House of Memories

by Taylor, Alice

  Now she decided that it was time to get up and have a slow, leisurely bath. She slipped out of the soft, bouncy bed and eased Kate’s white lace nightdress over her head. On the dressing table over by the window, Nana Nellie’s silver-backed hairbrush glinted in the sun. She waltzed across the bedroom and stood in front of the long mirror. There was no mirror like this in Mossgrove, so there were few opportunities for critical appraisal. She liked her long legs and slim body, but she wished that she had bigger breasts. Maybe she was not as beautiful as Mom, but on the whole she liked what she saw. She let down her curly blonde hair from the knot on top of her head and brushed it streaming down her back. She had often wished that her hair was straight like Rosie’s, but looking at it now, maybe it suited her better this way. When she was a little girl, she had brushed her hair with this brush, and after Nana Nellie had died and left it to Aunty Kate, she always used it when she came here. Aunty Kate put it on the dressing table whenever she stayed overnight.

  She danced around the room humming one of the tunes that the band had played last night. Looking back now, she thought that dancing with Danny had been the best part of the night. Was it because she knew that he had always fancied her? But could it be more than that? Whatever it was, she was feeling good this morning. She waltzed across the corridor to the bathroom, and having splashed some of Aunty Kate’s gorgeous smelling oil into the bath, she turned on the two taps to full flow. Aunty Kate had always told her to feel free to help herself. She was going to have a foaming bath and stay in for as long as she liked. At home Mom was always hurrying you out of the bath, and the bathroom was so clean and functional, a bit like Mom’s dairy. Aunty Kate had a gorgeous blue bathroom with big jars of bath oil and soft fluffy towels. As she soaked in the soft, scented water, she hummed a Viking tune.

  It was as if the scene with Rory last night and the following nightmare had washed away the trauma in the wood. She would put it all behind her now, study hard for the next two months and hopefully get into university, then come home to Kilmeen and teach with Uncle David. When her thoughts turned to Uncle David, she felt a slight sense of unease. She wondered if everything was all right with him. He was not himself with the last few weeks. But she was not going to think about anything like that now; she was going to have a lovely hour all to herself. After she had soaked for an hour, she stepped out of the bath feeling that she could take on the world and wrapped herself dry in Aunty Kate’s big soft towels.

  As she came down the stairs, the front door opened, and Kate came in looking crisp and fresh in her white coat.

  “Did you get your car,” she asked worriedly, “and was it all right?”

  “Fine,” Kate told her. “David dropped me over to the station on his way to a meeting, and I got some of my calls done on the way back.”

  “You look and smell like a nurse,” Nora said, hugging her.

  “Which is exactly what I am,” Kate smiled, returning her hug, “and you smell and look like a lovely princess, but to what do I owe this big hug?”

  “Just for being the most wonderful aunt in the whole world,” Nora declared.

  “Well, that’s a good start to my week,” Kate smiled. “How did you sleep last night?”

  “The nightmare came back, which I suppose was to be expected after the episode in the hall, but then I went to sleep again and slept like a log, and do you know something, Aunty Kate? I feel this morning that I have put it all behind me at last.”

  “Good for you,” Kate said thoughtfully. She was never one to probe. She had often told Nora not to ask too many questions because if people wanted you to know something they told you in their own good time. Anyway, Nora could not explain to Kate why she was feeling so good because she was not quite sure of the explanation herself.

  “Put on the kettle,” Kate told her, “and we’ll have something to eat before you head back to Mossgrove.”

  “Will we have it out in the garden? I love the way you and Uncle David eat out there so much.”

  “Of course,” Kate told her. “Put whatever you feel like having on a tray and carry it out there while I go upstairs and have a bit of a tidy-up.”

  Nora put on the kettle and went to Kate’s fridge to collect anything that looked inviting and headed out to the table under the tree at the bottom of the garden. She came back into the kitchen and collected a tablecloth from Kate’s supply in the dresser drawer, and when she had covered the old table in the garden, she laid out the tea things and stood back to appraise her work. She knew that Kate liked her table nicely set. When she came back in, the kettle was boiling, and as she made the tea Kate came into the kitchen minus her white coat.

  “You look less like the district nurse now,” Nora smiled.

  “I feel less like one too,” Kate told her.

  “This is so good,” she declared as she bit into the crunchy sandwich that Kate had whipped together.

  “That’s because you’re hungry,” Kate told her. “Hunger is a great sauce.”

  “Nana Nellie used to say that,” she remembered.

  “She did indeed,” Kate agreed, and then, looking at her appraisingly, “You are so like her that sometimes it’s uncanny to watch you.”

  “Jack says that too,” she said.

  “That’s a big compliment coming from Jack,” Kate told her, “because he loved Nellie.”

  “You mean really loved her?” she asked in surprise.

  “Yes, really loved her. You’re old enough to understand now. Your grandfather was an alcoholic who gave her a hard life and, I’d say, slowly killed whatever had been between them. Jack, I think, had always loved her, even before she married my father, and when Dad died it is easy to understand that over the years of being there for her and working with her a huge bond formed between them. As I grew up I was always aware of it and knew that they loved each other deeply.”

