She could see her brother and sister were curious about this older man who was involved with helping to organize such a big family event.
‘I’m a friend of Tessa’s,’ he explained, ‘and I had a great regard for Florence.’
It was strange to think of the house now filled with her children and grandchildren and Florence not there to welcome them, and see them and talk to them.
‘I miss Granny!’ sobbed Chloe, Marianne’s eldest girl who had been especially close to her.
‘Where did you meet such a lovely man?’ whispered Marianne, when Rob was fetching a box of glasses from the off-licence and a crate or two of wine.
‘At a cookery school.’ Tessa laughed.
Father Molloy, the parish priest and great friend of her mother’s, said the funeral mass, with all the grandchildren saying a bidding prayer each, and Marianne and Tessa doing the readings, while Donal gave a lovely eulogy about Florence to the packed church.
Many of Florence’s generation were gone, but all the relatives and friends of Donal, Marianne and Tessa turned up, and Tessa couldn’t believe it when she saw that Alice and so many of the cookery school group had come along, too.
The sun shone as they journeyed to the graveyard, and back home they sat outside enjoying the sunshine and the garden in full bloom as the day became a celebration of Florence’s long life and friendships and interests. It was a way of remembering Florence’s enduring love for her family, and the great spirit that she had possessed right till the end.
Tessa fell into bed exhausted and slept till lunchtime the next day. Marianne had taken over the cleaning-up duties, and after eating something Tessa gave in to the waves of exhaustion that suddenly overwhelmed her, and crept back to bed. The next few days were filled with reminiscing as Tessa and her brother and sister relived their childhoods growing up in the house, and began to sort out some of Florence’s personal effects.
‘What are you going to do now, Tessa?’ asked Marianne, concerned. ‘The house is here for you as long as you need it, but are you going to stay here or go back to London?’
Tessa couldn’t think straight. The reason she had moved back to Dublin was to be with her mother and help care for her. She had absolutely no idea what she should do now that Florence was dead. The house and its contents, and all her mother’s possessions, had been left equally between the three of them, with a small bequest for each of her grandchildren. Florence Sullivan had always been both generous and very fair.
A week later Donal and his two kids had returned to San Francisco and Marianne and her husband Kevin and their three children had flown back to Hong Kong. The house felt strangely lonely without them all. Did she really want to stay here living in the old neighbourhood? To rattle around this house on her own with no proper job or reason for staying here? But now, with Florence Sullivan gone, what was she supposed to do?
Going on the internet, Tessa looked at flights to London and also at the London job agency sites for opportunities in human resources management. She couldn’t return to Bridgetown & Murrow. Instead she would make a fresh start if she returned to London, and find a new job. With her mother’s death there was nothing to hold her here in Ireland. Once probate on their mother’s will had come through, Donal and Marianne and she were all in agreement about putting the house up for sale.
Chapter Forty-seven
Alice studied herself in the figure-hugging black trousers and loose knitted beige jumper. Her hair had got longer, and she was lightly tanned. She looked younger, felt younger. She had been seeing Alex for the past few weeks. They had enjoyed a wonderful dinner in the Unicorn, and since then there had been lunches and walks and a big dinner party in one of Alex’s friend’s houses and a few drinks in Gleeson’s with Joy and Fergus. Next week Hugh and Sally had invited them to their place, which she felt was a sign that her friends, despite their surprise that Alex and herself were seeing each other, actually approved of the relationship.
Tonight they were going to a concert at the RDS. Horslips, a favourite Irish rock band of Alice’s, had re-formed to put on a few concerts and Alex had somehow managed to get two of the much sought-after tickets.
‘Back in the day I was a huge fan,’ he confessed.
‘So was I,’ she said excitedly, as they joined the huge crowd of fans streaming into the Royal Dublin Society’s grounds in Ballsbridge for the open-air concert. ‘I went to all their gigs.’
