'I do hope so, but no doubt you'll have caught up by the end of the month, by which time I'll have to put you into the advanced class.'
Maisie didn't respond, as she knew it wouldn't be too long before she would have to tell Arnold that she'd made other plans for the end of the month.
Once again, they ended up sitting alone together at the bar, and once again he accompanied her back to Still House Lane, only this time, when Maisie took the front-door key out of her bag, she thought he looked as if he might be trying to summon up the courage to kiss her. Surely not. Hadn't she got enough problems to cope with?
'I was just wondering,' he said, 'which book you ought to read first.'
'It won't be a book,' said Maisie as she placed the key in the lock, 'it will be a letter.'
30
PATRICK CASEY had breakfast, lunch and dinner in the hotel restaurant on Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday.
Maisie assumed that he would take her to dinner at the Plimsoll Line in the hope that it might evoke past memories. In fact, she hadn't been back to the restaurant since Patrick had disappeared off to Ireland. She was right, and it did.
Maisie was determined that she would not be seduced once again by Patrick's charm and good looks, and she intended to tell him about Mike and their plans for the future. But as the evening progressed, she found it more and more difficult to raise the subject.
'So, what have you been up to since I was last in Bristol?' Patrick asked her over a pre-dinner drink in the lounge bar. 'Not that anyone could miss the fact that you're running the best hotel restaurant in the city while somehow managing to fit in evening classes at the same time.'
'Yes, I shall miss all that when . . .' she began wistfully.
'When what?' asked Patrick.
'It's only a twelve-week course,' said Maisie, trying to recover.
'In twelve weeks' time,' said Patrick, 'my bet is you'll be the one who's giving the classes.'
'What about you? What have you been up to?' she asked as the head waiter came over to tell them their table was ready.
Patrick didn't answer the question until they'd sat down at a quiet table in the corner of the room.
'You may remember I was promoted to deputy manager of the company about three years ago, which is why I had to go back to Dublin.'
'I haven't forgotten why you had to go back to Dublin,' said Maisie with some feeling.
'I tried to return to Bristol several times, but once war broke out, it proved almost impossible, and it didn't help that I couldn't even write to you.'
'Well, that problem may well be solved in the near future.'
'Then you can read to me in bed.'
'And how has your company fared during these hard times?' asked Maisie, steering the conversation back on to safer ground.
'Actually, a lot of Irish companies have done rather well out of the war. Because of the country's neutrality, we've been able to deal with both sides.'
'You're willing to do business with the Germans?' said Maisie in disbelief.
'No, as a company we've always made it clear where our allegiances lie, but you won't be surprised to know that quite a few of my countrymen are happy to do business with the Germans. Because of that, we had a couple of tough years, but once the Americans entered the war, even the Irish began to believe the Allies might end up on the winning side.'
That was her chance to tell Patrick about one American in particular, but she didn't take it. 'So what brings you to Bristol now?' she asked.
'The simple answer is, you.'
'Me?' Maisie quickly tried to think of a convincing way of bringing the conversation back on to a less personal footing.
'Yes. Our managing director will be retiring at the end of the year, and the chairman has asked me to take his place.'
'Congratulations,' said Maisie, relieved to be back on safer ground. 'And you want me to take over as your deputy,' she added, trying to make light of it.
'No, I want you to be my wife.'
Maisie's tone changed. 'Didn't it cross your mind, Patrick, just for one moment during the past three years, that someone else might have come into my life?'
'Daily,' said Patrick, 'which is why I came over to find out if there was someone else.'
Maisie hesitated. 'Yes, there is.'
'And has he asked you to marry him?'
'Yes,' she whispered.
'Have you accepted his proposal?'
'No, but I've promised to let him have my answer before he returns to America at the end of the month,' she said more firmly.
'Does that mean I'm still in with a chance?'
'Frankly, Patrick, the odds are stacked against you. You haven't been in touch for nearly three years, and suddenly you turn up out of the blue as if nothing's changed.'
Patrick made no attempt to defend himself, while a waiter served their main courses. 'I wish it was that easy,' he said.
'Patrick, it was always that easy. If you'd asked me to marry you three years ago, I would have happily jumped on the first boat to Ireland.'
'I couldn't ask you then.'
Maisie put down her knife and fork without taking a bite. 'I always wondered if you were married.'
'Why didn't you say something at the time?'
'I was so much in love with you, Patrick, I was even willing to suffer that indignity.'
'And to think I only returned to Ireland because I couldn't ask you to be my wife.'
'And has that changed?'
'Yes. Bryony left me over a year ago. She met someone who took more interest in her than I did, which wouldn't have been difficult.'
'Oh my God,' said Maisie, 'why is my life always so complicated?'
Patrick smiled. 'I'm sorry if I've disrupted your life again, but I won't give in so easily this time, not while I still believe there's even the slightest chance.' He leant across the table and took her hand. A moment later the waiter reappeared by their side, an anxious look on his face as he looked at the two untouched plates of food that had been allowed to go cold.
'Is everything all right, sir?' he asked.
'No,' said Maisie. 'It's not.'
The Sins of the Father
Maisie lay awake and thought about the two men in her life. Mike, so reliable, so kind, who she knew would be faithful until his dying day, and Patrick, so exciting, so alive, with whom there would never be a dull moment. She changed her mind several times during the night, and it didn't help that she had so little time to make her decision.
When she came down to breakfast the following morning, her mother didn't mince her words when Maisie asked her, if given the choice, which of the two men she should marry.
'Mike,' she said without hesitation. 'He'll be far more reliable in the long run, and marriage is for the long run. In any case,' she added, 'I've never trusted the Irish.'
Maisie considered her mother's words, and was about to ask another question when Stan barged into the room. Once he'd gulped down his porridge, he barged into her thoughts.
'Aren't you seeing the bank manager today?'
Maisie didn't reply.
'I thought so. Just make sure you come straight home with my 'undred quid. If you don't, my girl, I'll come looking for you.'