by A. O'Connor
Nico was back in Dublin and was in the video rental shop with Alex while she selected some DVDs. Kate had taken him by surprise with her offer of a truce. He thought she was uncompromising, one who would never give in. As they had sat and chatted that evening in Hunter’s Farm over tea, she had even managed to be charming – talking about day-to-day things in a relaxed way he would never have thought possible of the Fallons. She had chatted about her acting career and he was intrigued to find out how good an actress she apparently was.She had said she was a varied actress running the gamut from comedy to serious drama.
Nico was peering up and down the video rental shop.
“May I assist you?” the guy who worked in the store finally asked.
“Em, yeah – I’m looking for a Kate Fallon DVD?”
“Kate Fallon?” The man was confused. “Ah, you mean Kate Donovan who married Tony Fallon. Yeah, we’ve got some of her stuff here all right. What are you looking for? Her early stuff is on the end of that shelf, while her later stuff is on the end of that one.”
“Well, what’s the difference?”
The man laughed. “Well, her early stuff is pretty trash, to be honest, but her later stuff ain’t so bad – she even won a couple of awards.”
“Er,” Nico scratched his head, “I think I’ll take one from either end of her career.”
“She cut her career short when she married Tony Fallon – you know, the magnate?”
“Was she a loss to the film world?”
“I guess we’ll never know. She was only getting into her stride when she retired.”
Alex placed three DVDs on the counter and announced, “I’ll take these.”
After Alex had gone to bed, Nico put on one of the DVDs and settled back to watch Kate Fallen for the night. He was intrigued as he watched her grace the screen.He found the characters she was playing hard to associate with the Kate he knew.
“So, are you acting in the movies, or acting in real life?” Nico questioned her image on the screen as he knocked back his brandy.
Chapter ninety-four
Kate had spent the day curled up in front of the fire in their lounge, readingClara’s letters. From what she could see they were all from soldiers fighting on the front in the First World War. She was fascinated as they described their daily lives. But more intrigued by how they spoke to Clara. They held her in such high esteem, almost as if they were in love with her.
Dearest Clara,
I was so overjoyed to get your letter today. You don’t know what it means to me to know I’m in your thoughts at this horrible time. I think of the past here all the time, it stops me dwelling on the present. I remember the fun times we had in London before all this started, before you left for Ireland. Remember that funny incident at the Charlemont Ball . . .
Soon she found herself lost in his words as he described the night and Clara’s fairytale life. She was dying to open the unopened letters addressed to Pierce Armstrong, but was putting off doing so. She was curious to know how they had found their way back to Armstrong House unopened and who were they from. Maybe they had never reached him with the war, she reasoned. She had a feeling looking at the elegant writing they were from Clara writing to her husband at war. Somehow she was reluctant to open them – as if it would be an intrusion into something private and even sacred.
The front door banged. Tony came in looking hassled and went straight to the drinks cabinet where he poured himself a large whiskey.
“Have you not left that position all day?” he asked, seeing her stretched out in front of the fire with the letters.
“Only to get some chocolate! These letters are so intriguing, Tony!”
He walked over and knelt down beside her.
“How can you even read that scrawl?”
“I think he had beautiful handwriting!”
“He?”
“A Captain Hugo Arbuthnot, who was a great friend of Clara’s, and was in love with her from what I can read. Isn’t that amazing? To read his words about her?”
“Hmmm, truly amazing,” he said sarcastically. “Wasn’t she supposed to be married to Nico’s grandfather?”
“Yes, but there’s none from him. I guess she hid these in the floorboards so he wouldn’t get jealous.”
He looked at her, puzzled, then jumped up and went to turn on the television.
“I can’t wait to see how the house is coming along,” she said.
As the news came on the television Tony raised the volume loudly and said “Shhh – I want to hear this. Lehman Brothers has collapsed.”
“What?” asked Kate, jumping up and coming over to sit beside him as she listened attentively to the report.
Tony swigged back his drink. “Unbelievable!”
“What does it mean?” Kate said concerned.
“Who knows? It’s not just Lehman Brothers – all the banks seem to be in terrible trouble.”
“Ours included?” Her face creased with worry.
He smiled at her. “I’ll give Steve a call tomorrow. Should be nothing to worry about.”
Chapter ninety-five
Kate kept to her bargain and kept out of Nico’s way until she finally received a call from him one day to come and meet him at the house. When Kate and Nico met, they each felt they harboured new revelations about the other. Nico had curiously sat through Kate’s movies and now felt he was an expert on her acting skills. After watching her weep, laugh, fall in love and murder on screen, he now felt there was more to her than thetycoon’s wisecracking wife. As for Kate, addictively reading Clara’s letters made her feel she had a link to Nico’s past.
Nico turned the key in the front door of the house and she held her breath as she walked in after him.
As she walked through the hallwayshe loved the freshly finished feel and aroma. She excitedly walked from room to room, and up the stairs where everywhere had been replaced and made safe.
