'Weren't you happy in your marriage, then?' asked Iris, not in the least put off by Jean's tone.

'It wasn't that,' said Jean, pulling herself up in her seat. 'I was happy in my marriage. I just wasn't happy in myself. Maybe if I met Mike for the first time now, or in a year's time, I'd fall in love with him and we'd get married and it would last for ever. But that's not going to happen. I'm a different person, and mainly he's a different person. It's much more a case of he shouldn't have married me than I shouldn't have married him. I should have married some guy who was already married to his job and played golf and did scuba-diving and went on business trips and did every f.u.c.king thing he could to get away from me. That would have been perfect. Or I should never have married at all. But Mike really wanted a marriage. He wanted it to be like it should be. He wanted sharing and equality and romance and evenings in by the fire and evenings out in nice restaurants, and I just wanted, I just wanted... to... behave as if I wasn't married. I don't mean I wanted to go off with loads of men and I never cheated on Mike and I never cheated on Mike I wanted to be like the aborted student I was when I met him. If I'd never met him I would have messed around for years and maybe have met someone, maybe not. But even an eejit like me can recognize one of the good ones when you meet him. I don't know what the f.u.c.k he saw in me. I suppose there must have been something, but whatever it was it didn't last. He desperately tried to hide it, but he fell out of love with me... I don't know when exactly... but there was a long time when he was faking it.' I wanted to be like the aborted student I was when I met him. If I'd never met him I would have messed around for years and maybe have met someone, maybe not. But even an eejit like me can recognize one of the good ones when you meet him. I don't know what the f.u.c.k he saw in me. I suppose there must have been something, but whatever it was it didn't last. He desperately tried to hide it, but he fell out of love with me... I don't know when exactly... but there was a long time when he was faking it.'

'Do you resent him for that?' asked Iris.

'No. He faked it because he thought that was what I wanted. And it was. For a long time. And he would have continued to pretend, very expertly, that he still loved me for as long as I appeared to want him to. And I love him for that.'

n.o.body had expected so much talk out of Jean and now that she was done she sank back in her seat and appeared to fall asleep. Iris remained composed, as if it was normal for her to provoke such outbursts.

Only Lucy seemed somewhat uncomfortable. She turned to Marion rather urgently. 'But you have a great marriage, don't you, Marion, and it isn't like any of Jean's stupid categories.'

'Yes,' said Marion, 'but we work at it. We're lucky that we suit each other, but we still have to make allowances for our individuality.'

'But ye really, really love each other?'

'Yes, we do. And that probably is the bottom line. As long as you're not leading some insane lifestyle, you can get over most things if you truly love each other. Don't blame Jean she's right about one thing. She shouldn't have got married. She never liked sharing anything not her toys, not her room, not her sweets, not to mind her life. She's better at it now, but that's only because she's lived with such a selfless man for so long. Don't be worried. For ever can work.'

'I'm not worried. We're very stable.'

Iris, not disturbed by this either, took Lucy's hand in both of hers and squeezed gently. 'And, besides, we can't get married. Thank G.o.d. I'd never want to go through that rigmarole. If you love each other, you stay together. It's as simple as that.' Then she turned to me. 'You're getting married soon, I believe?'

'Yes,' I said, 'probably next summer. We're in the process of deciding on a date.'

'Are you excited?'

'I suppose I am,' I said, although it was an unusual question, 'but we got engaged ages ago and that's where the real excitement was. I'm sure it'll all heat up again once we're booking things.'

Suddenly it felt odd to be sitting with my sisters and one sister's girlfriend, talking about marriage. It surprised me to hear Jean talking about her marriage to Mike almost as if she hadn't been involved. I liked his idea of a marriage, though it was hopefully what I would have with Keith. Evenings in by the fire and evenings out in nice restaurants... I could see how it would go. And then I saw something else, something I really couldn't ignore any more...

