She felt impatient, the need to check her emails at Rea’s overwhelming. It was so bloody hard not having any access to her emails at home. Last week, she’d tried to open her own bank account, but had come across a stumbling block. To do so, she needed identification. Her passport, which Matt had under lock and key. If she asked him for it, he’d know she was up to something. And all the bills at home were all in his name. Of course, she didn’t have a driving licence, because she had never driven. As suggested by Rea, she applied for a new passport and had emailed a couple of banks from a new email address she had set up. She asked them how she could set up an account without proof of address and had an appointment with one of them later this week.
She had also managed to register for online banking, so for the first time in nearly a year she could see exactly how much was in their joint account. Her password: 1DayMore. She hadn’t been able to get that song out of head ever since they’d watched the movie. She’d bought the soundtrack and hit play more than once on her iPhone, letting the words fill her kitchen loudly.
She still couldn’t get over how much money was in their joint account – almost €19,000.
She went through the transactions one by one and couldn’t find the income from her house in Rathmines. Where was that cash going? She had rung the property manager up and he told her that Mr Greene had updated their records shortly after they married. Matt had given him a new account for the monthly rent to be deposited into. And he’d never told her.
Matt’s salary was also paid in once a month. He was earning ridiculous amounts; it made her dizzy looking at it. Hang on, though. She also noticed another pattern emerging. Every month, half his salary was transferred to another account: a savings account, just in his name. At a guess, that’s where the rent from Rathmines went each month.
She needed to get access to that savings account, find out how much money he had. She logged out and realised that it was getting close to four already.
The house was spotless, dinner prepared, she’d even re-folded every single item in their walk-in wardrobe. With each turn of a sleeve and smoothing of a crease, Stella felt her body stiffen and churn with agitation. She remembered summers filled with laughter, craic and fun with her family. A world where she only had to walk out of her front door and she was sure to find half a dozen friends just waiting for her to join in whatever mischief they were contemplating. And now, her world had become so small. In this beautiful house in Derry Lane she had become just another of Matt’s collectables. Like his sculptures and art work: to be admired, but not touched. Except by him.
Stella looked at her shellac nails, in bare nude. Her forefinger now had a small chip. Should she call her the beauty salon to see if they could squeeze her in? Or would the world stop turning if she spent a day with a chipped fingernail?
She wandered into her garden and heard Luca working. He’d been out there for days now. The wall between the houses was high, so she couldn’t see him, but she could hear the rhythm of his tools as he ripped weeds and trimmed the trees.
‘Sod it,’ she thought. She wanted to see Rea, make sure she was okay. She’d given them some time to themselves, because she reckoned there was a lot of unfinished business with them two. The air had crackled with words unsaid, or perhaps said, when he walked into the house.
There might be an answer from France too. Or news from her solicitor. She grabbed her bag and ran out the door, down the path and ran slap bang into Charlie.
‘Hey, what are you doing here?’ Stella said, surprised to see him.
‘On my way to see you and Rea. You won’t believe the morning I’ve had!’ Charlie said.
‘What’s wrong with you? You’re limping!’ Stella exclaimed.
‘Crippled. I’m fecking crippled,’ Charlie exclaimed loudly.
As they walked up the driveway they saw Rea sitting in one of her usual spots, at the living-room window, watching the world go by. They waved at her and she slowly got up.
‘She didn’t look very happy,’ Charlie said.
‘No she didn’t. Hope things are not too stressful with Luca.’
‘What’s keeping her?’ Charlie wondered, moving his weight from one foot to the other.
‘Ssh,’ Stella said, ‘she’s having a bad day, by the looks of it. She always takes longer to open the door when she’s struggling.’
‘It’s me who’s fecking struggling!’ Charlie complained, wincing in pain.
‘I heard you before I saw you!’ Rea snapped as she opened the door.
‘Charming! And hello to you too! Put the kettle on Rea. I’m gasping,’ Charlie asked, blowing a kiss in her direction as he walked by.
‘Don’t mind me, I only live here,’ Rea complained, slamming the door shut behind them.
‘Charlie’s had a bad morning, apparently,’ Stella said to her. ‘And so have you, by the looks of it.’
