Finishing Touches

by Patricia Scanlan

  ‘No problem, Cassie.’

  ‘Have you decided what to call it yet?’ Brian, the carpenter, asked as he put the finishing touches to the pine ceiling. Cassie was going for a warm rustic look.

  She sighed. ‘Interior Motives? Designs on You? New Horizons? I don’t know yet. I’m meeting the girls for lunch over in Breakers. Maybe we’ll have a brain-storming session and come up with something,’ Cassie smiled. ‘Listen, you guys, I’m off. If you hear wild shrieks down the street it’s only four mad women having a reunion so don’t panic. OK?’

  ‘OK,’ they laughed.

  Slipping out of her overalls, Cassie grabbed her bag and ran. She was meeting the girls in five minutes and needed to brush her hair and put on a bit of lipstick. She had told them to meet her in the restaurant. No-one was going to see the place until it was ready and she could have a grand unveiling, and that was quite a while off.

  She smiled to herself as she walked past her bank. Soon she would be handing in her resignation and doing something she had always wanted to do. Setting up her own interior design business.

  Who would have thought eight months before, when she sat overlooking Dublin Bay in the early hours of a January morning, that her dream would become a reality.

  First the house, then the business! Saying it like that made it sound easy, but of course it hadn’t been. Cassie had bought her little house overlooking the estuary with the money from her share of the sale of the business. There had been more than enough left over to have the place extended and re-vamped. When the builders were finished Cassie intended decorating it herself.

  While this was all taking place she had made enquiries about a shop that was for sale on the main street in Malahide. She passed the premises every day on her way to work and noticed it was for sale but never even thought anything of it until that life-changing morning when the idea came to her. But buying the place had been a difficult task. She had made an offer that had not been accepted and had had to go higher.

  Then she had to sell Nora’s house and the house in Liverpool in order to raise the purchase price of the premises. Sometimes she thought that she would be on bridging finance for ever. The Liverpool deal went fine. The couple who were renting it from her wanted to buy it and Cassie had agreed a price with them. That had lulled her into a false sense of security about selling the bungalow. The first buyer had pulled out before signing the contract, the second had not got loan approval and had been devastated. Finally, the third couple that decided to buy it were ready to close when their solicitor died, causing a further delay. Cassie was frantic because she was afraid she would lose her business premises.

  She got her first commission by accident. She was chatting with the hairdresser in Port Mahon while she was getting her hair done. The new proprietors, a husband-and-wife team had remarked that they wanted to give the place a new look. Of course, Cassie had immediately come up with several suggestions, explaining that she had done an interior design diploma. The next time she went in to get her hair done, they asked her if she would like to submit a design. Cassie jumped at the proposal and the result was that Port Mahon had a trendy new-look hair salon, and Cassie was back in the interior design business.

  Several other jobs had come her way by word of mouth and once again, as in London, she became a much happier person when her creativity was liberated. David backed her in everything, despite the fact that he was up to his eyes in the Thatcher biography. Cassie often went over to Hawthorn Cottage, cooked him a meal and left it to keep warm on the Aga for him. Their only contact would be her goodnight kiss as she left.

  She tried to be as supportive as she could, while looking forward to the day when David’s immersion in the book would end and they could have time together. He had vowed never again to sign away his life on a contract and she knew he would be glad to be a free man. That was why she made no complaints when he spent days, nights and weekends at his word processor. The pressure of his deadline was always there and she wasn’t going to make his life more difficult by moaning. David had been a tower of strength for her when she needed him most; now she was doing the same for him.

  After work and at the weekends she was kept busy with her new commissions, and whatever spare time she had was spent getting the new premises ready. Sometimes she wondered if she had been too impulsive, spending so much money on the house and new business. Would she get enough work to justify going into business? It was a risk, and a big one, but if she hadn’t taken her chance, she knew she’d never do it. She would go on working in the bank, and always there would be a sense of regret for an opportunity lost. Whenever she had doubts, she said to herself, ‘You’re reclaiming your life!’

