Take a Look At Me Now

by Anita Notaro

  ‘Go on then, I’ll have a half-glass of white. And I’d love to talk to you some more about my sister.’ He thought she looked a bit tentative. ‘I’m afraid I’m still trying to put bits of her life together.’

  ‘Well, she was a remarkable woman, and great fun to boot.’ Richard felt like a hypocrite not telling her everything. ‘I was very fond of her,’ he told Lily truthfully as he made to get up.

  ‘Were you close?’ she asked unexpectedly.

  ‘Eh, yes, we were.’ Fuck it, don’t go there, Kearney, he warned himself.

  ‘Did your girlfriend – fiancée, I mean – ever get to meet her?’

  ‘No, actually. Daisy and me, now that’s another tale altogether.’ Richard grinned at her. ‘Definitely for when I’ve had a couple of drinks.’ He winked and tried to keep it light.

  Lily raised her eyebrows. ‘It sounds like an interesting story.’

  ‘That’s the understatement of the year. There’s a book in it, or so my mates tell me.’ He left to check on the food before he said too much.

  Ten minutes later Richard presented her with a frittata – an Italian omelette heaving with bacon, cheese and herbs. He watched Lily’s face and saw her pick at the food nervously.

  ‘You don’t like it?’ He was on his feet within seconds.

  ‘No, on the contrary, it’s delicious. Anyway, I’m no expert. I haven’t any formal training, as I told you, so I don’t think . . .’

  ‘That’s it. I’ll sack the chef. Bring in some new blood.’

  They were suddenly wrestling with the plate. She looked mortified.

  ‘Give it back to me, please, it’s lovely.’ It was only when Richard saw she was really embarrassed that he sat back down.

  ‘OK, listen, now I need your help too,’ he told her, anxious all over again. ‘I’m going to take you to several really trendy places in Dublin and I want your honest opinion.’ He warmed to his plan. It was a great way to get to know her better, way ahead of just visiting her in Wicklow. Oh, he’d do that too, but this gave him the opportunity he’d been looking for. And he could even tell Daisy about it.

  25

  LILY

  APART FROM RICHARD, with whom I felt a connection, I’d made no real progress with the new men in my life. William had been playing golf in the exclusive Druids Glen nearby in Newtownmountkennedy and had asked me to join him for lunch afterwards, but I was too nervous. All James seemed to want to do was talk about Alison any time he phoned, and Dave – well, basically Dave just wanted me to get my kit off, as far as I could make out. The thought made me retch. So, with all this stuff turning my brain to mush, I decided to concentrate on making my dream of owning my own café a reality. First thing I did was ring Aunt Milly.

  ‘Help,’ I said as soon as she answered. ‘I need you.’

  ‘Lily.’ She didn’t seem at all put out by my plea. ‘Charlie, it’s Lily,’ she called and immediately I could hear him shouting my name.

  ‘How is he? I miss him.’ It still surprised me, the bittersweet tug I felt every time I heard his laugh or saw a photo of him even.

  ‘Fine, as you can hear.’

  ‘Can I say hello to him?’

  ‘I’d say we won’t be able to chat until you do.’ She laughed. ‘Each time the phone rings he screams your name and won’t stop until he’s said hello to whoever it is, just to check that it’s definitely not you.’ My heart skipped a beat. ‘He thinks I’m hiding you, he told me last night.’

  ‘I’m too big to hide, tell him.’

  ‘Here he is, love.’

  ‘Hi, gorgeous, how are you?’ I asked him.

  ‘Lily, when are you coming to see me? Come to Cork. Now,’ he shouted.

  ‘I will, love. I’ll be down soon, on the train. Will you come to meet me like you did before?’

  ‘Yes, I will.’ He sounded all grown up. ‘Choo-choo,’ he sang, putting paid to that idea.

  ‘Do you miss me?’ What a ridiculous question to ask a child.

  ‘Bye bye.’ He was gone with a clatter of the phone.

  ‘So, what’s up with you, child?’ Milly wanted to know.

  ‘I’ve decided to go for it.’

  ‘The café, do you mean?’

  ‘Yes,’ I told her uneasily. ‘Am I mad?’

