by Sharon Owens
‘Oh dear.’
‘Not to worry,’ he said brightly. ‘Every cloud has a silver lining. Now, eat up. I found a packet of bacon stashed under the lettuce. Bridget must be losing her touch.’
They both giggled as they munched their way through a stack of bacon sandwiches and sipped from enormous mugs of piping-hot tea.
‘Oh, Jack, I'm ashamed to say I'm glad that firm went broke. My nerves are shredded and my back is frozen stiff,’ said Lily, stretching her arms. ‘Workers of the world unite.’
‘It's your lucky day, then,’ he teased, as he set the plates and cups on the floor. ‘Tense, nervous women are my speciality.’ He kissed Lily's neck passionately.
‘That feels wonderful,’ she breathed, as he softly massaged her back.
‘Now,’ he mused, ‘shall I work my way up or down?’
‘Surprise me,’ she whispered.
Trudy found a note taped to Lily and Jack's attic stairway when she got up to make coffee. It said, ‘Do Not Disturb. We Are Having A Day Off. PS: Tonight's Party Cancelled. Jack B.’ Yippee, Trudy thought. Fancy that!
She hurried in to tell the others. Immediately, Marie and Daisy said they would phone the Devaney brothers and arrange a day out, but when they went to the telephone, the lead had been pulled out of the wall. There was another note on the hall table, which said, ‘Do Not Reconnect This Line, Under Any Circumstances. Jack B.’
‘Mmm,’ said Marie. ‘I think the strain is getting to our employers. I say we make ourselves scarce. Pronto.’
‘I'll give Gerry a shout on my mobile,’ said Trudy.
‘Good idea,’ said Daisy, fetching hers to call David.
‘Put me on to Michael when you've finished,’ said Marie. ‘I forgot to charge mine last night.’
‘What about you, Bridget? Are you going to call the long arm of the law?’ Daisy teased, and they all laughed. ‘'Ello, 'ello, 'ello!’
‘I am not indeed going to call him, and my parents only buried.’ She sniffed. ‘What on earth would he think of me? I'm not a complete slut, you know.’
‘Sorry, Bridget,’ said Daisy. ‘I didn't mean it that way.’
‘That's okay,’ she relented. ‘I'll have a day in bed. It will be great to get the three of you out of my hair for a while. Have a nice time, whatever you do.’
Bridget went into the kitchen and was just about to heat up the frying pan, when she discovered it was already warm. And the kitchen had a lovely aroma wafting about it. She had a horrible feeling that Jack had found the bacon she'd hidden under a floppy head of lettuce the night before. She was extremely disappointed when her suspicions were confirmed.
‘Dammit,’ she hissed, slamming the fridge door shut and flicking on the kettle. Oh, well, she would just have a quick rummage in the containers. There was bound to be something nice…
An hour later, Lily and Jack lay half-asleep in each other's arms. Lily's very toes were tingling and all her aches and pains had been eased away.
‘That beats cleaning and cooking,’ she said, sighing happily.
‘It sure does,’ Jack murmured.
‘I think I heard the girls go out a while ago,’ Lily told him. ‘What shall we do with this unexpected gift of peace and quiet?’
‘Just lie here until lunchtime,’ he said. ‘And then I'm phoning for an Indian takeaway. I never want to see another big cold bare slimy turkey, as long as I live.’
‘Agreed. And if you hear any talk from me about saving the world, just lock me in the cellar until I calm down.’ She yawned. ‘I think I'll heat some water for a bath. I haven't had a good long soak in ages.’
‘I love you, Lily,’ he said softly.
‘And I love you, Jack Beaumont,’ she replied. They began to kiss again. But they both jumped and banged their front teeth together when there was a sudden rap on the door.
‘Lily? Lily, are you awake? Jack, are you in there?’ asked an excited voice on the other side.
‘Bridget? Is that you, Bridget?’ Lily called, as Jack pretended to stab himself in the head. ‘We thought you all went out. Are you all right, pet?’
‘Yes, I'm fine. But, Lily, I've torn a big piece off the wallpaper.’
‘Bridget, honestly, it doesn't matter now.’ Lily sighed. ‘The whole lot might be landfill soon. We're having a lie-in.’
‘Trying to,’ added Jack helpfully.
