The Secret of Eveline House

by Sheila Forsey

  ‘The family simply disappeared,’ he stated. ‘The woman disappeared first. Some say that something happened to her, others say she was having an affair and ran away. Then the father and child disappeared one day with the housekeeper and were never seen again. All a bit of a mystery. There were lots of stories, but nobody really knows what happened.’

  ‘What kind of stories?’ Emily asked curiously.

  ‘Well, there was an investigation into the mother’s disappearance. She was a playwright and there was a bit of a stir about it at the time. It was, I am sure, very unusual for a woman to go missing and of course she was quite a striking woman. I am sure the papers were all over it and she was well known in London. But nothing ever came of it. She never turned up. And, of course, the father and daughter had disappeared too. The deeds of the house remained with the bank as just beforehand it was mortgaged, but there were never any payments made on it. They had also bought what was the old bank but there was money owed on that too and never paid. The house and the building returned to the bank. But the deeds of the house were lost and possibly forgotten for years. That is until recently. Now they want rid of it. It’s the way they work.

  ‘Is that all you know about the family?’

  ‘Well, from talking to people that seems to be the story. I do remember my father talking about her. He said she was like a movie star and looking at that photo and her portrait she was. The family name was Ward as I recall. Are you still interested?’

  ‘Absolutely. Tell me what Draheen is like.’

  ‘Draheen has changed beyond recognition since I grew up here. It was very much the small town, and everyone knew everyone, but the fact it is so close to Dublin has changed it completely. Today it is a very up-and-coming town. A little pretentious maybe for me, lots of fancy coffee shops selling queer coffee and it’s hard to get a ham sandwich without someone trying to sell you some strange vegan thing. But it’s perfect for Dublin. A kind of village in a town close to our city centre. It’s a perfect location and I think, if the banks took their time, they could ask a lot more. But they don’t want the hassle of doing up the house, of course.’

  ‘My surveyor is coming tomorrow to have a look at it, if that is okay?’

  ‘He telephoned me. That will be fine.’

  ‘How old is the house?’

  ‘It is dated back to 1850 as far as I know. I am not sure of much history before the family lived in it. I think though it was sold in 1949 to the family from the bank. A family called Boyne built in originally. They had a mill out the road although there is little left of it now with the new motorway. But there are no Boynes now living in Draheen. It must have been the last of them. Just to mention, there is a basement too. There was an entrance to it beside the stairs but over the years it was blocked off and it would need a builder to knock down a wall to get into it. But it could probably be used as storage or something in years to come.’

  ‘I wonder why it was blocked off?’

  ‘Our surveyor reckons it was blocked off to retain heat. It was possibly used to store coal and would suck the hot air out of the house when it was opened. There is an entrance to it outside. Come on and I’ll show you.’

  They walked to the back of the house and near the rear garden he pointed to the wall of the house.

  ‘It looks like someone was thinking of breaking the entrance into it again but then never bothered to finish it and just blocked it up again. It could be reused as I said for storage but would need renovation.’

  ‘Okay, thanks for telling me. I am sure my own surveyor will advise me.’

  She spent the next half hour going around the house while he talked endlessly on the phone. She was sure this was the house. She could picture what she would do with it. She was intrigued by what he had told her about the family. It sounded like there had been some scandal.

  She went back upstairs and into the bedroom with the dolls. What on earth would she do with all this stuff if she did get it? It might be old but somehow she knew it was precious to someone at some point. Very precious. She picked up the doll with the broken face. How terribly poignant she looked there in her faded silken coat and broken face, her hair matted and full of cobwebs. Emily vowed to somehow get the doll restored if she bought the house.

  Afterwards she decided to grab a coffee in a gorgeous coffee shop that was completely pink. It was called the Pink Chocolate Box. It was also a chocolate boutique and the aroma was just divine. She could not resist one of the handmade truffles with her latte.

  She had seen a sign for a woodland walk. She still had some time before she would have to get back to Dublin. She changed into some runners and drove to the woods.

  There was a church and then a little further on a sign and a car park. Blythe Wood. How brilliant to have all this on the doorstep. She headed off for a walk.

  It was a heavenly wood covered in buttercups and daisies and a haze of wild hawthorn. There were lots of people having a lunch-time run or bringing their skinny lattes and sitting on the few benches scattered near the entrance, basking in the early June sunshine.

  She walked on admiring the trees and the aroma of wildflowers. She walked towards a little manmade pond deep in the woods. There was a family of wild ducks that looked rather tame swimming peacefully around. What a perfect little place!

  As she walked on, she saw a sign for a graveyard. Suaimhneas Graveyard.

  Intrigued she followed the small wooden arrows. She arrived at a clearing and a metal plaque with the name. The graveyard looked ancient and some of the headstones dated back to the famine and before it.

  There was a plaque erected on a stone wall in another area. It seemed to be a mass grave.

  It read:

  To all those who died during the famine of 1847.

  Let them never be forgotten.

  Erected by Father Quill and the parishioners of Draheen, 1951.

  There was a slight eeriness about the place.

  Then there was another area which was walled in. It contained three tombs. The writing on them was too worn and difficult to read.

