‘Can I have this jumper, Mum?’ Melissa asked, picking up a soft black sweatshirt that Ella used to wear day and night. It was huge, black and oversized with writing on it that read, ‘Fuck the Patriarchy’.
‘Of course you can, pet,’ Susan told her, giving her a little squeeze around her shoulders. ‘Maybe just don’t wear it to school, okay? I don’t want you getting into any trouble – like Ella used to, do you remember?’
Melissa nodded, smiling because she remembered so well. The school secretary had phoned the house to complain about ‘your elder daughter’s unsuitable choice of attire on the school premises’.
Melissa looked worriedly up at her mum, suddenly afraid that stirring up a memory like that might upset her nerves. Please don’t let her go back on those horrible purple-y pills that made her act like a zombie and sleep for days. Please, not again, she thought.
But her mum didn’t seem to mind about the jumper a bit. Instead she gave a wistful little smile and inhaled the smell of the woolly fabric deeply, before handing it over.
This is a good sign, Melissa thought hopefully. Her mother letting go of little things Ella had once owned and loved had to be a baby step forwards, didn’t it?
‘Take anything else you like too, while we’re here,’ her mum said, in her normal voice. Her best ‘mammy’ voice. ‘Because I know what Ella would say if she were here.’
‘What’s that, Mum?’
‘She’d tell us to shove it all into black bin liners and give everything she ever owned to the local charity shop. You know how devoted she was to that charity shop.’
Melissa smiled, because it was so true and exactly what Ella would have said if she’d been there.
‘Maybe we could choose something your dad might like to keep too?’ her mum offered. ‘Like maybe—’
‘Oh, I know,’ Melissa said brightly, as her eye fell on a battered copy of The Handmaid’s Tale, one of Ella’s favourite books ever.
‘Good idea,’ her mum said. ‘He’d love that. So what do you say we pack up as much of the rest of her stuff as we can and store everything up in the attic? That way, we can both still read Ella’s books and look at her things whenever we want. Good plan?’
‘Great plan.’ Melissa beamed back. So they boxed away as much of Ella’s stuff as they could to make space for their new lodger but, as it turned out, Nancy was about the easiest houseguest you could ever ask for. In fact, when Nancy did move in, she limited herself to using up just one single shelf in Ella’s old room, and no more.
‘But we made loads of room for you!’ Melissa told her, proudly opening the now empty wardrobe.
‘It’s okay, thanks, hon,’ Nancy had told her. ‘I’m so used to living out of a suitcase, just the one shelf is quite enough for me.’
At first, Melissa had worried a bit about how her mum would react to someone new being in Ella’s room and in the little bathroom she used, but she needn’t have.
‘So little trouble,’ she overheard her mum say, ‘and so low maintenance, you’d barely even know she was here.’
And as for Melissa herself? All of a sudden, it was like living with the coolest friend you could ever ask for. Nancy was working around the clock at the National Theatre just then, so they only ever really saw her first thing in the morning or else late in the evening.
When they did meet, though, Nancy made a big point of telling Melissa all about how the final week of rehearsals was shaping up. Then the three of them would chat and Nancy would even bring home bunches of flowers for the house, always tiger lilies, and lovely smelling scented candles to dot around the place.
It’s like having a big sister again, Melissa thought, loving this sudden change in the atmosphere at home.
She didn’t tell her mum that, though. She didn’t dare use the word ‘sister’.
Baby steps and all that.
*
Then something seriously weird happened. It was the week that led up the Easter holidays and there was a real end-of-term atmosphere about Melissa’s school. No one was taking homework seriously and even the exam classes, like the Junior and Leaving Certs, were acting the maggot around the place, as Miss Jenkins, Melissa’s class tutor, was complaining.
It was just coming up to the end of the day, when Melissa and Hayley were strolling towards their lockers, full of chat about the holidays ahead and what they had planned. Melissa had already asked Hayley to the opening night of Pride and Prejudice, and both girls were beyond thrilled at the thought of getting to an actual, proper opening night.
