Clara pulled into a parking space. In companionable silence they began to walk. As the waterfall came into view, Nathalie whistled.
‘Jeez, Oma! This is like something from a movie scene,’ she gasped. ‘How high is it?’
‘Over one hundred and twenty metres, I think. It’s the highest in Ireland. Isn’t it spectacular?’
‘Totally awesome.’
‘I loved bringing your father and Ava here when they were little. We’d take a picnic and they’d paddle for hours in the stream that leads away from the cascading water.’
‘I’d say they had hours of fun,’ Nathalie said. ‘I wish I’d grown up around here.’
‘I’m sure you have wonderful memories from your home,’ Clara said.
‘I guess. The only thing I missed out on was company. I would’ve loved someone to share all the family memories with. It would’ve been nice even if there were arguments from time to time.’
‘From time to time?’ Clara laughed. ‘Try most of the time! Having said that, this is one of the few places that stood the test of time. Even when they were older and hitting pre-teen stages, when they hated most things in the world,’ her eyes crinkled into a smile, ‘they still liked it here. I’d pile them into the car, along with friends if they wanted them, and they’d climb on the rocks and dare one another to stand under the flowing water.’
‘Sounds great,’ Nathalie said.
‘If one of them was suffering with rampant hormones, it was a great soul-calmer too. There’s no better spot for soothing an addled mind than high up on a giant rock with pure frothy water cascading from the sky! Ever so therapeutic.’
‘I guess it’s so incredibly enormous that it makes the rest of the world’s problems seem insignificant,’ Nathalie mused.
They picked their way along the series of boulders close to the foot of the waterfall. Although they were far enough away to avoid being splashed, the proximity meant they could sit and close their eyes and feel as if they were right there in the water.
‘Isn’t this the most romantic spot imaginable?’ Clara asked.
‘Yeah, it’s pretty darn impressive,’ Nathalie admitted.
‘Would you bring a dashing young man here?’ Clara asked with a grin.
‘My folks weren’t too sweet on my boyfriend DJ,’ Nathalie mused. ‘But that’s purely down to snob value. Mom wants me to date a guy who’ll be a lawyer or a doctor. Someone who’ll buy me a large house and take me on vacations to the Hamptons and on cruises around Europe.’
‘My parents were different,’ Clara said. ‘Time marches on, but so many people are still as narrow-minded today as they were a hundred years ago.’
‘I’ll say,’ Nathalie said, widening her eyes and looking peeved.
‘Do you love DJ?’
Nathalie thought for a moment. ‘Nah. I think I enjoyed annoying my dad. DJ’s on a one-way road to nowhere,’ she admitted. ‘But he was easy to be with. He didn’t stretch my brain, he never expected much and was grateful for my company.’
‘Is he one of those fellows with blue hair who’s covered in body piercings and tattoos and who only speaks in that crazy street rap I hear in the town some days?’
Nathalie grinned. ‘Do you listen to rap music much?’
‘Sometimes. I like some of the music on other radio stations apart from the usual conversational one I favour. I was raised to listen to music and I love all sorts. But classical is the kind that seeps into my bones and evokes the most emotions in me.’
‘You’re not the usual grandma type,’ Nathalie mused.
‘I’ve always believed in being whoever I want to be. And besides, I haven’t had much practice at being an Oma.’ Clara looked sad. ‘It’s lovely to have a go at it now. We’ll have to wait and see how I get on. Time will tell.’
She looked up at the sky. The sun was about to come out from behind a large cloud.
‘Fancy a swim?’ she asked.
‘What? Here?’ Nathalie looked aghast. ‘It’s kind of freezing, though.’
‘The sun is coming out. That’s good enough for me.’ Before Nathalie could protest, Clara hopped down from the large rock and found a dry pebbly area to drop her clothes. She’d put her swimsuit on underneath in the hope that she might feel like a dip.
She knew it was going to be shockingly cold, icy beyond belief, but she needed to feel exhilarated. As long as there was a bit of heat in the air when she emerged, she’d be just fine.
‘Keep watch now, you hear?’ she called up to Nathalie. The girl was standing with her hands on her hips and a look of complete awe on her face.
