Music from Home

by Geraldine O'Neill

  Maria said nothing. She knew that Franco meant as long as the owner didn’t keep taking money out of the till for the betting shop. “That’s good, Franco,” she said. “That sounds much better than I expected.”

  “I’m afraid it was just not enough to keep the house, so I hope you’re not upset about that?”

  “I am sorry to lose it in a way,” she said, “but I know it’s not sensible for a young girl to run a place that size. I know it’s the right thing.”

  “But,” Franco continued, “there is enough money to pay the mortgage off on the house and the mortgage on Leonardo’s and clear all the bills that are outstanding.”

  “What does that mean, Franco?” she said. “Can we keep Leonardo’s?”

  “Yes . . . yes!”

  Maria’s heart soared at the news.

  “The solicitor and the manager from the bank explained it all to me,” Franco said. “Everything was left to you in your father’s will, apart from a small amount of money he left me to help with the children growing up.” He paused. “I was worried about accepting it at first because I thought it might help you keep the house, but it’s not enough to make any difference . . I’m sorry . . .”

  “Don’t be sorry for anything, Franco!” Maria told him. “You were like his brother, and in the same position you would have done the same. I’m delighted you have something, and I am just so happy about the restaurant.”

  “Good . . . good,” Franco said, his voice full of emotion now. “It means that you will own Leonardo’s outright with no mortgage, and will have just enough left to buy a small house in Heaton Moor with no mortgage either. Diana said there are small houses for sale near her and near Mrs Lowry.”

  “Franco, I haven’t thought it all out because I never imagined we could keep anything, but I know I want Leonardo’s. You’ll run the restaurant for me, won’t you? You haven’t gone anywhere else, have you?”

  There was a silence. “I’ve been working in the Midland Hotel in Manchester,” he said then. “But it’s a temporary position until Christmas.” His voice suddenly sounded thick with emotion. “After that I would be delighted to open the kitchen again. I would be honoured to do it when all the finances are sorted out.”

  “You still have the keys, don’t you?” she asked.

  “Yes, I do.”

  “You know you can use it for Christmas Day, as usual, and the children can bring all their toys and things?”

  “Yes, Diana told me you’d written to her about it. But we’ll see you before then and discuss it all. You’re coming over in a few days’ time, aren’t you? Bernice and the children are looking forward to seeing you very much.”

  Maria paused. “It all depends, Franco,” she said. “It all depends on how Ambrose is.”

  Chapter 47

  Christmas Day

  Maria, dressed in the new pink mohair jumper that her grand-mother had knitted, sat at one side of the table. Next to her sat Ambrose, resplendent in a red festive jumper with the head of a reindeer on it, which was a gift knitted by Sister Theresa. He was paler and slightly thinner than before, but he was as cheery as ever. Her grandmother and Sister Theresa sat opposite, while Patrick Donovan and Jude sat at the either end, and the roast turkey and the ham reclined in the middle of the table along with the roast potatoes and the vegetables. All of them wore the colourful paper hats that had just been retrieved from the crackers Jude had bought.

  “Aren’t we lucky this year,” Ambrose said, “to have Maria here with us? Who would have thought it a year ago?”

  “We are indeed lucky,” Sister Theresa said.

  Ambrose gave a few cackly laughs, and then he had to stop when he lost his breath and started coughing. He held his hand up before anyone had a chance to speak. “I’m grand,” he said, “I’m grand . . .” He took a few minutes to catch his breath and then he started again. “I was only going to say the nurses at the hospital aren’t so lucky, because they were all hoping to hold on to me for Christmas. They told me they were hoping I’d keep the ward entertained, but I told them that I was going back home – I told them au revoir!”

  His mother’s eyebrows lifted. “You know you have to go back in the New Year?” she said. “The doctors said you could come home for Christmas and New Year, but they need you back in after that for another week or two.”

  “I know,” he said. “Why do you think I said au revoir instead of salut?”

  His mother looked puzzled. “What are you talking about?”

  “Au revoir means goodbye for now. It means that I will return to the hospital when I’m good and ready.” He made a little bowing gesture to the table and they all laughed. He pointed over to the corner now. “I have too many jigsaws to make and too many books to read to be hanging about in the hospital.”

  Maria bit her lip, trying not to let her feelings get the better of her. She took a deep breath to steady herself. “And what about the Lego?’”

  He looked at her solemnly and then he gave her a big grin. “Exactly,” he said. “I have far too much to be doing to be wasting time in hospital.”

  “But you have to mind yourself,” Jude said. “And not be talking too much and driving everybody mad.”

  “Would you listen to who’s talking?” Ambrose said. “Even in the hospital you were busy chatting to all the nurses. Especially the blonde one – Cathy, I think her name is.”

  “She was a nice girl,” his mother said. “She was very good the night you were taken in.”

  “Yes, she was. But did you notice she had to wear specs at times, Mammy?” Ambrose said. “But I think she forgot to put them on when she was looking at Jude.”

  “Now, now,” Jude laughed, “we won’t have any sneering at the table. It’s Christmas Day.”

