Her Revolution

by Gemma Jackson

“Did you know Emmet is here?” She wasn’t going to get into her father’s private business with her son.

  “Yeah.”

  “We’re going to a session. Your grandda is performing.”

  “Go, Granda!”

  Chapter 35

  “Honest to God, Da, me nerves are shot!” Finn was sitting at the kitchen table, watching Emmet make breakfast. She had to almost sit on her hands to stop herself interfering. “The man won’t be here till this afternoon. What am I supposed to do in the meantime? I can’t settle to anything.”

  “He’s human like the rest of us.” Emmet cracked eggs one-handed to make omelettes. “Show him your nutjobs – be polite – and hopefully take his money.” He looked at her downcast head, longing to box her ears. This visit could be the making of her. He bit his tongue. She’d had over twenty years of that prick Brennan telling her she was useless. He couldn’t expect her to shake off that conditioning overnight.

  “That can’t be him!” Finn jumped to her feet when the doorbell rang. She pulled her phone from her pocket and ordered the kitchen screen to show the outside camera. “I’m being invaded!” she wailed, running towards the door.

  Emmet checked the screen to see what was happening. He laughed aloud, watching Finn try to hold back the group that pushed her in front of them back into the house.

  “Should I crack more eggs, daughter?” he shouted.

  “I want you to crack heads!” Finn led the way into the kitchen. “You already know Angie and Maggie – meet Paul and Scott.”

  “Morning!” Emmet began to crack more eggs. “I’ve met the two lads at the pub sessions.”

  “Emmet,” Paul shook his head sadly, “we can’t let your daughter meet the big man looking like a bag lady.” He waved his hand in Finn’s direction. “Look at the state of her! Honest to God, anyone else would have been titivating for weeks but not your daughter.”

  “I was going to shower and change before he came.”

  “Your hair needs a trim and a good conditioning.” Scott grabbed the hair on Finn’s head in ungentle hands. “Honest to God, woman, would it kill you to come into the salon now and again? Thank God your own colour has grown in and you don’t need to dye it anymore.”

  “What’s the order of business, folks?” Emmet asked.

  “I’ll take care of her hair first,” Scott said.

  “Don’t dry it.” Paul pulled at Finn’s hair. “This needs a deep conditioning – you do that and I’ll moisturise her skin while the hair rests.”

  Finn allowed herself to be treated like a doll, told where to go – what to do – what to wear.

  “How come you lot could come here?” Finn sat at the kitchen island wearing her bathrobe, her hair with deep oil conditioner under a towel, her face and hands glistening with moisturiser.

  “We had no appointments booked.” Scott leaned back to allow Emmet to put a ham-and-cheese omelette on the kitchen island in front of him. “We put a sign on the door. If we miss walk-ins – well, they can just come back.” He picked up his fork.

  “I knew you would need my help with your make-up.” Paul waited for his food to be served.

  “I came to check what you plan to wear.” Maggie was already eating her omelette.

  “I’m just nosey,” Angie said.

  “I hope that man Atkinson is not with him,” Finn said.

  “Relax.” Emmet was nervous enough for both of them. He stared across the length of the high iron gates at his daughter. Her friends had done a wonderful job of presenting her.

  “If any of those reporters are hanging around, they’re going to know something is going on.” Finn eased the cramps in her hands. “The pair of us standing here ready to pull open these gates is a dead giveaway.”

  “Well, the driver was good enough to call and tell us they were almost here.” Looking through the openings in the design of the gates he saw a luxury car turn slowly into the street. “Heads up – here he comes!”

  The pair jumped to unlock and open the double gates – pulling them back to allow the car to pass through. Then they shut and locked the gates as soon as the car had cleared them.

  “I’ll take the driver in for a cup of something.” Emmet walked over to the car to be introduced. No need to be rude. He’d have done the same for anyone.

