very fond of him, it was as a brother rather than as a beau. For his part, Fergal had never declared himself to Julia. He felt that his constancy and devotedness was enough to make her understand that he wanted her and that he would wait for her.
Julia was to be twenty-one in the summer prior to her final year at Trinity and, without much persuading on her part, her father consented to give her a dance. They discussed it months in advance when Julia was home for Christmas.
‘It’s a proud moment my eldest’s coming-of-age,’ her father said.
‘My actual birthday would be no use as a date for the dance,’ Julia said. ‘By July everyone has disappeared for the summer. It’ll have to be earlier, before the vac.’
‘Is that tempting fate?’ said Willis. ‘After Mama, I’m always terrified of the unexpected.’
‘Otherwise it’s the autumn or winter when it would be much too difficult for people to get down here,’ said Julia. ‘I’ll be inviting mostly Trinity friends.’
It had already been decided that the dance would take place at Knockfane.
Thereafter, Julia made all the plans, although she discussed her decisions with her father. The carpet would be lifted in the drawing room and the dancing would take place there. The sofas and chairs would be moved into the hall. The supper would be laid out in the dining room. All the old paraffin lamps would be brought into service as, with every room in the house having to be lit, the generator could not be relied upon. At the end of the evening hot soup would be served.
‘We’ll have it outside, on the gravel,’ Julia announced.
She had copious other ideas, most of them wildly extravagant, for the success of the evening although, in many cases, she was persuaded by her father to drop them; but in spite of such constrictions, by the time she went back to Trinity after the Christmas vac, there was very little in her head except plans for her dance.
When, therefore – unusually – she telephoned towards the end of February to say she was coming down to Knockfane for the weekend, her father and Lydia – who was home from her school in Westport for half-term – assumed it was because she had come up with some other fanciful notion and that she wanted to sound their opinions. They were looking forward to hearing what it might be but on the drive out to Knockfane – they had both gone in to Liscarrig to meet her from the bus – Julia did not mention a thing. It was the same over tea: nothing. As they sat by the fire that night, she was very quiet and not herself at all. Assuming that she was tired after the trip from Dublin, Pappy turned on the wireless and they listened to a play, but when it was half over Julia announced that she was going up to bed.
‘I’ll get you a hot jar,’ Lydia said, ‘the bed might be a bit damp although Rose had the windows open all afternoon to air the room.’
‘I’ll manage,’ said Julia.
She kissed her father.
‘Goodnight Pappy dear,’ she said.
‘She seems out of sorts,’ he said to Lydia when Julia had left the room.
‘She’s probably just tired,’ said Lydia, ‘she has quite a hectic life, from what we hear.’
They returned to the play and listened in silence. When it was over, they turned off the wireless.
‘Time for bed,’ said Willis.
They climbed the stairs together. Lydia had a book with her. Under the influence of the other girls at school, she had lately developed a taste for novels of light romance and it was in just such a volume that she was engrossed that weekend. She was still reading when, at quite a late hour, Julia knocked at her door and came into her bedroom.
‘Darling Lydia,’ she said.
She threw herself into Lydia’s bed. Then she broke down sobbing, clasping Lydia to her, and shivering. She remained like that for several minutes. Lydia’s book fell to the floor.
‘Julia,’ said Lydia, ‘what on earth …?’
She was unaccustomed to such effusiveness from her sister and did not know what to say. Julia continued crying.
‘Is it about the dance?’ said Lydia. ‘Has Pappy refused you something?’
‘There’ll be no dance …’ said Julia.
She wailed.
‘… no party, no twenty-first. None. Ever.’
8
The Law Society Ball
JULIA KNEW THAT Lydia had always admired her. It suited Julia that Lydia did so and it suited her even more to know that Lydia also depended upon her. What Julia did not know was that she also depended on Lydia and at no time did she depend on Lydia quite so much as on the night she came into her sister’s bedroom and announced, amid howling and sobbing, that there would be ‘no dance, no party, no twenty-first. None. Ever.’
Lydia was astonished by the statement. She had been caught up in all the arrangements for the dance and, as she had none of her father’s worries that Julia’s plans were too extravagant and few of Julia’s anxieties that her Pappy’s concerns were too restrictive, she had been borne along on a cloud of enthusiastic impartiality as all the details were decided. Even if it had been her own coming of age that was being planned, Lydia could not have been more excited and so Julia’s news that all was to evaporate and everything be abandoned came as an unwelcome shock and, for a moment, the thought entered her head that Julia was being slightly selfish. It was obvious that Julia was very upset but Lydia had no notion what she could be so upset about and nor was it easy to see what could possibly have occurred to make her jettison her plans so precipitously. With her sister’s tears drenching the bodice of her nightdress, Lydia searched for some answers and, in allowing the scope of her reasoning fairly wide boundaries, it crossed her mind that Julia’s sudden decision might have been influenced by precedent.
‘Is it something to do with Mama?’ she said.
She remembered it often being told that their mother had never had a twenty-first. Without lifting her head from where it was burrowed into Lydia’s chest, Julia shook it vigorously.
‘How could it have anything to do with Mama?’ she whimpered.
Lydia remained lost.
‘… Edward then?’ she said.
Julia shook again.
After a while she sat up. Her face, without her mascara and as a result of her tears, was but a relic of its normal mien, and white and sunken as a cadaver. She gaped at Lydia.
‘I’ve done something very foolish …’ she said.
Lydia, unaccustomed to such a frank declaration from her sister, awaited further elucidation.
‘… although I’m not in any way to blame.’
This was more like Julia, thought Lydia.
‘But I’m going to have to pay the price,’ said Julia, ‘and it’s so unfair.’
She
