Chapter 14
ALL THROUGH HER MORNING YOGA, RAIN LASHED against the studio’s picture window.
The sky was a uniform sludge-grey, no chink of blue to be seen.
She didn’t mind: she had no plans to go anywhere today.
After finishing her session she ventured into the dining room, wanting to see how they’d left it.
She didn’t imagine much cleaning would have taken place at the end of what had sounded like a lively evening.
She was wrong. Tables had been cleared and folded and propped with the chairs by the door, along with a pair of black bin bags, neatly tied.
Crockery, glasses, cutlery – all unwashed, no way to wash them without water – were stacked in boxes, along with salt and pepper cellars, candlesticks, placemats, trivets and the like.
Tablecloths were folded, the stack left on a windowsill. The floor needed cleaning, but other than that they’d done pretty well.
For breakfast she hard-boiled one of Greta’s duck eggs and ate it with toasted granary bread, still enjoying the novelty of being able to eat normally again. She was brushing her teeth afterwards when she suddenly remembered the missing cat. She put on her raincoat and went out.
The food bowl was empty – but was he the one who’d emptied it? She’d have to wait and see if he turned up. She wheeled her bicycle down to the shed and opened the door – and there he was, in the box.
No, not he. She’d been wrong to assume the cat was male.
She was lying on her side, with – Lydia counted, or attempted to count, the tiny, squirming, wriggling creatures – four, no, five kittens, three with their mother’s ginger markings and two patched with black and tan.
They clambered and wobbled blindly over each other as they snuffled into the fur of their mother’s underbelly in search of a teat to latch on to.
She’d been pregnant too. She regarded Lydia now as her babies fed, watchful but not showing signs of fear. Lydia propped the bicycle against the wall and inched closer, the cat’s gaze never leaving her.
‘Clever girl,’ she whispered. The cat remained unblinking, and still calm. Deciding, finally, to trust her feeder – and emitting, Lydia could hear now, a low, steady purr. Contentment. Achievement. Knowing instinctively what to do as a mother, as all animals did.
She’d never seen newborn kittens in the flesh. She dropped quietly to her hunkers, fascinated by the minuscule tails and ears, the pudgy little bodies, the tiny paws kneading the mother’s belly as they fed. So fiercely focused on the food, instinct again telling them where to find it.
Not a stray, like their mother. These kittens had been born in a shed, to a cat that had come to expect regular meals – and now that she was feeding five babies, those meals were more important than ever.
How would she cope when her food source disappeared?
Lydia was deserting her. Before the kittens, it had been easier to tell herself that the cat would manage without her – but now, leaving her seemed much more heartless.
Then again, Lydia would still be here by the time the kittens were weaned, and rehoming them should be simple enough.
Susan would find takers among the school’s parent body, or maybe some of Lydia’s yoga students would be interested – but who would want to give a home to an adult cat?
Bringing her to Dublin wasn’t an option – her parents weren’t cat people.
Even if they were, how could Lydia subject an animal accustomed to the freedom of the countryside to the constraints and dangers of the city?
She watched as one by one the sated kittens drifted off and fell asleep, so heaped together that it was difficult to say where one stopped and another began. Relieved of her duties, the mother cat sat up and began washing herself.
Lydia left the shed and hurried through the rain back to the house. She texted Gareth: The shed is a maternity ward now. The cat had five kittens. You’ll have to tiptoe in.
I take it this is the male cat you were feeding, he replied. A modern miracle. Should I bring flowers when I visit, or would he prefer a few grapes?
Later, as she was changing the sheets on her bed, she heard a van pulling up outside.
‘Morning,’ Andrew said. ‘They chose the right day for the wedding.’ By now the rain had lightened to a drizzle.
‘They did. It went well?’
‘Very well. Hope we didn’t disturb you.’
‘Not at all – and you left it very clean.’
‘All apart from the floor. Susan’s bringing some fancy mop from the school to clean it later. She’ll take away Cathy’s stuff too.’
‘Fine.’ On impulse, she said, ‘Have you a minute to spare? There’s something I want to show you.’ He fed stray cats too. He might enjoy the kittens.
She brought him through the apartment and out to the back. ‘Shaping up well,’ he said of the garden. ‘It must have been pretty bad.’
‘Like a jungle. Did you get any outdoor photos yesterday?’
‘No – they decided it was a bit on the chilly side.’
They approached the shed. ‘Looks freshly built,’ he remarked.
‘The ruin of it was here. We got Noel to restore it.’
We. It hurt.
She wondered if the mother cat would take fright at the sight of Andrew – but the kittens were alone in the box, still all tumbled up drowsily together. He hunkered down beside them.
‘These are from the cat you were feeding?’
‘Yes. I thought she was a tom. I discovered them this morning.’
‘Gingers and tortoiseshells,’ he said. ‘Beauts. What colour’s the mother?’
‘Ginger.’
‘Unusual,’ he said. ‘They’re normally toms.’
‘I didn’t know that. I just assumed she was male.’
He reached in and eased one of the kittens away from the rest. It gave a surprisingly loud protesting squeak, and another. In his hand it looked even tinier. He stroked the furry little head with a finger, and the squeaking stopped. ‘We always had cats growing up,’ he said. ‘Lots of kittens.’
‘Is it OK to handle them when they’re this young?’
‘It’s fine, good to get them used to it’ – so Lydia squatted to lift out her own, and cradled it to her chest. It weighed nothing at all.
She ran her thumb along its back, and to her delight, it set up a tiny purring.
She felt the rapid beating of a pulse against her palm, and something quickened in her.
‘If you’re looking for homes,’ he said, ‘I’d take a couple when they’re good to go.’
‘Really? That would be great – I was hoping people would want them.’
