Between Sisters (19 page)

‘It’s about Fiona,’ whispered Coco. ‘She’s in the bath.’

Cassie said, ‘Keep going, darling,’ to Lily and went into the hall to talk. ‘Tell me what’s wrong,’ she said, the way she’d been saying it for almost thirty years, since almost before her little sister could talk.

‘She’s so quiet these days …’

‘She does perk up when she’s here, though,’ Cassie pointed out. ‘She loves Beth and Lily, and even the cat will sit on her lap.’

‘He’s a healing cat, I told you. No, it’s a combination of two things. In the hospital after school this afternoon, she was very quiet – which she usually is – and a nurse said something interesting to me. She said how Fiona copes with all this depends on how the adults around her cope. If we pretend it’s not happening and don’t deal with it,
she
won’t have the skills to deal with it. She’ll bury it inside and it will be like a grenade waiting to go off when she’s older.’

Cassie took a swift, shallow breath in.

‘But if we talk about it,’ went on Coco, ‘and deal with it, then she can too. Does that make sense to you? I’ve been scared of talking too much because she’s only nine and I don’t know how Jo would want to do it, but Jo’s not acting like herself right now. I wanted to know what you thought?’

Because of our mother? Because nobody ever spoke about her and we were too little to understand?

Cassie was afraid she’d spoken these words out loud, but then Coco said, ‘You know, from a mother’s point of view. Does that make sense? Is Fiona old enough to hear all this stuff?’

‘It makes perfect sense,’ said Cassie, thinking how she still had the grenade sitting inside her. But she was an expert at being like a second mother to Coco, which meant being expert at pushing her own worries aside. ‘She and Jo were especially close. They were a unit on their own and it must be terrifying for both of them to have this happen. Jo is scared out of her mind, Coco – you can see that. I saw that when I went into the hospital to visit her last.

‘Anger is all she’s got right now. So you’ve got to be Fiona’s mother for a while. Tell Fiona what’s going on, in a gentle way: explain that her mum is upset, that it’s going to take time, but that she is loved and cared for. That her mum will get better, and she might not be as quick at running or things like that, but she’ll still be the same mum. And tell her she’s got you with her.’

Coco smiled at her end of the phone.

‘I want to tell her what you told me when I was small, Cass: “I will never let you down”.’

Cassie had been holding it all together very well until that moment. But then her anxieties over Shay, over rejection, over keeping her beloved family together and happy, flowed over.

She couldn’t let Coco know.

‘I meant it, Coco,’ she said, her voice thick with emotion.

‘Oh sis, I didn’t mean to upset you,’ cried Coco. ‘I loved that saying; still do. I think of how you took care of me, have always taken care of me, and I love you so much. I will never let you down either, you know.’

‘I know,’ sniffed Cassie. ‘Don’t mind me, I’m pre-menstrual,’ she lied.

‘You need a hot bath,’ said Coco. ‘And I’m going to tell Fiona about how you and I loved each other so much and about what you used to say to me all the time: “I will never let you down”. It’s the loveliest thing anyone’s ever said to me, Cass, and it helped me so much. I don’t know why I didn’t think of it before. It’s just the right way to explain how much I love Fiona. Love you, Cassie.’

When her sister had hung up, Cassie sat down on the staircase in the hall for a few moments before she felt able to go back into the kitchen.

‘Look, Mum,’ said Lily triumphantly, holding up a finally finished Saturn. ‘I used cocktail sticks to keep the rings on!’

Without saying anything, Cassie hugged her younger daughter.

‘You’re brilliant, Lily, you know that?’

Lily grinned. ‘I know,’ she said, still admiring her creation. ‘So are you, Mum.’

Red’s friend, Michael, had rung him up and invited him to a dinner party on Friday night.

‘You know I hate dinner parties,’ grumbled Red.

‘When did you turn into such an old curmudgeon?’ demanded Michael. ‘Come on, it’ll be fun. You’re never in this country long enough for us to see you. It’ll just be some of the gang and a few new people.’

‘I hate meeting new people,’ said Red. ‘I meet enough new people as it is and I can never remember their names.’

His mother was torturing him, dragging him around to the house, where she’d conveniently have a few of her friends sitting having coffee so they could gaze in wonder at her fabulously successful son.

‘Ma, stop doing that, please,’ Red had begged.

