“Mum,” Oisín sat forward, “do you have any idea how much we earn from our work at the studios?”
“No. You have never discussed it with me.” She knew Patrick had stopped giving the boys pocket money but had no idea how much they earned. They were mostly in teenage angst programs which held no interest for her. She was proud to know they were doing something they enjoyed, but sitting watching rubbish in case her sons’ faces might pop up on screen was not her idea of a good way to pass time.
Oisín and Ronan exchanged glances.
“It works out at about five thousand pounds a week,” Ronan said after thinking about it for a minute. “Each.”
“That’s obscene!” Finn gasped.
“That’s why we don’t want to continue with our education,” Oisín leaned forward to say. “There doesn’t seem to be any point to it – after all, who knows how long this gravy train will last for?” He was very much aware they could be out of a job tomorrow.
“What in the name of God do you do for that kind of money?” Finn stared at her sons as if she’d never seen them before. It was monopoly money they were talking surely.
“I’ve been investing the money for us.” Ronan said. “We are heavily into computers and their future.” Surely his mother had seen news articles about the number of young millionaires sprouting up all around the world. The dot.com millionaires they were calling them.
“You can be very proud of your children,” Rolf said. “You have raised two fine young men. But you also need to watch them on television, sweetling.” He held up his hands at the glare she sent him. “I know, I know, this is not the time. We must stay with your agenda – the house – that is what we must discuss.”
“Thank you, Da-ma. So, if I’m understanding correctly, I am the only penniless one at this table.” Finn didn’t think she could take many more shocks.
“We wouldn’t see you go short, Mum,” Ronan and Oisín said almost as one.
“Good of you boys to look after your old mother.” Finn didn’t know whether to laugh or cry but she couldn’t be dealing with that now. She was determined to get some kind of decision about the house from her father. “Da, would you never think of moving back to Ireland and living in this house? I’m sorry but you and Rolf are not getting any younger. I worry about you both. This house would be ideal for the kind of lifestyle you both enjoy. You just wouldn’t have wheels on your heels anymore.”
“Before you answer, Emmet …” Rolf sat forward and covered one of Emmet’s hands with his own. He could speak freely here – they were all his family. “I would like to have a home. I have enjoyed living in this house very much. I would love to have somewhere to invite my extended family. I believe it is time we settle down and enjoy what we have together. The years are passing too quickly.”
“Look what you started now, daughter!” Emmet looked at Rolf, his heart softening at the appeal in his blue eyes.
“Will you think about it, Da?” Finn knew her two da’s would have to discuss it in great detail – but she’d put the matter on the table – it was up to them now.
“We have much to discuss, sweetling.” Rolf felt his heart catch at the thought of finally having somewhere to call home. “If you wanted to speak your dreams aloud – as we have been doing at great length – what would they be?”
“I’d like you and Da to live in this house,” Finn had dreamed many dreams when she couldn’t sleep at night. “I don’t want the housework involved in running a house this large – it’s more like a bloody hotel – if I’m dreaming then I’d like to own one of the German module homes I’ve admired so much on the television – I’d live in that at the bottom of the garden and be able to keep an eye on my two da’s. My sons would have a home to visit their grandparents.” She threw her hands out. “You did ask!”
“None of this can be decided in minutes, daughter,” Emmet said.
“I know that, but I’ve been listening to you lot discussing your plans – more power to you – but none of you have thought of what needs to be done around here before you all run away from home.”
“What needs doing, Mum?” Oisín asked.
“Before you lot sail off into the wild blue yonder, I want to put the gates back up.” She had removed the tall iron gates from the entryway some time ago. They were in her workshop. She’d mended the gates and painted them. If she was going to be living here alone, she wanted those gates back in place. “The gates are in my workshop. You two can get them and hang them for me. I don’t have the muscles needed.” She held up her arms jokingly.
“We’ll have to get a few of our friends to help us. Those gates are heavy.” Ronan thought about who he could ask to help. “Come on, bro, we can get started on that now.”
Emmet watched his grandsons hurry from the room, wishing he could go with them. “There must be money in the house maintenance account.”
“The total was very healthy last time I checked,” Rolf said.
“What are you two talking about?” Finn asked.
“The rent Patrick paid on this place over the years has been lodged in a special account. That money has paid for the repairs and updates you made, Finn,” Emmet said. “We never touch the money – it covers any costs you might meet in the maintenance of this house – did you know that?”
“No.” Finn stared at him.
“I did not tell you, sweetling,” Rolf said. “I did not want Patrick to know he was contributing to the upkeep of the house.” He’d been surprised the marriage had lasted as long as it had.
“The rent Patrick paid for this place was piddling in comparison to the prices old Harry quoted to me,” Emmet said. “Do you know the rent on a one-bedroom apartment in Dublin goes up from 1,000 pounds a month? Patrick knew when he was well off.”
“Mum!” Oisín almost exploded back into the room before she could react. “I found some of my old peekaboos – look!” He held out cupped hands and smiled with delight. “I’d forgotten them – could you make them into belt buckles for me? I’d love to wear them.”
“What about the gates?”
