Take a Look At Me Now Page 5

  Everyone wanted to know about the funeral and I hadn’t a clue where to start. I’d been worried about that during the night. There wasn’t much money in either of our accounts and as far as I knew neither of us had any life assurance. I’d no idea what funerals cost anyway. The only person I could think of to ring was Brian Daly. He’d been our family solicitor for years and Alison had gone to him for advice when she was setting up the business. As far as I could remember they were in regular contact, although I hardly knew him.

  He seemed completely thrown by the news. He told me in a low voice that he’d had a long meeting with Alison only yesterday.

  ‘Really? She phoned me at lunchtime.’ I started to cry again. ‘She was in great form,’ I said through my sniffles. I wondered if he knew what was going on, or what it was that Alison had wanted to talk to me about. Brian immediately offered to call round to the flat. I was glad to have someone in authority nearby, even though I felt he might be a bit intimidating. He was quite serious, from what I could remember, but I dismissed my fears. I needed someone like him right now; I was completely out of my depth.

  He arrived in less than an hour. I had barely showered and changed when he rang the bell.

  He asked me to tell him again what had happened and he pressed me for details I didn’t have. When I got upset he seemed quite distressed, as if it were all his fault, and kept telling me not to worry, he could easily find out all he needed to know from the police. When I eventually voiced my concern over the funeral he assured me that there was plenty of money and instructed me to send all the bills directly to him.

  ‘Are you certain?’ I was amazed. As far as I knew, we were broke. My job paid well enough but I just seemed to fritter it away and Ali had used every cent she’d saved on the business and that hadn’t yet made any profit.

  ‘There’s plenty of money to take care of things, Lily. Your father’s estate . . .’

  ‘You mean there’s actually a bit of his money that he didn’t leave to the donkey sanctuary or some other useless charity?’ I knew my voice held a not very well-disguised sneer.

  ‘Lily.’ He sat down beside me. ‘I know this is very hard for you. I can hardly believe it myself.’ His eyes were sad. ‘She was so young and yesterday when we met she was alive and happy and looking forward to life.’ He stopped and closed his eyes for a second. ‘She had everything going for her.’ He was watching me carefully again.

  ‘No, she hadn’t.’ I wasn’t letting him get away with anything. ‘You’ve no idea how hard it’s been for her since the baby came along. All she did was work and worry about Charlie’s future and . . .’ I stopped, afraid the tears would take over again. My sister had struggled for so long and now, just as things seemed to be picking up, it had all been taken away from her.

  ‘I did know something of her efforts and I know how courageous she was.’ He seemed to search for the right words. ‘Things were hard, I’m aware of that. I just want you to know that I’m here to help.’

  ‘Hard, how would you know?’ I was pissed at him and I’d really no idea why. Maybe it was because he’d been my father’s confidant. It never mattered anyhow: the fact was that anyone who mentioned my father’s money generally got it on the chin from me. Ali was always telling me to chill in that regard.

  ‘I’m sorry, I guess I’m just all screwed up at the moment,’ I told him then. ‘I’ve no idea how I’m going to deal with this. What am I supposed to do with Charlie, for instance? He needs a mother and I need to work. Up to now I’ve only ever given a dig out in the evenings, when she had to see clients in the salon. Anyway, I’ve no idea how to look after a baby,’ I said petulantly. It wasn’t even true, I helped out with Charlie all the time. I just felt overwhelmed by responsibility and I’d no one to turn to.

  ‘And to think I didn’t even want kids myself,’ I said, more to shock him than anything else. But that bit was at least half true: kids had never really been on my agenda, even though I loved my nephew to bits. I was just afraid that I wouldn’t be able to cope, or worse still, would cope the way my father had.

  I felt an awful loneliness creep over me then. My twin sister had been the other half of me; having her meant I was never really alone.

