‘I’m looking forward to you coming home,’ he said. ‘I miss you.’
‘I miss you too.’ She said the words automatically. ‘I have to go now,’ she added. ‘I’ll talk to you later.’
She ended the call and stared into the fire. It seemed as though she and Cobey were a couple again, and she wasn’t entirely sure how that had happened. She’d forgiven him for walking out on her because, as her mother would point out, it was important to forgive, and Cobey had got himself into a pressurised situation. But she hadn’t planned on being his girlfriend again. She wasn’t quite sure that was who she wanted to be.
‘Anything you want to talk about?’ Ellen asked.
She’d almost forgotten her mother was still in the room. Ellen was so damned quiet and self-effacing these days that she seemed to melt into her surroundings.
‘Not really,’ said Abbey.
‘OK.’ Ellen settled back into her chair and opened a well-thumbed copy of the bible.
‘You must know the story by now,’ remarked Abbey.
Ellen looked up at her. ‘Every good book deserves to be read more than once.’
‘I guess.’
‘And you get something new out of it every time,’ Ellen said. ‘Let not your hearts be troubled, neither let them be afraid. John 14:27.’
‘You think my heart is troubled?’ asked Abbey.
‘Well, everyone’s heart is troubled at some point,’ said Ellen. ‘And this is a troubling time.’
‘It shouldn’t be,’ Abbey said. ‘I’m going to have money. And I like that idea, Mom. It makes me feel confident and good about myself.’
Ellen gazed at her thoughtfully. ‘Why do you need money to feel confident and good about yourself?’ she asked. ‘Haven’t you been doing well lately? Isn’t that what you’ve been telling me? That your nail business is going from strength to strength? That you’ve won competitions and you’re going to this Nail Olympics thing?’
‘Nailympics,’ corrected Abbey. ‘Yes, but all those things happened to me after I heard about Fred Fitzpatrick’s will. After I realised that I could be rich.’
‘So the people who judged the nail art knew about the will?’ Ellen looked at her enquiringly.
‘Well, no, but—’
‘And all those extra clients you told me about came to you because you’ll have money?’
‘Mom …’
‘And you’re only good at what you do because of the actions of a man you hardly knew?’
Abbey shook her head slowly.
‘It’s not that simple.’
‘This person, a man I’m thinking, who you miss – does he need you to have money?’
Abbey looked at Ellen, a shocked expression on her face.
‘Why would you say that?’
‘I’m trying to find out why it matters to you.’
‘Money matters to everyone. Except you and the rest of the nuns, because you’re looked after in the monastery. You don’t have to care about things like the rest of us.’
Ellen said nothing.
‘Oh!’ Abbey suddenly despaired of her mother. ‘Even when you’re not talking, you’re managing to melt my head!’ She stood up. ‘I’m going up to my room. I don’t want to talk any more.’
She’d been sitting there on her own for about twenty minutes when her phone rang again. She looked at it warily, deciding that if it was Cobey she wasn’t going to answer. But it was Ryan Gilligan’s name she saw on the display.
‘I thought I’d check that you’re OK,’ he said. ‘The scene in the house earlier was a bit upsetting.’
‘I’m … I’m grand,’ she said.
‘You don’t sound grand, you sound glum.’
‘I’ve been having existential conversations with my mother,’ she told him, and he chuckled.
‘She’s an interesting woman,’ he said.
‘That’s one way of putting it,’ said Abbey.
‘She’s very calm.’ Ryan disregarded the slight edge to Abbey’s voice. ‘When she looks at you, it’s like she’s peering into your soul.’
‘You think?’
‘That’s how I felt,’ he said. ‘She made me feel a bit superficial, to be honest.’
‘She does that to me all the time.’ Abbey’s tone was dry.
‘I wondered …’
‘Yes?’
‘Would you like to meet me?’ he asked. ‘For a drink, a glass of wine, something like that?’
Talking to Ryan was easier than talking to her mom. Or talking to Cobey Missen. She needed to be with someone easy. And hell, she could do with some alcohol to take the edge off her feelings.
‘I’d love to,’ she said.
