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  ‘Kim, they’re family!’

  ‘Carole’s not! She’s Dad’s new wife, that’s all.’

  ‘She’s part of the family now – you know she is.’

  Kim still found it so hard to accept that her dad had remarried four years ago, Carole Lennon totally changing his life …

  She wished she could have run back to the comfort of her old bedroom in Ingleside, their home on Waltham Road, but Carole had got their dad to sell the house they had grown up in and move to a small townhouse in Milltown. Number twenty-five was now owned by a young dentist and his family.

  ‘I’ll talk to Dad tomorrow,’ she promised. ‘Sometimes I just wish that Mum was still—’

  ‘I know,’ Liz said, wrapping her in her arms. ‘I know …’

  It was almost 1 a.m. before they finally went to bed, the two of them talking back and forward for hours about her break-up with Gareth.

  ‘I have to go to bed,’ pleaded Liz, yawning. ‘Finn wakes up between six thirty and seven for his bottle and I have to get some sleep before I go to work tomorrow or I’ll be like a zombie.’

  Collapsing drunkenly into the small, narrow bed in her room, Kim prayed that the pirate room would not shift or spin or make her feel dizzy as she fell into a deep, heavy, exhausted sleep.

  Chapter 5

  PULLING THE DUVET OVER HER HEAD, KIM TRIED TO IGNORE THE noises from the bedroom next door. She glanced at her phone. It was barely 7 a.m. and already both kids were wide awake. She could hear ‘Old Macdonald Had a Farm’ blaring somewhere and the shower going.

  Ava shyly opened the door to peek in at her.

  ‘Ssssh, let’s leave Kim alone – she needs to sleep,’ whispered Liz, grabbing her daughter’s hand and taking her downstairs to have breakfast.

  Turning over, Kim closed her eyes and tried to pretend that she was asleep in her own bed and that Gareth was busy making some Nespresso coffee for them in the kitchen. When she woke four hours later, the house was quiet, absolutely deadly silent, with everyone gone. She felt awful, dehydrated and hungover as hell as she went to the bathroom and then downstairs.

  Liz and Joe had both gone to work and the kids were at the crèche where they were minded. The remnants of breakfast lay scattered on the kitchen table and, as she made some toast, she automatically began to clear up the mess. She checked her phone and emails to see if there were any messages from Gareth … but nothing. The silence was oppressive, so she flicked on the TV in the far corner as she sat down to eat. She spent the next hour watching Cash in the Attic as she drank mug after mug of coffee and got through almost half a sliced pan toasted and covered with chocolate spread.

  Then, after a long shower, she got dressed. She pulled on her jeans, a long-sleeved T-shirt and sleeveless zip-up navy jacket. She looked wrecked, circles under her eyes, a huge spot on her chin – brought on by sheer stress – and her brown hair all split ends, as she couldn’t afford to get it cut for another few weeks. She was almost out of perfume and stole a little of Liz’s Acqua di Giò.

  Getting out her laptop she began to trawl through the online jobs section of the Irish Times and also the job and career sites she had registered with.

  Nothing. Today absolutely zilch …

  Sipping her coffee, she looked out at the houses and could see that most of the driveways were now empty, family cars gone, windows shut. The kids in the road were all gone to school or crèche. The place was like a morgue, except for a young Filipino nanny who was laughing and talking on a cell phone while pushing a baby in a buggy towards the house at the bottom of the road. She’d go crazy living in a place like this. She didn’t know how Liz stuck it.

  Making another mug of coffee, she went and sat in front of the TV, torn between an old episode of House or Come Dine with Me, where the guests were almost coming to blows across the dinner table.

  Evie phoned her and spent half an hour patiently listening to her talking about Gareth. The two of them arranged to meet up next week for lunch.

  ‘My treat,’ insisted her friend, who knew she was absolutely skint.

  Then Liz called.

  ‘Have you talked to Dad yet?’

  ‘Can’t you tell him?’ Kim begged. ‘Please.’

  ‘No deal – you have to tell him yourself!’

  Since there was utterly no point trying to have a long conversation with her dad on the phone, she texted him to tell him she was calling over to see him.

