Chapter 29
TWENTY-NINE
Marian stayed with Claire that night and went to the office with them both in Pierce’s car the next morning, despite Pierce giving her the morning off.
Karina’s new cookbook was a project she wanted to start straight away.
She felt a lot better about everything except the lingering sadness about Theo.
But she knew that the divorce proceedings, which she was sure were imminent, would break her heart and take a long time to get over.
But she decided to try to live in the moment and deal with whatever was the outcome of Sylvia’s revelations which she was sure would be dramatic.
She was happy to start work on Karina’s new book and got stuck into the campaign straight away once she sat down at her desk.
She felt that marketing and publicity was what she wanted to do and that she was good at it.
It was fun to see her efforts on social media with ads and posts having an effect and she loved learning and testing new methods of promoting books.
‘You’re a natural,’ Pierce told her over coffee later that morning. ‘I hope you’ll stay working with me. We’re a good team.’
‘I’d love to stay here,’ Marian said. ‘You’re a great boss. And we’re family after all.’
‘Everything good rolled into one,’ Pierce said, beaming.
Later that evening in Claire’s house, the Fleury girls squashed onto the sofa with their slices of pizza and glasses of wine and turned on the radio to listen to Sylvia’s interview.
‘This is so exciting,’ Lily said, just before the show was about to start.
‘I’m nervous,’ Rose said. ‘I hope Granny is doing the right thing.’
‘She’s been waiting to tell her story for years,’ Vi said.
‘Sylvia is having a ball,’ Tricia said.
‘Shh, it’s starting,’ Claire said as the familiar voice of Noreen O’Connor came on the air.
‘Hello, this is Noreen,’ the presenter said. ‘And tonight I have a very special guest in my studio. Her name is Sylvia Fleury and she is about to publish her memoirs. This interview will give you all a taste of what’s to come. Hello, Sylvia, and welcome to the show.’
‘Thank you,’ Sylvia said, sounding just a little nervous. ‘I’m so happy to be here. I listen to your show every Tuesday.’
‘Wonderful,’ Noreen said. ‘So,’ she continued, ‘tell me a little about your memoirs and how you got the idea to publish them.’
‘Oh,’ Sylvia said. ‘I had been thinking about it for quite some time. I felt that as I’m getting on in years, my story might be of interest to my granddaughters.
But then the editor I hired to help me put the story together told me she thought it should be read by the general public out there, as it’s a kind of living history. ’
‘I’m sure it is,’ Noreen replied. ‘Especially the part about the early nineteen sixties that was a real watershed, for women especially. That was the era when women were finally free to do their own thing, wasn’t it?’
‘Not in holy Catholic Ireland,’ Sylvia remarked with a little laugh. ‘But in Europe generally, yes.’
‘Especially Paris, I believe,’ Noreen said. ‘You spent a little over a year there, you said. Could you tell us about that period in your life?’
‘Oh, it was wonderful,’ Sylvia said dreamily.
‘I was finally free to do what I wanted without anyone looking at me over their shoulder. No Legion of Mary or parish priest or any old aunt or nun from school lecturing me about straying from the straight and narrow. And the city with its elegance and all that new fashion in every window. Short skirts and bright colours everywhere. A dream come true for me, a country girl just out of my dreary school uniform. I took to Paris straight away.’
‘But you kept in touch with Ireland all the same?’ Noreen asked. ‘You told me that you went to the Irish College in Paris where you met someone who changed your life.’
‘Yes,’ Sylvia replied. ‘Margaret Kelly.’
‘Here it comes,’ Vi whispered, chewing on her pizza.
‘Shh,’ Rose ordered. ‘I don’t want to miss a word.’
They stayed silent while they all listened to Sylvia’s story.
How she had become a Bluebell Girl and danced in the chorus line at the Lido wearing feathers and sequins, loving every moment, even though it had been demanding both physically and mentally.
How she had shared a garret room with two other dancers, both Irish and then…
The story continued with a twist nobody had known about until now.
‘I was introduced to one of Margaret Kelly’s friends,’ Sylvia continued.
‘A man called Hubert de Givenchy. He was a fashion designer and had designed clothes for both Audrey Hepburn and Jackie Kennedy. He asked if I’d be willing to model for him if Margaret would agree to part with me for a week or two.
He needed models for his spring collection and I seemed to fit the bill somehow. ’
‘So you said yes?’ Noreen asked.
‘Of course,’ Sylvia replied. ‘Wouldn’t you?’
