The Legacy of Lucy Harte

by Emma Heatherington

  Starling is already seated, as are the others and my plea seems to fall on deaf ears. I feel a chill of agitation run through my veins as my final evening here comes to a close. Why wouldn’t he have come? Did Starling definitely tell him? I should have invited him personally. My God, what a disaster! I don’t have any other time to see him after tonight.

  ‘Starling?’ I ask again.

  ‘Sorry, yes Maggie? I can’t believe you have gone to such effort. The place looks so cosy and inviting.’

  I do my best to show my appreciation for her compliments but it’s true. I have busted my gut all day for this dinner party and now he isn’t going to make it?

  ‘I was just wondering if Gerard –’

  ‘Seriously,’ says Bernard. ‘When he says no, he means no. He is painting and when he is like that, he is best to be avoided.’

  That’s not true and I know it. Yes, of course I know he can be moody. He has shown me his moody side, but this is my last night and… oh why am I wasting my energy thinking about it? He was invited and he didn’t come. I should just focus on the present and on those who are here rather than those who are not.

  I should know better by now that people will let you down just when you don’t expect it.

  ‘Wine anyone?’ I say and I fill each of their glasses with a lump in my throat. ‘I’ll just go and make a start on serving up.’

  When I get to the kitchen, no matter how hard I try, I can’t help it that my eyes keep filling up with tears of disappointment.

  I dab the sides of them with my fingers and plead with my emotions not to take over but I can’t stop thinking that this is somehow my fault. I got so caught up in shopping and preparing and cleaning the gîte but I really should have called with him and told him about tonight instead of leaving it up to a third party to relay the invitation.

  I know his type. He would want to be invited personally. He would want it to have come from me. It’s my own fault that he is not here and now I have to just suck it up.

  ‘Can I help?’

  Starling’s voice startles me and I fake a quick smile and grab some kitchen roll to wipe my nose.

  ‘No, not at all,’ I assure her, praying she doesn’t notice the damp around my eyes. ‘I’m almost there. Please just relax and I’ll be right with you.’

  ‘Wait a minute. You’re crying,’ she says in a whisper. ‘Is it because you are leaving tomorrow? What’s wrong, Mademoiselle Maggie? Please don’t cry.’

  I shake my head and laugh at her innocence.

  ‘No, no, I’m not sad at all,’ I sniffle. ‘I’m just overthinking things, but it’s nothing serious. Here, maybe you could help me serve the veg? That would be of great help to me.’

  I figure that her presence here in the kitchen might take my mind off Gerard and I am right, before I know it we are seated at the table and tucking into a very Irish-style home-cooked dinner, which they all seem to relish and enjoy.

  Apart from me, that is. I force the food into me and do my best to keep up with the conversation but my eyes are constantly drawn to the empty seat and to the door, which I hope and pray will open at any time.

  It doesn’t. And soon the evening is over and it is time for them to go.

  Chapter 31

  I see my guests off and look around the gîte, cursing myself for getting so attached to Gerard so quickly.

  It was part of Lucy’s wishes to throw a dinner party and though I did it, I don’t feel good after it at all.

  I sit down on the sofa and curl my feet under me, but I can’t settle. I try and remind myself of how complimented I was on the food and the room and the effort I had made, but it is not enough without him.

  Damn you, Gerard, for getting so under my skin.

  I want to run right now up to his studio and see him and for him to have a good explanation as to why he didn’t want to see me on my last night here. Okay, so he didn’t have to come to dinner at such short notice but he could have popped by. He could have showed some sign that he wanted to see me. He knows I leave early in the morning and that there will be no time then for real goodbyes, so why didn’t he just show up and explain himself? Why didn’t we make proper plans before I left his place this morning?

  Why is time always against us?

  Or maybe that’s what he wants? No fuss. No pain.

  Or maybe I was just an idle distraction, after all. Maybe I was just some way to pass the time in between his inspiration for his work.

