A Taste for Love (33 page)

She recognized two or three of the bands she had sent T-shirts to, and couldn’t believe it, but they had actually worn them at gigs and when they were doing publicity
shots. Maybe Duggy could do a link to the bands’ Myspace so fans could check out the music and the T-shirts!

Finn was busy on the other side of the room at the big kitchen table they had bought in IKEA. He’d had another idea and was sketching out a rough concept: ‘Busy Boarding’ with a guy jumping the waves on his surfboard!

She loved it.

‘Hey!’ he said, pulling her onto his lap and kissing her. ‘None of this would have happened if it wasn’t for you, Lucy.’ He touched her face with his finger. ‘You are the best thing that has ever happened to me … you are my lucky charm. My other half. My better half.’

‘And you’re mine.’ She felt exactly the same way about him, too. The minute they had moved in to the flat together it had felt like they were always meant to be together.

Suddenly he got up and disappeared into the bedroom. He came back a few seconds later, knelt down on the floor near her, and took her hand.

‘Lucy, I hope it’s not too soon, but I really love you, and I want to ask you something really important: will you marry me?’

Lucy flung her arms around him, the two of them falling in a heap on the rug on the wooden floor.

‘Of course I’ll marry you, Finn,’ she said, burying her face in his chest, trying not to let tears of sheer happiness engulf her. ‘I love you so much.’ She gulped and sniffed as Finn gave her the ring.

It was small and perfect – a simple diamond on a slim platinum band – and it fitted her finger perfectly.

‘Finn McEvoy, we’re broke! You know we don’t have
the money to buy a ring,’ she protested, shushed by his lips kissing her, his hands on her waist and hips.

It was only as she began to unbutton his shirt she noticed Finn’s new T-shirt. It was black and white, and showed a guy and a girl kissing, and the words: ‘Busy Loving You!’

Over the busy June bank holiday weekend Matt and Kerrie decided that they would visit both families. On Saturday they would go to Kerrie’s parents’ house to meet some of her family, and on the Sunday she would go down to Moyle House with him.

From the corner of her eye Kerrie watched Matt’s expression as they drove to Tallaght and turned off the main road and into Riverfield Estate. Passing row after row of white and grey houses almost identical to each other, it was very different from his world, she knew, but this was her place, where she grew up, and he needed to understand that.

It was really hot, and they were both in cut-off jeans and T-shirts, Matt bringing along wine, beer and sweets for her family, while Kerrie had made a strawberry tart for dessert and bought a large tub of Ben & Jerry’s ice cream.

Everyone was in the back garden, and her dad had the barbecue lit. Her mum and Mike and Niamh, Martina and Darren were all sitting under the green parasol at the big
wooden garden table and chairs. Johnny was helping her dad, and a smaller table was set up for the kids, who were all racing around and playing, the toddlers down at the old sand pit with buckets and spades.

‘Welcome,’ said her mam, hugging them and getting up to get everyone drinks.

Matt was polite, getting to know everyone and shaking their hands, and playing football with little Jamie, Emma and Rory.

Her dad was busy cooking hamburgers and sausages, his face red from the heat of the charcoal as he flipped and turned them, and there were buns and salad and a big bowl of her mother’s potato salad. Kerrie and Johnny’s wife Fidelma passed around the plates of hot food to everyone.

‘This is great,’ said Matt, slathering tomato ketchup and raw onions on to his burger as little Jamie sat on his lap munching a massive ketchup-covered sausage, and destroyed his clean T-shirt.

‘He’s gorgeous,’ whispered Martina, when Matt went off upstairs to try to wash some of it off. ‘No wonder you kept him so well hidden,’ she teased. ‘When is the wedding? France in September, isn’t it? With Darren only just back working you know we won’t be able to go. You’ll just have to count us out.’

‘And I’ll be the size of a house by then!’ added the pregnant Nicola.

Embarrassed, Kerrie suddenly felt less certain about going away to get married. Why shouldn’t her brothers and sisters and little nieces and nephews be there? They were her flesh and blood. But the chances of rearranging things and
finding a venue for a wedding in Ireland would probably be pretty impossible at this late stage.

‘Hey,’ said Matt, reappearing in a tight-fitting clean grey Harvard T-shirt.

‘Shannon gave me this to change into.’ He laughed as Kerrie’s younger sister appeared behind him.

‘Sit here,’ insisted Kerrie, making sure Shannon had a big burger and all the trimmings. ‘It’s brain food.’

