‘Well, that’s a lovely welcome home,’ Ali said archly. ‘I just got back from London this morning. I told the taxi to drop me here because I’d missed you, and I thought we could spend the day together. I was going to take you out for breakfast.’
Luca smiled, softening a little. He could never be cross with Ali for long. ‘Okay. Or we could have breakfast here if you like. There’s loads of food.’
‘There is?’ Ali pulled open the fridge. ‘Wow, there really is! Seriously, what’s got into you? You’re letting girls stay overnight, you’re buying food …’ A smile spread across her face.
‘Not girls,’ Luca said crossly. ‘A girl.’
‘Weirder still.’ She pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes, scrutinising his face. ‘We’re going to talk about this over breakfast,’ she said. ‘But first I need to pee.’
She dashed off to the bathroom and Luca started taking things out of the fridge. Minutes later, Ali reappeared. ‘You have conditioner in your bathroom,’ she said gleefully, as she came back into the kitchen. ‘Girly conditioner. And moisturiser.’ She grinned slyly at him. ‘Luca Ffrench-Carroll, do you have a girlfriend?’
Chapter Fourteen
Claire listened to Luca’s voicemail, wishing she could go back and start the morning again. She felt such an idiot for running off like that, mortified that Luca might see it as the behaviour of a jealous girlfriend. She had been angry at being confronted by another woman in his flat, but only because she hadn’t wanted to be put in an awkward situation. If only she’d stuck around for a few minutes instead of high-tailing it out of the door, she’d have found out that the girl was his sister. It made sense when she thought about it. She had the same colouring as Luca – the same olive skin, dark hair and brown eyes. She hadn’t even known that he had a sister. He never mentioned his family – not that they spent a lot of their time talking. It occurred to her that she knew very little about him. It would have been nice to stay and meet his sister – and then she could have spent the rest of the day in bed with him having amazing sex. She felt a pang of regret, longing to turn around and go back. But now she was reluctant to face him, embarrassed about the way she had left. She called Luca back and told him she had things to do today but she would see him that evening.
It was a beautiful day, unusually warm for May, and as she walked into town, the pavement cafés were already full of people sitting outside, enjoying the sunshine. It lifted her spirits. The weather seemed to put everyone in a good mood, and the city felt like a happier, friendlier place. She found it endearing the way Irish people got completely overexcited at the first hint of sun, immediately donning summer clothes and sunglasses, heading to the beach and dining al fresco. She loved days like this when the world seemed full of promise. She just wished she had someone to share it with. If she hadn’t been such an eejit, she could have been sharing it with Luca and his sister. Still, she wasn’t going to let that get her down and spoil the day.
She decided to treat herself to breakfast in her favourite café. She walked to Dame Street, and read her book while lingering over a delicious full Irish in the Queen of Tarts. Eating breakfast alone with a good book was usually her idea of bliss, but she struggled to feel content. She was usually happy in her own company, but now she felt unsettled and restless. Maybe it was because of the weather or perhaps because her mother had been away from home for the past couple of weeks and she had had enough of the solitude, but she craved companionship.
When she got home, she decided to ring Mark to cheer herself up. She dialled his number, buoyed at the prospect of having someone to talk to, even if it was at a distance.
‘Claire, hi!’ He sounded gratifyingly pleased to hear from her and his friendly voice made her feel brighter. ‘Great to hear from you. How are you?’
‘I’m good.’ She smiled into the phone. Better now. ‘How are you?’
‘Still getting the run-around from Millie,’ he said with a sigh, ‘but otherwise I’m fine.’
‘Oh, no! What’s Millie up to?’
‘She left me – for the bloke across the road.’
‘Ouch! That’s a bit close to home.’
‘Tell me about it – she didn’t even have the decency to try to hide it. Every day she’d be there, flaunting herself in his front window, where she knew I’d see her.’
‘Well, you’re better off without her.’
‘Oh, she’s home again now. Came slinking back last night with her tail between her legs.’ He sighed. ‘That’s not true, actually – her tail was in the air. She’s shameless.’
‘And you took her back?’