  Suddenly she just wanted to get back to where the trees were not so dense.

  She walked away and came upon a little holy well with medals and pictures and prayers hanging from a hawthorn tree. There was a little seat and she sat down. The sun was sending shafts of light between the trees. She closed her eyes to shade them from the sun and then like a thunderbolt a memory hit her.

  She had been here before. She had no idea when it was, but an intense feeling of déjà vu hit her. She tried to think hard. But it had left her as quickly as it had appeared. It was an intense memory, but it was fleeting though very unsettling.

  She walked on back into the full sunlight and sat on a seat. It hit her again – that same feeling that she was here before. Could her mother have brought her here when she was younger? She had never remembered being brought here as a child and when she had brought her mother to the town a few years previously they had never ventured down here. She tried to dig into the recesses of her mind, but nothing emerged. Just a feeling of this not being the first time she was here.

  The sun was bright, and the light sound of birdsong should have made the place perfectly peaceful, yet an uneasy feeling had crept over her and she moved back to the car.

  Once back on the road she tried to shake off her strange feeling of familiarity with the woods and instead concentrated on how perfect the house would be for her. It would take work and commitment, but she knew it could be so beautiful and the location was perfect. She had spotted some stylish boutiques in the town and a bespoke jewellery shop as well as a very expensive lingerie shop which could work well for her gowns as sometimes finding the correct lingerie for underneath was an issue. Soon the feelings that had surfaced in Blythe Wood had faded and her head was buzzing with all she had to do.

  She had just finished a commission for a lace veil for a bride and she had a consultation with a new client who seemed to have a million reque
sts about how her wedding gown would look.

  She checked the time – she had lots of time to get ready for her client who judging from her phone calls would demand lots of attention.

  She arrived home and set up for her client’s arrival in the small sitting room which was now completely converted into a showroom and design studio. It was decorated in French vintage with distressed floorboards, cream walls interspersed with a delicate embossed wallpaper in cream and lilac and ornate mirrors. A vintage-style wooden screen allowed for some privacy. A chaise longue in dove-grey and a small glass coffee table completed the room. But as pretty as the room looked, Emily knew it was only a temporary solution. A new workspace was now critical.

  She had water and glasses ready when the bride arrived in with her mother and three bridesmaids. Emily counted herself a good judge of character when it came to her clients and she knew instantly this was going to be tough. She was right.

  Jenny Wright handed her a folder of cuttings of wedding gowns. There were hundreds of photographs. She then put three of the photographs in front of Emily.

  ‘I want it to look like this at the front and at the back like this and as tight as this.’

  Emily studied each photograph.

  ‘I want you to make my dream dress. A complete showstopper. Nothing else will do,’ Jenny stated rather grandly.

  ‘Jenny, you are always a showstopper,’ one of the bridesmaids said. ‘Gosh, my head is on fire! Does anyone have any paracetamol?’

  Emily noted she looked a bit ill.

  ‘No cocktails for you, Tanya – you are a lightweight!’ another girl shouted as she plonked herself down on the couch.

  Emily looked at the photographs and tried to hide her distaste. Each dress was horrendous.

  ‘I want my bust to look as big as possible,’ Jenny said. ‘Remember Pippa Middleton’s butt stealing the show from poor Kate? Well, think more Kim Kardashian when it comes to my creation. I want it to be completely backless. Right down to the top of my butt.’

  Emily was floored. She was trying to carve out her name as a designer and she wanted to be able to be proud of her dresses. This looked like nothing that resembled her designs.

  She tried to put it as delicately as possible. ‘My designs are very much inspired by the elegance and glamour of the forties and the fifties. I am not sure I am the right designer for your creation which looks wonderful but again much more contemporary than my designs.’

  But Jenny was not so easily put off.

  ‘I have done my research. You can name your price and double it. I have spoken to a couple of brides and they have told me that you are one of the most up-and-coming designers. I want you to make it. Don’t worry about the cost or if you must spend extra hours because it is so unique. I want this dress and I want you to make it.’

  Emily looked at her. She had a pout on her lips that was certainly helped by an excess of lip-fillers. She was dressed in the tightest pair of designer jeans with a white T-shirt showing a large bust and a perfectly spray-tanned midriff. Her very long curled eyelashes framed blue-green eyes and her dark mane of black shiny hair was pushed up with a pair of sparkly dark sunglasses. Her teeth were brilliant white made even whiter by an alarming amount of dark make-up. Emily tried to imagine her with less make-up and thought that if she could really see her she would probably be very beautiful without all the glam.

  Emily knew that Jenny Wright believed that her world would be perfect if her dress was perfect. Unfortunately, Emily knew life was not like that. However, this was what Jenny wanted and believed and she said to name her price and that was bait that even Emily could not refuse. She had to fight with her conscience. Should she tell her the truth and say that she did not like the look of this dress and thought it was anything but glamorous? But then Eveline House came into her mind and all the money it would need.

  ‘Leave the photographs with me and I will come up with something incorporating your requests but with a design that reflects me as a designer. That is all I can offer.’

  ‘You make me look fabulous and we have a deal. Is this where I will be coming for my fittings?’ Jenny enquired, looking around the room.

