CHAPTER FOUR
The rattle of the big tea trolleys woke Judith. She wished she could have slept longer. A tea lady brought in her tray and pulled her trolley up along the bed for her. ‘I’ve cut it up for you, seeing as you have the arm in a sling,’ she said kindly as she left, in a hurry to get all the teas served.
Judith picked up the silver cover and studied her tea unenthusiastically; bits of leathery brown omelette lay limply on the plate. She poked it; it was almost cold. She replaced the cover and nibbled at the buttered white bread. Her mother had brought her some scones; she’d have one of those, she decided, flicking on the TV to watch the teatime episode of Stargate SG1, her favourite programme. If any of the girls at work knew she was a Stargate fanatic, she’d lose all her credibility, she thought with wry amusement, watching the lean, fit and very sexy Jack O’Neill battle with some Washington-bigwig bureaucrats in an effort to save the planet from the Replicators, her favourite aliens. Yes, indeed – if word ever got out about her TV show of choice, Judith would never live it down at work.
Her heart sank when she heard a knock on the door. Surely they couldn’t want to take more blood from her at this hour of the evening. Dracula had nothing on the vampires that lived in the bowels of the hospital, she’d told the last technician who’d taken a big syringeful from her. The young girl had managed a weak smile; no doubt she heard that tired old cliché day in, day out. Even as she’d said it, she’d felt foolish, making daft chitchat for the sake of it.
Perhaps it was a visitor, she thought irritably, wiping a smear of jam from her mouth.
There was nothing worse than trying to eat when you had visitors. Tom, her brother, who had visited her twice, had arrived at meal times. If it was him again – although she doubted it – she was going to tell him to go away until she had finished her tea.
‘Come in,’ she called, in a none-too-welcoming tone, and her eyes widened in delight when she saw her best friend, Jillian, poke her head around the door. It was Jillian she’d been going to spend the weekend with when she’d crashed the car.
‘Oh, Jillian,’ she managed before bursting into tears.
‘Ah, Judith, poor, poor petal,’ her friend said sympathetically, enveloping her in a bearhug.
‘Sorry, sorry,’ sniffled Judith. ‘I thought you were Tom.’
‘That would make anyone cry,’ Jillian said wickedly, and Judith hiccuped and laughed at the same time. Jillian was the only one who really knew her inside out. Jillian understood everything. Judith didn’t mind crying in front of her; in fact, it was a relief to cry. She’d wanted to cry all day.
Her friend handed her a tissue. ‘Rough, huh?’
Judith nodded. ‘The pits,’ she gulped.
‘God, Judith, I got a terrible shock when Cecily rang me that day. I thought you were a goner.’
‘I thought I was a goner myself. And you know, Jillian, and you’re the only one I could say it to, part of me was sorry when I woke up out of the coma. Isn’t that an awful thing to say?’
‘Yes, Judith, it is, hon, but I understand why you might say it. It’s been hard for you the last couple of years. But you know life is precious, and maybe this is a wake-up call for you to make changes.’
‘Well, I’ll tell you one thing.’ Judith wiped her eyes. ‘It’s certainly made a big change in Ma. You wouldn’t believe it. She’s coming in and out to see me on the bus, she’s staying in the house on her own, she’s doing the shopping and visiting the library and going for walks in the park. She’s a new woman.’
‘Are you serious?’ Jillian pulled up a chair. ‘Mind you, she sounds quite chirpy on the phone when she rings me with the news bulletins about you. I told her I was coming to see you but not to let on.’ Jillian grinned. ‘She was enjoying the plotting and planning, if you ask me. So that’s one good thing that’s come out of it all. Sometimes things happen to us, and we think that they’re the worst thing that can happen but, when we look back on them, we find that they’re really precious gifts, which change our lives in some way or another,’ her friend said matter-of-factly.
