The Secrets of Primrose Square

by Claudia Carroll

  ‘Why is that, do you think?’ Susan asked, genuinely puzzled as she hauled herself off her bed.

  ‘Simple.’ Emily shrugged, staring up at the bedroom ceiling. ‘Because I wasn’t a very nice person when I was drinking. Everyone that I could drive away, I did. The fact that you’ve got a steady stream of people from the outside world coming to see you shows that there’s hope for you when you get out of here.’

  ‘If there’s hope for me, then there’s hope for all of us,’ Susan said kindly.

  ‘Oh, feck off, would you?’ Emily said, swatting her away. ‘And if there’s any chocolate Hobnobs downstairs, bring me up as many as you can. Stuff them under your jumper, that way no one will see.’

  ‘Do you know, I’ve absolutely no idea who this could be,’ Susan said, dragging a comb through her hair before she went downstairs.

  ‘Does it even matter? The fact is that someone, somewhere took time out on a Saturday afternoon to drive all the way out here to see you. People from your old life have kept faith with you, so like I’m always telling you, you’re a very lucky woman. Your tragedy is you just don’t know it yet.’

  *

  ‘Jayne, is it really you?’ Susan said, as soon as she saw who was waiting for her downstairs in the recreation room. ‘What a fabulous surprise! I can’t believe you’re really here.’

  ‘Hello, lovey,’ Jayne said, with a big, warm smile. ‘Oh, it does me good to see you. And looking so well too!’

  ‘I can’t believe you came all the way out here,’ Susan said, giving her a huge hug, overwhelmed with gratitude.

  ‘Sure how could I stay away, pet?’ said Jayne, tightly hugging her back. ‘I thought you might be able to do with a bit of cheering up, especially today, with Frank gone back to his army duty. Oh and I’ve another little surprise for you,’ she added, handing over a tray covered in a gingham tea towel. ‘I baked these for you. Red velvet cupcakes, your favourite.’

  ‘Oh Jayne, thank you,’ Susan said feelingly. ‘Do you know I sometimes think I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to pay you back for everything you’ve done for me and my family. You’ve been a rock to me over the past year – I hope you know that. And if I ever seemed rude to you or offhand in any way, it was only because . . . well, because.’

  ‘Go on out of that,’ said Jayne, dismissing the compliment with a wave of her hand. ‘Sure I’m only doing what any good neighbour would, that’s all. I’m so glad to see you; I thought it would be so lovely if you and me could have a little chat, just the two of us. So what do you say to a stroll outside in the garden? I noticed a lovely rhododendron bush on my way in, and I know Eric would love it if I took a little snippet of it home for him.’

  It was early evening, but still mild enough to stroll outside as the two women walked through the beautifully kept parkland that surrounded St Michael’s. Jayne had a real spring in her step these days, Susan couldn’t help but notice. She was looking so much younger, for one thing; she’d had her hair cut into a choppy, blonde, Judi Dench-style pixie crop, and she was dressed in white linen trousers and a floaty linen shirt and jacket. Exactly the kind of thing that Ms Dench had worn in The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel. More than that, though, Jayne seemed so much happier in herself than she had been for years – ever since her husband passed away, now that Susan came to think of it.

  ‘You know, I may be cooped up out here in the middle of nowhere,’ Susan said to her old friend, putting out little feelers, ‘with no mobile signal or Wi-Fi or anything, but still, I do hear things. Bits of gossip and news, you know yourself.’

  ‘Is that right now?’ Jayne smiled, correctly guessing where this was going.

  ‘So would I be a million miles out if I asked about this new man of yours?’

  ‘I’m guessing Melissa’s told you about Eric, then?’ Jayne twinkled back.

  ‘She’s very fond of him,’ Susan said. ‘And you know my Melissa, she’s a particularly good judge of character.’

  Jayne thought for a moment before she could speak.

  ‘Before Eric came along, you know,’ she eventually said, as they strolled past a little herb garden that gave off a delicious smell of fresh basil, ‘the only man I’d ever looked twice at in my whole life was Tom. We were so happy together and he was such a wonderful husband for almost forty years.’

  ‘I know,’ Susan said, ‘and I know how much you missed him.’

