“Why? What are you going to do, Rambo?” I asked.
“I’ll zap him with my laser beam,” Luke said. “Or maybe that was Superman.”
“Right, wish me luck,” I said as I went outside to make the call I’d been dreading all morning. I didn’t know what was happening to me. I usually wasn’t prone to worrying about things but lately I seemed to be stressing about everything. I was starting to turn into the type of person who usually annoyed the crap out of me which was most irritating.
“Can I speak to Mr Reid, please,” I asked nervously. Stop it! I inwardly commanded. If I had been in front of the mirror there would have been lots of stern looks and much finger-wagging.
“Ruby,” Mr Reid said in his smoothest tone, “are you all right?”
“I’m okay but unfortunately my mother isn’t.”
I went on to explain what had happened and was amazed when his reaction was not one of gnashing of teeth and angst but instead was one of concern.
“Take as much time as you need, Ruby. We can manage.”
“I’ll keep my phone on,” I gabbled, “and then if you need me you’ll be able to reach me.”
“Don’t worry. We’ll try not to disturb you. Give your mother my regards and, Ruby, while you’re there please try and sort yourself out. It’s been very obvious that you haven’t been yourself lately. I don’t want you to come back until you’re ready and when you are back I want all of you here instead of just your body whilst your mind is elsewhere.”
I was stunned and shocked. Had I been that obvious? It would appear I had. Was everyone talking about me? Were they pitying me which was a sentiment I couldn’t abide? Not that anyone knew what was on my mind but still I didn’t like the thought of people wondering what was wrong with fun-loving, mad Ruby and feeling sorry for me.
“How’d you get on?” Luke enquired when I went back into the house.
“Great,” I answered grumpily.
“So why are you in such a bad mood then?”
“He more or less implied that I needed to pull myself together, Luke. Do I look like I need to do that? In fact, don’t bother answering that.”
“Why don’t we take your mother out for a while today, Ruby?” Luke said in an obvious effort to change the subject. “I was thinking that we could maybe go and visit that art studio Gabriel was talking about where I have to take photographs. We have an excuse to go so she won’t feel that we’re coming up with ways to amuse or distract her. And it might cheer other people up as well . . . ahem!”
“Do they have a bar there?” I asked grudgingly.
“No bar. Just lots of pictures. Go and get ready.”
It took us a while to persuade Mammy that going out was a good idea. I knew that she was feeling very vulnerable but was also afraid that, if she didn’t get out of her nightclothes and leave the safe confines of her bedroom while we were all still keeping her company, she might never do it.
“It’ll do you good to get out,” I reasoned. “Dress up and put some make-up on and you’ll feel better. You’ve been hiding away here for far too long.”
“I’ve been here for two days, Ruby,” Mammy answered. “That hardly makes me a hermit.”
“Not yet,” I muttered under my breath.
“Okay okay. I’ll go and have a shower and get ready. Anything to get you off my back. You’re very heavy to carry.”
I rolled my eyes and left her to it and went to tidy myself up.
An hour later, after much fussing, we were finally in the car and heading towards Letterkenny. I let Mammy sit in the front beside Luke (of course I wasn’t allowed to drive when Mammy was a passenger because I was too impatient and might kill us all apparently).
It took us longer than it should have (because I wasn’t driving and Luke was an eejit with an even sillier co-pilot) to find the gallery, mostly because Luke thought it was in the town itself when it was actually on the outskirts. (Considering both he and Gabriel were drunk when they had the conversation, it was no wonder that his memory of the directions being given was hazy.)
Eventually we arrived outside Caitlin O’Donnell’s Art Studio. Once inside I could see what the fuss was about. The artist in question was certainly very talented.
Mammy saw a watercolour that she fell instantly in love with.
“Oh look! It’s called Sunset Across the Bay. Isn’t it lovely? I have the perfect spot for it in my cottage.”