  “Did you mind?”

  “No, not at all. As a matter of fact it made home a more warm, loving place,” Kate told her.

  “But they never did … well, you know what I mean,” she finished in confusion.

  Kate leant across the table and gently stroked her face.

  “I think that being there for each other was enough. When my father died nothing changed, and by then Mossgrove was in such a state that all their concentration was on saving the place, and by then as well we were growing up and became the centre of their universe. We were Nellie’s children, but in some way we were Jack’s as well. Jack and my father had gone to school together and were best friends, and despite all the my father’s shortcomings, I think that Jack understood him.”

  “Jack understands us all,” Nora marvelled, “and now he is looking across the river and is going to help Danny Conway.”

  “That’s the beauty of Jack: there is no bitterness in his heart. All his energies are channelled into his love of the land.”

  “Do you think that he’ll be able to help Danny?” Nora asked.

  “Well, if anyone can Jack can,” Kate told her. “Is it important for you?”

  “I don’t really know,” and she could feel her face warming, “but I always liked Danny, and now I feel such admiration for him that he is so enthusiastic about getting across the river up and running. But that place is so run down that I cannot imagine it ever looking good. It somehow seems like an impossible dream.”

  “Don’t underestimate Jack and Danny,” Kate told her, “and as well as that, Jack feels that they have old Molly Barry on their side. He feels it in his bones.”

  “Oh, Jack’s bones,” Nora smiled. “I sometimes wish that I had bones like Jack, and then I’d know what was around the corner.”

  “Sometimes ’twould be handy,” Kate agreed, and something in her tone alerted Nora that Kate was worried. So she had been right in thinking that Uncle David had something on his mind, because if Uncle David had a problem, then so would Kate. She decided that she was not going to follow Kate’s advice about not asking questions.

  “A
re you and Uncle David worried about something?” she asked bluntly.

  “Does it show that much?” Kate said in alarm.

  “No, no,” Nora assured her, “but I’ve been watching Uncle David, and I sensed that he is not himself. I know that he is always under a bit of pressure when we are coming up to exam time, but this year he is more preoccupied than worried. As if he had something else on his mind.”

  “You are a very perceptive young lady,” Kate told her, and Nora felt a twinge of guilt, because where Uncle David was concerned she watched his every mood, “and you are right that he has something else on his mind besides the exams. There was a letter from Rodney Jackson, and we can’t have the Jackson house for the school after the summer.”

  “What?” Nora exclaimed. “But why?”

  “Because apparently he wants to turn it into a hotel,” Kate told her.

  “A hotel. But that’s crazy. What would we do with a hotel in Kilmeen, and what about the school?” she demanded in a shocked voice, realising that this could destroy her own future plans.

  “We don’t know,” Kate said bleakly. “At the moment it’s all a bit up in the air, but Rodney is coming soon so we’ll know then. He was supposed to be here for Easter but he got held up.”

  “But where did this idea of a hotel come from?” Nora demanded.

  “You are as wise as I am,” Kate told her.

  As she walked home to Mossgrove, Nora had planned to call in to Rosie to discuss last night, but Kate’s announcement had changed her mind, and luckily Rosie was not out at the gate. She was dismayed at the prospect of no school in Kilmeen. She wanted to get home and discuss things with Peter. If Rodney was not going to give them the Jackson house for the school, what were they going to do? It was the only house in Kilmeen big enough to house the school, though she had to admit that there had been times when she had thought that it was too grand for all the running and thumping that was done up its lovely curved staircase. But Uncle David was very concerned about the care of it and was for ever telling the students to be careful and not to be banging the old doors or scratching the woodwork. Now she wondered what the future was for the Jackson school. Where would they go? They just could not close down. But she felt that Rodney Jackson would not do anything as drastic as telling them that they could not have the school without offering them an alternative. But what! And what put the notion of a hotel into his head? With all his visiting back and forth, did he feel the need for a hotel in Kilmeen? Nora could find no answers, but when she got home Peter was not long putting his own slant on the whole thing. She found him sitting on the old sofa in the kitchen looking through the newspaper that Jack had brought from the creamery that morning.

  “Where’s Mom?” she asked.

  “Outside somewhere,” he told her without even looking up.

  Nora settled herself on the sofa beside him, which caused him to turn an amused face in her direction.

  “No post mortem about the afters of last night now, Norry,” he cautioned.

  “Would I?” she smiled innocently.

  “You would so,” he told her. “Yourself and Rosie nearly discuss what you had for your breakfast.”

  “Well, you’re on the wrong track now,” she told him dismissively. “I have a more serious matter to discuss.”

  “Oh? Let’s hear it,” he said with interest, putting down the newspaper.

  He listened intently, nodding his head occasionally, as she filled him in on the details about the school and the hotel.

  “It’s Mom,” he declared without hesitation.

