The Real Liddy James (30 page)

“Darling Sebastian,” she said. “I know you think I'm a silly old fool, but I truly love him. That's why I'm marrying him.”

“Of course.”

Now Roberta looked at him with the intense gaze that Sebastian had inherited from her. “You should try it sometime.”

“I'm never getting married again,” said Sebastian.

“I meant, truly loving someone.”

Sebastian's eyes filled with tears. Roberta rested her hand on his heart for a moment, then she turned.

“You must be Liddy?”

Liddy nodded.

“How do you two know each other?”

Sebastian and Liddy took a breath simultaneously.

Then Sebastian spluttered “we're friends” as Liddy spluttered “we're colleagues” and then Sebastian said “friends and colleagues.”

“Liddy's one of us, Mum,” he said like a nervous teenager. “Lydia Mary Murphy.”

Liddy nodded. She didn't mind being called Lydia Mary Murphy anymore. But Roberta's eyes went beady and cold and her nostrils flared imperceptibly. She looked at Liddy with an expression that said
You're not one of us yet
. (Roberta had extricated Sebastian's tongue from Sorcha Lennon's braces, and tended to feel that his romantic exploits always ended similarly.)

“C'mon, Seb, have a drink,” she said briskly. “Let's celebrate. Isn't that what you Americans do, Liddy? You have divorce parties, don't you?”

“I didn't,” said Liddy. “But some people do, when the separations are amicable.”

“It's a shame for you, son,” said Harvey, clapping his hand on Sebastian's shoulder. “But it's not like there were any children.”

Liddy, concerned, glanced over at Sebastian, but he betrayed no emotion whatsoever.

Suddenly, from behind them, Matty pressed play and the air was filled with the sound of Peggy Lee singing “The Folks Who Live on the Hill
.
”

Roberta turned.

Liddy, Storm, and a reluctant Seamus had spent days chasing the livestock out of the ruined house; they had shoveled the shit out of the front reception rooms, scraped the moss off the walls, and scrubbed the black-and-white marble tiles clean; then Liddy had hung long white drapes against the empty window frames and decorated the rooms with flowers.

She didn't need to paint the walls with Mist on the Heather; she had the real thing.

Now Will lit a series of tapers that burst into flame along the stone stairs, illuminating the entrance to the house and the sweeping, shattered staircase beyond. The effect was romantic and magnificent.

Roberta gasped. “The old house just came back to life!”

She looked at Storm. “Storm, this is the most beautiful gift you could have given me.”

“I couldn't have done it without Liddy,” said Storm, throwing her arms around Liddy's shoulders and planting a sloppy kiss on her cheek. “Liddy can do anything. She's the most amazing person I've ever met in my life.”

“Then thank you, Liddy,” said Roberta. “Harvey, let's dance!”

Someday,
went the song, they would build a house on
a
hilltop high
.

Liddy felt Sebastian's gaze upon her.

She turned.

But suddenly Storm intervened with a cheery “Sorry, Liddy” and dragged him off. Sebastian, Storm, Will, and their four stepbrothers surrounded their mother with happy hugs and kisses, and Roberta pulled them to her with a fierce love.

Liddy looked at Cal.

“Shall we dance?” she said and held out her hands. He took them as Peggy Lee sang about families and changes. And then Matty ran over and for a couple of minutes the three of them swayed and twirled together, until Matty saw one of Sebastian's teenage stepnieces loitering under the chandelier and hurried over to her.

“Shall we go back to the house?” asked Liddy, and Cal nodded.

The sky was streaked with dark blue, orange, and pink.

“Can I join you?” said Sebastian, returning.

He lifted Cal onto his shoulders, and they walked together down the track.

With Cal safely asleep in bed, and Matty ensconced at the party enjoying the attentions of the stepniece, who marveled at his accent and giggled prettily whenever he spoke, Liddy and Sebastian stood outside the gate lodge. They both agreed it was their favorite time, just before sunset, the hour when the light takes on a particular warm glow that enhances everything around it, as if by magic.

Liddy had often spent this time by herself, outside on the jetty, looking at the colors around her and thinking about landscape paintings by Cézanne. She had not been conscious of wanting to share this with someone, but as she stood beside Sebastian she realized she had.

She told him of her love of art, that in a different life she might
have been a teacher of art history. She felt safe because she knew he had published poetry and, once upon a time, might have envisaged a different life for himself too.

“Do you paint?” he asked.

“No. I wish I could. I used to take photographs. I had a wonderful manual camera that I learned to use, but it broke eight years ago and I never replaced it.”

“Maybe you should.”

They walked down to the shore. A couple of guests had escaped the wedding party and were gently rowing a wooden boat called
Serene
across the water. In the distance music played.

“I never took a photograph that told the story of the moment, what it
felt
like to be somewhere. That's why I wish I could paint. I think when you look at a painting you can experience something beyond the image. You think that sounds mad, right?”

He shook his head, so she said, “I don't want to take photographs of here. I want to live it. For the first time in ages I feel that I'm
in
my own life, Sebastian, not watching as some person I don't recognize lives it for me.”

