Take a Look At Me Now

by Anita Notaro

  I must have flagged a bit because he looked all concerned again. ‘Perhaps we should leave it there for now. I hadn’t really intended to get into so much detail with you. It’s still early days.’

  ‘Yes.’ I stood up and so did he. ‘You know what, I can’t believe that Ali was so forward thinking, so organized.’ I shook my head as if to clear it. ‘Imagine putting all that into place so quickly. If it was me, I don’t think I’d even have taken out mortgage protection – or whatever you called it – in the first place.’

  ‘It’s what happens when you have a child, I suspect.’

  ‘Do you have children?’ I realized I knew absolutely nothing about him.

  ‘No.’ He came around the desk. ‘Sure you wouldn’t like that cup of coffee after all?’

  ‘No, thanks.’ I grinned at him. ‘I didn’t take it earlier ’cause I was so nervous I was afraid I’d spill it. Now I know for certain I couldn’t hold a cup to save my life. Look, I’m still shaking.’

  ‘Something stronger, perhaps? I can offer you a small brandy or port?’ It sounded like something your grandad would produce in an emergency.

  ‘Got any tequila?’ I enquired. ‘Joke,’ I said quickly as I watched his brows crease.

  ‘Not much call for tequila in this office.’ He smiled.

  ‘Actually, I’d murder a drink but I’d better not. I think I need a clear head to sort out all you’ve just told me.’

  ‘We could go across to the pub and have a glass of wine? That shouldn’t harm any of your brain cells.’

  ‘I won’t, thanks, I’m actually exhausted and I know I’ll have a list of questions for you once I’ve had time to myself. Is it OK if I call you?’

  ‘Of course, that’s what I’m here for. We will need to meet again anyway, as I said earlier. I’ll have my secretary call you tomorrow and schedule a more formal meeting.’ He smiled tiredly. ‘This was supposed to be just a chat . . .’ His voice trailed off.

  ‘I know.’ I was aware that I’d sort of forced myself on him. ‘And I really appreciate you seeing me today. I didn’t know where to start, as I said.’

  ‘Pleasure.’ He was being a solicitor again. I held out my hand as an afterthought. He took it and his grasp was firm. ‘Mind yourself.’ He smiled and was back to being the Brian I could identify with once more.

  ‘I will.’

  ‘I’ll see you out. The place might be locked up by now.’ He held the door open for me and I realized I’d been there for nearly two hours. What would a ‘proper’ meeting entail? I was shattered.

  We were at the main entrance in no time. As I turned to say a final goodbye another thought struck me. ‘What if my sister had had a baby girl?’ I asked him. Ali always said my father would have treated us differently if we’d been boys.

  Brian looked uncomfortable to be talking in an open space, even though the place was empty as far as I could see.

  ‘Would that have made any difference?’ I asked, more out of curiosity.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘There was no provision made for a female child,’ he said softly. ‘This only applied in the event of Alison giving birth to a boy.’

  13

  LILY

  ‘IT WOULD HAVE been fairer if it had been me,’ I told my aunt later that night, after I’d sat for hours thinking about how happy Ali must have been on the day she died.

  ‘Shush, child, don’t say such a thing. There’s a plan for all of us, I’m certain of it.’

  ‘But she had a child to look after . . . and me, a big baby – that’s what my father always called me.’

  ‘Your father had his own demons.’ Aunt Milly never said a bad word about anyone. ‘His own mother left when he was a child, too, remember. He had little or no contact with the female sex until he met your mother.’

  ‘Why did she marry him?’ Tonight I wanted answers to all the questions.

  ‘She loved him,’ my aunt said simply. ‘I think she was the only one who ever tried to understand him. And he loved her too, in his own way. He softened up a lot when he met her.’

  ‘Then why did he ignore us when she died?’

  ‘The way he saw it, she’d abandoned him as well. And I think you two reminded him of all he’d lost.’ My aunt sounded as bad as I felt. ‘I blame myself, to tell you the truth. I should have fought harder to take you to live with me.’

  ‘Don’t say that.’ I felt even worse. ‘You were always so good to us. And you had Granny and Grandad to look after.’