‘I’ll take a little break for an hour and then I’ll go back to study,’ Shannon promised.

‘What a girl!’ said her dad. ‘Shannon is up in that attic room of hers studying so hard. She’s just like Kerrie was, stuck to the books!’

‘My exams are in a few days, Da,’ protested Shannon. ‘I’d want to be stuck to the books!’

Afterwards Kerrie’s brother Mike got down her dad’s guitar and began a sing-song with everyone joining in. Mike sang some Radiohead and Thin Lizzy songs. Then Martina sang some Mary Black before her dad took over and did some Dylan and Elvis.

‘I told you my dad was great,’ said Kerrie proudly. Matt sang along, too, Jamie back up on his lap again. She looked round at the garden, filled with her mother’s plants and flowers and the big old mountain ash tree. Everyone had a drink and was relaxing in the deckchairs as the light began to fade and the sun went down. It was getting time to pack up and head home. The kids were getting tired, little Emma sucking her thumb as she curled up in her mammy’s lap.

‘Sit down, Ma, and I’ll make you and Dad some coffee,’ Kerrie offered, disappearing into the kitchen.

‘This is always the time of evening I like best during the summer,’ said her dad. ‘The older ones are out playing in the road, and the smaller ones are ready for bed, and your mother and I can just sit out here in the garden and take our ease. Watch the sun go down!’

Matt reached for Kerrie’s hand as she brought in the coffee and they sat in the garden chatting for a long while before saying their goodbyes.

‘I like them,’ said Matt as they drove home. ‘The more I get to know your mum and dad, the more I appreciate them. Your family are great, and Shannon seems a lot like you. Jamie is a bit of a handful, but just the kind of kid I hope we have some day.’

‘Hey, we have to get married first!’ she said, suddenly turning serious. ‘That’s what I wanted to talk to you about, Matt, getting married. I’m not sure about having the wedding in France any more … it’s just so far away.’

‘I thought that’s what you wanted: to have this small exclusive wedding with only our parents and a few family members and close friends present.’

‘I did … but now I’ve changed my mind.’

He laughed aloud. ‘I hoped that maybe you might.’

‘I want all my family there,’ she admitted. ‘I’ve been so absolutely stupid, Matt. So caught up in this fabrication of mine … My brothers and sisters can’t afford to pay for expensive flights to the South of France and hotels in high season! Who’d mind their kids?’

‘Finances are a bit tight on my side of the family too, at present,’ Matt teased.

‘I’ve been such a fecking wagon!’

‘Mmm,’ he said, agreeing with her.

‘If it’s not too late, Matt, do you think we could have the wedding in Ireland? There must be somewhere that could take the crowd!’

The next day they drove to Moyle House. Kerrie was shocked to see the auctioneers’ huge ‘For Sale’ sign attached to the railings beside the gateway as they drove up to the house.

‘How are they both taking it?’ she asked.

‘Badly!’

The dogs ran up to greet them, and Kerrie patted Lady on the head as Maureen Hennessy came out to welcome them.

Maureen looked tired, as if the stuffing had been knocked out of her; she had lost some of her strength and vitality.

‘Where’s Dad?’ asked Matt.

‘He’s in the sitting room reading the paper.’

Dermot Hennessy seemed to be dozing in the armchair, his chin on his chest. The abandoned newspaper was spread loosely across his lap.

‘Dad,’ said Matt gently. ‘Dad.’

Dermot Hennessy began to stir and, stretching his arms and shoulders, he woke up.

‘Good to see you, Matt, boy, and Kerrie.’

Kerrie was shocked at the change in him too. He seemed to have shrunk, and his colour wasn’t good. He looked so pale.

‘Just having a read of the Sunday papers … lot of rubbish, most of it!’

Feeling awkward, Kerrie slipped away upstairs with her bag. Matt and his dad needed time on their own together.

Maureen was busy in the kitchen when she came downstairs.

‘I’m sorry about all that has happened,’ said Kerrie hesitantly. ‘It must be so hard for you and Dermot and everyone.’

‘Well, the one thing I will say for all this trouble is that you soon find out who your true friends are. We’ve had a few letdowns, like the Gallaghers not inviting us to their big summer garden party over in Killeen Abbey two weeks ago – we’ve always gone to it! How could people forget all the good things that Dermot and Gerard Mullen did for this town and area? The shopping centre they built, those lovely family houses up on the Forge Road, the medical centre and the new nursing home!’ she said angrily. ‘Dermot is no saint but he’s not a bad man, Kerrie! At least some of our old friends have been loyal, and thank heaven I have the golf club.’

