The Rose Garden (20 page)

Molly found herself swept up in the emotion of Katarina’s voice as the soprano sang about her lost love. Tears welled in her eyes as the singing filled the night.

As the concert came to an end and Marco reappeared on stage with her to sing together once more, Molly was conscious of what a privilege it had been to attend such a performance. The two singers, holding hands, received a standing ovation.

As the stage went dark, everyone crowded along the torchlit path back up to the terraced area. Cara, itching for some wine, managed to get glasses for everyone. It had grown cooler and as they stood around chatting Molly was glad she had brought her warm wrap.

Spotting Hugh and Francesca, she went over to say hello to them. Hugh was looking very handsome in a wine-coloured velvet tuxedo.

‘What a wonderful night!’ she said, hugging them. ‘You must be delighted!’

‘We are,’ admitted Francesca proudly. ‘It was a bit of a worry that it would all work, but thank heaven it did. Ted was the one who came up with the idea of putting on the concert and organizing it all.’

‘Well, you must be very proud of him, and Glengarry looks amazing, as if it was meant for staging things like this.’

‘The old place does look good,’ chortled Hugh, ‘though the cows were very put out not to be in their favourite field for the past few weeks. Teddy’s talking about staging two or three events during the year.’

‘That would be wonderful.’

Molly knew that their eldest son, Ted, had become more involved with running the castle and the farm over the past few years and was set to take over from Hugh.

‘How are you, Molly dear?’ asked the older woman. ‘I’m so glad that you came along tonight.’

‘When I heard about a night of opera here at Glengarry I had to come,’ she smiled.

‘How are you managing in Mossbawn?’ asked Hugh.

‘It’s hard being there on my own,’ she admitted, ‘but I’m trying to keep busy. I’ve started restoring the old rose garden.’

‘Oh, I do love roses,’ smiled Francesca. ‘My mother was mad for them!’

‘So am I,’ said Molly. ‘I’m trying to see if I can get some of the older varieties to regrow.’

‘You should talk to our gardener, Seamus – he’s the expert here. Why don’t you come over next week?’ suggested Francesca. ‘I’ll arrange for you to see him, and Hugh and I always love a bit of company.’

‘Thank you, that would be great,’ she agreed and they arranged for her to come over on Thursday afternoon.

Seeing that a few people were standing around waiting to talk to the Fitzgeralds and congratulate them, she returned to her friends.

Rob Hayes had joined them, looking very distinguished in his tuxedo.

‘Did you enjoy tonight’s performance?’ he asked.

‘It was wonderful, so moving. And having the concert in the open air makes it so different.’

‘It really adds to the experience,’ he agreed. ‘The last time I was in Verona, we got a lightning storm in the middle of
Aida
. The
lightning was all across the night sky and they had to stop the performance for safety reasons. We all had to make a run for the cafés around the piazza, then when the rain and lightning stopped we all went back to our seats and they finished the opera.’

‘That’s crazy!’

‘That’s Italy!’ he laughed.

Molly would never have taken him for someone who listened to opera, let alone liked it.

‘Here, let me get you a glass of wine,’ he offered, making his way through a throng of figures to the drinks area.

‘Thanks,’ she smiled when he passed her a glass of red wine. ‘It’s a bit of a scrum up there!’

‘I’m an old second row, so I’m well able for them.’

‘When did you come back to Kilfinn?’ she asked, taking a sip of her wine.

‘Yesterday. I wasn’t going to miss tonight. I’m here for about six days, as there are a few things to finalize with the plant. Some officials from the county council planning department are coming out to check on the place. Tim says they are devils for detail, so it’s best that I’m around in case there are any problems to be dealt with.’

‘I’d say there must be a lot of work with building the plant.’

‘I’ve never minded work – it never killed anyone. Besides, once it gets up and running it should be fine.’

‘Doesn’t your family mind you being away so much?’

‘My wife and I divorced four years ago,’ he explained.

‘I’m sorry.’ Molly blushed. She hadn’t meant to be so personal.