  “But why would it be Mom?” Nora protested, even though the thought had crossed her mind.

  “Because it all adds up,” Peter declared.

  “How does it all add up?” she demanded, wondering how on earth Peter had figured that out.

  “As soon as she eased off trying to run this place, I felt sure that there had to be another agenda, and as well as that she was getting fed up here when she did not have it all her own way. She was looking for more challenging horizons, and a hotel would be right up her alley. She’d just love getting it up and going, and having staff to manage would be her notion of heaven. It has to be her idea,” Peter declared with certainty.

  “But what about the school?” Nora protested.

  “The school wouldn’t cost Mom a thought as long as she was getting what she wanted,” he told her.

  “But that’s not fair,” Nora asserted angrily.

  “When did Mom ever play fair?” Peter demanded.

  “You always see the bad side of her,” she told him.

  “I see the real Mom, and you always think that she is other than she is,” he declared.

  “And anyway,” Nora said triumphantly, “you said that she had no notion of marrying Rodney Jackson, so how is she going to take over his old home?”

  “You must have come down in the last shower, Norry! Didn’t I tell you Mom was going to use this situation to her advantage. She is not going to marry him, but she is going to use him.”

  “You could be wrong…” Nora broke off in confusion as a slight movement by the back door caught her eye and she looked up to see her mother viewing the two of them coldly. Nora felt her face transfuse with guilty colour, but Peter was unruffled.

  “Listening at doors is not a good idea, Mother,” he told her cooly.

  “Well, it’s nice to know what a high opinion you have of your mother,” she challenged him, striding across the kitchen and glaring down at him.

  “Can you contradict me?” Peter challenged.

  “You’ll have to wait and find out, won’t you?” she informed him icily and swept out the front door.

  CHAPTER NINE

  AS DANNY CAME in the door, he saw the two letters on the kitchen table. Johnny must have called while he was at the creamery, and now the letter with the creamery cheque was there on the table. He had been waiting for it for days. It came at the end of each month, but it could be a few days early or late. This month it was late. Most of his neighbours probably did not even notice that it was late, but for him every day was vital. This cheque was his lifeline. It was his only income during these months. Other farmers had calves to sell in the spring, but he did not want to sell because he needed to build up his herd, and because he was feeding them with some of their mothers’ milk, the supply to the creamery was not great. As a result the cheque was small, but at least it was something coming in. He was hoping that this month might be a bit up on last month, though he knew in his heart that it was highly unlikely. He did not want to consider the possibility that it could be gone down.

  The brown envelope made a crinkling sound as he picked it up, and it gave him a little glow of satisfaction to see the name “Danny Conway” printed inside the transparent flap. The creamery had changed the account to his name, and it was the only semblance of ownership that he had to the farm. He picked a knife off the table, slid it under the flap and ripped the envelope open. Holding his breath, he eased out the flimsy statement with attached cheque and the figure “30” danced up at him. Well, at least it had not gone down and was actually up a few shillings. Next month he knew that it would be better, because two more cows would have calved and the bigger calves were graduating on to sour milk, which meant more fresh milk going to the creamery. So he was over the milk slump for this year.

  All of this thirty pounds was already accounted for. He had to pay something off the grocery bill, and there was a sizeable bill for pig feeding, and he owed the vet for the last call. He hated owing money, but there was no other way to survive at the moment. The spending of every penny was weighed up before he finally decided. He would not have gone to the dance last week only Kitty had insisted and given him the money, and it had been great! For just a few hours he had forgotten about the bills and the money. There had only been music and dancing and feeling good. Nora and himself had such fun together, and she seemed so happy to be dancing with him that it made his night. The day after, his trouble
s did not seem so overpowering. But now that euphoria had worn off, and he sat at the table trying to figure out ways that he could stretch this thirty pounds further. He had to feed the pigs, and his own food requirements were already cut to a minimum. Sometimes he just had to get the vet; if he had not got him for the cow she could have died, and that would have been a major catastrophe. So there was no way that he could spend less. He never bought meat except an occasional pound of sausages, which he made last the whole week. When the girls came home, they always brought a big roast that lasted for days and days. Mary was great! Sometimes he got a letter with a five pound note inside, which he put away to buy something to help improve the buildings or fertilizer for the land.

  He knew that the girls were keeping his mother in Dublin to build her up after all she had gone through, and he felt from her letters that they were succeeding. But as well as that, they understood that he could live more cheaply on his own and that he was young enough to survive hardship. They knew how hard the struggle was, but they had no idea that he had it in mind to restore the old house as well. To them that would have been totally beyond what was possible. Maybe they would be right. When he looked at his meagre cheque he was inclined to agree with them. He was hardly able to survive and do what was necessary to improve the farm buildings, and here he was with crazy notions of restoring the old house. Maybe he should forget about the house. As it was he could not even get into it!

  Then his eye fell on the other letter and he recognised Rory’s writing. Now what did he want? He felt a certain sense of apprehension as he took up the letter. Typical of Rory, it was even grubby on the outside. It was brief and to the point: