A Week in Winter(87)



Mrs Williams looked at the photograph on her desk and said she remembered her wedding day as if it were yesterday. Everything had gone right.

‘Was the sun shining?’ Irene wondered.

Mrs Williams couldn’t remember the weather it was so unimportant. Everyone had been so happy, that was the main thing.

At that point, the direct telephone line rang. Irene was a bit nonplussed. She had never known calls to come in on that line. It was for the Principal’s convenience, in case she wanted to make a quick call out rather than going through the whole system. At a nod from Mrs Williams, Irene took the call.

A man asked to speak to Nell Howe.

‘Miss Howe has retired as Principal and no longer works here. Do you want to talk to Mrs Williams, the current Principal, and if so, perhaps you can tell me in what connection?’

‘Tell me where she lives,’ he said.

‘I’m afraid we never disclose staff addresses.’

‘You just said that she was ex-staff.’

‘I’m sorry, but I’m not able to help you. We are not in touch with Miss Howe, so I am not in a position to pass on any message,’ Irene said, and the man hung up.

Irene and Mrs Williams looked at each other, bewildered.

A week before the wedding, Irene saw Nell Howe across a street. Irene couldn’t help herself. She ran across to her.

‘Miss Howe, how good to see you.’

Nell Howe looked at her distantly and then, as if after a great effort, she said flatly, ‘Irene.’

‘Yes, Miss Howe. How have you been? I have been meaning to contact you.’

‘Have you? Then why didn’t you?’

‘Could we have a cup of coffee somewhere, do you think?’ Irene suggested.

‘Why?’ Miss Howe was surprised at the overfamiliarity of the request.

‘I need to tell you something.’

‘Well, there is hardly anywhere suitable around here.’ Miss Howe sniffed at the area.

‘This little café does nice coffee. Please, Miss Howe . . .’

As if giving in to the inevitable, Miss Howe agreed. Over cups of frothy Italian coffee, Irene told her about the wedding plans and the honeymoon they had decided on. She asked Miss Howe if she was looking forward to going away in the winter.

‘Why would anyone want to go to such a remote place at any time?’ was the only response.

Irene changed the subject. There was the man on the phone and his odd behaviour.

‘Have you any idea of who it could be?’ she asked. ‘He didn’t leave any message, and wouldn’t give a number.’

‘It must have been my brother,’ Miss Howe said.

‘Your brother?’

‘Yes, my brother Martin. I haven’t seen him for a long time.’

‘But why?’ Irene felt her heart racing. It was the casual way Miss Howe spoke that was so disturbing.

‘Why? Oh, it all goes back many, many years ago.’ Miss Howe’s face was non-committal and unmoved. ‘And none of your business, anyway. Is that it? Is that all?’ And with a chilly nod of her head, Miss Howe left the café.

It was a wonderful day for the wedding. Kenny gave the bride away, and Peggy looked as though she might burst with pride. Dingo, all dressed up in a new suit, was the best man and in his speech said that he was very proud of being the match-maker who had brought the happy couple together.

Carmel and Rigger had managed to get time off for the occasion; Rigger’s mother, Nasey’s sister Nuala, was there. The sun shone from morning until late evening. Mrs Williams joined them in the pub and mingled with the teachers, the butchers from Malone’s shop and all the friends and neighbours. In a million years poor Miss Howe would never have been able to mix like this.

There was a honeymoon in Spain and then back to work at Wood Park, where life promised to be much easier and more pleasant than in the previous regime.

Rigger and Carmel kept in touch all the time about Stone House. The voucher they had designed for Miss Howe had given them more ideas, and a week at Stone House was now going to be one of the prizes for a competition in a magazine. The list was filling up nicely; it looked as if Chicky Starr would have a full house for her opening week. There was great excitement all around the place. Rigger said his mother was going to come and visit soon. It would be her first time in Stoneybridge since she was a girl.

She didn’t want to stay in the big house but Rigger and Chicky were insisting. It would be such a great return for her.

Irene did try to warn them that Miss Howe might be difficult to please.

‘We can handle it,’ said Rigger cheerfully. ‘It will be great practice for us. We saw off Howard and Barbara; your Miss Howe will be no problem for us, you’ll see.’

Miss Howe travelled by a late train, and so Rigger went to meet her. He saw a tall, stern-looking woman with one small case looking around the station impatiently. This must be the one.

He introduced himself and took her suitcase.

‘I was told that Mrs Starr would meet me,’ the woman said.

‘She’s at the house, welcoming the other guests. I’m Rigger, her manager. I live in the grounds,’ he said.

‘Yes, you told me your name already.’ From the tone of her voice she seemed highly disapproving of it.

‘I hope you will have a wonderful week here, Miss Howe. The house is very comfortable.’

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