A Posy of Promises_a heartwarming story about life and love

by Sharon Dempsey

  Ava was struck by how delicate and thin Scarlett was. Her face was aged and lined but not overly so. She looked well. Her clothes were gypsy-like; a long floaty skirt, in shades of taupe and coffee, wore with a sheer-cotton cream blouse with billowing sleeves and a ruffled collar. Around her neck she wore an unusual, plaited gold chain with a heavy looking glossy, pink stone hanging from it, which her hand had grabbed hold of as if for comfort or reassurance.

  They stood for a few seconds, taking each other in. Neither knowing what to say. Scarlett took a step back and leaned against the tiled wall, the grout looking distinctively grotty.

  ‘What happened? To the house I mean, it’s falling down,’ Scarlett said.

  Ava shrugged and cringed inwardly. What a thing to say. Her first words to her long-lost daughter where an admonishment, as if it were all her fault that the house was run down.

  ‘I’ve only just moved in today. It’s going to take a long time to make it nice, but I don’t mind making do, and living here while all the work goes on. Besides, the messier jobs have been finished and the kitchen is fitted out.’

  It didn’t seem right to be standing in the old cold bathroom talking about the house. It was her mother, her long-lost mother, standing right there in front of her. Surely, they should be some sort of fanfare, clasping hugs and tears at least.

  Ava moved awkwardly towards Scarlett to give her a handshake or a hug, she didn’t know which was required, and opted for a sort of pat on her arm instead. ‘So here you are.’

  ‘Yeah, at long last. Here I am. I suppose we have a bit of catching up to do.’ Scarlett smiled as if to make light of the fact that she had been absent without leave for twenty-five years.

  19

  Meeting Finlay had been the last thing on Ava’s mind when she settled into the soft tobacco-coloured leather sofa in The Dirty Onion bar. Ben had persuaded her to go out for a drink and she had agreed, knowing she wasn’t likely to run into Hazel at a student bar in Belfast. She was still wary of Hazel finding out that she was messing around with her son. Once the trauma of the necklace in the bed episode had passed, Ava had come around to dating Ben in an unofficial capacity. She told him it was to be on a need-to-know basis and he was certainly not to go telling his mates for fear of word getting back to his mother. Hazel and Robert had enough going on with the late pregnancy.

  A quick drink in a student bar qualified as a date. They had been to the cinema a few times and had attended one of Niamh’s wrap parties, but mostly they just hung out at Mount Pleasant Square.

  Ava had to admit Ben was fun to be around. He didn’t let anything hassle him, he talked about his coursework at the University of Ulster and his plans to set up his own software company, specialising in alarm systems. He never pressured her or expected anything from her. They just seemed to enjoy each other’s company.

  And the sex was great. Really great.

  Ava had to admit that with Ben it was different. She was under no illusions that it was down to Ben’s sexual prowess. Technically he hadn’t done anything that Finlay hadn’t done, nor was he physically better; it was more a case of Ava having awoken her sexual side. She was more willing to lose herself in the moment and let the pleasure wash over her in little shudders of pure ecstasy — something which hadn’t happened with Finlay. Sex with Finlay had been controlled, methodical and lovely. But with Ben it was fast, hot and scorching. God, she had friction burns to prove it. She felt her face flush hot just thinking about it, and then shame tormented her again as she thought of Hazel, and how she would feel if she found out. But thankfully, the chances of Hazel popping in for a drink in a student dive like The Dirty Onion were slim.

  Besides, Hazel had other plans that night. She and Robert were having their first antenatal birthing class. Ava and Hazel had both sniggered over their sandwiches at lunchtime at the thought of poor Robert being dragged along to talk about all the squeamish bits he had so safely avoided the first three times round. Hazel had told Ava how he had phoned the hospital during her epically long labour with Ross to leave a message saying: ‘Good luck, love. Hope all goes well. I’m thinking about you.’

  He wasn’t getting off so lightly this time. Hazel had gone all new age and was looking into waterbeds, reflexology and hypnotherapy as pain management alternatives. She had even read up on orgasmic birthing but told Ava she had dismissed the idea as she didn’t like the thought of it. If all the alternative therapy stuff failed, Robert had the express instructions to ensure she was given an epidural. Pronto.

