He heard her laugh softly. ‘I’ll be fine.’ A short silence, then she said, ‘I was wondering – well, we were wondering
We. Dan stiffened.
‘… if you’d be willing to meet us and talk about, you know, the arrangements for afterwards. How we’re going to—’
‘No.’ His hand was clenched on the phone. ‘I don’t want to meet him, I never want to – God, how can you even think—’ The rage stopped him
‘OK, sorry.’ She spoke quickly. ‘Really, I’m sorry, I didn’t think. Well, maybe we could meet then, just the two of us?’
‘Or maybe we could do it through solicitors. How about that?’ He pressed disconnect and stood there, fuming.
One step forward, ten steps back.
Late afternoon, number seven’s kitchen
‘You’re home early.’
‘We closed for stocktaking – I told you this morning.’ Clara opened the fridge. ‘Are we out of water?’
‘It’s on the list. Can you make do with the tap?’ Yvonne arranged potato slices on top of the meat in the casserole dish and bent to put it into the oven. ‘By the way, I was talking to Dan a while ago. Guess what – he’s taking cookery classes.’
Clara turned off the tap. ‘What? Dan?’
‘Well, he says his tenant’s a great cook and has kind of shamed him into it, but I think it’s more to do with Ali being gone – he’s just trying to fill in the time, I’d say.’
Clara sipped water. ‘I wouldn’t even know where to find evening classes.’
Yvonne thought. ‘I think Dan mentioned the Tech.’
‘Right …’ Clara leaned against the sink. ‘Maybe I’ll sign up too – might be a laugh.’
Yvonne stared at her. ‘You? You’re better able to cook than I am.’
Clara smiled. ‘Like I said, it’d be just for the laugh – and there’s always something to learn, I’m sure.’
Yvonne emptied a bag of cooking apples onto the table. ‘It’s kind of sad, though, isn’t it? This is like finally admitting Ali’s not coming back.’ She rummaged in the cutlery drawer.
‘Mmm.’ Clara cradled her glass, one foot kicking absently at the press behind it. ‘Still, if a marriage is over, it’s over. Best to face up to it and move on.’
‘I suppose.’ Yvonne began to peel. ‘Oh, and you know that violin music we keep hearing? It’s not the radio, it’s Dan’s tenant.’
Clara nodded. ‘Yeah, I knew it was him, I forgot to tell you I saw him the other night. He looked a bit weird, standing down there between the trees.’ She sipped from her glass again. Any news on Justin’s mother?’
Yvonne shook her head. ‘No – they haven’t got any results yet. It must be a worry though.’
‘Mmm.’
After dinner, number eight’s kitchen
‘You’ve been spotted.’
‘I have?’
Dan poured boiling water onto his teabag. ‘One of our neighbours – Yvonne, in number seven. She saw you playing the other night. Thought you were the radio up to that.’
Kieran looked interested. ‘Is that the blonde young one?’
Dan laughed. ‘No, it’s her mother. She was very impressed.’
Kieran thought. ‘Don’t think I’ve seen the mother.’
‘Brown hair, nice looking. She has a herb garden out there that could do with your help. I was showing her your tubs
Late evening, number nine’s sitting room
‘You look tired. Any news yet?’
Kathryn shook her head. ‘No but I have to admit I’m not inclined to be too worried. What’s the betting they find nothing? You know what Grainne’s like.’
Yvonne sipped her gin and tonic. ‘But still, if they’re giving her tests, they must be taking the headaches seriously.’
‘Maybe.’ Kathryn shrugged. ‘Or maybe they’re doing it to keep her quiet. She must be the most regular visitor to A & E.’ She tapped a finger against her glass. ‘Might be a good thing, though – I mean, if they do all the tests and find nothing, there’s her credibility gone. But of course Justin’s worried.’
‘Naturally. What time are you expecting him back?’
Kathryn sighed. ‘Anytime now, visiting ends at nine.’ She sipped her wine. ‘So how’s the beautiful Clara? I haven’t seen her in a while.’
Yvonne smiled. ‘She’s fine, thinking of going out to one of the Aran Islands with a few friends next weekend if the weather’s OK. There’s some kind of music festival on.’
