by Maria Hoey
He turned then and looked at me once more.
“I was just wondering how they seemed to you, Kay,” he said. “Women talk to women, don’t they, about what’s going on in their heads? You know, feelings, that kind of thing?”
“Ah yes, feelings,” I said with mock sarcasm and he smiled. “I haven’t had time to look into their souls if that’s what you mean, but from what I can gather both girls as you might expect are distressed by the sudden death of your mother. Rosemary-June of course had the double shock that day of what almost happened to Oliver so –”
“She told you about that?” Robbie was looking at me intently now. “What did she say about that exactly?”
“Exactly?” I frowned as I tried to recall what I had been told. “Well, she told me that Oliver’s ball must have rolled into the pond and he’d gone in after it. She saw him from the window, so she screamed and ran downstairs but Violet-May got there first and got him out and luckily there was no harm done. Actually, Rosemary-June was feeling sorry for Violet-May, I think, because of how it had happened and –”
“But it shouldn’t have happened,” said Robbie. His voice sounded harder and there was a look in his eyes I had not seen there since the day of Violet-May’s birthday concert when he burst into the dining room and announced that Prince had been poisoned.
“No, of course it shouldn’t have happened,” I said gently. It certainly shouldn’t have, was what I was thinking, not with all those people around who were supposed to be looking after that little boy. “But it did and the main thing is that no harm came to Oliver.”
For a moment the hard looked held, then Robbie’s face softened.
“Yes,” he said. “That, as you say, is the main thing. And you see now why we need you around here, Kay, because you always see things the right way up.”
“Do you think so?” I said. “I’m not so sure your sisters would agree.”
Robbie frowned. “What makes you think so? Has someone said something to you?”
“No, no,” I said quickly. “Nobody said anything, at least not in the way I think you mean. It was just an impression I got from a comment Violet-May made. It made me wonder if she might think I’d come here to ... look, it was nothing. I was tempted to tell her that you’d asked me here so I could help look out for Rosemary-June, but I thought it was best to say nothing. After all, Violet-May is Rosemary’s sister and I didn’t want to imply for a second that she’s not capable of being a support to her.”
“No, best to say nothing,” said Robbie. “In fact, please don’t say anything, Kay. You’re quite right, it might only lead to misunderstandings.” He smiled at me again, “OK. And now I’m going to go away and leave you in peace to create.”
After he had gone I sat in that quiet room at the top of the house, but instead of writing I found myself wondering why it was that none of the Duff siblings seemed capable of talking to one another. And that night, for the first time in many, many years I dreamed of Alexander Duff.
Chapter 19
I woke early the next morning and had to mentally pinch myself to realise that I was waking up in a room in the Duff house. I also had to contend with the three unanswered calls on my mobile. Dominic had phoned at 1.55 and again at 2.10. I had not felt comfortable putting my phone on silent in case the nursing home needed to contact me about my father but I had put it on vibrate after the second call. The third call had come through at 2.45 but nothing after that.
As I showered I see-sawed between calling him back now that he would be sober once more – I was assuming that the calls had been made while he was drunk. But, either way, did I want to hear what he had to say? What did he have to say? Did I care? I decided not to decide and got on with dressing.
As I stepped out onto the landing I heard the sound of a child crying. This was followed by Caroline’s high sweet little voice which was followed in turn by Robbie’s deeper tone. The door to the next room was ajar and I put my head around. Robbie was kneeling on the floor wrestling a little boy into a pair of dungarees, while the child wriggled and rolled for all he was worth. I had not seen Oliver the previous evening as he was in bed by the time I came down for dinner. Now I was struck with his likeness to another child. Pink-skinned and blonde-haired, with the same eyes, the same long fair eyelashes, this was the toddler that Alexander might have become.
“Good morning,” I said brightly, pushing the dark thoughts away.
Oliver stopped wriggling and gave me a toothy smile. “Hi,” he said.
“Hi, yourself.”
“Hi,” said Oliver again.
“This is his week for ‘hi’,” said Robbie, releasing the little boy who clambered to his feet faster than I would have thought possible. “Last week it was all about ‘bye’.”
“Bye,” said Oliver. “Bye.”
He toddled across the room to where the bottom drawer in a large chest of drawers gaped open and promptly climbed in.
Meanwhile, Caroline, who had been sitting on the floor attempting to jam on a blue shoe, had abandoned it, got up and run at me full tilt. I knelt and opened my arms to her and her fuzzy blonde hair tickled my chin like a brush of feathers.
Over the top of her head I saw Robbie grinning at me.
“Someone has a fan,” he said.
I gently released the little girl and got to my feet and then felt an enormous rush of pleasure and gratification as Caroline slipped her hand into mine.
“Are you in charge this morning?” I asked Robbie.
“I was up and I heard them, so why not?” said Robbie.
“I’m impressed,” I said. Was there anything this man could not do?
“Good to see we have another early riser in the house,” said Robbie. “Fancy some breakfast?”
“Yes, please.”
“Great. Then if you wouldn’t mind grabbing Caroline’s other shoe, I’ll fetch Oliver from his drawer and we can all go down and have breakfast together.”
