'You went down to her first? Why didn't you come to me first?'

Helen did not reply; she stared straight ahead, concentrated on the road.

'Oh that's right, don't answer me now,' her mother said.

'Hugh and the boys are in Donegal,' Helen said.

'I don't know how he puts up with you,' her mother said.

They drove in silence until they reached the dual carriageway. Her mother pulled down the sunshade and began to put on lipstick using the small mirror.

'I have to tell you what's wrong,' Helen said.

'You've left me waiting for an hour and a half,' her mother said, looking at her watch.

'He has AIDS, he's had it for a long time, and he has kept it from us.'

She could feel her mother holding her breath as a dark shadow seemed to pass in front of the car.

'How long have you known?' her mother asked.

'Since yesterday.'

'Does your granny know?'

'Yes, I told her.'

Her mother pushed back the sunshade and put the lipstick back into the make-up bag: 'Is he very sick? How sick is he?'

'He's very sick, but it's not clear how sick.'

'And there's no cure, is there?'

'No, there's no cure.'

'And how long has he had it?'

'For years.'

'And how long has he been in the hospital?'

'I don't know.'

'Why did he keep it from us?'

Once more, Helen did not reply. Suddenly, it started to rain, and when she switched the wipers on, they began to tear against the windscreen. She turned them off, but the rain was coining too hard and she could not see, so she turned them on again. Her mother remained silent until they reached Bray. Battling with the windscreen wipers distracted Helen from her mother's sighing and clenching her fists and facing towards her as though about to say something and then facing away again.

Eventually, she spoke. 'Just when I have managed to pick myself up, this happens now.'

The rain stopped and Helen turned the wipers off.

'Why couldn't Declan have told me himself?' her mother asked.

'He was very worried about how you would react,' Helen said.

'And is that why he sent you to tell me?'

Helen stared at the road ahead. When she saw a double-decker bus, she thought of asking her mother to make her own way to the hospital, but it was a thought which she did not entertain for long. She softened and tried to imagine what it must be like for her.

'I think he felt that at a time like this we would all forget our differences,' Helen said.

'Well, I don't notice any difference in you,' her mother said.

'Bear with me, I'm making an effort,' Helen said. She could not keep the dry tone out of her voice.

By the time they reached the hospital Helen believed that the car would explode if either of them tried to speak. She parked it in the car park Paul had used, and they walked to the wing where Declan was.

'The doctor said that the consultant will see us at any time.'

'Is Declan in a private room?'

'Yes.'

'What does he look like?'

For one moment Helen felt a great tenderness towards her mother and wanted to say something which would make things easier. She was close to tears.

'No, he looks all right. I think he's afraid.'

'And the consultant? What's he like?'

'It's a she. I didn't meet her, but they say she's nice.'

At reception, they asked for the consultant, and when she could not be located Helen asked for the doctor whom she had met the previous day. They waited in silence. After a while, the consultant and the young doctor arrived together. The consultant was much smaller and younger than Helen had imagined. She was almost girlish. It took her mother a while to realise that this was the consultant. She brought them down a corridor to an office.

'Now, doctor,' Helen's mother said as soon as they sat down, 'could you give us your considered opinion on the case?'

'I'm afraid I'll have to be very blunt,' the consultant said.

'There's no point in mincing words with me,' Helen's mother said.

'Declan's very sick. His T-cell count, which is how we measure the progress of the disease, is almost down to nil. Most people have more than a thousand. He's open to any number of opportunistic infections. He had a small operation this morning to put a line back into his chest, and that went all right. He could go on for a while, but he could also go very quickly. It depends on each individual. I should say about him that he's very brave and very resilient but he won't survive too many more onslaughts.'

'Are there any drugs you can use?'

'There's one drug, called AZT, but I'm afraid it isn't a cure, and we are developing better medicine for each infection as it arises.'

'And what are the chances of a cure?'

'There's nothing in the pipeline, although you never know; but I think that most doctors would agree that Declan's immune system has been destroyed and it would be hard to envisage a way for that to be restored.'

'Could anything be done for him in America?'

'Our systems here are just as advanced.'

'Is he in pain?'

'No, he was actually sitting up in bed half an hour ago when I saw him. He has a group of friends who make sure that he is well looked after. I'll take you down to him and we can talk afterwards, if you want.'

As Helen opened the door, her mother turned to the consultant. 'Could I speak to you alone for a minute, please?'

Helen waited outside and then walked down the corridor and stood looking out of the "window. She knew what her mother was asking: the question she had refrained from asking Helen in the car. She had always wondered if her mother knew about Declan being gay, and was not sure now whether the consultant would tell her or not. But as she watched her mother walking out of the consultant's office and coming with her down the corridor, she knew that she had received a reply. Her mother's shoulders were hunched and she kept her eyes on the ground. It was years since Helen had seen her look defeated like this.

When they walked into Declan's room, he was sitting up in bed listening to music on a Walkman. Paul, who was sitting on a chair beside the bed, stood up immediately, nodded at Helen and left the room.

'I've brought you a visitor,' Helen said.

'I knew the last time I saw you that you weren't looking well,' their mother said, approaching the bed and smiling at Declan. 'But you look much better now.' She held his hand.

'I didn't think you'd be up so soon,' he said.

'This room is a bit dark, isn't it? Are they treating you properly at all?' her mother asked.

'Oh, it's fine, it's fine,' he said.

'We're only here to make everything nice for you, isn't that right, Helen?'

'Yes, Mammy,' Helen said.

'Could you find out when I was getting out?' Declan asked.

'We met the consultant, but she didn't say anything about it,' his mother said. 'But I'll go down now and ask her if you like.'

'No, wait for a while,' he said.

'Have you any pain?' his mother asked.

'I don't feel great today. I had a local anaesthetic in my chest this morning, and it always leaves you feeling drowsy.'

A nurse came in with a small plastic cup with pills which Declan took with a glass of water.

'You know,' his mother said, 'if you wanted to come down to my house, everything would be set up for you. There's a great view, as you know, and we could have a nurse call around if there were any problems.'

'I don't know what I'll do,' Declan said.

'Whatever you want now,' his mother said. She put her hand on his forehead. 'Well, you don't have a temperature, anyway.'

Helen found Paul waiting in the corridor outside the room. Her mother stayed with Declan while they had lunch in a pub close to the hospital. Afterwards she drove across the city to her school. The previous week, letters had gone out to certain applicants for teaching jobs calling them for a second interview. She wanted to check dates and times for the interviews.