The Rose Garden (27 page)

‘A new kitchen and some fresh paint in a cottage like this or an old house like yours can do wonders!’ Molly encouraged her.

Locking up the cottage, she showed Roz around her rose garden.

‘It’s a bit bare and I’ve lost some specimens, but in a few weeks there will be more growth and I’m putting in a proper walkway.’

‘No wonder you don’t want to come to Dublin,’ teased her friend. ‘You really are kept busy here.’

Roz loved visiting nearby towns and villages, and trawling around the local craft and antique shops. She couldn’t resist buying, no matter where they went: bowls, plates, fine china … Was it any wonder her home was so cluttered?

Molly brought her to Myles Murray’s antique shop.

‘How are you, Molly?’ he asked, coming out to greet her warmly.

She introduced him to Roz.

‘A friend of Molly’s is always very welcome here,’ he said gallantly as Roz busied herself searching the shelves and tables of expensive china.

‘Look at this wonderful piece of Limoges!’ she called, pulling her collector’s mini antique handbook from her bag. Myles laughed as she perused it.

‘Any more word on Mossbawn?’ he asked.

‘Not a beep,’ Molly admitted. ‘I couldn’t go ahead with one sale, then two weeks ago these lovely Americans were really interested, but now have decided they need to be nearer Shannon or Dublin airport.’

‘Unfortunately the market for things of the past is nothing as good as it used to be,’ he said. ‘Everyone is struggling, but I always believe that pieces from the past have an intrinsic value far beyond monetary concerns.’

Molly agreed with him. Roz had decided to purchase her pretty blue French chocolate pot and Molly kept out of it as she and Myles argued the price.

‘It was a good price!’ laughed Roz later, as they ordered soup and a salad in The Weir, the nearby organic restaurant.

A few minutes later Myles came in to have lunch and spotted them.

‘Join us, please!’ offered Molly.

Myles was good company, full of stories of antique finds and antique cons.

‘Oh, Molly, I think that there is a chance I might have someone
that’s interested in buying the antique linen cabinet you had in the spare bedroom,’ he explained. ‘A German couple were in the shop last week. They’ve just bought an old house they are restoring in Castlecomer. It’s exactly what they are looking for, and the exact period.’

The linen cabinet had come with Mossbawn, but they had never really used it except for the odd time friends stayed. It didn’t have any sentimental value and she couldn’t believe the price that Myles felt he could achieve for it.

‘I’ll get my lads to collect it on Monday,’ he offered, ‘if that suits you.’

Molly found herself agreeing; she knew exactly what she would spend the money from the cabinet on – the plumber’s bill.

‘And Molly, I’ll treat you to dinner if this all works out,’ he promised, getting up to return to the shop. ‘Who knows, perhaps we can find a few more pieces that might suit them!’

‘Well, he’s a lovely man!’ said Roz as they watched him head back across the street.

‘Roz!’

‘I’m just saying Myles is attractive … he’s into old houses … he’s a widower … has a business of his own … You have a lot in common and I think he likes you!’

‘Roz Gilmore, don’t you dare! He’s far too old, he’s still obsessed about his wife and I’m definitely not interested. If you are so keen on him, you can have him!’ she laughed.

Five days after Roz had gone back to Dublin, Myles phoned her to ask if she was free to attend the Antique Dealers’ Dinner with him in Mount Juliet next month. Molly was in a quandary.

She appreciated the invite, but just because she was alone and widowed it didn’t make her a candidate for his attentions. She thanked him politely and said no. She’d no intention of encouraging Myles to believe that they could be anything else but friends.

AS THE WEATHER IMPROVED, MOLLY WAS ABLE TO GET OUT IN THE
garden and tackle the nightmare of weeding, taking care that with her boots she didn’t step on tender new shoots of green. Bulbs were everywhere as daffodils began to open and pretty primroses gave splashes of colour throughout the garden. She was dividing some shrubs and plants as the soil started to warm up and another season began. She wanted to have the place looking well for Libby’s wedding. She was putting in lots of extra bedding to give colour, especially up around the front door and along the avenue. The massive pruning job she had done on the rose garden had left the place looking temporarily decimated, but shortly things would begin to change. The new roses that she had got from Gabriel were settling in as she under-planted them with bright polyanthus for spring, some pink and mauve penstemons for the summer and purple alliums for the autumn.