  But I know I wasn’t just that to him. He painted me for his exhibition. He took me to that special restaurant. He even asked me to stay here for longer, or at least to come back really soon. He looked at me like he was looking into my soul and I have never experienced that before, not even with the man I married. Gerard, I truly believe, is different.

  I just wish he had come to say goodbye.

  I go outside onto the decking and look out onto the night-time view of the River Tarn for the last time. This place has filled me up inside in a way I could never have imagined. It has made the blood pump through my veins and my adrenaline flow and it has made me love wildly and freely so much that I thought my heart might burst for him.

  And now, after all of that, I will be leaving tomorrow, with only memories and the thought of what could have been, and I have enough of those – thank you very much.

  I sit down on my favourite chair outside on the deck, pull a rug around me and when I wake up a few hours later, I really do think I am dreaming.

  For when I wake up, just as I had hoped, he is there.

  ‘I’m drunk,’ he says, but I need to wake up properly to make sure he is real and not just an illusion of my overactive imagination. ‘I’m drunk and I am sorry.’

  ‘Am I dreaming?’ I ask him. I check the time. It’s just gone midnight.

  ‘You may be dreaming,’ he replies, ‘or you may be having a nightmare. It depends on how angry you are with me right now. Just how angry are you with me right now, Maggie?’

  A bottle of whiskey sits in front of him, half empty, or half full, whatever way you want to look at it. He has already filled a glass for me, but I have no interest, plus I have a journey to the airport to make early in the morning so I can’t be drinking at this hour even if I wanted to.

  ‘I don’t want you to go, Maggie,’ he tells me emphatically. ‘I have only just found you and now I am going to lose you again and I am sorry but I got upset today at the thought of that and I went to the pub and, well, the rest is history. That is it, how do you say it, in a nutshell?’

  ‘In a nutshell? You got drunk because of me?’ I ask him. ‘Because I am leaving? You got drunk instead of calling to see me to say goodbye?’

  ‘Well, yes, but I am here now.’

  I want to kill him, but I want to kiss him more.

  ‘It’s late, Gerard,’ I say, stating the obvious. ‘We could have spent the evening together but instead you choose to get pissed and turn up when I’m sleeping? This is so unfair of you!’

  ‘But you’re not sleeping now, are you, Maggie?’

  ‘You woke me, that’s why I am not sleeping!’

  ‘I didn’t wake you. You were snoring,’ he says and he starts to laugh.

  My eyes widen in defence.

  ‘No I wasn’t snoring! I was not indeed! I don’t snore!’

  He laughs more. I don’t.

  ‘Maggie, my sweet Maggie!’ he says and he leans across and puts his hand on my knee. I want to move it away but it feels too good. I want him close to me. I have longed for this all day and night.

  ‘I thought you didn’t care, Gerard. You hurt me tonight.’

  ‘No, no!’ he says and he moves towards me now and holds my hands. ‘I’m so sorry if I hurt you, but do you think I don’t care? If you can think of the very opposite of that, then that’s how I feel! I am hurting so much inside at the thought of you leaving. You have distracted me from my work. No woman has ever done that before. You distracted me so much that the only way to finish my exhi
bition was to paint you and have you as part of it. Don’t you know that?’

  I shake my head. ‘Is that supposed to be a compliment?’

  He laughs at my response.

  ‘A huge compliment,’ he says. ‘A fucking huge compliment!’

  Now, it’s my turn to laugh, whether I like it or not. I have never heard him swear before and it is so… well, it’s so fucking cute, that’s what it is.

  ‘My heart,’ he continues, ‘well, I feel it broke a little today because I am so afraid that I will never see you again. I was too afraid of saying goodbye, but then, with some good old Dutch courage, I came here and I’m sorry if I woke or frightened you but I couldn’t stay away.’

  He holds up the bottle of whiskey.

  ‘It’s getting late,’ I tell him. ‘I have an early start tomorrow so I can’t join you for drinks, I’m sorry.’

  ‘Okay, no I am sorry,’ he says, standing up in front of me. ‘You’re sorry, I’m sorry, we are all so sorry! I will go, then. I have dreaded this moment for ages now. I will say a quick goodbye Maggie and you won’t ever have to see me again. Ever.’

