The Secrets of Primrose Square Read online

  ‘I hate that cat piss.’

  ‘Well, too bad.’

  ‘After the day I had,’ Jason said sulkily, ‘I’ll drink what I like.’

  ‘What happened to you today, son?’ Jayne asked him, as they both followed her down the hallway and on through to her toasty warm, cosy kitchen, which smelt deliciously of garlic and sage. Comforting smells, or so she hoped.

  ‘Let’s not even go there,’ Irene groaned, instantly taking charge and opening up the kitchen cupboards till she found wine glasses.

  ‘I got turned down for a loan at the bank, didn’t I?’ Jason grumbled, easing himself into his usual seat at the top of the table and undoing his tie, which was knotted tight as a noose around his neck.

  ‘Is that why you’re all dressed up in your good suit?’ Jayne asked, going back to stir her apple sauce over at the kitchen range. ‘I don’t think I’ve seen you wearing that since your dad’s funeral.’

  ‘I look like a right gobshite in this get-up,’ said Jason, taking off the jacket, ‘and it’s itching me like fuck.’

  ‘Language, please, Jason,’ said Irene, fumbling around in a drawer for a corkscrew. ‘I told you, if you want to be taken seriously, then you have to dress seriously.’

  ‘Still didn’t get the bleedin’ loan, though, did I?’

  ‘What did you need the loan for, love?’ Jayne asked, anxious to diffuse the tension between them.

  ‘Jason has decided to expand the business,’ Irene said crisply, answering for him as she so often did. ‘Because the mobile confectionary trade is so seasonal, you see.’

  ‘I suppose by that you mean you only sell the ninety-nines in the summer?’ Jayne asked, trying to hide a little smile, as she continued stirring the pot of sauce. Only an out-and-out snob like Irene would describe an ice cream van as being in ‘the mobile confectionary trade’.

  ‘And, you see, a mate of mine is getting out of the ice cream trade,’ Jason explained, ‘and he offered me his van at a great price. So my plan was to overhaul the van and turn it into a mobile catering unit.’

  ‘Mobile catering unit?’ Jayne said, mystified.

  ‘You know, selling burgers and chips at soccer matches and big stadium gigs, that kind of thing.’

  ‘So the cash he’s looking to borrow,’ said Irene briskly, ‘is reflective of the amount of work that would have to be done to the back of the van.’

  ‘I even had a name for my new business venture and all,’ Jason added sorrowfully. “Munchies by Jason.” But, of course, that scaldy-headed prick in the bank was having none of it. He just wished me luck with my bun burgers and ninety-nines and nearly shoved me out the door.’’

  ‘Now, now, you were already told to watch the bad language,’ Jayne said, trying to keep things nice and civil. ‘Not in front of your father,’ she added, with a respectful little glance up at the urn above the telly.

  Jason rolled his eyes, but then he was well used to his mam chatting away to a big jar of ashes.

  ‘But at least you’re still working at the estate agency, Irene,’ Jayne went on. ‘That has to count for something, doesn’t it?’

  Why was it, she wondered for about the thousandth time, that just about everything with this pair came back to money? After all, they were both working and, as Irene never failed to moan about, she was run off her feet with viewings all over the city. And okay, so Jason made most of his money during the warm summer months when everyone wanted a Mr Whippy, but still. It was a cash business and he made more than enough to get by, didn’t he? So why did the two of them spend most of their time giving out about being broke?

  ‘We badly need a second income, you see,’ Irene said patronisingly, as she took the tiniest sip of her wine. ‘The twins are about to start secondary school – a private school, of course – and the cost of their school fees is absolute extortion. So it’s particularly timely that you asked us around tonight, Jayne,’ she went on, with a shifty look across the table at her husband. ‘Because Jason and I actually have something we want to run by you.’

  ‘And I’ve some news I’d like to tell both of you as well,’ said Jayne quietly, serving up the pork chops with a big dollop of apple sauce on the side, just the way her son liked them.

  ‘Jesus, this looks amazing, Ma,’ Jason said as his wife glared hotly across the table at him. ‘I’m bleeding starving. Let’s eat first and talk business after, yeah? Grub first, the money chat can always wait.’

  *

  Dinner had come and gone and Jayne had still to get a word in edgeways, never mind gently easing the subject around to her Big News.

