The Matchmaker Read online

  ‘You’ll probably put in one of those wonderful new fitted kitchens, it’s what most women want these days,’ continued Maggie. ‘I suppose your wife has all kinds of plans?’

  ‘Actually I’m not married,’ he said firmly, ‘but you’re right, I do plan on a good kitchen.’

  ‘Anyway, welcome to Pleasant Square,’ said Maggie, barely able to disguise her relief at discovering he was definitely not married.

  Mark McGuinness followed Tom upstairs as he offered to show him around the house and point out the eccentricities of their ancient heating and plumbing systems.

  ‘Detta, I’m sorry but I’m going to have to go,’ Sarah apologized. ‘I’ve to collect Evie from school.’

  ‘Thank you so much, pet,’ the older woman said, hugging her close. ‘I don’t know what Tom and I would have done without you.’

  ‘What about the vintage stuff?’ she asked. ‘Will I bring it to the shop in Temple Bar for you? The Chanel jacket might fetch quite a bit.’

  ‘You do whatever you want with it, Sarah love.’ Detta smiled. ‘All the proceeds are yours.’

  The new owner had just come back downstairs. He was, she supposed, rather dishy in a mature way but far too serious and definitely not her type.

  ‘I’d better be getting back to the office,’ he said. ‘Are you sure there’s nothing I can do to help?’

  Maggie Ryan hesitated for a second but, seeing all the boxes of books and bags of stuff they had gathered up and that enormous car parked outside the window, decided to throw caution to the wind and ask him.

  ‘Well, actually, if you’re driving through Ranelagh maybe you could help us and take a few of these bags that are going to the charity shop there? Tom’s car hasn’t a lot of space, while yours is huge.’

  Mark McGuinness looked momentarily surprised, but they’d put him on the spot and he didn’t want to appear ungenerous and renege on his offer.

  ‘Sarah can show you where it is as she is going in that direction anyway!’ her mother continued.

  Honestly, Sarah could have killed her for putting her in such an awkward situation with an utter stranger. He must think she was mad!

  It took only a few minutes for them all to load up the Range Rover.

  ‘Here’s my business card and mobile number,’ Mark said to Tom. ‘I’m away in Prague on business for the rest of the week, so I won’t see you. My solicitor will look after things. Good luck with the move and I’ll forward on any post and messages.’

  ‘Take care of the place,’ Tom said hoarsely as he shook his hand.

  Sarah clambered in beside him in her dusty jeans and sweatshirt, suppressing a giggle at the sight of his beautiful car full of black plastic bags and boxes and household junk.

  ‘Where are we heading?’ he asked politely.

  ‘If you take a left and then a right it will bring us back up towards the village. The other road is a one way. The Vincent de Paul shop is only a few yards from my daughter’s school,’ she said. ‘I can give you a hand with the bags and boxes before I collect her.’

  ‘You have a child?’ he said and she could see him glance at her ring finger.

  ‘I have a little girl, Evie, she’s nearly six,’ she explained watching his expression. ‘I had her when I was in college. Her dad lives in Rome.’

  ‘It’s tough raising a kid on your own,’ he said softly, ‘very tough, but I bet you’re a great mum and that she is a great kid.’

  ‘The best!’ said Sarah, surprised by his change in attitude.

  His car phone suddenly went and he spoke quickly to the caller on the speaker phone arranging a meeting in town.

  At the charity shop, despite the dust, he insisted on lifting in most of the boxes and bags. Sarah thanked him profusely for helping, then stood on the pavement and watched him ease the car back into the traffic. He mightn’t be her type but she had to admit Mark McGuinness was certainly a perfect gentleman.

  Chapter Seven

  Maggie Ryan watched from the bedroom window as the huge removal van pulled up outside the O’Connors’ house. The removal men were busy up and down the granite steps, lifting the remainder of Tom and Detta’s possessions into the back of the container truck. Upset, Maggie was half tempted to crawl back into bed and stay there for the rest of the day. She would miss them terribly and it felt like another piece of her old life with Leo was slipping away. They had been far more than neighbours, they had been such good friends. But immediately she felt guilty. You should be up and dressed and helping, she chastised herself, instead of standing here in your dressing gown feeling sorry for yourself.