‘What can I say? I’m putty in her paws.’
Claire laughed.
‘So, what are you up to today? Are you getting this lovely weather over there?’
‘Yes, it’s gorgeous. I’m going to visit my mother this morning. Maybe I’ll meet up with a friend later on, and do something.’
‘How is your mother?’
‘She’s good, doing well. How about you? What are you doing?’
‘I’m meeting the guys for a run on the Heath – I’m just waiting for them now. And later a bunch of us are going for brunch – a new place by the canal in Little Venice.’
‘That sounds lovely,’ Claire said wistfully, suddenly feeling very distant from Mark – he had a whole life she knew nothing about, a life she wasn’t part of. She didn’t know who his friends were; she couldn’t picture him with them. He seemed so remote from her.
‘It’s a perfect day for it,’ Mark broke into her thoughts. ‘I wish you could come.’
‘Me too.’ She sighed.
‘Or that I could be there with you. We could go to the Iveagh Gardens.’
She smiled, thinking of their kiss.
‘Any chance of you getting over next weekend? I’m dying to see you.’
Claire knew her mother wouldn’t mind. She would have to drum it into her brothers that they had to visit. ‘Yeah, that should be doable,’ she said. ‘I’ll look into flights and stuff and get back to you. Okay?’
‘Great! Well, the guys are here. I’d better go.’
‘Okay. Have fun.’
‘Looking forward to seeing you again.’
‘Yeah, me too. Bye.’ Claire hung up, cheered by the thought of going to London, but she quickly became deflated again. In a way, talking to Mark had only made her feel more isolated, and a bit sad. Determined not to let it get her down, she rang a couple of friends to see if anyone wanted to meet up later. But Jane, an old school friend, was too busy ferrying her son around all day to parties and sports, and Catherine was on her way to a wedding in Wicklow. Oh, well, she would visit her mother, then spend the afternoon reading in the garden before heading back to Luca’s. There were a lot worse ways to spend a day.
Claire was dressed too warmly for the weather, so she swapped her boots for flat pumps and changed into cropped jeans and a short-sleeved top before going to the nursing home. She grabbed a light summer jacket from the wardrobe and was on the way out to the car when she got a call on her mobile. It was one of the care staff from the home, asking her to see the manager when she was next visiting. She explained that she was on her way and said she would speak to Mrs Byrne when she got there.
Damn, she thought, as she tossed her mobile onto the passenger seat and put on her seatbelt. She could have done without that today. She didn’t like Theresa Byrne and hated having to deal with her. She was a tough woman, who tried hard to come across as caring and maternal, but underneath the phoney façade she was frosty and overbearing. Claire found her intimidating. She was hopeless at dealing with people like that and always let them get the better of her. Still, she shouldn’t let herself get wound up about it – it was probably just some administrative formality she needed to see her about.
When she arrived at the home, one of the nursing staff showed her to Theresa’s office. She was sitting behind her desk – a plump, middle-aged woman with iron-grey hair cut in a rigid bob that was a monument to hairs
pray. Claire had never seen it move.
‘Ah, Claire.’ She looked up. ‘Thank you for coming. Have you been in with Mum?’
‘No, I’m on my way now. I called here first. You wanted to see me?’
‘Yes. Sit down.’ She waved Claire to the seat in front of her desk, then leaned forward confidentially. ‘Are you aware that we had an incident last night?’
Claire’s stomach turned over. She knew Theresa meant her mother – she was a big fan of the royal ‘we’ – and her mother’s ‘incidents’ usually involved ambulances, paramedics, heart-stopping races to hospital and teams of doctors working to bring her back to life. Why hadn’t anyone called her? Jesus, had they called the house and she wasn’t there? But they had her mobile number.
‘Nothing to worry about,’ Theresa reassured her, clasping her hands together on the desk, as if in prayer.
‘Not a medical emergency?’
‘Oh, no! Nothing like that. Although we did end up having to call an ambulance for poor June …’
Claire wondered why she was being told about June, whoever she was.
‘I’m sorry if I gave you a fright, dear,’ Theresa said.
Claire nodded, disliking the woman more than ever.
