by Mary Malone
Time to get on with business, she thought, when they’d said their goodbyes. Without further deliberation, she began tracking down her old friend, Josephine, to gain her expert advice on managing objections of her own. From experience, she’d learned the merits of advance preparation. It was too late to consider consequences when the damage had already been done.
Chapter 30
Kieran left the house, the sharp breeze forcing him back inside to get a jacket. Spotting his black leather biker-style jacket, he took it from the hallstand and put it on. Locking the door behind him, he put his hands in his pockets as he walked up the road, finding a folded €20 note in one pocket and a packet of stale chewing gum in the other. Checking the inside pockets, he pulled out the small brown envelope Olivia had included in the registered envelope of documentation. He’d been so engrossed in the other package for John Kilmichael the morning it had arrived, it had totally slipped his mind and he hadn’t worn the jacket since.
Slitting it open now, he withdrew a folded piece of his aunt’s notepaper, watching it flap in the wind. He didn’t need to check for a signature. Her handwriting was distinctive, had been calling to him in a variety of ways ever since he’d moved to Number 5.
He waited until he’d reached a park bench and sat down to read it properly.
It was dated the previous New Year’s Eve.
Dearest Kieran, if you’re reading this I’m no longer on this earth – can’t say I’m sorry, I’d had enough of it anyway. But you, my dearest nephew, you’ve obviously decided to accept my offer.
Not one for showing huge emotion, Kieran had to settle himself a little before continuing. Her voice emanated from her words.
You’ll be doing me a great favour to sacrifice your travels and watch over the place on Pier Road. So much has changed these last few years, my arthritic limbs making it difficult for me to get about any more or keep up with all the comings and goings.
Your friend, Jess, is back in Number 4 – a little boy with her, good-looking too, reminds me of you at that age!
Kieran couldn’t help smiling. He read on.
Though she tries her best to hide it, I know Jess is miserable. That mother of hers is far too much care for a young girl. She’s killing her spirit, ruining the best years of her life.
Maybe it’s time you settled down, Kieran. And weren’t you always your happiest in Schull? With friends who may mean more to you than you realise? Trust your instincts and follow your heart, lad.
What on earth did she mean? Was she matchmaking, trying to get him and Jess together? Again, he continued to read.
My final request appeals to your generous nature. Don’t turn away my friends from the door.
Others will wonder why I chose you, Kieran. Others will be aggrieved. Greed will raise its ugly head, no doubt. But giving everything to you is my choice. You filled a great void in my life, brought life to my home. And I want to turn that around now and bring a home to your life.
Love always
Polly
Reading it through a few times, he folded it in four and slipped it into his pocket once more. Trust my instincts? A gust kicked up, dust swirling around the ground. Kieran watched it swirl, the movement akin to the confusion he felt inside.
The only person who’d come to the door had been John Kilmichael. Was there a hidden message in there? “Why speak in riddles, Polly?” he muttered, frustrated by his aunt’s cryptic messages. “Why not come straight out with whatever messages you’re trying to relay?”
Jess was out of breath when she reached the top of the stairs, the heavy load she carried weighing heavily against her slight frame. Using her elbow to press down on the door handle, she opened the door to the largest bedroom and dropped the cardboard boxes she was carrying on to the floor as soon as she stepped inside. The fun she and Greg were having with Kieran had convinced her that Pier Road, despite its ghosts and bad memories, would remain their home. Fuelled by renewed enthusiasm, she’d spent hours packing her mother’s belongings, carelessly boxing china and glass that she’d been forced to wash and polish by hand, receiving a lash of her mother’s sharp tongue if she questioned the need to clean them when they were hardly ever used.
Eyeing the numerous bags of her mother’s clothes in the corner of the room, she gave a shudder. Emptying her wardrobe and chest of drawers had resurrected an array of memories, mostly unhappy ones for Jess. I’ll ask Henry to take them to the charity shop, she decided. Or they can dump them for all I care, once they get them out from under my feet.
As she stood in the doorway to catch her breath, she realised that packing her mother’s belongings had given her little choice but to move in and out of the bedroom she’d been avoiding for weeks now. But emptying it had significantly reduced her discomfort there, the bare rails and drawers symbolising her mother’s permanent departure. She wouldn’t be returning.
Almost stripped of her mother’s belongings (apart from the storage boxes and bags that would soon be moved), Jess looked at the room with a degree of objectivity. The largest room on the first floor, it boasted a magnificent view and its southerly aspect ensured ample natural light. After informing Henry and Pru of her decision to stay – not a conversation she was anticipating with any great excitement – she’d organise murals on the wall and convert it to a playroom for Greg.
Purposely leaving the bedroom door open, she accepted that her mother’s appalling behaviour had been beyond her control. She’d done her best to stand up to her, noticeably stronger defending Greg than herself, normal practice for most mothers she thought wryly. Pity my mother didn’t fit into the category of ‘most mothers’! Shortly – once her supply of cardboard boxes and refuse bags had been replenished – all physical trace would be removed from the house. And the passing of time, Jess believed, would make the lingering dark shadows fade from her mind.
