Saira explained to Rasher that the place had been in rag order when they’d started on it.
‘If it hadn’t been for volunteers, nothing would have got done. The council’s bought the site now, and they put money into the garden fund, too, but it costs an awful lot to maintain a place like this. Pat gives a hand sometimes. Lots of people do. It’s a very relaxing way to pass the time.’
‘And doesn’t it get people out of the house and talking to each other?’ Pat tapped Rasher on the knee. ‘It never does anyone any good to go shutting themselves away. That’s the rock you perish on if you get too wedded to a screen. I’m always saying that to the crowd I teach computers to. “Cyberspace is enticing,” I say, “but you don’t want to make it your home.”’
‘Oh? Right.’
Rasher wasn’t paying her much attention because he had a feeling Saira was planning to put him to work. The garden was nice enough, with the birds flying round the fountain, and the herb beds looking pretty good in the sun. He didn’t fancy the notion of getting his hands dirty for no pay, though. Or hanging out with a crowd of oul ones like Pat.
As if she’d read his mind, Saira smiled again. ‘We get volunteers here of all ages. Pensioners. Middle-aged mums like me. My daughter Ameena comes along when she’s home from college, and lots of people from her class at school are working in town now. They give a hand sometimes. Some of them belong to the film club in the library too. You should think about coming to that, Adam.’
Still feeling chivvied, Rasher shrugged. ‘I haven’t a clue about growing things.’
‘No? But you should have.’ Saira turned to Pat. ‘Adam plans to become a chef.’
‘Do you, love? Well, fair play to you, that’s a grand job! Oh, you’ll want to know all about growing things for that. And rearing meat. Ah, I wish Ger was alive now, and he’d give you a bit of a low-down on the meat trade. Poultry too – we did great business with turkeys round Christmas.’
It was an aspect of things that hadn’t occurred to Rasher. He looked at the herb beds shimmering in the sun. ‘I suppose I could come for an hour or two if I wasn’t on a shift.’
Saira stood up and laid the gloves on the bench. ‘There are plenty of people here who’d help you learn.’
Looking at it that way, he was the one who’d be getting something for nothing. Though, on the other hand, once he picked it up, he supposed he’d be of use. As he sat there getting his head round it, Saira said she’d go and fetch some tea. She walked off in the direction of the café, leaving Rasher there on the bench with Pat. Stuck for something to say to her, Rasher asked if her son wasn’t interested in butchering.
‘Ah, no, love, he’d be more of a businessman.’
‘And is he the only one? I mean you’ve no one else that’d take on the shop?’
Pat ducked her head and, to his horror, when she looked up her eyes were glistening. ‘Well, no. My other two sons are off in Canada. They have their own lives now, over there. I have a granddaughter that’s just about your age. She’d come back and forth. Not the lads, though. Well, they left a long time ago, and for years they didn’t come back. They never got on great with Ger, you see.’
Wishing he hadn’t started this, Rasher nodded.
Pat ran a forefinger under her eye. ‘I’d say they kind of blamed me for not making things better. I’d say half the time I did the wrong thing but, sure, you do the best you can. They were here in the end when he died, though. Both of them. Sonny and Jim. But too much time had passed, I think, by that stage.’
‘How d’you mean?’
‘Ah, I don’t know, love. It’s not that I want to drag them back to live here. A phone call every week, say, that’d be good. Just knowing they haven’t put me out of their minds entirely.’
She looked up and asked him if he’d ever read a book called Brooklyn.
‘No.’
‘It’s a good book, that, you know, Rasher. We’re reading it here for the film club in the library. They’d show you a film, and you’d read the book it was based on afterwards. Anyway, Brooklyn’s about this woman, and her man’s dead and one daughter dies, too, and the other decides to go off and live in America. The end of the film was all about the new life this lassie would have. Sunshine and marriage and plenty of money. And that poor woman left at home in a town that was grey and cold. But, sure, the young are like that, Rasher. They have to be. They don’t think.’
‘But maybe your kids are always thinking about you.’
