by Maria Hoey
But what things? And did that mean that Robbie too had felt that something was wrong? Was that why he had wanted me here, so I too could watch? But if so, what was I was watching for? I told myself I was being ridiculous. I was overtired and as a result my imagination was working overtime. But all the same, before I went back to sleep I had made up my mind to talk to Robbie on his return. I could do it when I told him about Oliver’s adventure.
But it seemed that Robbie was not to be told about Oliver’s adventure.
“It would only worry him,” said Rosemary. “Violet-May thinks so too. Actually it was her idea not to say anything to him, and I think she’s right. Robbie is such a fusspot when it comes to the children – he’ll blame himself for not child-proofing the doors or something.”
I didn’t think that sounded very like Violet-May but I said nothing. We were alone in the kitchen. It was the first time since I had moved in that I had known Rosemary to get up early. Robbie was due back on an early flight and I could not help wondering if she had got up early on purpose to catch me before he arrived home.
“But I will speak to Grace about being sure to lock the doors in future whenever she goes in or out,” said Rosemary.
“It’s not just Grace,” I said. “There’s no reason to think it was she who left the door ajar. It might have been anybody.”
“Of course not,” said Rosemary. “Nobody is blaming her, nobody is blaming anybody, which is all the more reason why it’s best that nobody should mention anything to Robbie. And I’ve already spoken to Violet-May about being more careful too.”
“You might mention the gates too,” I said. “The gates are always left open, and as we saw today it’s dangerous with small children in the house. They need to be kept shut – that way if Oliver ever does manage to get out again, at least he won’t be able to leave the grounds.”
“Absolutely,” said Rosemary. “I’ll mention that to Robbie and Grace and Violet-May. But I think it’s probably best if we leave it at that. Don’t you, Kay?”
I said nothing but I nodded. Rosemary smiled then, picked up her coffee and glided from the kitchen. And if I was left with a sense of unease about what I had tacitly agreed to, I dismissed the feeling and told myself that Rosemary was Oliver’s mother. If she was satisfied to leave it at that, then so be it; it really was none of my business.
I was up in the attic room when Robbie returned and the first I knew of his being back was when he knocked on the door and called my name softly. I told him to come in and I got to my feet as he did. I tried not to look flustered when he came across and kissed me on the cheek. I thought he looked tired for all he had got some sun, but he smelled good.
He dropped into the rocking chair and we chatted for a while. He asked me how I had been, how my writing was going and then he asked how things had been while he was away.
I found I could not meet his eyes while I lied.
“Fine,” I said, and I made a production of shutting down my document.
Perhaps he picked up on something because he apologised then for having disturbed me at my work. “But maybe when you’ve finished for the morning, you’d let me take you out to lunch. Would that be alright, Kay?”
I said it would be alright and he went away and I put aside my sense of unease at having kept Oliver’s adventure from him by telling myself that I had not in fact lied. Mostly things had been absolutely fine while he was gone, and Oliver was fine too now, wasn’t he? And, if I had not quite convinced myself, I refused to dwell on the fact and gave myself up to the pleasure of getting ready for lunch with Robbie Duff.
He drove us out to Malahide. The weather was glorious, sunny but with a wonderful sea breeze, and as we strolled from the car to the restaurant the boat masts in the marina clinked and chimed. Robbie had phoned ahead and booked a table on the outside deck overlooking the water and I remember there was a boat out on the horizon, its sail making a sharp bright triangle against the blue of the sea and sky. Robbie drew out my chair for me and when a waitress came to take our drinks order, he encouraged me to have a glass of wine. I was happy to oblige and, as I sipped it, a feeling of freedom slipped over me. Freedom from what, I wondered briefly, but I was too relaxed and hungry to think about it too deeply just then. I ordered the seafood linguini and when Robbie said he would have the same, I felt an almost childish sense of pleasure that our tastes should be in agreement. And then, not for the first time it struck me that I reacted to Robbie Duff more like a teenager with a crush than an adult woman fast approaching forty. But once again I pushed the thought aside in favour of food. It really was delicious and I was happily tucking in when a girl came into view, jogging along the walkway below. She had a long blonde ponytail and other than the colour of her lycra shorts, which were black and pink rather than black and blue, she was almost a mirror image of Matchstick Meg. I had a sudden vivid memory of that day on the balcony of the flat in London when I had caught Dominic watching our bug-eyed neighbour running on the path below us.
I glanced at Robbie. His eyes were on his food but he happened to look up just at that moment. “What?” he said. “Is there something wrong with the food?”
“No, no, the food is perfect.” I glanced back at the girl. She had stopped jogging and was standing with her back to us now, facing the sea, engaging in a series of star jumps. “I was just thinking that that’s what I should be doing.”