‘Oh, don’t do all your spiritual stuff with me,’ Judith grimaced. ‘This is not a gift, believe me. I ache from head to toe. My car’s a write-off, not to mention all the other disasters in my life.’
‘Ah, poor you. Poor, poor tormented, afflicted you,’ teased Jillian, and Judith grinned.
‘Bitch,’ she retorted, delighted to see her friend.
‘What have you got there?’ Jillian picked up the plate cover and made a face. ‘Uggh! Just as well I came prepared.’ She opened the big tote bag she was carrying and took out a cellophane-covered dish, followed by two small Tupperware containers. ‘Your favourite, meat loaf, and pine nut, feta cheese and olive salad, and strawberry roulade for dessert. I was going to bring some wine, but I thought I’d better not with all the tablets you’re on. Now, eat up like a good woman,’ she urged. ‘God that man has a sexy ass,’ she added grinning as she caught sight of Colonel O’Neill retreating from an attack by the Replicators. She too was a fan.
‘It’s great. There’re two episodes on every afternoon, and I lie here and watch them and feel like I’m in a little bubble. If it wasn’t for the pain I’d be quite enjoying myself,’ Judith admitted.
‘Yeah, it’s nice sometimes just to let go of everything. You see, you’re being given time to rest and reflect, that’s one of the positives of your situation. But it’s awful being in pain, and I don’t mean to be dismissive of it,’ Jillian said sympathetically, cutting another slice of meat loaf.
‘I know you don’t. I know you think about things differently. That’s what you get for going off to live in bogger land and doing all those healing things and reflexology and stuff.’
‘You wait, Ms Baxter. You’ll see how well reflexology and acupuncture work by the time I’ve finished with you. Lily and I have decided that, when you’re discharged, you’re coming up to me to recuperate, and no ifs, ands or buts about it. A good dose of fresh country air, some nice therapies and healings and a glass or three of whatever you fancy will do you all the good in the world,’ her friend said firmly, removing the plate of omelette from the tray and replacing it with a tasty feast.
Judith looked at her open-mouthed and didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.
‘So you see, I feel I’ve held poor Judith back, and I want her to have a place of her own, so I was thinking of selling my house to the bank and giving her the money. But I can live in it until I die, can’t I, Mr Long?’ Lily twisted her wedding ring around her finger and stared anxiously at the bank manager, who had listened in attentive silence as she told him of Judith’s accident and her plans for her daughter.
‘Well, now, firstly, I hope Judith makes a full and speedy recovery and, secondly, Mrs Baxter, I think there are better options than selling your home to the bank.’
‘Oh!’ Lily said, deflated.
‘What I’m going to suggest would, in the long run, be better for you, I think, and would ensure that Judith gets a mortgage and that you get to keep the house. You see, we don’t actually operate that method of finance here. Our operation in the UK did for a while, but it caused so many problems that our banks here decided not to go down that route. The banks in the UK were being sued by families, who got a big shock when the mother or father died and they discovered that the banks owned the property. There were accusations of pressure being put on the client to sell and accusations that the clients hadn’t realized the implications of what they were doing, or accusations that the clients weren’t compos mentis. It was all very difficult and caused such legal problems that we decided it wasn’t an efficient or profitable system to run with. Do you see where I’m coming from, Mrs Baxter?’
‘I certainly do, Mr Long. I can understand that very well indeed,’ Lily said, relieved that he had explained it so well to her. Tom would be the first to sue the bank if she’d gone down that road, of that she was certain. ‘So what do you suggest then?’ She leaned forward, anxious to hear what he would advise.
Mr Long sat back in his chair and steepled his fingers. ‘I’d suggest that you have a chat with your solicitor and get Judith’s name put on the title deeds of the house. Then she could use it as collateral for a loan. Just let me check something a moment.’
