Red Letter Day

by Colette Caddle

  'Oh, the snobs? Well, ask Celine, I brag about the amount of stuff in my wardrobe that's second hand. Especially evening wear.'

  Rose was all business immediately. 'A beautiful cerise cocktail dress came in yesterday — Dior — it would look lovely with your colouring. Would you like to try it on?'

  Marina shot a look at Celine. 'It looks like I'm going to have to wait anyway. Why not?'

  Celine finally spotted Marina as Rose led her to the changing room. 'Oh, Marina—'

  'Don't worry about me, darling, I'm in good hands.'

  'Isn't this the most beautiful dress?' Marina and Celine were sitting in Café Napoli and Marina was taking another peek into her shopping bag.

  Celine pulled a face. 'I hope you're not going to buy something every time you come to see me or you'll be penniless.'

  Marina smiled. 'Ah, but Rose and I have a deal.'

  'You do?'

  'Yeah. If I only wear it once and bring it back laundered and pressed she'll give me sixty per cent of what I paid for it.'

  'Is that good?'

  'It's great. In the shop across town they only give me forty-five.'

  Celine laughed. 'Where's Josh?'

  'With Mum, but I can't stay long.' She checked her watch. 'He has a swimming class at four. Now tell me everything. Are you happy with your new job?'

  'Yes, I think it's going to work out very well.' Celine told Marina all about Rose and Dominic and some of the other residents of Hopefield. 'It's a little bit cosier than I would like but I suppose that's the problem with small neighbourhoods.'

  'Have you told Rose about Kevin?'

  Celine looked nervously around to see if Tracy was within earshot. 'Of course not! She doesn't need to know about him.'

  Marina shrugged. 'It's not such a big deal.'

  Celine grimaced. 'Tell that to the person who was sending me hate mail.'

  Marina stared at her over her coffee mug. 'Celine, why didn't you tell me?'

  Celine shrugged. 'It's in the past. Now I'm going to concentrate on making a go of this job and no one in Hopefield is going to know anything about me.'

  Marina smirked. 'I wish you luck. This is Dublin, remember. Now, are there any nice men around?'

  Celine laughed. 'Well, the guy who owns the filling station down at the roundabout, his mother's trying to fix him up but I haven't seen him yet.'

  Marina nodded speculatively. 'There's money in oil.'

  'Then there's Dominic Nugent, he owns the newsagent's next door.'

  'Oh?'

  'Not your type,' Celine assured her. 'Baggy cords and cardigans.'

  Marina wrinkled her nose.

  'And then there's my landlord. Now he just might be your type.'

  Marina brightened. 'Describe him.'

  'Well he doesn't dress very well but he's good-looking and loaded.'

  'A low-key millionaire, sounds good. What does he do?'

  Celine grinned. 'He's a property developer, name of Richard Lawrence. Maybe you've heard of him.'

  Marina nearly choked on her coffee. 'The gorgeous Richard Lawrence is your landlord?

  'Yep, and a very generous one too.'

  Marina looked reluctantly at her watch. 'I wish I could stay and hear all about him but I'm going to be terribly late.'

  'Come up and see my flat first.'

  'Sorry, that will have to wait till the next time.'

  'Oh, okay then.' Celine stood up and went over to the counter to pay. As she stood waiting for her change, she realised that all the paintings were gone. 'Oh!'

  'Something wrong?' Tracy asked.

  The paintings, they're gone. Surely you haven't sold them all?'

  Tracy laughed. 'No such luck. No, the artist decided he didn't want to sell them after all.'

  'What a pity.'

  'Celine?'

  'Okay, Marina, I'm coming. Thanks, Tracy, bye.'

  'Nice lunch?' Rose asked as Celine came back into the shop.

  'Yes, thanks.'

  'I'll leave you to it for a little while.' Rose suppressed a yawn. 'I could do with putting my feet up.'

  'Go ahead, I'll be fine.'

  'Just shout if you need me,' Rose told her and went through to the back.