“Are you all right, folks?” asked a well-polished gentleman who had just emerged from the back of the gallery.
“Well, that very much depends on what you would charge me if I were to tell you that I would like to buy this painting,” Mammy said, pointing out the one in question.
“Ah, yes,” he said approvingly. “That piece is not actually one from this studio but one which was taken from another exhibition. You’re lucky to have seen it here as we’re about to box them up and send them back to the artist.”
“Really? What’s her name?”
“Sarah Larkin.”
I pursed my lips and nodded with interest.
“We actually know very little about her and have never met her. One of our associates happened to see her work and liked it and brought it here, thinking that it would complement some of the work that Caitlin has done.”
“That’s nice, although you still haven’t told me the price,” Mammy said.
“I’ll give it to you for one and fifty hundred euros and I’m being very kind but I know you’ll be back,” he said with a twinkle in his eye.
“Do you accept sterling?” I asked quickly. “I’ll buy it for you, Mammy. I want to,” I said firmly, looking in my purse and eventually fishing out some notes. I had been armed with a wad of cash for my wedding expedition with Gabriel and the girls but hadn’t really spent anything.
“We accept anything as long as you promise to thoroughly appreciate the painting,” he answered with a genuine smile.
“I promise I’ll do that and so will my mother,” I answered. “There really is some beautiful work in this collection.”
“She’s a wonderfully talented lady!” a female voice butted in. “Luke?” an elegant blonde woman asked, offering her hand to him.
“The one and only,” he answered. “I take it you must be Caitlin.”
She nodded with a smile, shook hands with Mammy and me, then walked over to straighten some information cards about the gallery which were on display.
“Gabriel Sullivan has been in touch with me and he speaks very highly of your work,” she said. “I’m so glad that you’ve agreed to take some photographs for me. I’m very excited about launching my new exhibition.”
“What’s the subject of your collection?” I asked with interest.
“They’re quite abstract paintings,” she answered thoughtfully. “Lots of designs on different textures using strokes and implements I’ve never used before. I can’t tell you any more though as I’m keeping it a secret.” She turned to Mammy. “I see you’ve bought one of Sarah’s.”
“I’ve fallen in love with this painting,” Mammy said, looking lovingly at her new purchase. “I could climb into it.”
“You’ll perhaps get to meet the artist the night of my launch, as will I, and you can tell her what you think then. I’m sure she’ll be delighted with such complimentary feedback.” She turned to me. “Are you an artist yourself?”
“God, no. I just scribble a bit but what I truly enjoy is looking at other people’s work and appreciating what they’ve created.”
“That’s like saying that I’m not a photographer,” Luke said incredulously.
“Or that I don’t cook,” Mammy said. “She is an artist. She’s just too modest to admit it. Some of her work is very good, you know.”
I bristled with annoyance and motioned at Mammy to keep quiet. Compared to these people I was no artist. I was simply a wannabe with a penchant for doodling. Nothing more. Nothing less.
“Why don’t you bring some with you the next t
ime you’re here and I’ll gladly take a look at it for you. I could put you in touch with some people who might be interested in commissioning paintings from you if they like what they see.”
“Honestly I couldn’t,” I responded. “They’re not good and anyway I only do it for fun. It’s like an escape for me sometimes. I find it quite therapeutic in ways.” (Basically I draw when I feel like smacking someone for annoying me, then find that the urge to vent frustrations isn’t as strong.)
Caitlin looked thoughtful and indicated that she agreed with me.
“Art gives those of us who are inclined to express ourselves through brushstrokes a unique outpouring for whatever issues we have lurking beneath the surface.”
I thought of the untidy jumble of sketches lurking in my office drawer. They certainly were an outpouring of something although I wasn’t sure that Mr Reid would have been entirely impressed had he seen the way I had characterised him (think Scrooge with big ears, whiskers and a cane).
