They carried on chatting for a few more minutes then the Murtaghs got up to leave, thanking the guys for their hospitality. Mrs Murtagh gave Tom her phone number and asked him to make sure he gave it to Catherine. She’d love to have a chat with her at some point. Tom was pleased with the information he’d gathered so far. He had another lead to follow up on. Could Robert Hegarty be Grace’s father? Gerry was thinking the same thing.
‘Darling, Catherine may not want Grace to know because she’s afraid it would upset her cousin?’ Gerry wondered out loud.
‘Certainly possible, Gerry. Plus the story about her being drunk and not remembering who got her pregnant doesn’t ring true anymore for me. Unless Mrs Murtagh is covering up for her old pal Kitty, she certainly didn’t paint a picture of someone who drank at all, never mind got so drunk she slept with someone she didn’t really know.’
‘What’s our next step, Tom?’ Gerry asked.
‘I think a little drive to Ballymichael in the morning is required. Let’s go visit the village and see if we can get a feel for the area,’ Tom said.
Chapter Nineteen
Grace peeked in at Jack who was sitting cross-legged in front of the TV, engrossed in an episode of Fireman Sam. Smiling at her son‘s beaming face, she continued into the kitchen to find Liam dragging the mop and bucket from the utility room.
‘Clean up on aisle six,’ he quipped.
‘Another Jack special?’ Grace asked. Their three year old seemed to be the clumsiest child ever and was constantly spilling his juice or milk on the floor. Sometimes it felt like all they did was mop up after him!
‘Yep. But it was an abbident,’ Liam replied, mimicking their son’s voice perfectly. ‘All okay?’
‘Yeah, fine. I was just leaving a message for Tom. He’s down in Wexford remember?’ Grace said. ‘He probably has nothing to share at this stage, but I’m so curious.’
‘If anyone can get to the bottom of who your father is, it’s Tom,’ Liam said to Grace. ‘How are you feeling?’
‘Sick of people asking me how I’m feeling, that’s how,’ Grace snapped and then immediately felt awful for it. ‘I’m sorry. I just wish I could have one day where cancer hasn’t taken over my life!’
‘I get that,’ Liam said, taking a seat beside Grace at their dining room table. ‘Talk to me.’
‘Oh, it’s just everything seems to come back to my cancer these days. I don’t remember having a conversation for more than five minutes that didn’t include the subject. I’m sick of having to watch what I eat, what I drink, whether I’m going to get a cold; it’s all a bit overwhelming if I’m honest,’ Grace confessed.
‘Well we can’t have this,’ Liam declared. ‘Right, go get yourself ready. We’re going out for the day. Give me an hour to plan the itinerary and then we’re off.’
‘Really?’ Grace said, excitement creeping into her voice.
‘Yes really,’ Liam replied, ushering his girlfriend towards the door. ‘Go get ready and while you’re at it, get Jack organised too!’
An hour later, they were all buckled into Liam’s car ready for the off.
‘Where we going, Daddy?’ Jack asked excitedly.
‘Well, first of all, we’re going to the cinema!’ Liam declared.
‘Me too?’ Grace asked sceptically. She had been told to avoid public areas as there was more chance of her catching an infection from big crowds.
‘Yes, you too,’ Liam said, smiling as his wife’s expression turned from uncertainty to joy. It was amazing the excitement that the word cinema could bring to his two favourite people.
‘Can I have ice cream? Pleaseeeeee,’ Jack implored.
‘Oh, yes, there’d better be ice cream,’ Grace said, wagging her finger at Liam. ‘At least two scoops each.’
‘Today will be a day of non-stop treats. Stuff your faces at will,’ Liam told them, to which he was nearly deafened by their screams.
An hour later, as they sat in front of the big screen, munching on tubs of Ben & Jerry’s, watching the dastardly deeds of the latest Disney villain, all thoughts of cancer left both Grace and Liam’s minds. When the movie finished, they wondered back to the car, Grace a little reluctantly.
‘Why so glum?’ Liam asked her, catching her sad face.
‘I’m not sure I want to go home,’ Grace said, sounding like a three year old herself.
‘Who said anything about going home?’ Liam replied. ‘We’re going to the funfair!’