  Celine looked around the empty shop and wondered what to do. The shelves were a little untidy so she took down the clothes and started to refold them. She fingered a cashmere cardigan with reverence. The material was a rich shade of royal blue, a colour that had always looked beautiful on her mother. She smiled. Whenever she had designed something or chosen material, her mother had often come to mind. Like Celine, she had loved clothes and had been fairly nifty with a needle. Maybe if she'd been alive when Dermot had died Celine wouldn't have given up her career.

  Ann Moore's death at just fifty-three had been a devastating blow to both Frank and Celine. The brain tumour was found after Ann had complained for months of blinding headaches. It had been all downhill from there on.

  Celine gave herself a mental shake and turned to re-hang some of the dresses on the rail. She noticed some marks on a black trouser suit and went in search of a clothes brush. After she'd cleaned the suit to her satisfaction she went through all the rails, brush in hand. She was just finishing when two young girls came into the shop. She donned a welcoming smile. 'Hi. If you need anything just ask,' she said and moved quickly back behind the counter. She always hated pushy shop assistants who hung over your shoulder. Thankfully, Rose felt the same way. Her tactics paid off and after trying on several outfits, both girls bought something. Eyes shining, Celine went through to the back to report her success to her boss. Rose was in the armchair with her feet up and eyes closed. Celine backed out immediately.

  'Come in, come in, I was just resting my eyes. Is everything okay?'

  Celine nodded. 'It certainly is. I just sold the red velvet skirt and the black Rocha dress.'

  Rose did a quick calculation. 'One hundred and forty-five Euro.'

  Celine nodded. 'You're good!'

  'So are you,' Rose retorted. That skirt has been on the rack for months.'

  'I suggested to the girl that she put a fringe or lace trim on the bottom. She was a student,' she added by way of explanation.

  Rose eyed her speculatively. 'I can see your talents are going to come in very handy. There are a lot of my customers who would love advice like that.'

  Celine shrugged. 'I'll be happy to help if I can.'

  Rose smiled as the bell on the shop door jangled. 'Why don't I go? You put on the kettle. And there's some shortbread in the cupboard.'

  Celine did as she was bid and as she fetched the biscuits she thought it was just as well she and Rose would only be working together for a few weeks or she'd be as big as a house! Rose was back moments later, a scowl on her face. 'Time-wasters,' she grumbled. 'I wouldn't mind but they're always the ones who pull the clothes around and I can tell from the moment I set eyes on them that they've no intention of putting their hands in their pockets!'

  'Tea or coffee?' Celine asked.

  'Tea, please.' Rose sank back down into the armchair.

  'It's sad though,' Celine remarked as she made the brew. 'Having nothing better to do but wander around the shops. They probably can't afford to buy anything.'

  'Rubbish. Even a down-and-out could afford something from my bargain basket!'

  Celine smiled. 'True. I was wondering . . .'

  'Yes?'

  'Would it be all right if I bought a couple of things?'

  'But of course, and you get the staff twenty-percent discount.'

  'Oh, there's no need for that.'

  'Not at all, there have to be some perks in all jobs.'

  Celine giggled. 'I used to get ten per cent off all indigestion remedies at the pharmacy.'

  Rose sighed. 'I don't think I can possibly compete with that!' She looked at the wall clock. 'It's nearly five-thirty, let's lock up for the day.'

  'Okay.' Celine went through to the shop, turned the sign on the door around and was jus
t turning the key when someone tried the handle. 'We're closed,' she called. There was a knock on the door and she opened it a fraction. 'I'm sorry but we're—'

  'Hi, Celine.'

  'Fergus?' she gasped, the colour draining from her face.

  He grinned nervously. 'Yeah, that's right.'

  'But I don't understand. What are you doing here?'

  'I've come to collect me ma.'

  'Rose?' Celine clutched the door for support.

  Rose appeared behind her. 'Oh, hello, love, you're early. Celine, this is my son, Fergus.'

  Fergus shot Celine an anxious look. 'Yeah, Ma, we've met.'

  Chapter 11

  Rose sat in her shop in total darkness, her face wet with tears. She hadn't got much sense out of Fergus but it hadn't taken her long to piece things together. By then, Celine had fled upstairs to her flat and Fergus was pacing the shop, punching his fist into his hand.

  'She was Dermot's wife?' she had repeated.

  'Yeah, Ma, I told you. I didn't realise until I saw her. Dermot's surname was McKenna. God, did you see the way she looked at me?'

