Red Letter Day

by Colette Caddle

  'I need to plant some more shrubs but I'll wait for a couple of weeks. There's still a bit of frost at this time of the year.'

  Celine sighed and stretched out her legs. 'I can't believe it's almost May.'

  'You'll miss your garden,' Frank remarked.

  'Yes, but there's a tiny little courtyard at the back of the shop and apparently it's a real sun trap. I can nip down the fire escape any time I want.'

  'That's nice.' Frank finished his roll and sat back to enjoy his beer.

  'How's Brenda?'

  He shot her a wary look. 'Why do you ask?'

  Celine shrugged. 'Just wondering if she's forgiven me yet.'

  'She has other things on her mind at the moment,' Frank murmured.

  Celine pushed her food away and leaned forward on the table. 'What do you mean, Daddy, what's wrong?'

  Frank sighed. 'I shouldn't really be telling you but to tell the truth I'm worried.'

  'For God's sake, Daddy, what? Is Brenda sick?'

  'No. Well, yes, I suppose she is. She's suffering from depression. The doctor has put her on antidepressants and she's going to see some kind of specialist next week.'

  'A psychiatrist?'

  'Yes, that's it. Oh, Celine, she's not the same woman at all.'

  'In what way?'

  'She cries all the time and she won't go out. The house is a mess and I don't think she's cooked in weeks.'

  Celine's eyes widened. Brenda had always been the perfect housewife, her house always smelling of either polish or freshly baked bread. 'What does Alan think?'

  'He's in England on some course or other.'

  'He must come home. She shouldn't be in the house on her own.'

  'I agree but Brenda won't tell him she's sick and she's sworn me to secrecy.'

  Celine banged her beer down on the table. 'But how could he go away and leave her when she's like this? What was he thinking of?'

  'To be fair, he left before she had her breakdown.'

  'Breakdown? Jesus, Daddy, why didn't you tell me?'

  'The way things were between you I don't think she'd have appreciated it.'

  'But she needs someone to look after her, Daddy. We can't just stand by and do nothing.'

  'I call in every day,' Frank protested. 'I bring her a few groceries, though, from the look of her, I'd say she doesn't eat any of it. And I stay to chat for a while.'

  'Does she chat?' Celine asked.

  He shook his head. 'No, I waffle on for half an hour and then she tells me she's tired and wants to have a nap.'

  'I'm going over there,' Celine announced.

  'I don't think—'

  'Daddy, I'm going over there right now and it would make it easier if you came with me.'

  Frank stood up slowly. 'Yes, okay then. Let me get changed.'

  Twenty minutes later, Frank drove them the short distance to Alan and Brenda's house. The first thing Celine noticed was litter in the garden and junk mail hanging out of the letterbox. She watched as her father went to pick up the offending rubbish and then rang the doorbell.

  'She doesn't always answer,' he warned, and rang the bell again.

  The door opened slowly and Brenda peeked out. She opened the door properly when she saw Frank but stopped when she caught sight of Celine.

  'Hello, Brenda.'

  Brenda shot Frank a venomous look.

  'I'm sorry, love, but I was worried about you. Celine wants to help.'

  Brenda turned her back on them and went into the living room. Celine and Frank exchanged glances and followed.

  'How are you, Brenda?' Celine asked. She was shocked by her sister-in-law's appearance. Normally neat and tidy, Brenda was wrapped in a stained housecoat and her hair was dirty. But it was her gaunt, pale face and haunted eyes that really frightened Celine.

  'Fine.' Brenda sat down, her expression blank.

  Celine dropped to her knees and took Brenda's hand. 'Oh, Bren, what is it, what's wrong?'

  Her sister-in-law refused to look at her. 'Go away.'

  Celine shook her head. 'No chance. It doesn't matter what you do or say, Brenda, I'm not leaving. So you may as well talk to me.'

  Brenda looked at her for the first time, her expression bleak. 'Oh, Celine.'

  'I'm here, Brenda. I'll take care of you.'

  Brenda fell into her arms and started to cry like a child. 'He's gone, Celine, he's gone.'

