by Mary Malone
Greg’s eyes widened. “Yeah, we could take turns in goal. Cool! Two out field instead of only one.”
Frank cleared his throat, a blush of embarrassment flushing his cheeks, replacing the fury from earlier. “I’d only slow you down. Too long since I’ve kicked a ball.” He glanced surreptitiously at his son.
Kieran registered the unspoken message in his eyes, a fleeting wave of regret for the father-and-son moments that had passed them by for a variety of reasons. Instantly the mood changed between them.
“Payback for disgracing me on the golf course,” Kieran said, the determination in his tone leaving little room for argument. “And as for you, Greg, I’ll beat your socks off if it’s me against you out field!”
“Are you sure?” Jess enquired, her son still imprisoned by her tight hold of him.
Kieran glanced at Frank and then at Greg. “Positive. You’re welcome to come and watch me taking these guys down,” he laughed.
“Think I’ll pass on that pleasure.” She turned to face Frank. “I can get this munchkin home if you’d prefer?”
“Plenty of time for talking later,” he responded. “Doesn’t necessarily resolve things anyway.”
“Jess, we’ll catch up with you in a moment.” Kieran was anxious to clear the air with Frank so it didn’t put a damper on their afternoon.
“Come on, Greg. Let’s wait for them outside.”
“Dad,” Kieran said as soon as his neighbours had left, “I know you’re annoyed but there wasn’t any point in carrying on a charade after Greg letting it slip to John that Polly has passed away.”
“Oh! So that’s what happened,” said Frank, his anger evaporating. “But what’s this about the will?”
“Olivia was quite specific on the phone. That’s why I called you to come over. She told me John Kilmichael had put in an objection. He denies it but she had it in writing on her desk. He must know Polly was his mother. What other reason would he have to object?”
Frank shook his head. “But Polly was adamant she hadn’t told him. Right up to the moment she died. And, though it broke her heart, she cut all contact once she entered the nursing home, too distraught to keep up the pretence that he was no more than a friend, unable to deal with the situation under such emotional circumstances.”
“What a troubled mind!” Kieran uttered with a long sigh. “I wonder what she would have done if he had turned up and found her before she died, though? In fact, from what he said, he probably did come here while she was in the nursing home. Anyone could have told him where she was, had he asked. What would she have done then, I wonder? I guess we’ll never know.” He thought again of the outpouring of emotion in the letter upstairs that she had written to John, and wondered again what she had intended him to do with it. But then something else struck him. “John was so convincing, letting on he thought she was alive. He really was. None of it adds up.”
“He’s clearly a better actor than we’re giving him credit for,” Frank said, remembering the other man’s indignation. “Unless he has only been throwing us off the scent, trying to catch us unawares.”
“His meeting with Olivia is only a few days away,” Kieran said. “We’ll know the outcome soon enough. Until then there’s nothing we can do about it.”
“Best go and play ball then, let off some steam.” Frank smiled at his son.
Kieran grinned, deliberately omitting the remaining detail from Olivia’s phone call. His father had enough on his mind without the added burden of his daughters making an attempt at slandering Polly’s memory, stripping her of her dignity by questioning her sanity. And while Olivia had been confident their objection was rather misguided with Frank being her next of kin, Kieran knew his father would be extremely hurt on Polly’s behalf.
A short while after the men’s exchange, Jess stood at her front gate and watched in disbelief as the trio tapped a football up the road, the men taking hold of Greg’s hands as they took a right turn on to Main Street and towards the park. Tears sprang to her eyes as she went into her house. Feeling foolish at her ridiculous display of emotion, she brushed them away. But an overwhelming warmth spread through her, remembering Greg, his delight obvious as he’d skipped up the road between the two men, his afternoon enriched by the simplest of outings, a taste of the normality he’d been denied until now.
Chapter 28
Beth waited with trepidation for the first of their potential clients to arrive in Goleen. Butterflies in her stomach, she checked her appearance for the umpteenth time, trying to get the correct balance between professional and welcoming. She’d changed her outfit three times already and yet was sorely tempted to dash upstairs and change into black trousers and matching jacket, the first outfit she’d put on that morning. The ringing doorbell halted her in her tracks. It was too late to worry about her khaki combats and flat desert boots making the wrong impression, time instead to reveal the promise of the Goleen land to interested clients.
“I’ll get it,” Carl grumbled, surprising her by running down the stairs.
Relations between them appalling since her accusation about him killing their baby, they’d worked silently and separately on their divided responsibilities. Carving out an earthen adventure trail and fencing off some grazing paddocks had kept Carl busy between shifts at the factory. He’d also visited a circuit of activity centres throughout the county. Impressed by one in particular, he recognised a potential to expand beyond quad bikes to utilise the trail to its full potential. He’d sullenly suggested to Beth that they open it for BMX and trail bikes too.
“There’s a market for that sort of thing too, resources are lacking in this neck of the woods. No harm adding it to the marketing and insurance paraphernalia as you’re at it.”
