by Lisa Ryan
‘Well,’ Astarte says, handing a glass to Linda, ‘Here’s to the great success of your new venture, and to future happiness.’
Echoing her toast, Linda follows Astarte to the sofa and makes herself comfortable. ‘I have to ask you something,’ she says, curling her legs beneath her. ‘I noticed a wooden sign on your gate, and wondered what it meant.’
Astarte grins. ‘Trespassers will have bad karma.’ It’s to keep my parents out. They’re a total nightmare, and now they’ve decided that it’s their karma to come and live here. She bends over to pick up the wine bottle, and tops up their glasses. Linda is chortling quietly. ‘They can take their karma as far from me as possible and share it with some other mug,’ Astarte adds dolefully.
‘My, you are annoyed with them. Mind you, I don’t blame you. I thought it was supposed to be children who refused to leave their parents, not the other way round.’
‘You haven’t met them yet,’ Astarte says drily.
The evening slips by. The women, nourished by the casserole and tipsy on wine, slouch and relax, chattering animatedly and exchanging life stories. The animals curl close, hardly moving when Astarte occasionally adds fuel to the fire and the range. Linda finds it amusing that she has a pig for a pet, but is unconcerned that Daisy is lying with her head resting on Linda’s foot, snoring softly.
‘You have a good life here, Astarte,’ she says, adjusting the cushions behind her back.
Astarte agrees. ‘It’s funny, though – I never imagined living this kind of life. Quite the reverse, in fact. I’m actually glad that my relationship ended the way it did, even though it was awful at the time. It forced me to think about what I really wanted, and to do something about it.’
Linda agrees that life is strange, reflecting on how Eden’s experience has changed all of their lives. Her next step is to find somewhere to live while the studio is set up. She has no wish to infringe on the hospitality of the McDonagh family for too long.
Another bottle of wine is opened. ‘You could stay here tonight, if you don’t mind the sofa. That would save Eden from having to carry you home. You’re in no fit state to walk,’ Astarte grins.
‘Carry me home? In my dreams! Oh God, forget I said that. It’s the alcohol talking.’ A blush spreads to the roots of Linda’s blonde hair. Astarte eyes her curiously, and struggles to sit up straighter.
‘You’re in love with him!’ she exclaims. ‘Does he know?’
Flapping her hand and shaking her head, Linda throws back the last drops of wine in her glass, and refreshes both of their drinks. She has kept her feelings to herself for so long that it’s a relief to be able to speak of them. In the space of just a few hours, Astarte seems like the sister she never had. Linda has spent so many years in the corporate world, surrounded by men who try to make her look small and inefficient, fighting to be recognised as an equal. It feels liberating to be able to relax, to be herself, to share her feelings. She knows how much Astarte has helped Eden, and warms to her because of this. And suddenly she has a need to unburden herself. She knows instinctively that it will go no further, that her new friend can be trusted.
Linda talks for nearly an hour, hardly pausing to draw breath. She describes her carefully fostered reputation as a hard driver, a ball-breaker. She has heard the gossip that spreads like wildfire through the industry she works in, and has deliberately fuelled it. Now she is sickened by the competitiveness and back-stabbing. She longs for a more peaceful way of life, is keen to nurture talent while making her protégés aware of the risks inherent in the music business. And, most of all, she yearns to show her true feelings for Eden, but is afraid of losing him altogether.
‘I can take the crumbs,’ she tells Astarte. ‘It’s better than nothing.’
Astarte stares at her. ‘But who wants crumbs when they could feast at the table?’ she asks, realising with surprise that both of their voices are becoming slurred. What the heck, she thinks. It’s been quite a day. Tottering slightly, she fetches another bottle of wine, and squints as she opens it. ‘You must tell him,’ she announces firmly.
‘Absolutely not!’ Linda waves her arms about, almost dropping her wine glass.
‘How will he know otherwise? He’s not psychic, and he obviously cares about you.’ Astarte says reasonably. Linda shrugs.
‘Just forget it, OK?’
Astarte stares down into her glass, swilling the dark red liquid gently around inside it. ‘I am a resp … rep … repository for secrets. A vessel for the never-spoken,’ she intones solemnly.
