by Maeve Binchy
'This is the Last Chance Saloon,' she said pleasantly as they came in. 'You have one small bedroom between you with no television. We have a very stern policy on bathrooms here, leaving them clean but not overflowing for the next person, and there's an endless amount of please and thank you going on but apart from that you'll have a great time.'
They looked at her doubtfully.
'The food is terrific, for one thing,' she added.
'That's for sure,' said Neil.
'Did you marry her because she was a good cook?' Simon asked. 'Or did it just turn out that she was a good cook?' wondered Maud.
'And my name is Cathy Scarlet. I am married to your cousin Neil so from now on I won't be referred to as "she" or "her", is that very clear?'
'Why don't you have Neil's name if you're married to him?' Maud wanted everything cleared up.
'Because I am a woman of fiercely independent nature, and I need my own name for my work,' Cathy explained. This seemed to satisfy them.
'Right, could we see the room?' Simon said.
'I beg your pardon?' Cathy was icy.
He repeated it; she still looked at him questioningly.
He got it. 'I mean, please can we see the room. Thank you.' He looked pale and tired; they both did. It had been a long day: there had been nothing but dramas and recriminations. Their parents had disappeared, their future was uncertain, the boy had been sick all over the carpet in Oaklands, they had destroyed the kitchen ceiling and they would never be allowed back there again.
'Come on, then, I'll show you,' she said.
'How did you get on today,' Neil asked eventually when the children were asleep and they had time to talk to each other. She was by now almost too tired to tell him about it.
'It was exactly what we want—perfect place, perfect location, room to park the van… But we have to wait. Patience is what's needed apparently.'
The days crawled by after that. They waited and waited. And then finally, 'James Byrne here, Ms Scarlet.'
'Mr Byrne?' They were being formal; she was too nervous to call him James.
'I said I would try to come back to you within four days, and I'm very pleased to say that I have.' He sounded well pleased with himself.
'Thank you so much, but—'
'Mr Feather's answering machine was on, and you did say that it was fine to call either of you.'
'Please, is there any news?' Cathy wanted to scream at him for his slow, precise way of talking.
'Yes, I have been authorised to act for the Maguire family.'
'So?'
'So, they are going to accept your offer, subject to—'
'They're not going to go to auction… They might have got more at an auction.'
'They and I have discussed this, and with the estate agents too, but they would prefer an immediate sale.'
'Mr Byrne, what do we do now?'
'You'll tell Mr Feather, I imagine, Ms Scarlet, and then you both get your lawyer and your bank, and then we go to contract.'
'Mr Byrne?' Cathy interrupted.
'Yes Ms Scarlet?'
'I love you, Mr Byrne,' Cathy said without pausing. 'I love you more than you will ever know.'
And everything began to move very quickly after that. Too quickly. Cathy looked back on the first three days of the year as if they had been in slow motion. Now she realised that there were not enough minutes in any hour to cope with all that had to be done. And she usually needed to be in three places at the same time. When she was sitting with Geraldine and the bank manager, she should have been meeting Tom and his father at the builder's yard. When she was making the four apple strudels for Mrs Ryan, the nervous woman she had met at Oaklands, she should have been having a medical at the insurance company, and when she should have been at the solicitor's going over every clause of the contract of sale, she was making spaghetti bolognese for Maud and Simon Mitchell, who were proving to be a nightmare.
At this of all times she appeared to have taken charge of a boy and a girl that she had never met before. Cathy, who knew all her uncles and aunts and cousins in great depth, barely had time to wonder why Kenneth and Kay weren't part of the extended family scene.
'He's got no visible means of support,' Neil said. 'He says he's in business, but no one quite knows what it is.'
'You mean like my father going to work, as he calls visiting the bookies, and meeting his associates, as he calls the others who hang out there?'
'No, nothing as straightforward as that, and I think she likes the vodka a little too much when he goes abroad. So that's the problem: no one quite knows where he is at present, and she's been taken away to hospital for not knowing where she is herself.'
He was unfeeling about the situation, not judgemental but not involved. Perhaps that's how you got to be a good lawyer.
It couldn't have happened at a worse time. Why had she agreed to take those monstrous children into Waterview for three nights because of some vague marital disharmony in their home? There was marital disharmony in every home in the Western world at the beginning of January. And suppose their father had gone walkabout and their mother retreated back into a psychiatric home then why couldn't their big brother Walter look after them? Why bother asking that question? Walter wouldn't have known where to find their cornflakes in the morning, that was supposing he was ever home by breakfast. And Hannah had made it quite clear that her brother-in-law's children were finding no substitute home at Oaklands.
They were pale, solemn-looking children, who asked disconcerting questions…
'Do you have a drinking problem, Cathy?' Simon asked when they first came into the house.
'Only problem is getting enough time to drink these days,' Cathy said cheerfully. Then she remembered the danger of being ironic with children.
'Why exactly did you wonder that?' she asked, interested.
'You seem kind of anxious,' Simon explained.
