Wishful Thinking (a journey that will change lives forever) (2 page)

Chapter 1

June 21st, 8.00 a.m.

Rosie Mitchell waited patiently at the platform.  The train was a little bit late this morning, she thought, checking her watch.  Not that it mattered to her.  Unlike all the young hassled-looking people here, Rosie wasn’t in any hurry.  At this stage, she was long past her rushing-around days, and unlike these poor misfortunates, had no big mortgage to worry about, or loan or car repayments to meet.  

Thank goodness for the train all the same, she thought, otherwise these days she’d be really stuck.  Martin had always been the one to do the driving, and God knows he went on at her enough to learn, but she never had any interest. 

To be honest, she liked the train, enjoyed being able to sit back for the journey to Dublin and admire the beautiful views along the coast, gaze at the birds weaving in and out over the cliffs between Greystones and Bray, or stare in awe at the stunningly beautiful Killiney Bay.  Or, if the day was cloudy, and the scenery not so spectacular, she would sit and read a book.  Sometimes she’d be so stuck in the story she was reading that she wouldn’t even notice the journey going. 

So Rosie loved the train and she wouldn’t dream of getting a car.  What was the point?  The station was a short walk down the road from the house and, with the train going three times a day to Connolly station, she had plenty of options.   She could nip into town whenever she fancied a bit of window shopping, and the house in which her old friend Sheila now lived was close enough to the rail line, as was her daughter Sophie’s place.  For the moment anyway.

The train finally pulled into Wicklow station, and Rosie stood back and waited until the cluster of younger commuters were happily seated before she herself boarded.   The upside of this was that she wouldn’t get pushed and shoved while stepping onto the train.  Since putting her back out in a badminton match a few years ago, Rosie’s balance wasn’t as sure as it used to be, and she liked to take her time for fear of slipping into the huge gap between the train and the platform.  Of course, the downside of waiting until everyone else had boarded was that she was often left without a seat.  But Rosie didn’t mind.  These people all had hard day’s work ahead of them whereas she didn’t have a care in the world. 

In fact, wasn’t she the lucky one – a lady of leisure going off to view houses with her only daughter?  She’d hate to have to face a day’s work now like all her poor fellow passengers.  You could almost see the tension in their expressions – all preoccupied with whatever awaited them at their jobs.  It was a shame really, the lengths that people had to go to these days just to keep their heads above water.

It had been a lot different when she and Martin were starting out.  Neither of them had to spend hours of their day commuting back and forth like that and, she thought, they were much the better for it.

Martin had worked in his father’s gardening business since he was old enough to use a trowel, and Rosie had worked in the Civil Service, which of course back then was one of the cushiest numbers you could get.  They’d bought the house in Wicklow town so she could walk to work, while Martin went off in his van to wherever he happened to be working that day. 

She smiled sadly as she thought of poor Martin.  There wasn’t a day that she didn’t think of him, of course, and miss him dreadfully, but yet she couldn’t really complain.  They had had a wonderful marriage, two wonderful children in David and Sophie, and in their many years together rarely a cross word had passed between them. She and Martin had both known for some time before his death that the day would soon come when she would be left on her own.  High blood pressure was in Martin’s family, and when he suffered two near-fatal heart attacks in his last year, it became clear that a simple change in lifestyle or the tablets he was taking weren’t going to save him.  But it was lovely that he had died doing what he loved, tending the roses out in the back garden – the evening sun just beginning to fade when Rosie found him. 

So, eighteen long months ago, Rosie had buried the one great love of her life, having made him a promise that she would keep going, keep laughing and smiling and enjoying life in the same way she always did, so that it wouldn’t seem all that long until she saw him again.  At times it was very hard, but she was doing her very best to keep that promise.

Anyway, she was very lucky.  Her two children were happily married and with good jobs, David to a lovely Liverpool girl named Kelly (although there were no sign of kids yet, and Rosie wouldn’t dream of asking) and working as a builder over there.  Sophie and Robert had little two-year-old Claudia and had good jobs, but were still searching for a house.  Rosie shook her head.  That was another real hardship for the younger people these days.  The house prices in Dublin were legendary and it would only get worse!  

Anyway, today Sophie was taking her to see a house she had her eye on out in Malahide.  “Mum, it’s perfect!” she’d enthused on the phone the day before.  “You have simply got to see it!” 

Rosie was delighted with her daughter’s enthusiasm but couldn’t help feeling a little bit disappointed that Sophie would want to live all the way out there, and so far away from her.  It was far enough as it was with her living in Santry, and having to take the train and then a bus just to visit her.  

Still, it would be nice to see the three of them settled in something other than the rented apartment they were in now.  There wasn’t much space, and what with Claudia hitting the
terrible twos it couldn’t be good for them all living in what was basically one big room.  And the height of the place!  Imagine if the child somehow opened or even
fell through
that big front window?  Rosie didn’t even like to think about it.  No, it would be better for all concerned if this place Sophie wanted her to see today was a nice little tidy semi like Rosie’s own house, with a safe back garden for Claudia to run around in.

The train emptied a lot of its passengers at Pearse Street Station, and Rosie sank gratefully onto a recently vacated seat.  She laughed softly to herself, as she could almost hear Martin’s lilting Wicklow tones jeering her.  ‘Jaysus, missus, you’d swear you were an ‘oul wan!”  But her back had been giving her a fair bit of trouble lately, and as much as she tried to tell herself otherwise, there was no denying that she was feeling the effects of it.  And in all honesty, no matter how energetic and cheerful she might feel, she
wasn’t
getting any younger, was she? She smiled. She was definitely
not
one of those glamorous granny types she often saw walking confidently around the town. With their coloured hair, perfect make-up and lovely up-to-the-minute fashions, these women looked for all the world like they were still in the first flush of youth.

