Something Like Love

by Catherine Dunne

  The girl didn’t move. ‘We’ll miss the bus,’ she said.

  ‘No, we won’t. And even if we do, there is no way you’re leaving this house with four hundred and fifty euro in cash in your handbag. Now, go inside.’

  Lisa tossed her hair angrily and marched into the living room, where she threw herself onto the sofa.

  ‘I asked you had your dad given you money, and you said no. Why did you lie?’

  Lisa examined her nails. ‘Cos I knew you wouldn’t let me bring it. All the other girls are bringing way more than a hundred. Why do I always have to be different?’

  Rose took her mobile out of her pocket. She highlighted a number from her contacts, pressed the call key, and waited. ‘Jane? It’s Rose. Yes, we’re just ready to leave: we’ll be with you in a couple of minutes. Just a quick question: can I ask how much cash Alison is taking with her?’ She looked directly at Lisa. ‘A hundred, and Carly the same. That’s fine, Jane. Thanks. See you in a minute.’

  She walked over to the sofa. Lisa wouldn’t look at her.

  ‘Lisa, you are going to a village in the middle of Donegal for three weeks. You’ll be most of the day in a classroom learning Irish. We’ve discussed all this. You know that Jane and Margaret and I are coming up to see all of you on the second weekend. We agreed that if you needed more money, you could have it then. What is going on?’

  Lisa shrugged. ‘Then we must be the only three in the whole country going with that amount of money.’

  Rose looked at her levelly. ‘I really don’t care about anybody else, or what everybody else does. That’s all you’re getting, Lisa. This is not negotiable. For one, you won’t need any more than a hundred for the first two weeks: everything is already paid for. And secondly, you are not having that amount of cash hanging around either in your bag or in your room. That’s asking for trouble.’

  Still she said nothing.

  ‘Okay, Lisa. We’d better postpone this trip until we sort this out. I’ll tell Jane to go ahead without us.’ Rose opened up her mobile.

  ‘All right, all right,’ said Lisa, her voice full of resentment. ‘I’ll just bring the hundred. Don’t keep going on about it.’

  Rose handed her the handbag, and put two fifty-euro notes into an envelope. Lisa took it without a word.

  ‘Let’s go,’ said Rose quietly.

  By the time they reached the coach, Alison and Carly had giggled Lisa all the way out of her bad temper. Once out of the car, the three of them were swallowed up instantly by a gaggle of shrieking, multicoloured teenagers.

  ‘Trouble on the cash front?’ asked Jane, smiling.

  Rose nodded. ‘You bet.’

  ‘Don’t worry – your call came five minutes after Margaret had the same row with Carly. I think that particular fight has been duplicated in every house in the neighbourhood this morning. Well, almost every house. There are the usual suspects with more money than sense.’

  ‘It’s not like her. I’ll have to get to the bottom of it.’

  ‘Don’t worry about it. Come on. Let’s bring the bags, or they’ll go without them. They haven’t an ounce of wit between them.’

  A mêlée of bags and coats and girls and teachers followed. Rose could remember her own Gaeltacht days and her mostly fruitless attempts to speak Irish, despite sharp-eyed teachers and the encouragement of patient housemothers. She could still recall the chilly certainty of Donegal rain in summer, damp sheets, endless cups of weak tea. And the rowdy céilis, where the dances had strange, warlike names: The Walls of Limerick, The Siege of Ennis. Rose remembered the energy and military precision demanded by such dances. All thoughts of romance vanished as you held on, tight, nervous, to the sticky palms of your partner. The more daring boys would swing their girls faster and faster and the room revolved in a dizzying spin of lights and music and the stamping of feet. Terrifying, exhilarating, tribal.

  And it was fun, she thought suddenly, real fun. Even at the time, she and her classmates had known it was fun. They’d enjoyed everything about it: the weeks of anticipation, the secret, delighted terror of meeting all those boys, the heady freedom of being away from home for almost a whole month. Despite – no, really because of – the apparent sophistication of Lisa and her friends, Rose was glad that the Gaeltacht rite of passage was still available to them: possibly the last marker of an older, more innocent age.