  Rose had patted his arm. 'It was just the shock, that's all.'

  Fergus shook his head. 'No, she blames me, I know she does.'

  'Don't be silly, love.'

  He had whirled around, his face almost grey, his eyes haunted. 'Trust me, Ma, she blames me.'

  And then he'd left. Rose had followed him out on to the street and called after him but he'd kept walking. She'd tried his mobile several times since but it was switched off. Rose was torn between concern for her son and pity for the girl upstairs who was probably crying her heart out. She decided to go and check on her but when she went out and buzzed the intercom, there was no reply. After a few minutes, Rose gave up. Maybe she'd go by the shelter. It was after seven and Fergus's shift would begin in half an hour. She was just locking up when Richard drove up and beeped the horn. She gave him a small wave and turned quickly away.

  'Rose, what's wrong?'

  He was already at the door, and Rose felt a wave of affection at the concern in his face. Rose had liked him from the first moment she'd met him and it wasn't long before they'd settled into a comfortable friendship. She'd found herself telling him things that she'd never confided in another living soul and he, in turn, had cried in her arms, the day his beloved uncle died. But it was different this time. This wasn't her secret to tell. 'It's nothing, Richard, I'm fine.'

  'Like hell you are. Now we can stay out here and argue the point or you can invite me in.'

  'Sorry, Richard, I don't have time. Fergus is expecting me home,' she lied.

  'That's strange, I just saw him go into the pub.'

  Rose whirled around. 'Which pub?'

  'Donnelly's. What is it, Rose. Is it Fergus? Is he okay?'

  Rose realised that he wasn't going to give up without some kind of answer. 'Come in and I'll make some tea.'

  Richard followed her inside and waited in silence while she boiled a kettle.

  'I'm okay now, Richard,' she said when they were sipping their tea. She gave him a shaky smile. 'Fergus and I had a quarrel and I was a bit upset.'

  Richard watched her steadily. 'How long have we known each other, Rose?'

  Rose could have told him the date, time and place. 'Five years,' she said.

  'And would you say we're friends?'

  'Of course, Richard, what a question!'

  'So tell me what's wrong.'

  Rose rubbed her eyes, suddenly feeling all of her sixty years and decided to confide in Richard yet again. 'Before we moved here, Fergus was involved in . . . an incident.'

  Richard frowned. 'To do with drugs?'

  Rose shook her head. 'No, it was after all of that. You know the shelter where Fergus works?'

  'Of course.'

  'It was his social worker that got him that job. A man called Dermot McKenna. He stuck with Fergus when he was at his worst, got him a place in a rehab clinic and then, when Fergus was well again, found him the job at the shelter. I was against it at first but Dermot persuaded me that it was important for Fergus to confront his demons. He was right, of course. Fergus has gone from strength to strength since.'

  Richard frowned. 'Sounds like a nice guy but what has that got to do with your quarrel tonight?'

  Rose sighed. 'There was no quarrel, Richard, just a ghost from the past. Dermot used to drop into the shelter occasionally to check in with Fergus. One night when he arrived, Fergus had just thrown out a drunk who had started trouble and was spoiling for a fight.' She swallowed hard, her hand tightening around her mug. 'They had a cuppa, watched a bit of football on the box and then Fergus walked out to the car with Dermot. The drunk was waiting. He took a swing at Fergus but Dermot stepped in and the two of them went down. When Fergus pulled them apart, there was a knife sticking out of Dermot's chest.'

  'Jesus.'

  Rose continued, her voice flat, 'He died on the way to hospital.'

  'Poor Fergus, he's gone through an awful lot for such a young lad.'

  Rose nodded. 'Too much. I often wonder if things would have been different if his father had been around. I don't think I was a very good parent. I couldn't have been or he'd never have turned to drugs.'

  'That's rubbish, Rose, and you know it,' Richard retorted. 'These things happen. I can understand why you said nothing before. It's better to forget it, put it behind you and get on with life.'

  'And we did. Until today.'

  'What happened today?'

  'Today, Fergus came face to face with Dermot McKenna's wife. It's Celine, Richard. My new manager, your new lodger. Celine Moore was married to Dermot.'

