Would I mind going out for lunch with this gorgeous fellow? Heather thought. She couldn’t imagine minding anything less. He was looking intently at her now, and she felt herself blushing.
‘I wouldn’t mind at all,’ she told him. ‘I would be happy to meet you for lunch. You can just let me know when and where.’ She dropped her gaze back to the table, terrified that he might see just how delighted she was. Then, she suddenly thought that she should really be back in the kitchen helping Claire to carry out the other dishes. If she didn’t move soon, the roast potatoes would start to get cold.
‘Brilliant!’ he said, his whole face lighting up. ‘I’ll get your address and everything before we go back to the hotel tonight.’
Claire came into the sitting-room now carrying the casserole dish. ‘Paul, would you give Andy and your father a shout, please?’ she asked. ‘Tell them the meal’s all ready.’
‘Sure,’ he said, getting up from the table.
‘I’ll help you to carry in the rest of the things now,’ Heather said, following her back into the kitchen.
‘You two seem to be hitting it off well,’ Claire said, lifting her eyebrows and smiling. ‘He seems a lovely young fellow and he’s very good-looking as well, isn’t he?’
Heather gave a little smile and nodded. ‘He’s really nice . . .’
So far, she thought, so far.
Heather was seated with Paul Ballantyne at one side of her and Andy at the other. Whether it was the second glass of wine or just the general cheery atmosphere, she felt more at ease and at times found she was actually enjoying herself.
Paul’s father and Andy kept everybody entertained with stories about their respective offices and Claire joined in happily, telling the odd light-hearted story herself. On a couple of occasions when the older three ones were chatting, Paul Ballantyne leaned towards Heather to ask her questions about her office and Glasgow in general.
When the meal was finished, everyone congratulated Claire and then they moved to the more comfortable chairs and sofa to finish off with tea and coffee.
Andy turned to everyone. ‘I have a nice brandy liqueur if anyone fancies a wee drop?’ he offered.
Tony beamed. ‘If you’re having one, I’ll happily join you.’
Then, before anyone else had replied, the phone rang out in the hallway.
‘I’m on my feet, so I’ll get it,’ Andy said, striding out of the room. He came back a few moments later. ‘It’s for you, Heather. It’s Kirsty.’
Heather felt a little pang of alarm as she rushed out to pick up the phone from the small, ornate marble table by the front door. She couldn’t imagine what her sister would ring up for. Hopefully, there was nothing wrong, because it was heading on for six o’clock now and winter dark outside.
‘Hi, it’s me,’ Kirsty said in a low voice. ‘I’m sorry to ring you at Claire’s house, but with you not coming home until tomorrow . . .’
‘What is it?’ Heather whispered into the phone. ‘Is there something wrong?’
‘Aye,’ Kirsty said. ‘It’s Liz again . . . she’s in a terrible state.’
‘What’s happened?’ Heather’s voice was fearful and her heart was thumping. ‘Is she sick again?’
‘No, no . . .’ Kirsty said quickly. ‘It’s Jim – he’s disappeared.’
‘What?’ Heather said, her voice high now. ‘Where to? Where’s he disappeared to?’
‘England,’ Kirsty said, ‘for a while, then if he’s tellin’ the truth he’s going to Australia in a few months.’
‘My God!’ Heather said, trying to make sense of the information. ‘And is Liz going with him?’
‘No . . . not at all,’ Kirsty said. ‘That’s the whole reason I’m phoning you. He’s done a runner . . . that’s why Liz is in such a state. He never told her. He just pushed a note to her through the letter box. He hadn’t the guts to tell her to her face.’
Heather shook her head, speechless for a few moments. ‘Is she taking it really bad?’
‘Well,’ Kirsty said, ‘you can just imagine how she is, with a wedding booked and still being the talk of the place with the miscarriage.’
‘Who knows?’ Heather asked. Poor Liz, she thought, Poor, poor Liz. She didn’t deserve this. She didn’t deserve all that had happened to her.
‘Just me so far,’ Kirsty said, ‘and I had to tell my mammy.’ There was a pause. ‘My mammy walked down to the phone box along with me since it was dark and everything. I tried to ring you a wee while ago but the phone was engaged,’ she explained, ‘so I got something to eat and then we came back out again.’
