anyone want the news?

She turned to the crossword and found a pen in her bag. Maybe it would distract her for half an hour. The first clue was brief recap of material. As she thought about it her mobile phone beeped. She took it off the coffee table and read Audrey, I will come to your party—Zarek.

I will come to your party. She looked blankly at the screen.

Party?

And abruptly, she remembered.

“Oh my God!” she cried, springing from the couch, causing Dolly, who’d been dozing beside her, to leap to the floor with a startled yelp. Audrey raced upstairs—“Oh God”—kicked off her slippers on the landing, dashed into her bedroom, and scrabbled under the bed for her shoes—“oh my God”—flew back across the landing and scrubbed at her teeth in the bathroom—“oh God”—ten past seven now, fifty minutes before they’d start arriving—​“oh God”—not a drop of alcohol in the house, not a scrap of party food, impossible, completely impossible to buy anything now, no time to queue in a supermarket, what in God’s name could she do?

She rushed downstairs again, almost tripping over Dolly, who galloped along beside her. She raced into the kitchen and began yanking open presses, riffling frantically through their contents. Spaghetti hoops, instant mash, steak and kidney pie, raisins, carrots, tomatoes—nothing, nothing she could possibly use. Could she phone everyone and cancel? No, she could not, at this late stage. But she had to serve something, you couldn’t have a party without food, she must have something to give them—

She opened the freezer and pulled out drawers—and discovered, to her enormous relief, a just-opened bag of oven chips and two pounds of sausages.

“Oh, thank God,” she muttered, scattering the chips onto a baking sheet, grabbing a scissors to cut the sausages in half. While the oven was heating she tore upstairs again and replaced the towel in the bathroom and changed her skirt and combed her hair and applied lipstick with a trembling hand.

Back downstairs she did what she could in the sitting room, put a match to the heap of kindling in the fireplace, added half a bucket of coal when the flames licked, plumped cushions, shoved magazines under the couch, bundled away her book and her reading glasses, shuffled the CDs into some sort of order, and raced back to the kitchen with two empty cups.

Twenty-five past seven. She slid the baking sheets of chips and sausages into the oven, corralled Dolly in the kitchen, grabbed her bag and moped keys, and left the house, pulling on her helmet.

The off-license was ten minutes away.

—————

Zarek hoped his text to Audrey hadn’t been too late. He’d meant to send it earlier, but the café had been busy and it had slipped his mind until he was leaving work.

His initial reaction when Audrey had invited him to her party was to decline. The prospect of an hour or two of struggling to understand his classmates’ conversations—not to mention forgoing his DVD night with Anton—didn’t tempt him. So he’d demurred, using work as his excuse, although he’d known quite well that he was off at seven that Saturday.

But as the week had worn on and he’d prepared to send his regrets to Audrey, he’d begun to feel slightly guilty. He liked his art teacher, and she’d made a kind gesture, and he was about to reject it with a lie. And however preferable a night in with Anton and a DVD might be, they would both still be there next Saturday. And surely he should experience one Irish party, at least. So in the end he’d decided to go along.

Twenty to eight. He should leave in the next few minutes if he wanted to arrive on time—because it would be impolite, surely, to turn up late. Audrey would no doubt have everything in place by now, was perhaps having a glass of wine as she waited for her guests to arrive. Zarek knotted his tie and polished his shoes, mildly curious, now that the time had come, about what the evening ahead would entail.

—————

Twenty to eight as she stood in line at the off-license, her heart in her mouth, her skin prickling with impatience. The wine hurriedly chosen, two red, two white—would four be enough? She had no idea, but it was all she could fit in the moped’s basket, along with the cartons of orange juice and bottles of sparkling water. The white wine wasn’t chilled, she’d have to put it in the freezer when she got home.

What if they all drank red, or white? What if her four bottles ran out after half an hour? Oh, what had possessed her to do this? But the guests would surely bring some wine with them, wouldn’t they? Didn’t everyone bring wine to a party?

“Next,” the man at the cash register said, and Audrey hoisted her basket onto the counter and resisted the impulse to check her watch again.

They’d be late, nobody ever arrived on time. She’d be fine. She took her change and grabbed her purchases and fled outside.

