Immediately she felt ashamed. He’d come twice to the house, and twice nobody had answered his ring of the bell. He must have thought goodness knows what. He hadn’t been angry when they’d finally met, like another person might have been. He was simply being kind now – he was showing sympathy. How could she suspect an ulterior motive?
‘You sit, Mrs Fitzpatrick,’ he said, crossing to the fridge as if he’d been here for weeks instead of minutes. Peering in. ‘You like the milk or the lemon for the tea?’
‘Milk, please,’ she murmured, dropping onto a chair. There wasn’t a lemon in the house. ‘My name is Imelda,’ she added, her weariness returning, an enormous yawn escaping before she could stop it. God, how rude.
‘You like also the sugar?’ he enquired, depositing the milk jug on the table. Maybe he hadn’t caught the yawn.
‘No sugar, thank you. Mr Conti, this is really not necessary—’ but there he was, bustling about, taking two glasses from a press.
‘Is possible to drink the water from the –?’ he asked, indicating the tap, and she nodded, so he filled the glasses and set one before her. ‘Take a little, please,’ he said, and she sipped obediently. He opened drawers and found a spoon. The kettle boiled and he made tea. He stirred, he fished out the teabag and dropped it onto the draining board. He placed the mug in front of her. ‘Ecco,’ he said, accompanying the word with a smile of such warmth that Imelda summoned an answering smile for him.
‘Thank you.’
He took the chair beside her, set his glass on the table. ‘You are welcome, Mrs Fitzpatrick.’
‘Imelda,’ she repeated. ‘Please call me Imelda.’ She had no stomach, right now, for Mrs Fitzpatrick.
‘Ee-mel-da,’ he said, stretching out the l in the middle, giving the name a musicality it didn’t deserve. ‘And I am Gualtiero.’ Swallowing the g so it came out more like a w. ‘Please to meet you,’ he said, the smile filling his face again. Extending a hand so she had no choice but to take it.
Hard to put an age on him. She thought over sixty. Teeth sound, and looked like his own. Hand warm, and softer than she’d expected.
‘Eemelda,’ he said again, ‘I go tomorrow, no problem. You no worry about me, OK?’
He had understood, and he wasn’t upset. ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘Thank you.’ Another yawn came without warning. ‘Sorry,’ she said around it, reclaiming her hand to clamp it over her traitorous mouth. ‘I’m afraid I’m very tired.’
He got immediately to his feet. ‘You must go to the bed,’ he said. ‘You take the tea and you go. I go too, you show room for me.’
She brought him upstairs and opened the door of his room, and stood back to let him enter. She gave the place a quick scan and decided it would do. Towels: he needed towels. She took two yellow ones from the hotpress and handed them to him. ‘There’s just one bathroom, I’m afraid,’ she said, ‘but there’s plenty of hot water’ – and he waved a hand and assured her one bathroom was no problem.
‘What time would you like breakfast?’ she asked, trying to remember what there was in the fridge. Eggs, she thought. And yogurt. Was that enough?
He lifted his shoulders, pursed his mouth. ‘Nine o’clock?’
‘Nine is fine.’ She’d be awake well before it, and nine gave her time to scoot to the supermarket, which opened at eight, for supplies. Maybe she could make a few phone calls too, before he appeared, try to get him sorted. ‘Anything in particular you’d like?’
Another shrug. ‘Perhaps eggs,’ he told her. ‘Any way cooking eggs. I can do, if you like.’
‘No, no, I’ll do it.’ She could at least scramble his eggs before turfing him out. ‘Well, goodnight then.’ She’d forgotten his first name, unless it was Garibaldi, which she was fairly sure it wasn’t.
‘Buona notte, Eemelda. I wish you the good sleep.’
In the bathroom she hastily used the toilet and brushed her teeth and washed her face. She hurried downstairs and bundled up her bedding and returned it to her room. She closed the door and leant against it. What a thing to happen, what a state of affairs to find herself in.
Would she be able to get him somewhere else though? It would be terribly difficult, with the island full of tourists. Even the hotel might be full – not that she could really suggest the hotel to him, when it would surely be far more expensive than her modest charge.
