by Anita Notaro
Somehow, over the following days, I began to formulate a plan in my head. It wasn’t much, but it was a start. I knew I had no choice but to take control of things for the first time in my life. Well, my friend Orla really decided for me. She came home as soon as she got that hysterical phone call from me, leaving her boss at the hotel in Brighton ‘gobsmacked’.
‘Actually, I think I’ve reached the end of the road in hotel management,’ she told me a day or two after the funeral. ‘It’s wrecking my head. I’m so glad to be home.’ We were in the flat, trying out a new recipe for pizza base at her insistence. Orla reckoned there was no ill that couldn’t be cured by cooking.
‘I’ll never be able to thank you enough for coming so quickly,’ I told her as I sifted flour.
‘Snow.’ Charlie looked up at the flour raining through the sieve. Our kitchen was tiny, as in most modern apartments, and the three of us were on top of each other – or underneath, in Charlie’s case.
‘Yes, look, it’s snowing.’ I tapped the sieve over Charlie’s head and he ran off screaming. He came back minutes later with his little umbrella and had us showering him with flour for ages. The three of us ended up covered in the stuff and the kitchen was in chaos as we ducked and dived about the small space.
‘Enough,’ I called eventually and gave Charlie a small ball of dough to play with. He loved helping me in the kitchen and I knew he’d amuse himself for hours with the stuff, making shapes and sticking them on the fridge door.
‘So, have you decided what you want to do?’ Orla asked gently.
‘I’ve started to think.’
‘Thinking’s good.’ She smiled.
‘I feel like one of those Big Brother contestants who’ve just come out of the house,’ I told her. ‘I can’t get used to making decisions for myself. It’s as if the words “I want” or “I don’t want” didn’t exist in my vocabulary up to now. Ali made most of the decisions for both of us.’ I looked over at Charlie barking at a dog made from dough. ‘I miss her so much. It’s like part of me has been disconnected or something.’
‘I know.’
‘She always seemed to have some scheme or other on the go and I just sort of ambled along doing whatever she wanted to do.’
‘She had a strong personality. It was hard to say no to her.’
‘I didn’t really think about it much, d’ya know? I’ve always liked the easy life, you know that.’
‘I do, but you’re tougher than you seem. It’s just, you sometimes . . .’ She grinned as she chopped some herbs and the sweet smell of basil filled the kitchen. ‘You have that “couldn’t really be arsed” air about you that makes everyone, men especially, want to sort it all out for you.’
‘I do care, it’s not that . . .’ I started to argue then realized she was partly right. ‘Ali always wanted to sort things out for both of us. I think she liked being in control.’
‘I know that.’ Orla sighed. ‘But you’re good too and I believe you’ll be well able to cope. You practically run that place where you work single-handed and look at you with Charlie . . . Who would have thought it, eh? I’m really proud of the way you’re managing—’
‘I haven’t done anything yet,’ I interrupted. ‘At the moment all I’m doing is getting out of bed each morning and trying to remember to breathe.’
‘Well, I think you’re amazing.’ She squeezed my hand.
‘I couldn’t really get any worse than I was, now could I? Remember the day after it happened, when I rang you back late at night screaming my head off? Not making a word of sense?’
Orla nodded and looked sad. ‘I was at the airport and couldn’t hear you properly. I didn’t know what to say to comfort you . . .’
‘You didn’t need to say anything. Just getting it off my chest was enough. God, Orla, even thinking about not having her around . . .’
Orla simply nodded again and continued weighing out stuff.
‘I still wake up and think of things I need to tell her.’
‘I know you do.’
‘Aunt Milly arriving so soon saved my life. And so did you. I’ll never forget that.’
‘Your aunt is a dote.’
‘She’s so brilliant with Charlie. It’s taken an enormous amount of pressure off me. There’s just so much to think about.’
‘I wish I didn’t have to go back in a few days.’ Orla made a face. ‘I think I want to come home.’
‘For good?’ I was surprised.
‘Yes, this management lark is not for me, as I said. Handling staff is a nightmare. I’m a cook, like you. It’s what I do best.’