  ‘Look.’ He moved closer to me. ‘We need to sit down and talk about a lot of things just as soon as you feel you’re ready. We can arrange a childminder for Charlie, Alison left instruc—’

  ‘I know what Alison wanted, and when she was here I wanted it too. She always made everything sound possible. But what about now, what’s going to happen to us now?’ I jumped up, all the frustration of the past twelve hours hitting me in one blow. ‘I can’t go on. You don’t understand. Alison was the leader, she did all this – the flat – everything.’ I ran out of steam and sat back down. ‘I don’t even know how much the mortgage was, can you believe that? All I did was contribute a sum each month and she figured out the rest. Stupid, I know, but she liked being in control and I’m just . . . lazy, I guess. I don’t even know if we had any insurance.’ I lowered my head, hating every moment of this. It felt like I was begging.

  ‘Lily . . .’ He tried to take my hand to comfort me, but I pulled away. His dark eyes were kind. ‘Lily, money isn’t a problem, I promise you. Please understand that. I can let you have an advance, whatever you need.’

  ‘I don’t want your charity!’ I jumped up. Once again I’d no idea why I was shouting at him; he’d never been anything but nice to me. ‘Do you know what I want more than anything else in the world? I want my life back to the way it was this time yesterday.’ I swallowed hard. ‘I want my sister back,’ I whispered, then stumbled from the room because I was afraid that if he tried to comfort me again I’d cry and never stop. When I returned he was sitting on the floor playing with the baby. We both apologized together. It was awkward so I made even more tea and he was very kind and left only after giving me his home as well as his mobile number. He promised to call me later to talk about the funeral, and reiterated that his secretary would take care of all the arrangements: all I had to do was let them know my preferences.

  When Aunt Milly arrived it all came gushing out. The warm, roundy woman was the nearest thing to a mammy I’d ever really known. For many years Alison had filled that role, even though she was barely five minutes older. Now, sitting on the floor with Charlie pulled close for warmth, I mourned the mother and twin sister I’d lost way too soon.

  7

  WILLIAM AND BETH

  IT WAS ALMOST nine when William arrived home, exhausted. As soon as she heard his car on the gravel Beth ushered the children upstairs, feeling guilty that she hadn’t noticed the time. They’d been playing Scrabble, Harry’s addiction of the week. Winnie preferred to play her games on the computer, but William didn’t approve. Initially she’d joined in rather reluctantly but soon all three were having fun and teasing Harry over his spelling. Now Beth quickly tidied away the game, despite their protests.

  ‘Come on, Harry, don’t slouch. It’s way past your time anyway.’

  ‘Why do we always have to be in bed when Dad comes home? It’s not fair.’

  ‘Because, darling, Daddy’s been in theatre all day and he needs peace and quiet now to relax. Anyway, it’s a school night, you know the rules.’

  ‘I want to see Daddy,’ Winnie whined. ‘I’m older, I shouldn’t have to go to bed with him.’ She elbowed her annoying sibling out of the way.

  ‘You will see Daddy, don’t worry.’ Beth shooed them both up the stairs. ‘I promise he’ll come and tuck you in later.’ Winnie was resisting and she gently moved her daughter forward with a kiss on the head. ‘Off you go, there’s a good girl.’

  ‘Don’t want to.’

  ‘Please, darling, I need to say hello to Daddy first.’ Beth knew they played up when she was on her own. If William said hop they hopped and never argued or pleaded.

  ‘Harry,’ she said to the boy, who was hovering now too, waiting to see if his sister got her way, ‘get out your story and I�
��ll pick up where we left off last night.’

  ‘OK.’ He was satisfied at last.

  ‘Winnie, go, you heard me.’ She tried to sound stern but it didn’t really work.

  ‘Can I stay up late tomorrow night?’ Her daughter was always bargaining.

  ‘Maybe. Now scram!’ Beth slapped her daughter’s bottom playfully.

  She checked her dark, wavy hair in the huge hall mirror and wished she’d remembered to redo her make-up. Being in the kitchen with the Aga on all the time always left her with a shiny face. Too late now, she thought, smiling to herself as she opened the front door and waited for her husband, who was on the phone in his car and still had the engine running.

  Beth examined her nails and flicked a spot of dirt off her red and white wrapover dress. The style suited her and her glossy red toenails and high sandals painted a pretty picture overall. She was a good-looking woman, well groomed, with an easy smile and a warmth about her that most people commented on.

