The Summer Guest

by Emma Hannigan

  ‘I’m sorry, Mum. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. It’s a kind and thoughtful offer. I appreciate it. Really I do. But I’m not a big-splash type of girl.’

  ‘We thought you might enjoy it. Your wedding was so small. Lunch for twenty people – I’ll never get over it,’ she huffed. ‘We thought you might have regrets and feel you missed out.’

  ‘Mum,’ Lexie took her hand from across the table, ‘Sam and I had the wedding we wanted. It suited us and we enjoyed it. Sam wanted his parents and brothers home from Australia along with close friends. I agreed whole-heartedly. Once you guys and Maia were there, I was happy too. End of. I’m sorry if it’s left you feeling hard done by, but I can’t change who I am. Not at this stage of my life!’ Lexie smiled and willed her mother to understand.

  ‘Okay.’ She sighed heavily. ‘I tried.’

  ‘And I love you for it. But it’s just not me. Friends?’

  ‘Yes, of course,’ Penelope said, managing a flicker of a smile.

  ‘Sorry, Mum,’ Lexie said, glancing at her watch and pushing back her chair. ‘I have to rush off. I got a call from an out-of-town artist and she wants to show me some work. I’d better go – I don’t want to keep her waiting.’

  ‘I thought you had the afternoon off. Well, your business must take precedence, I suppose,’ Penelope said, standing to kiss her cheeks, while waving away the offer of money. ‘Will you at least say it to Sam about the party offer this evening?’

  ‘I will, thanks, Mum.’

  Lexie was a good ten feet away when Penelope called after her: ‘And don’t forget your biological clock is ticking. It could be good to mention that at the same time.’

  Halting momentarily and squeezing her eyes shut, Lexie bit her bottom lip. She didn’t grace the comment with a response, just continued walking, trying not to mutter obscenities under her breath. As far as she was concerned, motherhood was not on the agenda. Sam had agreed from the start. It was one of the reasons she’d allowed herself to fall in love with him, hook, line and sinker. He was on the same page.

  What Lexie hadn’t banked on was her mother taking on the role of fertility Führer.

  Chapter 4

  Lexie stomped home. She didn’t really have a client: she just knew she couldn’t spend another minute in her mother’s company without having a stand-up row. She ought to drop back to the gallery and collect some accounts, but she felt too irritated. She knew Penelope was suspicious about her sudden appointment, but it had been better to get away from her before they’d had a massive blow-up.

  By the time she turned the corner and was heading towards Cashel Square, the scent of cherry blossom from gardens and the gentle warming of the sun’s rays had eased her exasperation. Her mother had always been a bit of a fusspot. Drama was her middle name, and she was in her element when there was a crisis. Many years before, Lexie had suggested she go into event management.

  ‘I wouldn’t have the remotest idea of how to run a company like that, Lexie.’

  ‘Of course you would, Mum. The business part might be a challenge in the beginning but we’d all help. You were born to organise the world. Why not get paid for it?’

  Weddings, funerals, birthdays, christenings, Penelope wanted to be in the middle of them all. When an elderly neighbour of her parents slipped away, Lexie’s comments were justified.

  ‘I’d swear a light goes on in Mum’s eye when someone dies,’ Lexie had joked to Sam.

  ‘God forgive you, that’s a terrible thing to say.’ He laughed.

  ‘Not because the poor soul has passed on,’ Lexie was quick to point out. ‘Purely because she knows there’s a funeral to organise. Just you watch. She’ll be down at that house pulling priests out of her hat while writing the death notice and phoning the caterer with her free hand.’

  Lexie knew her mum would love nothing more than to organise a fortieth birthday party. It’d keep her going for the whole summer. But the idea made her cringe.

  Still, she’d say it to Sam over a drink before dinner and get his slant on it.

  The cat came trotting to Lexie as she neared her house. ‘Hello, Tiddly-widdly,’ she said, scooping him up and burying her nose in his soft stripy fur. ‘How’s Mr Marmalade boy today, then?’ Tiddles responded by blinking sweetly and nudging her chin with his nose. ‘Thank you, furry boy. A lovely cat kiss for me!’

  Her mobile phone rang. ‘Dad! How was golf?’

