‘Mum, would you like to come and stay with us in Richmond for a while?’ offered Moya.
‘Or my apartment in Dublin?’ asked Kate.
‘No, I’d prefer to stay here,’ admitted Maeve, honestly. ‘This is my home and I don’t want to leave it.’
In the house she felt safe, surrounded by familiar things and memories of years of married life, Frank’s presence everywhere. She couldn’t leave the house!
They all sat in silence when Pat Hayes, the local solicitor, called to the house a few days later with a copy of the will. Maeve had been left almost everything.
‘You already own the family home, Maeve, but Frank was keen for you to realize some of his property investments,’ he explained carefully as he put on his reading glasses. ‘There is a three-storey office building in the centre of Waterford on the quays, a single-storey office building in Rossmore, five apartments in the Old Mill development, four holiday homes on Harbour Road, two shops on Harbour Road, three cottages in the Cove, and an eight-bedroomed converted house on Tramore Strand being in use as a bed and breakfast. Four racehorses and a portfolio of shares and a number of small farmland plots.’
‘Oh my God,’ sighed their mother.
‘To Moya, Kate and Romy, each of my daughters, I leave a half-acre of land in Woodstown overlooking the sea for their own use or the use of their families. My wedding ring with the sapphire stone I leave to my eldest grandson Gavin Redmond, my gold watch to my grandson Daniel Redmond and my gold chain to my granddaughter Fiona Redmond.’
Moya’s eyes welled with tears. Her father had adored his grandchildren. Kate and herself held hands as Pat Hayes finished off.
‘Thank you, Pat,’ said Maeve when he’d finished. ‘We appreciate it.’
‘There is extensive property but as far as I’m aware there may be some borrowings against them,’ he warned.
‘Some borrowings!’ pressed Patrick. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Bank loans, heavy mortgages. Frank had mentioned to me recently that he was hoping to offload some of them and pay off the loans.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘Aye, I spoke to him after he came home from Dublin last week.’
‘Perhaps we should talk to his bank manager, then.’
Two days later found them sitting in Rossmore’s Bank of Ireland branch close to Frank Dillon’s offices as Niall Brady explained the situation to them.
‘On paper it all looks very rosy and good, but in reality it’s not as healthy as we’d ideally like. Everything is heavily borrowed, with interest payments just being met but no decrease in the actual capital sum from month to month.’
Patrick groaned. Kate stared at the family photos on the bank manager’s desk, trying to control herself.
Patrick was like a terrier dog with a bone and although their father was only dead and buried a few days he insisted on putting all the information together. Following a phone call to Rory McWilliams, they drove up to Dublin to meet him.
Everything was itemized and listed. The holiday cottages were part of a designated tax scheme and for the present could not be sold without inviting huge penalties. The B&B in Tramore was in need of extensive refurbishment before the start of the summer season and one of the tenants of the shops was in arrears on his rent and had given notice he intended retiring.
It was all a huge mess and Kate could feel tension gnaw at her jaw and shoulders as she listened. There was only one good thing: the council investigation into her father’s affairs was over, as without his evidence it could go no further. The Revenue Commissioners were less forgiving and even with Rory and Patrick’s input, the final sum arrived at seemed an absolute fortune.
Most of what their mother had been left would have to be sold to cover the amount.
‘I just want to clear it off, pay them all what they are due,’ insisted Maeve Dillon angrily. ‘Frank did his best during his lifetime to provide for us all. I couldn’t ask for more.’
‘We could sell the land Daddy left us too,’ suggested Kate.
‘Your father wanted you to have it,’ Maeve reminded her.
‘But Mammy, if you need it more, that’s what we’ll do. I’m sure Moya would agree.’
‘There is no question of any of you selling the piece of property your father gave you!’ she exclaimed angrily. ‘The money will be found to pay off his debts.’
