A Change of Heart (The Heartfelt Series)

by Adrienne Vaughan

  “We’ll be fine,” she told Erin, sorry she mentioned Ryan.

  “I hope so.” Erin sounded genuine. “He’s been through a lot, seems a nice guy, nice kid too.”

  “What do you know about it?” Marianne asked, avoiding Erin’s eyes.

  “Not a lot. Only I can see how sad he is, how much he loves the kid, and you. People imagine that kind of lifestyle is amazing - movie star, travelling the world, fame, money - but looks like nothing but pressure and hassle from where I’m standing, poor bloke.”

  Marianne turned to face her new workmate. “Does it seem like that to you?”

  Erin nodded, wiping her hands on her apron. Marianne eyed the table. Erin had ingredients everywhere; Marianne hated working in a mess.

  “Any idea how long you’re staying?” she asked.

  Erin shrugged, “As long as it takes. Don’t want to be here any longer than I have to. This place never changes, it’s the pits.”

  “You think so?” Marianne was wiping around Erin’s workspace.

  “Don’t you? Anyone with a business works their fingers to the bone for nothing, and those who don’t work just moan about those who do. Then there’s the gossip, everyone just talks about everyone else and the weather, gawd all it does is rain.”

  “I love it here,” Marianne said emphatically.

  “Ah, you haven’t been here five minutes, what would you know?” Erin replied. “No, I’m off as soon as.”

  “I thought you’d come back because of Padar, because Oonagh had died,” Marianne said coldly.

  “No, I’m here on a job. Pure coincidence this happens to be my home town.” Erin kneaded the pastry dough.

  “Job? What kind of job?” Erin ignored the question, Marianne continued, “But you were engaged to Padar, now he’s single again ...and then there’s Bridget.”

  “Yep, that’s what everyone’s supposed to think.” Erin’s floury hands pushed a strand of hair behind her ear.

  “Sorry, I don’t get it?” Marianne was snarky.

  “Thought you were supposed to be vaguely intelligent?” Erin was snarky back. “I’m working undercover. Even you journos do it, I believe.”

  “Oh, I hadn’t realised. Undercover what?” Marianne asked coolly.

  Erin waved the rolling pin at her.

  “That wouldn’t make me undercover anymore, now would it?” she raised a patronising eyebrow at Marianne. Marianne scowled at her across the table.

  “You don’t like me very much, do you, Marianne?” Erin said, matter-of-factly.

  Marianne felt the colour rush to her throat. “I was very close to Oonagh.”

  “So was I, once,” Erin came back at her.

  “I believe the estrangement was down to your behaviour,” Marianne was sniffy.

  “I believe you should mind your own damn business,” Erin shot back at her. Marianne turned pink. She glared at the other woman.

  “Well, if you dislike it so much here, the sooner you go back to where you bloody well came from the better,” she sniped at Erin.

  “And so should you!” Erin said.

  “So should I what?” Marianne’s voice was rising.

  “Go back to where you bloody well came from!” Erin’s decibel level rose to match her opponent. Marianne was confused.

  “Actually, this is where I come from,” she said triumphantly, thumping the table with her fist.

  “And so do I!” hissed Erin, facing her adversary across the table.

  Stalemate. Silence.

  They could smell burning.

  “The beef!” squawked Marianne. She pulled the pan off the range. “Ow, that’s HOT!” She shook her hand away from her.

  “Ah shite, that’s all we had too,” Erin said, taking Marianne by the arm over to the sink. She turned on the cold tap and pushed the bright pink flesh under it. Marianne was pale with shock.

  “Bet that hurts,” said Erin. “Keep it there, I’ll get you a painkiller.” She returned with a couple of white capsules and a glass of clear liquid, “Knock them back.” Marianne gagged. “Padar’s vodka, foul isn’t it? But it deadens the lips, so it’s bound to numb that burn,” Erin advised.

  “Thanks, I think,” Marianne said, eventually.

  Erin gave her a smile.

  “Fancy a nice drop of wine to take away the taste?”

  “Drink, with you?” Marianne was incredulous.

  “No-one else here,” Erin replied. The vodka hit Marianne in the chest, burning down to her stomach. She started to laugh. Erin looked at her in surprise.

  “Probably long overdue - a glass of wine and a good chat,” Marianne said, checking her throbbing hand. She sat down at the table. “What about the builders’ pie?”

  “Ah, feck them and their pie, they can have toasted sandwiches and be glad of it. You’re right we’re long overdue a bit of downtime. Do you mind if we don’t talk about Oonagh though? I’ve heard every last detail from Padar, and I’m sorry I wasn’t here, but I wasn’t and that’s that,” Erin told her.