‘Yes, but there's something underneath the wallpaper,’ Bridget persisted.
‘That'll be the wall,’ said Jack. ‘Is it hard and flat and made of bricks?’
‘Oh, if you're not interested, I'll just go away,’ she said, suddenly cross. ‘There's no need to be sarcastic.’ They heard her stamping down the stairs and slamming the sitting-room door behind her.
‘What is it, Bridget?’ Lily called, slapping Jack on the arm. He had no right to tease the poor girl so soon after the funeral. ‘Bridget, come back,’ she yelled. The sitting-room door opened again.
‘It's a painting of a shoe,’ said Bridget, after a moment. ‘And it's been signed J. Lavery. It looks like a lady's shoe to me but, God knows, I'm no expert on old-fashioned clothes.’
‘Lavery?’ said Lily. ‘Are you having me on? You'd better not be pulling my leg, I swear!’ She leapt out of the bed and went running to the door, only remembering she was naked as she reached for the handle. Jack threw her robe across the room to her, and then looked for some clothes for himself. He'd take the time to dress, he thought, as Lily pelted into the hall and he groped around for some jeans and a clean T-shirt in the wardrobe.
‘We're coming,’ cried Lily. ‘What's going on?’
Bridget was hovering in the hall, unsure what to do.
‘I was just shoving my bed back into place,’ Bridget explained. ‘I dropped a magazine down the side. Anyway, that bed is really heavy, so I gave it a good shove and it tore the paper right off.’
‘I'm with you so far,’ said Lily. ‘Show me.’ They went into the room, and Bridget pointed to the spot. There was indeed a painting of a woman's shoe peeping out from underneath several layers of paper and paint. And there was the signature, just as Bridget had described.
‘Oh, my God,’ gasped Lily. ‘J. Lavery! Could it be Sir John Lavery? If this is genuine… I didn't know he painted murals. Oh, my God!’
‘I knew it was something special,’ said Bridget, smugly. ‘Is it an old poster, or what?’
‘Bridget O'Malley, listen to me,’ said Lily, touching the painting gently with her index finger. It was painted directly onto the plaster, and it appeared to be the real thing. Lily was quite a fan of Lavery's work, and sometimes she even tried to dress like the elegant ladies in his beautiful paintings. ‘If this is what I think and hope and pray it is, then our wee tavern is going to be safe for ever!’
‘What do you think it is?’
‘A mural.’
‘On this entire wall?’
‘Maybe. Maybe on all four walls.’
‘But why is it papered over?’
‘This world is full of mysteries, Bridget. Isn't that the truth?’
By the time Jack ran into the room three minutes later, Lily and Bridget were dancing round and round the room, singing for joy. Jack grasped the situation very quickly and pulled the bed right out for a better look.
‘Let's get started on the stripping, shall we?’ he said. ‘Where did we put the toolbox, Lily?’
‘Oh, my darling man,’ laughed Lily. ‘We cannot touch this room. We'll have to get the experts in, properly qualified art-restorers. If there is a mural under here, it will be extremely valuable.’
‘What if there isn't? What if it's just that one little bit, there?’ he said. ‘Sure, the paper came off handy enough. Let's have a go?’
‘The wall is damp in this corner, Jack. That's why the paper came off so easily,’ Lily said.
‘I thought it was a bit damp,’ said Bridget, rubbing her shoulders.
‘But the rest of the room is dry as a bone. The wallpaper is stuck fast, a
nd I've no idea what this paper is stuck on with, you see,’ added Lily. ‘We might ruin the entire thing if we pitch in with steam and scrapers. We've got to preserve it for the public.’
‘What do you mean? Will people want to see it?’ said Bridget.
‘Of course they will!’ Lily exclaimed. ‘This is a fantastic discovery!’
‘But what about us? Does this mean we get to keep the tavern, or not?’ Jack wanted to know.
‘Oh,’ said Lily, stopping her dance suddenly. ‘I haven't a clue.’
As the two of them stood pondering this huge question, there was a knock at the front door. Bridget sneaked off for a long soak in the bath, so there was no point in sending her to answer it. Lily peered out of the front window. A well-built man in an expensive overcoat was standing there, along with a pretty girl. Vincent Halloran had lost his temper with the elusive Beaumonts and had finally arrived for a showdown.
