A Grand Old Time Page 25

  Brendan stopped eating and frowned at them both, his knife still in the air.

  Evie smiled. ‘So this is Wine Cellars Bonheur?’

  He murmured agreement. ‘And “bonheur” means happiness.’

  She brought her hands together. ‘That is just the best thing.’ She thought again. ‘Who needs luck when you have happiness? What a grand name for our home.’

  Brendan couldn’t help himself. ‘When are you coming back though, Mammy? To Dublin?’

  She turned her head to him. ‘Not at all, Brendan. Not ever. This is my home here now. I mean, we might come over for a visit, but I live here.’

  Brendan’s face tightened. Evie recognised the expression; he was the same as a child, just before a tantrum. His lips compressed, his cheeks reddening – she knew what he was thinking, and that he was frustrated that he couldn’t have his own way. She looked at Jean-Luc and saw that he understood too, and she loved him for it; he could see the closeness between mother and son. Indeed, he had loved his own mother with a protectiveness that had been both fierce and possessive. She’d had no-one else and he’d always stood by her. So, he respected Brendan’s attachment to Evie, nodded towards her and turned away. She and Brendan would have their discussion uninterrupted. Maura’s face was pained and puzzled, as if expecting an argument. Evie decided to take over.

  ‘I live here now, Brendan, and Jean-Luc is my partner. We have been together for nearly six weeks and we are very happy and we intend to stay that way. That is that. Now I am going to clear up the table and I suggest we all go down to O’Driscoll’s for a quick drink. I’ll make a couple of calls on my smartphone and you can meet some of my friends. Would that be all right? I’ve so many friends I want you to meet. Ray and Paulette, Caroline, Nige. Oh, it’s grand you’re here, Brendan. I do hope you’ll stay for a day or two.’

  Chapter Forty

  Brendan turned over, taking the duvet with him and giving Maura the cold side of his back. He had said very little all evening. He was not interested in Maura’s chatter. He squeezed his eyes shut.

  ‘I can see why she loves it here. Those people were so nice. Paulette and Ray, what great people, and I did enjoy chatting with Nige. He is such a knowledgeable man. Imagine, all the travelling he has done around the world and still he loves this place the best. Such interesting people.’

  Brendan blew a shot of air out of his mouth.

  ‘And Jean-Luc. What a lovely man he is. So gentle and he obviously thinks the world of your mother.’

  Brendan thought grimly to himself how different his and Maura’s relationship was. Jean-Luc had listened attentively to Evie’s conversation all evening, leaning towards her, his arm protectively around the back of her chair, nodding in agreement with her thoughts.

  ‘She’s landed on her feet with him and this place, Brendan. And she is happy. You can’t deny it.’

  He thought about telling her that she should shut up. Evie and Jean-Luc had kissed and smiled into each other’s faces. He had never seen his mammy like that with his father. He was uncomfortable with the whole situation; his mother no longer needed him at all, and he couldn’t understand it. He rolled over, pushing his head into the pillow to send the images away.

  ‘So, what about their invitation to stay here for a few days? I mean, we can stay for a while, can’t we? It would give you some time with your mother.’

  Brendan was counting time in his head. His interview was in ten days. They had not bought return tickets. It was feasible. They could stay for a week. He would not tell Maura, though. He felt peevish and wanted to keep her waiting.

  ‘I’d love to stay here for a while,’ she said, hope in her voice. It irritated Brendan that she clearly hoped his mother’s new romance would rub off on them. She was chattering, patting his arm, enjoying the experience. He closed his eyes. After a few minutes, she stopped talking and the room was dark and filled with silence. A sigh shuddered through her body as she turned her back to align with his. Minutes passed. He could not sleep. He could feel that she was thinking and he knew she was awake too, but he had nothing to say.

  Evie brought a silver coffee pot to the table; Brendan put his head in his hands. She poured coffee into his cup, dropped two sugar lumps in, and paused. His head still rested on his fists, which lifted up the sinking flesh from his cheeks into little rolls. Evie stirred his coffee and poured her own. Moments later, Maura came downstairs, sitting opposite Evie, muttering good morning and running her hand over a tired face.

  ‘Did you both sleep badly?’ Evie asked, and Maura groaned softly. She turned to Brendan. ‘Why won’t you come with me this morning?’