  'I don't understand.'

  'I'd never met her, you see — I didn't even know her name. Fergus just knew her as Celine — he didn't know her maiden name. The only time they met was at the funeral. Until today.'

  Richard absorbed this in silence for a moment. 'It must have been a shock for her.'

  'She never said a word, just ran upstairs. I was trying to get in to talk to her when you drove up but she won't answer.'

  'I have a key if you want to—'

  Rose shook her head. 'No, I'm sure I'm the last person she wants to see.' She stood up slowly, wincing as pain shot from her hip down into her foot. 'I'd better go and get Fergus before he drinks himself into a stupor.'

  'Do you want me to come along?'

  'No, thanks. And Richard? Please don't mention this to anyone.'

  Richard drew her into his arms and planted a kiss on her hair. 'I won't tell a soul. Keep in touch, Rose. If you need anything, anything at all, just call.'

  'Thanks, Richard, you're a good friend.'

  Celine sat on her new leather sofa, her knees drawn up under her chin, her arms tight around them. She didn't know how long she'd been sitting like this but it was now dark with the only light coming from the streetlights outside. The phone rang, making her jump. She stared at it. It still sat on the windowsill, had done since she'd moved in as it was disconnected. Obviously not any more. She tried ignoring it but it just went on and on. Probably the operator. She dragged herself out of the chair and went to answer it. 'Hello?'

  'Celine?'

  'Yes?'

  'It's Richard. Glad to see you've been connected.'

  'Oh, yeah, thanks, that's great.'

  'I'm just down the road, would it be okay if I dropped in?'

  Celine froze.

  'Celine?'

  'It's not really a good time.'

  'I won't keep you. It's about the rent. There's a slight problem.'

  Celine closed her eyes. 'Okay then.'

  'Great! I'll be with you in five minutes.'

  Celine hung up and went into the bathroom to wash her face. In the mirror she saw a woman closer to forty than thirty. She washed the mascara off her face, ran a brush through her hair and swapped her crumpled shirt for a black T-shirt. She went back into the living room and switched on a lamp. As she picked up her jacket and bag from the floor,
the intercom buzzed. 'Come on up.' She pressed the button and opened the door.

  'Hi.' She shifted nervously from one foot to the other.

  Richard walked into the room and closed the door. 'Hi.'

  'So, the rent—'

  'I lied.' He shrugged. 'Sorry, but I didn't think you'd let me in if I didn't make it sound official.'

  Celine shook her head. 'Sorry, you've lost me.'

  'I was talking to Rose, she told me what happened. I just wanted to make sure that you were okay.'

  Celine forced a tight smile. 'So you've seen me and I'm okay.' She walked towards the door but Richard stepped in front of her.

  'I'm not sure I'd agree with that.'

  'I appreciate the concern but this really has nothing to do with you.'

  Richard looked into her eyes. 'I know, but you should talk to someone. Sitting up here on your own isn't going to help. You've got to face Rose sometime. And Fergus.'

  Celine turned away from him. 'I don't have to do anything.'

  Richard walked over to the sofa and sat down. 'So you're going to run away.'

  Celine whirled around to glare at him. 'You don't know what you're talking about.' She looked at him stretched out on the sofa, his hands linked behind his head. Though he was still clad in jeans she could imagine him sitting at the top of a boardroom table. He had presence and oozed confidence. And his calm, measured tone was soothing.

  'You're right,' he was saying now. 'So why don't you come and sit on this very comfortable sofa and tell me.'

  Celine saw the kindness in his eyes and couldn't help returning his smile. She crossed the room and sat down. 'I don't really know where to start.'

  'Why don't you tell me about your husband.'

  Celine smiled slightly. 'Dermot. His name was Dermot. We met at a dance in a rugby club. His friend fancied Marina — my friend — and we were the gooseberries. It's strange, Marina only saw his friend a couple of times.' Celine chuckled. 'He was Dermot's best man and Marina was my bridesmaid.'

  'When did you get married?'

  '1995. We'd only been seeing each other for a few months, everyone thought we were mad but —' she shrugged — 'we knew it was right. We were so broke! It took ages for us to save a deposit for our house. I was still at college, you see.'