She cut a slice of lemon drizzle cake that Sebastian had made. Her son had just gone back to Barcelona where he had moved to a few weeks previously. She loved that her son cooked, but the downside was that she was constantly eating and the pounds were starting to pile on.
‘You need to watch yourself, Emily. You don’t want the middle-age spread to be setting in early,’ her mother had warned her the last time Emily and Sebastian had arrived down to Dunmore East for a visit.
Sebastian had come to her defence.
‘Granny, Mum is voluptuous.’
‘Is that what it’s called today?’ her mother huffed.
Her mother’s house in the quaint village of Dunmore East was still the same as when Emily had grown up there. The precious china in the cabinet and the religious statues on every available counter, mantelpiece and wall. There were statues of every saint imaginable. Some had pride of place. Like Saint Therese or Saint Martin. Amongst the Communion photos and the Confirmation photos were pictures of more saints. Her friends used to tease her and ask her if they all came alive at night?
A large statue of Our Lady was in the hall with memoriam cards of those gone placed beside it. A large candle was lit when special prayers were needed. Her mother was very devout, and it had caused many an argument over the years.
When Sebastian had announced that he was an atheist, her mother made a special trip to Lough Derg on a pilgrimage to pray for him. She said three novenas and then made a trip to Lourdes on his behalf. But despite their different beliefs grandmother and grandson were very close. But her mother did have another love. That was Daniel O’Donnell the country singer. She had a large picture of Daniel over the mantelpiece next to the Sacred Heart picture.
For her eightieth birthday, Emily and Sebastian had taken her to stay in a Kilkenny hotel where Daniel was playing. She met him afterwards and he had serenaded her with the song ‘Sweet Sixteen’. It was a momentous occasion. One of the few times that her mother looked truly happy.
Emily kept scrolling through the papers, but nothing drew her attention. She had to fight with herself not to have another slice of the mouth-watering cake. She had tried every diet going but her sweet tooth and the late hours that she often worked ensured that each diet was destined for failure. Recently she had even tried a water-fast diet and almost fainted. After that she resigned herself to the thought that maybe she was not meant to be thin. She was about to give in and have another slice when she saw something that stopped her in her tracks. It was an article about an upcoming auction of a house.
It was a house in a town called Draheen not far from Dublin city, out the N11 with the backdrop of the Wicklow Mountains. Emily realised that it was the same town that her mother had lived in for a short time as a young girl back in 1950. Emily tried to remember the name of her employer. Yes, it was a Miss Doheny. It was a live-in position. But she had only stayed a year and then had gone to Kerry and eventually went to work for a priest in Kenmare as a housekeeper. That was before she had met Emily’s father Donal O’Connor who was from Dunmore East, at a dance in Listowel.
Her mother Peggy had not had an easy life. Peggy’s father was a drunk and her mother ended up in the local asylum. Peggy at the age of eight was sent to live with her Aunt Katy who had little time for children. Katy shipped little Peggy off to Draheen on her fourteenth birthday to work in a grocery shop.
It wasn’t that she ever talked about her time there. But through snippets of conversations over the years Emily had put a picture of her mother’s life in Draheen together.
She had brought her mother to Draheen many years ago and she was almost sure they had stopped outside of the very house that was now up for auction. Her mother had kept staring at it. Emily remembered the wrought-iron gates. It had looked old and forgotten with clematis over the doorway. But it was quite a quaint house.
On that visit they had looked for the shop that Peggy had worked in, but it no longer existed as a drapery store. It was converted into a very hip shoe shop that stocked all the designer brands. They had gone in and as Emily had looked at the gorgeous shoes it was as if her mother was surrounded by ghosts of the past.
They had driven on to Greystones and got fish and chips and ate them looking out at the sea. Her mother had been quite melancholy and had said little about how she felt about revisiting the town all those decades later. There was so much about her mother that Emily didn’t know. All she did know was that she had not had it easy. Peggy’s mother had died in the asylum, so Peggy had no family except for Emily and her brother Jack. Their father had died when they were both young.