‘What?’ Linda looks at her, amazed. Astarte merely laughs and pats her arm.
‘If you go home with Eden in that drunken state, you’ll end up draping yourself all over him and telling him all. Stay here. The couch is comfortable, and I have a spare duvet. I’ll ring Eden and tell him to collect you and your hangover tomorrow. The only thing is, do you mind sleeping in the same room as Daisy?’
Linda’s laugh peals out merrily. ‘Oh, don’t worry about that. I’ve slept with a few pigs in my time, and no doubt Daisy will respect me more in the morning than the others did.’
They sleep late, oblivious to the weak sunrise and the chirruping of birds outside the windows. Astarte, her head pounding, creeps past a slumbering Linda to let the animals out and feed the chickens. When she comes inside, Linda, bleary-eyed and messy-haired, is hauling herself upright on the sofa, swearing never to drink again. Astarte cooks a fried breakfast, trying not to think that one of Daisy’s relatives may be gently sizzling in the frying pan. They huddle on the sofa with their food and copious quantities of tea. Somehow the table seems too formal and far away.
‘I feel guilty about eating pig when I’ve spent the night in the same room as Daisy,’ Linda says, pushing the bacon around on her plate.
‘I know what you mean. I rarely eat meat now.’ Astarte feeds her bacon to Sirius, who stands guard beside her, drooling on her knee. The dog, delighted at his good fortune, swallows it without chewing.
Eden phones to say that he is on his way. His meeting has gone well, and he has a brace of musicians keen to work with him, so he’s in high spirits. Astarte has just replaced the receiver when it rings again. Astarte groans. ‘Oh my head! It hurts to talk,’ as she answers. It is Flynn. She takes in a sharp breath at the sound of his voice.
‘I just wanted you to know that Ryan has enough fuel to keep him warm for a month or so. And, Astarte, I called in at the supermarket and put together a box of basic foodstuffs, so he has all he needs for the time being. I thought you might like to come out this afternoon, to see the house I’m working on. We could call in and check on Ryan, and maybe have a pub meal afterwards.’
Astarte hesitates before speaking carefully. ‘Flynn, that’s lovely of you. Come over whenever you’re ready. But I should tell you that in no way is this a date, OK? I just got carried away by emotion yesterday. It won’t happen again.’
A sigh travels down the telephone line, followed by an awkward silence. When Flynn speaks, the vibrancy has gone from his voice. ‘Have it your way, Astarte. I’ll pick you up at three o’clock.’ The line goes dead.
Swearing softly, Astarte replaces the receiver. She turns to catch Linda observing her, wide-eyed, her eyebrows almost up to her hairline.
‘Well, well, you’re a dark horse! You didn’t mention any shenanigans with men when we were exchanging confidences last night.’
Astarte stalks across to make coffee. ‘That’s because there aren’t any. I had a small lapse of judgement yesterday, and now I have to put things straight again. Dammit, Linda, do you ever wish you could turn the clock back?’
‘I’m more interested in winding it forward,’ Linda says with a grin.
Chapter Forty-three
February opens its arms to push forth snowdrops whose tiny white heads hang heavy with globules of rain. Despite the inclement weather, the first signs of spring bring with them a lightness of step and lifting of human spirits. The winds will still blow hard, flatten
ing the long grass and howling around window frames. The rain will still fall, softening winter’s cold ground, preparing it for the coming resurrection of life and colour, but the lengthening days lend a promise of good times to come. Homes are now scoured from top to bottom, and Saint Bridget is petitioned with candles for good health throughout the coming year.
Astarte wakes to the sound of Sirius barking. She pulls the duvet over her head, but Sirius has leaped to the window and is scrabbling with his paws. Reluctantly Astarte switches her bedside lamp on and drags on her dressing gown. She looks at her watch. It is 3 a.m. Footsteps can be heard retreating from the cottage door, and Astarte stumbles into the living room and grabs the poker, then slips outside. A large, shadowy figure can be seen moving away. Sirius races out and gives chase, and loud male cursing can be heard as the dog nips the man’s ankles. Astarte catches up just as Sirius yelps hard and leaps backwards, and, without thinking, she whacks the back of the intruder’s legs with her poker. The man’s knees buckle and he falls. A can of petrol rolls away and she gasps and stands over him, poker held high.