“No reason why not,” she agreed, secretly impressed and adding it to her lengthening to-do list of responding to enquiries and negotiating public-liability insurance estimates.
Inhaling sharply while Carl greeted their group of potential clients and one or two investment types, she painted a smile on her face and welcomed them into the kitchen, grateful for the burst of strong sunshine warming the large room. Eyeing them warily, Beth watched as Carl made easy conversation, noticing how the three females fell into easy chatter with him while the five men seemed to take more notice of the magnificent view through the window, eager to get on with things from what Beth could gather.
Small talk and refreshments out of the way, the group settled down to business, Carl’s enthusiasm surprising his wife yet again.
“We’ll take you outside shortly,” he said. “You’ll obviously want to see things first hand but I’ve also put a slide show together to whet your appetite on what it could be.”
Beth frowned in confusion – she hadn’t realised he’d organised some preparatory shots. “Will I get the laptop for you?” she asked.
“No need,” he said, taking a memory stick from his pocket and sticking it into the port on the television set. “We can show it here.”
They all settled down and watched with avid interest. Beth was hugely relieved that all the comments were positive.
“The ring fort is a great asset,” one of the men announced, his eyes never leaving the screen. “Kids will love that, adults too.”
“And it’s made me wonder too about giving riding lessons here instead of just offering stable facilities,” another potential investor said when the short presentation came to an end.
“Still needs a bit of editing and it’s only a first attempt,” Carl said dismissively.
But Beth recognised a sense of pride in his comment. And deservedly so, she thought, impressed and grateful for his input.
“I’d like to work out a safe way of incorporating the small river at the end of the far field but I haven’t quite figured it out yet,” Carl was saying, pulling on a jacket. “Mightn’t be suited for anyone under twelve but from what I’ve seen we’ll need a separate – and obviously safer – track for them anyway. Easier to supervise too.”<
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Happy to allow him take the lead, Beth cleared the empty mugs from the table, grabbed a mint-green mac from the coat-stand and followed the group outside, confident that some if not all would instil both life and income to their Goleen residence. Hurrying to catch up with the others, she cringed as their string of questions began. Carl’s words went over her head, his easy chatter about the ring fort history lost on her as she contemplated their visitors’ concerns, each one a potential financial outlay, an increasing amount of money they didn’t have, yet essentials that would have to be in place before her Goleen Activity Centre could be brought to life.
Carl led the group into the barn.
“I see you’ve set up the barn party-style,” one of the women commented, flopping on to a straw bale and glancing around.
Beth entered the barn, glancing around at the disarray of straw bales placed precariously around. “Teenager heaven,” she said, remembering the request to hold a 21st birthday party.
“Although they’d have to be supervised. Imagine the damage a stray cigarette butt could do?”
Beth nodded at the lady who’d pointed out the potential hazard, something that genuinely hadn’t crossed her mind. “Looks like it’ll be a full-time job at this rate,” she said, masking her growing concerns behind a broad smile.
One day at a time, she thought, concentrating only on the group of people joining her and Carl on their tour of the fields and refusing to entertain the doubts fighting for space in her mind. Are we biting off more than we can chew, she wondered.
“When do you hope to be up and running?” asked one of the group.
Carl turned to Beth for the first time since they’d left the house. “I’ll let you answer that question, Beth.”
“As soon as the insurance is in place.” She struggled to keep the uncertainty out of her tone. “Although I’m guessing we’ll need a Health and Safety inspection before that’ll happen so I’ll keep you up to date on progress if that’s okay.”
Looking from one of the group to the other, she wondered if they’d have anything to do with the venture if they knew meeting the hefty insurance premium was dependent on Seth’s intervention to overturn her aunt’s will and uproot her own brother from his new home.
Chapter 29
Charlotte rambled through the Eaton Centre stores in downtown Toronto, lugging items around department stores and discarding them on rails before getting to the till, unable to focus on even the simplest of tasks. Her mind wavering between fantasy and reality, her history with Philip Lord was consuming her since he’d accepted her pseudo Facebook friend request, distracting her working day and disturbing her sleep at night. Mia Zepo’s Facebook profile was expanding. Philip Lord had been in touch, intensifying Charlotte’s hatred for the man who had sabotaged her reputation. Receiving email notifications to let her know when Philip Lord’s status had been updated, she jumped each time her phone beeped, often abandoning important tasks to take a peek. Reading and rereading Facebook posts, she sometimes got so carried away that she forgot she was replying under the guise of a happily married woman with a couple of kids and a giant husky dog who slept at the foot of her bed!
Several postings later, Mia and Philip’s relationship was moving into dangerous territory. Public wall posts were replaced by intimate private messages and instant chat at all hours of the day and night, leaving Charlotte disgruntled and confused, despising the obsession that had begun to take hold and regretting tapping into his life yet again.
Temperatures were high – even by Toronto’s summer standards. After a frustrating twenty minutes rifling through her wardrobe that morning, Charlotte had grabbed her credit card and set out to replenish her collection of summer outfits, putting her phone on silent to avoid the temptation to check any alerts.