Then there were some less pleasant things to think about. Like the rather uncomfortable trip with Keith to his family wedding. And the silly row we had about the roles of bridesmaids and best men. And then there was my last day at work, which had turned out to be one of my best days at work but it was followed by the realization that I was now unemployed and had no income and that I was going to be a student again, which I hadn't enjoyed very much the first time round. I still knew I was doing the right thing but I needed someone to remind me of it constantly or I'd fall into a deep afraid-of-change depression.

Oh, yes. There was also the fact that Keith had dumped me. I needed to think about that, too.

14.

Keith kept staring at the hat box and insisting it wouldn't fit in the car.

'Of course it will,' I said. 'It's just a little hat box.'

In fact it was a very large hat box, outsize almost, but there was still no reason why it wouldn't fit somewhere in his generously proportioned Ford Mondeo.

'Can't you take the hat out and leave the box behind?'

'No way! It would get crumpled it would get completely wrecked. And it's not even my hat, it's only hired.'

'You've hired a hat?'

'It's what everybody does for weddings. Hats are far too expensive for just one wear.'

I was getting quite annoyed with him; I had made a real effort with my outfit. I wanted his family to look at me and think, Wow! Keith's done well for himself. And it was was fabulous a long purple dress that hugged the body with a long deeper purple coat in the same fabric to drape over it. I had decided on the big hat, even though hats were on the wane. But that was merely fashion. I've always loved hats and there's nothing like a great big hat to make a great big statement. So I chose a large wide-brimmed one that picked up the colours of the dress and the coat and sent out an air of elegant mystique with every feather that dived from its crown. It was a f.u.c.king great hat and Keith was dismissing it as if it wasn't important. I wasn't having it. fabulous a long purple dress that hugged the body with a long deeper purple coat in the same fabric to drape over it. I had decided on the big hat, even though hats were on the wane. But that was merely fashion. I've always loved hats and there's nothing like a great big hat to make a great big statement. So I chose a large wide-brimmed one that picked up the colours of the dress and the coat and sent out an air of elegant mystique with every feather that dived from its crown. It was a f.u.c.king great hat and Keith was dismissing it as if it wasn't important. I wasn't having it.

'Look,' I said, 'it can go in the boot. You won't even have to look at it.'

He sighed loudly. 'There'll be n.o.body else wearing a hat.'

'I don't care!'

'I'm only trying to help.'

'Well, you're not. Look, I'm going for a walk. I'll see you in a while.'

'Good! You could do with cooling off.'

'Would you like me to tell you what you could do with?' I stormed off.

This whole family-wedding business was a strain. I thought Keith wanted me to make a fuss of his family after all, he had been exposed to so much of mine, and I was curious about his. But as it drew closer he seemed less and less keen on the whole thing. If it weren't for the fact that his mother could talk about nothing else every time he saw her or spoke to her on the phone, he would probably have cried off. They had wanted us all to travel together but Keith was adamant that that wasn't a good idea. He was torn between saving his father the drive and saving me the over-exposure (so he claimed). I tried to tell him I didn't mind, but he wouldn't listen. Eventually his brother agreed to drive their parents. I thought that would put him at ease but he still seemed bothered about something. I was weary of trying to work out what it was.

I headed in the direction of O'Connell Street; something was drawing me once more to the front steps of O'Sullivan and Woulfe. It was right to move on, but I couldn't deny what a large part the firm had played in my life. Mostly it was a lesson in denial and how to deal with a mild-to-middling case of self-inflicted misery but there had been the odd good time. At least, that was how I was choosing to remember it.

They had given me a b.l.o.o.d.y good send-off. At three o'clock on my last day (the hour when I habitually shut down mentally) my boss came into the office area and announced to everybody that in honour of my leaving we were going to have a party. Then he rolled in the drinks trolley several bottles of moderately good wine and a truckload of beer, followed not too much later by the food trolley with drumsticks, c.o.c.ktail sausages and sandwiches. He wasn't being mean, just lacked imagination. Once we'd all had enough to loosen us up he made a speech about the bravery in trying new things and the excitement of taking on a new challenge. For a moment he sounded almost wistful and his gaze was fixed on something indefinable at the end of the room. He quickly sobered up he probably made a mental tot of his salary and decided things weren't so bad after all. However, I believe his sentiments were genuine, and when he held my hand and kissed me, then presented me with a substantial Brown Thomas voucher, a lot of warmth emanated from him. If I had met him in any other circ.u.mstances I'd probably have liked him.

