Here is an extract from The Judge's Wife when Emma finds a Sybil Connolly
dress among all the boxes taken down from the attic of her late father's house in Parnell Square, Dublin. The designer dress hinting at the glamour of the woman she never knew.
Placing the outsize rectangular box on the floor,
she eased the top off gently, her hair tumbling down, blocking out her face, her
hands trembling. A cloud of dust blustered up around her as she pushed back the
cover and pulled on layers and layers of white tissue paper, which piled up and
crumpled around her.
A dress, ivory, ruffled with lace and inlaid
with satin ribbons, was folded neatly. Emma lifted out the dress, standing up so
it unfurled to the ground in a hurried whishing whisper. Layers of pleated frills
were topped with lace and interwoven with pale-blue ribbon. The skirt spread out
in tiny pinched pleats, a series of Chinese fans fluttering their messages. It was
heavy to hold, the taffeta underskirt setting the pleated ruffles in place. Emma
held it to her, swaying from side to side. The whoosh of the linen as it swept across
the carpet made her swing faster and faster, the room twirling until she felt dizzy.
Falling between two boxes on the couch, the linen spread around her as if it owned
her.
She felt at home here, probably for the first
time. All the times she had dreamed of her mother, wanting to feel her comforting
presence, her soft touch, all the times she imagined it. Passing her hand over the
linen, she disturbed the fabric and a faint hint of perfume waved around her. Pulling
the nearest box on the couch, she nudged the cardboard flaps open. A bundle of silk
scarves lounged like sleeping snakes.
Placing her hand into the well of colours,
she heard the klssss of the silk as it
moved, disturbed after years locked away. Not checking what she was picking, she
pulled, latching on to one long scarf. It slithered out in a haze of royal blue,
green, purple, the colours bouncing in the light, throwing bars of colour at the
mirror over the mantelpiece. Crumpling it to tame it around her neck, she pushed
the linen dress aside and jumped up to look in the mirror. Settling her hair on
top of her head, the scarf complemented her long, graceful neck. Then, abruptly,
she let her hair fall down.
There was no going back to Australia, but what
life could she make here among the forgotten treasures of a long-dead woman?
Opening two more boxes, she tumbled out the contents, sifting through the
clothes and losing track of time, only stopping when she heard the chat from
the people standing at the bus stop outside the window. Peeping out the window,
she saw a man finish his bottle of Coke before leaning over the railing and
letting the empty bottle smash to the basement.
Cross, Emma ran to the door, but the man was
already boarding a double-decker.
“You will have to put up some sort of netting.
They don’t care about anyone.”
Angie Hannon, on her
way home from Mass, was carrying a small white box. “I stopped off at the Kylemore
and got you some cream slices: they go lovely with a cup of tea.” She hopped up
the steps and placed the small box in Emma’s hands. “Don’t worry, I won’t be imposing
myself. I am off out with the women’s club today.”
Emma smiled and made to go back inside. Angie
called out softly, “Your skirt: it is a Sybil Connolly isn’t it?”
Emma spun around. “How did you know?”
“Anyone with an eye for fashion could not miss
a Sybil Connolly. Sure, didn’t she bring linen from the bog to the city?”
“I found it in the house.”
“Look after it. A vintage treasure, it is.”
“I didn’t realise.”
“I always heard your mother was a right looker
and stunning in Sybil Connolly.”
“I wouldn’t know.”
Emma’s throat tightened and pain flared through
her that so many knew her mother and she did not even have a faint memory: a favourite
name or nursery rhyme, a touch, a look. Anger swelled inside her at her father and
she wanted him to be alive so she could cross-examine him, demand answers.
Angie Hannon called out to Tom Harty’s wife and
Emma, taking advantage of her distraction, slipped back inside her front door.
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