Finishing Touches (21 page)

They had gone shopping the previous night and spent a fortune, setting themselves up with the basics. They had decided to put ten pounds a week each into the kitty. Laura was taking charge of
it. So much would be saved up for the ESB and heating; the rest would be used to buy communal requirements like milk and bread and sugar and toothpaste and toilet-rolls. Last night in the
supermarket they had had a communal trolley into which they had put everything for which they would be sharing the bill. Then the total was divided by three. They also had their own baskets for
personal purchases. It was the fairest way and they were all quite happy with it.

Then, at supper, they had worked out a rota system for their housekeeping. Each of them would have a week during which they would be responsible for keeping the bathroom clean and doing the
vacuuming and dusting. Of course it was expected of them all that they would leave the bathroom and kitchen tidy after use. It was only fair and they wanted to live harmoniously together and not
end up bickering about who was doing what or who wasn’t. As regards cooking meals, they would be flexible. If they were all there together, they would eat together; if not they would look
after themselves. In theory it all seemed very sensible but only time would tell if things were working out and going to plan. As Aileen said seriously, sharing a flat was like getting married and
it could be the end of a beautiful relationship unless they got their act together.

Cassie made herself some tea, and poured cornflakes into a dish. Opening the back door she sat on the step and raised her face to the sun. It was going to be a scorcher for sure. A day for
serious sunbathing, despite the lateness of the season. It was a real bonus that they had the back garden. It was a nice mature little garden with a good square lawn and trees and shrubs in
abundance. Along the back wall, banks of nasturtiums made a riot of colour. Up beside her, an urn of tumbling night-scented stock perfumed the early morning air. Cassie sniffed appreciatively. The
smell of night-scented stock was so beautiful. Jack had loved it and it reminded her of him. Tonight as dusk fell it would smell really wonderful. It was unusual, she felt, especially after some of
the flats she had seen, to get such a nice, well-tended garden. But the landlord had told them that until last year a widow had lived in this house and the garden had been her pride and joy. One
night her house had been broken into and vandalized. Forty years of happy memories had disappeared forever, as fear invaded her life and every corner of the home she had once loved. Unable to sleep
at night, afraid to go out for fear of what she might find when she returned home, she had suffered a breakdown. In the end she had given up her home and her lovely garden and her independence and
gone to live with her married daughter. Just another crime statistic, but in reality a woman whose life had been utterly changed by a criminal.

There were new aluminium windows in the house now, with safety locks. But the landlord had told them to be conscious of their security, making sure to lock up when they went out and to leave a
light on at night. These were simple little precautions that seemed strange after living in Port Mahon, where some people never locked their doors and a burglary was a rarity and the talk of the
town for ages.

Ranelagh was a very nice area to live in, the landlord had said reassuringly when he saw their worried faces, but in this day and age it was better to be safe than sorry. Cassie hoped the woman
was happy living with her daughter wherever she was, but it was a pity all the same to have had to leave such a beautiful home and garden.

There wasn’t a sound but the birds singing and the occasional dog barking. Cassie sat enjoying her sunny solitude. She made herself another cup of tea and had another bowl of cornflakes.
Of course it was only eight-thirty on a Sunday morning when most normal people were enjoying a lie-in. But she knew she couldn’t go back to bed. She would get her
Gone With the Wind
that she had finally treated herself to and read a bit of it, and then go to ten o’clock Mass in Ranelagh church. Neither Laura nor Aileen went to Mass any longer as they felt it had no
bearing on their lives. But it wasn’t a chore to Cassie.

In Port Mahon she had quite liked going to Mass. There was always a great air about the town on Sunday morning. People dressed in their best. They had time to stop and greet each other as they
came in all directions to the church. At eleven-thirty Mass, Cassie’s favourite, the choir always sang and the rafters would be raised as the congregation accompanied them in the old familiar
traditional hymns. Cassie liked singing in church. She liked feeling part of the community. It gave her, in some strange way, a sense of security. This was her time and her place; her forbears had
been here before her and her descendants, if she had any, would be here after. Laura and Aileen thought she was crazy to enjoy going to Mass. They could think of far better things to do with that
hour on Sundays, but Cassie didn’t mind. She liked it and so she went and if she
were
mad, who cared? To each his own! Besides, somehow, at Mass she always felt closer to Jack.

