“And how did she take it?”
“She has asked to be taken off all medication,” the nurse said. She pursed her lips together. “It won’t be easy, because her system is used to them, but it’s probably the best way for someone like her. I would imagine that underneath all this, she’s actually quite a strong lady.”
“Oh, she is,” Angela said. “She certainly is.”
Angela went down the corridor to the ward, apprehensive as to what she might find, and she was surprised when she saw her mother, sitting on the edge of the bed, chatting to a woman who had a dry mop and was cleaning the floor. Although her face was drawn and pale, Angela thought her mother looked and sounded brighter than she had in a long, long time.
She turned and when she saw Angela her face lit up. “This is my daughter, Angela,” she said to the cleaner. “The middle girl – the one I was telling you about who is working in Dublin.”
When the cleaner left, Angela said, “I’ve brought the suit and things that you asked for. I’ve been talking to the nurse and she said we can go now as soon as you are ready. Everything has been sorted. Patrick is parked outside, waiting for us. He said not to worry – he brought the newspaper with him if it takes a while. His sister is in the shop and his brother-in-law is keeping an eye on the bar, but there shouldn’t be too many in on a Monday morning.”
Nance came over to her and put her arms around her. “Thank you, Angela. I know this has been a terrible weekend for you and I’m so sorry.” Her voice wavered. “And I’m very grateful for all you’ve done.”
Angela was taken aback, as her mother rarely showed any signs of emotion. “It’s okay,” she said. “I’m just glad you seem to be a lot better.”
Her mother moved to sit back down on the end of the bed. “I’ve had an awful fright,” she said. “The doctor told me about the medication, and how I’d taken an overdose.” She looked up at Angela. “I want you to know it wasn’t deliberate – I don’t remember any of it.” She shook her head and sighed. “And it’s not just this weekend. To be honest, there are weeks and months that I can’t remember.” Tears came into her eyes. “I don’t know what has happened to me...”
Angela felt a wave of pity for her. This woman who had never shown her any real care or understanding. But she looked so frail and so vulnerable – so unsure of herself. “You just need to take your time, Mam. Give yourself a chance to get back to normal.”
Nance looked up at her. “The doctor has told me that I need to stop looking back to the way things used to be with your father. I have to accept that the old life has gone, and start living in the present now, and to start planning for the future.” She shook her head. “I don’t even know where to start...”
“Just take it a day at a time, Mam,” Angela said. “Give yourself a chance to recover from this and see how you feel when all the medication has gone out of your system.”
“You’re right,” her mother said. She stood up now and lifted the bag of clothes. “I’ll just go down the corridor to the bathroom, and get myself washed and dressed and we’ll go home. We don’t want to keep Patrick waiting.”
A short while later she came back along the corridor and into the room, and Angela noticed that she was walking more slowly than normal.
“Are you okay, Mam?” she asked.
“I think I did something to my ankle the other night,” she said. “It’s still feels a bit sore.”
“Are you allowed to take anything for the pain?” Angela asked.
“No, no,” she said, waving her hand. “I can have aspirin or Paracetamol, the doctor said. But it’s not that bad, I’m not going down that route again. Not after what’s happened.” Then she stopped and looked at Angela. “I should be ashamed of myself complaining about a twinge in my ankle to you.”
Angela looked back at her.
“All the operations you’ve had, even when you were a little girl...when I think of the pain you must have been in at times. I was lying last night, thinking about it all. All those years when...”
Angela’s heart suddenly started to pound, and she felt a rage starting to build up inside of her. She put her hand up and shook her head. “Don’t, Mam,” she said, in a quiet voice. “Don’t say anything else. This is not the time or the place to talk about this. What happened in the past can’t be sorted now.”
Her mother looked at her. “Is it that bad, Angela?” she said.
Angela looked at her mother then she turned away. “We’d better go,” she said. “Patrick is waiting for us.”
When they got back to the house Mary Ellen had the fires lit and had some steak and onions in a dish in the oven. She made them tea while the potatoes and vegetables were finishing off and told them to go and sit at the fire in the sitting-room.
Angela noticed that, as she drank her tea, her mother’s hand was shaking. She knew she was anxious about what had happened, and probably felt even more anxious having to explain it all to Fiona when she returned this evening. Then, it occurred to her that the shaking might be caused by withdrawal from some of the medication, as the ward sister had explained that this was one of the possible side-effects that could last for a few days.
When she finished the tea, Nance stood up and walked over to the mirror above the fire.
“Would you look at the state of my hair?” she said. “The grey roots – they must be two inches long.” She turned to look at Angela. “I’m mortified. I can’t believe I was going around like that.”
“Well, you were only in the house,” Angela told her. “It’s not as if anybody really saw you. You can get them done in the next few days.”
Nance looked back at her reflection again. “The hairdresser’s closes on a Monday, but sometimes Maggie O’Connell goes out to houses – to people who can’t make it into the salon.” She went over to the small table where the phone was. “I’m going to ring her now.”
