The Stone House (2 page)

Free to concentrate, she cleared her desk and opened the file on her laptop, making notes on the yellow pad as she read through the minutiae of the agreements of undertaking that were to form part of Colman Hughes's latest acquisition. Funny, it reminded her of something she had worked on three years ago . . . Leaving her desk she headed down to the third floor to the company's library of back cases and legal opinions, where she hunted for the exact documents she needed and the letter from the inspector of taxes she had dealt with.

Vonnie Quinn sat snug in the window seat of Lavelle's, looking out over the seafront and harbour.

Putting on her reading glasses she studied the menu, noticing the daily specials written in chalk on the black-board over the busy serving counter as Sheila O'Grady the owner ambled over.

‘How are you, Vonnie?'

‘I'm fine, Sheila, fine. I'm just waiting for Maeve.'

‘Can I get you something while you're waiting?'

‘I'm sure she'll be along in a few minutes.'

‘Then I'll give you time to make up your minds. How's Joe and the family?'

‘They're all grand. The boys are big as houses now, all grown up. What about your own children?' enquired Vonnie.

‘Lisa's doing her finals and Anna's just started working for one of those fancy French banks in Dublin as an economist. Deirdre and Tommy are in the business here with me, and Brian's just moved back from Manchester.'

‘Brian's the married one?' said Vonnie. She wondered if Sheila had any grandchildren yet. She could sense a reticence in the other woman at the mention of her older son. Years ago Brian had dated her niece, they'd been childhood sweethearts, mad about each other. Then all of a sudden it had broken up. She couldn't remember why, but perhaps it had been for the best.

‘Brian and his wife divorced a while back.'

‘Oh, I'm sorry to hear that.'

‘Well these things happen nowadays. He works for that big engineering firm Jameson's. They're doing all the work on the new bypass road and motorway.'

‘That's a big project.'

‘Aye, but he seems to like building roads and bridges, and it's good to have him back home.'

Vonnie smiled. She was full of admiration for Sheila, who had worked so hard in Lavelle's over the years to put her children through school and college and given them every opportunity. The two women had both attended Rossmore local Convent of Mercy and were classmates. Sheila, a bright girl, had married young, too young, and by the time she was thirty had been left a
widow with five small children to raise and no income. She had never complained and instead of whining about her misfortune had gone to Hazel Lavelle's looking for work. Rolling up her sleeves she'd set to, her hard work and intuition a huge factor in turning the small coffee shop into one of the finest restaurants in the county with a huge local trade, and the humble bakery into one of the main suppliers of gourmet breads and pastries and desserts in the South-East.

Vonnie settled down to watch the passers-by and hoped to catch a glimpse of her younger sister. She smothered a flicker of annoyance. It was so like her sister. Of late, Maeve always seemed to be delayed, caught up in something. Ever since the death of Frank over four years ago, Maeve was constantly trying to lose herself in things. Bridge, book clubs, gardening, the choir. No doubt she was attending to her plants or typing up a letter for one of the charities she volunteered for, had forgotten the time and would arrive in a few minutes, hair flying, all flustered.

The restaurant was filling up and a queue was forming for tables as she lifted up the hand-painted menu. Carrot and parsnip soup with a hint of ginger, that sounded good, then perhaps the vegetable bake and a side salad with a glass of wine.

‘Still no sign,' smiled Sheila as she took her order.

‘You know Maeve!'

She watched as Sheila walked back to the kitchen, envying her trim figure and her short hair, a subtle shade of highlighted ash blond. She was an attractive woman and yet had never remarried. No wonder there
were still so many rumours about her. Years ago the small town's gossips' tongues had wagged and she'd been linked with a local married businessman: Vonnie's brother-in-law's name was among those mentioned. Maeve had steadfastly never said a word to deny or confirm the accusation and had kept coming to Lavelle's for coffees and lunches until gradually over time the innuendoes were forgotten.

The soup was delicious, served with freshly made brown bread, and she tried to stifle her annoyance with Maeve as she began to eat. She hated sitting alone while all around her people were immersed in conversation. Sheila diplomatically brought her over a copy of the
Irish Independent.
She called Maeve's number: no reply. At least she must be on the way.