“The lads are putting them up.” Ronan walked into the room. “I promised to treat them all to a drink down the pub later. They look great, Mum – you did a marvellous job of repairing them.”
“What do you have, Oisín?” Rolf was glad of the change of subject.
“Peekaboos.” Oisín opened his hands and let the little metal figures fall onto the table. “Mum used to make these for me and Ronan.” He tried to put a figure over his finger but it wouldn’t fit. “She would make up stories to go with them.” He turned to his mother. “Remember?”
“I remember.” Finn looked at her first attempts at metal figures.
“Could you make them into belt buckles?” Oisín was excited at the thought. “I’d love some metal armbands as well.” They were being asked to appear shirtless in the show more and more. He’d love to be able to wear his own accessories. He and Ronan were being picked out for special appearances because of the long hair. This would add to their camera appeal. Every little helped and it was all money in his travel kitty.
“I’ve never made a belt buckle.” Finn fingered the little figures, remembering her two sons hanging onto her every word as they used the finger-figures to make her stories come alive – happy times.
“Finn,” Emmet examined the figures, “you made these?”
“Mum makes all kinds of weird and wacky shit out in her workshop.” Ronan too was examining the little peekaboos. He’d forgotten all about them.
“I want to see this workshop,” Emmet said.
“Me too.” Rolf wouldn’t be left out.
“It’s nothing special. I just like to tinker around with metal.”
“Lead the way, daughter.” Emmet wouldn’t be put off.
Chapter 26
“Someone needs to cut this grass,” Ronan said while they all walked through the garden in the direction of Finn’s workshop. “It’s getting very overgrown.”<
br />
“Guess what, son?” Finn snapped. “You’re ‘someone’ and this ‘someone’,” she pointed both of her thumbs towards her chest. “has quit.”
“I’d forgotten there were sheds down here.” Emmet ignored the other two. He wasn’t in the mood for more disagreements. Finn was right, her sons were old enough to help her in the maintenance of the property they claimed to love so much.
“This is my workshop.” Finn patted the cement blocks fondly. “I hope you are not expecting too much. I come in here to tinker and beat out my frustrations on metal.” She unlocked and pushed open the double doors. She pulled the string that turned on the lights.
Ronan held back. She wasn’t surprised. He’d never been that interested in her tinkering.
“Jesus!” Emmet reached out for Rolf’s hand without thinking.
The two stood in the open doorway staring around. There was so much to take in – the room was filled with wonderful figures of whimsy – and their girl had done this!
“Mum, where’s the figure of me with my bits hanging out?” Oisín was grinning widely. He’d always thought his mother’s figures wonderful no matter what their father might say. They made him smile and that could only be a good thing.
“Angie’s granddaughter borrowed it.” Finn was almost hyperventilating. What would they think? She valued her parents’ opinions.
“Finn …” Emmet was trying to speak past the lump in his throat. That she should have hidden her talent away like this! What had been done to his daughter? He wanted to punch Patrick Brennan until his knuckles bled.
“These are wonderbar, sweetling!” Rolf knew what Emmet was thinking and feeling. “I want that little one.” He pointed to a small figure with the biggest ears and smile he’d ever seen. It was captivating. “I will put it in the camper – show it to my friends – my daughter, the artist!”
“Take it.” Finn was flattered.
“What’s Angie’s granddaughter’s name, Mum?” Something was tickling at the back of Oisín’s brain. Hadn’t he heard or seen something about this – what was it?
“Chloe Lawrence,” Finn answered absentmindedly while taking the small figure Rolf wanted from the shelf. The figure was covered in dust. Her workroom was her escape. She refused to keep it neat and tidy. She dusted the little figure and gave it a quick polish.
Emmet wanted to take his time admiring every figure in the workshop. Each one was different but all were a delight to the eye. He wanted to own one. He wanted to be able to puff out his chest and show what his talented daughter was capable of. “Rolf – I cannot believe I have to say this to you of all people – but we need your camera.”
“Ja!” Rolf slapped his own head. “I was admiring and forgot. I will get it.” He hurried from the workshop.
“What’s the hold-up?” Ronan put his head into the workshop. He hadn’t thought it would take them long to look around the place.
Emmet put his hand to his heart. “My grandson – it breaks my heart to say this – you, my grandson, are a philistine – can you not see the wonders before you?”
“What?” Ronan stepped inside and looked around with eyes that didn’t see. “This stuff – Father was ashamed of it – told us to never tell anyone.”
“Typical.” Emmet could well imagine Patrick Brennan wanting nothing to take the attention away from himself. “You need to form your own opinions.” He put his hand on Ronan’s shoulder. “If you can look at these marvellous figures and tell me that you can see nothing special about them – that is your opinion and you’re entitled to it – just as I can call you a blind fool – but for God’s sake,” he shook the shoulder he held, “look!”
“Mum, you need to see this.” Oisín held out his phone – an extremely expensive model and more of a mini-computer. “I get several newspapers downloaded daily.”
“What?” Finn glanced at the small screen. “What am I looking at?”
“Your interpretation of your favourite son,” Oisín said, very much tongue in cheek.
