map.”
“You could go up the map here to Northern Ireland and take a boat straight over to Stranraer—that is, if you’re set on going.”
“I
am
set on going, and I daren’t risk any more journeys in Ireland. It would be safer to get off the island as quickly as possible.”
“Why Scotland? Just tell me that so that I’ll know in my old age when people ask me whatever happened to you.”
“They always seem reliable, practical, down-to-earth when you see them being interviewed about anything on television.”
“Don’t be ridiculous! You can’t understand a word they say any more than I can.” Katy was outraged to lose her friend on such a frail premise.
“I can understand a lot of it—and anyway, it’s probably better if I don’t.”
“Don’t walk out on your job, Eileen, you’ll never be employed again.”
“I’m not walking out. I’ve found them a substitute. She’s better than I am. What I’m doing is a favor for everyone, including myself. I’ve got to mix with sensible, taciturn people who say
aye
instead of coming out with a stream of romantic baloney that would break your heart. A year or two of nice morose
aye
s will see me right.”
Katy looked at her friend sadly. She knew that somewhere in Glasgow at this moment there was a romantic, kilt-wearing knave waiting to promise Eileen the earth and the heavens. She assumed that Eileen would probably meet him as soon as she got off the train.
Eileen’s letters were a surprise. There seemed to be no Jock or Andy or Alastair creeping out of the Scottish woodwork plotting her downfall. Not a Jimmy or a Sandy had sworn that he was going to leave his wife for her. Instead there were tales of job hunting and outings to Loch Lomond and excursions to castles where Mary, Queen of Scots, had lived. Scotland was full of scenery, apparently. Katy read this bitterly, thinking that Ireland had its fair share of mountains, rivers, and lakes, but she had never been able to drag her friend Eileen from the wine bars and the secret and doomed assignations to see any of it.
Eileen had worked in a supermarket, at a gas station, and was now in a bookshop. She had found a bedsitter in a house with quite a lot of people in it, but obviously because some of them were men she just kept her eyes down and shouted “Aye” at them if they began to speak.
It was mostly women in the bookshop, and she kept conversations with the customers strictly on the subject of books. Oddly, some of them found
her
accent a bit hard to understand, which was hilarious since Eileen didn’t speak with any accent, she wrote cheerfully.
She
spoke perfectly normally.
Reluctantly, Katy began to believe that her friend Eileen had made the right move. Perhaps the sudden change of environment had been just what she needed to shake her out of the Romantic Distressed Heroine role she had managed to get fixed in while she was in Dublin. It needn’t have been Scotland. It could have been Chicago or Birmingham. She just had to break the spiral.
Perhaps one day she might feel really cured and come home. Katy hoped so. She missed her redheaded friend and all her madcap adventures. Katy would love to have had her around to talk about the new man in her own life. Michael, he was called—very, very nice, honest, trustworthy, no hidden wife and kids. No false promises. But Katy didn’t really feel it would be kind and tactful to talk of love. Not when Eileen was so busy curing herself of it. It would be like dangling a martini in front of an alcoholic, or blowing cigarette smoke up the nose of anyone trying to give up smoking. No, she would keep quiet for a while about Michael. And if there was anything dramatic to tell, which there well might be, then she would go over to Scotland and tell her friend all about it personally.
As it happened, it was Michael who went to Scotland first. Katy had debated going too, but then she wasn’t a serious rugby follower, and in a way it looked a bit silly
“You could go up the map here to Northern Ireland and take a boat straight over to Stranraer—that is, if you’re set on going.”
“I
am
set on going, and I daren’t risk any more journeys in Ireland. It would be safer to get off the island as quickly as possible.”
“Why Scotland? Just tell me that so that I’ll know in my old age when people ask me whatever happened to you.”
“They always seem reliable, practical, down-to-earth when you see them being interviewed about anything on television.”
“Don’t be ridiculous! You can’t understand a word they say any more than I can.” Katy was outraged to lose her friend on such a frail premise.
“I can understand a lot of it—and anyway, it’s probably better if I don’t.”
“Don’t walk out on your job, Eileen, you’ll never be employed again.”
“I’m not walking out. I’ve found them a substitute. She’s better than I am. What I’m doing is a favor for everyone, including myself. I’ve got to mix with sensible, taciturn people who say
aye
instead of coming out with a stream of romantic baloney that would break your heart. A year or two of nice morose
aye
s will see me right.”
Katy looked at her friend sadly. She knew that somewhere in Glasgow at this moment there was a romantic, kilt-wearing knave waiting to promise Eileen the earth and the heavens. She assumed that Eileen would probably meet him as soon as she got off the train.
Eileen’s letters were a surprise. There seemed to be no Jock or Andy or Alastair creeping out of the Scottish woodwork plotting her downfall. Not a Jimmy or a Sandy had sworn that he was going to leave his wife for her. Instead there were tales of job hunting and outings to Loch Lomond and excursions to castles where Mary, Queen of Scots, had lived. Scotland was full of scenery, apparently. Katy read this bitterly, thinking that Ireland had its fair share of mountains, rivers, and lakes, but she had never been able to drag her friend Eileen from the wine bars and the secret and doomed assignations to see any of it.
Eileen had worked in a supermarket, at a gas station, and was now in a bookshop. She had found a bedsitter in a house with quite a lot of people in it, but obviously because some of them were men she just kept her eyes down and shouted “Aye” at them if they began to speak.
It was mostly women in the bookshop, and she kept conversations with the customers strictly on the subject of books. Oddly, some of them found
her
accent a bit hard to understand, which was hilarious since Eileen didn’t speak with any accent, she wrote cheerfully.
She
spoke perfectly normally.
Reluctantly, Katy began to believe that her friend Eileen had made the right move. Perhaps the sudden change of environment had been just what she needed to shake her out of the Romantic Distressed Heroine role she had managed to get fixed in while she was in Dublin. It needn’t have been Scotland. It could have been Chicago or Birmingham. She just had to break the spiral.
Perhaps one day she might feel really cured and come home. Katy hoped so. She missed her redheaded friend and all her madcap adventures. Katy would love to have had her around to talk about the new man in her own life. Michael, he was called—very, very nice, honest, trustworthy, no hidden wife and kids. No false promises. But Katy didn’t really feel it would be kind and tactful to talk of love. Not when Eileen was so busy curing herself of it. It would be like dangling a martini in front of an alcoholic, or blowing cigarette smoke up the nose of anyone trying to give up smoking. No, she would keep quiet for a while about Michael. And if there was anything dramatic to tell, which there well might be, then she would go over to Scotland and tell her friend all about it personally.
As it happened, it was Michael who went to Scotland first. Katy had debated going too, but then she wasn’t a serious rugby follower, and in a way it looked a bit silly
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