Mother of the Bride (24 page)

Filled with trepidation, Helen had driven over, only to discover Sheila out admiring Alice's roses in the back garden. Sheila had seemed as right as rain after her adventure. She'd been like a little kid, and Helen had hugged her, trying not to let her mother see how overwrought she was as she thanked Alice and her husband. Her mother's memory lapses were getting worse, and Helen knew the situation was something that had to be tackled. She'd had reports of Sheila not having enough cash to pay in the local shops, and forgetting to collect her pension. Honestly, her mother was half daft!

The family were all concerned, and knew that something was going to have to be organized if Sheila was to continue living safely in Willow Grove. They decided that her mother's home help Sylvie – who'd been persuaded to return – would come in for a few extra hours during the week, and that at weekends they would all take turns looking after Sheila. Paddy was the best in the world and made Helen's mother welcome almost every weekend, but now her brothers would have to give a hand, too.

Helen O'Connor was determined that their weekend away in Wicklow would be relaxing. The past few weeks had been total calamity, between the situation with Amy and Dan, the constant worry of her mother, and Paddy having to work longer hours to make up for the reduction in staff at his firm. Paddy and she were both in dire need of a holiday from the stress and strains of the family. A break at Glebe House was definitely what they needed!

Amy, to all outward appearances, seemed to be coping with her break-up from Dan but Helen couldn't help worrying about her. Ciara was demented, studying for exams and warning that she was going to fail them; and Sheila had given them all another scare when she had tripped in the back garden as she was putting clothes on the washing line. Helen had just called in at Willow Grove with some shopping when she'd discovered Sheila sitting on the grass with cuts to her knee and hands, and a bit of bruising. The injuries were minor, but yet again Sheila hadn't been able to remember exactly what had happened.

The local GP had been fantastic, but had confirmed that Sheila's age was beginning to take its toll, and that she definitely had the gradual onset of a dementia-type illness. Helen found that she was
visiting Sheila almost every day or bringing her over to their place. Despite Sheila's health and memory beginning to fail, she was insistent that she was fine. This weekend, at least, Helen's brother Tim and his wife Linda were on duty and responsible for keeping an eye on Sheila. Old age was awful and Helen dreaded watching her mother's decline!

Driving through the Glen of the Downs she could feel herself begin to unwind. It was good to escape to their favourite haunt and leave the family and work and the city behind them. Paddy had to be forced to take a break from the office, even though it was only for a weekend, and she had insisted he leave his laptop at home. For the past six months he'd been working far too hard, trying to chase down contracts and get money in to the small firm he ran. Glancing at him, she could see how tired he was. Two of his staff were on a three-day week. Business might be cut back, but thank heaven boilers and machinery still needed fixing and replacing, and the business was holding its own.

‘Isn't the countryside glorious?' she remarked as they passed green field after green field, and a wooded copse speckled with sunlight.

‘The weather forecast is good, so we should be able to get a few walks in,' Paddy answered.

She loved the way she could always rely on Paddy to watch the weather forecast and tell her what to expect. Funny how a few nice walks, some good food, two or three bottles of wine and the chance to spend some time together was paradise at their age. Simple pleasures: those were what they both enjoyed, and her heart lifted as they turned off the busy roadway and up into the drive of Glebe House, its avenue flanked by a border of rhododendrons and tall elegant oak trees.

The pale painted walls of the old manor house welcomed them, shining through the greenery as they came to a halt on the gravelled car park to the side of the house. Everything looked the same as ever, she thought, as she reached for Paddy's hand. Bluebells danced on
the lawn, and bright red tulips spilled from the beds and tubs and stone containers around the old house. They grabbed their bags and headed inside. A fire glowed in the grate in the hallway as they made their way to the small reception desk at the back. Helen smiled, noting the piles of walking shoes left near the front door.

‘Hello, Mr and Mrs O'Connor,' welcomed the owner's daughter, Trudy Hanlon. ‘It's good to see you again.'

‘It's been about six months since we've been here, but it's lovely to get the chance of a break away.'