Knowing it wouldn’t work to stick her toe in, Clara did what she always did and jumped right in. She surfaced shrieking and flailed for a moment, gulping in air and attempting to allow her body to become accustomed to the biting cold.
‘You’re crazy!’ Nathalie shouted through cupped hands. ‘You OK?’
Clara gave her a thumbs-up, bobbled about for a few minutes more and promptly disappeared under the water. Alarmed, Nathalie rushed down off her rock, but the frothing whiteness of the waterfall made it difficult to see anything.
Panic engulfed her. She kicked her shoes off, pulled off her top and jeans and leapt into the water. It was so cold she felt as if a vice was clenching her skull. Getting her bearings, she surfaced, spotted Oma and pelted towards her, scooping her around the underside of her chin and pulling her to the edge of the water.
Before Nathalie could speak, Clara swivelled around in the water and faced her. She was grinning widely.
‘Nicely done. You obviously had life-saving lessons.’
Nathalie was astonished.
‘You weren’t drowning?’
‘Dearest, I have been swimming here, often alone, for many years. I knew the water would shock you but leave you feeling exhilarated.’
‘Oh my God, you’re crazy!’ Nathalie looked so furious that Clara burst out laughing.
‘I wish I had a camera right now.’
In spite of herself, Nathalie burst out laughing too.
‘You’re insane!’
Clara nodded. ‘A little bit of madness never did anyone any harm,’ she said as she stood up out of the chilly water. Putting her hands down, she pulled Nathalie up too.
‘What are we going to do now? We’re both drenched and we’ve no towel.’
‘Ah, watch and learn,’ Clara said, pulling two towelling face cloths from the back pocket of her trousers. She held one aloft for Nathalie to take.
‘That’s not big enough to dry a mouse!’ she said.
‘You’d be surprised how effective it is.’ Clara smiled back. ‘I’m going behind that rock. It’ll work but it may not look too pretty! I suggest you go over there,’ she pointed, ‘and I’ll see you back here, dry, in a few moments.’
Nathalie did as she was bid, and was astonished at how well the tiny cloth dried her. Thankful that she’d been swift enough to remove her top and jeans, she pulled them back on, scrunching her sodden underwear into a ball with the flannel. Then with numb fingers she climbed back up to the rock.
‘Ah there you are, dear!’ Clara said as she appeared with wet hair. ‘All dry and ready for home?’
‘I cannot believe we dried our entire bodies with a face flannel,’ Nathalie said, grinning.
‘It’s amazing what one can do when circumstances dictate it.’
Nathalie smiled. ‘I picked some of the tiny yellow flowers. I don’t know what I’ll do with them, but I couldn’t help myself.’
‘I know exactly what we’ll do,’ Clara said. ‘We’ll press them and make them into a card. I used to help the children do that when they were little.’
As they drove towards home, Nathalie was quiet once again. She felt sneaky for reading the letter and was trying to decide how she ought to handle the situation.
When they pulled up at the house, Clara announced she was taking a hot bath.
‘I’m not as young as I used to be. The cold seems to seep
into my bones these days. I love to swim but I need a bit of heat.’
‘Take your time,’ Nathalie said. As Clara went to walk away, Nathalie stopped her. ‘Oma?’
‘Yes, dear?’
‘Thank you for taking me to the waterfall. It was awesome.’
‘You’re more than welcome,’ she replied, smiling broadly.
As soon as Clara was gone, Nathalie swooped into the sewing room, grabbed the next two letters and sped to her bedroom. Guilt still plagued Nathalie and she couldn’t help feeling as if she were violating Oma’s privacy by stealing the letters, but the compulsion to read on was her driving force. Pulling her jeans and top off, she found fresh clothes and got dressed. Then, perching on the bed, she spread the first letter out.
December 1936
Dear Lukas
Two weeks have passed and you now consume my every waking thought. When you hushed me and told me that I must address you by your Christian name, I felt as if I’d won a prize.
