by Maureen Lee
‘It wasn’t Liam’s hand that held the gun that saw Mickey off, Marie. There are men even more ruthless than him. Perhaps he genuinely thought you were in danger, that Mickey had said something the minute he got home. Or maybe he thought you’d be good protection while he hid himself away. We weren’t searching for a family man when we searched for Father O’Mara.’
‘That’s probably it, Enda,’ Marie cried. ‘Like a fool, I went and told him that you knew who’d done for Mickey and that you weren’t the only one. It was only afterwards he started going on about Patrick and us having to hide out. Jaysus!’ She felt like killing herself. ‘Me sisters use to tell me I had the biggest mouth in Donegal.’
‘There’s been no harm done, Ma,’ Patrick said philosophically, patting her hand. ‘We just spent a lot of time away when we didn’t have to.’
‘Even so, son.’ She sighed and said to Enda. ‘What made you ring this number and ask for the address?’
‘Because our Brigid thought it just a wee bit peculiar that you denied being Marie Brennan when she knew full well you were. There’d been a rumour the priest had made his way to Liverpool – this city is a hot spot for drugs. Did you know that, Marie?’
She shook her head. ‘No, I did not. The people I’ve met here have been charming through and through.’
‘Anyway,’ Enda went on, ‘I didn’t exactly put two and two together, but we got someone to watch this house and they saw his holiness leave.’ He smiled grimly. ‘They followed him and he met up with a couple of unsavoury looking boyos in a pub on the Dock Road, spent a lot of time on his mobile, people came in and out to see him and went away with some very suspicious looking packages.’ He sat back in the chair and folded his arms. ‘The peelers were onto him like a shot when we fingered him – anonymously mind.’
‘So,’ Marie said slowly, ‘it’s all over. Now we can all go back to Donegal and live with me mam.’ She couldn’t wait. Tomorrow morning, first thing, she’d start to pack, although it would be desperately sad to say goodbye to Sarah and the other friends she’d made.
‘Ah, no, Ma,’ Danny wailed. ‘I’d sooner stay.’
‘Me too,’ echoed Patrick.
‘We can’t, lads,’ Marie told them. ‘I’ve no idea who this house belongs to and I’ve no intention of sitting here waiting to be thrown out.’
‘But will we still be getting Victoria’s computer?’ Danny persisted.
‘In the morning, before she goes. She said so at the barbecue tonight. Now, Enda,’ she said briskly in an attempt to take charge, be herself again, ‘would you like a sandwich of some sort and I’ll make more tea, not that I made the first lot? And there’s a bed upstairs free if you want it, although I’ll change the bedding first. I’m sure you won’t be wanting to sleep between Liam’s old sheets.’
‘I’ll have the tea, Marie, but say no to the sandwich and the bed. There’s supper and a bed waiting for me at our Brigid’s just along the road.’ He stretched. ‘I’ll sleep better tonight, knowing that the priest’s had his comeuppance, although I’d rather have shot the bastard and sat and watched him die.’
‘And so say all of us,’ Patrick murmured.
Marie didn’t say anything, just made an involuntary Sign of the Cross and thought about her darling Mickey.
‘This is my last night, Gran. My last night in our house.’ Victoria sighed as she sat on the bed and changed the pillowslips for dry ones – the window had been open and they’d got wet. ‘What am I supposed to do with the bedding in the morning,’ she asked her grandmother fretfully, ‘roll it up in a ball and throw it away? Or shall I put it in a plastic bag and ask Gareth to give it to charity? Debbie won’t want our old sheets and stuff, that’s for sure …’
‘They’re coming to live here, Gran.’ Victoria stroked the bed on the side where Gareth had slept the few nights they’d been together. ‘I suppose I’ll learn to live without him. After all, I’ve hardly known him a week, but you can find out an awful lot about a person in just seven days, almost everything there is to know in fact, enough to realize you want to spend the rest of your life with them.’
She looked out of the window. Victoria Square looked different tonight: the wet bricks looked darker and the roofs shone like they were covered in silk. The lamps seemed to be drooping, as if the weight of the water was too much for them, and the light they emitted was weak, casting a pale, feeble circle underneath.