Annoyance gave way to alarm as her main course was served, and she ate the leek, mushroom and pepper mixture, not even bothering with coffee as she paid the bill.

‘Maybe she just forgot?' consoled Sheila as they said goodbye.

‘Maybe.'

As she got into her silver Volvo, a feeling of concern overwhelmed her and shifting her car into gear she turned out of the Rossmore Road instead of heading home, determined to give her sister a piece of her mind for standing her up as she drove towards the Stone House.

Forty minutes later Lucy, the senior secretary in Patterson's Mergers and Acquisitions Department, broke the peace and quiet of the Research Library room.

‘Kate, there's an urgent message on the phone for you. I didn't know where you were and thought maybe you'd gone home early.'

Home early! Kate raised her eyebrows. Some chance. She jumped up. Maybe something had happened about collecting Molly.

‘Was it Derry?'

‘No. It was a Mrs Quinn. She's insisting on talking to you.'

‘Did she leave a number?'

‘She said she's not at home in Rossmore but will phone you straight back. It's urgent.'

Aunt Vonnie. What was her aunt doing phoning her at work? Her aunt hated going through switches and secretaries and much preferred long rambling calls at night with a cup of tea or a glass of wine as they chatted. She was barely back at her desk when the phone went again.

‘Kate, is that you?'

‘Auntie Vonnie, what is it? Is everything OK?'

‘No, love. I'm sorry. It's your mum. We were meant to meet in Lavelle's for lunch today. She never turned up so I drove out to the house. She's unconscious, Kate. They're not sure if it was a fall, some kind of bleed into her brain, a stroke even. She's in the Regional.'

Kate felt the coldness in the pit of her stomach as she asked, ‘Is she breathing? Has she regained consciousness?'

‘She's on oxygen. And no. The doctors are with her. They want to do all kinds of brain scans. They're very worried about her, Kate. They asked me to contact her next of kin.'

‘God, Vonnie. Don't say that. Mammy's going to be fine.'

‘I don't know, Kate. You need to get down here. See her. Talk to them.'

Kate gripped the phone, not believing. Her mother was as strong as an ox, and never got sick. She hated hospitals and doctors.

‘Kate, you'll come immediately! Your mother needs you.'

‘I'll be down straight away. I'll phone Moya and Romy, so don't worry.'

‘I'll stay with her, but you just get here as soon as you can, pet.'

‘Thanks, Vonnie. Thanks.'

Kate put down the phone. Lucy was staring at her.

‘Are you all right, Kate? Is it bad news?'

‘It's my mother. She's been taken to hospital. My aunt is with her. I have to leave for Waterford immediately.'

‘Don't worry. I'll look after things at this end.'

Automatically Kate began to clear her desk of sensitive documents and switched off her computer. Realizing she'd better tell Bill she had to leave early, she went to his office. He'd already gone and the sun was beating on his high-backed leather chair.

She'd go home, grab a bag and some things before heading to Waterford, thanking God it was
en route
. Pulling her diary from her handbag she searched for her sisters' numbers as she began to dial the 044 code for London. She cursed her sisters, wondering why they couldn't be more like other families who supported and cared for each other. What had
happened to them all? Moya so wrapped up with her own life in London and Romy who had simply taken off when she was not more than a kid and turned her back on the family. She'd never even bothered to keep in touch. Selfishly she had broken their parents' hearts years ago. Worst of all, her youngest sister had made absolutely no effort to come home for their father's funeral, something that Kate would never forgive her for!

Moya had her mobile turned off, so she tried her home number instead, leaving a simple message telling her what had happened and promising to phone later.

Kate eyed the row of modern silver and steel clocks on the wall. Hong Kong, Tokyo, New York and London. It was midday in New York, Romy should at least be up, she thought as she began to punch in the international code.

Romy Dillon whisked the free-range eggs together, fluffing them up as she turned them into the hot pan. A little cheese, tomato and onion and she had the perfect breakfast. Outside the daylight teased her as New Yorkers rushed to work and shops in the bright sunshine. She would eat, work for a few hours and then call on her friend Diana. She switched on the coffee-maker just as the phone in the living room shrilled. Barefoot she raced across the bleached floorboards to get it.

