by Mary Malone
“Don’t you think her demands are a simple control mechanism so she can dictate from the grave?”
“That’s not what this is about. If you knew her properly, you wouldn’t even suggest it.”
Marian’s response was barely audible. “Knew her? Nobody knew her like I did.”
“Knew her? You hated her more like. Why bother denying it?”
“Hate’s a very strong word.”
Kieran sighed, feeling a strong sense of déjà vu and wondering why he was even engaging in this conversation with his mother. For years they’d battled the same issue, a waste of breath then and even more so now.
“Beth will have to find another way out of her current predicament,” he said. “I’m not budging and neither will I undermine Polly’s final wishes for her home and belongings.”
“But she’s your sister . . .”
“Yep, my sister who hasn’t the guts to come and ask me for help, which makes me wonder, Mum, if it’s you who’s fixated on changing the will, not the girls. Do you stand to benefit yourself? Or is it merely out of spite for a woman you resented all your life?”
“Of course not!”
“Is that the truth?”
“Your father’s revving the engine. I’d best go.”
Kieran shook his head. His mother was clearly flustered and anxious to flee from their heated discussion. There wasn’t a sound to be heard, the revving engine an excuse to leave seeing as she was losing the argument.
After he closed the door behind his mother he checked the time and realised he was due next door for dinner shortly, leaving him very little time to take a shower and change his clothes. He was grateful for Jess’s invitation. It made a welcome distraction following his parents’ frustrating visit.
Chapter 14
Jess hummed along to the radio as she stirred the bolognese sauce into the pan of steak mince. Spaghetti bubbled in a pot. She put the tray of garlic bread in the oven, reduced the heat underneath the pans and hurried off to change.
She slipped into the paisley swing dress she had laid out on the bed earlier. The hemline sat above the knee, and when she’d teamed it with burgundy opaque tights and her matching chunky bracelet and necklace she was pleased with the look. Twirling around in front of the mirror, she grinned mischievously at her reflection, shaping her lips into a seductive pout.
Kieran’s unexpected appearance on Pier Road had lifted her spirits, though having him living next door was also more than a little disconcerting and had already begun to colour the plans she’d been contemplating for her future. Surviving without any great support in recent years had become second nature. Relying on another person to any great degree was almost alien at this stage. Henry and Pru weren’t much in the way of support, her brother’s fear of upsetting his wife getting in the way of him ever putting his sister or nephew first. Jess wished he’d respect her right to an opinion when Pru took it upon herself to dictate, often taking liberty and pushing ahead without even waiting for her agreement.
Pru’s latest bug-bear was a serious issue, however. For Henry as well as her.
Moving closer to the mirror, she spotted a smudge of mascara under her lower lashes. Carefully wiping it away with a cotton bud, she found it difficult to push Pru and Henry from her mind. I’m as much to blame on this occasion, she thought. I gave them reason to believe their – at least Pru’s – idea would work. I need to take responsibility and tell them straight that I’m not sure any more, that I’ve changed my mind about swapping homes with them. In the absence of a will or any form of legal document deciding on the true ownership of Number 4, brother and sister would have to agree an amicable verbal agreement. Temporarily at least.
She tossed the bud in the bin, running her mascara wand over her lashes once again, refusing to dwell on depressing thoughts, allowing giddy excitement to rise to the surface instead.
Knowing her old friend was in the vicinity made it easier for her to get out of bed in the mornings, the expectation that she might bump into him forcing her to make a greater effort with her appearance. Her thoughts were brighter, the dark cloud she’d lived under no longer as prevalent. It hadn’t disappeared entirely of course. How could it? In truth it probably never would, at least not without the miracle of a time capsule where she could eliminate much of the previous few years. But she was enjoying brief interludes of glorious forgetfulness and now here she was, like any normal thirty-one-year-old, waiting for a good-looking guy to call to her house and share a pleasant evening with tasty food, good (well, hopefully) wine and – she didn’t allow her imagination to think beyond that.
A mixture of anticipation, excitement and trepidation gurgling inside her, she moved away from the mirror to take her favourite boots from the wardrobe. Putting her fingers in the leather tabs she pulled them on, arching her foot and admiring her shapely leg. She knew she was in good shape, recent stress curbing her appetite and burning calories!
She hurried downstairs. The sight of the three place settings at the kitchen table warmed her heart as she breezed into the kitchen. Silly to dwell on such a tiny detail, certainly not something she felt she could admit to anyone when she’d been pretending life with Greg alone fulfilled her existence. Pretending to herself as well as anyone else who bothered to ask.
“Greg, come in and get cleaned up for dinner! Food’s almost cooked and Kieran should be here shortly.”
She watched her son from the front door as he cycled around the small open space to the front of the house. Life was so simple through his eyes. No yesterdays, merely the right now and of course the promise of tomorrow. He unstrapped his helmet and dropped it on the ground.
“Ten more laps, please, Mum?”
“Maybe after dinner.”
“But, Mum, I want Kieran to see how fast I can go. Look, watch me, please.”
Big blue eyes pleading, a serious expression on his face – she found it impossible to resist. “Once more then, let me see you.” She forgot to remind him to put his helmet back on, her thoughts drifting again to the house next door and how her perspective had changed in the shortest space of time.