—————

Irene regarded her reflection in the full-length mirror. Pretty damn good for forty-two. She thought of the concentrated effort that had gone into ensuring that she still looked well in her forties. The punishing gym schedule, the constant calorie counting, the endless massages and facials.

She took her diamond earrings from their box and put them on. Might as well go the whole hog, even if it was only a glass of plonk at Audrey’s. She remembered when Martin had given her the earrings, a week after Emily had been born. Her reward for having his child.

She dabbed perfume on her wrists and slipped her feet into the waiting silver shoes and picked up Audrey’s gift bag. The thought of the party didn’t exactly fill her with excitement but it would pass the time, it would distract her, and she could knock back a few glasses of cheap wine and let on she was happy for an hour or so. And if the affair was truly dire, she could make up a headache and call a taxi and leave.

She walked out to the landing and stood outside Emily’s room and heard Martin singing softly, some silly song about a butterfly that Emily loved. “Flutter by, flutter by, butterfly,” he sang.

She stood there listening for several seconds. She let the thought of what she was planning to do float briefly into her head, and the wrench it brought caused her eyes to close.

“Again,” Emily said clearly from the bedroom.

“Okay, but this is definitely the last time.” The song floated out once more to the landing.

Irene went downstairs and let herself out, and made her way along the path to the waiting taxi.

—————

Jackie remained sitting at her dressing table when she heard the doorbell. Through the open bedroom door she heard her father letting James and Charlie in, and James introducing himself and his daughter, and her father’s call to Eoin. She waited until Eoin came out of the sitting room and then she left the room and walked downstairs.

At the sound of her approach her father and James looked up. She saw the way James took in the dress she was wearing. She thought of how he knew precisely what was underneath, how he studied it for two hours every Tuesday evening, and the thought sent a shockingly vivid thrill through her.

The children disappeared and her mother came out from the kitchen, and the four of them made small talk in the hall for a few minutes. She knew her parents were sizing up James, the only man who’d ever shown up at the house looking for their daughter. She knew they hoped he’d turn out to be more than just Charlie’s father.

“We’d better go,” she said as soon as she could. She didn’t want James realizing how interested her parents were in him. She went to the kitchen and took the wine she’d bought earlier from the fridge, and they said good-bye to her parents, and she thought again about having him all to herself in the time it would take them to cross the town to Audrey’s house.

—————

Zarek stood on the doorstep and checked the address he’d copied down from the blackboard in the life drawing classroom. The house number corresponded with the one that was stuck in brass to the yellow front door, and the street name had been displayed on the wall of the first house. So he was definitely at the right place—but where was Audrey? Had she said Friday, and not Saturday? No, he was positive Saturday had been mentioned.

He looked at his watch. Two minutes past eight o’clock. He put his ear to the door and pressed the bell a second time, and heard it ringing inside the house. He also heard a persistent yapping, and remembered Audrey mentioning a little dog.

When there was still no response he walked to the side of the house and regarded the little passageway that led to the back. Maybe something had happened to Audrey, maybe some mishap had befallen her. Maybe she was lying unconscious within the house. Should he walk around, see if a window was open anywhere?

As he stood there uncertainly he heard the buzz of an approaching motor, and a second later Audrey zoomed into view. He watched her pulling up at the curb, and almost toppling off the bike in her attempt to dismount. He sensed an urgency about her movements that brought him hurrying back down the garden path towards her.

“Zarek—I’m so sorry.” She yanked off her helmet and dumped it on the seat, and began pulling a canvas bag from the front basket. “I’m a little…disorganized, I’m afraid.”

Zarek reached for the bag. “Please, I take.” It was surprisingly heavy, and contained numerous bottles and cartons.

