Beneath an Irish Sky (Choc Lit)

by Connor, Isabella

  Her mobile rang and she glanced at the caller information. Maeve.

  ‘Don’t tell me you got all the kids in bed,’ Emer said, by way of a greeting. Her three nephews were proving to be night owls. ‘That must be a record.’

  ‘For sure,’ laughed Maeve at the other end of the phone. ‘Don’t jinx it now. I’m sitting here, feet up, glass of wine in hand. Nothing good on the telly, of course. What are you up to?’

  Emer clicked and saved Jack’s photo to the computer. ‘Oh, nothing much. Just a bit of research.’

  ‘All work and no play …’

  … makes Jack a dull boy. Emer mentally finished the proverb and smiled. Perhaps it was a sign. Of what, though? Emer decided to give the analytical side of her brain the night off. And the warning bells could sod off, too.

  After she’d finished talking to Maeve, Emer went into the kitchen, took the photo of Colm from the fridge, and relegated it to the bin.

  ‘Goodbye to all that,’ she murmured.

  Jack woke with a start. Where the hell was he? The window was in the wrong place. And what was that wardrobe doing near the door? Then he remembered. This was the Beaumont Hotel in Dublin. He had a new son and a corpse to take care of. He glanced at the bedside clock. Past nine. Darkness had fallen outside. He’d slept for two hours, needing a break from the memories of Annie that kept flooding his mind.

  He went into the bathroom and splashed water on his face. That woke him up a bit. Drying his hands, he assessed himself critically in the mirror. Forty-six but still looking good. Some grey flecks in his fair hair, but his mother said they made him look distinguished. Not balding at all, thank God. Some wrinkles on the forehead and round the eyes, but he could still pass for forty in the right light. He patted his stomach. No paunch. He exercised every day in the gym at work.

  What age was Emer? Mid-thirties? No wedding ring. Admittedly, women didn’t always wear them now. She was a looker. And sharp. The pillow talk would be great. He felt a stab of guilt. A dead wife and an injured son, and he was working out how to screw the bereavement counsellor.

  Back in the bedroom, he stood by the window, watching worshippers leaving the church across the street. Sunday was almost over. How would he have spent the day in Baronsmere? A workout, the newspapers, lunch with the family at Edenbridge, an afternoon walk with the dogs, a drink or two in the evening with friends. No romance, although that flicker of hope he’d find someone special hadn’t yet gone out. It had been his choice to end things with Sarah a couple of months ago, so he had no right to complain about being lonely. They’d broken up so many times over the years that the villagers were probably placing bets to see how long it was before they were back together. It was final this time, though. She hadn’t made a big fuss when he’d broken things off, and had made no attempts to win him back, although she’d been a bit quiet of late – it was hard to know what she was really thinking.

  He could guess what his parents would think, though, if he brought Luke back to Baronsmere. His would-be son, the thorn in his side. They’d think Jack had lost his mind. Emer had no idea what she was asking. Damn her. Damn Annie. And damn Luke. It had taken Jack so long to get over the shock of Annie leaving, but he’d survived and got his life back on track. The last thing he needed right now was a constant reminder of all that trauma in the form of a twenty-year-old with an attitude. And what the hell was all that about not being wanted because he was a gypo? Jack had never used that insult in his life, and he and Annie had wanted a child of their own, a brother or sister for Matt.

  Matt! He’d have to tell him in case Luke got it into his head later to phone – or even worse, turn up on the doorstep. Then there would be some explaining to do. Jack took out his mobile and dialled his son’s number.

  ‘Dad!’ It was good to hear Matt’s voice. ‘What’s going on? Maggie said you’re in Ireland.’

  He hadn’t given his housekeeper any details. Didn’t want her weeping all over the place. ‘Matt – I’m here because of Annie.’

  ‘Annie? Our Annie?’

  ‘There’s been an accident …’

  ‘Shit! Is she okay? Where’s she been all this time?’

  Jack had expected anger or indifference. How could Matt sound so concerned after Annie had abandoned him?

  ‘Dad?’

