“I didn't expect to be an overnight sensation, but I wanted to be,” Hope sulked, beginning to calm down.
Niall pulled her into his lap and hugged her.
“Everything's going to be fine. You just have to have a little faith in yourself and try to take the critics' reviews in your stride.”
“It's easier said than done. I really did my best.”
“I know you did, darling,” Niall soothed. “It won't be long until everyone else realises that you are destined for greatness.”
“You would say that,” Hope grinned and kissed her husband.
Chapter 11
“It's finally stopped raining!” Kerry exclaimed as she opened her bedroom curtains and felt her mood lift instantly at the sight of the glorious sunshine streaming in the window.
Saoirse had spent the night at her friend's house and wasn't due home until later that evening and Conor had left early to play golf, so Kerry had the entire day to herself. She sighed with relief. Conor had been in a peculiar mood for days. He seemed preoccupied but wouldn't tell her what was bothering him and Saoirse was being irritating to say the least, which seemed to be the norm for her these days. She was looking forward to spending some much-deserved time on her own, away from irritable husbands and monosyllabic, moody teenagers.
After a quick breakfast of coffee and a banana she pulled on her trainers and headed out into the bright morning sunshine for a long overdue run. It had been a few weeks since she'd been running and she was starting to notice the difference in her stress levels, not to mention her body.
“No more excuses,” she declared aloud as she set off on a slow jog down her garden path.
There was nothing like pounding the roads and working up a sweat to get her heart going and blow away the cobwebs. She always felt invigorated afterwards, even if the thought of setting out wasn't very appealing at times.
She quickened her pace and took the coast road along the cliffs which offered spectacular sights over Kinsale Harbour. Tiny coves were dotted like pearls amongst the sea of rocks and the views across the Atlantic Ocean were sublime, especially on such a sunny day. Kerry breathed deeply as she savoured the refreshing crispness of the late autumn air. She loved living in Kinsale and there wasn't anywhere else that she could ever imagine living.
Kinsale was the perfect sized coastal town, in her opinion, with its narrow winding streets and tiny colourful houses. The bobbing fishing boats and yachts that were docked along the quay gave it a seductive picture-postcard setting. Its' sheltered bay was guarded by the austere and imposing Charles Fort, which lay just outside the town at Summer Cove.
Charles Fort, one of the best preserved star-shaped forts in Europe, had always fascinated Kerry, ever since she was a little girl and her class had visited its ruins. She loved the history of the place and often tried to imagine what life might have been like for the soldiers who once served there. Kerry followed the three kilometre path around the bay from Scilly to Summer Cove, smiling and waving at her neighbours as she ran.
Everyone else seemed to have had the same idea as her and they were taking advantage of the unexpected sunshine.
Kerry arrived home refreshed and invigorated from her run. She always got a thrill of pleasure when she turned up the windy road that led to her tree-lined drive. Ballycotton House was the home of her dreams with its wisteria-clad walls and large bay windows. She'd known she was arriving somewhere special that first day she'd laid eyes on it all those years ago.
The rooms were individually decorated in period furnishings and were a pleasing mass of different shapes and sizes. Kerry liked a clean and tidy house but she hated angles and perfect order, which is why she'd insisted that each of Ballycotton's rooms have their own unique character.
The grounds were beautiful but required the work of a part-time caretaker. It was too much for Kerry to manage on her own and Conor wasn't home for long enough to be able to take care of the place. They had a tennis court, a swimming pool and even a mini golf area. The place filled her with peace and joy but sometimes she wished that Conor was home more to share the house with her; the home they'd built together.
She jumped into the power shower and savoured the torrent of water that washed over her hot, sweaty body. The endorphins from her run had well and truly kicked in and she felt renewed and revitalised; like she could take on the world. She sang loudly as she dressed in her old, comfy blue jeans, white cotton t-shirt and long, grey cosy cardigan which had definitely seen better days. Her sister was constantly nagging at her to bin it but she didn't care; it was warm and snuggly and fitted her perfectly.
“Speak of the devil!” Kerry almost jumped out of her skin as her sister's face suddenly appeared at her kitchen window. “You almost frightened the living daylights out of me!”
Maura burst out laughing. She still had a childish streak in her that enjoyed scaring her sister half to death.
“Come on, mother,” Maura said, affectionately using the term that she sometimes called her sister since Emer and Saoirse were born. “I'm taking you out for a coffee and a cake. The farmer's market is in town and I'm longing to taste some of the goodies on offer.”
“I really shouldn't,” Kerry tried to protest weakly. “I've been very good this morning and gone for a long run. I don't want to ruin my hard work by stuffing myself with cream cakes.”
“Don't be daft,” Maura refused to listen to her excuses. “There isn't a pinch of fat on you. You're coming with me and that is final. It's not up for discussion so you might as well make it easy on yourself and surrender now.”
“Fine,” Kerry tried to stifle a smile. There really wasn't any point in trying to argue with Maura when she was in one of her bossy moods and she had to admit that the thought of a heavenly home-made cream cake was rather mouth-watering.