She took off her sandals so she could feel the ground beneath her feet.

They talked about the land and the lake and the mountains and, now that Liddy was most certainly not immune to Sebastian's Celtic charms, whether their shared DNA, born from the primordial soup of turf and water, was why they both felt at home there.
It came to me late, this love of the land,
she wanted him to know,
but it had come.

She looked down to see a perfectly round white stone beside
her foot. She picked it up, wiped the water off it, and put it carefully in her pocket for Cal.

They turned and started clambering back up to the path, which bristled with heather and bilberry, and as they reached the top an extraordinary sight greeted them.

The hedgerow was filled with hundreds of orange-and-black butterflies.

Liddy gasped in awe. In the magic hour, the translucent wings glowed.

“They're Painted Ladies,” whispered Sebastian. “Someone once told me that Lough Dan is on their migration path, but I've never seen anything like this.”

“It's incredible,” she said.

Neither moved for fear of ending the moment. Then a sharp breeze blew and the butterflies flew away, the orange-and-black cloud of wings rising above them.

He pulled her into his arms.

They had kissed for a long while, but they had not made love, because, while they had both considered it for more than a fleeting moment, as they tumbled down onto the grass the sharp ends of a thistle bush dug into their backs, and they had laughed and agreed they were too old not to care (in truth Liddy had always been too old not to care) but too young not to have tried. When they walked through the door of the gate lodge, Liddy, in her full
tousled, bruised-lipped state, accidentally caught sight of herself in the mirror.

“You scream sex,” said Sebastian fondly, and Liddy did not argue.

She quickly smoothed her hair. She rearranged her dress. She wondered how much time they would have alone before Matty returned.

Sebastian followed her to the door of her bedroom and they both looked at Cal, who was sleeping softly, like an angel. Then they walked back into the living room and he put wood and turf in the stove.

Liddy poured them both a whiskey. They raised their glasses. She waited for the “Just so you know I couldn't fully commit to someone who had children” bit. It didn't come.
He would make a brilliant father
, she thought. Then she glanced at the red-hot coals in the grate, the sparks sizzling and dancing, and she knew she was playing with fire.

“Sláinte!”
he said. He sat down on the couch.

“Well, here we are, Ms. James. Who'd have thought?”

“Indeed, Mr. Stackallan.”

“I like seeing you in my house,” he said happily.

He patted the seat beside him. She joined him obediently. He slung an arm across her shoulders. This made her happy. She kissed him again.
And again.

“Hey, hey,” he said. “What about Cal?”

“He never wakes up. Honestly, an earthquake could go off!”
I hope
, she thought.

But, playfully, he held her at arm's length. “Listen, I've got something to tell you.”

She looked at him.

“I'm not going back to New York, Liddy,” he said.

“What do you mean?”

“I spoke to Gillespie and Ross last week. I'm setting up a European office. There's nothing left for me in the city.”

Liddy said nothing. She lifted her glass and glugged down an enormous swig of whiskey. It burned her throat.

“And the thing is, Roberta and Harvey are going to live in his house in Dublin. Neither Storm nor Will is interested in staying on the land, so Roberta's giving it to me. I'm going to restore the old house and live in it.”

Liddy smiled. She did not take it personally. She knew him better now and she was happy for him.

“That sounds like a wonderful thing to do.”

“You think?”

“Yes. It must be nice to have your past be part of your future. I guess that's what it means to have roots.”

There was a pause.

“In fact,” she continued, “I think I envy you.”

Now he glugged down an enormous swig of whiskey.

“Then why don't you stay too?”

Liddy was quite sure she had misheard him, but when she looked at him, his face was calm and resolved in the flickering light.

“What have you got to go back to?” he said. He stroked her shoulder with his fingers.

Sixteen-hour days with a personal life as an optional extra
, thought Liddy.

“I mean, I know it's sudden, and it might not work out, but, Liddy, even if you stayed for six months, or a year, we would have tried to have a new life together in a new place. And who knows, we might just live happily ever after.”

“What about the boys?”

“The more the merrier.”

She rested her hand on his knee. He lifted it and kissed her wrist.

“You know you feel something for me,” he said.

She nodded. “I do,” she said. “I think I always have.”

He grinned. “Do you still believe in love?” he said.

YES!
YES!
she thought.
I could rebuild that house and make it beautiful again, the boys could go to local schools where no one has a private jet or a painting by Rothko in the games room, by day I'd be one of those feminist housewives, by night I'd go to bed with this incredibly sexy alpha male, and back in New York, people would say, “Whatever happened to Liddy James?”

And then the landline started ringing.
NO! NO!

“Hadn't you better get that?” he said.

“No,” she said.

“Liddy, it might be an emergency.”

She dragged herself away from him. She lifted the phone off the hook. She heard nothing but a high-pitched crackling noise. She held the receiver away from her ear. She moved to put it down.

“Liddy?”

The crackling subsided.

“Liddy? . . .”

“Rose?” said Liddy. “Is everything all right? Did Matty call you?”

“No,” said Rose.