Robbie followed my gaze. “You could, I suppose,” he said. “Or you could sit here eating pasta and prawns. And I know which I’d prefer.”
“Me too,” I said and Robbie smiled at me before going back to his food.
But I just sat there looking at his lovely mouth and thought of Dominic and wondered how I could ever have fallen for a man with thin lips. And I knew then that this was no teenage crush, that I loved Robbie Duff and always had, and the thought filled me with a painful, hopeless joy that almost stole away my appetite. Robbie looked up again and caught me watching him and I hurried into speech to cover my confusion.
“So it must be an interesting life, being an archaeologist?” I said. “I mean, besides the work itself you get to travel to these incredible places, discover wonderful things.”
“It’s interesting to me,” said Robbie. “And, yes, the travelling is part of that. Nowadays, I’m involved in a lot of field schools and this lecturing I’ve been pulled into now. But, yes, I have been lucky enough to be part of digs where wonderful things have been discovered.”
“Treasure? You mean gold and silver and stuff like that?” Once again I sounded to myself like a breathless adolescent, but the truth was I did find the idea fascinating.
Robbie was smiling at me again. “Yes, gold and silver and stuff,” he said. “But honestly, for me it’s the everyday ordinary things I find most poignant. You know, things like a bowl or a broken pot or cup, things that ordinary people used. When you hold something like that in your hand, something that hasn’t seen the light of day for thousands of years, it brings it home to you that the people who used them were real. That despite all that time between us, fundamentally they were just like you and me, just living their everyday lives. And somehow it links you to them in a way nothing else can, not all the books you’ve read or the lectures you’ve sat through. It’s very special.”
“It must be,” I agreed.
“But look at me boring you about my job. Never mind all that. What about you, Kay?”
“What about me?”
I wanted to tell him that he could never bore me, that I could sit here with him in the warm September sun for the rest of my life just listening to him speak, just looking at him in fact.
“Has your life so far been an interesting one?”
“Not so much,” I said. “I went to London and I’ve come back. Back where I started you might say, with nothing to show for it.”
No book, no husband, no child, I was thinking and perhaps it showed on my face because I saw how intently Robbie was watching me – a little too inte
ntly for comfort.
“I read a book a bit like that once,” I said with a deliberate change of tone. “It was by Anne Tyler and it was about a woman who left her old life and began a brand-new one. I don’t know if it was a very good book, but the premise fascinated me. She was with her family on a beach – I think they were on holiday and, anyway, she just walked away from them, with nothing only the clothes she was wearing on the day.”
“What happened to her?”
“She had adventures, got a job, found another man, became part of another family, or at least she had the opportunity of becoming part of it. I remember the ending made me furious.”
“Why so?” said Robbie.
“Because she let herself be sucked back into her old life,” I said. “The life she left because she was dissatisfied with it – she literally went back to the husband who had not appreciated her and her kids who were selfish and took her for granted. The ending of the book brought her right back to the beginning. It seemed to me like such a waste of time.”
“Her whole journey, you mean?”
“No,” I said. “I mean it seemed like a waste of time reading it.”
Robbie laughed and picked up his glass of water and, as he sipped, his eyes stayed on my face.
“So you never married, Kay?” he said and his voice was very gentle. “Or would you rather not talk about that? Please tell me if so.”
“I don’t mind,” I said. “No, I never married. There was someone and we lived together for – for quite a long time. Then he left me for a woman who lived across the hall from us.”
Robbie’s eyes narrowed and he put his glass down slowly. “If you don’t mind me saying so,” he said, “he sounds like a bit of a dick.”
I laughed out loud. “I don’t mind you saying so. So what about you, Robbie? Were you, are you married?” I believed I knew the answer to the question already, courtesy of Mrs Nugent but I wanted to hear it from him.
Robbie shook his head. “No and no,” he said. “So you see there are two of us in it, Kay. Now, what about dessert, I know I’m having some.”
And so we had dessert and a change of subject, and after we left the restaurant we went for a stroll on the beach before heading home. A small child, not much older than Oliver, broke away from a man who had been holding his hand, and came careering toward us. He ran almost blindly into Robbie, head-butting him in the shins. Laughing, Robbie immediately bent down and engaged the child long enough for the man to catch him up and, watching the small incident, I was reminded guiltily of what I had concealed from him and made up my mind to unburden my conscience.
I waited until we had left the man and the child behind us on the sand before I spoke up.
“Robbie, there’s something I haven’t told you,” I said. “There didn’t seem any point in worrying you while you were away, and Oliver was perfectly alright so I didn’t think it was necessary.”
Robbie, who was still smiling after the encounter with the toddler, stopped walking and turned to me swiftly.
I watched his face harden into alertness.
“What didn’t you tell me, Kay? What happened to Oliver?”
