The German translation came over the phone at the same time.
The long back room was a rude shock, even though a great black range stove built into what she assumed was a chimneybreast was a delightful treasure to Finn’s eyes. This couldn’t be the kitchen, could it? There was a cold-water tap, a tap that in her opinion that was better suited for outdoor use, since no sink but a mouldy tin bucket sat under its dripping spout.
Two old decrepit easy chairs were parked in front of the cold range. The old lady must have spent most of her time sitting in this room. There was nothing here that would be recognised as a kitchen in today’s world. A small window off to the side opened onto a narrow walkway. Here too the lack of light made the place dark and depressing.
“I didn’t know places like this still existed.” Finn’s arm was beginning to ache from holding her phone out in front of her.
There was no indoor plumbing that she could see. How had the old dear lived with no toilet, no bathroom and no heating system other than the open fireplace in every room? She was wondering about her family. How could they have allowed their elderly relation to continue to exist in such an out-dated, uncomfortable house? Would it have cost that much to put in a toilet for the poor woman?
“This is a bit more than updating an old house, Da-ma.”
Finn opened the door off the back room. A small step out and she was facing a wall which obviously separated the back yards. She sighed, walking down the cobbled path, wondering what she could do to drag this property into the present day.
She found the toilet down the back of the cottage in a small yard. Two old buildings stood holding each other up. The coal and rubbish were in one building. The antique toilet stood gloriously alone in the building nearest the kitchen. Finn stared at the overhead cistern with its long pull-chain. She was half expecting to see old newspaper on the floor instead of the modern loo roll. She couldn’t believe her eyes – an outdoor loo in this day and age – amazing.
“It is a slice of history – frozen,” Rolf whispered. “We bought the cottages at a ridiculously low price. It is never a mistake to invest in property.”
She stared at an enormous wall that cut along the back of every cottage in the row, trying to understand what exactly she was looking at. The wall was at least forty feet high and solid grey stone. It was when she heard a train whistle that she understood.
The wall was part of the railway system that crossed this row of cottages with two bridges over the roads on either end. It appeared to lead directly into the railway shunting yard.
Talk about dismal, the B&Bs blocked the light in the front and this monstrosity blocked all light in the back. A way would have to be found to overcome that problem. No one wanted to live in a dark and gloomy house.
Finn continued her tour of the house. She found three good-sized bedrooms and a box room upstairs. Every room was in the same dilapidated condition. Here too a Victorian fireplace graced every room. The box room was the only room in the house without a grate. How had the poor woman managed to live in this place? Had no one cared what happened to her?
She was glad she’d decided to take this look around. She could never in her wildest dreams have imagined these cottages – it was astounding. The second railway cottage was a carbon copy of the first. How had the old people been left to live in these buildings? Surely they had children and grandchildren, people who knew of the improvements that could be made? Perhaps they’d resented the fact that someone else actually owned the cottages. Someone else would benefit from any improvements made? It was something to think about.
“I think you and Da need to come over to Ireland and see this for yourself. The cost of updating these cottages will be prohibitive. I can do nothing until we have walked around these places together.”
“Ja, ja, they are wonderbar!” Rolf sounded excited about what to Finn looked like a nightmare. “I will talk with your father.” He clicked off before she could comment.
Finn locked the two cottages and left, very much aware of the twitching of lace curtains as she passed along the pathway. She wished someone would be brave enough to come out and face her but they remained behind locked doors. Finn would have liked to knock on doors and talk to people. What would the neighbours on this quite street think of having a crowd of builders and a lot of noisy machines on their street for months? That is – if Rolf went ahead. Using the film in her phone she would put together a list of changes that must be made – then they would see.
She returned to the DART station. She had things to do in Rathmines. Dragging those buildings up to date would be a time-consuming task. The cost of the refurbishing would be enormous. Would they be worth the investment?
Chapter 18
Noise was the first thing to hit her when she entered her house. The blaring music was coming from two directions. Sweet classical strings poured from upstairs and thumping rap shook the doorframes of the living room. Obviously the people in the house at the moment were hard of hearing.
“Ronan, did you want a snack, bro?” Oisín appeared in the hallway. “Hi, Mum! We thought you had gone to your metalwork class. It is Thursday.”
“Where is your father? That’s his music entertaining the neighborhood.”
The look of horror on the face of her son answered her question without words. She pulled her phone out of her pocket and tuned the computer system into the upstairs rooms. How dare he – what in the name of God did the man think he was doing? She engaged the camera and began recording under her son’s horrified gaze. Without a word she turned towards the stairs. Silently she crept up the staircase, avoiding the stair that creaked.
Right, no more Mrs. Nice Guy. She pushed the door to the bedroom open. Patrick’s trousers were lying just inside the door. She bent down and grabbed them from the floor without disturbing the fornicating couple writhing on the bed. They never noticed their audience.
She returned downstairs, the trousers held high like a trophy of war. Ronan and Oisín stood frozen at the foot of the stairs – a look of identical horror and fear on both their faces.
