Putting Out the Stars (20 page)

Laura stepped through the shop doors, feeling like an intruder.
Stop being ridiculous
, she told herself.
You’ve as much right to be here as anyone
else.

She picked a t-shirt from the rail nearest to her. It was blue, with thin white stripes. So tiny; the body was the same length as her hand. She read the label:
0-6 months.
She
remembered Polly at six months, still pretty bald, just beginning to sit up by herself, dribbling gummily up at Laura when she held her in her lap.

She put down the t-shirt and found a creamy dress, all ribbons and frills. ‘6-12 months’. Polly beginning to walk, tottering from Breffni’s hand to the edge of the couch, fat
little legs thumping across the floor. Losing her balance and plopping down, only to struggle unsteadily to her feet, padded bottom in the air as her podgy splayed fingers pushed against the floor
to right herself.

‘Can I help you?’

Laura started, almost dropping the tiny dress. An assistant stood beside her with a polite smile, not looking as if she suspected Laura of being mentally deranged at all.

‘Er, no thanks. I’m . . . just looking.’ Laura put the dress back and moved quickly away, certain that the assistant was watching her curiously.
Damn.
Why hadn’t
she said she was getting a present for a friend’s baby, or a niece or something? You didn’t go into a baby shop and just look, did you? It wasn’t like going into a grown-up
boutique, where you could wander around all you liked – or was it? She knew so little about babies and children, what was accepted and what wasn’t. How would she ever be able to raise a
child, if the miracle ever happened and she got pregnant?

She risked a glance over her shoulder. The assistant had moved on to another customer, who seemed to be asking her about buggies. Nobody was taking any notice of Laura at all. She relaxed
slightly and looked at a row of tiny fleece bootees in lilacs and blues and purples. Polly’s first proper shoes had been shocking-pink baby-sized trainers with lime green laces, with a green
and pink striped hat to match. Breffni had brought them back from San Francisco. Polly had looked adorable in them.

Laura picked up a pair of miniscule purple bootees. They had a blue felt flower on the outside of each one. ‘
9-12 months
’. She walked rapidly towards the cash register.

‘I’ll take these, please.’

The assistant smiled as she took the bootees. ‘They’re so sweet. Are they a present?’

‘No – they’re for my own baby.’ It was out before she had a chance to think about it. Her face flushed; she hadn’t anticipated being asked any questions. Of course
it was true; she was preparing for the baby she knew she’d have one day – but imagine if the assistant knew that she wasn’t even pregnant yet . . . she stood, heart hammering, as
the bootees were put into a bag and the amount rung up.

‘Boy or girl?’

Oh God
– her mind raced. ‘Girl – Emma. She’s just six months.’ She wondered, in a detached way, how she could sound so calm. There was no sign of a tremor
in her voice, no indication at all that she was saying the first thing that came into her head.

The assistant certainly didn’t seem to notice anything. ‘Ah, I remember my nieces at that age. Is she your first?’

‘Yes; but I’ve just found out that I’m pregnant again.’ So calm, as she handed over her debit card. Was her hand shaking slightly? She hoped not.

The assistant’s plump, good-natured face broke into a wide beam. ‘How wonderful; congratulations.’ She took Laura’s card and slid it through the machine, then pulled the
slip out and put it in front of Laura. ‘Just sign there, please.’

Laura’s mind was blank as she wrote her name. She thanked the assistant, took the bootees and her card and her receipt, and walked calmly from the shop.

When she was halfway down the street, her legs began to shake.

‘What do you think?’

Frank smiled at Ruth. ‘It’s a fine house; you’ve done great work on it.’

‘There was an awful lot to be done; I thought we’d never be in.’ Ruth wanted to burst with happiness. The day before, she’d been assured by John the foreman that yes,
they would definitely be finishing up by the middle of the week: ‘Thursday at the very latest.’ He’d taken her through the house room by room, and she’d seen, for the first
time, what living here would be like.

They’d got the builders to paint the walls off-white throughout, so they could take their time with their own colour schemes. As she walked across the wooden floors, Ruth pictured a red
rug here, a pale blue one there. The picture her sisters had given them for their wedding over that fireplace. Laura’s telly in that corner. Andrew’s computer in the small room at the
top of the stairs – they didn’t need three bedrooms. Yet.

And this morning Frank had arrived – she’d phoned him and arranged to meet him here, because she was dying to show off the house to someone, and Laura was too busy to come till the
afternoon, and she couldn’t get through to Valerie. And somehow she sensed that Cecily would rather wait until the house was more presentable. She’d taken Frank through the rooms just
as John had done with her, watching for his reaction in each one.

He’d been so good that day in the café, when she’d made such a fool of herself by bursting into tears. The poor man; he hardly knew her. But he hadn’t got in the least
embarrassed, even though people must have been staring. Just held her hand and passed her paper serviettes till she’d calmed down. And then he listened quietly while she told him how lonely
she’d felt since leaving Dublin.

‘I know I shouldn’t – I have Andrew, of course, and Laura has been so nice, and Cecily couldn’t have done more for us, letting us live with her all this time . . . but I
miss my family –’ The tears threatened again, and she grabbed another serviette and held it to her eyes. ‘We’ve never really been separated, and I know it’s only
Dublin, not the other side of the world . . . and then not having a job doesn’t help, I’ve so much time on my hands –’

God knew what else she had said, it just seemed to keep pouring out, and Frank had listened patiently until she was empty. Then he leaned slightly towards her.