He set the tone for everybody else; even people I knew had never liked me were full of good wishes and sadness that I was leaving. I wondered if I'd underestimated them, but when I saw them eyeing up my desk (and its prime location by a window and and a radiator) I decided to let my original judgement lie. They weren't bad people; they just weren't my sort of people. Whatever my sort was. a radiator) I decided to let my original judgement lie. They weren't bad people; they just weren't my sort of people. Whatever my sort was.

Of course, I'd had one or two allies Denise was always good for a laugh even though she got on my nerves most of the time, and there was an older woman who proffered advice when it was most needed but the truth was that I wouldn't be seeing any of them again. It was a sad thought that such a huge part of my life would close so finally, but I was moving on.

Facing the closed doors of the building now (it was Sat.u.r.day), I sighed and continued walking. The only place to go was to the shops, and for once I wasn't in the mood for that. I was in the mood to get the car packed and moving. Pa.s.sing a flower shop I decided to buy Keith a b.u.t.ton-hole; it had struck me as the sort of thing he would appreciate. The florist was all chat about weddings and where the one I was going to would take place. She made a lovely b.u.t.tonhole and charged me very little. 'Enjoy your day,' she called, as I went out of the door.

By the time I got back to the car, parked on the street outside my building, Keith had it piled with our luggage, including my enormous hat placed carefully on the back seat. Before I had a chance to say anything, he apologized. 'I'm sorry,' he said. 'It was my fault. I was being a b.o.l.l.o.c.ks. Your hat's lovely.'

'Great,' I said. 'Just wait till you see it when I'm wearing my new outfit. Or, better still, wait till you see it when I'm wearing nothing at all...'

Somehow the image of me naked except for my hat didn't have the desired effect.

'Come on, let's get going,' he said. 'We have to drive some of the worst roads in the country and it's in the middle of b.l.o.o.d.y nowhere.' His relations lived in the heart of rural Clare.

'OK,' I said. 'Just don't drive too fast. My hair's in a state of ruffled perfection and I don't want to ruin it.'

'Get in,' he said. 'Isn't the b.l.o.o.d.y hat going to cover your hair anyway?'

I couldn't argue with that.

The drive was probably the most pleasant part of the trip. He seemed a bit more relaxed, the weather was good, the roads were surprisingly quiet and Steely Dan were excellent company. I sat back and allowed my mind to wander but not too far. I had decided recently that it was possible to spend too much of your life daydreaming. If you want to make a success of your present and have a hope of a future, you have to live fully in your present. Keith was my present and he was going to be my future. He was real and solid and wonderful, and it was about time I appreciated that. I wanted to talk to him about college, but he never seemed keen to sit down and hammer it out with me. I was excited about all that was to come but also quite apprehensive and I needed to feel he would be there to guide me through it. He had a.s.sured me that work would quieten down soon and that we might take a holiday, even go back to Los Almiras where everything had seemed so simple. But weren't patience and understanding part of a grown-up relationship? If he was going through a rough time I should support him by not making demands on him, by thinking of him and not myself for once. Then he would do the same for me. I hoped he'd get sorted out before I went headlong into something I knew would freak me out, even if it was in a good way.

I worried about what happened to couples when both parties were needy at the same time. In my innocence, I had always presumed it was only the woman who needed looking after because that had been my experience, but now I had discovered that men needed just as much care. They might be a lot less obvious about it but they could have their mini-crises, just as we did. Keith wasn't throwing any wobblies at me, but it was clear that he needed something from me and mainly for me to give him s.p.a.ce.

The family's plan was to call first at the homestead to see everybody before the wedding, then continue to the hotel to change for the church. I thought it was a crazy idea, involving loads of extra driving, and an invasion of a bride who would probably prefer to get ready in peace. But apparently it was a tradition among them to do this house-visit thing. And it wasn't even as if champagne and whiskey would be flowing: most of the family were teetotal. Keith explained that it was a way for the family to be private together before the wedding was opened up to the public. Which might have been all very well if they were celebrities, I thought, but didn't say. If that was what we were doing, it was what we were doing.

