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Full House Page 7


  ‘Yes, whatever. You did say that if we were ever stuck we could have a few nights there.’

  ‘And you are stuck?’ Dee enquired.

  ‘Not really, it’s just that I want Maud and Marco to have more space, and, you see, Maud’s brother Simon came home …’

  ‘You mentioned that all right,’ Dee said.

  ‘And I wouldn’t want him to think that I was … you know, settling in on them or anything.’

  ‘No, indeed.’ Dee nodded gravely. ‘Settling in on people would look bad all right.’

  Something about the way she said it made Helen look at her mother’s face. She could find nothing to help her there, it made her slightly uneasy.

  ‘I mean, I wouldn’t exactly be settling in, when I sleep in the scullery,’ Helen said defensively.

  ‘Back room,’ Dee corrected automatically.

  ‘Er … yes of course, the back room,’ Helen said.

  ‘So how long will you need it for?’ Dee was perfectly polite, hospitable even, but there was certainly a time limit hovering in the air.

  ‘About a week if that’s all right.’

  ‘That should be fine. I’ll check with your dad.’

  ‘I’ll check,’ Helen offered.

  Dad was out in his shed working on an old radio that was of huge sentimental value to someone in Miss Mason’s apartment block. He looked up, pleased, when he saw Helen.

  ‘Great to see you, love, and how are the little monsters?’

  ‘They’re not monsters, Dad, they’re great. Full of imagination and hopes and dreams. I love them.’

  ‘You’re great when you talk about teaching.’ Liam Nolan sounded genuinely admiring. ‘You’re a different person.’

  ‘Different from what?’ Helen wondered.

  ‘Well, you know, fussing and complaining about money and everything.’

  ‘It’s just I don’t have any money to speak of,’ Helen said.

  ‘None of us have any money to speak of, love, but we manage, and we don’t go on about it, you know.’

  Helen was stunned.

  Did she go on about it? No, of course she didn’t. It was just all that business about the travel agency.

  Then she remembered something Marco had said about money recently and how Maud had changed the subject.

  Rosie and Anthony had often accused her of being Miss Moneybox, but that was just the way families go on.

  At school they used to make fun of her bringing in sandwiches instead of going out to the little pasta restaurant with the rest of them.

  But Helen actually winced when she thought of Simon saying that he was sure Maud and Marco would be sorry to lose their lodger. He probably thought she paid rent.

  She felt her face and neck reddening at the thought he might ever find out.

  ‘Yes, I see what you mean,’ she said sadly to her father.

  ‘It’s not important, Helen …’ He always hated any kind of tension. ‘I mean, that was all a misunderstanding in the past. You all know now what it costs to run a house and how your poor mother has been working way too hard to make life easy for everyone.’

  ‘Yes, Dad. And Dad, I was wondering if I could stay in the scullery – the back room – for a week from now, like …’

  ‘Your mother will deal that,’ he said.

  ‘She said she wanted to check with you first.’ Helen looked at him hopefully.

  ‘Well, I’m not sure exactly. I’m not great with figures and money, but there’s no way you should pay as much for the back room as for a proper bedroom. Will we say half of what Lily and Angela pay? Would that be all right? Is that fair?’

  Helen swallowed. She was going to have to pay to stay in the scullery? Had the world gone mad? But she had to stay somewhere. And soon.

  ‘Of course, Dad, that sounds totally fair,’ she managed to say and let him get back to the elderly radio.

  Ronan had flowers on the dining table, he had the casserole ready to put into the oven, and the salad already prepared in the fridge. He had ironed all Rosie’s dresses and hung them carefully in the bedroom so that she would notice how smooth and uncrushed they were. Then he went to the airport.

  He had a speech ready but when she threw herself into his arms, he forgot the speech entirely.

  ‘Welcome home,’ was all he said.

  In Anthony’s house, the musicians were staring in amazement at the kitchen. They wondered were they in the right house.

  The kitchen was gleaming, and a big bin stood clean and lined, awaiting rubbish. Crockery and glasses were washed and put away. Surfaces were gleaming and bare. The sink was empty and shining.

  Most menacing of all was a clipboard. There were four people in the house, so there were duties that had to be done every day. They needed discussing.

  In order to lessen the shock, Anthony revealed that he had ordered fish and chips to be delivered later in the evening and worked out what each person should pay.

  They were defiant at first. Anthony was turning out to be worse than their mothers, they said.

  Then they saw the sense in it. They could even bring women home to a place as classy as this, they agreed.

  The deal was done.

  ‘We will miss you,’ Marco said to Helen.

  ‘I want to settle up with you for my time here,’ Helen said. She tried to take the note of horror out of her voice. She hoped she did not look too pleading, too begging for them to say that she owed them nothing.

  ‘Let’s see, it was four weeks, wasn’t it?’ Marco said.

  ‘But mates’ rates,’ Maud insisted. ‘Not real money, just enough to cover a few things.’

  They settled on a sum.

