Her Revolution

by Gemma Jackson

  “How did it go?” Emmet asked when Finn rejoined him in the kitchen.

  “The man’s a fool but I did what I thought was right.” She shrugged off the depression that wanted to sit on her shoulders. She was surviving – building a new life – she would not wallow in regrets.

  “So Pieter and his truck will be here any day now with your belated Christmas gift from the family in Germany.”

  The flurry of phone calls from Germany had been to inform them of that as well as the boys’ television appearance.

  “I’m going to spend a few days with Harry Bailey,” he added, “so you’ll have the place to yourself.”

  “Running away, Da?”

  “To a certain extent.” He’d had enough of family for a while.

  Pieter was driving one of his company’s rigs over – must be a bloody big gift – he was glad for Finn.

  Chapter 34

  “The problem with being the boss,” Pieter grunted with effort, “is you never get to do the fun things you love to do. I can’t tell you how much I’m enjoying doing this work with you.”

  A sixteen-wheeler truck bearing the name of Pieter’s company was parked on Finn’s driveway. The truck was a travelling workshop. The back of the cab was a living area for the driver. Finn had spent time with the driver Heinrich, exploring the interior of the truck. It was fascinating to see the efficient use of space. Every tool Pieter could possibly need was at hand.

  “It’s an amazing gift.” Finn sat back on her heels, admiring the flow of natural light around her through the glass roof panels Pieter had fitted to her work shed. She was enjoying working with this man but it was the videos of her sons that he’d brought with him that she truly cherished.

  “The gift is not solely from me,” Pieter reminded her. He was walking on eggshells around this self-contained sister of his. She’d refused all invitations to visit her family in Germany.

  “I didn’t know tough glass roof panels like this were on the market.”

  “You have told me how much you admire the houses my company builds, ja?”

  “I’ve seen your buildings featured on British television programmes.” Finn had recorded the programmes to drool over at her leisure.

  “Rolf suggested putting one of my small module houses here.” Pieter pointed out the open door of the workshop. “He worries that if he and Emmet move into the house you will not want to stay with them.”

  “Wow, Pieter, that’s a lot for me to think about.”

  “You are building a new life for yourself, ja?” Pieter knew Finn’s husband was living in a luxury bachelor apartment. “You need new surroundings.”

  “Vater, are we to visit this place you talk about?” The driver of the truck appeared in the garden, speaking in English for the first time in Finn’s hearing. “I want to see these pubs.”

  “Vater?” Finn looked at Pieter with raised eyebrows. “Father?”

  “Heinrich, you are a trial to your parent.” Pieter should have known that allowing his son to drive the truck to Ireland was asking for trouble, but Heinrich had been eaten alive with curiosity about this Irish aunt he’d never met. “Finn, meet my disobedient son Heinrich.” Pieter had allowed his son to accompany him on the strict understanding that he would keep their relationship private. He did not want to damage the delicate relationship he was building with his sister by introducing relatives without her permission.

  “I must say, Heinrich, you’ve developed an amazing knowledge of English overnight.” Finn had spent days picking this young man’s brain for information about building and the tools stashed in the truck. “You watched me struggle to find the German word for every work tool in that truck.”

  “I needed the time it took you to find the right word.” Heinrich grinned. “While you tried to find a word in German I tried to remember the use for each tool. It was lucky my vater had trained me well.”

  Why had she never noticed how familiar that cheeky grin was?

  “So, it would appear I’ve been allowing my own nephew to sleep on my driveway.”

  Finn wasn’t aware this was the first time she’d claimed any relationship to Pieter and his family but Pieter was very aware of the step forward.

  “I didn’t mind – it was fun.” Heinrich pushed his hands into his jeans and stood grinning at his father and aunt. “So, what do you say? Are we going to visit Temple Bar or this Bray?”

