APRIL 1981

(US NO. 7 WOMAN - John Lennon).

My lover and I sat side by side on the white Caribbean sand.  The setting sun shattered into a thousand glittering diamonds as it hit the turquoise blue of the sea, and the only sound was the rhythmic thud of the waves as they broke upon the shore.

My lover and I sat in silence.  There was no need for words between us.  We were together in body and mind and it was perfection.  The electricity between us charged the otherwise tranquil setting.  But we would do nothing about that charge until the sun had finally slipped behind the gentle ridge of the island, its dying rays spilling blood into the sea.  Then he would lean over to me and breathe quietly into my ear as he always did.

“Jane.”  The words, coming from just behind me, broke into my dream and shattered it completely. 

I looked up from the file that lay open on the desk in front of me.  Jessica Fitzgerald laughed.  “If you didn’t spend half your life in a daze you’d be a brilliant worker,” she said.  She handed me a sheaf of papers.  “All these are fine.  Can you get the confirmations out before lunch-time?”

I nodded at her.  I was still halfway around the world, still in the arms of my secret lover on the white sands of the Caribbean.  It was difficult to come back to the fifth floor of the bank’s head office in Dublin, where the April rain drizzled miserably outside the opaque windows and there was no lover, secret or otherwise, in my life.

“Are you certain?”  Jessica wasn’t convinced, I could see it in her eyes.  I nodded vigorously, both to reassure her and to rid myself of the image of Sebastian lying bronzed and desirable on the beach beside me.

“I’ll have them sent by twelve.”  I glanced at my watch.

“Hope so,” said Jessica.  “And when you’ve done that I need you to do some photocopying for me.”

“Do you need that before lunch too?” I asked anxiously.  “Only I’m meeting Lucy at half-twelve.”

“After lunch is fine,” said Jessica.  “Once you get those confirmations off.”

"Don't worry."   I took the confirmations to my desk while Jessica walked back down the long, open-plan area to her desk.

Jessica Fitzgerald was my boss.  She was twenty-six years old, an assistant manager in the International Trade department of the bank where I worked, and she was frighteningly efficient.  But she was good to work for.  She didn’t make you feel stupid if you had to ask a question, she was always helpful and explained things thoroughly so that you were confident you knew what you were doing.

Some people said that Jessica was too helpful.  That because she was so popular with her staff she had done herself no good in the further promotion stakes.  The word in the bank was that you should always make sure that people knew less than you, that you kept an ace up your sleeve at all times, that you were helpful, but not too helpful.  And that you exaggerated your own abilities as much as you possibly could.

At first I’d been scornful of people who said that but in my two years in the bank I’d realised that they were probably right.  I wanted to get promoted soon and I wanted Jessica to realise that I was promotion material.

I sat at my desk and tore along the perforated lines of the computer-generated confirmations. I’d told Jessica that I’d have them done by noon but it had been a busy day yesterday and there were hundreds of them. It meant working flat out to reach an almost impossible deadline.   

They were done by five-past.  I sighed with relief, stood up and stretched my arms over my head.  I left the huge bundle of copies on Jessica’s desk so that she could make a random check of some of them.  Then I went to lunch.

The wind swirled around Baggot Street.  It blew the rain directly into my face and whisked stray papers through the air.  I pulled my grey, quilted raincoat around me and hurried down the street.

Lucy was already waiting for me outside Burgerland.  She stood in the shelter of the building, calm and unruffled.  Lucy would look calm and unruffled in a hurricane.

Lucy McAllister was my closest friend.  We’d been friends since the day we met at St Attracta’s Secondary School for girls.  I'd arrived at school the first morning feeling very alone.  I hadn't gone to St. Attracta's Primary School like most of the other girls and I didn't recognise anyone in the crowd that swarmed around Class 1A.  Everyone else seemed to know someone.  A group of very pretty girls laughed in the corner together and glanced in my direction.  I flushed with embarrassment, wondering if they were sneering at me for some reason.  I looked around anxiously.

A small, fair girl sat at a desk near the back of the classroom and ignored everyone around her.  She didn’t look as though she was keeping a space beside her.  She didn’t really look at anyone very much.  I took a deep breath.

“Are you keeping this space for anyone?” I asked.  The fair-haired girl shook her head.

