Wishful Thinking (a journey that will change lives forever) Page 2

  The train emptied a lot of its passengers at Pearse Street Station, and Rosie sank gratefully onto a recently vacated seat. She laughed softly to herself, as she could almost hear Martin’s lilting Wicklow tones jeering her. ‘Jaysus, missus, you’d swear you were an ‘oul wan!” But her back had been giving her a fair bit of trouble lately, and as much as she tried to tell herself otherwise, there was no denying that she was feeling the effects of it. And in all honesty, no matter how energetic and cheerful she might feel, she wasn’t getting any younger, was she? She smiled. She was definitely not one of those glamorous granny types she often saw walking confidently around the town. With their coloured hair, perfect make-up and lovely up-to-the-minute fashions, these women looked for all the world like they were still in the first flush of youth.

  And apparently, these days a person could get injections to get rid of wrinkles – from your buttocks, no less! Good luck to them, but that wasn’t Rosie’s way. No, she was going to let her auburn hair go as grey as it liked, and her skin get as wrinkly as it wanted – weren’t these things just marks of a life lived at the end of the day? Getting older was nothing to be ashamed of, and as much as you might like to, you simply couldn’t outrun time.

  But today, she wasn’t running anywhere, she mused, getting off the train at Connolly Station and going to wait at the bus stop. It was a pity that Sophie’s car was in having a service today, otherwise she could have come and collected her at the station, and she wouldn’t have to wait in the cold for the next bus to Santry.

  Because the train had been late in the first place, she had missed her usual connection but such was life. Rosie reached into her bag and took out the novel she was currently reading. Anita Shreve, a nice gentle read – not half as gripping as our own lovely Irish writers– but still, nice enough to pass a bit of time.

  Finally the bus arrived, and twenty or so minutes later, Rosie reached her daughter’s apartment building. She took extra care selecting the right buzzer, always afraid of her life that she’d push the wrong one and wake up some poor misfortunate sleeping off their night-duty or something. She shook her head. Originally from County Clare, and despite living in Wicklow for all of her married life, she still couldn’t shake off the ‘small village inferiority complex’ as Martin used to call it. Rosie called it good manners and concern for a fellow human being. Outgoing and confident all his life, Martin didn’t really understand.

  Nor, it seemed, did Sophie. “Mum, I’m just drying my hair – can you hold on for five minutes?” her daughter’s voice blared tinnily through the speaker.

  “No problem,” Rosie replied agreeably, although the rather unseasonable cold was making her fingers numb.

  “Hi, Mum!” It was a good ten minutes before Sophie appeared downstairs, dark hair sleek and shiny as always and her make-up beautifully applied. Her daughter always looked stylish, and today she was dressed in a gorgeous fitted woollen suit, something that even Rosie’s inexperienced eye could see had cost an arm and a leg. But then again, it couldn’t have cost that much because Sophie and Robert were mad saving for this house, weren’t they? No, knowing Sophie and her incredible talent for spotting a bargain, she had probably picked the suit up for next to nothing in one of those second-hand shops that seemed to be popping up everywhere these days.

  “Sorry about keeping you waiting like that, but I think you were a little early – I said ten thirty, didn’t I?”

  Rosie thought idly that if her daughter was occupied and couldn’t come to the door, there was no reason why she couldn’t have just buzzed her into the hall. But Sophie could be a little bit scatty sometimes.

  “No, the train was late actually – where’s Claudia?” Rosie stepped into the hallway, eager to get out of this cold. Although it was supposed to be summertime, the seasons in this country generally set their own agenda.

  Sophie linked her mother’s arm and steered her back outside. “At the childminder’s of course! I couldn’t bring her with us to the house – we’d have no peace with her wailing and whinging and touching everything!”

  “Oh.” Rosie was disappointed. She had been looking forward to seeing her granddaughter. “Maybe we could pick her up afterwards?”

  “Ah no, Tracy offered to take her for the day – she knows I need a break,” Sophie answered dismissively. “And of course, she won’t say no to the money either.”