‘Well, I have to show off something,’ Myra pointed out. ‘It’s either grandchildren or how successful you are – one or the other, you choose.’

‘OK, OK.’

‘And there’s some big charity event going on with the school to raise money for kids in Africa. You could give a few bob to that too?’

‘So I’m a bank to be ogled at, is that it?’ said Red.

His mother ruffled his hair, which took some doing given he was a foot taller than her. ‘Ah, go way outta that,’ she said, smiling. ‘You love it really. And you know you’ll be off again soon, forgetting about us all. We might as well make the most of this bit of your time.’

‘Come on,’ said Michael now. ‘It’ll be fun. Our house, Friday night, half seven, bring a bottle.’

Michael was one of Red’s oldest friends from college and he’d been a high-flying executive for many years, married to his childhood sweetheart, Barbara, before one day he’d surprised everyone and given it all up to become a sculptor. At the time, Red had thought that Michael had lost his mind, but when he’d gone around to the beautiful house on the seafront in Silver Bay and had seen the world that Michael and Barbara had built with their daughter, Yvette, he changed his mind.

Thanks to Michael’s previous career, they owned their beautiful home. Barbara was a freelance journalist, and with his contacts, Michael had a pretty good career going, making huge sculptures for big businesses. Their daughter, Yvette, was a joy – a little fair-haired moppet the last time Red had seen her.

He was actually looking forward to the dinner party, and when he rolled up at the Doorlys’, he was delighted to see more of his old pals there. Unfortunately they were all there with their significant others, except for Ray, another inveterate bachelor.

Ray slapped him on the back. ‘It’s just you and me in it together, Redser,’ he said. ‘Here, have a beer. They’ve invited a few women for us.’

‘Oh please, no,’ joked Red. ‘Unless they’re stunningly beautiful blondes with legs up to their armpits.’

‘No,’ said an amused voice, and a slender brunette appeared beside him. ‘The name’s Shona,’ she said, and held out a hand. He looked down at the hand and noticed that she didn’t have the sculpted, manicured nails of so many women he knew. ‘I’m in the same line of business as Michael,’ she said, following his gaze. ‘So no French manicure.’

‘She’s a fabulous sculptor,’ said Michael, coming in from the kitchen with a few nibbles. ‘The starters have gone a bit wrong so you’ll have to stuff yourselves with crisps and nuts,’ he said. ‘I thought I’d got the hang of this bruschetta business, but it’s still tricky.’

‘It’s only tricky when you don’t start making it on time,’ came the voice of Barbara.

Red, Shona and Ray all laughed. It felt good to be here, Red thought, and he liked the look of this woman they’d lined up for him. Michael and Barbara couldn’t help matchmaking.

‘Hey,’ whispered Ray into his ear, ‘hands off, she’s mine.’

‘If she’s yours, which one is mine?’ Red joked back.

‘I’m not here for anyone,’ said Shona with a twinkle in her eye. ‘Barbara had a couple of crazy single girls lined up for the pair of you but they bailed at the last moment. To be honest, I understand because I’d heard that you were an awful player, Ray: a girl in every port.’

Ray did his best to look hurt but failed.

She took a searing look at Red. ‘And they heard that you were too married to your business to ever think about going out with a woman for any length of time.’ She grinned at Red. He grinned back at her. There was something about this woman that he liked.

Dinner turned out to be fun, full of chat about old friends, films they’d seen, who they’d have to their fantasy dinner party, what they’d all been up to, and discussions about the pieces Shona and Michael were working on at the moment.

‘Isn’t it great for you creative types?’ said Ray after he’d had a few beers in him. ‘You can get up any time you want, whereas I have to be on the job at half eight in the morning.’ Ray was a painter/decorator.

‘I’m up at six every morning, if you don’t mind,’ said Barbara, swatting him on the head. ‘I’m a working mother with a small child, and if I don’t get a bit of work done before Yvette wakes up, there’s the day gone.’

There followed a discussion with the other women about children and childcare, while the men moved on to talking about football.

‘Do you have children?’ Red asked Shona. She shook her head and he noticed a hint of sorrow in her face.
Uh oh,
he thought to himself,
time to get out of this one.
He did not want to be stuck with a woman whose biological clock was set to explode.

It was all going swimmingly until eventually Michael asked him the question he hoped no one would ask. ‘Have you seen Coco since you’ve come back?’