There was a long heavy pause. ‘How are things with you?’ Heather asked. ‘Are you feeling any better?’
‘Just the same,’ came the crisp reply. ‘Anyway,’ Kirsty said, ‘I just thought you would want to know . . . Liz was very disappointed when you weren’t here, but I think I managed to console her a wee bit.’ Another little pause. ‘Well, I tried my best anyway . . .’
‘I wish I could get home,’ Heather said. ‘If there was any way I could, I definitely would – but the trains on a Sunday night . . .’ Heather heard a little noise, and looked down the hallway to see Claire gesturing towards her, checking that everything was OK. Heather put her hand over the phone and said she’d be off in a minute and explain then.
‘I know the trains are bad on a Sunday,’ Kirsty agreed, ‘and I told Liz that as well and she understood.’
‘I feel terrible about it,’ Heather said, ‘but there’s not a thing I can do.’
‘I know, I know,’ Kirsty reassured her. ‘I wouldn’t have phoned, but I didn’t want to leave telling you until tomorrow night when you came in after work. I was afraid you might hear it on the train or maybe somebody might stop you when you were walkin’ down from the train station.’
Heather was nodding her head and biting down on her thumbnail. ‘Thanks,’ she said, her voice cracking a little. ‘It was really good of you to phone . . .’ She halted, then suddenly found herself rushing headlong into the proper apology that was long overdue. ‘I’m really sorry for everything, Kirsty, and I want you to know I’m on your side.’
The phone line buzzing was the only thing which broke the ensuing silence.
‘I’ll see you tomorrow,’ Kirsty finally said, her voice low and strained.
‘OK then . . .’ Heather said, reluctant to put down the phone.
The line went dead, signalling that the huge invisible barrier was still solidly between the two Grace sisters.
‘I’ll run you out to Rowanhill straightaway,’ Claire said as soon as Heather told her the news. They had gone back into the privacy of the kitchen, leaving the men chatting over their drinks. ‘You’ve got to go out and see your friend after all you’ve both been through.’ She suddenly reached forward and gathered her niece into her arms. ‘This is just terrible news . . . but things will eventually get better. They always do.’
Heather hugged her aunt, fighting back the overwhelming urge to break down into gigantic sobs. ‘It’s too far and it’s dark,’ she protested. ‘I can wait until tomorrow night to see her.’
‘No,’ Claire insisted, patting Heather on the back before releasing her ‘We’re going now. It will only take around an hour, and it will give me the chance to see Lily.’ She gave a little smile. ‘Bringing you home gives me a brilliant excuse to sort a few things out.’
‘Are you sure?’ Heather checked. She desperately wanted to go and comfort her friend, and it might indeed be a good thing to have Claire back in their house. It would be another bridge mended – and it might just help to balance all the ones that had been broken.
‘I’m positive,’ Claire said. She turned towards the sitting-room. ‘While you’re getting your things together. I’ll explain to Andy what’s happening, then I’ll pull on my trousers and a warm jumper for driving.’
It took only a few minutes to have the weekend case packed, and then Heather rummaged in her handbag for a piece of
paper and a pen. She found a receipt from one of the shops the day before, so she quickly scribbled down her full name and home address on the back of it, then, after a moment’s thought, she added the address of Seafreight as well.
It would be a bit embarrassing going into the sitting-room to give it to Paul Ballantyne, but it would be much worse if he thought she had deliberately snubbed him.
She pinned a brave little smile on her face and told herself to keep calm, and then she walked into the sitting-room.
Chapter 67
Larry Delaney’s car pulled up outside the Graces’ house. As soon as the engine was turned off, the door opened and he was out and striding through the gate and up to the front door. He pressed the bell and waited.
A few moments later, Fintan Grace opened the door. When he saw who the visitor was, his back and shoulders stiffened.
‘I must apologise for calling unannounced,’ Larry said, ‘but I thought maybe it was time that we had a word together.’
Fintan’s face was stony and his jaw clenched. ‘I don’t think I have anything to say to you.’