“Right!” Finn snapped. “Ronan, get into your father’s car. I want you to go to the bank and withdraw the maximum amount of cash you can on all of his credit cards.” She pulled car keys and a wallet out of the trousers and threw them at him. “I know you know his pin numbers so don’t even try to tell me you don’t. You can leave your father’s car in the driveway when you return. Oisín, you need to go with your brother – parking is a bitch around here. One of you stay with the car while the other runs to the cash point. Be as quick as you can, both of you.”
Was this what Maggie meant about turning into a thief?
The two young men stood completely still, staring at their mother in frozen shock. Finn practically pushed them out the door.
She headed towards the room that was her sanctuary – her kitchen.
The smell of tobacco drifted down the stairs. The couple had obviously reached a resting point. At least she hoped it was only tobacco. With the way Patrick was carrying on, who knew? She hadn’t looked at the face of his partner. She’d no intention of tuning into the screen to check. She’d no idea who he was bonking but by God it was the final straw.
She heard the boys returning and hurried to join them. With a quick jerk of her head she walked towards the kitchen, confident they would follow her.
“Right, how much cash did you score?” she asked, holding out her hand to Ronan.
“Mum,” Ronan said, “I’m not happy about this.” He reluctantly handed over a wad of twenty-pound notes.
“Objection noted and understood!” Finn snapped. “Who is with your father?”
“Brenda Green from down the road.” Ronan shuffled his feet.
“What on earth is that girl thinking of – a family pack?” Finn stared at her two mortified sons
Finn was reeling – had that young madam or God forbid Patrick – left the bedroom door ajar in anticipation of Ronan joining them? Was he
r home turning into a bonk shop with Brenda Green as the star attraction?
Brenda Green had been a problem in the Brennan household from a very young age. She had chased after the boys with single-minded determination. She’d climbed in their bedroom windows to screw them. Finn refused to call it making love. Now she was bonking Patrick.
“Stay in the kitchen, boys,” Finn bit out. “I’ll be back soon,” She stormed from the room, heading for the stairs.
Without stopping to knock, she shoved the door to the bedroom open.
“I would have served a drink but didn’t know what you’d like,” Finn bit out to the startled couple on the bed.
From her bird’s-eye view Patrick’s dimpled white rear end looked as if it were gearing up for action. They’d been on the point of starting again. Finn was not about to let this continue. The room screen captured Patrick’s long white naked body, primed for action over his young lover. She’d download and delete that before his sons saw it.
“What the hell?What’s the meaning of this?” Patrick roared, grabbing for a sheet to cover his sagging bits. “Nuala, what are you doing here? I thought this was one of your evenings to be out!” He jumped from the bed. “What the hell are you doing here?” He stood tall and naked, trying to intimidate Finn with his majestic presence.
“I live here, which is more than you can say.” Finn threw his trousers at him. “Get dressed, Patrick, and get out. You can continue this ‘business’ meeting elsewhere.”
“You can’t throw him out of his own house!” Brenda Green glared at Finn with black smudged eyes.
She’d hoped for this when she’d begged Patrick to bang her in his wife’s house. This was better than she could have hoped. She hated the frigid cow, Mrs. bloody Brennan. The old bitch had all the things she wanted and deserved. But that was all going to change now. Brenda was in control here. The bitch would be the one leaving. Brenda was moving into this house that she’d always coveted and there was nothing this stuck-up cow could do about it.
Finn couldn’t bear to look at Brenda Green. God knows it wasn’t the first time she had seen the hussy naked in bed – fresh from being serviced by one of Finn’s menfolk – but it was the very last time.
“Patrick, you tell her!” Brenda roared, furious at being ignored. She was more important than anyone else here. She’d show the bitch. “Patrick is going to marry me!” Her eyes gleamed with almost manic hatred as she glared at Finn.
“Well, that will certainly make you a very close-knit family unit,” Finn remarked softly. “You should get dressed, Brenda, or leave naked again, it’s up to you.”
“You can’t talk to me like that!” Brenda screamed “Patrick, you tell her, tell her right now!”
Brenda jumped out of bed, put clenched fists on her naked hips and glared at the man jumping around on one foot trying to get his trousers on.
Finn had become aware of her children standing like stone behind her. What a wonderful education they were receiving. Damn Patrick Brennan.
“Boys, help your future stepmother find her clothes and throw her out of my house if you please.”
Patrick didn’t even turn when his two sons entered the room. Had he always been such a wimp? Couldn’t he try and communicate with the boys – say something – anything? Although what could be said in a situation like this? Next?
It was Ronan who forced Brenda into her skimpy skirt and top, no underwear. Oisín picked those up from where they were thrown around the room. He put the small pieces of lingerie into Brenda’s shoes and, with an abrupt nod of his head to Ronan, started to walk from the room.
Brenda’s screams for Patrick to do something were ignored by all. When she tried to grab onto the door in order to stay, Ronan picked her up and threw her over his shoulder. With her bare arse up to the public, he carried the little madam from the house and dropped her – barefoot and bare-arsed on the driveway.