  ‘Matt, I’m sorry … she’s dead. A car crash. I had to identify her.’

  ‘Oh my God! Why didn’t you tell me? I’d have come with you.’

  ‘You had the stag night.’

  ‘Fuck that! This is more important than some piss-up. Look, I’ll come over …’

  ‘No!’ That was the last thing Jack wanted. Things were complicated enough.

  ‘But what about the funeral? I should be there. And Maggie. We’ll—’

  ‘Stop! Just stop. There’s something else. She had a son. He was with her in the car.’

  ‘Is he dead too?’

  ‘No, but he’s injured. He’s in hospital.’

  ‘Poor sod,’ said Matt. ‘So his family are there, yeah? That must be tough for you.’

  Jack was tempted to leave it there. Say Annie’s family were taking care of things. But what if the truth came out later? Matt would know he’d lied. ‘Well, that’s the thing, Matt. Luke seems to think we’re his family.’

  ‘Come again.’

  ‘Luke’s twenty. His birth certificate says he’s mine.’ Jack hated doing this over the phone. He wished he could see Matt’s reaction. ‘Matt? You still there?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘What are you thinking?’

  ‘For starters – why the hell didn’t Annie tell you?’

  And now the questions would start. The last thing he needed. ‘It’s complicated. Too much to go into right now. I’m still trying to get my head round it.’

  ‘I can imagine. So what’s he like?’

  Hostile, stubborn, unforgiving, throws things. That about summed it up. But he didn’t have the energy for that now. ‘He looks like Annie,’ was all he said.

  ‘I want to see him.’

  Jack knew that tone of voice. Matt, determined to get his own way. ‘It’s not a good idea. He’s not strong enough yet …’

  ‘All the more reason to see him, then. He’s my brother, and it sounds like he needs us.’

  Matt’s anger sparked Jack’s own temper. ‘You don’t know he’s your brother! That could have been the reason Annie left.’

  He hadn’t meant to say that. Instantly regretted it. He’d never told Matt that Annie had found another man.

  ‘You can’t believe that, Dad! Not Annie! No way!’

  Matt sounded really upset. Jack was botching this badly. ‘I don’t know what to believe. This whole thing has been a nightmare, and I’m shattered. Please – just give me a bit more time to talk to Luke, to see what he wants to do.’

  ‘You’ll be bringing him home, though?’

  Now Matt was suggesting it! And any attempt by Jack to dismiss it as a bad idea could bring Matt over on the next flight. Would Luke want to come back to Baronsmere anyway? Maybe he’d refuse and Jack could offer him start-up money for his move to Wales. Matt could visit him if he wanted. Win-win.

  ‘Okay, Matt, I’ll ask him, but just don’t get your hopes up.’

  Chapter Three

  Next morning rain had settled in, and Jack turned on all the lights in his suite to dispel the gloom. He spent an hour answering e-mails. They never stopped, not even for a family crisis. Then he phoned his secretary, saying he’d been detained in Ireland on business and she could leave messages on his mobile.

  ‘And if Sir Nicholas needs to speak to you?’ she’d asked.

  ‘He can’t. Not today, anyway. I’ll be busy.’ That would go down like the Titanic. He’d take the flak for it when he got home; right now he had differ
ent priorities.

  After coffee and a Danish, Jack walked the short distance to the hospital. Dublin looked like any other big city with its shops and office buildings, a myriad of umbrellas adding colour to the grey streets. The traffic was bumper to bumper, as bad as Manchester’s. He passed a building and recognised the name of the funeral home where Annie had been taken. He hadn’t been there when they’d transferred her and he tried to ignore the guilt.

  Pushing open the swing doors of the hospital, he was hit by the pungent smell of disinfectant. Why couldn’t they use cleaning stuff that smelled of flowers? Might cheer people up a bit, and God knows everybody in St Aidan’s looked like they needed that.

  When he entered Luke’s room, only a nurse was there, changing the sheets. ‘Where’s Luke? Has something happened?’ Perhaps he’d discharged himself. Problem solved.

  The nurse smiled. ‘He’s taking a walk to the day room to try out his crutches.’

