A Week in Winter(32)

He was sorry that Rosie and Macken would not have such a lovely old granny figure in their lives. They would tell them all about her. One day, when he was being carried to this graveyard they would tell their own children about the great Miss Queenie, a good relic of an often stormy past in Ireland.

There were no Sheedy relatives, and Rigger was asked to put the first spadeful of clay on the grave. He was followed by Chicky and Orla. And the great crowd stood in silence until Dr Dai, who had a powerful Welsh baritone, suddenly sang ‘Abide With Me’ and they all filed back down the hill.

Tea and sandwiches were served in Stone House.

Gloria had hunted high and low for Miss Queenie and sat confused outside the front door, washing furiously.

As soon as Orla was busy passing the food around she recovered enough to realise how many people had attended. Brigid and Foxy had come over from London. Miss Daly had heard from somebody and she turned up with one of the French dentists who had now become a close friend. All the O’Haras were there, their previous animosity forgotten; all the builders, the suppliers, the local farmers, the staff of the knitting factory and Aidan, a solicitor from a nearby town, who was said to fancy Chicky.

Miss Queenie would have clapped her hands and said, ‘Imagine them all turning up for me! How very kind!’

Aidan drew Orla aside to tell her that Miss Queenie had made her will last week. She had left everything she owned to Chicky apart from two tiny legacies, one to Rigger and one to Orla.

He also asked Orla whether she thought Chicky might go out with him to dinner if he asked her nicely.

Orla said that maybe he should wait until Stone House had opened to the public. Chicky was very centred on that at the moment, but she reassured Aidan that there was nobody else on the scene.

‘I’d be no trouble,’ he told her.

‘God, isn’t that a great recommendation,’ Orla said, fervently looking at some uncles and the woeful Foxy.

‘Must say, Barbara and Howard did a great job on this place,’ Foxy said approvingly.

‘Didn’t they just?’ Chicky agreed.

Rigger was about to open his mouth and say how unhelpful they had been but Orla frowned. Life was short. Chicky had decided to play it this way. Let it go.

Only a few days to go and the first guests would arrive. They were nearly full. Only one room remained unoccupied. Orla and Chicky sat down every evening going over the list of people. They were coming from Sweden, England and Dublin. Some by car, some by train. Rigger had been alerted to everyone’s arrival times.

They went over the menus again and again checking that they had every ingredient. They tried to envisage all these people sitting around their table at night and assembling for breakfast each morning. They had left a selection of magazines and novels in the Miss Sheedy Room; they had maps and bird books and guide books at the ready. Wellington boots, umbrellas and mackintoshes were all available in the boot room.

Gloria had gradually got over her short period of mourning for Miss Queenie and returned to sit by the fire with a purr that would soothe the most troubled heart.

‘You have your running-away money now, Orla,’ Chicky said on the last evening.

‘I always had my running-away money,’ Orla said.

‘It’s just that I won’t hold you back. You’ve delivered everything you promised and more.’

‘Why is everyone trying to get rid of me?’ Orla asked. ‘Queenie was the same. The night before she died she said I couldn’t marry the seagulls and the gannets in Stoneybridge.’

‘And she was right,’ Chicky agreed.

‘But what about you? Aidan was asking after you.’

‘Oh, give over, Orla!’

‘I bet Walter would have liked you to marry again.’

‘Yes, indeed.’

‘So?’

‘So what? Grab Dr Dai from his wife? Take Father Johnson out of the priesthood? Go online offering “rich widow with own business”?’ Chicky laughed. ‘It’s you we are talking about. You’ve only one life, Orla.’

‘So what’s wrong with living it here for a while?’ Orla asked. ‘It would be more than a human could bear to go before we had the first year of running the place over us.’

Chicky sank back in her chair. Gloria stretched approvingly.

The grandfather clock in the hall struck midnight.

This was the day that Stone House would open its doors to the public. They wouldn’t sit alone in this kitchen for many a night to come.

They raised their glasses to each other, and outside the waves crashed on the shore and the wind whipped through the trees.





Winnie

Of course Winnie would like to have married. Or to have had a long-term partner. Who wouldn’t?

To have someone there out for your good. Someone you could share with and eventually have children with. It was obvious that was what she wanted. But not at any price.

She would never have married the drunk that one friend had – a man who got so abusive at the wedding party that the ripples were still felt years later.

She would not have married the control freak, or the miser. But a lot of the men her friends had married were good, warm, happy people who had made their lives very complete.

If only there was someone like that out there.

And if there was, how could Winnie find him? She had tried internet dating, speed dating and going to clubs. None of it had worked.