The Rose Garden (18 page)

Molly opted for her black satin shift dress, high heels and a soft white wrap. She’d treated herself to a cut and blow-dry in the hair salon in the village. She had been a very infrequent customer over the past few months and Dee, the salon-owner, had tut-tutted about the perils of letting your hair go long at her age. Looking at herself, she could see that Dee had been right and that the shorter cut suited her much better. Her hair felt feathery and lighter and it made her feel younger. A little make-up and a spray of her favourite perfume and she was good to go.

Kim was away, so Molly would drive over to Cara’s and get a taxi or a lift home later, then go back there and collect her car tomorrow. With David it had never been a problem, but now being on her own everything had to be worked out. Giving a last glance in the mirror as she topped up her lip gloss, Molly grabbed her car keys and jacket before setting the alarm and locking up the house.

Cara and Tim lived about two miles from the village. The evening was still bright as the sun started to go down, and their living room was warm. Cara was big into plush furnishings and luxury, and there were two golden velvet couches, and deep purple armchairs with aubergine and rich purple cushions scattered on all the chairs. It was a bright, welcoming room. Tim hugged her the minute he saw her.

‘Molly, it’s so good to have you here in the house again for dinner. We’ve missed you.’

‘And I’ve missed you too,’ she said, hugging him back.

Tim got her some wine and she joined the rest of the guests standing around chatting. She was glad to see that Trish and Larry were also invited, and Tim’s partner Fergus and his wife, Brigid.

‘It’s so nice to see you again,’ said Fergus warmly, squeezing her hand.

Everyone made such a fuss of her she felt guilty.

‘Molly, let me introduce you to Rob Hayes, a client of ours who is setting up a business in the area. His company is building a plant about three miles outside Kilfinn.’

‘Oh, I saw it – it’s all glass and steel. You can see it from the road.’

‘Just about,’ laughed the man, ‘but I promise we intend screening it with some kind of hedge.’

‘Nice to meet you,’ Molly smiled, shaking his hand. ‘And it’s good to hear about some new business coming to Kilfinn.’

‘Bio-Cartex make medical devices,’ he explained, ‘and when we are up and running we should employ at least forty people, possibly more once we get established.’ He was a good-looking man, sixtyish, his grey hair shaved tight to his head, his accent a mixture of Irish and American.

‘Where are you from?’ she asked, curious but unable to place the accent.

‘About twenty miles down the road, actually,’ he laughed. ‘I studied engineering in Cork, but once I qualified I headed to
Boston and for the past few years have been working for Bio-Cartex between there and Sweden and Dublin. But it’s good to be back on my home patch, as they say. Are you a local too?’

‘I live the other side of the village.’

‘That’s the one thing I can’t get over,’ he smiled. ‘This place has hardly changed over the years. There’s still Cassidy’s Café, the Kilfinn Inn, O’Donnell’s grocery store and Grogan’s chemist shop, though I see that Molloy’s Drapery has shut down. It was a great old place for everything from pyjamas to shoelaces. There’s nowhere like that any more.’

‘It was pretty unique,’ she agreed. ‘Mary Molloy kept everything that you could possibly need. It was such a treasure trove.’

‘I got my first Communion suit there,’ he said, bursting out laughing, ‘along with half the other guys in my class – we looked a right crowd.’

Molly laughed too. Molloy’s had never been known for its style and fashion!

‘What are you two laughing about?’ interrupted Tim, coming to top up their glasses with wine.

‘Molloy’s!’ they said in unison.

‘God be good to Mary and Pat, but they were like two old dinosaurs! But we all miss them.’ Tim sighed. ‘There’s a rumour that a bookie’s is going to take over the shop.’

‘Not in the village!’ Molly protested.

‘Let’s hope it’s not true,’ agreed Rob.

Two minutes later Andy and Louise arrived, Louise in a pale-pink maternity dress that hung in soft folds, her skin tanned and her shoulder-length dark hair immaculately blow-dried, kissing everyone. Andy worked in David’s old law firm. They had always got on well and she knew that Andy was embarrassed by the fact that his promotion to partner had come following her husband’s death.

‘Sorry we’re late, but our babysitter got delayed,’ she apologized.

‘Harry was having a meltdown, so we were lucky we managed to get away at all,’ confessed Andy.

