At the very start I used a typewriter, but Alice often remarked on how little ‘clacking’ she could hear, so when word processors came on stream I used those, and now I have a turbo-charged state-of-the-art computer that allows me to work silently and stealthily. Of course, there is now a world of available distraction on the Internet and one could spend days on end looking at curiosities such as Victorian pornography or titanium drill bits, if one was so inclined. There is social networking too, Facebook and Twitter, which must be a curse to other writers, but suited me perfectly when I had time to waste.
However, when I was creating the Prince of Solarand series, the Internet the way we know it now had not been introduced, and there were far fewer distractions with which to fill my day. I would disappear into the study at 9.30 a.m., after breakfast, locking the door behind me. Peace and quiet and solitude. I would take up my Irish Times and begin with the Simplex crossword, moving on to the Crosaire. Then I would read the news, devouring every inch of the Irish Times, the Guardian and the Telegraph. I kept myself politically informed of the machinations of both the left and right wing, which gave me a rounded picture of what was going on, useful for punditry. (I am afraid that, as informed as I was, I did not see the economic crash coming. I lost at least a hundred thousand euro in poor investments – stupid bloody accountant – and I’m sure the Bulgarian properties are worth nothing, but I risked very little comparatively speaking.)
I would emerge at 11 a.m. for tea and biscuits and listen to the current affairs show on the radio for about half an hour. Then I returned to the study and attended to correspondence. Usually requests for media interviews and public readings; invites to literary festivals; letters from Ph.D. students using my opus as a basis for their theses:
Dear Mr Dax,
I have found a great deal of allegorical evidence in your work which would suggest that your children’s stories are loosely based on the Nazi persecution of the Jews prior to and during the Second World War and wondered if I might trouble you for an interview …
I, and my complete works, have been the subject of no less than eighteen academic theses, and several publications have sought to deconstruct the stories. I have been deliberately unhelpful to these students, but they have persisted in finding all sorts of hidden codes and meanings in my work.
Alice often suggested that I should engage a secretary. ‘You have no time to deal with all that!’ she said.
After lunch, I would read for an hour or two, the classics mostly, although latterly I had taken an interest in the Old Testament of the Bible. I now have an extensive library. I once overheard Alice say to Moya, ‘I don’t know where he gets the time to read all of those books!’ Where did I find the time, indeed?
At one stage, out of boredom, I had some gym equipment installed there to keep myself in shape. ‘You’re so right,’ Alice said, ‘you need to have some distraction during the day!’
At 4 p.m., I would begin the actual work: one word at a time, using several different dictionaries and thesauri, laying out the sentences again and again, reworking each section several times until I came up with just the right construction. I allowed myself just one hour a day at this work. I had to make it last.
‘You must be shattered!’ Alice would say when I emerged from my laboratory, and I would agree and smile indulgently at her. Alice worked damn hard at her illustrations, and so I would sometimes cook for her and she would be grateful.
I do not mean to sneer at Alice. She made everything possible. Alice was always loyal. It is a wonderful quality in a wife.
13. Moya
I was shocked to my core when I heard what Oliver did to Alice. Everyone is talking about it. I mean, he was never the violent type as far as I knew, and if anyone should know, it’s me. If it had happened before, Alice would undoubtedly have told me. I am so glad that I’m not around for the trial. Not all publicity is good publicity. Oliver certainly never raised a hand to me. I have seen him irritable all right, the man could be cranky for sure, and occasionally, towards the end of our relationship, he was downright rude to me, but in the early days he was very different.
I always thought Oliver could have done better than Alice. She just wasn’t his type. That probably sounds ridiculous when you think how long they’ve been married, but anyone who met the pair of them together would have said the same thing. Well, they mightn’t have said it, but they’d definitely have been thinking it. Anyway, he and Alice were not seen together out and about at openings and social functions that often, so I guess Oliver agreed with me. He said it was because she was shy. If I were her, I wouldn’t have let him out of my sight.
I first met the Ryans when we moved into the house next door to them; it must be nearly twenty years ago now. Kate and Gerry were only toddlers at the time. It’s strange to think that their house was Alice’s family home, because it always seemed to me to be very much Oliver’s territory.
I took the opportunity to introduce myself at their earliest convenience. At the time, I only knew Oliver as Vincent Dax. Con was reluctant to come with me; he’s so backward about coming forward sometimes. But I insisted. Oliver himself opened the door to us. I nearly swooned. He really is such a handsome man. Dark and smouldering. Oliver really looked after himself over the years. We have so much in common.
I am sure there was an instant attraction between Oliver and me. Con was completely unaware of it at the time, as he is unaware of most things, I am sorry to say. I used to think that if only life were fair, Con would have ended up with Alice, and Oliver with me, and we all could have lived happily ever after. God knows I did my best to shove Con and Alice together over the years, but, alas, Con doesn’t have the imagination to recognize an opportunity when he sees one. He’d probably bore her to death, but she was always so obliging that I’m sure she wouldn’t have minded. It would have made it so easy for us. For Oliver and me.
Alice, despite being an artist, didn’t look arty at all. She was frumpy, actually, and a bit on the heavy side. She wore mumsy clothes and had a collection of the most hideous cardigans I’ve ever seen, but she adored Oliver. You could see that a mile off. You could hardly blame her.
Con and I shared nothing but Sunday lunch. Con likes to eat. In his defence, I can tell you that he was always complimentary about my cooking. By the end of my first year of marriage to Con, I knew it was a mistake. I should have left him, but by then I was pregnant with Kate, and Gerry was born two years later. Con is a great dad, I’ll give him that. He has always been patient with the children, and I really don’t think I could have raised them on my own. He is dull, which is fine, if you like that sort of thing. Some women would be delighted to be married to him. He is a dentist. He earns a lot of money. He spends his working life looking into small, enclosed spaces filled with rot and decay. It genuinely interests him. That and gardening. When other dentists began to branch out a few years ago into cosmetic dentistry and Botox injections and derma fillers, could I persuade Con to get involved? No, I bloody couldn’t. Like I said, no imagination. He could have saved me a fortune.
I really shouldn’t be mean about him. I hate to be uncharitable. To me, he was like an unwanted pet. You don’t want him around and yet you don’t really want to hurt him or for him to come to any harm. He loves me, I suppose, and that is the cross I have to bear.