‘Do you think there’ll be celebs there?’ Hayley asked excitedly. ‘Like . . . off the TV, I mean? And do you think we might get to meet them?’
‘Well . . . Nancy did say that the President would be there,’ Melissa replied, ‘so maybe we’ll get to see him? And there’s a drinks reception for the cast and crew afterwards, and we’re even invited to that too. I can’t wait!’
‘OMG, everyone is going to be, like, so jealous of us!’ Hayley squealed. ‘I’m so getting a new outfit for this. And a spray tan, and a Shellac on my nails, if Mum lets me.’
Just at that exact moment, Melissa felt a tap on her shoulder and turned around. Standing in front of her was Josh. Josh Andrews. He was surrounded, as ever, by his gang of merry men, as everyone called them, and Melissa just stared up at him in total shock. Even Hayley stopped nattering and stood there, gawping.
‘Emm . . . can I talk to you?’ Josh said to Melissa, looking directly at her.
‘Ehh . . . yeah,’ she answered, too surprised to say no. What would her mum say if she knew? What did he want with her?
‘In private,’ he added.
Hayley was rooted to the spot, having a good stare at the astonishing scene that was unfolding, before taking the hint.
‘Oh! Right. Sorry,’ she hissed at Melissa before walking off.
‘Hey guys?’ Josh said, turning back to his gang, who were, as ever, all clustered around him. ‘Give me a bit of space for a sec, yeah?’
He led a terrified Melissa aside into a quiet little annex, where there was a bit more privacy to talk.
‘Thing is,’ he began, towering over Melissa and totally intimidating her, ‘I know that it was your sister’s . . . that is . . . Ella’s anniversary a while back . . . ’
Melissa couldn’t talk. Half of her was too scared to and the other half was too intrigued. She really, really wished Hayley was with her for a bit of support.
‘So . . . I got . . . well . . . this,’ Josh said, clumsily reaching into the backpack he had slung around his shoulders and handing her a card. ‘It’s one of those . . . you know . . . in memorium cards,’ he added, starting to look a bit embarrassed now. ‘I didn’t know what else to do. I don’t even know if that’s the right name for them.’
‘Oh . . . right, well . . . thank you.’ Melissa somehow found the words to say, automatically taking the card from him.
‘It’s . . . shite. Isn’t it? About Ella, I mean.’
‘Yeah.’ Melissa nodded. That was certainly one way of putting it.
‘So . . . you and me are cool then, yeah?’
‘Emm . . . yeah. Absolutely.’
‘All right then,’ he said, turning on his heel so he could rejoin his mates, who were waiting for him over by the water cooler. Then he stopped dead in his tracks and turned back to face her.
‘Just . . . maybe it’s better if don’t tell your mum about the card,’ he said.
‘If you don’t want me to . . . ’ Melissa said doubtfully.
Josh thought for a moment, then shook his head.
‘In fact, scrap that,’ he said a bit more firmly. ‘Definitely don’t mention the card to your mum. It’s a very bad idea.’
‘Emm . . . okay,’ Melissa managed to say, still utterly confused by this. ‘If you’d rather I didn’t, then I won’t.’
‘I do get it, you know,’ he said, sounding like he’d reall
y given it thought. ‘Sometimes people need a bad guy to shove all the blame on. And right now, as far as your mum is concerned, I’m it. But I cared about Ella, you know. I really did. She was my friend and I’d never have hurt her. I want you to know that.’
Jayne
19 PRIMROSE SQUARE
‘Well, Tom, this has to be about the hardest conversation I’ll probably ever have to have with you. Half of me is almost relieved you’re lying there in an urn for what I’m about to say. But it’s time for me, love. I really think it’s time for me to finally let go of the past and “embrace my new future”, as Eric says.
‘The thing is, love, he and I have been getting on so famously ever since he first arrived on my doorstep, oh, it seems like such a long time ago now, doesn’t it? Sure I didn’t know what to make of him at all in the beginning, with his white linen gear and the way he talks about chakras and energy centres in the body. But now? Oh Tom, it feels so disloyal of me to even say it to you, but now I can’t imagine my days without him.