  ‘The property market is really picking up now, you know,’ Irene was chattering away.

  Though she hardly ate at all, Jayne thought, clearing away Irene’s still-full plate. Would you look at that, she said to herself, crossly. All the woman really did was rearrange her food around the plate. All on account of this ridiculous some-days-you-eat, some-days-you-fast thing she was doing, Jayne guessed. Jason, on the other hand, was still eating, horsing into the leftover mash like a man who hadn’t seen a complex carbohydrate in months.

  ‘Oh, we can barely keep up with demand these days,’ Irene prattled on as Jayne cleared up the remains of dinner. ‘I’m doing viewings morning, noon and night. In fact, I’ve got a very exciting rental property right here on Primrose Square that’s just come on our books. It’s number twenty-four, just down the road from you. Do you know the new owner, by any chance, Jayne? Apparently he’s a businessman working in the Far East for at least a year, or so I’ve been told.’

  ‘I’ve no idea who owns that house now,’ Jayne said from the kitchen counter, where she was taking a Madeira sponge that she’d made earlier out of the fridge. ‘Although I was glad to hear the house was finally sold after poor Emily Mathews died.’

  Emily had been a lovely friend to Jayne and her biggest competition in the annual Primrose Square Bake Off, but she’d passed away not long after Tom and her family put the house on the market.

  ‘Well, you must at least have noticed all the building work that’s been done on the house recently,’ Irene said condescendingly. ‘There’s been nothing but skips outside number twenty-four for months now. Mark my words, whoever the new owner is, he’s certainly not short of money.’

  ‘Is that right?’ said Jayne flatly, dishing up the Madeira sponge and wondering how she could shut Irene up and steer the conversation around to her own announcement.

  ‘Anyway, my instructions are to rent the house out on homesitter.com. You do know how Homesitter works, don’t you, Jayne?’

  ‘I’ve heard of it, yes,’ Jayne said, trying to keep nice and cool. Mother of God, what did the woman think anyway? That she was a complete eejit, stuck in the last century? They knew she had an iPad and that she was online a lot. For God’s sake, she and Jason had been the ones who insisted she get the iPad in the first place.

  ‘From now on, Ma,’ Jason had said to her at the time, ‘you’ll be able to order all your own groceries online and get them delivered right to the front door. Saves you all the hassle of supermarket trips.’

  Jayne had said nothing, but thought to herself: Jason, love, do you even realise how it is for me here on my own? And that sometimes going out to the supermarket and chatting to my neighbours is the only human company I get from day to day?

  ‘Course, the wonderful thing about Homesitter,’ Irene was blathering on, ‘is that you make an absolute fortune! Maybe it’s something you might like to consider, down the line?’

  ‘We’ll see,’ said Jayne as politely as she could.

  ‘Oh, I’m so sorry, no dessert for me, please,’ Irene said, waving hers away as though it was radioactive. ‘I can’t have dairy, I’m afraid. Blows me right out. I suffer terribly from trapped wind, you know. Okay if I just have tea instead, Jayne?’

  ‘If that’s what you want,’ said Jayne quietly, putting the kettle on.

  ‘Herbal tea, of course,’ said Irene. ‘I’m off caffeine at the
moment and I don’t know myself. You really should try it – does wonders for the bags under the eyes, I find.’

  ‘Is that so?’

  ‘Can I have your dessert, then?’ said Jason, helping himself to Irene’s, in between stuffing his face with oversized spoonfuls of his own. ‘This is gorgeous, Ma. Don’t suppose you’ve any Viennetta to go with it?’

  ‘You’re meant to be off sugar, Jason,’ Irene said to him sternly.

  ‘Ah, sure, he’s grand, he’s in his mammy’s,’ said Jayne, taking the ice cream she’d bought earlier out of the freezer and taking care to cut her son a good, hefty slice.

  ‘Anyway, as I was saying,’ Irene said briskly, shooting her husband a sharp glare, ‘here’s the dilemma: Jason and I need cash badly just now; meanwhile you’re sitting on a property in a prime area that’s not generating a single penny for you. But if you were to consider moving in with us, we’d make a killing renting out a fine family home like this. I wouldn’t even charge you the full commission. We’d clean up!’

  We? thought Jayne. Did the woman just say we? Was she for real?

