Beneath an Irish Sky (Choc Lit)

by Connor, Isabella

  ‘So did you kiss him?’ Maeve’s chopsticks were poised over the takeaway carton of king prawn mushrooms.

  ‘Maeve!’ Emer produced her best scandalised expression. ‘I hardly know Jack!’

  ‘You’ve had lunch with him twice. And both times he paid. Nowadays that’s virtually a proposal of marriage.’

  Emer smiled and wrapped some noodles round her fork. She’d never been able to get the hang of chopsticks even though a Chinese takeaway at her flat had been the sisters’ monthly ritual for years. ‘After lunch, we went for a walk on the Green and then up to Trinity.’

  Maeve waggled a chopstick in Emer’s direction. ‘You’re out with a hot man and you show him round your old university. Did you never watch Blind Date? You clearly need some tips.’

  Emer laughed. ‘He wanted to see the sights. We had a really nice afternoon.’

  ‘I don’t think men like him are looking for “nice”, to be honest.’

  Emer frowned. ‘Men like what?’

  Maeve grabbed the computer printout about Jack that Emer had shared with her earlier. ‘By all accounts, he’s a rich man. He could have any woman he wants. He’ll not be one you can keep on hold for long.’

  ‘So what should I have done, Maeve? Lunged at him in the hallowed cloisters of Trinity College?’

  ‘Well, it would have given him some kind of sign at least.’

  ‘A sign of what – that I’m a willing whore?’

  Her sister dropped the takeaway carton and gave a mock shriek. ‘Emer Sullivan, wash your mouth out with soap!’

  As usual, Maeve did an expert impression of their mother and both women burst out laughing. Emer looked at her sister with affection. It had been a big decision to tell Maeve about Jack – it made him and the beginnings of what they might have together seem more real.

  ‘Are you seeing him again?’ asked Maeve, wiping the tears of laughter from her eyes.

  ‘Tomorrow. He’s taking me to dinner at the Beaumont.’

  ‘Ooh – swanky. That’ll give you a chance to dress up a bit. Now, let’s see if you’ve still got anything suitable in your wardrobe to entice a man. Or did you get rid of it all after that idiot Colm made the biggest mistake of his life?’

  They went into the bedroom and Maeve critically swished through the hangers of clothes in the wardrobe. Emer was in two minds about Jack. She was attracted to him but there were still so many unknowns. And whether he realised it or not, he was grieving for his dead wife. Not only that, but all the trauma of her leaving him had also been resurrected. It wasn’t the best time for him to get involved with a new woman. If it all went wrong, Emer would be left the wrong side of thirty holding the pieces of another failed relationship. That was a sobering thought and Maeve’s excitement as she pulled out what she called The Seduction Dress couldn’t make it go away.

  The campfire was strong, the wood crackling and snapping. It gave everyone’s face a golden glow. Luke watched them all, parents and children, huddled together, delaying the dead of night with their laughter. Potatoes were cooking on the fire and his friend, Padraig, was flipping a coin through his fingers, trying to make it disappear. It had been their favourite game all summer since they’d seen a street magician do it. In the background, one of the men was singing a lullaby to his baby daughter.

  These were his people. This was his life. And it was good. He pitied folk stuck in their houses. They missed the sun creeping slowly up of a morning, and they never fell asleep under the stars or stood in the woods during a rain shower to catch that earthy growing smell as the plants drank their fill. They missed out on so much.

  ‘Now then, young Luke, let’s see what the future’s storin’ up.’

  Jessie had taken hold of his hand, smoothed the palm out flat, and she was peering hard at it in the dim light. No one really believed she had the gift of sight. It was just a bit of fun. Some of the men laughed at her and said certain things happened to everyone so it was easy to guess them. Luke only knew he loved Jessie with her mop of grey-white hair and easy smile, and he’d do nothing to offend her. He listened carefully as she spoke.

  ‘Ye’ll grow into a handsome man …’ Jessie began.

  There was a hoot of laughter and Padraig’s da said, ‘Sure, and you’ve only to look at Annie to know that!’

