Hilary bit her lip and thought about it over and over again as Kiki gave her a strenuous shampoo. She didn't care what what the so-called experts said. Her mother, Jessica, was not going to go into a home for the bewildered. She would the so-called experts said. Her mother, Jessica, was not going to go into a home for the bewildered. She would not put not put her mother away. her mother away.

Hilary was an only child, with parents who had been absolutely devoted to her. Her father was a very handsome man who sold cars in a showroom. He loved cars. Hilary remembered how he had stroked them and almost purred at them. He would promise that one day he would save enough to buy them a beautiful car and all three of them would go driving in the countryside on a Sunday.

But before that could happen Hilary's father met a lady with very blond hair and a black leather coat. The lady was buying a car and needed a lot of test drives. During one of the test drives it turned out that Hilary's father and the lady in the black leather coat were meant for each other and would go and live in the south of England, and have their own family.

Hilary had been eleven at the time.

"Will I be going to the south of England to see them and to spend holidays?" she had asked. Her mother thought not. Better not to build up any hopes. Better to work hard and get a good job. That's what Daddy would have liked to see.

So why didn't he stay to see it? Hilary wondered. Her mother never answered this, and so her life was never quite the same afterward. She saw her father only once a year and her mother went out every day. She helped people in their gardens and she made cakes for her friends. She always encouraged Hilary to invite friends home on a Friday evening, and they now had so much room in the house without Father that they let two rooms to paying guests. These were two mousy women called Violet and Noreen who worked in a bank and lived very quietly. Hilary's life fell into a routine: home from school, gla.s.s of milk and a homemade biscuit, then homework.

Then Violet taught her bookkeeping, and Noreen taught her to type on an old machine where the letters had been covered with sticking plaster. By the time she left school, Hilary had achieved what they apparently wanted for her: a good education and some steps down the road toward being a secretary. She would have loved to have gone to university like some of her school friends, but by the time she was eighteen she realized that the money just wasn't there. Her mother wasn't doing gardens and making cakes out of friendship for people. She was doing it to earn a living for them both.

Hilary went to a secretarial college, and because the two paying guests had helped her so much, she learned everything she could in a very short time. She got the Certificate of Merit from the college and was ready to earn her own living in a few short months. She started in hospital administration and that was where she stayed. She had concentrated too much on her work to consider men and marriage. Until she met Dan Hickey All her friends warned her against him. He was too good-looking, they said. He was unreliable. If he left his fiancee for her, he could do the same thing again. He didn't have a real career. He was a gentleman. He needed a rich woman to support him. Only her mother agreed that Dan was wonderful. Anxiously, Hilary ran her friends' concerns past Jessica.

"Suppose that he is is too good-looking for me, Mother?" she worried. too good-looking for me, Mother?" she worried.

"Nonsense, Hilary. You are a fine-looking young woman, and and you have a good career, you have a good career, and you and you have a house to offer him." have a house to offer him."

"He can't come to live here." Hilary was aghast.

"Where else would he live? I worked long and hard to keep this house for you. We have no paying guests now. Make me a small flat beyond the kitchen and we are right as rain."

"But it's putting you out of your own house-" Hilary began.

"No, it's not. I'm not really able to climb those stairs anyway. This way I have company and and independence. What could be better?" independence. What could be better?"

"But will we be able to afford to build an extension?"

"Certainly we will. I have been saving like a squirrel. I've been waiting for this day."

"It hasn't come yet. He hasn't asked me."

"He will. Just have an open mind," Jessica advised.

Dan asked her to marry him the next week.

"I'm not much of a catch," he apologized.

"You're the only catch I wanted," Hilary said and he seemed delighted. He was also delighted that he didn't have to think of finding a family home, and after their quiet wedding he moved in seamlessly.

Dan was always seeing someone about an opening or talking to someone about a possibility. But in the twelve years of their married life he never earned one single penny. Instead, Jessica returned to her garden pruning and cake making, and added dog walking as well. Hilary took on private bookkeeping jobs for clients, small companies or wealthy individuals, which paid well.

When Nick was eleven, exactly the same age as Hilary had been when she lost her father, Dan went out of their lives. But he did not disappear to the south of England with a woman in a black leather coat. He was drowned in a deep, dark lake when he had gone to the Irish midlands to meet a chap who might be able to give him a job. The Guards came to the door to tell Hilary and her mother and her son. They were very kind. They came in and made tea for the stricken family and left knowing as little about the man who had drowned as they had before, except that he had left three broken people behind.

There had been a small insurance policy. Jessica insisted that they have an elegant funeral for Dan Hickey He would have wanted it that way. Hilary was too shocked and angry to care. Why Why had he gone swimming in an unfamiliar lake? had he gone swimming in an unfamiliar lake? Why Why had he gone before his son grew up to know him properly? had he gone before his son grew up to know him properly?