  ‘An area like Primrose Square is so ripe for gentrification,’ Irene chattered away while Jason wolfed down the Viennetta like it was his last meal on earth. ‘Or if you ever decided to sell up, I’d be happy to take care of that for you too. We’d get seven fifty for a house like this in the morning – easily! Plus there’s lots of other things to consider too.’

  ‘And what other things might they be?’ Jayne asked, as politely as she could.

  At that Irene shot Jason a significant look as he finished up dessert, wiped his mouth, then looked absolutely anywhere except at his mother, reddening in the face all the while.

  Just like you used to do when you were a little boy, Jayne thought calmly. When you’d done something naughty and knew you were in big, big trouble.

  ‘The thing is, Ma,’ he began, speaking slowly and deliberately.

  Most unlike you, Jayne thought, sitting back and folding her arms as she glanced from one of them to the other. In fact, I think the pair of them have actually rehearsed this.

  ‘Irene and I love how independent you are,’ Jason went on, ‘but let’s face it, you’re not getting any younger, now are you?’

  ‘No, indeed I’m not.’ Jayne smiled.

  ‘And living on your own can’t be easy for you, particularly since Dad . . . you know . . . ’

  ‘What he means to say is that we’re both so worried about you, Jayne, love,’ Irene chipped in, reaching across the table and taking her husband’s pudgy hand in hers. ‘We’re the only family you have and we’re entitled to be worried. Here you are all alone, night after night. Suppose something happened to you? Suppose there was a break-in? You do read the most awful stories. Just the other day, there was an item on the news about an elderly woman your age who was held at knifepoint, in her own bed, and all for a paltry few euro she had lying around the house.’

  Patiently, Jayne heard her daughter-in-law out, then took great care to take a very, very deep breath before replying. ‘Well, in that case,’ she said coolly, ‘the good news is that neither of you need to worry about me any more. Because I’m not on my own, as it happens. At least, not any more I’m not.’

  ‘No, Ma, course you’re not,’ Jason chimed in. ‘Sure you have us and the kids. You have your family.’

  ‘And you know, we could always install a lovely granny flat at our house, should the need arise,’ said Irene.

  ‘I’m afraid that isn’t what I meant at all,’ said Jayne, ‘and while I’m deeply grateful to you both, I’m not on my own any more because . . . well, because, you see . . . things have changed for me. In quite a significant way, actually.’

  ‘Changed?’ said Jason, looking a bit puzzled as the colour slowly started to fade from his puffy, red cheeks. ‘What do you mean, changed? Is something wrong? Is it your health?’

  ‘I thought you hadn’t been looking too well lately,’ said Irene. ‘Do you need to go into hospital?’ she added hopefully.

  ‘No, thank God, it’s absolutely nothing like that,’ said Jayne, astonished that their minds would even work that way.

  ‘What is it then, Ma?’

  ‘Well . . . the thing is . . . and there’s no easy way to say this . . . ’

  ‘What, Ma? Tell me!’

  ‘I’ve met someone,’ said Jayne, delighted with herself for finally having the courage to get it out.

  Stony silence as they both looked across the table at her, the horror on their faces almost comical.

  ‘What did you say, Ma?’ Jason began to splutter, while Irene looked on, not so much stunned as poleaxed. ‘Do you mean, like . . . met someone met someone? As in . . . like . . . oh, for feck’s sake . . . like . . . like . . . ’

  ‘Don’t be so ridiculous, Jason,’ Irene snapped, ‘I’m sure that’s not what she meant at all.’

  ‘As a matter of fact, that’s exactly what I meant,’ said Jayne evenly. ‘We met a few months ago on a website on the iPad you got me, and we’ve been in touch every single day since.’

  ‘Like . . . as in . . . a man?’ Jason stammered with an expression on his face that actually made Jayne want to smile in spite of herself. ‘Like an actual boyfriend?’

  ‘Yes, that’s exactly what I mean,’ Jayne said calmly. ‘And the good news is you’ll get to meet him very soon.’

  ‘What?’ said Jason.

  ‘Oh, didn’t I say?’ said Jayne nonchalantly as she began to clear away the dessert dishes. ‘He’s coming to Dublin. To visit me. To stay! This weekend, as it happens. You know, to see how we get on face-to-face. His name is Eric Butler, he’s from Florida, if you don’t mind, and I think we’ll all get along famously. Another nice slice of Viennetta for you, Jason, love?’

