'You wanted some breakfast?'
'That too.' He grinned. 'But the other reason was to ask you if you'd like to come over for dinner this evening. Unless of course you're seeing Kevin.'
Celine looked him in the eye. 'I'm not seeing Kevin any more.'
Richard raised an eyebrow. 'I see. Does that mean you're free?'
'I'm free,' Celine murmured and hid a smile behind her coffee cup.
Richard drained his cup and headed for the door. 'Good. Seven o'clock, don't be late.'
'Hang on, I don't even know where I'm going.'
Richard paused in the doorway and grinned. 'First apartment block after the garage, in the front door and take the lift all the way to the top. See you later.'
Celine mentally went through her wardrobe as she finished her breakfast. Something sophisticated but not too dressy — it wouldn't do to look too eager. God, she felt like a teenager again! She wondered if Richard would ask her to stay the night. She wouldn't, of course she wouldn't, that would send the wrong message. Although she wasn't entirely sure what message she did want to send. She stood up and cleared away the breakfast things. She wasn't going to spend the day wondering about tonight. Perhaps she'd go for a walk or head into town, maybe visit the art gallery — it had been ages since she'd done that.
On impulse she phoned her dad to see if he could meet her. 'I was afraid you might be on the golf course,' she said when he answered.
'No, I thought I'd do a bit of gardening.'
'I was going to suggest we meet up in Dwyer's for a bit of lunch.'
'Sorry, love, but I'll never be finished by then. You could come over here though.'
'I don't think so.'
'Oh, come on, love, you can't stay away from Killmont for ever.'
Celine thought about it for a moment. Sundays were quiet and her father's house was on the outskirts of the town. It was unlikely she would meet anyone she knew. 'Okay, Dad, I'll see you about two and I'll bring lunch.'
'Great, see you then.'
Celine combed her hair, pulled on a denim jacket and grabbed her bag and sunglasses. As she stepped out on to the street she saw a bus coming around the corner.
'Celine!'
She turned to see Dominic. 'Hi, Dominic, sorry, got to run.'
'No problem, I just wondered if it would be okay if I gave Cathy Donlan your phone number.'
'Who?'
'The producer of "My Fair Lady"?'
'Oh, right, yeah, that's fine.'
'Great. See you later.'
Celine got to the stop just as the bus pulled up. When she'd bought her ticket, she went upstairs and sat at the front. This had always been her favourite place to sit as a child. She felt unusually optimistic and positive today as she looked out on a Dublin bathed in spring sunshine. The prospect of running the shop alone excited her. She also felt more relaxed now that she didn't have to creep around for fear of bumping into Fergus. And the thought of the evening ahead alone with Richard made her shiver with anticipation. Even going back to Killmont didn't seem so hard now that she was finished with Kevin and had a clear conscience.
As it was such a nice day, Celine opted to wander around Merrion Square instead of going into the gallery. As usual, the railings were chock-a-block with paintings and the artists sat in deck chairs talking among themselves and watching the world go by. Celine liked to come here just to browse but today she was on the lookout for something for her living room. She saw a few paintings she liked but nothing compared with the one she'd seen in Café Napoli. As she left the square, she promised herself she'd ask Tracy again about the artist. She could always call him or her and make an offer. Making her way to the supermarket at the top of Baggot Street, she bought ham, turkey, a mixed salad and fresh bread rolls. At two on the dot, she stepped off the bus in Killmont and started the short walk to her family home. As she'd hoped, there was no one about and she breathed a sigh of relief as she turned into the driveway without incident.
'Oh good, you're here, I could eat a horse.' Her father kissed her cheek. 'Just let me wash my hands.'
'Shall I put on the kettle or would you prefer a beer?'
'Definitely beer,' he called.
Celine chuckled as she set the food out on the table and rooted in the fridge for the beer.
Frank reappeared, drying his hands in a towel. 'We can have it in the garden if you like, it's quite warm now.'
'Lovely. Shall I make you up a roll or would you prefer it on a plate?'
'A roll would be lovely.' Frank twisted the top off his beer and downed half of it. 'Thirsty work. So what did you do this morning?'
'Went into Merrion Square.'
'Nice day for it.'
