Three Women

by Marita Conlon-McKenna

  ‘It’s probably about the bloody party and us helping out,’ complained Kevin, who was still jet-lagged and hungover after the best summer of his life working as waiter in a bar in Chicago for six weeks.

  Kate was nervous as hell about telling them. She hadn’t said a word to Erin about it. Paddy sat in the big armchair in the living room and the kids were all on the couch.

  ‘Your mum wants to talk to you about something,’ Paddy said sternly, which immediately got their attention.

  Kate stood up. ‘I wanted to tell you all something very important about something that happened in my life when I was much younger. I hope it won’t change things in the family, but even if it does you still need to know.’

  She could see that Aisling was tense, pale and hunched forward.

  ‘When I was younger – about your age, Kevin – I was in college. I met someone and we fell in love. We hung out together all the time. Then I found out I was pregnant. I didn’t know what to do. Neither of us had any money and we were both students, but I did know that I wanted to have my baby. Auntie Sally was very good to me. But the guy panicked. I was scared, but he was even more scared about us having a baby. I had a little girl that March. She was so beautiful … but I knew that I couldn’t manage being a single mum with so little support, so I gave her up for adoption. I wanted my baby to have a proper family and parents and a nice life – things that I couldn’t give her at that time.’

  She could see they were stunned – trying to process this new side to her.

  ‘Mum, you had a baby!’ cried Aisling accusingly. ‘Why didn’t you tell us?’

  ‘I didn’t tell anyone. It was a secret,’ she admitted. ‘I suppose I was ashamed.’

  ‘Why are you telling us now?’ demanded Sean.

  ‘Because my daughter, Erin, has recently come back into my life and it’s only fair that you should all know about her.’

  They all bombarded her with questions about having the baby and about Erin herself. She could tell they were angry with her, furious, blaming her for getting pregnant, for not having the courage to keep her baby, and for lying to them and deceiving them.

  ‘Mum, all the times you told me that I was your only little girl you were lying to me!’ Aisling screamed at her. ‘I don’t want a half-sister!’ And she stormed off up to her bedroom, banging the door so hard that it nearly came off its hinges.

  She could see that her sons regarded her differently too, both of them awkward about it. Kevin hugged her at least, but Sean made some excuse about having to meet someone and left.

  ‘That went well!’ She felt overwhelmed and near to tears as Paddy pulled her into his arms.

  ‘Give them a chance to think about it, get used to the idea. They’ll come around. Then we can organize for everyone to meet her.’

  ‘Meet Erin?’

  ‘Of course,’ said Paddy firmly. ‘She’s your daughter and their half-sister – and everyone in this family will have to get used to it!’

  Chapter Fifty-three

  NINA CLOSED HER eyes as dominick delahunt arrived to see the house. He was one of the senior partners in Delahunt’s, the big auctioneering firm that was usually retained to sell larger properties in Dublin and around the countryside. With his arrival, the first steps in selling their beloved home were now being taken.

  Tom was locked away upstairs in his study, while she had spent the past few days trying to get the house in order for Dominick’s visit.

  The auctioneer had a pad and pen and voice-recorder with him and, as she started to show him around the large living room and dining room, he kept up a running commentary of his own, which was a bit disquieting.

  ‘What a lovely home! Warm and sunny – so many of these old houses suffer desperately from damp and are impossible to heat.’ He remarked on the fireplaces, the windows, the plaster-work and woodwork, and even on the doors and door handles. He seemed to notice everything.

  When Tom joined them she could see he was pleased that Dominick had such an appreciation for their home. They walked from room to room – the five bedrooms; the bathrooms; the study; the large landing with its view of the sea; the old-fashioned walk-in airing cupboard; the downstairs that had been upgraded with a hand-painted kitchen, a large living and dining area with patio doors to the garden, and a cosy den for watching TV; and the large utility/laundry room with its old-fashioned Belfast sink and large storage area.

  ‘A remarkable period property!’ continued Dominick. ‘I would think that it only needs upgrading work in terms of the bathrooms and kitchen.’

