Her Revolution

by Gemma Jackson

  “You should be ashamed of yourself!”

  An older woman suddenly confronted Finn.

  “You took your vows before a priest, the same as the rest of us!” There were murmurs of agreement from around. “Marriage is for life – not something you walk away from – you hussy!”

  Finn was afraid the woman was going to hit her with her handbag. She hurried away without responding, losing the woman in the crowd.

  That’s all I need, she thought. I can’t even go out for a walk now without someone verbally attacking me.

  She pushed her gloved hands into the pockets of the heavy coat she wore and lowered her chin into the scarf wrapped around her face and neck.

  She’d been invited to join her menfolk and celebrate the holidays in Germany. Pieter wanted her to meet his family. She’d refused gently. She wasn’t ready for all that family togetherness just yet – as hippy-dippy as it sounded – she was working on finding herself. She was spending time exploring her own wants and needs. She’d started simply, by choosing music she thought she’d like. She’d checked self-help books out of the Rathmines library, faithfully completing each exercise given. She’d compiled lists of questions she’d never have thought of without the aid of those books. Lists of questions about herself that needed to be asked and answered.

  Lost in thought, she didn’t notice the car parked outside the locked double gates of her house.

  “Nuala, why are these gates locked? I couldn’t get in!” Patrick Brennan was shouting while he pushed open the car door and stepped out onto the pavement. He slammed the door shut and stood with his hands braced on his hips, glaring at the scruffy stranger. Where was the woman who’d catered to his every need for over twenty years? He wanted his wife back.

  “Patrick, lovely to see you.”

  “I want you to agree to see a marriage counsellor.” Patrick hadn’t time to waste on social pleasantries. He gave her one of his most charming smiles, guaranteed to make her agree to anything he wanted. He’d had enough of living as a single swinger. The lifestyle didn’t suit him at all. He needed someone to take care of him.

  “I have no wish to discuss my life with anyone at this point.”

  “I’ve been discussing your problems on my show. Have you been listening?” He waited but when she didn’t reply continued. “I’ve got an expert coming in next week. I thought we could speak with the man in private before the programme goes out.”

  “You’re having a male consultant discuss female issues, are you?”

  “I wanted to speak to someone who would understand my point of view.” Patrick wanted her to agree to talk with his guest. It would give the programme more bite.

  “Of course you did.” She wondered what Patrick really wanted? It wasn’t like him to stand in the street talking.

  Finn began to walk towards the wooden door set into the curtain wall that surrounded the estate. The heavy gates that she’d put back in place and locked were proving a blessing right now.

  “Nuala, I need you to have a word with Mrs. Green!” he almost shouted.

  “About?” she asked over her shoulder – curious.

  “I want you to ask her to speak to her daughter. That young lady is completely out of control.” He was being stalked by Brenda Green. The stupid girl was demanding she move into the very expensive apartment he’d been forced to rent. That was the last thing he wanted. He needed a woman who thought only of him – someone like Nuala.

  She opened the door in the wall – jumped inside and bolted the door at her back.

  “Nuala!” Patrick rapped against the door, unable to believe she wouldn’t help him. She had to get Brenda Green off his back. He was suffering financially – paying out good money to cover his living expenses. The cleaning woman wouldn’t take care of his laundry for a smile and a pinch. The woman insisted on charging him extra to take care of his laundry. “Nuala!” Patrick used the side of his fist to beat on the door. This was outrageous – how dare she bar the entrance to him! “Nuala, let me in!”

  “Go away. We have nothing to say to each other.” Finn leaned against the door.

  “Patrick? Having problems?”

  Brenda Green appeared in the street at Patrick’s back. This man was her ticket to the big time. She deserved the high life. She’d earned it sweating under Patrick Brennan, putting up with his fumbling. You would think a man of his years would be a better lover, having had years of practice. The Sunday papers might be interested in her revealing story. There was more than one way to make money off a man.