  'Alan will be back, love,' Frank patted her shoulder. 'He'll be back as soon as the course is over.'

  'Not Alan,' Brenda sobbed.

  Celine sat back on her heels and looked into Brenda's eyes. 'Dermot?' she asked softly.

  Brenda nodded. 'I miss him so much.'

  Celine felt tears prick the back of her eyes. 'I do too.'

  Chapter 20

  By the time Celine got back to the flat it was almost seven. There was no time for a shower so she splashed some water on her tear-stained face and pulled on black jeans and a pink silk top. Having let her hair dry naturally this morning it was now like a wild bush around her face so she slicked it back with gel. A quick slash of pink lipstick and a spray of perfume and she decided she'd have to do. She put on earrings and a bracelet as she went in search of her boots and then, grabbing a bottle of wine and her jacket, she ran out the door and down the stairs. As she hurried up the road she thought about the emotional afternoon she'd spent with her sister-in-law. When they'd both started to cry, Frank had withdrawn and left them to it. In the time-honoured tradition, he had made a large pot of tea, found himself an ancient newspaper and retreated to the garden.

  Celine kept her head down now as she hurried past the garage — she couldn't cope with Mary Boyle tonight — and turned into the gravelled driveway of the modern apartment block. When she pressed the buzzer for the top floor she heard Richard telling her to come up. Inside the silent, luxurious reception area, she crossed the deep pile carpet to the lift and stepped inside. When the door opened on the top floor she found herself in a cosy little hallway with just one door.

  Richard opened it immediately. 'You're late.'

  'Sorry,' Celine said, breathless after all the rushing. 'I got delayed.' She was glad she hadn't had time to dither over her wardrobe as he was wearing his customary faded blue jeans and a black shirt.

  Richard steered her across the living room to a comfortable sofa. 'Relax, I'll get you a drink. Is champagne okay?'

  Celine raised an eyebrow. 'Are we celebrating something?'

  He grinned. 'Of course.' As he disappeared around the corner into what Celine presumed was the kitchen, she looked around her. The large room was decorated in pale, neutral colours and a number of lamps of various shapes and sizes were dotted around, but it was the view that Celine couldn't believe. Hopefield was spread out below and in the distance the sun was disappearing fast behind the Dublin Mountains.

  'It's amazing,' she murmured as Richard reappeared at her side with two glasses.

  'Now you see why I told you not to be late. Five more minutes and you'd have missed it.' They watched until the last sliver of light was gone and then Richard took a remote control and turned up the lights.

  'Very nice,' Celine murmured and moved around the room to study the numerous paintings on the wall.

  'Are you an art lover?' Richard asked.

  'Oh, yes. I was in Merrion Square today looking for something for my sitting room.'

  'Any luck?'

  She shook her head. 'No, but then I'd already seen something that was perfect. Did you see the paintings that Tracy had up in the café?'

  'Er, yes.'

  'I don't suppose you know who the artist is.'

  'I do actually.'

  'Fantastic! There was one just beside the door—'

  Richard took her hand and led her down a corridor.

  'Where are we going?' she asked. Surely it was manners to feed her before trying to get her into bed?

  Richard paused in front of a door and nodded for her to go in.

  Celine opened i
t and Richard flicked a switch, flooding the large room with brilliant light. The room was lined with built-in cupboards that were littered with paints and brushes, an easel stood near the window and canvases were stacked in one corner. As well as a floor to ceiling window that took up most of one wall, there were two skylights in the wood-panelled ceiling. 'I had no idea,' Celine breathed. And then she gasped when she turned around and saw the painting that she'd coveted in the café. 'Did you do this?'

  Richard looked almost shy. 'Yeah.'

  'It's fantastic. I didn't know you were an artist.'

  He shrugged. 'It's just a hobby.'

  Celine shook her head as she moved over to the stack of canvases. 'May I?'

  'Sure.'

  Celine flicked through the paintings, pausing now and then to have a closer look. Most of them were landscapes or seascapes and there were a couple of portraits. 'That's Rose!' She pulled out the small canvas and smiled. 'It's excellent. Did she pose for you?'

  Richard grinned. 'Not consciously.'

