by Maeve Binchy
They went down the steps to the huge kitchen with its old black range. There was a side door here out to the garden, and numerous storage rooms, pantries and sculleries. The magnitude of it all was too great for Ria to take in. This boy with the laughing eyes really thought that he and she could find the money and skills to do up a house of this size.
If it were on their books back at the office it would have the customary warnings printed all over it. In need of extensive renovation, suitable for structural remodelling, ready for inventive redesign. Only a builder or developer or someone with real money would buy a property like this.
The kitchen had an uneven tiled floor. A small cheap tabletop cooker had been laid on the old black range.
'I’ll make us some coffee,' Danny said. 'And in years to come we'll remember the first time we had coffee here together in Tara Road…' At that moment, as if on some kind of cue, the kitchen was suddenly lit up with one of those rays of watery winter sunshine. It came slanting in at the window through all the briars and brambles. It was like a sign.
'Yes, yes I will remember my first coffee with you in Tara Road,' Ria said.
'We'll be able to tell people it was a lovely sunny day, December the 28th 1982,' said Danny.
As it happened it also turned out to be the date of the first time Ria Johnson ever made love to anybody. And as she lay beside Danny in the small narrow bed she wished she could see into the future. Just for a moment. A quick look to see would they live here together for years and have children and make it the home of their dreams.
She wondered if Hilary's friend Mrs Connor, the fortune-teller on the halting site, would know. She smiled at the thought of going to consult her. Danny stirred from his sleep on her shoulder, and saw her smiling.
'Are you happy?' he asked.
'Never more so.'
'I love you, Ria. I'll never let you down,' he promised.
She was the luckiest woman in the country. No, she told herself, think generously, who was luckier anywhere? Make that the world.
The next weeks went by in a blur.
They knew that Sean O'Brien would be glad to get rid of the place.
They knew that he would prefer to deal with them, young people who wouldn't make a fuss about the damp and the roof, and would not tut-tut over the decay. But they still had to give him what the house was worth. So how could they get it together?
There were sheets of paper building up into piles as they did their sums. Four bedsitters upstairs would bring in enough to pay the mortgage. It would have to be done very quietly of course. No need to burden the planning authorities with any details, or indeed the tax people either. Then they would approach the bank with their proposition. Ria had a thousand pounds saved; Danny had two-and-a-half thousand. They had both seen couples with less than they had get their hands on property. It all depended on timing and presentation. They would do it.
They invested the price of a bottle of whiskey when inviting the landlord to discuss the future. Sean O'Brien proved to be no trouble. He told them again and again the story they knew already. He had inherited the house when his uncle died some years back. He didn't want to live in it, he had a small cottage by a lake in Wicklow where he fished and drank with congenial people. That's where he wanted to be. He'd only held on to Tara Road in case there was going to be a property boom. And indeed there had been. It was worth much more now than it had been ten years ago, so he had been clever, hadn't he? A lot of people said he was an eejit but that wasn't so. Danny and Ria nodded and praised him and filled his glass.
Sean O'Brien said he had never been able to keep the house up to any standard. It was too much effort and he didn't have the skills to restore it and let it properly to people who would look after it. That was why he had been happy to hand it to young fellows like Danny and his pals. But he took their point that it wasn't going to be such a great investment if it kept falling down and deteriorating the way it was.
He thought that the going rate would be in the neighbourhood of seventy thousand pounds. He had asked around and this is what he had heard. However he would take sixty thousand for a quick sale, and he'd get rid of all the old furniture and containers and boxes that he was storing for friends. Danny could have it when he produced sixty thousand.
It would have been a bargain for anyone with the money to restore it. For Danny and Ria it was impossible. For a start they would need fifteen per cent of the price as a deposit. And nine thousand pounds was like nine million to them.
Ria was prepared to change the dream, not Danny. He didn't fret or complain. He just wouldn't let go of the idea. It was too good a house, too beautiful a place to let slip from their hands into the possession of some builder. Now that Sean O'Brien had faced the notion of selling, he would want to sell.
It was hard to keep their minds on the sales they had to handle in the office. Doubly hard because every day they were dealing with people who could buy Tara Road without any trouble at all.
People like Barney McCarthy, for example. The big bluff ; businessman who had made his money in England as a builder and who bought and sold houses almost on a whim. He was in the process of selling a large mansion that had been a mistake. One of his rare mistakes.
Barney was unexpectedly honest as to why it was a mistake. He had seen himself momentarily as a country squire, living in a huge Georgian house with a tree-lined avenue. The house was indeed elegant but it turned out to be too remote, too far from Dublin . It had been an ill-considered decision and he was prepared to lose a little on the whole deal, but not a lot. He needed to sell this white elephant.
He had already bought the comfortable big square family residence that he should have bought in the first place. His wife was settled there. He was involved in buying pubs and investing in golf courses but the issue that was uppermost was to sell the mansion which now seemed just like a monument to his folly. He was a man who cared about the public image of himself.