Celine sighed. 'Yes, but I couldn't find what I wanted.'
'Oh, you want to buy?'
'Yes, something for the living room. Ham or turkey?'
Frank grinned. 'Both.'
Celine crammed the meat into a buttered roll and added some salad and mayonnaise. 'There you go.'
'Thanks, love.'
When Celine had made herself a small salad they took their lunch outside and sat on the deck at the back of the garden. 'You did a good job,' she said, looking around at the manicured lawn and colourful flowerbeds.
'I need to plant some more shrubs but I'll wait for a couple of weeks. There's still a bit of frost at this time of the year.'
Celine sighed and stretched out her legs. 'I can't believe it's almost May.'
'You'll miss your garden,' Frank remarked.
'Yes, but there's a tiny little courtyard at the back of the shop and apparently it's a real sun trap. I can nip down the fire escape any time I want.'
'That's nice.' Frank finished his roll and sat back to enjoy his beer.
'How's Brenda?'
He shot her a wary look. 'Why do you ask?'
Celine shrugged. 'Just wondering if she's forgiven me yet.'
'She has other things on her mind at the moment,' Frank murmured.
Celine pushed her food away and leaned forward on the table. 'What do you mean, Daddy, what's wrong?'
Frank sighed. 'I shouldn't really be telling you but to tell the truth I'm worried.'
'For God's sake, Daddy, what? Is Brenda sick?'
'No. Well, yes, I suppose she is. She's suffering from depression. The doctor has put her on antidepressants and she's going to see some kind of specialist next week.'
'A psychiatrist?'
'Yes, that's it. Oh, Celine, she's not the same woman at all.'
'In what way?'
'She cries all the time and she won't go out. The house is a mess and I don't think she's cooked in weeks.'
Celine's eyes widened. Brenda had always been the perfect housewife, her house always smelling of either polish or freshly baked bread. 'What does Alan think?'
'He's in England on some course or other.'
'He must come home. She shouldn't be in the house on her own.'
'I agree but Brenda won't tell him she's sick and she's sworn me to secrecy.'
Celine banged her beer down on the table. 'But how could he go away and leave her when she's like this? What was he thinking of?'
'To be fair, he left before she had her breakdown.'
'Breakdown? Jesus, Daddy, why didn't you tell me?'
'The way things were between you I don't think she'd have appreciated it.'
'But she needs someone to look after her, Daddy. We can't just stand by and do nothing.'
'I call in every day,' Frank protested. 'I bring her a few groceries, though, from the look of her, I'd say she doesn't eat any of it. And I stay to chat for a while.'
'Does she chat?' Celine asked.
He shook his head. 'No, I waffle on for half an hour and then she tells me she's tired and wants to have a nap.'
'I'm going over there,' Celine announced.
'I don't think—'
'Daddy, I'm going over there right now and it would make it easier if you came with me.'
Frank stood up slowly. 'Yes, okay then. Let me get changed.'
Twenty minutes later, Frank drove them the short distance to Alan and Brenda's house. The first thing Celine noticed was litter in the garden and junk mail hanging out of the letterbox. She watched as her father went to pick up the offending rubbish and then rang the doorbell.
'She doesn't always answer,' he warned, and rang the bell again.
The door opened slowly and Brenda peeked out. She opened the door properly when she saw Frank but stopped when she caught sight of Celine.
'Hello, Brenda.'
Brenda shot Frank a venomous look.
'I'm sorry, love, but I was worried about you. Celine wants to help.'
Brenda turned her back on them and went into the living room. Celine and Frank exchanged glances and followed.
'How are you, Brenda?' Celine asked. She was shocked by her sister-in-law's appearance. Normally neat and tidy, Brenda was wrapped in a stained housecoat and her hair was dirty. But it was her gaunt, pale face and haunted eyes that really frightened Celine.
'Fine.' Brenda sat down, her expression blank.
Celine dropped to her knees and took Brenda's hand. 'Oh, Bren, what is it, what's wrong?'
Her sister-in-law refused to look at her. 'Go away.'
Celine shook her head. 'No chance. It doesn't matter what you do or say, Brenda, I'm not leaving. So you may as well talk to me.'
