The next day they drove to Moyle House. Kerrie was shocked to see the auctioneers’ huge ‘For Sale’ sign attached to the railings beside the gateway as they drove up to the house.
‘How are they both taking it?’ she asked.
‘Badly!’
The dogs ran up to greet them, and Kerrie patted Lady on the head as Maureen Hennessy came out to welcome them.
Maureen looked tired, as if the stuffing had been knocked out of her; she had lost some of her strength and vitality.
‘Where’s Dad?’ asked Matt.
‘He’s in the sitting room reading the paper.’
Dermot Hennessy seemed to be dozing in the armchair, his chin on his chest. The abandoned newspaper was spread loosely across his lap.
‘Dad,’ said Matt gently. ‘Dad.’
Dermot Hennessy began to stir and, stretching his arms and shoulders, he woke up.
‘Good to see you, Matt, boy, and Kerrie.’
Kerrie was shocked at the change in him too. He seemed to have shrunk, and his colour wasn’t good. He looked so pale.
‘Just having a read of the Sunday papers … lot of rubbish, most of it!’
Feeling awkward, Kerrie slipped away upstairs with her bag. Matt and his dad needed time on their own together.
Maureen was busy in the kitchen when she came downstairs.
‘I’m sorry about all that has happened,’ said Kerrie hesitantly. ‘It must be so hard for you and Dermot and everyone.’
‘Well, the one thing I will say for all this trouble is that you soon find out who your true friends are. We’ve had a few letdowns, like the Gallaghers not inviting us to their big summer garden party over in Killeen Abbey two weeks ago – we’ve always gone to it! How could people forget all the good things that Dermot and Gerard Mullen did for this town and area? The shopping centre they built, those lovely family houses up on the Forge Road, the medical centre and the new nursing home!’ she said angrily. ‘Dermot is no saint but he’s not a bad man, Kerrie! At least some of our old friends have been loyal, and thank heaven I have the golf club.’
‘You still go up there?’
‘Most of the ladies there have enough sense not to give a toss about people’s husbands’ reputations!’
It was lovely outside and when Maureen suggested a walk with the dogs Kerrie was pleased to go along. The dogs scampered backwards and forwards as they wondered all around the grounds of Moyle House.
‘It’s at its best now,’ said Maureen, as they walked through the garden with its herbaceous borders filled with tall delphiniums, lupins and foxgloves. Masses of climbing roses covered the stone wall. ‘I can’t believe that this will be my last summer here in the garden,’ she said, trying to control her emotions. ‘And that next year someone else will have taken over the place. The whole thing is too bloody sad to bear!’
‘Do you know where you and Dermot will move to?’
‘No, but we both want to stay fairly local.’
‘Maybe you’ll find somewhere smaller close by or in the village,’ Kerrie suggested.
‘Can you imagine Dermot living in a cottage in the village?’ Maureen snapped bitterly.
Kerrie couldn’t imagine them living anywhere but here. No wonder it had been so hard for Matt trying to get them to agree to sell.
‘Lots of people in Dublin downsize as they get older and their families grow up,’ she said gently.
Maureen pretended that she didn’t hear her.
They walked down to the old tennis court.
‘I’d always hoped that Georgina and Matt and Ed’s children would play tennis on this court, just like in the good old days.’
Kerrie looked at the uneven grass surface and almost threadbare net, knowing that she was looking at remnants of a world that had vanished long ago. It was just that the Hennessys couldn’t see it.
As they reached the old paddock the dogs chased after a rabbit, barking furiously. They passed by the old stables and quarters, now empty and abandoned.
‘It was a busy yard before our time,’ reminisced Maureen. ‘We kept a few ponies and mares, but the Butlers had a full yard. There’s the old water pump and the saddle stone, and the mounting block they used to help the ladies on to their horses.’
Kerrie wandered around, exploring. Amazingly, although the old stables looked a bit decrepit from the outside, inside they were still in pretty good condition, with dry walls. There were fifteen stalls, a kitchen, a large tack room and steps up to a big loft area.
