Minding Frankie - Maeve Binchy [69]
My uncle Charles has a very satisfactory dog-walking business now—even the hotel where he used to work has employed him to come and walk their customers’ dogs.
He has even become a babysitter for his granddaughter on the evenings when Noel and Lisa go to their lectures.
When I’m not helping out at the doctors’ clinic I’m busy doing gardens and window boxes—the whole crescent looks just great. We might even win a prize in a competition for Most Attractive Street. In fact, I’m so busy that I haven’t read a book or been to a play. And as for an art exhibit—it’s been months!
Tell me about yourself and life back there. I have forgotten I ever lived in New York!
Love,
Emily
She got a reply in minutes:
Emily,
You must be psychic.
Eric asked me to marry him last night. I said I would if, and only if, you came back to New York to be my maid of honor.
Considering our great age, I thought a small wedding would be best, but nobody said anything about keeping the honeymoon low-key.
Ireland, here we come!
Love,
Betsy
“I hear your aunt is going back to America for a vacation,” Moira said to Noel.
“She’s actually my cousin, but you’re right—she is going to New York. How did you know?” Noel asked, surprised.
“Someone mentioned it,” Moira, who made it her business to know everything, said vaguely.
“Yes, she’s going to be in her friend’s wedding,” Noel said. “But then she’s coming back again. My parents are very relieved, I tell you. They’d be lost without Emily.”
“And you would too, Noel, wouldn’t you?” Moira said.
“Well, I would miss her certainly, but as far as my mother is concerned, the thrift shop would close down without Emily, and my father thinks the world of her too.”
“But surely you are the one she has helped most, Noel?” Moira was persistent.
“How do you mean?”
“Well, didn’t she pay your tuition fees at the college? Get you this apartment, arrange a babysitting roster for you and probably a lot more.…”
There was a dull red flush on Noel’s face and neck. He had never been so annoyed in his whole life. Had Emily blabbed to this awful woman? She had gone over to the enemy and told Moira all about things that were meant to be private between them. Nobody was ever going to know about the fees—that was their secret. He felt betrayed, like he had never felt before. There was no way he could know that Moira was only guessing.
She was looking at him politely, waiting for a reply, but he didn’t trust himself to speak.
“You must have thought about who would take over her duties when she was away?”
“I thought maybe Dingo might help,” Noel said eventually in a strangled voice.
“Dingo?” Moira said the name with distaste.
“You know, he does some deliveries to the thrift shop. Dingo Duggan.”
“I don’t know him, no.”
“He only helps out the odd time when no one else is available.”
“And you never thought to tell me about this Dingo Duggan?” Moira asked, horrified.
“Listen to me, Moira, you give me a pain right in the arse,” Noel said suddenly.
“I beg your pardon?” She looked at him in disbelief.
“You heard me. I’m breaking my back to do this right. I’m nearly dead on my feet sometimes, but do you ever see any of this? Oh, no, it’s constantly moving the goalposts and complaining and behaving like the secret police.”
“Really, Noel. Control yourself.”
“No, I will not control myself. You come here investigating me as if I were some sort of criminal. Repeating poor Dingo’s name as if he were a mass murderer instead of a decent poor eejit, which is what he is.”
“A decent poor eejit. I see.” She started to write something down, but Noel pushed her clipboard away and it fell to the ground.
“And then you go and pry and question people. And try to get them to say bad things about me, pretending to look out for Frankie’s good.”
Moira remained very still during this outburst. Eventually she said, “I’ll leave now, Noel, and come back tomorrow. You will