  He mumbles something in French, which of course I don’t understand so I have to interrupt him.

  ‘I’d like you to stay with me, Gerard,’ I reply and I look right into his eyes. He stops talking instantly. ‘Please stay with me till morning.’

  His new-found silence lingers but he doesn’t have to say another word. He just leads me to the bedroom so tenderly and soon we are saying goodbye in the way that lovers do.

  And once again, it makes me feel like I’m on top of the world.

  Lucy, Lucy, Lucy Harte, I write when I’m on the plane home to Ireland.

  What have you done to this heart of ours? What have I done to it? I never thought it would even beat again after Jeff, but boy, oh boy you have proven me wrong with the past few weeks and all the love and joy you have brought me.

  I return now to Ireland a very different Maggie O’Hara than the one your brother met almost six weeks ago and it’s all for the better. It’s all down to you.

  Thanks to you, I have rediscovered the power of unconditional love with my brother, I have discovered in Dublin the overpowering energy that lust can bring and how it can boost your self-esteem to simply be desired and wanted, I have discovered the sheer feel-good factor of giving to others through token gestures like baking a cake or bigger efforts like cooking dinner for strangers, I have discovered that although I don’t have to forget I can always forgive with Jeff, but most of all I have discovered a place so magical to me and I fear I may have left part of my borrowed heart behind there with Gerard.

  He has given me part of his heart in return so I will cherish it until we meet again and I do believe we will.

  Your list is done, Lucy Harte, and I hope you know now how much your gift of life has meant to me. I hope it has made you as happy as it has me.

  You saved my heart once before, but now you have saved my soul.

  Please take care of me as I continue with my own hopes and dreams.

  Forever your friend,

  Maggie x

  Chapter 32

  I am meeting Sylvia Madden for a coffee before I hook up with Kevin to train for our run and I am like a nervous kitten as I sit in the café across from Powers Enterprises waiting on her arrival.

  I needn’t be because when she comes in to the coffee house, she is as graceful and gentle as she has been on our previous meetings and I am immediately put at ease.

  ‘So, I don’t even need to ask if you had a good time,’ she says. ‘As usual I am between appointments, but I can see it was good for you. You are looking pale, though, Maggie. You must be tired?’

  ‘I have been resting a lot since I got back in between training sessions with my friend for a mini marathon we are doing soon. It’s just a mixture of all that.’

  ‘Okay, well, I hope you are looking after yourself?’

  Sylvia and all the management team at Powers’ know of my heart condition and I guess that’s why they have been so lenient and understanding lately.

  ‘A few more days back in Belfast and I’ll be back on track,’ I assure her. I need to get my hair done again. I need to keep refreshing how I look and doing new things so I don’t slip back into any sort of feel-sorry-for-myself mode.

  We order coffees and get down to business after I thank her profusely for giving me the nudge to get away from it all just over a week ago.

  ‘I have a request,’ I say to her, not wanting to waste any more of her time. ‘If it is pushing the boundaries, I am sure you will let me know, but if you don’t ask, you don’t get and all that jazz…’

  ‘Hit me,’ she says, sipping her coffee.

  ‘I would like to request a career break,’ I tell her. ‘A proper one. Unpaid, of course, but something a bit longer, to get myself really on the up, like really get it sorted. I feel like I am so close, but there are other things I would like to do now that I have the courage and strength to do them. I want to take some time out and live in France.’

  Sylvia smiles and her silver bob shakes a little, but not a hair goes out of place.

  ‘You know, I was telling my husband about you the other night,’ she tells me, leaning across the table. ‘He works in sport, so he gets to travel lots but I showed him the photo you sent me and he said to me that you looked like you had found your wings. He says you should travel more.’

  I like the sound of that.

  ‘Your husband sounds like he is well clued-in to the world,’ I reply. ‘I suppose you could say that I have found my wings, and now, without sounding all cheesy, I’d like to fly a bit more. I met someone, Sylvia.’