  All of this was racing through Ava’s head when she glanced up at the door and saw Finlay Kane walking in with his hand holding onto Rose’s. Ava felt like crawling under the table and hiding. It was too late and too obvious to do anything but rearrange her features from shock to pleasantly surprised and hope he hadn’t registered the fleeting expression of pure heart-breaking longing.

  God, he looked so good, she thought, wishing she had a drink to stop her mouth going dry. How had she forgotten to notice just how gorgeous he was? She must have been in a coma for the last eight years to not have been panting for him. He strode over to her in six quick footsteps, Rose trailing behind him.

  ‘Ava, hi,’ he said, planting a warm kiss on her cheek. ‘I hardly recognised you with the new hair colour. It suits you.’ He smelt of bonfires on beaches and late summer nights.

  She kept forgetting how different it was to other people and self-consciously put her hand to hair.

  ‘I haven’t seen you about for a while. How are you keeping?’ he asked, his low voice affecting her in ways it never had before.

  ‘Fine, good,’ she managed to say, her mouth suddenly sandpaper dry.

  He squeezed past the table beside her and sat down close enough for her to reach out and touch him if she so desired, while Rose took the seat opposite.

  ‘Sorry, I’m a complete eejit. Ava this is Rose. Rose this is Ava,’ he said, clearly delighted with himself as if he had just reunited two long-lost sisters.

  ‘Hiya, Ava. I’ve heard all about you. Good to meet you.’ She held out her thin, delicate, neatly manicured hand which Ava accepted, noticing the soft shell-pink nail varnish and the fine silver chain bracelet on Rose’s wrist. She was suddenly embarrassed by her own coarse, rough skin and ragged, short nails courtesy of working in a florist for years.

  Ava noted how Rose’s blue eyes ran over Ava’s clothes as if taking an itinerary of her casual, slightly scruffy outfit. She wished she had worn the new skinny jeans and sparkly blouse she had left hanging in her wardrobe. Instead she was in the same old shapeless jeans she always wore to work, with a purple silk top. Nothing special and only one step up from the dark green fleece, embroidered with Blooming Dale’s Floristry on the breast pocket, that she had been wearing an hour before. Humiliating.

  She felt a jealous irritation at the sight of Rose’s beautifully, put together outfit: a little, tight fitting grey cardigan over a sharp, smart white shirt of which the first three buttons were left casually opened to relieve her neat, honey-coloured cleavage, while her long legs were clad in sharp pinstriped grey trousers. Classy and professional, yet oh-so-sexy. Her blonde hair was tied back in a low ponytail, with just enough swish to look cute and girly. How could Finlay resist? She was everything Ava wasn’t. Polished and done to perfection. Ava could imagine Rose would make the perfect blushing bride and then the ideal mother Finlay so clearly longed for.

  Just then, Ben arrived back from the bar clutching two bottles of Budweiser. God, she was going to look like a complete loser, drinking Bud from a bottle instead of sophisticated and elegant sipping from a chilled glass of white wine.

  ‘Hi there. Finlay, isn’t it?’ Ben asked setting the drinks down.

  ‘Aye, how are you? You’re Hazel’s son, right?’ Finlay had met Ben on a few occasions in passing at the shop.

  ‘Yeah,’ said Ben putting his arm casually around Ava’s shoulders as if to mark his territory, both annoying and pleasing Ava, all at once. She no
ted the surprise on Finlay’s face. He raised his eyebrows slightly and looked at her pointedly, as if to say, really?

  Ava turned her face up to Ben, smiling. That’ll show him, she thought. Two can play at that game. But really, she knew it wasn’t her style to play games at all. She just wanted to have her pride restored, and if being on Ben’s arm did that, then so be it.

  Ben and Finlay had begun exchanging football information, boring stats that men called to mind whenever they needed to create a conversation. Before we know it, they’ll be discussing fuel prices and comparing engine sizes, Ava thought as she put the cold beer bottle to her lips and sipped her drink as delicately as she could. Rose looked at Ava expectantly as if waiting on her to initiate a conversation. Good manners prevented Ava from dismissing her with a curt smile.