  Brendan shrugged and took a mouthful of coffee.

  ‘Will you come with me, Maura?’ Evie filled another cup.

  ‘Where to?’

  ‘It’s market day in Saint-Girons and I sometimes do the stall there, selling wine. Benji will be there already, setting up, so I am going straight over after breakfast with some food for him and I usually stay for a few hours. Oh, it’s a marvellous little market and my friend Caroline will be there with her jams and I have such a good time. My French is getting a bit better and I usually sell lots of bottles to all sorts of people. Lots of them are tourists. You’d enjoy it.’ She looked at Brendan. ‘Both of you.’

  Brendan forced a smile. ‘I might go for a walk, Mammy.’

  ‘I’ll come with you, if that’s all right, Mo— Evie.’

  Evie beamed at Maura. ‘That would be grand.’ She noticed Brendan’s eyes move furtively towards Maura’s just as his wife’s moved quickly away. Evie passed them a plate of croissants. ‘Freshly baked this morning. Jean-Luc drove to the boulangerie at seven before he went out to do a bit of work. You should go up and see him, Brendan; it is so interesting, all the different things he has to do to make wine.’

  Brendan made a little noise in his nose and took a croissant, nibbling it carefully. Maura took one and did the same. Evie exhaled, took a croissant and bit it in half, chewing thoughtfully.

  Evie had never seen Maura look so happy. She was watching the people walking past in the market, noticing Benji sell bottles of wine to French customers and to hesitant tourists. She helped Evie to replenish the stall and she stood at her shoulder as Evie sold a case of sparkling wine to an English lady who said she came from Dunstable. When a young couple approached and asked her directly if someone spoke English, Maura gave them a winning smile and said she could certainly help. She told them about the bottles of wine they had drunk at their own table the night before and how good it was and, while Benji poured two small glasses for them to taste, Maura was effervescent, praising the young woman’s dress and asking her where she had bought it and complimenting them both on their suntans and wishing them a happy holiday after they bought a case of the red wine.

  ‘You’re a natural, Maura.’ Evie put her hand on Maura’s shoulder and, for a moment, she saw the gentle face of the bubbly girl Brendan had brought home so many years ago.

  ‘She wants to take my job, Evie,’ Benji joked, and Maura looked really pleased.

  ‘It’s good to have the help here,’ Evie told her. ‘But you should take an hour off and go round the stalls. You’ll love it. You have an hour or so then I’ll have twenty minutes. I need to go and see the wood-carver: he is doing a special job for me.’

  It was noon and the market was thriving; heat rose from the concrete and people flocked to the shade. Trade was good and Evie hardly noticed the time pass, but it was almost two o’clock when Maura returned, carrying three cartons of couscous and bottles of water. She had other purchases under her arms and her hair was covered in a colourful scarf which she’d bought from the African stall. Her face was flushed and she was smiling. Evie took some money from a French woman and handed her two bottles of red, waving her off with a ‘Merci Madame. À bientôt.’

  Maura took her place behind the stall. ‘I had a lovely chat with your friend, Caroline. She’s such a nice person, so genuine. I bought some jam
from her and some whisky marmalade. Oh, and the African stall is gorgeous. They were playing music. They had drums – djembe, the man told me they were called – and some sort of stringed instrument called kora. It was lovely. And I bought a skirt and a scarf. Then there were some lovely ceramic pots and, oh, the chunky jewellery. I wish I’d brought more money. And I got myself a pair of comfortable sandals – look, I bought these so I could stand behind the stall with you. I thought they would be ideal – real leather. And I bought you this – it’s called zaalouk, with tomatoes and aubergines, and I couldn’t walk past the stall, it smelled so good. Is that all right?’

  Benji shovelled plastic forkfuls into his mouth and Evie picked up her carton. ‘It’s a Moroccan dish. I like the aubergines. Lovely.’

  Maura was impressed. ‘I can’t believe how you have changed, Evie. I mean you were in that stuffy old home but look at you now. You speak French, you look completely different and you are so nice—’

  ‘I wasn’t nice before?’