  “Blue balls!” The famous man examined the figure standing under one of the glass panels in the workshop roof. “I want that one.”

  “I’m experimenting with colour.” Finn was enjoying his company. He was not a bit stuck up – nothing like that man Atkinson. “You admired Dare’s figure and when I found this old kettle I thought I’d try something different.” She pointed to the spout of the kettle. “The spout on this is significantly smaller.”

  “So it is, but you can almost feel the cold coming off him. I live in California – on hot days, looking at this poor guy will cool me down.”

  Finn tried not to point out what she saw as defects in the figure. She’d used another exhaust system and had the figure bent with its arms across its chest. She’d achieved the effect she wanted – you could almost see the figure shiver.

  “Fair enough – this one.” She turned to walk out of her workshop.

  “Whoa, lady! I’m not finished.” Tim put his hand on her shoulder to hold her in place. “You sure don’t try and force sales. I’ve come all this way to see your work. I’m not about to walk away without seeing everything.”

  Finn hoped the smile on her face didn’t look as sickly as it felt. She accompanied him around her workshop, answering his questions.

  “I want this one.” He took the small figure of a boy from high on the shelves. “I had ears like this poor guy before they pinned them back.”

  “That’s one of the first I ever made.” Finn took the figure from his hands. She had ignored the top shelves because she considered the items of interest to no one but herself. The figures were experiments to her mind, not finished items – but who was she to argue with the great man! She’d used the half-moon handles of a pot to make the ears that stood well away from the figure’s head.

  “I want this one.”

  Finn was beginning to panic. How much was she supposed to charge? She’d thought he’d buy one large figure and she’d agreed a price for those with Dare. This man was like a child. He wanted everything he looked at.

  “You’re not going to faint on me, are you?” Tim was standing at her side and she’d never noticed him move.

  “I’m sorry.” Finn smiled at him. “It has nothing to do with you. I hate parting with my nutjobs.” She could hardly tell him she thought he was crazy for wanting to pay good money for scrap metal.

  “I love that name – nutjobs.” He flashed his famous teeth. “I’m buying your stuff because I love it but,” he looked away for a moment, “I’m also buying it as an investment. I believe your work will increase in value – so does Dare – I have a famous face and body but I’ll get old like everyone else. I don’t want to end up with my mouth pulled back to my ears trying to stay young. So, while I have the money, I’m investing, but only in things that please me. No point in being surrounded by things you find ugly, is there? Hey, is that a turf fire?”

  Her da had called that one right – and he’d insisted she have turf on the fire for this visit. She looked at this man wearing jeans and a sweater. He made her think of her sons but she knew for a fact that he was older than her.

  A delighted smile lit up his face. “May I put some turf on the fire?”

  “Don’t burn yourself!” She hurried over to join him. She stood back and instructed him.

  “Thanks.” He stood watching the soft brown lumps of turf ignite. He looked at his hands and grimaced. “Anywhere I can wash up?”

  She pointed to her little sink, almost laughing at the clean white towel hanging on a hook. She’d never seen it before – Angie’s touch, she supposed.

  He washed his hands, looking over his shoulder at her. “I want to make sure I haven’t missed
anything.”

  She didn’t see how he could have. He’d poked his nose into every corner of her workshop. The items he wanted to buy were standing in a group to the side of the doors. She watched him add another two figures to the group.

  “I’ll have Atkinson call you about payment and delivery.” He picked up the big-eared boy. “This one I’m taking with me.” He laughed. “It will keep me humble. I’ve had a great time.”

  “My da’s making Irish coffee – would you like some?” She led the way. “In spite of the fire it’s cold out here.” She’d noticed him shiver. He wasn’t wearing enough clothes for this weather.

  “Is that different from American coffee?”

  “It has whiskey in it.” She opened the door to the mudroom, pointing out the facilities. She left him to it, stepping from the mudroom into the kitchen.