  Jack pushed aside a small kernel of disappointment and asked where he could find the day room.

  Luke was heading slowly down the corridor, a nurse beside him. Jack was reminded of Matt’s halting first steps all those years ago. He’d missed Luke’s first steps. And so many other firsts. But he’s not my son. Again, he’d forgotten this. Lulled into acceptance by the desire he and Annie had shared for a child, a desire he could still remember like it was yesterday.

  They reached the day room at the same time and Jack held the door open. Luke glanced at him briefly before being helped into a chair by the nurse.

  ‘Well done, Luke,’ she said. ‘You’re making grand progress. You’ll be dancing again in no time. Just rest here a bit. I’ll get a wheelchair so I can take you for your scan.’ She bustled out, leaving father and son alone, silent like strangers in a waiting room.

  Jack sat in the chair next to Luke, staring at the wall as he spoke. ‘Scan?’

  ‘To check my head.’

  A response at least. And bordering on polite. ‘How are the crutches?’

  ‘Okay. Not easy with the ribs, but at least I’ll be able to get out of here soon.’

  Another sentence without expletives. Definite progress. ‘So where will you go when you get out?’

  Luke sighed. ‘What d’you care?’

  ‘I’m guessing you won’t be going back to your uncles. Is there someone else …’

  ‘Jesus!’ Luke slammed his hands on the arms of the chair. ‘What’s it to you?’

  That was more like the Luke he’d come to know. He’d have to choose his words carefully. ‘Luke, whatever you think, I do care what happens to you. We should try to get to know each other a bit better.’ He hesitated, knowing he was about to say something that could change his life and the lives of everyone dear to him. ‘Come home with me.’

  It was out now. No taking it back.

  From the corner of his eye, he saw Luke’s head turn towards him.

  ‘Why would I want to do that?’

  ‘I don’t suppose you would want to,’ Jack replied, avoiding eye contact. ‘But what’s your alternative? You need looking after. You can’t manage on your own yet.’ He’d made it sound like some kind of business proposal. Sign here. Agree to all terms and conditions.

  ‘You don’t want me.’

  That was the truth, but Jack would never say it. He knew what rejection felt like and whatever the temptation, he wouldn’t punish Annie through her son. ‘Until you’re fit,’ he said. ‘After that, do what you like.’ Take it or leave it. The final offer.

  ‘I don’t think so.’

  Well, he’d tried. Hadn’t he?

  He’s my brother! Matt’s voice was inside his head, like a reproach. He’d want to know everything Jack had said. Would probably criticise him for sounding too cold. He had to try again, for Matt. Jack took a photo from his wallet, holding it out to Luke.

  ‘Matt,’ he said. ‘Your half-brother. He’s twenty-five. Your mother took him everywhere with her – told him Irish stories, taught him Irish songs, which he’ll still sing on drunken St Patrick’s nights. He loved Annie. She was his mother for a year. The only one he remembers. He wants to meet you.’

  Before Luke could respond, the nurse reappeared with a wheelchair. ‘Time for your scan, Luke.’

  Jack moved to help him get up. Luke’s body stiffened, so Jack left it to the nurse. He held the door as she wheeled the chair out. ‘Just think about it,’ he said, but Luke left the room without looking at him.

  Emer’s phone alarm beeped at five minutes to one. Lunch time. And possibly Jack Stewart time. He might have forgotten her line to him yesterday about being in the hospital cafeteria, but she’d be there just in case. Last night, she’d admitted to herself she found Jack attractive. Don’t lie to your hormones. One of Maeve’s favourite sayings.

  As usual, the lifts were packed to the gunnels with nurses, doctors and relatives. It was as bad as Grafton Street on a Saturday night. When the third lift arrived full, Emer gave up and took the stairs.

  Clattering her way down to the first floor, she glanced at her watch. Almost ten after. In her experience, men didn’t hang around long if they thought they’d been stood up. Still, she’d have a chance to see Jack another day, with Luke …

  ‘Emer!’