  Rosie nodded reluctantly. Perhaps Claudia could be a bit of a handful but . . .

  Sophie chattered on. “Oh, Mum, I am just dying for you to see this place – it is truly incredible!”

  “I’m sure it is, pet, but don’t get your hopes up too much either, sure you won’t? You know yourself that there’s a lot of competition out there for nice houses and – ”

  “Mum, this is our house – I just know it is!”

  As they walked towards the residents’ carpark, Rosie had to smile at her daughter’s enthusiasm. She had been the same as a young girl, always full of excitement and mischief.

  Sophie and David had both been quite a handful when growing up really, and while Martin had always insisted that she spoiled and sheltered them a little too much, she was proud to say that they had both turned out very well. ‘A credit to them,’ her own mother might have said, had she been alive today to see her grandchildren.

  “And afterwards I thought we might go and have a nice lunch and have a chat about it all – what do you think?”

  Rosie was thrilled. That sounded lovely actually. A nice old gossip with her daughter was just what she needed. Although they spoke often on the phone, she hadn’t seen Sophie in a while, and she wanted to tell her all her news, and of course she wouldn’t mind confiding in someone about how her back was starting to give her more trouble

  and . . .

  Rosie jumped, as the flashy-looking sports car in front of them beeped noisily.

  “What do you think?” Sophie grinned, proudly waving her keys.

  “Is this yours?” Rosie gasped in surprise at the car. A brand new car? Despite herself, she couldn’t help feeling a bit hurt. If her car was no longer giving her trouble, and indeed it didn’t look likely, why hadn’t Sophie collected her from the station, instead of having her wait twenty minutes in the cold and then another twenty in the bus? And how on earth would they get a baby-seat into that tiny thing?

  “Yep,” Sophie confirmed happily.

  “But what about the old one? The one that was giving you trouble?”

  “Well, I told you the other car was having a service because I wanted this to be a surprise!” Sophie suddenly looked crestfallen. “Don’t you like it?”

  “Of course I do, love.” Seeing the disappointed look on her daughter’s face, Rosie felt guilty. For some reason, Sophie had decided that this new car would be a huge surprise for her mother, although why that would be the case, Rosie didn’t know – well, it was a huge surprise but not an altogether pleasant one. Still, she’d better humour her. “It’s lovely, Sophie – I can’t wait to get a good spin in it.”

  “Well, you won’t have long to wait!” Her good humour instantly restored, Sophie opened the driver door and sat princess-like in front of the steering wheel, while her mother eased herself into the passenger seat. She tilted forward the rear-view mirror and applied a fresh coat of lipstick. “Ready then?” she asked, turning the key in the ignition.

  “Yes.” Rosie’s back ached from trying to manoeuvre herself into what in her opinion amounted to little more than a biscuit tin. Sophie’s swerving and quick lane-changing all the way to Malahide didn’t help much either.

  About fifteen minutes later, they pulled onto a quiet tree-lined cul-de-sac.

  Rosie was sure that behind all those large expensive wrought-iron gates, intercoms and granite stonework were equally large and expensive houses – houses that were way beyond the reach of a currently part-time insurance clerk and her department-store manager husband. There was a For Sale sign outside the one at the end, but surely Sophie wasn’t even dreamin
g of . . .

  But Sophie slowed the car in front of the house, rolled down the window and pushed the intercom button. “Sophie Morris – I have an appointment for an eleven o’clock viewing,” she announced, in this strange haughty voice that Rosie had never heard her use before.

  “Certainly, Ms Morris, I’ll open the gates for you now.”

  “Sophie, surely you couldn’t be thinking of buying a house like this? It must cost an absolute fortune.”

  “Well, in the scheme of things, it isn’t that expensive actually,” Sophie replied airily. “Anyway, I just want you to take a look at it first and see what you think. We’ll discuss the rest later.”

  ‘The rest? What rest?’ Rosie wanted to ask.

