by Anita Notaro
‘Like it?’
‘Are you crazy?’ I swung around to make sure there was a house. ‘I love it!’ I threw myself at him. ‘Thank you, thank you, thank you.’ It felt right somehow, being here with him.
‘Get off me.’ He laughingly took my hand, then both of us pulled away at the same time. ‘You haven’t even heard the price yet.’
‘I don’t care, I’ll work my arse off, sell the apartment, whatever it takes,’ I told him, embarrassed at how much I liked him touching me. ‘Will you let me see inside?’
‘It’s open.’ He strolled after me as I broke into a run.
He was right: it was nothing special, but it was clean and dry with three bedrooms, a plain white kitchen, a decent-sized bathroom with a separate loo and a huge, open-plan sitting/dining room. But it was the position of it, overlooking a small, secluded cove, that made my heart stop.
‘Most times you can walk all the way back to the main beach, so exercise won’t be a problem.’
‘I can’t believe this is happening to me.’ I felt like bawling. ‘It’s perfect. How old is it?’
‘Thirty years or so. It’s fine, wiring and plumbing are all OK for another few years and the roof is sound. It’s just a bit boring, I suppose, not pretty or anything.’
‘I don’t care. I love it. You don’t know what this means to me, if I can afford it,’ I told him, eyes shining. ‘I was getting desperate.’
‘Charlie, I presume?’
‘Yep, he was so sad when I left him this time. Didn’t want me to go. And the only thing that stopped me from howling at the moon was the thought of us being together sooner rather than later, thanks to you. Now,’ I looked around, ‘all this place needs is a fresh coat of paint and—’
‘I’ve already organized someone to do that, as part of the sale. I was just waiting for you to come back to choose the colours, if you liked it. By the way, there is one condition attached and it’s not negotiable.’
He must have seen my face drop because he said quickly, ‘The house comes complete with Max. He lives here.’
‘Max?’ I said stupidly. I’d been prepared all along for a catch, but not in the form of a sitting tenant.
‘Yes, the man who lived here had a mutt named Max. He goes with the place.’ He took one look at my face and stuck out his tongue. ‘Gotcha.’
I threw a punch at him then and he pulled me towards him as he grabbed my arms in an effort to protect himself, and this time I was sorry to pull away. ‘As long as Max is not a two-legged beast I’ll have him,’ I said, moving reluctantly to look out the window. ‘Anyway, I’ve already promised Charlie a dog, so Max is perfect – I think.’
‘Crikey, you’re unputdownable today, I’ll say that for you.’ He laughed, scratching his head.
‘Daniel Williams, you have just provided me with the best thing anyone has ever given me. Ever ever ever.’ I bit my lip, but this time the tears that threatened were joyful.
‘I haven’t given you anything,’ he joked.
‘Thank you so much.’ I meant it.
‘Pleasure. Now I must get back to work so can we talk money, solicitors, etc., on the way into town? Oh, and keep it to yourself for the moment. There’ve been a few locals asking about the place. Best if you don’t go shouting about it just yet.’
‘Fine,’ I told him and wished my heart would stop hammering. ‘But can I just tell my aunt?’
‘Of course.’
‘That is, as soon as we’ve agreed a price.’ I was nervous.
‘Make me an offer,’ he said, then noticed my face. ‘Stop worrying, we’ll sort something out!’ he said quickly.
The high I felt for the rest of the day was akin to giving birth, I reckoned, and in a way I just had. I’d conceived a whole new life for me and my child. All I had to tackle now was the thorny issue of his father.
At four o’clock that afternoon a woman came into the café. She looked around nervously before making her way to the counter.
‘Hello, how are you?’ I asked as I polished the counter top.
‘Fine,’ she said in a wary Dublin accent.
‘Good,’ I beamed. ‘Lovely day.’ I made small talk but she didn’t seem that way inclined. Each to his own, I decided. ‘What can I get you?’ I asked pleasantly. ‘Or should I leave you to choose for a moment?’
‘Coffee, please,’ she said quietly.
I was becoming quite American in my approach to people ordering coffee. I wanted them to spell it out. ‘What would you like?’ I said – patiently, I hoped – pointing to the twenty or so varieties on the board.