The first twang of the electric fiddle as the band broke into their particular edgy Celtic rock sound sent shivers down Alice’s spine, and she found herself joining in every song and up on her feet. Alex was having an equally good time.
‘Trouble … trouble,’ they shouted along with everyone, as the band went into one of their favourites.
Alice felt like a teenager again, with Alex beside her relaxed and totally at ease. The band played, and fireworks lit up the night sky almost two hours later as Horslips launched into their final song.
‘Oh, Alex, thanks for bringing me,’ Alice said, hugging him. ‘It’s been such a good night.’
‘You know something? I wish we’d met when we were younger … bumped into each other at one of the concerts,’ he said softly, as he took her hand and they manoeuvred their way out through the crowds.
Alice looked at him, his dark eyes serious. She thought of Conor, Jenny and Sean. She wouldn’t change the past. Liam and herself might not be together any more, but theirs had been a good marriage for the most part, and their kids were great.
‘I’m glad we’ve met now!’ she said. ‘At this stage of our lives. Alex, you’ve got your kids, and I’ve got mine. You know you wouldn’t change them for all the money in the world!’
‘Yeah.’ He grinned as he put his arm around her. ‘I know that.’
They walked to his car and en route to Alice’s home stopped off for a nightcap; Alex had a pint of Carlsberg while she had two glasses of chilled white wine. Driving her back, he stopped the car and pulled her into his arms, their kisses in only a few minutes turning more passionate. Like two teenagers making out, they both wanted more. Alice found herself giggling as Alex bashed his rather large knee off the handbrake.
‘We’re too old for this!’ he complained.
‘Speak for yourself,’ she teased, as she pulled him over towards her side of the car.
‘Alex … I can’t invite you into my place as Sean is there and Jenny is home for the weekend.’
‘Aisling has three girlfriends staying the night in my place,’ he groaned. ‘They were having a pasta and Prosecco night, whatever that is!’
‘A more grown-up version of a sleepover.’ She laughed.
‘It’s not funny!’ he complained.
‘There’s nothing we can do,’ she said softly.
Alex stopped and straightened up.
‘We’re not broke sixteen-year-olds! I’m taking you to the Four Seasons,’ he said, reaching for her hand. ‘No kids or complications there.’
They stood in the foyer as Alex checked them into a room in the hotel. He was using his golf shoe bag as his luggage, and Alice tried to remain composed as the receptionist swiped his credit card.
‘The porter will show you to your room, Mr and Mrs Ronan. You are on the third floor.’
Alice had to fight to control her giggles as they went up in the lift, and the minute the porter left the room the two of them collapsed into a heap on the king-size bed, laughing.
When Alex disappeared to the bathroom she sent Joy a text.
If kids are looking for me please say I am staying with you. Alice
Joy texted:
Where r u?
In the 4 seasons with alex.
Hussy … have fun. Joy
Then she sent Sean a text to say not to worry, but she would not be home as she was staying with Joy.
They raided the minibar, and Alice found herself curious to touch Alex and explore the rest of his body as they kissed and kissed and he pulled her on to the bed.
&
nbsp; She lay in Alex’s arms aware that she felt totally happy. There was no embarrassment or shyness as they held each other close, and eventually both drifted off to sleep.
The next morning they slept in and ordered room service: rich roast coffee and pancakes with blueberries and maple syrup and crispy bacon. They were both tempted to stay on for another day, and not bother even leaving the hotel room.
‘I’d better get home. Jenny is going back tonight,’ she explained. ‘She’ll think it very strange if I don’t turn up.’
Reluctantly, they checked out. Alice really didn’t want to leave Alex, and missed him the minute they said goodbye to each other at the end of her road.
She laughed when she was getting lunch, because Alex texted her:
Can we do it all again next weekend? Miss you already.