  But just then it hit her. Just then she realised why Sophie was so eager to show her this house today, why her daughter had been so been so cheerful and attentive these last few weeks, ringing her often to see how she was. Rosie had to give her credit, to be fair. Sophie had bided her time and had waited until well after her father’s death before she once again asked ‘The Question’.

  All of a sudden, Rosie felt sad and more than a little used. She supposed she should have known better than to think that Sophie had brought her all the way out here just to get her opinion on the house. Sophie didn’t need an opinion – her mind was already made up.

  Still, deep down Rosie knew that this time she probably would give in and let her daughter have exactly what she wanted. How could she not? In truth, she would have given in that first time, only Martin wouldn’t have it. Rosie had thought it a sensible idea, but her husband had been dead set against it, and so that had been the end of it.

  Until now.

  As they approached the admittedly beautiful, but very expensive house, Rosie sighed inwardly. Martin would not be very happy with her – not very happy at all.

  Almost two years earlier, Sophie, Robert and baby Claudia had visited Rosie and Martin in Wicklow one Sunday for dinner. Sophie’s husband was a pleasant if rather quiet fellow who Rosie liked well enough, but Martin didn’t trust.

  “I can’t quite put my finger on it, Rosie – it’s just a feeling I have,” Martin had said, when Sophie and Robert had first become engaged a few years before.

  “The same feeling you’ve had about every fellow she’s gone out with over the years?” Rosie teased, knowing full well that Martin’s ‘feeling’ was more than likely down to simple over-protectiveness of his little girl.

  No, Robert was a nice enough lad. He wasn’t exactly the chatty type, and normally he didn’t say too much, so Rosie couldn’t really fault him.

  But on that particular day, it seemed Robert had plenty to say.

  To Rosie’s delight, Sophie had arrived bearing an enormous bunch of white lilies, her mother’s favourite. Dinner was a lively, chatty affair, but as Martin said himself to Rosie later that night, it was obvious that there was “something coming”.

  Rosie had sensed it too, and was puzzled. It was highly unlikely Sophie was pregnant again; Claudia was only a few months old, and according to Sophie very “tiring and troublesome”.

  Rosie understood well how hard it must be for Sophie, spending all day on her own in that tiny apartment with just a small baby for company, and little or no support from friends or family. She and Martin did their best to help out, but because Wicklow was so far away, it was difficult.

  Rosie felt for her daughter’s generation, she really did. Back when David and Sophie were babies, most of Rosie’s neighbours in the estate were also new mothers, and as a result there was a lot of shared support and swapping stories. Thinking back on it, it had actually been fun – nothing like today, when it seemed that new mums like Sophie had a huge struggle to try and juggle work and family life.

  So, when over dessert, Sophie and Robert finally got round to what they had to say, Rosie was in exactly the right frame of mind to listen.

  “Mum, Dad,” Sophie began tentatively, “we were wondering if we could talk to you two about something.”

  “What is it, pet?” Martin asked, adding more chocolate sauce to his low-fat ice-cream, and getting a stern look from Rosie for his troubles.

  “Well, you know that Rob and I have been looking to buy our own house … oh, for ages now.”

  “Oh, did you find something?” Rosie interjected, pleased. It would be lovely to see the three of them properly settled.

  Sophie gave a huge exaggerated sigh. “We found lots of places, Mum, but … it’s just,” she bit her lip in the same endearing way she’d done since she was a year old, “well, they’re all just so expensive!” She looked mournfully at her father.

  “Well, of course they’re expensive, Sophie. When your mother and I got this place it was very expensive for us too. We hadn’t much money, but we managed, didn’t we, Rosie?” he said, smiling at his wife.

  “Actually,” Robert piped up, and gave a sideways glance at Sophie, “it’s not so much that the houses are expensive – interest rates are so low now that what we’re paying at the moment in rent would more than cover our mortgage repayments. The main problem we’re facing, Martin,” he added easily, “is the deposit.”

  Rosie knew by his expression that Martin was shocked – shocked because his son-in-law had never called him by his first name before, but also because neither of them had ever heard Robert say so much all at once.