“Wasins!” Oliver piped up suddenly and Robbie laughed.
“Raisins are Oliver’s greatest joy in life,” he told me as he went and lifted the little boy from the drawer. “Next to balls and cars, that is, and if you let him he’d eat raisins all day long. No raisins for breakfast, Oliver, but perhaps later, if you’re a very good boy.”
In the end I carried Caroline down while Robbie followed with Oliver in his arms.
I will never forget that first breakfast I shared with Robbie and his small niece and nephew in the big kitchen of the Duff house. Robbie was wonderful with the children and they obviously adored him and it was a joy to me to watch him with them. Milk was spilt and a box of cereal upended itself on the kitchen floor and scrambled egg worked its way somehow into people’s hair, including mine, but not since the family breakfasts of my childhood in that cramped little kitchen at home had I enjoyed the first meal of the day so much.
Rosemary put in an appearance at some point. She took in the sight of the three of us still sitting at the table, Robbie with Oliver on his lap.
“I went to get him up and he wasn’t there,” she said. “You’ve changed him – I would have done it.”
“I was up and I heard him,” said Robbie. “I thought I’d take him down and let you have a lie-in. Actually, I caught him just as he was climbing out of his cot – he has it down to a fine art.”
“He’s always climbing,” said Rosemary, eyeing her son wearily. “If he isn’t climbing out of his cot, he’s climbing on the furniture.”
“Going to be a mountain climber when you grow up, are you, Oliver?” said Robbie, as Rosemary went to make coffee.
Robbie asked if I would mind taking Oliver and I willingly took him onto my lap. He felt warm and solid and he smelled of the eggs and yogurt he had been eating. I closed my eyes for a moment and thought about what could have been mine and, when I opened them again, I found Rosemary watching me over the top of her steaming cup.
“He’s a lovely little boy,” I said.
She smiled but said not
hing and I wondered if she was sleeping these nights – she looked tired and had dark circles under her eyes. No doubt Oliver was keeping her up with his teething – his molars apparently – the tough ones. And she really was much too thin to my mind. No wonder Robbie was concerned about her.
“It must be a great help having Robbie and Violet-May around to share the load,” I said and Rosemary raised one fair eyebrow.
“Surely you remember, Kay? Violet-May doesn’t do sharing.”
“Well, no, but I’m sure ...” I realised that I was not sure of anything really and I fell silent.
“But, as you say, Robbie is wonderful with them,” said Rosemary, smiling once more. “It’s good to know I can always count on Robbie to be there.”
I still thought she sounded a little off and, just as I was wondering about that, the kitchen door opened and a woman came in.
“Morning!” she called, her voice quiet but cheerful.
“Morning, Grace,” said Robbie. “Come and meet Kay – Kay Kelly.”
Grace crossed the room, smiling at me, and held out her hand.
I shook it. ‘Hi, Grace,” I said.
“I hope you’ll be very comfortable here, Kay,” said Grace and she said it like she meant it.
She was, I guessed, not much older than me, tall, big-boned, with black hair and brown eyes. She had a local accent and I remembered Rosemary saying she had originally been from round here. Grace had by now turned her attention to Oliver who, from the moment he saw her in the doorway, had been straining to go to her. She held out her arms now and I released the little boy and she swung him high and kissed him and tickled him until he roared with joy.
While I had been talking to Grace, I had noticed Robbie leaving the kitchen. He came back in again now, briefcase in hand.
“I need to get going – I’ve papers to pick up for the conference tomorrow.” He smiled at me, “I’ll see you later, Kay. I hope you get some writing done. And remember, if there’s anything you need be sure to let Grace know. I’ll check in with you when I get back.”
“There’s nothing,” I said quickly.
I could not help but notice that he had not suggested I let his sisters know of my needs and I wondered again just how much they resented my presence in the midst of a family gathering and just how aware Robbie was of the fact. It made me feel uncomfortable and I suspected Robbie read something in my face as he dithered for a while in the doorway, looking at me a little uncertainly. But then he was gone and soon after I went upstairs to begin writing. Caroline tried to follow me but Grace called her back and as I walked away I heard the little girl asking why she wasn’t allowed to go with Auntie Kay. It made me smile.
My study was the perfect place to write, but at first I was distracted by its view of the meadow behind the house. There the dog daisies had run rampant and their long, lanky stalks swayed in the wind with here and there a gash of poppy red, startling against the sea of white. I sat down to write and found the words willing to flow, so much so that I lost track of time and suddenly realised that it was just after one and I had done nothing to help with the children.
There was no sign of anybody about as I went downstairs but I found Grace at the kitchen table with Caroline on one side busily colouring and Oliver on the other in a highchair which had been pulled to the table.
Grace looked up as I came in and smiled. “Have you come down for a bit of lunch after all your hard work? I hear you’re a writer.”
“I’m trying to be,” I said and smiled at Oliver who had a peeled banana in his hand. The ripe sweet smell of the fruit was pungent and the absorption and concentration in the little boy’s face as he sucked on it fascinated me. He glanced up and caught me watching him and immediately he opened his mouth in a great wide grin which displayed the pale-yellow mess on his tongue.