‘Don’t be. It’s all very amicable. Olivia is remarried. Our daughter, Karin, is a teacher and is married to a great guy called Simon; they live just outside Boston and I have a sweetheart of a granddaughter, which is one of the best things about getting a bit older … probably the only thing,’ he laughed. ‘And Kevin, my son, is in New York, working crazy hours as a trainee film editor. Every time I go there we get to hang out. So as you can see there really isn’t anyone missing me at all, to be honest!’

‘Are you still staying in the hotel?’

‘Yeah, for a few days it’s fine, but once the plant opens next year I’ll get a place of my own. Hotel rooms are a pain to live in. You get so bored with them and of eating on your own. You know what it’s like!’

Molly did know – only too well – what being on your own was like.

‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to be so insensitive,’ he apologized, embarrassed. ‘I know you lost your husband last year, so it must be very difficult …’

‘He died last November and it is difficult. Awful. I know exactly what you are talking about,’ she confided. ‘Sitting at a table and eating on your own day after day is probably the hardest thing, so I always have to have a book or a magazine or a paper beside me.’

‘I usually read the
Financial Times
or the latest John Grisham,’ he admitted wryly.

Molly burst out laughing at the absurdity of it, and had a crazy notion of some day inviting him to Mossbawn for a simple dinner and eating in the kitchen. It just showed how sad and lonely she really was …

‘There you are, Molly!’ interjected Cara.

Tim and Cara and the others joined them and they managed to position themselves near a warming brazier as Tim insisted on ordering more wine for everyone.

What a wonderful evening, thought Molly as she looked up at the star-speckled night sky and gave silent thanks for the friends who had all been so kind and good to her since David’s death.

As they drove home she thought of David. They had been married almost twenty-four years when he had died. It was so sad that they would never get to celebrate their silver anniversary together, but they’d had a wonderful marriage and she’d been absolutely happy over all those years.

MOLLY COULD FEEL THE CHANGE OF SEASONS. THE NIGHTS BEGAN
to get a bit colder, the trees started to change colour and all her plants and flowers were beginning to fade. She kept dead-heading madly, trying to prolong things blooming, but she was fighting a losing battle against nature. Her lupins and delphiniums had both had a second flush but now were gone, cut down as sedum and allium flourished in the beds.

The girls had both come home for two weeks, chilling out before they started new terms in college. Emma and Jake had gone surfing in Biarritz for three weeks with their friends. Both of them were anxiously awaiting their final-year exam and thesis results. Grace had passed her exams, which was all she needed to get into third year. She’d had a brilliant time trekking around Europe and was full of stories of all their adventures as they went from one country to another. Molly’s two daughters were both independent and strong, growing up and making lives of their own.

‘Grace, what’s happening for your twenty-first?’ she asked. ‘What do you want to do for it?’

‘I suppose I’ll have a night out, Mum, a bit of a party. I could book a pub somewhere in town, near the nightclubs.’

‘Don’t you want a proper party?’ asked Molly.

‘If I have it in a pub or club in Dublin it means we don’t have to go spending a fortune and going to lots of trouble …’ Grace tailed off lamely.

‘Grace Mary Hennessy, I don’t believe you! Emma had a big summer party – remember the barbecue? We must have had a hundred at it!’ she reminded her. ‘You’re only twenty-one once and it would be lovely to have the party here at home just like your sister did.’

‘Mum, are you sure?’ she asked hesitantly. ‘I don’t want you to go spending lots of money on a party.’

Molly knew that Grace was over-conscious of her finances, but she was not going to let that spoil a big family occasion.

‘Of course I’m sure. Your dad and I had always planned on having your twenty-first at home here,’ she said firmly. ‘We can light up the place and roll back the carpet and get some nice food in and lots of drinks.’

‘Oh Mum – a twenty-first party at home is exactly what I want! And my friends can bunk in here or stay in the village or the hotel.’

‘Good, then we can start planning it!’ Molly found herself saying.

The rest of the weekend Grace followed her around with lists and began to make all sorts of plans for her big party. Molly knew that once her daughter started thinking about a proper party she’d be all excited about it.

‘I’ll talk to Gina Sullivan, find out if she is free to do the catering, and we can hire a barman for the night.’

‘Kelly, one of the guys I know, does DJ sometimes, so I’m sure he might do it for less than most other DJs,’ suggested Grace. ‘And he’d probably do the lights as well.’

