The smooth sounds of Ella Fitzgerald that used to grace Mabel’s kitchen have been replaced by Aidan’s rather elegant classical music choice, which we follow as he leads us into the poky kitchen at the back of the cottage. To my relief, nothing much else has changed in here just yet, apart from a few cardboard boxes that are stacked in the corner, still to be filled in the big clear-out. It’s still a little bit cluttered, with Mabel’s green and white checked oven glove over the oven door and a selection of spices to the left, the tree of mugs to the right, and the bread bin that never had bread inside but always had a loaf or two sitting on top instead. The little ornaments that lined the windowsill are still there in their random display, with everything from porcelain ladybirds, a robin, a frog and even a little pig dressed up as a chef. Seeing these makes me smile.
‘The first thing I wanted to do when I moved in here was declutter this kitchen,’ she told me once when I questioned where on earth such a fine collection of ornaments came from. ‘But then I remembered how every little trinket in here has its own story to tell, and Peter loved living amongst his own home comforts. Young Aidan will always enjoy them too.’
Judging by the cardboard box that says ‘ornaments’ I’m not so sure Aidan shares Mabel’s sentimental ways, and I feel a touch of sadness that these little porcelain animals and ceramic insects have seen their final days.
Mabel’s table centrepiece of a large, silver candelabra stands proudly as it always has and I hope that Aidan, even if he is about to clear the place out for whatever is going to happen next here, is able to find some comfort with these remnants from his childhood surrounding him. So much of Mabel’s interior design was kept ‘as was’ in honour of Aidan’s grandparents, who lived here before she and Peter did, and although I know she didn’t always see eye to eye with her mother-in-law, she respected her memory enough to leave some of her trinkets still in their original place all these years after she’d left this world.
‘You look as if we should be eating in a fancy restaurant and not in Teapot Row,’ Aidan tells me as he pulls out a chair for me to sit down. My eyes automatically divert to my dress, which, apart from my attire at work earlier that day, is certainly a huge step up from the fleecy pyjamas or the denim dungarees he had previously seen me in.
Ben takes the seat opposite me, a place he always sits when at Mabel’s table, and without thinking he plays with the wicker table mat, rolling it up and making it into a telescope, just like he has done now for years when he comes here.
I tut and roll my eyes, giving the effect of ‘oh this old thing’in response to Aidan’s subtle compliment towards my efforts, but I have to admit, I did choose my outfit carefully this evening as I wanted to feel and look good for the first time in a long while.
I didn’t dress to impress Aidan. I dressed to impress myself, of course, knowing that I have been dowdy and miserable for weeks now, and that it was time I started making an effort again, just as Mabel would have wanted me to. I’d made an effort for work again this morning, and I made an effort for tonight’s dinner, and it has absolutely nothing to do with Aidan. If I look good, I feel good. It’s as simple as that.
But am I being truthful by thinking this way or am I becoming the woman that every other woman hates? Am I turning into the type of woman who flirts around another woman’s man; the one who preys and waits on an opportunity to make him look at her just like the way Aidan Murphy is looking at me now? Please God, I hope not.
‘I have a thing for floral tea dresses,’ is the only neutral, middle of the road response I can come up with to acknowledge his roundabout compliment. ‘I find them very comfortable and snug.’
Aidan pours me a glass of cold Sauvignon Blanc and hebarely gets the chance to finish filling the glass when I take a long chug. I haven’t drunk white wine in ages, and I just know it will go straight to my head, but I need something to settle my runaway train of thought.
‘Are you going back to New York tonight, Aidan?’ asks Ben, very comfortable in his surroundings now he is right back in his happy place. Aidan serves dinner on Ben’s favourite plate, a hexagon shape made of white bone china. Ben believed it to be from the country China and of course Mabel spun him a yarn about how it had some sort of magical powers that made those who dined from it go on to do marvellous, magnificent things.
‘I’d – well, I’d planned to leave tomorrow afternoon,’ explains Aidan as he serves up my food and lastly his own. He glances at me, as if to gauge my response, but I don’t give anything away. I can play the perfect poker face when I need to. God knows I’ve had to do it so often in life. ‘I’d hoped to stay a little bit longer, but something has come up in work that I’d best be there for.’
‘Aw! Does that mean we’re getting new neighbours already?’ asks Ben, already tucking in to his succulent turkey, with gravy dripping off his chin. I pass him a napkin to wipe it since he has already tucked his own into his jumper, which I know he believes makes him look posh.
‘Well, I’m not very sure of that yet,’ says Aidan, shifting in his seat a little. ‘I was all set to sell the house as quickly as possible, but … well—’
I feel it’s time to take the reins and rescue him from any awkward explanations as to why he has taken down theFor Salesign outside, reminding myself that it’s not really our business.
‘Let’s talk about all that later, is that OK, Ben?’ I suggest, sensing Aidan’s immediate relief. ‘Now, eat up before your delicious food gets cold.’
The chat over dinner has a distinctive air of a long goodbye, with the only saving grace being the exceptional food and Ben’s constant chatter about facts of New York that he has been obsessing over since he first met Aidan.
‘There are twice as many people living in New York City than there are in the whole of Ireland,’ Ben tells us, talking with his mouth full on more than one occasion despite my reminders not to. ‘Isn’t that crazy? I can’t wait to go there. I just know it’s going to be so cool when we visit. Can someone really go there three hundred times though? I do think Brandon is lying.’
I roll my eyes in mock apology.
There’s no doubt about it, my boy is becoming smitten with New York and with Aidan Murphy and I’m terrified at the crash of reality that’s about to come our way when he is gone. I’ve never been to New York City and I very much doubt I’d be able to afford to go there anytime soon, but for now I’m just glad that Ben has something to get excited about even if it’s just a pipe dream.
‘I really hope you can come and visit me some day, for sure,’ says Aidan, shooting me a wink. ‘And I’ll try and dig out that helicopter Mabel told you about, Ben.’
We finish our evening in front of a roaring fire in Mabel’s sitting room, with Ben lounging around like he owns the place, which for long enough, he was very much made to believe he did. Aidan doesn’t seem to mind at all that he helps himself to a train from a wicker basket of toys that sits in the corner of the room, beside a fringed standard lamp that I realize would look so good in Truly Vintage if the time ever comes for it to find a new home.
I want to know why Aidan isn’t selling the house after all, but I don’t dare ask. The wine from dinner has relaxed me no end, and I’m enjoying the buzz it gives me, taking away the urge to analyse or make any interpretation of Aidan’s every word, his every move or his every glance in my direction.
‘Those toys are as old as I am,’ says Aidan, watching Ben.
At ten years old, Ben had long outgrown playing around a floor with a train set, but I always said that no matter what age he was, he always turned into a little boy again when he visited Mabel’s house, and no one minded. Here, no one ever judged his preferences and he didn’t have to pretend to like Minecraft or whatever the latest video game was. It was back to basics at Mabel’s, and he loved it.
‘Wait a minute. Are these your toys, Aidan?’ I ask. ‘I nevereven thought to ask Mabel where they came from, but I guess that makes sense.’
Aidan nods, still staring at Ben, who is in a world of his own.
‘I was ten when I moved in here for good,’ he says, lost in thought. ‘And no matter what toys I had outgrown by then, that little green train set was timeless to me. Man, life just flies by, doesn’t it?’
I can feel an internal glow as the glass of wine I’m cradling takes its sweet effect and I sit back on the sofa across from Aidan, watching him watch Ben as if he is watching his younger self.