‘Well, you’re here now and that’s all that matters,’ Cara soothed them. ‘Let me get you both a drink.’

‘I’ll have a sparkling water and a slice of lemon,’ beamed Louise. ‘With junior on board I have to be good!’

‘And I’ll have a beer,’ said Andy with a grin. ‘It’s great that I have a chauffeur to drive me home.’

‘My passengers have to behave,’ teased Louise.

Fifteen minutes later they were all sitting in the dining room with its formal oak table and high-backed chairs, large silver candelabra in the middle of the table, the soft candlelight casting shadows all around.

Molly was sitting between Tim and Rob, with Louise across from them.

‘Cara, do you need a hand?’ she offered.

‘I’m fine,’ she gestured, signalling madly to Molly to make sure that Louise, who was talking about the trouble she had had in her last pregnancy, which had resulted in the need for a dramatic Caesarean, was silenced immediately.

‘Do you have children?’ she asked Rob.

‘Yes, but they’re all grown up now,’ he explained.

Cara served smoked salmon for starters, then her usual fillet of beef and gratin potatoes. She was a good cook but believed that this was a foolproof menu that always tasted good and appealed to everyone barring vegetarians!

‘The beef is amazing!’ Andy and Larry congratulated her, tucking in as Tim topped up all the wine glasses with an expensive Bordeaux.

‘This is a very good wine,’ enthused the visitor.

Molly chatted to Louise as Tim and Rob debated the merits of various wines and regions. She hadn’t a clue about grapes or soils or vineyards.

‘You must be very pleased about the baby?’

‘We are, but it was a shock at first,’ Louise admitted. ‘Our other three are at school and soon we’ll be back to nappies again!’

‘It will be wonderful,’ said Molly softly. She could see that
Louise was tense and tired and probably worried about being older.

‘Thanks,’ said Louise. ‘I’m sure people think that at our age we’re crazy.’

‘I wouldn’t let that bother me,’ smiled Molly. ‘You obviously feel well and look beautiful, so the baby must be thriving.’

Over dinner the talk went from the global economy to local news and a big argument about various ghost estates around the country.

‘Most of them were built where people didn’t want to be, miles from the villages and shops and schools, where they would be isolated,’ said Trish firmly. ‘The local planners and councils got it totally wrong and gave permission for mad schemes that nobody wanted – all they cared about were the development fees and charges that are paid to them.’

‘Well, surely the architects are culpable too?’ suggested Rob.

‘Of course we are,’ Trish admitted. ‘It will take a long time for our profession to recover from the massive mistakes made. Many architects are struggling and some have even left the profession. Hard lessons have been learned by all involved, I assure you.’

Cara served a melt-in-the-mouth chocolate roulade for dessert and Molly found herself chatting easily to Rob.

‘Whereabouts in the village do you live?’ he asked, curious.

‘Do you know Mossbawn House?’

‘The big house?’

‘Yes,’ she laughed. ‘When David and I bought it, the place was a bit of a wreck, pretty run-down, so it’s been a real labour of love trying to return it to a family home.’

‘I remember Mossbawn – I used to go robbing apples in the orchard there when I was a kid and stuff myself with strawberries and gooseberries. That old codger, the guy who owned it, used to chase us out of it!’

‘Richard Morton was a bit of a character,’ Molly smiled, ‘judging by the stuff around the house and the stories I’ve heard about him. He used to write books about pirates. Apparently they
were very successful and one was made into a film. He was mad into fishing!’

‘Eccentric, if you ask me!’

‘I suppose,’ she said gently. She was rather fond of the previous owner and his family, who had somehow managed to hold on to the house despite a massive downturn in their personal fortunes.

She discovered that Rob was staying in the local hotel for a few days as he was overseeing the construction of the company’s new hi-tech plant.

‘Bio-Cartex being situated between two big towns and pretty close to a research campus is very useful,’ he explained. ‘Trish here has done a great job on the designs, and Tim and Fergus are overseeing all the construction and facilities a company like ours will need, while Andy is keeping us all on the financial straight and narrow. So it’s a good team!’

‘It sounds busy but interesting,’ Molly said, slightly puzzled as to why Cara had invited her along to the gathering.