  The kitchen! Nina loved their kitchen. Why would anyone want to change it?

  Tom then showed Dominick all around the outside of the house and the garden, Bailey following the two of them. Tom led the way down the very back of the garden towards the old boat house. They seemed to be an age out there, and the two of them walked back up towards the house, heads bent deep in discussion. She wondered what kind of valuation the auctioneer would put on a home that was so loved!

  When they came back into the kitchen where she was waiting she made a pot of coffee and produced some home-made oat cookies. She was as nervous as anything.

  ‘Clifton is very special,’ Dominick said admiringly, ‘and I know how hard it must be for both of you to have to put it up for sale at this present time.’

  Nina nodded, trying not to cry.

  ‘Tom has filled me in on the reasons for the sale and I assure you that many properties on our books are being sold for broadly similar reasons, but a home is at least a form of saving which most of us have at our disposal should we need it.’

  ‘We hate leaving it and having to sell,’ Nina confessed. ‘We love this old place.’

  ‘I often feel with these big old houses that we are all only caretakers from one generation to the next,’ Dominick said kindly. ‘When you think of how many families must have lived here over the past hundred and forty years or so, and walked the staircase and slept in the bedrooms and sat talking around that magnificent fireplace. We might pay the mortgage, and be able to say on paper we own a house like this outright, but we never really do – we are only enjoying the privilege of minding it until another family becomes part of its fabric.’

  What a lovely thing to say, thought Nina, comforted by his words and very relieved that it was Dominick who was selling Clifton.

  ‘Well, as I was saying, a gracious property like this with its extensive gardens and location, so close to Dalkey village, the sea and the DART, is ideal, and I feel it should certainly be able to attract a lot of interested parties.’

  ‘Has Tom explained to you that we don’t want open viewings and gangs of people traipsing through the house?’ Nina asked.

  ‘Of course. I would only suggest privately booked viewings with a house like this.’ He smiled. ‘We would include it in the property section of the Irish Times, with a photograph and details, but my hope is that the paper itself might also do a piece on it for their readers. People still love reading about old houses.’

  He discussed the agency’s fees and then told them what he realistically felt he could achieve. Nina could see Tom was disappointed.

  ‘I thought that we would get at least Euro 500.000 more than that!’

  ‘We could be lucky, but I’m afraid the banks are being far more circumspect as to who they lend to and how much they will lend.’

  Tom looked rather crestfallen.

  ‘But I’ll do my very best on your behalf,’ promised Dominick.

  ‘It’s just that when we sell the house we hope to buy a smaller place here in the Dalkey area, if possible,’ explained Tom.

  ‘Unfortunately there are very few smaller homes for sale at present,’ admitted Dominick, ‘but I promise that I’ll keep an eye out for a suitable property for you.’

  Nina couldn’t believe it when Dominick confirmed that the sale of Clifton would be advertised in a few weeks and go up on Delahunt’s website then. ‘We are better to wait until the first or sec
ond week in September when people return from holidays and decide to start looking at houses again and the market is refreshed with new properties. Then we will go ahead and run our sales campaign.’

  Nina was relieved that at least the ‘For Sale’ sign wasn’t going up next week.

  Following Dominick’s visit Tom seemed even more preoccupied than ever and spent much of his time trying to work out the vagaries of their finances, as the sale of Harris Engineering was due to be signed. Nina couldn’t bear the thought of the house being sold and almost wished that nobody would want to buy it.

  ‘Of course someone will buy it – it’s a perfect house, a good-size family home with a lovely garden and, as Dominick says, there are the coach house and outbuildings too. God knows where I’ll put my boat in the winter when we’ve sold the place.’

  ‘Maybe we could keep the coach house,’ suggested Nina. ‘It is right down the very back of the garden with hardly any connection to the house, and then you could still store your boat there. We could section off that part of the garden and courtyard area and just not include them in the sale.’

  ‘Dominick would probably go mad!’

  ‘It’s our house, not Dominick’s!’ she reminded him.