His parents were there before us, his father talking quietly to the bride's father in the kitchen, his mother flapping about with a pot of tea. There were people everywhere, mostly just sitting around as if they were waiting for somebody to call them for dinner. They looked hungry too, which reminded me that I'd only had a slice of toast all day. I wondered if it would be possible to get a bite somewhere before the whole thing kicked off.

The bride was still in her dressing-gown, curled up on an armchair in the living room, smoking. Only the pile of curls on her head gave any indication that she was, indeed, the bride. I had never seen one so relaxed.

Jean had been the worst: up at six that morning, pacing the house, banging doors, having sneaky cigarettes behind the trees at the foot of the garden. I don't think she was nervous, at least I didn't think so at the time, it was more that she'd thought that was the way a bride should behave on the morning of her wedding, or that because this was the morning of her wedding she could get away with behaving like that. Everyone wanted to tell her to calm down and cop on but you can't do that to a bride just hours before she gets married. She kept it up at the hairdresser's and the beautician's, to such an extent that the stylists were on the verge of taking her aside and telling her it was OK, she didn't have to go through with it if she didn't want to.

It was only when she arrived at the church and saw Mike waiting at the altar that she calmed down. I remember it distinctly: Marion (her only bridesmaid), the flower-girl (a neighbour's daughter) and I were lined up at the back of the church. I shouldn't have been there but n.o.body had told me not to be, so I stayed. I believed I'd been forgotten. She almost charged into the church, leaving Dad behind and kept going until she had Mike in her sights. She even waited for him to turn round, to be sure it was him. Then she smiled, went back to take Dad's arm and said we'd better get things moving, she was late enough already. I ran up to join the family (and be scolded by Mum) and winked at Mike to let him know she had arrived. He winked back, and then the music started. She was fine for the rest of the day no more skittishness, no tears. She didn't even get drunk. She just seemed relieved.

I decided to take a wander outside. The house was the result of several generations of unplanned and badly executed additions and alterations. The original one-storey cottage had been obliterated. It wasn't going to win any prizes in House & Garden House & Garden but the overall feel of the place was warm and welcoming. The yard was still in evidence and several of the outhouses, but none of it was in use now as the land had been leased to a neighbour. The parents were too old to farm it and none of the children had any interest. They had gone off to college, to jobs in cities, and to houses with three bathrooms on suburban estates. It was sad to think that not only the farm but almost the entire way of life had become redundant. but the overall feel of the place was warm and welcoming. The yard was still in evidence and several of the outhouses, but none of it was in use now as the land had been leased to a neighbour. The parents were too old to farm it and none of the children had any interest. They had gone off to college, to jobs in cities, and to houses with three bathrooms on suburban estates. It was sad to think that not only the farm but almost the entire way of life had become redundant.

As I continued to amble round what remained of a couple of hundred years of one family's existence, it occurred to me that Keith would probably have taken to the farming life. Not that he had ever expressed a desire for it, but I could see him getting satisfaction out of a day spent on the land, bending it gently to his will. He would have cared about his animals but without being sentimental; he would have worked hard but enjoyed every moment. And he would have loved to pa.s.s it on to the sons he would have by the willing wife at his side. I stopped myself. I had sworn off idle daydreams, even if they were somebody else's.

Keith was right about there being nothing here. We had only pa.s.sed two other houses for about ten miles before we'd reached his relatives' place and it didn't look like the land could support many more. It had a kind of eerie beauty, though; it wasn't exactly moorland but there were pinks and purples reminiscent of the Burren. I could almost imagine Heathcliff and Cathy scaling the landscape. But that was just it: it was romantic as I looked at it now in the height of summer, but it would be a different story in the middle of winter when somebody needed a doctor, or a bag of chips. I didn't need to muse on it any longer. I was a city girl through and through there was no question about that. It was still nice, though, to be able to appreciate an alternative.