Caitlin excused herself, saying that she had to go out, and after we had spent another half hour wandering around the gallery commenting and exclaiming in response to the art that was on display, we decided to leave and go and get something to eat. There were a few lovely restaurants that specialised in fish and I wanted to treat Mammy (I could go vegetarian again if necessary).
“Ruby, honestly, you’ll be broke before you get home. You don’t have to keep paying for everything.”
“I don’t have to do anything, Mother. I’m doing it because I want to. I do love you.”
“And I love you too, darling. It’s nice to have you back. I know things were a bit strained between us for a while.”
“Shhh,” I whispered. “I don’t want to talk about it right now. We’ll discuss it later.”
Mammy looked perplexed and seemed uncomfortable with the suggestion that it was ever to be mentioned again, but said nothing.
It was after five when we returned to the cottage and, when Luke hung Mammy’s newly purchased watercolour up for her, I took the time to view the painting. Looking at the scene depicted reminded me of the Smugglers’ Inn where Mammy had eaten her lobster and we had sat outside and looked at the mountains and the sea. I had made enquiries as to the body of water in the painting and the man in the art gallery had given me lots of information. The artist had captured the sun setting over a bay known locally as the Jeweller’s Lough, the name derived from the fact that in years gone by it was used by smugglers to get in and out of the country. It was such a quiet, idyllic spot that no one imagined that such activities were in operation until much later when the thieves were long gone and laughing their legs off at the authorities.
The artist had captured every detail to perfection, the lines and swirls and use of colour making the watercolour appear like a transparent window looking over the scene as opposed to a picture painted on paper. I was transported from Mammy’s sitting room in ‘Ripples Retreat’ to the water’s edge. I could smell the seaweed, feel the breeze on my face and watch the sun fade in all its magnificence, casting sparkling, bejewelled shadows over the water, making its name come to life.
Luke came into the room and smiled at me.
“It really is beautiful,” he said. “The artist has obviously put her heart and soul into it. You’re going to have to tear yourself away from it, though, as Frankie’s on the phone.”
I went to pick up the phone.
“Hi, babe,” I said.
“Hi, love,” she said quietly.
“Frankie?” I said questioningly. “What’s the matter?”
“I got my results back today, Ruby, and it’s not great. I have to go to hospital next week for a biopsy as they found cells which showed signs of severe change. I’ve been looking it up on the internet and I’m so scared. I just have to hope and pray that these cells haven’t spread as then I’ll be in big trouble.”
“Oh Jesus,” I said. “Sit where you are. I’m coming home.”
Chapter 32
Luke agreed to stay in Donegal with Mammy whilst I went home to be with Frankie. Mammy was distraught to hear what had happened and was insisting that I should leave first thing in the morning. I, on the other hand, had different ideas and decided to leave there and then because if I drove at my usual rate (Speedy Gonzales) I reckoned I’d be there before nightfall – besides, the sooner I left the sooner I’d be back.
“You’re coming now?” Frankie said in surprise when I rang from my hands-free kit and was already halfway down the road.
“Don’t tell me that you’re unhappy or have a problem if you don’t want me to act on it,” I answered. “Of course I’m coming, you eejit! Where else would I be?”
“What about your mother? She needs you too, Ruby.”
“She’s got Luke staying with her. Besides, it’s not good for her to become dependent on me. She’s had a scare but all the best self-help books tell you that you must confront your fears in order to conquer them.”
“And where do you keep your stash of self-help books hidden, Ruby?”
“Shut up, you tart! I don’t need any. I just read it somewhere and remembered it.”
“Okay, okay. Ring me when you’re close by and I’ll put the kettle on.”
“Feck the kettle,” I said, indicating and pulling up beside an off-licence. “What we need is a bottle of wine.”
Seventy miles, a lot of cursing at slow drivers and one lukewarm bottle of wine later, I eventually arrived outside Frankie’s front door. I could see her curled up on the sofa with her laptop and knew that she was bound to be looking for information on her condition whatever that might be.
