The Builders

by Maeve Binchy

  When they got to the bit where dear Johnny had been feeling too sick to go to work but was refusing to see a doctor, Nan began to worry.

  ‘I don’t like the sound of it,’ she said.

  ‘Neither do I,’ replied Derek.

  They read on, about how his cancer was terminal, how they knew she couldn’t live alone without him. With tears in her eyes Nan read about the plans for the trip to the lakes, and sending their financial details and will to a solicitor.

  They wanted their home at Number Twelve Chestnut Road to be sold and the proceeds given to a charity that looked after battered wives.

  It had taken some time to sort it out after they had disappeared, presumed drowned in the lakes. The law moves slowly so that was why the house was empty for so long.

  Nan and Derek sat as the light faded. They thought about the couple and their strange sad life.

  ‘They must have loved each other very much,’ Nan said.

  ‘I never loved liked that,’ Derek said.

  ‘Neither did I,’ said Nan.

  Chapter Four

  Nan told her children nothing at all about the discovery of Mrs White’s diary. She was afraid that they would dismiss it, say that the Whites were boring, mad old people.

  She told them nothing about Derek’s visits either. Young people were so cruel. They would laugh at her and say she was being silly dressing up, and polishing things so that she could give the builder next door his tea.

  But then they hadn’t read the everyday thoughts of the woman who had lived a lonely frightened life until she had been rescued by her Johnny.

  A woman who had continued to hide in case a man might find her. A woman who had gone out in the lakes to die with her Johnny rather than face life alone without him.

  Jo, Bobby and Pat would never understand how comforting it was to sit and talk to Derek at the end of the day, and how much it had brightened up her life.

  Up to now Nan had not wanted to go anywhere, meet anyone, or try anything new. In the year since she had left work she had got out of the habit of going out. She stayed in Number Fourteen waiting there in case the children called in.

  Many days, of course, they did not visit but she never minded. They knew she would always be there so it was a good place for them to ‘kill time’, as Jo had put it the other night.

  Nan hated that phrase. Why would you want to kill time?You should spend it, enjoy it, savour it.

  She went to the art gallery so that she could tell Derek about the exhibition. She went to a theatre matinée. She took a bus tour around the city.

  She bought three brightly coloured T-shirts in a sale and wore them one by one under her black cardigan.

  ‘You look nice,’ Derek had said when he saw the lemon or lilac or rose colours.

  ‘You look a bit like mutton dressed as lamb Mother,’ Jo had said when she saw them. ‘Don’t you think at your age …?’

  Nan was hurt and annoyed.

  ‘At my age I would like to be able to do a lot of things, like buy nice clothes in a proper shop instead of buying three T-shirts for the price of two at a street stall,’ she said sharply.

  Jo was surprised. Mother never spoke like this.

  ‘You’re fine as you are Mother, you don’t like change.’ Jo tried to pat her down.

  ‘I don’t think those very loud colours suit you, Mam,’ Bobby said, as he handed her his bag of laundry.

  ‘You know where the washing machine is Bobby. Please place your dirty clothes in it and add the powder.’ Nan was crisp.

  ‘Kay was saying you need a job Mam … something to keep you busy,’ Bobby said.

  ‘I had a job for twenty years and kept you fed, clothed and educated,’ Nan snapped.

  Pat rang her up next morning.

  ‘The others tell me you’re becoming very ratty Mam,’ she said.

  ‘What does “ratty” mean?’ Nan asked.

  ‘I don’t know really.’ Pat was at a loss.

  ‘Maybe they mean I’ve grown a long tail and a pointed nose, and started to scuttle around,’ Nan said.

  ‘I see what they mean, you have become ratty,’ Pat said.

  Derek said that there was a new Chinese restaurant at the far end of Chestnut Road. Perhaps they should try it.

  Nan thought that was great. They talked about the Whites and whether Johnny had any family who knew what he had done. They debated what Mrs White’s name might have been. Nan thought it was Victoria. Derek thought it was Maud.

  When he walked her home there were three notes on the door mat.

  ‘Oh, the family must have called,’ she said casually.