  They walked down the garden to see whether they could do it and, as they wandered around the old coach house with its courtyard and overgrown wasteground, they looked at each other.

  ‘Let’s look inside, Tom,’ Nina said, opening the door.

  Despite being neglected, the old building was warm, its stone walls dry and sealed; and it was actually much bigger than it seemed from the outside. There were the trailer for the boat and Tom’s tools and his big workbench and pots of old paint, bicycles and the ride-on garden mower. There was a small bathroom and what must have served as a rough kitchen with a few presses and a sink; then stairs led up to the loft area. Nina climbed up carefully. She hadn’t been up here in years. More old rubbish stored. But, again, it was dry and warm, and from the small windows you could see across the back laneway and up towards the curving slope of the coast road and Killiney.

  ‘The chauffeur used to sleep up here, and before him the stable lads who looked after the horses,’ said Tom. ‘There are two good rooms with a lot more space than you would think.’

  They went and sat outside on the wooden bench near the door. It was very sheltered and secluded.

  ‘I’m going to really miss the house,’ he admitted, ‘but I’ll miss this old place too. It’s a bit of a refuge.’

  Nina closed her eyes. With moving they were giving up so much.

  ‘Tom, we are not giving this up! If we cannot afford to hold on to Clifton, at least we can keep this. Maybe we should get someone to look at it?’

  ‘But I don’t need a fancy boat house.’

  ‘I’m not talking about a boat house,’ she laughed. ‘I think we should ask Mike Flynn to come over and look at it to see if there would be any potential to convert it for us. He’s driving poor Carol mad, hanging around the place since his operation.’

  ‘I’ll phone him,’ Tom offered, ‘and I can go and collect him, because I know he’s not let drive still after his knee replacement.’

  The next day Mike came over to the house and disappeared off down the garden with Tom. There wasn’t sight of them again until lunchtime, when Nina made soup and toasted sandwiches for them all. Tom and Mike were both excited as they explained the potential for a conversion of the coach house that would give them two bedrooms upstairs and a small bathroom, and a good-sized kitchen-cum-living space with a smaller room and bathroom downstairs. Mike was sketching furiously, trying to show her.

  ‘Let me draw up something to give you an idea of the layout and a very rough costing. I’ll work on them tonight and, if you are free, I’ll get Carol to drop me over tomorrow.’

  Tom drove him back home and, when they had gone, Nina tried to imagine herself living down the bottom of the garden!

  Chapter Fifty-four

  ERIN STOOD LOOKING towards the aisle as the music began to play and Ciara and Annie, her friend Jenny’s two sisters, in their pale-pink fitted bridesmaids’ dresses began to walk slowly up the aisle, followed by Jenny, eyes shining as she held her dad Frank’s arm.

  Jenny looked amazing in her off-white lace dress with its narrow, fitted bodice and soft flowing skirt, which showed off her fabulous petite figure; she wore a simple veil over her dark hair and carried a bunch of summer roses. She was such a beautiful bride and everyone almost cheered when her dad handed her over to Shay, who was standing in front of the altar waiting for her. They had been going out since they were sixteen, all through school and college, and everyone had always known that someday they would get married. And now today was the day. Jenny’s Uncle Peter, a priest, was marrying them, so that made it even more special.

  As they lit the candles and the ceremony began, Erin knew that she was witnessing two people who really loved each other make that proper commitment. Luke was in the bench beside her, looking very handsome in a tux. They had been invited to Jenny’s wedding months ago and Erin had been really annoyed when Luke had begun to suggest he mightn’t be able to make it over from London.

  ‘Shay and Jenny have been saving for this wedding for years and, Luke, you are not pulling out of it with only two weeks to go.’

  ‘Okay, okay.’ He had given in, but was still complaining about the cost of the hotel they were staying in in Cork and the fact that it was such a long drive from Dublin.

  Nikki had come down in the car with Claire and Donal and was absolutely glowing. She looked as if she was about to pop in her turquoise dress and open-toed shoes. Jenny’s sister Annie was a nurse and she’d promised that she’d keep an eye on Nikki for them.