‘Chef,’ I corrected her. ‘You’re properly trained. I’m a cook.’ I turned on the mixer. ‘But Orla, I thought you said the hours were crazy and you couldn’t take the heat and the tempers . . .’ I shouted over the noise.
‘You do it.’
‘Yes, but I’m my own boss, more or less. And besides, I’m kind of a hostess really. The cooking I do wouldn’t kill anyone. But you were working in high-pressure kitchens, sure Gordon Ramsay is a pussycat compared with your last boss or have you forgotten?’
‘No, and I’m glad I’m learning the trade. It’ll stand to me, or so everyone keeps telling me.’ Orla drained her cup. ‘Anyway, let’s see how my boss is when I get back. Another snide remark and I’ll sock him one, I swear.’ She looked at me. ‘This week has put a lot of things into perspective for me.’
‘Yeah. I know it has. And you were right, I will manage.’ I wiped my hands on my apron. ‘I feel better even saying the words. Anyway, I need to start by going to see Ali’s solicitor.’
‘Are you OK for money?’
‘He seems to think so, yeah. I know she had some savings, but as far as I was concerned she’d used every penny to open the salon. Perhaps he’s taking the value of that into account? I guess I’ll find that out when we talk. But he’s told me not to worry, which is just as well.’ I grinned at her. ‘All my spare cash went on handbags, you know that.’
‘Yes, let’s not discuss your fetish. It’s cost you a fortune over the years.’
‘No, not really, I don’t earn as much as you. Besides, I quite like cheap bags and I love searching around for a decent copy of a designer look. See?’ I picked up my latest, which was now covered in specks of flour. ‘Looks like a Chloé but it’s not.’
‘Doesn’t have the padlock,’ Orla chipped in immediately. ‘What am I saying?’ she laughed. ‘You’ve almost got me hooked as well.’
‘Ali always saved for the one she wanted. Not me, I’m too impatient. I do love e-Bay, though . . .’
‘You really were chalk and cheese, weren’t you?’ Orla looked thoughtful.
‘What, you mean she was classy and smart and sophisticated?’ I smiled.
‘Yes, she was all of those things. But you’re sexy and streetwise and . . .’
‘And a bit of an eejit,’ I added, throwing her some tomatoes so that she could start on the topping.
‘Not true, you’re just laid-back, that’s all. You’ve a great head on your shoulders, my mother always said so.’ She looked around. ‘Red onions or shallots?’
‘Red onions. Well, I’ve no head for money, that’s for sure.’
‘Was money very tight?’
‘Since Charlie came . . .’ I glanced over at him, now making a bandage for his soldier with the dough. ‘Things were tight, but all I did was transfer an amount to Ali’s account each month. The rest was mine to fritter away as I wanted. Even looking at the bills that have come in this week . . . I don’t know how she managed. The salon wasn’t breaking even yet, as far as I know. Sure, I bought food a good bit and I brought home things for the baby all the time, but I couldn’t tell you how much is owing on my credit cards, that’s for certain.’
‘OK, I’ll admit it, finance would be your weak point if you ever opened your own restaurant . . .’
‘We haven’t done that particular daydream in ages, have we?’ I smiled at my friend. ‘Sally and I went
through such a phase of talking about it that she claimed my business plan was making her insolvent – reckoned her phone bill had gone to four figures.’
‘Well, long phone calls from Oz tend to do that all right.’
It was so good being able to talk to Orla like this. I missed Sally so much since she’d moved to Sydney and emailing just wasn’t the same.
I hugged Orla. ‘Thanks. You’ve helped me enormously,’ I told her.
‘You’re welcome,’ she said, wiping flour off my nose with her tea towel. ‘I was talking to Sally last night, as it happens. She’s devastated that she can’t get home.’
‘I know, I keep telling her I’ll probably need her more later on, when all the fuss dies down and I’m really alone. She’s saving like mad so that she can get here soon.’
‘Apparently her folks have offered to pay half her fare,’ Orla told me.
‘No way! She never said. God, it would be great to see her.’
‘Oops, perhaps I shouldn’t have told you. I think she was saving that bit of news for later.’