  Her father’s silver Audi was parked on the neat, cobble-lock driveway at the front of the townhouse. He opened the door almost the minute she rang the bell. She’d seen him only two weeks ago, when he’d treated her to lunch and tried to encourage her to consider going back and doing a postgraduate degree in university. The fact that so many postgraduates were still struggling didn’t seem to register with him.

  ‘Hello, Kim – what a lovely surprise!’

  At sixty-three years of age Bill O’Reilly was still a very handsome man, tall and grey-haired, wearing navy trousers and a classic white shirt with pale-blue cashmere jumper.

  Kim still found it hard to adjust to him being in this house instead of the home where she had grown up. Looking around the neat, bright living room that overlooked the small patio garden, she was glad that at least a few pieces of furniture from their old home, Ingleside, had survived the move: the mahogany sideboard, the pretty glass-fronted bookshelf and her father’s comfy high-backed armchair and matching footstool. There had been two of them side by side in the old house, but Carole had refused to keep the other. Liz had taken it and had it somewhere up in her attic, as it was too bulky for her modern sitting room.

  ‘Everything okay?’ he asked.

  He probably assumed she was short of funds and looking for money.

  ‘I need to talk to you, Dad.’ She tried to control the wobble in her voice.

  ‘Sounds serious. I’ll make us a cup of coffee. Carole’s off playing golf – she won’t be back for a while.’

  Kim followed him into the white-and-sage-green galley kitchen. Everything was so tidy and organized. Liz maintained that Carole was a neat freak and that’s why she objected to coming to her house, because of the kids’ mess everywhere. ‘She nearly sat on one of Finn’s rotten nappies the last time she came for lunch with Dad. Joe had left it on the couch. She thinks that we are both right slobs!’

  ‘There’s some carrot cake here – will you have a slice?’ offered her father.

  Curled up across from him in the sitting room, nibbling the cake, Kim found herself telling her dad all about the ins and outs of her break-up with Gareth.

  ‘I’m sorry to hear that it’s over between you,’ he sighed, ‘but hearing of his behaviour towards you, just because you found yourself temporarily unemployed, disappoints me. He should have been supportive not just financially but emotionally until you got back on your feet again.’

  ‘Dad, he was financially supportive,’ she found herself defending Gareth. ‘But it was just the whole job thing … I felt he looked down on me, and it made me feel useless.’

  ‘I’m sure Gareth didn’t mean to hurt you like that – but a good relationship always needs balance, especially when one hits rough waters. You need to be there for each other; not just in good times but in bad … That, I suppose, is the true mark of the people we are,’ her dad said firmly.

  Kim tried to compose herself, remembering her dad’s strength and courage and love during the last year of her mum’s life. He had done everything in his power to help when her mum was diagnosed with an aggressive form of breast cancer. They had tried everything, searched for new and alternative treatments, seen different doctors, but in the end it had made no difference and her mum had died, leaving all of them devastated.

  ‘Gareth may have many fine points – no doubt that’s why you fell in love with him in the first place – but he is not good enough for you, Kim! Not good enough at all. You deserve someone much better – a much better man.’

  ‘Dad, I still love him,’ sh
e countered. ‘Please don’t tell me to go and meet someone else! You have no idea what the guys out there are like! I’m nearly thirty … and I thought we were going to end up together. I really did.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Kim. I didn’t mean to be insensitive,’ he apologized. ‘I know how much well-intentioned words often hurt. Telling somebody when they lose the one they love that they will meet someone else is bloody awful – an insult, and certainly not what they want to hear.’

  ‘Dad!’ Kim flung herself into his arms and hugged him. One of the things she loved most about her dad was that he never changed. He still smelled of the same soap and aftershave, and wore the same clothes and shoes, and held her the same way he had done ever since she could remember.

  ‘Where are you staying? You are welcome to move in here with us if you need to.’

  She thought of their spare room. There was a single bed, but the room was turned into a study with a computer and printer, and all her father and Carole’s books and papers and files neatly displayed on one wall.

  ‘It’s okay – I’m staying with Liz for the moment.’

  ‘I could talk to Carole,’ he offered. ‘She’d understand.’

  ‘Honestly, it’s fine, Dad.’