‘Let me explain.’ Theresa drew a deep breath and assumed a solemn expression. ‘As you know, residents aren’t supposed to have alcohol in their rooms.’
Claire had an awful feeling she knew where this was going, but she was so giddy with relief that nothing serious had happened to her mother that she didn’t really care.
‘It’s for their own good. The rules are there for everyone. Of course, we let them have a little drink on special occasions, but it’s all properly regulated. We have a duty of care to our residents …’
Claire sat back and let Theresa’s words wash over her. Apparently her mother’s friends had been smuggling in drink for her and she had been holding raucous parties in her room, her fellow residents crowding in, getting drunk and disorderly, then staggering back to their own rooms trying to support each other when they could barely support themselves with their Zimmer frames and walking sticks. During the ‘incident’, one of Espie’s friends, June, had fallen and broken her wrist. According to Theresa, June was being very stoic about it and was standing up for ‘Mum’, but her family had taken a dim view and were threatening to sue the home and go to the papers with their story.
‘Mum’s a bit of a live wire, isn’t she?’ Theresa said, creasing her face into a facsimile of a sympathetic smile.
Well, my mum is, Claire thought. I don’t know about yours. The way Theresa referred to her mother as ‘Mum’ made her skin crawl.
‘And that’s lovely,’ Theresa hurried on. ‘It’s great that she’s still so full of life. She’s a real character and very popular with the other residents. But I’m afraid she’s a bit of a disruptive influence on some of our old people.’
Oh, God, Claire thought, resisting the urge to giggle, was her mother getting expelled from a nursing home?
‘She’s only here for convalescent care so—’
‘Please don’t kick her out,’ Claire interrupted, hating that she was reduced to begging. ‘We really need this. I work full-time, and need her to be a bit more mobile before she comes home.’
‘Don’t worry,’ Theresa said, waving her hand in a calming gesture. ‘We’re not asking her to leave. If she was one of our permanent residents, we’d have to look at the situation very carefully. The welfare of our old people is paramount. However, as it’s only for another couple of weeks, I’m sure we can manage. But maybe you could have a little word with Mum? We really can’t afford a repeat of last night. Do you think you could get her to stick to the rules for the rest of her stay?’
‘Yes, I’m sure I can,’ Claire said, relieved. ‘Thank you.’ She had never imagined she would feel such abject gratitude to Theresa Byrne.
‘No problem.’ Theresa’s smile was genuine this time, so delighted was she to have the upper hand. ‘Maybe you could talk to her friends too. People mean well, but …’ She paused. ‘Does Mum have a problem?’ she asked, almost in a whisper.
‘Sorry?’
‘Mum – does she have a little problem?’
‘Well,’ Claire said, feeling confused, ‘she has a weak heart … and severe arthritis. You know that. I’d say she has a lot of problems.’
‘A drink problem?’ Theresa mouthed the words, raising her eyebrows.
‘No!’
‘No shame in it, you know,’ Theresa prodded.
‘I know, but she doesn’t have a drink problem. She enjoys a drink, like the rest of us – but it’s not a problem.’
‘Well, if you’re sure,’ Theresa said doubtfully. ‘There’s lots of help available, you know, if—’
‘Thanks,’ Claire said, standing up to go. ‘I’d better go and see her now. And thanks, too, for letting her stay.’ Theresa stood and they shook hands. ‘I’ll make sure she doesn’t break the rules for the rest of her time here.’
When she had her hand on the doorknob, Claire turned back to Theresa. ‘Her name’s Esperanza, by the way,’ she said, wishing she could say it without her hands sweating and her voice shaking.
‘Sorry?’ Theresa frowned in confusion.
‘My mum. Her name’s Esperanza. Esperanza Kennedy. But everyone calls her Espie.’
It was such a lovely day that she pushed her mother outside in her wheelchair to sit on the lawn.
‘I got a severe talking-to from Theresa about you,’ Claire told her.
‘Oh dear, am I in the doghouse?’
‘She thinks you have a drink problem.’ Claire grinned conspiratorially.
Her mother threw back her head and laughed her hearty laugh.