We put the bases in the oven, topped up on coffee and talked away the afternoon, then fed Charlie pizza, which he loved. It was exactly what I needed that day.
Aunt Milly offered to take Charlie back home with her for a while and I resisted at first. But then seeing him kept reminding me of how inadequate I was on my own, and how much our little family had depended on Ali for stability. Alone in bed at night, thinking about all she’d done for us, I wanted my sister – wherever she was now – to be proud of me and making things perfect for her child seemed to be as good a place as any to start. I knew that not having to worry about him for the immediate future while I sorted things out would help a lot, and he already appeared besotted with Aunt Milly, who was so confident with him.
‘Now, love, are you sure you’ll manage?’ she asked as they got ready to board the train to Cork a day or two later.
‘Why does no one have any confidence that I can cope on my own?’ I asked her.
‘Och no, it’s not that.’ She had a Scottish pal in Cork and it sometimes rubbed off on her. ‘It’s just that I know your friend leaves tomorrow and, with me going and all, I’m just afraid you’ll have too much time on your own.’
I hugged her. ‘I’ll be fine, don’t worry. You’ve been a brick. And there’s just so much to do over the next few weeks. Will you be able to cope?’ I knew she wasn’t getting any younger.
‘No problem. You leave the little fellow with me for as long as you like.’ She adjusted the collar of her coat. ‘I’ll be glad of the company, to tell you the truth. I never know what to do with myself when I haven’t got someone to fuss over.’ She smiled and we embraced again, then I quickly gave Charlie a kiss, afraid that I was going to slobber all over him. ‘I’ll miss you so much, buster.’ I crouched down beside him and zipped up his red jacket. He was part of my sister and that made him part of me, and now he was all I had.
‘I’m not Buster, I’m Charlie.’
‘Well, whoever you are, I love you.’ I tried to smile.
‘Bye-bye.’ He wriggled out of my embrace. ‘Choochoo.’ He indicated the train and strained to get on with the adventure, clutching his Thomas the Tank Engine book I’d bought him ’cause it had lots of engines in it.
‘I’ll call you later, Aunt Milly, and thanks.’ I hugged her again. ‘Thanks for everything.’
‘Sure what are family for?’ She ruffled Charlie’s hair and smiled at me fondly. ‘Call me any time, do you hear?’
‘I’ll call you every evening and speak to the monster.’ I tried to smile as I waved them off and then went home and bawled my eyes out.
That afternoon I called Brian Daly, mainly because I’d promised my friends – including Sally by email – that I’d make a start. Besides, I felt I owed it to Milly, who was putting her whole life on hold in order to help me out. Orla had made me prioritize things and we’d spent hours writing stuff down that I needed to do. Alison had always told me that the trick with a list was to tackle the nastiest job first, thereby ensuring you felt so virtuous that you ploughed through everything else with little or no effort. While calling Brian didn’t quite fit into the nasty category, I was sort of dreading it.
As soon as he came on the line I didn’t know what to say.
‘How are you?’ he asked. It was what everyone wanted to know.
‘I don’t . . . I’m not sure what to do,’ I blurted out, immediately annoyed with myself. ‘What I mean is, I’m not sure where to start, the business and all . . .’ I was waffling: men in suits with authority always had that effect on me.
‘Don’t worry, that’s what I’m paid for.’ I could hear him flipping pages. ‘Why don’t you come in and see me?’
‘You did say we needed to talk?’ I said hesitantly. I’d no idea when he’d said it; everything about those first few days was a jumbled mess in my brain.
‘Yes, that’s right. When would suit?’
‘This afternoon?’ I suggested hopefully.
‘I’ve a lot on today, I’m afraid. How about early next week?’
‘Oh.’ All the wind went out of my sails. Doing things would keep me sane, I’d decided, and until I talked to him I didn’t know what else to do with myself, especially now that Charlie was gone. The flat was so quiet without him.
He must have sensed something. ‘I could see you for a quick chat at the end of today, say around five thirty?’ he suggested. ‘It would just be an informal meeting. We’d still need to sit down properly next week and . . . go through stuff.’
‘Great, thanks.’ I seized the opportunity.