  She saw what she thought was a look of admiration in his eyes.

  ‘Good to have family,’ Derek said.

  ‘Yes indeed, family and friends, both very important,’ Nan said.

  When he had left she read the notes.

  ‘Mam, where are you? Kay and I called to take you for a pint, love Bobby.’

  ‘Mother, I have decided to treat you to a good haircut and a smart lunch out. Phone me to fix a day, Jo.’

  ‘Mam, I could upgrade your alarm for you, getting staff discount — Jo and Bobby told me you were going on about money. We always thought Dad gave you plenty. Sorry. Love Pat.’

  Nan smiled. She had really enjoyed her evening out with Derek. Now she had come home and found that at long last her children were thinking of her as a person, not just someone there to help in their lives.

  Things hadn’t been as good for a long time.

  Chapter Five

  The weeks went by and the building next door seemed to be moving along at a great rate. This didn’t please Nan at all. Soon Number Twelve would be sold to strangers and the builders would go away.

  She did not want to think about that day. A day when she would no longer hear Derek Doyle whistling happily with Mike and Shay next door. Evenings when there would be no tap on her door after work was finished, no hours shared.

  There would be no more Sunday afternoons when she and Derek would go to see old black and white movies that they both enjoyed. It would leave a great hole in her life.

  But nothing had been said. Nothing more than the fact that she was a neighbour at the job where he was now working. In a few short weeks he might be working on the other side of the city. Some other neighbour would be pouring tea for Derek Doyle.

  But Nan wouldn’t allow herself to be brought down. She had always looked on the best side of life.

  ‘I wonder who the house was left to. Did they give you any idea?’ she asked Derek one evening as they sat together doing a jigsaw.

  He had brought it as a gift because he said he used to love them when he was a young lad but hadn’t tried one for years. Derek found a complicated piece and put it in with a great flourish.

  ‘I’ve no idea who it’s for, I don’t think any-one knows. Ronnie the Rat, that’s the developer, told us to do it up well and sell it at a high price. That’s what we are doing. His orders.’

  ‘And who ordered him?’

  ‘The solicitor, I suppose. The one that Johnny White and his lady sent the instructions to before they went off and … before they went and did what they did …’

  ‘I know, I know,’ she said, soothing him down.

  ‘It still upsets me,’ Derek said.

  ‘That’s because you’re a human being, and a good one,’ Nan said.

  There was a silence. It was the first time that either of them had said anything about admiring the other.

  Sometimes Derek had said that she looked well. Sometimes Nan had said he was wearing a smart tie. But this was a step further.

  She tried to think of something to break the silence, which hung there between them. Suddenly she found it.

  ‘You could ask the developer who the lawyer is,’ she spoke quickly.

  ‘What do you mean?’ Derek didn’t understand.

  ‘Then we’d know who the house was left to, and we might learn something about them,’ Nan begge
d.

  ‘But a lawyer couldn’t tell, I mean it would be bound to be a secret, wouldn’t it?’ Derek was confused.

  ‘Yes, you’re right.’ Nan hadn’t thought of that.

  But at least it had got her away from the dangerous ground where she had been admitting openly that she admired Derek. This was a safer area.

  ‘Of course Ronnie the Rat might know a bit of the background himself.’

  ‘Why do you call him that?’ Nan laughed.

  ‘He’s very crooked, Ronnie is. I have to fight to make sure that the tax and VAT is paid on every job I do for him. Likes to take short cuts, our friend Ronnie Flynn.’

  ‘Who? Who did you say?’

  ‘Ronnie Flynn, you must have heard of him. He has a finger in every pie,’ Derek said.

  Nan had heard of him only too often. From her daughter Jo.

  Nan usually heard of him when she was polishing silver, or ironing place mats so that Jo could impress her husband’s boss, Ronnie Flynn, when he came to visit. But it was too soon to talk about such things with Derek.

  ‘Do you think it will all be above board next door?’ Nan asked.

  ‘How do you mean?’

