The Stone House (9 page)

Although she missed home Kate had no intention of slavishly getting the bus or train back there every week, like so many of the students. She loved the city with its pubs and cinemas and theatres and nightclubs and discos and hundreds of things to do. Minnie, a like-minded soul, had the ability to dance and drink till all hours and still appear refreshed the next day.

‘What in God's name would I be doing back in Longford of a weekend?' she quipped, shaving her legs with complete concentration. ‘Sitting in with my granny watching the
Late Late Show
while Mum is up in the golf club drinking gins and getting tipsy! No thank you.'

Minnie had confided in Kate not long after they became friends that her dad, Denis, had run off with a girl about half his age.

‘She's only twenty-five!' wailed Minnie. ‘And he says he loves her and wants to marry her!'

‘God!'

‘Mum's gone like a lunatic ever since! It's absolutely desperate.'

Kate had told Minnie about her father and catching him with Sheila O'Grady.

‘In France all the French men have affairs, nobody bats an eye at it,' Minnie told her.

‘Honest?'

‘It's the French way. Obviously old men must get randy. At least your father hasn't gone off and dumped your mother and sold your house and bought himself a flipping sports car!'

‘No.' Kate sighed. Normality and appearances had at least been kept up, their marriage maintained as her parents led a busy social life of dinner dances, socials and business outings. Maeve Dillon was keeping busy and had joined the local Vincent de Paul and the Gardens Group. With herself and Moya gone she still had Romy to look after, even though from what she gathered Romy was being a right handful and her parents were worn out trying to get her to come home on time and not stay out till all hours.

‘Couldn't you have a word with her the next time you're home?' pleaded her mother. ‘She might listen to you.'

‘I doubt it.'

Romy had always done exactly what she wanted. A tomboy, she'd followed their father around the building sites and show houses for years. Moya and Kate had been lucky growing up to be part of a big gang of friends, the O'Malleys, the Costigans, the Dwyers and of course their cousins the Quinns. Romy, who was much younger, was often left just to follow them around, ‘Mind your sister!' their mother's constant cry.

The gang of them complained at the unfairness of it, shouting ‘Get lost, kid!' at her when the adults were not around. Unwanted, Romy would simply stick out
her tongue or run at them with a bit of a stick before disappearing off to entertain herself.

Kate felt guilty remembering those silly acts of childhood cruelty and agreed to try and get Romy to see some sense, but suspected her younger sister would still only stick her tongue out at her.

‘Will you be home on Saturday?'

Much and all as she loved going home, the thought of lecturing her surly teenage sister, versus her house-warming! Minnie and herself had planned a night in the flat, with wine and beer and cheese and crackers and chunks of heated garlic bread. Everybody they knew in college was invited, as Minnie felt they had to widen their social circle. Kate had asked a few guys from her class and Minnie had rounded up part of the rugby squad, plus her cousin Patrick and his friend.

‘God, he's gorgeous!' admitted Kate, who'd met him briefly in the library one day and already fancied him like mad.

All the girls they hung around with were going crazy, dying for Saturday night. Kate and Minnie suddenly worried how they could possibly fit all the people they'd invited into their two small rooms.

‘Sorry, Mum, but Minnie's organized something and I can't let her down. Maybe the following week. I promise I'll talk to Romy then.'

AFTER MUCH CAJOLING
and persuasion by his wife, daughters and sister-in-law and some deliberate masculine consideration Frank Dillon had finally agreed to fund his second daughter's twenty-first party.

‘Kate, there's no question of hiring a room over a pub and just drinking,' he'd warned. ‘This will be a proper occasion here at home in Rossmore with your mother and I and friends and family present to celebrate your coming of age.'

‘Thank you, Daddy,' she'd squealed, convinced that if she engineered it properly it would end up mostly her friends with the bare minimum of family.

Back in her flat in Dublin she had drafted and redrafted the invitation list about twenty times, having huge arguments with Minnie and another friend Dee as to who was deserving of an invitation and who was not.

‘You have to have Lisa,' they chorused, ‘she invited you to hers.'