  As she waited she inhaled the spicy autumn scents of cinnamon and lemon around the door. Beth adored being in the garden; it was her sanctuary sometimes and she loved to potter, even though they had a full-time gardener. William decided when they bought this house that the garden would be too much for her and sometimes she was glad and sometimes sorry; sorry when she missed the first snowdrop, or didn’t notice the gorgeous purple peony until it was almost too blowzy. Still, the garden was huge, William had been right. And this way it always looked just so, which appealed to him more than her.

  ‘Hello, darling, how did it go?’ She kissed him now and searched his face for wear and tear.

  ‘OK, I think. It was tougher than I thought but he should be all right.’

  ‘How was that poor pregnant wife of his?’

  ‘Teary. I did my best to reassure her.’ William stretched his muscles. ‘I can’t wait to get out of these clothes. Have I time for a shower before dinner?’ He always asked and the reply was always ‘Of course. Then I’ll pour you a drink.’

  ‘What’s to eat?’

  ‘Steak and kidney pie, your favourite.’ She smiled up at her man.

  ‘Great, you make the best pastry ever.’

  ‘Yes, I do,’ she lied. Beth didn’t know anyone who made pastry any more. William liked to boast that he’d never eaten processed food in his life and she wasn’t about to disillusion him any day soon. Beth often wondered where he thought she got the time to do all she was supposed to, even with a housekeeper. So she said nothing and was considered a domestic goddess by everyone, especially her husband.

  ‘How was your day?’ he asked, already halfway up the stairs.

  ‘Oh fine, the usual. I’m just going to read Harry his story, then maybe you’d pop in to say goodnight on your way downstairs?’ She smiled. ‘They never want me when you’re around.’

  ‘OK, will do.’

  Fifteen minutes later she was putting the plates to warm in the oven when he strolled into the kitchen. ‘I thought I might get out for a cycle tonight, but now I haven’t the energy.’

  ‘You push yourself too hard.’ Beth was already pouring him a glass of red wine.

  ‘Well, no chance of it after this, that’s for sure.’ He held up the glass. ‘Cheers.’

  She searched for her half-empty one. ‘Slainte.’ She loved the old Irish toast to health. ‘And well done today.’

  ‘Were you at the gym?’

  ‘Yes, then I undid it all by having a slice of pear and almond tart and two milky coffees with Aileen.’ She grinned.

  ‘That’s my girl.’ William kissed the tip of her nose. ‘Never worries about the E numbers.’

  ‘Oh, it was homemade, I checked.’

  ‘Homemade along with four million others the same day, I’d say.’

  ‘It must be great to be so self-righteous.’ Beth stuck out her tongue at him as she glanced around for her oven glove. ‘Still, I enjoyed every crumb,’ she told him and he laughed at her cheeky face. Beth was carefree and easy and she loved to tease him about his stiff upper lip. It was one of the reasons he’d fallen for her in the first place.

  ‘Why don’t you catch the headlines while I start mashing the potatoes?’ she suggested, knowing he’d need to unwind.

  ‘OK,’ he said absently, glancing at the wall clock. ‘That’s just what I need, actually. Fifteen minutes of peace and quiet.’ He moved away. ‘I haven’t heard any news all day,’ he said over his shoulder.

  ‘Nothing much happening, as far as I know.’ Beth felt hot and sticky and was dying for a bath. ‘I’ll call you when it’s on the table.’

  William left the glass down by his favourite chair in the formal sitting room and turned on RTE 1 television. The news had just started and hurricanes and floods seemed to be occupying most of the world. He added a log to the fire and sat back to enjoy being home. He loved this room, with its boxy leaded windows and high ceiling. Despite its size it felt warm and welcoming. The furniture was a mixture of gorgeous antique pieces he’d picked up over the years and the oversized sofas that his wife insisted on. ‘I hate sitting on an antique, I’m always afraid I’ll spoil it,’ she’d told him when he’d tried to protest that the room wouldn’t take anything modern.