‘Maybe so. I don’t know that, love, though, do I? And it’s not them thinking of me that matters, I just want to know they’re all right. They’ll be back again, I’d say, when I’m in my coffin. And what good will that be to me then?’ She dabbed at both her eyes with a paper tissue and gave him a sweet smile. ‘You’re not from round here. I can tell that by the look of you. Where were you born?’
‘Dublin.’
‘Do you tell me that? And are your parents still there?’
‘My dad’s dead. I’d say my mum’s still there, yeah.’
‘But you’re not sure?’ He opened his mouth but, before he could speak, she put her hand on his knee. ‘God, you must think I’m a nosy old biddy! Never mind me, Rasher, you keep your business to yourself.’
‘No, it’s okay . . .’
‘Look, if you’re not in touch, there must be a good reason. But would you do this for me, love? Would you give the poor woman a ring and tell her you’re safe.’
Ten minutes later, having drunk a cup of tea, Rasher was on his knees beside a herb bed. It was tarragon, with its deep flavour of aniseed and vanilla, and Saira was showing him how to prune back the plants. The scent of the clipped leaves was much stronger here in the sunshine than in the kitchen and, according to Saira, the basil growing in the bed beyond the tarragon was stronger and improved in flavour because it was planted beside them.
‘Companion planting is a big thing for us here. We work on it a lot.’
‘Yeah? That’s cool. I’ve got a shift this afternoon but I could come and give a hand next weekend, maybe.’
‘Why not? And you could come to the film club this Tuesday. We have it once a month. It’s free.’
‘I might do.’
On the way back to Carrick, he told himself he and Bogdan might fix their shifts and go to the film club together. Petru, the other porter, had a wife and a kid to go home to, but Bogdan, like himself, seemed to spend most of his free time in his room. They could come on the bus to Lissbeg and go for a pizza after the movie.
Maybe he’d ask Bogdan when they were taking a break tomorrow. Sitting back in his seat, Rasher watched the patchwork of green and gold fields flash by the window. It was pretty crap to think of Pat sitting there blaming herself for what had gone wrong in her family. And worrying about being dead and gone before her kids got back in touch. Like his own mum had said, things happen in life and there wasn’t much point in asking why or going round handing out blame.
As the bus reached the outskirts of Carrick, Rasher made a decision. The chances were that the bastard Fergal had moved on or was banged up in prison and, if not, he’d find a way to cope. One way or the other, when he was back in the Vic he’d pick up the phone and ring Mum.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
I KNOW WHEN MY ADVIE CISNT WANTED
Pause. Buzz.
YOUD DO RIGHT 2 HAV A WORD WITH HIM WHEN UVE GOT HIM THERE ON UR OWN
Buzz.
THINK OF UR OLD AGE IF U DON’T NO ONE ELSEWILL
Hanna groaned and buried her head in her hands. With a fleeting vision of Harriet Beecher Stowe’s Uncle Tom, she decided to think of her mercies: at least while Mary remained focused on the price of the house in London she wasn’t demanding to know why she hadn’t been told about Brian and Mike.
As she lifted her head, a figure passed outside the window and, slamming her phone onto the table, she went to open the door. Malcolm, in a polo shirt, khaki chinos, and loafers, was standing on the step with a bottle of wine. Hav
ing driven home the previous night in a state of turmoil, Hanna had woken wishing she could cancel the Sunday brunch she’d offered to cook for him. Given last night’s dinner, and the fact that Louisa had already taken him to lunch, an invitation to Maggie’s place had seemed only fair. But that had been last week. Now, having hardly slept till the small hours, kedgeree and conversation with Malcolm were the last things she felt up to.
Everything that had happened last night after Jazz and Mike’s arrival had felt like a blur. The party had chatted, drunk excellent wines, and eaten a delicious dinner. After a flurry of surprise, the revelation that Jazz’s friend had turned out to be Brian’s son had hardly been discussed. Jazz, Malcolm, and Mike himself had seemed delighted by what Mike had called the happenstance. And all the time a voice in her head had reminded Hanna loudly of the day she’d told Brian how much she admired his reticence.