  It had been a wrench finally to sell the family home. Irene had nearly gone crazy when she heard that Cassie was planning to sell and this had only increased Cassie’s feelings of guilt. In the end she knew that if she really wanted to start afresh it was something she must do. She wrote to Barbara and Martin, informing them of her decision, and offering them the chance to take anything they wanted out of the house. Barbara’s response had been a letter from her solicitor with a list of items that she required, including Nora’s valuable ivory jewellery-box and filigree brooch, a Japanese tea-set, and the Encyclopaedia Britanica that Jack had bought for them as children.

  John had been disgusted by the letter and advised Cassie to tell Barbara to get lost, but Cassie, sick of confrontation, replied to the solicitor saying that Barbara could have what she asked for. Barbara had sent a taxi for the items and that was all the contact the two sisters had had since the court case. Taking a last look around the house that had held such happy and sad memories, Cassie wept and John had been just as upset, but as she closed the door behind them for the last time she knew she was ending one chapter in her life and opening another. She made a promise to herself never to look back, to try to leave all her regrets behind. Cassie had been reading a little book she had found among her mother’s possessions, called The Game of Life and How to Play It. Written by a teacher of metaphysics in New York called Florence Scovel-Shinn, it was a powerful little book. As she walked down the garden path of home for the last time, Cassie remembered something she had read in it just a few days previously: ‘Jesus Christ said behold, now is the accepted time. Now is the day of Salvation.’ On this the author had commented, Lot’s wife looked back and was turned into a pillar of salt. The robbers of time are the past and the future. Man should bless the past, and forget it, if it keeps him in bondage, and bless the future knowing it has in store for him endless joys, but live fully in the now. This had made a tremendous impact on Cassie. How true it was. Well, she would bless the past and leave it behind her and start living for now.

  Because her new house was not nearly ready, Cassie went temporarily to live with John and Karen. David had wanted her to come to him but, though terribly tempted, Cassie knew she would only be a distraction. When his book was finished and he was his own man again, they would have all the time in the world together. Cassie smiled, thinking of their plans. She knew she and David were destined to be together for ever. With him she felt serene and happy, so different from her dark days of anxiety with Robbie.

  She was in the ladies’ in the restaurant, brushing her hair and making herself presentable, when she heard a familiar giggle and an answering guffaw! Her face wreathed in smiles, she flew out the door and into the arms of Aileen and Laura. It was so good to see them. All talking nineteen to the dozen, they sat at their table and grinned at one another. They were waiting for Judy, so they ordered some wine. She rushed in a few minutes later, all flustered.

  ‘So how’s the entrepreneur? Tell us all the news!’ Aileen was agog. Cassie laughed and brought them up to date on her current situation.

  ‘I think it’s just perfect for you, Cassie,’ Laura announced as the waiter arrived with their menus.

  Judy sighed. ‘I envy you, Cassie. You’ve done so much with your life and so have Laura and Aileen. All I’ve done i
s get married and produce two children.’

  ‘I think that’s a great achievement, Judy,’ Cassie responded. ‘Don’t knock it.’

  ‘Yes, but it’s not enough!’ Judy burst out.

  Her sister arched an elegant eyebrow. ‘Get a job then!’

  ‘Oh, Andrew would have a fit, Aileen. He’s very much against me working at all. He likes having me there to run around after him. Sure I could have got a job in Marcia Ellis’s PR firm but he made such a fuss about it I had to give up the idea.’

  ‘I know what I’d do with Doug if he ever tried anything like that!’ Laura declared.

  ‘You always were too soft,’ Aileen frowned at Judy.

  ‘Would you really like to be working again, getting up early, dealing with the public, having to be cheerful all the time?’ Cassie grinned.

  ‘Wouldn’t I just!’ sighed Judy.

  ‘You’re hired!’

  ‘What!’

  ‘I love your style!’ drawled Aileen approvingly.

  ‘I need a receptionist/assistant to be there all the time when I’m out on jobs,’ Cassie explained. ‘Someone I can trust, someone who’s got a bit of commonsense, someone who’s got taste and style, someone just like you!’ she smiled affectionately.

