The Women of Primrose Square

by Claudia Carroll

  At the finishing school Violet had been to, they were always given dire warnings about boys and how to behave around them. Never go out with a boy on your own, never let him touch you – and above all, never allow yourself to be alone with any boy, without another friend around, or better yet, a parent.

  Yet in a single night, Violet had broken all their stupid rules, but she was having far too much fun to care. She had so little experience of boyfriends – the young men she did know tended to be her friends’ brothers or neighbours. All good, middle-class, well-educated gentlemen, who bored her to sobs.

  Andy wasn’t like any of them, though. He was fun and passionate about his band, ambitious and determined to take on the world and win. He and Violet chatted like they’d known each other for years, and when they got back to Primrose Square, he even suggested a little moonlight walk together through the park.

  ‘But it’s almost eleven p.m.,’ Violet said. It was late September by then, and the square always closed early in the autumn months.

  ‘So?’ said Andy, totally unfazed. ‘That’s what railings are for – climbing over.’

  Gamely, he helped Violet up, as the fabric of her mini dress caught in one of the railings and tore slightly. She felt a bit exposed, with her bare legs dangling over the railings, one arm clinging to the branch of a tree, the other onto Andy for support.

  ‘Well, now, there’s a pretty sight,’ he wolf-whistled as she blushed and giggled, trying to cover herself up a bit. Together they found a secluded bench in the moonlight, facing towards the south side of the square, where Jayne and Tom lived.

  As they sat side by side, Violet shivered.

  ‘Cold?’ Andy said. ‘Here, love, take my jacket.’

  In a moment, he’d whisked it off and tenderly placed it around her shoulders. Violet snuggled into it, loving the feel of the warm wool and, most of all, the musky, sweaty smell of Andy from it.

  ‘I leave first thing in the morning, you know,’ he said. ‘This is my last night in Dublin.’

  ‘Oh, don’t remind me!’ Violet said. ‘Not when we’re having such a nice time.’

  ‘You could always come back to Jayne and Tom’s for a nightcap?’ he offered.

  Violet glanced at her watch and, to her horror, realised that it was well past her curfew.

  ‘I can’t. Just can’t. I have to go, Andy,’ she said, panicking. ‘Now, quick, before my father misses me.’

  ‘Come on, then,’ he said, as relaxed as you like. ‘There’s no need to panic. I’ll walk you home and you’ll be there in two minutes.’

  ‘No!’ she said, far louder than she meant to. ‘I mean, there’s no need. Honestly.’

  ‘What kind of a guy leaves his date in the middle of a deserted park at this hour?’ Andy smiled. ‘I’ll come with you, love, it’s no bother.’

  ‘Please, no,’ Violet said, as Andy helped her back over the railings again. Sheer, blind panic made her climb the iron railings far faster this time. ‘You don’t know my father . . .’

  She hadn’t the stomach to tell Andy the truth, which was that she’d lied through her teeth about her alibi, so it would be fatal to let herself be seen with him this close to the finish line.

  ‘OK,’ he said reluctantly, climbing the railings after her, then standing toe to toe with her on the corner of the square, exactly equidistant between Jayne’s house and the Hardcastle’s. ‘But can I at least say goodnight to you properly?’

  Next thing, he bent down to kiss her, and suddenly Violet didn’t care whether anyone saw her or not. Andy’s arms slid around her waist and she melted into him, lips locked, as he tenderly, gently kissed her once, twice, then so many times she lost count and wasn’t particularly bothered how late she got home or who the hell was watching.

  Her luck was in. As she let herself into the pitch-black hallway, only Betty the housemaid was still up and awake. Her light was on in the downstairs kitchen and as Violet tiptoed up the stairs to bed, Betty loomed out of the darkness, almost scaring the wits out of her.

  ‘Well, now, missy,’ said Betty, crossly for her. ‘What hour of the night do you call this?’

  ‘I’m so sorry, Betty,’ Violet said in a little voice. ‘I didn’t mean for you to wait up.’

  ‘Lucky for you your father is asleep,’ Betty said, pulling the heavy bolts on the huge front door behind her, ‘otherwise there’d be merry hell to pay. So how was your concert, then?’

