Maeve Binchy

by The Quentins (Lit)

  Which reminded her about Maud and Simon, "who were coming to lunch tomorrow. She must find out how they were related to Tom or Cathy, whichever it was. They kept saying that Cathy's parents were not really official grandparents, but then they got everything so confused. Dee said she did hear once, but it was all so complicated and far-fetched that you'd be asleep by the time it was explained.

  She drove south of Dublin, then through the suburbs and by the sea to Killiney, where Don and Margery had thei r elegant home. Where his sons had played tennis, where his father-in-law had visited so often it was like his second home. Ella knew the address but she had never seen the place. Today she needed to look at it.

  It said Private Road, but there was no gate keeping you out. Just the words and the size of the house would do that, keep you away, unless you had business there. She drove slowly along, noticing the gardeners here, the window-cleaners there, the activity of an autumn Saturday morning in a wealthy area. She saw the big cars parked in the driveways, the women who dressed to go to the

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  supermarkets and shopping centres, the expensive security systems. This was where Margery Rice had lived for years with her father, husband and sons. Yet she must have lived a lot of the time on her own. Her sons had been at school, her father out working, her husband in the arms of Ella Brady. And today Margery was calling herself Mrs Brady and living in Playa de los Angeles, in Spain. Did she want to be back in this splendid house with the immaculate green grass? Had it been sold, or did they rent it out? Would Margery and her father, if they were so blameless about everything, come home and take up where they had left off?

  She got out of her car, went to lean on the gate. She had to study this place and see if it told her anything at all about what might have happened.

  A woman came out to speak to her. She was about twenty-five, with jeans, untidy hair, and a two-year-old by the hand. "Can I help you at all?"

  "No, I'm just looking at these lovely homes. I used to know people who lived here, the Richardsons."

  "Oh yes, indeed."

  "Did you know them?" Ella asked.

  "Only knew of them. I'm sort of house-sitting this place. My uncle rented it after they left. He was a great friend of theirs."

  "He must have been very cut up when Don died."

  "Yes, I think he was," the girl said, rescuing the child who had run away.

  "He's sweet, isn't he?" Ella said when the child had been retrieved.

  "He's Max. He's a handful. It makes it difficult to go out and work, so that's why it was "wonderful to get this place right out of the blue. My name's Sasha, by the way." Tm Ella."

  "Would you like to come in and have a coffee?"

  Ella thought for a moment. The name Ella hadn't rung any alarm bells, reminding the young woman of love nests. So why not then? She followed Sasha into Don and Margery's house.

  It was fully furnished. There were paintings on the walls by artists she knew Don liked. There were Don's kinds of books. Nothing could have changed. This house was as they had left it the day they disappeared.

  "I'd have thought it would be ... you know, more bare."

  "So did I when my uncle approached me. You see, Max doesn't

  have any father on the scene, if you know what I mean, and I'm a bit of a family problem one way and another!" She smiled engagingly. She was an attractive person. She showed Ella how she had covered a lot of the good pieces with sheets so that Max wouldn't get his sticky fingers all over them. There was a view of the sea from one side of the house and of the countryside stretching down to the Wicklow Mountains from the other. It was a dream house. No wonder Sasha felt she had fallen on her feet to get to stay there.

  "And does your uncle stay here too?"

  "He comes and goes, but he travels a lot. Mike's not someone you'd pin down."

  "Mike?"

  "That's my uncle's name. Mike Martin. You must know him?"

  "I've seen him on television, certainly," Ella said, looking around her nervously. "And are you expecting him today, do you think?"

  "Oh, he never says, just turns up."

  Ella put down her coffee and said she had to go.

  Sasha was disappointed. "To be honest, I was hoping you'd stay. They're all so old round here, and desperately rich. You're more normal."

  But Ella moved very quickly. Mike Martin was the man who was looking for her and the laptop.

  "You didn't say how you knew the family," Sasha said as she came to see her off.

  Ella thought for a moment. Sasha would tell Mike anyway. No point in hiding anything now. "Actually, I'm a bit of a problem in my family too, Sasha. The reason I knew them was that I was in love with Don Richardson. I was mad about him, and my heart is broken because he's dead. I just wanted to see where he lived when he was alive."

  "Oh my God," Sasha said.

  "So perhaps if you didn't tell your Uncle Mike, it might be better. For all of us."

  Sasha nodded vigorously, and Max held out a face covered in ice-cream for a goodbye kiss.

  Nothing would be said about her visit.

  For the moment.

  Ella had bought a sandwich and a carton of milk. She drove up to Wicklow Gap, where you could sit and see nothing but hills and

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  sheep and rocky paths down to a river in a valley. She always loved it here, and somehow things seemed clearer.

  She took the rug out of the car and sat for a long time with her eyes on the quiet scene around her. Sometimes cars passed by and once or twice they parked nearby to look at the view from this vantage point. But nobody bothered her, and she wasn't really aware of them. And eventually the place worked its magic as it always did, and she got back into her car and drove home.

  Her parents were anxious to discuss money, but Ella told them there was no need. "Just listen," Barbara Brady pleaded. "Your father won't take it and therefore I have agreed."

