The Stone House (34 page)

There were too many memories.

‘The night nurse will be here in a few minutes to get you settled, Mammy,' she babbled. Trying to compose herself, she closed the leatherbound album over and put it away.

THE STONE HOUSE
settled into a routine centred around the care of Maeve. Brigid Reilly the nurse arrived about ten o'clock every morning, Romy helping if needed as the nurse washed and changed her mother and administered a range of drugs. Brigid monitored her patient's condition daily, informing Romy over a cup of tea before she left as to how well her mother was doing.

‘She's eaten so little for the past three days,' worried Romy. ‘Just a bit of scrambled egg or mashed potato or yoghurt.'

‘Is she having any difficulty swallowing? Stroke patients often develop a compromised swallow.'

‘I don't know.'

‘What about drinking? She's still taking a lot of fluids, I presume.'

‘Yeah, tea and milk and juice and water.'

‘It's very important she drinks enough, especially with all the medication she's on.'

Moya phoned every day around midday to check how things were going and to say hello to her mother. Romy
mentioned the nurse's concern about her eating and drinking and the fact that her mother was now sleeping longer and longer. ‘Kate's coming down at the weekend so at least she'll be here,' she told her.

During the day many of her mother's friends dropped in, some only staying a few minutes, others sitting quietly beside her.

‘Romy's all grown up now,' joked Mrs Grace, one of her old teachers, who played bridge with her mother. ‘I'm sure your coming home has made Maeve so happy. She used to tell us about your travels but I know she missed you terribly.'

The ladies from the Garden Club came and with the french windows opened carried pots and planters over to the doorway for her mother to see, admiring her climbing roses and spreading sweet pea.

‘Green fingers, you've always had them, Maeve. You put the rest of us to shame. You just had to fling things into the soil and they took!'

Romy knew that even though her mother was weak, these visits pleased her.

Insured to drive her mother's Volkswagen Polo, Romy drove into Rossmore to buy a few groceries while Mrs Grace was there.

The sky was overcast, and it was threatening rain as she pulled into a space outside the supermarket. The small town had changed a lot over the years, with a proliferation of holiday homes and apartments; luckily most were on the outskirts of Rossmore and didn't take away from the quaint charm of the place. The hotels overlooking the front were still the same though some
could do with a lick of paint. The newsagent's and the post office were still there, and O'Sullivan's, where she'd worked for two summers, had expanded, the window filled with crystal and silver and pine photo frames, expensive designer pottery and ceramics. The ice-cream machine beside the door had gone.

Further up the street were the bookies and McHugh's pub where her father drank. Lavelle's looked great, the restaurant and bakery painted a buttery cream colour with pine windows and a black awning that flapped in the wind with the signature word Lavelle's. Sheila O'Grady must be proud of the fine business she'd built up over the years. Romy stopped and studied that evening's menu. She'd heard from Moya that the eldest girl Deirdre also worked there, while young Tony was involved in the bakery, which supplied hotels and restaurants all over the South-East.

Romy, embarrassed when she realized that Sheila had spotted her, waved back.

She needed to get some chicken in the butcher's, then bread, pasta, and a few other items in the large Spar. She stopped outside her father's old office: it made her feel sad, a big Closing Down Sale sign in the window. Boxes everywhere. The antique business that had set up there was relocating. She peered in through the dusty window and blind. Smartened up like Lavelle's it could be nice.

Rossmore itself seemed smaller than she remembered, but walking along streets up by the school where she'd chased and raced in her uniform brought back reams of memories.

It had just begun to drizzle, and she pulled up her
hood and zipped her jacket, head down. Putting the groceries in the car, she spotted a black Range Rover across the road from her. The tall figure in the black leather jacket was immediately recognizable. Brian O'Grady slowed down to let a woman with a baby in a buggy cross. Shit! She didn't know if he'd seen her or not. Her aunt had mentioned about him being back working in the area. She felt like getting in the car and high-tailing it to the airport but, taking a breath, calmed herself and drove home.