‘Best of all, though, is the absolute miracle that seems to have taken over our Jason. Well, you saw for yourself, love, how snotty and unwelcoming himself and Irene were to poor Eric when he first came here.
‘But now, honestly, Jason is like a new man these days. He’s all pally and full of chat with Eric and it’s a joy to see. Jason has truly changed and I’d swear it’s Eric’s doing, I’m not imagining it. Sure, only this morning, didn’t Jason call to Primrose Square and offer to wash my windows for me – without me even having to nag him into it, like I always do. Did you ever?! Not only that, but then he insisted on whisking me off to the shopping centre in his ice cream van to help me with all my grocery shopping. He even bought a bottle of champagne, as a treat for myself and Eric, did you ever! Well, I was so shocked, I didn’t have the heart to remind Jason that Eric doesn’t drink, but still, though. It really did my little heart good to see my son and the man I love finally getting on so famously.
‘Because that’s the thing, Tom. I really do think I love Eric. I never thought I’d say those words again, not after you. But I really do think that this is love. Real, true love, just like I felt for you. So here’s what I want to talk to you about, Tom – and it’s a biggie, as Melissa says.
‘It means so much to me that you would have liked Eric. Is it too cheeky of me to ask you for a sign? Something? Anything at all to let me know that you’re okay with this from the other side. I ask so much already of you, Tom, in life and now in death too. But can I just ask you for that one last thing? If it’s not too much trouble, will you send me a sign? For me? Please?’
*
Later that same evening, Eric encouraged Jayne to come along to what he called a Pilates Reformer class, to be held in their local yoga studio on nearby Pearce Street. Jayne readily said yes, but then that was her new mantra these days, she told herself happily. Yes to everything. Yes, all the way. Whatever life threw at her, the answer would always be a big, fat yes.
But she nearly died when she saw the actual machines you had to do the hour-long class on.
‘Oh Eric, love,’ she blurted out, ‘are you sure this is quite safe? Those yokes look like medieval torture machines – like something out of the Tower of London.’
‘Hey, just trust me, honey.’ Eric smiled knowingly. ‘You’re gonna love this – it’s all about core strengthening, you know. Like I always say, the difference between a great old age and a miserable one is our health, and I want you around fit and well for a very long time to come.’
It was little things he said, just like that, which melted Jayne’s heart. The idea that Eric was really thinking long-term about their relationship. So she gamely lay down on the machine, along with the rest of their class, and joined in as best she could, bending, stretching, lunging and even doing ‘tummy crunches’, which hurt like hell, but which their instructor promised would drop everyone down a clothes size in no time.
Meanwhile, Eric was stretched out on the pilates bed right beside her, giving her little half winks of encouragement whenever their eyes met. Which was quite a lot, actually. What Jayne hadn’t been prepared for was this. Mid-way through the class, when everyone was getting hot and sweaty, he sat forward and peeled off a lycra sports jacket he was wearing so he was just down to a simple white T-shirt with yoga pants.
It was the sight of his long, bare, tanned arms that did it for Jayne, she thought afterwards. She was so used to being around Eric physically, but the sight of those bare arms and lean, muscular legs as he did an abdominal plank beside her made her want to pull him in towards her and do all manner of things that would get the two of them arrested in a public place.
Desire is a funny thing, she thought. You think it’s all but evaporated as you hit middle age, then whoomph! All of a sudden you know you won’t be at peace till you’re lying in this man’s arms. Why was it, she wondered, that physical longing and attraction only ever came at you when there was nothing you could do about it? Like when Eric was stripped down to his shorts in the back garden doing her hedges? Or when he was stirring one of his delicious vegetarian sauces at the Aga in her kitchen, when she had a houseful of visitors? Or just then, as the two of them lay side by side on the weirdest-looking wooden bed slats you just ever saw, with wires and weights and pulleys hanging off their arms and feet, like prisoners back in the Dark Ages.
