Mrs Foley called from downstairs. She needed help. Patricia rolled her eyes and imagined that soon she’d be on her hands and knees cleaning out the grate of a fire she had never seen burning. She checked Elizabeth in her crib. Fed and changed, she was sleeping, her fists balled up over the blankets, tiny spit bubbles in the corners of her mouth. Patricia smiled and went to get her housecoat. It wasn’t on the hook by the door, Mrs Foley must have put it in the wash. She remembered there was another one in the wardrobe. She was putting it on when she felt something in the pocket. Rosemary’s letter! She had forgotten all about it after hearing the fight. She sat on the bed and took it out, smoothing the crumpled paper on her lap. She found where she had stopped reading.
… Kojak might be more her style … ha, ha!
The big scandal is that Fiona Dunn is after leaving Tony! His mother was in the salon and told us the whole story. Apparently they went to Lanzarote for their holidays and they met this couple from Dublin. Anyway she is after running away with your man and he has left the wife. Tony’s mother was calling her every name under the sun. I suppose everyone has forgotten how Fiona got with Tony. She just dumped poor John Hickey from a great height and apparently he was after buying a ring and everything. At least there are no kids. The scandal!
I don’t know if you have been in touch with your brother at all, but in case he didn’t tell you, Mrs Cronin died a couple of weeks ago. I know she was a friend of your mother’s. She had a stroke and then I think it was her heart. Probably for the best.
I was sad to see the For Sale sign outside your house …
Patricia stopped. She read the sentence again. ‘For Sale sign outside your house.’ What was she talking about?
I know you have made your life down in Cork now but it made it seem so final.
No. This must be some sort of mistake.
I hope you don’t mind me saying, but I really miss you. I’d love to see you. Maybe in the summer I could take a couple of days off and come down to visit you and meet the famous Edward!
The words on the page were dancing in front of her eyes. This couldn’t be true! That house was hers. It was her reward, for nursing their mother, for the sacrifices she had made. It must be Jerry, and that Gillian dripping poison in his ear. She knew she shouldn’t have trusted that slimeball Murphy the solicitor. He’d do anything Jerry said because he had the business. This wasn’t right. She had to stop him.
Clutching the letter in her hand, she went to the door. It was open. She rushed down the stairs.
‘Edward! Where are you, Edward?’ she called.
Mrs Foley came out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on a cloth.
‘What is it? Is the baby all right?’
‘Yes, yes,’ Patricia said impatiently, pushing her way past into the kitchen. ‘Where’s Edward? I have to speak to him!’ Her voice was louder now. Her feeling of hysteria was building. Something awful was happening and she had to stop it.
‘He’s out working. He’ll be in for lunch.’ Mrs Foley was not going to indulge this behaviour. ‘You need to calm down, my girl,’ she said sternly, but Patricia had caught a glimpse of Edward through the window. He was on the far side of the yard, walking towards the milking parlour. She lunged at the back door. It was unlocked. She stepped outside and called his name. ‘Edward!’
He turned, astonished to see her outside. She began to run barefoot across the uneven farmyard.
Mrs Foley was at the door, barking at her. ‘Patricia! Come back here.’ She began to make her way unsteadily after her in pursuit.
Edward ran towards Patricia and they were now standing in the centre of the yard. Her light housecoat was being lifted by the breeze and was flapping around her.
‘What is it?’ He put his hands on her shoulders, to steady her. Patricia’s face was now stained with tears and it was hard to understand what she was saying.
‘Jerry. My brother, Jerry, is trying to sell my house!’ She brandished Rosemary’s letter as evidence, but the wind caught it and carried it up into the grey sky, sailing around the side of the castle towards oblivion. Patricia sank to her knees, while Edward tried to hold her up.
His mother had joined them. She was holding her hair back from her face with one hand. ‘What is it? What is wrong with her?’
‘I’m not sure. Bad news.’
Patricia leaned against him and pleaded. ‘Please. I’ve got to go home. I’ve got to!.’ She twisted her head towards Mrs Foley. ‘Let me use the phone. I must call someone! I must!’ She was hysterical with frustration and panic. ‘Please, Edward! Please!’ His face showed no emotion. He grabbed her under one arm and lifted her up. His mother held her other arm tightly.