  “Irish coffee, daughter.” Emmet was dying to ask her how it went but was very aware of the driver sitting drinking coffee at the kitchen island.

  “I’d love some, Da. It’s brass-monkey weather out there.” She blew on her hands.

  “I was showing Mick here your train.” Emmet had the glasses, coffee, cream, sugar and whiskey ready. “The man is a volunteer on a steam railway.”

  “I love those.” Finn smiled at the man. “I’ve been on several. It was a great day out when the boys were young. Have you seen the steam train sets that some shops are putting in?”

  “What am I missing?” Tim Liner stepped into the kitchen. He looked around taking everything in – he couldn’t be too careful – hidden cameras could be anywhere. This woman had told Atkinson about her security cameras and promised to shut down the system while he was here. “Is that the Irish coffee?”

  “Would you like one?” Emmet asked. “It has alcohol if that’s a problem.” You couldn’t be too careful.

  “Not a problem.” He watched the glass being filled. He didn’t take much cream but he was willing to try new things. “What were you talking about – if you don’t mind me asking?”

  “Mike here volunteers on a steam railway. I was showing him my daughter’s set-up.” Emmet nodded towards the driver while carefully adding the cream to the whiskey-laced coffee. The cream swirled and floated beautifully on top. The train had been a way to pass the time. He’d had no idea how long this visit would last and he’d had to talk to the man about something.

  “It’s a little corker.” Mike thought he should say something.

  “Show the man, Finn,” Emmet prompted.

  “Oh, I’m sure ...”

  “I’d love to see it,” said Tim.

  Finn opened what she thought of as her train cupboard, conscious of Tim coming to look over her shoulder. He began to pepper her with questions. He wanted to know all about it. She set the controls and, with glasses in hand, they went out of the kitchen and into the hallway where they stood watching the little train run around the house. When it had completed a full circle they returned to the kitchen and she shut the system down.

  “I’d love one of those trains.” Tim sipped his drink, enjoying time spent in company that didn’t appear to be in awe of him. “How would you like to come to California? You could pick the spots for your nutjobs and set up one of those trains for me?” He waited for her to jump at the offer. He didn’t invite many people to his home. “Course, I’d like it bigger.”

  “I was just starting to tell Mike about a company that puts train systems into shops,” Finn said. “They are fabulous but far more expensive than anything I can afford. I’ll look up the name and pass it on to your man Atkinson if you’re really serious, Tim.” She ignored his comment about visiting his home, sure he was joking.

  “You do that.” He hid his small smile behind the glass. She was a strange woman. He’d expected her to fawn all over him. He was giving her the kind of boost to her career that most artists could only dream of – he’d come to her, for goodness’ sake – then she refused an invitation to his home. He liked it.

  Chapter 36

  “I have got to take control of my life.” Finn was beating an empty bean can into the shape of a dog’s head. “It’s been nine months since my birthday. You can have a baby in that time. What have I done?” She gave the metal a particularly vicious bang. “I’ve been inching along – coasting – hoping everything will turn out right – allowing life to happen to me. It’s not good enough. I need to do more. I’m still waiting to hear about my legal separation.” A hefty bang accompanied the words. “My sons are running around the place naked for public consumption.” The long snout of a dachshund began to appear in the metal. She’d already made tiny paws and a tail for one of the car suspension springs she had on hand. “I’ve met a man who wants to be my brother and his son.” The two German men had been a delight to meet and get to know – but still. She was glad to have met them but equally glad they had returned to Germany. “I have an almost ex-husband pontificating about his troubles to the world. I have reporters following me about. I never asked for any of this. I’ve two sons I only see if I care to watch them on screen. I have movie stars talking about me in interviews.”

  She’d almost swallowed her tongue when her name was mentioned on TV. The darn man had carried the little jug-eared figure onto the set with him – shouldn’t she have been consulted about that?

  “I’m afraid to answer my own phone. The world and its mother seem to want one of my nutjobs. Then I have one da running around the place like a swinging single and the other one is missing.”