‘I suppose I’d better get to bed. I’ll have a busy day tomorrow.’ Her suitcases were already packed, but there were bound to be last-minute things she’d forgotten. ‘Anyroad, Gran, goodnight. Next time I talk to you, it’ll be from America.’
Sunday
15 JULY 2001
St Swithin’s Day
Chapter 15
Victoria had been up for two hours when the telephone rang. The taxi was coming at ten to take her to Manchester airport and she was already dressed for the journey in a cream linen suit with a blue T-shirt underneath. Her passport and airline tickets were in her bag, along with a book to read, a packet of paper handkerchiefs and two packets of mints. The rest of the bag contained all the rubbish she usually carried around: she hadn’t thought to clear it out.
She picked up the phone. It was Carrie, calling to wish her good luck and have a safe journey. ‘As soon as I get to a computer, I’ll send an email,’ Victoria promised.
The receiver had hardly been replaced a minute, when the phone rang again. This time it was Gareth. Her heart melted at the sound of his voice.
‘Hi,’ he said huskily.
‘Hi, yourself.’ She nursed the phone against her face, as if it was Gareth himself.
‘I’ll be coming over to say goodbye, but I thought I’d ring and say my own, personal goodbye first.’
‘Goodbye, Gareth,’ she whispered.
‘Goodbye, my darling Victoria. If I say adieu does that mean we’ll meet again?’
‘No, its au revoir.’ She could hardly speak her voice was so thick with sadness and longing.
‘Then au revoir, my one and only love. Be happy, won’t you?’
‘You too, Gareth. Au revoir.’
‘Just in case I won’t be able to stop meself from leaping on a plane one day very soon, where will you be working in New York? I forgot to ask.’
She knew, and she knew that he knew, that he would never be free to leap on a plane and fly to New York. Nevertheless, she told him where she would be. ‘My office is in the World Trade Center. I’ll be on the ninety-somethingth floor.’
‘Wow! That’ll be some view. You never know, I might turn up one of these days.’
Someone was knocking on the back door. ‘I have to go, Gareth.’
‘I know, I heard the knock. It’s the Jordan boys. I’m in my office and I saw them go in.’
‘Bye, Gareth.’ She put down the phone and opened the door to the Jordans. Their red hair was wet after the short walk from their house. It had rained steadily all night and now it danced in the pools that had formed in the concrete path around the emerald green lawn. She hadn’t been able to sleep for the monotonous drumming on the roof.
‘We’re going back to Ireland, to Donegal,’ Danny announced. ‘Me Uncle Gerry’s coming over in a van tomorrow to take us and our stuff back.’
‘And we bought you this.’ Patrick handed her a tiny cardboard box. ‘It’s a little St Christopher medal to attach to your watch.’
She thanked them both profusely and said she’d attach it before she boarded the plane. ‘Then I’m bound to arrive safely, aren’t I? Now you’d better go upstairs for the computer.’
At precisely ten o’clock, a horn sounded signalling the taxi had arrived. She picked up the suitcases, strung her bag over her shoulder, and went outside, leaving the key on the kitchen table for Gareth – she’d given him the spare the night before. She wondered how long she would be gone before he would come to show Debbie around?
She felt tears come to her eyes when she saw that nearly everyone in the
square had come to see her off. They stood in line, smiling beneath their colourful umbrellas: like a row of flowers of all different sizes.
‘Goodbye, Victoria, love.’ Anna was in her wheelchair. She reached for Victoria’s hand and held it as hard as she could, as if she never wanted to let her go. ‘You’ll always have a special place in my heart.’
‘Bye, luv,’ Ernie said gruffly. ‘Here, let me put them suitcases in the taxi for you.’
‘I hope you have a marvellous time in New York,’ Sarah said warmly. ‘Wave bye-bye, Alastair, and you too, Jack.’
‘Bye, Victoria,’ Tiffany sniffed wretchedly and threw her arms around Victoria’s waist. ‘Thank you for the hat and things. Can I come and see you in America and bring Oliver?’
‘If Mummy will let you, darling.’
‘Enjoy yourself, Victoria. I hope the job turns out all right.’ Marie Jordan kissed her on both cheeks. ‘Did the boys tell you we’re moving too?’
