The Rose Garden Read online

  Norah nodded, taking it all in.

  Gina racked her brain for stories of the locals, who were like family to Norah. It was sad the way Norah had ended up, but at least here she was well cared for and near all those who knew her.

  ‘Bridey said to say she’d call in tomorrow after lunch to see you,’ Gina said, pulling on her warm jacket. Norah and Bridey had gone to school together and were still friends. Norah held on to her sleeve, getting upset and not wanting her to go.

  ‘Listen, I’ll come and see you in another few days,’ she promised, giving her a hug.

  Walking back out towards the car park a small black cat came across her path and wound around her legs.

  ‘Whose cat is it?’ she asked as one of the nurses got into a car beside hers.

  ‘That’s Suki. She belongs to the home,’ she laughed. ‘They all love her.’

  ‘Can I bring her inside to show someone?’

  ‘Of course.’

  Gina lifted the little cat up and went back down the corridor to Norah’s room.

  ‘Norah – look who I found in the corridor! I have a visitor for you,’ she said softly, and gently lowered the black cat on to the old lady’s lap. She watched as Norah lifted her hand and very gently began to stroke the cat.

  ‘M-mmy caattt.’

  ‘Yes, Suki is yours, Norah, while you’re here,’ she explained. ‘She lives here at Beech Hill.’

  She watched quietly as Norah stroked the cat, which relaxed, settling in on her lap as the old woman kept petting it. She knew that Norah would love this real cat …

  Driving home from Beech Hill, Gina couldn’t help but wonder when a decision about the café was going to be made. It was becoming clear that Norah was not going to be able to return there and things couldn’t keep going the way they were with the suppliers. They were being extremely patient and understanding, given the circumstances, but were hinting at being unable to give any further credit unless the payment situation was sorted. Gina was even making some of the payments in cash in order to ensure she was supplied with all the ingredients and food that the business needed.

  She’d had a quiet word with the local bank manager, who lived about three miles out along the road. His son James was in Conor’s class in school.

  ‘I know the café, and I know about Norah,’ he’d said as they stood watching their boys’ team play football. ‘Keeping a healthy business like the café going is important in these times, and the fact that you are already running the place is a huge factor. I’m sure the credit committee would view a proposal from you very positively, but look, nearer the time come in and see me officially.’

  Gina was quietly relieved that he didn’t envisage a major problem about her looking for a loan if and when the time or opportunity came for her to try to rent or even buy the café.

  Chapter 23

  MOLLY WATCHED FROM THE BEDROOM WINDOW AS THE BLACK Audi pulled into the driveway and a tall young man in a suit got out of the car and locked it.

  Murphy King, the Dublin auctioneers, had phoned to say that they were coming to value the house and to discuss the possibilities of putting it on the market. Molly had been expecting one of the senior partners to appear to inspect the property, not a junior member of their staff, she thought, as she headed down to open the front door.

  ‘Nice to meet you, Mrs Hennessy,’ Niall Devlin said, introducing himself. ‘I work in our country-house division. Coming to see beautiful old properties like this is why I like my job so much.’

  Molly warmed to him immediately as she began to show him around.

  ‘What a fine Georgian house!’ he said, recording detailed notes of every room as he walked around, measuring dimensions. In fact, he was quite an expert, remarking on the ceilings and covings and cornices, on the door frames and shutters, and able to point out to her where work had been done on the house at various times.

  ‘This orangery is a very fine example of the period. Very few of them that have survived are in this good condition and usable; in so many places they have to be demolished as they are unsafe and gone beyond restoration.’

  ‘My husband was determined that this should be carefully returned to its original condition. It cost a fortune sourcing the missing glass panes. We also put in under-floor heating, as in the winter it can be very chilly.’