  ‘Oh lovey, after he passed away, I never thought I’d meet another man again. Never mind actually go on the internet, on all those strange new websites actually looking for one. There’ll never be another like Tom, I thought. But then loneliness and missing someone can do funny things to you.’

  ‘You needn’t tell me about missing someone,’ said Susan quietly. ‘I know all about it.’

  ‘Not for two minutes, mind you,’ Jayne chatted away, as they came to an empty park bench overlooking the herb garden and sat down side by side, ‘did I ever think the whole thing with Eric would actually turn into something like a proper relationship or anything. At most, I thought, Eric will stay for a few days, and if we drive each other crazy, then isn’t he well able to hop on the next plane back to Florida again? But, he and I had been getting on so well online beforehand, I sort of had a feeling that this might just have legs, as Melissa is always saying.’

  Susan smiled at the mention of her wise little Melissa’s name.

  ‘In fact, I have some news for you,’ Jayne announced. ‘Big news, really.’

  ‘Tell me.’ Susan smiled.

  ‘Well, the funny thing is, now that Eric is here and settling in so well,’ she went on, ‘there’s no question of his going back to the States. He’s such a lovely companion for me, you see. And things do shift as you get older, you know. I see young ones now and they only want mad, passionate affairs with all the bells and whistles, but as you get older, you find that companionship is more important than anything else, really.’

  ‘I know,’ said Susan softly, suddenly missing Frank so much it hurt. Which was ridiculous, really; the life of an army partner meant you quickly got used to your other half being away from home more often than not.

  Was I even nice to him while he was here? she wondered. Was I kind enough? I want so much to be a better mother, but could I be a better wife too?

  ‘Eric runs a healing house over in Florida, I believe?’ Susan said politely.

  ‘Oh yes, and it’s a great success too.’ Jayne beamed proudly. ‘All funded by him too – isn’t that very kind and giving of him? Eric has made his few quid in the world, and he always says those with abundance have a sacred duty to help out anyone who is struggling. He’s dying to meet you, you know. He says he can give you a lovely healing, if you’d like? The sort that helps us to close one chapter in life and get ready to embrace another. He says to tell you he’s here to help you in love and peace.’

  Susan glanced fondly across at Jayne, wondering for a split second if this really was the same Jayne she’d known before. The Jayne she knew wore sensible pantsuits like Hilary Clinton, and went to Mass, and seemed to spend most of her day glued to her soaps. So who was this glamorous, active, glowing woman who was talking about love and abundance and the new man in her life?

  It’s nothing short of inspirational, that’s what it is, Susan decided. Proof that life has a funny way of going on, no matter how hard you struggle against it.

  ‘So can I ask you something more personal?’ she asked tentatively. ‘Girl to girl? Come on, tell me the truth. Have you and Eric . . . ?’

  ‘Sealed the deal, as all the young ones are saying now, I believe?’ Jayne replied primly, looking very much like the old Jayne again. ‘Oh no, love, nothing like that at all! In fact, if anything, Eric has been a perfect model of a gentleman. Staying in the little box room and everything, and not a word of complaint out of him, even though there isn’t room to swing a cat in there.’

  ‘Forgive my nosiness,’ Susan added hastily. ‘It was none of my business anyway.’
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  ‘Oh, that’s okay, pet. As Eric says, though, real tantric love can only come from a deep and spiritual knowledge of each other and, right now, we’re still very much at that lovely, getting-to-know-you phase.’

  Tantric love, Susan thought to herself, suddenly getting a mental picture of Jayne and this Eric guy going at it like Sting and Trudie Styler, and fighting the urge to smile. She said nothing out loud, though, just let the companionable silence that fell between them sit. The sun was setting now over the Dublin Mountains, and it was so beautiful to watch.

  ‘Eric always says,’ Jayne began after a long pause, ‘that when there’s a natural pause in the chat, it’s because an angel is passing right over our heads.’

  Susan didn’t answer, just thought what a lovely image that was. She was looking forward to meeting this Eric guy, who’d made her old friend so happy. Every time she tried to form a mental image of him, she kept seeing either Tim Robbins in The Shawshank Redemption or else a besandalled Jesus.

  ‘As you can imagine, though, love,’ Jayne said softly, ‘I didn’t come here to talk about Eric. I came here to talk about someone else entirely.’

