Light a Penny Candle by Maeve Binchy
‘I buy the card, I post it. I remember the date. I’m asking you to put your great ham hand around a pen and write two lines and your thick, ignorant signature,’ snapped Eileen.
‘It’s just sentimentality,’ grumbled Eamonn. ‘If anyone knew this here, I’d be the laughing stock of the town.’
Donal wrote a long piece about how much he had liked the book of watercolours that Elizabeth had sent. He wrote so much that Eileen had to get him an extra piece of paper to add to the card. Niamh wrote a long garbled and almost unfathomable account of school life, studded with characters of whom Elizabeth would never have heard, nuns who were new to the school, friends who had been toddlers when Elizabeth left. Maureen wrote a lengthy description of Baby Brendan, or Brendan Og as he was called in that household to distinguish him from his dadda. Peggy put her name on a card and Eileen wrote a long letter describing the changes and the happenings in the small town. It was Eileen who told Elizabeth about Aisling’s new office – just inside the door, a smart raised area where she was away from the herd but still part of it enough to join in if she wanted to. Eileen explained that Joannie Murray had come back from her finishing school and was waiting to go to Dublin for this marvellous job in a wine importer’s. Because she was a lady of leisure, she used to come into O’Connor’s Hardware and try to distract Aisling. But Eileen wrote with pride that Elizabeth would be glad to know that Miss O’Connor, as she was now called in the shop, had explained that work was work, and indeed young Joannie Murray’s brother Tony had come into the shop one day and said the very same thing.
It was Eileen who explained that they didn’t see too much of Maureen and Brendan and little Brendan Og because the Daly family were very possessive and liked to be in charge. Eileen said that this would sort itself out later… there were a lot of old women in that family, aunts and cousins, and the trouble was they hadn’t half enough to do just looking after hens and turkeys so they wanted to own the new arrival body and soul. It would all change when Brendan Daly’s other brothers and sisters married and had children, which would take the pressure off Maureen,
Eileen wrote that Donal’s chest was still weak, that he had to be very careful of himself, not to get overtired or to catch a chill, but that thank God he was far better than they could ever have hoped at times and he was a grand, handsome fifteen-year-old. He was tall too, nearly as tall as Elizabeth had been when she had gone back to England when she was fifteen. He could reach to the top shelf of the bookcase in the sitting room without standing on his toes. Eileen wrote that Peggy was walking out with a very nice fellow called Christy O’Brien. He worked on a farm out near Brendan Daly’s father’s place. Eileen half hoped for Peggy’s sake that a match would be made – Peggy was in her thirties and hadn’t had any great chances – but selfishly she hoped that the Christy fellow would tire of her which would mean that Peggy would stay.
Elizabeth thought to herself sometimes that if she had to rely on Aisling as an informant about Kilgarret she might well believe that all life had ceased there the day she left.
The nuns had been wrong, Elizabeth discovered to her great relief. Johnny did still respect her afterwards. Not only did he respect her, he seemed to like her a lot more, and she felt grown-up and proud and confident with him. When they had driven back to London, still through sheets of rain, he seemed more cheerful and happy than ever. Watching his face as he drove, Elizabeth wondered how he could talk so easily and lightly about the funny old farmer who had let him shoot the rabbits, about the way they were going to have a bandage up the inside of the van to stop it leaking, and what Mr Worsky would say about the treasures they had ferried back. Elizabeth knew he must be thinking all the time about their making love and thought he was very cool and calm to be able to talk about other things. She was relieved at this too and talked cheerfully in return rather than dwelling on the events of the night before. This pleased him she could see, and from time to time he pattered her hand and said, ‘You are a little darling, you know?’
Nobody at college noticed that she had lost her virginity. Kate asked her had she had a nice weekend, and told her about an awful party where somebody had stolen neat alcohol from a laboratory and everyone had drunk it in lemonade and been very ill.
Father hadn’t noticed any change in her either. He had been fussed and anxious because that tiresome Mrs Ellis had wanted to come around and help with the preparations for the bridge party and he had told her his daughter would be there. Now his daughter had turned out to be late home from the North, late back from college and was doing only the most perfunctory of suppers.
‘But this is my night for entertaining. You always arrange sandwiches and … savouries,’ Father began to whine.
‘Father, this is indeed your night, and you can make your own savouries and sandwiches. I have biscuits, and a small amount of cheese there. There’s bread in that tin, and butter in the larder. It’s your night to do it.’
‘But that’s not what we agreed. …’
‘How could anyone agree anything with you Father? Answer me that. How could anyone make any possible kind of bargain about anything? I have just come back from my first visit to your wife. Your ex-wife. The woman you married twenty years ago … and presumably you loved her then and she loved you. But what have you asked me about her? Not one thing. Mother could be lying in a fever hospital breathing her last for all you care. Mother could be wretchedly unhappy. She could be a million things. But no enquiry from you. At least she asked how you were, and Harry did, and they wanted to know how your life went on. But you don’t have it in your cold heart to ask one question about them.’
She was near tears.