“Hi,” he said.
“Hi, Oliver – is that a good banana?”
“Nana!” said Oliver and waved the fruit at me.
And I remember thinking that, despite the tragedy of losing her husband, Rosemary-June was lucky to have such enchanting and good-natured children.
“Are you on your own with them?” I asked Grace. “Where’s their mother?”
“Lunching,” said Grace, “followed by a spot of shopping, no doubt.”
I wondered if I was imagining an edge to her tone, but the next moment she was smiling warmly and inviting me to sit down while she made some tea.
“There’s soup and freshly made sandwiches if you’d fancy that too,” she said. “But if you’d rather something else, just say.”
“Oh, I hope you didn’t go to a lot of bother on my account, Grace,” I said worriedly. “I’m more than happy to make my own lunch and look after myself. You have the children to take care of .”
“It wasn’t any bother,” said Grace. “I do a bit of this and that around the house, and it’s all the same to me whether it’s cooking or cleaning or child-minding, at least while Robbie’s sisters are here. Robbie’s asked me to come in most days as long as they’re here. The children’s mother isn’t up to much at the moment what with being made a widow so young and apparently Violet-May can’t boil an egg.”
Somehow I was not surprised to hear that. “So you don’t live in,” I said.
Grace, who was ladling soup from a saucepan into a bowl, looked up and said a little sharply, “I could – if I wanted to, I could.”
“Oh absolutely, I’m sure,” I said hastily, worried that I had somehow inadvertently offended her. I didn’t ask her anything else of a personal nature though I was curious about her and would have liked to know where exactly she lived and with whom.
She busied herself with serving me lunch and sat down at the table with me while I ate the delicious soup and the sandwich she had prepared.
Watching her with the children, I could not help thinking that she had in abundance all the qualities Robbie had ascribed to me: she was placid and kind and calm and obviously very sensible, so with her around just what need was there for me?
But I forgot all about that when Caroline offered to let me help her colour and, sitting there with a ham-salad sandwich in one hand and a purple crayon in the other, I realised that this was the second time in a single day that I had sat down to eat almost as part of a family.
Afterwards, we all had a good laugh watching Oliver’s antics as he tried to reach the tin where the raisins were kept. Grace had put it out of his reach on a worktop but Oliver tried an assault on it by means of an attempted climb using the drawer handles on the units below. Failing at this, he then proceeded to push a kitchen chair, slowly but surely, across the floor until it was next to the unit. He then climbed up on the chair and with a triumphant whoop reached out with both hands to grab the tin, losing his balance in the process. Both Grace and I, foreseeing the danger, had sprung up and it was she who caught him just before he would have fallen.
“That’s so dangerous,” I said as Oliver roared, more I am sure at the failure of his mission to reclaim the raisins than the fright of the near-fall.
“Olber is naughty,” said Caroline and I smiled at her take on her brother’s Christian name.
“Don’t I know it?” said Grace. “You little rascal!” she scolded Oliver. “Don’t do that again!”
But the only punishment he received was a particularly loud smattering of kisses on his outraged face, which was quickly followed up with a handful of raisins.
With peace once again restored, I returned to my colouring, all the time thinking how comfortable it felt to be there in that big kitchen which, except for the addition of a new electric cooker and some fitted cupboards, was almost exactly as I remembered it. The same polished wood was underfoot, above was the same timber-beamed ceiling. The Belfast sink was there too and the two archways, one leading to the butler’s pantry, the other to the back staircase. Looking at them, I remembered Violet-May, ecstatic at the success of her concert, leading me by that staircase to her bedroom that long-ago day to
bounce out her joy on top of her bed.
After my lunch, while Grace went to put the children down for their naps, I went for a walk in the gardens. When I came back in they were still asleep and I decided to go upstairs to write some more.
And once again it was Robbie who tapped gently on my door to alert me to the fact that dinner would soon be ready. I picked up my phone to check and was astonished to discover that it was a quarter to seven.
“My God,” I said, “is it that time? I had no idea. Thank you. I’ll just shut down my laptop and go and tidy myself up a bit.”
Robbie smiled. “Well, I imagine that’s a good thing, isn’t it, losing time because you’re lost in your art? And I like to think that being in this house has something to do with it.”
“My art?” I said derisively. “I wish.”
But Robbie said quite seriously, “You shouldn’t belittle your talents in that way, Kay.”
“I suppose I shouldn’t,” I agreed. “And I think you’re right that this house is agreeing with me as far as writing goes.”
“Then perhaps this is the right time to give you this,” said Robbie. “So you can come and go as you wish.”
I looked at the key in his outstretched hand and then I looked back to Robbie’s gently smiling eyes.
“Thank you,” I said and as I took it I remember telling myself to get a grip – it was only a key. But it was more than that and I could not pretend otherwise, despite the fact that I was no longer ten years old. I was holding the key to the Duff house and it still symbolised something for me, even if right then I was not quite certain what.