‘Romy?'

She almost dropped the phone, recognizing the voice instantly.

‘Romy, please don't put down the phone. I need to talk to you.'

‘Is it Molly?'

‘No, Molly's fine,' answered Kate. ‘It's Mammy. She's in hospital, in the Regional. Vonnie just phoned me. She's unconscious. They're not sure what it is but the doctors told her to contact us. It's serious, Romy.'

‘I heard you.'

The distance between them lay empty, desolate.

‘Romy!' screamed her sister. ‘You are a cold-hearted bitch. I don't give a damn about you and what's going on in that crazy head of yours. Mammy's sick, dying, and the least you can do this time is to come home and see her.'

‘Don't you dare tell me what to do!' Romy said coldly, the pain ripping through her, for she had no intention of getting into an argument.

‘I'm not telling you what to do. I'm simply informing you about Mammy. It's up to you if you want to come home or not to see her.'

Romy's mind was racing. She couldn't think, didn't know what to say. She would not make promises she couldn't keep. Be pressurized by her sister into a knee-jerk response. She wasn't going to be pushed into an automatic reply. She tried to gather her thoughts, protect herself.

The silence lay heavy between them, harsh and cold as the Atlantic Ocean, worse than any distance.

‘Thanks, Kate. Thanks for letting me know,' she said slowly as the phone went dead on the other end.

Back in the small galley kitchen she scraped the burnt
eggs into the sink, pouring herself a cup of coffee as she curled up on the padded window-seat. There had been no pleasantries, no niceties between them. How could she go back home? Return to the place she had left so long ago! Nothing had changed, so why should she even consider going back and dragging up the hurt and pain of the past and a time she still tried so hard to forget?

THE RUSH-HOUR DART
was crowded and Kate was fortunate to find a seat. The commuter train seemed to take an age as it crossed the river and pushed out along Dublin's coastline passing Ringsend and Sandymount and Booterstown, Kate almost jumping out at her usual Monkstown stop. Molly had already been collected and the minute she entered their apartment she was greeted with a flying hug.

‘Mummy! Mummy, you're home. Look what I made today.'

Her daughter disappeared into the kitchen and emerged with an enormous painted pink and yellow butterfly that looked like it still might be wet.

‘It's beautiful, pet. You're a great little artist,' she said, scooping her up and burying her face in the curly dark hair. Molly giggled as Kate pretended to bite her.

‘I have to get changed, darling, and drive down the country to see Granny.'

‘Can I come too?'

‘Not tonight, pet. Granny's sick. She's in hospital.'

‘I want to see her,' pleaded Molly, putting on her begging face.

‘No, I'm sorry, Molly. Little girls aren't let in the hospital. You have to stay home with Daddy. OK?'

She could see the look of consideration pass over the child's face as her lip wobbled and she decided whether to cry or not.

Derry looked up from working on his laptop, papers spread out around the table. ‘Just trying to catch up. I've a big meeting tomorrow. Listen, I'm sorry about your mum.'

She felt guilty for dragging him away from clients and his own work at the design yard, but was relieved to know that Molly was so well taken care of as Derry doted on their small daughter. Emotion washed over her as he wrapped her in one of those big bear hugs that still unsettled her. She clung to him for a second, almost wishing that they were something more to each other than Molly's parents and that she could stay exactly where she was for the rest of the night instead of driving down to Waterford.

‘You get changed and I'll make you a cup of tea and something to eat before you leave,' he offered.

‘Thanks.' Tears welled in her eyes and she rubbed at them so Molly wouldn't get upset too.

In the bedroom Kate kicked off her shoes and hung up her black suit, pulling on a pair of beige corduroys, a long-sleeved T-shirt, a wool zip-up jacket in a creamy white and a pair of comfortable decks for driving. She grabbed a change of clothes, her pyjamas, some toiletries and her toothbrush, shoving them all into the green overnight bag. Molly was engrossed in the TV
when she came back in the room and she slipped into the kitchen.