She heard Kieran banging his front door. Her heart fluttered, despite every doubt and concern forcing itself to be heard. Believing she was entitled to a bit of fun – long overdue, in fact – she shoved every negative and cautious thought to the back of her mind and watched Kieran approaching. Her eyes left her son as he cycled faster, showing off for their approaching guest. She missed the leg of his jeans getting stuck in the spokes of the wheel. She missed the back wheel rising high off the ground. What she couldn’t miss, however, was his loud yell piercing the air.
Jess stuck to the ground, bringing a hand to her face as though in slow motion as Greg’s left cheek banged against the concrete, the bike landing on top of his small frame.
Kieran was on his knees beside him, slipping his outstretched palm under the child’s face, wiping away his tears and encouraging him to be brave.
Jess watched the scene unfold. Then, her feet finally moving, she rushed to her son, her heart thumping in her chest, her flutter of excitement replaced by the cold grasp of fear. “Greg – Greg! Are you okay? Kieran, is he okay?”
“He’s fine, Jess. He just took a tumble.”
“But he might be concussed! We should – I mean, I should take him to the doctor! Or should I go straight to A&E?”
Greg, still on the ground, shook his head in protestation. “I don’t want to go to hospital,” he blubbered through his tears. “And it’s not my head! It’s my leg . . . it’s stuck. Look!” He pulled and pulled at the leg of his jeans, to try and release it from the spokes of the bike, but the material was well and truly caught. Kieran gently began to extricate the fabric.
“Kieran,” Jess said, “careful! Greg, try and stay still, pet. Just a few more moments.”
Kieran stopped tugging at the material. “What’s that smell, Jess?” He sniffed the air, the strong stench of burning making him realise they ha
d more than one crisis on their hands.
“Oh cripes, the dinner – I left the pots switched on – and the garlic bread will be cremated!”
“Run in and turn them off. I’ll look after the little fellow – nearly there now anyway. Things will be a lot more serious if the house goes on fire!”
Jess ran to the cooker, wiping away the tears that flowed on her cheeks. How had everything fallen apart in an instant? Their lovely evening was ruined. She flicked off the switches. The bread was indeed cremated. The spaghetti was curdled into a congealed mess. Judging by the vile burning smell, the bolognese sauce was stuck to the base of the pot. But none of it mattered, not when Greg was lying on the ground outside. Why can’t I do anything right? Everything – everyone – I touch, something happens, good turns to evil. Is it me? It has to be. And how could I honestly expect any better luck after . . .
“Everything okay in here?” Kieran came into the kitchen.
Tears stung her eyes, the mascara she’d applied so carefully earlier smudging under her lids. She nodded. “Where’s Greg?”
“Mum,” Greg hiccupped, following his hero indoors, limping into the kitchen in his underpants, “I want a drink.”
“Sweetheart!” She rushed to take him in her arms, pulling back when he winced at her touch.
“Ouch! My face does hurt after all. Can I see it in the mirror? Is there blood?”
Jess examined the graze, already dreading his screams when she went to clean it. He wasn’t the greatest of patients, never had been. But disinfecting would have to wait a while. She needed to settle him first, allow him a few minutes to get over the shock.
“Couldn’t save the jeans, I’m afraid, Jess, but I guessed you were more concerned about his leg! He’s a tough one.” He crouched down to take a look at the little boy’s cuts and grazes. “Aren’t you, buddy? Ready for the racing circuit in another few years!”
Greg braved up a little. “I want my United tracksuit, Mum. I’m going back on my bike.”
Jess shook her head. “I don’t think so. Not today. I have to clean that cut on your face so it doesn’t get infected. You should never have gone back up on it without your helmet.”
His lips shaped in a pout. “I just forgot the helmet. It’s stupid anyway. Too heavy.”
Jess frowned. She wasn’t allowing him to get into the habit of leaving the helmet behind. “Greg, behave now. That graze on your face is nasty. If you’d worn your helmet, I wouldn’t have to clean all those cuts and you wouldn’t be whinging.”
“No, you’re not cleaning it. It’s too sore. I’m going back outside.”
He turned on his heel and made to scarper down the hallway but Kieran was at the door before him, blocking his path. He pointed at Greg’s legs and tipped his chin upwards to make him look at him. “Are you heading out there in your underwear? What if some of those girls from the playground pass by? Don’t want to give them an eyeful of Spiderman, now do we?”
Greg giggled, bringing his hands to his face. He’d forgotten his trousers weren’t on.
Kieran tapped the child on the shoulder and gave him a wink. “I don’t think the spag bol’s going to reach the table this evening, do you?” he asked. “Not if the smell is anything to go by. So what do you say we head up to The Baltimore Inn for fish and chips? And maybe some of their ice cream to get over the shock. That was some fall you took. The lads at school will be dead envious if you have a black eye!”
Greg’s eyes widened. He was already nodding his head. But he wasn’t going to waste a chance to turn the situation around in his favour. He folded his arms across his chest. “Only if I can take my bike ’cause my leg’s too sore to walk.”
