Chapter 17
Grace pulled her knees to her chest as her eyes flitted about the room. No matter how many times she’d returned home since leaving for college, it always took a good twenty-four hours to acclimatise to the changes. Gone was the purple-and-pink decor of her childhood. Her mam had redecorated this and Imogen and Shannon’s old room, where Shannon and James were camping until their cottage was ready, with a Cape Cod theme, and the cool blues and white always took her by surprise. Nora Kelly was convinced Imogen got her interior design skills from her, but Grace and her sisters were sceptical.
It was strange being here without Ava, as well. They’d shared the room for a time with Hannah, too, until she’d moved out to go to college, and her bed was by the window. The three singles were lined up like a scene from ‘Goldilocks and the Three Bears’. While the colour scheme had changed, memories of the secrets, giggling and pillow fights shared in this room were embedded in its walls, she thought as Napoleon pounced on the bed.
‘Where did you come from?’ Grace asked as he purred loudly and rubbed against her outstretched hand before taking up residence in the space beneath her knees as though he were in a tepee. He was as eager for company as she was to be alone, but she was grateful he was here, even if he was moulting and getting fur all over her bedspread. Then she reached for her phone and did what she’d always done when upset, because while Ava might not be in the bed next to hers, thanks to technology, she could still offload.
Her twin’s face appeared on her screen after a few rings. ‘Two seconds, Grace – I’ve just got to send this email.’
Grace did the maths while she waited for Ava to come back on. It was two o’clock in the afternoon in New York. Ava would be in the middle of her working day. It was lucky for her she worked from home and didn’t have a boss breathing over her shoulder, Grace thought. That ceiling could do with a good clean, too. She peered into the phone, sure it was a cobweb she was looking at.
‘Done.’ Ava appeared once more. ‘I was going to call you later. See how you and Dad were now he’s had a chance to think about things.’
Grace got a bird’s-eye view up her sister’s nostrils as Ava faffed with the phone, leaning it up against her laptop so she could be hands-free. Once she was sorted, Grace relayed what had happened over dinner, her voice trailing off with, ‘I feel like I’m a teenager who’s been sent to her room.’
‘Didn’t you take yourself off up there?’ Ava pointed out correctly.
Grace pulled a face at her. It wasn’t the time to be pedantic about the facts. ‘It doesn’t matter how I wound up in here. What matters is what am I going to do, Aves? I hate Dad being out of sorts with me, and I don’t know how to fix it.’
Ava took a sip from her mug and grimaced. ‘It’s cold – yuck.’ She put it down, and her blue eyes looked intently at her sister. ‘Grace, there are some things you can’t fix.’
‘Don’t say that!’ The thought of her relationship with her dad being irretrievably broken was horrifying.
‘I meant you can’t fix the past, because it’s been and gone, but that doesn’t mean you can’t help Dad see he’s doing himself no favours holding on to it.’
‘Easy to say, but how?’
‘That I don’t know the answer to.’
‘Thanks a million. Very helpful.’ Grace frowned, hearing emails pinging in on her sister’s end. It wasn’t fair interrupting her and offloading like so, but it was hard to break the habits of a lifetime.
‘Sorry.’ Ava shrugged. ‘Maybe try talking to Mam. She’s the voice of reason.’
That was true enough. ‘You’d make a good agony aunt, Aves.’
‘Dear Ava.’ She grinned. ‘You know, I might be in New York, but there’s still heaps of online stuff I can do to help you with the festival. Like drawing up a project management plan. I could source suppliers; Portaloos are a priority, obviously. Then there’s the marketing side of it. You and I will make a great team working on that. And how about I set up a website with a ticketing portal? Shane said he’ll talk to his dad about a fish-and-chip cart on the day, too.’
Grace wanted to reach out and hug her sister, who’d been googling the same ‘how to’ sites as she had by the sounds of things. ‘Anything you’re up for would be brilliant. Chris worked out the costings, and the tickets given it’s a one-day event will be sixty-five euro, and we’ve set the date, too.’
‘Hang on – I’ll write this down.’ Ava picked up a pen and found a piece of paper to jot down what Grace had told her.
‘OK, so it’s being held on the last day of August.’
‘Correct.’
‘Oh, and wow, that falls on a Saturday.’
‘Perfect, right?’
‘Perfect,’ Ava agreed.