  In all the confusion, Rose had had time only for one brief, silent hug with Lisa before all the girls were herded onto the coach. Now she searched along the windows for her daughter’s face and found her almost at the rear of the coach. Rose waved at her, trying to ignore the lump in her throat. But Lisa wouldn’t look in her direction.

  Her youngest child’s first time away from home. Leaving her like this wasn’t right. Rose made her way quickly towards one of Lisa’s teachers. She had to speak to her daughter again. This wasn’t good enough.

  At that moment, Rose’s mobile bleeped. She looked at the screen. Sorry, Mum. Dad said 2 treat myself. Just wanted not 2 have 2 B so careful. DЄ100 is fine. xx

  Rose looked up and saw her daughter smiling in her direction. She waved up at the window, blew her a kiss, then pointed to her mobile and gave the thumbs up. Call you later, she motioned. Lisa smiled again, and waved back.

  ‘Would you just look at the three of them? Imagine having ten of those under your roof for three weeks.’ Jane stood beside her. ‘Jesus, those Gaeltacht women must be saints.’

  Rose laughed. ‘I know. It doesn’t bear thinking about. We still going up to see them, the weekend after next?’

  ‘Sure. Margaret couldn’t be here today, but she said to tell you she’s more than happy to share the driving. We’ll sort the insurance out later.’

  They both waved madly at the three faces pressed up against the window of the coach. The girls’ noses were flattened against the pane; they stuffed their fingers in their ears, stuck their tongues out. They stayed like that until the coach pulled out of the car park.

  Jane laughed. ‘So much for worldly sophistication.’ She turned to Rose. ‘So, madam, what have you and the gorgeous Mr McCarthy got planned for all this free time ahead?’

  Rose linked her arm through Jane’s. ‘I hope you’ve time for a very long lunch. You just come with me and I’ll tell you. And I promise I’ll spare you no detail.’

  Sam took both suitcases out of the lift.

  ‘What have you got here?’ he complained. ‘Your moon rock collection?’

  Rose made a face at him. ‘Just a few clothes, my make-up, a couple of books. Enough to see me through until the end of the week.’

  ‘The week? Am I going to regret this?’

  ‘Well, you asked me to move in while Lisa was away – you’ll just have to put up with the consequences.’

  He closed the door behind them and pulled her gently towards him.

  ‘Welcome home.’

  They stood in the hallway, neither of them moving for sometime. Rose finally pulled back and looked up at Sam. ‘I can’t believe it, do you know that? It’s as though the last few years were some sort of nightmare and I’ve just woken up.’

  He kissed her. ‘The best is yet to come,’ he said lightly. ‘Come on – lunch on the balcony.’

  Rose lifted her face to the sun. She could hear Sam in the kitchen, opening the fridge, the cupboards, the cutlery drawer. She knew the sounds of his home almost as well as she knew her own. She almost felt like holding her breath, afraid that what was before her would suddenly disappear, go up in smoke.

  Now she had a whole, long, glorious month ahead of her, doing nothing. Sam had persuaded her that she could afford it, and Sarah had been more than willing to keep Betty ticking over. A slow month, August. She really should have taken it off before now, but those had been the years when every penny counted. Things were going to be different, now.

  Sam arrived on the balcony carrying a bowl of salad, a bottle of white wine and two glasses. She made to get up to help him.

  ‘Sit dow
n,’ he said firmly. ‘This is the month when you do nothing, remember? Or at least the three weeks while Lisa’s away. After that, well, I’m afraid you’re on your own. Until then, you and I are going to play house, take a weekend away and lie low, hiding from your husband. Isn’t it wonderful to have such an excuse to stay in bed all day?’

  He handed her a glass of wine.

  Rose smiled at him. ‘It was a close-run thing, you know, this morning. We might have had my daughter come between us.’

  ‘Why? What happened?’

  Rose told him.

  ‘What did you do?’

  ‘Took it from her, of course. She has enough. And her teacher’s holding some as well, just in case: although Lisa doesn’t know that. But I felt a bit bad – I think she feels she’s entitled. “Eight birthday and eight Christmas presents,” was what she said Ben owed her, almost as soon as she knew he was back. I’ll always remember that.’

  ‘Did you part on good terms?’

  ‘Yes. We did, eventually. I’ll call her later.’

  ‘Good. You’ll miss her.’