‘Like a shot,’ Noreen said with a little giggle.
‘Who’d refuse such a request?’ Sylvia enquired. ‘I was given a few items from the collection too. But the modelling assignment only lasted a few weeks, and then I went back to the chorus line at the Lido. We were rehearsing for a show in Nice.’
‘So you went to the French Riviera?’ Noreen filled in. ‘And then, on the way back, you met someone special.’
‘That’s right,’ Sylvia said. ‘But that is all I’m going to say about that.
The rest of the story is in my memoirs that will be published tomorrow.
And we’re doing a launch next Tuesday evening to mark the publication.
It will be in the ballroom at Magnolia Manor.
Everyone is welcome. But they have to promise to buy the book.
The proceeds will go partly to the Simon Community for the homeless and partly to the upkeep of Magnolia Manor, which, you must agree, is a very important cause. ’
‘Of course it is,’ Noreen agreed. ‘Magnolia Manor is an important landmark in this area. Thank you so much for appearing on my show, Sylvia Fleury. Your book, My Path to Magnolia Manor, will be for sale at the book launch, and then in the bookshop in Dingle. I love the cover, by the way. You in front of the manor is the book in a nutshell.’
‘Thank you,’ Sylvia said graciously. ‘And thank you also for inviting me on your show, Noreen.’
‘It was my pleasure,’ Noreen said warmly.
‘So this is the end of tonight’s show,’ she continued.
‘I hope it has been enjoyable. Don’t forget to tune in next week when we will hear from another local author who is about to publish his sixth novel.
Until then, slán agus beannacht de leath.
’ Then there was the signature tune of the show, followed by a string of commercials.
Claire turned off the radio and looked at everyone sitting, stunned, on the sofa, forgetting to eat their pizzas, the row of wine glasses untouched on the coffee table.
‘Wow,’ Vi finally said. ‘Granny was a fashion model for Givenchy as well as a Bluebell Girl.’
‘I always thought there would be something like that in her past,’ Marian remarked. ‘That poise and grace and the way she still walks even at her age. Not something you would have learned in the Kerry countryside.’
‘Incredible,’ Rose said.
‘So the launch is in the ballroom at Magnolia Manor next Tuesday,’ Vi said. ‘How come we didn’t know it would be that soon?’
‘Because she didn’t tell anyone,’ Lily said.
‘Not even me,’ Rose said. ‘I just saw that the ballroom was booked for a big event that day, but I had no idea by whom. Typical Granny stunt,’ she added with a laugh.
Tricia held up her glass. ‘A toast to Sylvia. Our very own queen.’
‘To Queen Sylvia,’ everyone said in unison and clinked glasses with each other. Then they all had cold pizza and more wine before it was time for the husbands to bring them home.
Marian, sitting on a chair beside the sofa, looked at the chatting, laughing women, all so happy with their lives and their partners. She suddenly felt as if she was stuck on an island of misery, the divorce looming in the near distance. Her marriage was broken and there was no way to fix it.
It wasn’t all my fault, she said to herself. Theo was also to blame, both for his connection with another woman, which I suspect was not all in the distant past. And then, when we were on our way back to each other, he walked away through a fit of jealousy.
‘Marian?’ Tricia touched her shoulder. ‘Are you okay? You looked so sad there all of a sudden.’
‘I am sad,’ she said. ‘But not about the stuff on the plane or anything like that. It’s about Theo and me.’
‘I’m sorry,’ Tricia said. ‘Come into the kitchen and we’ll have a chat.’
‘I think I’ve done all the talking about this,’ Marian said glumly. ‘You’re so kind, Tricia, but all the kindness in the world won’t fix this.’
‘I know,’ Tricia said. ‘But I just wanted to tell you that…’ She stopped. ‘Oh, come on. Follow me,’ she said and started walking out of the room.
Marian followed Tricia into the kitchen where they both sat down at the table littered with pizza cartons.
‘Look,’ Tricia started, ‘I just wanted to say that I’ve been there just like you.
A man I loved left in a huff and I thought I’d never see him again.
So I went on with my life and tried to enjoy being on my own.
But then, a while later, he came back and apologised and we had the most romantic reconciliation you can imagine. ’ Tricia’s eyes sparkled.
‘Was it Cillian?’ Marian asked.
‘Yes. He came back looking very sorry for himself. That’s men for you. Once they’re on their own for a bit, they realise they can’t live without you.’
‘I don’t think that’ll happen to me,’ Marian said. ‘But thanks for giving me a glimmer of hope.’