‘And the venue’s Cloverbrook Farm. Chris is talking to other bands, and as soon as he has a line-up confirmed, then we can get selling tickets. I can put the finishing touches to the Facebook page I’m working on once you’ve got the ticketing portal set up. No pressure.’ She laughed because time was of the essence.
Of course, there was still one big roadblock in the way of greenlighting the event. Funding. They needed a financial backer, because until ticket sales started rolling in, no money was in the pot for, well, anything. Grace squeezed her eyes shut briefly, telling herself everything else was falling into place, so that would too.
‘I’m on it. And I’m proud of you, big sis.’ Ava looked up from her notetaking and smiled then glanced at her open laptop as yet another ding sounded. ‘Sorry. A pain-in-the-arse client.’
‘Thanks for listening to me, Aves. I know you’re mad busy, and I’m sorry to lay the website on you.’
‘Don’t be silly. I’ll have it up and running in no time, and besides,’ Ava said, a cheeky glint in her eyes, ‘someone has to listen to you.’
‘I miss you,’ Grace wobbled as she looked at the face so like her own and saw the sentiment mirrored back. She sniffed and arranged her features stoically. It wasn’t fair to leave Ava worrying over her either. ‘How’s the novel coming along?’
‘Good, but I don’t want to jinx things by talking about it.’
‘Fair play. Back to work, then. Go sort out that pain in your arse.’ Her own phone announced she’d a call, and it was the push she needed to say goodbye to her sister.
‘I’ll speak to you tomorrow. See how the land lies then. Love you,’ Ava said before her face disappeared.
‘Love you too,’ Grace said to the blank screen, then checked who was ringing her.
Chris!
Her heart gave a jolt, and his name had a galvanising effect as she pulled herself up from her slouch, nearly squishing Napoleon in the process. ‘Sorry, fella,’ she said, smoothing her hair, which was ridiculous since he wouldn’t actually see her. Grace answered, trying not to let her eagerness show as she breathed hello.
‘How’re you doing?’ Chris’s voice rumbled in her ear.
It was a voice that would melt you, Grace thought, closing her eyes. How was it possible to miss someone you weren’t even romantically involved in with such an ache? she wondered. It was just as well he hadn’t FaceTimed her. She probably looked like Ava used to when she’d gone through that Jonas Brothers phase. The way hearing from him had her nerve endings tingling and jingling was silly, given she saw Chris most days, in his underpants, eating his cereal, annoyingly using the last of the milk. Perhaps it was true about absence making the heart grow fonder. It hadn’t been a full day since she’d last seen him, but it felt like weeks.
He was going to regret asking how she was, she thought, and poured her day out to him with an airbrushed version of her dad’s reaction to their connection. It was embarrassing that he was being so childishly prejudiced, so she shoved her father aside and decided to finish with the good news.
‘Oh, and guess what?’ She didn’t wait for him to guess. ‘I’ve secured a venue. Enda Dunne’s farm.’ It was only then Chris got a word in, and Grace beamed at his excited response, but then he did an about-turn.
‘Listen, Grace, weird question, and it will all become clear, I promise, but where are you?’
Grace frowned. ‘At the Shamrock, of course. Upstairs in my room, to be precise.’
‘Third room down the laneway off Main Street, right?’
‘Erm, how do you know, and should I be worried? I didn’t have you down as a stalker.’
She stared at the phone in disbelief as silence echoed. He’d gone. What was that all about?
There was no time to ponder it as a tap at the door distracted her, and before she’d a chance to say come in, the door burst open, and Imogen and Shannon trooped in.
Shannon put a cup of tea down on the bedside table. ‘It might make you feel better,’ she said, shrugging before she flopped down on the end of her bed and tweaked the tail poking out from under Grace’s legs. At the same time, Imogen arranged herself a safe distance away from Napoleon on Ava’s bed.
‘Thanks.’ Grace picked the brew up and took a sip, hoping the tannin would hold magical, make-everything-better powers. The jury was out on that as she put it back down. ‘I’m sorry for ruining dinner, like. Are Mam and Nan very cross?’
‘Not at all.’ Imogen flapped her hand dismissively. ‘Sure, Dad’s the one behaving like an eejit, and youse both leaving the table meant there was more for Ryan and James. They’re not complaining.’