And the fact that he wanted to stay for an entire month, four whole weeks, made her task all the harder. Even if she managed to get him a bed somewhere, chances were they wouldn’t be able to keep him for so long, which meant he’d have to be moved around. God, what was to be done?
She’d ring Nell first thing, she decided. Nell would help. If it came to it, there might be someone like herself who didn’t normally take in people, but who had a spare room and wouldn’t mind a bit of extra cash. It was awful to do it to him, especially after the confusion surrounding his arrival. Poor man was probably regretting his decision to come to Ireland.
Nell must have forgotten about him too, and Laura. Eggs for breakfast, she remembered Laura saying. Whatever else you have, they always expect an egg. Remind me nearer the time and Gav can put you on his delivery list.
She took off her clothes and slipped her nightdress over her head. She rummaged in the wardrobe for her dressing gown and hung it on the back of the door. Better be prepared in case she encountered him on her way to the loo in the middle of the night.
She climbed into bed. She hugged Hugh’s pillow to her chest. The pillowcase was unchanged: she couldn’t bring herself to take it off, with its lingering, heartbreaking scent of his aftershave.
She could hear the man splashing about in the bathroom. She’d forgotten to show him how to work the shower, or to point out that the water could be cloudy at times.
She didn’t think he’d have been much bother as a lodger. She thought he’d be good about leaving the bathroom presentable. From what she’d seen, he was mannerly and kind; really, the ideal lodger.
He’d come to paint, she recalled. Maybe he was a professional artist, like Laura’s father. The weather hadn’t been great so far, apart from one good week in early May, but it had picked up a bit in the last couple of days, and the forecast was for a settled period. If he did end up staying for the month, in whatever accommodation he found himself, she hoped he’d see a good deal of sunshine.
She had to admit that there was something … reassuring about having another person in the house. It mightn’t be the end of the world if she didn’t get him sorted somewhere else right away. Putting him up for another night or two wouldn’t kill her.
He was a complete stranger, it was true – but maybe a stranger was better than someone she knew. She’d have to make an effort in his presence to be more cheerful than she felt – it wasn’t his fault that he’d arrived in the middle of this nightmare – but their interactions wouldn’t stray into the personal. He’d probably be out much of the day too, if the weather behaved itself.
Your ’eart, ’e is very sad. Such warmth in his voice, as if he could really see her sorrow, and really cared about it.
She closed her eyes – and for the first time in a month she fell asleep almost immediately, and slept right through till morning.
Laura
‘I’D COMPLETELY FORGOTTEN ABOUT HIM.’
‘So had I, and so had Imelda. He just turned up on her doorstep.’
‘God, she needed that like a hole in the head. So what did she do?’
‘Nothing much she could do. It was getting late, she couldn’t see him without a bed for the night, so she brought him in.’
‘Oh, the poor creature – although you’d have to feel a bit sorry for him too, landing in to her like that. So has he found somewhere else?’
‘Not as yet. I’ve asked around – I knew you were full – and everyone is booked up for the moment. I even rang Henry at the hotel, I know he’d have given him a special deal, under the circumstances, but he doesn’t have a room free all this week, so Imelda
is hanging on to him for the time being. I’m trying to think of anyone I might have forgotten.’
‘Gosh, that’s tricky. I’ll keep an ear open.’
‘Do. He’s offered to go back to Italy – the poor man must feel totally in the way – but she says she couldn’t have him do that. Will I stop now, or do you want more off?’
Laura studied her damp head in the salon mirror. ‘Go another inch. I’m not sure when I’ll have time to come back to you.’
Nell resumed her cutting. ‘You’re as busy as ever.’
‘Up to my eyes.’
‘Keeps you young.’
‘Hah – don’t know about that. Sometimes I feel like a hundred.’
‘Well, you don’t look it. Tip your head down.’ She worked along the back of Laura’s neck. ‘So Tilly arrives tomorrow.’
‘Yes, we’re all set.’ Laura watched tiny snippets of hair landing silently on the wooden floor. ‘Andy must be excited about seeing her again.’
Nell gave a laugh. ‘Andy, excited? Have you met my stepson?’