  Celine put it down. 'When you dragged me in here I really didn't expect you to show me your etchings!'

  Richard laughed. 'I never bring anyone in here.'

  Celine smiled. 'Then I'm honoured.'

  The buzzer sounded and Richard excused himself.

  Celine froze. God, had she got it wrong? Maybe this wasn't going to be a cosy dinner for two after all.

  'Celine, dinner!'

  'Coming,' she called and went back out to the living room.

  'We're eating in the kitchen, I hope you don't mind.'

  Celine followed his voice and smiled when she saw the table by the window set for two. 'Mind? With a view like that?' Looking out on the small town bathed in twilight, Celine thought that just living here would be an inspiration to paint.

  'Then I'll just apologise for the food,' Richard said as he carried several containers to the table. 'I lost track of time today and didn't get to cook,' he explained. 'But our local Indian restaurant delivers.'

  Celine laughed. 'Smells wonderful.'

  'It does, doesn't it? Now, more champagne or would you prefer something else?'

  Celine shook her head. 'Champagne and Indian food, sounds like the perfect combination.'

  'And you are the perfect guest,' he told her as he removed the lids. 'I didn't know what you liked so I just got a bit of everything.'

  Celine laughed. 'It's just as well I never got to finish lunch.'

  'Why was that?'

  Celine sobered at the question. 'Oh, nothing, just a family crisis.'

  'Are there many in your family?'

  'Just me and my dad,' Celine explained. 'But I have a sister-in-law, Brenda.'

  'Are you close?'

  Celine thought about the way she and Brenda had clung to one another that afternoon. 'We weren't but I think that's changed. Have you any family?'

  Richard shook his head. 'My parents were killed in a car crash when I was five. My father's brother raised me. He died last year.'

  Celine nodded. 'Ronan Lawrence? Yes, I remember reading about it. Were you close?'

  He smiled. 'Very. From the moment he took me in, I went everywhere with him. He even got a hard hat specially made for me so that I could visit all of the building sites.'

  'He wanted you to follow him into the business then?'

  Richard shrugged. 'It was taken for granted. It was the family business.'

  'What about your painting? Surely you must have wanted to pursue a career in art?'

  Richard's smile was sad. 'I thought about it,' he admitted, 'but Ronan had a stroke when I was eighteen and I had to join the business a lot earlier than we'd expected.'

  'That must have been hard.'

  'Not really. Ronan was alive and that's all that mattered.'

  'Did he know you were interested in painting?'

  'Oh, yes, he encouraged it. He thought I should study architecture at college and put my talent to good use. It would never have occurred to him that I might just study art.'

  'Do you resent that?'

  He looked shocked. 'Of course not! If I'd explained the situation to him he would have supported me one hundred per cent, he was that kind of guy.'

  Celine considered this and thought that Richard must be a very special man to act so unselfishly. 'So, if it's just a hobby, how come your paintings were hanging in Café Napoli?'

  'That was Bob's idea and it was a one-off.'

  'But that's such a shame,' she protested. 'There were plenty of paintings in Merrion Square today that weren't nearly as good.'

  'Well, thanks for the compliment but I'm not interested.'

  'But it's such a waste,' she persisted.

  'That's good coming from you,' he retorted. 'Weren't you once the most promising young designer in Ireland?'

  Celine put down her fork. 'Who told you that?'

  'Rose, of course. She couldn't believe her luck when you walked into her shop.'

  Celine picked up her fork again and pushed the food around on her plate. 'She exaggerated. Anyway, it was a long time ago.'

  Richard smirked. 'Ah, of course.'

  'Look, I don't design any more but you paint. Why hide it?'

  'Like I said, I do it for my own enjoyment.'

  Celine looked around her. 'Well, I realise you don't need the money, but if you sold your work you would be giving enjoyment to others too.'

  It was Richard's turn to put down his fork. 'Let's make a deal. If I promise not to nag you about designing will you stop hassling me about painting?'

  Celine smiled. 'I'm sorry, I didn't mean to hassle you, it's just that you're so good—'

  Richard raised a finger to his lips. 'Ah-ah.'

  'Sorry,' she muttered and concentrated on her food.

