The Glass Lake by Maeve Binchy Page B

going.
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    The Brothers had a half day on Wednesday, the convent did not. Emmet McMahon went to Sister Madeleine and read the
Lays of Ancient Rome
with her; over and over he told the story about how Horatius kept the bridge. She closed her eyes and said she could see it all, those brave young men fighting off the enemy hordes, just three of them and then being flung into the Tiber. Emmet began to see it too, and he spoke it with great confidence.
    â€œâ€˜O Tiber, Father Tiber / To whom the Romans pray—’” He interrupted himself. “Why did the Romans pray to a river?”
    â€œThey thought it was a god.”
    â€œThey must have been mad.”
    â€œI don’t know,” Sister Madeleine speculated. “It was a very powerful river, rushing and foaming, and it was their livelihood in many ways…a bit like God to them, I suppose.” Sister Madeleine found nothing surprising.
    â€œCan you show me the little fox you showed Kit?” he asked.
    â€œCertainly, but tell me more about those brave Romans first, I love to hear about them.”
    And Emmet McMahon, who had not been able to say his own name in public with any hope of finishing it, stood and declaimed the verses of Lord Macaulay as if it were his mission in life.
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    â€œAunt Maura’ll be at home when I get back,” Clio said.
    â€œThat’s nice for you,” Kit said.
    â€œYes, she said she’d teach us golf. Would we learn?”
    Kit considered it. It would be a very grown-up thing to do, certainly. It would put them in a different class to those who just collected golf balls. But Kit felt a resistance. She wondered why. Possibly because her mother didn’t play, Mother had never shown any interest in the game at all. It seemed a bit disloyal somehow for Kit to learn, as if she didn’t agree with her mother’s choice.
    â€œI’ll think about it,” she said eventually.
    â€œWith you that means no,” Clio said.
    â€œWhy do you say that?”
    â€œBecause I know you very well.” Clio spoke menacingly.
    Kit resolved to discuss the golf with her mother that evening; if Mam encouraged her to go ahead, she would. That would show Clio Kelly that she wasn’t always right.

    â€œDon’t give me very much, Rita. I had a meal that you wouldn’t give to a condemned man there was so much on the plate,” Martin McMahon said ruefully.
    â€œWhy did you eat all that, Daddy?” Emmet asked.
    â€œWe went on an outing to the hotel as a treat.”
    â€œHow much did it cost?” Emmet wondered.
    â€œI don’t know, to tell you the truth, Clio’s auntie Maura paid for all of us.”
    â€œDid Mother enjoy it?” Kit was pleased there had been an outing.
    â€œAh. Your mother wasn’t able to come with us.”
    â€œWhere is Mother now?”
    â€œShe’ll be back later,” Dad said.
    Kit wished she were there now, she wanted to talk about the golf to her. Why did everyone think it was so normal for Mother not to be around anymore?
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    Clio came around after tea. “Well, what did you decide?”
    â€œDecide?”
    â€œAbout golf. Aunt Maura wants to know.”
    â€œNo she doesn’t.
You
want to know.” Kit knew that and said it very definitely.
    â€œWell, she
would
want to know.”
    â€œI haven’t decided yet.”
    â€œWhat’ll we do, then?” Clio looked around Kit’s bedroom, waiting for inspiration, or an invitation to look at the dance steps of the cha-cha-cha, which they had nearly mastered. The pattern of where the feet should go was worse than geometry with Mother Bernard.
    â€œI don’t know,” Kit said. She wanted to hear Mother’s light step on the stair.
    There was a silence. “Are we having a fight?” Clio asked.
    Kit was full of remorse. She nearly told