  ‘No, I think it’s just what you need.’

  ‘Will you come up and talk to me about it?’ I hadn’t intended to say it. ‘God, Aunt Milly, all I seem to do is ask you for favours.’

  ‘When?’

  ‘I dunno, this week?’

  ‘I could come on Wednesday, I suppose. But I’d have to be back on Friday for my novena.’

  ‘Great.’ I was suddenly excited. ‘Will you bring Charlie?’

  ‘If you want. I’m sure I can manage him, even though he’ll be a bit of a handful on the train.’

  ‘Are you OK?’ I tried to think of a way I could help her. ‘I could come down, if you’d prefer? It’s just that, well, I’d like to show you Wicklow and bring you for a walk on the beach in Brittas Bay, let you see where I’m looking for a house, that sort of thing.’

  ‘That’s it so. I’ll be there.’

  ‘I’ll meet you off the train and we could stay in the flat in Dublin. Then we could go down to Wicklow on Thursday for the day.’

  ‘Sounds good.’

  ‘Will you bring your cookbook, the one your mother wrote all those recipes into?’

  ‘Yes, if you think it will help.’

  ‘It will, definitely, it’s just what I need.’ I realized I was smiling to myself. ‘I can’t believe it, I’m so excited,’ I told my aunt and I knew she was pleased.

  Violet was upset initially when I told her my plan, but came around to the idea once I’d offered her a job in the new venture, something I wasn’t at all sure about. Her background wasn’t in food, but she was very good with people and a hard worker, as far as I could tell. Also, I knew she wanted to stay in Wicklow because she’d told me all about her new boyfriend – Shane the barber – over a coffee one day.

  ‘What’s it going to be called?’ she wanted to know as soon as she’d warmed up a bit. It had been a frosty start.

  ‘No idea yet,’ I told her cheerfully. ‘But it’s going to be old-fashioned, although not in décor. No gingham-covered wicker baskets for the scones or anything,’ I said quickly. ‘No tea cosies. But the food is going to be a return to home cooking, not a panini or a wrap in sight.’

  ‘Oh.’ She sounded disappointed but I had done my homework, which was just as well because Brian Daly had done his too and he did his best to dissuade me when I met him the following day.

  ‘Wicklow’s full of coffee shops,’ he told me over lunch. ‘I spoke to the Enterprise Board and what they’re looking for is ideas on the manufacturing end, or ones with export potential.’

  ‘But I’ve no experience in that area. Besides, this is something I’ve always wanted to do and if I’m to make a move to the country I need to do it before Charlie starts school.’ I was trying hard to convince him because in my head I needed him on side. We’d become friends since Alison’s death and he knew more about me than any other man.

  ‘You’d move permanently to Wicklow?’

  ‘Yes, I’m already looking for a house close to Brittas Bay. It’s beautiful.’ I couldn’t hide my enthusiasm. ‘Miles of sandy beach, hills to the west, and so much space. Nothing else, really – one pub, one shop, no traffic jams.’ I laughed nervously, hoping he wasn’t going to send too much sense my way. ‘Do you know that there’s not a moment’s silence in the city, at least not where I live? I’m fed up of house alarms rocking me to sleep at night and car horns waking me up every morning. I haven’t set a clock in years. I judge the time by the traffic.’

  ‘I know the feeling,’ he admitted grudgingly.

  ‘Anyway, my aunt is coming up on the train tomorrow – with Charlie – and we’re going to look at a few cottages. Imagine being able to walk in the fields every morning with Charlie and the dog?’ I
was excited all over again.

  ‘What dog?’

  ‘The one I’m going to rescue from PAWS.’

  He tried his best but really he didn’t stand a chance. This new venture was the only thing keeping me going.

  Charlie’s welcome next day helped reinforce it all in my head. He practically knocked me over when he saw me.

  ‘Mammy,’ he kept shouting and my stomach did a somersault.

  Aunt Milly loved Wicklow and, as soon as Charlie was asleep, we spent the time poring over cookbooks and arguing about the best way to make dumplings. I was in heaven. Brittas Bay looked magical, all those bluey-grey tones along the sea road and masses of purple tinging the mountains. We parked in the almost empty South Beach car park – the main one – where in July and August you’d have to queue and possibly even fight for a space. I could almost smell the fat from the closed-up chip van still sitting in the corner, looking tatty and grimy.