“Pru, eat your heart out,” she thought, visualising her sister-in-law’s fury when she arrived to find the place devoid of any trace of anyone other than her and Greg. Fuelled by a determination she wished she’d been able to show her mother, she ran downstairs to get her phone, spotting a photograph of her mother on the wall (one she’d missed) and unhooking it. Retracing her steps up the stairs, she dropped it into an overflowing storage box.
Downstairs once more, she dialled her brother’s number and waited for him to answer so they could arrange a suitable time for a frank discussion. She didn’t think beyond the call, refusing to contemplate anything other than a positive outcome.
The call made and a meeting set up, she flopped into a chair and let out a weary sigh, her muscles aching. She’d worked diligently, emptying wardrobes and drawers, her brain on overdrive as she’d filled box after box with her mother’s belongings, feeling nothing but animosity for the deceased woman. Finalising the issue with Henry and Pru would rid her of a huge burden, clearing the way for her to combat another major hurdle, a difficult one, a huge gamble but worth the risk in her eyes. Almost there, she thought, filled with an unfamiliar sense that she might be headed exactly where she wanted to go.
Chapter 31
The shrill of the doorbell irritated Frank. He wondered who was calling. He wasn’t in the mood for pushy door-step salespeople. Attempting to peer through the frosted glass as he went through to the hallway to answer the door, he couldn’t make out who it was.
“Seth!” What the hell does he want at this hour of the day, he wondered. It’s been a while since he’s been mooching around.
“Frank. I thought you’d be golfing?”
Obviously or you wouldn’t be here, Frank thought. How often does he call for a free lunch when I’m not here? The skies suddenly darkened and hailstones bounced against the ground. He held the door open and ushered his wife’s brother inside.
“Cutting back a bit, Seth,” he said. What the hell am I explaining myself to this oaf for? “Marian’s out,” he added, hoping his guest would turn on his heel and leave. They’d given up any pretence of genui
ne friendship many years before.
“Oh, that’s a pity? We were supposed to meet tomorrow but I was passing and . . .” he shrugged as though Frank could read his thoughts.
“Anything I can help you with?”
“She mentioned that Beth needs a bit of help with . . .” Seth’s voice trailed off again.
Frank picked up on the other man’s hesitancy, his instincts on alert. What was Marian cooking up with her brother? So many times over the years he’d had to intercept his brother-in-law’s idea of helping, to ensure he didn’t end up on the wrong side of the court room. That man couldn’t lie straight in bed, never mind conduct an honest deal, he thought. And no doubt this time is no different.
“Oh yeah, she spoke to you about that?” he said cautiously, deciding to play along as though he was privy to Marian’s plans.
Seth filled the kettle. “Coffee?”
Cheek of him offering me coffee in my own kitchen! “Nah, I’m steering clear of caffeine at the moment.”
“On another health kick? Don’t know why you bother. We’re on the slippery slope now anyway. Best years behind us.”
Frank winced inside. Seth had this cunning way of needling a person, getting right under their skin, probably part of the reason he’d successfully hoodwinked people and secured dodgy deals over the years.
“All depends on the value we knock out of them!” He chided himself for his childish retort as soon as the words had left his mouth, annoyed he’d risen to the other man’s bait.
Seth raised an eyebrow, a mocking smirk on his face. “Sounds interesting, Frank? Something you want to share?”
Frank felt he was looking right into his soul – and his conscience. God damn him. He’d only been in the house five minutes and already my headache’s returning. The strongest painkillers wouldn’t dispel the effect Seth had on him.
“I don’t think Marian will be back for a while.” He leaned against the doorframe, watching Seth stirring his coffee and then dropping the spoon on the counter top before going to the larder press and taking out a fruit loaf.
A few moments later, Seth was tucking into a slice of fruit loaf smeared with a thick layer of butter. “Mmm . . . tasty! Marian’s larder is always well stocked. Sure you don’t want some?”
Frank shook his head, finding it more and more difficult to restrain his growing anger. The liberties the man was taking, acting as though he could swan in and treat the place like a self-service restaurant. And I’m letting him! But only until I get the low-down on whatever tales Marian has run to him with this time. Though he’d put money on it that she’d roped him into lodging an objection to the will on their behalf. She’d allowed the issue to die too easily, letting him believe she was respecting his wish to allow Polly’s will to stand. His wife’s faith in her brother bordered on ridiculous. She considered him invincible, a man who could, and where even remotely possible would, make anything happen.
His chest tightened, his headache intensified, his temple throbbing in pain as he tried to dispel the anger building inside him. Watching him intently as he acted as though being related through marriage gave him a right to anything he chose, Frank tightened his fists, wishing he had the guts to smash his brother-in-law’s nose and wipe the self-satisfied, smug grin from his face.
“How much has she told you about Beth then?” he blurted, needing a focus to get his anger under control.
“Enough. And it’s fairly doable. You agree?”