“Are you okay there, madam?”
Charlotte looked up startled, taking a moment to figure out why the sales assistant was bothering her. Realisation dawned, however, as she remembered the variety of items draped over her arm and saw she was headed in the direction of the Exit doors. Up ahead, the security guard was also scrutinising her with his beady eyes, waiting to pounce no doubt once she crossed a particular invisible line.
That’s all I need, she thought, to get arrested for shoplifting! I suppose they have a job to do but still, she thought, do I honestly look like somebody who’s about to attempt to run past a six foot six tank for the sake of a few flimsy summer dresses?
“Just making up my mind on a few things,” she said hurriedly, bestowing an innocent smile on the assistant and indicating the mixture of colourful summer dresses she’d picked up on her wander around the ladies’ department. These look more like something Mia would wear, she decided, wondering how much it would be to buy a wig, change her style and slip into another woman’s life.
“There’s an extra 10% off for today only,” the assistant said.
Charlotte feigned enthusiasm. “I haven’t quite decided yet but I’ll bear that in mind.”
Assured that the tall lithe brunette wasn’t about to leave the building with a collection of this season’s dresses draped over her arm, the assistant moved away from Charlotte, leaving her to continue browsing.
Eventually Charlotte abandoned all the items she had been carrying. On the verge of leaving the store, planning on smiling at the burly security guard on her way out the door, she made a sudden U-turn when she spotted a stunning sequinned dress on a mannequin. Scanning nearby rails for an identical one, she couldn’t find a replicate of the exquisite bronze number with a high neckline. That short hemline would show off my long legs to perfection, she thought, looking around for the assistant.
“Excuse me, I’m wondering if you have that bronze mini in my size?”
“Let me check for you, madam,” said the assistant, making for the counter, Charlotte in her wake. “It’s new to our party-line, arrived in-store last night and already selling well – created by an up and coming Paris designer who’s breaking into the Canadian industry. So popular already, on every magazine and bill board. Have you noticed the label?”
I don’t need the lowdown on every detail, Charlotte thought ungratefully, bored by the assistant’s sale pitch and wishing she would just find the damn dress. In her mind, she was already finalising the outfit. She’d apply a light tan – a matt finish would be best. She’d call some of her bank friends and suggest a night out and make a hair appointment too but she’d do her own make-up, knowing exactly the effect she wanted to create – smouldering eyes, pouting lips and flawless foundation with just the amount of bronzer to accentuate her cheekbones. Her nights out since arriving in Toronto were practically non-existent, the bank’s Christmas party a rare exception, a farce as it turned out but at least an excuse to dress in something other than severe business suits.
“Your size, madam?” asked the assistant, fingers poised over her keyboard.
“I’m not quite sure – I’m sorry,” Charlotte apologised. She knew she’d lost a lot of weight, her appetite curbed by the distraction of Mia and her Facebook escapades.
The assistant swept her eyes over Charlotte’s frame, obviously making a professional assessment, swiped her ID card along the register, tapped a few keys and flicked her finger along the touch screen. “You may be in luck. Our records show one in a size I believe will fit you. I’ll go and check our stockroom.”
Eyeing the dress critically while she waited, Charlotte planned ahead, knowing she’d be bitterly disappointed if the assistant didn’t return with a dress that fitted. But the concern didn’t cloud her excitement. The unworn strappy bronze stilettos sitting in a box at the bottom of her wardrobe would match perfectly. The intricate dress detail required little in the line of accessories, although the more she looked at it the more she realised her diamond watch and 24-carat chunky gold necklace with matching teardrop earrings would complement the outfit to perfection. Revisiting the compartment in her brain where she’d turned the key on her memories of Philip Lord, it se
emed appropriate to expand that memory further by wearing the jewellery he’d presented her before the Christmas break, right before he’d waved a sprig of mistletoe and refused to take no for an answer.
Painful memories flooded back, vivid in glory and cutting as deep as they had in the boardroom on South Mall, Cork city. His desire for her fuelled by an excessive amount of lunchtime liquors, he’d forced her against the wall, cornering her like an animal closing in on its defenceless prey.
“Last one,” the assistant announced, brandishing the delicate piece as she approached. “Care to follow me to the dressing room?”
Charlotte shook her head, resisting the urge to handle the material, wanting to wait to savour the moment in the privacy of her apartment. “No, I’m happy to take it without trying it on. If you could wrap it, please,” she instructed, opening her bag and taking out her credit card.
“You don’t want to check it’s your size?”
Charlotte sighed. Every time it was the same. You’d think assistants would be delighted with a quick sale, she thought, without the added delay of me oohing and aahing in the dressing room with them telling me I look fabulous – whether I do or not!
“Full credit on return?” she asked.
“Of course, madam,” the assistant confirmed.
Charlotte gave a curt smile as if to say ‘do your job then and bag the damn dress’ but not a word left her lips until she bade her farewell. Swinging the bag as she left the store, she nodded at the security guard, refraining from waving the receipt in his face.