Seeing Brian O'Grady had upset her more than she could ever have imagined, his very presence at such close proximity disturbing her. Romy, upset and restless, knew she couldn't run any more.

She had pulled up the chair beside her mother's bed that night and told her the truth about the abortion.

‘It's no excuse but I was scared. Terrified, too young to know what I was doing. Daddy and you and I – we were all upset! We said things, things we didn't mean.'

Her mother tried to say something, agitated, but the words just wouldn't come.

‘I lied to you about not knowing who the father was. It was Brian O'Grady. I loved him so much. We were always together. I was so screwed up and sick and scared. Brian had another girlfriend. I wouldn't listen to you about keeping the baby and just went to a clinic in Fulham and had an abortion. I couldn't think straight.'

‘It's in the past,' said her mother slowly, the words clear.

‘You were right all along. You told me that I would regret it, but I didn't listen to you and I let those doctors there get rid of my baby.'

Her mother's eyes welled with tears.

‘I'm a fucking walking disaster. I got rid of my own baby even though you said you'd help me!'

She leaned along the bed beside her mother.

‘I was relieved . . . the baby was gone. But it was the worst feeling in the world. I don't know how you got through it after Sean, Mammy. I don't know how you did it! I had to get away so I went to France. I kept moving. The further away I went, the harder it was to come back. I kept thinking, I'm seeing the world, but I was just running, running away. It wasn't you or Dad or anything I was getting away from – it was just me . . . I couldn't face me!'

Maeve reached for her daughter with her good arm and Romy buried her head on her chest as her mother comforted her like she did when she was small and bold and wild. Romy knew that she was forgiven.

Kate and Molly arrived late on Friday evening. Romy was enchanted to finally get to see her little niece.

‘She's a beauty, Kate.'

‘Unlike her mother,' teased her sister.

‘No,' gulped Romy, mortified. ‘Molly's cute and clever and you'd run away with her.'

‘I know what you mean. Some days I just can't believe she's mine!'

Romy stifled a pang of jealousy.

‘I suppose I envy you,' she said truthfully. ‘You've got your career and you have Molly. You are stronger
and braver than me and have your beautiful daughter to show for it.'

‘Listen, Romy, you were just a scared kid. Time will change things, just wait and see! Some day you'll have another child.'

‘I'm not sure that's ever going to happen,' said Romy bitterly. ‘Not sure I deserve it!'

Kate squeezed her sister's hand, realizing just how fortunate she really was. She couldn't imagine her life without the curly-haired bundle of mischief hopping up and down in front of them demanding to see Granny.

‘Does she understand about Mum?'

‘She knows Granny's very sick and tired and she's got to be good for the next two days. That's about as much as most three-year-olds can take in. Derry had to work. He's up in Belfast so I had to bring her.'

‘And am I glad you did.' Romy smiled, pulling Molly up on her lap and kissing and hugging her.

‘Can I see Granny now?' asked Molly, jumping down.

‘Of course.' Her mother smiled as she led her to the dining room.

‘Granny's bedroom's upstairs,' Molly reminded her.

‘Well since she got sick, we got our cousins to bring Granny's big bed down here so she won't be all alone upstairs.'

Romy had a lump in her throat as she watched Molly march over to her granny's bed and stand there for a minute assessing the situation. Unperturbed by the change in her grandmother's appearance, Molly had simply kicked off her shoes and clambered up in her denim skirt and bright yellow T-shirt onto the bed, pulling back the quilt so she was lying beside her
granny. Pulling open her ladybird handbag, she began to take out two drawings to show her.

‘Granny, I made this one in play school for you. That's you in the bed and that's Jinx beside you and that's Mummy and me.'

Maeve Dillon nodded as she studied the purple-haired version of herself lying like the princess and the pea on layer after layer of multi-coloured bedding.

‘Thank you,' she struggled to say as Molly's dark eyes fixed on hers.

‘This one I made at home with all my colours,' Molly boasted proudly.