Seth turned away from Frank, slicing another piece of loaf and sinking the knife into the butter to slather it on again.
“Depends on the approach you take, I guess. Have you made a start already?”
The natural sound of his own voice surprised Frank – no trace of animosity or intense hatred, carefully buried in the recess of his heart and mind as it had been for years. He’d made a ridiculous promise and God help him, though it had frequently come between him and sleep, he’d managed to honour his word. So far.
Munching once more, Seth swung around. “And you really don’t have any issue – even though your sister had put her wishes in writing, made no secret of what she truly wanted?”
Frank stalled before replying. He was at a crossroads now. Should he admit his ignorance or merely bluff his way to see what information he could get.
“Seth! What are you doing here? We’d arranged to meet tomorrow!”
Marian’s arrival halted Frank’s train of thought.
“As I was saying to Frank, I was passing today and thought I’d drop by. Save me a special trip tomorrow. Great cake, Mar.”
She nodded dismissively. “Yeah, yeah, eat away.” Turning to her husband, she kept her tone even. “I’ll take over here. I’m sure you’ve got more important things to be getting on with.”
Wanting nothing more than to stand his ground and listen to their conversation, Frank knew Marian would steer it away from the real reason behind her meeting with Seth so it’d be a waste of his time and energy.
“See you, Seth,” he said, ignoring his wife and grabbing his car keys to get the hell out of there before his head exploded.
Frank was seething. He’d missed his chance to find out the full extent of what was going on. Whatever the hell was being cooked up between brother and sister, he’d be well and truly excluded now if Marian had anything to do with it. Typical, he thought. I always let everything slip through my fingers, stalling for time until opportunity passes me by. Well, not this time. Whatever’s going on between them, I’m going to find out – one way or another. And I’ll bring a stop to it too.
Carl stood in line at the post office, staring without seeing at the collection of advertising posters on the wall. Frank’s ultimatum was sinking in. His father-in-law wasn’t a man to mince his words. He’d miss Ireland. And Beth, if he were honest with himself. Planning the activity route had been enjoyable, something he’d like to see to fruition if time permitted. Running a hand over his two-day-old beard, he felt the weight of the world on his shoulders. The heady days of adventure were behind him. His brother’s mortality forced him to look at his own life and the legacy he’d carelessly cast aside. He envied his father-in-law’s ability to clear Ed’s name and restore the goodwill of his label. It hadn’t been secured as yet but Frank’s confidence when they’d discussed it had promised eventual success. As well as envying his capability, Carl was also forced to realise that Frank’s devotion to his daughter filled him with jealousy. He had never been idolised by parents. And given his reckless speed and the damage he’d done to his pregnant wife, he would probably never get the opportunity to idolise a son or daughter of his own.
“Next, please.”
“I’d like to make a passport application, please.”
“Travelling anywhere interesting?” the assistant enquired, pushing the form underneath the glass panel.
“Anybody’s guess. Can you put a stamp on this letter, please?” A ghost of a smile flickered across his face as he slipped the letter under the glass partition, hoping it would reach the recipient on time.
“We have an express service if you’re in a rush for the passport,” she offered.
He rubbed his eyes. The timing of his departure wasn’t something he cared to think about. “No urgency today at least,” he answered honestly.
He walked away from the counter with the form in his hand, wondering where on earth he’d end up. The prospect of starting over held little appeal. Making it alone held less.
Chapter 32
Driving around in circles trying to clear his head after leaving Seth and Marian, Frank came to a stop at the cemetery. He parked outside the large iron gate and sat in the car a moment to let the worst of his anger dissipate before visiting his sister’s grave. Mindlessly watching people coming and going through the gates, he almost didn’t recognise Beth as she stumbled through the gates, her shoulders heaving, a hand shielding her eyes.
“Beth!” he called, hurrying from the car and running towards her. “Whatever’s th
e matter?”
“Oh, Dad, nothing I do is ever enough. I’m sinking and sinking and can’t seem to do anything about it. You have to help me.”
Pulling her close to him, he searched his pockets and handed her a tissue. “Come on, let’s sit on the bench over here,” he suggested, guiding her to the large wooden bench. “Turn that frown upside down,” he whispered in her ear, a phrase he’d used to cheer her up when she’d been a little girl. If anything, his attempt at kindness upset her even more. He slipped an arm around her shoulders and held her tight again, planting a kiss on her forehead.
“Polly got a nice surprise seeing you at the grave today?”
Of his three children, Beth was the one who traipsed from one disaster to the next and there wasn’t anything he could do to change that, at least until she took it upon herself to ask his advice before launching into a new project instead of waiting until it was beyond repair.
“A bit late now to be visiting.” She turned to look at him, her eyes filled with regret. “If I’d shown her some kindness when she’d been alive –”
“What’s done is done, no point looking back. And you mightn’t believe it now but things will come good again.” His advice was as much for his ears as hers.
Patting her face with the tissue, she exhaled slowly to get her sobbing under control.