Things We Never Say (44 page)

‘Hopefully not,’ said Abbey. ‘Otherwise getting up and down this hill might be difficult.’

‘Fantastic views,’ commented Ellen as they climbed higher.

‘Best in Dublin,’ said Ryan. ‘That’s why property here gets premium prices.’

Ellen glanced at Abbey. But she was gazing out of the car window, across the bay.

‘Here we are.’ Ryan pulled up outside Fred’s house. ‘Looks like Alex isn’t here yet. Don’t worry, by the way, the heat has been set to come on for a few hours every day. We don’t want the house to fall victim to the weather.’ He opened the pedestrian gate and led the way up the steps, warning them to be careful as they might be slippy.

‘This is impressive,’ said Ellen as Ryan took more keys from his pocket and selected one to open the door.

‘It was awesome in the summer,’ Abbey told her. ‘All the flowers were out and the garden was magnificent. A bit unruly, maybe, but that only added to its charm.’

‘Here we go.’ Ryan opened the front door and they stepped inside.

The first thing Abbey noticed was that the house seemed neater.

‘As you know, Lisette has been taking care of things,’ said Ryan. ‘She comes every week.’

‘She’s doing a good job,’ said Abbey.

‘She’s very thorough,’ agreed Ryan as they walked through into the living room, which, Abbey thought, was a million times fresher-looking than on her previous visit.

‘Anyone for tea?’ Ryan looked at them enquiringly.

‘We’ve just had coffee,’ said Abbey.

‘Yes, but the Irish make tea for every social occasion.’ Ryan grinned at her.

‘OK then.’ She followed him into the kitchen, which had also been transformed by Lisette’s cleaning. After a moment, Ellen joined them. She continued through the kitchen, towards Fred’s office, while Abbey stayed with Ryan.

‘Your mam is lovely,’ he whispered to her. ‘Not at all how I imagined her.’

‘How did you imagine her?’

‘I thought she’d look more … more homely,’ he said. ‘Or maybe more severe. Certainly more religious. But she’s quite normal, isn’t she? And I like that skirt and jumper combo she has going on. Not at all like the habit I imagined.’

Abbey chuckled and told him about their cold-weather shopping in San Francisco International.

‘Good thinking,’ said Ryan. ‘We’d hate her to catch her death. Sorry,’ he added. ‘Possibly a bad phrase to use.’

Just as he was bringing the tea into the living room, where Ellen was now sitting, Alex arrived. He was carrying a briefcase stuffed with papers. He greeted Ellen warmly, like Ryan telling her he was pleased to finally meet her, and then started talking about Fred’s will and how he, as the executor, was defending it.

‘So it’s your job to say that Mr Fitzpatrick was entitled to do what he liked with his money,’ said Ellen.

‘Exactly,’ Alex told her. ‘He really and truly wanted you to have something. It was extremely important to him. Those were his wishes and my job is to ensure that they are carried out. I have to admit I was shocked when Donald Fitzpatrick turned down your offer. I can’t believe his solicitors allowed him to! Not that we can prevent anyone rejecting an offer, but I can’t see them getting anything better.’

‘Why do you think Mr Fitzpatrick felt it was important that I – we – have the house?’ asked Ellen. ‘It seems such a big thing.’

‘Truthfully, I don’t know,’ replied Alex. ‘However, I’m aware that he was concerned there’d be a row between his sons over the property. That one would want to buy the other out and that neither could afford to do so and it would end up messily. I think he thought this was a good solution.’

‘I suppose anything we think about it is only conjecture,’ said Ellen.

‘Yes. I can only say what he told me. So,’ Alex continued, ‘let’s get talking about tomorrow and how things might pan out.’

He took more papers from his case. And at that moment, they heard the sound of the front door being opened.

Although Lisette finished classes early on Monday afternoons, she usually had a few sessions of private tuition afterwards. But today, tense and agitated about the upcoming hearing, she’d cancelled the grinds in favour of calling in to Furze Hill. Who knew when she’d next be able to sit in the kitchen she’d spent so much time cleaning and tidying that it was now a peaceful haven overlooking the sea? If – despite what Donald still insisted – the judge found against them, the house would no longer be theirs.