‘Yes. Donegal sounds lovely. I hope you’ll be happy there. Good luck, Danny.’ She kissed Danny on the cheek and shook hands with Patrick. ‘Good luck.’
‘You’ll probably think me an idiot when we only met last night, but I didn’t want to be left out.’ Judy Moon smiled and gave her a kiss. ‘Look after yourself, dear.’
‘I’ve brought you a little present,’ Rachel said, ‘a gold St Christopher medal to wear around your neck. Shall I put it on for you?’
‘Please.’ Two St Christopher medals! Now she would be doubly safe. ‘Thank you, Rachel. It was a wonderful barbecue last night. I couldn’t have had a nicer send-off.’ She lowered her voice. ‘How are things in your house?’
‘Grim,’ Rachel said grimly.
Victoria was beginning to feel like a general inspecting her troops, sheltering briefly underneath each umbrella. The next person in line was Kathleen. ‘Has Steve rung?’ she asked in a whisper.
‘No.’ Kathleen made a valiant attempt to smile. ‘But I’m sure he will eventually. Have a great time, love. Write to us, won’t you? We’d like to know how you’re getting on over there.’
‘Farewell, sweet maiden,’ Gareth said in a deep, Shakespearean voice. ‘May flights of angels sing thee to thy bed of rest – in the city of New York.’ Everyone clapped and he grinned. ‘Did I ever tell you I was once in amateur dramatics?’
Victoria laughed and shook her head. It was just one of the things there hadn’t been time to get to know about him.
‘I’ve brought Tabitha to say goodbye.’ He reached inside his jacket for the sleepy-eyed kitten and Victoria kissed the soft tortoiseshell head.
‘You’re going to miss your flight if you don’t get a move on, missus,’ the taxi driver shouted.
‘Coming.’ She formally shook Gareth’s hand. ‘Goodbye.’
‘Au revoir, Victoria.’
‘Goodbye, everyone.’ She ran to the taxi, paused, and threw kisses to them all. ‘You never know, I might be back one day soon.’ It was strange, but when she looked at the house, she had the strongest feeling she would never see it again.
Ernest closed the taxi door, returned to Anna, and began to push the wheelchair towards their house.
‘Let’s put a video on as soon as we get in,’ Anna said, sniffing loudly. ‘Something cheerful that’ll make us laugh. I feel terribly sad at seeing Victoria go.’
‘Anything you like, luv,’ Ernest said easily. Perhaps a sherry and a whisky wouldn’t come amiss at the same time. He’d put water in the sherry and hope Anna wouldn’t notice.
The Jordan boys rushed indoors to play with the new computer, already plugged in and ready to go, despite Ma insisting they should get on with the packing and take the old machine next door where Tiffany was probably on edge waiting for it to arrive. ‘In a minute, Ma …’
When Kathleen entered the house, the phone was ringing. ‘Steve!’ she breathed when she picked it up and heard his dear, familiar voice. Jean had been on the critical list, he said, but was feeling much better this morning. He might come back later that day because he desperately wanted to see her. ‘But it’ll only be for a few hours, Kath,’ he said warily.
‘That’s all right, darling. I desperately want to see you too.’
‘You must come round at tea time and meet my sister,’ Sarah said to Marie. ‘Oh, we must write to each other. I could bring the children to Donegal some time. Tiffany’s broken-hearted, what with losing Victoria one day and Danny the next.’
Rachel marched stiffly towards Three Farthings. Frank was pleading with her to forgive him, but she wasn’t sure if she could. There were some things that were beyond forgiveness – Frank had obviously thought so because he’d never forgiven her.
When Victoria looked out of the rear window of the taxi, only Gareth was left. They waved and waved until the taxi turned the corner and they couldn’t see each other any more.
Gareth walked disconsolately back to his showpiece house, Tabitha tucked inside his jacket. ‘She’s gone, Tabs. What am I going to do without her, eh?’
When he went inside, Debbie looked at him strangely. She’d been unusually quiet that morning. His mum had stayed the night and had gone to Mass at the cathedral. ‘Would you like some tea?’ Debbie asked.
‘No, thanks.’ He was on his way upstairs when he changed his mind. Debbie was trying to mend fences: hadn’t she agreed to live in Victoria’s house? Perhaps he should do the same. He returned to the kitchen. ‘On reflection, I wouldn’t mind a cup of tea,’ he said gruffly.