  She had a quick shower and slipped on her beige trousers and a cream sweater, pulling the hairbrush quickly through her short fair hair with its highlights disguising the grey at her temples. A flick of mascara on her fair eyelashes, a slick of her usual coral lipstick and spray of Rive Gauche and she grabbed her purse and house keys. She had a lovely carrot cake she had bought in the deli yesterday and she would go over and make sure that things were going smoothly for the older couple.

  Maggie looked on as room after room was emptied. She kept the kettle on and made endless mugs of tea. Rory, the younger mover, insisting he took five heaped spoons of sugar. It was like syrup and she watched open-mouthed as he drank it. The cake went down a treat too.

  She could see Tom was trying to maintain his composure as he directed the removal men. They had some kind of system going with numbers and names on boxes. Oscar Lynch had appeared over to wish them a safe journey and had finished off the last slice of the cake. Over the past two days many of the neighbours had called in to say goodbye and wish them well.

  ‘There’ll always be a bed for you in Pleasant Square if you fancy a visit,’ Oscar insisted, tears in his eyes as he said goodbye to his old friends.

  Detta and Tom thanked him warmly for his kindness but both Maggie and Oscar knew in their hearts that as far as Detta and Tom were concerned there was no coming back, it would be too painful.

  Once all the O’Connors’ books and furniture and personal possessions were removed the house looked so empty, shabby and forlorn. Maggie instinctively knew Detta and Tom needed time to say farewell to the house on their own so she said her own goodbyes and left. Her last glimpse was of Detta clutching her husband’s hand as they walked through the hall and stairs. How hard it must be for them to leave their house with its lifetime of memories!

  Back at home Maggie gave in to her emotions. She cried as the removal van left the square and Tom and Detta drove away to their solicitors in Fitzwilliam Street to hand over the keys of the house before they set off for England. The only consolation to losing such good neighbours was that they were being replaced by such an eligible bachelor. To her mind Mark McGuinness was perfect husband material. Sarah had refused to be drawn about her car trip to the St Vincent de Paul shop with him but had admitted he was actually ‘quite nice’.

  Maggie was just making herself a reviving cup of coffee when the phone rang; she was delighted to hear her older sister Kitty’s voice on the other end of the line. Kitty was all excited, talking ninety to the dozen as she had done when they were kids.

  ‘I’ve got some good news for you.’

  ‘I could do with some of that,’ admitted Maggie.

  ‘Orla’s got engaged!’ Kitty announced. ‘They’ve just been to Venice for three days – it was so romantic, Liam proposed while they were in one of those gondola things and Orla’s over the moon with excitement.’

  Maggie stifled a pang of jealousy. Kitty’s only daughter Orla was a lovely girl, a primary-school teacher; she was almost thirty-three years old and had been dating Liam O’Connell for years. It was high time they got married.

  ‘Harry and I are so pleased for them and he’s insisting on us having an engagement party here at home on Saturday,’ Kitty went on. ‘He says it will give both families the chance to meet up before the wedding itself.’

  ‘That sounds like a great idea.’

  ‘Prom
ise you and the girls and Evie will try and make it? It’s from eight p.m. onwards.’

  ‘We wouldn’t miss it for the world,’ said Maggie. It was thrilling to hear that someone in the family was getting married!

  Chapter Eight

  Orla Hennessy’s eyes were shining as brightly as the dainty diamond ring on her finger as she and Liam O’Connell greeted the guests at their engagement party. There were balloons and candles and a massive bouquet of flowers in the hall of her parents’ Rathfarnham home and all the guests were caught up in the excitement. Grace, Sarah and Anna all admired the engagement ring while Uncle Harry plied them with glasses of champagne.

  ‘It’s one of the most beautiful rings I’ve seen,’ exclaimed Maggie, admiring the sparkling solitaire diamond then hugging Orla. Among all her nieces and nephews she had always had a soft spot for Orla, who was the apple of Kitty and Harry’s eye, the only girl after two older brothers.