“D’ you mind if I sit here then?”

“Feel free,” she said.  “Don’t let me stop you.”

“I’m Jane O’Sullivan.”  

“Lucy McAllister.”  She looked around.  “Don’t you know any of these people?”

"No," I said.

"Me neither.  It's weird not knowing anybody."

I nodded.  "You didn't go to St. Attracta's before?"

She shook her head.  “The Holy Faith,” she said.  “But St Attracta’s is much more convenient for me.  So my folks decided I should change.  I didn't want to really.  I liked the Holy Faith.”

“I’m sure you’ll make loads of friends,” I said.

She looked around at the classroom full of girls and sighed. “Maybe.”

I couldn't think of anything else to say.  I wanted to say something so that she'd realise that I was bright and witty and that I was a good person to know.  I pulled at a fingernail.

A tall, severe nun walked into the classroom, introduced herself as Sr Elizabeth, the head, and began to talk to us about our responsibilities as adults. 

Lucy yawned and Sr Elizabeth stared at her.

"In this school we expect our students to behave in a mannerly fashion," said the nun.  "It is the height of bad manners to yawn when somebody is talking to you.  You're Lucy McAllister, aren't you?"

Lucy nodded while thirty girls stared at her.

"Well, Lucy, it's nice to have you in St Attracta's," said Sr Elizabeth.  "Hopefully you'll spend your time here profitably and you won't find it all too boring."

Lucy flushed.  "Cow," she muttered under her breath. 

I gave her a sympathetic smile and she grinned at me.

It’s funny how you sometimes click with another person.  Lucy McAllister and I clicked.  Despite the fact that we were completely un-alike in looks - she was like china doll with her fair hair, blue eyes and pale complexion and I was a sturdy, well-built redhead - we were the same sort of people. 

We were both ordinary.  Averagely clever, with average looks and an average background.  We weren’t as popular as the stunningly beautiful Stephanie McMenamin or her select group of friends, but neither were we avoided like some of the other girls.  We never did so brilliantly in class that we were envied; but we were never sent to Sr Elizabeth’s office with a note from the teacher to say that we were a complete waste of space.  We were middle-of-the-road girls.  We came from the same sort of families who lived the same sort of lives and we understood each other.

“What d’ you want?” asked Lucy as we stood in the queue for our burgers.

“Quarter-pounder, chips and coke,” I said.  “No - wait - no chips.  I’m trying to cut out chips.”

Lucy laughed.  Not a very caring laugh, I thought.  “Come on, Jane!  You can never resist chips.”

“I’ll have to,” I told her.  “I hardly fit into my jeans now and I can’t afford another pair.  I badly need to lose a few inches.” 

“A small french fries will hardly make any difference,” said Lucy.  “There’s nothing in it worth talking about anyway.”

“All the same,” I said as we inched forward.  “I’ll just have the burger.  It’s all right for you - you never bloody-well put on an ounce.”

Lucy grinned.  “Metabolism,” she said.

We brought our food to a white-topped table in the window.  I shivered involuntarily as I watched the rain lash against it.

“So.”  Lucy unwrapped her burger and daintily removed the dill pickle.  “Have you decided what you’re going to do on Friday night?”

I made a face.  “Not really.”

“Oh, Jane, for God’s sake!  It’s your twenty-first birthday.  You must have some ideas.”

I took Lucy’s pickle and put it on my burger.  “No.”

“But you can’t let your twenty-first go by as though it meant nothing.”

It was all right for Lucy.  Her parents had thrown her a massive party.  Although we were still close friends, her job at the temping agency meant that she met lots of different people.  Easily enough to fill the room that Mrs McAllister had hired.  And Michael, her older brother, had brought all his friends.  I smiled at the memory.  It had been a good night.

“It’s my folks,” I told her.  “You know they’ve organised for us to go to the Walnut Rooms for dinner and a cabaret on Saturday night.  They think it’s very touching that my birthday and their anniversary should be on the same day.”

“I think it’s bloody unfortunate,” said Lucy.

“Yes, well.”  I robbed one of her chips.  “There’s not a lot I can do about it.  They’ve booked a table for twenty.  Twenty!  All of the aunts and uncles.”  I took another chip.  “They think I’ll like it.”