‘Ned Connelly! What the hell do you think you’re doing?’
He glares at her. ‘Ah go feck yourself, you bitch. ’Tis time you went back to where you belong.’
‘I hope you weren’t intending to use that petrol around my home, you slimeball,’ Astarte screams, shock raising her voice by an octave. ‘If you ever come back on my land, you’ll have me, the Garda, and Flynn to contend with!’
Ned staggers to his feet and limps off. He turns at the gate, though she can no longer see his face. ‘You’ll be sorry you did this, girly,’ he snarls.
Astarte returns to the cottage, calling Sirius to join her. She is shaking with horror, and debates whether to call Flynn, before deciding that it’s not good to be too dependent on him. She will just have to be more vigilant in future.
Chapter Forty-four
Eden’s recording studios open with a flourish amid cascades of champagne and dark, frothy Guinness. Already his calendar is crammed full. Celebrity musicians rub shoulders with the budding stars of the future, creating an alchemical mix that assures success. Eden exudes vitality and a new-found confidence. He radiates enthusiasm and goodwill as he encourages newcomers, greets old friends, confers with technicians, and gives interviews to the press without turning a hair. He is their golden boy again, bringing renown and prosperity to a corner of Ireland, and this time they ask him only about his work and what this could lead to.
Once a week he goes with Linda to Astarte’s cottage, proudly bringing samples of the latest recordings for her to enthuse over. Sometimes Linda stays overnight, bringing bottles of wine and boxes of chocolates for what she and Astarte laughingly call their pig-out evenings.
Linda has blossomed. She has rented a small cottage close to Tallymede, refusing Eden’s offer to share his house with her. That would be awkward, she knows. With such close proximity, her feelings could not remain hidden for long. She has put on a little weight, and it suits her. Her hair has been cut shorter. It swings as she walks, and her cheeks glow. She has settled easily into the small group of friends, and they all meet once a week, rotating the arrangements so that everyone’s home is used. Siobhan and John, Linda and Eden, Astarte, Flynn, Sinead and Jamie, Ryan when he can be persuaded to join them, even though Ryan is looking increasingly frail with his yellowed skin and eyes. They chivvy him for tales of a happier past, and wish for a more positive future, even though it is clear that Ryan is fading fast. The air is fragrant with hope.
Astarte has avoided contact with Rainbow and Leaf, although she hears the latest news from John, who feels that she is being too hard on her parents. Their commune is surprisingly successful and has been reluctantly accepted by the locals, who are eager to latch on to any new gossip. They have set up a healing centre, and are gaining a reputation as far away as America. Astarte wonders balefully about the ingredients of their special herbal teas, but is relieved that at least they and their fellows are avoiding her cottage. The sign on her gate seems to have worked.
It has been a painful time for Flynn. Astarte and he see a great deal of each other, but she refuses to allow more than friendship between them, and shies away if he touches her. He tries to forget the kiss they shared, reminding himself that she was distraught and vulnerable on that day. Reluctantly he accepts the situation, and makes the best of it.
Jamie and Sinead have become a fixture at the studios. They rush home from school and race through their homework, eager to leave for Tallymede the moment their evening meal is over. Jamie has a talent for singing, and he and Eden perform duets at the weekly gatherings. At the studios his curiosity is insatiable. He pesters the technicians to teach him the complexities of the mixing panels. He tunes guitars, sets up equipment, asks endless questions and carefully memorises the answers. Sinead helps Linda in her office, answering the phone, taking messages, and checking the itinerary. She’s in awe of some of the people who pass through, and wishes she had the courage to allow herself to be drawn into the conversations, instead of merely hovering shyly in the background.
Liam O’Hara is frequently to be found lounging against Linda’s desk, his green eyes sparkling as Linda brushes off compliments and answers his banter in kind. Sinead can’t help blushing each time he speaks directly to her. Liam’s band, The Falcon’s Eye, is already up there with the greats of folk-rock. She has a poster of him on her bedroom wall, and all the girls at school sigh over him and pretend to swoon at the mere mention of his name. They regard her with envious respect, sure that his gloss will somehow rub off on her. Sinead is certain that she’ll never get used to seeing him in the flesh. It makes Jamie sulk each time she mentions that Liam has spoken to her, even though it’s apparent to everyone but him that Liam has eyes only for Linda.