'And there's a big bottle of brandy on the kitchen table,' Maud added.
'Oh! I see… No, that's actually calvados, it's for putting in Mrs Ryan's apple strudels and then glazing across the top, that's not for drinking. It's too dear. And anxious because I'm buying a business. I don't think it's all drink-related. But what do I know?'
'Why are you buying a business?' asked Simon. 'Doesn't Neil give you enough money?'
'Why don't you stay at home and have children instead?' Maud wondered.
Cathy paused and looked at them. With their pale, straight hair and pasty little faces they lacked their elder brother's charm, but they also lacked his selfishness. They did genuinely seem interested in her predicament, and she must answer them truthfully.
'Neil would give me half he has very willingly, therefore I'd like to have something of my own to share with him. So that's why I want a business,' she said.
They nodded. This seemed reasonable.
'And Neil and I may well have children sometime, but not just now because I'll have to be out so much and working such long hours. Maybe in a few years…'
'Wouldn't you be too old to have children then?' Maud didn't want any loopholes in the plan.
'I don't think so,' Cathy said. 'I did check, they say I'd be all right.'
'Suppose they came earlier, by accident. Would you give them away?' Simon frowned at the thought.
'Or worse.' Maud wasn't a fool about such things.
'We arranged that they won't arrive until we're ready for them.' Cathy had the bright strained smile of a woman who has a hundred things to do that are more important than this conversation.
'So you'd only mate about once a month, is that it?' Maud suggested.
'That's about it,' Cathy said.
Tom was sympathetic about the twins, but the day they were going to see the lawyers he became suddenly anxious.
'I wonder can we leave them anywhere else today, Cathy. I know you take them most places, but honestly…"
'Where, Tom, where? They're barred from Oaklands, Walter won't mind them. What can
I do with them?'
'Could Neil… ?'
'No, he couldn't. Could Marcella…?'
'No, she couldn't.'
'Jesus, Tom, I can't leave two defenceless children in a house on their own all day.'
'Are you suggesting that they come and negotiate some of the finer points of the contract with the solicitor?'
'Tom, stop picking on me. You're nervous, I'm nervous, it's too much money, it's too much risk. Let's take it easy.'
'I'm not nervous, and you're not nervous about it at all. The only thing that's causing any grief is those two time bombs you've installed in the van.'
'Where else can I take them?'
'Take them to your mother and father's.'
'And have my dad take their pocket money to put on something with three legs?'
'Tell them about your dad, warn them. Cathy, we can't take them to the lawyer. He's some posh friend of Neil's, believe me, they would not expect or appreciate those two with their sticky fingers all over the corporate furniture.'
'All right.' Cathy gave in. 'But remember, Tom, today is your tantrum for getting nervous; tomorrow or the day after is mine.'
'It's a deal,' said Tom
.
'How are you, Simon?' Muttie gave a manly handshake.
'What's your name?' Simon was suspicious.
'Muttie.'
'Right how 'ya, Muttie,' Simon said.
'Or even Mr Scarlet, possibly,' Tom suggested.
'Muttie's fine,' said Cathy's father.
Simon looked triumphant.
'And this is Maud. You're very welcome, child.'
'All right, what are we going to do today?' Maud asked ungraciously.
Cathy thought to intervene but left it. It wouldn't be for long.
'I thought we'd take a little walk the three of us,' Muttie began. 'You see, I have one or two things to do, and maybe I could persuade you…'
'No, Da,' Cathy cried. 'And kids, remember what I told you, hey?'
'I know he's an addict,' Simon said.
Cathy closed her eyes.
'A what?' Muttie asked.
Simon was clear on his instructions. 'You can't help it, it's like being a drug addict. You think if someone has a pound you need it to put on a horse, and Cathy says we have to buy magazines or sweets as quick as we can if you suggest it.'
'Thanks, Cathy,' her father said.
'You know I didn't put it quite like that, Da.'
'Exactly like that, Muttie,' grinned Tom, who had always called him Mr Scarlet before but wasn't going to be outdone by young Simon.
'But on the other hand, if you think of anything lucky for me today, the day we sign the contract, then can you put this on his nose?' He handed Cathy's father a ten-pound note.
'You're a gentleman, Tom Feather, I always said it.' Muttie shook his hand warmly.
As they left for the lawyer's office Cathy heard Simon asking her father casually, 'Do you have an addiction to drink too, Muttie? My mother has, she can't help it, you see.'
Cathy leaped into the white van. 'I want to be out of here before we hear him inviting the twins down to a good pub on the docks to start the outing with a pint.'
'On balance, that would be better than having them in the solicitor's office.' Tom had reversed the van and they were speeding along to their appointment.
'Better for whom?' Cathy wondered.
It went so smoothly at the lawyer's that Tom and Cathy were worried. There should have been some hold-up, something unacceptable.
'The other side are being remarkably accommodating; they have given specific instructions for a quick sale, and so of course we need to do a very intensive search in case there's something to conceal.'