  Violet didn’t know if she was imagining things, but she could have sworn she heard a sarcastic tone in Betty’s voice that hadn’t been there before.

  ‘Fine,’ she said, not wanting to embellish the lie.

  ‘Adele in good form, then? Did the Lanagan O’Keefes’ car drop you home?’

  ‘Umm . . . yes,’ Violet muttered, turning her face away and climbing the stairs, so she wouldn’t have to look Betty in the eye.

  ‘She’s changed quite a bit, Adele, hasn’t she?’

  ‘Sorry?’

  ‘That certainly didn’t look like Adele you were kissing goodnight to on the street outside, not five minutes ago, did it?’

  Gracie

  Nicole Wilson was a thirty-something lawyer who worked in Gracie’s office and who Gracie had personally hired all of a decade ago now. Which, in retrospect, she reckoned, was probably one of the soundest decisions she’d ever made.

  Nicole was cool and vibrant, bright as a button and a great addition to any team, as well as being Gracie’s right hand at work. The two women had a wonderful working relationship and it was Gracie’s secret hope that other workmates in the office would look at someone as efficient and well-adjusted as Nicole and treat her as a sort of role model.

  In happier, less stressful times, the professional side of their friendship had frequently spilled over into socialising in the evenings, in spite of an age gap of almost fifteen years between the two. Mind you, it had been an age since Gracie had indulged herself in a night out.

  ‘You’re, like, seriously working your ass off,’ Nicole was forever saying to Gracie whenever the two had a snatched moment to talk about something other than case work. ‘And it’s not good for you. You’re putting in twelve-hour days and that’s before you factor in everything you’re going through in your private life too. You know what you need, Gracie Woods? A night out. Fun. A laugh, a giggle. You need to get drunk, blow off some steam and roll home at five a.m. And to hell with anyone who has a problem with it.’

  ‘You have got to be kidding,’ Gracie laughed bitterly. ‘Me? Go out and enjoy myself? I can’t even remember how you go about doing that.’

  The concept of time out hadn’t occurred to her in so long, it was as if Nicole was suggesting they take a trip to the space station.

  ‘Come on, just one night out,’ Nicole persisted. ‘The world won’t grind to an end if you come with us for one lousy gin and tonic on a Friday night.’

  ‘It’s lovely of you to ask me,’ Gracie said, as Nicole looked expectantly across the desk at her, ‘but you have to understand it’s out of the question just now, with the way things are at home. I need to be with the kids as much as I can. Whenever I’m not here, then they’re my top priority.’

  ‘Now you just listen to me,’ Nicole said. ‘I love my own kids dearly too. But I know that taking a bit of me time makes me a better parent, because I need to get offside every now and then. As do you, Gracie. Urgently.’

  ‘With respect,’ Gracie said dryly, ‘the last time I looked, your husband hadn’t moved out of the family home and announced he was transitioning to a woman.’

  ‘All the more reason why you need time out – for you,’ Nicole insisted. ‘Come on, Gracie, one night, that’s all I’m asking! We’re kicking ass on the McLaren case and the chances are good that we’ll have a fantastic settlement by the end of the week.’

  ‘Let’s not take that for granted,’ Gracie said, turning back to the computer in front of her and tapping away.

  ‘Nonetheless,’ Nicole said, ‘if th
e case does settle in our favour, then I insist on you coming out with us all on Friday night to celebrate. Just for the one, OK? And then I faithfully promise to leave you in peace.’

  Gracie sighed and said yes, even though she didn’t really mean it. Then she went back to work, plodding on with her day, her night and the whole week ahead, with stress everywhere she turned. Honestly, there were times when she felt like an elastic band stretched to break point. At work, she felt guilty for skulking away at a reasonable hour, even though she’d been slaving away at her desk since 6 a.m. Then at home, she had all the worry of the kids to deal with. Every parent worried, she knew that, but how many of them had to deal with what her family were going through?

  Amber was at least eating and sleeping normally – no alarm bells there. But the problem was that she was now point-blank refusing to go out with anyone other than her dad. These days, the child lived for the evenings when Frank would call to see her and take her out for a movie or else hang around the house, doing nothing in particular, just being together, watching Netflix more often than not.