  ‘Your first love’ll be your last love,’ Jessie continued. ‘And there’s choices ahead. Money’s there for the askin’ but the price is high.’

  His mother shifted position beside him. ‘That’s enough for tonight, Jessie,’ she said. There was something in her voice he couldn’t quite place.

  ‘How ’bout a song, Annie?’ someone asked.

  ‘The babies’ll wake,’ said Annie.

  ‘Now wouldn’t the angels themselves want to be awake to listen to your voice? Luke needs a song on his birthday.’

  The evening ended in music, his mother’s voice ringing out sweet and clear in the Galway darkness. The words of the song burned themselves into Luke’s memory, along with the scent of woodsmoke and the gleam of fire in the eyes of those he loved …

  That memory of his eighth birthday was so clear, Luke felt he could reach out and touch it. But those people and that feeling of safety vanished once he and Annie moved out of Jessie’s cramped but homely caravan to live with his grand-da. His uncles were always around then, and the good times ended, the days all running bleakly together like endless rain. And now he would never see his mother again, never hear her laugh or sing.

  There was no one Luke wasn’t angry with at that moment. Himself for feeling so vulnerable. Annie for leaving him. Joe for treating Annie like a maid and knocking her about when the mood took him, and Liam for letting him. His grand-da, a good man but weak. And Luke was angry with Jack just for being Jack. A father who hadn’t cared for twenty years and was now taking over. Trying to make Luke question everything he’d been told. Well, if his mother had lied, she’d had good reason. Jack Stewart wasn’t going to insult her memory. Luke had managed fine without the man who fathered him, and although it rankled to accept his help now, it was only for a few weeks, thank God.

  God was someone else he was mad at, and Luke said so to Father Brennan, the elderly priest from the hospital chapel who’d turned up earlier. The man’s benevolent smile had irritated Luke right away. The last thing he’d wanted was to hear about God’s will.

  ‘At least your mother is with God now,’ the priest had said, after telling Luke how normal his reaction was.

  ‘Is bein’ killed at forty somethin’ to be grateful for, then?’ Luke had snapped. ‘Well, I hope she tells Him what she thinks of his reward for being a good Catholic. All her life she had nothin’.’

  ‘She had you.’

  The priest meant well, but Annie had actually stopped living the moment Luke was born, and then he’d finally killed her.

  ‘I’ll pray for you, Luke,’ Father Brennan had said as he left. Christ, priests were on a different planet.

  Jack woke from a nightmare about Annie. They were trying to bury her but he knew she wasn’t dead. No one would listen to his protests.

  He slowly freed himself from the bedsheets he’d thrashed into a tangled mess during the dream. The clock told him it was three in the morning, but he had to get up and move around, to try to clear the residual horror from his mind.

  The fluorescent light in the suite’s kitchen hummed into stark brightness and Jack reached into the fridge for a beer. He slumped at the kitchen counter, holding the cool can against his cheek. He missed Matt. And Maggie. And Claire, the sister who was always on his side, no matter what. He’d phoned her the day after speaking to Matt. Told her about Annie and Luke but asked her to keep it to herself until he got back. The last thing he needed was his father flying over and asking a million questions.

  So long as he was here in Dublin, Jac
k felt oddly safe. As if time had temporarily stopped, which in a way it had. The real nightmare would begin once he got back to Baronsmere. Then there would be arguments and tension and confusion, none of which he could easily resolve because of his uncertainty that Luke was his son. He was being forced to go out on a limb.

  Jack opened the can and took a long swallow in the hopes the alcohol would shut down his monkey mind. Seeing the mobile on the counter, he flicked it on and scrolled through the gallery of photos to find the one taken today by a stranger on St Stephen’s Green. There it was: Jack and Emer, arm in arm, smiling in the watery sunshine. He tapped his finger and zoomed in on Emer. She wasn’t Hollywood beautiful, but she had a pretty face. Good skin, even features. And those big green eyes – so lively, so mischievous.

  What he liked most about Emer, though, was that she spoke her mind. Not in the way his father did, with the intention of bludgeoning someone into submission; not even in the way Maggie did, which sprang from an irritation at everyone else’s inefficiency. When Emer told you the truth, however painful it was, you somehow knew that you needed to hear it. That she had your best interests at heart.