Brenda’s screams and torrent of verbal abuse continued in the street. It was better than television. Neighbours stuck their heads out to see what was going on. Brenda gave them both an eyeful and an earful. She enjoyed being the centre of attention, showing that old cow Nuala Brennan up for the jealous bitch she was.
“Get out, Patrick,” Finn said, holding the bedroom door open.
“I really can’t see what the problem is, Nuala. It was just a momentary temptation. She was there, you weren’t.” He was the wronged one here. She’d walked away from their marriage and their bed, not him.
“Have you always been this stupid? Do you even know what you’re dealing with here? Did you ever listen when I explained the problems I was having keeping young Miss Green away from your sons? That girl’s biggest ambition in life is to get pregnant by one of the males in this house. She’s not fussy about which man fathers her child – any one of you will do.” Finn was pushing Patrick in front of her. She couldn’t believe what had taken place under her roof. It was worse than a French farce. “Get out!”
“You’re obviously overwrought.” Patrick couldn’t take his eyes off the furious woman glaring retribution at him. He’d never seen her like this. “Why don’t we go downstairs and discuss this like adults?”
“There is only one adult here, Patrick, and it’s not you. Now for the last time get the hell out of my house!” She was practically pushing him down the stairs. She wanted him gone before she gave in to the temptation to beat him stupid.
Patrick resisted. He could hear young what’s-her-name screaming in the street. He didn’t want to have to face her on top of everything else.
“Ronan!” Finn yelled. “Open the front door – your father is leaving!”
Ronan did as ordered. Finn gave an almighty heave and pushed Patrick from the house. She quickly closed the door and leaned against it. She could hear Brenda still screaming abuse and crying, loudly entertaining the neighbourhood.
It was a shame she’d told the boys to leave Patrick’s car in the driveway. She would have enjoyed his embarrassment as he had to remove his car from the garage. Still, he was gone and she was left with two young men who had seen a great deal more than was good for them.
“That vasectomy Father had after Oisín’s birth is proving a blessing,” Ronan said, following his mother into the living room. He grimaced when the colour drained from his mother’s face.
Finn reeled where she stood. Ronan jumped forward to catch her before she could fall to the floor.
The ocean was covering Finn’s ears. She couldn’t hear. She could see his mouth moving but the words weren’t making it through. Her eyesight was fading. Finn – for the first time in her life – fainted.
“We should call a doctor.” Ronan stood with his mother clasped in his arms. He was shaking like a leaf. He lowered her gently to the sofa.
“What did you say that made her do this?” Oisín snapped. The sight of his mother’s pale white face hurt something deep inside him.
Finn groaned and tried to sit upright.
“Perhaps you should wait a minute before trying to get up.” Ronan was trying to appear in control. His mother’s faint had frightened the life out of him.
Finn thought of all the months and years of trying to get pregnant. The tears each month her period arrived on time. The desperate visits to the doctor, being poked and prodded in incredibly intimate places, trying to discover the reason why she couldn’t conceive the child she longed for. Years of feeling like a failure as a woman while Patrick assured her that eventually she would conceive. He’d been so sympathetic, so understanding of her failure. She should have guessed then that something wasn’t quite right. He’d held her when she cried, patting her back, telling her they should be thankful for the blessing of two healthy sons. She’d been so grateful for his gentle understanding. The bastard, the rotten lying deceiving bastard! He’d had a vasectomy.
“Mum, what happened?” Ronan asked.
“I want a pot of tea.” Finn croaked out. She refused to discuss this betrayal with her sons.
Oisín was glad of something to do. “I’ll make it.”
Chapter 19
Sunday morning, after nights spent tossing and cursing in the blue guest bedroom, Finn walked down the main staircase determined to lock the pain she felt deep inside.
It was Sunday and a traditional breakfast was called for. She and her sons worked as a team to get a full Irish breakfast on the table. They laughed and joked, bumping hips preparing the mountain of food.
“I know they say silence is a compliment to the chef but that was ridiculous.” Finn pushed her empty plate away.
“Father telephoned. He needs clothes for work tomorrow.” Ronan shuffled his feet uncomfortably. “He ah ... asked if you had calmed down any.”
“First order of business then,” Finn said, standing. “You two give me a hand picking out enough to get your father through a couple of weeks. We can do a major pack-up later.”
In the green guest bedroom Finn pulled suits from hangers and passed them to Oisín. Ronan was sorting through mountains of underwear and accessories. How on earth could one man have so many clothes?
Finn packed a couple of suitcases. She was fighting the urge to tear Patrick’s business suits to shreds. She was so angry and had no way of expressing her fury. She wanted to burn the rotten bastard in effigy.
She’d been trying so hard to handle this difficult situation in a civilized manner. Now she wanted to rant and rave, tell his children what she really thought of the lying, cheating, low scumbag. Leaving aside what he had done to her, how dare he behave so badly in front of their sons?
“You two carry the bags down and I’ll put on a pot of coffee.” Finn patted herself on the back for not suggesting that they pour petrol over the lot and strike a match.
“Coffee!” both voices sang out in pretend astonishment.
Ronan smiled. “By God, things must be serious when you start making coffee, Mother. The world must be coming to an end.”
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