  "But not with your heart, Mother."

  "My heart's not important in all this. He's right. There are people worse off than we are, and it wouldn't be fair."

  "I don't have to do anything about it until tomorrow night. You can have more time," Ella said.

  "And what are you going to do tomorrow night?" her mother asked fearfully.

  Tm not quite sure, Mother. That's the truth. I think I know, but I'm not totally certain just yet."

  Deirdre said she'd have everything ready by noon, and that Ella should collect Derry from the hotel and bring him along early so that he didn't have to come in to a room full of strangers.

  He was horrified when he saw that Ella was driving. "Somehow I never thought of myself as trusting my life, what's left of it, to you."

  I take deep offence at that. You drove me around New York and I put up with that," she said, avoiding a bus neatly.

  "Are there any traffic cops here at all?" he asked through his fingers, hiding his eyes.

  "Don't be silly, Derry. It's easy today. You should see a crowded weekday at rush hour. Thing to remember is that no one indicates left and right."

  "Including you?" he asked.

  "I don't want to confuse them," she grinned.

  "I'm going to change the habit of a lifetime and have a stiff drink," he said when they got to Deirdre's.

  "Thanks be to God," Deirdre said. "Ella said you sipped at one white wine for three hours and I was wondering what we'd do

  with you, especially when you meet everyone. Maud and Simon came an hour early to set up their puppet show."

  "It's all very different," said Derry King as he sat down and allowed the panic he had felt over Ella's driving to subside.

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  C"E

  lla says you and your wife were very good to her when she was in New York," Barbara Brady said.

  "My former wife Kimberly talks very highly of Ella, and so do I. You have a very bright daughter, Barbara."

  "We love to hear that, any parent does. Do you have children, Mr King?" Ella's father was more for
mal.

  "Oh, call me Derry, please. No, no children. I wish we had. We are an unusual couple in that our separation did not make us enemies. We would have shared children quite amicably. I really do wish Kim well, and she me. I was resisting coming to Ireland for a lot of personal reasons from the past. Kim is delighted that I faced up to it at last."

  "And are yon delighted?" Ella's father was sharp, observant.

  Tm not sure yet, Tim. It's early days."

  "You and she might get back together one day," Barbara suggested.

  "Oh, no, that's not going to happen. Kimberly has a new husband. They are very happy together." He spoke simply, as if stating a fact.

  Just then Brenda Brennan came in. He recognised her at once from the photographs in the Quentins file he had studied so carefully in New York. They didn't need to be introduced, but talked together easily. She was as he knew already very groomed and in control. But warm as well. She seemed genuinely interested

  Chapter Fourteen.

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  in the things they had talked about, and anxious that his stay in Ireland would be a good one.

  "We'll want to keep you here in Dublin all the time, but you'll want to travel, maybe go to the west. It's not a big journey by American standards."

  "A perilous one on these roads, I'd say."

  "Not at all. Grand, big, wide motorways nowadays. You should have seen it back when," she said proudly. "Where are your people from, by the way?"

  "I have no people."

  "I'm sorry, I misunderstood. I thought Ella said you had an Irish background, as so many Americans coming here do, you see."

  "I do have an Irish background on one side of my family, but no people."

  "So you won't be looking for roots then?"

  "No way." Derry realised he sounded sharp and short. He had better say something that made him seem less abrupt. "But as it happens, my father's people did come from Dublin."

  "Great. I like to hear of Dubs doing well. My husband is from the country, you see, and he says that they are the lads who succeed abroad."

  "I wouldn't say my father did well." Derry's eyes were bleak.

  Brenda Brennan had had a lifetime of reading faces and moods. "No? Well, his son doesn't look too much like a loser to me," she said with a bright smile. She was rewarded. He smiled back. "Let me introduce you to a couple of people," she said efficiently. "These are Ri a and Colm. They run a magnificent restaurant on Tara Road, which you must visit while you're here and drop little cards advertising Quentins on each table!"

  "As if she needed it!" Ria was small, dark and curly-haired with a huge smile. Her husband was handsome and thoughtful-looking.

  Derry saw Ella looking over to see that he was all right. He raised his glass to her. He felt for a moment as if he belonged here in this easy place where no demands were being made on him. He must beware that feeling. It was probably brought on by the strange, strong drink he had taken to recover from Ella's driving. He would have no more. In fact, this moment he would ask for an orange juice.

  Beside him, the small, earnest face of a blonde girl aged ten or eleven appeared. "May I refresh your glass?" she asked.

  "That's very good of you . .. um, do I know your name?"

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  "You might have been told about us. I'm Maud Mitchell. My brother Simon and I are providing the entertainment this after

  noon.

  "Oh, isn't that splendid. I'm Derry. Derry King."

  "And what do we call you? Simon and I, we're always calling people the wrong thing."

  "Derry," he said.

  "Are you sure? You're much older than we are."

  "Yes, but I want to feel younger than I am, you see."

  Maud accepted this as normal and suggested that he have a grapefruit juice mixed with a tonic. It was meant to be refreshing. Of course, strictly speaking, it was actually two drinks, but since he was the guest of honour, it would probably be all right.

  "Am I the guest of honour?" he asked.