‘She invited two hundred and she barely speaks to me if you two aren't around.'

‘I suppose.'

‘She's off the list.'

‘What about Patrick?'

‘You don't have to invite him,' insisted Minnie. ‘He's finished college and is older than everyone else.'

Kate still fancied Minnie's older cousin like mad and in the past few weeks had finally gone out with him. They had gone to the cinema, Kate making sure they got seats in the back row. Then he'd asked her to supper in Nico's, and spent the night arguing about the government and the state of the economy, Kate feeling like she was on some kind of private debating team until he'd driven her home and detoured to the quiet of the deserted Sandymount Strand, where the two of them necked for hours.

Getting up her courage she'd invited him to the Law Ball, almost swooning when she saw him in his tuxedo, and had spent the most wonderful night dancing in his arms for hours. Full of romantic intentions she had invited him back to the flat but apparently had drunk so much wine she fell asleep on the sofa. Minnie had had to put her to bed. Diplomatically Patrick had said nothing. Kate decided that not only was he tall and good-looking but he was head and shoulders above all the other guys she knew in terms of discretion and maturity.

‘I don't know what you see in him. I think he's a pain.'

‘Shut up, Minnie, he's on the list.'

Finally they had arrived at the figure of sixty who would be formally invited to celebrate her twenty-first birthday. College friends mostly, and a few of her old
school friends and of course her cousins the Quinns. Her parents were insisting on a few more relations and their friends the Molloys and the Kinsellas. She had a second back-up list and was secretly praying that her relations or that snobby Claudia Kinsella would be hit with some bug or virus that would allow her to invite more of her Trinity crowd.

Minnie and Dee had traipsed the streets of Dublin with her looking for the perfect outfit.

‘Why don't you take Moya with you?' suggested her mother. ‘You know she has a really good eye for fashion and what looks right.'

Kate said nothing. This was her party and her big sister wasn't having any hand or part in running it as far as she was concerned.

They went from shop to shop – Brown Thomas, Switzers and Richard Allen's, trying on one dress after another. Undecided, Kate hadn't a clue what look she actually wanted: sexy, classic, floaty and feminine?

‘I'll know it when I see it!' she insisted, trying to jiggle into a slinky red backless dress in Pamela Scott's.

Minnie preferred the clingy pale blue halterneck dress, which showed off her curves and shimmied in the light.

‘The black is better,' insisted Dee.

Kate studied herself in the simple black scooped-neck dress that fell to the floor, a high slit on either side revealing her thighs.

‘It's so classy and it makes you look like you've dropped at least a stone.'

Kate sighed. She wasn't sure about the black, maybe it made her look too old.

The quest resumed and they made a quick sortie across the Liffey to Arnotts and Clery's. Disappointed, they headed back up towards the Green.

‘What about Powerscourt?' suggested Minnie, who was ready to collapse and had developed a blister on her heel from the new shoes she was breaking in.

‘Agreed.'

They walked down past Clarendon Street church and entered the magnificent old Georgian townhouse that had been transformed into high-class boutiques and expensive gift shops with a Design Centre, art gallery and restaurants too.

‘There's got to be something here.'

The Design Centre was fabulous but she knew her father would have a heart attack if she told him she had paid that sort of price for a party dress. She just couldn't afford it. Down near the big carved wooden staircase she gazed at the window of Ritzy, one of the smaller designer shops, and was entranced by the unusual party dresses that hung from wires as part of the display.

‘Is this it?' screeched Minnie, leading the charge inside. They went through rail after rail, pulling out three possibilities. Minnie collapsed on a stool in the corner as Kate pulled on one dress after another. Sweat clung to her brow as she struggled with zips and straps in the tiny space.

Suddenly she knew it. This was the one. The perfect dress. Minnie forgot her blister and almost wept with relief as Kate let the pale pink dress down over her
body. It fell smoothly over her tummy and hips, flaring out ever so slightly and ending just above her knees. Two narrow straps held it on her bare shoulders and a slight glimmer of glitter traced the low neckline.