‘Excellent. I’m outside the hotel now.’
‘You are?’
‘After I dropped you there, I went back to the office with Alex. Then I decided to return here. Just in case.’
‘Give me five minutes,’ said Abbey.
She looked at herself in the mirror, rubbed some blusher on her too-pale cheeks, then ran her brush through her hair and spritzed herself with Benefit B Spot. She pulled on her jacket and walked downstairs. Her mother was still sitting in the lounge in front of the fire, her eyes closed. Abbey thought that perhaps she’d fallen asleep. She didn’t go over to her, but instead asked Clara to tell her that she’d be back later.
Ryan was standing in the reception area waiting for her. He smiled and took her by the arm, telling her they were going to walk as far as the Bloody Stream, a pub near the railway station. The falling snow deadened the sound of their footsteps, and Ryan kept a tight hold of her as they walked along the white streets.
‘I can’t believe I’m walking on snow,’ said Abbey. ‘Every so often we get a blast of Canadian air on the West Coast and there’s all sorts of snowy predictions, but it hasn’t happened yet.’
‘You’ve never had snow?’ He was incredulous.
‘Not enough to make a snowball.’ Abbey bent down and scooped some up in her hand. ‘Jeez, it’s cold, though.’
‘Snow usually is,’ remarked Ryan with good humour.
They went inside the pub, which was heaving with people, most of whom were hoping that the cold snap wouldn’t last.
‘We’re not properly set up for it,’ explained Ryan as he placed a glass of red wine in front of Abbey. ‘It’s something that’s better in the anticipation than the reality.’
‘Maybe tomorrow will be like that.’ Abbey shivered suddenly. ‘I thought it would be exciting. But now …’ Her voice trailed off and she gazed into her glass.
‘It’ll be fine,’ said Ryan. ‘It’s not like a criminal trial or anything.’
‘No, but it’s messing with people’s heads, isn’t it?’ said Abbey. ‘And Zoey and Lisette …’
‘… shouldn’t have been at the house today,’ said Ryan.
‘They were very upset, though. Lisette looks awful.’
‘Not your problem.’
‘Do she and Gareth need the money that badly? Has this property thing completely flattened them?’
‘If it has, it’s only because Gareth overextended himself during the property boom trying to make a quick buck,’ said Ryan.
‘And Donald? It seems so strange that he’d jeopardise everything just because he feels insulted.’
‘People do the strangest things,’ said Ryan. ‘I can’t tell you the number of times they’ve taken impossible cases only to prove a point. Lots of clients say that they want to stand up in court and prove that their adversary was wrong about something. It’s an expensive therapy, especially if you lose.’
‘Sure is.’
‘Let’s not talk about tomorrow. Tell me about yourself instead. Do you like being San Francisco’s hottest nail technician?’
‘I’m a nail artist now,’ she corrected him with a smile. ‘I’ve changed my business cards to reflect that. It’s been going well. My Mona Lisa design is a big favourite. Though last month it was my holiday Christmas tree that was asked for most.�
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‘I’m glad it’s working out for you,’ said Ryan.
‘So am I,’ she said. ‘I said to my mom that it had all come right since hearing about the will. I think she’s horrified at the thought that money might be behind my success.’
‘The money is great, but you haven’t actually got your hands on it yet,’ said Ryan. ‘It’s your talent that’s making you successful, Abbey.’
‘That’s what Mom was trying to make me believe.’
‘Well, yes. Because it’s true.’
She stared at him. ‘I thought it was her being … well … being a nun.’
‘Abbey Andersen! How can you be so unsure of yourself? Of your own worth?’ Ryan spoke firmly. ‘You’re a smart, talented woman.’
‘Oh, I don’t think—’
‘Stop with the false modesty,’ he said. ‘Of course you’re smart, and your art is amazing. I hung that sketch of me you did at Alcatraz on my wall in the office. Everyone who sees it thinks it’s great.’
She was pleased that he’d liked it enough to hang it up, but she reminded him that it was merely a quick drawing, and nothing special.
