“Thank God – I’m starving.” Angie stood.
“I always love a meal I don’t have to prepare.” Maggie didn’t care what she ate. It was nice to be out of the house and in adult company. Her ma was babysitting this evening – there was football on the telly – her ma had been glad to get away from that.
Chapter 32
Finn stood in line at the bank, trying not to catch the eye of anyone in the queue. She was going to deposit Dare Lawrence’s cheque – not the first one either. She couldn’t believe how much money he was paying her for her nutjobs. The number of zeros on this cheque had made her dizzy.
Patrick was still bemoaning his lot every weekday on his radio programme. He’d had the cheek to give out her address live on air. She’d been forced to call the police to move women along who stopped to scream abuse at her from the street. He told everyone who would listen of his heartbreak at being kicked out of the ‘family’ home. It was almost the end of February – why couldn’t he just let it go! The listening public seemed to be completely on his side.
She clutched her deposit slip tightly, fighting the urge to dance in the aisle. That would give the old biddies something to talk about!
Dare had made the first payment by bank transfer but at her request he now sent bank cheques. When Finn had seen the bank charges on that credit transfer she’d screamed. It had cost her hundreds of pounds as the money seemed to travel around the world and each bank took a slice of the total amount. They should be wearing a mask and carrying a gun – highway robbery.
***
Finn stood back to examine the row of microwave and freezer-safe plates on the kitchen island. She’d discovered she didn’t like cooking for one. She stuck her tongue between her teeth and continued to pipe creamed potatoes around the rims of the plates. She’d decided to experiment with preparing and freezing meals for one. She was so tired of eating sandwiches and, when she did cook a meal, she had the darn thing for days. Maggie told her she was spoiled but she liked her meals to look and taste a certain way – if that was spoiled, well, she’d put up her hand. She carefully arranged the delicious-looking segments of Dijon rabbit in the middle of the plates over the colourful vegetables.
“I can have a delicious meal now and pull an individual meal out of the freezer when I want. Win-win no matter which way you look at it.”
Before she could sit to her lonely meal the phone rang. She jumped to answer. She’d heard so little from her sons. They seemed to think a quick message telling her they were having a great time was enough information for her. She wanted details, darn it.
“Dare! How lovely to hear from you. I was just at the bank depositing your cheque. I’m still having a hard time believing you are willing to pay so much hard cash for my nutjobs. But don’t stop.” She slammed her mouth shut. She was gushing – how embarrassing.
“I’m glad to hear the cheque arrived safely. Christmas and the New Year caused me nothing but headaches as far as the mail is concerned. I had a lot of gifts to mail off.” He had asked an art appraiser to give him a figure for the things he’d bought from Finn. He hoped she was pleased with the result. The price wasn’t as high as it would be if she were a household name but it wasn’t shabby either.
“It’s called the post here, Yank,” she said with a laugh.
“It seems I’ll have to relearn the language when I’m finally able to return home to live.”
“Still having problems making your children understand your desire to return home?” She’d heard a lot from Dare over the last few months.
“Yeah …” His sigh travelled over the line. “But that’s not the reason I called.” He didn’t want to talk about his problems again. Finn was too good a listener. He’d telephoned over the Christmas holiday, thinking she’d be alone and lonely. Not so – she’d been so positive he’d been ashamed of his own depressed state. She became a good long-distance friend over the last few difficult months.
“Have you seen the articles about Tim Liner the movie star who wants to buy your work?” He had his fingers crossed. He wasn’t sure how she’d react.
“My sons brought it to my attention.” She laughed with genuine pleasure at the absurdity. “Rubbish.”
“I’m afraid it’s not.” A deep sigh came over the line. “It’s all my fault.” He didn’t know why he was apologising – any artist would be thrilled with the recognition – but not Finn – not yet anyway. “His current wife is a friend of mine. I gave her one of your nutjobs as a thank-you for all of her support of me and my kids.”