  Kim knew that moving in with Carole and her father was certainly not an option. Carole was very good to her father and had given him a new lease of life. She got on well with everyone in the family, but had made it clear when she married him that she was marrying Bill and not his children. Carole had no intention of trying to step into the late Ruth O’Reilly’s shoes.

  ‘Dad, it’s fine, honest. It’s nice being with Liz and the kids, but I’ve got to find a place of my own.’

  ‘If you are short of funds for a deposit or whatever, let me know.’

  An hour later Carole returned from golf.

  ‘What a surprise!’ she smiled, joining them in her pink Pringle jumper and golfing gear.

  ‘Kim came over to tell me about her and Gareth breaking up,’ explained Bill. ‘It’s all rather awkward.’

  ‘Oh,’ said Carole, glancing nervously at her.

  ‘I’ve told Kim she can stay with us if she needs to,’ he continued.

  She could see the look on Carole’s face, torn between being polite and supportive but not wanting to be involved.

  ‘Dad, Carole, it’s fine,’ she interjected. ‘I’m staying at Liz’s until I get a new place.’

  ‘Well, that’s okay, then.’ Kim could see relief etched across the older woman’s face. ‘I know how close sisters can be.’

  ‘Well, she’ll stay for dinner with us at least,’ her dad continued. ‘I think there’s some chicken in the fridge.’

  ‘Liz is expecting me.’ She’d no intention of having dinner here and hearing Carole lecture her about her poor life choices. ‘She’s making a big dish of lasagne.’

  ‘Another night, then,’ he promised.

  As he walked her out to the doorstep, it amazed her how her father had somehow managed to adjust to life without her mother. He seemed happy despite everything. Living here in his small house with a woman who was so different from her mum, it was unbelievable.

  ‘I know how awful you must be feeling, Kim, but things will get better – I promise,’ he reassured her as she got into her car.

  ‘Dad, to be honest, right now it feels like they couldn’t get any worse …’

  Chapter 6

  ROZ GILMORE WELCOMED MOLLY WARMLY TO HER RED-BRICK terraced home on Victoria Road.

  ‘You sit down and I’ll get us a drink. What will it be – a sherry, a G & T, or maybe a glass of wine?’

  ‘I could do with a glass of wine – a big one!’ Molly laughed, flopping down in the massive armchair in the sitting room as Roz disappeared off to the kitchen.

  Looking around she could see that nothing had changed here over the years. Everything was practically the same as when they were kids and had gone to school together. Roz was still living in her parents’ house in Donnybrook; she had never married and had ended up looking after her elderly mother, Betty, for years. A lecturer in Celtic Studies, Roz worked at Trinity College. There had been a romance with a visiting Scottish lecturer many years ago, but Roz had stubbornly refused to give up the security of her job and to leave her aging parent to move to Edinburgh with him. Molly suspected she often regretted it, but Roz never said anything and just got on with living alone, busying herself with her research and lectures and obsession with the mythology and stories of ancient Ireland and its people.

  ‘How did your meetings go?’ asked Roz, arriving back with two glasses of wine.

  Molly told her briefly about what had happened with the bank manager.

  ‘The bankers have a nerve. They’ve destroyed the country with their behaviour,’ Roz said angrily. ‘The whole thing is a disgrace and the awful thing is that those involved have all got hefty bonuses and handsome early-retirement payments, rewarding them for bringing the country to its knees!’

  Molly nodded, totally agreeing but making a mental note to avoid talk of the economy or banks over dinner later as they caught up with each other’s news.

  Two glasses of wine later, Roz insisted that Molly go up and have a quick nap before they went out. Molly, grateful to have a chance to put her feet up and rest, fell asleep almost instantly in the neat guest bedroom, with its Laura Ashley décor, overlooking the street.

  That night they tried out Le Bon Poisson, a fancy new fish restaurant in the heart of the city.

  ‘I knew that you’d like this place,’ beamed Roz. ‘It’s always busy, which is a good sign, and Patsy and John are always talking about it.’

  Molly smiled. Roz’s younger sister Patsy and her husband John always seemed to come up in conversation and she knew that Roz loved to keep up with them and try the places they visited and ate in, or see the plays they saw. Good old sibling rivalry. Thank heaven she and Ruth had never been like that. As sisters they had been very close and always mutually supportive. When she had lost Ruth she had not only lost her only sister but her best friend.