Emily read the article. It was a country house set on its own grounds. It said it was within walking distance of the main street of Draheen. It was intact but unlived-in for decades. It was open for viewing today to the public and would be auctioned with the remaining contents in ten days’ time. There was a very low reserve on it, and it needed a quick sale. Emily checked the time. The viewing was on in an hour.
On impulse, she decided to go. She rushed upstairs and dressed, then glanced in a full-length mirror. She was wearing a teal silk dress which complemented her long red curly hair. She made most of her own clothes and had bought the silk at a knockdown price in Barcelona. She had inherited her father’s freckles and over the years had eventually begun to embrace them.
She fed Striker the big black cat that Sebastian had rescued as a kitten, grabbed a light cream jacket and headed for the town of Draheen. She tried to tell herself that it was out of curiosity, but a nugget of excitement began to develop.
It was a Sunday morning and traffic was very light. With her satnav on she should arrive in plenty of time. She was not used to doing anything so impulsive, but the article had really intrigued her.
As she was driving out, she noticed that Sebastian had left his favourite scarf in the car from when she had dropped him to the airport that morning. It hit her that he was gone, a tug at her heart. It was hard to believe that he was now twenty-three.
‘Mum, I’ll be back soon. Dad and Bella will soon tire of all my messy ways. Love ya.’ He grinned as he gave her one last hug before he left to catch his flight.
He was staying in his father’s house for now. His father Michel lived very close to Barcelona and Sebastian had always had his own room there.
She had to hide her shock when he first told her that he had got a job as an architect in Barcelona. But it was the city of Gaudí. Sebastian had always had a fascination with buildings and architecture. He adored Barcelona, the home of his father. A city with dazzling buildings that displayed and evoked Gaudí’s art. On her last trip there, Sebastian had insisted on showing her his favourite parts. He had a huge interest in Modernism. All the Gaudí buildings had to be visited. They had breakfasted every morning on delicious omelettes and aromatic coffee in the quaint coffee shops.
She had dreaded him leaving. But she knew his father would adore every hour he had with his son. Barcelona was Sebastian’s second home, with tons of cousins, uncles and aunts. He had stolen all their hearts.
Discovering she was pregnant at seventeen was horrendous and announcing that she was pregnant from the Spanish student who was staying up the road was a nightmare. She was months gone before she had told anyone. It was 1996 and she had just finished her Leaving Cert and managed to get a place in Limerick College of Art and Design. She knew her mother would be devastated. She had worked so hard to give them a chance of education, taking on cleaning jobs even when she had arthritis flare-ups that made her almost cry with pain.
Her mother had not cried or got upset. It was as if she almost expected things not to go easily for her.
‘You made your bed, Emily, now you have to lie in it,’ she had said with little emotion. She had given her the money she had saved for her to go to college. Jack her brother, two years older, had been a straight A student but then had gone to college and got heavily into drugs. He failed every exam, eventually being turfed out of college.
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p; Her mother managed to get him into a rehabilitation programme the same year that Emily fell pregnant. Emily had thought of adoption or travelling to England for a termination. But in the end, she left the small cottage in Dunmore East with the money her mother had given her and got a dodgy flat in Harold’s Cross in Dublin and raised her son alone.
She wrote to tell Michel the Spanish student. She didn’t ask him for anything. She just thought he had the right to know. But he wrote back telling her that he had told his parents and they wanted to be involved. They formed a long-lasting friendship that somehow had withstood the last twenty-three years. He had visited every chance he could get. Even when Michel married the gorgeous Bella, they always included Sebastian. They had two children Andre and Rachel, who both adored their big brother.
Now it was Michel’s turn to have his son live with him. Well, at least in the same city. He planned to find an apartment. But Emily knew that Michel and Bella would spoil him so much that he would not want to leave their house.