The world-famous actor had offered him a mouth-watering sum for the large male figure he’d bought for his own enjoyment. He’d refused and the man continued to up the amount, unable to believe he couldn’t buy what he wanted. Dare had no intention of selling the figure. He was in the fortunate position of not needing the money. Who knew a lad from a Dublin Corporation housing estate would ever be able to say that, let alone think it?
“You mean he really liked my tinkering?”
“Will you for God’s sake stop calling it that, woman!” Dare bit out between clenched teeth. “It is art – art – can you try and remember that, you stubborn redhead!”
“But ... it’s just ...”
“Art!” he shouted, not allowing her to denigrate her own talent in his hearing.
“Whatever.” She couldn’t be bothered arguing – every eye formed its own beauty.
“Listen,” he said. “I have something to tell you – I –”
“Hold on a minute – there’s someone at the gate.” She switched views on the screen and saw Angie and Maggie standing outside. What on earth were they doing here? “I have to let your mother in – hold on.”
She ran through and out of the house.
“Come in quick!” She pulled the door in the curtain wall open. “Lock the door at your backs! I have Dare hanging on in the kitchen.” She ran back into the house.
“Sounds kinky.” Maggie nudged Angie with her elbow.
“Hush up, you!” Angie pushed home the bolts on the door. “God, gates and bolts – I couldn’t be doing with this malarkey every time someone wants to drop by for a cup of tea.”
“She’s lucky she has a big wall and locked gates around her house now,” Maggie said. “That Patrick Brennan has a lot to answer for – imagine giving out his wife’s details to the public. She should sue him. Although the women who have turned up here shouting abuse need their ears boxed. Where is the female support, I ask you?”
The two women followed Finn in, Maggie pulling a shopping trolley behind her. They paused to hang their coats on the coat stand in the hallway.
“Morning, Mother!” Dare shouted at Angie. Finn had told him she’d put him on speakerphone.
“It’s afternoon here, son.”
“It’s an ungodly hour of the morning here,” Dare responded. “Look, Mother, you know what I want you to do?”
“Yes, but I haven’t had a chance to talk to Finn about it yet. I’m doing nothing without her permission.”
“You can do that later.” He pushed a hand down his tired face. “I have to get some sleep. Finn, I’m sorry – I wanted to talk to you before my mother arrived. I’m afraid I weakened and gave your telephone number to Tim Liner, the actor. He goes to the studio at an ungodly hour and is planning to get in touch with you on the way there this morning. You have about four hours before he gets in touch. Sorry. My mother can explain.” Dare shut down his side of the connection – he’d opened the lines of communication. It was up to them now. He was tired and going to bed – no doubt he’d hear all about it when he woke up.
“I’m staying.” Maggie pulled forward her polka-dot shopping trolley. Gone were the days when she travelled at the wheel of a Mercedes, feeling like queen of the road. “The kids are at school.” She started pulling items from the trolley. “I’ll get my parents to pick them up if yer man runs late.”
“Would someone please explain to me what is going on?” Finn began to put the
congealing food on her kitchen island into freezer bags. No use letting good food go to waste. This pair would tell her what had brought them to her door – eventually.
“Are you having a party, Finn?” Angie was looking at all the food.
“I’m going to freeze this lot.”
“I’ll give you a hand!” Angie knew her way around this kitchen. It took them no time at all to cover the plates and put them into the giant box freezer in the mudroom.
“You would not believe the fun I have had dyeing your old clothes.” Maggie was putting the items she’d pulled from her trolley, neatly folded, onto a section of the long kitchen work surface. “My kids have begun to think their mother is a witch.” She was nervous about presenting the clothing she’d prepared. She’d never charged for updating old clothes before. Would Finn like what she’d done?
“I’ll put the kettle on.” Angie pushed Finn into a chair.
The bell on the gate sounded. Finn looked to see who else was calling on her today. If it was more of Patrick’s crazed fans, she was calling the Garda.
“Name of God, what are Paul and Scott doing here?”