‘I’m fine,’ Rea said, in a tone that let them both know she was anything but.
‘Where’s that handsome son of yours?’ Charlie asked.
‘He’s been out in that garden every day since he came home,’ Rea replied.
‘I can’t believe how much he’s done in such a short space of time,’ Stella remarked, looking out the kitchen window. ‘You know, I never noticed those rose bushes before. They are simply stunning. The colour of them.’
‘My grandmother planted those when she moved into this house with Granddad. Yellow roses because she said they reminded her of sunshine. Now whenever I see yellow flowers, I think of her and sunrises and sunsets.’ Rea walked away from the window and filled the kettle.
Watching her garden come back to life was both wonderful and painful. She longed to go out and touch the flowers, feel the gentle caress on her cheek of the summer’s breeze. But she couldn’t. It was easier to stay inside when the garden was a mess.
Now, as Luca painstakingly returned it to its former glory, it tormented her.
‘Never say never,’ Stella whispered, walking over to Rea.
‘What?’
‘Never say never. Who’s to say that you won’t go outside again one day?’
‘You a mind-reader all of a sudden?’ Rea asked.
‘One of my many skills. That, and I’m a dab hand at turning a napkin into a swan.’
‘What are you so chirpy about this morning?’ Rea looked at her closely. ‘Did something fall on Dickhead’s head?’ She cackled laughter at her own words. Charlie snorted his appreciation quickly after.
‘I felt a bit off today, as it happens. Irritated by all sorts. What can I say? You two put me in a better mood. As for Dickhead, he’s still at work. Home in a couple of hours.’
‘I knew that nickname would catch on,’ Rea smirked.
Charlie looked at Stella seriously and said, ‘he’s not hit you again, has he?’
‘If he raises his hand to me again, I’ll ring the Gardaí myself,’ Stella replied.
‘Good for you.’
‘And in answer to your question, I’m chirpy because I’ve started to get things done, ready for O.L.D. Your solicitor is brilliant, by the way.’
‘That’s great news. What did he say?’
‘Well, basically, I have to be separated four years before we can divorce. That’s the bad news. My preference is to find a way to break all ties immediately.’
‘There must be exceptions to that, surely?’ Charlie said. ‘In circumstances like these …’
‘It’s actually okay. It’s not as if I need to be divorced because I want to get married again. I’m done with relationships. From now on, I’m back to being just me.’
‘With your face and body, you might be done with men, but I’m telling you, Stella Greene, men will NOT be done with you,’ Charlie remarked.
‘They’ll be forming a queue when they hear you’re single,’ Rea added.
Stella flushed at their compliments. ‘I don’t want anyone else. I’m happier on my own.’
She saw Rea and Charlie make a face at
each other. ‘I mean it. Love has only caused me pain. I’m done with it. Alone sounds good to me.’
‘You can have alone time, but with people who love you close by,’ Charlie said.
Stella squeezed his hand. ‘Maybe. Either ways, my solicitor has clarified things for me. The sooner I leave, the sooner I can divorce him.’
Rea placed a pot of tea on the kitchen table and a plate filled with chocolate treats. ‘I’ll just give Luca a shout.’
‘It must be great having him home with you,’ Stella said, watching her face closely. She felt protective of her friend. She recognised how vulnerable she was.
‘So far, so good. We’ve had a really good talk and for the first time in a long time, listened to each other. I think he understands, or at least, is trying to understand what it’s like for me. He’s promised no more lectures about how I should live my life. It’s nice just being here together, getting to know each other again.’
‘He loves you. Anyone can see that,’ Charlie said.
‘My life has always been my children. He’s my firstborn. That love, it never goes away, just grows every day, stronger and stronger, even when they are not here with you. I’m already dreading the day when he goes back to Australia.’
Stella glanced at the photograph of Rea and her family that sat on her dresser, amongst the bright, pretty tea-sets. ‘Do you think George or Elise will come visit too?’
‘No!’ Rea snapped, then shouted out the door, ‘Luca, tea’s up.’
She sat down and said, ‘He can’t stay here forever, he has a life to live over there. His own business to run.’
