The Pleasant Square Residents’ Association had organized their annual End-of-Summer Barbecue on the last Saturday in August. Maggie Ryan insisted that Mark McGuinness should be included, even though he was technically not a resident yet because he did own a house on the square, and of course her tenant Angus Hamilton.
The committee, which included Gerry Byrne and Maggie’s long-time neighbours Jim and Sheila Flannery and Hugh and Liz Grogan, had organized the loan of barbecues and parasols, tables and chairs from the residents. Hugh’s son Dylan, who was in a band, had been hijacked with a few of his mates into helping set up the music and speakers and lights with the promise of unlimited burgers later on. Garden lamps were placed around the park and a red and yellow bouncy castle loomed temptingly through the trees.
The Saturday was clear and warm and one hundred potatoes wrapped in tin foil were baking in Maggie Ryan’s oven. Sarah had made four trays of chicken wings and a huge tomato and onion salad. Evie picked up on the excitement as she watched neighbours start to make their way to the park.
‘Will Granny come on the bouncing castle too?’ she asked.
‘No,’ giggled Sarah, ‘but I’m sure Grace and Anna and Angus will.’
Grace pulled on a pair of cut-off cream cotton trousers and a pale green T-shirt, grabbing sunglasses and a cardigan just in case it got chilly later in the evening. She couldn’t miss the square’s barbeque! She’d been going ever since she was a kid. Mark was coming too. He’d told her he had to take care of something first but would join her there.
Anna and Rob had come to Dublin for the weekend as Anna wanted to move the rest of her books, clothes and knickknacks from her rented house in Dodder Row to Roundstone, so her mother had roped them into coming along and travelling back to Connemara tomorrow. Anna, to everyone’s shock, was taking a year out of Trinity and had signed on for five hours a week lecturing in UCG in Galway. A few more hours’ work tutoring or teaching and she should be able to survive.
Anna was wearing a pretty multicoloured skirt which clung to her hips and showed off her tall figure; with her brown hair held back with a band of green ribbon she looked amazing, relaxed and laughing as she paraded Rob around for all the neighbours to meet.
The square was starting to fill up when they arrived and the noise of laughter echoed through the summer’s air. Her mother was sitting over at a table with Sheila Flannery, mother of the gorgeous Clodagh, and a few women friends; Gerry Byrne was on duty at the barbecue along with Hugh Grogan and Oliver Crowley, who had moved to the square five years ago, and the smell of chicken and burgers and sausages cooking filled the air.
‘God I’m starving!’ announced Grace, laughing as she placed the Greek salad she’d made on the big gingham-covered buffet table.
‘Let’s go and say hello to Mum and Sarah,’ Anna said.
Their mother waved at them and introduced them as her ‘beautiful daughters’. Sheila and all the friends said hello. Oscar was sitting holding court on a proper wooden garden chair wearing a panama hat and his striped linen blazer.
‘I’m on one crutch now,’ he said proudly as Helen Byrne topped up his glass.
‘I brought some wine and a few beers too,’ Grace said. ‘Where should I put them?’
‘In the red cool box near the table. There’s a load of ice in it.’
She grabbed a glass of wine and Anna took a can of beer as they strolled over to join Sarah and a gang of friends. Angus was with her sister.
‘God, those two are mad about each other,’ hissed Anna. ‘They make such a perfect couple.’
‘Sshh,’ warned Grace. ‘He’s exactly the kind of guy Sarah needs.’
‘Hello to the pretty ladies,’ Declan Byrne welcomed Grace, kissing her warmly on the cheek.
‘You didn’t call us that a few years ago when you were holding us hostage in the trees over there,’ she joked.
‘We were only playing pirates,’ he reminded her.
Three of the Byrne boys were present, all well built and sturdy like their father.
Matthew the eldest introduced them to his wife Christine who was expecting at the end of September; Barry and his girlfriend Melinda showed off their son Daniel who was fast asleep in the buggy.
‘Your dad is doing a great job cooking, I see,’ commented Anna.
‘It’s a laugh,’ Barry confided, lowering his voice, ‘Dad doesn’t cook a thing at home, the old dear does it all, then he comes along here and puts on his stripy apron and suddenly he’s “the chef”!’
They all clapped when Vince Flannery appeared in a pair of surfer shorts and blue and white shirt, his arm around a leggy blonde in a sundress.
‘Surf’s up!’ teased Barry.