He also loved to drop the names of famous people he had met, and in the estate agency they were greatly in awe of him. But they had a huge problem in selling this property at anything like the price he expected. Quite simply Barney had spent too much on it and there were just not the buyers. He was not going to see a profit, and he was a man who hated to take a humiliating loss on this deal. Senior partners in the estate agency, smooth-talking men, pointed out to Barney that the upkeep of such a house was enormous and that they could count on the fingers of one hand the likely buyers in Ireland . They had looked outside the country too, but with no success.
There was a conference in the agency about it. Danny and Ria sat with the others listening to the worrying news that Barney might be taking his business elsewhere. Ria's mind was far from Barney's problems and more on their own. But Danny was thinking. He opened his mouth to say something and then changed his mind.
'What is it, Danny?' He was popular and successful. They wanted to hear what he would say.
'No, it's nothing. You've thought of all the angles,' Danny said.
And the conversation went around aimlessly in the same circle for another half an hour.
Ria knew that Danny had thought of something. She knew from the way his eyes danced. After the meeting he whispered that he had to get out of the office. She was to cover for him.
'If you pray to anyone, pray now,’ he said.
'Tell me, Danny. Tell me.'
'I can't, there isn't time. Say I got a phone call… from the nuns down the road. Anything.'
'I can't sit here and not know.'
'I've got an idea how Barney can sell his house.'
'Why didn't you tell them?'
'I'm telling him. That's how we'll get our money. If I tell them we'll only get a pat on the back.'
'Oh God, Danny. Be careful, they could sack you.'
'If I'm right it won't matter,' he said. And he was gone.
Rosemary called Ria. 'Come into the ladies' room. I want to tell you something.'
'I can'
t. I'm waiting for a call.' Ria couldn't leave her post in case he rang, or needed her co-operation.
'Orla can cover for you, come on, it's important,' Rosemary said.
'No, tell me here, there's no one around.'
'Well, it's very hush-hush.'
'Speak in a whisper, then.'
'I'm leaving, I've got a new job.' Rosemary pulled back, waiting to see the amazement and shock on Ria's face. She saw very little reaction at all. Perhaps she hadn't explained it properly.
She explained it all again. It had just been agreed. It was very exciting. She would tell them here in the agency this evening. She had been offered a better job in a printing company. It wasn't far away; they could still have lunch. Ria barely listened, she was so sick with worry.
Rosemary was not unnaturally offended. 'Well, if you can't be bothered to listen,' she said.
'I'm sorry, Rosemary, really I am. It's just that I have something on my mind.'
'God, you're so bloody dull, Ria. You've nothing on your mind but Danny this, Danny that. It's like as if you were his mother. Do you know that you haven't the remotest interest in anyone else these days!'
Ria was stricken. 'Look, I can't tell you how sorry I am. Please forgive me. Tell me again.'
'No, I won't tell you again. You don't care if I go or stay. You're still not listening to me. You've your eyes on the door in case he's coming back in. Where is he, by the way?'
'With the nuns, they rang.'
'No, they didn't. I was talking to them an hour ago. There's no movement there, they have to wait for some Mother General to say yes from Rome .'
'I’ll tell you all about it later. Please tell me about your new job, please.'
'Ria, will you shut up,' Rosemary hissed. 'I haven't told them yet and there you go bleating about my new job. I think you're unhinged.'
She saw Danny come in the door, walking quickly, lightly, as he always did. She knew by his face that it was all right. He slid into his desk and gave her a thumbs-up sign. Immediately she dialled his phone extension.
'Don't say you were with the nuns. Apparently there's nothing happening on that sale,' she whispered.
'Thanks, you're brilliant.'
'What happens now, Danny?'
'We sit tight for a week. Then all systems go.'
Ria hung up. She thought the day would never end, the hands of the clock were crawling past. Rosemary went in and came out having given her notice. Everything seemed to be in slow motion. Across the room Danny seemed to be perfectly normal in his conversations, chatting to people, laughing, working on the phone. Only Ria, who knew his every heartbeat, could see the suppressed excitement.
They went to the pub across the road and without asking her what she wanted he bought them both a large brandy.
'I told Barney McCarthy he should put in a sound-proofed recording studio, with all that stuff on the walls. Cost him another twenty thousand.'
'Why on earth…?'
'He could sell it to pop stars. It's the kind of a place they'd want, carve out a helicopter pad as well.'
'And he thought it was a good idea?' Ria was weak.
'He asked why did those swanky auctioneers I worked for not come up with this idea.'
'What did you say?'
'I said they would probably think it was a bit of a young man's idea, that they were more conservative. And Ria, wait for this, I looked him in the eye and I said, 'And another thing, Mr McCarthy, I thought if I came to you directly with this idea that maybe I could sell it for you myself.’ Danny sipped his brandy. 'He asked me was I trying to take his business away from my employers. I said yes, I was, and he said he'd give me a week.'
'Oh God, Danny.'
'I know. Isn't it wonderful? Well, we can't do it from their place so I'll develop flu tomorrow, after I've taken all the addresses and contacts I need home. I've begun to make a list already and then I'll get on the phone. I may need you to send some faxes from the office for me.'
'We'll be killed.'
'Don't be ridiculous, of course we won't. This is what business is about.'