  ‘Your three will be the next,’ joked her brother-in-law Harry as he kissed her.

  Maggie smiled, wondering yet again which of her girls would be first to get engaged and thinking longingly about all the lovely things an engagement brings.

  ‘God, we’ll never hear the end of it,’ muttered Grace under her breath to her sisters. ‘Mum and Kitty will have us demented.’

  ‘Mum’s obsessed with one of us getting married.’ Sarah laughed ruefully. ‘I think half the mothers in Ireland must be the same!’

  ‘All they want is an engagement announcement in the Irish Times, a ring on your finger and a man on your arm!’ complained Anna. ‘Comes from reading too many romances and watching too many Hugh Grant films!’

  ‘Anna!’ protested Sarah. ‘I love Hugh Grant films too, and I think it’s wonderful that Orla and Liam are getting married. They’ve been in love for years!’

  Uncle Harry, in an extraordinary pink-and-white-striped shirt, was in flying form, constantly topping up everyone’s champagne flutes while Kitty was already in full mother-of-the-bride mode, talking about churches and venues and florists and dresses.

  Maggie Ryan smiled indulgently at her sister. She truly was happy to see Orla finally settling down with the man she loved. It had been a bit of a rollercoaster romance for the young teacher because Liam was a busy hotelier who had moved job every few years. He’d worked in a hotel in Cork and then Killarney and now was managing a fancy golf hotel in Kildare.

  ‘Of course we’re having the wedding in Mountrath Manor,’ Liam said. ‘They have to look after us well!’

  Grace, Anna and Sarah were thrilled for their cousin too and looking forward to a big family bash.

  ‘I’ve been to so many weddings in the past three years I’ve nearly lost count,’ admitted Grace. ‘Rome and Marbella last summer, Brooklodge, Adare, the Four Seasons . . . Nearly all my friends are married but Orla and Liam’s will be great craic as it’s a family occasion!’

  Sarah couldn’t believe it when Orla took her aside and asked if she would let Evie be her flower girl at their wedding in September.

  ‘Conor’s little girl Amy will be one too and it would be so sweet to have the two of them walking up the aisle together.’

  ‘Evie will be over the moon,’ said Sarah. ‘Orla, you are so good to think of her but you should ask her yourself. She’s playing out in the kitchen with a few of the kids.’

  A few minutes later Evie raced into the living room, bursting with the news. ‘Mummy, I’m going to be a flower girl for Orla’s wedding and I have to wear a special dress and carry flowers and have flowers in my hair!’ she cried, jigging up and down with excitement.

  ‘You will be a beautiful flower girl,’ said Sarah, scooping her up in her arms for a big kiss.

  Maggie was having a quiet moment sipping her glass of wine when she noticed Alan Ferguson, a friend of Harry’s, heading in her direction. He had separated from his wife Julia two years before and his face lit up when he saw her. She shuddered. Why did men like Alan assume that just because she was a widow she might be interested in them? All he wanted to talk about was sport and the latest GAA match he’d attended in Croke Park. Was it any wonder poor Julia had left him! Making her excuses she went and sat down on the couch to chat with Liam’s parents who were lovely Westmeath people and delighted to see their son finally taking the plunge.

  ‘We thought the day would never come!’ joked his mother Mary. ‘Honestly, what he was waiting for is beyond us!’

  ‘They don’t believe in rushing into things these days – they think they have all the time in the world,’ added his father Paul, a tall thin bespectacled man who was the image of Liam. ‘And houses cost a fortune so it’s hard to get on the property ladder.’

  Maggie watched as Kitty passed a tray of fancy canapés around the crowded room, her face aglow. She was wearing a lovely silver-grey outfit that she’d bought in Brown Thomas. Her sister looked well, filled with happiness for her daughter and future son-in-law. Her sons Conor and Gavin were both already married, one living in Malahide and the other down in Cork, and she had three grandchildren. Six years ago she had had an awful time when she had developed breast cancer and had a breast removed. Harry and the boys and Orla had struggled to cope with her illness. Thank God, after her surgery and treatment she had made a great recovery and this wedding news was particularly special as Maggie knew one of her sister’s biggest fears had been that she wouldn’t live to see her daughter walk up the aisle.

