The Matchmaker (31 page)

She moaned as his head went down, his lips pushing the cotton from across her shoulders and chest, reaching for her breast.

‘Mark!’ she said, trying to regain some control of the situation. Then her mobile rang, just at the moment she was about to throw all caution to the wind. She wondered who it could possibly be at this time of night, then saw Sarah’s number flash on the screen.

‘I have to answer it,’ she told him, picking it up. ‘It’s Sarah.’

Mark groaned, throwing his arms and head back against the couch, gazing at her flushed face and tumbled hair, unnerving her.

Her sister had just come back from supper and a gig in a nearby club where some of Ronan’s friends who were in a band had performed. She was all excited and a bit tipsy.

‘Is everything OK?’ she asked. ‘It’s just I had voicemails from you.’

Grace took a deep breath, dreading what she had to say, unwilling to burst her sister’s bubble of happiness. ‘Evie had a bit of an accident,’ she began. ‘She’s fine but she’s broken her arm and cut her knees.’

‘Broken her arm! How?’ asked Sarah, sobering up in an instant.

Grace explained the situation.

‘I’ll get a flight home immediately,’ screamed her sister. Panic had set in.

‘You’ve missed all the late flights,’ Grace explained. Being a regular business visitor to London she knew the airline schedules from Heathrow and Stansted pretty well. ‘You may not be able to get a flight any earlier tomorrow; they usually get pretty booked out at the weekends.’

‘I should never have left her,’ Sarah blurted out. ‘Never.’

‘She’s going to be fine,’ Grace said firmly. ‘She’s fast asleep now and I don’t want to wake her but she’ll phone you first thing in the morning, promise.’

‘Grace, thanks so much for taking care of her. I can never thank you enough,’ said Sarah, eventually putting the phone down.

Grace’s eyes welled with tears. Even after the accident, Sarah was still grateful to her.

Mark caught her hand and squeezed it, wrapping her in his arms. ‘You’re tired,’ he said gently. ‘You need to go to bed and sleep too.’

She nodded.

‘Alone,’ he added, standing up to go. ‘I’m not an absolute heel, and I want things to be right between us, with no stupid regrets. Evie’s the one who needs you tonight!’ Then he kissed her again, leaving her in no doubt that the feeling between them was mutual.

‘Auntie Grace,’ came Evie’s voice, calling sleepily from the bedroom.

‘I’d better go,’ Mark said, kissing her forehead just before she ran in to take care of Evie.

Grace got Evie a drink from the kitchen and gave her a spoon of Calpol to ease the pain. Then, watching as Evie began to doze again, she wondered if she had somehow imagined the last hour in Mark’s arms, kissing him, feeling the amazing chemistry and physical pull between them. Suddenly exhausted, she threw off her clothes and crawled into the bed and lay down near Evie. But she couldn’t get Mark McGuinness out of her head.

Grace had slept badly, trying to stay on the alert in case Evie woke in pain and needed her. She had finally drifted off about four a.m., her mind in a whirling vortex of kites and bikes and dogs and Mark somewhere in the middle of it all, making it all right.

Evie to her relief had slept in and it was late morning before they both woke up, Evie telling her that she was starving and that her arm felt much better. She put her niece on the phone to Sarah in London straight away as she made them breakfast.

In the afternoon she’d taken Evie back to Pleasant Square where her mother had made a great fuss of her. By this time Grace herself was near to tears at what a mess she’d made of babysitting.

‘Kids fall and break bones as quick as you can say Humpty Dumpty,’ her mother told her, reminding her of the litany of falls and scrapes and casualty visits that she and her sisters had endured over the years.

Sarah’s eyes welled with emotion when she saw Evie, her arm in a cast and sling.

‘My mummy’s back from London!’ Evie chanted, jumping up and down with excitement as they all watched.

‘Hey, slow down, baby, I’ve got some presents for you,’ Sarah tipped three packages out of a bag on the table. Evie squealed with delight.

‘Can I open them?’ she begged.

‘Of course. They’re for being such a good girl for Auntie Grace while I was away.’

In five minutes flat the pink ballet tutu, the fairy princess doll and a musical magic wand Sarah had bought in Harrods had been unwrapped. Evie, despite their worries about her arm, had insisted on changing out of her pyjamas and, with a little help, trying on her new ballet tutu, dancing around the sitting room and touching things with her wand as Grace gave Sarah a blow-by-blow account of the accident and their hospital visit.

