Leaving clare, p.20
Leaving Clare, page 20
Rose looked at her and shook her head. There was no point in wasting any more time discussing it.
After she had finished all her chores, Rose changed into one of her nice skirts and blouses to brighten herself up. Then, just as she was putting her coat on to walk down to the pub, Hannah appeared at her side, smartly but casually dressed in navy slacks with a pale blue twin-set and the matching pearls and earrings that she had got for her sixteenth birthday.
“I might as well walk down with you,” she said, “because I’ve nothing else to do.”
“What about your ankle?”
“Oh, it’s grand now.”
Rose looked at Hannah – at her perfectly curled hair and her newly varnished nails – then she looked at her perfectly matched outfit with the expensive pearls and the little navy clutch bag and she suddenly a stab of real animosity towards her. Apart from still being annoyed at her about last night, it galled her that Hannah was all dressed up in her fashionable slacks. Even though she had persisted until Rose showed her every item in her wardrobe, she hadn’t shown Rose any of the clothes in her suitcase. And she hadn’t mentioned that she had new slacks.
Rose hated herself for being envious of Hannah but the slacks had made her feel that her cousin would always have one up on her when it came to clothes, because despite all the lovely things that Leonora Bentley had given her – the dresses and blouses, skirts and bags – there had been no slacks in the bag.
“No, thanks, I’d rather walk on my own,” Rose told her abruptly.
“Oh, don’t be like that!” Hannah said, sounding all hurt. “There’s no point in us falling out over what Paul did and it’s going to look bad if your mother and father find out that you’re not talking to me.” She gave a little shrug. “They’re going to wonder what it’s all about.”
Rose went over to the table and lifted her handbag. She couldn’t leave the house on her own now. As usual, Hannah had won. She had got her own way.
They walked down towards the pub, Rose silent while Hannah constantly tried to make conversation. When they reached the pub Rose walked on ahead, calling “See you later!” without a backward glance at her cousin.
* * *
Hannah went into the shop and emerged a short time later with a box of Milk Trayin a brown paper bag under her arm. As she passed by the adjoining door to the pub, she glanced through the glass door to check whether Rose could see her or not. Then, when she caught sight of the back of Rose’s dark head, she smiled to herself and went outside. Without breaking her step, she headed off to the right, towards the lane that led down to the beach.
She walked steadily along the lane, then onto the narrow coastal path until she came in view of Traceys’ house.
She stopped for a few moments at a low wall, to put the chocolates down and take her compact out of her clutch bag. She reapplied her light pink lipstick and checked her hair. She had sprayed it well with lacquer before coming out and she was relieved that it had stayed in place. Then she put her make-up things back in her bag and set off on the last lap of her journey.
As she walked up the path to Traceys’ house, Hannah steeled herself in case the dogs came rushing out at her again. She had reminded herself, as she lay in bed last night, that Diana had said that the dogs might make a lot of noise but they were as soft as putty. And in any case, it didn’t make sense for a vet to have vicious dogs.
She rang the bell and stood for a few seconds – and then she heard the dogs break into loud, ferocious barking. But thankfully the sound was coming from the back of the house, where they were obviously penned in.
Hannah waited for a short while before ringing the bell again, and then she stood back and looked up at the top windows.
Then the big red door suddenly opened and Diana Tracey was standing there looking at her.
“Oh!” Diana looked taken aback. “You’re the young girl with the ankle – the one from Barry’s cottage.”
“I hope you don’t mind me calling,” Hannah said, smiling confidently. She deliberately spoke clearly and in more leisurely way than usual – like an older, more assured person. In a similar way, she hoped, to the lady she was visiting. “But I just wanted to thank you for rescuing me yesterday.” She held the brown paper package out. “It’s just a small gift to show my appreciation.”
“But there was no need – it was nothing!” Diana smiled now and took the present. “That’s very kind and thoughtful of you.”
“I’m sorry it’s only boring old chocolates,” Hannah said, pulling a little face. “I’m sure you might have preferred flowers or a nice plant, but I’m afraid there’s not much choice locally.”
Diana raised her eyebrows and grinned. “No, you bought the perfect gift – I absolutely adore chocolates!”
“Good,” Hannah said, her hand fluttering to her throat. “That makes me feel much better.”
Diana’s gaze moved to Hannah’s neatly clad feet. “How is it – the ankle?”
“Oh, much better. I decided to have a bit of a walk out to test it.”
Diana’s brow creased. “It’s a long walk down from Barrys’. Are you sure that was wise?”
“Oh, I was with my cousin and I stopped in at the shop and rested it for a few minutes.” Hannah gave a little shrug. “Rose is working this afternoon so I was at a bit of a loose end. The walk out here has given me something to do.”
“Well,” Diana said, opening the door wide, “if you’re not in a hurry, you must come in and have a cup of tea and give that ankle a rest right now.”
“Oh, I couldn’t!” Hannah said, making a little waving protest with her hand. “I’m sure you’re far too busy.”
“Not at all. I’m still on school holidays, and I was only catching up on some mail. I was planning to stop for a cup of tea soon in any case.”