  Maggie raised her glass of wine as Harry congratulated the happy couple and Orla and Liam thanked everyone for coming to the party. A good man is hard to find, she thought, yet somehow Orla had. She and Liam had found each other and were now going to make a future together. She looked at her own lovely daughters chatting with their cousins and smiled to herself. One of these days, if she had any say in it, there would be sparkling rings on their fingers too.

  Chapter Nine

  Recuperating from the previous night’s engagement party, which had ended in a mass rendition of ‘The Fields of Athenry’, Maggie decided to check her phone and email messages. She was relieved to see that there had been a good response to her discreet advertisement in the Irish Times seeking a new tenant to rent the small three-bedroom mews at the bottom of her garden, which had access to Pleasant Lane. Her previous tenants, three nurses, had been lovely girls but a bit of a headache, given to late-night parties on their monthly pay day and unfortunately flooding the upstairs bathroom. One had broken the microwave oven, blowing two of the kitchen sockets at the same time. The damages had been sorted out at the end of their rental period and the girls were now moving to an apartment nearer to St James’s Hospital where they worked.

  It was Grace who had first suggested converting the rundown former coach house at the end of the garden, where they stored bicycles and old garden furniture and junk, into a modern mews which could be let out to provide an additional income to supplement the benefit from Leo’s insurance policy and her widow’s pension. How she hated that word ‘widow’. She’d never imagined herself having to face life alone. At times she cursed Leo for leaving her so unprepared for life without him, and turning their plans for his retirement into silly dreams. Her husband’s death had been totally unexpected. Leo had suffered a minor heart attack following a round of golf and had been admitted to hospital for tests. There he had undergone emergency heart surgery; a triple bypass which he had actually managed to come through, only to die a few days later from a simple blood clot in his lungs. How she had survived those initial awful black dark days, she didn’t know. She had wanted to hide away and stay in bed, refuse to face what had happened, but Grace and Anna and Sarah and her young granddaughter had needed her. Somehow they had got through the funeral, supported by family and good friends. The days had turned to weeks, the weeks to months and now years – and she found it hard to believe that it was just over four years and ten months since Leo had left her.

  The building renovation project had taken almost a year. When the small three-bedroomed mew
s with its modern kitchen, large windows, French doors and paved terrace overlooking part of the garden was finally completed she had sat down and cried, knowing that it was a job well done and that Leo would be proud of her. At first it would be let out to provide extra income and in the future she could either sell it or move into it herself. So the mews had been rented and apart from a few small hitches had provided a nice additional bit of money.

  Once the nurses had left, her Polish home help Irina had helped Maggie to clean and polish the mews from top to bottom. She had bought some bright new cushions from Habitat and complete sets of white cotton bed linen, which freshened the place, and a fancy new microwave. Jotting down the names and numbers and email addresses she began to return calls to set up appointments for potential new tenants to see the mews.

  This afternoon she was showing the place to the first people. Fingers crossed that one of them would be suitable.

  There was a couple who seemed good on paper; three single girls, which rang a kind of alarm bell; two single guys who only wanted a six-month let as they were waiting on an apartment they’d bought; a young Scottish businessman who had recently moved to Dublin; and a single girl. Grabbing the keys and her phone she walked down the garden path. She found this very hard. Leo had been a good judge of character but she knew she was a sucker for hard-luck stories. She determined that after showing each of them around she would take her time and check their references before making her mind up who should be her new tenant.

  The couple arrived bang on time and Maggie was surprised by their age difference.

  ‘I’m not sure that I like that old stonework,’ complained the young blond woman as Maggie showed her around the ground floor. ‘And the fridge is rather small.’

  The good-looking older man with her said little, but jotted things down on a notepad as Maggie led them upstairs. She noticed that he wore a wedding ring, while his much younger partner with her pouting lips and narrow hips didn’t, and he reddened with embarrassment as his girlfriend bounced on the double bed and cajoled him to join her.