His fingers flew over the keyboard, and he studied the screen intently. ‘Yes, indeed, Mrs Baxter, I can’t of course discuss her account with you – client confidentiality and all of that – but I’d be very happy to have a chat with your daughter about providing a loan. Unless she defaults on her mortgage – and there’s no reason to think she would – and if she passes the medical, I can’t foresee any problems. And the good thing is that your home can go to her after you pass on, if that’s what you wish, and she will certainly be able to clear her mortgage.’
‘There’d be a medical? Oh dear.’ Lily frowned.
‘Nothing to worry about. I’m sure once Judith is discharged, all will be well,’ the manager assured her. ‘And, of course, we mustn’t forget that there’s a slowdown in the property market and prices are dropping considerably, so she’ll be in a buyers’ market. An excellent time for her to be buying. Couldn’t be better actually.’
‘That’s true.’ Lily brightened. ‘Every cloud has a silver lining, I suppose.’
‘Now, of course you can go the other route, I can give you some numbers to ring – I wouldn’t like you to think I’m pressurizing you to take my advice and follow a certain course of action. I’m sure you’ve seen the advertising on TV. Judith is certainly free to go wherever she likes for a mortgage or home loan, but I can assure you that our rates are competitive, Mrs Baxter. And do have a chat with your solicitor.’
He smiled benevolently at her, and Lily felt herself relax. She trusted the man in front of her completely. He had no airs or graces, and she understood very well why the elderly people in her area liked their bank manager. He had told her once when she had been investing a bequest left to her in an aunt’s will that he would never advise anyone who couldn’t afford to take a risk to invest in something he wouldn’t let his mother and father put their money into. After that, she trusted him implicitly. He wasn’t one of these wide boys in their sharp suits. He was one of their own sort and, whether they realized it or not, one of his bank’s greatest assets.
By the time Lily and Mr Long had finished their chat, the bank was closed to the public. The bank manager walked her to the door, shook her hand, and she left with a sense of great accomplishment and a spring in her step. She had set the wheels in motion, and the next time she saw Judith, she’d have great news for her. She must start buying the papers with the property pages in them, to give Judith an idea of what was on the market. Lily tried not to dwell on the idea that, when Judith eventually bought a place, Lily would, like Mrs Meadows, be living on her own.
Tom Baxter sat in his car outside his mother’s house, drumming his fingers impatiently against the leather steering wheel.
Where the bloody hell was the woman, and why wasn’t she answering her damn mobile phone? He’d tried to ring Judith’s, but that was turned off too, and he vaguely remembered Lily saying the nurses had told her to keep it off so she would get the rest she needed.
He’d been at a business meeting in a hotel at the airport and, seeing as he was on the Northside and not too far away, and rather than endure the M50 rush hour on a Friday evening, he’d decided to call in to see his mother and see if she was still managing all right while Judith was in hospital. She might give him a bite to eat while he was at it. He was starving, and she usually had some tasty scones or a cream sponge on the go. Glenda, his wife, was not one for baking, unfortunately. Spending money was more her forte, he thought caustically, remembering the row they’d had that morning about her spending 200 euro on a pair of ridiculous shoes with heels like pipe cleaners for a charity lunch she was going to. It was all very well keeping up with the Joneses, but surely she could have bought a pair of shoes for half the price.
‘If you want me to go to these things, I’m not going looking like a pauper. Those shoes are cheap compared to what some of those flashy ones wear, believe me,’ Glenda had snapped. ‘You can’t be seen in the same outfit twice. You know that as well as I do. That’s the game, and that’s the way it’s played, and it’s stressful enough without you giving me grief.’