  As they walked around she listened to his comments, which mostly seemed positive. He called Mossbawn a fine example of Georgian elegance. Upstairs he admired the views and said little about the rooms that they barely used. He went up into part of the attic and then returned to the large kitchen, which overlooked the circular herb garden, and looked around the totally restored pantry and the old scullery, which they had turned into a practical utility room.

  ‘The house has been really well updated, keeping the important features intact,’ he congratulated her. ‘Unfortunately, so many places I see have been irretrievably damaged by the way that people try to modernize them.’

  ‘We loved this house from the minute we saw it,’ said Molly. ‘It’s taken us years, but it was worth spending the time to get it right.’

  ‘It was well worth it,’ he said approvingly. ‘This is a very fine house, and the fact that it is on the edge of Kilfinn village and is only a short stroll from the shops and pub is a real asset these days.’

  ‘Come on and let me show you the rest of the place,’ offered Molly, taking him outside, where he took some photographs.

  ‘Are there any outbuildings?’

  ‘Yes, there’s the old courtyard and stables. We just use them mostly for storage of old equipment and junk from the house that we don’t want.’

  ‘They must have kept a lot of horses here at one time and had a very busy yard.’

  ‘Yes, it’s huge, but we don’t really use it. There used to be a laundry area too.’

  He took some more photos. ‘Any other buildings?’

  ‘Just the old Gardener’s Cottage – but it’s a bit of a wreck! It’s around the other side of the house. Hold on and I’ll find the key for it.’

  As Niall walked through the rooms in the Gardener’s Cottage, Molly thanked heaven that it seemed fairly dry and cosy, though there must be a leak somewhere, as there was a nasty damp patch on the wall and a musty smell pervaded the place. Black mould totally covered the ceiling in the kitchen. It was full of bric-a-brac: old string and seed packets and pots, and worn leather gardening gloves and wellingtons, the dresser covered in cracked mugs and plates, with a trail of mice droppings all over the area around the sink and stove. The windows were small, overlooking a section of the garden where the walls were covered in the thorny growth of old roses.

  ‘Is this cottage part of the sale of Mossbawn, or are you reserving it or intending to sell it separately?’ he enquired.

  ‘To be honest, I hadn’t even thought about it,’ she admitted. ‘We never use it.’

  ‘Obviously, given it is in a state of some disrepair and is fairly small, I wouldn’t expect it to achieve a huge price, but there is a possibility that a separate buyer could be found for it. Old gate lodges and cottages like this often have an appeal of their own.’

  ‘Do you think so?’

  ‘I know so. Just imagine it tastefully extended, bigger windows to let in more light and heat, with the rooms knocked through and a modern kitchen,’ he continued.

  Molly smiled to herself; he was very good at his job, because even she began to imagine the old cottage given a new lease of life and being lived in again.

  ‘It’s a good bit bigger than most of these types of cottages,’ he announced, stepping outside to take some more photographs.

  ‘A gardener used to live here with his wife years ago. He looked after the gardens and farmland and provided vegetables and fruit for the kitchen. But it’s been empty for years, as Paddy, our gardener, lives in the village.’

  ‘What a shame,’ the auctioneer said, ‘as it’s got plenty of potential.’

  Afterwards she walked him arou
nd the grounds, showing him the entire gardens and fields and woods while he recorded the details on to his machine.

  ‘What about the river? Do fishing rights come with the house?’

  ‘Of course. Richard Morton, the previous owner, was a very keen angler, apparently. I remember when we first came to view it there was an enormous stuffed pike in a glass case in the study, and some other strange fish.’

  Later they had coffee in the kitchen.

  ‘Do you mind me asking why you are selling?’ he enquired.

  ‘My husband died last year and our children are grown up and busy with their own lives,’ Molly explained. ‘So it’s far too big for me now that I’m here most of the time on my own. A fine house like this needs a family, people to upkeep it and live in it and use it to its full, not a lonely soul like me rambling around it.’

  ‘If you sell, where will you move to?’

  ‘Hopefully somewhere pretty close by, near to the village and my friends. I like this part of the country and intend staying here.’