Now every door in Victoria Square was closed tight against the rain that continued to pour relentlessly down.
Judy Moon looked out of the window and shivered. The place looked like a graveyard, no sign of life anywhere. It was a relief when a lamp went on in Clematis Cottage where the old couple lived – Anna and Ernie. She’d soon get the hang of everyone’s names. She went round the house, switching on lights in every room: an extravagance, but it was that sort of day.
Boxing Day 2001
Epilogue
It had been dull and deathly miserable all day and the sky was already growing darker as it prepared for night. The roofs of the houses in Victoria Square glistened with frost and the frozen grass was a blanket of white that crunched agreeably when walked on. Christmas trees twinkled cheerily in every window and more lights adorned the little willow tree in the centre of the grass, the sort that changed colour: white, pink, red, blue, purple, green, then white again. Quite a few hours had been wasted by people staring through their windows at this hypnotic sight when they should have been doing something more important. Tiffany had christened it ‘Victoria’s tree’, no one knew why, but the name had stuck and the willow would remain Victoria’s tree forevermore. Despite the dreariness of the day, the square was a welcoming place.
The only sounds were coming from Clematis Cottage where the Burrows were having a party: three till six. Anna said she would have preferred one in the evening and wouldn’t have minded had it gone on all night, but Ernest told her not to be so foolish.
‘You’re an old woman,’ he reminded her, knowing how exhausted she would be after just three hours, let alone a party that went on into the early morning. Trouble was she liked to pretend she was eighteen, not eighty-two.
‘There’s no need to remind me that I’m old,’ she said tartly. ‘It doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy myself.’
‘You’ll just have to enjoy yourself in the afternoon,’ he told her firmly.
‘We’ll play some of our old records to put people in the mood – and let’s buy loads more decorations, darling. I love buying Christmas decorations.’
They already had enough to decorate Buckingham Palace but, if it made her happy, they’d get more – it was him who’d have to put them up and he didn’t mind a bit.
‘I wish Victoria were coming to our party, Ernie.’
‘So do I, luv, but it’s not to be.’
Everyone had said they’d come apart from the middle-aged couple in number two, the Jordans’ old ho
use. No one could decide whether the Forresters were anti-social, stuck up, or just plain shy, but they’d hardly spoken to a soul since they’d moved into the square in August, despite all attempts by the present residents to be friendly. Now, the only guests still to come were Sarah Rees-James and her children …
Really, Sarah thought impatiently, getting three small children ready to go out took longer than preparing an expedition to the top of Everest.
‘Mummy,’ Tiffany said in an outraged voice when they were at last ready to leave, ‘you haven’t put the television on for Eric and Jason.’
‘Darling, cats and dogs don’t watch television,’ Sarah protested for the umpteenth time, nevertheless turning the set on – anything to shut Tiffany up.
‘Eric loves football. He sits on top and tries to hit the ball with his paw. Not EastEnders, Mummy,’ Tiffany snorted. ‘You know the music makes Jason howl.’ Jason was an incredibly curly puppy of unknown origin and Eric a smooth, white-haired kitten. They were both eight months old. It had proved terribly embarrassing, months ago, when the real Jason had turned up out of the blue and discovered a dog had been named after him. It had been even more embarrassing to have to tell him, with the utmost tact, that Sarah was no longer interested. She’d hardly thought about him since she’d left Alex. One of these days she might start thinking about boyfriends again. Right now, her children occupied every minute of her time.
She obediently changed the channel. ‘All right, darling. Have you got the handbag that Anna bought you for Christmas? She’ll be so pleased if she sees you using it.’
Tiffany picked up the blue leather bag and gave it a look of disdain. ‘It’s only a little girl’s handbag.’
‘You’re only a little girl, Tiff. Put it over your shoulder this minute. Jack, let me zip up your anorak, it’s below freezing out there.’ She fastened Jack’s anorak and picked up Alastair, who let out a roar of protest. ‘You’re not walking, darling, absolutely not. I know you like showing off, but you’ll only slip on the ice and break your little legs or something. Is everyone ready?’ Three young faces looked at her blankly. Sarah took this for agreement and said, ‘Come on then, let’s go.’