  Rose nodded. ‘Yes, I will. She’s infuriating and wonderful at the same time. But two weeks isn’t too long. She can cool her heels and then she’ll be glad to see me again.’

  Sam handed her a plate. ‘Help yourself to salad.’

  ‘Thanks. This looks good.’

  He grinned, glancing over at her. ‘I’m afraid I don’t have high-voltage serving techniques: you’ll have to teach me.’

  Rose slipped off her shoes and stretched her legs. ‘Not this month, I won’t.’

  Sam raised his glass. ‘To August.’

  Rose smiled. ‘A wicked month, I do believe.’

  They’d sat in the sunshine for some time, hardly speaking. Rose had begun to doze when she heard Sam’s voice at her elbow.

  ‘Sorry to bring business up so soon, but when did you say you were meeting the estate agent?’

  She kept her eyes closed. ‘Next Monday. The sale of the house will be advertised at the end of this month, and the auction is scheduled for the third week in September.’

  ‘So you’re nearly there, then.’

  She turned and looked at him. ‘I’ve cleaned the house from top to bottom, thrown out an enormous amount of junk, and I’m ready for viewings. I don’t care how many people tramp around it now – it’s only a means to an end.’

  Sam grinned his approval. ‘And Ben was like a dog with two tails when you caved in to his pressure.’

  Rose nodded. ‘Cock-a-hoop. Couldn’t contain himself. I hammed it up a bit – said it was all too much of a strain. He’s agreed to thirty-three and a third per cent – after all the fees and the mortgage are paid, of course – and what he owes for the kids. He knows he’s getting a good deal. I’d have agreed to forty – must tell him that, on the day.’

  Sam raised his glass. ‘Well, Mr Holden, look out. Enjoy your crowing for now. All good things come to he who waits. Or is it him? I’ve forgotten.’

  ‘Neither,’ said Rose. ‘All good things are coming to her,’ she pointed to herself, ‘and to us. I’ve waited long enough.’

  They toasted each other.

  ‘To the twentieth of September,’ said Rose.

  ‘To the twentieth – and to all the days thereafter.’

  ‘Like it?’ Sam asked, as he pulled out the chair for her.

  ‘It’s lovely. I had no idea so many places like this existed.’ Rose looked around at the restaurant’s soothing décor – all warm wood and light, creamy colours.

  ‘You’ve been too long in the suburbs,’ Sam grinned at her. ‘Time you got out more, got to know your city again.’

  ‘That’s the funny thing – it’s like it’s no longer my city: certainly not the grim one I grew up in. You’re spoiling me. You’ve spent the last three weeks spoiling me. I can’t remember the last time I went to the cinema before this, and as for the theatre . . .’ She smiled at him. ‘You know all the attractions of this place better than I do – and you’ve only been home two years.’

  Sam took her hand across the table. ‘That’s because I had to find my way around all over again, once I came back. I haven’t done this in a good while, either. And as for spoiling – you were long overdue a bit of pampering. You’ve a busy few weeks ahead of you.’

  ‘It’s been great, Sam. This time together has just been wonderful. I can’t believe I’m going home tomorrow.’

  ‘All part of the service,’ Sam said, handing the waiter back the wine list. ‘Begs the question, though – when are you going to make an honest man of me?’ Before she could answer, Sam grasped her hand again. ‘That’s a joke, okay? One thing at a time. I’m going to miss you when you go. But in less than a month, this will all be over.’

  Sam tasted the wine and nodded at the waiter. ‘That’s fine, thanks. So,’ he said, ‘the advertising has begun and everyone’s singing from the same hymn sheet.’

  Rose raised her glass to him. ‘Yep. I’ve told all three of my children, and there’s no problem. Damien just said: “Good move.” He’s no attachment left to that house, anyway. That went a long time ago. I thought Brian was a bit taken aback. Not upset that the house was being sold, actually, but I gathered that Ben hadn’t told him. And they’re in touch quite a lot. I think he was upset about that. But that’s between the two of them.’ Rose smiled at him. ‘As usual, kids are full of surprises. Lisa was the only one I was worried about, but she’s quite excited. There seems to be a certain cachet to moving house, as far as I can gather.’

  ‘Whatever works for you. Have you told any of them about our alternative?’