‘Well, I know he’s never been the most demonstrative, but I thought he might open up a bit to you.’
‘Not really. I have to drag things out of him – and his father doesn’t fare much better. I’m sure he’s looking forward to seeing her again though.’
‘It’s tough on them, isn’t it? Getting together so rarely. I don’t think I could do it.’
‘Me neither.’
‘I mean, Skype is all very well, or FaceTime or whatever they use, but it can only do so much. It can’t keep you warm in the winter. It can’t make you a cuppa when you’re gagging for one, or give you a foot massage, or show up with a bunch of flowers after a row.’
‘I wouldn’t say they ever have rows.’ Nell met her eye briefly in the mirror. ‘Imagine if they got married, Laur – in about ten years’ time, I mean. That’d make us some class of in-laws.’
‘Wouldn’t that be hilarious. I hope he knows he’d have to ask Gav’s permission first, before he popped the question.’
‘Gav? He’s not her father. He’d have to ask Luke.’
Silence.
‘I’m joking,’ Nell said.
‘I know you are. So was I.’ But with the mention of her father, the levity had gone out of the exchange for her. The thoughts she’d managed to banish as soon as she’d stepped into the salon came hurrying back. Time for a change of subject.
‘By the way,’ she said, ‘Susan is here, with Harry. I meant to tell you.’
Nell looked at her in surprise, her scissors stilled. ‘Here? On the island? When did they come?’
‘Saturday.’
‘They can’t be staying with you.’
‘No – they’re at Manning’s.’
‘… Everything OK?’
‘Nell, she’s left him.’
‘Oh, no. Oh Laur, that’s too bad. I’m so sorry to hear that, for both their sakes – and for Harry.’
She’d left him. She’d walked out on him. He hadn’t told her, he’d simply withdrawn from her, and it had driven her away. The land Laura had got in the hotel room when Susan had said it; the scrambling she’d had to do to conceal the truth. So now he was alone, and his wife and child were at the other side of the country. He needed Susan more than ever, but she wasn’t there. She’d taken Harry and fled, leaving Laura still holding a secret of enormous proportions. What a mess. What a God almighty mess.
‘So what now?’ Nell asked.
‘She’s trying to figure that out. I suggested she stay here on the island, but she’s more of a city person. I’m hoping it’s just temporary.’
Nell made no response. She knew what Luke was like: Laura had told her often enough how distant and infuriating he could be. She wouldn’t be too surprised at Susan’s departure. She might be wondering, as Susan herself had no doubt wondered in the hotel the other day, why Laura seemed against the split.
‘How’s Harry?’ Nell asked.
‘As adorable as ever, but still not a word out of him. I’m kind of worried about that, although I wouldn’t say it to Susan.’
‘He’s what, two now?’
‘Just gone, last month.’
‘I wouldn’t lose any sleep over it. Boys are slower. Tommy was nearly two before he started making sense – and I bet you found your girls caught on quicker than Ben and Seamus.’
‘I suppose they did.’ But Laura remembered Nell’s Tommy starting on the baby gibberish a long time before his second birthday, her boys too. Harry was such a silent, solemn little thing. No surprise maybe, given his male role model.
She flicked the pages of the magazine on her lap, looking without interest at the celebrities whose images gazed back at her. The impossible buffed perfection of them. The magnificent houses, not a cushion out of place. The adorable children in immaculate designer clothes that didn’t have a speck of dried-up tomato sauce or chocolate ice-cream on them. No snotty noses, no soggy-looking nappies, not even a scabby knee. Fantasy lives, nothing like the messy reality.
‘Penny for them,’ Nell said, tilting Laura’s head to the side.
‘Hardly worth a penny. Just looking at the beautiful people and thinking what a load of rot the whole celebrity thing is.’
‘Nice to have their money though.’
But Luke and Susan had money, lots of it, piles of it, and look how happy it had made them. Money fed you and clothed you and housed you. It had its uses, but it sure as hell didn’t buy happiness.
‘Seen any sign of Eve lately?’ she asked. Casual as you like.
