“Molly, wait, don't go, please,” he called after me. “Let me explain.”
“What do you think I might not understand about the word fiancee?” I asked. I had been so controlled until now and was shocked to hear my voice crack. If I stayed here any longer I would let myself down and start to cry. “There is only one meaning to it, as far as I know. I may be a common peasant girl, but I was educated in French.”
I started to run.
“Molly, please!” I heard him call after me.
“Go away and stop following me,” I shouted back. “I wish never to see you again.”
He didn't attempt to pursue me any further.
I worked like a crazy woman for the rest of the day. I thought Paddy would be pleased with the way his place was looking, but he didn't respond with anything more than a grunt until late in the afternoon he finally exploded. “Will you stop for a moment, woman, you're exhausting me just looking at you. If you polish that floor any harder you'll have us both going arse over tip every time we cross the room.”
“I need to be busy,” I said.
“Well, you're in my way. I have to get myself dressed for my appointment at Delmonico's.”
“Delmonico's, eh? You do move in elevated circles.”
“I'm not planning to eat there,” he said. “A certain gentleman will be dining there tonight in one of the private dining rooms. Delmonico's will have an extra waiter on duty. You can watch me transform myself. Wait here.”
He disappeared into the back room and reappeared wearing a waiter's tuxedo and white apron. “Now all it needs is the application of the finishing touches.”
He opened a box and took out a neat black toupee, parted in the middle, which he placed on his head.
“Now for some facial hair,” he muttered and held up a waxed black mustache. “Trick of the trade, my dear, is to have one distinguishing feature—a beard, a mustache, a monocle, an unusual hat, even a flower in the buttonhole. That is all that people will remember about you. He squeezed out a ribbon of spirit gum and applied the mustache. The transformation was most impressive. He had gone from a colorless old man to a rather flamboyant and younger waiter.
“How can you get away with something like this? Surely they know all their waiters?”
He grinned—that cheeky Cockney grin. “Those poor devils are so run off their feet that they haven't got time to notice a new face. I've done it enough times to know how to make myself unobtrusive. The secret is to look busy. Look as if you're supposed to be there and you've got an important job to do. I pick up something like a candle, or a vase of flowers, or a couple of glasses, cross the floor with them, into the private room. Diners never ndtice what the waiter is doing, especially not these diners. They'll be too engrossed in each other. I'll fiddle about in one corner, take a picture if I can, and then depart.”
“How exciting. I'd like to try that.”
“They don't have women waiters.”
“They have slim young men and you've just shown me how to apply facial hair.”
“Over my dead body.” He looked up and glanced at me from the mirror. “Now go on, clear off home. I've got work to do.”
On the way home the despair I had been keeping at bay since my afternoon encounter with Daniel finally threatened to engulf me. I would not be seeing Daniel ever again. I suppose until that moment I had hoped that the whole thing was a ghastly mistake. At the back of my mind was a fragile hope that I had somehow misunderstood, that Daniel would laugh and say, “What fiancee? I have no fiancee.” But he hadn't.
All I wanted to do now was to crawl into my bed, pull the covers over my head and escape into sleep. I opened the front door, tiptoed up the stairs without attracting the attention of Mrs. O'Hallaran and was about to open the door to my room when I froze on the landing. Someone was moving around inside my room.
I flung open the door. Two guilty faces looked up, holding my pillows with which they had obviously just been fighting.
“Seamus, Bridie, what is going on here?” I demanded. “What do you think you're doing in my room?”
“Auntie Nuala told us to come in here,” Bridie said in a small voice. “She said we had to stay with you cos Daddy can't take care of us.”
“What's wrong with your father?”
“He got buried,” young Seamus said matter-of-factly.
At that moment the door to the O'Connors' room opened and Nuala herself came out, putting her finger to her lips. “Not so much noise over here. Can't the poor man rest in peace?”