The House by Princes Park (55 page)

Daisy wiped her red, melting face. ‘We met at a clinic. Michael’s dyslexic, same as me.’

‘What?’

‘Dyslexic. Remember I never learnt to read? Everyone thought I was daft.’

‘No they didn’t,’ Ellie said falsely.

‘Yes, they did, Ellie.’ Daisy shook her head. ‘I thought so meself. Anyroad, when me and Clint got married, we went to live in London, and I stayed after he’d gone to California. Oh, Ellie, I was dead miserable, working as an usherette, painting like a mad woman, hardly knowing a soul, and wondering what the hell I was doing with my life.’ Despite the heat, Daisy shivered. ‘Then Gran rang about this article she’d read on something called dyslexia. It explained why some perfectly intelligent people have trouble reading – they think in pictures, not words, though it’s more complicated than that. The article gave the name of a clinic in London where you could go to be assessed. It turned out I was a perfect example of a dyslexic.’

‘How come Michael managed to become a doctor if he couldn’t read?’

Daisy laughed. ‘He’s got this dead pushy mother, Angela. She refused to accept he was as stupid as the
teachers claimed. She coached him, taught him to read herself. It was Angela who wrote the article and started the clinic. The first time I went, Michael was there. You’ve no idea how wonderful it was knowing someone else had experienced the same problems as meself. Suddenly, everything fell into place and I didn’t feel daft any more.’ She sighed blissfully, remembering. ‘Then Michael asked me out and things just went on from there. I never thought it was possible to be so happy. Oh!’ she cried. ‘Isn’t it marvellous that the three of us have done so well; you, me, and your Moira!’

‘Marvellous,’ Ellie said thinly. ‘Look, Michael’s coming back. I’ll just say goodbye, then I’ll have to go.’

‘It’s been lovely meeting you, Ellie.’ Daisy looked at her pleadingly. ‘Write home soon, won’t you? Your mum’s always wondering where you are, Gran too. They worry themselves sick about you. Better still, when you’re back in England, go and see them. They’d love to see you.’

Ellie dreamed that night about the house where she was born. It was Christmas, she was a little girl, and the walls inside had been painted silver. It was like a grotto and the tree was so big it filled the hall with its feathery branches. The girls’ presents had been hidden all over the house. After breakfast there was a treasure hunt and they ran up and down the stairs, Ellie, her sister and her cousin, in and out of the rooms, screaming with joy when they found another mysteriously wrapped parcel. Ellie opened one and found the prettiest frock she had ever seen; pale blue silk with a lace collar, an old-fashioned, Victorian frock. She tried it on in front of the mirror in Gran’s bedroom and sighed with pleasure; she was the most beautiful little girl in the world. When she grew up she would become something quite exceptional; a famous film star, an opera singer, a queen.

When Ellie woke, she found herself in the shabby hotel
Barry had booked, with another long, hot day ahead in the marquee selling cars. She would have given anything for a drink to get her started.

Back in London in her tiny flat, Ellie looked through the red leather address book with a gold clasp that Daisy had given her as a birthday present when they were teenagers. It had seemed a stupid present at the time, but over the years it had gradually been filled. She opened the book at ‘C’, and his number was there, as she’d thought – Felix Conway.

She’d done a lot of thinking on the plane home from Spain. Her life was a mess, she was drinking too much, and it was important she do something about it. The time had come to settle down, in which case it was necessary to find a husband. She’d known many men over the years, but there’d only been one with whom she’d shared a sort of intimacy, not sexual, and not as close as that between Daisy and Michael, naturally, but she’d felt at ease with Felix Conway. She recalled the last night in the garden of Fern Hall when he’d evoked emotions she’d never had before or again. Felix, with his gentle voice and gentle smile, made her feel a nicer person, softer.

By now, he might have been long-married to Neila Kenny or some other woman, but a phone call wouldn’t hurt. She couldn’t imagine anything much having changed in Fern Hall and Felix would still be running the chemist’s at a loss. What was needed was a guiding hand, someone who recognised the potential of the house and the shop. In other words, herself. It would be a challenge.