‘I had a dog, but he died last year. I always felt bad leaving him on his own for the day while I was at work so I didn’t replace him. Cats would be more independent, especially if there were two of them.’
‘Well, you can take your pick – you’re the first offer I’ve had.’
‘Maybe one of each then.’
‘I’ll earmark them for you.’ She replaced her kitten and watched it push its way back into the huddle. ‘I’m not sure I want to move back to Dublin,’ she said, all in a rush – and was immediately shocked. What was she saying – and why was she saying it to him? They hardly knew each other.
She turned from the kittens to find him regarding her. Their faces were on a level.
‘You want to stay here, in Chance House?’
‘I think so. Yes.’
He gave one of his slow smiles. ‘So stay then.’
‘It’s not that simple.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because . . . this house was meant for a different life. It doesn’t fit into the life I have now. You know I’m pregnant,’ she added. He had to know. Everyone knew by now.
‘I do . . . I’m not sure,’ he said hesitantly, ‘if congratulations are in order.’
‘Neither am I,’ she told him. It felt like she could say anything at all to him. ‘It’s partly why I have to go back to Dublin.’
The eyebrow lifted a fraction. ‘People have babies here too. They’re not confined to Dublin, you know.’
She had to smile. ‘I’d need help from my parents. I have no experience with babies.’
‘You’d have plenty of help here. You’ve seen how people are.’
‘I have . . .’
‘And you’re giving classes in the studio now, and you’re living in your bit of the house. You’re making use of it.’
‘That’s just it though. I’m only using a small part of it. The rest will be lying idle when Brendan and the other men have finished.’
He considered this, still absently stroking his kitten. ‘If you think it doesn’t fit into your life,’ he said, ‘maybe you need to find a different life.’
‘I don’t know what that means.’
‘Me neither,’ he admitted. ‘But if you really want to stay, maybe you should try to find a way to make it happen. What about selling this house and buying a smaller one in the area?’
‘No,’ she said quickly. ‘If I stayed, it would have to be here. This is the only house I want to live in. This is the one we chose.’ We. Her heart squeezed again.
He set down his kitten. ‘When do you go?’
‘July.’ Brendan had said early to mid June for everything to be done. She was giving herself a few weeks with no sounds of workmen. She could pretend, just for a little while, that she was staying for good.
He rose to his feet, and she did too. The shed felt small with both of them in it. One of the kittens gave a squeak that sounded indignant: Lydia looked in to see one of the tortoiseshells clambering over the others.
‘Think about it anyway,’ he said. ‘Explore your options. Just make sure you end up in the right place. That’s important.’
This was the right place. This was where she wanted to be.
Suddenly, having voiced it, she was sure of it – but how on earth could she make it work?
With the last few months being so fraught, so rocky, she still didn’t fully feel part of the community, even if the classes were helping her to get to know more people.
And while the income from them covered her day-to-day expenses, it wouldn’t be enough to run the house long term, particularly over the winter, when it would need lots of heat.
She could offer daytime classes, but how many more people would want to sign up?
In such a rural area, her customer base was limited.
It was nothing like Dublin, where you could offer classes all day long, and they’d come.
And even with full-time yoga classes, she would still be using only a fraction of the house.
They walked back up the garden, the rain having stopped, and she left him to pack up his van. After she thought he’d left, he reappeared with an envelope. ‘I was told to give you this,’ he said. ‘From Lorraine and Ian.’
She looked at it. ‘I hope they’re not paying me.’
‘Honestly, I don’t know what’s in it, but I hope they are. You helped them out of a bind, and I’m sure they saved a packet on the balance of their hotel bill.’
The thought of payment had never crossed her mind. She’d done them a favour, that was all – but when she opened the envelope after he’d gone, she found ten fifty-euro notes, and a letter.
Dear Lydia
A small token of our gratitude. You came to our rescue; we’ll never forget it, and I’m certain we’ll have a wonderful time in your beautiful home.
Wishing you lots of happier days, you so deserve them. And Susan tells us you’re expecting! Warmest congratulations, and hope the baby helps to heal your heart.
Please keep in touch if you want to – I’ll put my phone number on the end of this.
Yours in friendship and thanks
Lorraine (and Ian) xx
And below, as promised, a mobile phone number.
She set the letter and money on the table. Five hundred euro, just for lending them the dining room for a few hours. No work on her part, no expense bar minimal electricity and heat.
She sent a text: Lorraine, I certainly wasn’t expecting your generous gift, sincere thanks to you and Ian. Andrew tells me you had a good day and I was glad to hear it. Wishing you every happiness – Lydia
And the reply came almost immediately: You’re more than welcome, Lydia. It was the least we could do. We had the best time, and everyone had a ball! Mind yourself – L and I xxx
When Susan turned up later in the afternoon she was charmed by the kittens, and tickled at the thought of a pregnant Lydia unknowingly feeding a pregnant cat.
‘I’ll find homes no problem when the time comes,’ she promised. ‘I’ll put the word out in the school. Might even take one myself, if I can talk Owen around.’
‘I only need three homes,’ Lydia told her. ‘Andrew’s already offered to take two.’
‘Has he really? I’m delighted. His dog died last year, and he was gutted.’
Lydia told her of the money Ian and Lorraine had given her. ‘Did you know about it?’
‘Not a clue, honestly, but it was only right. Have you any idea what hotels charge?’
‘But the bare venue was all they got here – and they had to pay Cathy too.’
‘Doesn’t matter. They still saved a packet.’
Later that evening, Lydia thought about the conversation in the shed, the one she hadn’t planned to have.
Andrew saying she needed to find a different life, needed to make it happen.
And what had Greta said in the café, the day of the scan?
Something about there being more than one way of doing things, and not always having to do what made sense.
It was all very vague and unrealistic.
Dreamers, the two of them. Just like Damien.