Ever since Leo had died Maggie had found it hard to manage the constant repairs and upkeep an old house like this needed. Painting the woodwork, staining the back fence, coating the railings with rust-proof paint, pruning the conifers and large trees, oiling the locks and bolts about the place. Leo had looked after a hundred million manly things without complaining or saying a word and now she was landed with it all. The bathroom tap had been dripping for weeks and the last few days she could hardly sleep with it. On top of that the fitting for the shower head needed to be replaced and the sink in her utility room was blocked. She had tried to get a plumber only to be told he was booked for the next few months. Enquiring round she was told that getting a plumber to come and do a few small jobs was nigh on impossible.
From her sitting-room window Maggie watched daily the constant flow of workmen – carpenters, plumbers, electricians, plasterers and painters – renovating the O’Connors’ old house. Mark McGuinness himself had been absent for the past few weeks and, seeing his big black Range Rover parked outside in his usual spot again, she decided to take matters into her own hands.
He had looked surprised when she had knocked on his door explaining the problem she was having with regards to a plumber, and amused when she invited him to lunch in her house.
‘I’ll see what I can do about the plumber,’ he said, ‘and I usually take a break about twelve thirty, if that suits you for lunch.’
‘Ideal,’ said Maggie.
Two hours later he had appeared just as he promised and before they sat down to eat Maggie showed him around the house, highlighting her plumbing issues. Mark admired all the work Leo had done: the coving in the hall, the restored staircase, the plasterwork on the ceilings and the hand-painted kitchen that Leo had insisted suited the old house.
She had prepared a simple lunch of salad, slices of oak-smoked salmon and her own homemade brown bread. She told him about speaking to Tom and Detta recently on the phone.
‘Detta’s joined the church choir and all seems to be going well for them. Thank heaven it was a good move.’
‘A good move on my part too.’ He smiled. ‘I like the square. It seems a good place to live.’
‘So you will be living here?’ she prompted, trying to get a bit of information out of him.
He laughed. ‘Of course, that was always my intention.’
‘I also wanted to say thank you properly for helping with my granddaughter and for bringing her to the hospital. We are all extremely grateful to you,’ she said, passing him the mayonnaise.
‘It was the least I could do,’ he said politely.
‘Grace says she wouldn’t have managed without you.’
He flushed slightly at the mention of her eldest daughter’s name. What on earth was going on between the two of them? she wondered.
‘Have you seen her?’ she asked, deciding to throw caution to the wind, not caring whether he thought her an interfering busybody.
‘No, I’ve been away in America, tied up with a family problem,’ he said. ‘You know how it is.’
‘Not really,’ she said. ‘Grace is my eldest, my first child. She may appear one of those cool sophisticated career women, eldest children often do – you’d understand if you had children – but underneath she’s soft and has the kindest, biggest heart of anyone I know.’
Mark nodded, taking in what she was saying.
‘I wouldn’t want anyone to hurt her or damage that heart of hers,’ she said firmly.
‘I understand,’ he said slowly, spearing a last piece of fish on his fork, ‘and believe me, Maggie, my intentions towards Grace are only good!’
‘Well, that’s nice to hear.’ She nodded for she did believe him.
As they finished eating, they talked about the neighbourhood and Maggie filled him in on the residents’ association. She found, to her surprise, that he was rather good company as they chatted and had coffee.
‘I have a very reliable young plumber called Adam Czibi, he does a lot of work for me. I’ll send him over to you first thing tomorrow morning,’ promised Mark as he was leaving.
He’s a gentleman, Maggie decided, someone Leo would have approved of. He would make a lovely son-in-law if only he would make his feelings towards Grace clear.
Early the next morning she had tidied the bathroom, scrubbing at the shower tray and polishing the big glass mirror that hid away her old mascaras and perfumes in the bathroom cabinet. The plumber was punctual and she was impressed with the tall serious young man from Poland who without any further ado began to sort out the problems. She made him a cup of tea and produced a packet of chocolate Club Milks which he devoured, sitting across from her at the kitchen table.
Adam told her about moving to Ireland three years ago with his brother Josef and setting up their own business.
‘The first year and a half in Dublin we work on big building sites of apartments on the docks. Then we get sense and we work for ourselves. Now we have plenty of work, big jobs and little jobs.’
‘Your family must be very proud of you,’ she said.
‘They are at home in Poland, but my brother’s wife Sylvie she came to Dublin in January. We share a house together.’
‘And do you have a wife too?’ she quizzed, her curiosity sparked.
‘No, no girlfriend. Nobody! I work too hard. Sometime I will meet a nice Irish girl or a Polish girl. My mother she prays for that.’
Maggie smiled. He had a sense of humour. She only knew one Polish girl but she was a nice girl. The type his mother would definitely approve of . . .
‘Adam, can you excuse me a minute?’
There was no time like the present and she phoned Oscar quickly. He was just about to leave to play bridge with some friends.
‘Oscar, are you still having problems with your hot-water heater?’ she asked, instantly getting her older neighbour’s attention. ‘It’s just that I have a plumber here with me.’
‘Yes, it’s worse than ever. Do you think he’d come in here to take a look at the immersion?’ he begged. ‘The blasted thing is driving me cracked. The water is either boiling hot so that you think you’re going to be scalded alive or stone cold freezing. I’m terrified to have a shower and poor Irina nearly had the hands burned off her the other evening when she went to wash up.’
‘I’ll ask if he’s interested, but who will let him in?’
‘Irina’s here,’ he explained. ‘She can show him the hot press and explain the problem to him and naturally I will pay whatever the cost.’
‘Perfect.’ Maggie laughed. It couldn’t be better. It was sheer happenstance. There would be no need for introductions, he was a workman coming to do a job; the fact that he was tall and blond and very handsome and spoke Polish was a very definite advantage; but it was up to the girl next door to recognize that. Her matchmaking skills did not extend that far, it was up to nature and mutual attraction to do their work. Fate, she sometimes suspected, just needed a little shove in the right direction!
Irina had hoovered the house from top to bottom and changed the sheets, pillowcases and quiltcover on Oscar’s bed. Then she had to do some homework for English class tonight. Write a letter to an employer and another to a friend to apologize for forgetting her birthday. She sucked at the top of her Biro searching for the correct words and how to lay the sentence out. Oscar on his way out had gabbled something about Maggie’s plumber coming to fix the immersion. She shrugged; it was about time that stupid boiler was mended.
She answered the hall door an hour later and showed the plumber upstairs to the hot press. It only took her a few minutes to ascertain that Adam Czibi was not only Polish but from the tiny town of Tuszyn. His cousin, a teacher and her family, lived in Łódź only three streets away from her family.
‘You can’t go anywhere but you meet a fellow Pole,’ he shrugged looking at her with those immense blue eyes.
She made him coffee, the proper type, and a sandwich with beetroot and that baked ham Oscar liked, watching him as he ate.
‘You live in this big house?’ he asked looking around him.
She explained her role and about the kindly old man who was her boss. She told him about her English classes and her plans for the future.
As he packed up his tool bag she held her breath.
‘You know the Polish group Zido?’ Adam asked, standing in front of her.
She nodded. Every day she listened to Polish radio and followed what was happening back at home.
‘They are playing in Dublin on Saturday night and if you want we could get tickets and go to hear them together?’
Irina took a breath. He was tall and very handsome and had just asked her out on a date and she had said tak, tak, tak . . . yes, yes, yes . . .