Looking back on it all afterward, she was deeply touched at and grateful for her mother's insistence that the funeral be done right. The delicate sandwiches in the posh hotel, his many friends and acquaintances, none of whom had delivered a job, a contract or an introduction but who were all happy to turn up for the reception. It had indeed been exactly what he would have wanted. She had not one moment of regret.

And after that Hilary had set about making Nicks childhood as good and happy as Jessica had made hers. When he showed an interest in music, she paid for private lessons. She never fussed. She knew that his friends teased him about his crazy house with two old women in it. To boys of that age, Hilary knew that she must seem the same generation as her mother. And the years went by. Hilary never found anyone else remotely attractive enough even to consider an involvement. She wasn't short of offers of company, a hardworking young widow with her own home, a good income, an easygoing, grown-up son who composed and taught music and a cheerful mother tidied away downstairs in a granny flat. She had a lot going for her. Or had, at one time.

But her mother had become more frail, more forgetful and less able to cope on her own, Hilary was sure it was simply her mother just getting older-it was beyond belief that Jessica would lose her fine mind, her generous nature, her grasp on everything.

But in her own way, Jessica guessed what was happening. Realizing what the future might hold, she wrote a letter. It was a short typed note: As I am getting older I am becoming more forgetful, and it is possible that one day I might not know where I am or who I am or even more important, who you are. So I wanted to say a nice, clearheaded good-bye and thank-you to everyone while I still do have my wits, or at least some of them, about me.I have had a very good life and I hope you won't be offended if I am confused later on. The real me, inside here, remembers you well...

Then she wrote a few words to each person. To Hilary she wrote: You are simply the best daughter in the whole world. Never forget that. Do what you have to when the time comes. I'll love you anyway ...Mam Her mother was giving her permission to put her away. That was so generous but was it sane? There was no way Hilary could do it.

She looked at her reflection in the mirror without much pleasure. "What are you going to do with it?" she asked Kiki.

"I'm going to give it some shape. You want it shorter and glossy yeah?"

Short and glossy was what Hilary had thought it was until she had seen herself in the window.

"Yes, not too short."

"Trust me," Kiki said and huge showers of Hilary's hair seemed to cascade onto the floor.

Hilary wondered why she had trusted this girl with huge, dark-rimmed eyes and green nail polish. There must have been a reason.

Clara gasped with admiration when Hilary came back to the clinic. "Where "Where did you get your hair done, Hilary? You look ten years younger. I'm going there at once." did you get your hair done, Hilary? You look ten years younger. I'm going there at once."

Hilary showed her the card. "Ask for Kiki. She's got green nails."

"Well, there's nothing wrong with the way she cuts hair. You look terrific. I think you and I should go out on the pull one night."

"I'd hate to think what we might reel in." Hilary laughed, but there was a strain around her eyes.

"No use asking how things are at home. It's more of the same, isn't it?" Clara was sympathetic.

"No, it's slightly worse. She was out in the street last night asking anyone who pa.s.sed by what time it was."

"And what time was was it?" Clara asked. it?" Clara asked.

"It was four a.m., but she thought it was four p.m. and said I would be home for my tea soon."

Clara was silent.

"Go on, Clara, say it."

"No, you you say it, Hilary. You know what has to be said as much as I do." say it, Hilary. You know what has to be said as much as I do."

"You think she should be put in care," Hilary said.

"It's not what I think that matters."

"I'm sure you know the perfect place for her. If I were to ask you, you'd have the name and phone number ..." Hilary bit her lip.

"It's your decision, but if you were were actually asking about somewhere, there's a very good place called Lilac Court. The woman who runs it is a sort of friend of mine, Claire Cotter. I've known her for years. She makes a very pleasant life for the people there." actually asking about somewhere, there's a very good place called Lilac Court. The woman who runs it is a sort of friend of mine, Claire Cotter. I've known her for years. She makes a very pleasant life for the people there."

"Can't do do it. Not yet." it. Not yet."

"Sure, sure."

"Don't put me down, Clara. You don't know what that woman did for me. I can't tidy her away."

"It might be kinder."

"It might be easier, but it would never be kinder. Even if I have to give up working here and stay at home."

"You do, more and more."

"I know. You probably think that I take too much time off-" Hilary began.

"No, it's not that at all. You make up for every hour you take. Don't I see you working through your lunchtime or staying on after work if Nick is around? You do your full job here, believe me."

"If it were your your mother, Clara?" mother, Clara?"

"I'd have her into the first place that would take her and walk away."

"You say that."