  Maura put her hand over her mouth and Evie could see the returning memories of their last conversation in Sheldon Lodge in her expression, her face reddening. ‘I – I mean, well, back then, it was—’

  Evie helped her out. ‘It wasn’t right for me. Sometimes a change is a good thing and this is a better life here. Me being in that home was no good for any of us.’ Her mouth held itself in a grim line for a moment.

  Maura was silent, her eyes thoughtful, and Evie thought of the vast gulf that had been between them for years. Perhaps she had disliked Maura simply because she was Brendan’s wife. Perhaps she hadn’t fully let Brendan go, allowed him to become the man he needed to be. She wondered whether she hadn’t been in the way, as far as her son’s relationship was concerned, and perhaps she’d been a little bit jealous of his transferred affection to his wife. She glanced at Maura, who offered a rueful smile. Maura had been good company at the stall, and eager to learn. Evie thought about telling her that she had a lovely smile; she hadn’t seen it often.

  ‘Let’s have a big supper tonight, all of us.’ Evie brought her hands together. ‘Sparkling wine, a nice meal; I will make a clafoutis for dessert.’

  ‘Clafoutis!’ Benji jumped up and down, repeating the word. ‘It is my favourite. Clafoutis.’

  ‘I will do an extra one for you, Benji, pour ta mère.’

  Maura was puzzled. ‘What is it, clafootee?’

  ‘A bit like a cheesecake. I put cherry brandy in mine. Just a little. I must go and buy some fresh cherries – oh, it’s a pudding, Maura. Jean-Luc loves it. It has such a light batter.’ Evie grinned. ‘It might cheer Brendan up a little bit. He’s had a face on him like a smacked arse.’

  Maura shrugged. Evie was thinking that her son was moody, more reticent than usual, and the relationship between him and his wife had seemed somewhat distant. A good dinner always sorts out marital problems, she thought. Especially if there is plenty of drink on the table.

  That evening the wooden table was set with food: bread, glasses and bottles of wine, a casserole steaming in the middle. There were buttered potatoes and colourful plates with peas and beans, yellow and green. Tomatoes and carrots, green leafy salads and dishes Brendan had never seen before, made with peppers and olives and garlic, and bowls of balsamic vinegar with golden oil floating in the centre. Brendan looked at his mother as she busied about, creating dishes with such ease and enjoyment, adding butter and herbs to vegetables she would have previously taken from a tin. She wore a long African skirt that wrapped around and tied at the waist and a T-shirt, dark grey with a splash of batter from the pudding. Her hair, newly washed, was light and soft. Her skin was brown but also firmer, less papery; her movements seemed more fluid and her eyes brighter. He could not get used to the way she would move around the room with her hands full, singing to herself, then find herself in Jean-Luc’s arms and smile up at him with such ease and familiarity. He even saw her pinch his bottom and giggle. Brendan was quiet and brooding.

  Since she had returned from the market, Maura had not stopped babbling, and his forehead was beginning to tighten. She was following his mother everywhere, watching what she was doing, her hands twitching in the air, ready to help. Jean-Luc washed a few dishes and then picked up his guitar, playing a few chords to himself. After a while, he put it down deliberately and went to the table, pouring four glasses of wine and giving one each to the women. He took the other two and came to sit next to Brendan who was in the armchair next to the grate where the logs were piled high. He handed him a glass and said, ‘Santé.’

  Brendan swallowed a mouthful, followed by a second. When he glanced up, Jean-Luc was looking at him, his dark eyes steady. Brendan had the feeling that Jean-Luc understood his thoughts. He was about to attempt conversation when Evie called them all to table.

  Chapter Forty-One

  Brendan had eaten too much; he had drunk too much wine. Maura’s face was flushed in the firelight as she sat opposite him, digesting her second helping of clafoutis and sipping brandy. Jean-Luc was strumming his guitar and singing something in French, Evie sitting on the floor at his feet, smiling, waving her hands and talking about her plans to create a bed and breakfast and redecorate the house. Maura was effusive and laughing, an amber glow on her face, her smile lifting her cheeks as she chatted easily with his mother. Brendan looked at his wife and then at his mother. He watched the way Evie was so affectionate towards Jean-Luc and how they smiled into each other’s faces and laughed. He caught Maura’s eye and plastered a smirk on his face. She grinned at him and then turned back to speak to Jean-Luc. She looked radiant and Brendan wished he could put his arm around her. He wanted to feel like part of a couple, not the moody man on the outside. But mostly, he wanted to be part of a happy couple with Maura again, with the vibrant, chattering woman who spoke so easily to his mother and her new man, and who seemed to be fitting in so well. Maura was relaxed, friendly, and he envied her for it. Something in his heart expanded and became swollen with pride, perhaps even with love, as he watched Maura laugh easily at a joke. He sat firmly in his chair and watched the others enjoy the evening. He swallowed the brandy and it was fierce and hot in his mouth.