  ‘Well, I have everything I need,’ he said, finishing his coffee. ‘I will talk to the relevant partner with regard to a current valuation, given the market, and come back to you on that.’

  When Molly pressed him, he mentioned a rough figure which was far less than she’d hoped for.

  ‘Molly, I know it’s disappointing, because a few years ago a house like this would have probably gone to auction and achieved far more, but this is the market …’

  ‘So what happens next?’

  ‘If you decide that our firm will handle the sale of your property, here’s the way it works. Mossbawn would go up on our country-house section of the website and we would inform a number of potential buyers both here and overseas of its availability, then once there is interest we’d come back to you with regard to setting up viewings. But you have to be aware that the market at this time is extremely slow and there are a number of similar properties, some much closer to Dublin, already on our books. However, I personally feel this house has much to offer a potential buyer who wants to live or perhaps have an Irish holiday retreat in this area, given there are fishing rights.’

  ‘Will you be handling the sale?’ she asked hopefully.

  ‘Well, Ronan King, one of the senior partners, usually does country houses and castles, but I work directly for him,’ he assured her.

  ‘It’s just that I’d like the house, if possible, to go to another family; and also I don’t want a big For Sale sign up in front, with everyone knowing my business and people coming up the driveway out of curiosity.’

  ‘I’m afraid it’s far too early to deduce what kind of interest the sale will bring,’ he said, ‘though lately two or three large homes like this have been sold to expatriates with families who are returning to live in Ireland after years overseas; they are often cash buyers. Listen, I will put everything in writing to you with regard to Murphy King handling this sale, to explain our procedures and terms, and I’ll make sure there is no signage.’

  As she said goodbye to the young auctioneer, Molly was up in a heap wondering if she was making the right decision even to consider selling Mossbawn … but maybe she should test the market and see what happened.

  Chapter 24

  EMMA AND GRACE WERE BOTH HOME FOR THE WEEKEND, AND Molly loved hearing them about the place, playing their iPods, singing and laughing, and constantly on their phones. She hadn’t realized how quiet the house had become. Emma’s boyfriend, Jake, was coming tomorrow for one night. She was keen to have the chance to get to know him properly, as lately he seemed to have become pivotal in her daughter’s life.

  ‘Mum, there’s something wrong with the shower!’ Emma yelled loudly from upstairs.

  Molly ran up to see if her usual jiggling and turning buttons would make a difference.

  ‘One minute the water was boiling, nearly scalding me, and then it was like ice!’ shouted Emma, clutching a towel, her hair covered in shampoo. ‘It’s gone crazy and it’s spurting at me like a kettle!’

  ‘There!’ Molly said, tinkering with it and wetting half her sleeve. ‘The water’s perfect again!’

  ‘Why is everything in this house broken?’ moaned Emma dramatically as she stepped back into the shower.

  Molly sighed. The plumber had recommended fitting a totally new shower, but it was going to cost a fortune. She’d been hoping to make do for another while. She was used to making do and managing. David was the one who had always meticulously organized plumbers and electricians and repair work, not her. He had done everything seamlessly, often not even telling her.

  Going back downstairs she set the table while Grace went to pull a bit of lettuce from the garden.

  With David gone, proper family meals seemed a thing of the past and it was something she really missed, so having the girls here was wonderful.

  ‘Mum, chicken Provençale – my favourite,’ grinned Emma as she passed around the plates and put bowls of new potatoes and salad on the table. ‘You must show me how to make it so I can do it for Jake.’

  ‘Sounds very serious,’ teased Grace.

  ‘He’s my boyfriend and I do cook for him sometimes, Grace, believe it or not, and he cooks for me!’ retorted Emma firmly.

  Molly stifled a grin.

  ‘Well, I’ll make it for my boyfriend too – whenever I get one!’ Grace joked.

  They all chatted easily, Kim filling them in on what she was doing.