‘It is to me,’ said Ryan. ‘As for your nail art – I’m sure that’s equally good. So, you know, accept that you’ve talent, for heaven’s sake.’
Abbey looked thoughtful. ‘I don’t try to be particularly modest,’ she said. ‘But I don’t see myself as a proper artist.’
‘You are,’ said Ryan. ‘You’ve got to believe that.’
He put his arm around her and hugged her. Abbey allowed herself to relax into his hold. It was comforting. And more than that, it felt right. But after a moment she sat up straight again.
‘You’re right,’ she said. ‘All the things I’ve achieved … everything since last year … its been my own doing, hasn’t it?’
‘Without a doubt.’
‘Except for the apartment.’
‘The apartment you’re thinking of buying with Mr Fitzpatrick’s money?’
She told him about Pete’s involvement.
‘Sounds nice,’ said Ryan. ‘Though you don’t have to buy it, do you? You can rent from him. I bet he’d sign a long lease for you.’
‘I guess he would.’
‘Irish people are very hung up on property,’ said Ryan. ‘We like to own it. It’s a historical thing, but it was part of our downfall a few years ago – why Gareth and Lisette got themselves into trouble too. I rent my place. It means that I can move on more easily. To places that mean a lot. To people who mean a lot too.’
She looked at him uncertainly, and he hugged her again.
‘All I’m saying is that you don’t have to tie yourself down for Pete. He’s definitely a nice man, but, you know, he’s not your father, Abbey, and he doesn’t control your life. You do.’
‘You and my mom both,’ she said. ‘Telling me I’m a talented person. Telling me not to tie myself down or do things for other people. Are you conspiring together?’
‘Not intentionally,’ Ryan assured her. ‘All I want, Abbey Andersen, is for you to be happy.’ He leaned forward and kissed her softly on the forehead. ‘Because every Irish cailín deserves to be happy.’
‘Thank you.’
He was very different to Cobey, she thought. He was kind and gentle and caring in a way she’d never experienced before. Of course that was probably just because she was his client – his about-to-be-wealthy client. All the niceness could be a sham. Maybe he was horrible to the people closest to him.
Her eyes met his and he looked at her unwaveringly. If he was a fake, she thought, he was a damn good fake. She didn’t want him to be a fake. She wanted to believe that he meant it when he said that all he wanted was for her to be happy. Because right now, with his arm resting on her shoulders, she was.
Neither Lisette nor Zoey had told their respective husbands about meeting Ellen and Abbey at Furze Hill. Lisette and Gareth were still hardly speaking. Donald was too busy reading legal documents to notice his wife.
You n me are so f*cked, Zoey instant-messaged Lisette. The legal eagles were very suspicious of us being at the house.
You don’t think they know about the safe, do you?
Nah. But still. Not good.
Aargh.
Oh well, fingers xxed.
I was hoping the nun would be a wizened old crone. But quelle surprise!
A bit of a shocker all right. Maybe she’ll be in her habit tomorrow.
I wouldn’t bet on it. They want her to look normal.
She looks quite hot in the all-black outfit. Who would’ve thought?
Hot but kindly. Unfortunately.
D’you think there’s a chance of them coming in with another offer?
It’s too late for that. It’s all or nothing in this war. And if – when – we lose, I don’t know what will happen with me and Gar.
Why?
It’s all gone wrong between us.
Don’t say that. You’re a strong couple.
We were. Not now.
Bloody hell. Zoey’s fingers thumped the keypad. Fred Fitzpatrick didn’t know what he was doing when he made that will. It would’ve been far better if he’d died without writing one at all.
Chapter 37
Although it had continued to snow lightly during the night, the roads were passable and Ryan Gilligan collected Abbey and Ellen on time from the hotel the following morning.
‘Will we need to give evidence, d’you think?’ Abbey asked.
‘Not today. But Alex wants you to be there.’
‘Will all the Fitzpatricks be there too?’
‘I don’t know,’ replied Ryan. ‘I wouldn’t have expected Gareth and Lisette to show up, because they’re both teachers and have limited time off during school hours, but I heard on the radio this morning that a number of schools are closed because of the weather, so it’s quite possible.’