Earlier, he had frantically scoured the internet, using every search engine available and finally hit upon funfair gold. There was a festival on in Dún Laoghaire with a funfair in residence. Grace was an adrenalin junkie and he figured correctly that this might appeal to her.
‘Wow Daddy!’ Jack declared.
‘Yes, wow Daddy!’ Grace answered, leaning over the gearstick to give Liam a kiss.
****
The traffic from Dublin to Dún Laoghaire hadn’t been too bad and pretty soon Grace was strapped into a seat on a ride called ‘Extreme’. Liam insisted that Grace should get to have the first ride. There was plenty of time for Jack to have his rides afterwards. So within a few moments of scanning the funfair, she knew it had to be ‘Extreme’. The ride itself looked like a giant, metal spider, with legs going in all different directions. Grace could feel her heart beat begin to speed up as the music pounded into her ears, Jon Bon Jovi belting out Living on a Prayer. With a quick wave at her two men, both craning their necks watching her move slowly into the air in her metal seat, she closed her eyes.
Bam! The ride took off and instantly she felt herself propelled up high, then suddenly dropped very low, then back up spinning around and around. Her heart was beating so fast and she hadn’t felt so alive in months. As she spun around and around she screamed loudly, safe in the knowledge that all sounds omitted from her were lost in translation amongst the chaos and noise of the ride. She opened her eyes and saw she was up high, at the extreme pinnacle of the ride and she looked up to the sky. It was the most beautiful blue sky with white perfect clouds lazily drifting by.
‘I’m still here. I’m still alive. Do you hear me?’ she screamed at the heavens. She felt exhilarated, strong and ready to face anything. And as the ride started to spin again, she screamed with joy as she was thrust from side to side.
When the ride came to the end, she realised her face was awash with tears. She quickly wiped them away and ran to Liam, throwing her arms around his neck and holding him tightly. ‘Thank you for today,’ she whispered. ‘I love you.’
‘I love you too,’ Liam answered her, his voice tight with emotion.
‘I want a hug,’ Jack declared petulantly, pulling at both of their legs.
Laughing, Liam scooped him up and the three of them snuggled into each other, oblivious and uncaring of who was watching them.
‘My turn now!’ Jack declared in typical three year old fashion.
‘Yes, it’s your turn now,’ Grace said, smiling. Tomorrow she had another chemo session, but as quickly as the thought popped into her head, she banished it. Today was a cancer-free day.
They spent several hours at the fair, mainly watching Jack go up and down the same bouncy slide over and over again.
‘We could have bought the fecking slide ourselves, the amount of tokens we bought for that!’ Liam grumbled when they finally managed to get Jack to agree to leave.
‘Home?’ Grace asked Liam. Jack was already looking sleepy as they buckled him into his car seat.
‘Nope, not yet. First of all we are dropping slide boy here off to his Nana’s for a sleepover. And then it’s just you and me. I’ve booked a table at Siam’s.’
‘Can we cancel?’ Grace asked him frowning.
‘You sick? Oh no, Grace, I made you do too much, didn’t I?’ Liam said, concern written all over his face.
‘Sick? Me? I’ve never felt better Liam! Nope, I’m just not that hungry. But I could do with an early night,’ Grace replied smiling at him.
‘As in?’ Liam answered, brightening up.
‘As in, let’s get Jack settled at Nana’s because I have plans for us!’ Grace replied, giggling.
Chapter Twenty
Tom and Gerry were driving towards Ballymichael. They both had a slight hangover from the night before, having drunk brandy until closing time. Gerry had a pair of Guess sunglasses on to hide what he called the ‘luggage bags’ under his eyes! Tom had rang Liam that morning to get an update on Grace. She had finished another treatment and was at home now recovering. Liam reckoned the chemo was getting slightly easier, as she wasn’t as nauseous this time, just really tired. She came on the phone for a quick chat and an update on their findings. Tom filled her in on his chat with the Murtaghs. She was riveted with it all and clearly excited.
‘Do you think that Robert Hegarty could be my father?’ she asked.