  Richard smiled. 'Let's talk about something more interesting. Tell me about Kevin.'

  Celine choked on a piece of chicken and reached for her wine. 'I don't think I want to talk about him either,' she said when she'd recovered.

  'Did he break your heart?'

  Celine burst out laughing. 'Certainly not!'

  Richard smiled. 'Glad to hear it.' He leaned across and touched the side of her mouth. 'Sauce,' he explained and licked his finger.

  Celine gulped and dabbed at her mouth with a napkin. 'Gone?'

  'I'm not sure, come closer,' he murmured.

  Celine's eyes flickered between his eyes and mouth as she moved closer.

  'There's just a little bit here.' He pressed his mouth to the side of hers and she felt his tongue on her skin. She shivered and closed her eyes. 'And here.' He moved to the other side of her mouth and she barely suppressed a moan. 'And here.' This time his lips touched hers in a very light kiss. When he stopped, she opened her eyes to find that his face was barely an inch from hers. Without stopping to think about it, Celine snaked a hand around his neck and pulled his mouth to hers. Without taking his lips from hers, Richard lifted her to her feet, pulled her around the table and dragged her onto his lap. Celine rubbed her body against his and dragged her hands through his thick, wavy hair. Richard slipped his hands under her silk shirt and ran them up and down her back. 'Would you like to move somewhere more comfortable?' he murmured against her lips.

  'Okay.' Celine looked at him through half-closed eyes.

  Richard stood up, kissed her again and then led her into the living room. He reached for the remote with one hand, dimmed the lights and pushed her down on the sofa. Celine wound her legs and arms around him. 'Now you can't go anywhere,' she whispered and kissed his ear.

  'Trust me, I don't want to,' he said and pulled her mouth to his. Celine knew that things were moving much too fast but she couldn't stop it and she didn't want to. Richard dragged her top over her head and when her bra followed, she went to work on his shirt and soon it was skin against skin. Richard pulled her to her feet again. 'Come to bed with me.'

  Celine pressed her lips against his chest and then looked up into his eyes. 'I thought you'd never ask.'

 
Chapter 21

  Fergus loved his new job but he was finding it hard to concentrate this morning. His eyes kept flicking to the clock but the time seemed to be dragging. The nurse had told him the operation wouldn't be over until after eleven and then Rose would be in recovery for about an hour. All in all, there was no point in him visiting before the afternoon. The club was quiet and after cleaning down the tables, he went for a wander around the gym and pool area. There weren't many customers on a Monday morning so the trainers were hanging around too. They were a nice enough gang, most of them younger than he was, and John, the supervisor, had offered to give him a few tips. 'You could do with some weight training,' he'd said, running a practised eye over Fergus's wiry frame. 'Are you fit?'

  Fergus had shrugged. 'Probably not. I used to play football in school but now the only exercise I get is running for the bus.'

  'I could give you a programme to follow if you're interested,' John offered.

  'That would be great.' Fergus thought it might be a good idea to be fit now that he was back in Sandhill. So far, he had seen none of the old gang and he was hoping that it would stay that way. He wandered over to the window that looked out onto the pool. There was a man doing relentless laps in the lane, two young girls messing about in the shallow end and a mother teaching her toddler to float.

  'It's very quiet today, isn't it?'

  Fergus looked around and smiled at the tiny blonde. 'Hi, Sarah, how's it going?'

  'Oh, I'm bored. One of my ladies was supposed to come in for a workout at ten but she phoned to cancel. Honestly, the number of people who pay a fortune to join this place and then throw in the towel after a couple of weeks.'

  Fergus grinned. 'Vincent must love customers like that.'

  Sarah sighed. 'Maybe but I find it very demoralising. I'm working my butt off to get these people fit and they give up so easily.'

  Fergus took her hand and led her back into the snack bar. 'What you need is one of my special fruit smoothies.'

  Sarah groaned. 'You're just looking for a guinea Pig.'

  'Rubbish, my smoothies are legendary.'

  'That's what worries me!' Sarah laughed and climbed onto a stool. 'Go on then, but give me something with strawberries, I love strawberries.'