  ‘Lovely, thanks,’ he said. ‘Although it was actually too hot! We’re never satisfied with the weather in this country, are we? How was lunch? Did you girls set the world to rights?’

  ‘Oh, it was fine,’ Lexie said. ‘Mum was in one of her teacher-style moods. She’s pushing to give me a birthday party.’

  ‘Ah, she means well, love. It’s not every day your baby turns forty! Have you any idea how old that makes me feel?’

  ‘You and me both.’ Lexie grinned. ‘Which is why I don’t want to highlight it.’

  ‘You do whatever you like. It’s your birthday after all.’

  ‘Thanks, Dad. I’ll let you go.’

  ‘Talk to you soon, love.’

  Several letters were protruding from the flap of the black cast iron post-box. Lexie balanced Tiddles on one shoulder and yanked them free. As she opened the front door and kicked off her shoes, Tiddles wriggled down and ran to his dish in the kitchen, miaowing.

  ‘All right, boy, I’ll feed you now,’ she said, as she threw the letters on to the kitchen table.

  Her phone rang again. Groaning, Lexie answered it.

  ‘Hello, Dee,’ she said. ‘How are you on this fine sunny day?’

  ‘Not great. Have you seen Amélie at all?’

  ‘Yes!’ Lexie said. ‘She called in to the gallery a couple of hours ago with some of the girls. She said they were going for ice-cream. Isn’t she answering her phone?’

  ‘No, she’s not,’ Dee said tightly. ‘And she’s meant to be at home studying. I went to the supermarket and left her in her room surrounded by books. I assumed she was still there and just went up to give her a snack but she’s gone.’

  ‘Oh, I see,’ Lexie said, biting her lip. ‘Well, I’ll keep an eye out for her, and if I spot her, I’ll get her to call you.’

  ‘Thanks,’ Dee said. ‘She went out to meet her friends last night and the deal was that she’d stay put and do some study this afternoon and evening.’

  ‘I’m sure she’ll be home soon,’ Lexie said. ‘I can’t say I blame her. It’s so sunny and warm out. Maybe she’s just having a little break before knuckling down.’

  ‘I’ll believe that when it happens. I wish I had your faith,’ said Dee. ‘Thanks anyway. Chat to you soon, Lexie.’

  Lexie sent a quick text to Amélie telling her to get herself home pronto.

  Sighing, she called Maia.

  ‘Hey,’ her friend answered. ‘I’m about to see a new client who’s headed for a really nasty and messy divorce. I can’t talk for long. How’s life?’

  ‘Crap,’ Lexie said. ‘I’ve just had the most frustrating lunch with my mother.’

  ‘Is there any other type?’

  ‘No, I guess not. She’s pushing for me to have a fortieth party and now she wants me to have a baby.’

  ‘Great!’ Maia said. ‘Well, good luck with all that. When does she need the baby by? Is she going to mind it while you work?’

  Lexie could feel her shoulders relaxing already. Maia always made her feel better.

  ‘Speaking of birthdays, you haven’t forgotten Calvin’s party is on Sunday, have you?’

  ‘No,’ Lexie said. ‘Sam and I will be there with knobs on. I got him the truck you said he wanted too.’

  ‘You’re a doll. Thanks. He’ll be thrilled. He’s got so into cars. Mind you, I’d say ninety per cent of that is Josh passing on his petrol-head obsession! Now that he’s minding him full time, I see a massive change in Calvin.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Yeah, they were amazing with him at the crèche but
he’s come on in leaps and bounds since Josh has been with him all day.’

  ‘How’s Josh finding it?’

  ‘Good so far. He’s so chilled out, as you know, and as it’s only for a year, two tops, I think he’s allowing himself to really enjoy the time.’

  ‘That’s great, Maia. It’s a massive load off your mind, I’m sure.’

  ‘You’ve said it. Josh was getting increasingly frustrated with his job. His hours were being cut more and more. This way he’s guaranteed work again once the company takeover is complete and now he gets to be with Calvin and take him to as much therapy as he can fit in.’

  ‘I’m thrilled, honey,’ Lexie said.

  ‘I’ve got to go – my client’s here,’ Maia said. ‘But don’t worry about your mother. In all the time I’ve known you, you’ve never been interested in having a baby and you’re not about to change now.’