Of course someone was going to ask him that, Red thought grimly. Back in the day, they’d gone out together as a foursome, and both Michael and Barbara had loved Coco.

‘No,’ said Red, a little more stiffly than he had intended.

Michael looked at him. ‘I sometimes drop into her shop to say hello. She’s doing well now. She’s somehow involved in this lovely charity thing down on the seafront early next year to raise funds for Africa.’

‘Ah,’ said Red. ‘My mother was on about that.’

‘Well, you know Coco: total soft touch. She’s involved and her grandmother too. They’re decent people, Red. You should talk to her. Might make it a bit easier.’

‘I don’t want it to be easier,’ said Red testily. ‘It’s over. I don’t want to see her anymore.’

Michael, who’d known him for a long time, said, ‘Yeah, right. She’s not with anyone.’

‘How do you know?’ asked Red, much too quickly.

Where was the cool, calm and collected businessman now?

‘She was the best thing that ever happened to you.’

‘Yes,’ put in Barbara.

‘So I don’t know why you don’t go round there.’

‘It’s over,’ said Red forcefully. ‘She dumped me, remember?’

‘You know,’ said Michael, ‘when I worked in business I’d never have been this frank, but now that I do what I love, I wonder why I didn’t do it years ago, and I think that’s what’s wrong with you too, Red. You’re not doing what makes you happy. Oh, you might be in business, that’s great, but you’re not happy personally. You never come home to see us all. Your mother hates it that you stay away, as if this island is Kryptonite and you’re Superman. Every time I see her she’s all over me trying to find out if I have any information about you. You’re avoiding a whole country because of one woman, so don’t tell me it’s all over.’

On Saturday morning, Phoebe got up early. Today she was leaving the last of her CVs into all the remaining places in the area and then taking the bus back home. It had been a crazy two weeks. There was so much to tell them all at home. College was amazing; meeting Ian there even better. She had a friend: a quirky, emotionally stressed friend who could be spectacularly rude but who needed her. Someone who needed looking after, and that, of course, was Phoebe’s speciality. She could imagine her mum laughing when she told her. ‘You like to have something to take care of, don’t you, Phoebe?’

After dropping off the last of her CVs, Phoebe walked back to Delaney Gardens, thinking that it might not be so bad to work in the pub because she could work nights and get tips. Dealing with a man who’d called her a ‘fine hoult of a girl’ might be less fun, but Phoebe wouldn’t let that stop her.

Phoebe often stopped the rude, drunk fellas in their tracks when they tried to pinch her bum by slapping them heartily on the back, which made them spill their drinks, and loudly saying: ‘Keep rubbing the cream on it, Joe, and I’m sure the itch will go away’ – a statement which made even the drunkest, rowdiest men shut up.

She rounded the corner into the square and saw that several people were taking advantage of the lovely late September weather in the small park. There was a woman with two small children who were playing at being airplanes, running around with their arms out and making droning noises. The woman was sitting back in a bench as if she might not be able to drag herself up again and was praying for the airplane game to go on for longer.

The elderly man with his little terrier was in there again, doing stately promenades of the park. They both seemed to have stiff hips from the way they were walking. The old man held a pink nappy bag in one hand, and Phoebe grinned at the sight, thinking of the amount of bird poo she’d undoubtedly have to shift that weekend with the bird sheds. She didn’t care. Stinky sheds or no stinky sheds, she couldn’t wait to get back home. She wondered if she should invite Ian home one weekend. It might be fun.

As she passed the house she’d come to think of as the square’s sunshine house, with its gleaming white walls, azure blue shutters and fabulously verdant garden, she realised that someone was in the garden.

A clearly quite old lady, who was dressed in very un-old-lady clothes – a modern, pale blue A-line dress and trendy sandals with her toenails painted a vibrant coral – was standing with some string in one hand and a cup of tea in the other. Her hair was silky silver and was tied up into a loose knot at the base of her neck. At her feet, perched almost on her feet, was a small soft dog with glossy beige fur and the biggest eyes Phoebe had ever seen.

The dog spotted Phoebe first and leapt to its sturdy legs, doing a little yappy bark. The lady looked up and smiled, and Phoebe, who had felt lost for friendship here in Dublin except for Ian, found herself sinking into the warmth of that smile.