  “I suppose Eddie Coyle never took you to Temple Bar?” Finn crossed her arms and stared at the young man with the earnest blue eyes. “I find that hard to believe.” Finn had asked Ronan’s friend Eddie to take the German driver around Dublin. She’d thought Eddie would appreciate the chance to practise his German, a language he was studying at college.

  “He did, yes, of course.” Heinrich nodded his head. “But I prefer to spend my parents’ money. We visited the pubs but I would like to visit some of the restaurants.”

  “Heinrich, I despair!” said Pieter.

  “Grab your bags, Heinrich, and come into the house,” Finn said.

  “I have been trying to talk Finn into putting one of our custom-designed modules in her garden,” Pieter said when all three had walked over what felt to Finn like every inch of the house.

  “Good idea,” said Heinrich.

  They were sitting in the lounge drinking coffee.

  “So, Heinrich, are you studying business at university?” Finn asked.

  “No,” Heinrich replied. “I’m studying Media.”

  “Didn’t you want to go into the family business?” Finn was surprised. He’d been a mine of information when she’d questioned him about it.

  “We are a large family. We have many fingers in the pie – that is how you say it, yes? Media is also the family business.”

  “Really?” Finn was astonished.

  Pieter laughed. “Yes, our family have been leaders in the field of television and film for generations.”

  Finn envied Heinrich his choices. She had no qualifications. She’d thought about returning to school but had no idea what she wanted to study

  “Please, I am curious,” Heinrich said. “What is the reason for the shelving going around the house under the ceilings?” He’d been examining it but couldn’t understand its function.

  “I’ll show you.” Finn didn’t know how they’d react nor did she care. “I’ll be a minute.” She’d set up command central in her kitchen, where else?

  The sound of a train whistle echoed and a tiny train puffed into view, speeding along the rails hidden on the shelving under the ceiling. The men jumped to their feet.

  “A steam train!” Pieter almost ran after the little train. “Finn, this is wonderbar!” Pieter and Heinrich watched the train run all around the downstairs and up the stairs across the upstairs hall and back down the stairway to continue its journey around the house.

  “The train was a childhood gift for my boys.” She laughed. “Well, it was for my boys but really it was something I had always dreamed of having.”

  She’d wanted to put up this train set when the boys were young, but Patrick had been horrified by the idea. His gentle hints and sorrowful headshakes had convinced Finn it would be inappropriate to have a train running around her house. She’d put the shelving up over Christmas.

  “I didn’t have enough track to cover the house. Then I found a load of track for sale at the market.” She’d been unable to believe her eyes when she’d seen it and so reasonably priced. It was her Christmas gift to herself. “I was lucky enough to buy more carriages and rolling stock to add on to my original train. I’m keeping a look-out for hardware to complement the set.” She wanted to put in train stations and bridges eventually.

  They continued to watch the train, delighted by the steam whistle that rang out on each bend in the track. Heinrich’s face felt sore his grin was so wide. What an amazing woman this unknown aunt of his was turning out to be! He couldn’t wait to tell his brother and sisters about this.

  “Vater – we ne
ed to film this.”

  Pieter turned in place. “The camera!” He slapped his forehead. “I am cursed by a family that must record every little thing. Rolf hasn’t seen this, has he? There would be hours of film if he had.”

  “I haven’t finished it yet.” Finn was pleased her train set was being admired.

  “Can you stop it, please, Finn?” Pieter smiled. “I would love to examine it. Do you have a set of steps? I will need them, I think. I can bring in the set from my truck if I need to.”

  “No need for steps,” Finn said. “I set up the central train station in one of my kitchen wall cupboards.” The men almost ran after her into the kitchen.

  Finn leaned against her kitchen counter, watching the males examine her train set-up. She grinned with pleasure when Heinrich and Pieter began to plan making little additions to her railroad, wondering what they might have in the truck to cobble together stations. She loved to share her pleasure in the train.

  Eventually they settled down at the kitchen island with more coffee.