“It’s marvellous!” she said as she quickly came down the stairs. “It’s like a proper house again.”
“I’m delighted you’re delighted,” he said with a smile, surprised there wasn’t one criticism or piece of sarcasm. “Come and see the basement.”
She followed him eagerly and was overwhelmed to see the change. As planned, the level of the big back yard had been dropped and the old flagstones replaced. The kitchen was now full of light and the back yard formed an attractive patio outside.
“So – where do we go from here?” she queried.
“The next step is where you come in. We now have to create the interiors, so you need to direct me as to what you want. The house before was a damaged canvas, and we’ve repaired it, but it’s still a blank canvas, and now we need to paint our picture on it.”
As Kate listened she thought it was such an interesting way of describing it.
“You had some ideas of how you wanted it,” said Nico.
“Yes, indoor swimming pools aside.” She looked mockingly at him.
They walked intothe ballroom and Kate circled around all the boxes and items of furniture stored there belonging to Nico.
“Sorry this stuff is still here. I’ll order a truck and get it brought down to a stable I’ve cleared at Hunter’s Farm.”
Kate traced a finger along a broken sideboard. “Is there anything of value here?”
“Doubtful. Anything of value not destroyed by the fire was removed by my grandfather Pierce soon after and sold to help pay the mounting debts,” he said, picking up a box of chipped crockery. “Nothing of monetary value here, but I still need to go through it and throw out what I don’t want. Anyway, it’ll be gone tomorrow and no longer your problem. But what I was thinking is that there are a lot of old paintings and photos here, so I might pick up some pictures of what the rooms looked like before the fire, which would greatly assist us in the restoration.”
“Oh, that would be great, thanks, Nico.” She began to examine a broken gramophone with intense curiosity. “Nico, if you want you can go
through the items here. There’s more light and room here than in a stable at Hunter’s Farm, I imagine.”
“It would make it easier. I can order a skip and discard stuff as I go through. You don’t mind?”
“Of course not, and if you find anything to help with the restoration, great!” She picked up a jewellery box and examined it. She had been so intrigued reading Clara’s letters, she was burning with a curiosity to see what was amongst the items in the ballroom. “If you want – I can help you sort through things.”
“You?” he asked derisorily.
“What’s so unbelievable about that?”
“You with your manicured hands and your Karl Lagerfield dress?”
“It’s Chanel actually.”
He gave her a condescending look. “I don’t think it’s really your scene rummaging through cardboard boxes. I wouldn’t want to keep you from some photo-call or film premierefor a charity somewhere.”
“Nico!” Kate snapped angrily. “Will you stop suggesting I’m nothing but a trophy wife who has no interest in anything but having my photo in the magazines!”
“I’m sorry, but that’s what I thought you were!”
“Well, like most things you think you’re an expert on, Nico, you’re wrong! Anyway, sort it out on your own. Call me during the week.” She turned to leave.
“Hold on!” he said quickly. “I’m sorry. I would very much appreciate your help in sorting things out.”
Kate was amazed at the ruthlessness with which Nico went through the items. She feared that instead of being a help to him, she was more of a hindrance as she stopped him every time he went to throw away something in the skip he had ordered. She would take the item, study it, point out any merits it might have, and fight for its survival before Nico insisted on its demise.
“It’s a useless jug! It’s cracked and the handle is missing!” His voice rose as she physically stopped him from throwing it intothe skip outside the open French window.
“But it might be an antique, I can have a friend of mine check it out,” she argued.
He laughed. “You obviously have no idea about the world of antiques. But I do! And this is valueless!” He chucked it intothe skip and it broke asunder, then he walked back inside the ballroom.
She followed him, intensely irritated, aware he did know about antiques, and fully aware her knowledge was limited. And she hated that fact. Like everything she envied, this knowledge would have been just handed to him with the world he was brought up in.
He opened a box and there was a brooch inside it.
“I wonder whose breast this adorned?” he said, studying it.
“I wonder?” She took the box from his hands and looked at it intently.
“Now don’t try and tell me that’s worth something?” He looked at her knowingly.
“No, Nico, one thing I do know is jewellery. It’s a piece of worthless costume jewellery.”
“My sentiments exactly!” He snatched it back out of her hand sand went to fire it into the skip.
“No! Wait!” She grabbed it back out of his hand. “But it’s very pretty!”
“Kate! I don’t have storage room to be cluttered by this kind of junk!”
“Well, can I have it then?”
He looked at her and shrugged. “If you want.”
“Thank you.” She went and put the brooch box intoher handbag. “It’s just very nice to possess something that belonged to a former resident of the house, whoever she was.”
“You’d never make an antiques dealer. There’s no room for sentiment in the antiques business.”
They continued to rummage through the items. Suddenly Nico found a large photograph in a box and sat down on a chair, staring at the photo with curiosity.
“What’s that?” asked Kate.
“It’s a photo of my grandfather Pierce. . . on his wedding day,” said Nico.