Distracted by the business of running the studios, it takes Eden a few weeks to notice that Liam makes any excuse to be there. The connection made, he observes the exchanges between his two friends, surprised to find that their closeness does not please him as much as it should. When Liam invites himself to their weekly gathering, at John and Siobhan’s home this time, and never once takes his eyes from Linda’s face while he sings a love song, Eden vies with him by singing her a song of his own. It is childish and beneath him, he thinks, but still, he can’t help feeling a glow inside at the way her eyes shine as she keeps her gaze trained on him. He fails to notice that the brightness in her eyes is magnified by unshed tears. Astarte, sitting opposite, experiences a tug on her heartstrings, and resists an impulse to change seats and sit beside her friend, to squeeze her hand if need be. She wants to shake Eden, to tell him to follow through on the song’s promises.
Flynn tries not to glance in Astarte’s direction. He knows that she would read his face like an open book. Instead he looks over at John and Siobhan, curled up together on a large floor cushion. John’s arm is casually slung over his wife’s shoulder. Siobhan is watching Eden and Linda, keenly aware of the undercurrents in the room. She feels Flynn watching her, and turns her head to wink at him and smile.
The following morning Astarte is hanging out her washing when Eden appears at the gate and strolls up the driveway, his hands deep in his pockets. She waves, and he comes to help her battle the wind and peg sheets on the line. When they go inside he seems unusually quiet.
‘You look as though you have something on your mind,’ she remarks, pouring tea for them both.
He smiles and nods. ‘I wanted your opinion on something,’ he tells her, crouching down to bury his face in Sirius’ soft fur. The dog licks his nose and he laughs, straightening up to take the proffered mug.
‘OK.’ Astarte sits at the table, resting her face in her hands. ‘Fire away.’
‘It’s a bit sensitive.’ Eden looks embarrassed. She raises one eyebrow. ‘Matters of the heart,’ he adds, his eyes flicking around the room as though it is all new to him. Astarte waits in silence, sipping her tea and trying not to smile. Finally E
den looks directly at her. He sits down opposite, cradling his mug between his hands.
‘You’re not making it easy, are you?’ he asks, grinning.
‘Aren’t I?’ She smiles wickedly. ‘I’m all ears, Eden.’
He puts the mug down. ‘Jaysus, this is hard! Well, I think I have feelings for Linda.’
‘Feelings? What sort of feelings?’
Eden gives a muffled exclamation. ‘Astarte Weaver, give a man a break, will you? Linda’s always been a close friend, and it’s only occurred to me recently that I’d like there to be more than friendship between us.’ He sits back, putting his hands flat on the table, and takes a deep breath. ‘There now, I’ve said it. Now, do you think I have a chance?’ He gazes at her appealingly.
Inwardly thanking Liam O’Hara, even though she now feels a little sorry for him, she leans forward and takes his hands in her own. ‘It’s about bloody time! In my considered opinion, you should leave here immediately and go and tell her.’
‘Really? You think she might be interested in me in that way?’ Eden’s whole face lights up.
Astarte releases his hands. ‘I can safely predict that Linda will be delighted that you have more than friendship in mind.’ She laughs as Eden jumps up and kisses her exuberantly. ‘You’ve been taking lessons from Sirius, I see,’ she says, wiping her cheek with the back of her hand. Eden ruffles her hair and speeds out of the door. She stands up to watch him running down the drive. He vaults over the gate, and is gone in an instant. Grinning to herself, she washes up the cups, humming The Wedding March under her breath.
Linda is on the phone when Eden bursts in and comes to stand beside her. Quickly she brings the call to a close, eyeing him curiously. He paces the floor, looking nervous and excited. As soon as she replaces the receiver he steps across to take her hands and pull her to her feet. They stand facing each other. The sound of heartbeats seems to fill the room. Eden looks down into her startled eyes.