  ‘Actually, I am hopefully moving to a permanent studio,’ Emily replied. It was out before she really thought about it.

  ‘Where?’

  ‘Draheen. In Wicklow.’

  ‘Oh yeah, it has a fab cocktail bar out there and a cool lingerie shop.’

  They discussed the fabrics and the embellishments and did some measuring while her friends grabbed lattes in the nearby coffee shop. When Emily mentioned the cost, she was more than happy with Jenny’s reaction.

  ‘Cool. If it costs more, don’t worry. Do not spare on anything!’

  ‘I will be in touch when I’ve worked on the design,’ Emily said as she waved her off. Her mind was already in Eveline and the studio that she would create.

  CHAPTER 26

  The day of the auction loomed, and Emily arrived and took her seat. Her surveyor had given her the okay. He had agreed with everything the bank surveyor had said. He was concerned that it would need a complete rewiring. Also the cost of heating the house and making it somewhat cost-efficient was a concern. He had added that to survey the basement the entrance wall would need to be knocked but care had to be taken as the house was old and any reconstruction would need careful planning. But the roof and walls were sound. He had given her a written report and she had sent it to Sebastian to have a look at. Sebastian had looked at it in detail and given her the thumbs-up.

  She felt a bit sick. But she knew she was sick with dread in case she didn’t get it.

  The auction room began to fill and soon there was barely room to stand. It didn’t look good.

  As it began the auctioneer stated what the reserve was. Nobody put their hand up.

  He went slightly lower and still nobody bid.

  Emily looked around, waiting for the moment to bid.

  The auctioneer went lower again with no response.

  When he went slightly lower again Emily’s hand went up. It was as if it was attached to someone else. She wondered what all the people were doing there if they were not putting in offers.

  Someone else offered something a little higher. The auctioneer asked again for the reserve price and she put her hand up.

  To her astonishment no one topped it. He called it again and asked if there was another offer. He said he had to check if the offer was acceptable. He went out of the room. It must have been only a few minutes but seemed a long time to Emily. She was jittery with nerves.

  Then he arrived back and asked if there were any other offers. There were none.

  Then with a bang of his hammer the house was sold.

  Eveline House was sold to Emily O’Connor. She felt faint. Strangers were congratulating her. She wondered who they were. There was only one other bidder. He didn’t exactly look crestfallen at missing out on the house. She signed the contract and organised for the deposit to be paid immediately.

  She walked out, celebrated with a tall latte and rang Sebastian.

  ‘You crazy momma! It sounds magic. I can’t wait to see it. I will be home in a few weeks. I want to see this Eveline House.’

  Her house was put up for sale and, true to his word, her auctioneer had an offer within two days that she was more than happy with. It was a first-time buyer who was home from Dubai and did not have to wait for mortgage approval, so it was all guns blazing ahead.

  The next few weeks were a blur with packing, auctioneers and work.

  Sebastian arrived home the last weekend that they had their home. She was due to get the keys to Eveline in a few days.

  ‘We were very happy here and we will be in Draheen,’ Sebastian said, giving Emily a big hug.

  That was it. She didn’t feel any guilt, just sadness at leaving her neighbours who threw a little dinner party for her and Sebastian.

  Her mother had not taken the news well. She had arrived down to tell her. S
he knew the news wouldn’t be well received but she was not prepared for her mother’s reaction.

  Her mother rarely raised her voice. She could be cutting at times with her choice of words but rarely did her voice level change.

  ‘You did what?’ she almost screamed at Emily.

  Emily was shocked. ‘I told you I was thinking about it. It’s perfect for what I need. It saves me hiring a separate studio.’

  Her mother was pacing the floor, all the colour gone out of her face.

  ‘You must go back. Or ring them. Tell them it was a mistake, that you had no idea what you were doing. How on earth did you afford it?’

  ‘My house was worth quite a bit. It’s all to do with location, I am told.’

  ‘Do it now, Emily. Tell them you need to withdraw your offer.’

  ‘Why on earth would I do that? Mam, what is wrong with you? Why are you reacting like this?’

  ‘I told you to stay away from Draheen and that house. But you refused to listen. I am telling you to do as I tell you. No good will come of it. Why would you do this to me?’

  ‘To you? What am I doing to you? Mam, I have no idea what is going on with you. You are making no sense. Why are you acting like this?’

  ‘There will be no luck to come of buying that house!’ her mother cried.

  Jack arrived in after collecting his dole. He looked at Emily then at his mother.

  ‘Is everything okay? Mam, are you okay?’

  ‘I need to lie down.’ Her voice was barely a whisper.

  Jack helped his mother up the stairs.

  Emily put the kettle on, her thoughts in turmoil.

  When Jack came back down they sat at the table and she filled him in.

  Then it all became too much – the stress of buying a house, selling her home, work and now this strange reaction from her mother. Emily started to cry.

  ‘I feel dreadful. I seem to have stirred something up. Maybe she is right, and I should never have bought the house. I knew she was against the idea but I didn’t think she felt so strongly about it. My goodness, I never heard her raise her voice like that. She seemed so fearful when I said it.’