  “Fine by me,” Marianne said as Erin brought a good bottle of Sauvignon Blanc, cheese and fruit to the table, helpfully slicing an apple and serving Marianne.

  “Do you have any sisters, Marianne?” Erin asked, pouring the wine. Marianne shook her head, mouth full of cheese and grapes. “Not all they’re cracked up to be you know, especially if they go and die on you before you can tell them how you really feel.” And Marianne watched as a very large tear rolled down Erin’s cheek, splashing onto the table before she had a chance to wipe it away.

  Chapter Twenty Eight

  Big Girlie Wuss

  By the time Sinead returned from kindergarten with the little ones Marianne and Erin had shared the best part of a bottle of wine and were chatting amicably. Despite not wanting to talk about Oonagh, Erin did confirm they had once been close and yes, Joan Redmond’s version of those long ago events were true.

  “Padar never stopped loving her, Marianne,” Erin explained, “I was a poor substitute and only fooling myself. She was my big sister. I was furious she left me, so I wanted what she had, her man, her lifestyle but it wasn’t to be. I know Padar was thinking of Oonagh every time he made love to me. He’d drop me like a stone if she ever came back on the scene. She was livid with me for taking up with Padar but he was a free man when we got together. She left him, she had no cause for complaint. We had the biggest row, never spoke to each other again. Padar should have made her see reason, but he didn’t. Anyway, all water under what was a pretty rickety bridge to begin with when you look at it.”

  Marianne touched Erin’s hand, “I’m sorry.”

  Erin gave her head a small shake. “One of the reasons I’m so direct, some say blunt. Misunderstandings cause half the world’s problems if you ask me. Say what you think, then at least people know where they stand. Pussyfooting around for the sake of people’s feelings causes a lot more damage.”

  If Sinead was surprised to see them sitting amid vegetable peelings and spilled flour, she did not let on, she just kissed Marianne and went off to fetch her medical bag. Marianne welcomed the opportunity to spend some time with Bridget and Joey. Avoiding Ryan for over a week had left her bereft of Bridget’s giggling antics and Joey’s clingy cuddles.

  “Any news?” Marianne asked, referring to Phileas and Pat, when Sinead returned.

  Sinead shot her a look. “He’s dead to me now, Marianne, not interested.”

  “They’ll be in custody for months, I reckon.” Erin told them. “They’ve been charged with aggravated burglary, but who knows when the trial will come up?”

  “A bad business,” Marianne said.

  “Has Kathleen mentioned what’s happening with the jewels?” Erin asked casually, combing Bridget’s hair into ringlets.

  “Only that they need a special courier to get them back to the States,” Marianne did not know how much of Miss MacReady’s latest revelation should be public knowledge. Or indeed how much of it was fanciful.

  Once Sinead
was happy the wound was clean and dressed, she suggested Marianne go home to rest, it was a nasty shock and Sinead thought she looked exhausted. Erin whipped her apron off saying she would walk Marianne back to Weathervane before going for her run. Outside the pub she took Marianne’s arm and steered her towards the beach.

  “What is it?” Marianne asked.

  “How well do you know Mrs Porter?” Erin asked.

  “Quite well, she’s a good sort, always there if you need her, works like a Trojan, why?” Marianne replied. She wished she was wearing another layer; the wind was whipping at the water, strands of scrub grass blown flat.

  “Bit too zealous in the arse-wiping department in my opinion, Dettol wipes anything that moves. She’s finished with her husband, there’s no doubt about that and she definitely has another fella on the go, but I can’t quite work out who though,” Erin told her.

  “Really?” Marianne said. They were walking arm in arm with their backs to the breeze along the shoreline. “She sometimes chats to Shay, the builder.”

  “Yeah, true and she always has a drink with the priest and seems close to Padar,” Erin commented, checking them off. “Her and Phileas been married long?”

  Marianne nodded, “A good while, why?”

  “No kids? None planned?” Erin asked.

  “Never discussed it with her. She loves children though. I’m guessing it would only have been a matter of time. She’s all for the holiday home for young carers, the one I’m planning in Oonagh’s memory, I don’t suppose you ...?”

  “Nah, I won’t be around anyway,” Erin said, breaking into a run. She turned back to wave goodbye, pointing behind her.

  “Your fella’s coming up behind you,” she called above the wind. “Remember what I said about pussyfooting and people’s feelings.” And she turned away, running off towards the cliff and the ravine which led to Horseshoe Bay.

  Marianne waited for Ryan to catch up. Monty brought her a nice clump of seaweed as a gift.

