‘Oh my God,’ Danielle said, ‘that sounds amazing. When do you go?’
‘After Mum’s big party,’ Zara said, smiling at Maia.
‘You must have worked hard to secure your university place,’ Rachel said.
Zara nodded. ‘Yeah, the Leaving Cert was really tough, but I knew what I wanted to do and how many points I needed, so I just focused on it and kept at it.’
Rachel nodded, and her eyes drifted over to Danielle. ‘It’s good to have focus,’ she said softly. ‘Just keep your eyes on the prize, girl.’
‘Okay,’ Maia said quickly, feeling it could degenerate into an argument if Rachel kept talking. Danielle was looking uncomfortable, and it was obvious Rachel’s regrets about the pregnancy hadn’t dissolved in any way. ‘Right, you two. I’ll help you cart all this across the road.’
‘Thanks so much, Zara,’ Danielle said, giving her a hug.
‘Pictures,’ Zara said. ‘Lots of them. Don’t forget.’
‘I won’t,’ Danielle said. ‘You’ve earned them.’
They headed downstairs and towards the front door.
‘You’re okay, Maia,’ Danielle said. ‘We can manage them. You’ve done enough.’
‘If you’re sure,’ Maia said. ‘And by the way, it’s all go on the Nancy front. I’m waiting for a call, but I think we’re going to get someone from the local paper down to cover the story, which is a good start.’
‘That’s great,’ Danielle said. ‘I’m still researching options, but it’s not looking good in terms of legal appeal, I’m afraid.’
‘Well, we can focus on getting the story out, then,’ Maia said. ‘I’m going to suggest a meeting to review progress and make more plans, so you’ll come to that, won’t you?’
‘Absolutely,’ Danielle said, nodding. ‘Just tell me when, and where.’
‘I’ll be in touch,’ Maia said.
She saw them out, then went back to the kitchen to make a Nespresso. She smiled to herself thinking about Danielle. She had seemed so reticent about getting to know them all, and now here she was, in the thick of the campaign to save Nancy’s house. Kingfisher Road had a funny way of drawing people in, she thought, and she reckoned it was happening again.
Chapter 16
NANCY’S PHONE BEEPED. A TEXT FROM STEVE. NO problem that you have to cancel. I understand. Meeting is important. What time it at?
Nancy sighed. She appreciated his support, but she wanted to focus on the meeting with the council and not on a ping-pong game of texts. People these days seemed to think nothing of constant interruptions, but she felt like each one was an intrusion on her train of thought. She actually preferred the world thirty years ago, when she could be uncontactable, and even get lost from time to time. Things had felt more open and adventurous back then. All this constant monitoring and checking was irritating.
Eleven, she texted back.
She returned to her vanity table, using her well chosen makeup pieces to create a soft, happy-in-my-own-skin look. She didn’t want to try to look younger because she felt looking her age might benefit her in the meeting. She wanted them to see that she was an older woman who should be left to live out her years in her own home.
She hadn’t told the others about today’s meeting. She knew Maia would kill her when she found out she’d gone to it alone, but she felt she had to face it by herself. If she brought Maia or Betsy, they would become emotional and angry, and then sparks might fly. She’d dealt with enough pen-pushers in her time to know that they didn’t take well to emotional displays, or anything that smacked of emotional blackmail. Instead, she’d called Sean Claffey, her solicitor, and asked him to accompany her, which he’d been only too happy to do. Between the two of them, they could present her case calmly and rationally. Hopefully, that would have the desired effect.
Each time she thought of losing the cottage, her insides caved in. She had to hold firm and believe that this could be overturned. She wasn’t much into mantras and vision boards and the like, but she had taken to repeating the words, I will not be leaving my home, over and over again when she woke up in the morning and before she fell asleep each night. What else could she do?
She took a last look at herself in the mirror and nodded. Ready as I’ll ever be, she thought.
‘Right, Nelly, you’re on guard while I’m gone,’ she said, as Nelly trotted along at her heels. ‘Your bowl is full, I’ve refreshed your water and I shouldn’t be too long. With a bit of luck, you and me will be staying put.’