  “If we leave Bray till tomorrow we can spend the day there,” Finn said, “but tonight my da is taking his fiddle and joining in a session in one of the local pubs.” She’d take them out on the DART. She was finding her lack of a car embarrassing.

  “You will have to wrap up well, Heinrich,” Pieter said. “The wind would slice you in two.”

  “Yes, let us wait to visit Bray tomorrow,” Heinrich said. “It will be pleasant to listen to Emmet and his music.”

  “Is anyone hungry?” Finn wouldn’t mind a snack. She had a ham hock and split-pea soup ready to serve.

  “I could eat.” Pieter wondered how soon his children would demand he put a train set in their home. He’d seen the longing in Heinrich’s eyes.

  The sudden ringing of the telephone sounded loud in the kitchen.

  “Do you need us to leave?” Pieter stood and stretched.

  “There is no need.” Finn picked up her phone. “Mr. Atkinson.” Finn’s eyes almost crossed when she recognised her caller. The man was driving her insane. You would think he was trying to organise the Second Coming of Christ the way he continued to find problems. “What can I do for you?” She put the phone on speaker so she could continue to prepare a meal. He’d be blethering for ages.

  “I am concerned, Ms. Emerson.” The noise of paper rattling came over the line – the man was obviously consulting notes. “You do not appear to appreciate the great compliment being paid to you. It is not usual for a star of …” He hesitated to even mention his client’s name – who knew who might be listening? – but in the end he had no choice. “Of Mr Liner’s magnitude to arrange private visits like this – I need to be reassured that you will do everything in your power to see that the great man is extended every courtesy.”

  “I have already told you – on several occasions – that I will treat the man as a guest to my home. That is all I can promise. I am unaccustomed to visits of this magnitude.” Tongue in cheek, she added, “No one can quite appreciate the wonder of a visit from such a personage.”

  The sarcasm went right over the man’s head. He continued to drone on about all the minutia he insisted must be in place. Finn didn’t listen, just let him waffle. She’d heard it all before. She wasn’t going to lay out the red carpet for the man. She hadn’t invited him to visit.

  “Are you listening to me, Ms. Emerson?”

  “I’m hanging on your every word, Mr. Atkinson,”

  “I’ll call again nearer to the date.” The man snapped the connection off.

  “Finn!”

  She spun around in surprise. “Oh, I’d forgotten you were there.” She threw her hands up in the air. “That man frustrates me so. I’d like to box his ears. Who the hell does he think he is? He calls day and night.” It was only when she focused on father and son that she noticed that both had tears running down their faces. “Is something wrong?”

  It was as if she had let the air out of a balloon – both exploded in red-faced laughter.

  She stood with her hands on her hips, staring at the other two. They were clutching each other – every time they looked at Finn they went off into fresh gales of laughter – it was beginning to annoy her.

  “I’m sorry.” Pieter wiped the tears from his face with a pristine handkerchief he pulled from his trouser pocket.

  “Me too,” Heinrich pulled the cloth from his father’s hand and used it on his own face.

  “Care to explain?”

  “You have no idea –” Heinrich tried to explain but got the hiccups.

  “My Uncle Dolph,” Pieter calmed enough to say, “would crawl on his hands and knees from Germany to America for the chance of a word with that man.” He pointed at the phone as if the officious Mr. Atkinson was sitting there.

  “The man he says is coming to visit you – Tim Liner.” Heinrich was trying to hold his breath to stop the hiccups. “Do you have any idea of his power in the film industry? His name alone is a guarantee of success.”

  “I don’t really care how powerful the man is.” Finn turned her attention back to her meal preparation. “He’s a large pain in my arse, that’s all.”

  To her horror the other two were off again. She left them to it. She didn’t understand what was causing so much mirth nor did she care.

  “Why don’t you two shower and change?” she suggested. “The soup can wait.”

  She listened to them laugh and joke while walking upstairs. She sighed with relief – she needed a moment to herself. She bit back a curse when the phone rang again. She was tempted to ignore it – but her curiosity would kill her.