  “Why don’t I come home with you – help you get rid of that tension?” Brenda strolled towards the cowering Patrick.

  “Nuala!” Patrick shook the door with his blows.

  He pulled at the hem of his jacket, feeling like a hunted animal. He didn’t need this friction in his life. He wanted peace and care so he could be there for his listeners. They needed him at his best.

  “I’ll talk to you later, Nuala!” Patrick pushed past Brenda, holding his breath against the heavy perfume she wore. He jumped into his luxury car and drove away with a squeal of tires.

  “Hey, bitch!” Brenda ran her fingernails along the paintwork of Finn’s little run-around. “You forgot to put your ‘classic car’ away.”

  “Go home, Brenda. I’ve had quite enough drama for one day.” Finn walked into her home. She turned on the computer system to watch what was happening in the street. She sighed. She’d never used the garage. That was kept for Patrick’s car of the moment and the ride-on lawnmower.

  “Make me!” Brenda shouted loudly, unaware that Finn could watch her every movement.

  “I’m calling the police!” Finn opened the door to shout. She closed her eyes in disgust at her own actions.

  Brenda sniggered and shouted, “You’re too much of a toe-rag to call the police.”

  Finn sighed and rang Mrs. Green.

  “Mrs. Green. Mrs Brennan here. Your daughter is causing a scene in front of my home. Please remove her or I’m calling the police.” Finn knew the woman was aware of the situation over here. Mrs. Green spent her life spying on her neighbours.

  “There is no need to make that kind of threat.” Nellie Green had hoped her daughter could trap one of the Brennan men. The good Lord knew it was easy enough to trap a man. She’d told her daughter how to do it but had she listened? No. The girl thought she knew everything. The Brennan men would be a good catch for any girl but talk of calling the police made her nervous. She needed to have a long talk with young Brenda. They needed to come up with a different plan.

  “Get your daughter away from my property and keep her away,” Finn demanded. “The next time this happens I’m calling the police and pressing charges.” She stood with her eyes fixed on the screen.

  “I’ll be right over – give me time to put me shoes on.” She was going to knock that daughter of hers into next week. She didn’t need these problems.

  “I’m calling the police now to discuss the charges that can be brought against you both.” She knew the Greens didn’t want any dealings with the police. They had too much to hide.

  Finn stood in front of the screen, watching mother and daughter almost come to blows in the street. She was so angry – steaming – with herself – with Patrick – the man who made the problem then ran away leaving Finn to clean up after him.

  Chapter 31

  “Thanks for coming over, Maggie.” Finn had telephoned Maggie and invited her over for a meal and a chat. “I’ve invited Angie over. I thought we could have a ladies’ evening.”

  “I was surprised you called.” Maggie sat and watched Finn buzz around her kitchen. “When you refused to come out for a drink, I thought you might have had plans.”

  “Nope.” Finn sniffed the aroma of the coq-au-vin she had simmering in the oven. It was one of her favourite meals to prepare. It was a complicated and boozy recipe but she enjoying preparing and eating it. “I’m afraid my refusal to meet you for a drink was a kneejerk reaction. The
re was no reason I couldn’t have met you but I’ve lost the habit of spending the evening in company – if I ever had it.”

  “You didn’t have to go to all this trouble for me.” Maggie sipped at the glass of red wine Finn had poured for her. She didn’t know one wine from another but whatever this was it was very pleasant.

  “I enjoy cooking and there is something I want to talk to you about.”

  “Only you would consider cooking ‘fun’. It’s an awful lot of hard thankless work as far as I’m concerned.” Maggie threw frozen meals into the microwave and she resented having to do that much.

  “That’s what makes us all individuals. I wouldn’t want to work with fabric the way you do. I’d rather eat the material with a knife and fork. I’m discovering lots of things about myself I never knew. I’m on a learning curve, throwing out the things I don’t like and concentrating on my delights. Does that sound very ‘hippy-dippy’?”

