The Ballroom on Magnolia Street (39 page)

The first thing Kate did when they moved into their modern bungalow with sea views was to hang the two tickets for Hogan’s Goodbye Disco, which she’d had framed, on the bedroom wall. So she would always remember the night she had fallen in love with Kevin. They had a dream holiday, exploring their new homeland, and enjoying the scenery and eating out, and buying furniture. Kate picked up the keys to her new shop. She spent two glorious weeks painting the boutique white and supervising the construction of some pretty cube-shelving, and attending a trade event for boutique-owners. When all the new handbags were displayed on the shelves, and the champagne had been poured, Kate unlocked the door and a small crowd of excited females came swarming in with their credit cards. The shop was going to be a great success. Kevin slotted easily into his new garage environment, and even went fishing with some of the other mechanics on a boat named the
Belfast Boy
. He didn’t miss his old life for a second.

Declan threw himself into his studies, and his tutors said he would make a fine doctor some day. He rarely had time to think of the ballroom and what might have been. And although he had promised Shirley that he would never hide anything from her, he kept Johnny’s revelation to himself. Shirley might be upset if she had to get to know a new grandparent for Mavourna. And he sensed that she didn’t like Johnny Hogan very much, anyway. (Shirley was delighted when Declan gave the ballroom back to Hogan.) Declan never told his parents what he knew either, and they never asked him why he had given the ballroom back. As the months passed, the whole thing gradually faded into the background. He knew he had made the right decision when he lay in bed with Shirley each night. He was a family man, like Eddy. He didn’t care what the outside world thought of him. All he cared about was Shirley and their love for each other, and their beautiful daughter and their lovely home.

Shirley was thrilled with the tall, echo-filled new house and they made a vow to pay back Declan’s parents as soon as they were earning again. Shirley had great fun painting the freshly plastered walls in restful pastel colours, and looking in the second-hand shops and sales for nice pieces of furniture. She said she might have another child to keep Mavourna company, as soon as she had her strength back after the birth. She still didn’t know if she believed in God or anything else, but she knew that she wanted a surgeon standing by when she went into labour for the second time. She decorated Mavourna’s little bedroom with paintings of pink trees with pale blue leaves and pretty tree-sprites. Their statue of God’s mother ended up in the spare bedroom, but Shirley dusted it regularly.

She cried a little bit, sometimes, when she thought of Kate living so far away. They should have been best friends all these years and now they should be bringing up their children together. But Kate was never coming back to Belfast. They both knew that much. Shirley made Kate promise to keep in touch. But she knew in her heart that Kate would develop a New Zealand accent, and that they would only see her a handful of times in the years ahead, if that. They would grow apart and become strangers. They would never dance together in the ballroom again, or get drunk in the Crown Bar, or laugh at Miss Bingham’s madness. Kate wouldn’t get to see Shirley’s new blue carpet, which had just been laid in the lounge, or taste the chocolate cupcakes she had made that day. It was the end of an era. But then she looked at Declan, asleep in their bed beside her, his long eyelashes flickering in some happy dream, and she knew that she already had a best friend. She kissed him on the shoulder, and cuddled up to him, and went to sleep.

Kate kept a low profile for six months and then sent her parents a postcard and some tickets for a cruise. Mr and Mrs Winters had the time of their lives on the ship, ballroom-dancing every night, and feasting on grilled chicken and platters of watermelon and pineapple cubes. Mrs Winters wore a feather ornament in her hair, and Mr Winters squeezed himself into his old tuxedo for the cocktail hour. They returned home, tanned and worldly-wise, after visiting several European countries. They decided to save up and go on a lovely holiday every year. They thought they might not be able to afford it, but with Kate and her catalogues out of the house, there was much more money available. Mrs Winters turned Kate’s old room into a sewing room, and spent many happy hours there, making cushion-covers and frilly curtains. Mr Winters was very contented, but he bought the big shed anyway. Just to be on the safe side.

Then, Hogan’s began running ballroom-dancing classes, and everyone went mad for them. At first Mr Winters was reluctant to leave the shed. There were a lot of shelves to be put up, he said. But Mrs Winters threatened her husband with violence if he didn’t take her dancing. So he did, and they had a great time. It was just like being back on the cruise ship, except now they were learning how to dance properly. They ended up going three times a week, and even won a little cup for the best newcomers in the month of February.

Alex Stone’s uncle passed away and Alex inherited a fortune. And Louise Lowry wasted no time in marrying him and getting her giant hands on his bank account. It wasn’t much of a romance. They went out for a curry every Saturday night for six months, and then one rainy evening in June, a bunch of aggressive teenagers called Alex a poof, and before he could reach for them, Louise made one of her giant hands into a fist, and punched the biggest lad square in the face. That stopped them in their tracks. They apologized immediately, and scattered. Alex proposed that night, in the Star of India Curry House on the Ormeau Road. He was very touched by Louise’s brave gesture. And he was happy to hand the shops over to her, when the honeymoon was over. (Twin beds in Venice.) He had no interest in the jewellery business, he said. He left Louise to run the shops and he spent most of his free time hanging around with Sunny Jim. Louise never did find out that Alex and Jim were gay, and in love with each other. And they didn’t know it, either. They had been brought up in an era that did not acknowledge or tolerate modern catch-pennies, like two gay people sharing a loving and tender relationship. They just knew that they were happy together, talking about stainless-steel hand-weights and competition briefs that cost fifty pounds a pair. And so, in a strange way, it was the perfect relationship. Mary went to work for her old friend Louise, and the two of them had great fun transforming the shops from a tacky chain of second-rate rubbish into a chain of slightly less tacky, second-rate rubbish.

