Bríd scowled and flopped onto the sofa. Aideen was being infuriating, and Conor had no bloody business to be putting his oar in at all.
It was seven forty-five and the argument had been going on for an hour. Aideen, who was sitting opposite Bríd, clasped her hands round her knee. She looked as if she was trying to stop herself throwing something. Except that Aideen was never violent – only, as Bríd had just told her, really, really sneaky.
‘I am not sneaky! How can you say that?’
‘Oh, please! Making plans behind my back and not even bothering to consult me!’
‘I didn’t make them behind your back. And I’m talking to you now.’
‘Five minutes before it’s a fait accompli!’ Seeing Aideen’s reaction, Bríd rushed on to safer ground. ‘Okay, all right, so you told me in the deli this morning, with half the town in the queue so I couldn’t say anything. And you’ve been soft-soaping me ever since we got home. But the bottom line is you dreamed up a plan – and went and discussed it with Conor! – when it’s my life and my home that are going to be affected.’
Conor, who was sitting on the arm of Aideen’s chair, reached down and took her hand. ‘It wasn’t Aideen’s idea, it was mine.’
‘Oh, this just gets better and better! You came up with a plan for what should happen in our house?’
Aideen glared at her. ‘Don’t you dare start on Conor! Yes, it was his idea. And, yes, I discussed it with him. Why wouldn’t I? I’ll talk to anyone I want, Bríd, about anything I like. And, in case you’ve forgotten, the house is mine, not ours.’
There was a pause in which they all absorbed the fact that Aideen had just said the unsayable. Then Conor charged into the breach. ‘I’m sorry, Bríd. Honest. And nothing’s actually been fixed. It just seemed like a good plan, since Aideen and I are desperate to up our savings. But if it doesn’t work for the both of you, that’s no problem at all.’
Aideen shook her head vehemently. ‘It’s not us who need to apologise. I’m sorry too, Bríd, if we’ve upset you, but we haven’t done anything wrong. And I’ve told you already that Cassie’s only coming for a chat. We mightn’t like her at all, or she might hate the place.’
Bríd opened her mouth to speak but Aideen went on regardless: ‘And if you’ve made up your mind to dislike her without even seeing her, then you’re the one who’s being sneaky. And plain mean!’
Sitting on the sofa, which was lower than the chair, felt wrong so Bríd stood up abruptly. The whole notion of turning the dining room into a bedroom and renting it out to some girl that Conor had met in the library was daft. Okay, they didn’t need the dining room to eat in, but they did use it as a store room. Was this stranger supposed to sleep on a pile of boxes? She snapped the question at Aideen, who shrugged her shoulders.
‘We’d move the boxes out of there. Naturally. And don’t start fussing, I’ve worked out where they’d go. There’s plenty of room at the Garden Café, and they’d be far better there anyway. Much easier for deliveries, and far more convenient with the deli across the road.’
The trouble was that she was right about that. When they’d set up the deli, the Old Convent Centre hadn’t been opened. But now, as well as running HabberDashery, they provided food for the café in the nuns’ garden, so Phil could hardly object if they stored stuff there. Actually, it was an efficiency that Bríd should have thought of herself.
There was no point in asking about furniture either. That was all sorted. According to Aideen, Conor’s mum had a single bed, a wardrobe and a chest of drawers going begging, and Conor could give them a fresh coat of paint. They’d have to buy a new mattress, but the blanket box on the landing was full of linen and a spare duvet, still faintly scented with lavender sachets made by Aunt Bridge. ‘I’ll pay for the mattress and we’ll do all the shifting. You won’t have to be involved, though if you had any bit of decency you’d help.’
Bríd glanced at her watch and saw that this Cassie person was due in a couple of minutes. She glared at Aideen. ‘Three people in the bathroom in the mornings? Someone else sitting here at night? What if Dan’s round and he and I just want to hang out? I mean, we’re not like you and Conor, always disappearing up to the bedroom.’
As soon as she’d said it, she wished she hadn’t. Aideen looked like a stricken deer and, anyway, it was nonsense. Dan hardly ever came round, and when he did they always disappeared upstairs themselves.