She collected together all her small change and took it downstairs to the communal phone, then dialled the number of the house in Craigmoss. Felix should be home by now. He answered almost immediately.

‘Felix, it’s Ellie. Do you remember me?’

‘Of course.’ His voice was faint, but he sounded pleased.
‘I often think about you – and Brendan. He’ll be eight soon. How are you both?’

‘We’re very well and Brendan’s getting on famously at school. I wondered, Felix, if I could come and stay for a while? Would Neila mind?’ she added cautiously.

‘Neila? She left Craigmoss years ago. She’s living somewhere in England with her brother.’ He gave a whispery sigh. ‘There’s only me and I’d love to see you. When will you be coming?’

‘In a couple of weeks or so.’

‘Will you be bringing Brendan?’

‘Yes,’ said Ellie after a pause.

Brendan came home from school and threw his satchel on to the kitchen table. ‘Where is she?’

‘If you mean Ellie, love, she’s gone to town to do some shopping.’

Ruby saw him visibly relax. She poured a glass of lemonade and he drank it thirstily. They’d both felt on edge since Ellie had arrived a week ago. The girl was completely devoid of tact, expecting her son to fall into her arms, treat her as a mother, when she was a total stranger as far as Brendan was concerned.

Over the years, Ruby had tried to talk to him about Ellie, show him her photograph, but Brendan wasn’t interested. He was a well-adjusted, self-confident child, quite sure of his place in the world, and had never shown any sign of missing his parents. Old for his years, he made friends easily, and frequently brought home some of his mates from school, though not since Ellie had arrived. She made him embarrassed, tousling his hair, kissing him, buying him sweets he didn’t like, calling him, ‘kiddo’, as if trying to make up for the fact that she was a mother who’d so far played no part in his young life.

It was rare Brendan looked miserable, but he did now,
hunched at the table, nursing the empty glass. Ruby sat beside him. ‘Would you like a scone?’

‘With jam on?’

‘Of course. We’ve got strawberry.’

‘Then I’d like a scone, Bee.’

‘I think I’ll have one too, keep you company.’ She did him two scones and one for herself. At the table again, they sat shoulder to shoulder, loving each other so much it hurt, and terrified that very soon they might be parted.

Ellie hadn’t said anything, but Ruby could sense it in the air and could tell Brendan did too. They didn’t discuss it, because putting their fear into words would only make it seem more real. Ellie hadn’t given a reason for coming home, hadn’t said if she was staying or going, and there was something about the calculating way she watched her son, asked repeated questions, as if trying to catch up on the time she’d lost, familiarise herself with his habits, his likes and dislikes, become his mother within a week.

In a little corner of her mind, Ruby had always feared something like this would happen. In a fatalistic sort of way, she had been prepared for it. But Brendan wasn’t. It would be cruel beyond belief for Ellie, whom he didn’t like, to suddenly remove him from the only home he’d ever known and the people who loved him.

Ruby knew she could point this out till the cows came home, but in the end she had no rights. Brendan belonged to Ellie. It was an irrefutable fact, and Ellie was selfish, she thought of no one but herself. If it suited her to reclaim her child, she would do it, regardless of the hurt it would cause. In her own way, Greta was the same. It seemed the worst of Jacob’s genes, the ones that made a person selfish and uncaring, had been passed to his eldest daughter and then on to that daughter’s child.

Ruby and Brendan were on the settee, watching
Blue Peter
, when Ellie and Heather came in together, having met on the bus on the way home. There was a stiffness
between them. A grim-faced Heather went straight to her room. She’d always been dutiful and conscientious and disapproved of the way her niece behaved. In a few days’ time, she was going to stay with her own daughter. Daisy’s baby was expected soon and she was looking after Harry while his mother was in hospital. Everyone had got over the surprising revelation about Clint, apart from Pixie, and were thrilled that Daisy and Michael had found each other and were so obviously happy.

‘See what I bought you, kiddo!’ Ellie was laden with carrier bags. She opened one and produced a garish, flowered shirt.