Nell caught her eye in the mirror. Those two weren’t exactly the best of buddies, not since Eve had had the nerve to break up with Andy. ‘I’ve passed her in the street a few times. Why do you ask?’
‘No reason, just wondered how she was doing. After Hugh, I mean.’
A week – or was it more? – since she’d turned up at Walter’s Place and broken her news to Laura. Nothing else had happened, no text, no call, no further visits. Not up to Laura: she’d made it plain that her door was open if Eve needed help. And still the girl hovered in her head, jostling for space with Luke. Promise you won’t tell anyone, she’d said that evening – but Laura was already struggling to keep the other secret: would the world implode if she shared Eve’s with Nell, who could be counted on not to let it go further?
She decided it wouldn’t.
‘Can I tell you something?’
Nell set down her scissors, lifted the damp towel from Laura’s shoulders. ‘Of course you can.’
‘You have to swear you’ll say nothing to anyone, not even James.’
‘This sounds big.’
‘Seriously, I’d be shot if it got out.’
Nell caught her eye in the mirror. ‘Are you sure you want to tell me?’
‘No, but I’ll burst if I don’t say it to someone, and you’re far more discreet than I am.’
‘Go on so.’
Laura listened for a tread on the stairs outside, and heard none. ‘It’s Eve. She’s pregnant. She told me last week.’
Nell stared at her. ‘Eve? You can’t be serious. I didn’t even know she had a boyfriend.’
‘She doesn’t. She didn’t say who it was, just that it was nobody I know, and that she’s not in a relationship with him.’
Nell’s mouth tightened. ‘A one-night stand.’
‘By the sound of it.’
‘Has she told Imelda?’
‘No, absolutely not. Can you imagine how Imelda would take it, especially now? Nobody knows, apart from me – and now you. I haven’t even told Gav.’
Nell took a hairdryer from a shelf. ‘When? I mean, when did it happen?’
‘Few weeks ago.’
‘After Hugh?’ The question asked lightly, Nell unwinding the hairdryer cord.
‘I don’t know.’ Yes, in all likelihood after Hugh, but nothing to be gained by admitting it.
‘So what’s she going to do?’
‘She says she wants to k
eep it.’
‘That’ll go down really well,’ Nell said grimly. ‘Wait till Imelda hears.’
‘You won’t tell her, Nell? Promise?’
‘Of course I won’t. I wouldn’t dream of it.’
‘Sorry. I know I have a cheek to ask, after just blabbing it to you, but she’d be in right trouble if Imelda found out.’
‘Trouble of her own making.’
‘I know. You’re right.’
She should have kept her mouth shut. Then again, Nell certainly wouldn’t want to cause Imelda further trauma. Laura closed her magazine, returned it to the bundle on the counter. ‘I do feel a bit sorry for her though. I mean, she’s had a lot to cope with.’
‘We all have stuff to cope with – and she’s caused her share of trouble too. Remember her and Andy.’
‘I do.’
‘She really messed him up.’
‘Nell, that was ages ago.’
‘Doesn’t matter.’
‘Don’t be too hard on her. We all broke hearts in our day. I remember one fellow, can’t think of his name, Terry somebody, asked me to go to his debs. I said no, because I fancied someone else like mad and I was hoping he’d ask me. He didn’t, he asked Julie McDonald. I was in bits. Anyway, I ran into Terry’s mother a while later and she gave out stink to me, said how could I hurt him like that. Imagine telling your mother someone wouldn’t go to your debs with you. Mind you, Terry went on to make a packet in IT – I missed out big time there.’
But Nell had stopped listening. She was pushing the dryer plug into the socket, her face set.
‘Let it go, Nell. It wasn’t meant to be, or she wouldn’t have finished with Andy. Anyway, isn’t he happy now with Tilly?’
‘He is,’ she said, and switched on the dryer, which mercifully made further conversation difficult. It was touching how protective she was of Andy. James’s son by his first wife, Nell only inheriting him in his mid teens, but having taken him well under her wing before then. Doing what she could for him when he’d moved as a troubled eleven-year-old with James to the island, still grieving for his mother.
The Birthday Party: The spell-binding new summer read from the Number One bestselling author Page 8