Stella felt hopeless as she watched pain flood her friend’s face. They needed to change the subject.
Charlie must have read her mind because he said, ‘Well, do you want to know my news?’
‘Hello again,’ Luca said as he walked in, kicking off his mucky runners at the back door. He walked over to the kitchen sink and washed his hands. ‘Don’t stop on my account, Charlie. I’m all ears.’
‘I went to Ikea this morning. I needed to re-stock my candles.’
‘I bet you left with more than that! No one ever leaves Ikea without buying stuff they don’t need,’ Luca chipped in.
‘I used to tell George that the best pre-marriage course any couple could ever do is to build flat-pack furniture together. Survive that, you’ll cope with anything life throws at you,’ Rea said.
‘They throw in extra parts into the kit just to mess with you,’ Luca added.
‘Yes!’ Charlie shouted back, laughing.
‘I don’t think I’ve ever been,’ Stella admitted. ‘I feel like I’m missing out!’
‘Shut the door!’ Charlie said. ‘You’ve not lived till you’ve spent a day wandering around Ikea. I’ve lost hours in that place!’
Luca added, ‘I’m convinced they don’t put windows in there so you can’t see the day turning to night.’
‘The Swedes are evil geniuses,’ Charlie agreed. ‘In my experience, once you go in, there’s no turning back. Mark my words, Stella, Ikea is not for the faint-hearted. Next time I’m going, I’ll bring you. But wear comfortable shoes. Because that, my friends, is the crux of my trouble.’
‘Shoes? Do they sell those too?’ Stella asked.
‘So much to learn,’ Charlie said laughing. ‘Clearly I better go back to last night, to explain my story properly.’
‘We’re going to need more tea so,’ Rea said, getting up to refill the kettle.
‘Any more of those teacakes, Mam?’ Luca asked, smiling when she threw a pack at him.
‘Well, I was out last night giving my divine, gold, fourinch stiletto heels their maiden voyage. A gang of us went to The George.’
‘Have you a picture of them?’ Stella asked.
‘Does a fish swim?’ he answered and opened up his phone to show them half a dozen photographs. In them, he was virtually unrecognisable from how he looked right now. Long, wavy, red hair. Make-up perfectly applied, and a navy wrap dress that clung to his body.
‘He likes to dress as a woman,’ Rea said to Luca.
‘I can see that, Mam,’ Luca replied, smiling. ‘You wear those shoes well.’
‘Is that a Diane Von Furstenberg?’ Stella asked. ‘Stunning.’
‘Yes! I got it in a charity shop a few years back. Best. Find. Ever! Right, back to my shoes. I have the divil’s own job finding them. I’m a size 43, but you try and find a half-decent stiletto that big!’ Charlie said.
‘I’d imagine it’s tricky alright,’ Luca remarked, still smiling.
‘But these were so pretty and I do like my gold accessories. So like one of the ugly sisters, only prettier, mind, I squeezed my feet into them.’
‘Car-to-bar shoes,’ Stella remarked. ‘I’ve a good few pairs of those.’
‘Oh to have your tiny feet,’ Charlie sighed. ‘I’d be robbing your closet left right and centre. Anyhow, by the time I’d walked from the taxi a few yards up to The George, my little toe was beginning to rub. But I’m not one to complain, so I just got on with it.’
‘Fashion can be painful,’ Stella sympathised.
‘It was for me when I tried to squeeze into a pair of jeans this morning,’ Rea said. ‘I fell over. Hurt myself too.’ She rubbed the side of her shoulder.
‘Don’t talk to me about hurt,’ Charlie interjected, ‘I woke up this morning with a blister the size of the Kerry dome on my little toe. Really, I should have gone to the doctor, but I can’t live without my soft lighting at home. Candles had to be bought.’
‘Does this story have an actual point?’ Rea grumbled. ‘I’m losing the will to live!’
‘You’re a little ray of sunshine today,’ Charlie said, looking at her sharply.
‘She’s been like that all morning,’ Luca agreed.
‘Humph,’ Rea replied, because she hadn’t a single witty retort to throw back at them. Except for maybe, fuck off.
‘As I was saying,’ Charlie continued, ‘I put on my comfiest converse runners and hobbled my way from the carpark to the big blue box.’