She spent a very relaxed hour sitting on the step reading her treasured novel. She was nearing the end of it and Scarlett was just about to face Melanie, having been caught embracing Ashley by
India Wilkes.

Reluctantly Cassie got up and put the book aside. She’d finish it later on. She couldn’t wait to see what was going to happen. Cassie thought Scarlett was magnificent, a woman who
did what she wanted and to hell with convention. She would love to be like Scarlett O’Hara, but somehow or another she knew she was more of a Melanie!

Dressed in a cotton summer dress, Cassie slipped silently out of the house and turned towards Ranelagh church. Other people were walking in the same direction and Cassie smiled to herself. Port
Mahon, Ranelagh, it didn’t matter; all over the country, all over the world, on Sunday mornings, people went to church.

Walking along at a brisk pace, Cassie gazed around her new environment. It was really very attractive. In the distance, the church tower was framed by the Dublin mountains. She hadn’t
realized they were so near to the mountains. Today, it was so crisp and clear, they seemed very near, their patchwork of greens and golds and purples so close it was as if they were just down the
road. Redbrick houses similar to her own lined both sides of the street; most of them were well kept and cared for. Unkempt gardens and unpainted doors were the exceptions. Passing a window with
the blinds raised, she could see children playing inside in the sitting-room. From what she had seen since her arrival in the area, there seemed a good mixture of young and old and in-betweens.
Many houses were in flats but just as many were owned by families. There was a very nice atmosphere about the place and Cassie knew instinctively that she was going to like living here.

The church, which seemed huge and imposing from the outside, was a pleasant surprise to Cassie. In ways it reminded her of Our Lady, Star of the Sea in Port Mahon. They even had the same
stations of the cross. And the sun shone through the stained-glass windows just like at home! After Mass, she bought the Sunday papers. All she was going to do today was laze out the back eating
and reading. It was so pleasant. At home Nora would be fussing about having the roast in the oven before going to church and there’d be a queue for the bathroom and general mayhem and any
poor unfortunate who was trying to have a lie-in could forget it. Here there was just peace and quiet and the freedom to do as you please was a joy. She stopped at the newsagents to buy some
chocolate as a treat. After all, it was their second day in the flat and that was as good an excuse to buy chocolate as any!

The girls were up when she got back. They were having breakfast and Laura was already in her bikini.

‘Let’s not waste a minute of it,’ she beamed. ‘Isn’t it a dream of a day?’

‘I think I’m having a dream,’ Aileen said as she dipped a finger of toast into the runny egg in front of her. ‘Here I am, sitting in my nightdress at the breakfast-table,
with my two best buddies, preparing to spend a blissful day sunbathing, with nothing more to do than to decide what paper to read and when to have dinner. And then to decide which pub I will bring
you to for a drink tonight. After years of getting up to bring Mother her breakfast in bed and listening to her trying to decide whether to have carrots and broccoli or peas and turnips for lunch,
which is always served at one-thirty promptly. Then the washing-up has to be done and afternoon tea and biscuits prepared for her. By which time it’s well into the afternoon and a whole day
is wasted. I can’t believe I’m going to be lying out in the sun by eleven-thirty!’

‘Believe it!’ laughed Laura.

Before long they were stretched out on towels, oiling Ambre Solaire onto their skins. ‘I love the smell of this,’ Cassie confessed as she rubbed it onto her midriff.

‘Mmmm! Me too!’ said Aileen, who, in spite of her copper curls and fair skin, tanned beautifully. ‘It’s so foreign. You know, I think we should go abroad next year. We
could start saving now. And we could wait until Laura comes home from the States with a bit of money. We could go mid-September.’

‘Oooh, yesss!’ squealed the other two when they heard this brainwave. In a state of euphoria they began planning for their first holiday abroad as they lay stretched out, munching
the chocolate Cassie had brought home.

It was really the most perfect day. They lay listening to Solid Gold MacNamara on Cassie’s transistor as all the greatest hits were played, often singing aloud in accompaniment. After a
rousing rendition of Neil Diamond’s ‘Cracklin’ Rosie,’ they decided they were parched and Aileen was dispatched to the nearest off-licence with a contribution from the kitty
while Cassie and Laura went inside to prepare lunch. They had bought a cooked chicken and various salads and some soft rolls. It didn’t take a minute to prepare. Cassie quickly washed the
crispy lettuce and put it on the three plates. Carving the chicken expertly, she added the meat to the lettuce while Laura arranged slices of tomato, radish and cucumber artistically around the
edge. They made a pot of tea and carried the lot out to the garden.