‘Sounds good. And no new man on the scene yet?’
Yvonne hesitated. ‘I’m not sure. I thought for a while there might be, but there’s no sign. She’s rarely gone this long without a boyfriend.’
After another pause, Kathryn said, ‘But there might be someone new and she just hasn’t mentioned it.’
‘Could well be, knowing Clara.’ Yvonne sighed. ‘I know I’m always saying it, but I really wish she’d confide in me more, Kath.’
Kathryn said slowly, ‘Maybe you’re as well off. Ignorance is bliss, isn’t it?’
Same room, an hour later
‘There’s something I need to talk to you about.’
Kathryn’s heart skittered. Here it was, what she’d been dreading for weeks now. In a way, it was a relief. ‘What is it?’
Justin sat on the arm of the sofa. He rubbed his eyes. Was he as tired as she felt? ‘I’ve been wanting to tell you for ages, but I wasn’t sure how to.’
Kathryn said nothing. Her hands felt cold. She kept her eyes on his mouth.
‘Look, may as well come out with it.’ He lifted his head. ‘I want to quit work. I’m not happy there – it’s not for me. I hate being on a computer all day, can’t stand the monotony. I want to leave and do something else.’
Kathryn stared at him. It was so unexpected that she was genuinely lost for words. She didn’t know what to say, hadn’t a clue.
‘You’re shocked.’
‘No, no.’ She found her voice. ‘Surprised – I had no idea, that’s all. I thought you enjoyed your work.’ He’d never mentioned being unhappy there before.
His mouth twisted. ‘I didn’t mind it so much, up to a few months ago, although I was never that mad about it. And then, I don’t know … I’d suddenly had enough of staring at a screen all day.’
‘You’d had enough.’ She was still struggling to adjust. Steeling herself for her husband to announce that he was leaving her, and then to hear this.
Justin nodded. ‘Yeah. I know it must sound a bit weird, out of the blue like this, but I’ve been thinking about it for ages and I can’t not say it any more.’
‘No, you had to. ’ She studied his face, searched it for something else, found nothing.
He held her gaze. ‘So what do you think? Am I crazy, at this stage, to be considering a total change of career?’
Kathryn tried to focus on what he was saying. A total change of career? What did his career matter, compared to their marriage? ‘Well, have you any alternative in mind?’
Justin hesitated. ‘Actually, I have. I always fancied teaching, and now there’s a degree you can get online, I wouldn’t even have to go back to college. I could keep working, study at weekends and maybe in the evenings.’ He was watching her closely. He cared what she thought.
Kathryn spoke slowly. ‘If that’s what you want, then go for it. You have to be happy in your work.’
‘Thank you.’ He reached for her hand and squeezed it. ‘You’re cold.’
‘Just my hands.’
He moved closer. ‘I love you.’
When she didn’t answer, he said, ‘Kath.’
She couldn’t speak.
He put an arm around her. ‘What’s wrong? I know something’s wrong. Tell me.’
She opened her mouth. Why did you buy perfume for someone else? Who were the flowers for? Who were you phoning? This was her chance. He was asking her to tell him. Maybe he wanted her to bring it out into the open.
She couldn’t say it. Saying it was m
uch too terrifying.
‘Nothing, I’m sorry. I’m just a bit fed up lately.’ She tried to smile. ‘I think it’s … turning forty-five.’ Coward, coward.
He drew her into him. ‘You crazy woman. Is that all? You’ve been so miserable lately. It’s just a number. You know I don’t give a damn about that.’
‘I know.’ Her voice was muffled against his chest. Her eyes filled and she blinked away the tears.
‘And you’re really and truly OK about my daft notion?’
‘I am.’ She breathed in the smell of him. ‘If it’s really and truly what you want.’
Maybe it was over. Maybe it had been a mad summer fling and now it was over.
Maybe he really and truly loved her again.
Two weeks later: 19 September
NUMBER SEVEN
Yvonne fingered the knobbly turquoise stones set in the silver bracelet. ‘You really shouldn’t have.’
‘Well, I did, so let’s have no more of that.’ Greg peered at her over his glasses. ‘Have you decided? Because I have.’