  Susan looked over at her. ‘I thought as much.’

  ‘We want you home,’ Jayne said, gently taking her hand. ‘Do you think you’ll be well enough to come back to us soon?’

  Susan sat back and sighed deeply. ‘I don’t know, is the honest answer,’ she said. ‘Everyone here keeps telling me to talk and talk and talk, and yet every time I try to, I stumble. So instead, I keep remembering and writing down all the lovely memories I have of Ella . . . I’ve been so focused on how perfect she was. And yet . . . yet . . . ’

  ‘None of us are perfect now, are we?’ Jayne prompted. ‘Ella was a wonderful girl, but she was human, just like the rest of us, wasn’t she?’

  ‘You know, only today,’ Susan said, ‘I started to relive some of the bad stuff. And you know how bad things got with her, Jayne. Especially towards the end. I like to think of Ella as my perfect little girl . . . but it wasn’t always like that, was it?’

  ‘I remember well,’ Jayne said quietly. ‘And I do know one thing. As Eric always says, three things can never be hidden: the sun, the moon and the truth.’

  ‘The truth . . . ’ Susan repeated. Jesus, had she been so blinded by grief that she’d completely blanked out the truth, the whole truth and nothing but? Had she been using denial as a coping mechanism to deal with her loss?

  She felt the warmth of Jayne’s hand squeezing hers.

  ‘I know how deep your grief is, love,’ Jayne said. ‘And I know the pain will always be with you because, as Eric says, pain is the price we pay for love. But Melissa loves and needs you. Your beautiful Ella will always be with you, but she’d want you to move on. You’re still young, Susan, and you have so much to live for. And it’s time now, love. Don’t you think it’s time?’

  Abruptly, Susan stood up.

  In that one single moment, she knew exactly what she had to do.

  She saw Jayne off, then rushed back into the main house, running, actually running down the corridor to Dr Ciara’s private office, she was so anxious to talk.

  Thank you, God, Susan thought. Dr Ciara was on night duty and was all alone at the computer at her desk – the perfect time to catch her.

  ‘Susan?’ Dr Ciara asked, looking up at her, surprised at the intrusion. ‘Are you okay?’

  ‘I’m sorry for barging in,’ Susan said breathlessly. ‘But the thing is . . . I’d really like to start again. I want to try to tell you the truth. The truth about my family, and the real truth about my Ella . . . I’m ready, Ciara. It’s taken me a very long time to get here, but I think I’m finally ready.’

  Melissa

  24 PRIMROSE SQUARE

  ‘His name was . . . I mean is . . . Josh Andrews,’ Melissa said, as Nancy listened intently. The two of them were sitting side by side in the huge big TV room back at Nancy’s house on Primrose Square, with a half-eaten pizza on the coffee table in front of them, and an abandoned episode of some reality TV show on that giant-sized plasma screen telly.

  Most of the time, Melissa did her very best to keep all her private thoughts and feelings to herself. She missed Ella every single day, but at the same time, she knew it would only have made her mum sad if they were to talk about what happened. Really talk, that is.

  But now, though, it actually felt good to open up about it, after keeping everything bottled up all this time. Especially to someone like Nancy, who was a really brilliant listener and who didn’t know anyone involved, so it was like telling someone completely neutral, who didn’t rush to judge or to point out that there were two sides to everything, like everyone else usually did. Nancy was chill, she’d get it, she of all people would understand.

  Nancy just sat there the whole time and listened and asked all the right questions. She treated Melissa like a grown-up, instead of talking down to her and telling her useless things like, ‘Now you just be a good girl for your mum and dad. You’re all they have left now.’

  Melissa’s Auntie Betty was always saying that, and Melissa had wanted to scream back at her, ‘I’m not a child, so stop treating me like one – I’m almost thirteen!’

  ‘So what’s he like then, this Josh Andrews?’ Nancy asked, turning down the sound on the TV, just as some X Factor contestant was in the middle of bawling at Simon Cowell, ‘But you don’t understand, this is my dream !’

  Melissa stayed quiet for a minute, not sure how to answer that one.