  ‘Oh Cassie, I’m speechless!’

  ‘I’m delighted!’ Cassie exclaimed. ‘I knew I’d have to get someone eventually and you’ve just solved one problem for me. But what will Andrew say?’

  ‘He can say what he likes; this time I’m going to do what I want for a change.’

  ‘The worm has turned at last,’ smirked Aileen, downing her second glass of wine in celebration. ‘Not that you’re a worm, Judy,’ she added hastily, catching sight of her sister’s face. ‘I was speaking metaphorically.’

  ‘And I just thought you were plain ol’ drunk!’ Laura deadpanned and they all burst out laughing. It was a jolly lunch. The food was delicious and Cassie urged them to try the pecan pie for dessert. She had long become an addict. ‘It’s yummy!’ she promised them.

  ‘Has Barbara been in contact at all since I was home at Christmas?’ Aileen asked, as they sipped their coffee.

  Cassie shook her head. ‘Not personally. Not since the week after the funeral when she found out that Mam had left the house to me!’

  ‘She’s a bitter old pill, isn’t she!’ Aileen mused, adding a heaped spoon of brown sugar to her coffee with never a thought for her fabulous creamy complexion. ‘Imagine not speaking to you for two years!’

  ‘She’s a pathetic person, really,’ Laura said reflectively. ‘Going through life with a chip on her shoulder, not being able to forgive and forget, and holding a grudge that will always poison her. Look at what she’s lost. Your friendship and John’s, and if that’s not worth having, I don’t know what is!’

  Cassie smiled. ‘Thanks, Laura, but to be honest I don’t worry about it any longer. I don’t hold grudges and I don’t dwell on the past,’ she said firmly. ‘Barbara will always have a bee in her bonnet about something.’

  ‘A hive would be more like it!’ snorted Aileen. The others guffawed.

  ‘She’s written a novel, you know!’ Judy informed them. Barbara and she met quite regularly on the party circuit so Judy was au fait with Barbara’s latest!

  ‘You’re not serious!’ exclaimed Aileen. ‘What’s it called? A Martyr Called Barbara?’

  ‘I know!’ laughed Laura. ‘I bet she’s called it Return of the Wind.’

  ‘That sounds as if the heroine had beans for supper!’ giggled Aileen, who was deliciously tipsy.

  ‘I’ll have you know that according to Barbara it’s a serious literary novel set to take the publishing world by storm, and it’s called The Fire and the Fury.’

  The others shrieked with uproarious laughter.

  ‘She’s not quite finished it, but next year’s Booker Prize is a foregone conclusion according to her.’

  ‘I’d give anything to read it!’ Aileen wiped her eyes.

  ‘I bet I know who’s the bitch!’ grinned Cassie. ‘Me, with Kristi Killeen coming a close second. I’d better tell David to look to his literary laurels!’

  ‘How is the sexiest man in the world? You haven’t got tired of him by any chance, have you?’ Aileen teased.

  ‘’Fraid not,’ Cassie grinned.

  ‘Oh well, I live in hope! Actually, Pierre and I met up again recently, so we’ve become an item again!’ Aileen informed them.

  ‘Frenchmen are so romantic!’ sighed Judy.

  ‘Dear, once you’ve washed a man’s smelly socks, it doesn’t matter whether he’s French, Welsh, or Irish. You can forget about the romantic bit,’ Aileen philosophized.

  ‘Have more coffee; there’s a good girl,’ Laura urged, winking at Cassie.

  ‘I’d prefer another bottle of wine, actually, if it’s all the same to you,’ joked Aileen.

  ‘You plonker,’ her friend retorted.

  ‘What are you going to call the business?’ Judy asked.

  ‘I don’t know yet. There’s a name out there waiting to be picked. I’ll know it’s right when I hear it.’ Cassie smiled at her friends. She was having a lovely time with these cherished companions who had been at her side all through the years. With friends like these she could cope with anything; Cassie Jordan had already proved that!