Emily and Sebastian had dinner the night before he left, in Mi Thai, their favourite Thai restaurant in Stoneybatter. Over a large glass of Rioja, she tentatively told him of her plans. She had told him she wanted to sell their small terraced house.
‘But where would you go? You love our house and you are so close to the neighbours. Stoneybatter is home.’
It was true. When she had bought the tiny terraced house, it was not the trendy place that it was today. A brother of her father’s had died and shocked her by leaving her a house in Dunmore East. She had sold it and bought the rundown house that was now their much-loved home. Turning the key to her own home was something she would never forget. Sebastian was only four and they had lived in that same rundown flat in Harold’s Cross from the day she had arrived home from the hospital.
She had spent hours stripping back the years of paint in their new home. Fixing the doors or grabbing a piece of furniture at a flea market. Making the tiny garden a little haven. But the tiny terraced houses with the redbrick charm had become part of a new trendy place to live and the prices had soared. A ten-minute walk from the city centre and served by the Luas, it was full of historical sites, but had a new sophisticated air. She knew her little house was worth a lot more today. She had also managed to save some money over the years and had a nest egg that she hoped to use to help set up her own shop and studio.
‘I adore it here but as you know I would love to have somewhere to work, a studio, and somewhere that customers could come and try the designs. I would love a house that I could do all that within the walls. But maybe outside of Dublin.’
‘I love our home, Mum, but it’s you who makes it home. If you want my blessing, you have it. Just be sure it’s what you want. I’m so glad you are finally getting to do what you were always meant to do. Be a designer. I can see it now – The House of Emily!’
‘It’s funny, I still feel unsure about calling myself a designer. Maybe if I had started years ago?’
‘You are a designer, a talented one and a qualified one. You just went around a few roundabouts before you got there. You are no longer the local lady who works all hours doing alterations. It’s the next chapter, Mum.’
All the days of working at dressmaking in her little kitchen had paid off.
Ten years ago, Julie her best friend was getting married and asked her to make her wedding gown. She had made dresses and skirts before but nothing as ambitious or expensive as a wedding dress. Julie persuaded her and bought the material. A beautiful silk for the dress and some Carrickmacross lace for a veil. Emily was terrified at the cost of the material, afraid to cut it despite the fact she had attended lots of courses on beading and embroidery. She had done a course on lacemaking and had worked with it, making Communion veils and the like.
Julie was slight in build, so it should be nothing that would drown her. Emily put hours and hours into the creation. Inspired by the elegance of the past, it was totally romantic. Every night when Sebastian was asleep, she worked on the dress. Doing everything herself. Handstitching fragile embellishments like tiny crystals on the edging that would catch the light. During the day she was still busy with her normal work.
Finally, after months and months of working on the dress, it was completed. A floor-length sheath dress with a boat neckline and delicate long sleeves. It moulded itself to Julie’s body perfectly, the lace vintage-style veil giving an ethereal elegance. With Julie’s long dark hair swept up, she looked stunning. The dress was a sensation. The veil glittered with delicate stitched gems and pearls. Emily cried. She could not believe she had created something so beautiful. She knew at that moment that this was what she wanted to do. She went back to college as a mature student and completed a degree in design. After that she had not looked back.
It was quiet on the motorway and it was not long before she passed Greystones and then almost missed the turn for Draheen. She drove on and into the town. There was a lovely early-morning buzz with many having Sunday breakfast outside.
It seemed much more polished than the town she remembered with lovely cafés and artisan food shops. Flower baskets abounded and gold-embossed shop signs.
As she turned and drove up the hill on the outskirts of the town, she saw the house. It looked every bit as enchanting as she thought it would. Although quaint and charming, it was not too big. She could feel her belly fill with butterflies. This could be it.
She knew it was premature, possibly ridiculous, but her gut told her she was meant to find Eveline House.
