The Woman at 72 Derry Lane Page 9

  Mam and Dad still haven’t calmed down about that mention. Soon, orders were coming in from all sorts. Apparently, Bono was in the centre the following week and bought one. But we’ve never had any actual evidence that this did really happen. The customer was wearing sunglasses and a black-leather jacket, but that’s all the proof we needed. As Dad said often back then, ‘sure never let the truth get in the way of a good story.’ And to be fair, Bono has neither denied nor confirmed that he likes to sit on one of Eli’s benches while singing a few tunes to Ally. That’s the story we like to tell in our house, anyhow.

  ‘Welcome,’ the concierge said, as he ushered us into the resplendent hotel lobby. I relished the feel of the warm sun on my skin. I wondered if it was frosty at home and I was so happy I wanted to skip around the lobby. It was two days before Christmas and a Christmas tree at least twelve foot high was centre stage with lights twinkling on every branch and dancing on the shiny marble floor. My eyes greedily took in every single decoration that adorned the area. A beautiful Thai lady, dressed in a traditional Sabai in ornate green and gold, was playing Christmas carols on a piano in the corner.

  Eli nudged me and pointed to a letter board that stood to one side of the large reception desk. It said ‘Welcome’ then listed half a dozen guests’ names below. I scanned the names and gasped when halfway down I saw us, the Madden Family.

  ‘Look!’ I said to Mam and Dad, who were looking a little bit bemused at the grandness of it all.

  ‘I feel like a celebrity,’ Mam whispered to us and I knew what she meant. From the driver who collected us from the airport, our names on a large board, to the bell boy who whisked our luggage from us here at the hotel’s entrance, it was more than I ever dreamed.

  As Dad completed the paperwork, another staff member came over to us with a gold tray with little teacups on it.

  ‘Please,’ he said pointing to the cups.

  Mam picked one up and took a delicate sip, then broke into a smile as she tasted it. ‘Delicious,’ she declared and we all took a glass each of the cold, fruity drink.

  The hotel manager, Jin Jin, then said smiling, ‘If you follow me, your room is ready.’

  The bellboy followed with our cases on a gold trolley.

  We’d spent months looking at the hotel online, at the photographs of the rooms. We had asked for a sea view when we booked and as we walked along the corridor, I crossed my fingers behind my back that the room would be nice.

  When the manager opened the double doors to our room, we all gasped. This was unlike anything we’d ever seen before. A large room, with dark hardwood floors, so shiny I could see my reflection in them, led to floor-to- ceiling windows overlooking a blue ocean, with white sands and palm trees.

  ‘There are three bedrooms,’ Jin Jin said, pointing to three doors to the right and left of the living area. We peeked inside each and saw large king-sized beds, each with its own en-suite bathroom. At the end of each bed was a towel shaped into a different animal. My bathroom was bigger than our sitting room at home and it had a large white tub in the centre of the room, filled with water and rose petals bobbing atop. The view was incredible, with silky green palm trees and bright tropical flowers flickering against the backdrop of a blue, clear sky.

  As we walked from room to room, we were all silent, each too overawed to speak. Finally, when we walked back to the living area, Mam found her voice.

  ‘We can’t afford this,’ she whispered to Dad.

  He nodded and, taking a deep breath, said to the manager, ‘This is beautiful, but I think there’s been some mistake. We didn’t book a suite. We have two adjoining rooms, with a sea view.’

  I sighed. It was fun while it lasted. I looked back at my bedroom and tried to memorise every detail. One day I’d come back and stay in this suite.

  But Jin Jin smiled and said, ‘We have upgraded you to our presidential suite. No extra charge.’

  We all gasped in unison. I mean, things like this don’t normally happen to our family.

  ‘I don’t understand,’ Mam said and I kicked her to shut up. Never look a gift horse in the mouth, isn’t that what she was always saying?

  Jin Jin pointed to the coffee table, where a large bouquet of flowers sat, with a bottle of champagne in an ice-bucket.