“Afternoon tea for two please,” Maura smiled sweetly at the waiter while Kerry went in search of a window seat.
“Coming right up, madam,” the waiter returned her smile.
“These cakes are so delicious,” Maura peeped inside the prettily wrapped box of pastries that she'd purchased at the farmer's market earlier.
Cork was known as the gourmet food basket of Ireland and Kinsale was the gem in its crown. There was no better example of Cork's commitment to tasty, locally sourced food than the farmer's market which took place once a week on a Sunday morning between one and four in the afternoon in the community centre. All the produce was home-made with fresh ingredients from the local farms. The farmers and their wives congregated under one roof in the huge hall where they sold some of the very best local produces, meats and cheeses in the region. Kerry and Maura tried to resist but every now and then they just had to indulge themselves and give into temptation.
“The only problem is that we'll probably eat everything in one sitting,” Kerry rolled her eyes, imagining how far she'd have to run to burn the extra calories.
“I certainly plan on it,” Maura grinned.
“Here we go ladies, afternoon tea for two,” their waiter arrived laden down with cakes and a large teapot.
“Thank you, my love,” Maura winked at him.
“Will you stop please?” Kerry whispered.
“Stop what?” Maura stared blankly at her sister, feigning innocence.
“Stop flirting with every man you see. You're old enough to be that boy's mother!”
“No way, I'll never stop flirting. I can't help it,” and Maura abruptly ended the conversation by stuffing an entire cream cake into her mouth.
“You are incorrigible,” Kerry couldn't help laughing.
They sat happily in companionable silence, gorging themselves on cakes and copious amounts of tea, watching the world go by outside.
“Ahh, this is the life,” Maura leaned back in her chair and patted her round stomach.
“It certainly is,” Kerry agreed, licking the last bit of cream off her fingers.
“It won't be long until your holiday,” Maura said, trying to ke
ep the note of envy out of her voice.
Kerry's face brightened. “I can't wait. It will be such a relief to be away from the everyday humdrum and spend some quality time together as a family for a change. It seems like we hardly see each other anymore; we're all so caught up in our own lives, especially Conor and when we do see him he's lost in his own private world. Hopefully, our holiday will help him to relax.”
“He's probably worried about work and he doesn't want to bore you with the details,” Maura said dismissively. She was getting tired of her sister's complaining when really she had very little bothering her, in her humble opinion. She had two wonderful, healthy daughters who loved her to bits and a husband who adored her. He worked hard to provide for his wife and daughters, who could blame the man if he seemed distracted at times? What more could Kerry possibly want? Maura felt that Kerry didn't realise how lucky she was to have a husband like Conor. She hated herself for feeling jealous of her sister, but sometimes she just couldn't help it; she was human, after all.
Admittedly, she was happy enough with her own lot in life but she'd always harboured a secret hope of meeting someone special one day, settling down together and having children of her own. It was unlikely that her dream would ever be fulfilled at this stage in her life and it made her heart ache. It was lonely rattling around her house on her own which was why she loved having Saoirse to stay. She was a great girl and Maura believed that Kerry was blowing her teenage tantrums out of proportion.
There were occasions when Maura was overcome with a great desire to slap her sister sharply across the face. She was so cosy and sanctimonious in the comfort of her marriage and was completely confident and sure of her husband's unconditional love that Maura knew it rarely, if ever, occurred to her that a successful, handsome and powerful man like Conor Darcy would have many women who were attracted to him.
Maura wondered why Kerry never made much of an effort to keep her husband's interest and attention and instead preferred to moan about the few irritations she had with her teenage daughter. She could imagine her sister wittering endlessly to poor Conor about the trials and tribulations of motherhood, easily forgetting that he was working hard to maintain her in the lifestyle to which she had become accustomed and now expected. Did Kerry even try to make Conor feel special? Maura very much doubted it.
Kerry filled her spacious kitchen with people and was forever trying some new recipe or other, always low in fat of course. She diligently polished the furniture that she had obsessively bought at auction and which was usually covered with magazines, catalogues and their children's school books. Kerry would never even begin to consider planning a sexy surprise weekend away with just the two of them and no outside distractions. She left all of that up to Conor and never took the initiative herself.
A man like Conor Darcy would enjoy a woman taking control, Maura imagined. It would make a refreshing change for him when he was so in control at work to have his wife be in charge for a change, but Kerry could never think outside the box enough to fully recognise her husband's needs.
Chapter 12
Maura O' Donnell put the finishing touches to her cleaning of the Victoria brass fender and fire-irons that she'd found abandoned in Previously Loved, the charity shop where she occasionally volunteered. Maura loved working at the shop. It was a welcome escape from the stresses and strains of her life as a nurse. She enjoyed nothing more than opening the front door of the shop and listening to the tinkling of the bell. Two elderly ladies, Maggie Riordan and Orla Shaughnessy, ran the shop and they were glad of Maura's help and exuberance. Maura appreciated their company in return. She'd always had great respect and interest in people who were older than her, whose life experiences and stories never failed to fascinate her so she was a captive audience to Maggie and Orla's many tales of their youth.