‘Some of the stable boys used to sleep up there to keep an eye on the horses,’ explained Maureen. ‘They were valuable animals.’
Outside, around the small courtyard, there were a number of ramshackle outhouses. The sun shone brightly; wild-flowers had colonized the cracks in the broken paving and the gaps in the stone walls.
‘It’s lovely here, Maureen. What a beautiful place!’ Kerrie said.
‘It’s just a stables,’ said Maureen. ‘It’s never been used for anything else, except maybe some storage.’
‘Half the mews houses in Dublin in Leeson Street and Ballsbridge and Donnybrook and Dun Laoghaire were old stables and coach houses that people converted. They can look amazing,’ Kerrie said quietly. ‘I’d imagine if you already own one it is a lot less hassle to convert them than to build something from scratch … but I’m no expert.’
‘What are you saying?’
‘You own these stables already, Maureen, and the courtyard. You could probably retain them when you sell the rest of the property, if the auctioneer agrees. Also it would slightly reduce the cost for a buyer. They could make a lovely mews-type house. Easy to manage.’
‘Matt told me that you were a clever girl,’ Maureen said, patting Kerrie’s arm. ‘But I’d want to find out the feasibility of doing something like that, without too many people knowing about it! I wouldn’t want to get Dermot’s hopes up if it was not possible or cost too much. With the business gone, and all that has happened, he’s like a lost soul about the place.’
‘I have a friend who is an architect, his name is Emmet Ryan – maybe I could ask him to contact you and come down here and see what he thinks,’ Kerrie offered. The first time she had met him Emmet had told her about a mews conversion he had done down near Herbert Park for some musician. She remembered seeing photos of it in one of her house design magazines.
‘Yes, that is something definitely worth looking into. Downsizing! Is that what you called it?’
Kerrie tried to control her smile. Maureen had been listening to her after all.
‘As you say, lots of people in big houses like ours have to downsize and move to a smaller property on their own land. We’d still be in Moyle House, whether it is a mews or a lodge or whatever you call it!’ Maureen called the dogs and they continued their walk.
Dermot was quiet at dinner, the four of them sitting in the dining room. Maureen had gone to a lot of trouble and done salmon en croute, something that Kerrie wouldn’t even dare to attempt. The pastry was cooked to perfection, concealing its delicious filling of fish and dill, and served with lovely new baby potatoes.
‘How are the wedding plans coming?’ asked Maureen.
‘They’re not,’ admitted Kerrie truthfully. ‘We’re thinking of changing everything and having it in Ireland if we can find somewhere to hold it. But at this stage it might be impossible.’
‘We’re both taking a few days off next week to have a look at places,’ explained Matt. ‘We’re seeing what we can find that’s free in September. A lot of the big venues will be gone, but maybe we can find an old country house or hotel that we both like.’
‘Much better to have it in Ireland instead of dragging everybody away,’ added Dermot. ‘To be honest, I don’t know if I’d be up to flying myself at the moment.’
‘That’s what’s made us change our minds,’ admitted Kerrie. ‘Too many people we love wouldn’t have been able to come to France, and, Dermot, we really want you and everyone we care about to be there.’
That night, as she lay curled up in Matt’s arms, Kerrie wondered what would have happened to this house by next year. Dermot looked very unwell, and Matt said the doctor had put him on some kind of medication for stress and suspected he was developing an ulcer.
‘I’m going to miss this house,’ Matt sighed.
She told Matt about her conversation with his mother about the old stables.
‘I dread the thought of the two of them moving away and having to start all over again,’ he said.
‘Matt, it’s only an idea, but if you want I’ll ask Emmet about it.’
‘If he’s coming down I’ll come with him. Maybe there is a way they could salvage something from this disaster, Kerrie,’ he said, getting excited. ‘If we could manage without too much cost to convert the old stables and yard they’d still be able to stay living here at Moyle.’