"That fella’s not happy until he’s talking about sex, and with women what’s more."
Donie lay back in his armchair in the sitting room of his lavishly renovated 19th century farmhouse, with his stockinged feet stretched on a stool in front. He lifted the newspaper off his legs and held it up between himself and the television. Angela sat in the chair beside him, legs tucked under her watching intently.
"Why shouldn’t he? That kind of discussion is a help to a lot of people."
"It shouldn’t be talked about in public."
"Dirty jokes are OK but a serious discussion is not?"
Donie turned a page of the paper with a flourish.
"What about children? Isn’t it a lovely thing to think of children listening to that kind of thing on television."
"Children learn about what you call ‘that kind of thing’ in school."
"Destroying their innocence and making them promiscuous before they’re out of short pants."
"That’s when you’re stuck, forty years ago when boys wore short pants and babies were found under gooseberry bushes."
"It’s a great pity we didn’t all stick then, when children had a childhood and you’d be put off Radio Eireann for saying ‘damn’. There’s no rhyme or reason to the kind of dirt that goes out on the airwaves these days. They laughed at Oliver J, God be good to him, when he said there was no sex in Ireland before television. They knew bloody well what he meant and he was right. What do you think of the nuns inside in the convent listening to that kind of talk on television on a Saturday night, or me mother at home."
"If there’s anything new in it for the nuns I’m sure they’re interested, and your mother is probably thinking that if she knew a quarter of it when she was married she’d have been spared a lot of anxiety."
Donie dropped his hands, crumpling the newspaper on his lap.
"You know I’m not against sex………."
Angela cut him off.
"You’re not much for it either, unless you’re having it somewhere else."
Donie took his feet off the stool and sat erect in the chair.
"I’ll ignore that remark. As I was saying you know I’m not against it but where’s it all going to end? Contraception, abortion, homosexuality, and even women are at that now. I’ll tell you something that maybe you didn’t know: they’re farming foetuses for experiments in France."
"And where did you read that?"
"Never mind, I heard it."
"Well you can hardly blame the lesbians for that."
The Late Late Show ended and Donie stood up and turned up the sound on the television.
"Shush, till I hear the news headlines."
The two listened until Donie broke the silence.
"There they are, stirring it up again. Those bloody journalists never leave us politicians alone. Always trying to trip us up or catch us out; imagine the country we’d have if journalists were running it."
Angela stood up, put on her slippers and went out to the kitchen.
Next morning, Angela got up and went to Mass with Donie, as she had done every Sunday since he was elected to the Dáil. When the children were young the whole family went together. Donie considered it important for a man in his position to be seen as a family man no matter what. After Mass there was always a confab with some of his business or political cronies, while Angela sat in the car and waited. This morning he was longer than usual; she was getting cold. She got out of the car and started to walk and was the best part of a mile out the road when Donie caught up. She got into the car without a word.
"You could have waited."
"I was frozen. What kept you?"
"I was talking to Paschal. We’re in trouble with the takeover of the exploration company."
Angela was surprised, since he never discussed his business ventures with her. He sometimes told her when he made what he called ‘a killing’, and gave her a couple of hundred pounds to buy something for herself. She always took it, feeling she was entitled to it for all she did. She would have been happier if he occasionally said ‘thanks’, but it was a word he never used, at least not to her.
"What do you mean you’re in trouble?"
"It wasn’t done according to the book, and it looks as though there might be an investigation. If it all comes out it could be serious, but we think we can keep it under wraps."
"Was what you did illegal?"
"Not exactly."
"What do you mean not exactly? It either was or it wasn’t."
"It’s a matter of having privileged information, but that’s hard to prove."
"So it’s another case of not whether the thing is right or wrong, but whether it can be proved or not."
Donie did not reply but fixed an impassive look on his face, and drove the rest of the way home in silence. He went straight to the ‘phone and was still on it when Angela called him for lunch. Even though there were just the two of them now they still used the dining room for Sunday lunch.
"Who were you talking to on the ‘phone?"
"Michael."
"Did you tell him?"
"I did."
Donie blessed himself, said grace before meals and started to carve.
"What did he say?"
"He thought they would find it hard to prove anything, but some of the dirt might stick."
Angela poured water into the two glasses, and said:
"Maybe you should go back to Lourdes."
"Ah, is it Donie? How have you been since I saw you last?"
"Well, Our Blessed Lady, I’m still off the drink, but I have a spot of bother in business."