  ‘We had a letter from your sister, Paula,’ Jin Jin said. ‘She requested us to leave these in your room, as a thank you for all you have done for her. Her letter touched us all here at the hotel. When she told us about your sacrifice to help her get well we decided it was time to give you a special Christmas present.’

  I thought Mam was going to faint. She sank into one of the plump red sofas and clasped onto the large purple cushion beside her. ‘I don’t know what to say.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Dad said, pumping Jin Jin’s hand up and down. ‘Thank you, is what we say.’

  So we all shook hands with Jin Jin and he bowed slightly to each of us as we did so and we bowed back and everyone giggled and laughed. Then I couldn’t wait another second, so I ran, as fast as I could, to my bedroom and threw myself onto the middle of the large bed, watching my swan-shaped towel topple over, as I flopped down.

  I closed my eyes and listened to the sounds around me: the gentle sea breeze, making the curtains flap, the caw-caw of birds in chorus, the faint echoes of Christmas carols on the piano. Mam and Dad laughing.

  I felt the warmth of the air on my skin and I smiled.

  Paradise found.

  Chapter 15

  SKYE

  I dragged open my eyes, a thought nagging me. Today is important. Why? Santa! It’s Christmas Day! I sat upright in my bed, all at once awake. I might be seventeen years old, but as far as Eli and I were concerned, at Christmas time we revert back to kids! Last night, Mam pulled out our Christmas Santa sacks and hung them on the back of one of the sofas in the suite.

  ‘Never too old for Santa,’ Mam said as she smoothed out the creases.

  ‘You brought them with you,’ I sighed in satisfaction, pulling my sack in close to me and breathing in its scent. A mix of chocolate and smoke from the fire.

  ‘Of course I did,’ Mam replied, retrieving it from me and replacing it on the sofa. ‘Sure you’ve had them since you were tiny. Couldn’t do Christmas without them.’

  Our names were hand sewn onto them, by Mam, many years ago.

  Dad had been teasing us for weeks, saying that as we were away, Christmas would be different, that we shouldn’t expect all the usual traditions we had at home. But we should have known that Mam would make sure that wasn’t the case.

  She further surprised us with an early gift. We each opened a brightly wrapped package to reveal a pair of red silk pyjamas.

  ‘Christmas PJ’s!’ Eli laughed.

  ‘These are fierce fancy, love,’ Dad said to her, rubbing the silk against his cheek.

  ‘I got them in the market yesterday and look,’ she pointed, and across the breast pocket of each our names were embroidered in gold lettering. I ran my fingers across my name and felt a lump in my throat.

  ‘Oh Mam.’

  ‘What would we do without you?’ Dad said to her, kissing her lightly on the lips.

  ‘I hope they fit. I had to guess the sizes,’ Mam said, delighted with our reactions. ‘Go put them on.’

  They fit perfectly and I slept soundly in them, loving the feel of smooth silk on my skin.

  On Christmas morning I ran into the living area, holding my breath, just like I used to do as a child. Even though I knew that it was Mam and Dad who filled our sacks, for a moment or two, as I saw them brimmed to capacity, all the magic of Santa came back.

  ‘I still believe,’ I whispered to the empty room.

  I ran to get Eli, who was gently snoring. I shook him awake, shouting, ‘Santa’s been.’

  He opened his eyes in an instant and laughed in delight. ‘Let’s go wake the folks.’

  They were both sitting up, waiting for us. As they always were, every Christmas morning for as long as I c
an remember. ‘I thought you’d never get up,’ Mam said, as she always did every year.

  I jumped on their bed and squeezed myself in between the two of them. ‘Hey! Make room for me!’ Eli said, and squirrelled his way in between.

  Mam looked over our heads and reached across to find Dad’s hand. ‘Happy Christmas, love.’

  ‘Happy Christmas,’ he said holding her hand tight. I felt their love for us, for each other, swell the room. I’ve always been aware that we were the sole centre of their universe, that we were adored, that we were cherished. But sometimes, in moments like now, the full impact of that love hit me. I knew how lucky we were. One day, in a hundred years or so, when I grew up, I wanted a family like this too.