  Sophie nodded. “The money they want for a deposit is crazy, Dad. I mean, we’ve been saving for years, and still what we have wouldn’t go next nor near what we need.”

  “So what are you saying – or should I say what are you asking? Because you two are asking, aren’t you?”

  “Well, we were wondering … well, hoping that you and Mum might consider releasing some of the equity on this house to give us a hand with the deposit.” Sophie smiled happily at her parents.

  “Equity? What does that mean?” Rosie asked, looking at her husband for explanation. Being in business, Martin was well up in all these financial terms.

  But Martin was stony-faced and instantly Rosie knew that whatever it was, he was not going to go along with it. “It means that because our house is now worth a hell of a lot more than we paid for it –”

  “And because you’ve already paid off your mortgage,” Sophie interjected in a faintly jealous tone.

  “That we supposedly have this great big windfall that we can supposedly cash in.”

  “But you do, Dad! This house must be worth at least five or six times what you paid for it!”

  That was true, Rosie thought. The neighbours were always going on about how much their houses were worth now compared to when they bought them back in the seventies. It seemed to be the main topic of conversation these days.

  “So the banks will just give us money on the strength of what the house is worth – just like that?” she asked, the whole thing now beginning to make a lot of sense. “And we can help the kids out with getting their house? Oh, Martin, I think that’s a great idea!”

  Sophie beamed, pleased that her mother was on side. “Look, we wouldn’t ask, but everyone is doing it, and because everyone is doing it, then they all have a head start on us, and we’re getting desperate because of course we now have Claudia to think about and –”

  “No,” Martin interjected solidly.

  “What?” Sophie and Rosie chorused.

  “I’m sorry, but it’s not going to happen. I know that it’s supposed to be difficult to get on the housing ladder these days, but Sophie, it’s always been difficult. Do you think that myself and your mother just dipped into our back pockets to buy this house? We did not. We scrimped and saved for the deposit beforehand, and then went without for years just to keep up with the mortgage repayments.”

  “But Dad – ”

  “Pet, I’m sorry but no. You said yourself that interest rates are very low these days. Well, they weren’t low in our day. Yes, house prices are crazy now compared to back then, but the price of everything is crazy now compared to back
then, and it’s all relative. You just have to sacrifice what you have, to get something you want even more. That’s the way life works.”

  “But, Dad, didn’t you hear me? Everyone is doing it! All my friends’ parents are giving them a leg-up! Caroline and Nikki and – I can’t believe that you won’t do the same for me! And with Claudia and everything …” she trailed off, the tears beginning to show.

  “Martin, let’s not make any hasty decisions just yet,” Rosie said gently, the mention of Claudia piercing her heart. “Let’s think about this some more. It does sound like a good idea, especially if we have all this money –”

  “But we don’t have all this money, Rosie, that’s the point. It’s just moving figures from here to there. It’s more borrowing on the strength of what the house is worth.”

  “Oh.” All of sudden Rosie felt silly. Of course it wasn’t going to be free money, was it?

  “Obviously, we would pay you back,” Robert said matter-of-factly. “Maybe we didn’t make it clear from the outset, but this would be nothing more than a temporary loan – just something to give us a head start rather than having to save for years, and seeing all the good places snapped up.”

  “Robert, I’m sorry but that’s the way it goes. Again, when we were younger and we wanted something, we had to save for it. These days, it’s all credit this and credit that, and ‘I want it now’. Instant gratification. In a way, that’s why things are as crazy as they are now, and I’m sorry but I won’t do it. After working hard enough all these years to pay off my own debts, I’m not about to go down that road again for someone else.”

  “Not even for your own daughter or your granddaughter?” Sophie challenged tearfully.

  “Now look here,” Martin began, and by his tone Rosie knew that this had really angered him, “over the years, your mother and I made a lot of sacrifices for you and David. For the first few years, we didn’t have a car, let alone one each,” he added pointedly.