  “Hello, Mum, how’s it going?” Oisín said.

  “Oisín!” Finn wanted to kiss the phone. She missed her sons so much.

  “Did you watch the videos Uncle Pieter brought over, Mum?”

  “I did.” About a hundred times. One of the videos had been shot in the almost derelict kitchen of one of the Bray houses. A fire burned in the black range. “I couldn’t believe my eyes when I saw you and Ronan wearing Aran sweaters and tweed hats. You two wouldn’t wear something like that without a gun pointed at your chest.”

  “That, Mum, is Uncle Rolf’s impression of an old-fashioned Irish pub.” Oisín’s laugh sounded sweet in her ear. “Granda gave Rolf a description of an old shebeen. The two of them got all the neighbours on the Parade involved.”

  “This is the movie you lot made while you were in Bray?” While she’d been busy trying to end her marriage with as much dignity as possible – embroiled in lawyers and paperwork? But she’d been glad Rolf was keeping her sons busy playing at making movies, being Steven Spielberg.

  “There is more, Mum.” He knew she hated to be taken by surprise. He didn’t think she had a clue what she was in for. “You need to talk to Grandfather and, if Pieter is still there, ask him about his Uncle Dolph – that family can sure pick names, can’t they?” He was surprised by how much he missed his mother. He wished he could hug her. “Rolf sent that footage to his brother Dolph, and Dolph used it to make computer-generated images or CGI as it’s called in the trade.”

  “Smart Alec – get you!”

  “Pieter’s daughter Frieda is a popular child star. She needs to make the transition to young adult.”

  “Jayzus, Oisín, what have they done to you? I don’t understand a word you’re saying.”

  “Rolf’s family have been heavily involved in the development of German television for generations.” Oisín tried to explain the juggernaut that was going to descend on her soon. “Dolph is considered a pioneer in his field. Think the Attenboroughs and the BBC. The Reutgars – Rolf’s family, are television royalty.”

  “What has this to do with you two wearing ‘Oirish’ outfits?”

  “Dolph’s looking for something Frieda could star in. When he received the footage from Rolf he got a Eureka moment.” Oisín wished to God someone else had explained this to his mother. “He doctored the footage using CGI as I’ve mentioned. He’s made a
vampire – reincarnation – ghost-story pilot. It’s promising to be a huge success. The Americans have been sniffing around talking about buying the storyline. Everyone is really excited about the possibilities. Dolph has been given an enormous budget to ‘sex’ up the storyline.”

  “Is that why my sons were running around half naked?”

  “We’re big boys now, Mum.” Oisín wanted to crawl away. What was it about a mother’s opinion? His mum had seen him without his shirt before.

  Finn had watched Ronan – his white hair thick with extensions running down his almost naked body to his ankles – bite a buxom female on the neck. She hoped they weren’t planning to make him fight with hair like that – his enemy could hang him with his own hair.

  “So Ronan and me are Irish vampires. Frieda’s character has been having vivid dreams of old Ireland using the footage Rolf provided.”

  “Why didn’t they fiddle with your hair?”

  “I’ll have you know they love my hair. The red really burns under the lights.” Oisín hadn’t known what to expect from his mum. “The storyline has Frieda coming to Ireland to research the dreams she’s been having.”

  “So you and Ronan will be coming home?” She almost danced on the spot – her boys were coming back!

  “Dolph has been in talks with RTÉ about the use of their facilities.”

  “What about my da’s camper van – he left it with you, didn’t he?” Finn wanted to demand the exact date and time Oisín was coming home but bit her tongue.

  “Grandfather had the good taste to buy a German-manufactured camper van. Good old Dolph wants to write off some of the expense of the trip to Ireland by getting a sponsorship from the manufacturers of that particular camper van. He’s trying to sell the story of a trip to Ireland, staring me as an inept camper, to the Travel Department.”