  “Not in the least, if one of your delights is serving me fabulous meals. Well, we can put eating your meals in my plus column.” Maggie had begun to make lists of her own potential. “Is Angie late?”

  “No, I asked you to come a little earlier because I want to talk to you about something.” Finn hoped she wasn’t going to insult her friend.

  “For another glass of wine you can ask me anything.” Maggie held out her empty glass.

  Finn refilled Maggie’s glass and poured a glass for herself. She sat down at the table and spent a moment looking at Maggie.

  “Well … I wanted to throw out every stitch of clothing I wore when I was Mrs Patrick Brennan.” She pulled a face at the memory. “Angie wouldn’t let me.”

  “I should think not – trying to keep clothes on your back eats up a lot of money.” Maggie shook her head. “I spend what money I have on the girls – finding clothes for myself comes a long way down on the list of things I need.”

  “The clothes are all in the attic.” Finn needed something to wear besides her sons’ castoffs. “I was wondering if I could pay you to dye the fabric – rip the old-lady outfits apart – and refashion them into something the new me could wear?”

  “A challenge!” Maggie spent most nights when the twins were tucked up in their bed huddled over her sewing machine. She bought clothes from the many charity shops in and around Rathmines and turned them into patchwork. She’d do anything to try and make a bit of extra cash. “Do I get to choose colours and designs?”

  “As long as they’re not beige!”

  “I promise.” Maggie’s mind was in a whirl. She loved fabric and design. If wishes were fishes, design was the field she would have gone into. Ah well, they did say hindsight was 20/20 vision and she loved her girls – wouldn’t trade them for the world.

  “I don’t know what kind of money we’d be talking about.” Finn intended to sell her wedding and engagement rings. She needed more money than the small amount she was receiving from the estate. She wanted to stop counting pennies for a while.

  “I don’t either.” Maggie had never made clothes for someone other than herself and her family. “Let me have a look at what you’ve got. We can figure something out.” If she could get a few outfits made before Christmas, any money earned would go into her Santa fund.

  “Right – follow me.” Finn sighed – she didn’t even want to look at the beige outfits she’d stuffed any old how into one of the attic wardrobes.

  Maggie grabbed her glass and followed along. “I’ve always been curious about this house. I’ve asked Angie to put me on one of the teams she uses to clean it. It never happened. This place is like a slice of the past sitting right in the middle of the modern buildings around it.”

  “You can come over some day and walk all around if you want.” Finn didn’t mind having people look around the place. There was a lot to see.

  “I’d love to.” Maggie looked from side to side, running her hand along the glossy handrails as they climbed. What would it be like to live in a house like this?

  “This house was built in a time when servants were plentiful,” Finn said almost in answer to Maggie’s thoughts. “It’s not much fun trying to keep the place running when you are just one person. I can’t imagine having a butler and housekeeper with a team of servants to order about and take all the responsibility off of my shoulders. I quite fancy having a silver bell to ring for a maid.” Finn laughed at the thought. “I’m trying to convince my father and his partner to live here. They like to entertain and have the money needed for the upkeep of this place.”

  “It would make a great B&B.” Maggie was almost panting by now and having difficulty preventing her glass from slopping wine over its side. How many stairs did this place have?

  “I would hate the work involved.” Finn was having no problem running up the stairs. She stood at the top of the attic stairs, waiting for Maggie to join her.

  “Jesus, I need air and gas after that!” Maggie put her glass on the floor and almost fell onto a tapestry chair against one of the attic walls.

  “I don’t want to even look at this lot.” Finn pushed damp hands down the sides of her jeans. “I don’t want to remember the woman I was when I wore them.”

  “Life’s a bitch.” Maggie leaned back and looked around. The attic was bigger than her house. It was free of dust but the thought of having to keep the house clean hadn’t really occurred to her before. It would take all day every day to keep it polished and shining – she wouldn’t fancy it. “I’ll need to see you wearing them – get an idea of the fit.”