CHAPTER 21
She parked on the street and grabbed her bag, locked the car and walked up the street to the entrance to the house. There were lots of cars around. The viewing was attracting a lot of attention. Her heart sank.
At the entrance was a wrought-iron gate. It was open and at least forty people were waiting inside to view. Mottled grey cobblestones led up to the house. Looking back, Emily could see the town. The cobbled path was lined with yellow and pink roses, thistles and weeds mingling to welcome them as they walked up the steps to the front door. A horse-chestnut tree stood to one side of the house, shading it from the June sunshine, next to a stone wall that was almost white with a wild rambling rose.
Two women dressed almost identically in white linen trousers, bright colourful tops and sandals, stood in front of her as they lined up waiting to go in. They were giggling and quite excited at the prospect of the viewing.
Looking at the crowd, Emily began to think the house would go for a lot more than the reserve price.
‘Can’t believe we are at last going to get a peep into Eveline,’ one of the ladies in front said to her friend.
‘I wonder will we see any ghosts?’ her friend said, giggling, then turned around and nodded hello to Emily.
Emily was intrigued by their conversation.
‘I don’t mean to intrude, but is the house supposed to be haunted?’ she asked.
‘There is a story that it is, but sure you couldn’t believe that,’ the smaller of the two women replied. ‘My mother used to say that it was. But sure, she also said that my eyes would go crooked if I told a lie. All with a pinch of salt, my dear. It’s a very old house. My mother said that she remembers hearing of lovely roses in the rear garden. I love roses. All kinds of roses. So, I am very much here to see that. If I happen to see any ghosts, I will be sure to say hello.’ She laughed.
‘I have walked by those wrought-iron gates all my life and never saw a soul inside or out,’ her friend said to Emily. ‘There has always been a bit of talk about the house being haunted but sure that’s only old folklore. When I was little, I used to run by it though just in case anything peeped out of those windows. Especially on Halloween – some of the other children would hide near the gates and jump out and scare the daylights out of you.’
‘You are both locals. It seems a lovely town,’ Emily said.
‘It is. Lots of strangers living here now. And lots of lovely coffee shops and boutiques. You should have a s
troll down,’ the smaller woman said.
‘Half of Draheen is out for a look at Eveline,’ the other said. ‘Who could resist a peek at it? It’s a fine Sunday too so it will draw a good crowd. I have always tried to imagine what it is like inside. I hope there are no mice – never mind the ghosts!’
Emily felt relieved. It seemed most people were here out of curiosity.
‘I read that it has been deserted for decades,’ Emily said to them.
‘It said in the advertisement that the auctioneer felt it was like walking into a time capsule,’ the taller one replied. ‘Even the newspapers strewn on the table were from the day it was last lived in back in 1950.’
‘Imagine!’ the other said. ‘I can’t wait to see it. My sister was meant to be here – we always wondered what it was like inside, so I have promised to take lots of photos.’
‘Take a video and send it on WhatsApp,’ her friend advised.
The door opened and a man in his fifties, dressed in a spick-and-span dark suit and shiny black patent shoes, came out. His grey hair was cut very short and a pair of glasses hung on a chain on his neck. A young woman with a sleek black ponytail and slight figure, dressed in a tight red dress and high black court shoes, handed out some promotional material to everyone.
‘Feel free to have a look around,’ the man said to everyone. ‘If you have any questions you can ask myself or Karen here.’
The people trooped in and stopped to look at the stairs and hall.
A black-and-white tiled hall welcomed them. A carved stairway sat in the centre of the hall. Four heavy dark wooden doors led off the hallway. There were some oil paintings on the walls and areas where paintings had been removed, leaving large rectangles of a darker burgundy wallpaper. To the left was a large drawing room. Heavy gold drapes made the room appear dark and the aroma of years of dust hung in the air. A large white marble fireplace dominated the room. The floor was faded but Emily recognised it was pitch pine.
The Secret of Eveline House Page 15