  ‘I mean it would be terrible if those two people died thinking they were raising money for frightened battered women, and the money somehow didn’t get to the right place …’

  ‘No, no worries, Ronnie may be crooked, but the solicitor isn’t likely to be … That house will raise plenty of money. Never fear.’

  ‘Is Ronnie Flynn known to be crooked. I mean does everyone know this?’

  ‘Not everyone, only people who have business deals with him. A lot of people think he’s a pillar of the community.’

  ‘I see.’

  Nan did see.

  Jo always spoke in such awed tones about Ronnie Flynn and his wife, and the money they raised for this charity and that. And the people they knew, and the celebrities who went to their home.

  ‘Ronnie drops in once in a while to see how we’re getting on. I can ask him then.’

  ‘When will he be there next?’ Nan asked.

  ‘Ah Ronnie the Rat never tells you. He trusts no one, he likes to surprise them. You get the feeling he’s disappointed not to catch you out in something. Now listen to me Nan Ryan, you’re neglecting your part of the jigsaw. There’s loads of blue sky you haven’t touched over on your side.’

  She lowered her head to study the pieces.

  ‘Will we finish this puzzle before you complete Number Twelve, do you think?’ she asked in a low voice.

  ‘Never ask a builder when anything will be finished,’ Derek answered.

  Next day Ronnie Flynn called in his smart car to spy on the work that was taking place in Number Twelve.

  He told Derek that he just happened to be in the neighbourhood. Nan watched from behind the curtain.

  ‘You know people around here?’ Derek asked.

  ‘No, but the place is really going up. Ask round in case any of the old biddies here don’t know the value of their houses and might sell cheap.’

  ‘I’d never do that Mr Flynn,’ said Derek.

  ‘No, I suppose you wouldn’t.’ Ronnie the Rat shook his head.

  ‘Have they any buyers yet for this place?’ Derek asked.

  ‘What do you mean, they?’ Ronnie asked.

  ‘Didn’t you tell me it was owned by a firm of solicitors?’ Derek looked innocent.

  ‘Yeah, but I bought it off them. A quick sale. Got it for a song. It’s up to me to sell it now.’

  ‘I see.’

  ‘Yeah, I think it would be a nice place to house a fancy woman,’ Ronnie said with a laugh.

  ‘Really.’ Derek was cold.

  ‘Not for me, no, no, that’s not my scene. Family man me. But a couple of guys I know, they’d kill for a place to set up a bird in. Nice quiet street, no questions asked.’

  Derek ended the conversation and Nan moved away from the curtain.

  How terrible to think that her eldest daughter was married to someone who worked for this man.

  Chapter Six

  Jo called in the next morning.

  She had a jacket for her mother. As a gift.

  ‘This is much too smart for me, Jo. I don’t go anywhere that I could show it off,’ Nan said.

  ‘But it would look lovely on you … it’s hardly worn. Go on Mother, we can’t have you wearing things off street stalls. Anyway the Flynns have seen it too often.’

  ‘Jerry’s Mr Flynn is doing up the house next door,’ Nan said before she could stop herself.

  ‘No, he can’t be.’ Jo was positive.

  ‘I’m sure I saw him yesterday talking to Mr Doyle the builder.’ Nan held her ground.

  ‘No Mother, Ronnie Flynn does big apartment blocks, insurance offices, that sort of thing. Not somewhere like Chestnut Road. Believe me,’ Jo said shaking her head.

  ‘Oh well, I must have got it wrong,’ Nan said. It was simpler to leave it like that.

  ‘Anyway, I thought it was that Mr Doyle with the awful red van who was doing it up for a client.’

  ‘No, he just got the job from a developer. He wouldn’t have the money to buy a house.’

  ‘Oh Mother, builders have a rake of money stacked away. And after all, it’s only Chestnut Road, it’s not as if it would cost serious money or anything.’

  She looked at her mother’s face.

  ‘Sorry Mother, but you know what I mean.’

  Nan said nothing.

  ‘Now I’ve upset you. I didn’t mean it, honestly. And this road is coming up a lot.’

  ‘That’s what the man I thought was Ronnie Flynn said,’ Nan said.