‘Oh, just plain black.’ She shrugged.
‘OK, why don’t you take a seat and I’ll bring it to you. Anything else? The crumpets were only made an hour ago?’
‘No, thank you.’ She didn’t smile.
‘No problem.’ I busied myself and noticed she took a seat in the quietest corner, away from the window.
‘Afternoon, Lily,’ Tom Mangan, a local handyman, greeted me as I brought her coffee over. I noticed her head jerk up at the mention of my name. ‘Any crumpets left?’
‘For you, anything.’ I winked at him. He was one of my favourites.
‘There you are.’ I laid out a proper napkin in front of her, and left a little porcelain dish with two miniature cupcakes in the centre of the table. ‘Just a taster,’ I explained. ‘We do it for all our new customers and I don’t think I’ve seen you in before.’ I fixed everything just so. ‘Enjoy.’ It sounded a bit too trendy, so I smiled at her in a friendly way as I turned to go.
‘You’re Lily,’ she said quietly. If I hadn’t seen her reaction to Tom’s greeting earlier I probably wouldn’t have heard her, but I think I’d sensed something was coming and so was on the alert.
‘Yes.’ I waited.
‘I wonder if I might have a word with you?’ I noticed her hands were trembling. ‘I’m Marie Madden, Dave’s wife.’
48
RICHARD
RICHARD WAS FEELING and lying low. His days consisted of watching endless reruns on TV with the curtains closed and ordering in pizza or Chinese. Under any other circumstances he might have enjoyed it.
The flat was straining under the weight of beer and other assorted bottles and a pile of cartons and boxes that was beginning to stink, but he hardly noticed. Luckily, Daisy – or her parents, more likely – had removed all her stuff so he didn’t have to face the prospect of her knocking on his door without warning or, worse, letting herself in and finding him scratching his balls with a three-day stubble and red eyes.
Tom Dalton had left several messages and he’d had a text from Lily, but luckily the gang in work were leaving him alone. He knew he’d have to get his act together at some stage but right now all he had the energy to do was crack open another beer. Every time he thought about his wedding-day fiasco he was mortified, so he tried his best not to. Drinking helped.
Next day when he woke around eleven he just about made it to the bathroom before throwing up. He’d really given it a lash the night before. The telly had been brutal so he’d started on his stash of dope, not very clever after all the alcohol. Just as he was making coffee his phone rang. He saw Tom’s number come up and pressed reject. Two minutes later there was a knock on the door.
‘Richard, it’s me, mate. Let me in.’
He ignored it and turned on the telly. His phone rang again and then the knocking started in earnest.
Five minutes later he flung open the door. ‘Would you ever fuck off and leave me alone.’
‘I’ve left you alone.’ Tom strode past him. ‘And by the looks of things it hasn’t done you much good. Now, jump in the shower. We’re going out for lunch.’
Richard surprised himself by doing what he was told. He had known Tom long enough to realize he wouldn’t give up without a fight.
They had a big plate of pasta in a great little place in Temple Bar and Tom wanted to know what his plans were.
‘I suppose I’ll have to go into the
café, for a start.’ Richard would’ve rather gone for a bikini wax. ‘They’ve been leaving me alone but I’ve had two texts from Hazel already today about ordering stuff urgently.’
‘That seems like a plan, anyway. Why don’t you do that this afternoon and then take it easy tonight? Or do you fancy a few pints after I finish the show?’
‘I do, yeah, but my liver doesn’t.’
‘That bad, eh?’
‘Cleared out everything I had, gin, brandy, the lot. Even some of those cheap liqueurs you made me buy years ago in Torremolinos when we were into getting trollied.’
‘Charming.’ Tom made a face. ‘Has it been that rough?’
‘Yeah,’ Richard said. ‘I really fucked up, didn’t I?’ He didn’t expect the ‘You sure did’ he got in reply.
‘Daisy’s out to get you, I thought I’d better warn you. She’s been on the blower loads. So has Trudy.’
‘I can’t blame her. Jesus, it must have been awful.’ Richard knew she’d never forgive him.
