The tutor was sitting on the edge of his desk, one leg swinging free as he held a copy of Persuasion in his hand. There was a young American woman who always sat at the front of the class and apparently knew everything about every book ever written. I figured she probably fancied our tutor, but he didn’t seem to notice.
‘I mean, it’s still all about marriage and social standing,’ she said. ‘Anne judges people by their character, rather than their rank but in the end she still succumbs to Lady Russell’s snobbery and turns down Wentworth’s marriage proposal.’
‘Great summary,’ Logan said, slouching at the back of the room. ‘Saves me reading it.’
I smiled at him. He was my kind of people. Although why he was taking a night course in literature and not reading the book was a bit odd.
‘Okay, okay, maybe Austen isn’t for everyone. But in a way, the reason her books are still so popular today is because the themes still matter to us. Love. Family loyalty. Pride. Societal pressure to conform. You may all think you’re walking around exercising your free will in every situation, but you’re not. You’re constantly influenced by what your heart wants, what your head wants and how you want the world to see you.’
He was right. In all of these years, nothing had really changed.
‘I think the main theme,’ said Beverly, a retired dental nurse who always sat beside me, ‘is about getting a second chance at love.’
I was trying not to read people any more, it didn’t seem fair, but sometimes I did it without thinking. Her first love had been killed in a car crash and she’d never met anyone since. I hoped for her sake that Jane Austen was right.
‘Exactly, Beverly. Anne is “persuaded” to give up her chance of love because Wentworth has no prospects, but instead of moving on with her life, she bitterly regrets her decision. Yet, in the end, she realises that the years apart have made her more appreciative of love when it comes back to her.’
As we packed up for the evening, the tutor asked if I had given any more thought to the degree course.
‘Based on your written assignments I think you’d be a perfect candidate,’ he said, ‘although I would like a little more interaction in class. I think it would benefit you.’
I still found it so hard to speak up in front of people. I had only just overcome my issues with reading. After the night I found the tattoo completed on my back, it was as though a spell had been broken. Books no longer troubled me in the same way and the stories they held within had become invitations rather than warning signs. It was like I’d been given the key to a locked door.
‘Here’s some material for you, entry requirements and such.’ I took them and packed them into my bag, feeling like I was living a completely different life, the life of someone who could do anything they wanted. Maybe there were second chances after all.
I never tired of walking through the grounds of Trinity and I felt more than a little pride in myself after every class I attended.
‘Now you have to promise me that you won’t become one of those Trinners people who always manage to get the fact they’ve gone to Trinity into a conversation,’ Logan said, buttoning up his coat. He worked as a chef but his real desire was to write comics.
‘Oh, I’m already working it into conversations,’ I said, thinking to myself how I would do that if I had anyone other than my classmates and Madame Bowden to talk to.
‘I’m thinking of doing the MA myself,’ he said.
‘Really?’
‘No need to sound so surprised!’
I could see in him then a boy who grew up reading comics and wanted to write his own. But a teenage romance had led to a teenage pregnancy and a job as a kitchen porter to pay the rent. He was now a chef in one of the top Dublin hotels, but his heart was still in storytelling.
‘Austen not your cup of tea?’ I said.
‘I’m more into graphic novels.’
‘I didn’t even know there were graphic novels.’
He looked at me with the wide eyes of someone who has been mortally wounded, but with just enough breath left to tell you why you were wrong to fire the shot.
‘Oh my God, you’ve never heard of Maus? Art Spiegelman?’
I shook my head.
‘Come on, Martha, you’re killing me here! What about Glass Town? You’re a Bront? fan, right?’
I was laughing and making a mental note to see if these books were in the library when, just as we rounded the corner, I spotted a familiar figure walking across the square. He was chatting happily on the phone and hadn’t seen me, but something made him look my way. Henry.
‘Hi,’ I said and gave him a small, awkward wave.
He raised his head and gave a tight smile.
‘How are you?’ he mouthed and I gave him a thumbs-up.
He pointed to the phone and I motioned for him to carry on, I was on my way out anyway. And that was it. He disappeared into the building and Logan carried on talking about an idea for a character he had – a superchef who fights crime or something. I felt so cold all over. It was as though we meant nothing to each other now.
I couldn’t help but think of a quote from Persuasion: ‘Now they were as strangers; nay, worse than strangers, for they could never become acquainted. It was a perpetual estrangement.’
Chapter Forty-Two
HENRY
‘So you’ll come?’ she repeated.
‘I’m sorry, how did you get my number?’
‘From Martha’s phone, naturally. Now, she’s invited some of her chums from university …’
I didn’t even know it was her birthday. There was still so much about Martha that was a complete mystery to me. She had built her defences so high, it made the rare occasions she had let me in all the more meaningful.
‘So you’ll come at seven,’ she ordered.
‘I’m not sure she’d want me there,’ I replied, looking out of the window at Nora’s husband pottering around the back garden. I still hadn’t forgiven him for telling Martha I’d left the country for good. It was easier to blame him than to accept that maybe she just didn’t want to be with someone like me. She certainly hadn’t invited me and I wasn’t sure why her employer was taking it upon herself to interfere.
‘Tosh! She will want to see all of her friends. It’s been something of an annus horribilis for Martha, wouldn’t you say? So I don’t think it’s asking the earth for you to put your own insecurities aside for five minutes and come and eat some cake! Men, honestly.’
With that final damning indictment of my entire gender, she hung up.