Minding Frankie - Maeve Binchy [56]
“The situation?” Emily looked startled.
“The new ‘tenant,’ for want of a better word.”
“Oh, Lisa! Yes, isn’t it great? Noel would be quite lonely there on his own at night, and now they go over their college notes together and she wheels Frankie down here in the mornings. It’s a huge help.”
Moira was not convinced. “But her own relationship. She says she’s involved with someone else?”
“Oh, yes, she’s very keen on this young man who runs a restaurant.”
“And where is this ‘relationship’ going?”
“Do you know, Moira, the French—who are very wise about love, cynical but wise—say, ‘There is always one who kisses and one who turns the cheek to be kissed.’ I think that’s what we have here: Lisa kissing and Anton offering his cheek to be kissed.”
This silenced Moira completely. How had this middle-aged American woman understood everything so quickly and so well? Moira wondered would she buy the heather knitted suit. But she didn’t want them to think that somehow she was in their debt. She might ask a colleague to go in and buy it later.
There was a notice on the corridor wall just outside Moira’s office. The heart clinic in St. Brigid’s wanted the services of a social worker for a couple of weeks.
Dr. Clara Casey said they needed a report done that she could show to the hospital management to prove that the part-time help of a social worker might contribute to the well-being of the patients who attended the clinic. The staff, though eager and helpful, were not aware of all the benefits and entitlements that existed, nor did they have the expertise to advise patients about how best to get on with their lives.
Moira looked at it vaguely. It wasn’t of any interest to her. It was just politics. Office politics. This woman, Dr. Casey, wanted to enlarge her empire, that’s all. Moira couldn’t have cared less.
She was surprised and very annoyed, therefore, when the team leader dropped in to see her about it. As usual, she admired the streamlined office and sighed, wishing that all the social workers could be equally organized.
“You see that job in St. Brigid’s—it’s only for two weeks. I’d like you to do it, Moira.”
“It’s not my kind of thing,” Moira began.
“Oh, but it is! No one would do it better or more thoroughly. Clara Casey will be delighted with you.”
“And my own caseload?”
“Will be divided between us all while you are away.”
Moira didn’t have to ask was it an order. She knew it was.
Moira had tidied up all the loose ends about Noel before her two weeks at St. Brigid’s. But she had one more stop to make. She called on Declan Carroll, who opened the door with his own son in his arms.
“Come on in,” he said. “The place is like a tenement. Fiona is going back to work tomorrow.”
“And how will you cope?” Moira was interested.
“Oh, there’s a baby mafia on this street, you know—we all keep an eye out for Frankie; well, they’ll do the same for Johnny. My parents are dying to get their hands on him, turn him into a master butcher like my dad! Emily Lynch, Noel’s parents, Muttie and Lizzie, the twins, Dr. Hat, Signora and Aidan. They’re all there for the children. The list is as long as my arm.”
“Your wife works in a heart clinic?” Moira had checked her notes.
“Yes, up in St. Brigid’s.”
“I’m going there for two weeks tomorrow, as it happens,” Moira said glumly.
“Best place you’ll ever work. There’s a great atmosphere in the place,” Declan Carroll said effortlessly, shifting the baby round in his arms.
“Do you think Noel is fit to raise a child?” Moira asked suddenly. If she had hoped to shock him into a direct answer, she had hoped in vain.
Declan looked at her, perplexed. “I beg your pardon?” he said slowly.
Nervously, she repeated the question.
“I can’t believe that you are asking me to give you a value judgment about a neighbor.”
“Well, you’d know the setup. I thought I’d ask you.”
“I think it’s best if I assume you didn’t just say that.”
Moira felt the slow, red flush come up her neck again. Why did she think that she was good at working