Page 183 of The Last Love Song
‘Ah, ’tis worry, Con Daly. For the first time in my life I’m counting the pennies rather than the pounds.’
‘To be honest, I’ve never seen you look happier.’
Helen brought two steaming mugs of tea to the table. ‘You’re right. For some cockeyed, unexplainable reason, I am happy. Maybe it’s age, my expectations becoming more reasonable. Maybe it’s this place. Having hated it as a child, I now love it with a passion. Thank God I never sold it.’
‘What are your plans, Helen? You must have some.’
‘Of course. In the fullness of time, I plan to open this house as a bed and breakfast. And I want to restock the stables. I always loved horses.’
‘I remember.’ Con sipped his tea.
‘So what about you? How was the tour? I’m afraid I don’t read the papers and the picture on the television is chronic. I’m completely out of touch.’
‘The tour was grand. Hard work but great fun. I think we all decided at the end it was a one-off. We’re all too old to sleep in our seats on tour buses then give one hundred per cent to an audience of forty thousand the following day.’
‘And the others? How are they?’
‘In good form. Ian is doing a course in organic farming, Derek has decided to move to Spain, and Todd is in the States.’
‘Really? On business?’
‘Lulu business.’
‘I see.’
‘She’s giving him a hard time as always, but there’s no denying he loves every second of it.’
‘And you? What are your plans?’
‘Well, there were two reasons I flew over. The first was to visit Sorcha’s mother. I thought, after all this time, I should.’
‘Oh, Con, Mary O’Donovan died last year, just before I came back.’ Helen shook her head. ‘She went to her grave thinking I murdered her daughter.’
‘I know she’s passed away. They told me in the village last night. Ah, well, if she’s up there, she’ll know the truth.’
‘Well, I’m afraid I gave up believing in all that a long time ago. Anyway, what’s the other reason you came back to Ballymore after all this time?’
‘Well now, Helen, as I said when I arrived, I wanted to speak with you.’
‘What about?’
He told her.
When he had finished, she stood up to boil the kettle. Halfway through filling it, she stopped. ‘Bugger it, how do you fancy a glass of whiskey?’
She fetched the bottle and two glasses and sat down at the table again.
‘Now let me see if I’ve got this clear. You want to start a foundation to give help and assistance to talented young musicians, particularly young Irish musicians. And you want me to run it for you?’
‘That would be about the size of the thing, Helen, yes.’
‘Why me?’
‘Because I know of no better business brain. And I hate to see it going to waste.’
‘My choice, Con. Brad offered me my directorship back at Metropolitan a year ago. I didn’t want it.’
‘I know. Helen, I would hate to interfere with your grand plans for this place, but I can hardly see you rising at dawn and slapping bacon and eggs in a frying pan for the rest of your life.’