‘We left them washing up. Mam and Nan have gone through to the bar. They’ll sort Dad out,’ Shannon reassured her.
‘It’s not like I set out to upset him,’ Grace blurted, feeling like she was going round in circles. ‘It just happened.’ Now she sounded like she was justifying an illicit affair.
‘You don’t have to explain yourself to us, Gracie,’ Imogen said. ‘Sure, it’s a grand thing you and Chris are after doing organising this festival. And we want to help, don’t we, Shan?’
Shannon nodded her agreement, her brown hair tinged auburn under the lights. ‘I’d like to perform if you’ll have me? And just tell me what else I can do to help, and I’ll do it.’
Grace’s eyes shone. Her sister’s voice was beautiful, although the only time she sang publicly was at the Shamrock when their dad, Ollie Quigley and Dermot Molloy got together for a session and for the Christmas carols in the Square. ‘Shan, you’ll be brilliant.’
Then, like a light being switched on, she had another idea. Sure, wasn’t her sister a nurse? It made sense that she should be put in charge of the first aid side of things.
‘Pass me my bag there, will you?’ she directed. Shannon tossed it over, and Grace dug out her notebook and pen. ‘Can I put you down for being in charge of first aid?’
‘Definitely. Although we’ll need an idea of numbers. James is keen to volunteer for whatever you need him to do, too.’
Grace wrote all of this down with an invigorated flourish, looking up to inform her sisters, ‘Ava’s going to help set up an online ticketing shop, organising suppliers, and she’s on board for helping me with the marketing. She said Shane will talk to his dad about a fish-and-chip cart, too.’
‘That’s a great idea. You almost sound like you know what you’re doing.’ Imogen grinned. ‘Ryan’s said he’ll build the stage, and you’ll need staffing and volunteers. I’m up for that, and I’ll help get others on board.’ She stifled a sneeze, glaring at the tail across the way. ‘Dad will get into the swing of it once he’s had a chance to mull things over. And he’ll realise you house-sharing with Chris is preferable to living with an axe murderer.’
Grace’s lips twitched at that. ‘Say it like it is, Imo.’
‘Eloquently put but true,’ Shannon said, exchanging a glance with Grace but smiling herself.
‘I’d love to know what went on between them though. Mark Dorrance and Dad, I mean.’ Imogen’s eyes glittered. ‘I mean, it must be bad.’
‘Either that, or he’s just a stubborn old goat,’ Shannon said.
‘Ram, actually – he’s Aries. A fire sign. They’re known for quick tempers that flare up and disappear just as quick, so it’s not like him to hold a grudge. They are competitive, though,’ Imogen, who fancied herself an astrology guru, explained.
‘I think it’s more than a game of golf or the like he’s after losing to Mr Dorrance,’ Grace said. ‘Mr Kenny said something about it earlier when I pressed him. He said it was Mam’s story to tell.’
Both sisters’ eyes widened upon hearing that. ‘Maybe she had a thing with him before she met Dad?’ Imogen said.
They all agreed that it was hard to imagine their mam with someone other than their father, given they’d been together forever.
‘We could speculate all night. We should just ask her,’ Shannon said. Then she and Imogen looked pointedly at Grace, meaning perhaps she should just ask.
A ping hit the window, followed by another, causing them all to look to the window and then at each other.
‘What was that?’ Imogen asked, the bed creaking as she stood up.
‘A mosquito?’ Shannon asked.
‘We’re not in the tropics, Shan – we don’t have monster mozzies.’
‘Speak for yourself. They go to town on me every summer.’
Imogen peered out the window to the laneway below, which separated the Shamrock from the row of shops. ‘Jaysus! There’s a fella down there.’
Grace shot off the bed, much to Napoleon’s disgust, and pushed her sister aside to see for herself.
‘Is it a peeping Tom?’ Shannon’s eyes were enormous. ‘Shall I run downstairs and tell the lads?’
‘Cop yourself on, Shan. He’d have to actually be peeping in the window for that. He’s loitering, is all.’ Imogen kept a cool head. ‘But is he loitering with intent?’
Both sisters turned toward Grace, who had her nose pressed to the glass as she muttered, ‘I don’t believe it.’
‘What?’ they chimed.
Grace ignored her sisters as she opened the window and called down, ‘Chris, what are you doing here?’