by Cathy Kelly
Grace knew she was late, and was furious with herself because of it. She’d spent ages trying to figure out what to wear, which was entirely ridiculous given that this was a dinner with a group of people she knew incredibly well. Her wedding outfit – a cerise-pink shift dress with a matching slim coat, hung in the spare bedroom, and the hat she was still dithering over was there too. Tonight was supposed to be casual, not at all like tomorrow.
She wondered whether she was on edge because she knew that this was the last night that Howard and Birdie would be together. By tomorrow, after the wedding, Howard would be hearing some pretty scary news.
Grace had been stunned when Birdie had come over for coffee one day and announced, almost casually, that Howard was having an affair and she was going to leave him.
‘Are you sure?’ Grace said, shocked out of her usual sangfroid.
‘Yes,’ said Birdie, sounding most unlike herself. ‘If we stay together, it will be fake, and I don’t want that. Not any more, Grace. Not at my age.’
Birdie didn’t want anyone else to know.
‘Please don’t tell the others,’ she begged. ‘It’s my decision, Grace, and I wanted to share it with you. You always seem to know what to do with life.’
‘I’m not sure about that,’ Grace said ruefully, thinking of Stephen. ‘I should warn you, Birdie, it’s not always easy being on your own.’
She wanted Birdie to enter into this new phase of life with her eyes open. The loneliness she herself was going through when she thought about Stephen had hurt her anew.
‘I understand,’ said Birdie thoughtfully. ‘But you’ve never been married to a man like Howard. I won’t know for sure until I do it, but I think I’ll have peace to choose how I want to live the rest of my life. I’m going to tell Howard that I know about the affair and want a divorce the minute the wedding’s over.’
‘So you’re absolutely sure?’ Grace had said.
‘Oh yes,’ said Birdie, with a happy clarity in her voice that had been absent before. ‘I’m absolutely sure. I’m just going to wait until Katy and Michael have driven off, and that’ll be it. They’re going straight to the airport hotel and flying out first thing in the morning. They can have their honeymoon and come home and find out then. I hate doing this to Katy, but we have to be true to ourselves, don’t we, Grace?’
‘We do indeed,’ said Grace, thinking how surreal it was to be having this conversation with Birdie. ‘Yes, we have to be that.’
Even though Grace liked being truthful, she knew she wasn’t being truthful with Stephen. They should have had a proper conversation, come to some sort of understanding by now. He’d phoned several times since her dinner party, but somehow all their chats had been of the bland variety: how is everyone, let’s hope the weather’s good for the wedding. All very superficial.
‘Perhaps I was imagining it,’ Grace said to Nora. ‘I must have been mad to think he was going to say something meaningful, or was thinking about him and me getting back together. Mad, that’s me. Imagining my ex-husband still had designs on me.’
‘In your defence, he was certainly giving you hints in that direction,’ said Nora.
‘No, I was clearly imagining them,’ Grace said, ‘which is wildly embarrassing. It’s all this wedding stuff. It just brings the past back and makes you have regrets and get all nostalgic about what it was like years ago. Madness, that’s what it was. The past is the past.’
But she wished it wasn’t – except she could never say that, not even to Nora. What clock could ever be turned back?
‘Okey-doke,’ said Nora calmly. ‘Have a lovely night at the rehearsal dinner and I’ll see you at the wedding.’
It wasn’t really a rehearsal dinner, Susie thought, as she got dressed in her mother’s house. More of a party, to which Jack was invited.
‘He has to come,’ Katy had said on the phone, and Susie had felt so thrilled. Katy hadn’t understood what it was like to have a child before she’d become pregnant, but now she was getting it.
Susie had teased her about it. ‘You just want my carrot purée recipe, I know,’ she’d said.
‘You got me,’ Katy replied. ‘I never realised how much there was to taking care of children before.’
Susie roared with laughter.
‘So says the pregnant lady. Call any time,’ she said. ‘When you have a baby, you need your girlfriends.’
Now, Susie thought fondly, she’d have someone to share her mothering experience with, someone she could help.