She slowly unfolded it. It was a garden, but no ordinary garden. It was covered in zany flowers that burst from the ground and the trees and fell from the sky, in the middle of it all stood her grandmother, with her sunhat on, and her sloppy gardening clothes and a huge smile.

‘That's you, Granny.'

Kate and Romy looked at each other, both suddenly overcome with emotion as Molly chattered on. Spires of pink lupins and foxgloves and heavy blue delphiniums and white, sweet-scented nicotiana were bursting with life from their mother's border outside the french windows.

TIRED, ROMY WATCHED
as the nurse's car pulled into the driveway. Deirdre Jennings had been here for the past four nights in a row, bringing a bag of knitting and the latest John Grisham novel to get through the long hours minding her patient.

‘She's very drowsy,' Deirdre said.

‘I know. She slept most of the day. Aunt Vonnie called in for a while this morning but she kept nodding off.'

‘Well maybe she'll be up for a chat later on then!' smiled the middle-aged woman, going into the kitchen to make a cup of tea.

Romy kissed her mother good-night, looking forward to a long soak in the bath before falling into bed. She had a huge respect and deep gratitude for Deirdre and the rota of nurses who cared for her mother night and day, their kindness and professionalism ensuring that Maeve could remain at home.

When she came down to breakfast in her dressing gown in the morning Deirdre told her there was a slight change.

‘I changed her nightdress – she's been a bit clammy and sweaty, running a temp. I think it's her chest. She could have an infection. I've left a message with Dr Deegan to look in on her.'

‘Is there anything I can do?'

The nurse hesitated.

‘Just keep her comfortable. You don't want her getting too hot or cold. I've given her something to try and bring it down. It's hard to tell with these things. Listen, I'm going home for a sleep but I'm on again tonight and I'll see you then.'

Her mother looked wretched and Romy was relieved when Myles Deegan finally appeared.

‘The nurse was right. She does have an infection and we need to treat it. There are two ways. I phone an ambulance and get her readmitted to the hospital where she'll be put on a drip and oxygen and monitored carefully, or she stays where she is and I treat her with high-dose antibiotics here at home. If she needs oxygen I'll get it set up here for her. What do you want to do?' he asked gently.

Romy hesitated.

‘Will she get better?'

‘I can't answer that. She's beginning to fail, her body is under severe pressure. She may have had another slight stroke, who knows. Unless we do a battery of tests, I couldn't say. Pneumonia in this type of situation is relatively common.'

Romy stood, watching her mother, unsure what to do, reluctant to be the decision-maker.

‘I know she doesn't want to die in hospital,' she said slowly. ‘She wants to be here at home.'

Maeve Dillon, aware of their conversation, had opened her eyes, coughing slightly, raised up on the layers of pillows around her shoulders.

‘Maeve,' said the doctor gently. ‘I think you might have a chest infection. I can treat it here or otherwise you'll have to go back into the hospital. What do you want?'

Her mother shook her head, her hand firmly patting the bed she was lying on.

‘Home, here?'

‘I'm taking that as an answer,' murmured Myles Deegan, clasping her mother's palm.

Myles Deegan co-ordinated it all, starting her mother on a course of high-dose antibiotics and giving her an injection straight away.

‘I'll talk to Brigid before she comes over and get her to wait for the oxygen to be delivered. I'll leave her this tray here in case she needs it and I'll call back up before I go home this evening. Don't worry, Maeve will have the best of care, I promise.'

‘I know that,' Romy said.

Her mother fell into a deep, heavy sleep once the doctor had gone and Romy took the opportunity to phone Kate and Moya. Both of them agreed to come home immediately.

‘I'll be on the first flight I can get,' promised Moya, upset. ‘Just don't let anything happen to her before I get there.'

Aunt Vonnie had been philosophical.

‘We all knew she wasn't getting any better. God be good to her. I was talking to Eamonn two nights ago and he's coming over.'

‘When?'

‘His flight gets in early tomorrow morning. Conor said he'd collect him and drive him down here.'

Romy was much relieved that her mother's older brother would be home to see her.