‘You still go up there?’

‘Most of the ladies there have enough sense not to give a toss about people’s husbands’ reputations!’

It was lovely outside and when Maureen suggested a walk with the dogs Kerrie was pleased to go along. The dogs scampered backwards and forwards as they wondered all around the grounds of Moyle House.

‘It’s at its best now,’ said Maureen, as they walked through
the garden with its herbaceous borders filled with tall delphiniums, lupins and foxgloves. Masses of climbing roses covered the stone wall. ‘I can’t believe that this will be my last summer here in the garden,’ she said, trying to control her emotions. ‘And that next year someone else will have taken over the place. The whole thing is too bloody sad to bear!’

‘Do you know where you and Dermot will move to?’

‘No, but we both want to stay fairly local.’

‘Maybe you’ll find somewhere smaller close by or in the village,’ Kerrie suggested.

‘Can you imagine Dermot living in a cottage in the village?’ Maureen snapped bitterly.

Kerrie couldn’t imagine them living anywhere but here. No wonder it had been so hard for Matt trying to get them to agree to sell.

‘Lots of people in Dublin downsize as they get older and their families grow up,’ she said gently.

Maureen pretended that she didn’t hear her.

They walked down to the old tennis court.

‘I’d always hoped that Georgina and Matt and Ed’s children would play tennis on this court, just like in the good old days.’

Kerrie looked at the uneven grass surface and almost threadbare net, knowing that she was looking at remnants of a world that had vanished long ago. It was just that the Hennessys couldn’t see it.

As they reached the old paddock the dogs chased after a rabbit, barking furiously. They passed by the old stables and quarters, now empty and abandoned.

‘It was a busy yard before our time,’ reminisced Maureen. ‘We kept a few ponies and mares, but the Butlers had a full yard. There’s the old water pump and the saddle stone, and the mounting block they used to help the ladies on to their horses.’

Kerrie wandered around, exploring. Amazingly, although the old stables looked a bit decrepit from the outside, inside they were still in pretty good condition, with dry walls. There were fifteen stalls, a kitchen, a large tack room and steps up to a big loft area.

‘Some of the stable boys used to sleep up there to keep an eye on the horses,’ explained Maureen. ‘They were valuable animals.’

Outside, around the small courtyard, there were a number of ramshackle outhouses. The sun shone brightly; wild-flowers had colonized the cracks in the broken paving and the gaps in the stone walls.

‘It’s lovely here, Maureen. What a beautiful place!’ Kerrie said.

‘It’s just a stables,’ said Maureen. ‘It’s never been used for anything else, except maybe some storage.’

‘Half the mews houses in Dublin in Leeson Street and Ballsbridge and Donnybrook and Dun Laoghaire were old stables and coach houses that people converted. They can look amazing,’ Kerrie said quietly. ‘I’d imagine if you already own one it is a lot less hassle to convert them than to build something from scratch … but I’m no expert.’

‘What are you saying?’

‘You own these stables already, Maureen, and the courtyard. You could probably retain them when you sell the rest of the property, if the auctioneer agrees. Also it would
slightly reduce the cost for a buyer. They could make a lovely mews-type house. Easy to manage.’

‘Matt told me that you were a clever girl,’ Maureen said, patting Kerrie’s arm. ‘But I’d want to find out the feasibility of doing something like that, without too many people knowing about it! I wouldn’t want to get Dermot’s hopes up if it was not possible or cost too much. With the business gone, and all that has happened, he’s like a lost soul about the place.’

‘I have a friend who is an architect, his name is Emmet Ryan – maybe I could ask him to contact you and come down here and see what he thinks,’ Kerrie offered. The first time she had met him Emmet had told her about a mews conversion he had done down near Herbert Park for some musician. She remembered seeing photos of it in one of her house design magazines.

‘Yes, that is something definitely worth looking into. Downsizing! Is that what you called it?’

Kerrie tried to control her smile. Maureen had been listening to her after all.

‘As you say, lots of people in big houses like ours have to downsize and move to a smaller property on their own land. We’d still be in Moyle House, whether it is a mews or a lodge or whatever you call it!’ Maureen called the dogs and they continued their walk.