"Stop your blasphemy, and you only after coming from Mass. That’s the kind of thing has the country in the state it’s in – no respect for religion. God be with the days when everyone went to Mass and you wouldn’t be embarrassed to bring your granny to the pictures."
"Yes," said Angela, "and three quarters of the people lived in holy poverty and blessed ignorance, and sex was what the quality got their coal in."
"Oh you can jeer all you like but you know in your heart and soul it was a better country then."
"Better for who? The thousands that had to emigrate or had no jobs, or the women whose function was between the bed and the…."
Donie stood up, banged the table and knocked his chair over behind him.
"Will you shut up and stop tormenting me when I have business problems on me mind, I have to listen to the same old stuff over and…"
"Well you won’t have to listen to it much longer."
"……over again. I’m fed up with it. If that’s all you have to say you can hold your tongue for I know it off by heart."
Donie picked up the chair and sat down. He pulled it in to the table and pushed his plate away. Angela helped herself to more gravy. There was a long silence that Donie broke.
"What do you mean I won’t have to put up with it much longer?"
"Just what I said."
"Why?"
"I’m leaving."
"What do you mean you’re leaving?"
"I’m going."
"Going where?"
"I’m not sure yet, but I’ll let you know when the time comes."
"For how long?"
"For good."
"You mean you’re leaving?"
"That’s what I said."
Donie pulled back his plate and wiped the potato off the handle of his knife.
"Why?"
"You know why. We haven’t had a marriage for the past twenty years."
"What do you mean? Everything’s all right as far as I’m concerned."
"Well it isn’t, as far as I’m concerned." Angela came back, " we live under the same roof and that’s the end of it."
"And what do you expect at this stage of our lives?"
"A little consideration; to be treated like a person with a mind and a life of my own and not an unpaid housekeeper and secretary."
"Well if it’s more money you want why didn’t you say so?"
Incredulous, Angela opened her mouth and nothing came out. She took a deep breath to stop herself shouting, and controlled carefully her modulation.
"We never had a marriage. When the children were young you were out night and day building what you call your political base. Then you got elected and you had to be out night and day maintaining it, hand-shaking, back-slapping and buying drink for half the country, coming home in the small hours of the morning. Then the drink took over completely and you might or might not come in at all, and when you did you were disgusting; drunk and disgusting."
"I gave it up, didn’t I?"
"You did, but believe it or not, in a way, you were easier to live with when you were drinking."
"Well that’s a good one; you never let up until I’m off the drink, and now you want me back on it. You make it sound as if you want to leave because I’m off the drink, which doesn’t make sense. What do I have to do to get you to stay?"
Angela took some dishes from the table to the kitchen. Donie followed and stood beside her at the worktop and tried to look into her face. If that hadn’t irritated her so much she might almost have felt sorry for him. She walked to the far end of the kitchen and turned to face him.
"Look Donie, it would take me a week to explain to you, and even then you wouldn’t understand. We’re poles apart and we’ll never be any other way. We haven’t had a marriage for years, and it’s time to call it a day."
"Why didn’t you tell me before?"
"How could you not see for yourself? I’m telling you now because I’ve decided to do something about it."
"And have I no say in the matter? Is there not something we can do?"
"No Donie, it’s too late."
Angela took the desert on a tray to the dining room. Donie followed and sat down.
"Where does this leave me?"
"I don’t know; just where you are; you won’t have to move and you won’t have to support me."
"So there’s somebody else."
Angela was surprised and disappointed; surprised that he allowed himself to think it was possible and disappointed, as she had wanted to tell him.
"And what makes you think I can’t support myself?"
"Well is there someone else?"
"Since you put it like that, there is."
Angela waited for him to lose his temper and bang the table again, but he didn’t.
"So the whole countryside knows except me, and they’re laughing at the good of it." He bared his teeth and hissed from between narrowed lips: "Poor Donie, and he doesn’t know the first thing about it"
He resumed his normal voice and banged the table again.
"Who is it?"
"No one you’d know. He’s not from around here."
"Where’s he from?"
"I’m not telling you."
"And what do you think this is going to do to my political career? I’ll be ruined at the polls and in the party."
"Do you expect me to live the rest of my life in hell for the sake of your career?"
"I gave up the drink didn’t I?"
"You did, but bad and all as it was to live with a drunk, to live with a humoursome, self-righteous, holy Joe that takes the high moral ground on every conceivable issue, is a hundred times worse."
Donie gave no indication that he had heard.
"We’ll try for a church annulment," he said.
Angela couldn’t believe her ears:
"Whatever about your own mental state, you won’t get an annulment on the grounds that I’m insane."