‘Are you actually looking for a job? I mean, actively looking?’

She’d been surprised; it wasn’t what she’d been expecting him to say. ‘Well, no, not yet . . . I thought – we thought – I should wait until we’re in our
own house –’

‘Why?’

Again so direct. Ruth just looked at him, realising in surprise that she had no answer. ‘I don’t know.’

‘Couldn’t you go to work from Cecily’s house?’

Of course she could; why on earth hadn’t that occurred to her? She felt something stirring inside her, and took a deep breath. ‘Yes, I suppose I could. There’s really no reason
for me to wait –’

Frank shook his head. ‘No reason at all. You will have a fair bit of work to do when you eventually move into your house, of course, but other people manage it with a job – why
couldn’t you?’

He made it sound so simple. Then he said, ‘Now, why haven’t you been back to Dublin since your wedding?’

And Ruth, beginning to feel slightly foolish, had to admit again that she didn’t know.

‘So what’s stopping you from heading up to the station this minute and getting a train timetable?’

It was as if he’d stretched out a hand and pulled back some kind of curtain, and Ruth could see clearly for the first time in ages.

‘Nothing is stopping me.’ She smiled a watery smile. ‘Frank, I’m so sorry for –’

He lifted his hand. ‘Please Ruth, no need to apologise. If I’ve been any help at all, I’m delighted. I know what it’s like to come to a new place: if it hadn’t been
for my excellent neighbours, I might well have headed back to Sligo after a few weeks. You need a few friendly faces around you when you move to a new city.’

He lifted his cup. ‘Now, finish that coffee and head up to the station. You can get yourself a timetable and plan a trip.’

She’d gone straight there, bought a ticket for the following day – why would she need to plan, when her time was her own, she could go anytime? Then she headed home to pack a weekend
bag.

And it had all worked out beautifully. When she told Andrew that evening, he nodded, unsurprised. ‘Good idea – about time you went back to see them.’

He drove her to the station on his way to work the next morning, and her father was waiting for her at Heuston Station. She stayed two nights, revelling at being back in her old room with the
same watermark in the ceiling above the bed, tucking into her mother’s hearty meals without worrying about dropping a glass or cracking a plate.

After dinner on the first night, she sat in with her parents and Irene and watched
Emmerdale
and
Coronation Street
and
Fair City
, and answered all their questions
about the house and Limerick, and went to bed after tea and biscuits like they always had last thing, and slept soundly all night. The second evening, a Thursday, she went out to the local with
Irene and her two other sisters, and met up with Maura and Claire, and showed everyone her honeymoon photos.

And a few days after she got back to Limerick, Andrew came home from work and told her the house would be ready for them within a week.

When she’d rung Frank to invite him to come and see it – he’d given her his number in the café, ‘just in case’ – he sounded pleased.

‘Now, everything is starting to fall into place. How’s the job-hunting going?’

‘Nothing yet, but I am keeping an eye on the paper.’

‘Well, one step at a time. You’ll be kept busy for the next while anyway, with the moving.’

Now Ruth opened the back door.

‘Right, you’ve seen the house – let me show you the garden. I must warn you, it’s in pretty bad shape. I’d say nothing’s been done in it for years.’

Frank followed her out through the back door. ‘Yes, I got that impression from the upstairs windows.’ He stood and looked around the jungle of weeds. ‘It’ll certainly
need a bit of work to get it into shape. Actually –’ his eyes swept around, taking it all in ‘– I may be able to help you there.’ He turned and looked at Ruth.
‘I didn’t mention that I was a landscape gardener in my previous life, did I?’

Ruth gaped at him. ‘Frank – really? No, you never said – would you really like to take it on? We’d be thrilled, I know Andrew would be delighted –’

He smiled at her eager face. ‘I’d enjoy getting back to it, I think – and it would certainly keep me out of trouble for a few months. You’d need to discuss it with your
husband first, of course.’

‘Oh, I’m sure he’ll say yes – it’s not as if he’d have the time to do it; and he’s never mentioned an interest in gardening. No, I’d say
he’d be delighted.’ Ruth wondered if the day could get any better. ‘Can I phone you when I’ve talked to him, and we can – er – see about payment?’

Frank twinkled. ‘Well of course, I don’t come cheap. I’d need at least one cup of tea a day, and maybe the odd ham sandwich. How would that sound?’

Ruth laughed, a little embarrassedly. ‘We wouldn’t dream of letting you work for nothing – but we can fight about it later.’

Frank nodded. ‘Of course we can. I’ll be seeing you at the book club anyway.’ The next meeting was in two days’ time, at Dorothy’s house. ‘You’re
planning to go, I take it?’

Ruth had hardly thought about the book club since the last meeting; had nearly forgotten the plot of the book they were supposed to be discussing, she’d read so many since then. But she
nodded immediately. ‘Yes, I’ll be there. I’ll talk to you then.’

As she walked along Shelbourne Road on the way back to Cecily’s house – she didn’t think of it as
home
any more, now they had their own – her head was full of
all she had to do over the next few days. She felt like skipping; realised that this was the happiest she’d been since she’d moved to Limerick. Her pace slowed a bit as she wondered if
that was normal – shouldn’t she, as a newlywed, have been walking on air, no matter where she lived? Wasn’t the fact that she was with Andrew the important thing? But of course
she was happy with him; it was just that living with a mother-in-law would be difficult for most brides, surely. Especially one as . . . perfect as Cecily.