Her phone beeped again. Goddamn it, she thought, picking it up. It was from Sean. Outside. Nancy rolled her eyes. Was that how gentlemen carried on these days? No wonder he was divorced. She took her coat and bag from the chair in the hallway, took a last look around, steadied herself and went outside, locking the door behind her.
‘Morning, Nancy,’ Sean said as she opened the door and sat inside the car. ‘You look very fetching, I have to say.’
‘Thank you,’ Nancy said. ‘I feel sick, but if the exterior looks right, that’s one battle won.’
‘Indeed,’ Sean said, pulling out of Kingfisher Road. ‘We’ll present a good case. I received a number of letters from the other residents, someone called Maia forwarded them to me.’ Nancy smiled. ‘They all support you vehemently, so perhaps they’ll hold some sway.’
‘I hope so,’ Nancy said. ‘I don’t have much else in the armoury.’
They arrived at the council offices at ten-fifty and made their way to the reception desk. The council offices were a lot nicer than Nancy had expected. In fact, she was instantly impressed until she remembered that she was here to fight with them, and that they shouldn’t be spending a pile of cash on having a place that would do Donald Trump on a flash day.
‘Mrs Smyth and Mr Claffey to see Mr Derek Small, please,’ Nancy said to the receptionist.
‘I’ll let him know you’re here,’ the young woman said. ‘Please take a seat.’
Nancy and Sean sat down on the plush banquette that ran along one wall.
‘No expense spared,’ Nancy said out of the corner of her mouth.
‘Makes my office look like a hovel,’ Sean replied. ‘I’m in the wrong business.’
‘Mrs Smyth?’ A man was walking towards them, hand extended. He could do with losing several stone in belly fat, tidying up his clothes, hair and dreadful straggly beard and polishing his shoes. A lifetime in retail had left Nancy with a very strong sense of how to make a good impression, and this man obviously hadn’t got the memo. She smiled inwardly to think of him going through life with the word ‘small’ attached to him.
He led them down a warren of corridors to a cramped, overly warm office. ‘Take a seat, please. Can I get you tea or coffee? A scone, biscuit or pastry to go with it?’
‘Is this the charm offensive?’ Sean said drily.
The man smiled. ‘Not at all. I offer the same to all my visitors.’
‘Thank you, but no, Mr Small,’ Nancy said. ‘I’m not here to socialise. I’m here to fight for my home. Have you ever been in this position yourself?’ She raised an eyebrow and paused so he could answer.
‘Please call me Derek and, no, Mrs Smyth, I haven’t.’
‘Good for you,’ she said. ‘Because it’s not a great feeling, let me tell you. I couldn’t swallow a scone right now. I’d probably choke on it and die right here on your herringbone carpet.’
‘I’m sure it’s not a nice feeling,’ he said carefully. ‘I didn’t mean to annoy you by offering a snack. We’ll just get to it.’
He looked uncomfortable, and Nancy could see a slight tremor in his hands. Excellent, she thought, I’ve got him on the back foot.
‘So I’ve brought you here today to give you some good news,’ he said, as he licked a finger and turned over some pages that lay on the desk in front of him.
Nancy and Sean exchanged a look.
‘You have?’ Nancy said, leaning forward.
‘Yes, I’m very happy to say that I can offer you a wo
nderful property in the new St Helen’s Garden complex, not far from Vayhill. There are only two properties remaining there and although there’s a long waiting list, we’d be prepared to give you first option on them. What do you say?’ He looked at her with a hopeful expression.
‘St Helen’s?’ Nancy said. ‘Isn’t that the new old folks’ home?’
‘Well, it’s not . . .’ began the man, but Sean cut across him.
‘Yes, it is, Nancy,’ he said.
Nancy felt a rush of anger. ‘I don’t want to live in an old fogey complex where nurses come and change your nappy and feed you blended carrots each day,’ she said crossly. ‘I’m not ready for that, and I can’t ever imagine a time when I will be. I’d rather get pizza delivered every day for the rest of my life and live in squalor than go there, so you can keep your two remaining units.’
‘I see,’ Derek said, as his forehead began to bead with sweat. He wiped it with the cuff of his jacket, making her recoil.