  I tried to reassure her as best I could. We spoke for ages. Hearing about Charlie cheered me up and when he came on the line to talk to me I felt a surge of love for him that took me by surprise and made me silently thank God that he was safe.

  Two days later I returned to work, afraid that if I left it any longer I’d never go back. Dreams of owning my own business were beginning to keep me awake, ever since Brian had told me what Ali had been thinking. My boss was surprised and happy to have me back so soon. ‘We’ve been lost without you,’ Stephen told me as he greeted me with a hug that nearly strangled me.

  ‘Yeah, right.’ I knew he was just saying it. ‘Who’s been covering?’

  ‘Corporate Catering. It’s been fine except we’ve had someone different almost every day.’

  ‘They’re good.’ I wasn’t about to bad-mouth Audrey and Robert O’Neill, I’d known them for years and they’d been kind to me when I knew nothing. ‘I’d love to have the sort of set-up they have.’ I glanced out the window.

  ‘They’re terrific, but they lack your personal touch.’ He noticed everything.

  I was thinking about when I’d started cooking and imagining what the future might bring, but even without looking at him I could tell he was watching me.

  ‘You OK, honey child?’ He slipped into what I always called his ‘deep throat’ accent. His mother had been born in one of the southern states of America – Georgia, I think, or Alabama – and he’d lived there for a few years as a child.

  ‘I’m fine.’ His pet name always made me smile. He was a bear of a man and I’d have loved him for a father. ‘I should warn you that I keep bursting into tears for no reason though. So maybe keep me away from the top brass for a day or two, OK?’

  ‘No problem. And I’d be more worried if you didn’t. You’ve been through a helluva lot.’

  ‘So, what’s been happening?’

  ‘Why don’t you grab yourself a coffee and we’ll go through a few things? Oh, and I’ll have a strong one if you’re asking.’

  ‘Yes, boss.’ I clutched the hem of my linen pinafore and curtsied as I backed out. It was a game we played sometimes to amuse ourselves. I grinned and knew he was relieved as I disappeared into the kitchen and rustled up elevenses at nine thirty.

  My job was fairly straightforward. Boring even. I was employed by a large law firm as a hostess cum cook cum waitress cum anything else to do with food. They didn’t really need a full-time chef, but they liked having an in-house caterer to impress their clients. Mostly it was lunch for a couple of the partners, drinks parties in the boardroom or keep-them-going snacks for a late night meeting, of which there were many. The only problem was that while I’m a great cook – even if I say so myself – I’m a lousy hostess and I’ve lost count of the number of Waterford glass bowls and Wedgwood cups and saucers I’ve elbowed into smithereens. Still, it was handy money that suited the slob I was at heart, even though my taking the easy way out meant I yearned for a challenge a good bit of the time.

  As I made my way back to Stephen I passed one of the partners. I kept my head down and moved as fast as I could with a tray in my hands. Paul Canavan reminded me of a businessman who used to visit my father. Ali had always made me be nice to him.

  ‘Now, Lily, promise me you’ll be polite and charming to Mr Donaldson. That way we can make our own tea once they’re in Dad’s study, and guess what? Aunt Milly left us a tuck box hidden up high in the pantry.’

  ‘Ali, why do
we have to pretend all the time?’

  ‘Because we’re girls and Dad says girls are much more trouble and cost more money.’ Ali put her finger to her lips. ‘Shush now, I hear him coming. He’s in good form tonight so don’t say anything, OK? Leave the talking to me.’

  ‘Can we have coffee instead of milk when we sneak downstairs later?’ I asked hopefully. I’d always loved the smell of coffee.

  ‘Yes, but only if you smile and say hello nicely.’

  ‘I get fed up always being quiet, or polite, or no trouble.’

  ‘I know, love, but it won’t always be like this. It’ll get easier.’

  Every time that poor Mr Canavan spoke to me I thought of how much I hated my father’s business cronies because he was only ever nice to us when they were around.

  ‘So, what’s cookin’ this week?’ I handed boss man a steaming cafetière and took out my diary.

  ‘Not much. I just wish everyone I managed was as easy as you.’ Stephen Pritchard was a sort of elevated dogsbody – Head of Administrative Services was his official title. He made sure the place ran like clockwork and organized everything from the flowers to the toilet cleaners. His job was a nightmare, I’d always thought, and he got no thanks. Nobody noticed his efforts – unless there was a problem.