Chapter Forty-eight
Kitty sat at the kitchen table. It had been an awful, awful day. Sheila’s daughter Melissa had phoned her at lunchtime, telling her to come to the hospital, as her mum was very weak. She wasn’t surprised as Sheila O’Leary had gone downhill rapidly over the past ten days. The weight seemed to have fallen from her frame, and her eyes had looked scared. The doctors had her on a morphine pump to help with the pain, but at times Sheila hadn’t been able to bear it. The cancer was everywhere, and you could hear it in her breathing. Even a few words and she would be coughing and fighting for breath.
‘Don’t talk, Sheila, love … let me do the talking,’ Kitty had pleaded, as she had sat by the bed and held Sheila’s hand, and told her about her cookery class, and the recipes, and people in it, and the family, and the places the two of them would go when Sheila got back on her feet and was well again.
Sheila had looked like she was asleep. Her skin had gone a strange yellow colour, as her kidneys weren’t working any more, or her liver.
Kitty had sat with her for hours. Then Sheila had opened her eyes. She had been smiling. Kitty had leaned forward and kissed her.
‘You go girl … go away from here and all this pain,’ she had said slowly. ‘We’ll meet up again. Best friends for ever.’
Sheila had drifted back to sleep again, and Kitty had returned home, leaving poor Martin O’Leary holding his wife’s hand as all their family gathered together to say goodbye to Sheila in the hospital. There was nothing more to be said or done … just waiting now …
Melissa texted Kitty at 3 a.m. to say it was over.
Mammy’s gone. RIP.
Kitty got up and grabbed her dressing gown. She couldn’t sleep, and made her way downstairs to the kitchen. Larry was still fast asleep on his side of the bed. She put on the kettle. The tears came hot and hard as she thought about Sheila. She looked out at the garden, and a small vixen looked back at her, startled. It was burrowing in among the tall grass under the holly tree. A lovely fox with beautiful eyes and glossy red coat … its colour reminded her of Sheila’s hair. It stayed staring at her for what seemed like ages. She’d seen the odd fox out in the road late at night, or up in the park when it started to get dark, but they’d never had one in the garden! The vixen sat down, looking at her through the kitchen window. It was so strange. Next thing, she heard the kitchen door open and the fox was gone. Larry stood there in his striped dressing-gown.
‘Are you all right, Kitty, love?’ he asked sleepily.
‘No … I’m not,’ she said, crying again. ‘Sheila died a while ago. I’ve lost my best friend in the whole world … I’m going to miss her so much.’
‘I’m sorry,’ he said, sitting down beside her. ‘I know how close the two of you were.’
‘What will I do without her, Larry?’ she moaned. ‘We had so many plans, things we were going to do. We were going to go to Paris: get the lift up to the top of the Eiffel Tower, go on one of those riverboat cruises on the River Seine, say a prayer in Notre Dame and see the big paintings of water lilies Monet did.’
‘Monet?’
‘The French artist. She loved his paintings. She had a calendar of them in her kitchen,’ Kitty said softly. ‘And poor Sheila is not going to be there for when Paddy’s new baby is born in September. She was there for all the other grandchildren being born. It isn’t fair, Larry, she’s too young to be taken.’
Larry leaned over and hugged her, before switching on the kettle and making more tea and some hot buttered toast for the two of them.
Chapter Forty-nine
Tessa wrote a few more labels, and using the wide brown tape secured more cardboard boxes. There were old books, old records, old clothes, old scarves and handbags of her mother’s all ready to be brought to the charity shop. Someone else would have the benefit of reading Florence’s large collection of Agatha Christie and Barbara Cartland novels.
The scarves and bags were probably vintage at this stage and worth something, and she had cleaned and carefully folded the clothes that were worth selling: the Pringle cashmere twinsets, Cleo tweed skirts and jackets, and a collection of evening wear in pristine condition.
She was booked to go to London the following week, and she had to try and clear some of the stuff from the house, as there was far too much in every room, and the auctioneers had advised a serious de-clutter before putting the house on the market.
At least she had made a good start on it.
It was sad getting rid of things, but her mother had been a great age and was of the generation that believed things should be recycled and shared.