  Maura was in a party mood. ‘Have you played the guitar long, Jean-Luc?’ He finished his song and Maura was clapping lightly, her face shining.

  ‘A long time.’ His fingers strummed a chord. ‘My guitar has been with me since I was a boy; since I first kissed a woman, I learned to play and sing about love and loneliness.’ The flames made his eyes thoughtful and a melancholy flickered for a moment. ‘Music and poetry, it’s the same thing: they break from a broken soul but they heal the heart.’

  Evie laughed. ‘He does talk shite sometimes, but he’s a great fella on the guitar. I never think about putting on the television. We just talk and he plays the music. It’s grand.’

  Jean-Luc began to play something fast and jazzy, picking out notes easily with thick fingers.

  Maura was excitable. ‘Can you play any Oasis?’

  Jean-Luc began with a few chords she found immediately recognisable. ‘Wonderwall’.

  ‘Oh, I love this one!’

  He began to sing softly, and Maura joined in, and Jean-Luc looked at Evie. Brendan turned his eyes away as Maura threw her head back and sang from the depths of her lungs. He wanted her to sing it for him, to smile in his direction, but she had her eyes closed, singing for herself now. He wondered if Maura was even aware of him at all. No, her confidence had blossomed tonight. She was in France, in a new place where she seemed really at home; she was talking animatedly to his mother, chattering warmly, even flirtatiously, to Jean-Luc, and Brendan felt left out in the cold. He hoped no-one saw him wipe a tear from his cheek. Maura clapped again as he reached for the bottle of brandy.

  ‘That was lovely, Jean-Luc. I remember that song. It was out when Brendan and I—’ She turned to him, and then back to Jean-Luc and her lower lip dropped. ‘Years ago.’

  ‘You sing well,’ Jean-Luc comment
ed and the skin on Maura’s neck became blotchy and pink.

  Evie couldn’t resist a jibe. ‘Not like a frog, Monsieur?’

  Jean-Luc bent over and kissed the top of her head. ‘Your song moved me that night, Evie. It was a sad song, “Danny Boy”. Seeing you there so sure of yourself, so happy, made me realise how lonely I was. I thought you were beautiful that night but the words would not come to tell you.’

  She reached up an arm to him. ‘So instead you told me I sang like a frog.’

  He made a deep sound in his throat, full of emotion. ‘You said I was an ugly toad.’

  ‘I thought you were drop-dead gorgeous.’

  It took him a moment to understand her words, and then he smiled. Evie laughed, her voice tinkling and full of joy, and Maura joined in. Evie reached for the brandy, filling glasses.

  ‘It’s a lovely story, how the two of you met, Jean-Luc.’ Maura put a hand to her face: the fire was warm. ‘I love a romantic story.’ She lifted her eyes to meet Brendan’s.

  He shifted in his seat. Maura was clearly impressed by Jean-Luc’s warmth; she was even developing a friendship with his mother, their heads close together. He clenched his teeth. ‘I think I’ll go up to bed.’

  Evie looked at him. ‘But you didn’t go out anywhere today at all, Brendan. It’s only just after nine o’clock. Stay a little bit longer. We’re having such a lovely time.’

  ‘I’m shattered,’ he said, as he stood up and stretched.

  Maura glanced away. ‘Think I’ll have an early night too. Thank you both for such a lovely meal and, well, the music and singing was great. It really cheered me up.’

  ‘It’s grand to have you both here, isn’t it, Jean-Luc?’ Evie’s eyes searched his face.

  Jean-Luc smiled; he began to pick out the notes for ‘Stairway to Heaven’ and he sang softly, his voice low and poignant. Evie turned to him, giving him her full attention, as Brendan headed for the stairs followed by a hesitant Maura.