Yvonne scanned the list of dishes. ‘Sorry – too busy admiring my present. What are you getting? I bet it’s the crab claws and the stir-fry.’
He laughed. ‘We’ve definitely been friends for too long.’
‘No, you’re just so predictable. I’m going to have the crispy duck and then the plaice.’ She closed the menu. ‘Now, tell me everything.’
He was tanned and rested looking. Really, he was quite handsome. She knew him too well to appreciate that most of the time. His dark grey shirt was well cut, with a thin blue stripe running through it. She assumed he had plenty of money – what would he spend it on?
‘Well, the villa was quite small, just two bedrooms, and very basically furnished, the bare necessities. But the area was spectacular. I did some great walking – and of course I visited Florence and Pisa.’
She groaned. ‘I’m sorry I asked. Were they wonderful?’
‘Of course they were. Look at this.’
They went through the photos. He described the food – ‘The basil, the olive oil, the pasta sauces.’
‘And the ice cream – I’ve heard about the ice cream.’
‘The ice cream is out of this world.’ He described the churches and galleries. ‘You don’t know where to look, there’s so much to see. Even if you’re not big into art, you have to be impressed.’ And the Italians: ‘Very friendly, very dramatic. Good sense of humour.’
‘I really wish I could have gone.’
‘So do I.’ He smiled as he cracked a claw and scooped out the meat.
Yvonne told him about Dolores going to Venice for her anniversary. ‘They took loads of photos but their camera fell into a canal on the last day. She brought me a bottle of wine, which made me feel quite guilty.’
He told her about his landlord’s decision to sell the house in Dublin. ‘I’m not too upset really – it’s high time I invested in one of my own.’
‘But they’re so expensive now, especially in Dublin.’
‘Mmm. I might have to move out a bit, start commuting.’
They had plenty to talk about, plenty to keep them chatting over his beef stir-fry with baby sweetcorn, onions and pepper strips on a bed of basmati rice and her fillets of plaice with pumpkin wedges and creamed leeks. Lots to say as he sipped dessert wine afterwards – he loved dessert wine, she detested its syrupy sweetness – and took a forkful of her lemon cheesecake.
So it wasn’t until their coffee had been poured and Yvonne was dipping her mint chocolate straw into the steaming liquid that Greg said, ‘There’s something I want to tell you – and ask you.’
She bit off the melting dark chocolate tip. ‘What?’
Greg stirred his coffee. ‘I’m not quite sure how to say this, really.’
‘Sounds serious.’ Yvonne crunched the rest of the straw, watching him. ‘You look serious.’
‘Well, it is fairly serious.’ Greg put down his spoon and laced his fingers together. They were very brown against the white tablecloth. He took a deep breath, then let it out again and said nothing.
Yvonne swallowed her chocolate and stared at him. ‘Greg, what is it? You’re making me nervous. There’s nothing wrong, is there?’ Please God don’t let him have a terminal disease.
He smiled quickly. ‘No, nothing at all, nothing wrong. I’m just not sure how to put it, that’s all.’ And before she had a chance to respond to that, he said, all in a rush, ‘The thing is, Yvonne, I’m in love with you – I have been for ages, for years, really – and it would make me extremely happy if you would consider marrying me.’
NUMBER EIGHT
The teacher was from Australia. He was tall, gangling and young – mid to late twenties, Dan guessed. His name was Douglas. He told them he’d worked as a junior chef on a cruise ship for four years. ‘Then I got sense.’ Some polite laughter. ‘I got a job in a hotel in Melbourne, worked my way up to head chef – and then I met an Irish girl. She dragged me back here.’
Dan glanced around. Three other men, the rest female, as far as he could make out. Maybe a dozen altogether. He couldn’t see everyone – the room was too long and narrow. People stood in pairs, two to a table. The woman beside him was in her sixties or thereabouts. They’d introduced themselves a few minutes earlier, just before the class began.
‘I’m Judy.’
‘Dan.’ He’d nearly said ‘Punch’. Ali would have appreciated that.