  ‘So, Rose, have you and Finlay been going out together for long?’ Ava asked as a conversation starter.

  ‘It’s our six-week anniversary actually,’ she said a touch too smugly while smiling sweetly. ‘I know you two went out for… what was it? Eight years? But I suppose it was one of those relationships that dragged on without meaning to,’ she added, her nude-coloured lipstick slick lips pressed into a thin smile to disguise the nasty barbed comment. She turned towards Finlay, laying a proprietorial hand on his arm.

  Ava was relieved to see Finlay standing up. ‘Right, I’ll leave you two to it, and go get us a drink at the bar. Nice seeing you again, Ava. I’ll give you a call and we can get together for a proper catch up.’ He looked directly into her eyes and she could have sworn she had seen something flicker, regret maybe or perhaps it was regret that he had wasted so much time in a relationship that had dragged on without meaning to.

  ‘Sure, that would be nice,’ she replied, throwing Rose a sweet smile.

  20

  ‘What did you make of the class?’ Ava asked Hazel over their usual lunch of sandwiches and tea. They were sitting out the back of the shop, glad of a quiet half hour. Hazel’s ankles looked like they had been pumped up and she was feeling the strain of standing behind the counter even if she only did a few hours a day.

  ‘Oh, it was a hoot. There’s me thinking I would be as old as Methuselah waddling in with my big bump and didn’t I find that most of them were in their late thirties and two of them were even forty plus. Apparently, all the career women are waiting much longer these days before having their first, so there’s hope for you yet,’ Hazel said, elbowing Ava in the ribs, before breaking her ciabatta roll into two and beginning to demolish it. She was constantly complaining of being hungry these days. ‘Mind you, the antenatal teacher said if you go to the NHS classes, it’s a different story. Wee girls as young as fifteen sitting snivelling into their hankies as the realisation of what they have let themselves in for sinks in. The teacher had this plastic pelvis and a doll to demonstrate the birth, and she told us how one wee girl had fainted clean away. Just passed out cold at the thought of it. Mind you, every time someone mentions ten centimetres dilated, it near enough takes my breath away. First time round I knew nothing until it was too late to back out. Ignorance is bliss as they say.’

  ‘And what did Robert make of it? Did he let you down by being all squeamish?’

  ‘Oh no, he sat there as proud as a peacock. Thinks he’s like Brad Pitt with all those children running around. The teacher suggested that in the third trimester our partners massage our perineum with oil, and yer man wanted to know did he have to wait till then! I tell ye it has certainly put a spark back into things, if you know what I mean.’

  ‘Oh, please spare me the details. I don’t want to know what goes on in your bedroom and you a pregnant woman and all!’ Ava laughed. Hazel was certainly blooming. She had ensured that she had plenty of rest periods and indulged in regular “with child” spa treatments. All for the well-being of the baby, she claimed.

  ‘And the boys have been great. Making a real effort about the house and bringing me cups of raspberry leaf tea. Ben is moving out; did I tell you?’

  ‘Yeah, you mentioned it. I thought you always said you’d be suicidal when the time came for your boys to leave home,’ said Ava.

  ‘I know. I thought it would be really hard to let them go but you know what? It just feels that the time has come and sure my wee nest won’t be empty for long,’ she stroked her bump proudly. ‘I’m just relieved that Mickey’s off the scene. Apparently, Ben was seeing someone else, a mystery girl, and Mickey got wind of it and gave him his marching orders. Good riddance, I say,’ she said, refilling her cup with tea. ‘So, the plan is to decorate Ben’s room as the nursery though we haven’t a clue what colour to paint it. Robert says he’s holding off until we have the scan and can find out the sex to know what colour to paint it. But I’m not so sure I want to know. I kind of like the suspense. Can you imagine me with a wee girl after three boys? I’d go pink mad. But sure, you get what you get and I’ll be happy no matter what.’

  ‘Any name yet?’ asked Ava, wanting to move the subject away from Ben but knowing fine well that Hazel would be changing her mind right up to the birth date.