Ronan King had phoned her personally to arrange for a couple to see the house at the weekend.

‘They are very keen!’ he warned. ‘I think Mossbawn is exactly what they are looking for.’

Molly welcomed the tanned, good-looking couple, who had been busy inspecting the outside of her house for the past few minutes.

‘What a beautiful house! Thank you for agreeing for us to see the place at such short notice,’ smiled Louise Kelly. ‘When Ronan
King sent us an email about it, Stuart and I just had to come and see it ourselves.’

‘Not at all,’ she said, leading them around the upstairs and downstairs of the house, giving them the full tour.

‘We were hoping that there would be more bedrooms and bathrooms,’ the woman admitted as they chatted in the living room. ‘It would require a large amount of renovation to get it to the standard that we require for our clients.’

‘My husband and I have done a lot of work on the structure of the house,’ Molly assured them, ‘but to be honest we didn’t need eight bedrooms, and managed very well with the two bathrooms upstairs.’

‘We would have to have en-suites in every room and would probably have to extend the house to get more bedroom space,’ added her husband.

‘Perhaps we could knock down that old glass extension and build there. But I do like the privacy and the garden and the feel of the place.’

‘Knock down the orangery! Are you going to run it as a country-house hotel?’ Molly ventured, unable to disguise her dismay.

‘Something like that,’ nodded the husband.

‘Actually, we run a cosmetic-surgery business,’ explained Louise. ‘We are looking for somewhere in this part of the country to cater for those that want to avail themselves of our services. They would come and stay here, have their procedure done, then rest and relax afterwards with good care while they recover. This house is very private and discreet and yet has great charm.’

‘It’s a big business and we already have a centre in Dublin and one outside Belfast,’ Stuart Kelly added, ‘but for something like that here we would need to add on consulting rooms and a theatre and recovery area.’

‘But I do like this house,’ Louise smiled, her skin and teeth absolutely flawless, ‘and there is plenty of space in the garden for us to extend into and also put in a lot more car parking for staff and clients.’

Molly didn’t know what to say. She couldn’t imagine Mossbawn being used for plastic surgery, tummy tucks, boob jobs and face lifts!

‘Molly, we’ll talk to your auctioneer,’ they promised as they said their goodbyes.

Over the following days she couldn’t get the handsome couple and their plans for the house out of her mind. Is that what she wanted for Mossbawn? She thought of Charles Moore and his wife, Constance, and how they had built this house and garden for their family, and how much effort and work and love she and David had put into this place …

A few days later Ronan King phoned with an offer on the house. It was far less than she was hoping for.

‘This is the Kellys’ offer,’ he said wearily. ‘They know it’s a buyer’s market, especially for people like themselves with easy access to finance and cash. What do you want me to do? I can try to get them to come up a bit.’

To Molly it was clear that they were trying to take advantage of her situation. They had such big plans for the place, but she’d no intention of letting her beautiful old house be knocked and altered beyond recognition, the garden she loved destroyed. Her disappointment at their offer was tinged with a massive relief as she told the auctioneer to refuse it and make it quite clear that Molly Hennessy had no intention of selling to them.

Busy with getting the house ready for Libby’s wedding, Molly put further thoughts of selling Mossbawn from her mind as she concentrated on getting the house and garden looking well.

Trish and Larry and Libby were paying a very generous amount for the use of the house for the day; she couldn’t believe it and felt guilty about taking money from her friends.

‘Don’t be guilty!’ warned Cara. ‘That big castle in Tipperary was costing them an absolute fortune and then everybody was shelling out for travel and very expensive accommodation. Now
half the guests are near home and the rest are getting a great rate at the Woodlands Hotel.’

A week after the wedding, Molly was heading off to Italy with Roz and the girls for a few days’ break.

‘You are coming, Molly, even if I have to drag you there myself!’ Roz had told her dramatically.

‘You badly need a holiday,’ insisted Emma and Grace. ‘Dad would want you to go – you know that!’