  ‘We better go see what Santa has brought,’ Dad said and we ran to open our presents.

  As was tradition, we took turns opening our gifts, one by one. We liked to savour the moment, watching each other’s reactions to the gifts we’d carefully chosen. Seeing Mam, Dad and Eli’s faces when I picked them the perfect present was the best feeling.

  Finally, with the middle of the room covered in bright wrapping paper, we all sat back, thrilled.

  ‘We’ll need an extra case to bring this lot home!’ Dad said.

  ‘We are not quite done yet. Eli and I have one more thing for you,’ I said, grabbing one last parcel from behind a cushion. I handed it over to the two of them.

  ‘Oh, you’ve given us more than enough already,’ Mam protested.

  ‘You deserve it and more,’ Eli said and he looked away quickly. He was getting all emotional, the big eejit. But when Mam and Dad opened their package and squealed genuine delight, I felt a proper lump in my throat too.

  ‘This is too much,’ Dad said, holding up a Canon digital camera.

  ‘It’s waterproof,’ I said.

  ‘And dustproof,’ Eli added.

  ‘It’s a really good one. Expensive.’ I couldn’t help myself boasting.

  ‘It’s like the ones we looked at last year, John,’ Mam said and we all watched as Dad opened the box.

  ‘This must have cost you a fortune,’ Dad said to us.

  ‘We’ve been saving up for ages,’ I replied. Not getting that top in Dorothy Perkins last month, that I’d been eyeing up for ages and doing extra babysitting shifts for, was all worth it to see their reaction now.

  We went downstairs for our breakfast buffet and all the staff were wearing Santa hats. Dad took at least a dozen photographs before we even reached the buffet, with Mam posing like Debbie McGee. There was such a wonderful atmosphere in the room, as fellow guests greeted each other warmly. Quite a few of them were joining us today on a jet cruiser to Phi Phi island for lunch. Then tonight we were having Christmas dinner on the beach. This Christmas was as unlike any we’d ever experienced before in Ireland and I was utterly charmed by it.

  Laemtong Beach, at the top of Phi Phi island, was close by. I remembered sitting in class one rainy afternoon, when the school secretary came in with some post – a postcard from Faye Larkin. The photograph was of blue Floridian skies and white sands and I could feel bile rise up my throat, such was my jealousy. I wanted, more than anything else in the whole world, to experience a view like that. And finally, here I was. Only this view was even better than I could have ever dreamed of. The water was aqua green and so calm it looked like a sheet of glass was laid across its top. It gently tickled the toes of the white sands as it lapped its way to the beach shore. Bright-yellow parasols stood resplendent against the backdrop of the sky. Oh that sky, it was bluer than anything else I’d ever seen.

  Dad stopped suddenly and turned to me, saying, ‘When we chose a name for you, we wanted it to be perfect. Took us ages to find the right one.’ He pointed upwards. ‘The sky is where we look, to find the sun, white soft clouds, the moon, the stars and heaven. And you were all of that to us. The perfect name.’

  ‘Look how blue it is. It’s the exact same colour as your eyes,’ Mam said wistfully.

  I didn’t know whether to be mortified by my parents or delighted with them. I mean, it was a lovely thing they just said. Eli threw his eyes up to the sky above and wandered off in the direction of the restaurant, muttering something about being too hungry for any sappy stuff.

  Making sure he wasn’t watching, I quickly leaned in and gave them both a hug. I whispered into the air between them, ‘I love my name but I love you both more.’

  Then, before they could respond and possibly start a huge emotional scene, I ran as fast as I could after Eli, who was already walking into the restaurant. It sat right on the white sands and I had another weird moment where I felt like I must be dreaming. This location, these exotic Thai dishes, this stunning beach, it was so far removed from our home in Dublin it made me dizzy. After all our saving, all our false starts, we were finally here. I’d never felt happier in my life.

  We laughed as Mam and Dad each took it in turns to take photographs, then they flicked through the images on the digital screen, admiring their handiwork, deleting the blurred ones.

