Her Revolution

by Gemma Jackson

  “Really?” Finn was genuinely surprised.

  “Angie employs a lot of women who suddenly find themselves alone and penniless.” Maggie shrugged. “She’s great. I don’t think I could have survived without her.”

  “You work for Angie?”

  “Three days a week. My parents pick the girls up from school and look after them until I can pick them up. I’ll give you my phone number.” She put the bags back down on the floor and, opening her handbag, retrieved a pen. Writing her number on a napkin she gave it to Finn. “Finn, I’ve probably been through most of the situations you’re about to face, and if I can help you I will. If I can’t, chances are Angie can or we know someone else who can.”

  “You’re being incredibly kind. I’m very grateful.” She was amazed at Maggie’s generosity. After all, they were practically strangers.

  “People helped me a great deal when I was in the same situation. They asked for no return except that I’d pass the knowledge along. When you’re on your feet I’ll ask the same of you. We have to help each other in this world, Finn, or what’s the point?”

  Finn knew what it was like trying to organise two children after school. The pace was frantic. The last thing you needed was a stranger delaying you. “I’ll program your number into my phone. Perhaps you could find the time to talk to me after your children are in bed?”

  “Sure thing.”

  Chapter 16

  “Yes, Mother?” Ronan’s voice was longsuffering when he answered his mobile.

  “I need you home this evening,” Finn said simply.

  “Why?” Ronan had a sort of date. He could break it but why should he?

  “I thought you might like to be included in a conversation that affects your life.” Finn refused to say more. “I’m calling Oisín next. I’ll cook a family meal but I need to know if you’ll be home to eat it.”

  “I can’t give an exact time. I have a few scenes to appear in but I’ll be home as soon as I can. Gotta go.” Ronan hung up.

  Finn needed to shop first then clean the kitchen before starting the meal. She assured herself she wasn’t regressing. It was simply that she knew the promise of a homecooked meal could move her menfolk faster than anything else. You had to use the weapons to hand.

  “Are we to assume you’ve come to your senses?” Patrick demanded when he slid into his place at the head of the table in the dining room. This was how it was supposed to be. Mother, father, children sitting down to a well-cooked carefully presented meal. It was about time everything was back to normal. Nuala had been sulking long enough.

  “Wait.” Finn was willing to cook and serve this meal, but she had a purpose and they could bloody wait until she was seated before asking questions.

  “Do either of you know what is going on?” Patrick looked at his sons seated on either side of him.

  “I only know what I told you earlier on the phone.” Ronan had called his father directly after speaking to his mother. He hoped that hadn’t been a mistake.

  “Why don’t we wait until we’ve eaten to find out more?” Oisín suggested. The smells coming from the kitchen were making him dizzy. It seemed like years instead of weeks since he’d had one of his mother’s homecooked meals.

  Finn carried the meal to the table. Roast beef, Yorkshire pudding, roast potatoes, vegetables and gravy. She considered the meal her own heavy artillery – a man’s meal.

  She watched the men dive into the meal as if they were starving. It broke her heart to think this might be the last meal of its type eaten at this table, but she had to remain strong.

  “We need to discuss the division of labour in this house.” Finn opened the conversation when the men had served themselves second helpings of everything. She’d barely picked at her food.

  “Don’t be bloody ridiculous!” Patrick snapped. “We are out of the house all day. I work hard to provide for my family. The boys are on set all day every day during the summer, then they return to college. Your job is to see that we have everything we need to function in our everyday lives. That is the role of a wife and mother.”

  “Father!” Ronan wanted to kick Patrick.

  “I resigned from my position as wife and mother, Patrick. Remember?” Finn cut the beef on her plate into bite-size pieces.

  “Not that bloody rubbish again!” Patrick roared.

  Ronan and Oisín frantically tried to catch his eye. They needed to find out what their mother wanted of them. It was the least they could do. They wanted their mother at home and taking care of them again.

  “Patrick, I’ve stated my case. I refuse to allow you three to abuse me any longer.” Finn was almost whispering.

  “You are being ridiculous. No one in this house has ever abused you. How dare you even suggest such a thing?” Patrick wasn’t put off his food by this conversation. He was shovelling the food rapidly into his mouth. He had a rendezvous with a buxom young blonde later.

  “We will agree to disagree on that point.” Finn pushed her plate away. “I asked everyone to be home for this meal for a reason.”

  “The boys will fill me in later.” Patrick stood and pushed his chair back into the table. “I have to go out, business.” He threw his napkin on the table and walked swiftly from the room. The boys could listen to Nuala’s rubbish. He had better things to do with his time.

  “That went well.” Finn stood to clear the table. “Do either of you want dessert?” Silly question – when had her sons ever refused food?

  “I have to leave.” Ronan began to push away from the table.

  “I haven’t talked to you yet, Ronan.” Finn stood and stared at the boy who was rapidly becoming almost a clone of his father. She’d allowed Patrick Brennan to walk all over her for years. She’d be damned if she’d allow that crap with her own son.

  “Will this take long?” Ronan sat back down, heaving a longsuffering sigh.