She dialled the number and spoke for a few minutes, then she hung up. She turned back to Angela. “I’m in luck. She says she can be over for three o’clock.” Her face moved into a small, uncertain smile. “At least I’ll look decent for Fiona coming home. It might give her a nice surprise.”
Chapter 35
On the appointed Monday morning, the blue van went slowly down the row of houses then came to a halt outside one of them.
“I think this is the right place,” the driver said, looking at the name engraved on the red brick wall. “There can’t be two by the name Moorhill House.”
“No,” Angela said, looking around, “I suppose not.”
As he turned the van into the driveway, Angela felt her heart quicken. Everything was much bigger than she had expected. She had lain awake in bed the previous night, wondering what her new home and workplace would look like, but she had not imagined this.
The van came to a halt at the front door. The driver turned the engine off and then looked at her. “Some place, isn’t it?” he said, pushing his cap back further on his head to scratch it. “And you say you’re going to be working here?”
“Yes,” she said, in a distracted voice, waiting for him to get out and go to the door. She was feeling anxious now and slightly overawed.
“I’ll get your boxes and bags,” he said, getting out now. He went around to the back of the van and opened the doors, then he started lifting her two suitcases and the boxes tied with stout string which contained her belongings out onto the gravel path.
She got out of the vehicle and came to join him, keeping one eye on the door of the house. Presumably, Major Harrington or one of the staff had heard the van coming in and would come to greet her. She waited until the driver had emptied the van of all the bags and boxes and then she picked up the smaller of her suitcases. She stood until he was finished, waiting for him to go to the door.
The driver closed the van doors with a bang. He lifted one of the boxes and went to the door. “I’ll leave them here on the doorstep for you,” he said. “It’ll be handier for bringing them in.”<
br />
She realised then that he wasn’t going to ring the bell and explain to whoever answered who they were, and that he wasn’t taking in her belongings. Surely he didn’t expect her to do it herself? She put her hand in her coat pocket and felt for the two shillings she had ready to give him as a tip. She felt so annoyed at him leaving her stranded that she now didn’t think he deserved it.
Then, she heard the door of the house opening and she turned to see Major Harrington standing there.
“Ah, Miss Tracey!” he greeted her, a warm smile on his face. “I’m so glad you arrived safely.” He came towards her now, his arm outstretched. He shook her hand and then turned to the driver and shook his as well. “Be a good man,” he said, “and bring those items inside for us. I’ll get my right-hand man, Jim Girvin, to lend you a hand taking them down to Miss Tracey’s room.”
“No problem now, sir,” the driver said, suddenly stirred into action.
“Bring the boxes first. It would probably make sense to stack them in Miss Tracey’s office until she’s ready to go through them, and that will leave more room for unpacking her cases.”
Angela felt a wave of relief as she listened to the major taking charge of the situation. She thought he handled things so very easily. He was nice to people and, in return, they seemed more than happy to help him.
Major Harrington turned back to Angela. “If you want to come with me, we’ll find Jim to lend a hand, and then I’ll show you where your rooms are.”
Angela followed the major into the large, open hallway, taking in her surroundings as they moved across the tiled floor towards the marble split staircase. She caught a smell of cinnamon and deduced that someone was baking scones or some sort of cake. Then, she was distracted when a door opened on the corridor to the right of the staircase and a tall, fair-haired man, possibly in his early forties, dressed in overalls, came out.
“Ah, Jim!” Major Harrington said. “I’d like you to meet Miss Tracey, our new secretary.”
Jim smiled at her. “I hope you find everything to your liking. If there’s anything else you need, just let me know.”
Angela thought his accent sounded as though he was from Northern Ireland or one of the counties up that way. She went towards him with her hand outstretched. “That’s very good of you,” she said, “but everything looks fine to me.” They shook hands.
“Jim Girvin works in the garden and on general maintenance of the place,” the major explained. “His wife, Alison, oversees the cooking and the housekeeping, and we have a younger woman, Eileen Sweeney, who helps with laundry and suchlike too. I’ll take you down to the kitchen to meet them shortly.” He turned back to the gardener. “Miss Tracey has just arrived and there’s a fellow outside with her belongings. Would you be a good chap and give him a hand bringing them in?”
“No problem,” he said, striding towards the door.
“Oh, and Jim,” the major went after him, “I meant to tell you we had a phone call about the panels for the back fence. They hope to deliver them in the afternoon.”
“I knew well they wouldn’t come this morning,” Jim said. “That crowd are the most undependable you could meet. They never deliver when they’re supposed to. Do you remember we had trouble with them before when they brought the wrong size of wood for the garage door?”
“Really?” Major Harrington said, looking surprised, as though it was the first time he had heard it. “Doesn’t sound a good recommendation – we shall have to keep an eye on them for future reference.”
“We’ll see how they go this afternoon,” Jim said. “And if they’re no better, we might think of taking our business somewhere else.”
“Absolutely, Jim. No argument there.”
It struck Angela how easily the two men spoke to each other and she thought it was obviously the major who set the tone for the working relationships. He had been just as friendly and nice to the waiter in the hotel, she remembered. He was, she thought, someone who enjoyed other people’s company regardless of their background.