‘Mum, it’s Leelu – and she’s got a man with her!’ roared Jack from downstairs.
Susie admired herself in the mirror. She’d got her hair streaked for the wedding. She did it so rarely but she’d decided to splash out. She was so into saving money just in case that sometimes she forgot to live. It was like looking at her younger self now, with blonde hair and made-up eyes and lips. Like someone she’d lost a long time ago but had found again.
‘Mum!’ yelled Jack again. ‘Come on! Pixie’s here!’
The tall, strong guy was a very different kettle of fish from Tynan, Susie thought, when they’d shaken hands. The first time she’d met Tynan, he’d given her the once-over as if he was sizing her up and mentally awarding marks out of ten. Devlin, on the other hand, was polite, with a genuine charm. Plus, he immediately notched up plenty of gold stars by being chatty with Jack and admiring his Lego collection.
‘Is it a diving watch?’ Jack asked, attempting to take the huge watch off Devlin’s enormous tanned wrist.
‘It is,’ said Devlin, unhooking it. ‘Put it on and stick your hand in some cold water. It changes colour. It’s cool.’
‘Really?’
‘Really. Water from the cold tap, mind – not the hot tap.’
Susie and Leila exchanged glances: Susie’s curious, Leila’s besotted.
‘Lots of nephews and nieces,’ explained Devlin. ‘Best to say cold water or he might burn himself.’
Devlin sat down on the couch and Pixie flung herself on top of him. Susie couldn’t imagine Tynan putting up with that either, but Devlin just shifted her so she was comfortable and petted her fondly.
Jack had gone off with the watch to the kitchen.
‘He’s a great kid – I’ve heard all about him,’ Devlin was saying. ‘Must be hard being on your own, though.’
Susie felt like crying, but then an arm went around her.
‘Yes,’ said Leila. ‘Damn hard, and I haven’t been there for her these past few years, have I? I’m sorry, Susie. Pretty useless sister I turned out to be. But that’s going to change.’
Devlin got up. ‘I’d better see how my watch is doing in the kitchen,’ he announced diplomatically.
‘Don’t cry, you’ll ruin your make-up,’ Leila whispered, hugging her sister.
‘It’s happy crying, not sad crying. Happy crying makes make-up better.’
‘Didn’t know that,’ Leila said. ‘I’m still sorry, though. I did that dreadful thing of ignoring my sister for my man – and a crappy man at that. I don’t think I realised how difficult it was for you on your own. I suppose I felt that you had it all sorted out because you had Jack and you were happy.’
Susie laughed. ‘I am happy with Jack, beyond happy, but that doesn’t make it easy. And I thought you had a fabulous life while I was stuck at home every night watching Thomas the Tank Engine reruns.’
‘I can watch Thomas when I babysit,’ Leila said.
‘Thomas is so over,’ Susie said. ‘He’s into Ben 10 now.’
‘Right. Must keep up,’ Leila said. ‘Changing marketplace and all that.’
‘I like Devlin. He’s got nice eyes. I’ve a good feeling about him.’
Leila blushed. ‘Me too,’ she said.
‘Are you staying at the hotel with him tonight?’ asked Susie.
Leila blushed even more. ‘Would you mind? I know it’s Mum’s first night home, it’s just—’
‘I wouldn’t mind at all, and neither will Mum,’ s
aid Susie. ‘Just don’t stay up too late. Remember: bridesmaids on duty at eight. Now, how about we go and pick Mum up from the Hummingbird?’
Katy woke at five to six on the morning of her wedding, disorientated for a moment until she recalled where she was: in her childhood bedroom, which was still endearingly teenage – posters on the walls and cute teddy bears Michael had given her lined up on top of a chest of drawers. When she’d moved out, Mum had tried very hard to hide her tears and had kept rushing out on the pretence of making more tea in order to cry in her own room.
This would be the last time she’d lie in this bed as a single woman, Katy thought, smiling. Possibly the last time she’d lie in it as a non-parent. Next time she stayed, she’d have her baby. Katy didn’t close her eyes and pray that this would be so – she wasn’t like her mother, who would have said many prayers that the baby would be born safely. Mum was like that. Anxious about things, worried until they happened safely. Although she seemed calmer over the past few weeks, which was lovely.
