Two Fridays in April (35 page)

It’s George.
Happy birthday, see you later, bring your appetite x

It’ll be a lot of work
, she told him when he’d made his suggestion a week ago, offering to host the dinner originally planned for Mo’s house.
There’ll be quite a few mouths to feed
.

No worries – call it payback for all the meals you’ve made me. And, anyway, I’ll have my trusty assistant
.

He’ll have Louise, he meant, the policewoman on duty when Daphne reported the theft of her car over a year ago. Louise, who had called to the house the following morning to tell Daphne the good news about her car.

It’s been found
, she said.
In Galway, of all places. It’s fine, no damage. You’ll get it back this afternoon, when we’ve taken prints
.

Louise, whose son just happened to be in George’s junior infant class at the time. Louise, who has since taken up residence in George’s generous heart.

George is in love with Louise, and it’s just the sweetest thing to see.

The mystery of Daphne’s car turning up sixty miles away in Galway was never solved. The prints found didn’t match any on file and nobody came forward to admit they’d taken the Beetle for a spin – but that’s what seemed to have happened.

Some young lad probably
, Louise said,
on his way to the station to get a bus or a train, passes your car with the keys in it. Looks on it as his chance to save a few bob. You were lucky
.

She
was
lucky. There wasn’t a scratch on the car, and nothing left behind by whoever had brought it to Galway. She got it
valeted, put the whole business behind her and vowed to be more careful in future.

Her phone beeps again.

Happy birthday, hope your day is happy. See you later. T x

T, followed by an x.

T, which stands for Tom, who just happens to be Louise’s older brother.

Small world.

I heard about your car
, he said.

It was Monday, three days since he and Daphne had met for the first time. He arrived without warning at the estate agency: it had taken her a second or two to place him.

Louise is my sister
, he said.
The guard you met at the station when you reported the car stolen. I hope you don’t mind that she told me what happened – she knew you were with me at the time
.

Daphne wasn’t bothered that Louise had told him. The car was back in one piece: its recovery was hardly a state secret.
All’s well that ends well
, she said. Bit of a coincidence that those two were related, all the same – and that Daphne had had cause to be in contact with both of them on Friday.

But what was he doing here now? Had he simply come to congratulate her on the car’s reappearance? No, of course he hadn’t – he was one of their clients. He was there to talk business, find out what value she was planning to put on his house. Mentioning the car was his polite preamble.

Have a seat
, she said. She recalled the journey in his car to the
cemetery, her abrupt departure from it. Had she even thanked him for the lift?

He remained standing.
I won’t stay
, he said.
I have an appointment. I just wanted to say I’m relieved the car was found
. He smiled.
I felt a bit responsible, after keeping you waiting like I did
.

Not at all
. She felt abashed that she’d assigned an ulterior motive for his visit – and ashamed that she’d also blamed him a little bit for the loss of the car.

Nice of him to drop in. Not many would have thought of it.

The bungalow isn’t mine, by the way
, he added.
I should probably have mentioned that. It belonged to our uncle
–
he died a few months back and left it to us. It hasn’t been lived in for over a year – he was in a nursing home
. Which would account for the state of it. Not the neglected home of a recently separated man, as she’d imagined, but the abandoned home of a dead man. Explained a lot.

She watched the door close behind him. She should have mentioned that she already had a prospective buyer – she and George were due to view it that afternoon. No matter: she’d phone him later.

But the viewing never happened. George phoned to cancel, saying he’d changed his mind about looking for a house.
I’ve decided to put it off for a while
, he told her.
Just for a few months. I feel I should stay with my father for a bit
. Typical of him to put someone else first.

Daphne is so glad he found Louise, or Louise found him. She was touched when he confided in her, around November.
A parent in the class
, he said,
or she was, until June
. Delightfully shy about telling her, shuffling his feet, rubbing his grinning
face.
It’s going well
, he said, the grin widening.
We’ll see
, he said, looking mighty pleased with himself.

In the meantime there was plenty of interest in the little bungalow, although the smallness of it put some viewers off, and the absence of a proper back garden was another sticking point. But enquiries continued to come in, and Daphne became accustomed to travelling to Bridestone Avenue, where she was always careful to remove her car keys from the ignition.

And sometimes Tom was there before her, having plugged in a heater or two. And on one occasion, after the viewers had left, he suggested coffee in the little hotel a few streets away, and although Daphne didn’t take him up on it – another appointment waiting – she found herself considering his offer later that evening, and thinking that he mightn’t be the worst to spend an hour with.

Not that she was looking for anyone, for coffee or anything else. And maybe he wasn’t either: maybe he’d simply made the offer out of politeness. For all she knew he already had a partner.

And then one afternoon, around the middle of July, when the bungalow had been on their books for a little over three months, her phone rang and it was him, and the sound of his voice caused a funny little jump that she assumed had more to do with the coffee she’d just had.

You’re not going to like this
, he said, and she thought he was going to reject the offer that had just been put on the bungalow. Couldn’t blame him, well below the asking price.

We’ve decided not to sell the house
, he went on.
In fact, Louise is going to move into it with Josh, her son
.