Douglas showed them how to measure a level teaspoon, how to rub margarine into flour – ‘Lift it, let the air in’ – how to mix liquid into dry ingredients, how to knead – ‘Keep it light, don’t hammer it, use the heel of your hand.’
By the end of the first session they’d all produced a dozen scones. Dan had heard about Judy’s husband, who had multiple sclerosis, and her two cats, Tigger and Tux. ‘Short for tuxedo – he’s black and white.’
He told her about Picasso and about his job. He didn’t mention his wife running off with his uncle, then discovering she was pregnant with Dan’s baby. He figured he might save that for the second night.
Judy’s scones were slightly overdone. Dan’s had turned out pretty well, according to Douglas. ‘Well done, mate, nice and light.’
It wasn’t until they were leaving that he saw her near the back of the room, gathering up her things.
He waited at the door. ‘Small world.’
Clara smiled. ‘Hi Dan. Spotted you earlier. Mum mentioned you were doing classes, but I’d no idea they were these ones. What did you think of tonight?’
They walked along the corridor together. ‘I enjoyed it.’ He held up his bag. ‘Douglas said my scones were nice and light.’
Clara laughed. ‘Well done – mine weren’t too bad either.’
They reached the door. Clara scanned the cars. ‘Did you drive?’
‘Nope, it was such a nice evening I walked.’
‘Me too.’
On the way home, they talked about Grainne’s news and agreed that it was terrible. Clara told him about her friend Siofra’s month in France. ‘She was on a volunteer project. They were helping to build a youth centre in a village in the south.’
He told her about a week in Ennis with friends. ‘We went fishing and I caught a wellington and half a suitcase.’
She talked about her weekend on Inis Meán. ‘We didn’t get a wink of sleep. It was wild.’
When she flicked her hair or lifted a hand to push it off her face, he smelled lemons.
As they turned into Miller’s Avenue, Clara said, out of the blue, ‘I’m sorry about your wife, by the way.’
Dan was touched. ‘Thanks.’
There was a short silence and then Clara said, ‘I broke up with a boyfriend not so long ago.’ Then she added quickly, ‘But of course that’s nothing like your situation.’
They reached his gate. Dan pushed it open. ‘Well, see you next week.’
‘’Bye, Dan.’ She lifted a hand. ‘Hope the scones go down well.’
They had two each for supper, with gooseberry jam that Dan had bought in the market. Kieran was impressed. ‘Very light, very tasty, well done. I’ll soon be out of a job.’
She was too young for him. Not that he was looking for anyone – far from it. But even if he had been, she was much too young.
Pretty, though, and she’d smelled great. And she’d just split up with her boyfriend.
But much too young.
NUMBER NINE
There was a tumour in Grainne’s head. It had been there for quite some time, growing quietly, and now it was too big to cut out. There was nothing to be done. Grainne was going to die, probably in the next six months.
Dr Lynch had put it much more tactfully, of course, in his surgery, where he’d summoned them to give them the news from the hospital. But that had been the gist of it.
Justin had phoned his sister Ann in Spain and his father William, living in Limerick now. Ann was going to come over as soon as Justin thought he could broach the subject with Grainne.
William, on the other hand, had told Justin he’d feel uncomfortable visiting – and he guessed Grainne wouldn’t appreciate it either – but he asked Justin to keep him informed of her progress.
Grainne had taken the news very badly. She’d hardly left her room in the ten days since Dr Lynch’s gentle announcement, even though she was still perfectly mobile. She lay in bed, stared at the opposite wall and hardly responded when they talked to her.
She ate very little, would probably have eaten nothing if she hadn’t had to take some food with the tablets she’d been prescribed. A slice of the quiche she loved came downstairs barely touched. A little dish of ice cream was left to melt, ignored, until Justin took it away. She hardly looked at the bowl of black grapes – her favourite fruit – that sat on her bedside locker for days, until they started to shrivel and Kathryn took them away.
The tablets were mostly painkillers. ‘That’s really all we can do for her,’ Dr Lynch had told them. ‘Just keep her as comfortable as you can, and in a few months, if need be, we can see about getting her into a hospice.’
But Justin was having none of it. ‘We’d rather have her at home,’ he told the doctor. ‘We can manage.’
The People Next Door Page 17