‘I've put you in one of the lake rooms, the corner one,' smiled the petite dark-haired young woman, who was so like her mother, Eve.

Helen smiled back. There was nothing like having a beautiful big bedroom with a magnificent view of the rippling water and lakeshore even from the bed.

‘That's wonderful, Trudy. Thanks.'

‘Will I book you in for dinner tonight?'

‘Of course,' said Paddy, passing back the registration form and his credit-card details. ‘You run the best restaurant in these parts. It's well worth the drive.'

Upstairs in the room they unpacked quickly, and Helen noticed that Paddy was out of breath after insisting on carrying their bags himself. Their room, with its enormous double bed, pristine white bedlinen and plush aubergine-coloured throw, had recently been done up. The faded rose-patterned chintzy look had been replaced by a far more modern decor, which somehow made the place more stylish and elegant. There were two cosy armchairs in an olive-green colour, with purple and green cushions, and an oak writing desk with a bunch of tulips in a clear glass vase.

‘The place looks great,' said Paddy approvingly, as he hung his jacket in the wardrobe.

‘It's lovely. We must congratulate Eve when we see her,' Helen agreed, taking in the power shower and shiny new white-tiled bathroom.

‘What about a stroll down by the lake? And then we can have some afternoon tea,' Paddy suggested. ‘A bit of a walk will do us good.'

It was quiet down by the lake. The water reeds danced in the light breeze and a busy heron was flying over the water occasionally diving in his quest for fish. Helen could feel Paddy relax as they walked along hand in hand. Lately he had looked tired and pale, and she hoped the break away together would give them both a chance to unwind. He was so caught up with work, but she had been equally at fault: preoccupied by all that was going on with her mother and Amy. Paddy and she barely got any time together, and if they did seemed to spend it talking about family problems.

No, this weekend she was determined there would be no talk of Amy and Dan or her mother, or worries about Ciara going off to Thailand with her weird friends, or about how Ronan and Krista were ever going to afford to buy somewhere instead of renting. This weekend was going to be theirs, not their children's!

‘There're the swans,' nodded Paddy. ‘That pair are here every year, always together.'

They watched the swan pair gliding on the small lake, ignoring the other waterfowl as they dabbled in the water with their long white necks, regal heads and sad dark eyes.

Helen felt Paddy squeeze her hand.

‘They mate for life,' she said. She'd read it in some magazine and been struck by the beauty of it, and by the thought of how awful it was when one of a pair was killed or mistreated by cruel young hoodlums.

‘They're good and safe here, it's so quiet,' said Paddy, almost reading her mind.

They continued to walk along by the lake, then turned back across the bottom of the meadow in the direction of the kitchen garden with its rows of early vegetables and herbs.

‘Look at the size of those cabbages!' admired Paddy. ‘And not a drop of those chemical fertilizers on them, all organic.'

Helen could see row after row of rich green cabbage and curly kale and spring onions. The garden here provided a range of home-grown produce for the kitchens, everything fresh. The herb garden was a special joy, with it enticing range of parsley, rosemary, sage, chives and other culinary seasonings.

They trooped back up towards the house, both ready for the Glebe speciality of afternoon tea. The large drawing room hadn't changed, with its fading floral print-covered chairs and old mahogany coffee tables, and they passed through it and out to the Victorian-style conservatory with its white wicker tables and chairs overlooking the side lawn and rose garden.

After a plateful of home-baked scones served with a delicious plum jam, and a selection of baby éclairs and home-made macaroons served with a reviving cup of tea, they both felt their cares slip away.

‘Well, it's lovely to see the two of you back again,' beamed Eve Hanlon, welcoming them warmly. With her immaculately cut short hair framing her pretty face, and her petite figure clad in the usual black jeans, black shirt and cashmere cardigan, she was a stylish woman. She had created the unique ambience of the old house with her impeccable taste and sense of style.

‘And it's good to be back,' beamed Paddy, unable to resist the charms of another miniature éclair.

