Chapter 18
‘BUT I DON’T UNDERSTAND,’ HER MOTHER SAID. ‘WHY do you feel obliged to accommodate these people? You don’t even know them.’
Lydia was beginning to be sorry she’d mentioned it. ‘I don’t feel obliged exactly . . . It’s complicated.’
‘But how did they even know you own Chance House?’
She hadn’t told them about Ian and Lorraine’s reception, so she couldn’t explain the connection. ‘Word of mouth, I suppose. News travels fast in the country.’
‘Well, it sounds to me like they’re taking advantage, Lydia. Far cheaper for them to have their reception in your house than book a hotel.’
‘Oh Mum, they’d have far more comfort in a hotel. They don’t even have a cooker here – they’ll have to provide everything themselves, like Damien and I had to.’
‘You are charging them though?’
‘Yes, I’ll charge them . . . Look, it’s not as if I’m going to be making a habit of this. I’ll be gone in a few weeks.’
Her father was equally doubtful. ‘Why would anyone choose a house with no facilities for a wedding reception? I could understand you and Damien – that was different – but complete strangers? Are you sure it’s safe, Lydia, letting them into the house? You’ve just had the whole place renovated.’
‘Dad, what harm can they do? There’s nothing to take, no antiques for them to cart away, and it’s just twenty of them. They’re hardly going to run amok.’
The last Saturday in June they’d settled on, which was the end of next week.
Father Phil would marry them at three o’clock, and Cathy the caterer would feed them afterwards – and if the weather obliged, they might use the garden for photographs, like Lydia had suggested to Andrew for Ian and Lorraine’s celebration.
It might be warm enough for this wedding party.
She mentioned it to Gareth, Saturday being one of his usual days. She’d expected a protest – his precious garden invaded – but instead he promised to give the lawn its first proper cut in honour of the occasion.
Tessa had told Lydia in a follow-up phone call that she probably wouldn’t stay very long.
I imagine, she’d said, my husband will want to go home after the meal – but please don’t worry about your house.
Everyone will take great care of it and do as much cleaning up as possible before they leave.
And I’ll come back the day after with my sister Delia to make sure it’s spotless.
She would spend her daughter’s wedding day, or as much of it as she was allowed to stay for, trying to keep the peace. Lydia didn’t think the atmosphere would be very celebratory. Would anyone even make a speech, or would they decide the less said, the better?
Was her father right to be concerned about letting a group of strangers into her house? They were strangers, with Tessa the only one Lydia had met, but she didn’t feel she had anything to fear.
This time she was having more of an involvement, because she’d set a price on it, following Tom’s advice.
Charge them five hundred, like the others paid, he’d said.
You’re giving them the use of your home: don’t undervalue what you’re offering.
But it had seemed too much to charge for donating a room to just twenty people for a few hours, so Lydia had told Tessa the cost was three hundred euro – and two days later, twice that amount landed in her bank account.
The sender was named as Paul Thembo. The accompanying message read A sincere thank you from Paul and Ursula.
In the meantime, she had another event to organise, one she’d kept from her parents.
If her father was wary at the thought of twenty strangers in her dining room, what would he think of a few hundred wandering through every room in the house?
I’d like to have an open afternoon before I leave, she’d said to Susan, and let the locals see how the place has turned out.
I thought Cathy might put on a buffet, and maybe I could get a few musicians as well. Will you spread the word?
It was something she could offer them, after the way they’d all rallied around her.
She’d thought to wait until closer to her departure, but Susan had advised her to have it sooner.
You’ll be preoccupied with packing, and you’ll be more tired too, since you’ll be more pregnant – so they’d settled on the coming Sunday, before Ursula and Paul’s wedding.
Cathy arrived early and set out her offerings in the studio – cold cuts, savoury tarts, salads, cakes – and stayed to refill the dishes as people came and went.
They wandered about, opening doors, climbing the stairs to check out the first floor, following the slate pathway down to the sea.
Thankfully, the rain stayed away, even if the sun did too.
Instead of asking a few musicians to provide the entertainment, Susan had invited everyone who played to bring an instrument – and there was music upstairs and down, and more on the patio and more by the sea.
Everyone knew Lydia was leaving. Many brought little tokens to say goodbye: chocolates, locally made soaps and candles, hand-knitted baby bootees, picture frames. Everyone told her they would be sorry to see her go.
It felt wrong, leaving Chance House. It felt like she was going against some dictate. It was terribly hard to hide her feelings. Her smile felt pasted on; she wondered if it fooled anyone.
Deborah, the estate agent who’d sold Lydia and Damien the house, was one of the people who dropped in. ‘I couldn’t resist,’ she said. ‘What a beautiful job Brendan did.’
‘Yes – it’s a far cry from when you showed it to us.’ She paused. ‘I was wondering if you’d handle the sale, actually. I was going to phone you.’
‘Of course I will’ – and they arranged to talk again during the week. Lydia’s father might have Terence lined up to take care of the conveyancing, but Deborah had to be the one to sell it.
Seeing the house full of people, and despite the emotion the occasion was stirring – memories of them crowding in during her wedding reception – Lydia had to acknowledge that she was doing the right thing in letting it go.
It deserved to belong to someone with the wherewithal to fill it.
It should be used fully, with lots of life happening in it.
Halfway through the afternoon the music halted in the dining room, causing conversations to peter out. Father Phil, standing by the fireplace, cast about until he found Lydia. ‘I’ve been chosen,’ he told her, ‘to say a few words. I’ll keep them brief, I promise.’
Someone at the back of the gathering cheered, causing a ripple of laughter. Father Phil smiled, and waited again for silence. Lydia saw more people entering the room, wanting to be part of it.
‘Lydia, you haven’t been among us for long.
You came here with great hope, but you met with great tragedy, and we grieved along with you.
Damien is sadly missed here, and will be remembered with fondness for a long, long time.
We wish you the grace of peace as the days move on – and of course you do have a lovely event to look forward to in the coming months.
It’s wonderful to see this beautiful house restored, such a gem in our community.
Brendan and his team have worked miracles, and Gareth and Noel have done sterling work outside, but it would never have happened without you and Damien having the vision, so thank you for that, Lydia, and thank you too for the gift of your friendship.
We’ll all be sad to see you go, but we’ll look out for you on your return visits.
We wish you well. We wish you a safe delivery, and a happy life in Dublin with your child.
To Lydia and the future,’ he said, raising his teacup, and the toast was echoed, and she looked around at the faces she’d grown accustomed to, and it was all she could do not to burst into tears right there.
She belonged here. They’d made room for her, adopted her, gathered her in. She was part of this community now.
The music and chatter resumed. People sought out Lydia to praise the house and marvel at its views. Others exclaimed at their discovery of the little beach. A few offered her accommodation if ever she needed it on her return visits to the village.
Five weeks, she thought, her pretend smile still in place. Five weeks, and she’d be waving them all goodbye.