Whether or not she’d seen Hanna’s confusion, Louisa had stepped in discreetly and monopolised Mary. After his initial rigid reaction – and the moment when Hanna had felt him remove his painful grasp on her arm – Brian had clapped Mike on the back and, for the rest of the evening, kept up a flow of inconsequential conversation.
Astonishingly, Hanna had contrived to do the same. She’d been aware, however, of both Malcolm and Mary shooting her curious glances. And now here was Malcolm on her doorstep, wanting brunch.
Crossing the threshold, he looked round in approval. ‘How nice to be here. And what a lovely room you’ve made of this!’
Taking the proffered bottle, Hanna indicated a chair. Like the management of The Royal Vic last night, she’d lit a cosmetic fire. It was a beautiful day, and all her windows were open, but, given that the fireplace was the room’s focal point, a cold hearth would have felt like a hostile gesture on Malcolm’s first visit to her house.
He took the seat and, as she opened the wine, continued to admire the room. ‘No one but you could have created exactly this ambience.’
Hanna snorted. ‘Most of it’s still dominated by Maggie, and much of the rest was imposed on me by my builder.’
‘I find that hard to believe.’
‘You don’t know Fury O’Shea.’ The thought of Fury suddenly reminded her forcefully of Brian.
Malcolm’s eyes narrowed. ‘You’re looking a bit seedy. Is everything okay?’
‘Perfectly.’ Hanna sat down on the other side of the fire. ‘I’m just not used to fine dining and late nights.’
‘A pleasant evening, though.’
‘Lovely. It was good of you to host it.’
‘Oh, for heaven’s sake, don’t be po-faced! It was a family meal, not a banquet.’
‘Yes. Sorry. And I know Jazz is glad you’ve come.’
‘As glad as she ever is.’
With an effort, Hanna refrained from asking him whose fault he thought that was.
Malcolm frowned. ‘I’m never quite sure if there’s something up or if she’s just edgy around me.’
‘She’s pretty upset about the boyfriend, I think. It seems she just came home and found him gone.’
‘Well, no one knows better than I how difficult that can be.’
Hanna stiffened. ‘If you’re trying to suggest . . .’
‘I’m not suggesting anything.’
‘Yes, you are! You’re drawing a pathetic comparison between my decision to get out of the farce that was our marriage and a boy in his twenties moving on from a love affair of six months!’ Taking a deep breath, Hanna controlled herself. ‘Look, can we stop this? I am feeling a bit seedy, actually, so I’d rather hoped for a quiet, civil brunch.’
‘Tell you what.’ Malcolm stood up and removed the glass from her hand. ‘You never could drink wine when your tummy was rough. Stay where you are and I’ll make us both some tea.’
She was about to protest when she realised that a cup of tea was precisely what she was craving. ‘Okay. You’ll find the things on the counter. But my tummy’s fine. I’ve made kedgeree and I’m looking forward to it.’
As soon as she’d spoken, she wished she hadn’t. At least the fiction of an upset stomach would have accounted for her appearance. As it was, Malcolm would keep digging, like a dog scenting a bone.
Having made the tea and come back to the fire, he sat back and looked at her. ‘Brian seems a nice chap.’
‘He is.’
‘Nice boy too. I gathered you hadn’t met him before.’
Suddenly something inside Hanna snapped. ‘Mind your own business, Malcolm! My relationship with Brian has nothing to do with you.’
‘I merely mentioned Mike.’
‘I know you did. Don’t.’ She glared at him, daring him to continue. Then he raised his hand in an acquiescent gesture that was nothing like the stagey one he’d used at the Garden Café.
They drank tea in silence until Malcolm spoke again. ‘I suppose it would be fatuous to say that I hate to see you upset.’
‘Fatuous? I’d have said offensive.’
He lowered his eyes and, looking at him, she realised how much he’d aged. The arrogance he’d had since she’d first known him had changed from something fiery into a brittle shell. Hanna was swept by a profound sense of weariness. All the troubles of their past seemed nothing compared to the confusion of her present.
Last night, as he’d helped her into her coat, Brian had spoken urgently: ‘Hanna, come back to the flat like we planned. Please. Don’t just disappear.’
Biting her lip, she’d shaken her head and driven herself home, seeing the lights on the motorway through a haze of unshed tears. He’d tried to ring her three times since then, but she hadn’t taken the calls.
