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I tried to push away my worries as we worked on the next issue of the magazine, the second one that would go out nationwide. It would have to be sensational for it to succeed. I had a brief chat with Finola to tell her the name of the new publishing group.
“Jersean?” she said. “How do you spell that?”
“Like it sounds. J-e-r-s-e-a-n.”
“Odd name. Never heard of them. But I’ll do some research and get back to you if I find anything.”
I had delayed telling Dad about my change of plan. But I knew I had to break it to him before anyone else did. I dragged my heels about it until I realised he had to know before he sold his house in Abbeyleix.
“Dad,” I said when we were in the garden sharing a pizza and a beer at the table under the trees. “I have something to tell you.”
“What?” He shook the table. “This needs fixing. I have my tools in the car. Why didn’t you tell me how wobbly it was?”
“I forgot. Are you listening?”
He let go of the table and looked at me. “Yes. What is it? You look worried.”
“It’s about that job in London. I’m not taking it.”
He stared at me. “What? You’re not taking it?”
“No.”
“Are you mad? After all the hard work, all the—” He stopped and pushed his hand through his hair. “Why are you throwing away this chance? Why are you taking the easy option? Sure, London is a big place, and things will be tough for a while but, hell, Audrey, you have to go for it sometimes. I thought you had more guts than this.”
“Stop for a moment,” I exclaimed, close to tears. “Just stop. Please don’t say anything before I’ve explained.”
He sighed and nodded. “Go on. This had better be good.”
“Don’t look so angry, Dad. I was so excited about that job, you know. My big break. Working in London at such a prestigious magazine. And you being so happy and proud. But then I found out that I had been offered it as part of a dirty conspiracy to get me out of the way in order to—” I stopped.
“In order to—what?”
“To manipulate me in some way. The whole thing is so off the wall, it sounds crazy. I won’t go into the details. Too complicated. It has to do with a lot of things that I find hard to talk about. But the gist of it is that I’m back, I’m staying and—” I smiled “—I’m happy.” I took a deep breath and looked at the expression on Dad’s face, which had changed from disappointment to anger during my little speech. “I know you’re upset. I’m really sorry if you’re disappointed in me. You wanted me to have this big career and make loads of money and have my name on the rich list or something. I never understood why, though.”
Dad sighed and looked at his plate. “It’s because of Patricia—your mum.”
“Mum? What does she have to do with it?”
Dad poked at his pizza with his fork. Then he looked at me with eyes so sad it made my heart ache. “She had a great future ahead of her when we met. She was only twenty-two and had just graduated from Trinity with a master’s in chemistry. Immediately after that she landed a job with an American pharmaceutical company based in London. It would have been the first rung on the ladder of a career in that field. But then we met and had this whirlwind romance—well, you know how beautiful she was.”
“And you were gorgeous. I’ve seen the photos.”
He smiled wistfully. “Yeah, we were a grand-looking pair all right. I had just been promoted at the bank, and then we got married very soon after we met. Pat got pregnant with you, and I got a job as manager of the bank in Abbeyleix.” He sighed. “So she had to give up her career and move with me to the country. Not that she had to marry me, but we had other plans. I was to try to get a bank job in London, and she’d take the job with that American company. But then you happened and, well, we didn’t think the London plan would work with a family.”
“But she didn’t mind, did she?”
He looked out over the garden. “I don’t know. She said she didn’t. She seemed very happy about her pregnancy and everything, and she was excited about moving to the country and buying the house. When you were born she was overjoyed. Never saw such a dedicated mother. But sometimes I could sense she was disappointed. Frustrated, I suppose. She got a part-time job at the chemists’ when you started school, but that was small potatoes compared to what she gave up—for me.”
“And me,” I said when he paused. I put my elbows on the table and looked at him. “So that’s why you have been so ambitious for me. You never told me all this before.”
He shrugged. “I always felt guilty that she had to give up a great future. I didn’t want to dwell on it. Maybe I didn’t want you to know. I was afraid you’d blame me or something.”
“I would never blame you.” I put my hand on his. “Oh, Daddy, don’t be sad. I’m sure Mum was happy. We all make our own choices in life, which to others might not be perfect. Mum wanted a family more than a career. I feel happier in Ireland running this little newspaper than I would be living in London and running a high-profile publication. The Country Weekend magazine is going to do very well, but maybe that’s also small potatoes compared to the high profile I might have had in London literary circles. The important thing is not to look back.”
He took my hand and kissed it. “You’re wiser than your years.” He sighed. “I suppose I should stop trying to push you. You’re old enough to make your own mistakes.”
“It’s not a mistake. I know I’m doing the right thing. I must stay to save the paper. You see, part of their plan was to hire an editor-in-chief from the UK when I had left. They—I mean the Montgomery Group—were going to make our publication British instead of Irish.”
“But you stopped them and made them rehire you? How did you do that?”
I felt my face flush. “Never mind. I just did by using a devious plan. But now they’re selling the newspaper. I’ve heard this new publishing group are bidding for it.”