Lucy smothered a giggle.  “Sounds like a barrel of laughs.”

“Fuck off, McAllister,” I said. 

She smiled and me and removed her chips from my reach.  “You’re on a diet, remember?”

“I thought maybe we could just go out for a drink,”  I said.

“Oh, Jane.  We do that every week.”  She crumpled her burger wrapping.  “Why don’t we at least come into town and then maybe go to a nightclub or something afterwards?  You, me and the twins?”

The twins, Brenda and Grace Quinlan, were our other old schoolfriends.  They were like one person really, because they were almost identical and you rarely saw one without the other.  But we got on well as a foursome and we’d stayed friends even when we’d finally shaken the dust of St Attracta’s off our shoes.

“OK,” I said.  “Will you be talking to the twins or d’ you want me to give them a call?”

“You’d better ring them,” said Lucy.  “I can hardly breathe in that office without them looking sideways at me.  Thank God it’s only for another couple of weeks.”

I didn’t know how Lucy could stand going from office to office like she did.  I liked knowing that I’d be meeting the same people every day; that I knew where everything was.  Lucy was more adventurous than me.

“I’d better get back,” she said as she looked at her watch.  “They give me such horrible looks if I’m late that I’m quite sure they’re plotting something evil.”

I laughed at her.  “They’re probably really nice people.”

“Huh,” said Lucy.  “They’re solicitors.  How can they be really nice people?”

I worked late that evening.  International Trade was a busy department and there was always plenty of work to keep you past five o'clock if you wanted.  I worked late whenever I could.  I wanted the overtime and there wasn’t anything else to drag me out of the office.

God, my life was dreary.  Here I was, nearly twenty-one, and I hadn’t achieved anything.  I lived at home with my parents. I had a safe, but boring, job in the bank. I didn’t have any vices.  I was still a virgin.

Lucy wasn’t.  Lucy had lost her virginity in France.  When we left school she’d gone au-pairing for a year.  Mam wouldn’t let me go au-pairing although I desperately wanted to.  We had a screaming match about it but in the end I rang the bank and said that I’d be delighted to accept the position that they’d offered and Lucy went to France on her own.  It didn’t bother her in the slightest.  She wrote to me one a week to let me know how she was getting on, loving every minute of her time even if she thought that the two children she looked after were over-indulged little brats.  Then, one day, a different letter, falling over itself with underlined words and exclamation marks.

"He was tremendous," she wrote.  "I knew that it probably didn't mean anything to him, because it's definitely different with the French, but I just had to Jane, I just had to.  And he was so good-looking and so charming.  He brought a bottle of wine and we went out into the country and we did it in the open air!  I felt great about it.  Mind you, I was terrified that Mme Lemartine would find out about it and send me home!  I wasn't worried about getting pregnant because I had sorted myself out about that the minute I met him!  I just knew you see!  You just know, Jane, you'll understand yourself.  Unless you and your latest have already done the deed!  Write and tell me.  In the meantime I am having a great time with Étienne and I know that I’ll be heartbroken when it's over."

I crumpled up the paper.  I was embarrassed that Lucy could write to me about it and envious that she had managed to lose her virginity in such a romantic way.  And that she didn't seem to care that it was in a relationship that was purely for sex.  Being in France had changed her outlook on life completely.

How many girls were virgins at twenty-one in this day and age?  Hardly any was my guess.  It was just that I was.  Still.  Despite my best efforts.

I snorted as I thought of my best efforts.  In my entire life I’d had three boyfriends and none of them had been remotely close to dragging me to bed.  Jesse, an American and my first love at seventeen (which shows that I was a late developer), lasted all of three weeks, the duration of his holiday in Ireland.  Then came Frank.  My relationship with Frank had been longer-lived but out of a Victorian novel.  He was the sort of guy you’d never be afraid to bring home to your parents.  He was too good to be true - scrubbed face, straw-coloured hair and a permanent expression of happiness.  Frank couldn’t cope with my moodier side and we split up after six months.  Anyway, Frank wasn’t the one.  The man who would banish my imaginary lovers forever.  I hadn’t met that man yet, although I yearned to find him.  The one who would make me complete.  The other half of myself.  When I joined the bank I almost fainted with the excitement of seeing so many men around my own age walking around the place.  This was my opportunity, I thought.  This time I would find the man of my dreams. 

