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‘Apparently he’s bought up every square inch of land that’s come up for sale over the last few years and he owns half of Ballycove now,’ Iris said. ‘I got a lift from the airport with his parents – they haven’t changed a bit, by the way.’
‘Oh, I adored Moira. She was so kind after…’ Nola said, remembering the woman who had been like a mother to her when her sisters had left her behind.
‘Of course, Nola, you were friends with Helen Barry, weren’t you?’ Iris said. ‘I almost forgot that.’
‘Yes, but you know, looking back, we didn’t have that much in common. I think the thing I liked most about her was going to their house for tea. It was like…’ Nola didn’t finish the sentence; there was probably no need. They all knew that after their mother had died, this house had lost something so vital it didn’t really feel like a home. You could feel it in the very fabric of the place, as if Iseult Delahaye had breathed one final sigh and inhaled with it every drop of joy, not just from her husband and daughters, but from Ballycove itself. ‘I used to go over there whenever I could. I think I loved Moira Barry. I used to wish that she’d adopt me.’ Nola threw her eyes up to heaven, but even saying the words drew a tight knot in her stomach. ‘Crazy kids’ thoughts, of course.’
‘No, Nola, not crazy at all,’ Iris murmured. Nola felt that familiar tug of childhood – the need for her mother and later, the need to replace that figure with people like her sisters and Moira, who just hadn’t been able to fill that void.
‘There was no replacing Mammy after she died,’ Nola said softly. It was only now, after all this time that it was dawning on her that her father had felt that so acutely. It was probably a miracle he hadn’t died of a broken heart years ago. She’d been selfish – the worst daughter her father could have asked for. How on earth could she have left him here for so long without so much as a visit? He was so utterly alone at the end. A small tear scudded down her cheek and she wiped it away.
‘Oh, come on. What’s the point in crying now?’ Georgie topped up each of their glasses again.
‘She didn’t want that,’ Nola whispered, thinking of her mother making them promise her before she died.No sadness, no thinking of what might have been, no regrets.That was how Iseult Delahaye had made her way through life and it was how she had slipped away from them in death. She expected the same from her daughters.
‘You should go visit her,’ Georgie said suddenly.
‘Who?’ Nola had been lost in her own world.
‘Moira Barry, of course.’ Georgie rolled her eyes as if she was talking to a toddler.
‘Oh, yes, you really should – she’d love that,’ Iris said. ‘She mentioned you in the car, asked for you in particular. She was really fond of you, you know. I think she always hoped you’d come back—’
‘Stop it, the pair of you. I’m sure no-one in Ballycove has given me the slightest thought since I walked out of here all those years ago.’ Nola laughed, because really, she was certain of that. ‘But I might drop in to see her, just before I go back to London. It’d be nice to catch up with her and see how Helen is getting on…’
‘You really should,’ Georgie murmured, she seemed miles away, but then Nola spotted a small smile creeping up around her eyes. ‘The Gin Sisters?’ She shook her head in apparent wonderment.
‘That’s right. Little did we know, eh?’ Nola said softly. They’d set it up one wet afternoon and it became the default game for miserable days when there was nothing else to do, until her sisters grew tired of it and moved onto more grown-up things to become bored of.
Georgie walked to the fireplace, stoking up what was left of the blaze. Then she turned to them, smiling, and for a moment Nola looked at her, thinking how much it completely transformed her sister to see her so relaxed. ‘What is it?’ she asked sleepily.
‘I’m thinking of whatever Dad has in store for us tomorrow with the reading of his will. I have a feeling it’s not going to be straightforward.’
‘Oh, it won’t be too bad,’ Iris said. ‘He’ll want us to promise to look out for each other. I expect that’s about it.’
‘Of course, it’ll be how he wants things divided between us and maybe, if we’re lucky, another bottle of this lovely gin.’ Nola shivered, even though it wasn’t cold, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that Ballycove was not quite finished with them yet.