  Gracie herself was hurting too, far, far more than she could ever show in front of the kids. However, she was at least grateful that Frank was as reliable as the mail, always turning up when he said he would, punctual to the dot. Plus, it gladdened her heart when she saw Amber’s whole face light up at the sight of her dad. These days, it was the only time when Amber actually laughed and giggled and seemed like her old self again.

  ‘Dad should be thankful for small mercies,’ Ben had quipped to Gracie one night, when it was just the two of them in the kitchen alone. ‘At least one person in this house is glad to see him.’

  God help me, Gracie had thought, during another sleepless night spent tossing, turning and worrying – in that order. Was this to be her life from here on in? Amber desperately missing her dad and not understanding why he wasn’t living at home anymore, and Ben barely able to be in the same room as him?

  And what of her own feelings? She felt betrayed and utterly abandoned by the one person she thought she could rely upon most in the world until this. All her life, Gracie had excelled at juggling and keeping multiple parties happy – but this? This would have defeated an entire UN peacekeeping force.

  Then, in work at least, some good news. The McLaren case, the one Gracie and her team had sweating over day and night for almost two years, settled for a hefty seven-figure sum, as accurately predicted by Nicole. The clients were happy, the team were overjoyed, and even Gracie allowed herself the luxury of a small smile, before kicking off the high-heeled shoes she wore for the office and changing into the neat, practical flats she kept under her desk. After an exhaustive week and a marathon slog on The Case That Wouldn’t Settle, suddenly there was a relaxed air of jubilation in the office.

  ‘Right, that’s it,’ Nicole said, bouncing over to Gracie’s desk and handing her a glass of fizz. ‘Grab your coat. We’re all going to the Liquor Rooms to celebrate in style.’

  ‘Nice try,’ Gracie said, packing up her briefcase, ‘but I need to be home with the kids. It’s not one of Frank’s nights for taking Amber, so I really have to get back as quick as I can.’

  ‘So call and tell the kids you’ll be half an hour late getting home,’ Nicole said firmly. ‘Ben’s all grown-up now. Will the world come to an end if you’re one lousy hour behind schedule? This is HUGE for us, Gracie. Days like today come along so rarely, we need to mark this properly. Now will you call your kids, or will I?’

  Sighing, Gracie did as she was told, but to her surprise, when Ben answered his phone, he was all on for it.

  ‘Stay out as late as you like, Mum,’ he told her. ‘I’m home with Amber and we’re both good, I promise. All we were planning on doing was having a bite to eat then crashing out in front of the TV.’

  ‘Are you sure?’ Gracie asked worriedly. But then these days, her natural default setting was worry. She didn’t know what to do with any emotion other than that.

  ‘I’m here, Mum. I’m a grown adult and I’m taking care of Amber for the night and that’s final. Now go and have fun, would you?’

  So Gracie allowed herself to be dragged to the Liquor Rooms, where her team ordered bottle after bottle of champagne and charged it to the company, and she didn’t even bat an eye. She wasn’t sure how much she’d drunk, as Nicole was constantly topping up her glass. All she knew was that by 10 p.m., she felt no pain, just a lovely, woozy sensation as she finally relaxed and started to let her guard down a little. Just a little.

  Yet again, she called Ben’s phone, to double-check that all was quiet on the Western Front.

  ‘We’re cool here, Mum,’ he reassured her. ‘Now for fuck’s sake, will you stop worrying?’

  ‘You said the f-word!’ Amber was tittering in the background.

  ‘Let me talk to her,’ Gracie said, as Ben passed the phone over.

  ‘Hi Mum,’ Amber said, sounding delighted with herself and chatting away with her mouth full. ‘Guess what? Ben made sweet and sour popcorn and it’s really lovely.’

  ‘Pet, are you OK? I know I’m out much later than normal – it’s just a work thing that Mummy has to go to.’

  ‘You sound funny,’ Amber giggled. ‘Your words are all slurred.’

  ‘She’s pissed,’ Gracie heard Ben saying.

  ‘I’m not!’ she said defensively. ‘I’m just . . . tired and emotional, that’s all.’

  ‘Have a good one,’ Ben said. ‘And the next time I’m dying with a hangover, remember that I’ll hold this as ammunition against you.’