And apparently, these days a person could get injections to get rid of wrinkles – from your buttocks, no less!  Good luck to them, but that wasn’t Rosie’s way.  No, she was going to let her auburn hair go as grey as it liked, and her skin get as wrinkly as it wanted – weren’t these things just marks of a life lived at the end of the day?  Getting older was nothing to be ashamed of, and as much as you might like to, you simply couldn’t outrun time. 

But today, she wasn’t running anywhere, she mused, getting off the train at Connolly Station and going to wait at the bus stop.  It was a pity that Sophie’s car was in having a service today, otherwise she could have come and collected her at the station, and she wouldn’t have to wait in the cold for the next bus to Santry.  

Because the train had been late in the first place, she had missed her usual connection but such was life.  Rosie reached into her bag and took out the novel she was currently reading.  Anita Shreve, a nice gentle read – not half as gripping as our own  lovely  Irish writers– but still, nice enough to pass a bit of time. 

Finally the bus arrived, and twenty or so minutes later, Rosie reached her daughter’s apartment building.  She took extra care selecting the right buzzer, always afraid of her life that she’d push the wrong one and wake up some poor misfortunate sleeping off their night-duty or something.  She shook her head.  Originally from County Clare, and despite living in Wicklow for all of her married life, she still couldn’t shake off the ‘small village inferiority complex’ as Martin used to call it.  Rosie called it good manners and concern for a fellow human being.  Outgoing and confident all his life, Martin didn’t really understand.

Nor, it seemed, did Sophie.  “Mum, I’m just drying my hair – can you hold on for five minutes?” her daughter’s voice blared tinnily through the speaker.

“No problem,” Rosie replied agreeably, although the rather unseasonable cold was making her fingers numb.

“Hi, Mum!”  It was a good ten minutes before Sophie appeared downstairs, dark hair sleek and shiny as always and her make-up beautifully applied.  Her daughter always looked stylish, and today she was dressed in a gorgeous fitted woollen suit, something that even Rosie’s inexperienced eye could see had cost an arm and a leg.   But then again, it couldn’t have cost that much because Sophie and Robert were mad saving for this
house, weren’t they?   No, knowing Sophie and her incredible talent for spotting a bargain, she had probably picked the suit up for next to nothing in one of those second-hand shops that seemed to be popping up everywhere these days. 

“Sorry about keeping you waiting like that, but I think you were a little early – I said ten thirty, didn’t I?”

Rosie thought idly that if her daughter was occupied and couldn’t come to the door, there was no reason why she couldn’t have just buzzed her into the hall.  But Sophie could be a little bit scatty sometimes. 

“No, the train was late actually – where’s Claudia?” Rosie stepped into the hallway, eager to get out of this cold. Although it was supposed to be summertime, the seasons in this country generally set their own agenda. 

Sophie linked her mother’s arm and steered her back outside.  “At the childminder’s of course!  I couldn’t bring her with us to the house – we’d have no peace with her wailing and whinging and
touching
everything!”

“Oh.” Rosie was disappointed.  She had been looking forward to seeing her granddaughter.  “Maybe we could pick her up afterwards?”

“Ah no, Tracy offered to take her for the day – she knows I need a break,” Sophie answered dismissively. “And of course, she won’t say no to the money either.”

Rosie nodded reluctantly.  Perhaps Claudia could be a bit of a handful but . . .

Sophie chattered on. “Oh, Mum, I am just
dying
for you to see this place – it is truly incredible!”

“I’m sure it is, pet, but don’t get your hopes up too much either, sure you won’t?  You know yourself that there’s a lot of competition out there for nice houses and – ”

“Mum, this is our house – I just know it is!”

As they walked towards the residents’ carpark, Rosie had to smile at her daughter’s enthusiasm.  She had been the same as a young girl, always full of excitement and mischief. 

Sophie and David had both been quite a handful when growing up really, and while Martin had always insisted that she spoiled and sheltered them a little too much, she was proud to say that they had both turned out very well.  ‘A credit to them,’ her own mother might have said, had she been alive today to see her grandchildren.

“And afterwards I thought we might go and have a nice lunch and have a chat about it all – what do you think?”

Rosie was thrilled.  That sounded lovely actually. A nice old gossip with her daughter was just what she needed.  Although they spoke often on the phone, she hadn’t seen Sophie in a while, and she wanted to tell her all her news, and of course she wouldn’t mind confiding in someone about how her back was starting to give her more trouble

and . . .

Rosie jumped, as the flashy-looking sports car in front of them beeped noisily.

“What do you think?” Sophie grinned, proudly waving her keys.  

“Is this yours?” Rosie gasped in surprise at the car.  A brand new car?  Despite herself, she couldn’t help feeling a bit hurt.  If her car was no longer giving her trouble, and indeed it didn’t look likely, why hadn’t Sophie collected her from the station, instead of having her wait twenty minutes in the cold and then another twenty in the bus?  And how on earth would they get a baby-seat into that tiny thing?

“Yep,” Sophie confirmed happily.

“But what about the old one?  The one that was giving you trouble?”

“Well, I told you the other car was having a service because I wanted this to be a surprise!” Sophie suddenly looked crestfallen.  “Don’t you like it?”

“Of course I do, love.” Seeing the disappointed look on her daughter’s face, Rosie felt guilty.  For some reason, Sophie had decided that this new car would be a huge surprise for her mother, although why that would be the case, Rosie didn’t know – well, it
was
a huge surprise but not an altogether pleasant one.  Still, she’d better humour her. “It’s lovely, Sophie – I can’t wait to get a good spin in it.”