“Oh, thank you, dear.” She rushed ahead of him, keeping up a scattered commentary as she opened the front door and led him into the hall and through to the kitchen. “Oh, you brought wine, how thoughtful, please excuse the mess, I’m afraid I’ve been a little…oh sorry, don’t mind Dolly, she’s perfectly harmless, stop that, Dolly, go down…yes, yes, just over there, thank you so much…no, Dolly, bad dog, I’ll just put her outside in the—yes, if you could put the white into the freezer, I’m afraid they’re not very cold—”

She broke off abruptly, her face changing. “Oh!” she cried, just as Zarek became aware of a burning smell. They turned simultaneously towards the oven, and Audrey threw open the door. Waves of black smoke rolled out immediately. “Oh no—”

To Zarek’s dismay she burst into tears. “Oh, it’s all going wrong,” she wept, her hands pressed to her cheeks. “My neighbor, you see, he died on Tuesday, he was barely forty, such a lovely man, you have no idea”—lunging for a tea towel and swiping at the tears—“but of course it made me forget about this party, completely forget until I got your text, and then I had to dash out, and I put them into the oven much too soon, not thinking at all, and now everything’s ruined—”

She began flapping the tea towel at the smoke, which helped distribute it about the kitchen. Zarek grabbed a pair of oven gloves that hung beside the cooker and slid out the two baking sheets and brought them to the back door. They each held what looked to him like short, fat lengths of charcoal.

Audrey looked tearfully at the burned offerings as Zarek opened the door and laid the trays on the ground outside. “I had so little time, you see,” she sobbed, “it was such a rush—oh goodness, and everyone coming, such a disaster—” Dropping the tea towel and pulling tissues from a box on the worktop to dab frantically at her eyes.

“No, no,” Zarek said, propping the back door open with a chair, “is no disaster, don’t worry, Audrey.” He searched for words to reassure her, so woebegone she looked. “Important things for party is friends, and wine, and…perhaps little music, that is plenty.” He decided to assume that Audrey possessed some sort of sound system.

“But it’s a party,” she cried, “and all I have is, oh, I don’t know, maybe some popcorn, and that’s not going to be much help.”

“You have popcorn?” Zarek asked. “I make every Saturday in my apartment, I am popcorn king. Popcorn is perfect food for party. Where is popcorn?”

Audrey blew her nose, regarding him doubtfully. “You think that would do?” She reached into a press and drew out a box that contained bags of microwavable popcorn. “Oh, but it’s only—”

“Perfect,” Zarek repeated firmly, taking it from her and lifting out a bag. “Healthy food.” Which may have been pushing it a bit, but no matter. He put the bag into Audrey’s microwave and switched it on.

“See?” he said, smiling. Choosing to ignore the little dog, who seemed to be enjoying the charcoal. “Simple as pie.”

“Oh, and I think there are crackers,” Audrey said, sniffing as she opened another press, “and there’s cheese in that—”

The doorbell rang, causing her to start violently. “Oh Lord, someone else,” she wailed, practically throwing the box of crackers at him as she pulled out another tissue and dabbed at her eyes again, “and we’re still in such a mess, and I must look an absolute fright—”

Her face was certainly blotchy, the skin around her eyes puffy, the shiny pink lipstick he’d noticed earlier all but gone. Zarek saw no reason to point any of that out. He handed her a bottle of red wine and a carton of juice.

“You smile, you look beautiful,” he told her. “Now you go, say welcome, put music, give drinks, and do talking. Go now, and I make food. I am chef.”

And thankfully she went, leaving him to make the best of what he’d been given.

—————

In the end, five of the six guests showed up. Fiona, it would appear, hadn’t yet recovered. Audrey felt a twinge when she remembered that she’d intended calling her on Saturday morning, but if she’d felt able to come she would have rung, presumably, to get the address. Audrey would ring her in the morning, see how she was. Hopefully her husband was taking good care of her.

Remarkably, the guests who’d come seemed to be not unhappy with the proceedings. Could they possibly not have noticed how thrown-together the party was? They could hardly have missed the distinct smell of burning in the hall, but none of them had commented, bless them—and now, an hour into the affair, she’d caught nobody looking at a watch or stifling a yawn.

And poor Zarek had outdone himself on the food front, appearing within minutes with a mountain of popcorn, a platter of crackers topped with slices of cheese and cubes of pineapple, and Audrey’s fruit bowl filled with assorted chocolate bars. He’d found her supply in the jar, all by himself. It wasn’t a banquet, but when you considered that it had been conjured up out of practically nothing, it was perfectly acceptable.