A discreet valuation of the plots showed that without planning permission the land would only fetch a fraction of what it was worth. Reluctantly, Maeve Dillon gave instructions to one of the large auctioneers in Dublin to realize as much value from her husband’s properties as possible. Everything except for the holiday cottages and his old office in Rossmore would have to be sold, not a penny of it benefiting his widow. Her father had not believed in pensions, trusting his investments in land and bricks and mortar to be a sounder proposition.
‘How will you manage, Mammy?’ Kate asked.
‘Don’t worry, pet, I’ll be fine.’
‘Would you think of moving?’ she suggested gently. ‘Maybe the house will be too big for you with all of us gone and the gardens to manage.’
‘I love this house,’ she replied, affronted. ‘My grandfather built it and Vonnie, Eamonn and I were born and grew up in this house, your father and I raised all of you here. How could I possibly ever leave it!’
‘I just meant maybe somewhere smaller, a bungalow or an apartment might be easier.’
‘And where would Moya and the children stay when they come home for the summer, or Eamonn have a bit of space for himself when he gets a break from his parish?’
‘Mum, I know what you’re saying.’
‘And what about Romy? Do you think I’m going to have your sister come back to Ireland and find her family home sold? No. I’ll manage. There’s your father’s shares and the rents from the cottages and the office. Don’t you worry, Kate pet, I’ll get by.’
Kate sighed to herself. She loved the Stone House just as much as her mother but she could see the struggle it might become to maintain it.
Chapter Twenty-nine
WHEN KATE RETURNED to work the week after the funeral, Bill O’Hara surprised her by taking her to lunch in Dobbins and actually being kind.
‘There’s a massive fucking backlog,’ he admitted, ‘but I know you’ll get through it in your own good time.’
She had thrown herself in at the deep end, working late and scheduling early-morning meetings for the next few weeks as she worked on a number of mergers including the complicated takeover of an Irish publisher by an English rival. She felt tired and drained, her father’s death obviously taking its toll.
Derry had phoned her out of the blue, asking her to go for a drink with him later that night.
‘I can’t,’ she explained. ‘I have to work.’
The managing director of the UK publisher was flying into Dublin to meet the other principal in her office and discuss terms, before the contract-signing in the morning.
‘Don’t work too hard then!’ he’d said sarcastically, not offering her an alternative. Too shattered to care, she put him out of her mind.
She was working day and night, crawling home to bed in the apartment. Stressed out, she felt rotten and even got weak while standing at the photocopier. Jilly, one of the secretaries, had to get her a glass of Ballygowan water before she stepped into a meeting. The next day she felt no better and dialled the number of the doctor with an office closest to where she worked for a late appointment.
Two hours later she was shocked to discover that she was pregnant!
Everything logically clicked into place as she thought of herself and Derry not taking the slightest precautions the first time they made love.
Standing up, she thanked the doctor for the good news. She had thought about it, and after all the shitty things that had happened over the past few months it was good news. Her biological clock was, she supposed, ticking away as it said in those articles she read in women’s magazines
so perhaps it was the right time for her to have a baby. It was somehow comforting to know that she was at least fertile and would experience motherhood and have a child of her own. At home making hot chocolate and munching a Goldgrain biscuit she wrapped herself up in the cosy comfort of her duvet and fell asleep dreaming of a stroppy toddler stomping along in wellington boots as she tried frantically to keep hold of its hand.
A few days later, trembling with nerves, she finally had enough courage to phone Derry.
‘So are we going for that drink then?’ he teased.
‘I need to talk to you.’
He mentioned a bar in town.
Telling him of her father’s recent death and explaining she was not in form for a raucous night in a crowded bar, she instead invited him to the apartment.
Derry was busy on the Saturday night but agreed to come over on Sunday when she promised to cook pasta for them both.
He arrived with a bottle of Chianti, pouring her a glass as they sat down on the sofa. Kate pushed it aside, trying to find the right moment to tell him as he excitedly talked to her about the large catamaran he’d been commissioned to design.
