‘For what?’
‘To publish it. Nora’s Last Stand could be out by Christmas. I’m finishing a few poems off and I have one more to write. But it won’t happen unless…’
‘Unless what?’
‘Unless Nora’s Last Stand has your blessing. I won’t publish it if it makes you unhappy or uneasy or uncomfortable.’
‘Congratulations,’ I said. ‘That’s great news.’
‘And your blessing?’
‘Why not?’ I couldn’t think of any reason why I wouldn’t give it. It was slightly irksome but if something good, such as Christy getting a book published could come out of this, then who was I to prevent it?
*
‘I have something to ask you,’ Mary said, standing at the door of my office. ‘I need to go away. I know it’s short notice but…’ She looked at me pleadingly.
‘Come in,’ I said. ‘Come and sit down.’ We were two weeks to the end of term. Something must be wrong. ‘Are you all right?’
‘I am so sorry, Tabitha,’ she said, sitting down in the chair in front of my desk, her hands twisting in her lap. ‘But I have to go. I don’t have a choice.’
‘Okay…’
‘But,’ she said quickly, ‘everything’s in order. I thought that I might have to go and so I’ve been getting everything ready just in case. Just in case. The school reports are ready to send out, all the notices for next term, the filing… everything’s done. I stayed late, all night, actually, yesterday. It’s all done.’ She looked at me. ‘Please?’
‘Of course,’ I said. ‘If you have to. But what is it? Where are you going? Are you ill?’
She shook her head. ‘No, not ill. I’m fine but I can’t tell you, Tabitha, but I will, as soon as I’m home again I will. I just can’t. It’s too important and…’ There were tears in her eyes. I’d never seen Mary well up before. ‘I can’t tell anyone anything. Just in case…’
‘Just in case what?’
‘Just in case I jinx it.’
Maybe it was financial trouble? She wasn’t about to join the Sisters of Charity? Never to be seen again without a wimple.
‘It’s all I’ve ever wanted,’ she said. ‘I can’t tell you what it is because you’ll tell me not to do it or that it’s too risky and I’ll only get hurt like the last time…’
‘If there’s anything I can do to help you… anything at all… Please call me. Money… whatever you need.’
‘Tabitha, you make it sound like I’m dying.’
‘You’re not are you?’
‘My time will come but, as far as I’m aware, it won’t be anytime soon.’
‘You will look after yourself, won’t you? And call me, any time. Please?’
She nodded. ‘I’ve never been so nervous in my entire life,’ she said, standing up. ‘Wish me luck, Tabitha. Wish me luck.’
‘Good luck Mary.’ It was like she was off to war. Oh Jesus. She wasn’t heading off to fight terrorists, was she? I went over to her and we grabbed each other’s hands and hugged tightly, her tiny body shaking like a leaf.
Chapter Twenty
The situation with Rosie just didn’t compute for Michael. He arrived home in a state of near hysteria forcing Rosie, who I’d managed to coax out of her room, like a shy animal, to retreat, and close her door behind her.
‘I don’t understand,’ he said. ‘How could she not do her exams? She should at least give it a go… she could fail…’ He blanched at the thought but carried on gamely, ‘but it would be better than not doing them. There was a lad in my year. Failed the whole lot. Estate agent now. Makes a packet. Lives in the South of France, drives some tiny, red car and roars about Villefranche.’
‘And that’s what you want for Rosie?’
‘No! It’s just that even if you don’t think you are going to do well, you should just do them. Never give up. Don’t cop out. Failure is not an option. Us Fogartys…’
‘Fogartys can’t give up. Fogartys are made of sterner stuff. Fogartys aren’t allowed to be seen to fail, is that right?’
‘Well, it’s just that Lucy…’
‘Lucy? What’s her advice? Lucy is just like you, Michael. She never shows weakness, vulnerability, never puts a foot wrong. She’s not going to know what to do…’
‘Lucy suggested it was vegetarianism. Don’t look at me like that. Hear me out because I think she might have a point. Milk. Does Rosie drink milk? Big glasses of it?’
‘I don’t know,’ I said wearily. ‘She has it in tea and on her granola, but…’
‘Lucy says all the young ones like to drink almond milk or whatnot.’ He put his hands up as if to present an open and shut case. ‘Is that what she’s doing?’
‘Michael,’ I said, ‘I don’t think milk is the answer.’ He looks shocked as though I’d said that the sky wasn’t blue or Brussels wasn’t the centre of the universe. ‘I think it’s something that will take a bit of time…’
‘Time… but we don’t have time. Life is short. She…’
‘She needs time. Things are going well with her counsellor…’
Michael’s brow furrowed. ‘Counsellor… clap trap. Milk would be better Vitamins and minerals and a good dose of protein. I think Lucy might have a point...’
*
All week, before I left for school, I’d check on Rosie. She was permanently tear-streaked and washed out. At lunchtime, I’d come home to make her something to eat, and later find the sandwich only half eaten or the soup untouched. But she was getting a little bit stronger. The school had been immediately responsive, full of empathy and practical support and organising a counsellor which Rosie had seen on Friday. She hadn’t said too much about it but she had appeared slightly brighter yesterday evening and had watched the news with me.
This day, when I stood at her bedroom door, my heart broke at the sight of her, still in her pyjamas, lying on her bed. She didn’t seem to be doing anything not reading, not watching television, just sleeping or staring into space.
‘Why don’t you talk to Alice?’ I said. ‘Give her or Mary a call.’
‘I can’t. They’re working.’
‘But a quick phone call or a pop round would be okay, surely?’
She nodded. ‘The counsellor said I should tell people.’
‘And why don’t you?’
‘Shame,’ she said. ‘Apparently. It’s what stops all of us from doing emotionally healthy things. And I’m quoting. That’s what she said. I’m to tell people and that will rid me of shame.’
‘So?’ I asked. ‘So, are you going to tell people? You could call Alice. Call Mary. Put it up on Facebook.’
‘That’s what I should do. But I’m working towards it.’ She looked at me. My battered and bruised baby.
‘I’ve got to go out. Board meeting. I’ll be two hours. No longer.’
‘Promise?’
‘Promise.’ I smiled at her. ‘Love you Ro.’
‘Love you too.’
*
‘Sister Kennedy, these are for you.’ Brian placed a box of Black Magic in front of her. ‘A little bird told me you were partial to something sweet…’
We were at the board meeting to come to a final decision about the selling of the Copse.
Brian had a formal offer that he was waving around. ‘We’ll sign all the documents next week,’ he said, slipping it back into the inside of his jacket. ‘My lawyers and Freddie Boyle’s lawyers are drawing everything up. All ship-shape.’ He smiled his crocodile smile, his tiny teeth poking over his thin lips.
I’d finally received my formal valuation of the land this morning. It was worth three times what this Freddie Boyle was offering. But the money seemed so unimportant, suddenly. We would survive another winter with a leaky roof. We’d make do with the chairs we had. The playground would remain a little bit gravelly. The children could share the creaky computers we already had. Selling the land was wrong.
And there was something about Brian that I didn’t like or trust and I knew he would have known the land’s real valuation. I may not have concrete proof that he was conning us but my suspicions were enough. I was going to trust my gut. It was time to halt the plans.