  “We’ll need to be quick – Angie should be here soon.” Finn kicked off the crocs she wore around the house. She pushed her jeans down her legs and stepped out of them, pulled her T-shirt over her head, and without checking pulled the first thing she touched out of one of the plastic bags. It was a dress. She pulled it over her head and waited.

  “My mother wouldn’t wear that.” Maggie pushed to her feet. “It looks like it was designed to make you disappear.” She pulled at the side seams. “It doesn’t fit you properly. Is this a good example of everything that’s in those bags?” She kicked at one of the stuffed black plastic bags.

  “Pretty much. I have skirts, blouses, suits, tailored pants, jackets and dresses – all in beige and all deeply unflattering.”

  “Why on earth did you wear them?” Maggie stopped Finn from pulling more beige stuff from the bags. “You needn’t bother.” She’d seen enough with that one dress. She’d think of the items as fabric only. She’d take everything apart before dyeing the pieces and starting over.

  “I didn’t know any better.” She’d never taken time to examine her own image. She had always been so intent on providing whatever service her men needed that she’d ignored her own.

  “I’ll take one bag away with me this evening. I need to see what I can do with the fabric before we can even think about making it up into anything.” She wasn’t too confident but she’d try.

  “That will be Angie,” Finn said when a bell rang loudly through the house. “I’ll run ahead – you can take your time coming down.” She grabbed one of the black plastic bags by the neck and took it with her.

  “Took you long enough,” Angie said when Finn unlocked and pulled open the door in the curtain wall.

  “I was up in the attic with Maggie – showing her my old wardrobe – sorry.” Finn shot the bolts behind them.

  “That must be a pain.” Angie indicated the door she’d stepped through.

  “I’m learning to live with it.” Finn led the way. “I had the gates put back up. We always left them open before so it was easy to step in and around them. I was glad of them this afternoon.”

  “I heard about Patrick and Miss Green.”

  Maggie was waiting for them in the hall.

  “Hello, Angie.”

  Angie stared at her. “I tell you what,” she said. “Here we are, three women without a man between them. The twenty-year-old –” she pointed at Maggie, “the woman entering her forties,” she pointed at F
inn, “and the one in her sixties,” pointing to her own chest. “We look like an ad for laxatives or something.”

  “Trust you to think of something like that, Angie!” Maggie raised her almost empty glass to her boss.

  “I see yez have hit the booze without me.”

  “I needed something to give me the courage to show Maggie my beige wardrobe.” Finn led her guests into one of the drawing rooms. She illuminated the fireplace screen which showed a log-burning fire. It was pretty but it would never beat a real fire in her opinion. “Grab a pew!” She pointed to the green leather seats set around the fireplace. “I’ll get some nibbles.” She left them together.

  “Why was she showing you her old clothes?” Angie lowered herself into one of the chairs she’d admired and polished for years.

  “Finn wants me to dye and update her beige wardrobe.” Maggie took the chair across from Angie.

  “High time if you ask me!”

  Finn returned with a tray of nibbles, two glasses and a newly opened bottle of wine. She put the tray with its dips, cheese, fruit and crackers onto a coffee table and poured wine for Angie. With her own glass in hand she sat down to join her company. It was the first time she had ever invited friends of her own to her home, she’d realised while she was fetching the food and drink.

  “What have you heard from the boys?” Angie asked.

  “Not a lot.” Finn grimaced. “They appear to be having a great time. I learn more from Pieter when he telephones. My sons are having too good a time to keep their mother up to date.”

  “Who is Pieter?” Maggie asked.

  “Ah, now you’ve opened a can of worms.” Angie laughed and settled back to listen to Finn explain once again how she’d got started in life.

  “Jesus,” Maggie was wide-eyed when Finn stopped talking. “It’s like something out of the films.”

  “It’s the only life I’ve ever known.” Finn was going to have to stop drinking – her head was muzzy and she still had a meal to serve. “Let’s go into the dining room and I’ll serve the meal.”