“Well,” Hannah said. “If you’re really sure . . .”
* * *
An hour later, Hannah came out of the big house with the red door, smiling and chatting away to Diana Tracey as if she had known her for years.
“Thank you so much for the tea and the lovely homemade shortbread,” she said, then she patted her little blue clutch bag. “And I have the recipe safe in here. My mother will be delighted with it – shortbread is one of the things she never seems to get right.”
“Well, you can bake a batch for her and show her how to do it.”
“As long as I don’t burn it!” Hannah laughed.
Diana laughed, then said more seriously, “Now, make sure you keep up your piano practice, Hannah. I think you’re very talented and you mustn’t give up.”
Hannah put her head to the side, smiling shyly. “Thank you. I’ve had a lovely, lovely afternoon.”
“And you’re sure you’ll manage the walk back to the cottage?”
“I’m positive. Besides, if I take a lift back there from you again, I’ll only have to come with more chocolates tomorrow!”
Diana shook her head, her eyes twinkling with laughter. “You must really liven things up in the Barrys’ house! I’ll bet they really look forward to your visits.”
Hannah went off down the path, stopping at the gate to wave back. Her visit had gone much better than she could ever have imagined. Everything had gone to plan and then it had just got better and better. She had found out everything that she needed to know about Diana Tracey and her wealthy mother. From the minute she had stepped inside the rambling country house she knew it was the sort of place that she could easily fit into. And it also confirmed her suspicions – that it was certainly not the sort of place for Rose.
When Diana Tracey mentioned that her mother was thinking of offering Rose a few months’ work up in Glenmore House, Hannah had quickly squashed the idea.
“Rose told me just last night that she’d hate to live anywhere else but Kilnagree,” she had said. “Between you and me, she won’t even visit our family up in Offaly.” She shrugged her shoulders. “Rose is lovely . . . but she can be a funny girl. She’s not comfortable with people she doesn’t know well. If you remember, when I had my accident yesterday, she hardly spoke, did she?”
Diana paused for a few moments. “I hadn’t really noticed but now that you mention it she was rather quiet.”
“She’s more comfortable with her granny than anyone else. I don’t suppose your mother would be similar to her granny? She’s not old or housebound or anything?”
Diana’s eyebrows shot up. “Indeed she’s not!” There was indignation in her voice. “My mother is a fit, youthful woman. There’s no comparison.” She halted. “I think it’s best if I don’t mention my mother’s idea to Rose at all. I’ll tell her I had a word with you and we decided that it wouldn’t work out.”
Hannah had nodded and taken a dainty sip from her china teacup. “I won’t say a word to Rose either. She doesn’t need to know.”
For all that Diana’s mother had taken pity on Rose by giving her all those nice clothes and buying her the present, Hannah could see quite plainly that it had been nothing more than a charity mission. And the thought pleased her no end. Both Diana Tracey and her mother obviously saw Rose as no better than a cleaner or a servant. The job offer showed that.
But there was no way that Diana’s attitude towards herself could have been described as patronising or in any way looking down on her. She had been treated and talked to in the way that someone like Diana Tracey would behave with a younger sister or friend.
She had been treated as an equal – and that’s exactly what Hannah felt she was.
An equal to the top kind of people – and better than Rose in every way.
Chapter 21
In the late afternoon, Leonora had the urge to take a walk out. The dull morning had turned into a fairly fine day and her mind kept flitting back to the circular route she always took down at the shore in Kilnagree. She loved the feel of the sea air in her face and the strong breeze in her hair but here she had to make do with a walk down into the village to collect the gardening and fashion magazines she had on a regular order.
A short while later Leonora was striding down the driveway, shopping basket in hand, and grateful to be out in the fresh air and away from all the mundane household things that Mrs O’Shea loved talking about. The day was pleasant with a hint of warmth and the sunshine was strong enough for her to dispense with a coat and hat – instead she had opted for a Fair Isle sweater in creams and browns and lilac slung over her shoulders. And, for the first time this spring apart from when she was driving, she wore her sunglasses.
In Lucan she collected her magazines and bought some lovely fresh vanilla slices and chocolate éclairs at the baker’s. When she came out of the shop she glanced up at the blue sky and wished she had somewhere exciting to go to fill a few hours. She thought of dropping in to see Terry Cassidy but quickly dismissed the idea. She was sure Terry wouldn’t have minded but her routine way of doing things was too ingrained in her to call in on someone she didn’t know that well without prior arrangement. She picked up her step, telling herself that she would be perfectly content to go home and sit out in the conservatory with her magazines, her cream cake treat and a glass of wine.
Halfway back home an idea suddenly popped into her head for her art commission. She could use the same battered tin jug – empty this time – to keep the continuity with the other painting and maybe have something that toned in with it. Her mind turned over as she headed for home and within minutes she thought of a tarnished silver vase she had in her gardening room. Perhaps if she filled it with bluebells – in her imagination of course, because they wouldn’t be out again until next spring. She suddenly felt quite sure that the bluish-purple flowers would work well with the grey tones on the creamy background.