Brendan blushed scarlet. ‘I’m not wearing that!’

‘Don’t be rude, Brendan. It’s lovely, very fashionable.’

‘He prefers T-shirts, Ellie,’ Ruby said mildly.

‘Not for best, surely. Anyroad, he wears shirts for school.’

‘Only reluctantly, and then they’re grey.’

‘I thought he could wear it when we go to Ireland.’

There was a long silence. Ellie pretended to sort through the shopping and didn’t look at them.

‘Ireland?’ Ruby was aware her voice sounded querulous and old.

‘Not far from Dublin, to be precise. I’m going to stay with a friend, Felix Conway, Liam’s brother, and taking Brendan with me.’

‘You can’t just take him out of school!’

‘I can do anything I like, Gran.’ Ellie arrogantly tossed her long brown hair.

‘How long will you be going to Dublin for?’

‘I’m not sure, a while.’

‘I don’t want to go to Dublin,’ Brendan said mutinously. He rarely cried, but his eyes were dangerously full of tears.

‘It’s only for a little holiday, kiddo.’

‘You just said you weren’t sure when you’d be back,’
Ruby pointed out. ‘I tell you what, let’s talk about this some other time.’ Tonight, for example, when Brendan was in bed and she could speak her mind. But Ellie wasn’t willing to give an inch.

‘No, Gran, let’s talk about it now,’ she said, her eyes steely hard. ‘Brendan is my son and I want him. Oh, I know I’ve not been much of a mother, but I will be from now on. I’m taking him with me to Dublin and, if you want the truth, I might not come back. It’s time I settled down and I quite fancy doing it in Craigmoss with Felix Conway.’

‘And you don’t give a damn what Brendan thinks, how he feels?’

‘He’s only eight. He’ll soon get used to things.’

Brendan threw himself at the woman who claimed to be his mother and began to beat her with his fists. ‘I’m
not
eight,’ he screamed. ‘I’m only seven. You don’t even know me
birthday
. I’m not going to Ireland with you.’ He stamped his foot. ‘I
won’t
.’

Ruby lost her temper. ‘Now see what you’ve done, you foolish girl. You must have been at the back of the queue, Ellie Donovan, when the Lord handed out good sense.’ She pulled Brendan away, clasped the heaving figure in her arms, and could feel his heart beating madly against her own. It was a long time since she could remember being so angry, but if she let rip to her feelings, it would only distress Brendan more.

Ellie had the grace to look uncomfortable at the upset she had caused. She laid her hand on Ruby’s arm. ‘I’m sorry, Gran. I didn’t want to hurt anyone, but he
is
mine. You must have realised this might happen one day. I’ve got plane tickets for tomorrow. I thought it best not to say anything before. He’ll soon grow to love me, won’t you, kiddo?’ She ruffled Brendan’s hair, but he tore himself away.

‘I’ll never love you,’ he hissed. ‘Never, never, never.’

The most mind-shattering things in life always happened suddenly, without warning. One minute everything was normal, next minute things had changed and would never be the same again. Jacob had deserted his family to join the Army, Arthur Cummings had died, the lads had been killed. Yet still life continued, sometimes better than before, sometimes worse.

During the sleepless night that followed, Ruby discovered she wasn’t as hard as she used to be, not quite so confident. The thought of life without Brendan was scarcely bearable. Nothing and no one would ever take his place. Even so, had the circumstances been different, had she known he would be happy with his mother, she would have resigned herself to his going. But what made it even more unbearable, was knowing he would be desperately unhappy with Ellie. He would never grow to love her as she hoped.

Next morning, she went downstairs, her head thumping with tiredness. To her surprise, Heather was already up and looked at her with concern.

‘I heard you tossing and turning all night, Mam. How do you feel?’

‘How d’you think, love?’

‘I wish there was something we could do to stop this.’

‘There’s nothing, Heather,’ Ruby said wearily. ‘You’re a solicitor, you should know. Everything Ellie said was right.’

‘Legally right, but morally wrong. Does our Greta know she’s going?’