“Really?” Kate walked over excitedly and peered at the photo of the beautiful couple walking out of the church.
“You don’t really look like him,” Kate observed. “Or your grandmother,” she added as she studied the stunning bride.
“Oh, she’s not my grandmother,” said Nico quickly.
“No?” Kate was intrigued and, pulling up a chair, sat down beside him and took the photo from his hand to study it further. “Who is she then?”
“It must be his first wife Clara. I’ve never seen a photo of her before.”
“Clara,” she said the word gently, putting a face to the letters she was reading.
He took the photo back from her. “She was a society beauty from London. She would have been the last lady of the house here.”
“I see . . . But what happened to her?” Kate was mesmerized by Clara’s face.
“She and Pierce divorced. They had no children. In fact,she was a complete bitch to him.”
“She doesn’t look like a bitch,” said Kate, surprised by his words.
“Looks can be deceiving. He fought in the First World War, and rose very high in the ranks. While he was off fighting in the trenches, she was having an affair behind his back.”
“You’re joking me!” She took the photo from him again and peered at it.
“Yes, she had an affair here in this very house – his house.” He looked around the room.
“How awful!”
“Aha – she was renowned for having wild parties here while my poor old grandfather Pierce fought for his life . . . I believe she ended up having an affair with Jonathan Seymour.”
“Theartist?” Kate asked.
“He wasn’t so famous then. But, yes, that’s the one.”
He reached down further intothe box, scooped up a dozen other photos and started looking through them. They were all photos of Clara, taken with her posing in different rooms of the house.
“Ah! Now these could be useful!” said Nico. “Look at these!”
He started handing the photos one by one to Kate.
“Some of them are taken in the rooms that were destroyed by the fire. These can give us an actual record of what the rooms were like so we can restore them. Brilliant!”
But instead of concentrating on the décor of the rooms, Kate was drawn to Clara in the photos, this ethereal beauty from another time looking back at her.
“And since they are all of Clara, this is how the house looked just before the fire.”
“What happened to her? To Clara?” questioned Kate.
“After the fire here in the house, Pierce divorced her on grounds of adultery. He went to live in Dublin, where he worked in the diplomatic corp for the British embassy. He eventually married my grandmother, Joan. They had a daughter, my mother Jacqueline. But that was a short-lived marriage as well.”
“Another divorce?” asked Kate.
“No . . . The Second World War broke out, and he re-enlisted as an officer and went to fight in France even though he was in his fifties by then. He was killed in his first week there. Shot.”
Kate went back and looked at Pierce and Clara’s wedding photo again.
“My grandmother married againafter Pierce died – a Dublin businessman – and went on to have more children.My mother Jacqueline, although she never knew Pierce as she was only a baby when he died, had a very happy upbringing. This place came to her on Pierce’s death.”
“And what about Clara? What happened to her?”
“I don’t know what happened to her. And after how she treated my grandfather, I’m not really interested either.” He got up and started to work again.
“Can I borrow the photos, just to study the rooms?” she asked.
“Sure. . . I wonder what this is?” he said, lifting up a round silver canister and going to open it.
“Wait!” she ordered, hurrying over to him. “That’s an old reel of film, don’t expose it to the light!” She studied it. “Very old from what I can tell.”
“I wonder what it’s of?” he asked.
“I’ve a friend who specialises in
adapting these – want me to get him to take a look?”
He shrugged and handed it to her.
Hours later they were still sorting through the stuff.
“Now look at this!” said Nico excitedly and Kate rushed over. He had uncovered a large portrait, the bottom half of which was covered in dust and smoke damage. But Kate immediately recognised the face in the portrait as that of Clara from the photos.
“It’s impossible to see the signature on the painting,” said Nico, peering at the bottom of the portrait.
Kate stared at the painting of Clara. “Are you going to throw it out?” she asked, half hoping he would say yes, so she could lay claim to it.
“No. I’ve a friend who restores paintings, so I’ll get him to take a look at it.”
He carried the painting out to his Range Rover.
Chapter ninety-six
Back in Dublin, Kate couldn’t stop studying the photos of Clara. She was fascinated with the beauty who had been the last mistress of their house. She almost felt a connection with her. She suddenly spotted a brooch Clara was wearing in one of the photos and hurried to her handbag and took out the one Nico had said she could have. As she compared her brooch to the one in the photo she realised it was the same.
“Thankyou, Clara!” she said, amazed by the discovery. “It’s almost as if you’ve handed it to me through time.”
“Are you beginning to talk to yourself? First sign of madness, you know,” said Tony walking into their bedroom. He was wearing a tuxedo as they were going to a dinner party.
Kate tidied away the photos and went to sit at her dressing table to pin the brooch on to her evening gown.
He came over to her and placed his hands on her shoulders while standing behind her.
“New piece of jewellery?” he asked.
“No, a very old piece. We found it in the house and Nico said I could keep it. It used to belong to the last woman who lived there, Lady Clara Armstrong.”
He bent down and examined it. “Is it expensive?”