‘So, get up off your arse and start trying to apologize.’
‘I just keep thinking about what a mess I’ve made of things and how I have to sort things out with Shauna now too . . .’
‘She said she wrote to you years ago?’ Tom looked puzzled.
‘She did, yeah. She wanted to meet. To be honest, I just kept putting her off. I mean, it was just a fling.’ Richard couldn’t believe this was happening to him. ‘Anyway,’ he said tiredly, ‘I’ll deal with it but right this minute I’ve a head fit to burst open, so I’m a write-off.’
‘What I don’t understand is, how did she know you were getting married?’
‘I told her, can you believe that?’ Richard said. ‘I actually thought it might get her off my back once and for all. I think I even mentioned the date. Anyway, sure Daisy’s a model, she’s been in the papers, on TV3, you name it. Christ, Shauna must have been completely pissed with me to actually turn up at the church, though.’
‘I think you can safely assume she was,’ Tom agreed. ‘It took guts as well.’
‘Yeah, she was sparky, as far as I remember. Anyway, let’s change the subject for now, eh?’
Tom ignored him. ‘I suppose she’ll be looking for money, Child Support or whatever?’
‘Fuck off. I said let’s change the subject.’
Tom knew when he was beaten. They talked about football for a while. ‘Look, mate, I’ve gotta get into the studio,’ he said eventually. ‘We’re pre-recording a piece in an hour and I’ve done no bleedin’ work for it.’
‘You’ll survive.’ Richard laughed at him. ‘You’ve probably interviewed whoever it is four or five times before anyway.’
‘No, that’s the problem. It’s Phil Collins and I know sweet fuck all about his music.’ They left and Richard headed for the café. He pulled up outside, then thought about it and drove off again. They could do without him for one more day, he decided.
After an hour’s kip he felt marginally better so he jumped in the shower again and shaved. Before he slipped back into his old ways he grabbed a few black sacks from the local shop and emptied his garbage. Then he gathered up all his shirts and took them to the laundry and left some other bits into the dry cleaners on his way. He knew he had to face his mother at some stage but that could wait. He needed a bit of fresh air, so after making a few calls to the wholesalers he hit the road and headed for Wicklow.
49
LILY
OH GOD NO, she’s found out, was my first reaction when Marie Madden told me who she was. I hoped my face hadn’t given me away. ‘Would you just excuse me a moment, while I put an order into the kitchen and grab a coffee?’ I asked, even though there wasn’t a sinner in the place. ‘Takeaway,’ I mumbled as I made my escape. I needed a moment in private to panic.
She watched me scurry away, I could feel it. I headed for the kitchen, where I fluted around until I could no longer avoid her.
‘Sorry about that.’ I wasn’t sure why I felt guilty as I sat down beside her a few minutes later with a triple espresso for courage. ‘Can I top up your coffee?’ I asked, hoping for another reprieve.
‘No, thanks.’ She moved her cup away. ‘I wanted to talk to you about my husband,’ she said. I could tell she was nervous because of the way her eyes kept darting about. ‘I know you . . . knew him.’
I had to keep reminding myself that I had nothing to worry about. ‘Yes, although not very well at all,’ I told her. ‘Actually, he was supposed to give me a quote for some work on the shop but I never heard from him, so . . .’ Stop rabbiting on, I told myself.
‘He’s dead.’ The way she said it made me think she’d assumed I already knew.
‘What?’
‘You didn’t know?’ She seemed relieved.
‘No.’ I was genuinely shocked. ‘Of course not. As I said, he was—’
‘He was with you on the night he died.’ It was a statement, not a question.
‘What? No, I haven’t seen him for weeks, months even.’ I still couldn’t believe it. He’d always seemed so . . . ebullient, I suppose. Dead didn’t suit Dave.
‘I want to ask you something and I really need an honest answer because it’s driving me mad. And I can’t seem to . . .’ She sighed. ‘I was going to say move on, but I’m not anywhere near that yet. I suppose what I’m trying to say is that I can’t even start to grieve properly until I know.’ She twisted her napkin as she spoke. ‘Were you having an affair with him?’