‘The doctor says Evie has to go back next week to check that her arm is healing up,’ she said, relieved that Sarah was back home and in charge again.

‘I can never thank you enough for taking care of Evie so well and looking after her in the hospital.’ Sarah hugged her, much to her embarrassment. ‘I’m glad that Mark happened to be there too and I’ll go and say thanks to him as soon as I can. I told you he was one of the good guys!’

Grace’s eyes were shining as she talked about Mark McGuinness and she was unable to disguise her change of feelings towards him.

‘Evie’s a great kid,’ she admitted enviously, ‘and despite the broken arm we’ve had a wonderful time. But tell us about London. I can’t believe I have a sister who’s going to be a published writer. I’m so happy for you, Sarah, honestly I am.’

‘A book on the shelves by my daughter, I’ll be so proud,’ added their mother, popping a creamy fish pie she had made earlier into the oven and opening a bottle of wine to celebrate.

Anna arrived and after a breathless retelling of the broken-arm tale they sat down to supper as Sarah told them about meeting with Jilly Greene, lunch, Ronan’s amazing apartment in Notting Hill and the fancy Japanese restaurant he had taken her to. Her busy itinerary had continued with a visit to the National Gallery, a spin on the London Eye and an amazing shopping trip followed by supper with Ronan and some of his friends. Sunday had been brunch in his local pub, a stroll in the park and then a mad rush to get the Express back to Heathrow.

‘The whole thing was like a dream,’ she confessed. ‘I know that you and Anna often travel, but for me it was just so different to be away without Evie or the family and to do things by myself. I feel as if I’ve been away for a week or two.’

Evie couldn’t stop yawning and as soon as they finished eating, Sarah put her to bed, snuggling up under the duvet with her for a few minutes until she was fast asleep.

‘She’s out cold,’ Sarah reported as she came back upstairs and sat at the kitchen table.

‘She’s a bundle of energy,’ admitted Grace, ‘I can’t believe that she got me to fly a kite down on Sandymount Strand.’

Taking a sip of her wine Sarah told them all about the plans for her first book and how excited she was.

‘I can’t believe it,’ Anna admitted, leaning across the table. ‘There’s me trying to write a book for years and you go and come up with a story for Evie about a little cat and end up going to London to sign up with a big publisher.’

‘But yours is an important book,’ Sarah said seriously, ‘while mine is just a little book for kids about an old lady and a funny little cat!’ She really didn’t want her sister to be jealous.

‘Thousands of kids around the world will read your book about Mitten while I’ll be lucky if a few dusty old professors eventually pick mine up!’ said Anna honestly.

Sarah nodded. She hoped that would be true. She might not have been the brightest or the best at school and at exam times, unlike her sisters, she had struggled, but here was something she was good at!

‘Ever since you were a little girl you’ve been drawing and writing,’ her mum reminded her. ‘So it’s lovely that someone has recognized your talent. Your father would be so proud of you, you know that.’

Mum and Dad had always encouraged all of them to paint and draw and write. Christmas after Christmas, birthday after birthday, there had been gifts of colouring pencils and paint sets and pads and canvas and pastels and oils. Sarah remembered her artwork being displayed all over the house. Maggie and Leo had nurtured each of their children’s talents, something she was trying to do with Evie.

‘Sarah, I’m so thrilled for you,’ said Grace. ‘As Mum says, nice things happen to nice people! And you deserve to have something really good happen for you and Evie. One thing this weekend made me realize is just how hard you work minding Evie and what a good mother you are. If I’m half as good as you when the time comes I’ll be lucky!’

Sarah couldn’t believe it, her family paying her so many compliments and being so supportive.

‘Now, tell us about this guy in Roundstone,’ quizzed Sarah, turning the tables on Anna.

‘Roundstone?’

‘Yes, that lovely guy you’ve met there,’ they teased. ‘It’s no use denying it!’

Anna’s blue eyes widened. There was indeed no denying it – Rob O’Neill was a lovely guy, just the one for her, and she began to tell them all about him.

Maggie Ryan sat back on the kitchen chair sipping her cup of tea, listening as Anna talked about Rob and thinking what a change he’d made to Anna’s life already. Then there was Mark McGuinness who had been so kind and caring helping Grace with Evie. She’d always thought of him as a good catch but it seemed he was more than that, he was a good man: the sort Leo would have approved of. He was, she suspected, very taken with her eldest daughter and Maggie said a silent prayer that he wasn’t the sort of man who would let Grace down.