Father sat down. This is uncalled for,’ he said, looking like a schoolboy who is forced to accept a punishment without knowing what the crime was.
‘Give me the bloody bread and I’ll butter it for you. I’ll cut off the crusts, and I’ll leave the tray ready. …’
‘But you are going to serve it, aren’t you …?’
‘You really are the limit. I never understood what Mother meant by a cold fish until now. I really didn’t.’
‘I knew that Violet and that man would turn you against me. I knew that’s what they had in their minds when they made all that fuss about inviting you to stay.’
Elizabeth looked at him in disbelief and unexpectedly she began to cry. Through her fingers she tried not to see Father moving the bread away lest it become damp with her tears and unsuitable for sandwiches.
Mr Worsky noticed. He was the only one. He saw a change in Elizabeth and felt sure he knew the reason. She talked as if she were part of a family with himself and Anna Strepovsky at the head of it, and Johnny as the heir-apparent. Elizabeth talked as if she were marrying into a royal house. Stefan Worsky laughed to himself at his fanciful imagery but really that is what it was like.
‘Mr Worsky, I wonder if you thought about having a new sign painted for the shop? You know we do lettering at the college and the teachers are always looking for a real job to do. … I was saying to Johnny last night that something in gold leaf might be nice … did he tell you? No? Well I don’t want to be intrusive with my ideas. …’
And another time.
‘Johnny and I were going to paint the name of your shop on the car. Would you like that or do you prefer to be more discreet? Johnny bet me two shillings one way, but I won’t tell you which he said.’
He had confided his suspicions to Anna Strepovsky but she had snorted at him and said he was full of imagination.
‘It’s typical of a man to think that because a woman looks happy it can only be because she has been pleasured by a man.’
Mr Worsky wasn’t prepared to argue about principles and beliefs but he was prepared to wager any money that he was right about Elizabeth.
Elizabeth was full of worries about what would happen next. Whether Johnny might want to try it again, and if so where and when? And should she appear enthusiastic, or should she try to go along with th
He had said to her that night that next time he would ‘get something’ and she had nodded peacefully, yet there had been no talk of a next time. But Johnny had been utterly delightful and had seemed overjoyed when she called in on her way home from lectures and even skipped the whole of Friday afternoon’s classes to see how the new acquisitions looked once they had been polished and arranged for the Saturday business.
‘I’ll take you out to the cinema tomorrow night if you’re free,’ Johnny had said. ‘And then you can come back to my place and I’ll cook you a Johnny Stone special.’
She smiled back at him.
‘I’d love that. Will it be rabbit?’
‘No sweetheart, nothing as good, but it might be a Spam special. Will that be all right?’
She nodded happily.
‘Oh, Tom and Nick won’t be there. They’ll be going away for the weekend,’ he added casually, ‘so we’ll have the place to ourselves and we won’t be interrupted by their larking about.’
‘I see.’ Elizabeth saw. And was happy at what she saw. She used her savings to buy a very pretty slip the following morning, she put a toothbrush, toothpaste and talcum powder in her handbag and told her father that she was going to the cinema and to a party afterwards. She would possibly be very late. He accepted it with the same air of defeat that he seemed to accept everything. She had her own key so there would be no problems. Oh, and could Father leave the kitchen nice and tidy in case someone drove her home from the party and she invited them in for cocoa?
Father didn’t even say he hoped she would have a good time.
Tom and Nick didn’t go away nearly often enough. Tom worked in a motor salesroom and Nick in a travel agency. They were both flattering to Elizabeth and considered her to be Johnny’s latest. A phrase which was beginning to annoy her. When it changed to Johnny’s girl she began to feel more secure. They were forever making mockingly gallant remarks in front of her.
‘If ever you grow tired of this lady, Johnny, be sure to let me know. I could sure step into your shoes. …’
Each of the boys had their own bedroom in the big Earls Court flat. But even though it would have been perfectly feasible, it was never suggested that Elizabeth should stay when the other flatmates were there. It was something to do with treating her as a lady and protecting her reputation, Elizabeth thought. She knew she could have a great laugh with Aunt Eileen about such a double standard … but then remembering with a shock that of course she could have no such thing. Aunt Eileen would have disapproved strongly. Her wise tolerance, her almost boundless understanding for every kind of situation, would not have included this. Elizabeth realised that Aunt Eileen would have spoken very directly.
‘What you are doing is wrong. It’s silly, irresponsible and wrong. God invented marriage for a very good reason. So that two people could work out the best kind of life possible together, protected by rules … by laws, by what the people around you agree is right. You and this boy are being very silly and playing dangerous games. If he really likes you as much as you think he does, and as much as you like him, then why doesn’t he do the normal thing… why doesn’t he tell you this, and tell your mother and father, and propose that you get married? Why does he sneak you in and out of his flat like a criminal, like a common girl…?’
Aunt Eileen never said these words, but they were as clear to Elizabeth as if she had. They were an amalgam of attitudes and other warnings and chastisements and all that had gone before.