Whilst the men walked back towards the front door discussing the unreliable company, Angela took the chance to have a discreet look around the hallway. Her gaze moved to the red-patterned inlaid carpet in the middle of the hallway, the consul table decorated with two matching vases of cream and pink lilies, the paintings on the wall. Then she looked at the red carpet going up the stairs to the turn in the landing where another smaller table stood holding framed photographs alongside a golden statue of a Grecian-type lady. The staircase split into two more sets of stairs to the right and left, which led to the upper floor.
Whilst Angela thought the house was beautiful, her overriding thought was how she would tackle these stairs every day.
The major came back towards her now. Then, as if reading her thoughts, he said, “Did I mention that your accommodation is downstairs?” He shook his head and smiled. “I can’t remember everything we discussed that evening in the hotel...old memory isn’t what it should be at times.” He raised his eyes to the ceiling and shook his head. “Of course the wine didn’t help...I thought it was best for you, save your leg going up and down those damned stairs.”
He had drunk so much that evening in The Gresham that she wasn’t surprised he had forgotten all the details of their conversation. But she was surprised he had mentioned about drinking too much, and it made her feel that he wasn’t a totally lost cause. Most drinkers she knew did everything to avoid mentioning the problem. She was also glad to note he was completely sober this morning.
She smiled at him now and said, “Thank you.” She should have known. He had been so understanding about her leg that she should have known he would have thought about this, and not leave her in the embarrassing position of having to bring it up.
“Practicalities, my dear,” he said, slowly walking along the hallway again. “Practicalities. We all have to adjust things to suit our needs. I’ll have to consider moving downstairs in the future myself. The damn stairs play havoc with the old back and knees at times, especially in the winter when it’s much colder. Could do with an elevator in the place, but there’s no likelihood of that happening. We’d have to tear the place apart and it would cost a king’s ransom.” He shrugged. “Who knows, I may have to consider selling the place when that time comes. When I’m old and totally decrepit.”
“I wouldn’t think that’s something to worry about for a long time,” Angela said.
He gave a little chuckle. “Very kind of you to say so, my dear.”
They walked further down the left-hand side of the staircase, and down three steps.
She noticed the major glance at her to see how she was managing but, when she did so easily enough, he said nothing.
He stopped at the first door and opened it wide so she could have a clear view of the room. “This is your private sitting room and office.”
Angela caught her breath at the thought of having her own private accommodation. It was much more than she had imagined. Much more than the small, dark room she had been used to in the city. The major stood back to let her move to the door to look in.
“It’s lovely!” she said.
It was a good-sized, bright room with two tall windows which faced the front of the house, and it was further brightened with white-painted panelled walls, which were decorated with gold-embossed wallpaper and pale green silk curtains. Surrounding the white marble fireplace there was a comfortable-looking green velvet sofa and two matching armchairs, and a glass-topped coffee table.
A large desk with a tooled-leather top stood over by one of the windows, with a typist’s swivel-chair. On top of the desk was a grey Olivetti typewriter, which Angela noted was a newer model than the one she had been using in the Polio Fellowship office. There were other more decorative items around the room such as polished wooden tables and plant-stands, and a large, glass-fronted bookcase which looked as though it had been emptied for her.
“This is perfect,” she said. She had three boxes of books
which would fill the top shelves, and a box with her typing files which could go in the shelves below.
“I’m glad you’re happy with it.”
“I do, it’s lovely and bright.” She looked around, feeling slightly overwhelmed and not knowing quite what to say. “I love the colours …”
“Most of the rooms are bright,” he said. “It was one of the few things I insisted on when I bought the place. I can’t stand dark and dreariness in a house. We have enough of it in our lives without creating it for ourselves – especially when winter comes.” He looked at her, his face solemn now. “I dread November, when we have only months of dark mornings and dark evenings to look forward to. I can’t work in the garden as it’s too cold and the ground is too hard. Everything is on hold until the spring comes and lightens things up again.”
“There’s always Christmas,” Angela said. “That brightens the winter up.”
He nodded. “Of course, and for young people like yourself there are all the parties and the celebrations.”
She paused. “Things will be different at home this year with my father’s first anniversary coming so quickly afterwards. There won’t be much in the way of celebrating.”
“Of course,” he said, “that’s very understandable. The first year of loss is always hard, but hopefully each year will get a little easier.”
The conversation came to a halt as Jim and the driver of the van came down the hallway towards them carrying the boxes with Angela’s things.
The major waved them into the sitting room. “You can leave them here – over by the window.”
After they left, they moved back out into the hall. “Your bedroom is next door,” Major Harrington said, gesturing towards it, “and the bathroom for your use is just down the corridor on the opposite side.”
Her bedroom was as bright and nice as the sitting room, with similar décor and curtains, and much better than the one she had in Dublin or even back home in Tullamore. Her mother would love this house, she thought, and wondered if there was a possibility of her mother visiting here. According to Fiona, she was gradually getting back to her old self, and was now back working a few hours every day in the shop.
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