‘That’s Ikea,’ Luca said to Stella.
‘Oh! Thanks,’ Stella said, smiling back at him. She was beginning to warm to him. He was easy company, joining in the conversation with good humour.
‘By the time I’d done my first lap of the display cubicles, before I even got to the hall and warehouse, the toe was beginning to ache. When I doubled back to get this gorgeous cushion in teal, well, the agony nearly had me in tears. I had to stop and sit down in one of their apartment displays for a rest. Quite comfy, their beds, you wouldn’t think it, but they are. Anyhow, lying there, in bed, made me think of meatballs. I do like a Swedish meatball. So I thought to myself, I’ll go get some. A little bit of something you like every now and then is good for you, I always say.’
‘Swedish meatballs?’ Stella said, her mind reeling. ‘Jeepers, Charlie, share don’t scare!’
‘Food. I’m talking about food!’ Charlie exclaimed.
‘I know,’ Stella winked. When they’d finished laughing at Stella’s joke, Charlie took a deep breath and stood up.
‘So there I was, in the queue for the tills, when a hand taps my shoulder. I turn around and standing behind me was a man. About fiftyish, I suppose. With a long grey beard. A skinny Santa Claus. He says to me, pointing to my feet, “Are you in pain?”’
So I replied, ‘Yes, I am, crippled.’
‘What happened to you?’ he asked.
‘Well, he didn’t look like the type that could cope with a four-inch-gold-stiletto-on-a-man-story type of bloke, so I was vague and just whispered, ‘It’s foot problems. You know …’
He nodded in sympathy and I thought no more of it as I limped to the nearest table. Then, next thing I know, he’s beside me again.
Says he, ‘Can I pray on you?’
‘Pray?’ says I.
‘But before I could even question what he meant, he was down on his knees, at my feet, mumbling words and waving
his hands around.’
Charlie stopped and looked at Rea, Stella and Luca, gratified that he had their full attention.
‘What was he saying? The Our Father or Hail Mary?’ Rea asked.
‘No! He was talking about channelling his energy and light into my feet. The healing light of love. Or something like that.’
‘Go away,’ Luca said, laughing.
‘Could you feel his healing light?’ Stella asked, grinning too.
‘I could feel red-hot poker flushes of embarrassment, that’s all! Sure, we’d gathered a crowd then. And all I could think of was that he must be about to pass out with the stink of my feet from hours walking around Ikea!’
By now Rea had tears coming out of her eyes as she laughed so hard. ‘Oh stop, I can’t cope.’
‘What did you do?’ Stella asked.
‘Well, despite me trying to make him stop, he was in full flow. The Lord himself wouldn’t have gotten him to give up. I knew my meatballs were getting cold too, so I left him at it and ate my lunch.’
Rea was now clinging to Luca she was laughing so much. ‘Oh Charlie, I do love you. Don’t ever change.’
‘My mother always says I’ve one of those faces that attracts weirdos,’ Charlie lamented, dunking his chocolate hobnob into his tea.
Chapter 30
SKYE
Patong Beach, Thailand, 2004
It’s difficult to articulate the terror I felt as I lowered myself into the water once more. It had been a warm haven only a few hours ago and now it felt like a fiery hell. I started off tentatively, but as the water lapped around me, caressing my body with its gnarly fingers of death, I felt hysteria overtake me. I went down, under the water. I willed myself not to panic and broke the surface, panting, as I spluttered salt water from my mouth. I was afraid to look behind me because I knew that somewhere out there, beyond the horizon, was another wave, growing, getting taller and meaner.
That spurred me on, I swam hard, but it was difficult. Sun-beds, parasols, parts of the beach huts, which only a short time ago had sat proudly on the beach, were scattered in the water around me. They jabbed my legs, my abdomen and one knocked my head so hard I’m not sure how I didn’t go under again. I was aware of others around me, their breaths deep and rasping. I heard voices calling out for family and friends. I heard children screaming, heard the sobs of despair. We all had the same goal, we all pushed our way towards the shore, to find our families, our loved ones.
The Woman at 72 Derry Lane Page 18