It was raining when they came out of the yoga centre and Eric held out a huge umbrella for them both to shelter under as they walked home. He was chatting away, making small talk about the class and the benefits of it and how Joseph Pilates said that ‘if at the age of thirty, you’re stiff and out of shape, you are old. If at sixty you’re supple and strong, then you are young.’
Jayne let him chat away, feeling all hot and flushed with this overwhelming physical longing she felt. Somehow, they’d got as far as the square before he noticed how quiet she was being.
‘You okay there?’ he asked, as they stopped under a tree, rain spattering down through the leaves onto the dark, deserted street below. ‘Not like you to be so tuned out.’
Send me a sign, Tom, Jayne asked one last time. Send me a sign that what I’m about to do is okay.
And that’s when she saw it. Not just a single white feather, but three of them lying on the rain-soaked ground at her feet. Everything she’d asked for and more. She didn’t need any further prompting – she didn’t even need words.
Instead, she leaned into Eric, then turned to face up to him.
‘Kiss me,’ she said simply.
Nancy
18 PRIMROSE SQUARE
So another house move, but so far, this one was turning out to be magical for Nancy, with no ‘ghost’ landlords bombarding her with fake messages from the Far East.
The ‘Far East’. She snorted, still cross at herself for being such an easily duped target. The far east of Cabra, more like. Nancy was really trying her very best, but the horrible, final words of Sam Williams Junior were still ringing in her ears. Single women are such an easy mark.
Well, not this single woman, she vowed to herself. Certainly not any more.
‘I’m done trusting people and I’m particularly done trusting all the knuckle-dragging, selfish, plonkers I meet online,’ she boldly told Mbeki during a break in wardrobe fittings with the cast.
‘I don’t blame you,’ Mbeki replied, all big-eyed sympathy. ‘Wow, what a rotten thing to happen – especially after, well, you know. After everything else you’ve had to deal with – in London, I mean.’
Nancy thought it wisest just to say nothing as the two women walked from the coffee shop across the road from the National and back into the lift that led to the very top of the building. It was just the two of them inside the lift. There was privacy, no one could overhear.
‘Nancy?’ Mbeki persisted, seizing her opportunity. ‘Have you decided what to do yet? Because this really shouldn’t go on much longer. It’s not fair, for a start.’
‘I know,’ Nancy sighed, a
s they zoomed upwards.
‘You have to do something,’ Mbeki urged her. ‘You’ve got to, Nancy, this is too big, too important. This is your good name and reputation we’re talking about here. I’m in your corner. You can take this on and win, I know you can.’
‘Just . . . just let’s park it for now,’ Nancy said, as the lift door slowly opened on the top floor. ‘It’s a work day and I have to keep my work face on.’
‘Come on, Nancy!’ was Mbeki’s heartfelt answer. ‘Where’s the fight in you? I’ve seen you stand up to Diego when he’s acting like Rumpelstiltskin. I know you can stand up to this too. You’re strong. You can do it!’
‘Please, Mbeki,’ Nancy said, turning to face her and stopping in her tracks. ‘You’ve no idea how much of a toll this took on me. I know it has to be dealt with but just not when I’ve got a show opening in less than a week. Can we just drop it till my work is done?’
‘If that’s what you want,’ Mbeki said reluctantly. ‘But you deserve a hearing. Remember, the truth is powerful. And the truth will out. It’s a question of when, not if.’
*
The day went by in a blur for Nancy, and as she walked home much later on that night, she gave silent thanks that at least one of her worries had crumbled to dust. She had a new roof over her head, which was the biggest relief imaginable to her. Not only that, but it had turned out to be probably the easiest house move she’d ever done, mainly down to the marvellous spirit of cooperation and general ‘mucking-in’ that there was on Primrose Square.
Both Susan and Melissa had really bent over backwards to welcome her into their home, and she really couldn’t have been more grateful to either of them. Particularly when she knew only too well the emotional cost to them of opening up Ella’s old room.
The Secrets of Primrose Square Page 30