Maeve Binchy - Tara Road

'But which way is the front door?'

'Ria, I've never been in this house in my life,' said Carlotta.

The pause was minimal. Then Ria spoke. 'So, it will be a new experience for both of us,' she said.

And taking a suitcase each they went in to explore Number 1024 Tudor Drive, home of the Vines.

'Heidi? It's Greg Vine.'

'Oh hallo, Greg. And how are you?' Heidi was so relieved that he was still speaking to her after her indiscretion to him on the telephone some weeks back she didn't even pause to wonder why he had called.

'Well, I'm basically okay, Heidi, but a little confused. You did see Marilyn off to the airport, didn't you? I mean, she did go?'

'Yes, yes of course. And you do have her number there? She said you did?' Heidi's voice was rising a little anxiously.

'Sure, I have all that. I was just wondering if this person… has arrived in Westville? You know, the one who's going to be living in our home.'

'I'm not sure of all the details, but I think she should have got there an hour or two ago, Greg.' Heidi wasn't saying so but it had been like drawing teeth out of Marilyn getting any information whatsoever about the arrival of Ria.

'I see.'

'Was there anything?'

'No, not really.' He sounded very bleak. Despairing almost.

Heidi's heart went out to him. She tried hard to guess what he might want to know. 'You'd like to know if she arrived safely and got in, is that it?'

'In a way, I suppose,' he said.

'So would you like me to call and see is she there?'

'It's going to be on the answering machine apparently for the first week with our message on it, and then if this person wants to change it she may.' He sounded very bitter and hurt.

'You want to know if she has arrived and what she's like, what kind of a person she is, Greg? Is that it?'

'Well, I think it's more it than anything I've come up with so far,' he said. And there was a wry near-laugh in his voice.

'I'm not sure if I should drive by, she may be asleep. But if I call and then it's only the machine…?'

'Look, whenever you can, Heidi, that's all. I feel so helpless out here, it's so strange, things sort of multiply in your mind.'

'I know.' She was sympathetic.

'I don't think you do. You and Henry can talk about anything and I think we used to once also. But now we can talk about nothing without upsetting each other…" He broke off.

'It'll get better, Greg.'

'I'm sorry, I sound like someone on the Oprah show.'

'Is that so bad?'

'No, it's just not the way I am. Listen, I don't want to upset any kind of confidence between you and Marilyn, believe me I don't.'

'There is nothing to upset, just give me the numbers to call and I'll get in touch as soon as I have something to report.'

'Call collect, Heidi.'

'No, I will not do that, but you buy me a nice bright-coloured muu-muu to wear at the alumni picnic.'

'Oh God, I'd forgotten that.'

'You'll be back for it, Greg. You've never missed one yet. We rely on the History Department.'

'But where would I live even supposing I did come back for it?' He sounded totally bewildered.

'Listen, Greg, that's not for weeks yet. Let me report on the situation in Tudor Drive before you make any decisions.'

'You're a real friend, Heidi.'

'We all were and all will be, the four of us, mark my words,' she said with no conviction whatsoever.

Carlotta and Ria toured the house.

'Everything is so beautiful and she had no help coming in, she must have had contract cleaners,' Carlotta said admiringly.

They moved from the big open-plan living room with its coloured rugs on the floor, also three white leather sofas circling an open fireplace, into the huge kitchen with its breakfast bar and dining table, into Greg's study room lined with books from ceiling to floor on three walls and with a red leather desk and big black swivel chair under one window. There was no room for pictures on the walls but three tables stood around, all of them with little sculptures, ornaments, treasures of some sort.

'What a beautiful room,' Ria said. 'If you could see my husband's study now… it's like, well it's like a shell.'

'Why is that?' Carlotta asked reasonably.

Ria paused and looked at her. 'Sorry, he's my ex-husband, and he's just moved out so his study's empty. But it was never like this, not even in our heyday. Should we tour the garden, do you think?'

'The garden will be there tomorrow,' Carlotta said.

'Then let's hit Marilyn's bottle of Chardonnay,' Ria suggested.

'If aromatherapy can cope with jet lag the way it's working with you, we're only in the foothills of discovery,' Carlotta said and they went into the kitchen.

Just at that moment there was a knock on the door. Carlotta and Ria looked at each other, and went together to answer it. A woman in her forties stood there carrying a gift-wrapped bottle.

'I'm Heidi Franks, I work with Marilyn and I wanted to welcome you… well, hallo Carlotta, I didn't know you'd be here…'

'Ria insisted that I came by.' Carlotta seemed to be apologising, as if she had been discovered intruding.

'Come on in, Heidi,' Ria said. 'You arrived at a great time, we were just about to have a drink.'

'Well I don't really like to…'

Ria wondered what made them both apologise for coming into this home. Americans were meant to be legendary for their friendliness and their ease yet both Carlotta and Heidi seemed to be looking over their shoulders in case the shadow of Marilyn Vine might fall on the place and they would have to run away.

She put away the fanciful thoughts and ushered them back into the kitchen.

Marilyn unpacked everything and had her soup. And a glass of the expensive French wine that Ria had left her. Then she lay for a long time upstairs in the claw-foot bath and soaked away the hours of travel followed by hours of walking around Dublin.

She thought she might sleep, but no, all during the long afternoon her eyes were open and her mind was racing. Why had she come to this house, full of the past and the future? This was a Victorian house, for heaven's sake. Marilyn didn't know exactly what date it was, but people could well have lived here when the Civil War was taking place, when Gettysburg was being fought!

There was hope in this house, which there was never going to be in 1024 Tudor Drive. Two sunny children smiled out of photographs in every room in Tara Road. A boy with a grin as wide as a water melon, and a girl who would be almost the same age as Dale.

Marilyn lay under the white bedspread in the master bedroom of this house which had everything, and thought of her life which had nothing.

There was a small sound and the anxious face of the great marmalade cat came around the door. With a leap he landed and laid himself on the bed beside her. He had a purr like the engine of a small boat on the lakes in Upper New York State. Marilyn neither loved nor hated cats, she approved of all animals in a vague way. But Clement was a knowing sort of cat. He seemed to understand that she was not happy. He nestled in beside her, purring louder and louder. Like some kind of lullaby or a mantra it sent Marilyn Vine to sleep and when she woke it was twelve midnight.

In Westville it must be seven o'clock in the evening. She would call Ria and thank her for this restful home. The arrangement was that Ria would pick up if she wanted to answer the call. Marilyn dialled the number. After three rings she heard her own voice respond. 'It's Marilyn,' she said. 'It's midnight here and everything's wonderful. I just wanted to thank you.'

Then Ria's voice came on the line. 'It's only twilight here, but it's even more wonderful. Thank you very, very much.'

'You found the Chardonnay?' Marilyn asked.