She sat and simply stared at the image of the two men on her kitchen computer screen.
“I’ll let them in.” Maggie ran out of the kitchen.
“Are you ever going to tell me what’s going on, Angie?” Finn asked.
“I am so excited!” Paul almost bounced into the kitchen. “I couldn’t sleep last night after you called me, Angie.” He clasped two hands to his chest. “Tim Liner. This is the ult!” He turned to beam at Finn. “I’m doing your make-up, sweetie.”
“I’m doing your hair.” Scott followed his partner into the kitchen.
“If someone doesn’t tell me what’s going on soon, I won’t be responsible for my actions!” Finn almost shouted over the excited babble of the others.
“Hang on a minute and I’ll tell yeh.” Angie began to bring mugs of tea over to the island.
A minute later they were settled down, sipping tea.
“Diarmuid called me last night,” Angie began. “He told me that actor fella is determined to buy some of your work. He’ll not take no for an answer. He has my poor Diarmuid motheaten, demanding he sell him one of the pieces my Diarmuid picked out for himself.”
Finn was looking bemused.
“Angie called me,” Maggie said. “I suggested she call Paul and Scott.”
“We were delighted to agree to attend to you personally,” Paul said soberly but spoiled it when he screamed “Tim Liner!” aloud and threw his arms in the air. “I can’t believe someone I know is going to talk to and meet the great man – God,” once more the hands were clutched to his chest, “I almost had a heart attack at the very thought.”
“Please!” Finn dropped her head onto the table.
“It’s like this.” Maggie took control. “That actor could be the making of you. If he buys one of your nutjobs, everyone in the world is going to want one.” She waited to see if Finn would say anything but when she remained mute continued with her explanation. “Dare let it drop that your man does nothing without sending in ‘his people’ to check out the situation. Your friends got together,” she waved a hand around the company, “and we decided you couldn’t talk to your man’s ‘people’ wearing your sons’ castoffs and without a touch of make-up. So, here we are. We are going to find your look – your fashionable artist look – and it will be great. All you will have to do is talk to the man.”
“It’s all about presentation, dear,” Paul said.
“Even if the man himself can’t see you,” Scott put in. “How you feel about yourself when you speak with him could be all important. We want to help.”
There was silence as everyone waited for her to react.
“Are yez all mad? I’m not going to talk to the man. I won’t accept his call.” She went to push back her chair.
“Oh yes, you will, if I have to tie you to the bloody chair myself.” Angie reached over and pushed Finn back into her seat.
It was madness. Finn was pushed, pulled and poked around. Her opinion wasn’t asked or needed. She was ordered to shower, wash and condition her hair and, with Scott and Maggie waiting outside her bathroom door, she obeyed.
Downstairs, Angie was reading the instructions her son had sent her aloud to Paul and the list of nutjobs he thought would appeal to the actor.
“I know where most of those should be,” Paul said. “We might have some trouble finding all of them. Emmet and Rolf have moved a lot of Finn’s stuff out to Bray.” He stopped to think for a moment. “If we don’t find the ones Dare asked for, I’ll select others. God knows Finn has twenty years of producing her little wonders stored in that shed out the back. Who knows what we’ll find when we root around?” He’d been wanting a chance to pull that shed apart for years.
“How do you know about them? I didn’t think Finn ever showed her work to anyone.” She’d thought Finn kept her tinkering secret.
“That’s how we met. She was having trouble with elbows and knees, she told me. I thought she was crazy until she explained. I’ve been giving her lessons in welding for some time.” He’d been forced to train as a welder in his youth. “We’ve been getting together for years and letting our hair down while we create. It’s been a lot of fun.” He’d never thought of turning his welding skills to anything like Finn’s artwork.
“Right.” Angie had run a cloth over the kitchen surfaces. “We’ll have to dust and polish the items we want. We can’t bring them into the kitchen covered in cobwebs.”
“Perish the thought,” said Paul.