  ‘Your friend’s art website sounds cool! I must check it out.’

  ‘I’m hoping to design a few more websites,’ she grinned, ‘but this time hopefully I’ll get paid for them, as I need the money.’

  ‘Talking about money and work … Kim, I was talking to Frances, Dr Jim’s wife, in the supermarket today and she’s going in to have a hip replacement in a few weeks. She and Jim are looking for someone to fill in for her on reception while she is off work. She said it will probably be for about eight to ten weeks. They don’t really want to have to pay an agency fee and are looking for someone local to help out. I told her that you might be interested.’

  ‘Definitely – I’d definitely be interested!’ said Kim, excited.

  ‘I’ll talk to Frances then,’ Molly offered.

  Kim had made chocolate brownies for dessert and Emma got up and made a pot of coffee.

  ‘Hey, I’ve got to phone Evie,’ Kim said, getting up from the table and disappearing upstairs. Molly was glad of her discretion; she needed to talk to her daughters.

  ‘Girls, I have to talk to you about something.’ She began by telling them about opening an account for each of them.

  ‘Mum, you need the money more than we do,’ protested Emma. ‘There’s no need to give us money, because once we finish college we’ll both get jobs and hopefully have careers.’

  ‘Keep it – you need it for yourself … for the house,’ added Grace, concerned. ‘We know Dad died before he had the time to save a proper pension, so it’s for you. You’ll need it over the years.’

  ‘Listen, your dad would have wanted you each to have a bit of financial independence, to be able to do things you want when you finish college,’ she insisted. ‘And don’t worry – there’s enough for me to manage.’

  She could see that the girls were moved.

  ‘Are you sure, Mum?’

  ‘Yes, I’m doing what Dad would have wanted, so that’s all there is to it!’ she said, brooking no further argument. ‘Now, the other big thing I want to talk to you about is selling the house.’

  ‘What?’ they both shouted in dismay.

  ‘You want to sell Mossbawn?’

  ‘Why?’ asked Grace, perplexed.

  ‘I’m thinking about it,’ she admitted. ‘Putting Mossbawn up for sale breaks my heart just as much as yours. But living here on my own is so strange! You know how much the house means to me, and the garden, but without your dad … it’s not the same. I’m rattling around the place here all day and all night. Sometimes I can’t sleep with worrying
about it and I spend most of the time trying to keep things going, but I don’t know how much longer I can keep that up. The mortgage is finally cleared and for the first time ever we owe absolutely nothing on the house, which is one good thing, so maybe it’s time to put it up for sale.’

  ‘But we love this house,’ protested Emma vehemently. ‘It’s our home.’

  ‘Mossbawn is ours – we grew up here … We love it.’ Grace’s eyes welled with tears. ‘I don’t ever want it to be sold!’

  ‘I know that you both love the house, love the place. We all do. It’s just that I don’t know how much longer I can stay living here on my own. Trying to run a big house like this is a constant worry. With your dad’s income we managed just about, but now it’s just me trying to do it. I’ll be honest, I can’t earn enough to keep it properly and I’m not sure what to do.’

  ‘There must be some other way,’ pleaded Grace. ‘Maybe you could get people to stay here?’

  ‘Grace, I know that we have eight bedrooms, but there are only really four good, presentable bedrooms that people would pay money for,’ Molly explained. ‘The Kilfinn Inn takes guests, and of course the Woodlands Hotel, judging by the prices, is practically giving rooms away. So I have absolutely no intention of competing with them.’

  ‘But we don’t want you to sell Mossbawn!’ argued Emma. ‘This is our home.’

  ‘You’re living in Galway at the moment and Grace is in Dublin,’ Molly reminded them gently. ‘Only last night you were saying to me that you and Jake are thinking of going travelling for a year when you finish studying – heading to Australia and maybe working there for another year.’

  ‘I’ll stay home then if you want.’