‘Busy is the word,’ he said ruefully. ‘I’m spending a lot of my time back and forth and all over the place.’

The rest of the night flew by and around midnight Molly found herself accepting a lift from Louise and Andy.

‘Cara, it’s been a lovely night.’ She had actually enjoyed herself and the company. ‘The dinner was great and I’m so glad that I came.’

‘And I’m so glad you came too,’ said Cara, hugging her. ‘David wouldn’t want you to be hiding away.’

‘I know,’ she admitted.

Looking out over the fields in the darkness as they drove home, Molly knew in her heart that Cara was right. She had to try to make an effort to rebuild her life.

KIM HAD GONE TO DUBLIN, AS SHE’D OFFERED TO MIND AVA AND
Finn for the weekend to give Liz and Joe a well-earned break. It was their fifth wedding anniversary and they’d gone to Paris.

Ava and Finn were great kids, but minding them was absolutely exhausting! Her dad had offered to come to the zoo with them on Sunday, which was fun, and she sure had needed the extra pair of hands, as Ava kept running ahead, wanting to see all the animals.

By the time Liz came home on Monday morning she was happy to hand them back, but glad to hear how much her sister and Joe had enjoyed their romantic break.

While she was up in Dublin Kim had decided to do some research on Mossbawn. She was trying to track down Samuel Johnston, a photographer that both the librarian in Kilfinn and also the one in Kilkenny had mentioned to her. Una Swann had told her about him as Kilfinn Library had some prints of photographs he had taken in the locality in the late 1890s and early 1900s.

‘He was quite well known and fashionable and might well have visited Mossbawn and taken some photos there,’ she suggested. ‘The National Library in Dublin has a whole collection of his work that was donated by his daughter a few years ago. It might be worth checking it out.’

Kim spent hours in the National Library’s photo archive, going through hundreds and hundreds of photos – Galway, Dublin, Cork, Connemara, Kerry, Kilkenny – when suddenly she
recognized the main street in Kilfinn, which to her seemed little changed from when Samuel Johnston had taken his photograph in 1901. Her heart skipped a beat when she discovered black-and-white photos of Mossbawn House and its gardens, the maze and the pond. There were a large number of group photos of members of the family on the steps in front of the house, in the garden, in the drawing room, and a woman in the orangery. There were photographs of staff, of a uniformed nanny with her young charges. Various members of the family were seen dressed for dinner, to go riding, to go to a ball. There were photos of some favourite ponies and the stable buildings. Then of the garden – she recognized the Gardener’s Cottage with its hollyhocks and foxgloves growing around the doorway.

One photograph was of an old man squinting in the sunlight, dressed in a shirt and tweed trousers, a hat perched on his head, leaning on his spade. Something about him was familiar. She knew that face – had seen it before … Then she read the inscription on the back of the photograph:
Charles Moore – The Gardener. 16th July 1901, Mossbawn House.

In another photograph he was sitting on a bench in front of the Gardener’s Cottage, resting. The door was open, his spade against it, his hat on a peg just inside.

She rechecked a few family group portraits and there he was in the centre, looking far more dapper in a suit. The next three photographs were of the rose garden from various angles. She couldn’t wait for Molly to see them. It was incredible, all these photos from long ago …

She asked if it was possible to copy the photographs and when she explained about staying at Mossbawn House the librarian helped her to get everything she needed.

Kim had left the library and was walking up Dawson Street heading towards the Luas tram when she saw Gareth in the distance. She wanted to turn the other way and avoid him, but she could clearly see that he had spotted her.

‘Kim, wait!’ he shouted.

She tried to pretend she didn’t hear him and quickened her step, but with his long legs he quickly reached her.

‘Didn’t you hear me calling you?’ he asked, aggrieved.

‘No! Sorry.’

She had absolutely no interest in seeing him or talking to him.

‘How are you?’ he asked, standing beside her. ‘I haven’t seen you around. Where have you been?’

‘Away,’ she said, trying to sound mysterious.

‘Well, you look well,’ he said approvingly.

Kim almost laughed. It was ironic – her hair was longer and, since she couldn’t afford highlights, it had returned to its natural colour. She’d lost eight kilos from working in the garden, the weight falling off her better than in any expensive gym or hot yoga workout.

‘Thanks,’ she said.