Actually, I found Dermot.  It wasn’t his fault that he couldn’t live up to my imaginary lovers - to Sebastian or Nicholas or Rupert or Andreas.  He did his best, but it wasn’t enough.  We split up after three months.

So here I was without a man in my life for the last year.  It was stupid to think that I needed a man to feel good.  I told myself over and over again that I was happy just as I was, but I wanted someone.  I needed someone to put his arms around me and to hold me and to make me feel loved.  I ached with the need of finding him.

Mam and Dad were watching TV when I arrived home.  I walked into the kitchen and draped my wet coat over the radiator.  Pieces of the car that Dad was currently working on were laid out neatly on the kitchen table.  Dad was the part-owner of a garage.  I was probably the only girl that I knew who could change an oil filter more quickly than shave her legs.

“You’re very late,” said Mam.  “You’re dinner will have dried out.”

“I didn’t think you’d keep any for me,” I said.  “I told you I might be late when I left this morning.”

“I thought you’d ring and let me know.”  She opened the oven door and took out the plate.  “You might want to make some gravy.”

The lamb chop was shrivelled and the potatoes dry.  Mam was not a cook, she often said so, but she'd be hurt if I didn’t eat it.

I brought my food into the living-room with me and settled down in front of the TV.  That way, Mam wouldn’t bother asking me about my day. She drove me nuts these days.  She still treated me as though I was a child when I felt like an adult.  Both my parents drove me nuts.  They couldn’t accept that I was a person in my own right now.

My birthday, for example.  I probably wouldn’t have had a big party anyway - I wasn’t a party sort of person - but I certainly didn’t want some family night out to mark my supposed coming of age.  I’d been horrified when Mam told me of her plans but I hadn’t the nerve, or maybe the heart, to say that I didn’t want to be part of a joint birthday and anniversary celebration.

I sighed.  I was very hard to please these days.

“Do you know who I saw in the shop today?” Mam worked part-time in the local supermarket.

I shook my head.

“That nice boy you used to know. Frank Delahunty.”

“Really?”  I was indifferent.

“Yes.  He didn’t stop at my check-out but I recognised him straight away.”  She looked pleased.  “Why don’t you give him a ring?”

“Because I’m not interested in Frank Delahunty anymore,” I told her firmly.  “We split up.  He went to London.  He probably doesn’t even remember me.”

“Of course he remembers you.”  Mam looked affronted that anyone could forget her only daughter.  “He was very keen on you.”

“I suppose he was,” I said. “But it wasn’t to be.”

“Maybe now that you’re older -”  She sounded hopeful.

“No.”

“But -”

“No,” I said.  Very decisively.

“Leave the girl alone, Maureen,” said Dad, coming to my rescue.  “If she isn’t interested in the chap, she isn’t interested.”

I must have been a terrible disappointment to my mother.  She’d been beautiful when she was younger.  Sometimes when she took out old photograph albums I’d stare at the snaps of her and wonder how on earth she’d produced a daughter like me.  And, unlike me, she’d been popular with men.  Not difficult, I suppose, when people said that you were a cracker.  She was, too.  Stunningly beautiful.  Small and slender, with golden hair tumbling around her face.  How could a woman like that look at her tall, well-built daughter and not wonder what on earth had happened?  That was probably why she was always trying to find out about my boyfriends.  She was afraid that nobody would ever find me attractive enough to marry, and she wanted me to get married. 

I wanted to get married too, one day.  But I wanted it to be to the right person, not someone Mam liked, the man that would love me through thick and thin.  The man that would protect me. 

I was an awful fool when I was twenty-one.

I met Lucy and the twins in O’Briens on Friday night.  Lucy and I arrived at the same time and went upstairs while we waited for the twins.  They didn’t get out of the department store where both of them worked until after six. 

“What’ll you have to drink?”  I took my purse out of my bag.

“I’ll get you one,” said Lucy.  “It’s your birthday after all.  And here -”  She handed me a gaily wrapped package.  “Happy birthday.”

“Oh, Lucy, thanks!  Will I open it now?”

“Of course,” said Lucy.  “You’re not thinking of sitting here all night without opening it are you?”