‘Eve, our bedroom is gorgeous,' praised Helen. ‘Have you redone them all?'

‘Yes. We started with the bedrooms,' Eve said, sitting down to join them. ‘Trudy and Sean persuaded me that the place was getting a bit too faded and we needed to give it a lift in style. We've been working on the refurbishment, and have had the decorators in since we closed up in late November. They've done a great job. Wait until
you see the dining room tonight – it's certainly got a new lease of life! By May it will all be finished: this place and the sitting room are next. You've got to keep up a bit with the times even in an old place like this, people expect it.'

Helen was filled with admiration for Eve, who had taken over the running of Glebe following her husband Peter's death almost twenty years earlier, and had turned the old house into a country retreat providing classic good food and wonderful accommodation for those looking for a few days' break. Year after year the same couples and families returned to the place, glad of Eve's guaranteed welcome.

‘Listen, I'd better go,' said Eve, getting a message on her phone. ‘I'll see you two later on tonight. Sean's got a lovely roast shoulder of lamb on the menu.'

‘My favourite,' said Paddy happily.

Helen looked out over the garden. A few early roses were beginning to open, the tulips creating a great display. She took a bite of a melt-in-the mouth macaroon. This was bliss, and she was so glad she had persuaded Paddy to come away to unwind.

The dinner was perfect; they ordered different dishes for each course and tried each other's. Prawns and duck were followed by monkfish and lamb and a mixture of puddings from the mouth-watering dessert trolley. Two glasses of Chablis and a bottle of Bordeaux helped to complement the food. Afterwards they sat in the small bar with its cosy fireplace till after midnight, sipping port before heading off to bed.

The huge Irish breakfast the next morning included pancakes, and Helen laughed to see Paddy layering them on to his plate with maple syrup. She loved the home-made muesli that Eve served, and the two of them agreed that a massive walk was called for if they wanted to work up an appetite for lunch. They decided to head down towards the beach, which was about two miles away.

No longer kids, they both huffed and puffed as they slowly climbed up the tall sand dunes before rushing down on to the golden sand. In summer this place would be crowded with holidaymakers and swimmers, but today it was quiet except for one or two other couples and a few people walking their dogs.

The beach held so many memories for both of them, and they walked along the strand hand in hand. The tide was out and they watched as a wizened old man swam in the choppy water.

‘He's a brave soul,' declared Paddy.

‘I remember when you used to swim all the time,' Helen reminded him. ‘Summer or winter, you'd be down in Seapoint or Sandycove or Brittas Bay when we were on holidays.'

‘That was a long time ago,' he laughed. ‘I've got sense now.'

‘The children used to think that you were like the Man from Atlantis,' she teased. ‘You were always in the water and were such a strong swimmer.'

‘I remember Amy and Ronan trying to swim out to me from the beach here one time when they were small. Ciara wanted to come, too, but she was only a baby, and she bawled and bawled and yelled “DA DA”, and you had to walk out into the water with her in your arms.'

‘We got them ice cream and lemonade afterwards from the Mr Whippy van that used to park beside the dunes, and I remember I fell asleep in the sun and got sunburn on the back of my legs. Oh, the pain of it!'

‘They were the good times!'

‘We hadn't a minute with three of them. I always seemed to be changing nappies and washing faces and wiping noses, and spent my life making dinners and trying to get clothes dry.'

‘It seemed a lot of work, but it was a lot less complicated then. They were such good kids! Great fun!'

‘They still are,' she reminded him gently. ‘It's just that they've grown up.'

‘Hate that!' he grimaced. ‘It makes me feel old and useless and crotchety like my father!'

‘You are not a bit like Seamus! Besides you're only sixty-one, so a bit less of the old man!' she teased.

‘Some days I feel old and tired,' he admitted. ‘Over the hill. Isn't that what they call it?'

‘Paddy O'Connor, don't you dare say that you are over the hill, because what does that make me?'

‘Twenty-one for ever,' he shouted, swooping her up in his arms and swinging her wildly around. ‘Twenty-one in my eyes, like when we first met.'