'Of course,' Cathy and Tom agreed through gritted teeth. Why couldn't barristers or solicitors ever believe that people might just be telling the truth, that these Maguires were so anxious for their money, and to forget their old life, that they wanted to sell? But they knew it had to be done by the book no matter how slow and laborious. There was one message each on their mobile phones when they got back to the van. Cathy was to ring her aunt Geraldine. Urgently. Tom was to ring his father. They stood at either end of the van, talking. They finished and came back to sit down, both in good humour.
'Well, you first, was it a crisis?' he asked.
'Absolutely not. It was great news, she knows a restaurant selling up a rake of kitchen equipment, cookers as good as new, an enormous chest freezer. We can go over there after we've visited your Dad and look at them today.'
Tom said nothing.
'And you?' Cathy asked.
His father had agreed to do the building job but it involved putting someone else on hold. If Tom went round to sort that out and kept the name of Feather looking good, then it was a deal.
'He's around at the premises already, with two lads. There's an authorisation in from the Maguires; they want their equipment moved out and sold, so Da and the others are clearing the place. You can go there, can you?'
'Sure.' Cathy hoped they wouldn't mind talking to a girl about it.
'He thinks talking to me about building is worse than talking to a girl,' Tom said ruefully.
'But he needs you to do something more important?'
'Yes; talk nice to some architect and persuade him that my father and the team aren't a pack of cowboys.'
'What will you say?' Cathy was interested.
'I'll tell them the truth. It's amazing how often that works; tell them that the young Feather has a chance to do well. Might even pick up a bit of business for us—you never know.' He had such an engaging grin, Cathy knew it would work out.
JT Feather was a man very anxious that things should be done right. That no short cuts be taken, that the authorities never be offended in any way.
Cathy parked the van and noted with pleasure the way the place was being cleared out. The men had been working hard.
'You know it's very irregular, doing all this before the contract is signed.'
'You have their fax, Mr Feather. They want it this way.'
'But all my life I've worked on the principle that you don't touch a place until it is legally yours.' He frowned a lot.
'We're getting equipment this week; we have to have somewhere to plug it in.'
'Ah, not this week, Cathy, be reasonable. The floors have to be done, the walls hacked out and made good, there has to be a full paint job… There are a hundred details that have to be sorted out.'
'We'll talk about the details later. Tom told you, Mr Feather, we have to be up and running at the end of the month.'
'That boy was always a dreamer, will you look at the notions he had about this and that. You're never taking his timetable seriously, a sensible girl like you?'
'Oh, believe me, it's my timetable too, and we have a reception planned for the last Friday in January.'
'There's no rush, girl, the job must be properly done.'
'No, there isn't time to have it properly done. Three more catering firms will have opened and taken the business unless we get in there quick.'
'But the regulations, Cathy…' He was pale with anxiety.
Was this better or worse than her own reckless father, who would have put the deeds of the house on the next race if her mother hadn't kept them well hidden?
'I won't delay you, Mr Feather, I have to take some measurements for equipment that I'm going to buy today.'
'Today?' She could hear him gasp but she took no notice. Instead, she took out her metal measuring tape and moved past him into the room, which was looking emptier by the minute as the bulky machinery was being moved out into trailers. Cathy knelt down to see how much room there was for the freezer. Geraldine had said it was enormous but hadn't been specific. She was busy writing the measurements into her notebook when she saw Tom's father coming in, opening the top button of his shirt so that he could breathe more easily.
'Tell me they're not coming today.'
'Oh, not at all. I'm only going
to see them today. The auction is tomorrow, they'll come at the end of the week. I'll have the details about where we'll need sockets before the day is over. Can you have the electrician here as early as he can make it tomorrow morning, do you think?'
'The world has changed totally,' said Tom's father.
'Tell me about it, Mr Feather,' said Cathy, and was gone.
Tom called. I daren't ask, but how are things going?'
'Not too bad. And your end?'
'I bought the time, told them we were wonderful and that we'd send them a brochure. Just give me the address again of that place with the freezers and cookers and I'll meet you there.'
Her friend June rang to know would they go to a wine bar.
'I may never go to a wine bar again for the rest of my life,' Cathy said, crawling out from behind a particularly complicated measuring job.
'Great load of fun you're going to be when you're a businesswoman,' June said sourly, and hung up.
Neil rang. 'How did it go with the lawmen?'
She told him there seemed to be no hitches or problems. 'There are always hitches and problems with the law. That's what most of them get paid for,' he countered.
'Well not so far.' She was anxious to believe that it might, for once in life, be plain sailing.
'Well, you're with the best people,' he said.
'What time will you be home?' she asked.
'Lord, I don't know. Why?'
'No reason. It's just with the kids…'
'Oh, God, I'd forgotten about them. Where are they now?'
'In St Jarlath's,' she said.
'You never left them with your parents!' He seemed astonished.
'I had to leave them somewhere, Neil. I couldn't take them with me to the solicitor's, could I? Or here, which is like a builder's yard full of rubble, and on to inspect appliances at an auction which is where I'm going now.'