Maura never ceased to be amazed by the treasures that people gave away to Previously Loved.
“How can people give away such beautiful, timeless possessions?” Maura would ask in wonder. “These would easily make five hundred euro at auction.” She held up two brass fire irons for Orla and Maggie to inspect.
“They're just junk to most people and would be thrown on the scrap heap. What's that old saying? “One man's rubbish is another man's treasure”,” Orla responded.
“A treasure indeed,” Maura held her latest discoveries aloft and admired their detail.
She had discovered many treasures during her years working in the charity shop and the brass fender and fire irons were her latest finds. She couldn't wait to show her sister who she knew would be ecstatic at the latest wonderful addition to her living room.
Maura had never failed to be astounded at the amazing job her sister had done with Ballycotton House. She would never have imagined that Kerry would have had the patience and wherewithal to achieve what she had achieved with the old place. The house had been transformed under Kerry's careful work. Conor didn't have much time to maintain the house anymore because he was away so much on business. The house had started off as a joint project for the two of them but Conor's interest had been diverted over the years whereas Kerry was still lovingly obsessed with the old place.
Ballycotton House was unrecognisable now to the wreck that it had been more than twenty years previously. Kerry sometimes joked that Jerome Fitzsimons would have been awe-struck to see the improvements to his once beloved home and Maura agreed that he would be very impressed indeed. Kerry agonised for hours over every single new piece of furniture that she introduced. She'd spent months online and at auctions trying to source the perfect dining room table and had eventually settled on a rustic oak model which complemented the room perfectly.
“It's like a fantasy,” Maura twirled around the sumptuous living room, soaking up the atmosphere and character. She could almost hear the parties and voices of the many people who she imagined visited but were ghosts now.
“I never in my wildest dreams thought that I would own a house like this,” Kerry said.
“You did well for yourself, sis, that's for sure,” Maura agreed.
It pained Kerry to hear the envy in her sister's voice. She realised that Maura did her best to disguise it but she knew her sister too well not to know what she was truly feeling. Kerry always went out of her way to include her sister in her plans for the house and Maura happily gave her opinion on everything.
“How's your love life anyway?” Kerry asked, once she'd finally finished deliberating over the perfect position for the fire irons. She stood back to admire them.
“Nobody special,” was Maura's dismissive response.
Maura had had a few dalliances with men, but unusually for her who was so open about most aspects of her life, in recent years she had resolutely refused to discuss the details of her love life, not even with Kerry. Her sister often wondered why she insisted on being so mysterious and what she was hiding.
The problem with Maura was that with the passing of the years, she had grown afraid of giving her heart away. She got on very well with men and had many male friends that were strictly platonic but she had always found it difficult to let go and get close to one person. There had been no shortage of male admirers and over the years she had had many offers, but there had been very few who she would have regarded as special.
Maura was also blissfully unaware of the effect she had on men. Most men were enthralled by her easy, infectious laugh, her obvious physical beauty and the warmth and inner kindness that emanated from her.
Dermot Desmond, her bank manager, had harboured a love in his heart for her for as long as he could remember but she laughingly brushed away his advances. Maura felt an unexpected stirring of attraction to Dermot deep within herself but she refused to allow herself to give into it, preferring instead the predictable safety of her own company and that of her female friends. Dermot was a short, attractive man with a shock of bright red curly hair that he wore a little too long by the bank's standards, but Dermot didn't care; it was his one act of rebellio
n he confided conspiratorially to Maura, who laughed uproariously at their little secret.
He had a particular way of listening to her and looking directly and unwaveringly into her eyes that that she found quite beguiling, in spite of herself. Some men genuinely liked women; men like Dermot Desmond and Conor Darcy. Dermot had laughing, dancing eyes and it had become almost a game with them where he would ask her out and she would pretend to seriously consider his offer but it would always end in her gently declining his advances.
“Whatever is the matter with me?” Dermot would ask.
“Ah, sure you're like the brother I never had and never wanted,” Maura would laughingly respond before flouncing out of the bank, leaving poor Dermot behind, already looking forward to the following Friday when he would have her full attention for a few brief moments again.
Maura dutifully visited her aunt and uncle every week and dreaded the regular lecture that she received from Aunt Aisling about her failure to capture a suitable husband. Aunt Aisling was forever holding up Kerry as an example to be followed and she simply refused to understand that Maura just hadn't met the right man. Her aunt would consider that her work was done when both her nieces were happily married to suitable men.
“Are you sure you're not a lesbian?” her aunt had asked during Maura's last visit home.
Maura had momentarily toyed with the idea of pretending to be a lesbian just to see her aunt's reaction, but something stopped her at the last moment.
“I know you're sleeping with men,” Aunt Aisling said. “I'm a woman of the world, after all. It's such an idiotic way to behave; why on earth would any man want to marry you if they can have you for free, without any commitment or responsibility?”
Maura would just stare at her aunt in mutinous silence and simply shrug her shoulders; much to her aunt's irritation who wanted confirmation if what she was saying was true.
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