  ‘I keep telling you, you need to go sick for a month, only way they’re going to realize what they’ve got.’

  ‘Not my style, honey child. Now, tell me, how are you really?’

  ‘I’m fine.’ He was giving me one of his looks. ‘Honest,’ I told him.

  ‘What about the little fella?’

  ‘He’s down in the country with my aunt Milly for the moment.’ Thinking about him made me long for our little family to be back to the way it used to be.

  ‘How’ll you manage?’ He knew there was no one else.

  ‘No idea. Childminder . . . eventually, I suppose.’ I didn’t want to think about that yet.

  ‘Will you be able to afford it?’

  ‘Yep, courtesy of my late father.’ I knew he wouldn’t miss my sarcastic tone; he knew a good bit about my background. ‘Although he never thought I’d get control of his money, that’s for sure. I’ll tell you all one of these days. Just as soon as I’ve figured it out myself.’

  ‘No pressure. I didn’t mean to pry.’

  ‘I know.’ I swallowed my espresso. ‘Now, down to business. And please tell me I’ve no late nights for a day or two.’

  ‘None this week, as far as I remember. Anyway, hire in whatever help you need. Ease yourself back in.’ He was looking at me in a pitying sort of way that I wasn’t sure I liked. ‘OK, honey child? That’s an order.’

  ‘Yes, boss.’ I sighed and decided I was just being paranoid. Stephen Pritchard was a gem and I was lucky to have him as my manager. ‘Thanks. I’ll probably need an odd few hours off here and there. Solicitors and all that.’ I hoped it sounded casual.

  ‘Take whatever time you need.’

  I loved that man.

  Later I tore the flat apart, looking for Alison’s keys to the salon. I knew she had a spare set somewhere. At first I thought she might have had them with her at the time of the accident, but her belongings had eventually been returned to me – spotted by the rescue services when they’d combed the area looking for her – and only her hall door key was in her purse. She was always separating stuff – make-up, the contents of her handbag, etc. Like me she hated carrying a big satchel – ‘at least until I can afford a really soft leather one,’ she used to tell me – so I knew there had to be bits around the place. I just hadn’t had the courage to have a proper look in her bedroom so far.

  I opened the door warily, not wanting to disturb her things, and was unprepared for the smell that greeted me. Her scent was everywhere in this room, the spicy, floral fragrances that she loved to slap on morning and evening. I stood at the door and immediately pictured Charlie playing on the well-worn rug and me sitting swinging my legs on the bed, as we’d done so many evenings. I pushed myself inside, knowing it was now or maybe never. The first thing I saw was another print of her favourite picture, of the two of us when we were about nine. I might have put it on her coffin but it always made me think about the day it had been taken.

  ‘That’s lovely, Alison. Lily, smile, for goodness’ sake,’ Aunt Rose said sourly. ‘Isn’t it wonderful of your father to let you have a birthday party this year?’

  ‘Yes, Aunt Rose. Thank you, Father,’ Ali smiled, always wanting to please.

  ‘We got no presents from Dad,’ I told Aunt Milly later as I stuffed a packet of sweets into my pocket. ‘And he won’t let us keep that picture – the one that Aunt Rose took. He says pictures like that are frivolous. What’s frivolous?’

  ‘He’s very unhappy, child.’ She ignored me. ‘He misses your mother a lot and he finds two girls a handful.’

  ‘But we’re really quiet, Aunt Milly. Ali makes me do the right thing all the time.’

  ‘That’s a good girl, you do as Ali tells you.’

  ‘I hate him.’

  ‘Lily, be careful. Someone will hear you.’ Ali was back. ‘Aren’t we having a great day?’

  ‘Only because of Aunt Milly. Once she goes it’ll be back to spending all the evenings in our room and being quiet all the time.’

  ‘I’ll come as often as I can then, Lily. And don’t you worry, I’ll get you a copy of that picture and you can keep it somewhere safe.’

  And she had, although it had been Ali who kept it safe.

  I spotted the keys I wanted on her bedside table, along with another purse and her Filofax. I grabbed the bunch and closed the door quickly. The rest could wait for another time.