‘Didn’t your mother ever tell you not to wipe your nose or your head with your sleeve?’
‘Eh, not really,’ he said as he clearly tried to think back.
‘Well don’t do it,’ she snapped. ‘It’s rude and looks awful. So have you any more good news for me?’
He was looking at her in astonishment, no doubt thinking her a grumpy old cow, but Nancy didn’t care. Everything about him and this whole conversation annoyed her, and she was past hiding that fact.
‘Yes, yes, I do as a matter of fact,’ he said, rifling noisily through the pile of pages. ‘I have another property I think you might like . . .’
‘Excuse me,’ Sean said, ‘but is this an estate agent’s or the council offices? Can we not discuss the option of Nancy not being turfed out of her home?’
Derek put down the papers and looked at them. ‘I’m afraid it’s gone beyond that,’ he said. ‘I do realise that you’re angry and it’s a big thing to get a CPO, but the road-widening scheme is well advanced, the road crew are ready to roll, so we really need numbers five and six vacated asap.’
Nancy bit back another sharp comment. She couldn’t bear it when people said ‘asap’. It sounded so silly.
‘But work hasn’t commenced,’ Sean insisted, ‘so there is still a conversation to be had here. Are you the man who can make decisions, or do we need your superior sitting in on this meeting?’
Derek bristled at that. ‘I’m the exact person you need to talk to,’ he said, all hint of a smile vanished now. ‘Now, the council regrets the inconvenience this will cause to Mrs Smyth, but a CPO is a legally binding order, backed by the courts. I am perfectly within my rights to serve this order on Mrs Smyth and Kingfisher Cottage. We need Mrs Smyth to move out within the next six weeks. We are very willing to help find her alternative accommodation where she will be comfortable and happy. The Kingfisher Road houses fetch an excellent market price, so with all due respect, Mrs Smyth will most certainly be able to find a comparable property.’
‘But I don’t want or need any alternative accommodation,’ Nancy said, hating herself for sounding so desperate. ‘I’m not budging from my home on Kingfisher Road.’ She folded her arms. She was playing at being defiant, though inside, she was crumbling. She bit her lip, willing herself not to cry, not here in front of this little upstart with his legal chatter. In order to ward off her tears, she went full-on anger instead. ‘I said I’m not budging,’ she shouted, sounding like someone possessed. She was impressed with herself, she sounded so scary.
‘My client is deeply distressed at the thought of losing her home,’ Sean said in a placatory tone. ‘She wishes to see out her days in Kingfisher Cottage, which is exactly what would happen if the council didn’t interfere in her private business.’ He opened his briefcase. ‘I have a sheaf of letters here from local residents, all condemning the council’s action and requesting that the road-widening scheme be amended to take it further away from Kingfisher Road, not closer. The residents are up in arms at the idea of traffic noise coming closer.’
Derek held up his hands. ‘That’s as may be,’ he said. ‘But it doesn’t change the facts of the matter nor the decision taken by the council in league with the Road Authority. This widening scheme is necessary to make the Vayhill road safer for all users. I know you think we’re terrible people, but honestly, we don’t take these decisions lightly. The engineers have assured us that this is the very best solution, so we have to implement it. My hands are tied.’
Nancy wished she had accepted a scone, because she dearly wanted to pick it up now and biff him in the head with it. The thought of flinging a scone across the table and hitting him square between the eyes nearly made her start giggling. But then the enormity of the situation rolled over her again, and she could feel the tears threatening.
‘Oh, please don’t cry,’ the man said, looking distinctly uncomfortable. ‘We really will do right by you, get you a house just as fantastic, honestly.’
‘A house that contains all my memories?’ Nancy said coldly. ‘I lived with my husband in that house, he proposed to me in the garden, he died in the back bedroom, I waked him in the sitting room, I planted a tree for him down by the stream.’ She leaned forward. ‘Now tell me, how do you propose to find a house that can give me all that?’
The man gulped, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. He looked down at the desk, avoiding Nancy’s unblinking stare.
‘I’m so sorry,’ he mumbled. ‘But the CPO stands.’
‘Right,’ Sean said, gathering the letters, stuffing them into his briefcase and standing up. ‘I’m going to lodge an appeal at the High Court.’