“Come on,” said Angie. “Follow me. She’s given me the key.”
Paul followed her out.
They carried the little sculptures they found into the mudroom first. They were unable to find some that Dare had asked to be displayed. That didn’t bother them and Paul had a great time choosing his own favourites.
Finn came out of her bathroom in a towelling robe, a towel around her head.
“I’d better trim your hair in the bathroom.” Scott snapped his scissors. “You don’t want to spend weeks getting hair out of your bedroom carpet.”
“I want to show you what I’ve done.” Maggie had carried all of the items she’d taken from her trolley into the bedroom. She put everything on the bed.
“Follow along, Maggie.” Scott pushed Finn in front of him back into her bathroom. “You can talk while I snip.”
“OK.” Maggie grabbed an item and followed as ordered. “I dyed several pairs of your trousers black.” She held the trousers up so Finn could view it in the bathroom mirror. “I’ll need to check the fit but for the moment you can get away with wearing them – I hope.”
“Just move your eyes, sweetie, not your head!” Scott barked.
“You can never have enough black trousers,” said Maggie.
She left the bathroom and re-entered holding a sweater up.
“That’s a fabulous shade of green.” Scott leaned slightly towards the mirror. “Matches her eyes.”
“You would not believe the colours available in modern dyes.” Maggie had shopped like a fool. She’d picked up so many different colours – always with Finn in mind – and played around with hot and cold dyes. She’d loved every minute of it.
“Black and green are great together,” Scott was snipping at Finn’s hair and talking directly to Maggie, “but trousers and a sweater – kind of boring for an important outfit, don’t you think?”
“I have a special outfit in mind.” Maggie bit her lip. “I’ll show it to you both when her hair is finished.” She left the bathroom to display the outfit across the bedspread, glad no one could see her knees knocking.
“I’ll go help Paul.” Scott had cut and dried Finn’s hair into a flattering feathery cloud around her head. He stopped with his hand on the bedroom doorknob. “If you’ll take my advice, Maggie – I’d have Finn put on her underwear then have her close her eyes – put the outfit on before y
ou ask her opinion.” He’d seen the outfit spread over the bed. It was unusual but fabulous.
“Can we do that?” Maggie stood in the bathroom door, looking in at Finn with worried brown eyes.
“Why not?” Finn stared into her own green eyes, wondering how she had lost control of the situation. Lost control, she thought, staring at herself – did you ever have it?
She went out to the bedroom, put on her underwear and then stood, eyes closed, while Maggie dressed her and turned her around, presumably to face the full-length mirror.
“You can open your eyes now.”
Finn opened her eyes and stared at her image.
Maggie was standing behind her, holding her breath.
“I love it,” Finn said.
Maggie rushed into speech. “I noticed you seem to like to wear the boys’ sleeveless ski jackets. I made the sleeveless jacket out of two old-dear dresses you had.”
“With the weather we have and the work I do, sleeveless jackets are a blessing.” Finn was surprised to hear she had a style of dressing. She’d fallen into the habit of grabbing the most comfortable thing she could find to wear. She shrugged and began swinging around, watching the ankle-length jacket swirl around her body. She was wearing basic black slacks and a black V-neck sweater. The jacket was the main attraction. “How did you manage to find two shades of the same colour?” The jacket was panelled in shades of aubergine. It was stunning and turned a basic outfit into a work of art.
“I didn’t.” Maggie was almost collapsing in relief. “It’s the fabric – the dye turns out a different colour on different fabric – it’s a joy to work with.”
“Are you nearly ready?” Paul shouted up the stairs. He still had to do her make-up. He’d do it in the kitchen – the worktops and bright light made the place ideal for his needs – he couldn’t wait to get started. “I have to turn you into a vision of loveliness!”
“Would that involve surgery?” Finn walked to the top of the stairs. She was wearing black boots to complete the outfit. “I don’t know what all this fuss is about. It’s not like the bloody man is even going to see me.”
Her Revolution Page 23