He’d been away working in Australia for the past two years and introduced Katie, his girlfriend from Melbourne.
‘We’re staying here with the folks for a few weeks until the apartment we’ve bought in Carrickmines is ready.’
The chat was easy and they stood around listening to the music as Evie ran around with two other little girls.
‘Hey, I think we’d better make a move on the food before it’s all gone,’ suggested Rob.
Grace scanned the park looking for Mark, then joined the queue and piled her plate with a chicken breast, a burger, one of her mother’s potatoes and a load of salads. She needed a seat if she was going to eat this lot. She squeezed in at a table beside Irina and a handsome blond man, who she discovered was from Poland too.
‘Did you know that your mother introduced us?’ asked Irina. ‘Adam and I both come from Poland and yet we had to come to Dublin to meet.’
Irina had made a delicious creamy potato salad with chives and made them try it. ‘I am trying all the recipes in Oscar’s cookbooks, that way we don’t get bored having dinner,’ she explained.
Rob and Anna had gone off to get a few more cans of beer when Evie came over and grabbed Grace by the hand.
‘Please, please come on the bouncy castle with me, Auntie Grace. Mummy said you would . . .’
She glanced over. The castle was crowded with an assortment of kids bouncing like there was no tomorrow; one or two mothers were trying to hold on to smaller kids as the castle wobbled and shook.
‘OK, pet,’ she said, kicking off her cream leather sandals and jumping on to the castle. Bouncing up and down as Evie squealed and laughed with her she remembered her parents hiring a smaller one of these for her birthday party when she was about eleven or twelve. They’d had it up for two days in the back garden, herself and Anna and Sarah bouncing on it in their pyjamas before they went to bed and back up on it again first thing the next morning.
Dylan Grogan and two of his friends got on, the young college students bouncing so hard they made the kids fly off their feet. Grace grabbed hold of Evie’s hand as they were thrown around.
She glanced down at the crowd watching their antics and saw Mark McGuiness standing with a grin on his face. Ten minutes later she was out of breath and flushed and in dire need of a cool drink. Anna hopped on and took Evie’s hand so Grace could clamber off, practically falling into Mark’s arms.
‘Would you like a drink?’ asked Mark, supporting her as she fumbled to put her shoes back on.
‘Water and ice would be great, thanks,’ she said and he magically produced a glass of Ballygowan from the kids’ drinks table close by.
‘Wow, you forget how they make it look so easy,’ she laughed as she got her breath back. ‘I think I’m getting a bit beyond it.’
‘This is some party,’ he said, looking at the crowds of neighbours sitting around the tables and on rugs on the ground under the trees, candles and lamps flickering as the park got darker.
‘I’ve been coming every year since I was born.’ She smiled. ‘Everyone makes the effort to be a part of it, all the parents and kids and the older people like Oscar Lynch and of course Regina Reynolds. She lives in the house at the far end of the square with the big old glass sunroom at the side. She must be ninety and is as deaf as they come.’
‘Then I am glad to have been included in such an illustrious gathering.’
‘You live here,’ she said softly.
For a few giddy moments as she caught his eye she felt as if she was back on the bouncy castle with the air knocked out of her. She swallowed hard as he smiled at her.
‘Come on,’ he said. ‘Let me get you something a bit stronger.’
Sarah was off sitting on her own with Angus, their heads bent close together, engrossed in talking. Anna was still bouncing with Evie, skirt flying in the air, and Maggie was laughing her head off with Gerry and Helen and Oscar, knocking back another glass of wine.
‘I’ve a lovely burgundy,’ Mark offered, leading her over towards the park bench.
The wine was smooth and rich and reminded her of France.
‘Did you eat?’
‘Not yet.’
‘Come on then,’ she ordered, grabbing him a plate. ‘Before everything is gone.’
They went back up to the barbecue line, where Dylan and his friends were asking for more burgers.
‘This is your fifth!’ reminded his father, Hugh, scooping a quarter-pounder on to his paper plate.
The chicken was all gone so Mark had a piece of steak and a burger and some blackened-looking sausages, topping up with potato and a spoon or two of salad. He was wearing jeans and a fitted pale blue shirt, his body long and lean, his skin tanned as he led her back towards the bench.
‘Want one of these sausages?’ he offered.
She dipped a piece of sausage in his ketchup, her hand brushing against his; he caught it.
Every touch of his skin ignited her need for him and, embarrassed, she took a sip of her wine. This was a neighbourhood barbecue for heaven’s sake!
