Silver Wedding by Maeve Binchy Page A

mind. She simply closed a door on Renata’s picture in a silver frame on a small table with a long white cloth reaching to the floor. She closed another door on Frank Quigley, her father’s friend, with tears in his eyes. She tried to think only of this moment. A woman had come to St Martin’s for help in some way, and Sister Brigid was out. Helen was in charge.
    ‘It’s just that you’re very young …’ Renata was doubtful.
    Helen was reassuring. She had her hand on the kettle and paused to look at Renata.
    ‘No, no, I’m much more experienced than you think.’
    She felt a little light-headed. Could she really be saying these words to Frank Quigley’s wife?
    It had been impossible in Rosemary Drive that time when Father had lost his job. Helen thought back on it and it flashed in front of her as if she were watching a video on that machine that she had got for St Martin’s once because the company had
assured
her it was free for a month and there would be no obligation. It had all been very difficult, the business about the video, like everything.
    But nothing was as frightening as the time her father had left Palazzo. There was a council of war every night and Mother had warned them that they must tell nobody.
    ‘But why?’ Helen had begged. She couldn’t bear her sister and brother to accept that this was the way things should be from now on. ‘Why does it have to be a secret? It’s not Daddy’s fault that they changed the place. He can get another job. Daddy can get
any
job.’
    She remembered still how Mother had snapped at her.
    ‘Your father doesn’t want
any
job, he wants his job at Palazzo back. And he will have it back soon, so in the meantime nothing is to be said. Do you hear me, Helen? Outside this house not one word is to be said. Everyone is to think that your father is going to work as usual in Palazzo.’
    ‘But how will he earn money?’ Helen had asked.
    It was a reasonable question. To this day she didn’t regret it, like she sometimes regretted the things she had said, the offers she had made, the questions she had asked.
    Anna had said nothing, for an easy life she had explained.
    Brendan had said nothing because nothing was what Brendan always said.
    But Helen couldn’t say nothing.
    She was sixteen years old, grown up, in her last year at school. She would not stay on and do A levels like Anna. Even though she felt she was twice as bright as Anna in many ways. No, Helen was going to see the world, try her hand at this and that, get on-the-job experience.
    She was so full of life, at sixteen some people thought she was years younger, a big schoolgirl. Other people thought she was years older, a lively student going on twenty.
    Frank Quigley had no idea how old she was the afternoon she went to see him in his office.
    The dragon woman Miss Clarke had protected him as she always had. Helen wondered could she possibly be there still? It was years ago. Surely she had given up hoping that Mr Quigley was going to look into her eyes and say that she was beautiful without her glasses?
    Helen had left her school blazer downstairs with the doorman, and had opened the top buttons of her school shirt in order to look more grown up. The dragon woman had eventually let her in. There were very few who could withstand Helen when she was in full flow. Explanation came hard upon explanation, and all the time she was moving towards his office. Before the dragon realized it, Helen was in.
    She was flushed and excited.
    Frank Quigley had looked up, surprised.
    ‘Well, well, Helen Doyle. You’re not meant to be here, I’m sure.’
    ‘I know.’ She laughed easily.
    ‘You should be at school, not bursting into people’s offices.’
    ‘I do a lot of things I shouldn’t do.’
    She had sat on the corner of his desk swinging her legs, shoulders hunched up. He looked at her with interest. Helen knew she had been right to come here, the silence of Rosemary Drive was no way to handle things. There had