Moving slowly so as not to set off the recently abated morning sickness, Katy sat up and stretched luxuriously. Without going near the curtains, she could tell it was a lovely morning. The weather lady on the news the night before had forecast a glorious day, and if that wasn’t enough, Katy had spent enough years in this room to know that when a shaft of sunlight was shining in through the gap at the bottom of the curtains, it was a good sign.
Today your mummy and daddy are getting married, she told her bump. It was still tiny.
‘First baby,’ the nurse in the antenatal clinic had said. ‘Your stomach muscles are still strong.’
‘Is that good or bad?’ Katy wanted to know.
The nurse laughed. ‘Good for the first baby, because you’ve a neat bump for ages and can still fit normal clothes, and a shock for any babies thereafter, because you look like you’re carrying triplets in comparison and have to buy stretchy tent T-shirts and special trousers straight off.’
Katy laughed too.
‘You’re going to do fine,’ the nurse said approvingly. ‘You’re not a worrier. It does help. There’s enough to worry about without finding new and unusual things to fret over.’
‘My mother worries for both of us,’ Katy said. ‘I’d love her to come to one of the appointments with me, but if something was up, like my blood sugar today, she’d totally panic and then I’d worry about her.’
‘Best to keep the anxious people at home,’ the nurse agreed.
In bed, Katy stretched out one arm so she could admire both her newly painted nails and the glitter of her engagement ring.
‘Today is going to be a glorious day,’ she said aloud, stroking her bump.
Birdie slipped quietly from her side of the bed at ten past six. On his beanbag on the floor beside her, Thumper lifted his head and smiled a sleepy, doggy smile.
‘Hello, Thumper sweetie,’ whispered Birdie, leaning down to stroke his silky ears.
Thumper knew how to be quiet in the mornings. He waited outside the bathroom while his mistress brushed her teeth and pulled on her dressing gown.
In the bed, Howard snored deeply, but Birdie still closed the bedroom door as quietly as possible before tiptoeing downstairs.
The house, resplendent and different with furniture moved and vast vases of flowers everywhere, greeted her, and she knew it looked lovely as the morning sun shone in. There was a kind of magic to the way the dark floorboards gleamed and the reflection of china and glass vases warmed up tables and alcoves. The scent of flowers mingled with the scent of the rose candles that had been lit the night before, and Birdie knew that Vineyard Manor had never looked so pretty.
She felt no sense of loss, however, when she thought that she would not be living here much longer.
This vast house was for a different life, a different woman – one who’d done what was expected of her and what she was told. On her own, she’d never have chosen the wildly expensive hand-painted kitchen Howard had insisted on – and nitpicked over endlessly while the poor kitchen installer was working on it. She much preferred Grace’s neat little kitchen with the old dresser Grace had once spent a month of weekends stripping before repainting it in a matte honeyed yellow.
‘Not a great job,’ Grace had laughed, showing Birdie her handiwork. ‘I shouldn’t have used cheap brushes. Look …’ She’d pointed to where a skinny black bristle was embedded in the paint. ‘But it was fun and I get such a sense of achievement when I look at it.’
The garden had been the one place that had given Birdie a sense of achievement – until Howard had brought in his team of designers to tear out her herb bed so they could position the marquee just so, leaving her queenship over the garden in tatters.
Broken, like so many things that had once mattered to her, she thought as she filled the kettle and switched it on.
Unlocking the back door and switching off the alarm, she let Thumper loose into the garden, where he raced off to snort at the marquee in case any strange animals had been leaving their scent on it in the night. It was still cool despite the sun, but she left the back door open and took her tea outside to the terrace, where she sat down by one of the hired bay trees which would later, apparently, be swagged with cream ribbons.
The Child of Prague statue was sitting where Birdie had left it the night before. She picked it up and smiled. ‘Thank you for the weather,’ she said.