She was right, he supposed: if you wanted to mix with movers and shakers, you had to act the part and dress for the part. When he’d first met her, all those years ago, she bought all her clothes in Dunnes Stores, and he’d thought she looked lovely. Now, it was all designer labels and posh boutiques. It was just as well she had that part-time job in the boutique and got a discount off her clothes, because she spent a small fortune on them. It was hard keeping up the lifestyle they’d become accustomed to in the boom years. A big house, huge gas-guzzler of a car, private schooling for the kids, property abroad. It had been a dream come true, but now the economy was slowing down, inflation was rising, his properties in Spain were dead in the water, and the bottom had fallen out of the Spanish market. You couldn’t give apartments away there; the rent he was getting was far from covering the mortgages. His investments and pensions were being hammered, the stockmarket was a disaster area, and his own alarm and security installation business was beginning to feel the pinch. Tom felt more than a little oppressed sitting in his BMW, flicking a piece of lint off his Louis Copeland suit.
He eyed his mother’s redbrick house with a detached eye. Despite the slump in property, it would still make a good price when it was sold. It was well kept. He had to give it to Judith that she wasn’t letting the place go downhill and, not that he was wishing for his mother’s imminent demise, he was certainly banking on the guts of a hundred and fifty thousand, minimum, for his share out of the place eventually. And God knew he could do with it. That was, if Judith didn’t get her claws into their mother. That was his greatest worry.
OK, he admitted, she’d looked after Lily, but she’d also had a house over her head rent free all these years, allowing her to save a fortune, if she wanted, and that wasn’t to be sneezed at. Why should she get the house, lock, stock and barrel? Cecily had to be considered also, he thought self-righteously. There were three children in the Baxter family. It would be patently unfair to single one out, even if Lily felt she owed Judith a debt.
If only he could get a look at the will. Judith had caught him snooping around one day when Lily was in hospital getting her cataract done, and they’d had a vicious row. They’d never made it up and, if Judith had died after her car crash, she’d have gone to her grave estranged from him.
He sighed. He was glad his sister hadn’t died, of course, but the truth was they had never got on and it was unlikely they ever would. But, they could be civil to each other, as long as she didn’t try and pull a fast one. He glanced in his rear-view mirror and saw Lily marching smartly along the road towards him. She looked extremely well, he noted, not at all like someone who was in danger of kicking the bucket any day soon. It was a bit late for her to be coming home from her afternoon visit to Judith; it was gone six. He wondered where she’d been. She really had come out of her shell since the accident. He opened the door and got out of the car. ‘Mother, where on earth were you? I’ve been trying to ring you,’ he exclaimed jovially.
Was it his imagination, or did a flicker of guilt flash across Lily’s features? Hadn’t she looked at him in dismay before recovering her equanimity?
‘I had business to attend to. I didn’t know you were coming. You never let me know,’ she said tightly.
‘What sort of business?’ he inquired, trying to keep his tone light.
‘Business. My business,’ said Lily sharply, before inserting her key in the lock of the front door.
Tom followed her into the house. He wasn’t at all happy. Lily was up to something and he’d very much like to know exactly what it was. He was going to have to spend some time with her and keep a close eye on things.
‘Any chance of a cuppa before I go?’ he asked, following his mother into the newly done-up kitchen. His sister had painted it before her accident.
‘Every chance,’ Lily said briskly. ‘Fill the kettle there and put one in the pot for me, I want to get out of these shoes. There’s a fresh-baked cream sponge in the cake tin,’ she instructed as she took off her jacket and went out to the hall to hang it up. Tom stared after her. She’d always been bossy, but there was a new confidence in her which he’d never seen before.
‘So where were you?’ he tried again as she came into the kitchen wearing her navy and pink slippers and tying an apron around her waist.
‘Doing some business. I told you. Now, if you’re thinking of going to visit Judith, seeing as you’re over this side of the city, I don’t know if you should go in tonight. Your aunt and cousin, and Cecily, are going, as well as one of her friends, so that’s a lot for one night. She’s not up to too many visitors, so I think you should wait until tomorrow.’ His mother took the knife off him just as he was about to cut a chunk of cream sponge and gave him a slice far smaller than what he would have cut for himself.