  She stepped away from the work bench. She’d destroy her work if she didn’t calm down.

  “All of that is outside my control.”

  She put the hammer she’d been using carefully on to the bench – she wanted to fling it at something. She was almost panting, she was so frustrated with herself. “I can’t keep reacting to what other people do – it’s me time – I have got to take control.”

  She stepped out of her workshop into the first blush of dawn.

  Thank heaven she had no near neighbours next to her workshop or she’d have them complaining about the noise she made. You couldn’t hear her noise over the road that ran outside the curtain wall and the public walkway that surrounded her place. She’d been unable to sleep, her mind running in never-ending circles. She’d come out to her workshop to try and quiet her mind.

  She stood listening to the dawn chorus – birds greeted the rising sun in frantic song.

  “I need a pot of tea and a pad and pencil. I’ll write my worries down and see if I can drag myself out of the mire.”

  “I need to divorce the house.” Sitting in a soft chair in her lounge, she stared down at the long list she’d made. “I’m buried under household chores. I have to get myself away from here or I’m always going to be jumping to complete the maintenance and care of this place.” She fought the urge to nestle down and sleep – escape her own thoughts. “I really have been married to a house.”

  The bouncing of her phone on a nearby coffee table made her jump. She rolled out of the chair and made a mad dash to answer it. It must be a problem at this hour of the morning.

  “Emmet, Da, wake up!” Finn kicked the bedroom door. She was carrying a piping hot mug of tea to her father.

  “For the love of God, daughter, if this house isn’t on fire,” Emmet pushed his grey head out from under the bedcovers, “I’m going to kill you.”

  “Have some tea.” Finn put the mug close to the bed before turning to pull the curtains open, wide.

  “How did I ever end up with a kid who gets out of bed before the bloody lark?”

  “Da, come on, wake up!” Finn came and shook Emmet’s shoulders. “We’re being invaded.”

  “Huh?”

  “I had a phone call from some assistant to an assistant. Oisín and a film crew will be here this morning.”

  “Huh?”

  “Da, will yeh for God’s sake wake up! We’re about to be invaded!”

  “Finn, go away – I’ll be out in a while.” He
sipped at the tea, his eyes still half closed. “I promise I’ll be awake enough to listen to you then but for now, go away!” The last was said with a muted roar.

  Finn hurried from the room, satisfied that she’d got her da moving.

  “Angie, morning, it’s Finn!” She needed help. “I need someone to make beds and tidy up. I’m being invaded by hordes of people from Germany. Today. I have at least six beds that need to be made up and rooms to be freshened.”

  “Maggie needs the money.” Angie was awake and at her desk. She had crews out. “I’ll send her and Joan Porter over to you. If it looks like an all-day job for two – get back to me.”

  “You’re a star, Angie, thanks.”

  They hung up, each knowing what needed to be done.

  “By God, daughter, does everyone you know get up before the sun?” Emmet entered the kitchen, wearing grey sweatpants. “I hope there’s more of that tea, then you’re going to sit down and tell me exactly what’s going on.”

  “I got a phone call. It seems half of Germany is on its way here.”

  “Here?” Emmet pointed at the floor.

  “Oisín left Germany ten days ago but forgot to tell me. He is being followed by a film crew. They’re all about to descend on Ireland today. They’re recording the trip apparently, some kind of exchange with the tourism board or television station. They’re all going to stop here.”

  “Jayzeus.”

  “My sentiments exactly.” Finn stood to put the kettle on again. There wasn’t enough tea in Ireland to make her able to face this day. “And that’s not all.”

  “No? What else?”

  “That fella Dolph is flying Ingrid, along with Rolf and Ronan, over to join in the fun.” In over forty years Ingrid, to her knowledge, never made any attempt to contact her. Now suddenly she was coming to Ireland in person. “They’ll be here today.”