  ‘We don’t want Snoopy B being born down in Cork!’ Claire joked.

  As Jenny and Shay exchanged their vows and the rings, Erin was touched by the emotion of it all and tears slid down her cheeks. This was what marriage to the one you love meant – these promises, these vows.

  When the ceremony was over they all stood to watch Jenny and Shay walk arm in arm down the church together, happiness radiating from them both as they stood at the church porch in the sunshine to meet all their guests.

  ‘What a wedding!’ Nikki said, wistfully. ‘Jenny is so lucky to have found such a nice guy and married him!’

  ‘They are both lucky,’ agreed Claire, ‘to have found each other.’

  Erin joined the queue that was pushing towards the bride and groom, Luke standing beside her, until eventually it was her turn.

  ‘I’m so happy for you both,’ she said, giving Shay a massive hug. Then she kissed Jenny. ‘Jenny, you are the most beautiful bride ever – you look so lovely today. You and Shay are just so much in love and perfect for each other. I know you two are going to be very happy.’

  ‘Thanks, Erin,’ smiled Jenny. ‘It’s the way it will be for you too, just you wait!’

  Erin knew that when she got married she wanted her husband to look at her the way Shay constantly looked at Jenny, as if she was the most important person in the world, and to feel the way Jenny felt about Shay, that she couldn’t live without him.

  Everyone stood outside chatting in the sunshine and taking photos. Erin quelled her annoyance at seeing Luke off texting on his iPhone and checking his emails.

  After the church they made their way to Ballyrinn Castle, near Kinsale. It was a fabulous old eighteenth-century castle that had been restored and modernized. They all enjoyed drinks in the sunshine on the lawn before moving into the huge dining hall for the meal, where Erin and Luke sat at a great table made up of all Jenny’s schoolfriends. The wine flowed, the food was delicious and Jenny’s dad gave a great speech about welcoming Shay into the Sullivan family and saying what a wonderful daughter Jenny was. Shay had them all nearly in tears when he talked about falling in love with sixteen-year-old Jenny and secretly deciding there and then that some day she would be his bride. The best man nearly brought the house down
with his stories of his best friend’s attempts over a long number of years to win Jenny’s hand.

  ‘What a lovely wedding!’ smiled Erin as the band started and she and Luke got up to dance. As he held her in his arms she wondered if some day it would be them having the first dance at their own wedding, with all their friends and family along to celebrate how much they loved each other. It was strange, but somehow, even though she was in his arms, she just couldn’t picture it.

  They had a wonderful night, dancing and chatting to friends and keeping a very sharp eye on a cousin of Shay’s who professed to adore pregnant women and was literally dancing attendance on a delighted Nikki. It was all hours before they got to bed. Luke was up at the bar talking to a group of the lads while Erin, a little tipsy, nearly fell fast asleep on a sofa.

  ‘You two to bed!’ bossed Claire, kissing her good night – or was it good morning?

  They slept in and had a very late breakfast with everyone in the hotel, then set off back for Dublin. Luke’s flight was at eight p.m. He was quiet on the drive home from Cork as Erin rabbited on, telling him about the upcoming sale of her parents’ home and a potential new client that she might be doing some work for.

  Too early to go to the airport, they went back to her apartment and, dumping their bags, she made them coffee and a toasted sandwich.

  ‘Are you coming home next weekend?’ she asked him.

  ‘No. I’ve no reason to come over,’ he said flatly.

  ‘I don’t know what you mean.’ Erin had no idea what he was getting at. ‘We can go out – go somewhere …’

  ‘Erin, you’ve done nothing about coming to London, have you?’

  She shook her head.

  ‘You’ve no intention of it, have you?’

  ‘I was going to …’ She tried a feeble protest, but realized that Luke was right. He was only stating the obvious.

  ‘No,’ she admitted. ‘I’ve no plans to move for the moment.’

  ‘I don’t like this commuting thing. It never works.’