‘Now don’t start letting your imagination run away with you Grace, sweetheart. All we know is that they dated for a while. Mrs Murtagh couldn’t remember exactly when they finished and I couldn’t push her too much. The timings may be completely off regarding Catherine getting pregnant.’
‘I know, Tom. I promise not to get too excited by it all, but it’s a start isn’t it!’ Grace said.
The hope and possibility of tracing her father again was giving her renewed energy.
‘Liam and Grace seem to be really happy, don’t they?’ Gerry commented.
‘That they do. Liam has really come through, thank God. It’s so much easier too knowing that Grace has Liam with her all the time. Imagine how hard it would be with Jack if he hadn’t come back into her life?’
‘I know, it doesn’t bear thinking about,’ Gerry answered. ‘It’s fate, Tom. Que sera sera!’
Tom smiled at Gerry, announcing they had arrived.
Ballymichael was a charming village with stone walls and little cottages. They could be driving into a scene from the fifties. But then, as if to remind them that they were in fact slap bang in 2013, they spied a large Mace sign. The village seemed to consist of a school, post office, church, Mace supermarket, small hairdressers’ and the obligatory three pubs – Kinsellas, Whelan’s and The Village Inn owned by the Daltons. It never failed to amuse Tom that the smallest of villages in Ireland would still have at least three different pubs to choose from! It was far too early to go for a drink, so they decided to go for a walk instead. Tom wanted to find Catherine’s old family home, which was supposed be just after the church at the top of the hill.
After a short stroll they came across a couple of detached bungalows, and sure enough No. 3 was there at the end. This was where Catherine had grown up.
‘Imagine that’s where Grace’s grandparents lived all their lives,’ Gerry declared. ‘It’s strange, isn’t it?’
‘What’s strange?’ Tom asked.
‘Well, if Catherine hadn’t left Ballymichael when she was pregnant, Grace could have been brought up here and we probably would never have met her.’
‘That’s a sobering thought, Gerry. I couldn’t imagine life without our Grace. Or Jack. God, we probably wouldn’t know Tara, Sean, Abby or Liam either,’ Tom replied, slightly horrified.
‘So what do you want to do now?’ Gerry asked Tom.
‘Not sure. I was hoping that someone might walk past who we could ask some questions to about these houses,’ Tom said, looking around him.
‘Well your lucks in, looks like someone is leaving No. 1.’ With that a woman came out of the first bungalow pushing a pram. She smiled and said hello to the guys.
Gerry walked over and gushed, ‘What a beautiful baby. How old?’ Tom cooed.
‘Six weeks. My little angel. Her name is Mia.’
‘Delightful!’ Gerry replied. ‘You look amazing for someone who’s just had a baby!’
The young mother beamed with delight at his compliment. Tom thanked the gods once again for Gerry. He was great in these situations, totally unthreatening. Women always felt quickly at ease with him.
‘These are lovely houses. Gerry and I – my name is Tom – have been thinking about moving to the country and one of these would be fantastic.’ Tom decided to make himself acquainted.
‘Hi Tom and Gerry.’ The girl giggled, getting the significance of their names, then swiftly apologised for being rude.
‘Don’t worry about it. We get it all the time, don’t we?’ Tom told her. It was true. It was bad enough being gay in Ireland, without having famous names from a cartoon to boot!
‘My name is Michelle. These houses are lovely. They have four bedrooms and are quite spacious. Ballymichael is a beautiful village, but then again I’m biased.’
‘Oh?’ Tom asked.
‘Well I’ve lived here my whole life. My parents live in the village too.’
‘Isn’t that lovely,’ Gerry said with a smile. ‘You must know who lives in the other bungalows here. Do you think they’d sell?’
Michelle considered the question for a moment and Tom felt a pang of guilt. ‘Well, Mrs Doyle lives in No.2 and she’s been there for forty years or so. I don’t think she’s going anywhere!’
Tom smiled encouragingly. This was great. Mrs Doyle may well be worth a visit later on. She must know the Dunnes.
‘No. 3 is rented. There are three lads living there at the moment. Nice enough guys, they have a band and gig a lot in the area.’
‘You wouldn’t imagine a place like this as a rented home, would you?’ Tom said conversationally to Michelle.
‘No, suppose not. The owners, Mr and Mrs Dunne have passed on now, and their children just rent the house out.’