  Rose shook her head. ‘No, that’s absolutely between the two of us. I haven’t even told Pauline. Nobody needs to know. Besides, we mightn’t even be able to make it work.’

  ‘Well, it won’t be for lack of trying, I can assure you. I think we’ll do it. It might be touch and go, but I’ve done my homework on auction results over the past while. And it’s possible, it’s all more than possible. I want to make sure that you have what you want out of all of this, that you get what you’re entitled to.’

  Rose smiled at him. ‘Seems like you’re planning to stick around for a while.’

  ‘Oh, only a few decades or so. But I do promise you this.’

  ‘What?’

  He held both of her hands across the table. ‘I’ll never try to be a father substitute to your kids – never. I’ll never muddy those waters. And if it takes even a couple of years of this softly, softly until you and I can finally be under the same roof, so be it. You’re worth it. I can wait.’ He refilled their glasses. ‘As long as you stay over a couple of nights each week, obviously. I may be a saint, but I’m no martyr.’ And he grinned at her wickedly.

  ‘Done deal,’ she said softly, wondering what on earth she had done in all her previous lives to make her so very lucky in this one.

  Chapter Thirteen

  IT WAS ALMOST three o’clock, and still the auction room was empty, apart from the chairs occupied by Rose and Pauline O’Brien.

  ‘Come on,’ said Pauline. ‘Let’s go and get a quick coffee. You don’t want to be here like a sitting duck. We’ll wait until Ben arrives and then come back in.’

  ‘He’s definitely coming, is he? I mean, he won’t just send his solicitor?’

  ‘He’ll be here,’ said Pauline grimly. ‘Trust me, he’ll be here.’ Rose knew she was right. Ben would be here to collect his money. And it was his house, after all. She followed Pauline into the coffee shop next door. She wanted today to be over: to look forward with complete freedom to finding her own new home, somewhere where she could choose the colours and the lampshades and the furniture. Somewhere with absolutely no memories stitched into its intimate fabric. Somewhere, eventually, for her and Sam.

  ‘Take-away, or do you want to have coffee here?’ Rose started. ‘Sorry, Pauline – I was miles away. Take-away, I think – I’m too nervous to sit here. I want to see what’s going on.’

&
nbsp; ‘Okay. Let me just check and see if he’s arrived.’ Pauline was back instantly. ‘He’s there all right, with McGowan by his side. I see what you mean about his suits.’ And she grinned at Rose. ‘But you’re looking pretty sharp yourself – love the shoes!’

  ‘Window-dressing. I couldn’t let myself down.’

  ‘Come on; are you ready for this?’

  ‘Ready as I’ll ever be.’

  She followed Pauline back into the auction room. She deliberately avoided looking in Ben’s direction. Some of the other seats had filled up in the meantime. She could just see Sam, too, sitting in the third row, doing the crossword. He hadn’t looked up as she entered. Rose glanced at Pauline, who was sipping her coffee, a file now open on her knees. Rose was sure she hadn’t noticed, couldn’t see Sam from where she was sitting.

  There were seven other people in the room, Rose counted, all studiously not looking at the auctioneer. She nudged Pauline.

  ‘There’s very few people here. Do I need to get nervous?’

  Pauline shook her head. ‘Four people applied for the Conditions of Sale, that means you have at least four serious bidders. Others can bid without having seen the Conditions of Sale in advance,’ she whispered. ‘They like to be dark horses. They’ll often just glance at the Conditions once they’ve bought. For some people, nothing will stand in the way of their getting the house they want. They’re the ones for whom money is no object. Trust me.’

  Rose nodded. She listened to the auctioneer droning on about the merits of what had once been her home: its four spacious bedrooms, light-filled drawing room, only minor decoration and modernization needed. Large front and rear gardens, plenty of room for extension, subject to planning permission. Oh, just get on with it, she thought impatiently.

  ‘What am I bid for this very fine property . . .’

  It’s begun, she thought. Finally, it has begun. This, too, will end. And then the last eight and a half years of my life will be over.

  She found it impossible to judge where the bids were coming from. She looked curiously around her, almost unable to hear the auctioneer’s voice above the racing tide in her ears. She had squeezed her cardboard coffee cup so hard that foamy black coffee was oozing upwards through the lid. She sipped at it distractedly.