‘Is it too cold to go to school?’ Ellen shivered as she got into the car.
‘No,’ said Ryan. ‘But every time we have snow, some schools report heating problems or frozen pipes which force them to close.’
‘There was a snow day for schools in San Diego last year,’ said Ellen as she rubbed her hands together. ‘The snow was high up in the mountains but the kids were really excited.’
‘I like snow, but not if I have to travel in it.’ Ryan turned up the heating. ‘Hopefully it won’t disrupt things in court today.’
‘That would be awful,’ said Abbey. ‘After me and Mom coming over and everything …’
‘I’m sure it’ll be grand,’ said Ryan as he pulled gently away from the kerb. ‘We’ll get this show on the road, don’t you worry.’
There was snow on the domed roof of the court building, which overlooked the river Liffey. Abbey, Ellen and Ryan stood outside for a moment. Abbey felt light-headed. It was hard to believe that somehow she was caught up in the legal system of another country. And although she hadn’t committed a crime, she couldn’t help feeling guilty as she walked up the steps leading into the building.
‘It’s sort of … overwhelming.’ She realised that she was whispering as she looked at the barristers wearing gowns and wigs hurrying past, bundles of files and folders in their arms.
‘It can be intimidating all right,’ agreed Ryan. ‘But you don’t have to worry, Abbey.’
‘I’m not worried,’ she lied. ‘I …’ She didn’t want to be here, she realised. She didn’t want to be disputing Fred’s will in front of a judge. She didn’t want any part of it.
‘Hello, everyone.’ Alex walked up and joined them. ‘We’re in Court Three. Judge Halligan. Sensible, reasonable man.’
‘No last-minute sensible, reasonable offers from the Fitzpatricks?’ asked Ryan.
Alex shook his head. ‘The judge will be aghast that we haven’t come to an agreement. The courts aren’t the place to try to prove a point.’
‘I guess it’s that old adage about an eye for an eye leaving everybody blind,’ said Ellen.
/> ‘Did the Bible say that too?’ Abbey looked surprised.
‘Martin Luther King Junior,’ replied Ellen. ‘He had a point. He also said the time was always right to do the right thing.’
‘We are doing the right thing,’ said Abbey. ‘Aren’t we?’
They went into the courtroom. Donald, Gareth, Lisette and Zoey were already there, along with their legal team. It all seemed very formal and serious to Abbey, who’d expected something more relaxed. It wasn’t a murder trial, after all!
The judge spoke but Abbey couldn’t understand a word he’d said. His accent was broad and quite unlike Ryan’s, and she whispered to him that she was lost about what was going on.
‘Judge Halligan’s from Kerry,’ he whispered. ‘Even I don’t understand his accent sometimes. But he’s sharp as a tack.’
The judge was asking the Fitzpatricks’ legal team to outline their case. Their barrister got up and started to speak. It wasn’t a polished speech like Abbey was used to hearing on TV legal dramas. The barrister stopped and started, hummed and faltered a few times.
‘He sounds like he doesn’t know what he’s talking about,’ she murmured to Ryan. ‘That’s good.’
‘It’s legalese,’ Ryan told her. ‘He doesn’t have to convince a jury, only the judge. And they all get off on the jargon, you know.’
Abbey listened carefully as the barrister continued to speak. He was talking about Mr Fitzpatrick and his children and how much of a family man he had been. She didn’t know if she believed a word of it or not, but what was certainly true was that he had been a father to Donald, Gareth and Suzanne. But not to Ellen. Because Ellen had been handed over to the Connollys and he’d been happy to see the back of her.
She looked across at the Fitzpatricks. Lisette was a pale imitation of the woman she’d been before, stick thin in the dark trouser suit she was wearing. Donald and Gareth looked grim. Zoey was, as always, groomed to within an inch of her life, but Abbey could see that there was worry in her eyes. She has nothing to worry about, thought Abbey. She has a husband who’ll look after her. None of them have anything to worry about. I shouldn’t start feeling sorry for them. That’s what they want.
Things We Never Say Page 37