Dad looked alarmed. “New group? Do you know who they are?”
Suddenly hungry, I picked up a wedge of pizza. “No. They’re called The Jersean Group. Never heard of them. Can’t find anything on the web about them either. I’m a little worried that they might be a cover for something else. Something political.”
Dad laughed. “Don’t be silly. I’m sure they’re just some nice Irish people wanting to get into country publishing.”
“You’re such an innocent, Dad.”
He winked. “Not as innocent as you think, darlin’.”
“What do you mean? What are you up to?”
“Can’t talk about it yet. It’s too soon. I’ll tell you later.” He bent down to pick up Cat, who was nudging his leg under the table. “You’re not the only devious one in this family.”
“Does this have anything to do with Liz?”
He stroked Cat. “In a way.”
“I haven’t seen her for a week or so. Is she away?”
“Yes. She had some...business to attend to in Dublin.”
“I see.” I studied him for a while, putting my pizza down. He didn’t look like a man in love, more like someone going through a crisis. I stopped chewing. “What’s going on with you and Liz, Dad? Is it getting serious?”
He nodded, still holding Cat. “Yes. And no.”
“How do you mean?”
He looked at me across Cat’s back, stroking her soft fur. “I don’t know how to explain it. I...oh dear. Audrey, I’m so afraid.”
“Afraid of loving again?” I asked, my voice gentle. “In case something happened to her and then...”
He nodded, his eyes full of fear. “I can’t go through all that again—all the grieving and sorrow. I don’t know what to do.” He let Cat down on the grass. “That makes me a big chicken, I suppose.”
“No, it doesn’t. It makes you human.” I reached across the wobbly table and grabbed his hand. “Look at me,” I ordered.
He met my gaze. “I’m looking.”
“And listen, too, okay?”
He nodded.
I took a deep breath. “Carpe diem, Dad. There is only the present—this moment in time. Liz said this to me a while ago, and she was right. You have to cherish the moment. If you love her, dare to follow through. Dare to show her that love, and dare to be happy, even if it’s only for a moment, a day, a week. We don’t know what’s going to happen in the future, and worrying won’t change that. If the worst should happen, at least you’ll have had that happiness, those moments together. I mean,” I continued, my eyes brimming with tears, “you wouldn’t have wanted not to have those years with Mum, would you? Or me, or all the things you did and said to each other. Those memories are gifts that life gives you. Don’t refuse them by being scared. It’s been—how long? Twenty-five years? You have to let Mum go.”
He stared at me in silence. Then he pulled his hand away. “You’re right. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome, Dad.”
He coughed. “That’s enough of that, then. Any more beer?”
I got up. “I’ll get you some from the fridge.”
I went to the kitchen to find the beer, walked back into the garden, and handed him the bottle. “There you go.” I sat down again. “I hope you realise that I won’t be moving out of this flat. I mean, if you’re still selling your house, you’ll have nowhere to go. Maybe you should wait a while?”
“Too late. It’s already on the market.” He smiled and winked. “But don’t worry, I might have something else lined up that will suit my plans better.”
“Those plans you refuse to tell me about?”
“Exactly,” Dad replied, looking smug.
I was relieved to see him looking more positive. I only wished there was as easy a solution to my own heartache.
***
I heard nothing from Finola for over a week. We were busy covering all the late summer events of the town and even venturing into neighbouring counties to vary our reporting in order to appeal to a wider readership. We were also drawing up plans for the biggest country event in Ireland, in September: the ploughing championships, held in Borris-in-Ossory this year. That was where we’d connect with all the different counties and truly represent rural Ireland. It was also the event where politicians, including the top people of the government, went to lobby for votes and increased support for their party.
Finola asked if she could come with me when she popped into the office one evening. “I’m good at spotting conspiracies and hugger-mugger. This could be when we’ll discover the truth behind this takeover of the paper.”
“How?” I asked, mystified. “I mean, the ploughing championships? It’s like a huge agricultural market, isn’t it? Ploughing, sheep shearing, that kind of thing. I know politicians go there to press the flesh of their farming voters, but—”
“That’s not all there is to it. Everybody goes there,” Finola stated. “And if you have a pint or two with some of the grass roots people, you can find out a lot.”
“I don’t drink pints.”
“Hell, no, of course not.” She laughed raucously. “But I do. In any case, I need a break from running after the kids all day. Three-year-old girls sure can cover a lot of ground. I found them chasing hens this morning. Jules wasn’t too happy. Her best hens will probably lay scrambled eggs tonight.”
“Okay,” I said as I shut down my computer. “The championships start on the fifteenth of September. In two weeks. Why don’t we go with Fidelma and Dan? I’ll just go for an hour or two, but you could stay on and mingle. Then I can come back to the office and finish the layout and get the photos and features as they come in by e-mail. That would save a lot of time. Ploughing isn’t really my scene anyway.”
