Gemini Rain

First published in Ireland by Lj McEvoy

Copyright
Lj McEvoy, 2012

This book is copyright under the Berne Convention.

No reproduction without permission.

All rights reserved.

The right of Lj McEvoy to be identified as author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Berne Convention.

All characters and events in this publication, other than those clearly in the public domain, are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

Gabrielle sat her plump frame down in one of the matching chair
s placed each side of the stone-
clad fireplace. With her chubby hands tightly clasped together, her small eyes darted around the kitchen as she began muttering, ‘what else can I do? Normally I have plenty to do why not today of all days.
Shall I bake a tart for later?
’

When first meet
ing
Gabrielle,
you just know
to close your eyes and
she’s your
typical grandmother figure
, a woman
who loves
family around her
like a wonderful hobby,
keeping
her as busy as she was i
n her younger years. Easy
-
going and
sociable
,
her average
height and generous frame oozes
every hint of her
go along get along
character, harmony
and impartiality were two of Gabrielle’s
top preferences in her life.  But
at the moment
her short dark hair mish-meshed with silver
y
grey
is an exact match for
her mixed temperament of today.

Disappointingly
for Gabrielle
her
own
family is not here to
day
-
in
Aix-en-
Espérance
, their small home village just outside of Marseille
. H
er
three sons and their respective partners
like most
adults
in today’s world
are working
. The grandchildren are up in Paris with their parents but
of course just like any child in school
Gabrielle
possessed the impatient habit of counting the
remaining days until the
summer holidays
, ticking off each day on t
he calendar
he
r two
grand
children made for her last Christmas
.

‘What’s happening, why has he not
telephone
d
us
yet
?’ her normally laid back character was now losing its patience along with control over her other emotions
as she patted her forehead with the ends of her apron
.

‘Hush now, everything will be fine, just wait and see.’

‘Huh,’ her eyes squinting in annoyance as they turned towards the voice.

Jean-Pierre chuckled as he made some more coffee for his wife, her fourth this morning. Why does she always get her herself so uptight on occasions like this, daily she lets the normal grindings of life flow past her accepting everything with a smile and a bounce. But
when this sort of thing happens
she’s as taut as a strin
g holding a kite on a windy day
,
just when you hope she’ll be the calming centre of the family.
 
‘We could go for a walk if you wish,’ he suggested.

Her head snapped up, small eyes suddenly becoming saucers, ‘What! And if he phones?’

‘We have a cell phone
.’

‘Oh yes, well…’ looking down to her twiddling thumbs, ‘maybe after our coffee.’

Sighing as he handed the cup to her, she forced a sarcastic grin towards him as he eased himself into the in the chair opposite. Silence. The clinking of cup returning to saucer was the only disturbance. Five minutes passed seemingly forced by as Gabrielle constantly checked the clock on the kitchen dresser - willing it to move faster. Jean-Pierre chortled
as he lit his pipe
, making his wife’s head bend sideways toward him, requesting an explanation.

‘Do you remember the time she threw him out because he got too detailed when telling her some of his accomplishments for his
biography?
’

Gabrielle giggled, ‘well she did want details on his acting achievements not those with the opposite sex. And do you remember the time she threw him out for not clearing up after dinner?’

‘
It’s
not a man’s place to wash up the dishes!’ Jean-Pierre retorted.

‘All he had to do was pl
ace them in the dishwasher,’ Gabrielle
replied softly, ‘by the way I’m finished my coffee,’ offering the cup and saucer to him which he automatically took, walked to th
e kitchen sink and washed them.
Wiping his hands he turned to her, his mouth open as if to say something but realisation dawned on him as he noticed a mischievous grin on his wife’s face, her eyebrows were arched in a knowing look. He laughed rubbing his chin, ‘well maybe sometimes we oblige you women.’

‘
Ohh, w
hy won’t they call!’ She glared at the
door leading to the hallway where house telephone was based
using
all her thoughts towards that phone,
begging it to ring.  Jean-Pierre leaned slightly over the kitchen sink
to look out the window
just as the phone sounded, it was like an alarm bell, louder than usual. He turned sharply
, Gabrielle jumped in fright
and they both looked at each other, who was going to answer?

‘You answer it,’ Gabrielle said but then
as soon as she said the words she
changed her mind. They both dashed towards the hallway but Jean-Pierre got to the phone first.

‘Hallo,’ he tried to sound steady, ‘Ah, David,’ he had his back to her, straight, confident, ‘Oh, Mon Dieu!’ he sounded shocked.

‘Oh, Mon Dieu!’ she repeated after him, her hands clasping tightly together….

Chapter I

In Dublin 18 June 1972
a rar
e crisp summer morning lifted 30
year old Gerard Maguire’s spirits even higher as he drove towards Holles Street National Maternity hospital. After the complications of the last pregnancy with the loss of one of their twins this time the couple opted to have a hospital birth.

Speeding his car across the river Liffey which runs through the centre
of Dublin city, the smell of it
s seawater was beginning to rise with the temperature of the day, the sun glistening on its green surface gave the quays that picture postcard effect
. Gerard glanced out to Dublin Bay and could see rain clouds beginning to form, a typical Irish summer’s day – sunshine, moderate temperatures with sprinkles of rain here and there
.

‘It’s a girl, I just know its going to be a girl,’ he stated excitingly to his wife Patricia; she was in the middle of another contraction, her normally soft olive-skinned face flushed and creased with pain, both hands grasping the dashboard. A loving concern rushed through him
as he watch her, even after
five
years of marriage he still needed to shake himself into believing that this beautiful dark haired woman sitting beside him is his wife,
his wife.
He remembered as if it was yesterday the night his mates first met Patricia, all night they stared at him gobsmacked unable to comprehend how freckle-faced, chubby Gerard could get such a catch.

With Gerard being an optimist nothing ever got him down, with a sharp look and gruff comment he quickly dismissed the constant rumours and whispers that she was after his money and business. Ev
erybody automatically assumed Gerard
wa
s rich since he started working in
his father’s
logistics
business
, all his
father’s
brother
s had their
own businesses (it was like an internal family competition – which sibling had the most successful company)
but
only
those in similar circumstances were familiar with
the hard living
, stress
and l
ong hours of keeping your own company afloat, of supporting the wage of other families
, the risk of losing everything
running around the back of your head
.

His loyalty and love for Patricia was unbending, feeling they were a perfect match as he chose to ignore the snubs of his relatives who th
ought he married below their high expectations – this was a family on the move, connections everywhere and networking was the name of the game when it came to successful business
. With t
heir obvious differences – Gerard’s enthusiasm and
sometimes
fickleness and of course
his life-long experience of his father’s
transport
trade and Patricia’s serious planning and endurance
, the
ir
blend
meant they benefited a lot from each other both as husband and wife and in
the
business
they both worked and thrived to succeed
.

‘Christ, I hope it is Ger, ‘cause I’m not going through this again. Three is enough, if it’s another boy you can forget about trying again,’ Patricia edged ou
t those words in her old
soft
Carlow
acc
ent oblivious that her well-practised
marbled
Dublin tone had slipped, then
just as suddenly as it started
the contraction eased into memory preparing itself for the next onslaught. On hearing a relieved sigh from his wife he released one in sympathy wishing he could take some of the pain for her.

Quickly side-
glancing each other they burst out laughing remembering the promise they made when they first agreed to get married - their business plans, their hopes and dreams for the future
and
much to Patricia’s relief, that a small family was perfect for them.