A Week in Winter(24)

‘So you made it worth his while.’ Orla was still reeling from this news.

‘He’s very nice, really. That old showing-off thing is just the way they go on in his set.’

‘I’m sure he is when you get to know him properly . . .’ Orla began the backtracking, which she hoped was not too late.

‘Yeah, well, I’m going to get to know him improperly next weekend. We’re going to Paris,’ Brigid said, with a giggle.

‘We’re going home to Stoneybridge for the long weekend,’ Orla protested.

‘I know we were meant to. You’ll have to cover for me.’

‘Couldn’t you go to Paris another weekend with Foxy?’

‘No, this is special.’

‘So I have to cover for you and explain? What do I explain, actually?’ Orla was annoyed. They went home together dutifully three or four times a year. This was the price they paid for their freedom. Just a long weekend.

‘Oh, as little as possible at the moment.’ Brigid was airy and casual about it. ‘I don’t want to be getting their hopes up.’

‘Their hopes up? About Foxy?’ Orla had an unflattering amount of disbelief in her voice.

‘Sure,’ Brigid said. ‘He’s absolutely loaded. I’d never hear the end of it if I let Foxy slip through my fingers.’

So Orla went back to Stoneybridge on her own with vague reports of Brigid being tied up at work.

Nothing ever changed much in Stoneybridge except that Orla had always forgotten how beautiful it was and would catch her breath as she walked along the cliff paths and looked at the sandy beaches and dark jagged rock face.

Her aunt Chicky was up to her eyes doing up the Stone House, with old Miss Queenie hovering around and chattering and clapping her hands with pleasure at it all. Rigger, who helped Chicky in the place, had become much less surly. He had learned to drive and would even stop to give Orla a lift if he saw her on the road. He asked her if she remembered his mother, but Orla didn’t. She had heard of this Nuala but she had gone to Dublin before Orla was born.

‘Chicky would know all about her,’ Orla suggested.

‘I don’t ask Chicky about things,’ Rigger said. ‘She doesn’t ask me about things either, it’s good that way.’

Orla took this on board. She was on the point of asking Rigger about himself. This had warned her off in good time.

So instead they talked about the renovations at Stone House, the new walled garden, the plans. He seemed to think it was going to be a huge success and was excited to be in at the start.

Orla’s mother, however, had been pouring a lot of cold water on the enterprise. Chicky was always the same, getting carried away by lunatic ideas, like the time she ran off to America without a by-your-leave.

‘Well that worked out all right, didn’t it?’ Orla was defensive about the aunt who had always treated her as a grown-up. ‘She had a great marriage and he left her enough money to buy Stone House.’

‘It’s odd he never came back here himself though, isn’t it?’ Kathleen was never totally at ease with any situation.

‘Aw, Mam, will you stop it. Something’s always wrong with everything.’

‘It mainly is,’ Kathleen agreed with her. ‘And another thing: there’s a lot of talk about Chicky living with just that young lad and the old woman above in the house. It isn’t fitting, it’s just not the way things should be.’

‘Mam!’ Orla was pealing with laughter, ‘what a fantastic world you live in. Do you think Rigger is pleasuring Aunty Chicky in the walled garden? Maybe they have a threesome going with Miss Queenie as well!’

Her mother’s face flushed dark red with annoyance. ‘Don’t be so crude Orla, please. I’m only saying what’s being said all around the place, that’s all.’

‘Who’s saying that all round the place?’

‘The O’Haras, for one.’

‘That’s only because they’re furious that Miss Sheedy didn’t sell it to them.’

‘You’re as bad as your uncle Brian – always attacking them! Isn’t Brigid your own best friend?’

‘She is, but that’s her uncles being greedy speculators. She knows that too.’

‘Where is she, by the way, that she couldn’t be bothered to come home to her family?’

‘She’s working hard for a living, Mam. As am I, which is why you are so much luckier than the O’Haras because I put you first always, don’t I?’

And her mother really had no answer to that.

Orla spent as much time as she could with Chicky. Despite all the activity and people coming and going in Stone House, Chicky was very calm. She never asked whether Orla had boyfriends in London, and if she intended to live there permanently. She never said that people would think it odd if Orla wore short skirts or long skirts or torn jeans or whatever she was wearing at the time. Chicky wasn’t even remotely aware what people were saying or thinking or wondering. Chicky never told her what she really should be doing with her life.

So it was surprising when this time Chicky asked her was she a good cook.

‘Reasonable, I suppose. Brigid and I cook from recipes two or three times a week. She does great things with fish. It’s different over there, not full of bones and tasting like cod liver oil like it does here.’