  “That depends on you two.” Finn hurried from the dining room. She had an apple-pie cooling and cream whipped.

  The apple-pie served, Finn proceeded.

  “I think we need to discuss the changes that need to be made in the running of the house.” She had actually written down what she wanted to say. She’d learned it off by heart in case she was in danger of allowing herself to slip back into bad habits.

  Oisín and Ronan ate the apple-pie and whipped cream as if they hadn’t consumed the vast amount of food she’d seen them inhale.

  “You boys need to decide on a division of labour around here.” She waited for them to make some kind of remark on her statement. Express some kind of interest, anything. “I refuse to live in a tip. This house demands a lot of work. I refuse to do all of it alone any longer.”

  Ronan sipped the coffee. She was making a big deal out of very little as far as he was concerned. The house didn’t take much looking after for God’s sake.

  “The house is looking neglected,” Finn stated.

  “So?” Ronan didn’t understand what his mother was trying to say. He wanted to leave. All this talk of household chores had nothing to do with him. He didn’t make a mess.

  “I’m trying to treat you both as adults.” She could see that the matter of taking care of themselves was going over both of their heads. They would learn. “I’ll clean up here. This will be the very last meal I’ll prepare alone and clean up afterwards alone.”

  “That’s terribly dramatic, Mother.” Ronan stood, dropping his linen napkin on the table.

  “Is it?” Finn watched her sons hurry from the room – so much for having an adult conversation about the division of labour.

  “What was that all about?” Ronan demanded of Oisín while they hurried down the road. They were meeting a bunch of friends at the pub.

  “I’m not sure.” Oisín shrugged.

  “She’ll never change – we just have to wait for a while and things will get back to normal.” Ronan was sure he had everything in hand. They had to give the woman enough rope to hang herself.

  “Jesus,
bro, you’ve got your head so far up your own arse your eyes are turning brown.” Oisín punched lightly on his brother’s arm. “Did you not see the look in her eyes? Things are going to change around here and we’d better get ready for it.”

  “Father will take her in hand.” Ronan shrugged. “He has before. She’ll be back to her old self in no time.” He pushed open the pub door.

  Oisín followed his brother, wondering if he were the only one who’d noticed the change in his mother. Not the haircut and clothes, there was a much deeper change going on.

  Finn cleaned the dining room and kitchen after the boys left. She then hurried into her home office where she watched the clock carefully, and phoned Maggie when she felt the time was right.

  “Where does trust stop and stupidity start?” Maggie queried when Finn explained her confusion about the situation she found herself in.

  “That’s what I keep asking myself,” Finn responded.

  They talked on for ages, with Finn taking reams of notes and instructions.

  “You have everything you need at your fingertips from what you’ve told me,” Maggie concluded. “You need to get the paperwork out of the house and somewhere safe. Patrick Brennan is riding the crest of a wave right now. You need to think smart.”

  “I’ll do that, Maggie.” Finn’s head was reeling.

  “I’ve got to go now, Finn. Talk again soon.”

  With the list of Maggie’s suggestions firmly in hand, Finn started to put together the information she’d need. First and foremost, she had to establish her own identity. With that in hand she could open a bank account. She’d have to take money from the family account but she would consider that money payment for the work she was doing keeping order in the house.

  Ronan and Oisín returned from the pub late. They found their mother standing over the computer printer, pulling pages off as fast as they appeared.

  They said nothing – simply stood in the doorway of the home office staring at their mother. She always told them what she’d been doing when they came in. She’d ask after their evening, wanting to know who they’d met – where they’d been – what they’d done.

  Finn smiled sweetly and waited. They didn’t have to know her teeth were locked against the questions she longed to ask.

  “Would you like a cup of tea, Mother?” Oisín broke the uncomfortable silence.

  “That would be very nice, thank you.” My, aren’t we polite all of a sudden, Finn thought as he left.

  “I’m going to bed – I have an early start in the morning.” Ronan waited, convinced his mother would want all the details.

  “Goodnight,” Finn said simply.

  Ronan took the stairs to his room, wondering what the hell was going on with his life. His mother always wanted to know every little thing about her sons. He’d resented it in the past and hidden things from her but now she’d stopped asking he wasn’t sure how he felt.

  Oisín arrived back.

  “I’ll be gone by the time you boys get out of bed tomorrow,” Finn said, accepting the cup of tea from him. She planned to remove herself from the house. If she didn’t she would just drift back into her old habits. “I don’t know what time I’ll return in the evening.”

  “OK,” Oisín said. Really, what could he say? “Goodnight, Mum.” He turned away, feeling lost and alone.

  “Goodnight, son, sleep tight.”

  Finn didn’t watch Oisín leave – she was too busy reading the reams of information she’d printed off the computer. She had papers she needed to study carefully.

  Finn turned off the light in her office. Maybe she should just check to see if Oisín remembered to turn everything off in the kitchen.

  Finn gasped at the mess Oisín had left behind him. She checked that all electrical appliances were turned off. There was no point in allowing a fire to start just to prove a point. With a shudder she turned away from her kitchen. They could clean up their own mess from now on. She almost wanted to delay leaving the house in the morning. She’d enjoy seeing their faces when they discovered that the fairies didn’t come in at night and clean up their mess.

