Page 64 of The Last Love Song
Todd raised his eyebrows. ‘Women.’
‘I’ll drink to that,’ sighed Con.
‘Want one?’
‘Ah, go on then.’ Con gave in.
‘A problem with Sorcha, methinks?’ Todd fixed them both a whiskey from the open bottle.
‘She’s got herself signed onto a modelling agency without telling me and now it seems she has a job. Thanks.’ Con took the glass from Todd’s outstretched hand.
‘So? Good for her. Where’s the problem?’
Con shook his head. ‘I wouldn’t be expecting you to understand, Todd. We come from different worlds.’
‘And you’re living in this one, Con. Don’t you think you’re being a touch old-fashioned about this?’
‘In Ireland, women stay at home and look after the children. They cook, they clean, they care for their family.’
‘Erm, pardon me, Con, but I can’t believe I’m hearing this.’ Todd put his spare hand on his hip. ‘For a start, you and Sorcha are not married. You live together, which I’d say is a fairly modern thing to do. Secondly, you don’t have a family for Sorcha to take care of. And thirdly, this is 1965, not 1865.’
Con shook his head. ‘Look, forget I mentioned it, okay? I shouldn’t have said anything. I can’t be expecting you to understand.’
‘Oh, I understand all right. This comes down to a simple case of male ego and nothing else. Have you ever thought about what Sorcha wants?’
‘Let’s drop it, shall we?’ He gave Todd a stern look.
Todd shrugged. ‘Fine. We need to get down to some workanyway. You can put all your angst into your lyrics. But just one word of advice, Con, and I hope you take it as it’s meant: Sorcha is a lovely girl. It’s pretty obvious she worships you and she’s certainly given you as much support as you needed since you came to England. If you carry on like this, you’re going to lose her. Then you’d be sorry. Right, lecture over.’ Todd made his way over to the piano, lifted the lid and sat down on the stool. ‘How did you get on with that middle eight?’
It was past eleven when Con arrived home. He’d left Todd’s at nine, then taken a long walk along the Chelsea Embankment. The sight and sound of the water had soothed him and he’d begun to think more clearly.
When he crept into the bedroom, he sensed that Sorcha was not asleep. He removed his clothes and climbed under the sheets, putting a gentle hand on her shoulder.
‘Can we talk?’
‘Of course.’ She rolled over to look at him.
‘I want to say I’m sorry, Sorcha. I’ve been stupid. Will you forgive me?’
‘I will.’
‘Good. Come here.’ He reached for her and she snuggled into his arms. ‘Maybe if I try and explain to you, you might understand.’
‘Please do.’
‘You know where I came from, the kind of childhood I had.’
‘Yes.’
‘I watched my mammy struggle to feed me and keep a roof over our heads while my daddy got langers every night in the bars. Then when he came home, I saw the way he’d take out his desperation and misery on her. I was there when Mammy went into labour and thirty-six hours later died with the baby, without my daddy ever showing his face.’
Sorcha watched him silently.
‘To be sure, Ipromisedmyself I’d provide for any woman I made mine, give her a grand lifestyle, make sure she never had a day’s worry. When we were living in that terrible place in Swiss Cottage all I could see was history repeating itself.’
‘Con, that’s ridiculous! You’re not drunken or violent. And things are getting better. You have a future that you can almost reach out and touch, it’s so close. Besides which, I’mhappyto go out and earn some pennies.’
‘I know that now. I took a walk tonight and saw what an eejit I was being. I’m only explaining to you why I’ve felt like I have. I want to give you the world, Sorcha, that’s all.’
