“Is that supposed to be a joke?” she asked.
“It was,” I admitted. “As I heard the words coming out of my mouth, they sounded less amusing than I thought they would.”
“Some people just shouldn’t try to be funny.”
“Well, joking aside, I do appreciate it.”
“I think it’s the least my family owes him,” she said. “Max bought the house for far below market value when Charles was incarcerated the first time around. And let’s face it, it was partly Max’s fault that he got locked up at all. But the house will be Liam’s eventually and he’s Charles’s grandson as much as he was Max’s. There’s just one thing that you should be aware of. Has Liam told you that I’ve made a few changes to my living situation?”
“No,” I said. “He’s not answering my calls at the moment.”
“Why not?”
“I have no idea. He seems to hate me again.”
“Why? What did you do?”
“Nothing, as far as I’m aware. It’s possible that he took a remark I made about his girlfriend the wrong way.”
“What did you say? And which girlfriend?”
“The Julia one. I asked whether it was trendy for girls not to shave their legs or armpits anymore.”
“Oh, Cyril! Although you’re right. She’s like a gorilla. So what did he say?”
“He said that only old people used the word trendy.”
“Well, that’s true too. The correct term is with-it.”
“Do you know, I really don’t think it is.”
“Cyril, I’m a university lecturer. I’m around young people all day, every day. I think I know the lingo.”
“Still,” I said doubtfully. “With-it does not sound anymore with-it than trendy. And I don’t think people say lingo anymore either. Anyway, for whatever reason, Liam seemed to take offense at what I’d said. I don’t know why; I wasn’t trying to be rude.”
“Oh I wouldn’t worry about it. He’ll get over it. He takes offense at everything these days. I asked him what he wanted for his birthday last week and he just sneered and said a new teddy bear.”
“Get him a really hairy one. He’s obviously into that.”
“I don’t think he was serious.”
“He might have been. Lots of grown men have a teddy bear. I know a fellow who carries a Pooh Bear with him everywhere he goes and dresses him up in appropriate clothing on national holidays. It’s a comfort thing.”
“Trust me, he didn’t mean it. He was just being snarky.”
“You said that you’d made some changes to your living arrangements,” I said, trying to get things back on track. “What sort of changes?”
“Oh yes. Well, the thing is, I’ve moved someone in,” she said. “A man.”
“What sort of a man?”
“What do you mean what sort of a man? What kind of question is that?”
“Are you saying that you’ve moved a boyfriend in?”
“I am, yes. Problem?”
“Need I remind you that you’re still married to me?”
“Is that another one of your jokes?”
“It is,” I said. “Well, I’m very happy for you, Alice. It’s about time you shacked up with someone. What’s this fellow’s name and are his intentions honorable toward you?”
“You promise you won’t laugh?”
“Why would I laugh?” I asked.
“His name’s Cyril.”
I couldn’t help myself. I laughed.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I said. “The only two men in Dublin named Cyril and you end up with both of them.”
“I didn’t end up with you, Cyril,” she pointed out. “I barely got to the starting line, remember? And look, it’s just a rather awful coincidence, so please don’t make a fuss about it. It’s embarrassing enough as it is. All my friends already think he’s a homosexual.”
“It’s not the name that’s gay, you know.”
“No, they think Cyril is you and that we’ve got back together.”
“Would you like that, Alice?”
“I’d rather bore a hole to the center of the earth with my tongue. Why, would you?”
“Very much. I miss your body.”
“Oh, shut up. But if Charles moves in here, you are not allowed to make fun of Cyril.”
“I’ll probably have to,” I said. “It’s too good an opportunity to pass up. So what does he do, Cyril II?”
“Don’t call him that. And he plays violin with the RTé Symphony Orchestra.”
“Very posh. Is he age appropriate?”
“Not really. He’s only just turned forty.”
“Seven years younger,” I said. “Good work. And how long has he been living in our marital home, cuckolding me?”
“It’s not our marital home. It might have been if you hadn’t run off to Dublin Airport screaming like a girl. And he’s been here slightly over two months.”
“Does Liam like him?”
“He does, actually.”
“Has he actually said that or are you just saying it to annoy me?”
“A little of both.”
“Well, I have to say I’m surprised, because as far as I can tell, Liam doesn’t like anyone.”
“Well, he likes Cyril.”
“Good for Cyril. I can’t wait to meet him.”
“I don’t think there’ll be any need for that.”
“Will he mind your father-in-law moving in? A cuckoo in the nest, so to speak.”
“It’s not a nest; it’s a house. And don’t call Charles my father-in-law; it’s irritating. And, no, Cyril won’t mind. He’s very easy-going. For a violinist.”
And so a few days later my adoptive father returned to the first-floor room that had been his when I was a child, although now, instead of being out in the city carousing with women until the small hours of the morning, he kept to his bed and began fulfilling his last major ambition in life: to work his way through all of Maude’s novels in chronological order.
“I only ever read one when she was alive,” he told me one afternoon during one of his more lucid moments, which seemed to come and go with alarming frequency. “And I remember at the time thinking that it was terribly good. I told her that it was the sort of book that could get made into a film if it found its way into the hands of a David Lean or a George Cukor and she replied that if I ever said anything that crass about her work again she would put arsenic in my tea. Not that I ever knew that much about literature, you understand, but I could tell that she had something.”
“Most people seem to think so,” I said.
“I’ve made a very good living from her, I have to admit. That will all be yours soon.”
I looked at him in surprise. “What did you say?” I asked.
“Well, you’re my next of kin, aren’t you? Legally speaking. I’ve left everything to you, including the rights to Maude’s books.”
“You haven’t?! But that’s millions!”
“I can change it if you like. There’s still time. I could give it to one of those homeless charities. Or leave it to Bono, because I’m sure he’d know what to do with it.”
“No, no,” I said quickly. “Don’t do anything hasty. I’ll take care of the homeless charities myself when the time comes. And Bono can probably take care of himself.”