Frankie threw her arms around me in the hall and I could tell that she had been crying. Owen appeared as well, looking anxious even though he was trying desperately to be upbeat.
“She’ll be fine,” he said with forced cheerfulness. “I’ve told her to put that damn laptop away as she’s making herself a hundred times worse by reading things off the internet. Every individual person and case is different after all.”
“Sorry, doctor, I didn’t realise that you were such an expert in these matters,” Frankie answered acerbically, shrugging him off as he tried to comfort her.
“She’s been like that all day,” he said wearily after she’d gone back to sitting on the sofa in the sitting room. “She didn’t want to annoy you but I’m afraid I made her phone you. You’re the only one who can talk some sense into her. She thinks I don’t understand because I’m a man and don’t have –” Owen took this opportunity to point at his nether regions and then scratched his ear (perhaps men do point after all). “You know what I mean,” he finished.
“Yes, I know what you mean and, yes, I’ll sort her out. Don’t fret, she’ll come round. It’s just a big shock for her. I know that you think it’s probably just a few cells and not much to worry about but psychologically it’s much more. I’m sure it’ll be fine but Frankie’s probably thinking – God forbid – about what might happen if it’s not. I’m sure you would both like more children and she’s most likely afraid that her fertility could be affected.”
Owen ran his hand over his head before taking his glasses off and rubbing his eyes. “She’s annoyed as well because she missed three previous appointments. She was always too busy to take the time off work or was just putting it off because of the inconvenience. Now she’s really beating herself up about it.”
“They are highly unpleasant and we’re all guilty of doing that one time or another,” I said. “At least she’s had children. They always tell you that after having a baby you can deal with anything but unfortunately I haven’t and my coping skills aren’t the best. Smear tests are horrible but very worthwhile it would seem. She’ll be grand. Everything will be fine. They’re just being cautious – that’s all.” I was babbling uncontrollably but at least it was masking the fact that I was scared out of my wits.
I didn’t know who I was trying to convince more: me or Owen. I couldn’t bear the thought of anythi
ng happening to Frankie. She was my best friend in the whole world who knew all my secrets and inadequacies. She was the one I talked to when I felt down and the one I laughed uproariously with when I wanted to share good news. She was everything to me and I simply wouldn’t allow anything to happen to her.
“Right, you,” I said cheerfully, going into the sitting room. “Shove up a bit on that sofa and talk to me.”
“I think maybe I’m being a bit of a drama queen,” Frankie said. “It’s probably nothing. Nothing in the grand scale of things anyway.”
“The small scale is important too,” I murmured. “I’m with you all the way, pet, no matter what.”
We were sitting beside each other with our feet resting on a bean bag and I put my head on her shoulder and we lay back in companionable silence as only best friends can and then I heard snoring (she had only fallen asleep on me in the most uncomfortable position possible).
I gently eased her off me and pulled a blanket over her. I then went in search of Owen who had gone to attend to the children. I could hear Baby Jack gurgling and singing along as the musical mobile above his cot played a gentle lullaby, and the children laughing at a DVD. Angelica was away on a school residential trip and was unaware of what was happening at home. It was past the kids’ bedtime but the house had obviously forgone its usual routine as Frankie was preoccupied, which only served to prove how lost we’d all be without her. I furiously shook my head and told myself to wise up. God, we were all acting as if she’d been given really bad news and that the big C had actually reared its ugly head. It wasn’t that bad. It was simply a wake-up call and I was going to phone the doctor first thing in the morning and book myself in for a smear test (the snotty receptionist was going to get some shock).
The following morning I got up early and went into the children’s bedrooms and gently woke them.
“Auntie Ruby!” Carly started to scream before I clamped my hand over her mouth and motioned for her to be quiet.
“You can squeal at me the whole way to school, pet, but not before then. Now where does your mother keep your uniform?”
Anyone for Me? Page 18