“I could carry you on my back,” Kieran offered, glancing at Jess who was still pale from the shock.
“I’m not a baby. I want to take my bike.”
Kieran’s expression was serious, his eyes holding the little boy’s. “If you allow your mum to clean that graze on your cheek. Deal?”
Greg raised a hand in the air to high-five Kieran. “Deal! But I want you to wash it. Mum doesn’t like blood. It makes her pass out. When my –”
Jess grabbed his elbow, cutting him off mid-sentence. They’d had enough drama already for the evening without him divulging family stories. “Let’s go up and get you washed and dressed if you’re going back outside. And this time you wear your helmet! No more being silly. If I see you on that bike without your helmet again, I’ll give the bike to the charity shop for another little boy.” She wore her sternest expression, which when mixed with a snow-white face and wide eyes, was foreboding in itself.
“But I want Kieran to wash the cut!” Fresh tears poured down his face.
“Kieran’s our guest. He has done more than enough for us already today. Let me do it, love.”
“But, Mum!”
“Maybe it’s bedtime. That’s a nasty shock you’ve had. I think we’ll cancel dinner.”
“No. I’m not even tired and you can’t make me go to bed without dinner. But –”
“But nothing,” Jess insisted firmly. “If you want to go out, you have to let me clean those grazes.” She turned to address Kieran. “We’ll be down in ten minutes max. I’m so sorry about dinner.”
“Relax. These things happen. It’s not like I’m fussy. It’ll be fun heading out. We’ll be the talk of Schull after morning Mass at the weekend.”
“Ah, but that’s where you’re wrong,” she told him. “Schull has become very contemporary while you’ve been gone – it’s not the land of squinting windows you remember.”
“You want to bet on that?”
She ignored his last comment. “Fish and chips are on me. Otherwise we’re not joining you.”
Kieran shrugged and smiled. Not exactly flush with money, as of yet anyway, the arrangement suited him perfectly. He watched her drag a reluctant Greg from the kitchen and towards the stairs. Instead of idling around for them to return, he took a dessertspoon from the table and scraped some of the spaghetti mess from the pot, careful not to scrape the enamel.
What was Greg going to say about his mother fainting around blood, he wondered? Why had Jess been so anxious to interrupt? Or was it only embarrassment? Obviously not a subject she wanted aired anyway and not top of his list of concerns either. He was far more interested in hearing a little more about how serious she’d been about Greg’s father. Yet another unanswered Pier Road question. For a small – and sometimes sleepy – West Cork town, it sure had its share of skeletons.
Hearing his hosts chattering, he looked up to see Jess returning to the kitchen with a petulant Greg in tow. He held up a sparkling stainless-steel pot, all traces of congealed spaghetti scrubbed away. “The other one’s fit for the bin,” he told her, “but I managed to save this one.”
“I’m so embarrassed, Kieran. What a disaster! I’ve totally ruined dinner.”
“Ah, give over. The Jess I remember was a far cry from domesticated. You ran a mile from doing anything in the kitchen. No need to impress me with new and improved culinary skills.”
She flicked imaginary dust from her dress, avoiding meeting his eye. His reference to their past had a ring of intimacy about it. Am I that transparent, she wondered? Impressing him was exactly what I had in mind. And look where it’s got me! What must he think?
“Maybe so, but believe it or not I am able to rustle a dinner together,” she sighed, starting to tidy up the remainder of the mess.
Kieran’s return to the neighbourhood had rekindled old memories for her. Friends – of a platonic nature for years – they had played rough and tumble with the rest of the gang, sharing an inquisitive kiss after a few cans of beer one summer’s end, not realising at the time that it was a goodbye kiss of sorts. The feel of his lips on hers had stayed with her for ages after, the way she’d hurried away from him as soon as they’d pulled apart one of her biggest teenage regrets, a memory she’d played over and over in her mind for a long time after, each time her imagination conjuring
a different ending to her tale. Studying Marine Engineering, in the Institute of Technology in Cork city, had kept him around for a few years longer, his summers in Schull continuing until he’d decided to set off on his travels, his degree in one hand and a rucksack in the other. Bumping into him on one of his rare visits home, she’d spent a fun evening in his company listening to tales of his exploits and envying his spirited lifestyle.
And looking at him now sitting across the table from her, she could see he hadn’t changed one iota. He was still the carefree guy she remembered from years before – stronger, more mature and better looking of course – but other than that he was still fun to be around and could be relied upon to remain calm in any crisis. Watching him mess with Greg’s curly hair as he held him at arm’s length while her son tried to get free from his clutches, she couldn’t remember a time when Kieran had lost his temper or stormed off in a huff, unlike many of the other egotistical teens they’d hung around with in the area. Easy-going by nature, he’d been a natural joker and generally one to tease the others, taking any banter directed at him and more than capable of laughing at himself.
She felt a little foolish in light of the seemingly wasted effort she’d gone to that evening. Dressing to impress – or cooking to impress for that matter – had been an obvious waste of time, the brief physical contact they’d shared the furthest thing from his mind! It was clear to see that he still saw her as the gangly teenager, his friend, someone to kill a bit of time with and nothing more.