'How much will… ?'
'If I sell Barney's bloody house by next week we'll have the deposit on Tara Road and more. Then we can go to the bank, honeybun. Then we can go to the bank.'
'But they'll sack you, you won't have a job.'
'If I have Barney McCarthy's business any auctioneers in Ireland will take me. Just a week of iron-hard nerve, Ria, and we're there.'
'Iron nerve,' she agreed.
'And remember this day, sweetheart. March the 25th 1983, the day our luck changed.'
'Will Danny be back for my going-away drinks?' Rosemary asked Ria.
'Yes, I think his flu will be better by then,' Ria said loudly.
'Sorry, it slipped out. How is he, by the way?'
'Fine, he rings at night.' Ria didn't say how often he telephoned during the day too, asking for information.
'And did he find what he's looking for?' Rosemary asked.
Ria thought for a moment. 'He sounds cheerful enough. I think he is just in the process of finding it,' she said.
An hour previously Danny had rung to say that Barney's forces had sound-proofed a wine cellar already and the equipment was being installed today. Tomorrow the manager of a legendary pop group was flying over to inspect it; Danny would be travelling with him. It was looking very good.
And it was very good. Barney McCarthy got his price. And Danny Lynch got his commission. And Sean O'Brien got his sixty thousand pounds. And Danny told his employers what he had done, and that he would leave as soon as they wanted him to. They invited him to stay and keep Barney's business with them, but Danny said it would be awkward. They would always be watching him, he would feel uneasy.
They parted on good terms, as Danny Lynch did with everyone and everything in life.
They were like excited children as they wandered about the house planning this and that.
'This front room could be something really special,' Danny said. Now that the boxes and containers that held the secrets of poor old Sean O'Brien and his friends had been moved out, anyone could see what perfect proportions it had: the high ceiling, the tall windows, the big fireplace.
It didn't matter at all that a naked light bulb hung on an old knotted flex from the middle of the ceiling, or that some window-panes had been broken in the past and replaced with cheap and irregular bits of glass.
The stained and chipped mantelpiece could be renewed and made to look as it must once have looked when it was a gentleman's residence.
'We'll get a gorgeous soft wool Indian carpet,' Danny said. 'And look here, beside the fireplace do you know what we'll have—one of those big Japanese Imari vases. Perfect for a room like this.'
Ria looked at him with stunned admiration.
'How on earth do you know all this, Danny? You sound as if you'd done a course in fine arts or something.'
'I look at places, sweetheart. I'm in and out of houses like this all day. I see what people with taste and style have done, I just look, that's all.'
'A lot of people look but they don't see properly.'
'We'll have such a good time doing it up.' His eyes were shining.
Ria nodded, not trusting herself to speak.
The excitement of it all was nearly too much for her. Sometimes she felt dizzy, physically dizzy with the magnitude of what they were taking on.
The pregnancy test was positive. The timing could not be worse. As she lay awake at night, either in her mother's home or in the shambles that was now Tara Road, she rehearsed how she would tell him that she was pregnant.
The fear that he might not want the child was so great it stopped her opening her mouth. The days went by and Ria felt she was acting everywhere and to everyone, and that she had long ceased to be a real person with normal responses.
When she did tell him it was completely by accident. Danny said that the hall was much bigger than they had thought now that they had got the bicycles
out of it and into the shed. Maybe they should have a painting party at the weekend, get everyone to do a bit of wall each. It wouldn't be permanent or anything but it might give them a bit of pride in the place.
'What do you think, sweetheart? I know the smell of paint will make us all sick for a day or two but it will be worth it.'
'I'm going to have a baby,' she said suddenly.
'What?'
'Yes, I mean it. Oh Jesus, Danny, I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry now in the middle of all this.' And she burst into tears.
He laid down his coffee cup and came over to hold her tight. 'Ria, Ria. Stop, stop. Don't cry.'
But she went on sobbing and shaking in his arms. He stroked her hair and soothed her as you would a child. 'Shush, shush, Ria. I'm here, it's all right.'
'No, it's not all right, it couldn't be worse. What a time for this to happen. I don't know how it happened.'
'I do, and it was all lovely,' he said.
'Oh Danny, please don't make a joke about it, it's a nightmare. I've never been so upset. I couldn't tell you, not with all this going on.'
'Why is it a nightmare?' he asked.
Oh please, please, may he not say that an abortion was no trouble. That he had the money now. They could go to London at the weekend. Please may he not say that. Because Ria knew that she didn't trust herself. She might do it just to keep him. Then she would hate him as well as loving him, which would be absurd but she could see it happening.
He was smiling his big wide smile. 'Where's the nightmare, Ria my sweet, sweet heart? We wanted children. We were going to get married. So it happened sooner rather than later. That's all.'
She looked at him in wonder. In as much as she could understand anything, he really did seem overjoyed.
'Danny…'
'What were all the tears about?'
'I thought, I thought…'
'Shush.'
'Rosemary? Can we have lunch? I've some marvellous news.'
'What makes me think it has to do with lover boy?' Rosemary laughed.
'Lunch or not?'