‘Wow!' shrieked Minnie, calling Dee to get into the fitting room.

Kate stared at herself in the long mirror. It was exactly what she was looking for. It made her legs look long, her tummy disappear and she felt beautiful in it. Judging by the reactions of her two friends the decision was made. Five minutes later the dress was wrapped in tissue in the striking purple Ritzy bag as they headed to Bewley's for a reviving coffee and cream cake.

‘We'll do the shoes next week,' joked Dee.

Kate licked the cream from the chocolate éclair, imagining herself pirouetting in front of Patrick, looking absolutely gorgeous.

She went home on the Friday night to help with the organization of the party. Her mother was in her element, the kitchen stacked high with plates and glasses and cutlery.

Maeve Dillon was one of that rare breed who enjoyed entertaining. There were two huge honey-baked hams, a turkey and a side of salmon. Tomorrow there would be salads, savoury rice, baby potatoes and crisp white freshly baked bread rolls, and for dessert the Black Forest gâteau and a pavlova that had been ordered from Lavelle's.

Kate was furious that her mother was actually paying her father's mistress to make the desserts for her party!

‘Can't you order them from somewhere else?' she'd pleaded.

‘But where, pet? Everyone knows that Lavelle's are the best.'

Kate didn't know what to say. Obviously her mother still hadn't a clue about her father and his amorous goings-on. Kate hadn't the heart to tell her and spoil everything, but swore that, twenty-one or not, she would not eat one bite of the dessert that Sheila O'Grady delivered. She could see a frown on her mother's face, the worry that everything might not be perfect; after all, she was the one who'd cajoled and persuaded Frank to let Kate have a party.

‘Listen, Mum, thanks a lot. Everything looks great and I'm sure the pavlova will be perfect.'

‘Imagine, this time twenty-one years ago I was all out pregnant, ready to burst,' joked her mother, ‘and now look at my baby all grown up, almost finished college, my clever, clever Kate.'

They held each other in the warmth of the kitchen.

‘It will be wine or beer,' interrupted her father. ‘That's what we are providing. No gin or whiskey or vodka for young people under my roof. We don't want any drunkards.'

‘That's grand, Daddy.'

She resisted the impulse to retort that it was the older guests that might need watching on that score, as he disappeared off with the
Irish Times
to the peace and quiet of the living room.

‘He'll be fine tomorrow, don't worry,' added her mother as she washed some more plates and cutlery. ‘You should go to bed and have a bit of an early night so you'll look refreshed tomorrow.'

Kate yawned. She hadn't realized just how tired she
was. Preparations were well in hand so she could safely disappear to her room.

All night she'd tossed and turned, dreaming of disasters that could befall her family and friends within the next twenty-four hours. Excitement and nerves ensured she barely slept a wink.

She was greeted with breakfast in bed and her sisters singing ‘Happy Birthday' to her. Kate puffed up her pillows and roused herself as the present-giving began. A beautiful gold chain for her neck from her mum and dad, an embroidered clutch bag from Moya and a pair of dangly silver moon-shaped earrings from Romy.

‘They're all beautiful,' she smiled. ‘Just beautiful.'

She lay back and ate tea and toast as out on the landing her mother and sister screamed at each other.

‘Why do I have to hoover the hall and the stairs and the landing?'

‘Because I said so,' argued her mother.

‘It's her party. She should be doing it!'

‘Romy, I'm telling you to do it! Later on you are to have a bath and wash your hair and put those filthy jeans of yours in the machine. D'ya hear?'

Kate turned over, ignoring them. Romy could do her worst! She was not fighting, today of all days. Being twenty-one meant something. It meant being too grown up to bother with a lippy seventeen-year-old kid who drove you crazy. She closed her eyes and tried to relax.

People had started to arrive and she was barely finished dressing. Minnie had done her nails for her and lent her a pale mauve eyeshadow that looked great with her
dress. Romy had borrowed her mascara and given it back with bits of fluff from the carpet stuck to it. She'd kill her. The dress looked even better than it had in the shop and her mother's eyes welled with tears when she came in to see her.