  It was very reasonable for four weeks’ board and lodging, but if you had expected to pay nothing, like Helen had, it was fairly substantial. She smiled and chattered her way through it. Then Simon came in and said he would love to help her carry her things back to her house in St Jarlath’s Crescent.

  ‘It’s only temporary there,’ Helen said.

  ‘I know. Maybe you could get a flat in Chestnut Court. They’re very nice,’ Simon said.

  ‘They’re very expensive,’ Helen blurted out before she could help herself.

  ‘Well, between two they mightn’t be too bad,’ Simon said.

  ‘Two?’

  ‘Well, I can’t settle on Marco and Maud forever. I’ll need a place of my own too. We might share the experience. What do you think?’

  ‘What a great idea,’ Helen said with a big wide smile.

  Dee made Simon very welcome. They talked about his grandmother Lizzie who lived down the road, and about his wonderful grandfather, Muttie, who had died and left a great ache in the street. They remembered Hooves the faithful dog who had died just hours before his master.

  They got on very well, Helen noticed, easy and relaxed. Not tense like she had been with her mother. But she didn’t really concentrate on what they were saying.

  Simon had asked her to share a flat with him.

  Imagine.

  By the time the twenty-fifth wedding anniversary came, everything had settled down.

  Rosie was the happiest wife in Dublin. She and Ronan came every Sunday to lunch in St Jarlath’s Crescent, where nowadays they were joined by Simon who was very much together with Helen, and Babette, who was a saxophonist much fancied by Anthony.

  Nobody used the back room now, so Lily and Angela had installed yet another nurse in there. The rent coming in was substantial. It had all been saved carefully in the post office, and would be spent on a holiday in Sicily.

  But first there was a party.

  It was in Ennio’s, the restaurant belonging to Marco’s father. All kinds of people were there: Miss Mason, of course, and Josie and Harry, and half of St Jarlath’s Crescent. Anthony’s girlfriend Babette was dressed as a Goth.

  Liam and Dee had to make speeches, of course. Everyone else had toasted them and said what a wonderful couple they were and how they had done everything right all th
eir life.

  This was so far from being true, but at a party, in the middle of a celebration, people did not want to hear of the hard times, the mistakes made and the wrong turnings taken.

  They spoke simply of the life they had lived and the joy of their three children. It had been a happy home, but then, like in every home, just as the leaves fall from the trees, the children had left to set up lives for themselves and this was a source of great happiness to them.

  They could only wish their two daughters and son as happy lives as they had lived themselves.

  In the crowd, Rosie, Helen and Anthony stood there astounded. What was this Mam and Dad were saying – that their children had left like the leaves fall gently from the tree? That wasn’t how they remembered it.

  It had been sudden and shocking and upsetting. Mam and Dad had painted up the scullery and put all their children’s clothes there. Their visits had been more or less reduced to Sunday lunch. Rent had been mentioned in what was supposed, after all, to be their home …

  But in the end what did it matter?

  Their parents were happy and smiling. They actually believed all this ‘leaves-falling-off-the-trees’ thing. Tomorrow they were going to Sicily for two weeks.

  Raise the glass, drink their health.

  Maybe it had all been for the best.

  Say nothing, now or any time, about the sudden dismantling of the full house. Maybe the wind had needed a little help to blow the leaves off the trees.

  That’s all there was to it.

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  Jacqueline Rayner

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  Beyond the Bounty

  Tony Parsons

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  Mutiny and murder in paradise …

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  Alexander McCall Smith

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  Maeve Binchy was born in County Dublin and was educated at the Holy Child Convent in Killiney and at University College Dublin. After a spell as a teacher in various girls’ schools, she joined the Irish Times. Her first novel, Light a Penny Candle, was published in 1982, and since then she has written more than a dozen novels and short-story collections, each one of them bestsellers. Several have been adapted for cinema and television, most notably Circle of Friends and Tara Road. Maeve Binchy was awarded the Lifetime Achievement award at the British Book Awards in 1999 and the Irish PEN/A.T. Cross award in 2007. In 2010 she was also presented with a Lifetime Achievement award by the Romantic Novelists’ Association and in November 2010 she was presented with the Bob Hughes Lifetime Achievement Award at the Bord Gáis Irish Book A
wards by the President of Ireland, Mrs Mary McAleese. Maeve is married to the writer and broadcaster Gordon Snell. Visit her website at www.maevebinchy.com

  By Maeve Binchy

  Fiction

  Light a Penny Candle

  Echoes

  The Lilac Bus

  Firefly Summer

  Silver Wedding

  Circle of Friends

  The Copper Beech

  The Glass Lake

  Evening Class

  Tara Road

  Scarlet Feather

  Quentins

  Nights of Rain and Stars

  Star Sullivan (Quick Read)

  Whitethorn Woods

  Heart and Soul

  Minding Frankie

  Non-fiction

  Aches & Pains

  The Maeve Binchy Writers’ Club

  Short stories

  Victoria Line, Central Line

  Dublin 4

  This Year it Will be Different

  The Return Journey

  Copyright

  An Orion Books ebook

  First published in Great Britain in 2012

  by Orion Books