Audrey circulated among the small assembly, offering more drinks. She needn’t have worried about running out of wine. Everyone had brought a bottle except for Irene, who’d brought two in a little wooden crate, and a box of Black Magic chocolates, which Audrey didn’t actually care for—she found dark chocolate too bitter—but of course it was the thought that counted. She’d pass them on to poor Pauline, who preferred dark chocolate.

The food disappeared, and nobody seemed to mind that they weren’t getting chicken kebabs or cheese balls or onion bhajis—​or indeed, fake cocktail sausages and chips. Audrey must remember to take in the baking sheets later, or Dolly, who must be still in the kitchen, might try to eat them and end up with a stomachache.

The fire flickered, casting a soft, warm glow in the room—​much better, after all, than the colored lightbulbs Audrey had originally been thinking of for her table lamps. The guests chatted, glasses were refilled, and the music was looked after by Jackie, who wore a really pretty, colorful dress.

Just after ten o’clock there was a general pulling on of jackets and collecting of bags that Audrey didn’t attempt to discourage, feeling a little drained from her earlier panicked preparations, followed by two hours of trying to be the perfect hostess. Kevin’s death was still much too raw for her to look happy without an enormous effort.

In the hall there was some discussion about where everyone lived before it was discovered that James, Jackie, and Irene were heading in one direction and Meg and Zarek in the other. Audrey stood on the doorstep and waved them off, thinking with longing of her bath, followed by an hour with her book in front of the fire in dressing gown and slippers.

All things considered though, despite the disastrous start, the evening could be said to have been, if not exactly the party of the year, then far from an abject failure.

—————

As soon as they left Audrey’s road Meg pushed a button and some female whose voice Zarek didn’t recognize began to sing, accompanied by a soft saxophone. “I’ve been waiting so long,” she sang, slow enough for Zarek to understand, “for you to notice me.”

Meg’s perfume reminded him of Turkish Delight. He sat tensely in the passenger seat, marveling at the mischance that had led to him being her only passenger. He’d assured her that walking was no problem for him, but she wouldn’t hear of it—“Not in the dark, on a Saturday night; you could meet anyone”—and to insist would, he felt, have seemed ungrateful for her offer, so now he was trapped.

“That was a lovely evening,” she said. “You were good to help with the food.”

“Food was easy,” he said, happy to talk about such an impartial subject. “Popcorn in microwave, not complicated. Also putting cheese on biscuit, and pin-apple.”

She laughed. “Pineapple.”

“Yes, thank you, pineapple. And the chocolate I find in a box.”

“Still though,” she went on, “I’m sure Audrey was delighted to have you.”

She wore a low-cut green dress that stopped at her knees, and gold sandals with lots of straps. Around her left wrist was a charm bracelet that jangled when she moved her arm.

“So,” she said, “how d’you like living in Ireland?”

“Is good,” he said, determined again to keep the conversation as unthreatening as possible. “I like it very much. Peoples are friendly, but my job not very interesting. In Poland I work with the computers.”

“Really?” Slowing as they approached a junction. “And what do you do here?”

“I work in chip shop,” he replied, hoping she wouldn’t ask its name. Carrickbawn had lots of fast-food cafés. “Polish food very different to Irish,” he added, attempting to steer things away from his job.

She waited for two cars to pass, and then she swung right. “And,” she said, “I’m sure you had no trouble finding a nice Irish girlfriend.” Turning to flash him a brief smile. “If I was single I’d be interested.” Laughing lightly as she took another turn. “Or even if I wasn’t.”

Zarek kept his gaze straight ahead and made no response. When the silence began to stretch, Meg said, “Sorry—I didn’t mean to embarrass you.”

“Meg,” he said. He paused, forming the words in his head before saying them. “There is something I must tell to you.”

She glanced at him again. “Zarek, don’t worry, I—”

“I am homosexual,” he said, loudly enough to make sure she heard over her own words, and the voice of the singer.

A beat passed.

“Oh,” Meg said. “Oh, I see. Well, that’s…”

She shifted gears as a roundabout came into view. She negotiated the roundabout.

“I am next left road,” Zarek said. “Maybe you remember?”

“Yes, sure.” She turned left.

“Just here is okay,” he said.

Meg pulled into the curb.

“Thank you,” he said, “for the drive.”

“You’re welcome.” She gave him a quick smile.