  She smiled when she spotted Jack, hovering outside the cafeteria. A brownie point to him for waiting. Now why hadn’t she remembered to brush her hair? Even in a ponytail, her curls needed a lot of strict attention or they’d spring free, up and round her head like a wispy red halo. Still, perhaps the special-occasion amber drop earrings she’d spent five minutes looking for this morning would distract him.

  She greeted him with a smile and said, ‘Let’s go in. I’m starving.’ She could check the state of her hair in the glass of the food counter.

  Jack hesitated, his expression uncertain. Emer felt a small stab of disappointment. Perhaps she’d jumped the gun and he wasn’t staying for lunch after all. She should know better by now than to build castles in the air …

  ‘It’s really crowded in there. Is there somewhere quieter we can eat?’ Jack asked, and the castle and clouds floated back into Emer’s view.

  They couldn’t eat in her office. Never a minute’s peace there. Outside was cold and damp, even if you wanted to combat the clouds of tobacco smoke from both visitors and patients who couldn’t fight the nicotine cravings.

  ‘There is a place,’ she told him. ‘You’re not afraid of heights, are you?’

  Jack blinked nervously. ‘No, not really – why, what did you have in mind?’

  ‘It’ll be a surprise. C’mon, let’s grab some sandwiches.’

  He held up a carrier bag. ‘Already got them.’

  Another brownie point for him, only … ‘I don’t eat meat. Did you get a vegetarian option? Or fish is okay.’

  ‘I bought one of everything,’ he said solemnly, not seeming to think there was anything out of the ordinary in that.

  ‘Oh.’ Emer resisted the temptation to laugh, not wanting to hurt his feelings. ‘Good for you, Jack. Right, onwards and upwards. Follow me.’

  Some of the nurses cast appreciative glances at Jack as he stood chatting to Emer beside the lift. Even if it wasn’t true, it still felt good to be thought of as part of a couple again.

  Emer pushed open a door and Jack felt a cool breeze pluck at his hair and jacket. The rooftop lay ahead of them and now he understood her question about heights. He’d wanted more privacy and now he’d got it, because surely only the desperate and the bold would come out here. The clanking and echoes of the hospital behind him faded away and were replaced by the sounds of city traffic. Luckily, it had stopped raining.

  ‘Well, thank you, Emer – I was hoping to see the sights …’ he joked, peering over the edge. They were seven floors up and there was a reasonable view of Dublin.
A park spread out on the left side, and the river glinted a steely grey through the heart of the city. In the distance, there seemed to be a giant knitting needle piercing the sky. ‘What’s that huge spike?’ he asked Emer, who came over to stand beside him.

  ‘That’s the Millennium Spire,’ she told him. ‘The locals have given it ruder names than that, though. Four million euro to build and a million plus so far to keep it clean. Nobody knows what it’s supposed to be, but it does make a grand meeting place.’

  ‘Like this rooftop. Do you come here often?’

  ‘I used to, when I still smoked, but I’m a clean-living girl now.’ Emer winked and smiled, and the sight of her dimples made him smile back. ‘C’mon over here, out of the wind.’

  Jack followed her to a stone block sheltered by a large heating vent and they settled down side by side. He rummaged in the plastic bag and plucked out a sandwich. ‘Cheese and pickle?’

  ‘Grand,’ she said, accepting the sandwich and a bottle of apple juice.

  Perhaps he’d better not munch away at beef in her presence. He selected an avocado and prawn half baguette. About to unwrap it, he suddenly noticed Emer was shivering slightly. Standing up, he took his jacket off and draped it over her shoulders.

  She looked surprised but murmured, ‘Very gentlemanly of you.’

  The sandwich had virtually no taste and Jack soon set it back in its plastic packet. Emer was gamely working her way through the cheese and pickle. Jack had been looking forward to seeing her again, but it was hard to get a conversation going when you were sitting side by side on a breezy rooftop, eating. Emer had less than an hour for lunch, though, so Jack would have to get things started. Best to begin with something she’d approve of.

  ‘I saw Luke this morning. I asked him to come back with me.’

  ‘Mmm.’ Emer hurriedly swallowed her mouthful and half-turned towards him. ‘What did he say?’