I am elated and confused in equal measure. Why have you chosen me as your confidante? As you lament the fact that you have no love for Liza, my love for you grows. I wondered until today if you were toying with my emotions. I began to feel as if I were purely a sounding post, an ear to listen to your woes. When you followed me to the basement and turned my face towards yours, my heart stopped, my blood went cold and I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.
I feel as if I’m living in a dream. Did your lips really kiss mine? Did you whisper that you loved me? Surely this cannot be? How could you feel this way? You are destined for so much more. Your breeding dictates that you should be with a woman of class and wealth. There is no place in your world for an orphaned Jewish maid.
The way I feel about you is indescribable. You are the sunshine in my world. You make me feel as if I can accomplish anything. But I know we cannot carry on this way.
I will have to make you hate me. Lukas, you are my first love. But I cannot bear to drag you down. I will have to force you to let me go. My heart aches at the thought of not being with you, but you are not mine to own. For now, however, I am living the dream.
Perhaps I will be punished further along the road of my life for allowing my heart to beat only for you. This feels so good it must be sinful. I am languishing in the delight that is ours at the moment, but I know it cannot and will not continue.
I am floating high above the clouds, yet my feet are firmly on the ground. I had no idea life could be so sweet. I thank God for sending me to you.
Hannah
Nathalie hugged her knees tightly. This was better than any Disney story she’d read as a child. Hannah and Lukas’s secret love was so tantalising to read about. She couldn’t wait to find out what would happen next.
Chapter 12
Clara lowered herself into the steamy heat of the bath. Much as she was trying to ignore the passage of time, every now and again she was given a gently nudging reminder.
She didn’t feel upset by it any longer, though. Now that she had palpable hope in her heart that she might be able to jigsaw her fragmented family back together again, the urgency she’d been harbouring previously had all but vanished.
The warm water worked magically and she dressed in a soft tracksuit before joining Nathalie downstairs.
When the landline rang, Clara smiled instantly and picked up the phone.
‘Your aunt Ava would like to talk to you,’ she said, holding it out to Nathalie. Unable to hide her surprise, the girl took it tentatively.
‘Hello?’ Her eyebrows shot up and she listened carefully. ‘Sure … OK … Thank you. See you then.’ She hung up and looked at Clara in shock. ‘She wants to take me out and show me her apartment this evening.’
‘Yes, so she said. Just the two of you. I think that’s a wonderful plan.’
‘Wouldn’t you like to come too?’
‘Oh no, dear. I’d cramp your style. You let your aunt show you a bit of Dublin city without an old dear swinging from your coat tails.’
Clara grinned as Nathalie reluctantly agreed. It made her heart contract that the girl seemed to genuinely want her to join them. No matter what anyone said, Max and his wife had done a fine job of raising Nathalie. Clara knew full well that she was here under duress, but not once had she been rude. She didn’t want to count her chickens either, but she sensed a slight thaw in Nathalie’s initial frostiness towards her.
‘Would an omelette be OK for dinner this evening?’ she asked. ‘I’m always hungry after swims and I feel I’d like to eat soon.’
‘Sounds perfect,’ Nathalie said.
‘Oh good. Would you be a dear and slip out to the herb garden for me? Take the scissors and snip off as many varieties as you can. We’ll do a simple herb and cheese omelette and I’ll serve it with my cucumber pickle. It’s to die for!’
Nathalie hesitated, and Clara guessed she wasn’t familiar with herbs.
‘Let me show you,’ she said. ‘I tend to forget that you probably don’t grow these in LA.’
Outside, Nathalie scrunched on to her hunkers and tried to memorise the names of the herbs.
‘The thyme has tiny leaves and smells very distinctive,’ Clara said, pinching a couple for Nathalie to smell. ‘Parsley is the curly one, basil has those dark green leaves and smells like so,’ she said, holding up a leaf. ‘This is golden marjoram, which I love too, and because it’s very strong we’ll only take a smidge of rosemary.’
Nathalie looked impressed.
‘This is all such an education! I’ve only ever seen the dried stuff we shake on pizzas back home.’
‘Yes,’ Clara said. ‘I always feel dried herbs are a bit too much like potpourri.’
Nathalie giggled and followed her back inside. As they sat to eat moments later, she was astonished by the delicious tastes.