I slid my finger under the sellotape and unwrapped her present carefully. 

“It’s gorgeous,” I said as I held the delicate gold chain out in front of me.  “Really lovely.”

“Glad you like it,” said Lucy.

“Thanks, Lucy.”  I kissed her lightly on the cheek and fastened the chain around my neck while she ordered the drinks.

“So how are your solicitors?” I asked as we settled into seats in the corner of the lounge.

“I’m sure there are loads of wonderful solicitors,” said Lucy.  “But I hate this job.  Still, I was talking to Anna at the agency yesterday and she said that there were a couple of new jobs coming up soon.  I told her I wanted something nice this time and she said she’d see what she could do.”

"Any preferences?"

"Human beings," she said.

I laughed.  "They can't be that bad."

"I don't want to talk about them," she said.  "We're supposed to be having fun tonight."

I drained my glass.  “My turn,” I said.  “Same again?”

The twins arrived as I came back from the bar with the glasses of beer.  I got another couple for them and they handed over their present - a beautiful pale cream angora jumper and a multi-coloured chiffon scarf.

“Happy birthday, Jane.”  Brenda lifted her glass.

“Thanks.”

“So we’ve all finally made it to twenty-one,” grinned Lucy.  “We’re all fully-fledged adults.”

“Tell that to my mother,” I groaned.  “She told me not to be home late tonight.”

The others laughed.  Mam’s concern for me was legendary.  I suppose it was because I was an only child, but it was stifling all the same.  Lucy’s mother was far more relaxed than mine. Mrs McAllister never asked Lucy what time she’d be home.   And the Quinlan’s parents seemed to think that because the twins were together all the time it meant that they’d look after each other.  I was the only one with parents who fussed.

“Brenda and I were thinking about getting a flat,” said Grace suddenly.  “What would you think of that?”

I stared at her.  “Would your parents mind?”

“I’m sure they’d prefer if we stayed at home, but you can’t live at home forever.  Besides, we want to live somewhere that’s our own.”

“It’s a great idea,” said Lucy.  “Maybe you and I should think of doing it, Jane.”

“We were kind of wondering would you like to share with us,” said Grace.  “It’d be a lot cheaper.”

I looked at them in amazement.  I’d never thought of leaving home before.  Not to live in a flat, anyway.  I assumed that I’d move out when I got married, but Dublin girls didn’t just up and leave and move into flats. 

“What a brilliant idea,” breathed Lucy.  “It would be fantastic.  I’d love to be out of our house.  Michael’s moved back home while he’s saving up for the new bike and Joan and Emily are driving me crazy.  My parents aren’t too bad, I suppose, but the idea of living somewhere myself -  what do you think, Jane?”

“I’d love it,” I said.  “Have you thought of anywhere?”

“Not yet,” said Grace.  “But we’ve been looking at the papers. If we get somewhere purpose-built it would be best.”

“An apartment, you mean,” said Lucy.  “Not a flat.”
“Absolutely. We want to live somewhere nice.  Not some crummy tenement in Rathmines.”

“Wouldn’t that be terribly expensive?” I asked.  I hadn’t a clue about the cost of renting anywhere.  It just seemed to me that a pretty, purpose-built apartment would cost a lot more than any of us could afford.  It wasn’t as though we were earning huge salaries. 

“It would be OK if the four of us did it,” said Grace.

I shivered with anticipation.  It would be fantastic to be four girls living together in an apartment.  It would be freedom at last!  We’d be able to do exactly what we wanted whenever we wanted.  I wouldn’t have to account for every minute of my time.  No more panicking on a Friday night because I’d had a couple of drinks and my clothes reeked of smoke from a pub.  Mam went berserk whenever I came home smelling of drink or smoke.  She immediately assumed that I’d been on a massive binge.  It was terribly unfair of her.  I’d only been utterly drunk once before and that was such a disaster that I vowed never to get into that state again.  I shuddered as I remembered leaning over the toilet bowl while my parents stood outside the bathroom door ready to give me an earful when I could stand up again.  God, that was awful.  I hated being sick.  I hated the loss of control.  That was why I’d never drunk eight vodkas, two pints and a bottle of wine in a night again.

“So what d’ you think, Jane?” asked Lucy.