‘We've got visitors,’ Lily said. ‘And unless I'm very much mistaken, it's Vincent Halloran himself. And the young woman with him, she looks like his secretary.’
‘Will we let them in?’ asked Jack. ‘I want to see the look on his face when I tell him all the money in the world couldn't buy this place now.’
Two hours and four cups of coffee later, Lily and Jack, and Vincent and Judy were still sitting by the fire in the tavern. Vincent was finding it hard to judge the mood of the situation. The Beaumonts were definitely very fond of this little place, and he could see why. It was cosy, warm and womb-like with its low ceilings, dark walls and muffled acoustics. And, of course, they were very excited about the fragment of mural upstairs. Vincent had been invited to view the painting with his own eyes, and he thought it did appear to be a genuine fragment of a much bigger mural. That dainty shoe might turn out to be part of an undiscovered artwork by Sir John Lavery. He had surprised Lily Beaumont with his knowledge of the Belfast-born painter: she'd taken Vincent Halloran for a hardened businessman who knew nothing about art.
He took some satisfaction in telling Lily that he knew Lavery was born around 1856, the son of an impoverished publican who drowned when John was only three. ‘Lavery's mother died soon afterwards,’ he added, ‘and the child was sent to relatives in Scotland. He attended art college there before travelling extensively, and his career as a painter soared when he painted Queen Victoria in 1888.’
And Lily was eager to tell Vincent what she knew too: that the Anglo-Irish Treaty of 1921 had been drawn up and signed in Lavery's London home, 15 Cadogan Gardens, in South Kensington. And that, as a result of the Treaty, Ireland was partitioned and then plunged into Civil War.
They talked about the painter for quite a long time, until Judy was almost deranged with tiredness. She knew that Vincent was only humouring Lily. He liked art, but he liked getting his own way a lot more. He was finding some common ground, some connection with these people, before moving in for the main prize. He was like a wolf, really. She forced her face into an interested smile, wondering if Vincent would still give her the two thousand pounds. She'd go on a beach holiday in the Canary Islands with her friends. She'd buy a red bikini, and get her hair cut in a new style.
Vincent thought the Beaumonts were far too attached to the tavern. It was almost a dependency-thing, he decided. They had trouble imagining living and working outside of this little place. Vincent thought the two of them might be slightly institutionalized here on Maple Street. He knew he would have to tread carefully. The woman was an incurable art-lover; there was definitely some potential there for negotiation. And Lily seemed to be the dominant one in the marriage. The husband would simply agree to whatever she wanted to do: Vincent would put money on that. He agreed that the Beaumonts needed time to consider their position and asked for more coffee.
Meanwhile, Judy moved the Boxing Day party to an Italian restaurant on the Malone Road, and was on the phone for half an hour, notifying the guests of the new venue. Her handsome bricklayer from Ligoniel was going to be there. She cheered up again.
At lunchtime, Barney, Joey and Francy Mac arrived and were soon safely installed in their favourite snug, pints of stout in front of them. The bar was closed to all other customers for the day. Bridget was sound asleep upstairs, and the three other girls were still out somewhere with their young men.
Trudy rang to say that she and Gerry were heading off to Donegal for the day, and they might even stay the night in a bed and breakfast. Then Daisy called to tell Lily that she and Marie were having lunch with the Devaney household.
‘Have you seen the news?’ Daisy added, before hanging up. ‘The tidal wave? Wasn't it awful? There're thousands dead.’ Jack switched on the radio at once, and they listened to the horrific details about the Asian tsunami. It had a very sobering effect on all of them.
‘Homelessness is a global issue,’ Lily said suddenly, and Vincent sensed they were hardening their stance.
‘Indeed, it is,’ he agreed in a soft voice. ‘And doesn't it just go to show you that life is very short? That you never know what is going to happen next? I suppose there's a lesson here for all of us: we should live life to the full, as if every day were going to be our last.’ Lily and Jack nodded their heads in agreement, but then Judy went and spoilt the mood with her rumbling stomach. Honestly, thought Vincent, that woman was the greediest person he had ever met. She was for ever eating, drinking, chasing men and booking holidays.
