The Teacher at Donegal Bay

‘I needn’t talk, you know. I did what others wanted of me. But there’s a price to pay. It can cost you dear for the rest of your life.’ He released my hand, suddenly aware he was still holding it, long after the handshake could properly be said to have ended: ‘If you take the job, I expect I shall have to call you Madam,’ he added, with an awkward attempt at lightness.

‘If I take the job, Mr Cummings, you’ll have to call me Jenny,’ I replied.

He went ahead of me to the main entrance. At the door I put my hand lightly on his arm. ‘Thank you very much for your advice, Mr Cummings,’ I said firmly. ‘If I do take the job, I’ll need every friend I’ve got. I’ll let you know on Monday.’

I turned away quickly and didn’t dare look back at him. I couldn’t trust myself not to burst into tears.

The mizzling rain was heavier now. The dim light of the afternoon had faded further towards dusk. From the square-cut ledges of the City Hall came the squabble of hundreds of starlings as they began to roost for the night. Double-deckers swished past the office workers who poured in from the roads and avenues around the city square. I made my way towards the long queue for the Stranmillis bus.

‘Jenny.’

I stopped in my tracks, puzzled and confused, so far away in my thoughts I didn’t recognise the familiar voice.

‘Keith!’ I exclaimed, as my eye moved up the worn duffle coat and discovered the familiar face of my brother-in-law, smiling and brown after his vacation job.

‘The very man. How’s yourself?’

‘Fine, fine. When did you get back?’

‘Only last week. Job was great, paying well, so we stayed as long as we could. Heard things were moving here. Come on an’ we’ll have a coffee. Colin won’t be out for half an hour yet, will he? Tell us all your news.’

‘I’d love to, Keith, but I can’t. Colin’s in London with William John and I’m due up at home at five thirty. I’m running late as it is and you know what that means.’

He reached out for my briefcase, dropped his arm lightly round my shoulders and turned me away from the bus queue.

‘Surely I do. I’ll run you up. Bella’s on a meter round the corner. Come on. We can talk on the way.’

It took me all my time keeping up with Keith’s long strides. He wasn’t much taller than Colin, but put together quite differently. While Colin was fair like his mother and moved as if he had all the time in the world, even when he was in a hurry, Keith was dark and spare and full of edgy tension. In the last year, he’d grown a beard. Now after a summer in Spain he was deeply tanned and there were fine lines etched round his eyes. His face had lost its youthful look. Though still only twenty-two, it was Keith who now looked the older of the two brothers.

‘Keith, what’ve you done to poor Bella?’ I asked as we stopped by his ancient Volkswagen.

‘Isopon,’ he replied briskly as he searched in his pockets for his car keys. ‘I was afraid the rust molecules might stop holdin’ hands. Bella’s going to have to last a long time. No company car for the prodigal son, ye know.’

There was not a trace of malice in his voice despite the fact that Colin had had a red Spitfire for his twenty-first. You’re a better person than I, Keith McKinstry, I thought, as I settled myself on the lump of foam rubber he’d used to mend the collapsed passenger seat. He accelerated as the lights changed and overtook the crawling traffic ahead.

‘How’s your father, Jenny?’

‘Pretty good, thanks. He’s still managing to go into work two days a week though sometimes he lets Gladys Huey collect him and bring him home.’

Keith nodded easily. He and my father got on well. On the few occasions the two families had been together they talked agriculture and politics. They had ended up with a considerable respect for each other, even where they had to disagree.

‘And your dear mother?’ he continued, raising an eyebrow.

I sighed. ‘’Bout the same. Bit worse, perhaps. I think she’s been seeing a lot of your mother. You know how I feel about that. When they’re not trying to score points off each other they just reinforce each other’s prejudices.’

‘You’re right there,’ he said, with a short, hard laugh. ‘I’d a pretty cool reception when I got back. Cut off my allowance for a start. They know fine well I can’t get a grant with the old man coining it.’

‘Keith, why? What reason did they give?’ I asked, outraged.

‘Ach, Jenny, it’s simple. Quite logical. If I’m independent enough to go against all their wishes in my choice of company and in my course of study, then I may as well be totally independent. Just simple blackmail.’

I looked at him in amazement. How could he be so steady, so easy? How could he possibly manage without a student grant or an allowance?

He shook his head and glanced at me as we drew up at traffic lights. ‘So that’s that. Know any good hotels that need a waiter? Speek Engleesh var gud,’ he went on, grinning broadly.

I had to laugh, but what he’d said wasn’t at all funny. ‘Oh, Keith, you can’t manage a job in your third year, you need all the study time you’ve got.’

‘That’s what Siobhan says.’

‘Well, she’s right. Tell her we’ll have to work out something. When can you come to supper? I’ll talk to Colin about it. We might be able to help.’ I stopped short, aware of the implications of what I’d just said. Unless we could persuade William John to change his mind, the only real way I could help Keith was out of my own salary. And that was bound to cause trouble in both families.

‘Did Maisie quote Paisley at you?’ I asked as the traffic came to a halt yet again.

‘Paisley?’ Keith sounded horrified.

‘I thought I’d better warn you,’ I went on quietly. ‘I think the pair of them have been going to some of his services. My mother has a whole set of new catchphrases and you know she’s never original. We could even be in for a religious phase.’

‘Oh Lord. Your poor father. How does he stand it, Jenny?’

‘I honestly don’t know,’ I said sadly. ‘He seems to let a lot of it pass over him. But then I suppose he hasn’t much alternative. Daddy’s always been a realist, as you know.’

We crawled slowly into Shaftesbury Square and I spotted the newsboy I’d met on the way down.

‘So the march is off, Keith. Are you very disappointed?’

He smiled and shook his head. ‘The march isn’t off, Jenny. Don’t pay any attention to the papers. If the organisers can’t get it together, the Young Socialists will still march. There’s a meeting tonight. It’s got to go ahead. It’s just got to. Even if there’s only a handful of us.’

I opened my mouth to protest and then shut it again. ‘And Siobhan’s going too,’ I said quietly.

‘Of course.’

We stopped at the pedestrian crossing opposite the front gates of Queen’s. Students streamed in front of us, clutching books and ring files. Five years ago, I would have been among them, walking along this very pavement, hurrying up the hill, past the Ulster Museum, the great grey block of the Keir Building and the familiar shops of Stranmillis village.

‘How’re we doing?’ Keith asked as he accelerated again.

I saw the lights go out in the bakery. ‘About half past, I expect,’ I said, as casually as I could manage.

‘Sorry we’ve been so slow. The bus would have been even worse.’

We turned into Rathmore Drive and stopped outside the Victorian villa with the beech hedge that had borne the name of ‘home’ for me ever since I was six years old.

‘I wish we’d had time for that coffee,’ he said.

‘So do I,’ I said unhappily as I got out and came round to the pavement.

He looked down at me and smiled. ‘Perhaps she’ll be in a good mood,’ he suggested lightly.

‘Oh damn that, Keith,’ I said vehemently. ‘It’s not my mother I’m worried about. It’s time I learnt to cope with her. It’s you and Siobhan. D’you think there’ll be trouble?’