Bloody hell. I’m not traipsing back over here tomorrow, thought Tom crossly as he made the tea. He came to a decision. It was time to act and stop dithering. ‘I was thinking, seeing as Judith painted the kitchen, how about if I get a painter in to do your bedroom and hers? It’s been a while since they’ve been done. We could give Judith a surprise,’ he offered expansively.
Lily looked at him, astonished. ‘Well, that’s very good of you,’ she said slowly. ‘Let me have a think about it.’
‘Well, don’t think about it too much. They don’t keep you in hospital for very long these days. By the way, your mobile phone is off,’ he said casually, and she fell into his trap, as he hoped she would.
‘I know. I turned it off when I went in to see the bank manager.’ Lily sat down and took a welcome sip of tea.
‘What were you going to see him for?’ Tom was all ears. He knew he’d get it out of her one way or the other, eventually.
‘Oh, this and that,’ Lily said offhandedly, but she had two dull, red spots on her cheeks, and Tom knew his instincts were absolutely right. Something was going on, and the sooner he got to the bottom of it the better. If he had the painters in, he’d get a chance to have a look around. Lily would have to go and visit Judith, and he would make it his business to have a good poke around when she wasn’t there. It was terrible that he had to go spying on his mother but, if she wasn’t going to be open with him, that was his only option. He had an inheritance to protect, and protect it he would.
Lily watched her son drive down the road in his big flashy car and bit her lip. She’d let it slip about going to see the bank manager; it was out before she knew it. Now he’d know something was going on. He’d been asking her nosy questions about her will when she was in hospital a few months back and, today, he was wondering what business she was doing at the bank. She knew full well he was concerned about who she was going to leave the house to. And he was right to be concerned, she thought grimly, closing the door and going into her sitting room. Her priority was Judith, and Tom could go and take a great big running jump in the lake for himself if he thought he was entitled to as much as his sister.
Lily knew there’d be a show of grief at her funeral, but that would be precisely it: a show. After the burial, he’d hardly give her a thought, and it sickened her to think that he was plotting and planning while she was still alive. It was obvious as far as he was concerned that the sooner she went the better. She couldn’t imagine Mrs Meadows’s sons behaving in such a fashion. They would truly grieve their mother.
She sat in her high-backed chair staring out through pristine net curtains and saw the shadows of evening encroach as the sun filtered dappled light through the trees. Two small children were playing hopscotch on the pavement across the road, and a young couple who had moved in further along the street strolled by hand in hand, laughing at some private joke.
She and Ted had been a young couple once, and their three young children had played hopscotch on the pavement. It seemed like another lifetime ago, and it was too sad to think back and regret all that she had lost because of her edgy, uptight personality. She had run away from life all her life and had missed out on so much because of it. Regret was such a dreary, energy-sapping emotion, it would get her nowhere; and she shouldn’t dwell on the past. She was doing her best to make amends. She could do no more.
Lily yawned. She was very tired. It had been a long and stressful day. But at least she’d achieved something positive by her visit to the bank. That was good, she lauded herself, trying to take the edge off her feelings of failure, remembering all the days when she’d sat, a prisoner in this room, afraid to go anywhere on her own.
If Tom could plot and plan, so could she. She might very well take him up on his offer to have the upstairs rooms painted. She’d make sure that the painter picked the same shades of cream and ochre for Judith’s room that were on the walls already. Her daughter liked those colours, and they suited that room, which got the evening sun. It would be a surprise for her. And, even if the time was coming when she would be looking for a home of her own, it would be good for her to know that there was always a room for her with Lily if ever she wanted it.
‘You’re doing very well, Lily,’ she murmured to herself approvingly, striving to keep her spirits up. ‘Keep going, and do this one good thing in your life.’
She yawned again. She gave a wry little smile. What did they say about people who ended up talking to themselves? That would be right up Tom’s alley. Her son might think he was smarter than she was and that she was only a timid old lady and not to be reckoned with, but he was in for a surprise. Forewarned was forearmed, and he’d soon find that to his cost.