Irina Romanowska couldn’t believe her immense good fortune as she surveyed her new home. It was a dream come true: a place of her own in Pleasant Square. The basement flat had a large sitting room which got the afternoon sun and looked out over the back garden and paved terrace; a small kitchen to the front with cream-painted cupboards; a big bedroom; a small boxroom where Mr Lynch stored the remainder of his dental equipment and supplies; a bathroom with a bath and a shower; and a staircase that led up to the hallway of the main part of the house. It was a beautiful house, built so long ago, a house filled with history and love. How lucky she was to be living in such a place and able to afford the rent.

At first she had been very nervous when it was proposed she live in a house only three doors away from where she worked, but meeting Oscar Lynch had immediately reassured her. This proud, elderly Irish gentleman, recovering from surgery, was certainly in need of a watchful eye and willing spirit ready to help out and make his life a little easier. He reminded her of her grandfather Tomasz who had died when she was sixteen.

‘I am so grateful, Mrs Ryan, for the opportunity you give me.’

‘And I am grateful to you, Irina, for agreeing to help out my very old friend.’

‘I will do my best,’ she promised.

She had resigned from her job in the newsagent’s; Pat Delaney the owner gave her a big box of chocolates and a bottle of wine to say thank you. Now in the mornings she did not get up until eight o’clock, when she checked on Oscar and organized his breakfast.

He ate a small bowl of milky porridge and took either scrambled eggs or a poached egg on toast with a mug of coffee. Then he read the paper and did the crossword before he took a shower and got dressed. Once he was settled Irina set off for the group of regular households that she cleaned. Some days she arrived back in time to make him soup or a toasted sandwich for lunch, otherwise he managed himself, but in the evening she made a point of cooking him a good nourishing dinner. Her mother Hanna had ensured she knew how to cook the best meals using good vegetables that were in season and she could tell Oscar appreciated the home cooking as he literally licked his dinner plate clean every night.

‘It will be a lucky man who gets you, Irina,’ he praised her. ‘You will make some fellow a wonderful wife.’

Irina had smiled ruefully, as that wasn’t what Edek had thought when he tossed her aside for that cheeky brunette with high heels who worked in a hairdresser’s and she doubted she even knew how to boil an egg.

She had signed on for English classes and two evenings a week went to Harcourt Street, to study seriously in a room packed with people of all nationalities struggling to make sense of this new tongue. Once she had good English she could maybe work in an office or for one of the technology firms.

Her friends had been a little envious when she told them of her new position and the benefits it entailed. Marta’s mouth had opened when she saw the big blue couch and chair in the sitting room and the peaceful white bedroom with the old medical file cupboard now turned into a wardrobe for her clothes.

‘It is lovely, Irina,’ she said, hugging her. ‘I am so pleased for you.’

‘Some nights you stay,’ Irina offered generously.

She had laid her few possessions out around the flat to make it seem more homely. Her photographs of her family and the pretty pink wrap she’d bought in the marketplace in Łódź now served as a throw on her bed; her good-luck statue of a silver swan now sat on the circular table near the window alongside the polished piece of crystal she had found down near the river when she was seven years old. With her wages she would save and buy a few things, mugs and cups and bowls and a coffee pot. She hated the instant coffee that Irish people seemed to consider reviving and refreshing and longed for the familiar scent of coffee brewing, filling her senses with anticipation.

With her mobile phone she had taken photographs both inside and outside the house and sent them to her mother, knowing how impressed she would be. Hanna Romanowska would be boasting to her neighbours and family how well her daughter was doing now that she had gone abroad.

Irina sighed, work was different now and Oscar was such a kind man. He was lonely and constantly talked about his wife whose photos dominated the large sitting room and the dining room. Elizabeth Lynch had been a beautiful woman and he must have loved her very much. The wardrobe in one of the bedrooms upstairs still held some of her clothes and shoes and handbags; her perfume and face powder and red lipstick still stood on the dressing table. It was sad that death had separated them, she thought, as she dusted and cleaned the silver frames, and polished the old mahogany sideboard and tables with beeswax. She wondered if any man would ever love her in such a way, or had her mother been right that Edek had been the closest she would ever come to finding love and marriage? She pushed the unwelcome thought away philosophically. In moving to Ireland and to Pleasant Square it seemed as if she had been granted a second chance and being an optimist she had high hopes that things were definitely going to improve.