Not that she wanted it now anyway. Whereas once she’d dreamed about living there, it had become a symbol of the growing division between her and her husband. They hardly spoke these days, their opposing views on Fred’s divisive legacy too far apart to bridge. Gareth spent most of his time in his den. Lisette presumed he was looking at French property sites. When he wasn’t at the computer, he was talking to Don in a low, urgent voice. Don had found out about Lisette and Zoey’s offer to the Americans. When Zoey told her, she said that he’d been angry with her at first, but then admitted that if Abbey and her mother had accepted, he probably would’ve agreed to it despite his principles, if only to get them out of their hair. But Abbey’s own offer was too far away from anything reasonable, and besides, it wasn’t about the money in the end, it was about the right to be a Fitzpatrick.

Gareth hadn’t said anything at all to Lisette about the offer at first. In fact neither of them was talking much. They seemed to have completely lost their ability to hold a conversation. All they did was snap at each other. The last time they’d spoken about the will, she’d said that Don was behaving like a child in wanting all or nothing, and that Gareth was too weak to stand up to him. Gareth’s jaw had tightened at that, and he’d retorted that he was supporting Don because they needed to stick together about this, not go off half-cocked like she and Zoey had done. She was relieved that he’d finally acknowledged it, but had yelled at him that at least she wasn’t pissing their frugal resources away on a pipe dream. And then she’d added something about pissing the children’s inheritance away too, and that all he was trying to prove was that he was as good as Don, but the truth was that when it came to business neither of them were, because they weren’t cut-throat like his father and they should stop trying to pretend that they knew what they were doing because they didn’t.

‘I know exactly what I’m doing,’ Gareth had responded. ‘I’m trying to save our family’s future, while all you want to do is hand it on a plate to someone else.’

That argument had ended with her storming upstairs and going to bed, thankful that their shouting hadn’t woken the children. She’d lain there, barely containing her rage, until she’d heard Gareth come upstairs too. But he hadn’t joined her in the bedroom; he’d slept in the guest room, where he’d stayed ever since.

Lisette couldn’t quite believe that her marriage was falling apart at the seams. She’d always been proud of how she and Gareth had resolved things in the past, how they’d always managed to stick to their self-imposed rule of never going to sleep angry. Not that there had been many instances of it anyway. They were a good team. They believed in the same things. They shared the same values. Or at least they had. Because it was all very different now.

When she walked into the living room and saw Alex, Ryan, Abbey and the woman she realised must be Ellen Connolly (although she didn’t look anything like the nun she’d imagined), Lisette stood still in shock. Although she’d noticed cars parked on the street outside, it hadn’t occurred to her that anyone would be at the house. The sight of them there, sitting on Fred’s sofa, drinking tea from Fred’s cups, was like a blow to the stomach.

‘Lisette.’ Alex stood up and extended his hand. ‘How are you?’

She shook it automatically even as a part of her brain registered that this was something else that would annoy Gareth.

‘I’m well.’ Her reply was automatic too, no matter how she felt.

Abbey looked at her with concern. The last time she’d seen Lisette, she’d thought that Gareth’s wife was as coolly elegant as she’d imagined all Frenchwomen to be. She’d looked quietly chic in her black dress, high heels and neatly styled white-grey hair. Today she was wearing jeans, trainers and the sort of fleece that Ellen had rejected. And even though there was still a certain elegance about her, her face was drawn and there were black circles beneath her eyes.

‘Would you like some tea?’ asked Alex.

‘I … what are you doing here?’ Lisette looked confused.

‘Having a meeting,’ Alex told her. ‘But you’re welcome to sit with us for a while. Did you come to tidy the house? It hardly needs it.’

‘I …’ Lisette didn’t know what to say.

Ryan Gilligan got up, went to the kitchen and returned with another cup. He filled it with tea and offered it to Lisette.

‘We’ve given you a shock.’ Ellen spoke gently. ‘I’m sorry.’

Lisette took a mouthful of hot tea (that bloody Lyons blend, she thought involuntarily; I should’ve thrown it in the bin). ‘Are you …’ She didn’t finish the sentence, but stared at Ellen.

‘I’m Sister Benita,’ said Ellen. ‘I’m Fred’s daughter.’

Abbey looked at her mother. It was the first time Ellen had called herself Fred’s daughter, and the words took her breath away. Because quite suddenly it was real. Quite suddenly she actually believed it. Fred Fitzpatrick, the man who’d died before her very eyes, was indeed Ellen’s father, was indeed her own grandfather. And because of that, they were connected to people like Lisette and her husband, and Zoey and Gareth and Suzanne. They were part of their family.

‘You’re not what I expected.’ Lisette put the cup on the coffee table.