The only thing marring my appreciation of the scene was my growing awareness of my empty stomach. I couldn't ignore it any longer. I needed to eat. I decided to go back to the house and find something to keep me going. Surely all country houses were full of food you wouldn't be able to turn round for legs of lamb and chickens and sides of bacon.

As soon as I stepped over the threshold, I was accosted by a bridesmaid who led me into the kitchen where the table was laden with sandwiches and sponge cake. I filled a plate with beef and ham sandwiches. On my way to a corner seat by the door I was met by Keith's mum, who poured me a mug of tea and told me to come on into the living room. 'Keith's been looking for you everywhere, bless him. I think he thought you'd got swallowed up by the family. He's over there by the window. Here, I'll give you some tea for him.'

I barely made it across the room, what with all the tea and sandwiches, and when I got there Keith was scowling.

'Where were you?' he snapped.

I was startled part of me was still scampering through the furze with Cathy Earnshaw. 'I went for a walk,' I said. 'You disappeared the minute we got here. What's the problem?'

'It's time to be heading.'

'Well, I'll just eat this and we'll go,' I said, handing him his tea.

'Never mind that, we can eat later. Let's go now.'

'Keith, I'm starving it'll only take a minute. And I really need a cup of tea. Those kind of roads always give me a headache. You chat to your family.'

'I already have.'

He was talking in that kind of furious whisper where every word is almost spat out, over-enunciated to make up for the lack of volume. I didn't know what his problem was.

'I'll just go over there,' I said, 'say h.e.l.lo to your dad and finish my sandwich. Then we'll go. There's no hurry. The bride still doesn't have her makeup on.' I was smiling at him and tugging at his shirt with my only available finger.

'OK,' he said, softening, 'but be quick. We have the rest of the day to spend with these people.'

I slithered off across the room and had a nice chat with his dad. Keith looked on while he talked to one of his great-aunts about the demise of b.u.t.ter churns.

It was while we were on the road to the hotel that we had the silly argument about bridesmaids and best men. I made a casual remark that the ritual was rather silly, that it was demeaning for a girl's sisters or friends to have to be got up in an inferior dress and pretend to fuss over the bride. 'As for the best man,' I said, 'it's just an excuse for him to play the big man with all his speeches, and parade around like he's running the show.'

Keith wasn't sure whether or not to respond. Maybe I was having him on, or being flippant, or maybe I had no appreciation of the rites and rituals of marriage. He decided it was the latter and launched into a lecture on the importance of the bride and groom's lackeys. I don't know why I had merely made an idle comment, I didn't care one way or the other but I continued to argue, so much so that by the time we arrived at the hotel, his blood was boiling and I was fed up. We checked in in silence, and when we got upstairs Keith went into the bathroom and locked the door. I had thought that was my prerogative, but as he had taken it, I decided to change and reapply my makeup. Then I went down to the bar.

I knew things weren't going well but I was past caring. If he insisted on being a pain in the a.s.s, there was nothing I could do except wait for him to cool off. I hadn't had a drink in ages, nearly a week, so I felt I deserved the large gin and tonic poured by the friendly barman in the poky little bar at the charming country hotel. I stayed there in the hope that soon Keith would come looking for me to apologize. I even thought it might be the perfect excuse to make it up under the covers. We hadn't had s.e.x in ages either.

But none of that happened.

When Keith did appear in the bar he looked ha.s.sled; another scowl had formed across his face, his tie was crooked and even his suit jacket seemed not to sit right on his shoulders.

'OK,' he said, with absolutely no humour. 'Are we going to this wedding or what?'

'Of course we are,' I said, not at all sure how to take him.

'Right, then. Let's go.'

'I want to finish my drink first. Why don't you have one too?'

'Look! We either go now, or I'm driving back to Limerick.'

'All right, all right, we'll go.'

'Fine.'

'Keith, I'm sorry about the whole bridesmaid thing. I didn't mean anything by it. Of course they're important.'

'Kate, it doesn't matter.'

We got into the car and drove the rest of the way in silence.