“Nothing happened to him – he just went missing for a while, but we found him and he was absolutely fine.”
“How long was he missing, where did you find him?” His voice had risen. “For Christ sake, Kay, why didn’t you tell me about this before?”
“I’m sorry, I should have told you, I knew I should.” I felt angry with myself and resentful toward Violet-May and Rosemary-June for persuading me to keep quiet against my better judgement.
“Well, tell me now.” His voice was as hard his face.
So I told him all about Oliver’s adventure, about Grace finding him along the road. I told him how we had come to the conclusion that the door from the butler’s pantry must have been left ajar. I was careful not to speculate by whom.
“And he was fine,” I finished, “absolutely fine. I’m sorry, Robbie, of course you should have been told, but you weren’t there when it happened and we thought why worry you with –”
“Who’s we?” said Robbie sharply.
“Violet-May, Rosemary, all of us really. We decided that there wasn’t any point in worrying you. But that’s no excuse and I should have known better.”
“It’s not your fault, Kay,” he said then. “The girls should have told me.”
That was true of course but I could not help feeling that it was I who had let him down.
“Grace should have told me,” said Robbie.
“You can’t blame Grace,” I said robustly. “It wasn’t down to her to tell you, if your own sisters decided to keep it from you.”
“You don’t understand,” said Robbie.
“What don’t I understand?”
He seemed to hesitate. “Oh, never mind – but you have to promise me, Kay, that if anything remotely like this happens again or if anything worries you, anything at all, you must tell me. Tell me, or, if I’m away at the time, ring me. Promise me you’ll do that, Kay.”
“Of course,” I promised. “Of course I will.” But as I did I asked myself why he would think anything like that might happen again, and why would he think that something might worry me?
We were walking toward the carpark now and, although Robbie was thanking me and his face had relaxed, I had a sense that his mind was anything but.
I kept quiet until we were in the car and driving toward home. Then, looking at his set profile, I found myself unable to stay silent.
“Robbie, is there something you’re not telling me?” I asked. “Because I can’t help feeling that there is.”
“What do you mean, Kay?” He glanced at me quickly then looked back to the road.
“I don’t know exactly, I can’t put my finger on it. It just seems to me that everybody is uneasy, at the house I mean. And you seem so anxious all the time. And I don’t know, but just now when I told you about Oliver going missing, the way you acted, the way you seemed, it just made me wonder.”
Robbie threw me another glance. “What?” he said. “It made you wonder what, Kay? Spit it out.”
He had never spoken so brusquely to me before, not since the day when, as a child, I had interrupted him at Prince’s grave.
It fired me up and so I spat it out. “It made me wonder why you really asked me to come and stay at the house.”
“Why? Is there something you’re not telling me, Kay?” he said evenly. “Perhaps there’s something that happened, something you saw or suspect?”
It was my turn to stare fixedly at the road ahead.
“Is there, Kay?” said Robbie. “Is there something, because if there is I hope you know that you can tell me.”
Still without looking at him, I said quietly, “There’s nothing.”
“Well, that’s alright then,” said Robbie. “And for my part, the reason I invited you to move into the house was because you clearly needed somewhere to live, and because I thought it would be good for the girls to have you there. And also, of course, because I thought it might be convenient for your writing.”
I sneaked a glance at him then and his head turned and our eyes met.
“But you’re right, I haven’t been entirely honest with you. There is something, and I had thought about telling you a couple of times, but in a sense it isn’t my secret to tell. It still isn’t but I trust you to keep it to yourself. And, for all I know, it may not come as a great surprise to you.”
“Yes?”
“It’s about Grace, Kay. The truth is that Grace is my half-sister.”
“You don’t seem surprised,” said Robbie.
He had pulled into a lay-by and stopped the car before unbuckling his seatbelt and turning to me.
“I am. This is honestly news to me.”
But I was not as surprised as I might have been. It sort of made sense of some things that had been puzzling me – Grace living locally now, but having been in London and working as Rosemary’s
nanny, not to mention the way Violet-May behaved around her.
“Violet-May and Rosemary know, don’t they?” I said.
“Violet-May does, but she only found out a short time before my mother died. She’s still struggling with it to be honest.”
An involuntary sound escaped my throat.
“What is it, Kay?”
“It’s just … let’s just say I sensed a bit of tension between Violet-May and Grace.”
“Yes, well, Violet-May made the discovery in an unfortunate manner,” said Robbie. “She overheard a conversation between my mother and Grace. I don’t know exactly what she heard but I gather it was enough for her to grasp the situation and also convince her that our mother cared a lot about Grace.”
“And Rosemary doesn’t know?”
Robbie shook his head. “We decided to wait a while before breaking the news to her. It just seemed that she had enough to contend with. Grace agreed it was for the best to hold off on telling her for now.”