Larry looked him in the eye. ‘Well, I have a few things to say to you . . . and I’d first like to apologise for any worries I’ve caused you over Kirsty. It was unintentional and I want to assure you that nothing underhand happened between us when we were in the hotel overnight.’
Fintan was ramrod still and silent – and there was no indication that he was going to allow his visitor over the doorstep. But he was standing and he was listening.
‘I also apologise for bringing her over to Motherwell to see where I lived.’ Larry felt his throat dry now, and swallowed hard. ‘She asked me if she could see the apartment, and . . . looking back on it . . . I can see now I should have said “no”. But stupidly, I didn’t see any harm in it at the time.’ He halted. ‘I can see how all this looks to you – but I can assure you that you have nothing to worry about where Kirsty is concerned.’
Fintan stared at him, his eyes flinty and hard. Then he sucked in his breath. ‘You’ve only used the singing business to further your own ends. You’re a hard-nosed Dublin businessman with your fancy cars and your fancy clothes – and that’s not what I want for my daughter. I was far happier when she was out singing with the local band. We never had any problems like this.’ His eyes narrowed. ‘You’re too old for her in every way – and I don’t want her having anything more to do with you.’
Larry ran his hand through his hair, searching for the right words, the right approach to get through to this man. ‘I’ve worked hard for every single thing I have,’ he said in a low, even voice. ‘And I’m honest and fair. That’s why I’ve come out to see you this evening.’
‘Well, you’ve wasted your time,’ Fintan stated. He moved to close the door. ‘I’ll say goodnight to you.’
‘I love Kirsty,’ Larry said, ‘and I want your permission to marry her.’
The door closed in his face.
Kirsty and Sophie came out of the phone box and started on the walk back down to the house, both drawing their scarves tighter around their necks against the chill.
‘Do you want to call in on Liz for a few minutes?’ Sophie asked as they came towards her house.
‘No,’ Kirsty said, her voice quiet and slightly hoarse. ‘There’s no point. What could we say?’
‘Aye, I suppose you’re right,’ Sophie said, linking her daughter’s arm as they walked along. ‘There’s nothing we can say that’s going to make the poor girl feel better.’ She gave an audible sigh. ‘Och, it’s terrible what that Jim Murray’s done. He should be shot for the way he’s treated her.’
‘He’s been an absolute rat,’ Kirsty stated. ‘And it was the greatest pity that Liz couldn’t see it. She was completely blind to his faults.’ She pursed her lips and shook her head. ‘She was determined to have him one way or the other, and she thought that by getting pregnant everything would fall into place – that they’d get married, then have their family, and that they’d live happily ever after.’
‘Nobody’s life is happy ever after,’ Sophie sighed. ‘Every couple have their ups and downs, even when you both go into the marriage with the very best of intentions. Look at this carry-on with your father. I would never have believed he’d take a stand like this. I don’t know what’s got into him . . .’ She squeezed Kirsty’s arm. ‘I’ll do my best to keep working on him . . .’
‘I don’t want to lose Larry, Mammy,’ Kirsty said in a choked voice, her eyes glistening with tears, ‘and I’m terrified that it’s going to happen. I’m terrified that I’ll spend the rest of my life regretting that I didn’t stand up for us more.’
‘Shush now,’ Sophie said, squeezing her arm again. ‘He’ll wait . . . it’s only been a week or so.’
There was silence for a little while, the only sound being their heels as they stepped along, white clouds of breath coming out in the cold Scottish night air.
‘What do you honestly think of Larry?’ Kirsty suddenly asked.
Sophie hesitated for a moment, hating to be disloyal to her husband. ‘I think he’s a really nice fellow,’ she admitted. ‘From the first time I met him I thought that. He is a good bit older than you, but I don’t think that’s the worst thing in the world. At least he’s sensible and he’s past all the nonsense that young fellas can get up to.’ They turned the corner to their street now. ‘I’d rather you were with him than somebody like Jim Murray or Gerry Stewart.’ She shook her head. ‘God rest his soul, wherever it is – and his poor mother’s heart is broken an’ all.’