  Gracie smiled and hung up, feeling something she never allowed herself to. Deepest, heartfelt gratitude that Ben and Amber got on so well, in spite of the age gap. So close, they were happy enough to spend a Friday night in together. Amber adored her big brother, and for his part, she knew that Ben would physically harm anyone who as much as looked at her crossways. Frank included.

  Then Adam, one of the office interns who seemed to know every hotspot in town, piped up: ‘Come on, everyone, grab your coats and let’s go to Wilde. Wilde is cool. I know the manager there, so we should even get a table.’

  ‘This is where I say goodbye to all you mad young things,’ Gracie began to say – but her team were having none of it.

  ‘Twist her arm!’

  ‘Don’t let her leave!’

  ‘Shove her into the back of the taxi!’

  ‘Feels good to be out and about, doesn’t it?’ Nicole slurred in Gracie’s ear, as the taxi weaved through the packed streets of Temple Bar, thronged with after-work revellers. ‘Just forget all your domestic shite for one night only. It’ll all still be waiting for you tomorrow morning, don’t you worry.’

  Wilde turned out to be just that – wild, loud, noisy and, even Gracie had to admit, fun. As more drinks floated around, she really started to let her guard down and enjoy herself. All her work team were in high spirits and she was having a ball, talking to a lot of them for the first time ever about non-work-related subjects.

  Over the next few hours, one drink led to two, and then two to three, and before Gracie knew what was going on, she was being bundled out of Wilde and on to somewhere else.

  ‘I want to dance!’ Nicole and a few of the other girls were squealing in agreement. ‘Proper dance around your handbag, dancing to songs that I actually know, and none of this techno shite!’

  ‘Say no more,’ said Adam. ‘I know the perfect spot for a late-night boogie and a nightcap. This place is a bit out there, but I think you might just like it.’

  ‘Jesus, is it really one a.m.?’ Gracie said, stunned when she looked at her watch. ‘I can’t, guys. I really have to go. I’ve already stayed out so late. The kids will be worried—’

  ‘For feck’s sake, if I hear another word about your kids, I’ll disown you!’ Nicole laughed. ‘Ben’s in charge, so you’re going absolutely nowhere, missy. Besides, they’ll be asleep now, so just shut up and come for a nightcap!’

  This time, Gr
acie hadn’t a clue where she was being taken to. All she knew was that it had been at least twenty years since she’d last set foot in a nightclub, and in her memory, they were all seedy and dingy and airless and crowded and sweaty.

  Not this place, though. The club was seriously high-end, with a 1920s art deco-style cocktail bar at one end and a fabulous dance floor at the other, where a DJ was belting out dance hits from the 1970s, 1980s and 1990s. ‘Vogue’ by Madonna was playing as they came in, and a moment later, Gracie found herself front stage and centre with Nicole and the gang, all bopping away, not caring that she was still in her formal, navy work suit that she’d put on at five-thirty that morning. Not even caring that she dragged up the average age of the club-goers by about a decade just by being there. Not caring about anything except living in the moment and having good, clean, tipsy fun.

  ‘This place is amazing!’ she yelled at Nicole over the music. ‘I feel like a teenager again!’

  ‘I know,’ Nicole laughed. ‘This club is probably the nearest I’ll ever come to being in Studio 54 in the 1970s!’

  They danced till their feet were raw, and then they danced some more. Then a Sister Sledge song came on, one that Gracie had never really liked, even when she was a young one, so she told Nicole that she was going up to the bar.

  ‘Need water!’ she mouthed over the music, miming drinking from a glass. ‘Back in a minute.’

  The bar was thronged, and as she patiently waited her turn in the queue, she took the first moment she’d had alone all evening to really look around her. It was as if a siren call had gone out among the beautiful people in Dublin, who’d all congregated at this particular club for no other purpose than to pose and look utterly fabulous. One guy was better-looking than the next – these were definitely the kind of men who moisturised – every last one of them dressed in cool shirts that were probably Hugo Boss, all suited and booted for the night ahead.

  And as for the women? Just looking at their wide smiles and their trendy outfits, proudly adorning stunning gym-honed figures, made Gracie feel like the greatest frump on the face of the planet.