  ‘It’s funny,’ she said, after a thoughtful little pause. ‘Half the kids in my school love Josh and look up to him, and the other half say he’s just a big eejit with an even bigger head to go with it. They say just because he can play rugby doesn’t mean he gets to run the world. I used to think that too,’ she added, not that someone like Josh would have cared tuppence what a lowly first year like her would have thought either way.

  ‘So he’s a bit of a school star then?’ Nancy asked.

  ‘Oh, you should see him!’ Melissa said. ‘Josh struts around the school like he owns the place, and he always seems to be in the middle of a gang who are messing or else laughing at something he just said. My pal Hayley says that Josh Andrews treats the school corridors like the catwalks at Tom Ford. And before Ella got friendly with him, she used to say that if an empty-headed halfwit like him ever gained political influence, then she’d emigrate on the first one-way ticket out of here.’

  ‘Okay.’ Nancy nodded. ‘I’m starting to see the type of character we’re dealing with here. Entitled. Gifted, but possibly arrogant along with it. And I bet you he’s good-looking too.’

  ‘Like he just flew in from Hollywood,’ Melissa replied. ‘Like Liam Hemsworth in The Hunger Games. Half the girls in school fancy him, and Abby Graham, this mean girl in my year, says anyone who doesn’t fancy him is definitely gay.’

  ‘Abby Graham sounds horrible and you should stay well away from her.’

  ‘Believe me, I try to,’ Melissa said, with a little eye roll. ‘Anyway, Josh is in sixth year now, and Ella was in his class.’

  ‘So what you do think of Josh?’ Nancy asked gently.

  Melissa hugged her knees up to her chest for comfort before she answered. This was harder than she thought it would be. Talking about Josh Andrews was kind of like talking about the Big Bad Wolf.

  Then a sudden memory popped into her head.

  Ella’s funeral. A cold, wet, grey day when the heavens had opened, just as the cortege were leaving the church for the crematorium. The place was packed out and Ella’s classmates had formed a sort of guard of honour at the church door, just as the coffin passed by.

  Melissa walked in between her mum and dad, clinging onto both of their hands for dear life. She felt numb, overwhelmed and frightened as her mum’s icy cold hand trembled in hers. She was trying her best, but couldn’t understand that her only sister lay in the wooden box four feet above her head. White a
nd cold and still. Wearing a dress she’d have hated if she were alive, but she wasn’t, was she? She was really, actually dead.

  But Ella couldn’t be dead, Melissa kept telling herself, over and over again. ‘Ella dies’ just doesn’t sound like the kind of thing she’d do. ‘Ella goes to a protest at government buildings because of the homeless situation.’ That sounds much more like her. ‘Ella organises collections to help Syrian refugees.’ That’s the kind of thing she does. But Ella lying up there in that horrible mahogany coffin covered in flowers? No, no, no! There must be a mistake. Nothing about this felt right.

  Just then Josh Andrews, all six foot four of him, stepped out from the crowd milling outside the church and went to help the pallbearers carry her coffin. He was so big and tall and strong, he could easily have helped the undertakers, even just for a little bit of the way. But that was way too much for Melissa’s mum, who lost it. Just completely exploded.

  ‘Get your filthy hands away from my daughter!’ she cried out in a terrifying voice that was halfway between a wail and a screech.

  ‘Come on, love, not here, not now,’ Melissa’s dad said, his arm tightly around her mum’s waist, almost like he was half holding her back.

  ‘How dare you even show your face here?’ her mum kept on shouting and shouting at Josh, not caring that she was making a big scene and that everyone was staring at her in shock. ‘After everything you’ve done? This is your doing and don’t you think for one moment I’ll ever forget it! Why are you even here anyway? To ease your guilty conscience?’

  Melissa remembered looking around her and seeing the deep, white-faced expressions on mourners’ faces. They were all so upset about Ella anyway, Melissa thought, and now they’re shocked by the way Mum is behaving. Then the priest who’d done the service, Father Sean, stepped forwards and put his hand on Josh’s shoulder and gently spoke to him. Melissa was passing right by them and could hear every word.

  ‘Now, son, I know you mean well,’ Father Sean had said, ‘but sure the lads here don’t really need help. Go on back to your friends, there’s a good lad. Leave the family be, okay? This is not the time or the place.’