  "Yes, because we have to check with you about the entertainment. We can't dance because there isn't a proper floor, only an old carpet. We brought a puppet show but Tom and Cathy think it might be too long. We were going to sing, and with you being an American, we were going to sing awful things like "When Irish Eyes are Smiling" and "Come back to Erin", which is what they all loved when we were in Chicago."

  "Are they awful things?"

  "Well, they wouldn't sing them here, if you know what I mean. And then we were told you didn't want any of that stuff, you weren't a normal American."

  "No, no, that's true." Derry was delighted with the child. "And what would they sing here, do you think, given your choice?"

  "Well, "Raglan Road", "Carrickfergus". I'll ask Simon. He's better at judging, but the main thing is that we're not to bore you by singing too long. That's what we do sometimes, go on too long. The puppet play is seven minutes, so if we sang two songs, would that be fair?"

  "That would be great," he said. "Will you start now?" "You must have very funny parties in America," Maud said. "Of course we can't start now, we have to wait until they're all sitting down with their puddings and cups of coffee."

  "Ella, I'm desperately sorry about the twins monopolising Mr King," said Cathy. I've tried to break them up half a dozen times, but he says he's enchanted with them. He won't talk to anyone else."

  "Don't worry, he really is enjoying them. I've never seen him so happy."

  "It's a great party, Dee," Ella said.

  "Nicky and Sandy are a little disappointed they can't talk to him more - he's spending all his time with those kids."

  "He keeps shunting people away when they try to rescue him," Ella said. "I wish I knew what they were talking about."

  "Brenda Brennan can actually lip-read," Deirdre said. Til ask her later."

  The twins were busy explaining who they were. "You see Cathy over there with the big stomach? It's a baby actually, but that's not the point."

  "No," Derry agreed.

  "Well, she's the daughter of Muttie and Lizzie, his wife. And we once went to live with Cathy and the husband she had then, who was Neil Mitchell, and he's our cousin. Neil's father and our father are brothers. So that's it!" Maud was triumphant.

  "But you live with Muttie?"

  "Yes. And his wife Lizzie."

  "Good. But why, exactly?"

  "Father and Mother aren't able to have us. They'd like to, but they're not able to so we go and see them on weekends to say hallo. Muttie drives us in his van."

  "And why can't your parents have you?"

  "Mother has bad nerves and then Father goes travelling. It's better we stay with Muttie and his wife Lizzie."

  "Nerves?"

  "Yes, she gets worried about things and then she drinks lots of vodka and doesn't know where she is any more."

  "And why does she do that? Drink the vodka?" Derry asked.

  "It helps her nerves. It's like a magic potion. She forgets whatever was upsetting her. The trouble is that she makes no sense and falls down and everyone gets cross with her," Maud said.

  "But if she stopped, then you could both go and live with her, couldn't you?" Derry was unforgiving about a woman who could leave such marvellous children with strangers.

  They explained that they had a brother, but he had done some crime, he was never spoken of, and he didn't come home. One time he used to work in Neil's father's office with Uncle Jock, but

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  he didn't any more and he had gone away. "Are we talking too much about ourselves?" Maud wondered. "We haven't asked you any questions so that you could have a bit of talking."

  "Not much to know about me. My father had bad nerves too. He used whiskey as a magic potion to make them better. Lots of it."

  "And did it work?" Maud asked.

  "No, not at all. It made him worse."

  "And did your mother go wandering off on travels like our father does?" Simon wa
s so innocent it nearly broke Derry's heart to see children accepting this intolerable state of affairs.

  "No, she couldn't. She had to raise her children, and raise us without any money or support." His face was hard now.

  The children noticed. Maud spoke gently. "But if his nerves were bad, what could anyone do about it?"

  "He could have tried to stop drinking. He could have kept a proper tongue in his head to my mother."

  "But he didn't mean all those things," Simon explained as if to a simpleton. "When Mother has been drinking she tells Father terrible things like that he has other ladies, and that we are monsters and sneak money from her purse. None of us take any notice."

  "What?" Derry was amazed.

  "Well, you can't take any notice, they don't mean it. Wouldn't they much prefer to be living a nice, peaceful life like everyone else?"

  "And you don't hate them both?"

  Simon and Maud looked at him as if he were from another world. "Hate them? Your mother and father? Nobody could do that. It isn't possible." They spoke every second sentence.

  He was silent for a while. The twins looked at each other. He looked as if he might be going to cry.

  "Are you all right, Mr Derry?" Maud said.

  "Did we talk too much?" Simon wondered.

  Derry King shook his head.

  "Do you think we should do the entertainment now?" Simon asked Maud.

  "Maybe it mightn't be right for entertainment, Simon, you know the way it sometimes just isn't and everyone expects us to know."

  I could check with Cathy," Simon agreed.

  "But we don't want to leave him all upset," Maud said.

  Derry still had said nothing. His face was working as he tried to hide his emotions.

  "Maybe, Mr Derry, you could go behind the sofa and have a big cry if you want to about your father's nerves and then you'd feel better. Often when we go to see Mother, afterwards we have a big cry to think of all she missed. Would you like to do that?"