In her heart she did know that. She knew that David would want her to be happy, to enjoy things, to accept that the world kept turning no matter how bad or sad she was feeling, and that her life would have to go on without him.

GINA HAD METICULOUSLY CHECKED AND RE-CHECKED ALL HER
preparations for Libby and Brian’s wedding. She wanted the young couple to have the perfect day in the perfect place. The tables and chairs and table linen and plates and cutlery and glasses had all been delivered in good time to Mossbawn House, and Kim and Inga had helped her to set the room up. Libby had brought along some wonderful tall white lanterns and candles, and, taking Molly’s good advice, the bride had chosen swathes of spring flowers which looked wonderful on all the tables but were also scattered in tall vases and jugs and containers all around the house.

Gina had done as much preparation beforehand as possible and the dessert was in the chill cabinet of her spare fridge. She was so glad that she had taken Norah’s kitchen equipment, as she certainly needed it now. For starters there was a large platter of tasty antipasti for each table, followed by slow-roasted fillet of beef with herb-tossed potatoes and a variety of vegetables, then a rich chocolate-and-hazelnut torte with home-made praline ice cream for dessert. Inga would help her in the kitchen and she had hired two Polish friends of hers and Brendan, a cousin of Paul’s who was strapped for cash and had worked in a hotel, to help with serving the food and drink.

She prayed that everything would run smoothly and could feel her adrenalin surging as she raced around trying to get everything done.

‘It will all be fine,’ said Paul reassuringly. ‘You are used to running things like this. Think of some of the massive events you catered back in Dublin.’

‘I know, I know – but here is different because if I mess up everyone will know about it!’

‘You won’t mess up!’ he declared loyally. She wished that she had his belief in her ability. She went to bed early, as she planned to be up in Mossbawn by eight, she had so much to do and organize.

It was drizzly and wet when she woke up, the day grey and dull as she loaded things into her car and Paul and herself drove to the house. Molly and Kim were already busy and the tables set with their candles and flowers looked amazing.

Libby had given them her guest list yesterday and Molly and Kim were going around placing the individual hand-written name cards on each table, meticulously following the table plan. Brides and grooms spent hours trying to get their tables organized, so it was really important to get it right.

Gina disappeared off to the kitchen, saying a silent prayer that all would go smoothly and calmly. There were bags of vegetables and potatoes to prepare. She discovered that they were missing some water jugs, but a quick call to Andrew Lynch, the manager of the hotel, and it was sorted; Paul offered to drive over to collect them. She kept an eye on the clock and suddenly noticed that it was almost lunchtime and that soon the bride would be driving to the church.

‘Is everything going okay?’ asked Molly, who had changed into a beautiful aquamarine silk suit. ‘I can stay and help if you need me.’

‘Thanks, but we’re fine. Kim is setting up the glasses in the living room for the champagne when everyone arrives back from the church. We are leaving the French doors unlocked, so if it dries up people can spill out on to the patio and chat out there.’

‘Don’t forget to get someone to dry the chairs and tables and throw out the cushions if it does clear,’ Molly reminded her. ‘Well
then, I’d better hurry. I don’t want to be late for the church,’ she said, grabbing her clutch bag. ‘Everything looks beautiful, Gina. Well done! Anyone would want to get married here.’

‘Molly, thanks, but it’s your house! It’s the perfect place for a wedding.’

Once Molly had left, the serious countdown began. Everyone changed into their black-and-white uniforms. Kim, in a simple black dress, was helping out too and Gina noticed her taking lots of photos of the tables and flowers and the lanterns and things. She and Brendan would serve the drinks while the girls helped her with the food.

An hour and a half later, the first of the guests had begun to arrive and the champagne flowed. The bride and groom and the wedding party were getting their photos taken in different parts of the garden.

‘Is everything okay?’ worried Molly, coming into the kitchen to her.

‘Everything is fine. Relax and enjoy your friends’ wedding!’ she urged. ‘Go and have some champagne!’

The drizzle had finally cleared up by the time the bride and groom arrived to join their guests in the drawing room. Kim partially opened the doors and put flowers on the outside tables as some people went out into the open air.