  Still, they did work, he had to admit, sitting back and sipping his drink. It helped that everything was always just right in here. No kids allowed – his rule, not hers.

  The stories were the same ones he’d heard that morning on his way in to work so he flicked around. Nothing much on offer except reality TV shows, so he switched back just in time to hear the end of a report on that drowning tragedy he’d read about earlier.

  ‘The woman has been named locally as Alison Ormond, a twenty-nine-year-old mother of one, who was originally from Sligo but now living in Ranelagh.’

  William sat up straight and stared at the picture of Alison. It didn’t look like her. It failed to show her vibrancy and she wasn’t smiling. He started to think about her, then jerked himself back to the present to listen to what was being said. It was more or less what he’d read in the paper but earlier there’d been no mention of a child. He didn’t think Alison had any children, at least she’d never said anything about a child to him. But then he knew very little about her, really.

  ‘Dinner’s on the table.’

  The sing-song voice irritated him but then he was nervous because suddenly Alison seemed to be right here, in his home. William thought about her a lot in private, especially when he heard a particular song, or smelt a certain fragrance, a sort of lemon and lime fruity scent that she always wore. But Alison had been his secret now for a number of years, the one thing that might upset his perfect world. Not any more, it seemed.

  ‘Give me a second.’ He sounded sharper than he should have done. The report had ended and he was left with his thoughts again. It was hard to comprehend, really.

  ‘Are you OK?’ Beth came scurrying in. ‘It’s just that everything’s ready and I thought you were—’

  ‘Yes, fine, sorry, I just felt a bit . . .’ He shook his head. ‘A bit faint, that’s all.’ The lie came easy.

  ‘Have you eaten today?’

  ‘Not much.’

  ‘That’s it then. It’s probably the wine on an empty stomach.’ His wife slapped his hand. ‘I’ll report you to a doctor if you’re not careful.’ It was one of her favourite jokes.

  ‘Sorry, darling.’ He put his arm on her back as they moved into the kitchen. ‘I know you’ve gone to a lot of trouble.’ He smiled absently at her, suddenly unable to stop thinking about Alison.

  They had dinner and he drank more than usual. Beth knew something was bothering him, but she didn’t ask. He’d tell her in his own time. He had a lot going on in his work and she knew he worried if he wasn’t as on top of things as he should be. Her husband liked to be in control, the best at everything he did. Beth watched him as she chatted away about the kids and school and rugby. She knew it suited him not to be asked too many questions tonight and she was used to it.


  Later, after a warm shower she came to bed in a sexy short nightdress that her friend Pam had given her for her birthday. It was all black lace and plunging back and front and it made her feel like a mistress. She slipped into bed and inched closer to her husband, kissing him lightly on his back. They usually made love after theatre. ‘All that adrenalin,’ he’d told her years ago. ‘Can’t sleep unless I’m fully relaxed.’

  ‘Darling, would you mind if we didn’t?’ He moved away from her embrace and turned towards her. ‘I’m afraid I’ve had too much to drink.’

  ‘That’s not like you.’ She kissed him on the cheek and rolled over on her back. ‘No problem, I’m whacked anyway. ’Night, love.’

  ‘Goodnight.’

  She was soon breathing evenly but he lay awake for ages, thinking about Alison. They’d had a lot of fun these past few years and he knew he’d miss her spark, her easy banter and the way she made him feel. He always felt completely alive with Alison. He supposed he ought to go to the funeral but decided he couldn’t possibly risk it.

  8

  RICHARD AND DAISY

  THE NEXT DAY was much better for Richard and once he had recovered from a very frosty reception by his manageress he felt in top form. He’d gone to bed early – alone – and had the place opened up and fresh coffee brewing by the time Maggie arrived. Richard knew she’d give him hell for a few days but he was prepared to put up with it because having her in charge meant he could come and go as he liked. Also she ran the place like a military barracks, kept a strict eye on wastage and got the best-quality produce from all their suppliers. Nobody in their right mind would knowingly upset her. She was Hillary Clinton in an apron.