‘That’s great.’ She smiled, nervous.
‘I’ll be back and forth to Belfast a bit but it’s really good news. The client is an American and he races boats, can you believe it!’
‘I’ve a bit more news,’ she said, taking a deep breath.
‘Work – you got promoted!’
‘No.’
‘You got fired!’
‘No, different.’ She tried to control her voice, all the time watching his face. ‘I’m going to have a baby.’
‘A baby?’ Derry looked puzzled.
‘Our baby.’
‘What! Jeez I don’t believe it. You’re pregnant! When did you find out?’
‘A week ago.’
She could see his uncertainty.
‘It is yours,’ she affirmed. ‘Definitely.’
Giddy and nauseous, she awaited his reaction.
‘Should we get married, then?’ he said very slowly. ‘It’s the right thing to do.’
Kate sat back against the cushion, the breath almost leaving her body. What! Was he mad? Get married when they hardly knew each other. She looked into his eyes. He’d said what he meant, that was the kind of guy Derry was. She’d known that right from the start. He hadn’t said ‘I am madly in love with you and want to get married’ or ‘I can’t live without you, let’s get married’. He had simply faced the obvious: that she was single, unmarried and expectant and getting married might be a solution.
‘Did you hear what I said, Kate? You’re having my baby and I think we should get married.’
‘It’s a nice thought,’ she said, trying to remain calm, ‘but it’s a big decision, one not to be rushed into.’
He sat up, hurt.
‘For Christ’s sake, you’re carrying my child, Kate! There is absolutely no question of me not being involved or being part of it, do you hear me?’
‘Of course! But I wasn’t sure what way you’d react when you heard about the baby. You could have run a mile, told me to piss off. It’s great that we both want the baby. He or she will be totally loved and that’s all that matters.’
‘What about marriage?’ he insisted.
‘Maybe we should just see how things go. Not rush into anything until we are sure.’
‘Is that what you really want?’ he said, taking her hands in his.
She nodded, not trusting herself to speak as he hugged her in his arms. If he had asked her to marry him down in West Cork when their bodies were screaming for each other and she wanted their four days to last for ever she would have said yes. But now this proposal! She had no intention of using the fact that she was pregnant to get him to marry her. This wasn’t the 1950s and she was no silly young girl, she had a good job and a career, and was quite capable of raising a child on her own like lots of other single parents.
That night Derry stayed until the early hours of the morning, both of them talking non-stop, thrashing out their opinions on shared parenthood, and access. Kate felt comforted by Derry’s assurances to her that he would be a good father and would help with raising their child.
‘I promise to be there for you both, Kate. I’m not some kind of heel who’s going to run off and leave you. Honest I’m not.’
She sensed that with little encouragement on her behalf Derry would have stayed the night but knew she had to get things clear in her mind. Her impetuosity had landed her in this situation, but now with a baby to think of she had to take things slower, be more practical and put notions of sexual attraction and lust behind her! Derry gently kissed her at 3 a.m. as he was finally leaving, telling her she looked even more beautiful than ever. She longed for them to make love again and swore at herself for being so prudish as she snuggled up in bed alone.
Minnie had yelled and screamed when she’d heard the news.
‘Congratulations! You’ll be a great mother!’
Kate hung onto the phone and gave her blow-by-blow details of finding out and Derry’s reaction to fatherhood.
‘Are you and this Derry guy getting married?’
‘Hey Min! Don’t you know having a baby doesn’t mean you have to get married? I’m fine the way I am.’
‘Then I’m delighted for you. What does Maeve think about having another grandchild?’
‘I haven’t told her yet,’ she explained. ‘I don’t want to upset her, so soon after Dad.’
‘Don’t be surprised but your mother might be pleased,’ hinted her best friend. ‘My mother has me demented looking for a grandchild!’
In work she informed the personnel department of her need for maternity leave and for them to organize cover for while she was out. Nesta, the girl from the department, congratulated her warmly and went into raptures about her own year-old baby who was ensconced safely below in the company crèche. But Bill had taken it badly, refusing to believe that it was true.