Aileen arrived, brandishing a bottle of Dubonnet in one hand and a bottle of white lemonade in the other. ‘The man in the off-licence said this was just the thing for a hot summer’s
day!’ she grinned. The picnic was scrumptious. They had coleslaw and Waldorf salad and egg and onion to add to their meal and they sat in a circle and tucked in, washing it down with sips of
ice-cold Dubonnet and white.

‘What is it about eating out that makes food so much tastier?’ Laura mused as she spread some egg and onion on a bread roll, added a slice of chicken and a spoonful of coleslaw and
took a huge bite.

‘Don’t ask me!’ Cassie murmured happily, cheeks bulging.

‘All I know is that I’m starving for no reason at all,’ Aileen reflected. ‘We’d better be careful or we’re going to end up as huge as hogs.’

They decided their friend spoke wisely. So from now on, they would pig out on Sundays and maybe Saturdays but during the week they would eat prudently.

The rest of the day passed in a lazy haze. They read the papers and their books and Aileen’s musical snores rent the air as she dozed off. Cassie was in that lovely state of lethargy,
neither awake nor asleep, just totally relaxed. More relaxed than at any other time since her father’s death. She had made the right move, she knew it, and things could only get better.

‘We got a great colour, didn’t we?’ Aileen preened as she pranced around the bedroom after having her shower, dressed in only a pair of white briefs. They were getting ready to
go out on the town.

‘Can I wear your white cotton top if you’re not wearing it?’ Cassie asked. ‘Mine’s in the linen-basket at home. I’ll have to collect it on Tuesday.’

‘Of course you can,’ Aileen replied cheerfully. ‘Could I have some of that gorgeous pink nail varnish you’re wearing?’

‘Be my guest,’ Cassie handed her the bottle.

‘Are you ready yet?’ Laura queried, poking her head around the door. Of course she looked sensational in a pair of black tailored pants and a loose white knitted top, with her
jet-black hair hanging like a shiny curtain around her face. Aileen, in an eau-de-Nil batwing top and white jeans, looked as fresh as a daisy, while Cassie in the white cotton top with a short
beige pencil skirt looked tanned and vibrantly healthy, her chestnut locks glinting after a day in the sun. There was nothing like a day’s sunbathing to give a healthy glow and they looked a
very attractive trio as they entered the Burlington Hotel. They had decided to go for a drink before heading off to Annabels nightclub.

The hotel was abuzz as a group of Japanese tourists checked out and a coach-load of Americans checked in. It was just as well they had walked, Aileen reflected; otherwise they would never have
got parking. Besides, she wouldn’t have been able to drink. In spite of her zany ways, Aileen had a core of sense to her and she never drove after drinking. They sat perched on bar stools,
enjoying Bacardi and Coke, watching the activities around them. They were laughing and chatting and thoroughly enjoying themselves when two rather drunk middle-aged men joined them at the bar. The
first introduced himself as Will Paxwell and offered to buy them a drink, urged on by his companion, who, he told them, was called Mick Browne. They were in PR, they informed the girls with an air
of great self-importance. Cassie glanced at Laura, whose expression unmistakably said, So what?

‘Come on now, girls, what are you drinking?’ Will said expansively as he breathed whiskey fumes all over them.

‘We’re fine, thank you,’ Cassie said politely, wishing they’d scram. They’d been enjoying themselves until this pair offered their unwelcome attentions.

‘Oh come on, doll! You’re a nice-looking bird. I’d like to buy you a drink!’ leered Mick, putting an arm around Cassie’s shoulder. Cassie froze. She didn’t
want to cause a scene, but she was damned if a drunk man, a complete stranger, thought he could put his arm around her just like that. What was it with some men that made them think women were
there purely to stroke their egos and make them feel good? Well, times had changed and so had women and she wasn’t going to sit and be mauled by an ignoramus. Giving Mick an elbow in the ribs
that made him gasp and wheeze in shock, Cassie stood up and glared at the puffy-faced man. ‘I do not want a drink from you. I am not a “bird” or a “doll” and please
leave us to have our drinks in peace.’