He rattled off directions. ‘And we can schedule a longer, more formal meeting while you’re here. There are papers I need you to sign, but I don’t have them prepared yet,’ he explained.
‘Fine.’ I got off the phone as quickly as I could, in case he changed his mind. All I knew was that I needed to keep moving forward and not spend too much time thinking. Otherwise I got a sick feeling in my stomach that threatened to overwhelm me, rendering even the smallest task too much.
‘How do you eat an elephant?’ was one of Ali’s favourite phrases. I could see her laughing as she said it.
‘Bit by fucking bit.’ I used to stick out my tongue at her in reply.
‘But what do you do when you’re choking on every bite?’ I wanted to know now.
‘Keep chewing.’ I could hear her as clearly as if she was standing in front of me in the empty kitchen. ‘After a while, you’ll be taking bigger bites and you won’t even notice.’
The offices of Brian Daly and Co. were at the top of Francis Street in the heart of the Liberties in inner-city Dublin. I’d expected something much more posh. One of Dublin’s oldest indoor markets, the Iveagh Market, was nearby and I recognized the smell of old clothes and leather shoes that lingered even though it had been closed for years. Women with headscarves still sold fish from wooden bread van boards on top of old prams, so that they could make a quick getaway if the coppers arrived, EU red tape having put paid to this type of casual trading.
Brian came out to greet me almost immediately and when he smiled I instantly felt less nervous. I’d put on my one decent trouser suit and tied my hair back in an effort to look like I imagined his other clients did. Although we were twins, Alison had been the more confident one, at home in any situation. Me, I’d always waited until she’d got the conversation going before I joined in, although Stephen Pritchard, my boss, had told me more than once that I could charm the birds off the trees when I wanted to. Sometimes I got bolshy in an effort to hide my insecurities, of which there were too many to keep secret for long anyway. And I was a bit clumsy too, when I was nervous, which was often.
‘Come in.’ Brian ushered me into a large room stuffed with metal filing cabinets and dusty books. ‘Coffee?’
‘No, thanks.’ I tried to sound nonchalant. I’d have loved one but felt I’d probably slop it all over the place.
‘Sit down,
please.’ He indicated a worn brown chair. ‘How are you doing?’ he asked as he sauntered round the desk. He was so laid-back, it helped put me at ease.
‘Fine, I guess.’ I fidgeted with the strap of my lime-green tweedy handbag, which had been Ali’s. I’d borrowed it to give me confidence. It was an Orla Kiely and I remembered wondering how she could afford it at the time. She said someone had given it to her as a present, one of her regular clients, I think. Seemed like an expensive thank-you-for-the-facial to me, but then what did I know?
‘I made a list, see.’ I held it up like a child who’d just coloured in her first picture and waited for him to acknowledge my masterpiece. Instead he was looking at me intently, watching for signs of a nervous breakdown, I imagined. Last time he’d seen me I’d been raw with grief. I was still mortified about the way I’d spoken to him.
‘Ali always made lists,’ I said quietly. ‘I’m hoping a bit of her organizational skills will have rubbed off on me.’
‘She did, didn’t she.’ He smiled gently. ‘So does my mother. It must be a female thing.’
‘Well, not this female, at least not until now.’ I sighed. ‘Suddenly there’s so much to do and I’m not sure how to . . . go about most of it, to tell you the truth.’
‘This must be hard on you.’
I shrugged. ‘Ali was more like a mother, really, even though we’re . . . were . . . exactly the same age. I never had to worry about anything . . . She just took care of things.’
‘I know.’
‘Without her, I feel so helpless.’ I was afraid to cry so I bit the inside of my cheek. ‘There was nothing much on the list, really,’ I admitted. ‘Just to call you and Aunt Milly and then try and find her keys to the salon. My friend Orla made me write down every little thing that was on my mind initially. But then I lost that list.’ I threw my eyes up to heaven.
‘Calling me was a good place to start.’
‘I’m worried about money.’ God, I hoped he didn’t think I was looking for a loan, or worse, trying to get out of paying his fee. ‘I’m not . . . skint or anything. I have some money. It’s just Ali took care of all the bills and I know we were always broke at the end of the month.’