Chapter 46
Finnuala was sitting by the bed, a half-folded newspaper beside her. Poor Sheila was lying still, her breathing almost imperceptible.
‘Finnuala?’ I whispered.
She looked up. ‘Ah, Kerry-Anne.’ I recognised that look in her eyes, the look of someone done in, dog-tired and worried.
You’ve seen life fading from one of your favourite people on earth, and it changes you.
You can’t spring back, you are forever dented.
But before I could ask about Sheila, Finnuala had grabbed my arm.
‘You’re Annie O’Sullivan’s granddaughter?
You know, I could have said, honestly, I knew there was something familiar about you.
You’re the image! And she kept it a secret, everything that had happened?
’ She was shaking her head. ‘Well, you know what they say, sometimes you have to wait for the wind to die down. How is she doing? Will you tell her I am really looking forward to seeing her again?’
I nodded, handing her the vending machine tea. ‘Of course. But how is Sheila?’
‘Still asleep,’ said Finnuala. ‘They are keeping her sedated. Just waiting to see if the heart can find some strength.’
I nodded, placing myself beside the window, perching on the sill and remembering that hospital room with Caitlin and how you felt suspended in time, knowing real life was happening elsewhere.
But then when it was all over, you’re expected to rejoin the rhythm of daily life, the teeth brushing, the clothes washing, the eating of oats and the making of coffee and the walk to work.
And yet you’re not the same and you will never be again.
‘I’m down to prayers now,’ said Finnuala to me. ‘I haven’t said one in a very long time and now, for some reason, I’m going through all of them. What else do you do?’
I shook my head, not knowing the answer, thinking of the hours I spent with Caitlin, where for so long she was sleeping, exhausted by the drugs, tired of being so ill, and then the moments when she woke, and was ready to talk, and there would be a glint in her eye like the old days, the mischief, the devilment, the fun we had.
‘How was the regatta? How did Lucy get on?’
‘We entered the double sculls. And we didn’t win, the two Sarahs did…’
‘They’re very skilled those two,’ agreed Finnuala. ‘Represented Ireland in the Olympics. Came eighth and were beaten by the Germans and the French. But then, when aren’t we?’
‘But I have some good news…’
Finnuala looked up. ‘I’d be grateful for it. My ears wouldn’t mind a bit of a tonic.’
‘Well, first of all the Lolly DeCourcey Cup is being retained. Henry won it.’
‘Of course he did. He’s like a fish, that one. Well, not a fish. But a fish who can sail.’
I nodded, taking her point. ‘The committee has decided to keep it and introduce the Oliver Richmond Cup for most improved sailor…’
‘And who won that, then?’
‘Charlie Richmond.’
Finnuala let out a laugh. ‘He couldn’t be much worse than last year. But it’s very good news that the committee came to its senses at last.’
‘We went to see Mrs DeCourcey,’ I explained. ‘A whole gang of us. My grandmother…’
‘I know all about it,’ she said.
‘By the way, I asked Mrs DeCourcey if the knitting circle might have use of her house…’
Finnuala gazed at me and in the corner of her eye a light switched on. ‘And what did she say?’
‘She said yes.’
Finnuala smiled, and grasped my hand with hers. ‘Well, that is good news.’ She leaned towards Sheila. ‘Did you hear that, Sheel? We have somewhere to go.’ She turned back to me. ‘And did she say from when?’
‘From now, today. And she looked quite happy about it.’
Finnuala was smiling. ‘Well, that’s something, I suppose. That’s really something. Well done, Kerry-Anne. You were brave to ask her.’
‘Not really. I mean, she is intimidating but impressive.’
‘Lolly was such a sweetheart, she really was.’
‘She had to be,’ I said. ‘To be my grandmother’s best friend, she had to be.’
I said goodbye to them, and on my way back to Sandycove, I checked my messages. There were twenty-seven texts from Mil and nineteen missed calls. The last few were increasingly desperate.
Call me.
Just call back, for Pete’s sake.
I’m sorry, okay? Is that what you want????!!!!
JESUS CHRIST KERRIEANN!
I was right to end it. Never marry a man who can’t spell your own name.