  That evening, about forty of us went to the beach, where the hotel had several long tables beautifully laid, ready for Christmas dinner. My favourite sundress, white with tiny green flowers around the hem and on the straps, swished against my now-brown legs, as I walked barefoot across the warm sand to our table. I felt sophisticated and grown up.

  As the sun set, in a dazzling array of reds, oranges and blues, we feasted on both local Thai and European dishes. Course after course was presented to us and each time we swore we couldn’t eat another mouthful, we did. Grilled shrimp, plump and moist, crab meat cooked in a sweet and spicy yellow curry, nests of noodles, salads, grilled duck and rice so flavoursome that I never once missed our usual turkey-and-ham feast. For dessert we had fruit cooked on the grill, with homemade banana and coconut ice-cream. It was the most delicious meal I’d ever had.

  As the sky changed from pink to dark blue, with each course we ate, stars shone bright in the sky. Jin Jin introduced one of the staff, a bellboy called Sia who had a talent for spinning fire. It was unlike anything we had ever witnessed, and as the sparks flew up into the light breeze, we gasped and cheered. The Thai lady who serenaded us most days in the hotel lobby then took a seat, swapping her piano for a guitar and began to sing Christmas songs.

  We all clapped and cheered and sang along with her whilst sipping cocktails. I was even allowed to have one alcoholic one, a creamy, gorgeous pina colada. It was divine and I begged Mam and Dad to let me have a second.

  ‘Tomorrow, maybe,’ Mam said, and seeing my look of annoyance, continued, ‘don’t be in such a rush to grow up. They’ll be plenty of time for pina coladas in your future, my darling.’

  ‘Good holiday?’ Dad asked, changing the subject quickly. But he need not have worried, I wasn’t going to sulk.

  ‘The best,’ I said.

  ‘You’re growing up so fast, it won’t be long before you refuse to go anywhere with us,’ Dad said.

  Eli and I shook our heads in denial. We loved spending time with them both. For golden oldies, they were a lot of fun. I couldn’t imagine a time when I’d choose not to be in their company.

  When it was almost midnight, Jin Jin spoke to us all again, ‘We have a tradition here every year on Christmas night, to light Chinese lanterns and release them into the night sky.’

  Staff handed us each a paper lantern and showed us how to light the candle at the bottom of each.

  ‘Make a wish before you release it!’ Jin Jin told us.

  So I closed my eyes tight and wished with all my might that this magical holiday would never end. That my family would come back here every year at Christmas. Then we released the lanterns into the black sky and watched our lighted wishes gracefully flutter upwards. It was the most beautiful sight I’d ever witnessed and a silence descended over our once-boisterous group. We were so entranced we didn’t notice the staff line up together at the water’s edge, with Santa hats on, until their voices began to sing, Si
lent Night.

  I felt Mam’s arms around me and even though normally I hate it when she does that in public, I didn’t shrug her off. I moved backwards into her embrace and breathed in her perfume and smiled.

  We stayed like that until the lights of the Chinese lanterns became distant stars in the darkness.

  Chapter 16

  REA

  Derry Lane, Dublin, 2014

  Rea took her time to collect her thoughts in the kitchen. Her mind was racing. She knew that she must help this young woman. She had no idea how yet, but for the first time in a long time, she felt useful. She couldn’t remember the last time she felt she had a purpose.

  She went to grab a couple of mugs, then stopped. If ever somebody needed to feel special, it was that girl. Rea walked over to her dresser and pulled down her mother’s china. It was one of her most treasured possessions, a vintage 1950s Aynsley mid-century teacup set. Sage green and gold fleur de lis delicately patterned the rim. She wiped each of them clean with a tea towel, then filled the milk jug and sugar bowl.

  ‘These are exquisite,’ Stella said when she brought them in. ‘I’m afraid to touch them.’

  ‘My mam always said that tea tasted better in bone china. I don’t use them that often. I don’t know why. Silly really, leaving something so beautiful untouched …’ Rea poured them both a cup and they sipped tea, silently enjoying the luxury for a moment.