  ‘Nothing beats the taste of chip butties laced with vinegar and sand, does it?’ I asked my aunt.

  ‘No, except maybe the first drop of hot tea with milk and sugar when you’re parched and miles from civilization,’ she said with a smile. ‘I think it’s the fresh air that makes everything taste so good.’

  ‘Ice cream!’ Charlie pointed at the colourful chart still stuck to the front panel of the van, faded now after the months of summer sun and grubby, kiddy hands. I was nervous showing Charlie the beach. He seemed fine, even when he saw the sea, but then a huge wave crashed in and he panicked.

  ‘Mammy,’ he cried and clung to me. I burst into tears.

  ‘It’s all right, love, I’m here,’ I kept repeating as I held him tight and tried to console him.

  ‘That was really stupid of me,’ I told my aunt. ‘I should never have brought him here.’

  ‘Let’s just try and get him interested in something,’ she said. ‘Not here, but further back, maybe.’ I could see she was struggling too.

  So the two of us sat sheltered in the sand dunes where he couldn’t see the sea and told him that it was OK over and over again.

  ‘You not to go near the sea,’ he kept saying, looking frightened.

  ‘No, love, I won’t go near it, I promise.’

  ‘Bad sea,’ he said quietly. ‘Very bold.’

  ‘Look, Charlie, there’s a big red kite over near the picnic area. Will we go see? You can hold both our hands and we won’t let you go, ever. Lily, come and look.’ Aunt Milly strolled casually towards the only other people we’d seen – a hardy family playing games – and eventually Charlie couldn’t resist taking a peek.

  ‘Thank you.’ I hugged her once I knew he’d recovered. ‘I’d never have managed that on my own.’

  ‘He’s fine now, love. Don’t worry,’ she reassured me and soon Charlie was talking to any dog we met along the path. I had to stop myself taking him to get one there and then, just to make it up to him.

  ‘Woof-woof,’ he shouted for the rest of the day. ‘Choo-choo,’ he waved at every tractor we met on the road.

  That weekend I simply closed the salon. Alison hadn’t built up many regulars – most of the trendy Wicklow set preferred to go to Dublin for their facials – and the few chatty locals who came in seemed to understand that I needed a change. Her main business had been during the summer months and they were mostly the yummy mummies of South Dublin who decamped to Brittas Bay in their 70,000-euro Volvo and Mercedes jeeps as soon as the schools closed, and didn’t care how much a facial or manicure cost. Wicklow town during the tourist season was a different place to the one I saw now on my visits. Most of the locals avoided coming into town during high summer because of not being able to park in the main street, or having to queue for their fish, or being made to wait for a table in any of the popular places they patronized all year.

  Early the following week I met with an architect who was willing to oversee the transformation of the salon. Maureen Stanley was a local girl who’d trained in London and returned to live in the area the previous year when her mother was widowed.

  ‘I’m a country girl at heart,’ she told me cheerfully, looking anything but. ‘Actually, I hope it won’t put you off but this is my first project in Ireland’ – she must have seen my face because she continued quickly – ‘but I’ve done loads of work in the UK, so don’t worry. Here’s my portfolio.’ She reached for a leather satchel. ‘And since our telephone calls I’ve been pulling stuff out of magazines to do a kind of mood board, just to give us a starting point.’ She was trying hard. As I hadn’t a clue what I was doing, I really needed an experienced professional, and I was a bit anxious, to say the least. However, as soon as I saw her work I knew she was perfect.

  Structurally the place was almost ideal. We already had the toilets and by knocking down two walls at the back we could greatly expand the food preparation area. Here I was in my element. For the first time in my life I was able to design my dream kitchen, albeit on an industrial scale. I let my imagination run riot while Maureen concentrated on the café proper. It was all starting to take shape.

  My one slight concern was that the local traders weren’t exactly friendly, and as I’d need to apply to the planning department of the County Council for change of use, I hoped I wasn’t going to encounter any opposition. Wicklow people, it seemed, treated ‘blow-ins’ with a certain amount of suspicion. It was amazing how often they answered a question with another one, thus avoiding giving away too much.