Now she realised Malcolm was looking at her again. To her surprise, his jaw was clenched and, when he spoke, his voice sounded strained. ‘You know what I couldn’t stop thinking of last night? William would have been older now than Mike is. I can’t imagine having a son in his thirties. God, what would it be like?’
William was the name they had chosen for the baby she’d miscarried. Hearing it, Hanna pressed her hand against her mouth. It always seemed mad that the pain of that loss could still leap up and choke her. Yet it did, and on the strangest of occasions. Sometimes in the street, out of the blue, her heart would jerk at the sight of a mother with a baby. Or she’d wake at night from a dream that seemed to come from nowhere, in which she’d felt the ominous stream of blood between her legs.
Malcolm was the only person on earth who could understand and feel that loss as she did.
When she’d found out she was pregnant they’d been living together. But they’d had no plans to marry. The happy-ever-after ending had been his dream, not hers. ‘Please, Hanna. Let’s do this, let’s get married. I love you. I want to look after you. I want us to raise our child together and be happy.’
‘But none of this was planned.’
‘Speak for yourself. I heard wedding bells the first moment I saw you.’
‘And what? Sabotaged a condom to make it happen?’
‘No, but I should have thought of that. You’d never have found out.’
She had laughed down at him as he knelt beside her, his arms around her waist and his eyes full of excitement. Later, in the bitter years after their divorce, she’d realised they’d been joking about a central part of his nature. He’d always assumed he’d a God-given right to anything he wanted, and that whatever he did to achieve it was just fine.
But the tears in his eyes now were real, Hanna was sure of that. Gulping her tea, she fought to remain composed. Here was Malcolm, more than thirty years on, weeping for the son he’d never had. How could Brian, whom she’d thought she knew, have a son about whom he’d never said a word?
There was a buzzing noise from the table. Quicker to recover than she was, Malcolm nodded at the phone. ‘Sounds like a text.’
‘Oh, damn and blast my mother! Yes, it is.’
Before the phone could buzz again, she shut it off smartly. Malcolm grinned. ‘One thing I don’t miss is Mary�
��s intense need to communicate.’
‘Well, I can’t say I blame you.’
‘I take it she’s still unhappy about the house sale.’
‘Yes, but that’s nonsense. You owe me nothing, Malcolm. And I apologise for Mam.’
Malcolm stood up and went to put more water in the kettle. ‘I’m not sure that, in this case, she hasn’t got a point.’
‘Well, I am. Absolutely. So don’t even think about it.’
Coming back, he hunkered down to place the teapot on the hearth. Then he turned his head and looked at her. ‘You know why I’m selling it? Because Mary’s right and you’re wrong. Okay, maybe not about the money, if that’s how you feel, but it was always your house, Hanna. Always has been. I can’t sit there growing old in it without you.’
Then why the hell did you bring Tessa Carmichael into my bed?
As soon as the thought screamed in her mind, she saw Malcolm acknowledge it.
‘Look, I’ve said this already but I swear to you, Hanna, it’s true. Tessa and I only made love in the house that one time. And, as God’s my witness, I never intended to live a lie all those years. She was kind to me after the miscarriage and I was a fool and one thing led to another. I fell in love with her. Yes, I did. And I would have told you then. But you were in bits after we lost William. And I loved you too. I couldn’t just walk away and leave you. Not then.’
‘Well, leave it now, will you? Please. I’m not up to this today.’
‘No, but I have to say it. Because I buggered everything up and I know that now. And the worst of it was that I kept going, thinking I could square the circle. I thought I could make us all happy.’ He held out his hand. Then, seeing her expression, withdrew it. ‘Truly. I thought I could. And then there was Jazz.’
Hanna’s face felt like stone. ‘Yes. The baby you let me conceive while you were cheating on me. The daughter who was going to grow up to find her dad was a scumbag. And don’t say that you were the one who tried to keep it from her! Have you any idea how much worse that made things, Malcolm? You lying to her, saying the split was amicable, and me having no choice but to play along?’
The Month of Borrowed Dreams Page 25