  He’d be leaving Dublin soon. Leaving Emer. And he was suddenly sad about that. He had to find out if she felt something for him, if there was anything here to build on. And he had to do that soon. Tomorrow’s dinner might be his last chance alone with her. He’d pull out all the stops. Impress her. Woo her. Let her see the Jack Stewart he used to be before Annie Kiernan broke his heart.

  Luke’s anger lasted well into the night. He woke from dreams filled with violent memories. Fists and boots hurting his body. Annie screaming. She’d warned him enough times not to react, but he knew best. As always. And where were his uncles now? Maybe returning to an empty house and a missing car. Going to England was the right decision. Joe and Liam would never expect him to go to Jack’s house because, in their minds, that would be like supping with the devil. He wasn’t safe here, though, in Dublin. He had to get out of this hospital. That feeling of desperation made Luke beg the doctor next morning to discharge him.

  ‘If your test results are good, Luke, then we’ll let you go tomorrow, but you’ll need to follow up with your family doctor. Head trauma needs careful monitoring.’

  The doctor had no idea Luke’s health was more at risk if he stayed.

  Chapter Five

  Luke forced himself to keep going on his crutches. He was walking a slow circuit of the first floor, trying to build his strength up. Six days since the accident and the pain was no better. Bruised ribs weren’t as bad as broken ones, the doctor had said. Luke would have to take his word for that. He’d rested as best he could, but today he felt closed in. He hated being cooped up. When they’d moved to the house in Ennis, it was like being put in a cage.

  ‘Ten to one, I’d say.’

  Luke glanced up to see a smiling Emer, standing at the entrance to the cafeteria. ‘Are you takin’ bets on me?’ he asked, resting on his crutches.

  ‘Well, you’re getting speedier there … I thought you might be in training.’

  He laughed despite the pain from his ribs. ‘If I was a horse, I’d be a rank outsider. You wouldn’t want to bet on me.’

  ‘Oh, I think I’d take a risk. Outsiders can surprise you. So … are you a betting man, Luke?’

  ‘No,’ he said. ‘A horses man. Often helped prepare them for fairs.’

  ‘I’d like to hear about that. Have you time in your training schedule for a drink?’

  ‘That’d be grand,’ Luke replied, and she held the door open and told him to find a seat. He chose a spot near the window, away from the groups of chattering visitors, and watched Emer as she queued at the till. Her red hair was loose and it curled round her face. She looked lovely. He wanted to tell her that, but he was too shy. It would come out all wrong, as if he fancied her. Well, he did a bit, but his chances there were zero. He was just a little Traveller, not that experienced with women. He’d never get a backward glance from someone like Emer. No point in making an eejit of himself by trying. It was enough that she seemed to like his company. When she came to the table, she brought two bottles of apple juice and an iced doughnut. ‘They were out of oats, so I got you this instead.’

  He accepted it gratefully. His walk had given him an appetite.

  ‘So, tell me about you and horses,’ said Emer.

  ‘Horses are a big part of Traveller life,’ he told her. ‘Never owned one myself, though I did get to ride a thoroughbred once that eventually sold for a packet. Windtalker, his name was. Rode him along the beach at Doolin, just as the tide was comin’ in. No one around but us. I wanted it to last forever …’ He stopped, lost in the memory of a time when he’d been truly content. It didn’t seem to happen that often.

  ‘It sounds magical,’ said Emer. ‘Would you like to work with horses?’

  Luke sighed. ‘Sure, but no owner would let a Traveller near their stables. When I was a kid, some who weren’t too bigoted would let me help out, but it changed as I got older. Probably scared I’d do a moonlight flit with the horses. Suppose you couldn’t blame them. I wouldn’t steal, but those who do give us a bad name.’

  ‘I saw Jack. He told me you’re going back with him. Maybe you could find something with horses when you get there.’

  It was a nice thought, but he’d learned not to hope for too much. It saved disappointment later. ‘Yeah … well, we’ll see.’