‘How can eggs, cheese and herbs be so darn tasty?’ she asked.
‘Try the cucumber pickle, it’s wonderful.’
‘Wow, that’s like the pickle from burgers, only sweeter!’ Nathalie was smitten.
‘Really?’ Clara asked. ‘I’ve never had shop-bought burgers, but I’ll take your word for it.’
‘You’ve never had McDonald’s or Burger King?’ Nathalie looked astonished as Clara shook her head. ‘Some day I’ll bring you.’
‘Yes, I’d like that!’
Nathalie noticed Clara wilting slightly as they shared a cup of herb tea and a slice of lemon cake.
‘Why don’t you have an easy night? Go to bed and read a book or something,’ she suggested.
‘Would you manage to occupy yourself until Ava calls?’ Clara asked.
‘Sure. If you feel it’s cool, I’d like to go for a walk on the beach. I can see it from my bedroom window. With the bright evenings, I’m sure I’d be safe, right?’
‘Oh, completely,’ Clara said. ‘It’s lovely down there at this time of year. Lots going on and plenty of other walkers too. Just don’t go in the water while I’m not there.’
‘No chance of that,’ Nathalie grinned.
She insisted on doing the washing up and posted Clara off to bed.
‘Come and tell me all about it when you return.’
Grabbing a sweater and slipping the second letter into her pocket, Nathalie made her way out the gate and towards the beach.
The salty sea air was wonderfully soft as she rounded the corner. Instead of the white powder sand she was used to, this beach was made up of thousands of grey stones and pebbles. A row of pretty little wooden houses, painted in varying candy shades, dotted the landscape. As she neared them, Nathalie realised they were miniature stores, selling everything from drinks and candy to crêpes and ice cream. Cheery bright blue benches framed the promenade that stretched for several miles. The sun was out, and although she guessed after her waterfall dip that the sea was utterly freezing, the water glistened and looked stunning. She walked over to the railings and stared out at the never-ending expanse of the ocean.
‘Nice, isn’t it?’ sa
id a voice from behind her. Turning, she stared at a boy with the palest skin she’d ever seen. ‘A whole new meaning for fifty shades of grey,’ he deadpanned, nodding at the stones. Nathalie grinned. ‘You’re not from around here, anyway,’ he continued.
‘How did you know?’ Nathalie asked, suddenly feeling very American.
‘The girls around here don’t have tanned legs like yours. The bottles of fake stuff give an orange glow that doesn’t come from the sun.’
Nathalie looked down at her legs and wished she hadn’t worn shorts. She felt stupidly self-conscious yet she didn’t want this guy to leave. His eyes were so piercingly blue against his ghostly skin and flaming red hair. She’d never seen anyone quite like him before. She couldn’t stop staring at his eyelashes and brows. They were the same awesome shade of orange. She’d never seen anyone of his colouring, bar Ed Sheeran perhaps. Whatever about his hair and eyes – he had a body any man would kill for.
‘I’m Conor,’ he said, holding out his hand. Nathalie gazed down at it; there was an even spattering of caramel-coloured freckles that were so beautifully dotted across his skin they looked as if they’d been drawn on. His arms were taut and his muscles plainly visible. As she tried not to stare, she couldn’t help noticing how toned and athletic he looked.
‘Nathalie,’ she answered.
‘Where you from then, Nathalie?’ he asked as he walked on and indicated for her to follow. She stumbled on the stones and had to concentrate on not falling. He tripped across them with ease until they reached the shoreline.
‘I’m from LA,’ she said. ‘It’s kind of different to here.’
‘I’d say it is,’ he nodded. ‘I’m from Lochlann, born and bred. I’ve never been on a plane, and do you know, it doesn’t bother me one bit.’ He held his two pointing fingers to his lips and blew an astonishingly loud whistle. With that a fluffy white dog came bounding up the beach. ‘There you are, boy!’ he said, bending down to hug the animal. ‘This is Herbie,’ he said. ‘He’s a golden doodle, which translates as a cross between a golden retriever and a poodle. Don’t you love the word doodle?’
The Secrets We Share Page 11