Page 36 of The Widow's Irish Secret
‘Of course you should,’ Ted said. ‘But if I were you, I’d put away this canvas until you can have it looked at by an expert. Don’t tell anyone about it until you know who painted it. If it’s a true O’Grady, then it could be worth a small fortune.’
Tricia looked at Ted in shock. This was what she had been hoping for. The drawings wouldn’t be worth much, but this painting was another matter. It could be worth a fortune and solve everything. ‘Of course you’re right.’ She looked at the painting again and then started to carefully roll up the canvas. ‘I’ll take it with me and keep it in my bedroom at the gatehouse until I can get to Dublin to have it looked at.’
Ted nodded. ‘Good idea. I wouldn’t tell anyone if I were you. For the moment, anyway. Take a photo of it with your phone and then you can send it to someone at the National Gallery or Trinity College, someone qualified to examine it.’
Tricia fished her phone from her pocket and took a photo of the painting and then rolled it up again. ‘I won’t put it back into that dirty old tube, though.’
‘I have a cotton bag in the truck,’ Ted said. ‘I’ll go and get it and then we’ll have that coffee. I have a feeling you need to recover from the shock.’
Tricia smiled and nodded. ‘Yes, I think you’re right. I feel a little shaky right now.’
‘I’ll be back in a minute,’ Ted said and left to fetch the bag while Tricia went out into the garden carrying the rolled-up canvas under her arm. Had she really just found a painting by a famous artist? If she sold it, she could tell Terence he could keep Sean’s estate, and all her problems would go away. She satdown, flooded with relief, knowing she couldn’t tell Ted what this meant to her, even though she was desperate to share it with someone.
Ted was back moments later with a cotton bag that seemed a good fit for the painting and they both went out into the sunshine. Then Ted pulled out one of the chairs. ‘Here, sit down while I get that little table over there.’ He walked over to the shed where he took a small round wrought iron table and carried it over to the chairs outside the kitchen door. ‘There.’ He put the packet of biscuits on the table and opened the thermos. ‘The table is a bit rusty but it’ll do for now.’
‘I’m going to fix the table and chairs up.’ Tricia took a mug with coffee that Ted handed her. ‘I’ll just sand off the rust and paint it and the chairs white,’ she said. ‘I love the style. Must be from the nineteen twenties, at least.’
‘Possibly.’ Ted opened the packet of biscuits and held it out to Tricia. ‘I can’t wait to see what you do with the place. I’m sure it’ll be great. Just as good as your old home in Donegal.’
‘But very different,’ Tricia said, glad of the distraction. ‘That was done in a kind of farmhouse style. I want to do the cottage in a seaside kind of style with a cosy look in the living room.’
‘Do you miss it?’ Ted asked. ‘The farm in Donegal, I mean.’
Tricia thought for a moment while she nibbled on a Hobnob. ‘Not really. I mean I was sad to leave but I would have been sadder to stay. Too many memories of someone who is no longer alive.’ She met Ted’s warm gaze and suddenly found herself telling him about Sean and his illness and how she had spent two years nursing him and all the trauma of winding up his estate after his death, leaving out the legal problems and the accusations that she had tricked Sean to change his will. ‘I didn’t want to say it, but I felt a huge sense of relief when he passed away. Both for him and for me. We were both finally free, and he wasn’t suffering any more. He was a lovely man and we hadsome very happy years, so I’m concentrating on remembering the good times and trying to put the bad times behind me.’ She looked at Ted, willing him to understand, feeling she might have shocked him with the revelation that she hadn’t grieved the way a widow should. But he’d be even more shocked if he knew about that document she had signed that was now with her solicitor. She had pushed it out of her mind but now it reared its ugly head in her mind as she talked about Sean and his final days. ‘It doesn’t always work, though,’ she added.
Ted nodded and sipped coffee from his mug. ‘I know what you’re saying. You gave your all to your husband for a long time. And now you want to live and be happy even if the sad memories come back from time to time. I don’t see anything wrong with trying to forget.’ He paused for a moment, his eyes sad. ‘Sarah, my wife, was ill for a long time, you see. When I retired, we had made plans to travel and do a lot of things together but then she became ill and it all came to nothing. Like you, I looked after her during her illness and then she passed away in her sleep. I was happy for her then. I miss her but I felt that she set me free, as if she had said the words out loud. “Be happy, Ted,” I heard Sarah say in my imagination and then I decided that I would try my best to do that.’
‘And you succeeded?’ Tricia asked.
Ted smiled wistfully. ‘Well, that sounds weird but I actually am quite happy now. It took me a while but now it’s easier.’
‘That’s good to know. I’m sure it was hard at first.’ Tricia thought back to Sean. She knew he had wanted her to have the farmhouse, and that Terence was wrong in his accusations about her. Should she fight to keep it, because that was what Sean wanted? She had been happy to find the painting, a potential solution to her problems, but there were Sean’s final wishes to consider too. But he was gone and she had to look out for herselfand be with her family. She was sure Sean would understand why she couldn’t stay in Donegal for the rest of her life.
‘It was but I have learned to live in the moment,’ Ted said, his voice cutting into Tricia’s thoughts. ‘I enjoy the little things. Like sitting here with you and feeling the warm sun on my back. Doing up your house. Eating a Hobnob,’ he added, taking a huge bite of the biscuit in his hand. He returned Tricia’s gaze. ‘You lost your first husband when you were so young. That was your real tragedy. But he lives on in your three daughters. I’m sure you see a little bit of him in every one of them. And your grandchildren.’
‘Of course I do.’
Ted nodded. ‘Good. But enough about grief and sadness. I just told you I’m a bloody good builder. Tell me what you’re good at. Come on,’ he urged when Tricia hesitated. ‘Let it out. Be proud of what you can do and let the world know. Modesty is so last year.’
Tricia laughed. His good humour, added to that cheeky look in his eyes, was so contagious. ‘Okay,’ she said. ‘I’m really good at maths and accounting. I can look at a column of figures and add them up in no time. I’m also a terrific painter and decorator and a hell of a babysitter. I can get even the crankiest toddler to go to sleep in a few minutes. Oh, and I’m a very good swimmer.’
‘Impressive,’ Ted said, looking slightly awestruck.
‘This is fun,’ Tricia said. ‘I didn’t know how good it feels to boast like this.’
He grinned. ‘That’s another thing to add to the list.’ He slapped his knees and got up. ‘But now I have to get back to work. Did you come to check up on me?’
Tricia smiled. ‘No, I came to thank you for all you’ve done already, especially getting the electrician to finish the rewiring. I can move in during the weekend.’
‘Won’t it be a little… ahem, basic, though?’ He looked doubtful. ‘I mean, you don’t have much furniture except for theIKEA bed that needs to be put together and the sofa in the living room.’
‘I have a load coming from Donegal on Monday, so then I’ll have more than enough,’ Tricia replied. ‘I’ll manage.’
‘I don’t doubt that for a second.’ Ted took the mugs and the thermos from the table. ‘I’ll leave the Hobnobs here in case you want some more.’
‘No, take those, too,’ Tricia urged. ‘I don’t need to fill up on biscuits right now. I have to get into my dress for the party tomorrow and it’s already a bit of a squeeze.’
‘I’m sure you’ll fit into it without a problem,’ Ted remarked. ‘You’ll be a huge hit at that party. I wish I could see you dance.’