Finola’s eyes lit up. “Brilliant. I’ll park the twins with this terrific local girl I’ve found who’s the best babysitter. She’s the eldest of seven and knows how to deal with little terrors like ours. She’s been a good solution for us. Doesn’t live in but available whenever we need her. A real godsend. I think she’s saved our marriage, to be honest. Now we’re both free to do our thing, and then we meet in the evenings to play happy families. No more pressure.”
“Sounds perfect. What are you going to do with all the free time?”
Finola shrugged. “Don’t know yet. But I’ll find something. Maybe at the ploughing championships. Who knows?”
“It’s not exactly the London Book Fair,” I remarked. “Just a hick event for country bumpkins.”
“Don’t underestimate it,” Finola said darkly. “You could meet your destiny at the ploughing championships.”
***
I tried to stop worrying about Dad and continued asking around for any information about The Jersean Group. Jerry just shook his head and shrugged and my contact woman at Keatings swore she had no idea and asked me to keep her posted. I finally ended up at Jules’ one afternoon talking to Rory about the whole issue. We were in the conservatory having tea with Dessie, who was lying on the sofa, her stomach sticking up.
“I’m getting a bit worried about this,” I said to Rory, who was rubbing Dessie’s feet.
“Why are you worried?” he asked.
“Because they might be connected to these politicians who are trying to spread anti-Europe propaganda. If they buy the paper, they might start ordering me around and telling me to publish opinion pieces or something. Or even fire us all just like Kit said he would.”
“Do you really think it’ll come to that?” Dessie sighed and put her other foot in Rory’s lap. “Do this one too, and don’t forget my ankles.”
“Of course, sweetheart.” Rory rubbed the other foot. He turned to me. “I wouldn’t worry until they actually do it. It’ll take time to raise the cash and to go through all the legal channels. Might take longer than usual if they’re new and don’t know the ropes.”
Dessie lifted her head from the pillows. “Just like us. We don’t have a clue about having a baby. But in about a week or so, we’ll find out pretty damn quick what it’s like, and then we’ll have to cope. ”
“Running a publishing group is slightly different from having a baby, as far as I know,” I said. “You’re not having twins, are you?”
Dessie laughed and rubbed her belly. “No. There’s only one in there, but a big one by the looks of it. The doctor said it’s ‘a good weight,’ whatever that means. Probably that it’ll be bloody murder to get him out. Or her. Not looking forward to that.”
“I’m sure you’ll be fine,” I soothed. “Not that I’m an expert, of course.”
“Neither are we,” Rory stated. “By the way, have you been over to my house to look at what Finola and Colin are doing?”
“Not yet. But I think I’ll ask Finola to bring me over. I don’t want to snoop or anything. I was surprised they left LA just like that,” I continued. “Finola mentioned something about her visa and Guantanamo Bay a few months ago in an e-mail, but I thought she was joking.”
“Not a joke,” Dessie replied. “They might have been in trouble with the immigration authorities. Finola hadn’t bothered to apply for a resident visa. But Colin also wanted to move back. Most of his movies are shot in Europe, so LA is a bit far.”
“And now they’re turning my house into a mansion,” Rory cut in. “Don’t know what was wrong with it, actually.”
“Come on, Rory, the house is a bit of a wreck,” Dessie argued. “It’s going to be amazing. It’ll be redone from top to bottom, and they’re adding an indoor swimming pool and gym. They’ll have ponies for the girls, so they’ll build new stables too, and the grounds around the garden will be landscaped. It’ll cost millions, of course, but sure they can afford it.”
“Sounds terrific,” I said. “It’s fabulous to have Finola back here. She’s working on a book about the US political situation.”
“Yes,” Rory agreed, “and her agent has put her proposal up for auction with several publishers.”
“There’s plenty for her to chew on over here too.” I got up. “I have to go.”
“You have a date?” Dessie asked, her eyes sparkling.
“Me?” I rolled my eyes. “Nah. Dateable men are pretty rare around here.”
“What about Jonathan O’Regan?” Dessie winked. “I thought he seemed very interested in you at the party here in June. He looked really upset when he spotted you under the trees in a clinch with your boss.”
I shuddered. “Please. Don’t remind me. Too much wine that night, I’m afraid.”
Dessie giggled and put her hand over her mouth. “Oops. Sorry.”
“Never mind. That’s all in the past,” I assured her. “I’ve moved on.”
“But what about Jonathan?” Dessie insisted. “I sense some kind of romance.”
I squirmed. “I haven’t time for romance. In any case, Jonathan has gone back to the Iron Age in County Meath. Don’t expect to see him until November, if even then. See ye later lads,” I said and skipped out the door before Dessie could ask more questions.
Dessie’s words had brought back the pain and confusion about my relationship with Jonathan, and it all rushed back as I drove home. He hadn’t been in touch since I slammed the door in his face, but why would he? If anyone had done that to me, I wouldn’t want to talk to them either. I should have apologised, but I couldn’t bear looking at his face or even hearing his voice. Lucky Clodagh. She obviously had what it took to make Jonathan fall in love. Whatever that was.