Oh
… Ridiculous to feel deflated – that kind of thing happened all the time.
Well, thank you for—

I wondered
, he said,
if you’d let me buy you dinner, or lunch or something. Just to say thanks for all your help
.

Oh, there’s no need—

But I’d like to
.

And so, it seemed, would she, because she found herself agreeing to let him take her out. No harm in it, just a meal with a friend. Probably never clap eyes on him again.

They live with me
, he told her over bowls of pasta.
Louise and Josh. The father isn’t on the scene, he never was. He did a runner when she got pregnant so I moved her in with me. It wasn’t a problem
–
I live alone, there was plenty of room – but at this stage they should really have their own place
.

I wanted her to take the bungalow when Uncle Stephen died, but she was adamant we should sell. She had this daft notion that she’d be doing me out of my inheritance. Now she’s changed her mind, which I’m glad about. Makes perfect sense for her to take it
.

After dinner, he walked Daphne to her car. He shook her hand.
We should do it again sometime
, he said, and she didn’t object, so they did it again about ten days later, and again a week after that.

So wary she’d felt to begin with though, so afraid of venturing down that road for the second time. So understanding he’d been, so patient when she’d turn away as he moved closer, not ready for that. Not yet.

So wonderful to allow herself finally to accept that what she thought she’d never feel again was making its slow, steady way back to her. He’s not Finn, he’ll never be Finn – but she never expected to find another Finn.

Funny how things turn out. Wonderful how things can turn out.

The kitchen door opens.

‘Morning,’ Daphne says.

‘Happy birthday to you,’ Una replies. ‘Going to be a nice day.’

‘I think so … Thanks for the presents, they’re wonderful.’

‘Glad you like them.’ Una takes a mug from the draining board, spots the photo on the windowsill. ‘You remember that picnic?’ she asks.

‘I do. I’d forgotten it until I saw that.’

‘We played Twenty Questions, remember?’

‘I do.’

‘Dad was hopeless, kept asking the wrong kind of questions. I knew he was doing it on purpose.’

She talks about him now, she often mentions him. There’s a lovely fondness in her voice when she does. She isn’t done missing him, any more than Daphne is, but she’s coming along.

At the start of June last year, two months after her birthday, she told Daphne about Theo.

It just happened
, she said.
We were friends, that was all, and then, I don’t know … it … changed. He’s nice. He’s lovely … It’s OK, isn’t it?
Looking anxiously at Daphne, wanting very badly for it to be OK, so Daphne told her it was, not at all sure how she felt about it.

A year later they’re still together. Daphne has met him – he’s been to the house several times. On his first visit he brought a red geranium that’s getting ready to bloom again; on his next, a box of very good fudge that he made himself. He never comes empty-handed.

He was ill at ease in Daphne’s company at the start, his eyes sliding away from hers, his neck blotchy with embarrassment. Afraid she didn’t want him there, probably. She felt sorry for him, as much a victim of circumstances as she herself was. He’s still a bit shy with her, but not as much. He’ll relax eventually, if he and Una last.

‘The peanut butter’s nearly gone,’ Una says, scraping in the jar with her knife.

‘I’ll put it on my list.’

‘I can do the shopping after school: you shouldn’t have to on your birthday.’

Daphne smiles. ‘It’s fine – I have plenty of time today.’

A couple of viewings this morning, a visit to the cemetery, lunch with Joanna from work, some filing, some phone calls – and this evening, dinner served up by George in his new surroundings.

At twenty to nine she gets to her feet. ‘Time to go,’ she says, and Una finishes tapping at her phone screen and pushes back her chair.

‘Can I drive?’ she asks, as she’s done every morning for the past week, and again Daphne tells her no, not yet.

As they pull up outside the school, Daphne’s phone begins to ring.

‘Get that,’ Una says, opening the door. ‘I’ll see you later.’

‘Happy birthday,’ Isobel says. ‘Everything all right?’

‘Everything’s fine, just dropping Una at the school.’ Returning the girl’s wave through the window, watching like
she always does as Una disappears into the crowd. ‘What about you?’

‘All well, finishing my cuppa, getting ready to open up. I’m looking forward to the meal this evening.’

‘Me too. Hope George isn’t regretting his offer.’ She thumbs at a mark on the dashboard. ‘I would have been happy to switch it to my house.’

‘Don’t be silly, you can’t host your own birthday dinner. George will be fine – I bet he’s dying to show us all what he can do.’

It’s healing too, the wound that Isobel’s departure had opened up between them all those years ago, the running sore it had become. The first tentative step taken on the night of the anniversary, with Daphne’s offer of a bed to Isobel, but it wasn’t until a few months later, long after Isobel had settled into the apartment Daphne had found for her, that an opportunity presented itself that would allow a real reconciliation to take root. Because of the circumstances, Daphne likes to think Finn had a hand in helping them to bury the past – but Mo deserved a bit of the credit too.

Ask your mother
, she said to Daphne, when the idea of reopening the bicycle shop finally began to take hold.
She’s used to working behind a counter in that fancy place
. So the suggestion had come from Mo – but without Finn and his father, there would have been no shop to begin with, and no need for them to be casting around for someone to work in its new incarnation.