“I know my parents will go mad,” I said.  “But I’m all for it.”

“Great.”  The twins looked pleased.  “Does anyone have a definite idea of where the apartment should be?”

“Not me,” said Lucy.  “Although something near town.  I need to be near a bus-stop so that I can get in early if I’ve got a job in some out of the way place.”

“I don’t mind at all,” I told them.  “Anywhere will do me.”

We spent until closing time talking about our flat.  Our apartment.  It was great.  I finally felt grown-up whenever I thought about living in an apartment.  You couldn’t really feel an adult when you lived at home.  No matter what, you were always the child.  I suppose it’s difficult for a mother to think of a child as anything other than someone who needs their love and attention all the time, but I was ready to move on.  I knew Mam wouldn’t be happy about it.  I knew there’d be a scene and I hated scenes, but it would have to be done.

When we were finally thrown out of the pub, Lucy insisted that we go to a nightclub.

“You can’t possibly go home yet,” she told me.  “It’s your twenty-first, Jane.  It’s appalling that you’re not having a party.”

I sighed.  “I told you before I’m not a party person.”

“I know, I know.”  She looked at me in exasperation.  “But you’ve got to make the effort.  Come on, let’s go to Annabel’s.”

The twins were all on for Annabel’s and I gave in.  I couldn’t be a party-pooper all my life.  We joined the queue outside.  The doorman looked long and hard at me before he let me in.  I looked too young, I knew.  I was the youngest of the four by  about three months but I looked at least a year younger than the others.  The twins were both elegant girls.  Tall and dark, they had a great sense of style.  That was why they’d got jobs in the department store - they simply loved clothes.  Lucy, who had looked young for her age in school, had found her look in France.  Tiny and demure as a teenager, she’d blossomed in the last year.  But I was still the same.  I hadn’t quite managed to tame my wild, curly hair or find a look that fitted me yet.  I was growing-up inside, but my looks hadn’t caught up with how I felt yet.

Annabel’s was crowded.  We pushed our way into the throng of people on the dance-floor.

At least this was better than the cricket club dances of my teenage years.  When we were at St Attracta’s, everyone went to the cricket club disco on a Friday night and tried to meet the man of their dreams there.  It never worked of course.  Blokes you never saw before would ask you to dance, hold you tightly in their arms and then leave you standing there like an idiot when the music speeded up again.  I hated the cricket but I always went.  You knew that the night you didn’t show up would be the night that he would be there.

We were so naive, I thought, as I danced around my handbag.  What chance did anyone have of meeting the man in their life at a bloody disco?

“Would you like to dance?”

The lights had dimmed and the music was slow.  He stood in front of me and smiled.  The girls grinned at me and gave the thumbs up.

He put his arms around me and I leaned against his chest.  He wore a denim shirt.  I liked denim shirts.  His aftershave was Brut.

But there had to be more important things in my life than love.  I’d tried it, and I wasn’t very good at it.  Each time I’d gone out with someone I’d truly believed that this was it.  That it was forever.  Even with Jesse.  I hadn’t quite got the hang of simply going out and having a good time with someone.  Was everyone as silly as me, I wondered, as I moved around the floor with him and tried to ignore the fact that the button on his shirt-pocket was digging into the corner of my eye.  Not Lucy - she’d had a few boyfriends since she’d come back from France and none of them had lasted longer than a couple of months.  Not the twins - they didn’t seem to need men in their lives.  They were different from other people.  Not anyone else I knew.  I was the sole idiot in town.

“Thanks,” he said as the music speeded up again.  “Would you like a drink?”

I shook my head.  Suddenly I didn’t want to be here anymore.  The girls were standing beside the bar.

“I’ve had enough,” I said.  “I think I’ll go home.”

“Are you sure?” asked Lucy.  “It’s only one o’clock.”

“I’m sure,” I said.  “Stay if you want to.”

She shook her head.  “I’m tired too.”

We left together and piled into a taxi outside.

“Riverbrook Estate,” said Lucy.  “Terenure.”

The driver nodded.  I sat in the back with the twins while Lucy chatted away to him.  I didn’t listen to the conversation but leaned my head against the window.

Twenty-one.  It had seemed very old when I was at school.  Now I realised that it was nothing at all.