  ‘At the minute, it’s Brodie Lauren for a girl and Nathan Kyle for a boy, but don’t hold me to them I know I’ll probably change my mind when I see him or her. Our Daniel was called Simon for five days but everyone kept joking saying where’s wee Simple Simon. I couldn’t be having that, so I went with Daniel instead and as soon as I called him Daniel, he turned his wee head as if to say, yes, that’s my name.’

  Ava still blushed when Ben’s name came up in conversation with Hazel. Her conscience prickled with discomfort. At times she tried to belittle her relationship, putting it down to a harmless fling, but then she didn’t want to risk hurting Hazel or Ben so why did she allow it to go on? It was time to call it a day and to finish with Ben for good. He would be back on the club scene by the weekend picking up some wee girl closer in age to himself and a whole lot more suitable.

  ‘So, tell me all about Scarlett then,’ said Hazel rinsing out her cup at the sink.

  ‘Sure, I’ve told you everything. There she was, trying to track me down and thought I had spent my childhood being brought up in Mount Pleasant Square, instead of the little house on Moonstone Street. She near had the shock of her life when she heard the removal men deliver my bed and stuff.’

  ‘How did you get removal men to work on the twelfth, it’s a bank holiday?’

  Ava swallowed the last of her chicken tikka salad sandwich. ‘West Belfast firm, sure they’re not gonna take the twelfth off.’ She wasn’t ready to confess that Ben had been the chief removal man.

  ‘And did Scarlett just arrive, like, with no warning?’

  ‘Yes, packed up her stuff and headed for Belfast, expecting to find me in mourning for Maggie. When she had been notified that the house had been signed over to me, she assumed that it was because Maggie had died. I don’t know if she was more surprised to find out she was alive and in the Sisters of Mercy home, or that I had only just discovered Mount Pleasant Square.’ Ava had to admit it was all a bit unsettling. At first, she assumed Scarlett would want to have the Mount Pleasant house back, but she was adamant that it was always meant to be for Ava. It was where Scarlett had pictured Ava growing up.

  When she had initially filled in Hazel all about Scarlett, she had sat wide-eyed in wonder. Ava knew that Hazel couldn’t fathom how a mother could have absconded, never mind how Ava could welcome her into her life so readily. It was clear Hazel was itching to see Mount Pleasant Square and meet Scarlett. But Ava had told her to bide her time. She needed to sort it all out, before she began introducing her long-lost mother to her friends. One step at a time.

  She didn’t want Hazel to see the house until it was more presentable. At the minute, the sash windows were being sanded down in preparation for being painted, the heating was still on the blink and the kitchen and bathrooms were no more than works in progress. But still, Ava loved it. She had swept and cleaned every inch of the beautiful old wood block floors, and then
on her hands and knees rubbed beeswax into the grain, bringing out the reddish-brown mahogany colour. The walls may have been crumbling in places and damp lurking in a couple of corners, but the high ceilings and wide doorways made it feel airy and bright.

  Hazel couldn’t be put off forever. Her inherent nosiness meant that she would nag away at Ava until she gave in and introduced her to Scarlett and let her have a guided tour of Mount Pleasant Square. Hopefully it would be when Ben was safely tucked out of the way.

  21

  ‘Haven’t seen you for a while. Been busy, have you?’ The voice came from deep down in the sunken glen of the tropical ravine house in the Botanic Gardens.

  It was funny that the one place Ava loved to come to clear her thoughts had been the one she had been avoiding for weeks. Her head was all over the place and she didn’t think sitting amongst the plants would help. Maybe she had been wrong.

  It was Marvin, the botanist. He was working with a tall flowering vine which reached as far as the high glass ceiling, coming back down on itself, when it found it had nowhere else to go.

  ‘Yes, it’s been non-stop this last while. How about you? Keeping busy in here?’ Ava replied, looking down on him from the iron walk way which ran around the artificially created glen, basically a basement carved out of the earth below providing the height necessary for the collection of rainforest plants and trees to grow. She leaned over on the waist high cast iron railing to watch him working below her.

  ‘Same as usual. Always something to be done. Come on down and have a look at this.’