  Jo was relieved. ‘Well now see what I mean. And enjoy the jacket, Mother, it looks lovely on you.’

  With that, she was gone.

  That night Nan wore the jacket when Derek Doyle came in. He looked a little startled.

  ‘Don’t you like it?’ she asked.

  ‘It’s beautiful, it’s just that I thought … maybe … you were going out when you were so dressed up.’

  ‘No, I dressed up because you were coming to supper,’ she said.

  Derek smiled a big slow smile and he took one of her hands in both of his.

  ‘Nobody ever dressed up like that for me before, not in over fifty years.’

  Nan was pleased. Very pleased that he said he was over fifty. She thought the age gap might be much bigger.

  Don’t be silly Nan, she told herself, over and over.

  Pat came to lunch and for the first time ever brought something to eat.

  ‘I got you an apple tart, Mam. You’re always making things for me to take home. You could have it at one of your suppers.’

  ‘That’s very good of you. But what exactly do you mean one of my suppers?’

  Nan was afraid that her children would discover she saw so much of Derek Doyle. They would laugh at her. Tell her what she knew already. That she was being silly.

  ‘Well you must eat a big supper, you eat nothing at lunch-time,’ Pat said.

  Nan breathed easily again.

  ‘Yes of course … well I’m on my own you see,’ she began.

  ‘And if you’re wise that’s the way you’ll stay Mam,’ Pat said very firmly.

  ‘What are you saying?’

  ‘Well I’m not going to get tied up with any fellow, I can tell you that for nothing!’

  ‘But why?’

  ‘They’re no good, Mam. Look at what Dad did to you. Look at Bobby and how he won’t marry Kay. Look at the way Jerry’s behaving with Jo. Tell me one marriage that works. Just one would do.’

  Nan was so shocked she could hardly speak.

  Pat had never mentioned her father, none of them ever did. It was a subject they didn’t talk about.

  And what did she mean Bobby wouldn’t marry Kay? Surely she understood that Kay was such a feminist that she didn’t believe in marriage. And surely Jo and Jerry had a wonderful marriage. So Jo said, all the time.


  Pat felt that she had won.

  ‘There you are! You can’t name one happy marriage.’

  ‘The Whites next door, they loved each other right up to the very end.’

  ‘Oh Mam, they were weirdos, you know nothing about them.’

  ‘I know a lot about them,’ Nan cried.

  ‘Well then you’re the only one who does. But you must admit, marriage is hopeless and it’s the wise woman like yourself and myself would stay well clear of it.’

  ‘Tell me about Jerry and Jo,’ Nan said sadly.

  She became even sadder as she listened.

  Jerry had loads of other woman, everyone knew about it. Yes of course Jo knew, she just didn’t admit it.

  But now there was one serious one. Jerry might be moving out. Half of Dublin was talking about it. Jerry had a very high profile now that he was Ronnie Flynn’s accountant.

  ‘Ronnie the Rat,’ Nan said to herself thoughtfully.

  ‘What’s that?’

  ‘Nothing. And does Kay really want to get married?’

  ‘Of course she does Mam. She says Bobby’s too independent. He does his own washing, and likes to think they’re just flat sharing, not actually living together.’

  ‘And do you say any of these things to your father when you visit him?’ Nan asked.

  This was another first. She had never asked the children anything about their outings to the man who had left her twenty years ago.

  ‘What visits, Mam? He has no time for us, just a series of young ones and then if they get serious he tells them you won’t give him a divorce. Is that true?’

  ‘Of course it’s not.’

  ‘Is this upsetting you, Mam?’

  ‘Only about Jo and Bobby.’

  ‘Well there’s nothing you can do Mam. Nothing anyone can do. It’s just the way things are … the way men are.’

  She wanted to tell Pat that was not the way all men were, not Johnny White next door, not Derek Doyle … but she couldn’t.

  ‘There’s always something we can do.’

  ‘Don’t go interfering now Mam,’ warned Pat. ‘You don’t want to go and put your foot in it.’

  ‘No, I’ll step very carefully,’ Nan said. ‘Very carefully indeed.’