  ‘I thought so,’ she says.

  She is impressed but not surprised and she lets out a hearty laugh.

  ‘Have you ever thought about being a writer?’ she asks me. ‘I always enjoyed reading your reports, which, let’s face it, weren’t on the most creative of subjects, but you always managed to make a property come to life with your descriptions of interiors and locations. You will be a big loss to Powers if you decide to never come back to us.’

  ‘I used to write when I was younger, but I am going to take one step at a time,’ I tell her. ‘I just want to explore more. My divorce will be through soon and I’m due a settlement from Jeff on the home we bought together. I will have enough money to last me for at least a year, so I want to make the most of the opportunity to see the world.’

  Sylvia lifts her handbag from the back of the chair and sets it on her lap.

  ‘I think you are a very wise young lady,’ she tells me. ‘I will see that your request is submitted to HR if you send me an email and we can take it from there, but I don’t imagine it to be a problem. Will Powers has a lot of time for you. He will miss you, of course, but he will love that you have found your drive again and that it is taking you in a completely different direction.’

  I finish my coffee quickly, aware that Sylvia has to get on with her day and I have a family reunion, of sorts, to go to in Loch Tara.

  ‘I have so much to thank you for,’ I tell her as we leave the café. ‘You are quite an inspiration, Sylvia. I’m glad I got to know you in the way that I do.’

  She swishes her hair again.

  ‘I know they call me a serpent in there,’ she says, nodding across to the Powers office block. ‘But I kind of like it that way. Always keep an ace up your sleeve, Maggie. Don’t give it all away in the workplace and you will go far, but I don’t think I need to tell you that.’

  ‘I appreciate your advice,’ I tell her. ‘Goodbye, Sylvia, and thanks for everything.’

  ‘You’re welcome, Maggie O’Hara,’ she replies. ‘Now go spread your wings and get yourself back to that handsome man in France!’

  ‘I cannot wait!’ I tell her. I have a plan in place already.

  Simon and I have been on the phone for two hours now, but I do believe it would take another two to fully catch up with everything we have to tel
l each other.

  I tell him about Dublin, about Tiernan Quinn, about John Joe and Vivienne in Nashville and of course about my life-changing trip to France and the Florval family, who I hold so closely in my heart. I have been continuously exhausted since my return from France, so I am lying on my bed with my feet up high on pillows, just like my mum used to make me do when I came home from school every day.

  ‘It’s hard to believe that this all started with a list from Lucy,’ he says to me. ‘In fact, it really started when we found each other a few months ago, though it seems like a lifetime. I am sorry if I ever put you under any sort of pressure, Maggie. I didn’t mean it to be like that.’

  ‘No, no you never really did,’ I assure him. ‘You didn’t pressure me at all, I swear you didn’t. I just got panicked along the way, but I have only gratitude for how you and Lucy have changed my life for the better. God knows what sort of mess I would be in now if you hadn’t come along when you did. I would probably still be begging and screaming at that asshole Jeff to come back and would still be breaking my heart over and over again every time I thought of him and his precious baby on the way. Oh, and there’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you for ages now, and it keeps slipping my mind!’

  ‘Shoot,’ he says.

  ‘You said you found me because we had a mutual friend? Who on earth was the mutual friend?’

  ‘Ha!’ he laughs aloud. ‘I thought I’d got away with that one. You work with a lady called Sylvia Madden, right?’

  ‘Yes… well I did. What’s Sylvia got to do with this?’

  ‘Her husband is someone I know through reporting on Irish soccer games. We got talking one day on a plane from Belfast and by the time we touched down in Inverness, we’d made the amazing connection. Small world, as they say.’

  ‘Ah,’ is about as much as I can find to reply. Sylvia Madden, you dark horse you!

  I can hear Andrea in the background.

  ‘Andrea says hello,’ he says instead. ‘She is itching to hear all about your travels, so I hope you know that I will have to tell her every detail again and it will probably mean I don’t get to sleep until the early hours because there is so much to go over. You women don’t settle for any less than every detail, do you?’