  Lexie froze: she’d had a sudden flashback to her year in France. Christophe. She tried to refocus on what Maia was saying.

  ‘So, we’ll see you Sunday and don’t turn up in one of your hippie-dippy arty outfits. Bring that Prada bag your mother gave you for Christmas. The neighbours around here wouldn’t get art unless you were wearing a bandeau dress fashioned from the original Mona Lisa canvas.’

  ‘I’ll wear what I want, you cheeky cow.’ Lexie laughed. ‘And if your nouveau-riche snobby neighbours don’t like me they can piss off.’

  ‘Attagirl, Lex, love you!’ Maia hung up.

  Lexie flicked on the kettle and grabbed the pile of post she’d flung on to the kitchen table. Among the usual bills and an Australian postmarked letter from Sam’s parents, there was a handwritten envelope with writing Lexie didn’t recognise. She picked it up, slid her finger into the puckered end of the envelope and ripped it open.

  Dear Home owner

  Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Kathleen Williams (née Walsh). I emigrated from Ireland to America in 1947, when I was eight years old. My family settled in Florida, where I’ve lived until now.

  I am writing to ask an unusual favour of you.

  I used to live in your house! In fact, I was born in the back bedroom, the one to the right at the top of the stairs.

  I have come to spend a summer in Ireland and I would very much like to see my old home. I know this is a big ask and I understand totally if you feel this would be too much of an intrusion.

  I promise not to stay long, and will strive to cause as little disturbance as possible.

  Yours

  Kathleen Williams

  Lexie noticed a further note, in more wobbly writing, at the bottom of the page.

  PS I will be staying at the Caracove Arms Hotel for the next couple of days, should you wish to contact me there. Otherwise this is my US cell number …

  Lexie whistled. How fascinating! And this lady had been born in their bedroom! Without hesitating, she grabbed her mobile phone and typed a quick text to the number at the foot of the page.

  Hello Kathleen, Lexie Collins here. I live at 3 Cashel Square. I just got your note & would love to meet you. I’m intrigued! I would be delighted for you to come and visit. All the best, Lexie

  ‘What do you think about that, Tiddles?’ she asked, as he circled around her ankles giving out. She spooned some food into his dish and made her way upstairs to change into some gardening clothes. The planted pots out the back needed attention and she wanted to water the flowerbeds. A text came through immediately.

  Dear Lexie, how kind of you to text me so promptly. I’m so delighted you weren’t put out by my letter. Please let me know when would be convenient for me to call & I’ll be there! Kathleen

  Lexie grinned. Normally she would be nervous about corresponding with a complete stranger and wouldn’t consider asking someone she’d never met to her home. But something told her Kathleen was legitimate.

  Hi K – if it were me I’d want to come right now! I’m here for the evening if you’re free? L

  Lexie threw her phone on to the bed as she pulled off her white dress. Opting for a plain T-shirt and her favourite pale blue jeans, she grinned as yet another text pinged through.

  Dear L – if you’re certain, I could be with you in 30 minutes? K

  Dear K – I’ll be here waiting! No need to give you directions! This is surreal! See you soon, L

  Lexie felt a sudden flash of panic. She picked up her dress and brought it into the walk-in wardrobe. Trying to gauge the room with fresh eyes, she hoped Kathleen would like what they’d done with it. It had been the first to be done up properly and Lexie adored it. The bed was made and she was satisfied it was tidy. She walked across the landing to one of the spare rooms and peered in nervously. It was what Sam referred to affectionately as the skip. All the stuff they didn’t use was packed into it. They really needed to bin the whole lot, but hadn’t got around to it. Knowing she hadn’t time to go through every room in the house, she ran downstairs and dashed from one room to another making sure it was presentable. If she’d had more notice, she would’ve run the vacuum cleaner over the rugs or mopped the kitchen floor.

  She dialled Sam’s mobile and quickly filled him in.

  ‘Wow, that’s interesting!’ he agreed. ‘I’m really busy in here today, unfortunately, or I would’ve ducked out early. If she’s easy-going maybe she’ll stay for dinner and I can meet her then.’

  ‘I’ll text and let you know how I’m getting on,’ Lexie promised. ‘Who knows? Maybe she’s the decoy in a criminal gang. You might come home to find the house ransacked and my bloodied body lying lifeless at the bottom of the stairs.’