  Melissa

  18 PRIMROSE SQUARE

  ‘Would you like me to come into the house with you?’ asked Annie Gibbons, the mother of Melissa’s best friend, Hayley. ‘Just to check that everything is okay?’

  ‘No need, thanks,’ Melissa said, clambering out of the back of Annie’s swishy jeep, unaware that she was giving herself away by being just a degree too bright and bubbly. ‘But thanks so much for the lift home!’

  Annie had gone to pick up Hayley from the after-school drama class that the girls had once a week, but when she saw that Melissa Hayes, the poor little scrap of a thing, had been left to get the bus home on her own in the pitch darkness on a cold, wintry night – and not for the first time, either – Annie had insisted on driving her back to Primrose Square.

  ‘I could just come in with you for a second,’ Annie said worriedly, ‘to see how your mum is, that’s all.’

  ‘Emm . . . well . . . the thing is, Mum won’t be there this evening,’ Melissa stammered, reddening in the face and hoping the lie wasn’t too obvious. She hated lying. And she really hated that she’d got so good at it in the last few months. ‘She’s out . . . at . . . emm . . . yoga. She does it every Thursday night after work. Sorry about that.’

  ‘But her car is there.’

  ‘Emm . . . yeah . . . that’s because she always parks here, then walks to her yoga class . . . ’ Melissa improvised wildly. ‘It’s just . . . around the corner, you see.’

  ‘Are you sure, Melissa?’ said Annie, looking keenly at the child in the rearview mirror. ‘You wouldn’t like me just to come in and check that everything is okay?’

  ‘No need, thanks. Honestly. I’m fine. We both are.’

  ‘Come and stay with us tonight!’ Hayley piped up. Hayley was lovely and bubbly. She and Melissa had been big pals ever since kindergarten. ‘And maybe we can order in pizzas when we’re home? Can we, Mum?’

  Melissa felt a huge pang at that because ordinarily she’d have loved nothing more. Hanging out at Hayley’s house was always such fun. It was a welcoming, happy house, full of chatter and laughter where there was always food in the fridge and
a warm, indescribable feeling of security. Hayley’s parents and her two older sisters were really cool – they actually talked to one another and went on family outings all the time. They’d even gone camping together once. Actual camping.

  But she couldn’t run off to Hayley’s house for pizza, could she? With a sinking heart, Melissa instinctively knew that the minute she stepped through her own hall door, she’d see that her own house would be exactly as she’d left it that morning before school: the kitchen a mess, dishwasher stuffed with dirty dishes and a pile of laundry that she still had to get around to, if she didn’t want to wear the same manky uniform to school the next day.

  ‘Thanks so much, Hayley,’ she said reluctantly, ‘but I really better stay home tonight. I’ve tonnes of schoolwork to catch up on.’

  ‘You know you’re welcome to stay with us for a sleepover anytime,’ called Annie kindly, as Melissa made her way up the three little stone steps to her front door. ‘And will you tell your mum that I’ll meet her for coffee whenever she’s free?’

  ‘Will do,’ said Melissa, waving them off as she fumbled around the bottom of the schoolbag for her door key. ‘And thanks so much again for the lift home. Bye, see you tomorrow!’

  The house was in pitch darkness when she let herself in and, as Melissa knew right well, everything was exactly as she’d left it that morning. She hadn’t eaten since lunchtime and her tummy was rumbling, but she couldn’t even think about food until she saw her mum was okay.

  ‘Mum?’ she called up the stairs, then tip-toed softly up so as not to disturb her mother, in case she’d taken some of those purple pills that made her sleep for hours at a time.

  ‘Mum? It’s me. I’m home.’

  ‘Melissa?’ came a groggy voice from the main bedroom. ‘I’m in here.’

  In her bedroom, Melissa thought. Again. Like she was ever in any other room of the house these days.

  Gingerly, she stepped into the main bedroom. Through the gloom, she could make out the mound of her mum lying on top of the duvet, still fully dressed. The air was stinky in there and Melissa was itching to open a window, but knew of old that was the kind of thing that might disturb her mother’s nerves.