Nora called to see her mother every week. Age had not improved her mother's temper or attitude, but Nora was determined to remain calm. Years of practice had given her a skill at being passive. And it was easy to call in for an hour and listen to her mother's list of complaints if she could go back on the bus to good, kind Aidan, who was so different and saw nothing bad in the world. The day of her father's funeral was bleak and wet. Brenda and Patrick came but they decided against letting Aidan take part. He might be like a red rag to a bull. Some of her students from the Italian class came to the church, an odd little group which certainly helped to boost the numbers. "I'd ask you back, but I don't honestly think that my mother would be able to . . .". No, no, they insisted, they had just wanted to pay their respects. That was all. Nora's mother found fault with everything. The priest had been too young, too swift, too impersonal. People hadn't worn dark clothes. The hotel they had gone to for coffee, just the family, had been entirely unsuitable.
She brooked no conversation at all about Father. Did not care to hear that he had been a kind man and that it was good that he was at peace. Instead there was a litany of his mistakes which were apparently legion and the main one was his never having taken out a proper insurance policy.
"And now of course you'll all go off to your own homes and leave me alone for the rest of my days," she said.
Nora waited for the others to speak. One by one they did. They told Mother that she was in fine health, that a woman in her seventies was not old these days. They reminded her that her flat was very convenient for bus stops, shops and the church. They said that they would all come to see her regularly and now that there was no longer a matter of visiting Father, they would take her on different outings.
Their mother sighed as if this was not nearly enough. "You only come once a month," she said.
This was news to Nora. It had always been implied that the visits from her sisters and sisters-in-law were much more frequent. It meant then that she, with her weekly visit, was indeed the best of them all.
She noted it without allowing her face to change.
Rita and Helen were quick to explain. They were so busy and, honestly, others must remember how hard it was with families and running proper homes.
The implication was that Nora had all the time in the world and no responsibilities so should play nursemaid and be glad to do so. Nora, who worked harder than any of them, Nora, the only one of them without a car who did the awkward shopping, and visited four times as often as the others did, always bearing something she had cooked for her mother.
It "was grossly unfair of them to make her of all people feel guilty. And she had promised Brenda Brennan that she would never weaken. But Nora had also promised herself that she would be polite and courteous to the family, she would not return their hostile, bad-mannered attitude.
So she blinked at them all pleasantly as if she hadn't understood the direction of their conversation. She could see it driving them all insane. Still, what the hell, she was not going to lose her dignity on the day of her father's funeral. And after all, she had Aidan to go home to after all this. Aidan, who would make her strong tea, play some lovely arias in the background as they talked, and want to know every heartbeat of the day.
Then tomorrow she would meet Carissima Brenda and tell her the story again.
She looked at her sisters, brothers and their spouses. Not one of them had a fraction of the happiness she had.
This gave Nora great confidence and strength and made it easy to put up with their taunts and very obvious suggestions that she abandon everything and go and look after her mother full-time.
"I'll come round to see you tomorrow," Nora promised as she left. She kissed the cold parchment of her mother's cheek.
Did this woman miss the man they had buried today? Did she look back at times when there was passion and love? Maybe there had never been any passion and love.
She shuddered at the thought. She who had found it twice in one lifetime.
She saw Helen and Rita looking at her oddly. She knew that her sisters often talked about her with their sisters-in-law. It didn't matter very much.
"Will you be round at Mother's tomorrow also?" she asked them pleasantly.
Helen shrugged. "If you're going, Nora, there's not much point in us all crowding in," she said.
"And anyway I'll be there next week," Rita snapped.
But she could still hear them reassuring their mother, "Nora'll be in tomorrow."
"Aren't you going to be fine tomorrow, Nora will do any jobs for you."
"Nora has nothing to do, Mam, she'll do all the shopping for you when she comes to see you."
It would be like this always. But it didn't matter. None of the rest of them had known happiness like Nora had. It was only fair that she should give something back. "Did you end up paying for their coffee and sandwiches yesterday?" Brenda asked her friend Nora.
"Brenda, raw Carissima Brenda, don't you always have the hard word?" Nora laughed.
"That means you did," Brenda cried triumphantly. "Those four kept their hands in their pockets and you, who have no money at all, paid."
"Don't I have plenty of money thanks to good people like you?"
She went on washing and chopping vegetables in Quentins, where she was paid the hourly rate.
"Nora, will you stop and listen to what you're saying? We pay you a pittance here because you insist it will all mount up to take Aidan and yourself to Italy, and then those selfish pigs make you spend your few pounds on their bloody sandwiches. It makes my blood boil."
"Brenda Carissima ... you of all people must not boil. You know they call you the ice maiden, you know you must be cool and calm. To boil would be a great, great mistake."
Brenda laughed. "What am I to do with you? I can't make it up for you which might stop me boiling. You won't take what you call charity."
"Certainly not."
"Well, swear one thing. Now. Swear here and now that you won't listen when they tell you that she needs a full-time carer and that you are it."
"They won't!"
"Swear it, Nora."
I can't. I don't know the future."
"I know the future," said Brenda grimly. "And I'm very sad that you're not going to swear." It happened sooner than even Brenda could have believed. Only weeks after her father's funeral, Nora found herself being told that her mother had failed terribly.
They didn't get in touch with her at home because the little flat she shared with Aidan Dunne was still out-of-bounds territory for her brothers and sisters. Some of the letters were sent to Mountainview School, some care of her mother. Helen directed hers through Quentins Restaurant, which was why Brenda became suspicious.
"Tell me, I demand to know what are they asking you to do now," she begged.
"You are really a very difficult friend, Carissima," Nora laughed as she polished the silver, another little restaurant job she had managed to wangle to help top up the Italy fund.
"No, I'm so helpful and so good for you. Just tell me what they want."
"Mother is walking around in the night. It came on her suddenly. She can't bear being on her own, apparently."
"Your father was in hospital for over three years, she had some time to get used to it."
"She's old and frail, Carissima."
"She's seventy-five and as fit as a flea."
They looked at each other angrily.
"Are we having a fight?" Nora asked.
"No, we couldn't have a fight, you and I. You know all my secrets, where all the bodies are buried," Brenda said ruefully. "But believe me, I tried to persuade you not to run after Mario, and as it turned out I was wrong. You had the life you wanted. However, I'm not wrong this time and that kind of pressure was nothing to what I'm going to put on you now. Before I have to shake it out of you, what have they asked?"