  What would she call her business, she wondered, as she lay in bed that night. She’d had a lovely day with the girls and then David had arrived at her premises completely out of the blue with a bottle of champagne and a lovely bunch of freesias, her favourite flowers. They had gone for a long walk by the sea and made love back at the cottage.

  ‘Stay the night!’ David urged and she had been so tempted, but she knew if she stayed, he would write no more for the rest of the evening nor the next day.

  ‘When you’ve finished this book, I’m going to lock this bedroom door and we’re not leaving it for a month!’

  ‘Drat! If I were writing fiction, I could have a tidal wave to drown the whole lot of them or they could perish in an earthquake or a massive fire and I could finish the book tonight!’ he said ruefully.

  ‘I don’t think Maggie Thatcher would allow a mere tidal wave or earthquake or massive fire to get in her way,’ Cassie teased. ‘I wonder if that’s what happens in The Fire and the Fury? Fires and earthquakes!’

  ‘That I am dying to read!’ David chuckled. ‘With a title like that, Barbara can’t go wrong! It’s a pity she’s not talking to you; she’d have no problem coming up with a name for the business!’ David Williams was soundly battered with a pillow, for being such a smarty.

  Cassie smiled at the memory. David had phoned just an hour ago to tell her he had written twenty pages after she left him so he was feeling quite chuffed with himself.

  She snuggled down into the bed. It was a high old-fashioned bed and had bolsters stuffed with feathers and masses of soft white pillows. Karen laughingly confessed that sometimes she engineered a row with John just as an excuse to spend a night in her guestroom. She and John made her so welcome and she would miss them when she moved into her own house, even though she was really looking forward to that.

  Yawning, Cassie picked up her mother’s book. She’d just read a few pages before she went to sleep. It was such a positive book and written so simply. She opened it at random and read the chapter heading, ‘Perfect Self Expression or The Divine Design,’ under which was written:

  No wind can drive my bark astray

  Nor change the tide of destiny.

  What a lovely line, she thought, as she read on. A piece of paper fell out from between the pages and with a little stab of loneliness, Cassie saw it was covered with her mother’s handwriting. ‘Things to be done before Cassie’s wedding.’ That was going back a good few years, when Cassie and Robbie announced their engagement and Nora said to make sure she had plenty of time to prepare for the wedding, a wedding that was not to be.

  Robbie had married, though, Cassie heard when she went back to work. He
was currently working in the training centre in Ranelagh. Cassie had never seen him again after their meeting in Liverpool, nor had she any desire to. She rarely even spared him a thought. David gave her everything she had ever wanted or needed in a relationship. There was no comparison between their love and what she had endured with Robbie.

  Mend the front gate, Nora had written. Buy a new shower curtain. Paper the hall. Get the chimneys cleaned. Put the finishing touches to the front porch. Cassie smiled. Her poor mother. What finishing touches she had to put to the front porch, Cassie had never discovered. Probably add some plants or an ornament or two. As long as she could remember, her mother had been putting the finishing touches to something or other. A dress she was making, a room she was papering, a cake she was icing . . . It hit Cassie like a bolt from the blue, Finishing Touches! Finishing Touches! That was it! That was the name! Nora had provided the means for her to make her dream come true, and now she had provided her with the perfect name. Her mother hadn’t left her at all; she was still looking after her. Cassie remembered the little poem she had learnt after Jack’s death:

  Death is nothing at all. I have only slipped away into the next room . . .

  That’s where her parents were, together in the next room, keeping an eye on her. This was the proof. Comforted beyond words, Cassie switched off her light and pulled the sheets up around her. She knew without a doubt she was doing the right thing.

  ‘Finishing Touches it is, then! Good night, Mam, good night, Pops,’ she murmured as she fell asleep.

  Epilogue 1991

  The Party

  ‘Are you right, Karen?’ John yelled upstairs to his wife. ‘Joan’s here to babysit!’

  ‘I’m coming. Hold on. I’ll be ready in a minute.’

  John paced the hall. He liked to be early for things and Karen always left at the last possible moment.

  He was showered and dressed and ready in twenty minutes, while his wife was still titivating herself after an hour! Karen ran down the stairs in her stockinged feet.