A little ripple of delight ran through her now. As soon as she got home she must give Terry Cassidy a ring and tell her what she had come up with. It struck her that there was something about the artist that she had really taken to. It was similar to the way she had instantly taken to Rose Barry. She had done nothing as yet about inviting the girl up to Dublin but she had the feeling she should trust her instincts and go ahead.
She wondered how Rose’s family would react to a total stranger suddenly offering to help the girl out of the blue? She would have to pick her time and her words very carefully. She wouldn’t want the family to feel that she was criticising them for not being able to give Rose the chance of a college education. From what Diana had told her, they were a proud, hard-working, decent family who did the best they could.
If she decided to help the girl out, she would have to speak to her first and then speak to the parents, explaining why she felt that a clever girl like Rose needed to spread her wings further than Kilnagree.
Leonora wasn’t at all sure how they would react, but there was no rush. If and when the time came for her to make the offer, she would work out a way to handle it.
She asked herself why she should even care about the girl? But she had no answer. Had shedding some of the old friends left a space in her life for such new, different people?
She was just turning in the gates of the house when a noise made her stop and turn around. It was a car engine. A black Rover car she didn’t recognise was coming towards her and obviously heading for Glenmore House. As she stepped back on to the grass verge to let the vehicle pass, her brain worked quickly, trying to remember which of her friends had bought a new car she might not have seen recently. But no one came to mind.
And then the car came closer and her heart quickened. Now she was in no doubt who the driver of the shiny black Rover saloon car was.
It was Daniel Levy. It would be very hard to mistake him for anyone else. He was a tall, well-built man with solid grey hair. Unlike Andrew’s sandy hair, which had greyed at the temples and had a silver streak running from the front to the back, the psychiatrist’s hair had faded from black to a dramatic silvery grey. Leonora supposed it was like his personality – all or nothing. He was one of the most forthright people she had ever met – similar to Andrew in that way – and at one time she had thought of him as an interesting and very entertaining man.
He had been widowed for a number of years and, although Andrew had met his wife on a few occasions before she succumbed to her serious illness, Leonora never had.
When they first met, he had brought a very attractive lady friend as his partner for dinner at Glenmore House a couple of times, but the romance had fizzled out, and she’d only ever known him to come to Glenmore House on his own since then.
Unconsciously, Leonora squared her shoulders and straightened her back until she was at her full height. Why is he here again? she asked herself. What has brought him back?
As the car drew to a halt beside her, she turned towards him, her face stiff and unwelcoming.
He rolled the window down. “I’ve caught you at home at last,” he said, smiling warmly at her.
There was an awkward silence.
“What do you want, Daniel?” she asked, with a strained note in her voice. “I can’t think of any reason that you have for calling on me.”
He grinned. “Oh, come on, Leonora! You can’t keep up this formal façade forever. I’m not going to give up, you know.” He leaned over and opened the passenger door. “Hop in and I’ll give you a lift up to the house.”
“I’ve been out walking for the last hour or more,” she informed him, “and I’m perfectly capable of walking the last few yards home.”
“Please,” he said, raising his finely arched eyebrows which were still a shade or two darker than his hair. “I want to talk to you and it will be much more comfortable up at the house than standing here in the drive.”
Leonora stood rigid, holding her shopping basket close to her. She was determined not to be talked into anything she didn’t want to do.
His face softened. “Surely you’re not going to refuse to speak to me? Or turn me away from Glenmore House?”
“You’ve no reason to be here. I haven’t invited you and I’ve never given you the impression that you can just drop in any time you like.” Her jaw was set now.
“Well, I can’t see any reason for your hostility towards me,” he said, his tone more serious, but not in any way harsh or over-defensive.
“I don’t have to give you any explanations. And I’m entitled to say who I wish to have visit me or not.”
He stared at her for a few seconds. “Fair enough. But I think you’re wrong. You’re very wrong. Whatever has changed since I last saw you, I just can’t imagine. You were perfectly fine. You were relaxed and happy. We were both fine.”
Leonora’s face flushed a deep red at the memory and her throat suddenly felt like sandpaper. “Now that I’ve had time to think about it, I realise that what happened was all wrong.” Her voice was almost hoarse now. “I’ve nothing more to say to you, Daniel, apart from the fact that I am entitled to my own feelings.”
“But we did nothing wrong, Leonora.”
She started to walk away. Daniel Levy moved quickly to open the car door and in a few strides he was behind her.
“Leonora,” he said, gently taking her arm, “this is ludicrous. We had some lovely times together. We have so many things in common. Surely you’re not going to throw all that away?”
Leonora looked up at him. “It was wrong.”
“No, no!” His voice was rising now. “How can you say that? We were wonderful together. Last Christmas with you was the best I’ve had in years. And that night we spent together was magical for me.”
Tears suddenly came into Leonora’s eyes. “Stop! I can’t bear to think about it.”
“It wasn’t wrong,” he repeated. “Two grown adults making love is a beautiful thing. The sex we had together was a beautiful thing.”
The tears were streaming down her face now. “Goodbye, Daniel,” she whispered. Then she pulled her arm away from him and walked through the gates of Glenmore House without looking back.
Chapter 22