  Over dinner they chatted about mutual friends and politics and the pluses and minuses of living alone.

  ‘It’s just so hard, I don’t know how I am ever going to get used to it,’ Molly admitted.

  ‘Maybe that bank man is right, that you should consider the house-selling and moving,’ suggested Roz. ‘Mossbawn must be far too big now with only you and Daisy rattling around it. Just think how easy life would be if you moved back up to Dublin!’

  ‘Roz, I love Mossbawn and I love living in the country,’ she retaliated stoutly. ‘Besides, you’re a fine one to talk about moving and you’ve lived in the same house and place all your life!’

  ‘I know,’ laughed Roz, embarrassed. ‘I’m hardly the one to be giving advice to anyone. It’s just that if you were back living here in Dublin you’d be here while Grace is in college, and near Ruth’s girls, and you still have friends here – and think of all the restaurants and cinemas and shows, and lots of interesting lectures and things to do here in Dublin. I always keep myself almost fully occupied.’

  ‘So do I!’ Molly laughed. ‘Keeping up the house and the garden at home is a full-time job, believe me. I like the odd trip coming to Dublin or to London, but I honestly don’t know if I could ever settle back here again.’

  After two cappuccinos they paid the bill and headed back home.

  Sitting in the kitchen, Molly found herself confiding in Roz over her worries about the future.

  ‘I just never pictured this – my life without David,’ she said, getting tearful.

  ‘You are so lucky to have had such a good husband,’ Roz told her. ‘He was a lovely guy.’

  ‘I know.’ Molly sniffed. ‘I was so lucky, but it’s so lonely now …’

  ‘You get used to being lonely,’ her friend said encouragingly. ‘You’ll fill your life with other things … keep busy … It’s what I do.’

  ‘Oh Roz, I’m sorry – I didn’t think.’<
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  ‘Come on, let’s have a nice brandy before we go to sleep,’ Roz offered. ‘I’ve organized for us to meet Helen and Anna for lunch in the National Gallery tomorrow. They’ve that new Walter Osborne exhibition on.’

  ‘Well, I couldn’t miss that!’ Molly teased, slowly sipping the warming brandy.

  Chapter 7

  LUNCH IN THE GALLERY WITH THE GIRLS WAS FUN. SHE AND ROZ and Helen and Anna had all known each for years and the girls had been so supportive of her since David’s death.

  ‘We’re thinking of going to Italy next spring for a few days. Why don’t you come too?’ asked Anna, who had gone through a messy divorce about six years ago. ‘There’s so much to do and see, with galleries and places to visit.’

  ‘Plus lots of nice meals and vino! It will be a laugh,’ promised Helen.

  ‘Let me think about it,’ she smiled, suspecting this lunch was a bit of a ready-up. She hadn’t been on holiday without David for years, but if she were to go away, this sounded exactly the type of holiday she would like – no couples, just the girls.

  ‘It would do you good!’ said Roz firmly.

  After lunch she had mooched around Grafton Street and bought a new dress for herself.

  ‘No black!’ Roz had urged, passing her a soft, oyster-coloured shift dress from the rail in Pamela Scott’s. She had tried it on and was surprised how well it fitted. She must have dropped a dress size without even trying.

  ‘But where would I wear it?’ she worried.

  ‘In Italy!’ laughed Roz, persuading her to buy it.

  Afterwards Roz had disappeared off to give a lecture to some Japanese exchange students. ‘It will be all questions about fairies and leprechauns, no matter what I tell them!’ she sighed. ‘Listen, I’ll see you at home later, okay?’

  Molly wandered around town, taking in the shops and the crowds, the buskers playing on Grafton Street. She loved Dublin; it was such a great city, full of music and heart.

  As the shops started to close for the night she walked towards O’Connell Bridge and up along the busy quays towards Doyle’s, the restaurant where she was meeting Grace. She went up a few steps and was shown to a table beside the window, where the waitress brought her a jug of water and the menu. She had just started to read it when Grace arrived in a flurry of long legs in skinny jeans, a fitted suede jacket and a tumble of golden-red hair, the exact same colour as her dad’s.