‘Isn’t that a shame that they didn’t want to live here. I’d never leave if it was mine,’ Tom declared.
Michelle was delighted that these two guys were so taken with the houses. ‘Well, the son, Noel I think he’s called, lives in Australia and the daughter Kitty lives in the midlands somewhere. She never visits, it’s strange really. Her cousin looks after the renting of the house for her.’
‘Well that’s handy I suppose,’ Tom said. He wondered how to further interrogate without causing suspicion. Gerry came to the fore again.
‘Michelle, I do declare, there’s a little bit of gossip there I’m sure! A daughter never visiting her home village! Come on, spill the beans!’ Gerry said dramatically.
Michelle laughed. These guys were hilarious and nothing like she’d ever seen in Ballymichael. They were definitely gay, or at least Gerry was. He was so camp. ‘Well, it was before my time. Kitty is the same age as my parents, so I only know bits of gossip I heard as a child. Haven’t heard her name mentioned in years,’ she said conspiratorially.
‘Oh darling, spill. I’m positively gagging for this gossip now!’
‘Well, from what I know Kitty got herself pregnant when she was in her twenties. She wouldn’t say who the father was and her dad disowned her. She was sent to one of those convent places in Dublin and I think the baby was adopted or something,’ Michelle told the men.
‘How terrible, darling. The poor girl,’ Gerry said. This time he wasn’t acting. It was unfortunately a sad and true story.
‘Yes it must have been. I couldn’t imagine giving up my little Mia.’ Michelle looked down at her sleeping baby and lightly touched her on the cheek.
‘Did they ever find out who the father of the baby was then?’ Tom asked.
‘Not that I know of. From what I remember that was the strange thing. Apparently, Kitty wasn’t the type to get pregnant. She didn’t really have any boyfriends, at least not seriously. That’s what killed her father I think. He wanted to know who the dad was so he could make sure he married his daughter. But Kitty wouldn’t give a name. He was furious and threw her out.’
‘And her mother?’ Gerry asked sadly.
‘Well Mrs Dunne kept in touch I believe. But it was all in secret. Mr Dunne wouldn’t have Kitty’s name mentioned ever again in his presence.’
Tom and Gerry were silent listening to this tale. How awful it must hav
e been for Catherine.
‘You could write a book about it, couldn’t you?’ Michelle said to them.
‘That you could,’ Tom agreed. ‘I bet in a village like this, there must have been rumours about who the father was?’
‘I’m sure there were, but I’m afraid I don’t really know. As I said I was a child. Anyhow, must keep going. I’ve some shopping to do before Mia wakes for her next feed. Nice meeting you both.’
‘Well, well, well. That was interesting. Poor Catherine,’ Tom said to Gerry as they watched Michelle walking away. ‘Let’s go back to the village and see if the pub is open yet for lunch.’
‘Do you ever think of anything but your stomach?’ Gerry exclaimed. ‘I’m still full from breakfast!’
They meandered back into the village square and sure enough there were signs of life in Daltons. That had to be their first stop. Working behind the bar was a glamorous older lady who had more than a passing resemblance to Catherine. She had to be Ann Dalton, Catherine’s cousin. Tom and Gerry took a seat at the bar and ordered two coffees. She came back with the drinks and Tom asked her about food for lunch.
‘We do one special per day. Today it’s Shepherd’s Pie. It’s good. My husband’s the cook. But we also do soup and sandwiches if you prefer something lighter.’
‘Sounds fantastic. We’ve overindulged slightly this weekend. Full Irish for breakfast, so maybe we should just go for the soup and some sandwiches,’ Tom said almost forlornly.
Gerry nodded his approval. ‘This man could eat for Ireland,’ he said pointing his finger at Tom. ‘We’ll just have the soup please. No sandwiches.’
‘You’re the boss so,’ the barwoman said with a smile.
‘That he is. I’m Tom and this is Gerry,’ Tom extended his hand.
‘Nice to meet you guys. I’m Ann. My husband Pat is in the kitchen finishing the pie. Let me put your order in.’
Beyond Grace's Rainbow: HarperImpulse Contemporary Romance Page 13