So, it was under the cloud of this inane disagreement that we watched his cousin marry her boyfriend of several years. It was a lovely ceremony but I couldn't enjoy it. Not only because I was worrying that there was more going on between us than contrariness, but also because I believed that at this stage of my life I was pathologically unable to enjoy any wedding. I had simply seen too many. And they were all the same, no matter what flowers or folderols people used to make themselves stand out. The whole thing was mind-numbingly conventional, to be appreciated only by the couple involved and their immediate family. Why anybody thought it was a great day out was beyond me. Bring it all on at the reception, by all means, but making people sit through this pantomime of love and religion was too much.

I wished I wasn't so cynical. I wished I could appreciate it, that I could be carried away by the emotion. I wished I was fourteen again, watching Jean and Mike make their vows. I hoped it would be different when it was my turn. I kept my eyes fixed on the couple as they said they would love and honour each other for the rest of their lives. But I was experiencing more of that feeling I'd had in the bridal shop, that I was a fake. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't visualize myself at the altar of our local church where I had been christened, where I had made my first Holy Communion, where I had been confirmed, and hear myself say those words. Perhaps that was because I wanted to get married on a Caribbean beach... or perhaps it was something else. I reached for Keith's hand and held it tightly. He didn't resist. For the first time in years, I closed my eyes and said a prayer: Please, G.o.d, let it be OK.

At least we were of one mind when we got out of the church. We needed a drink. The hotel bar was busy but the only alternative was a pub that liked to flaunt the smoking ban in broad daylight and didn't welcome visitors. We settled into a corner and into two big drinks. I hoped Keith had the same idea as me: if there was something we needed to talk about we didn't need to talk about it here in front of his family. We could get politely drunk, enjoy the day as much as possible, then deal with whatever it was when we got home tomorrow. I was already exhausted.

So, we had our drinks, we sat through the meal, we chatted to his parents. We made a good show of being a happy couple. There was enough noise to fill the gaps. But I began to wonder when things had changed. When had Keith's job taken over his life? When had I ceased to be the centre of his universe? I wasn't cut out for answering the hard questions.

His mother was in great form and seemed to view the wedding as a kind of dress rehearsal for ours. She examined every detail and decided what was to be kept and what should be changed. 'I wouldn't dream of interfering, Kate, but I can't help noticing these things,' she said. 'They've spent far too much on the things that don't matter. The flowers, for example, there were far too many. n.o.body needs that many flowers in a church and then you have to leave them behind you afterwards. It was far too extravagant. And all these bits of nonsense on the table.' She leaned over to show me the ribboned boxes that contained more ribboned boxes. 'This sort of thing is really unnecessary. I don't mean to be telling you what to do, Kate, I know you have great taste anyone can see that. Your outfit is only gorgeous. And that hat but sure only you could wear it. I hate to see young people spending money where they don't need to. You have enough expenses.'

I a.s.sured her that I was into neither excessive flowers nor bits of nonsense for the table.

'And did you see all the bridesmaids she had? Those dresses must have cost a fortune and they'll never be worn again. Never. In my day, if you were lucky enough to be a bridesmaid, you'd get a simple dress you could wear to dances for years. We even wore our wedding dresses to dances. Now they pay out thousands and nothing is ever worn again.'

I didn't want to get into any kind of discussion on bridesmaids, so I just agreed.

'But it's a lovely wedding,' she said. 'Are you enjoying yourself?'

I a.s.sured her that I was.

Keith and I had never danced together, we had never had the opportunity, and I had thought we might step out at this wedding. 'I don't dance,' he said flatly. 'You know I don't.'

So I danced with his father, his uncles and one of his cousins. There's something monstrously uns.e.xy about trundling round a crowded dance-floor with men you don't know and who don't know how to hold you. I was happy to dance with his dad, but by the third uncle it was getting harder and harder to fake a waltz. It was almost a relief when they decided to wheel out the Walls of Limerick and the Siege of Ennis. Again, I would have liked to enjoy it, to throw myself into it like the other girls, but I wasn't programmed for the West Clare Fling. I had thought this was exactly the sort of thing to get Keith going, but he remained seated. Nothing, it seemed, would rouse him tonight.