Molly smiled. It would be nice to have a big party with all Grace’s friends and some of their family and friends along. Who knows, she thought, maybe it would be the last big party held in Mossbawn.

THE CAFÉ WAS QUIET, GINA STUDYING VARIOUS SHADES OF PAINT
online, wondering what would be the best colour for painting old pine tables and chairs to give them a fresh look. A soft sage green, a French grey or a creamy-white colour? She was full of plans for the café, what she could do with it: finding ways to attract more customers, changing the menus, even the layout …

She looked up as the door opened. It was Molly Hennessy.

‘Hello, Gina. How’s Norah doing?’ Molly asked, sitting down at a table near the window.

‘She’s getting on fine in Beech Hill. She’s made a real pet of the little cat they have there!’

‘It’s hard to imagine Norah in a nursing home with all those old people …’

‘I know, but she really needs a lot of nursing care and support,’ Gina confided.

‘Will you tell her that I was asking for her and I’ll try and call in to her next week?’ Molly asked, ordering a cappuccino and a muffin as she slipped off her navy jacket. ‘I’ve just come from dropping Daisy to be clipped and I was hoping I’d catch you, as I wanted to ask if you’d be interested in doing the catering for Grace’s twenty-first-birthday party. It’s at Halloween and we want to have the party at home.’

‘Sounds lovely,’ said Gina as she brought the cappuccino over to the table. ‘What kind of food were you thinking about?’

‘Well that’s it, Gina – I’m not sure whether we should do a buffet or a sit-down meal.’

‘There’s quite a bit of a difference in cost terms,’ she explained. ‘The sit-down would be far more expensive, as I’d have to hire extra help for serving the meal and clearing the courses, so a buffet would work out a lot easier.’

‘Good, we’ll go for that. I’m not sure of the numbers yet, but I think it should be about eighty guests.’

‘Quite a big party then,’ she said, passing Molly a caramel muffin.

‘Grace has lots of friends and she wants to invite them all,’ she laughed. ‘Heaven knows how we’ll fit everyone.’

‘Well, with a big crowd like that the main-course buffet options are things like Thai green chicken curry, beef stroganoff, beef bourguignon, a creamy lemon chicken, lamb tagine, or even a pasta dish. I’ll email you a list of menus so you and Grace can choose. There’s a big choice of desserts, though usually the girls go for something with chocolate.’

‘I know – we are all chocoholics!’

‘Me too!’ Gina laughed as she took down Molly’s email address. ‘I’m sure we can sort out a perfect meal for Grace and her friends that won’t break the bank.’

‘Given the awful year we’ve had, I really want Grace to have a very special night, the same as if her dad were still alive.’

Gina had helped out with the food after her husband’s funeral, Molly and her two daughters distraught and in shock at David Hennessy’s sudden death. She remembered coming home from Mossbawn and lying beside Paul in bed and hugging him close, glad of his warmth and comfort and snores beside her.

‘Molly, don’t worry – she will have a wonderful party,’ Gina said gently, full of admiration for Molly Hennessy.

The day had been fairly busy and Gina was just making a fresh batch of scones when Martin Cassidy came in. He wandered into the kitchen as if he owned the place.

‘I’ll be out to you in a minute,’ she said, hoping to get rid of him.

His plump face and beady eyes watched her work as he leant against the presses. His dark hair was receding, and even though he tried to disguise it by wearing an expensive designer sweater and jacket he had a very definite paunch. Gina, conscious of a dab of flour on her cheek, tried to wipe it away with her apron. She continued cutting the scones, set them on the big baking tray and slid them into the oven.

‘They look good!’ he said. ‘How much do you sell them for?’

‘One euro and fifty cent,’ she said, going over to the sink to wash her hands.

‘That’s good – a healthy profit …’

She coloured. It was none of his business what the café charged for an item.

‘Can I help you with something?’ she asked, walking deliberately back out to the café.

‘I was just wondering how the business is going in the light of Norah’s absence?’

She could have throttled him.

‘We’re lucky, as most of our regulars still come in for their lunches and snacks and to meet for coffee and a cake.’

‘Can I see the bank lodgements book or your daily records?’ he asked, stepping behind the counter and pulling out one drawer after another.