  Chapter 17

  “That car is going to die on you one of these days, missus.” Barry Ryan shook his grey head sadly. “You need one of those fancy big cars your husband buys for himself.”

  “Chance would be a fine thing, Barry.” She had taken her car to the mechanic a short distance from the house. The car had been making unsettling noises. She didn’t want to break down on a busy road. “Do what you can with her – please.”

  “I can’t raise something from the dead, missus. The last fella that tried that walked on water.” He sucked energetically on his cigarette.

  “Do the best you can.” Finn turned to leave.

  “Here, missus, before you go – I have a load of metal to shift – do you want it?”

  “I’d love it.” Finn took metal sight unseen. She never knew what she might receive. It amused her to make something out of nothing. “I got a new wheelbarrow for my birthday. If it’s not in your way I’ll come and shift it myself one of these days.”

  “It’s not a bloody new wheelbarrow you need, missus – it’s a new car.” Barry wouldn’t let any of his relatives drive that car, he didn’t care if it was considered a classic. Patrick bloody Brennan should be ashamed of himself. “I’ll have one of the lads put it to one side for you. Pick it up when you can.”

  “Thanks. I’ll see you later.” Finn left, laughing.

  She travelled on the bus and DART out to Bray. The DART train hugged the cliffs and coastline around Dublin, passing magnificent scenery that delighted her. When the sun shone – which admittedly was rare – you couldn’t beat Ireland for beauty.

  Rolf had said the cottages were within easy walking distance of the DART station. She walked along the Victorian promenade in Bray, searching. She thought she knew the area fairly well. It was one of her son’s favourite places to visit when they were little. Ronan and Oisín had consumed mountains of candyfloss and oceans of whipped ice cream while chasing each other in and out of the freezing cold waves. She stopped walking to stand with her back to the ocean and stare across the street at the amusements. She remained standing with her back to the iron railings, elbows resting on the waist-high balustrade, and simply stared, remembering times past.

  How many rainy days had she spent standing on the sidelines in that amusement arcade? The boys had driven the dodgems, climbed the twister and pulled frantically on the handle of one-arm bandits while the Irish summer bucketed down outside. Finn pushed off the railings with a smile. Happy days.

  According to the directions she held, the amusements were past the address she was looking for. She turned and started back the way she’d come, blind and deaf to the screams of the children playing on the pebble-strewn beach. She’d have to ask someone for directions.

  “Railway Parade?” said the man frying chips behind the serving window that opened onto the street. “You’re not far from it.” The man prepared the fish and chips Finn ordered, took orders shouted to him from the waitresses in his busy restaurant and still smiled while giving her directions.

  Finn was thankful she’d noticed the serving window up a side street from the bustling restaurant sitting on the seafront. The place was packed with hungry families enjoying their day out. It was a happy accident she’d happened to look up this side street and seen the line of people picking up their white paper-wrapped meals. Munching happily on her fish and chips, Finn turned to follow the man’s directions.

  The directions had been sound. She stood in front of the railway cottages and groaned. Emmet said the cottages were on the seafront. He’d stretched the truth a bit. He’d made no mention of the four-storey Victorian Bed and Breakfast places that blocked the view of the sea completely. The tall granite buildings overshadowed Railway Parade, preventing light from reaching the row of eleven attached cottages. Her father would never be happy living without sunlight.

  Opening th
e door of number three with the key Emmet had provided, Finn stepped into a time warp. She tried to remember what Emmet had told her about the woman who’d lived in this time capsule. She knew the woman died but from the looks of this place the house hadn’t been touched in decades, maybe even centuries.

  She touched a hand to the banister of the worn staircase directly in front and to the right of the doorway. The old thing was an accident waiting to happen. The naked wooden steps were bent and worn with age and use.

  “The place stinks.” She kicked years of junk mail out of her way. “What this place needs is a wrecking ball.” She pulled her phone out of her pocket and pressed the number one option. She had brought her camera with her to take pictures but this place was beyond her direst imaginings.

  “Ja, sweetling, what is it?”

  “Rolf, engage your screen please. I am going to walk you visually around this place.”

  “One moment.” His smiling face appeared on the screen of her phone.

  “This place, Rolf, has been sadly neglected.”

  Finn aimed her phone around the hallway, allowing the pictures to speak for her. She walked into the small front room on her left. The room had a fabulous fireplace but the torn and peeling thick layers of wallpaper revealed cracked plaster and mouldering finish. A naked light bulb hung from the fungus-mottled ceiling. The place was dark and musty.

  “Emmet could fry the fungus growing in here,” she said.

  “That is bad.” Rolf’s voice covered the sound of Finn’s footsteps.

  “It stinks too.”

  The second small downstairs room which she assumed was a dining room of sorts was in a similar condition. No light came into this room either. Finn was afraid to try the light switch. The Lord only knew what condition the wiring was in. She preferred not to risk touching anything until she’d had a better look around the property.

  “Oh my God!” she said.