  Maureen cheerfully assured me that they’d still be treating me as an outsider in twenty years’ time and I was wasting my brain cells worrying. She’d already had a word with the authorities and they seemed to be on side. I told her I’d enough on my plate without giving the competition much thought. My only concern was the planners.

  In the meantime, Richard Kearney insisted on taking me on a culinary tour of Dublin on several evenings and lunchtimes over the next few weeks. God knows what his staff thought when he disappeared at the busiest time of day. I didn’t object because I was learning loads. He certainly had a finger on the pulse where trendy eateries were concerned, and as a result of massive exposure to every ‘fusion’ combination known to man I was slowly but surely refining my own tastes.

  The only slight problem was that during our many jaunts he never gave me any information about his friendship with my sister. Oh, he was completely self-deprecating, very funny and a bit of an old-fashioned, anorak type and the combination was really attractive, but the whole Alison thing was a major complicating factor that I needed to sort out, in order to save my sanity. No matter how much I prodded and prompted, he still hadn’t told me any details about why he’d been so chummy with my sister, especially when he had a stunning girlfriend tucked up at home.

  We never made it to the apartment in Wicklow that first time, when it had been my intention to really try to draw him out. Daisy had been involved in a minor accident – broken nail, Sally suggested uncharitably when I rang her to moan, but Richard had assured me it involved a car and a very irritable pensioner on his way to mass – so he’d had to cancel. Now, three weeks later, having been to restaurants as far afield as Drogheda to the north and Dungarvan to the south, I’d finally plucked up the courage to invite him back to the flat, hoping the familiar surroundings might relax him enough to loosen his tongue.

  ‘That was fantastic. You sure can cook!’ He’d just cleared his plate and my wild mushroom risotto had obviously impressed.

  ‘Thank you.’ I was aware that my drinking the white wine as well as using it to cook with had rendered me slightly tipsy and more relaxed than usual. We’d gotten to know each other a good bit over the shared lunches and dinners, and in bed the previous night I’d begun to fantasize that he’d actually turn out to be Charlie’s father. What happened next was that Daisy would discover the truth, wallop him, then conveniently disappear with a Jude Law type and finally me and this endearingly attractive nerd would open a string of restaurants and live happily ever after.

  I dragge
d myself back to earth as I realized he was topping up my glass again.

  ‘No more, please, or I might say something I’ll regret.’ I regretted that one as soon as I heard myself. The last thing I wanted was an intimate conversation I wouldn’t be able to remember half of in the morning. ‘Strawberries with some cracked black pepper or a bit of smelly cheese?’ I asked as I hurriedly cleared away the plates in an effort to avoid his grin.

  ‘I don’t think I could manage either.’ He immediately got up to help. ‘Lily, I . . . we need to talk.’

  I was already in the kitchen before I realized he just might be about to tell me something I wasn’t entirely sure I was ready to hear, like how in love with my sister he’d been. The truth was I’d been thinking over dinner that I sort of fancied him myself, and having come to that conclusion I desperately didn’t want him to say anything that might spoil it. Dumping the plates, I came to an alcohol-fuelled decision, so I checked my face in the stainless steel hood then turned to find him standing behind me.

  ‘There are some things I . . .’ His face had a pink tinge and his eyes were darting all over the place. His ‘I wish I was anywhere but here’ air was endearing and he was very close in the small kitchen and I liked the normally rather off-putting smell of tobacco and sweat I sniffed as he ran his hands through his hair. Clean sweat, I decided.

  ‘You are so . . .’ He gulped. ‘Sweet . . . and . . . innocent. And . . . gorgeous. To tell you the truth, I’m a little bit afraid of my feelings for you.’

  I don’t know who made the first move but suddenly we were kissing and it wasn’t the usual. It was the gentlest exploration of my mouth and it went on and on and on.

  ‘Oh God, Lily, this is not meant to happen. I—’ He pulled away.

  ‘I know.’ I couldn’t look at him.

  He continued his investigation of my mouth, and this time there was no doubting his interest.