‘I'm starving,’ said Judy loudly. ‘Do you think I could have a sandwich, or something, Mrs Beaumont?’ And then another hour was wasted as Lily made snacks and Jack prepared yet more pots of tea and coffee. Vincent gave Judy quite a look, but she ignored him and thought of her red bikini. She would resign as soon as she was back home in Dublin. She was bored with the building trade. Judy wanted to feel warm sand on her back and a bricklayer's warm arms around her waist.
‘I won't lie to you, Mrs Beaumont,’ Vincent said eventually, dabbing his lips with a napkin. ‘I could walk away from this deal. I'm a wealthy man so I don't need the money. But I've never lost a deal in my life and I don't want to lose this one.’
‘And we've been very happy here for twenty years, and we don't see why we should have to move,’ said Jack.
‘Especially to make way for a shopping mall. If it was a hospital or something useful, I could see your point,’ Lily added.
‘Okay, I accept that,’ Vincent said, stifling a tiny yawn. It was time to put his trump card on the table. ‘But what if we can reach a compromise?’
‘I can't see how we can do that,’ said Lily, momentarily puzzled.
‘Well, you want to save the tavern from demolition, right? And I want to build this mall. Okay. What would you say if I built the mall around the tavern?’
‘You mean you'd cut a wedge out of the design?’ Jack asked. ‘Only, I don't think I'd like to be right up against the side of it.’
‘No, I mean around the tavern, literally.’ Vincent began to sketch some ideas on a sheet of paper from Judy's notebook. ‘You see, if I lose four floors of offices in this corner here, and put a big glass wall along there, the tavern will be safe and sound from the elements for decades to come. My surveyor told me some time ago, your roof badly needs replacing.’
‘You mean the tavern will be inside the mall?’ Lily was amazed.
‘Yes, indeed. Protected by plate-glass.’
‘Will we still own it?’ asked Jack.
‘No, I'll own it, but I'll pay to have the mural restored, and I'll run the place as a tourist attraction. Maybe serve tea and pastries downstairs during the day?’
‘So, it wouldn't be a pub any more?’ Jack was confused.
‘Not a working pub, no,’ said Vincent. ‘We couldn't allow people to go smoking cigarettes in it, or light a real fire. It would be far too dangerous. The whole place could burn down and take the mural with it.’
‘I never thought of that,’ said Lily gravely. ‘I wouldn't want to risk damaging the mural. Definitely not.’
Vincent's heart tw
anged with excitement! He had their attention now. He was going to convince them to sell the tavern to him. He just knew it.
‘What about the fireplace?’ Jack wondered. ‘Say you were running a café in here? It wouldn't look right without a fire burning in the grate.’
‘We'll put in a black stovepipe electric heater, with fake coals glowing. It would cause far less pollution.’
‘Mmm,’ said Jack. ‘Maybe, but it wouldn't look nearly as nice as a real fire.’
‘I've seen some heaters that look extremely realistic,’ said Lily.
Vincent thought he could see them coming round to the idea of selling at last. It was time to risk everything on a make-or-break offer.
‘Now, here is my assessment of the situation,’ he summarized, taking a deep breath. ‘You need a new roof. That'll set you back thousands. The mural will be costly to restore also and you may have to work with the relevant authorities. And they'll have your head turned with rules and regulations, believe me.’
‘Oh, God, the rules and regulations!’ Judy sighed. ‘It would drive you mad.’
‘There's the danger of fire damage to the painting to think of,’ Vincent continued. ‘And you currently use the room as a living space, which would make it difficult for art-lovers to see the mural, if there really is one under all that wallpaper.’
‘That's all very true,’ admitted Lily, biting her lip.
‘Now, I'll make sure the tavern and the mural are preserved intact, if you agree to sell to me today. I'll keep the tavern safe, and I'll put the mural behind glass, like the Mona Lisa. I'll increase my offer to one million pounds, and the two of you can go off on a nice holiday right away. When you come home you can buy another pub in a quieter spot, if that's what you want. What do you say?’
‘I don't know,’ said Lily. ‘A million pounds. It's very tempting. We'll have to think about it.’
‘How will you get all these ideas by the planners?’ asked Jack.
‘Don't you worry about that,’ Vincent said. ‘That's my problem.’
‘Won't you be losing profit with the new design?’ Lily pointed out. ‘You'll be losing out on office rental.’