She’d always loved the notion that if the holy statue was put outside before a wedding, then it wouldn’t rain. How many Irish houses over the years had put the Child of Prague in their gardens and yards and window boxes before weddings?
His mission finished, a satisfied Thumper returned to her side and sniffed her hand, looking for breakfast.
‘In a moment, honey,’ she murmured, and he leaned into her and sighed with pleasure at being petted.
She needed another moment or two in peace with her tea and the quiet of what remained of her garden before she could face going inside to become Birdie again, the woman everyone expected her to be. Just one more day, just for the benefit of her beloved Katy.
And after today, it would be a whole other story. A new story.
Leila woke up in a sea-view suite in the Cliff House Hotel in Ardmore with Devlin’s large body warming hers.
She’d toyed with the idea of going home after the dinner the night before, but somehow she couldn’t think of anything nicer than going back to Devlin’s hotel and letting him make love to her, slowly.
And after that … well, she’d simply wanted to curl up beside him, his body wrapped around hers, as they talked gently. She’d never known you could spend so long talking to another person. Finally they’d fallen asleep, contented.
In the gloom, she peered at her watch. Half six. She ought to get up and race home to spend time with Mum and make sure she was ready for the wedding.
Dolores had been so thrilled to get back to Poppy Lane yesterday evening. She’d wandered round the rooms with a delighted Pixie at her heels, saying the same thing over and over:
‘It’s so lovely to be back.’
Nora’s people had made the house ready during the week. Nora herself had given Dolores a list of printed instructions with details of the newly fitted emergency buttons upstairs and downstairs.
The health nurse’s phone number was on a list, Mum’s next physiotherapy appointment was on Monday and there followed three names of local people who helped out by driving injured or elderly people to their appointments. Beneath the list was a lovely note from Nora:
Charity Delaney, yes, that really is her name! She’s a darling, Dolores, and I think you’ll like her. She has dogs too, and can help with walking Pixie. Charity also takes a few people to the crafting morning in the St Erconwald parish hall on Thursdays, so with your brilliance with knitting, you should definitely go. It’s from ten to half twelve and you could help out with the newbies who are learning to knit. I’ve seen you with the cable needles! You’ll be a fabulous help to dear
Charity.
Don’t get into a panic about having an emergency button – it makes sense with your rheumatoid arthritis. You don’t want to be seizing up at home on your own and have nobody to call. You’re not on the scrapheap yet, thank you very much. An emergency button is just sensible.
Deirdre, the health nurse, will talk to you about the home help; you know health service money’s tight and I’m not sure you’ll get anyone long-term, but you might get a few hours’ help a week till you’re totally healed.
Leila had read the note with a lump in her throat. She’d never be able to thank Nora enough. Her kindness shone through – there was no hint that Dolores Martin was a fragile woman who’d need help for ever after; just the message that she needed more support these days and that this support was in the community.
With her stick, Dolores was able to get around everywhere, she’d told Leila.
‘No crutches for me any more,’ she said cheerfully. ‘I’ll be able to come to the wedding for a bit too. I couldn’t manage the whole day, but I’m so looking forward to seeing my girls in their bridesmaid dresses.’
Leila loved seeing the glow in her mother’s cheeks. The haunted, tired look was gone, and despite the stick, there was a lightness in her appearance that filled Leila with hope for the future.
Dolores had an appointment with her RA specialist in three weeks, and Leila was taking the day off to drive her there.
Pixie had sat faithfully beside her mistress ever since Leila had arrived, staring up at Dolores as if she wasn’t quite sure she was real.
‘I missed you so much,’ Dolores said, with the first sign of tears Leila had seen.
‘I’ll miss her,’ Leila pointed out truthfully, thinking back to how shocked she’d been at the notion of taking on her mother’s dog. She’d got used to coming home to see Pixie in the evenings, organising her day around the dog’s routine: up early to bring Pixie for a walk, phoning the walker to make sure she’d had a good lunchtime outing, home as early as she could for another walk and then snuggling up on the couch with the dog, watching TV, having another creature to talk to.