But she shook herself firmly. She was a grown-up woman of nineteen. She lived in London, not a backwater like Kilgarret. She didn’t have all the Roman Catholic fears about sin and modesty and immodesty and purity and impurity. People didn’t think like that in the real world. Aunt Eileen was just old-fashioned. She was a great person but old-fashioned.
Sometimes Elizabeth was able to invite Johnny to Clarence Gardens, not that Father ever went away for the night. But there were always the afternoons. Johnny often did deliveries and had the van at his disposal during the daytime. Elizabeth was often able to sneak away from a lecture or a practical class. They surrounded it with excitement … a picnic lunch in the kitchen, a double bolt drawn across the front door just in case the impossible happened and Father came home from the bank before twenty-three minutes past six in the evening. Up to Elizabeth’s bedroom where the bed was small but the light was romantic and some of the harsher blues had been replaced by a style of her own choosing.
Johnny had once made a gesture towards the more comfortable main bedroom by an inclination of his head, but Elizabeth without words was able to convey that this was not to be considered. She loved him so utterly now she felt that she could talk to him and understand him without either of them having to speak in sentences. He too was delighted with her warmth and responsiveness. She was a little darling in every way, he told her over and over.
Sometimes as they lay in her tiny bed on an afternoon with the curtains drawn and the companionably shared cigarette passed between them, she felt as if she had never known such happiness; but always she knew that there was a step over which she must not cross. She must not ask him to swear love to her, she mustn’t ask him to tell her that he was going to be forever faithful. She must hint at nothing more permanent than what they had. That way he was happy and loving, that way no shadow crossed his face.
Sometimes he spoke of people who had broken the rules.
Tom had a girlfriend, a nice little poppet she had been, but an engagement ring had been high on her list of priorities, and she kept taking him home to meet Mother.
‘Oh dear, I took you home to meet Mother,’ said Elizabeth archly.
‘Ah yes, but you didn’t do it with a gleam in your eye,’ Johnny had laughed.
He had bought awful contraceptives in little packets, things which looked totally unsuitable until they were actually put on, which seemed to be an irritation and a nuisance to him. Elizabeth wondered what she could do to circumvent this. She didn’t want to rely on the safe period which she knew only too well was the method of contraception which had ensured such enormous families all over Ireland. Kate and some of the other girls at college had said that the safe period was a dangerous period. It didn’t exist.
‘But isn’t there anything a woman can do?’ she asked Kate, feeling foolish.
Kate said there were a lot of things and described them all very graphically but they seemed much worse to Elizabeth than the rubber contraceptives so she left things as they were. Johnny never seemed to think that there was anything else she should do so she supposed it was just what everyone else had to put up with.
He told her little more about himself in those intimate times. His mother he spoke of jokingly, he wasn’t close to his brother either, he had not even the mildest wonder as to where his father might be, and whether any stepbrothers or sisters existed.
When his mother wrote cheerful, inconsequential letters he seemed pleased and told Elizabeth some of the things she said. When she wrote about how lonely she felt and how hard it was to have two ungrateful sons, he just dismissed her.
‘Querulous old demon,’ he said without the slightest concern.
‘Shall I ever meet her? Will you take me to see her?’ Elizabeth asked once. It had been a mistake.
‘What for?’ Johnny began to frown.
‘Oh I don’t know, to tell her to stop being a querulous old demon and irritating her handsome son,’ she laughed, trying to retrie
It worked.
‘Yeah, why not? We’ll go some time,’ said Johnny.
Father had given Elizabeth a jewellery box for her nineteenth birthday. He had actually gone to Mr Worsky’s shop and asked Johnny’s advice about a gift. He had met Johnny half a dozen times and believed him to be a nicely spoken young chap who was now a partner in Mr Worsky’s business which-must-under-no-circumstances-be-called-a-second-hand-shop.
He said he would like a surprise gift and wanted to pay about thirty shillings or two pounds at the most. Johnny steered him towards an antique box saying it was a snip at thirty shillings. Father grunted that it seemed a lot to pay for an empty box but took it. Johnny put the extra nine pounds into the till so that Mr Worsky should not be cheated on the lovely carved casket, and he bought a little marcasite clip with a bluebird in it as his own gift.
Elizabeth, knowing the value of the casket, was touched and amazed that Father had spent so much on her present. In no way did Johnny diminish the gift for her. Johnny had helped her to find the book of watercolours for Aisling also. Together they had looked through them and she had told him about the Wicklow mountains, and the river Slaney in Wexford and the old houses half falling down but beautiful with perfect Georgian doors, and covered with creeper.
‘Perhaps you and I should go over and take a van each. Stefan would have to buy a new showroom when we came back. Hey, that’s not a bad idea. Maybe we’ll do that in the summer. We could take the van to the boat and then hire another van when we’re there. What do you think? And we could go to see your friends, these O’Connors, you’re always saying you wanted to go back. Hey? Why not?’
‘Oh yes.’
‘You’re not enthusiastic, you’ve always said you’d love to go back.’
‘Yes, no, I am.’
‘Well then?’
‘Sure, maybe in the summer some time.’