The police in Bundoran were mystified as to how Lolly had given them the slip. Until the winter rain soaked through the roofing felt of the seaside bungalow and made a wet patch on the carpet underneath. The Sunday papers had a bit of fun with the story, and there were some red faces in the local police station. They vowed to lock him up for good if they ever caught him again, but he was long gone by then. Eugene Lolly left the country on a tugboat, under cover of darkness, and blagged his way to Mexico, where he found work as a caretaker in a monastery. Three, years later, he renounced the modern world, and its chattering women, and joined the monks himself. He wasn’t sure if he was a religious man, but he managed to convince the others that he was; and the monastery was peaceful and clean, and the meals weren’t bad either. It was just like prison, but without the riots and the stress and the tattoos. Eugene was very happy there. He kept the little glass statue of the Virgin Mary in his cell, as a reminder of what the most important thing in life was: freedom. He told no one in Ireland where he was and it pleased him that he would remain a figure of mystery to the end of his days. He would finally become the legend that he had always dreamt of becoming.

Virginia Lolly divorced Eugene in absentia, and married a local man ten years younger than herself. He appreciated her belly-dancing very much, and she was delighted at his prowess with a cocktail-shaker.

Timothy Tate won a fortune on the lottery, and gave most of it to the gymnasium where he worked. He had no real need of the money as yellow bonbons were his only luxury. The gym was therefore saved from certain closure and everyone was delighted. They had a celebration tournament and beat each other black and blue. The manager paid off all their debts straight away and even erected a small plaque on the wall in Timothy’s honour. Timothy’s pastor told him that he had restored his faith in human nature. The Bonbon Gang days were over at last. Well, nearly. Timothy used the last of his winnings to buy the newsagent’s shop where Louise Lowry had once worked. And he renamed it the Bonbon Gang. He could now spend the rest of his life sitting behind the old counter, reading comics and eating sweets, and wondering where Eugene was, and just being content.

Miss Bingham held on to her job in the unemployment office until she was five years over the official retirement age. She was finally pensioned off and carried out of the building by the same security guard that had escorted Kate to the front door. She went on a three-week sweet-sherry bender and was found wandering in the Botanic Gardens one day, talking to the plants about flexi-sheets. Her doctor advised her to go on a long holiday, so she spent another three weeks looking at glossy brochures and complaining about the outrageous price of single-room supplements. Eventually, she decided that she liked the look of Tasmania. Off she went, on her own, for a two-week vacation, the highlight of which was a tour of the old British penal colony buildings (featuring the world’s first sensory-deprivation chamber). She had a great time. She came home to Belfast wearing a T-shirt that said:
I’ve been to Tassie
. She bought two neutered cats and joined the church choir. She was happy. Sort of. In her own way.

Then, one day that began just like any other day, but which turned out to be life-changing, a strange man turned up on her doorstep, wearing a polyester beige suit and aviator sunglasses. His name was Tom Raymonds and he spoke with an American accent. He told Miss Bingham that he was her son, and that the Boston Adoption Agency had given him her details. Miss Bingham collapsed on the rope-twist doormat. (She was something of an expert at collapsing, by this stage.) She wept and cried and said she was so, so sorry for giving her baby away all those years ago, but it was the done thing then. The father didn’t want to know and her family didn’t want the disgrace. She had not known one day’s peace since the adoption people came to take her son away. All his life, forty-six years of it, she had wondered what became of him. All her life she had been jealous of modern women like Kate Winters who did whatever they pleased. He forgave her, and they hugged, and went for a walk around the city, holding hands. She showed him where she used to work, and where she went to church, and where she bought her groceries. He told her he was a lawyer, who had been brought up by good people. She told him that she had never stopped loving him. He said she was welcome to come out to Boston and live with him and his wife, Amy. They had a big house with lots of space, and five grown-up children. She said she would be delighted. And before he flew back to Boston, they had their portrait taken by the best photographer in the city.

James sat watching television one night when Eileen had gone to bed. He was thinking of everything that had happened to his little family. Declan was a married man now so he hadn’t turned out to be a rolling stone like Johnny. Marion had done the right thing in marrying Eddy Greenwood, even though James knew for a fact it was Johnny she really loved, all those years ago. And Eddy had done a great job in bringing up Johnny’s son to become a happily married student-doctor. Of course, the downside was that James and Eileen were not part of Declan’s life and never would be.

James watched the film until the credits came up, but he wasn’t really listening to it. He was thinking that real life was much more interesting and complex and tragic and wonderful than any film could ever be. Then he switched off the set and went to bed.

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The Ballroom on Magnolia Street