‘I honestly don’t feel the age difference is a problem,’ Kirsty continued, heartened that her mother at least was on her side, and Heather was also coming round that way. ‘I feel safe with him, I feel he looks after me every way he can. When I’m out singin’, he’s there at the side of the stage watching and encouraging me. And he’s picked me up and brought me home every single night. He’s terrified of anything happening to me with that nutter on the loose.’
‘I know,’ Sophie said in her vague manner. ‘I know.’
‘And I know my daddy won’t believe me,’ she said now, ‘but there was nothing at all of a romantic nature between us until the night in the hotel . . . and even then, although he is older than me, he never put a foot wrong.’ A sudden picture of them lying on the bed came into her mind and, for a moment, Kirsty thought her heart would break. The thought of never feeling Larry’s strong arms around her again or feeling his lips on hers made her feel almost sick.
‘I don’t think it’s his foot your father is worried about,’ Sophie said, attempting a light joke.
Kirsty drew her breath in sharply. ‘Oh my God!’
‘I was only kidding . . .’ Sophie said, startled by her reaction.
‘No, not that,’ Kirsty said, pointing down towards their gate. ‘I’m nearly certain that’s Larry’s car at our house . . .’
‘Oh my God!’ Sophie repeated, as they both moved into a fast trot.
They were just outside Mona’s house when they heard their own front door closing and then saw Larry coming out of the gate. Kirsty called out to him and then rushed up to greet him, her heart thudding at the mere sight of him.
‘My journey hasn’t been totally wasted,’ he said, putting his arms around her. Then he suddenly pulled away when he realised that Sophie was with her. ‘Hello, Mrs Grace,’ he said in a quiet voice.
‘Did you not get anywhere with Fintan?’ she asked anxiously.
‘I’m afraid not,’ he said. ‘I did my best, but he didn’t want to hear anything.’
Sophie gritted her teeth together. ‘Och, he can be the most stubborn, pig-headed man when he has a mind to.’ She shook her head. ‘But I know him – I know this will be tearin’ him apart. He’s only torturing himself along with everybody else.’
‘Will we try again?’ Kirsty suggested, looking up at Larry.
Larry shook his head. ‘Not tonight – it wouldn’t be fair. The man’s entitle
d to decide who he wants to have in his own house.’
Sophie stepped forward now, touching Larry on the arm. ‘I want you to know that I have no argument with you . . . I think the two of you are well-matched with your interests in music and everything.’
Larry smiled warmly at her. ‘Thanks for that, Mrs Grace . . . I appreciate it.’
‘There’s no need for Mrs . . . Sophie will do fine,’ she told him.
He bent down now to kiss Kirsty lightly on the forehead. ‘Let me know if anything changes,’ he told her.
There was no sign of Fintan downstairs when they came into the house and when Sophie went upstairs, she found him lying on top of their bed in the darkened room. She sat down on the bottom of the bed.
‘I met Larry Delaney outside the house, just as we were coming in . . .’ she said.
Fintan made a sort of irritated grunting noise but he said nothing.
‘We can’t go on like this,’ Sophie whispered. ‘We’re going to end up with another situation like Mona and Claire.’
‘I’m only protecting her,’ Fintan said, ‘the way any decent father would protect his daughter. She’s not yet nineteen, she’s still only a young girl in many ways.’
‘Well,’ Sophie said, ‘why don’t you let Larry Delaney protect her too?’
‘For God’s sake, Sophie! Isn’t he the very one I’m flamin’ worried about!’
‘Will you please listen to me?’ she persisted, her voice rising. ‘You know fine well that I very rarely have a strong opinion on anything. I usually sit back and let everybody else have their say . . . so please have the courtesy to listen to my opinion on this occasion.’
There was a strained silence but, tellingly, Fintan did not dispute his wife’s statement.
‘Aw . . . go on,’ he grudgingly said.
‘In a few years’ time,’ Sophie said, ‘we’d both be delighted to see Kirsty with all the nice things that Larry Delaney has to offer her. We know he has a fine big car and a good job, and according to Kirsty he has a lovely flat in a good part of Motherwell.’ She paused. ‘And he’s also a Catholic – an Irish Catholic.’
The Grace Girls Page 50