  He caught Maria’s eye and they both smiled. He had told her last night all about Cathy, and how his mother hadn’t been keen because there had been some scandal about her sister having a baby adopted. His mother felt that their own family had enough for people to talk about without adding more to it. But, after seeing the way she looked after Ambrose, and the professional but kind way she had gone about her job, her attitude seemed to be softening towards her.

  Just after dinner when Maria was helping the women with the washing-up and Ambrose was dozing among his cushions, the phone rang and Maria’s grandfather called her to say it was her friend, Paul.

  “Now, tell him that you’ll see him in a couple of days, as soon as we get the flights sorted,” Patrick said quietly. “Tell him you’ll be over for New Year.”

  Maria smiled and nodded. “Okay,” she said. “I’ll tell him if everything is still okay I’ll be over.”

  An hour later, when she was helping Ambrose with his Lego model, the phone rang again. This time it was Diana.

  “Is everything okay?” Diana asked. “I wondered if there was any more news.”

  “Things are just the same,” Maria said in a low voice. “Ambrose is doing better than we thought, but he’s still very ill. We’re just so very lucky he was able to come home for the week or so.”

  “I’m so glad for him too,” Diana said. “He just sounds the loveliest little chap.”

  “Oh, he is,” Maria said. “I absolutely love him.”

  “Has it been difficult?” Diana asked. “Has it been a very depressing Christmas Day for you?”

  “No,” Maria said, smiling to herself now as she thought about it.. “Not at all. It’s been a lovely Christmas Day. I’m sorry our plans didn’t work out, and of course I miss you all but, this year, my place was in Ireland.”

  “Well, I’m glad it worked out so well for you.”

  “It has,” Maria said, “and all being well, I’ll be over in a few days to spend New Year with you, and I’m looking forward to seeing Mrs Lowry and Stella.”

  “Oh, Maria, that’s wonderful,” Diana said. “I’m so looking forward to seeing you and having you to stay for a while. And Franco has said if you make it over he’ll open the restaura
nt again on New Year’s Eve and we’ll have a bit of a party in it.”

  “It sounds great,” Maria said. “I was talking to Paul earlier and he said he hadn’t anything planned for New Year, so he might join us too.” She halted. “How is Stella? Is she back to her old self?”

  Diana paused. “She’s better than she was, but she’s still not one hundred per cent. She’s not as thin as she was but she is still too thin to be healthy. They had to take the keys of the little ballet studio off her, as they found her up practising in the middle of the night again. Apparently she used to do that a lot when she was trying to lose weight. The clinic have said she’s not allowed to dance at all now until they feel she’s fully recovered.”

  “Poor Stella,” Maria said. “And it’s all off with her and Tony. Apparently he just disappeared off to Birmingham without a word.”

  “I think,” Diana said, “you’ll find there was more to that than Stella knows. I think her parents gave Tony a little nudge in that direction.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Her mother said they just gave him a financial offer to move away that he couldn’t refuse. Apparently, he’s bought into a share of the stables he moved to down in Birmingham.”

  “Oh, my God!” Maria said, “I can’t believe it!”

  “Don’t ever tell Stella, of course,” Diana said. “But I think if he was happy to take their offer, then he wasn’t the right person for her.”

  “I suppose so, when you think of it like that.” Maria paused. “How are you, Diana? Are you okay? Are you missing Dad very much?”

  “Yes, Maria, there’s no point in lying. I still think of him all the time.”

  “You made such a lovely couple . . .”

  “I know we did, and that’s what’s so difficult. Where will I ever meet anyone like him again?”

  “I’m sure there are a lot of nice Italians around . . .”

  “Where?” Diana gave a little laugh. “Where am I supposed to bump into a nice Italian man?”

  “Maybe in Leonardo’s when we reopen it next year. I thought you might like to help me and Franco with the accounts and maybe the odd night front of house. I’ll need somebody there when I come back. I’ve decided I want to work there – to eventually run the restaurant myself. I have great ideas for it.”

  “Are you serious?” Diana asked.

  “Yes, I am. Very serious.”

  “What about the travel agent’s?”

  “That was always a fall-back position because my dad didn’t want me being a waitress. I’ll do night classes in business studies and restaurant management. It will be the professional job he wanted me to have but, more importantly, it will be the job I love.”

  “I’m delighted,” Diana said, “so delighted I don’t know what to say. And we have so much to talk about with the restaurant and working out where you might like to live when you come back.”

  “I don’t know exactly when it will be, it might be in three months, it might be six months . . . it might be a year.”

  “Why is that? Franco checked with the lawyer, and as long as your grandparents are okay with it, he will be your guardian in England until you are eighteen and fully independent. It won’t be long until you’re eighteen.”

  “I know that,” Maria said. “That’s not the reason. It’s Ambrose.” She looked back down the hallway. “I’ll explain it all to you when I see you in a few days. Give my love to Mrs Lowry and Stella. I’ll ring nearer the time to give you the exact details.”

  “I’m so, so looking forward to seeing you,” Diana said. “It will give us both a lovely start to the year.”