"I mean that. My mother was and is a discontented, trouble-making woman who sees the worst in everyone and every situation. Your misfortune is that yours has been decent and kind-hearted throughout, and it's blinding you about doing what's best for her."

"It wasn't a misfortune," Hilary said.

"No, indeed it wasn't. It's the greatest thing that could happen to anyone who didn't have it and I sure don't think I'm giving it either. My girls are so p.i.s.sed off with me, they haven't a good word to say about me, I know."

They were interrupted by Barbara, collecting for the "welcome back" present for Declan. It wasn't a tough job-Declan was very popular with staff and patients at the heart clinic. The two women each took out large euro notes.

"I went in to see him last night," Clara said. "He's getting on fine. He'll be into a convalescent home next week."

"I'd love to have gone to see him," Hilary said.

"One day you'll have time for the rest of your life, but not yet." Clara was comforting.

"Ooh, thanks." Barbara was pleased with the donations. "You know that nice guy Tim has just given me a big note too. He said that good people like Declan should be made into national treasures. Imagine!"

"Maybe he keeps a romantic poet's heart in his tool bag," Clara suggested.

"Do you think? Well, he certainly keeps a Polish phrase book and he's been practicing some phrases, like tak tak and and Dzien dobry, Dzien dobry, over and over." over and over."

"What do they mean?" Hilary was interested.

"No idea."

"Maybe he's interested in Ania," Clara wondered.

"No, I think it's her flatmate," said Barbara, who always made it her business to know what was what.

Ania was having her English lesson from Bobby Walsh's son, Carl, in the waiting room. Their heads were close together as Ania struggled with giving somebody directions from this hospital to the center of the city.

"You go first along the main road and take the signs to Trinity College, and then you will see the university on your left. You keep walking on, then you see a big bank that was one time a parliament house. You could turn right here if you wanted to go into O'Connell Street. If you want to go shopping you should turn left past the front gates of the university and then you will find Grafton Street for the shopping-"

"Just 'shopping,' not 'theshopping,'" Carl corrected gently.

"Why don't I just say, 'I'm Polish, I don't know where anywhere is!'?" Ania asked, laughing.

"Because it's not true-you do do know where everywhere is. I'm only aiming for perfection!" They were still laughing when Barbara came up to them for a contribution. know where everywhere is. I'm only aiming for perfection!" They were still laughing when Barbara came up to them for a contribution.

"Your father gave already." Barbara wanted to be fair to Carl.

"No, no, I'm happy to contribute. Declan's marvelous."

"I will make a big banner to say WELCOME BACK, WELCOME BACK," Ania said, and Barbara thought she'd caught Carl looking at the little Polish girl with affection.

Hilary knew that something was wrong as soon as she turned the corner into her street. A small crowd of neighbors had gathered outside her house and there was smoke coming from the kitchen window. At first she found herself almost paralyzed with shock and certainly unable to move her legs. Then she was running to the house shouting, "Mother, Mother!"

Neighbors and friends held her back.

"She's fine, Hilary. She's fine, not a scratch on her. Look at her over there in a chair." And Hilary saw her mother, surrounded by well-wishers, drinking a mug of tea while neighbors went in. The fire was out by now, but they had called the fire service just in case. As she approached her mother, Hilary glanced at the damage. The curtains were gone, just torn shreds hung down, the kitchen wall through the broken window looked black. Her mother could have been engulfed in flames here. She could have burned to death in her own house.

Hilary knew that she must thank G.o.d that she had somehow escaped. Jessica was completely unfazed by it all.

"I can't understand the fuss," she said, over and over.

"But, Mother, you could have been killed. You could have died in there!" Hilary was so relieved she was shouting now.

"But I did it for Nick. He said he would love a plate of chips like the old days. I said I'd make them. He went out somewhere and then the pan caught fire." Hilary knew that Nick would never have allowed his grandmother near a chip pan.

"No, Mother, you can't have understood him properly," she began and then she saw the figure of her son running down the road carrying two portions of chips. He had gone to get them for his grandmother, who said it would bring her back to the old days. Only then did Hilary let herself cry.

Later that night, when the window had been replaced and most of the burned shelves and scorched utensils thrown out, Hilary and Nick sat down to talk.

"I suppose we'll have to decide what to do," Hilary said.

"Well, the carpenters are coming in the morning. I'll take Gran for a walk while they're here ..."

"No. I mean long term, Nick."

"How long term?"

"Well, she's not really able to cope, is she? She thought you meant her to make make chips!" As if. chips!" As if.

"You're always the one who says she's perfect, Mam. You go for anyone's throat if they dare to say otherwise."

"Yes, well, maybe I've dug my head up from under the ground."

"My mother, the ostrich." Nick was affectionate.