‘She was being all smarmy and sympathetic. Trying to get me to shop you.’
‘But you held up under questioning?’
‘I did. I gave her nothing.’
‘You’re a good daughter. I’m glad I didn’t abandon you in the forest when I was skint.’
‘Me too. Although I do sometimes wonder what my life might have been like if I’d been taken in by a kindly woodcutter who raised me as his own.’
‘Oh!’ Espie gasped, her eyes lighting up. ‘Do you think Theresa has a drink problem? People who have one are always trying to project it onto someone else.’
‘Probably. But so what if she does? She tells me there’s no shame in it.’
‘That’s all right, then. So, am I being expelled?’
‘No, but you’re on a warning. She says you’re a disruptive influence on the others.’
‘God, it’s worse than bloody school.’
‘She said someone broke their wrist last night.’
‘Yes – June. I do feel bad about that. But we were just having a bit of fun. They expect you to sit around all day drinking tea and watching some orange gobshite on TV getting people to guess the price of stuff. Or else it’s American chat shows with people crying because they’re too fat or because they’ve lost a load of weight and they’re so happy. And they call their diet a “journey”, and talk about it like it’s some kind of spiritual experience. Jesus wept! And, after all that excitement, we’re supposed to be tucked up in our beds at eight, fast asleep, just when there might be something on telly that you’d actually be interested in watching. We may be old, but we’re still people!’
‘I know, Mum, but you have to behave for the rest of your time here. You really need to be a bit better before you come home. I can’t take any more time off work and—’
‘I know, I know,’ her mother said in a conciliatory tone. ‘I’ll be good. I’ll be a model old lady for the rest of my stay, promise.’
‘Sorry. I know it’s horrible, but it’s not for much longer.’
‘It’s fine. Don’t mind me – I’m just having a rant. It’ll do you good anyway to have a break from worrying about me. I know it’s a strain on you.’
‘Anyway – good party?’
‘Excelle
nt party. There are some really interesting people in here. I’ve made some terrific friends.’
Claire wasn’t surprised. Her mother made new friends wherever she went. She had a talent for it. ‘Mum, I was thinking of going over to London next weekend.’
‘Oh, you should!’ Espie said immediately. ‘Is there anything particular on?’
‘No, I just want to visit a … friend.’
‘One of your internet friends?’
‘Yeah,’ Claire said, jumping on the explanation gratefully. Anyway, it was true – she did know Mark from ‘the internet’.
‘It’s a great idea. It’ll do you good. Oh, there’s June now,’ Espie said, beckoning to a tall, solidly built old lady with her arm in a sling.
‘Sorry I can’t shake,’ June said, when her mother had introduced them.
‘How’s the wrist?’ Espie asked her.
‘Ah, it’s fine. Hurts a bit, but it was well worth it,’ June said staunchly. ‘I haven’t had so much fun since my son and his wife dumped me in this kip two years ago.’
‘Speaking of your son, is he going to sue?’
June snorted. ‘No fear of him. When he realised he couldn’t very well sue this place for negligence and still leave me here to rot, he backed down pretty quickly.’
‘Well, there’ll be no more booze parties in my room, I’m afraid. Theresa had a word with Claire, and apparently I’m leading you all astray. But there’s nothing to say we can’t have a tea party, is there?’
‘Nothing at all. And we don’t need booze to enjoy ourselves.’
‘Exactly. The company’s the main thing. So, my room after dinner?’
‘I’ll be there.’ June smiled.
When she left the nursing home, Claire didn’t feel like going home to read in the garden. She wanted to be with people, feeling an overwhelming need to laugh and chat and let off steam. Her brother Ronan lived nearby, so on an impulse she decided to drop in on him and Liz. They would probably be spending a day like this in the garden, and she envisaged them all sitting there, drinking cold white wine and chatting while the children ran around, periodically dragging her into games of hide-and-seek or chasing. She hadn’t seen her nephews, Adam and Ben, in a while, and she loved spending time with them. Cheered by the idea, she hopped into her car and drove the short distance to Ronan’s house.
Some Girls Do Page 17