‘No.’ I never imagined I’d be so glad to be able to say it.
With that one word she crumpled. ‘It’s just that I’m beginning to think . . . You see, Dave was always streets ahead of me in the looks department and after the kids were born I sort of . . . lost interest in him.’
I sensed she felt she was saying too much and was still unsure as to whether to completely trust me or not.
‘You met him on the night of his death,’ she said, confirming my thoughts.
‘Did I? When?’
She mentioned the date and I had to think quickly. ‘The last time I saw him was . . .’ I did a quick calculation. ‘Yes, it would have been on or around the date you said. I can’t recall exactly without my diary,’ I apologized. ‘I do remember that I texted him and asked him to meet me for a drink. I needed a bit of help with this place before I opened. It was a small job – probably way too small for him – but I wanted his advice. I only saw him for an hour or so. I was in town so we met up. He promised to think about it and ring me the next day . . . and I haven’t heard from him since.’ I was still shocked at what she’d told me. ‘So what happened?’
‘What time did he leave you?’ I sensed she believed my story.
‘About nine or thereabouts.’ I tried to think. ‘I was driving back here, so I just had one glass of wine, and as far as I can remember I was home before ten.’
‘Well, he went to our local and had a couple more there. He left about eleven. He was giving some young one a lift home and he had a heart attack in the car.’ She paused and I could see the pain. ‘And I’ve been driving myself mad, wondering if there was something going on between them because she wasn’t someone he really knew, as far as we can tell.’
‘Have you spoken to her?’
‘Yes, but only at the time, to ask her all about how it had happened. To be honest, I didn’t think anything of it. She said she’d met him the previous night and they’d been chatting at the bar. She asked him for a lift because all her friends were drunk . . . She was very young and it would have been typical of Dave to want to look after her. I’d say she reminded him of the twins – his daughters,’ she told me.
‘Yes, he mentioned them to me . . . once,’ I added quickly, not wanting her to think we were bosom buddies.
‘Did he?’ Her eyes lit up. ‘He adored them, that’s why I think he’d have been very protective of that girl – Kylie – in the pub that night.
‘How did you meet him?’ she asked me now.
‘My siste
r . . .’ I knew I had to choose my words carefully because at that moment I realized she was just like me, searching for answers she’d probably never get. That’s what death does to you, it robs you of any possibility of answers. Besides, she was nice, in a salt-of-the-earth Dublin way – the sort of decent person who’d be kind to you in times of trouble, I imagined.
I fetched myself another coffee and told her about Alison’s death, which at least got me off the hook there, because she was full of sympathy for me.
‘You know, meeting you has been a big relief,’ she said after we’d worn ourselves out talking. ‘I feel I can put it all out of my mind now and get on with grieving. It was just too much at first. All the stuff about the girl in his car, then seeing a text from you. So many questions, d’ya know?’ She seemed to be talking more to herself than me, so I didn’t answer, but I knew all right.
‘Dave liked style and a bit of finesse. If he had been . . . making a play for someone it wouldn’t have been her, I felt. She was – well, rough – and common with it. She wasn’t very nice to my girls when they went back to talk to her after the funeral and to tell you the truth she wasn’t very . . . I dunno, warm towards me when we met, although maybe that was just my imagination. I was hardly thinking straight at the time.’
‘I can imagine,’ I said gently.
‘I suppose I’ve had a bit of an inferiority complex for years where Dave was concerned,’ she said softly and I thought how sad it sounded. ‘I always felt he was too good for me. And we sort of grew apart, I suppose – even though he treated me like royalty. Oh, I knew he had an eye for the women, but I always assumed he just looked. Then some stupid bitch made a remark about him in the pub on New Year’s Eve . . .’
‘What did she say?’
‘Oh, just that she’d heard he’d always been a bit of a ladies’ man. She didn’t realize I was his wife.’ Marie’s smile was forced. ‘It was innocent enough – I knew by her face it was just idle gossip, something to say, you know how it is. But after what happened the night he died, I started putting two and two together and getting five. Then I found a couple of messages from you and it just sort of got to me really.’