  Maria put the phone down and then she stood for a minute before joining the others. It was lovely to hear from her friends back home and she couldn’t wait to see them when she went back. But for this last week, and especially today, this was the right place to be.

  The doctors had told them there was every chance it was Ambrose’s last Christmas, and nothing in the world was going to make her miss that. There was a chance of some new drug that had recently been approved and was due out in a few months, and there was a machine due to arrive soon that might help clear his chest, but the specialist gave no guarantees. From now on, each episode would bring Ambrose down a little bit further. And a more serious one he might not survive.

  Maria hadn’t even given Manchester a second thought when she heard he was coming home, and knew he wanted her to be there. Even if he had been kept in hospital, as they feared he might, she still would have stayed in Ireland to visit and be close to him. She was happy with her day-to-day life for the present here with her family in Ireland, and she was happy with the future that looked mapped out for her back in Manchester.

  The sound of ‘Blue Christmas’ suddenly drifted out into the hallway, and Maria knew that Ambrose had asked for the volume on the radio to be turned up so she could hear it. They had both said it was their favourite Christmas song only this morning. She knew he would be hoping it would make her hurry up on the phone and come back to join them.

  She smiled now as she walked back towards the kitchen. She wouldn’t think any more sad thoughts about Ambrose or her father or her mother. She would not spoil today with the past, and she had learned that there was no point in worrying about the future.

  For today she would live in the present. For today she would be grateful to be spending Christmas with Ambrose and her new family in Ireland. The new family that Leo had found for her.

  If you enjoyed

  Music From Home by Geraldine O’Neill

  why not try

  Summer’s End also published by Poolbeg?

  Here’s a sneak preview of Chapter One

  Geraldine O’Neill

  Summer’s End Chapter 1

  January 1966

  Lily knew she shouldn’t feel happy about going to a funeral, but it was a perfect excuse to get away from college for a while. It would give her time to forget the fool she had made of herself the other night.

  After months of being curious about him, she had caught the eye of the young-looking history lecturer across the late-night bar. She had noticed him when he joined the staff at the beginning of term, and was immediately drawn to his smooth caramel-toned skin and beautiful dark eyes. And although she knew his colour and culture would have been too different for some of the girls, it made him all the more interesting to her. She had been disappointed that he wasn’t teaching her course and had waited for the chance to get to know him.

  They got chatting and he bought her a glass of wine. They were still talking and drinking when the rest of her group had gone back to the student halls.

  He told her that he had just finished his PhD in London before moving to Newcastle, then he told her about growing up in what he called the ‘fusion culture’ in the Seychelles with his English mother and Seychellois father. She listened intently as he talked about the art, music and food, and the colourful festivals.

  It was unlike any other conversation she’d had before, and it stirred her curiosity and interest about different people and places.

  As they walked back to the student houses in the dark, he asked her about growing up in Scotland. She told him about Rowanhill, the small mining village she grew up in, which was happily served with a train service going in one direction to Glasgow and the other to Edinburgh. She described how she had travelled to the cities to shop and mooch around most weekends since she was thirteen or fourteen. They stood outside chatting for a while and then he invited her into his flat for coffee.

  That was when she made the mistake. And she couldn’t blame alcohol; she’d only had a couple. The all-day hangover she suffered when she first arrived at college had made her wary of it. She couldn’t have imagined how the months of wondering about him would evaporate in just a few minutes. A few humiliating minutes when she realised she was well out of her depth.

  And now she was desperate to avoid him.

  She pushed the mortifying memories away and thou
ght of her escape. She loved travelling, and the fact she was flying for the very first time was a bonus. And it wasn’t as if she knew her father’s aunt very well. She would be solemn and commiserating with her close relatives.

  Lily Grace held her compact mirror up, studying her face and light-brown hair which still had a few streaks of the blonde she had as a child. She supposed she wasn’t bad-looking, but there were times she wished she was taller and more curvaceous. Her second cousins in Ireland would see a big change in her. Her last visit was when she was sixteen. She was twenty now, and in her second year at teacher training college, just over the border in Newcastle-upon-Tyne.

  She had applied to the traditional Catholic colleges in Scotland, but the exam points were higher than England. Her careers tutor had advised all the teaching candidates to apply to an English college just in case, so she had chosen Newcastle.

  Lily had been interviewed at three different colleges, and when the results came out she had enough points for the Scottish ones, but she opted for Newcastle which had also accepted her. It was far more modern than the others and it was mixed. A religious, all-girls teacher training college held no appeal for her. With four brothers, she was well used to boys, and had attended a mixed secondary school in Hamilton, some ten miles from Rowanhill. Another plus was that she would get to live on a college campus in England, whereas if she stayed closer to home she would have to travel from Rowanhill by train on a daily basis.

  There was no contest. She had got a taste of the bigger world at her Newcastle interview and wanted more of it.

  Her mother, Mona, on the other hand, had been devastated. “Why on earth are you going away to England, when you could go to a college here?”

  “I liked it better,” Lily said. “And it’s only a few hours’ journey from home. It would be the same distance if I went to somewhere north of here like Inverness or Aberdeen.”