  ‘How are you feeling about England, Luke?’

  ‘It’s somewhere to go. For now.’

  ‘It could be a lot more than that,’ said Emer. ‘A chance to meet your brother, and other family too. Might be a good thing.’

  And it might be a disaster, but he didn’t say that. Emer was trying to be optimistic, so he wouldn’t spoil it. He swallowed the last of his juice and started to pick at the label. ‘Well anyway, I’m not goin’ with any expectations.’

  ‘Maybe that’s best – not to have any preconceived ideas.’

  ‘It’ll be strange, though. I’ve never been out of Ireland. Had a passport for over two years since me and some other lads decided we’d take off and see the world. Mam was all for it, but when it came to it, I couldn’t leave her to fend for herself.’

  ‘You and your mother were leaving, though. Why was that?’

  He didn’t answer for a moment. Didn’t want to talk about it. Didn’t want to think about it. ‘Just a fresh start. It’s hard to get work when people find out you’re a Traveller. Thought it might be better in Wales.’

  ‘Did you never want to go to England? To find your father and confront him?’

  ‘Sometimes, but if I suggested it, Mam would get stressed.’ Actually, he’d often dreamed about going to England and shoving that letter down Jack Stewart’s throat. Pity he’d left it behind. With everything else. He would get round to confronting Jack about it, though. Once he felt stronger and his stay in England was near an end.

  ‘What happened to her, Luke – to both of you – after she left England?’

  A lot he didn’t want to talk about. He’d not lie to Emer, though – just not mention it. ‘We lived with a group of Travellers. My grand-da and my uncles were on the road too, but not always with us. We shared a van with an old woman called Jessie who took Mam in when I was two. We saw Grand-da every so often, then he had his first stroke. Mam and I moved in with him to take care of him. He refused to go into hospital since my Gran died in one. Somethin’ went wrong when she had my Mam. Eventually, the Settled Housing Scheme got us a house in Ennis. Jessie stayed close by us – in a haltin’ site. She thought of my mam as her daughter.’

  ‘You don’t talk much about your uncles or want them to know where you are. Why is that, Luke? Do you not think they should be at the funeral?’

  ‘They wouldn’t give a damn!’ He was annoyed with himself for raising his voice, a
nd the lull in the chatter around them made him flush with embarrassment. ‘They’re workin’ away somewhere, anyway. Probably couldn’t make it. Besides, Mam’s goin’ to be buried in England. Her devoted husband’s idea.’

  If Emer noticed the contempt in his voice when he spoke about Jack, she ignored it. She reached into her pocket and handed him a card. ‘My mobile number. Call if you need help or advice, okay? Or even just someone to talk to. Your mother’s funeral is a huge deal. Don’t feel you have to be strong. You can call me and let it all out if you need to.’

  ‘Thanks.’ He picked up the card and stared at it. Did she always give this out? Maybe she just felt sorry for him.

  ‘Are you okay, Luke?’

  ‘Yeah,’ he lied. ‘Just thinkin’. I’d like to say somethin’ at the funeral, but I don’t know what. I’ve never talked in public before. How can you really sum up a person – a whole life – with a few words and some bits of music?’ He shook his head. ‘Mam was a really special person, but the Stewarts couldn’t see that. Not good enough for them. They made her feel like nothin’.’

  ‘Just say what’s in your heart, Luke, and you won’t go wrong. Let them know how special she was.’

  He nodded. ‘I wish you could have known Mam,’ he said. ‘I think you’d have liked each other.’

  Emer smiled. ‘I’m sure we would. And thank you. I take that as a great compliment … You know, after the funeral, I hope you’ll finally be able to do the things you want. Maybe use that passport to travel. Right now, you can’t think of enjoying yourself, but eventually you will. You shouldn’t feel guilty. You need to know that.’

  ‘Maybe. Mam would probably agree with you. She used to worry I wasn’t doin’ the same as other lads, havin’ a girlfriend and all.’ Why had he said that? Too much information. Now he was blushing. Emer would think he was a freak. Maybe that was for the best. The facts about his limited experience with the opposite sex weren’t something he wanted to remember. Or share.