‘Come on and I’ll introduce you to some people,’ she said once he’d finished eating.
He was charming and polite and fielded question after question about renovating the house as she introduced him to Gerry and Helen, Jim and Sheila Flannery, and Oscar and Regina.
‘When are you moving into that old house?’ asked Regina, craning her wizened face upwards, straightforward as usual, her piercing eyes running up and down as she assessed him.
‘I hope to move in very soon,’ he shouted, raising his voice so that the old lady could hear him. ‘Very soon.’
‘A bit of new blood will be good for the place.’ She nodded, patting his hand. Grace glanced at him, relieved that Regina liked him.
Music began to fill the air and a few people got up to dance.
‘Grace, can we dance?’ he asked, ‘Please?’
She loved dancing with him and gave in as he pulled her along by the hand. They joined the group of couples and fathers and mothers and kids on the makeshift dance area. Anna, who was dancing with Rob, raised her eyebrows when she saw them. They danced to the Beatles and Abba, Thin Lizzy and the Boomtown Rats, and as the music slowed, Mark pulled her into his arms as the voice of the man – Van Morrison – drifted over the park. She could feel his heart beating through his shirt, his skin warm against hers as he held her.
‘Grace, can we go? I want to show you something,’ he said softly, taking her by the hand. It was getting late and the neighbours were beginning to disperse, the barbecues growing cold.
They said their goodnights and slipped away on their own, Mark leading her out of the park and across the street to number 29.
A flickering trail of tea-light candles lit up the path and steps that led up to the front door.
‘It’s finally finished,’ he whispered, as he pulled the key from his pocket. Grace hesitated on the step for a minute, nervous, not sure she wanted to see the massive changes that he had wrought on the O’Connors’ old house. But then Mark put his arms around her and ushered her inside, turning on the light and closing the front door.
‘Oh, Mark!’ She gasped, taking in the utter transformation all around her. ‘It’s so beautiful.’
She walked with him through the hall and drawing room and dining room. It was exactly the way she had imagined; it was almost word for word the way she had described it to Mark months ago. She looked around the old hallway with its classic banisters and balustrade restored, the original oak floorboards polished and sealed and the walls and traditional dado rail painted in Farrow and Ball’s muted buttermilk, an original Waterford glass chandelier hanging from the ceiling. He took her hand in his as they walked from room to room.
The living room bore little trace of the O’Connors except for the polished white marble fireplace. The walls were painted a rich gold, an expensive hand-woven carpet graced the central square over the perfect revealed floorboards. A large cream-and-gold-patterned sofa stood in front of the fireplace and an antique server in the bay window.
The dining room echoed the same colours but a polished mahogany table and chairs and a simple sideboard gave the room a warm feel. The back of the house contained the massive kitchen with its bright glass and wood extension leading out to the back garden. The units were hand-painted in ivory white and it was the most perfect kitchen she had ever seen, a designer’s dream! There was a huge island, expensive German appliances and, sitting prettily in the middle, a huge family table that reminded her of the one they had at home.
Upstairs he showed her the room where Josh would sleep when he visited, and the fancy bathroom with the double shower and mini Jacuzzi, and the uncluttered guest room, and the room for a small child with its line of red kites and blue clouds dancing around the edge of the walls. She could hardly breathe as he led her to the main bedroom.
‘Our room,’ he said. White roses and candles everywhere! It held a massive bed that was like a floating island in the room, the mushroom and cream and white colour scheme making it restful and warm as Grace caught their reflections in the mirrored glass of the dressing area with its his-and-her rails and luxurious en-suite.
‘Mark, it’s perfect! Absolutely perfect! Everything is just right,’ she said, overawed by how much effort and energy and love he had put into this beautiful old house.
Taking her hand again, he led her back downstairs and out into the newly landscaped garden, to show her the modern lighting and more candles in white glass holders hanging from the branches and nestling between the planted beds of shrubs and lavender and herbs. Grace was glad to see the old apple trees still standing near the back wall. Detta’s bird house was freshly painted and hanging from a branch.
There, standing in the moonlight, Mark had taken her hand and told her how much he loved her and never wanted to lose her.
‘Grace, marry me, please?’ he’d asked, his eyes filled with emotion. ‘Live in this house with me, be my wife!’
She touched his face and kissed him and told him yes.
The ring he gave her was white gold with a single perfect diamond and Mark slipped it on to her finger as easily as if it had always meant to be there.