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Authors: Colm Tóibín
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wouldn’t budge. So I brought in the decorators and I looked around a few auctions. There’s a very good dealer in Kilkenny. He’s the best.’
Nancy observed that Betty’s nylon stockings were sheer and were a strange no-colour, neither dark nor completely see-through. When they had spoken for a while about their children, and about the problem of living in the town where you had no garden, Nancy knew it was time to tell Betty why she had wanted to see her. She began by recounting her visit to the bank manager.
‘Oh, he’s a so-and-so,’ Betty said.
‘So you don’t bank with him?’
‘No, Jim has always been with the Provincial.’
‘Betty, I don’t want to explain the ins and outs of this, but I need someone to cash cheques for me, not my own cheques, but customers’ cheques, people I know.’
‘Bring them up here, Nancy,’ Betty said, ‘or send Catherine up with them, or we’ll send down for them, as often as you like, or whenever you like, and we’ll cash them. That’s what neighbours are for.’
‘Are you sure now?’
‘Well, I should ask Jim,’ Betty said, ‘but I know what he’ll say. He’ll say exactly what I just said. He was in school with George and sure he’s known you since you were born. Wasn’t he great with your sister in England?’
‘Oh, he was,’ Nancy said, ‘but that was a long time ago.’
‘Well, we’d like to help you, that’s all,’ Betty said.
‘I’d be very thankful and it won’t be for long.’
‘You were always very capable, Nancy,’ Betty said. ‘Jim always told me that, since the time you were on the Cathedral Committee, that you had the makings of a real businesswoman.’
‘Did he say that?’ Nancy asked sharply, but Betty did not answer her, instead smiled vaguely and crossed her legs and sat back in her armchair with a warm sigh.
‘I’m glad now you came,’ she said.
A T NIGHT , when the children went to bed, she left them time to undress and talk amongst themselves before she came upstairs to the girls’ room first and then to Gerard’s room. She made it seem casual, but it was part of their ritual now, something that George’s death had not interrupted nor interfered with. She asked them questions and listened to them, which she could not do when they came in first from school. She told them who had been in the shop and then they told her about school and teachers and friends. She was careful never to criticize them or offer too much advice, she tried to sound more like their sister than their mother. So when Gerard told her that he would like to beat the shit out of old Mooney, who taught him Latin and science, she merely said quietly: ‘Oh, you shouldn’t say that, Gerard.’
‘So what should I say?’ he asked.
‘I don’t know. God, I really don’t.’
She laughed.
‘Well, that’s what I’d like to do,’ Gerard said, putting his hands behind his head.
‘It’s OK to think it,’ she said. ‘I suppose I just wouldn’t say it to too many people.’
She knew Gerard’s timetable and she knew whom the girls sat beside in school and whom they liked and disliked. She told them, in turn, about clothes she might buy, a coat she had seen. But there were two things now which she never discussed with them in these short nightly talks. They never mentioned George or how he had died; and she never told them that she had stopped making payments to the bank and was paying only the suppliers she thought were essential, and that she was hoarding whatever cash she gathered in the bottom drawer of the chest in her bedroom under the good sheets. She believed that Mr Wallace would move slowly against her, even when he found out, as he surely would, that she was cashing cheques in the Croppy Inn. It would be a while before he realized that he should have foreclosed on her at the earliest opportunity. He would never see another penny from her and she would reply to none of his letters when they came. She would save the money in
Nancy observed that Betty’s nylon stockings were sheer and were a strange no-colour, neither dark nor completely see-through. When they had spoken for a while about their children, and about the problem of living in the town where you had no garden, Nancy knew it was time to tell Betty why she had wanted to see her. She began by recounting her visit to the bank manager.
‘Oh, he’s a so-and-so,’ Betty said.
‘So you don’t bank with him?’
‘No, Jim has always been with the Provincial.’
‘Betty, I don’t want to explain the ins and outs of this, but I need someone to cash cheques for me, not my own cheques, but customers’ cheques, people I know.’
‘Bring them up here, Nancy,’ Betty said, ‘or send Catherine up with them, or we’ll send down for them, as often as you like, or whenever you like, and we’ll cash them. That’s what neighbours are for.’
‘Are you sure now?’
‘Well, I should ask Jim,’ Betty said, ‘but I know what he’ll say. He’ll say exactly what I just said. He was in school with George and sure he’s known you since you were born. Wasn’t he great with your sister in England?’
‘Oh, he was,’ Nancy said, ‘but that was a long time ago.’
‘Well, we’d like to help you, that’s all,’ Betty said.
‘I’d be very thankful and it won’t be for long.’
‘You were always very capable, Nancy,’ Betty said. ‘Jim always told me that, since the time you were on the Cathedral Committee, that you had the makings of a real businesswoman.’
‘Did he say that?’ Nancy asked sharply, but Betty did not answer her, instead smiled vaguely and crossed her legs and sat back in her armchair with a warm sigh.
‘I’m glad now you came,’ she said.
A T NIGHT , when the children went to bed, she left them time to undress and talk amongst themselves before she came upstairs to the girls’ room first and then to Gerard’s room. She made it seem casual, but it was part of their ritual now, something that George’s death had not interrupted nor interfered with. She asked them questions and listened to them, which she could not do when they came in first from school. She told them who had been in the shop and then they told her about school and teachers and friends. She was careful never to criticize them or offer too much advice, she tried to sound more like their sister than their mother. So when Gerard told her that he would like to beat the shit out of old Mooney, who taught him Latin and science, she merely said quietly: ‘Oh, you shouldn’t say that, Gerard.’
‘So what should I say?’ he asked.
‘I don’t know. God, I really don’t.’
She laughed.
‘Well, that’s what I’d like to do,’ Gerard said, putting his hands behind his head.
‘It’s OK to think it,’ she said. ‘I suppose I just wouldn’t say it to too many people.’
She knew Gerard’s timetable and she knew whom the girls sat beside in school and whom they liked and disliked. She told them, in turn, about clothes she might buy, a coat she had seen. But there were two things now which she never discussed with them in these short nightly talks. They never mentioned George or how he had died; and she never told them that she had stopped making payments to the bank and was paying only the suppliers she thought were essential, and that she was hoarding whatever cash she gathered in the bottom drawer of the chest in her bedroom under the good sheets. She believed that Mr Wallace would move slowly against her, even when he found out, as he surely would, that she was cashing cheques in the Croppy Inn. It would be a while before he realized that he should have foreclosed on her at the earliest opportunity. He would never see another penny from her and she would reply to none of his letters when they came. She would save the money in
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