‘We have an appeal mechanism here,’ Derek said quickly. ‘It’s much quicker and . . .’
‘No,’ Sean said sharply. ‘I will go above the council to the courts. You’ll hear from us in due course.’
He offered Nancy his arm and helped her up. She felt weak in the legs, but she managed to maintain a dignified composure.
‘Goodbye, Mr Small,’ Sean said, then he escorted Nancy from the room. He didn’t stop until they were outside, in the fresh air.
‘Are you okay, Nancy?’ he said, his face full of concern.
She nodded sadly. ‘Just a bit overwhelmed,’ she said quietly. ‘That didn’t exactly go well, did it?’
Sean shook his head. ‘No, it didn’t,’ he admitted. ‘But I will get straight on to the appeal. If nothing else, it should buy us a little time.’
‘Alright,’ Nancy said. ‘If you need me to sign . . .’
‘Nancy!’
She looked up in surprise at hearing her name being called. Coming towards them down the street was Steve, hurrying along. His right arm was held up in greeting.
‘Steve,’ Nancy said. ‘What are you doing here?’
‘I just wanted to be there for you when the meeting ended,’ he said. ‘I couldn’t stop thinking about you. How did it go?’
‘Excuse me,’ Sean said tactfully, ‘I’ll leave you two to your discussion, if you don’t mind. I have papers to file.’
‘Of course,’ Steve said. ‘Nice to meet you.’
God bless Sean’s tact, Nancy thought, he didn’t even ask who Steve was, although he must have been wondering.
‘I’ll be in touch, Nancy,’ he said. ‘I’ll update you as soon as I hear anything.’
‘Thank you so much, Sean,’ she said. ‘And thanks for coming with me today. You were a great support.’
He headed off, and Steve suggested a coffee at the café across the road. Nancy looked from the council offices to the café.
‘Would you mind if we went a bit further away?’ she said. ‘I’d hate to be sitting in there and have that horrible man come in. I don’t want to see him again until I absolutely have to.’
‘Of course, I should have thought of that,’ Steve said. ‘How about I drive you back to Vayhill and we can pop into The Bakehouse?’
‘That would be lovely, thank you,’ Nancy said.
He found a parking space
on the road outside The Bakehouse and they went inside. Nancy prayed none of her friends were about, because she didn’t want to have to explain Steve’s existence just yet. She would soon, but just not yet.
Steve brought over two coffees and a coffee slice with two forks. The sight of the cream turned Nancy’s stomach, but she took a smidgen of it, just to be polite.
‘So, how did it go?’ Steve asked. ‘Was it a tough meeting?’
‘Not well,’ Nancy said, sipping her coffee. ‘They won’t change their minds. They just kept saying how I have to move out.’
‘I’m so sorry, that’s just terrible,’ Steve said. ‘They’d make you feel powerless, wouldn’t they? You’ve paid your taxes and earned the right to keep your home. It’s outrageous.’
Nancy nodded. ‘My sentiments exactly, but try telling that to the council.’
‘Is there an appeal process?’ he asked.
‘Yes, Sean, he’s my solicitor, he’s going to pursue that angle. He’ll do everything he can, but CPOs are legal instruments, so I wouldn’t be expecting him to be successful.’
Steve shook his head. ‘I really feel for you, Nancy. I could see how much you loved your home just by how you kept it. If I can help in any way, money or helping with form filling, anything at all, just say the word.’
‘Thank you,’ Nancy said, feeling a bit embarrassed. ‘I really don’t want to impose on you, though. No one goes looking for their mother hoping they’ll find her in dire straits and needing help straight off the bat.’
Steve burst out laughing. ‘You have a way of saying things straight, Nancy.’
‘We’re all adults here, no need for me to beat around the bush.’
‘True,’ Steve said. ‘But if I can help, just let me know.’
‘I will. If you have a decent cardboard box, I’ll take it off your hands if it comes to it.’
‘Oh no, they won’t see you go homeless,’ he said. ‘I presume they’re offering you the market value so you can relocate?’
‘Yes, that’s how the CPO works. They do give you the money, but I don’t want to move.’
The Gift of Friends Page 19