Tomorrow she would have a go at the kitchen presses and the dining room cabinet, as her mother had a huge collection of ornaments and bric-a-brac that could be got rid of, too.
She was scrawling ‘Gardening Books’ on a box when Rob Flanagan surprised her by ringing the doorbell.
‘What are you doing?’ he asked, surveying all her work, and the boxes scattered over the floor of the hall and the sitting room.
‘Packing up, Rob.’ She sighed. ‘I’m just trying to get rid of some of Mum’s stuff. Donal and Marianne picked out what they wanted, and, well, most of the rest is just going to have to go to charity. I’ll go over to St Vincent de Paul with it tomorrow, as I won’t have room for any of it myself.’
‘Oh,’ he said.
‘I told you I’m going back to London next week. I’ve booked my flight.’
He said nothing.
‘Listen, I’m going to take a break. I’ve done enough today. Do you want a coffee?’ she offered.
‘Why don’t I take you out instead?’ he offered.
‘I’m not exactly dressed up.’ She smiled.
‘Come on, Tessa, let’s go for a drive,’ he suggested.
She didn’t know if she was in the mood for one of their walks or talks. She felt a bit low and sad after clearing away her mother’s things – talk about being emotionally drained! – but Rob was insistent. He’d been so kind to her since Florence’s death, and so helpful, that she felt she couldn’t refuse him.
Grabbing her bag, keys and jacket, and putting on a pair of shoes instead of her flip-flops, she sat in beside him in his Volvo. It was warm but dull, and she hoped that it wouldn’t rain.
‘Where are we going?’ she asked.
‘What about the beach? Brittas?’
Tessa smiled. She hadn’t been there for years, the beach with the miles of golden sand, tall dunes and rolling waves. As a kid, it was one of her favourite places. Her mum and dad used to rent a mobile home there for a month every summer in the big caravan park overlooking the beach. Alice’s parents used to own the nearby hotel. She still remembered it: playing pitch and putt there; her parents going for dinner to the hotel, which was very fashionable then; Florence all dressed up in a summer print dress, linking her father by the arm.
The traffic was light, and an hour later Tessa and Rob were climbing the path up through the sand dunes to get to the beach.
Clouds scudded across the sky, and only a handful of people were on the strand: a few swimmers, dog walkers and mothers with small children and toddlers.
‘I love this
place.’ She sighed. ‘I have such good memories of here.’
‘I know,’ he said, taking her hand as they began to walk. ‘You told me.’
She found herself confiding in him about the family situation, with the house left equally between Donal, Marianne and herself.
‘They say that I can stay on as long as I want in the house, that there is no big rush to sell it, but I feel that’s not fair. Anyway, Mum’s dead, and the reason I came back home is gone, too. I need to refocus and get back to work. Go back to London, find a new job, and get on with my life.’
‘Do you want to go back to London, Tessa?’ Rob asked quietly, staring at the foaming white waves tumbling in across the sand ridges. ‘Is that what you really want to do?’
‘I suppose so. What else is there?’ She suddenly felt so torn, so lonely.
‘Maybe there is no need to rush into making a decision. Not yet …’
‘Rob. It’s all organized. I’m going next week. I have four job interviews set up. There is nothing to keep me here!’
‘Are you sure about that?’ he said forcefully. ‘You have friends, people who care about you here.’
‘That’s great, but I have friends in London, too,’ she said gently.
‘Then I don’t want you to go,’ he said angrily. ‘I don’t want you to leave.’
She stopped, spinning around to look at him.
‘What are you saying, Rob? It’s too late.’
‘No, it’s not, Tessa. I don’t want you to go. I want you to stay here in Dublin. Give us a chance.’
‘Us?’
‘Yes, the two of us and what we feel for each other. We both feel it, you know we do. We work well together. I never thought after Kate that I would meet a woman again that I could have feelings for, but you’ve changed all that, Tessa.’
A Taste for Love Page 25