“Name of God!” Finn stared at a photograph of one of her figures. “What’s that doing there?”
“A judge’s enquiry is under way.” Oisín knew he’d seen something about this. There was a great deal of sitting around on set – reading through the download service he paid for helped to pass the time.
“Why?”
“It seems Chloe Lawrence wishes to use the creations of a well-known artist in her Blooms garden. Someone objected, claiming a garden with these figures in it would be too expensive for the average man to create.”
“What has that to do with anything?” Ronan took his own phone from his pocket to read the article.
“It means, it is being claimed, that our mother’s whimsical figures command a five-figure sum.” Oisín laughed. “It sounds to me like one of the gardeners is trying to make trouble for Chloe Lawrence.”
“If someone discovers which of my figures fetched a five-figure sum, for pity’s sake tell me – I’d like to know about it.” Finn laughed off the article. Here she was without a pot to piss in and people thought she was rich – chance would be a fine thing.
“Mum!” Ronan was gaping at the phone in his hand. He held the phone out to his mother. “It would appear that Tim Liner,” he named the world-renowned actor, “has put in a bid of an undisclosed sum – claimed to be in the high five figures – to purchase one of your figures.” How had this actor who lived in America and was a Hollywood darling even seen one of his mother’s little figures?
“Someone’s been smoking funny weed.” Finn shrugged off the two stories.
“How would anyone in America see your figures?” Ronan wasn’t willing to leave it there.
“Dare Lawrence – Angie’s son – sent a bunch of my smaller nutjobs to friends of his in the States as presents,” Finn said. “I suppose this fella-me-lad could have seen them there.”
“How much did you get for them?” Ronan couldn’t see anyone paying good money for a bunch of reused metal.
“He’s Angie’s son – I couldn’t charge him – besides I haven’t a clue what kind of price you could put on something like these.” She dismissed her body of work with a wave of her hand.
“I am back.” Rolf had his video camera in hand and metaphorically his director’s hat on. “Boys – I want you to help your mother carry these figures out into the garden. The outdoor light isn’t really good enough, but I will do what I can. Finn, please, you will dust the cobwebs off. We will use what light there is and have the boys show them off. I want film. I want to send this film to my brother Dolph. He will love them, I know.”
“Have you seen the fairy in the apple tree?” Oisín stopped what he was doing for a moment to mention one of his favourite little figures. The branch had broken in a fascinating shape and his mum had made metal wings to create a tree fairy.
“I do not have the equipment I need here,” Rolf fretted. “I am not capturing the essence of my sweetling’s work. I need Klieg lights. I have what I need in Bray.” He moved around the figures, trying to capture an image from different angles. “I have Klieg lights I rented from Ardmore Studios. Maybe I should talk to my brother’s friend at the RTÉ film studios.” He muttered in German, lost to his audience. “I must call him. I want to light the workshop and show off everything.”
Finn sidled over to join Emmet who was standing off to one side. “Da, what’s he doing?”
“Leave him to it, daughter.” Emmet was delighted that Rolf wanted to show Finn’s work to a wider audience. “What did you call these little sculptures?”
“Honest to God, Da, they’re not sculptures – they can’t be called that. I call them ‘nutjobs’ because I use so many bolt nuts.”
“She calls them nutjobs, Rolf.”
“Ja, ja!” Rolf was directing Ronan in the best way to present the figure he held in his hands, berating him in rapid German for his lack of enthusiasm.
“So, Mum,” Oisín walked over to join them, “about turning my p
eekaboos into belt buckles – can you do it?” He was going to ask his Uncle Rolf to allow him to use the photographs. He’d pin them up on the notice boards that were becoming popular with computer nerds – he’d seen similar items pinned under Steampunk Art. His mum had been ahead of the crowd with her art.
“I can try but do you really want to have those little gargoyle figures on your belt?” She had made the figures with gargoyles in mind. The two little boys had loved them.
“Please!” Oisín wanted to share his mother’s talent with his fans. “And armbands as well.” He pointed to his biceps. “Something that will go around the top of my arm and stand out against my skin,” He had the milk-white skin of the redhead – very popular in vampire stories.
“Leave me one of your belts and I’ll see what I can do,” Finn would enjoy the challenge of turning her nutjobs into other forms. She mentally ran through a list of items she’d need to create the armbands Oisín wanted.
“Finn,” Rolf walked over to join them, “I want to take some of your figures out to Bray with me. I will place them around the houses. I must spend more time in your workshop too please. I need time and more equipment to light the wonderful nutjobs. I will want to try different ways of presenting them. This is good?”
“Fine with me, Da-ma.” Finn didn’t care what they did out here. As long as they didn’t interfere when she was making something, they could do what they liked.
“I have people waiting for me in Bray.” Rolf, the camera back in its case and slung over his shoulder, was almost bouncing on his toes. He did love to be busy. “I would rather stay,” he looked towards the workshop with regret, “but I have not time now – I must not be late to Bray – I will plan the best way to do this.” He clapped his hands, ordering Ronan and Oisín to load up the figures he pointed to.
Her Revolution Page 19