‘I’m sure I would’ve been more like you expected if I hadn’t had to buy some cold-weather clothes,’ said Ellen.

‘Maybe that’s it.’ Lisette continued to stare at her. ‘You look – you look like Suzanne.’

And that was it, thought Abbey. That was what had shocked her when Ellen had first changed into the skirt and jumper. She didn’t look like herself any more. She was an older version of Suzanne.

‘I haven’t yet met Suzanne,’ said Ellen. ‘I hope I will. But I’m glad to meet you.’

Ryan, Alex and Abbey were watching the two women. Lisette didn’t speak. But then her mobile, loud and shrill, broke the silence that had descended on the room.

‘I’m just outside the house.’

Lisette listened as Zoey told her she’d been driving past and seen her car outside.

‘What are you doing there without me? Not raiding the safe, I hope!’ Zoey was joking. She knew Lisette wouldn’t dream of it. They were partners in crime when it came to lifting things from Furze Hill. ‘Let me in, will you?’

Lisette looked at the people in front of her and told them Zoey was outside.

‘Excellent,’ said Ellen. ‘I get to meet someone else.’

‘I don’t know if …’ Alex looked doubtful.

‘Let her in,’ said Ellen.

Lisette got up and answered the door. They could hear her whispered words before she returned to the living room with Zoey.

Abbey looked at Zoey with interest. Unlike Lisette, she was as pretty and as up-to-the-minute as she remembered, wearing a pair of wool trousers and a fur-trimmed wool coat over wedge boots. A matching fur-trimmed hat was perched on her luxuriant brunette curls.

‘Well, this is a turn-up,’ she said when she stood in front of them. ‘Staking an early claim, are you?’

‘Hello,’ said Ellen. ‘I’m Sister Benita. It’s good to meet you.’

‘You’re the reason for all the trouble,’ said Zoey. ‘You’re the mad nun in the monastery. You don’t look mad, but I suppose appearances can be deceiving.’

‘I guess that’s why one should never go on appearances,’ said Ellen equably.

‘Tea?’ asked Alex.

‘You have some nerve,’ said Zoey, as she removed her hat and coat and draped them over a chair. ‘Bringing them here. Using this place like your own.’

‘And you’ve come here because …?’ There was a touch of frost in Alex’s normally urbane voice.

‘I saw Lisette’s car outside. I thought she was cleaning. I was going to help.’

Everyone looked at Zoey’s immaculate, stylish trousers and the silk blouse that had been revealed when she’d taken off her coat. Zoey realised that she wasn’t exactly dressed for cleaning.

‘I chat to her while she’s working,’ she clarified.

‘How good of you,’ said Alex. ‘You come here a lot, do you?’

‘We had to,’ said Zoey. ‘You can see that Lizzie’s done a great job on the house. It was a tip before.’

‘That was thoughtful,’ said Ellen.

‘You can’t be a nun.’ Zoey was shaking her head. ‘You’re too … too … you’re normal. Which,’ she said abruptly, ‘isn’t good for us.’ She looked at Lisette. ‘That’s their strategy. Make her look as though she isn’t a nun at all. Make her look like Suzanne.’

Lisette stared at her and then at Ellen. And then she started to cry.

‘There’s no need to be upset.’ Ellen stood up and moved towards Lisette. ‘There’s nothing to cry about.’

But Lisette’s shoulders continued to shake with the ferocity of the tears that were now spilling down her cheeks. Alex and Ryan looked uncomfortable, while Abbey watched as her mother put her arm around the other woman and gently drew her towards her. Zoey, meanwhile, continued to stare at Ellen, as though unconvinced she was a real person.

‘
Je suis désolée
.’ Lisette finally moved away from Ellen. ‘I am sorry. I didn’t mean to …’ She took the tissue that Ellen handed her and wiped her eyes. ‘This is silly of me.’

‘You’re upset,’ said Ellen. ‘Everyone gets upset. There’s nothing silly about it.’

‘What’s silly is
why
she’s upset,’ said Zoey. ‘Why she has to be. Why I have to be. You’re supposed to be a nun. You’re supposed to embrace poverty. But you’re grabbing our inheritance from under our noses. You and your daughter. You have a plan, haven’t you, to take it all and leave us without a thing.’

‘Hardly without a thing,’ said Alex. ‘Sister Benita and her daughter made a more than generous offer, which you turned down. As you already know, Mr Fitzpatrick made previous provision for his sons as well as the money and goods he left this time. In this current will he also made provision for his daughters. And his grandchildren.’