  ‘Stop it! That’s not even funny,’ Sam said. ‘Now that you mention it, make sure you look through the spyhole in the front door before you open it. Check that she really is an old lady.’

  ‘Ah, but what if they use a cute little lady to lull victims into a false sense of security? The ninjas with swords could be lurking in the bay bushes, ready to slice me limb from limb.’

  ‘You watch far too much Tarantino.’ Sam laughed. ‘I’ll tell you what, send me a text if you’re being murdered. I can ring Ernie from next door and he can shuffle in and beat them with his Zimmer frame.’

  ‘Ah, you’re all heart!’

  ‘See you later, hon.’

  Lexie took scissors from the drawer in the kitchen and made her way down the hall to the main back door. The one in the basement led to a small neat yard but, as it rarely got much sunlight, she and Sam didn’t use it. The other led to the garden. They’d spent years getting it right. Lexie wasn’t exactly green-fingered, but she knew her efforts made for a pretty place to sit.

  Snipping at random, she gathered a gorgeous selection of Canterbury bells. She loved their tall upright stems and the wonderful colours, from white to cerise to vibrant violet. Bunching them into a tall plain glass vase, she placed them on the kitchen table. Rooting in the cupboard, she found some chocolate chip and fudge cookies. The décor was ultra modern and neutral, but Lexie liked to mix kitsch girly accessories to add splashes of colour: she selected a cough-medicine-pink cake stand and emptied the cookies on to it.

  Just as she’d finished folding two flower-printed linen napkins, the doorbell sounded.

  Dear Diary

  If only I could find a time machine. My school life just isn’t moving at the right pace for my social life. Hanging out with Elton and the guys has shown me what a waste of time school really is. Most of them left school at sixteen and they have their fingers on the pulse.

  They were going through all the ways they can get money from the social. Who says you need an A in maths? This lot have it sussed. The flat is exactly the way they want it to be, and serves its purpose. One of them has his name on the lease and they all chip in. The landlord hardly ever pitches up so long as the rent goes to his account. The sofa was taking up valuable mattress space so they sold it. The way the system works is that whoever crashes first gets dibs on the bed. But that’s, like, a total sham because none of them ever wan
ts to be the first to fall.

  Elton was teaching me how to play chords on the guitar. He says you can get by knowing three. He’s managing so that must be true. They’re the smartest guys I’ve met for a long time. It’s like they take all the convoluted and messy stuff that life throws at us and totally edit out all the unnecessary parts. It’s genius. If the rest of humanity got with the plot we’d all be so much happier. I reckon my mum needs to go on a retreat to the flat. She could do with relaxing on all sorts of things that don’t matter. They do the sharing-is-caring thing so well. On alternating weeks one person takes a bag of dirty clothes to the launderette. Then they all help themselves to fresh stuff. That mightn’t work so well for girls but, as Elton pointed out, there’s more to life than cleaning and washing. Elvis didn’t become the king of rock and roll by ironing shirts.

  The only bogus thing that happened was that my mother kept calling and texting non-stop. I felt a bit guilty but I had to turn my phone off. I didn’t want Elton to think I’m a mollycoddled baby. I’m going to allow this new ethos to absorb a bit further before putting it all to my parents. If I leave school now it would actually solve a lot.

  (a) saving of school fees

  (b) I can get a job pronto rather than years down the line

  (c) I could move into the flat – they said they could do with a woman’s touch. (Elton also said I’m the first girl they’ve ever considered allowing to live there. Apparently they liked the way I cleaned the bathroom and chipped the dried-on Pot Noodle off the plates even without being asked.)

  I’ll mull it all over for a bit longer but I reckon Mum and Dad will go for it as an idea. There’d be nothing to lose, right? Elton and I will be together until death do us part. So what’s the difference if we start all that right now rather than next year?

  Later.

  Am

  Chapter 5

  Kathleen’s hands were shaking as she waited outside number three. She figured Lexie might be a little surprised she’d arrived so promptly, but she couldn’t help it. The second the text messages had come saying she could visit, she had started getting ready. She’d slept for a short time in the armchair, and although her eyes were still rather peppery, she was fuelled by excitement.