  The drive to Wicklow took just under an hour and even in the dark the Sugar Loaf mountain made for a dramatic skyline as soon as I swung off the roundabout at Loughlinstown. When I opened the car window a mile or two outside Ashford I could taste the salt in the air and just before Rathnew I was so close that I reckoned I could hear the faint slosh of the waves. It was funny, because I’d never had any grá – as they say in Irish – for rural life but somehow this evening I found myself wondering how the countryside would look in the papery thin autumn sunlight. Not for nothing was Wicklow known as the garden county of Ireland.

  When I got to the salon it was back-lit in a mustardy yellow glow and looked warm and inviting in the near-winter damp. Violet had returned to open up a few days previously and fresh lilies and the scent of candles filled the air as I let myself in. So many memories of my sister were connected to smell. She’d always said the same about me, but whereas mine were the comforting aromas of cinnamon, cloves and coffee, hers were the seductive ylang-ylang and eucalyptus and frankincense – the oils she used every day. For the first time I realized our scents didn’t really match our personalities – she was the homemaker and I was the flighty one. Although she’d had a couple of relationships, I had never really relaxed around men: a party girl who always went home alone. ‘All talk,’ Sally used to say about me when we went to the Grange disco years ago.

  I was breathing in the smell of Alison and feeling very close to her when my mobile rang.

  ‘Hey, where are you? I’ve been ringing you at home.’ It was Sally on a dodgy mobile line from Sydney.

  ‘Hey, babe, I was just thinking about you.’ I was thrilled she’d called. ‘It’s so nice to hear you, I was just getting maudlin. I’m at the salon.’

  ‘Are you OK?’

  ‘I dunno really. I miss her so much, Sal. I was just thinking about how she always smelt seductive and I smelt of coffee, and in reality—’

  ‘In reality she was all home comforts and you were all cleavage,’ Sally cut across me. I knew she was remembering too.

  ‘So I’m a bit of a slut, is that what you’re trying to say?’

  ‘A slut, no, but you are a bit of a temptress . . .’

  ‘Sally Fielding, how long is it since you’ve seen me? You’re thinking of when we were at school.’

 
‘Yeah, you used to hitch up your pleated skirt, finger your damp hair and open your white shirt down to your navel.’

  ‘Don’t remind me. It was just a reaction to being away from my father. I knew he’d hate it.’ I was so glad she’d phoned. ‘That wasn’t seductive though, it was desperation.’ I laughed at the picture she painted. ‘Remember how Alison always looked older because she was so much more sophisticated?’ I asked Sally.

  ‘I sure do. All the guys wanted her ’cause they reckoned she was more experienced, whereas in reality you were much more likely to go down the back of the bike shed . . .’

  ‘Shut up, bitch,’ I screamed and we were fifteen again.

  ‘Mind you, once you got them there you’d steal their bike and run away.’ Sally laughed. ‘All talk and—’

  ‘—no action. That’s amazing, it’s exactly what I was thinking when my phone rang.’ Suddenly I felt better able to cope. ‘Thanks, Sal. Talking to you always helps. You know me so well.’

  ‘I should hope so, after all we’ve shared.’

  After a few minutes she had to go because the call was costing her a fortune, so I promised to ring her back at the weekend. She signed off, telling me she was very relieved to hear me laughing.

  I wandered around, in and out of the treatment rooms. Places like this always made me feel inadequate. All those perfectly made-up faces waffling on about seaweed and cocoa butter and rosewater. I was never sure whether to swallow those things or pucker up and slap them on. Still, it was a great space in what was fast becoming quite a trendy town. Very cosmopolitan, I’d heard Alison telling Orla one day when she phoned the flat.

  ‘Cosmopolitan my arse,’ Orla confided in me as soon as Ali handed over the telephone. ‘Last time I was in Brittas Bay two guys who were chatting me up at the bar in McDaniel’s left on a tractor.’ We’d fallen about laughing but I hadn’t told Ali what we were on about, afraid of shattering her illusions.

  ‘The next big thing. Give it five years,’ Alison kept repeating, mantra-like, when everyone told her she was mad trying to start a business ‘in the sticks’. It was all she could afford at the time.