Brenda looked at her for the first time, her expression bleak. 'Oh, Celine.'
'I'm here, Brenda. I'll take care of you.'
Brenda fell into her arms and started to cry like a child. 'He's gone, Celine, he's gone.'
'Alan will be back, love,' Frank patted her shoulder. 'He'll be back as soon as the course is over.'
'Not Alan,' Brenda sobbed.
Celine sat back on her heels and looked into Brenda's eyes. 'Dermot?' she asked softly.
Brenda nodded. 'I miss him so much.'
Celine felt tears prick the back of her eyes. 'I do too.'
By the time Celine got back to the flat it was almost seven. There was no time for a shower so she splashed some water on her tear-stained face and pulled on black jeans and a pink silk top. Having let her hair dry naturally this morning it was now like a wild bush around her face so she slicked it back with gel. A quick slash of pink lipstick and a spray of perfume and she decided she'd have to do. She put on earrings and a bracelet as she went in search of her boots and then, grabbing a bottle of wine and her jacket, she ran out the door and down the stairs. As she hurried up the road she thought about the emotional afternoon she'd spent with her sister-in-law. When they'd both started to cry, Frank had withdrawn and left them to it. In the time-honoured tradition, he had made a large pot of tea, found himself an ancient newspaper and retreated to the garden.
Celine kept her head down now as she hurried past the garage — she couldn't cope with Mary Boyle tonight — and turned into the gravelled driveway of the modern apartment block. When she pressed the buzzer for the top floor she heard Richard telling her to come up. Inside the silent, luxurious reception area, she crossed the deep pile carpet to the lift and stepped inside. When the door opened on the top floor she found herself in a cosy little hallway with just one door.
Richard opened it immediately. 'You're late.'
'Sorry,' Celine said, breathless after all the rushing. 'I got delayed.' She was glad she hadn't had time to dither over her wardrobe as he was wearing his customary faded blue jeans and a black shirt.
Richard steered her across the living room to a comfortable sofa. 'Relax, I'll get you a drink. Is champagne okay?'
Celine raised an eyebrow. 'Are we celebrating something?'
He grinned. 'Of course.' As he disappeared around the corner into what Celine presumed was the kitchen, she looked around her. The large room was decorated in pale, neutral colours and a number of lamps of various shapes and sizes were dotted around, but it was the view that Celine couldn't believe. Hopefield was spread out below and in the distance the sun was disappearing fast behind the Dublin Mountains.
'It's amazing,' she murmured as Richard reappeared at her side with two glasses.
'Now you see why I told you not to be late. Five more minutes and you'd have missed it.' They watched until the last sliver of light was gone and then Richard took a remote control and turned up the lights.
'Very nice,' Celine murmured and moved around the room to study the numerous paintings on the wall.
'Are you an art lover?' Richard asked.
'Oh, yes. I was in Merrion Square today looking for something for my sitting room.'
'Any luck?'
She shook her head. 'No, but then I'd already seen something that was perfect. Did you see the paintings that Tracy had up in the café?'
'Er, yes.'
'I don't suppose you know who the artist is.'
'I do actually.'
'Fantastic! There was one just beside the door—'
Richard took her hand and led her down a corridor.
'Where are we going?' she asked. Surely it was manners to feed her before trying to get her into bed?
Richard paused in front of a door and nodded for her to go in.
Celine opened it and Richard flicked a switch, flooding the large room with brilliant light. The room was lined with built-in cupboards that were littered with paints and brushes, an easel stood near the window and canvases were stacked in one corner. As well as a floor to ceiling window that took up most of one wall, there were two skylights in the wood-panelled ceiling. 'I had no idea,' Celine breathed. And then she gasped when she turned around and saw the painting that she'd coveted in the café. 'Did you do this?'
Richard looked almost shy. 'Yeah.'
'It's fantastic. I didn't know you were an artist.'
He shrugged. 'It's just a hobby.'
Celine shook her head as she moved over to the stack of canvases. 'May I?'
'Sure.'
Celine flicked through the paintings, pausing now and then to have a closer look. Most of them were landscapes or seascapes and there were a couple of portraits. 'That's Rose!' She pulled out the small canvas and smiled. 'It's excellent. Did she pose for you?'