Cathy Kelly 3-Book Collection 1: Lessons in Heartbreak, Once in a Lifetime, Homecoming. Cathy Kelly
too raw to talk about. She’d been doing it for Beth and, in truth, if Beth had understood either of them better, she wouldn’t have pushed them into this.
‘Edward, why don’t you go. We have nothing to say to each other.’
He got to his feet obediently. ‘I’m so sorry about Lily,’ he said. ‘I know it must be terrible for you. I know how much you loved her.’
‘Don’t talk about her like she’s already dead,’ snapped Anneliese, ‘because she’s not.’
The look Edward shot her was of pity. Anneliese turned around and went upstairs into her bedroom, slamming the door. She heard a car door bang shut and then the sound of tyres on the drive as Edward drove away.
Two weeks ago, Edward had been everything to her. They’d spent hours together, happy, content in each other’s company, or so she’d thought. Except that they hadn’t been happy, apparently. If it hadn’t been for a simple migraine that made her come home unexpectedly, she mightn’t have ever known that. The randomness and powerlessness of life hit her again. Why had she been so stupid as to think she had any control of her own life, because she didn’t.
‘Here we are,’ Jodi said as she drove over coral azalea petals lying like confetti on the driveway.
‘Oh my,’ breathed Izzie, as she caught sight of the house for the first time. It was early afternoon and bright sunlight painted the graceful façade of the house with a pale, shimmering gold. Set in the middle of a bower of trees and overgrown gardens, Rathnaree was like a graceful bride on her wedding day: no matter how lovely everyone else looked, your eyes were drawn only to her. ‘It’s beautiful.’
They parked beside the estate agent’s car and Izzie began to wander around the garden, touching shrubs and small statues, admiring it all, astonished at this beauty, something she’d grown up so close to and yet had never seen. Here, buried under a Japanese maple and covered with lichen, was a marble goddess with a half-smile on her soft lips.
Izzie ran her fingers over the smooth stone. Rathnaree was from another world and yet Izzie’s own family had been a part of it. To think that her family had worked here in this amazing house, her grandmother and her great-grandmother. And all these years it had remained undisturbed, preserved as if waiting for her to walk in.
‘Come on, Izzie,’ said Jodi, who’d seen the gardens and just wanted to get inside.
In the end, it had been Izzie who had managed to persuade the estate agent to let them see Rathnaree. That she had managed to achieve this was a combination of her charm – and the fact that she and the estate agent had gone to school together.
‘Aggie, we just want to have a look around for this history that Jodi’s writing. Look at it this way: anyone who is willing to put up the money to buy somewhere as massive as Rathnaree is bound to be egotistical enough to want a history of the place written. Rich people have egos the size of Mars, right, and having a history of their new house already written – well, it’s got to be a selling point. You could put it on your marketing brochures. Can you see what I’m getting at? It’s not just a massive old Anglo-Irish wreck in need of restoration…’
‘I thought you were putting a positive spin on it,’ muttered Aggie, the estate agent.
‘– it’s a beautiful example of classic Irish architecture, with a fantastic history that links it to Tamarin and all the great events in Irish history.’
‘Such as what?’ said Aggie.
‘Well, I don’t know yet. That’s why we want to see inside, isn’t it?’ Izzie said. Honestly, Aggie was hard work.
‘I’m not going to tell Peter about this,’ Aggie said, weakening.
Peter Winters was the man who owned Winters & Sons, the estate agency trying to sell Rathnaree. The company’s motto was along the lines of: If you want to sell an exquisite family heirloom, with style and dignity and no nasty modern advertising, then come to Winters & Sons.
That sort of ploy might have worked years ago, but it clearly wasn’t working now, Izzie realised. Rathnaree had been empty for four years and there was no sign of anybody taking it off the owner’s hands.
‘Peter doesn’t need to know anything,’ Izzie said. ‘We won’t tell him, Girl Guide’s honour.’
‘Were you in the Guides?’ Aggie asked.
‘I went to Brownie camp once,’ Izzie volunteered.
Aggie shrugged. ‘Fair enough,’ she said. ‘I’m warning the pair of you, Rathnaree needs a hell of a lot of work,’ Aggie went on as she found the keys for the house. ‘If a bit of plaster falls off and kills you, I’m not liable, right?’
The current owner was one Freddy Lochraven, a distant nephew of the original family. According to Aggie, he divided his time between London and Dubai and had only visited the house once shortly after he’d inherited it.
‘Peter thinks it suits him that it hasn’t sold on the grounds that, with property prices rising all the time, it will make more money when it eventually sells.’
‘And he’d love, I’m sure, a detailed history of the place,’ Izzie interrupted.
‘I suppose,’ said Aggie. ‘Fine, I’ll let you in and I’ll leave you, but don’t take anything, please.’
‘Oh, Aggie, for God’s sake,’ grumbled Izzie. ‘Don’t be ridiculous. We just want to breathe in the atmosphere. Besides, you’ve known me all your life – and Jodi’s the Vice-Principal’s wife, she’s hardly going to start ripping the fireplaces off the walls, is she? No. We’re doing you a favour.’
‘We have to go in through the kitchen,’ said Aggie now, jangling keys, ‘because the front door’s a nightmare. The last time I was here, I could barely open it.’
They walked around the side of the house to the big gate into the courtyard through which Jodi had peered once before. She was so excited and was mentally urging Aggie to hurry up but the estate agent was taking for ever, slowly inserting key after key into the lock, trying to find the right one and muttering as she did so.
‘Hurry up!’ Jodi wanted to scream, but she daren’t. If Aggie changed her mind, they wouldn’t be able to get in and she just had to see inside.
Finally, the stiff lock yielded. Aggie unhooked it and pushed the creaking gates open. Jodi ran in first, looking around, trying to commit everything to memory. Photos! She’d better take photos.
The courtyard had stables at one end with arched doorways and horseshoes hung for luck all over the place. Jodi wanted to look everywhere, but she wanted to go inside too.
At the kitchen door there was another interminable wait while Aggie fiddled with the keys again. And then the door was open and they were inside.
‘Holy smoke, it’s an awful mess,’ said Aggie, sighing as they went in.
Jodi and Izzie exchanged a grin. Aggie had never been the most imaginative person in school, Izzie thought and clearly, nothing had changed. All she saw was dust and cobwebs, while Jodi and Izzie saw history right in front of them.
‘If you want to leave me the keys, Aggie, I’ll lock up and bring them back to you in a couple of hours,’ Izzie said.
‘Well, OK,’ said Aggie grudgingly. ‘I have a lot to do.’
Izzie nodded as if this was indeed the case, although she didn’t think so. The phone hadn’t rung once when they were with Aggie in the office. Business didn’t appear to be too brisk at Winters & Sons.
‘Of course, you’re busy,’ Izzie said briskly. God, the fibs she was telling. ‘I’ll take care of this. And