Conor gave a hoot of laughter. ‘Ah, for God’s sake, Bríd, would you cop on to yourself? I’ve known a few times when Dan and I have been fighting over the bathroom. Not to mention the TV remote. And haven’t we all managed so far with no bones broken? You’re behaving as if Cassie’s the last straw, but the fact is that she’ll only be round for a matter of months. Or maybe weeks. Only till after Christmas, anyway.’
The doorbell rang before Bríd could reply, and Aideen got up to answer it. On her way to the door she shot Bríd a look. Biting her lip, Bríd went and stared pointlessly out of the window. She knew perfectly well that the real issue wasn’t the bathroom. Or the bedroom furniture. It was the fact that Aideen, who’d always deferred to her advice, had moved on and was focused on Conor.
The girl who was ushered in a few minutes later appeared to Bríd to have what Gran always called ‘a great welcome for herself’. She was short and wide-eyed, with blond hair that was razor-cut at the back and a feathery fringe dyed a daft shade of blue. As Conor offered her a chair she slipped out of a puffy metallic coat that looked both rugged and stylish, as if she were about to trek to a party at the North Pole. Bríd noticed a tiny tattoo at the nape of her neck, where the razor-cut ended in a couple of curls of dyed hair, like a duck’s tail.
Aideen introduced her as Cassie Fitzgerald, and Cassie smiled at Bríd. ‘Pat and Ger Fitz from the butcher’s granddaughter. I’m beginning to feel I need to say so each time I meet someone new.’
Bríd had an insane urge to look blank and say that she’d no idea who Pat and Ger Fitz were. Just to wipe the confident look off the snub-nosed face. Instead she escaped to the kitchen, saying she’d put the kettle on.
By the time she came back with the tray the others had shown Cassie the dining room, and Cassie was back in the armchair, all enthusiasm. ‘Really, it couldn’t be better. I’ve practically no luggage, so don’t even bother with the wardrobe. Maybe we could find a rail, or stick a few hooks on the door.’
Aideen asked if she was certain the room would be big enough.
‘Hey, I’ve shared cabins that were smaller – it’s perfect, really. And, just so you know, I’m not saying a word against Pat and Ger’s place. It’s nice and they’re really hospitable. I just don’t want to have to tiptoe past their bedroom each time I come in late at night.’
Bríd heard herself announcing that there wasn’t much nightlife in Lissbeg. Cassie shot her a surprised look. ‘Well, I wasn’t expecting Las Vegas. Still, there must be something to do in Carrick.’ She picked up a coffee mug and smiled at Bríd over the rim. ‘It’s not just about nightlife, anyway. Pat’s sweet, and if I stayed with her she’d feel she had to entertain me. Whereas I’m far happier entertaining myself.’
The mug she’d picked up was the one that Bríd herself always drank from. Irritated by Aideen’s look of concern, and a flicker of amusement from Conor, Bríd held out a plate and announced that the biscuits were Bourbons. Cassie smiled again and took one, saying she’d had a cookie at the Garden Café that Pat had said was made by a girl from the deli.
Aideen beamed. ‘Bríd does all our baking. She’s brilliant at it.’
‘Yes, well, these are from the supermarket, I’m afraid.’
Bríd’s tone was brittle but Cassie didn’t seem to notice. Instead she smiled again and said thanks.
Aware that she’d sounded priggish, Bríd was groping for something to say when Dan’s face suddenly appeared at the window. She went to the door to let him in, as Conor explained to Cassie that this was her boyfriend, Dan Cafferky. ‘His mum and dad keep the shop in Couneen and Dan does eco-tours.’
‘Oh, right.’
As Bríd led Dan into the room and began to introduce him, Cassie interrupted her and gave him a big wink. ‘How’s it going, Sherlock?’
To Bríd’s horror, Dan winked back at her. ‘Never better. How’re you doing yourself?’
Throwing a quick glance at Aideen, Conor turned to Cassie. ‘So you two know each other?’
‘Oh, Dan the Man and I are old friends, aren’t we?’ Cassie bit into her Bourbon. ‘Seems like, since we found each other, we just can’t keep apart.’