a friend in, I’m told. Carmel Sweeney.”
“Oh yes, she’s being transferred to Coronary Care for observation. I think she’s still in cubicle nine.”
David went over to the curtained cubicle and announced himself. “Knock knock? David here.” He peeked in and saw Carmel, attached to a monitor and with a drip in her arm, lying back on the pillows looking pale but still with a glint in her eye. She raised her unattached arm and beckoned him in.
“What did Eileen go and spoil your morning for, telling you I was here?”
“You asked me to, Mam. Do you not remember?”
“They’ve pulled me and pushed me so much since I got into this bed it’s a wonder I remember my own name. But I’m fine now, David and I don’t want you fussing about me. You’re to go off to that dance anyway. It’s important.”
David took Carmel’s hand. “Why is it important? I go to dance with you and I don’t think you’ll be dancing today.”
“I don’t know why, but I have a feeling. You go and dance,” she shook her head and closed her eyes for a moment. “I don’t know what I was thinking, telling her to say I was here. You’re not to let it stop you. You go, d’you hear?” She closed her eyes again. “I’ll be still here tomorrow. Come and tell me all about it, all the news.”
Davis smiled. The news, indeed. The tea-dances were the most unexciting events he had ever been at. Pleasant, but not newsworthy. And now his friend would not be there and he’d be worried about her.
“But aren’t you always the news, Carmel? Why would I go there, when my pal is here?”
Carmel tried to lift herself up in the bed. “You go to that dance. You do it for me. I voted for you, so now, don’t be wasting my effort and putting my soul at risk for nothing.” She sagged back, exhausted. David looked at her and wondered. Did she know something? Maybe I should go and be nice to Mary. I’ll try it.
“Okay, Carmel, I’ll go. You rest now and don’t fuss. I’ll come and see you tomorrow.”
Robbie was standing on the armchair, leaning on the back of it, looking out the window. He was hoping to be the first to see Martin arrive. Martin had been on the phone during the week, telling Robbie what they would do this Saturday and how he expected to have a new car by then. So Robbie was in a fever of excitement each time a car passed, thinking each one was his Dad. But so far none had stopped.
“It’s only half ten, Rob. Dad never gets here before eleven.” Aisling was ever the older sister, calm and knowledgeable. She wanted to see her Dad again too, though she was cautious. After all, she had heard the Big Fight, as she called it to herself.
“I wish he would come sooner, like he said,” said Lucy, “and bring you back at a sensible hour. I seem to spend my Saturdays waiting around for him. It’s worse than going on a date, all this anxious waiting.”
“I don’t think he means to be late, Mum,” Aisling was thoughtful, “I just think he’s surprised by things a lot.”
Aren’t you right there, thought Lucy, looking at her little girl in amazement. So young and so perceptive. Martin goes through life in a constant state of astonishment. Never predicts bad traffic and is caught in it. Forgets that if you have four pints, you end up drunk. Wonders that he gets cold when he goes outside without a coat in January. Is amazed that the people who collect car tax actually want him to pay it. Tries to rape his wife in a drunken stupor and is puzzled that she is cross about it. Oh feck, she said to herself, why am I thinking about Martin again? Wasting my energy trying to work things out. I’ll go and wash my hair, he’ll hardly come before I’m finished.
She came downstairs again with a towel round her head, to find Robbie sulking in the chair and Aisling glued to a children’s news programme.
“Look Mum, aren’t they sweet? They’re Chinese.”
Lucy looked at the screen. A group of English couples were in some sort of waiting area and some women in airline uniforms were handing them babies. There were lots of tears, but it was not the babies who were crying.
“They’ve come by plane from China. To be adopted, in England. Aren’t