‘How will you manage?’ he asked. Kate simply raised her eyebrow at him, reminding him he was stepping on dangerous equality territory.
‘I’ll work hard as I always do and look after my family, like lots of women do!’
Ignoring the gossip that went around the departments, Kate concentrated on keeping her work up to date.
She had excellent health cover and booked in with a forty-year-old female obstetrician who had worked right through her own pregnancies and declared her to be very fit but a little anaemic.
‘Liver, steak and plenty of spinach and greens and a bottle of these,’ she said, prescribing folic acid tablets.
Minnie had gone shopping with her helping her to choose two very expensive work suits in the French maternity shop in South Anne Street and comfy underwear in Dunne’s Stores.
‘Do you think I’m mad?’ Kate asked her.
‘Mad having the baby? No. There’s Colm and I married a whole year and like two rabbits and not a sign of a bambino and you go and do it one night and bingo!’
‘Minnie!’
‘This baby is going to be the cutest in the world and Auntie Minnie’s going to spoil it rotten.’
‘What happens if I can’t cope, can’t manage work and a new baby and . . .?’
‘Will you stop, Kate. You are one of the most capable, organized people I know on the planet. We are talking about one small baby here, not a frigging elephant.’
Kate burst out laughing.
‘And knowing you, you could probably rear an elephant too if you had to.’
Derry and Kate had argued about telling her mother, Kate deciding to go down home by herself for the weekend.
‘I’m not having her think that the father of the child is some fly-by-night guy, who doesn’t give a shit,’ he protested. ‘Let me drive you down.’
‘No,’ she’d insisted. ‘I’m going on my own but don’t worry, I’ll tell her you’re supportive.’
Four days later she’d driven down to Rossmore. As always
, she was welcomed with open arms and trailed around admiring the garden and her mother’s hard work in the beds and vegetable patch.
Maeve Dillon fussed over her and, stuffing her with pancakes and scones and strawberries and cream, asked her all about the office and her career. Kate for once was lost for words.
‘Mum, at this rate I’ll burst,’ she joked, ‘and I can’t afford to put on too much weight. Listen sit down, I’ve something important to tell you.’
Her mother had sat quietly as Kate told her about the new grandchild she was carrying which was due in early March.
‘I should gave guessed,’ she joked. ‘You look all aglow!’
She could see her mother waiting for the next announcement, about a partner, a lover, a boyfriend, a future son-in-law, becoming confused and awkward about the situation when she realized that Kate would be a single parent.
‘And what will you do about the baby?’
‘Mum. I’m keeping the baby.’
‘I’m glad, pet,’ she said, relief in her eyes.
‘I’m healthy and well and single, earning enough to keep us both. The father will also be supportive and involved.’
‘Oh Kate, I’m so delighted for you,’ smiled her mother, hugging her. ‘And you know I’ll do anything I can to help.’
Sitting in the cosy warmth of the kitchen, Maeve confided about the shock of her own first pregnancy.
‘I was scared out of my wits! Your grandfather was furious, as in those days he couldn’t stand Frank, didn’t think he was half good enough for me.’
‘Mammy, I don’t believe you!’
‘Poor old Eamonn had to marry us. I think it was the first marriage ceremony he performed, not long after his ordination. We hadn’t a penny then and ended up having to move in here with your grandfather. He looked after us and we ended up taking care of him!’
Kate relaxed listening to her mother, looking forward to the idea of sharing her life with a child.
The weekend passed far too quickly, with her mother insisting on treating her to dinner in the Sandbank. Aunt Vonnie and Uncle Joe decided to join them. Glancing across the table at Kate engrossed in conversation with Vonnie, Maeve Dillon found herself thinking of Frank and how he would have taken Kate’s news and of her youngest daughter Romy, lost and afraid, who’d panicked and chosen to run away.
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