Despite the Angels - By Madeline A Stringer Page 0,141
your own.”
“I have you and Caro. That’s enough for the moment.” And Paulette on page thirty-one, he thought, a bit guiltily. Very flat and unresponsive, but not demanding anything. A very cheap date. “I don’t think I have the energy to get to know anyone. It’s a lot of work. Learning if they prefer tea to coffee, and if they take milk, or want ice in their gin, or if it’s vodka.” David sat down and opened the paper.
“But if it was someone you clicked with, Dad, it would be easy. Look at Caro and Declan. Just as well she went to work in the bank, instead of college, they’re meant to be together, anyone can see that.”
“And look at you and that Luke. Anyone could see you weren’t, except you. Took you three years to cop on.”
“Yeah,” Clare hugged her knees, “He was a waste of space. You should have pointed it out sooner. I’ll help you with girlfriends.”
“You think I’d listen, when you didn’t? Caroline and I were blue in the face trying to point out to you that Luke was using you. But you didn’t hear a thing. Why should I?”
“You’re older. More sensible.”
“I don’t think that’s a given. I might make appalling mistakes. The world isn’t like that film you dragged me to last year, where everything worked out. Life isn’t like that. If I flew to the Empire State building to meet someone at the top on Valentine’s Day, it would be closed for maintenance.”
“You loved that film. Have some faith Dad,”
“She’s right, David. Listen to Clare.”
“If you don’t go out there, you’ll never find out. Even after Luke, I haven’t given up. I still go out and meet people.”
“You’re twenty-one. You’re meant to meet people. I was twenty-one when I met your mum.”
“You’re only forty-four now. Hardly antique. And you’re going to be on your own in a year or two. Caroline is going to be with Declan and I’ll be away working, probably. Or trying to do post-grad. You don’t have to marry anyone, Dad. Just have a friend.”
“I can’t marry anyone. I don’t think the Irish law recognises foreign divorces, so that paper your mum sent from America is no use to me.”
“We’ll all vote for divorce when they have the referendum. It’ll go through, all my friends think so.”
“You’re in Trinity and you live in south Dublin. I don’t think it’s so certain in other parts of the country.”
“By the time you know anyone well enough to marry them, it’ll be possible.”
“Oh, I’m meeting the love of my life when I’m ninety, am I?”
“Dad! You have no faith. Go out there and meet someone. Take up dancing. They’re always short of men at dancing classes.”
David was silent. I’d love to dance properly, he thought. I’ve always enjoyed moving to music, it would be good to know the steps.
“Go for it! You’ll be good, you have a sense of rhythm. Now all we have to do is get Lucy to the same class. You choose where, I’ll do my best. And we’ll work on the divorce scenario. A lot of us are plugging away, trying to make sure our people vote for it. Too many of us are guides to people in bad situations. You’re lucky compared to some, at least Kathleen got sense and moved away. Lots of them hang on to the sinking ship. Oh, listen to me, no wonder you never understand me, when I gabble like this. Dancing classes. Dancing classes, Dancing classes!”
“How will I find a class?”
“Good for you, Dad. That’s the spirit. I expect the new terms start in January. We’ll have time to ask around.”
Chapter 50
Spring 1995
As Lucy put the receiver back it rattled, missed the cradle and clattered to the floor. She pulled it up by its cord with trembling hands and replaced it more carefully. Then she sat and looked at the phone and the piece of paper where she had written confidently only a moment before, ‘10th March, 4.30, Marian’. So easy, to ring the marriage counselling people and ask for an appointment. So difficult to tell Martin. I don’t know how to put it. He thinks everything is fine, at least I think he does. How can he think we have a normal marriage? No sex unless he’s drunk. Neither of us properly working, or properly at home. No discussions. And now, when I want to make things better, I’m scared to even say it to him. Have to be so