“See you on Tuesday,” he said, getting out. “Thank you,” he repeated, closing the door.

He stood on the path until her car had disappeared, feeling a wonderful release.

—————

“Well,” Jackie said brightly, “here we are.”

He’d been quiet on the way to the party, but she hadn’t minded. She’d prattled enough for both of them, knowing that she looked good, feeling happy to be in his presence. The party itself had been okay, although Audrey’s musical collection left a bit to be desired. And there’d been no dancing, much to her disappointment. She loved to dance.

But she’d done her best, she’d chatted with everyone. Even Irene, who’d been fairly knocking back the wine, and who as far as Jackie could see hadn’t eaten a single thing. Throughout the evening Jackie had been conscious all the time of James and where he was in the room, and had looked forward to being alone with him again at the end of the evening.

She’d been dismayed when she’d heard him offering Irene a lift home. Dismayed but not surprised, since Audrey, attempting to organize everyone’s journey, had made it practically impossible for him not to—“Oh, the three of you are going the same way; isn’t that convenient.”

And to make matters worse, Irene had gotten straight into the passenger seat. As if she had every right to sit there, as if Jackie were the child being driven home by her parents. How annoying. Jackie had sulked silently while Irene had flirted brazenly with James, commenting on his accent, asking him what he thought of the social scene in Carrickbawn, telling him he had to try her favorite Thai restaurant. Pathetic.

Thankfully, Irene had been dropped off first, at a grand-​looking redbrick house. Jackie had slipped into the front seat as soon as it had been vacated, resisting the impulse to wave Irene’s sickly perfume away.

For all the good sitting beside him had done her.

He’d responded to her questions and comments cordially enough, but there was a distance between them that Jackie hadn’t been expecting, and couldn’t bridge. He didn’t meet her eye, he made no attempt to move the conversation beyond her prattling small talk. He gave no indication that they were anything more than cordial acquaintances.

Before they reached her road, Jackie realized that she’d been foolish to suppose there was anything between them. Wishful thinking, that was all it had been, a product of her fertile imagination. And now they were here, and all she wanted to do was get out of his car.

“I’ll pick Charlie up at ten,” he was saying. “That’s not too early, is it?”

The engine still running, his fingers all but drumming on the steering wheel. Looking out the front windscreen, not even glancing her way. Another car whooshed by, some awful music booming out.

“Ten is fine.” Jackie felt for the door handle. “Well,” she said, “good night then. Thanks for the lift.”

“Good night,” he replied, turning to look at her finally, smiling now that she was getting out. Now that he was getting rid of her.

“See you in the morning,” he said.

“Sure.”

She took her key from her bag and let herself into the house as he drove off. She closed the door gently and leaned against it and listened. The television was still on in the sitting room, so at least one of her parents was still up. She took a deep breath and crossed the hall, and put her head in.

Her father half rose when the door opened, but she whispered, “No, stay there, I’m going straight up. I’ll see you in the morning.”

Without waiting for his response she closed the door and hurried up the stairs. Ten minutes later she was in bed, her makeup only half removed, her teeth carelessly brushed. She closed her eyes and waited for sleep, and refused to dwell on the fact that he wasn’t interested in her.

Not in the slightest.

—————

She was disappointed, anyone could see that. He’d probably ruined her night. He’d made a mess of it, trying to let her down gently and getting it all wrong instead.

He drove through the streets that were becoming increasingly familiar to him. His fault, all his fault, chatting to her at the art class breaks when he should have kept his distance, taking her up on the offer of babysitting arrangements for Charlie when he should have turned it down. Inviting her and her child to the cinema, when asking Eoin to join them hadn’t even occurred to Charlie.

Weak-willed, that’s what he was. Wanting what he had no right to look for, and now she was suffering for it. He’d skip the last art class, that would be best. No doubt Charlie would be looking to meet Eoin after school again, now that they’d started, but maybe it wouldn’t happen for a while.

He was so bad at this, so clueless. But he had to keep his distance, he couldn’t get involved with anyone. He turned into his road, dreading the empty house that was waiting for him, alone for a whole night with his miserable thoughts.

He let himself in and made straight for the press in the kitchen where he kept the whiskey bottle. A single glass of wine all evening surely entitled him to a nightcap now.