  “Hey,” he said and fell into step beside her. They walked in silence. He kept looking at her, willing her to turn her face to his, hoping he could break the mask with a smile.

  “Miss you,” he tried.

  “You too,” she said, staring straight ahead.

  “Ready to talk about it?” he asked.

  “I’ve always been willing to talk, you’re the one who flounced off in a huff like a big girlie wuss,” she said, keeping the smile out of her voice.

  “Only because I’m an actor dahling,” he said. He took her hand, turning her to face him, hair blowing wildly, eyes glittering. He gave her his sad, lopsided smile and suddenly she longed to kiss him, be crushed against his old leather jacket that smelled of sea and musk and him.

  “I don’t mean to keep things from you, but there are things you don’t need to know. My life and career is complicated, you don’t need to know every detail. You won’t fully appreciate what worth’s worrying about and what isn’t,” he told her.

  She clung to his hand, wrapping her fingers around his tightly. “I’m a big girl you know.”

  “Indeed, with more than enough on your plate. I want to make things easier for you, us. I want us to have a nice life together, so there are certain elements of mine I have to deal with myself, my way, okay?” he took her by the shoulders, looking straight into her eyes, holding her chin in his hand. “I love you, I love you, I love you.” A gull screeched overhead.

  “When I, we, read those documents, it was with the best of intentions, but it was wrong, I’m sorry.” She gave him a watery smile.

  “Forgiven, never to be mentioned again,” he confirmed.

  “But you must promise you’ll tell me everything from now on, everything you’re involved with, everything you’ve been asked to do. Let’s make decisions together from now on, yes?” she moved closer, her lips brushed his mouth as she spoke. “No more secrets!”

  Erin had told her she was undercover. Marianne dismissed it, not really a secret, nothing to tell. Miss MacReady told her Angelique was arrested for embezzlement, but Angelique was dead, no need to resurrect that particular piece of intelligence; nothing to do with Ryan. Miss MacReady was taking the jewels to New York, who needed to know?

  “Of course, whatever you say, I totally and utterly agree,” and even as he pulled her into his arms, pressing his lips against hers in a strong, hungry kiss, the secret assignation with Dermot flashed into his mind, his promise to help his friend intervene and counter the importation of illegal drugs and munitions. The sort of thing he could not tell Marianne about, precisely the sort of thing that would worry her to distraction. He pushed the thought from his mind, as he pushed his tongue into her mouth and she melted against him. It was a good feeling, his woman, back in his arms.

  A few days later Marianne was helping Miss MacReady pack, or rather she was helping Miss MacReady unpack.

  “Crikey, how long are you going for?” she eyed the pile of clothes on the bed and the mismatch of trunks, suitcases and bags strewn across the floor.

  “Only a week,” Miss MacReady replied. “Don’t you think I have enough?”

  “A week?! You have enough here for three changes a day for a month!” Marianne told her.

  “But it’s New York, Marianne, the city that never sleeps!” Miss MacReady was already buzzing with excitement, draping satin-covered hangers with evening gowns, cocktail dresses and negligees on every conceivable surface.

  Erin came in from the post office. She was carrying a small black case made from titanium, with a neat combination lock and a chain attached to the handle.

  “I’ve checked everything. All matches the inventory, all good to go,” she told the postmistress. Marianne looked up in surprise.

  “Private detective, working for the insurance company. I was sent here when they found out Angelique went back to the States without the collection,” Erin explained. “Told you, I’m undercover.”

  “You knew about the burglary in advance?” Marianne asked.

  “No, but it was a foregone conclusion someone would try it on and we had been tipped off. It’s my job to ensure the jewels get off the island safely, so I suggested Miss MacReady for special courier, saves me going to New York, I hate the place.” Erin explained.

  Marianne raised her eyebrows at her mother.

  “Larry knew the insurance company would send somebody to protect their interests, particularly when word got out about the robbery,” Miss MacReady said, holding an emerald gown up in the mirror, swishing the fishtail from side to side.

  “Surprised Larry didn’t consider setting up a heist himself,” said Erin, trying on a turquoise trilby. “People often have valuables ‘stolen’ so they can claim the insurance money and then sell them on the black market, it’s a very lucrative scam if you can get away with it.”

  Miss MacReady turned pink, clashing with the dress.

  “I’ll make us some tea,” Miss MacReady offered, dropping the gown. “Marianne can you start sorting out some sensible footwear? I want to do lots of walking while I’m there, see as much as I can,” Her voice trailed off down the stairs.

  Erin placed the trilby over one eye.

  “Here’s looking at you kid,” she told her reflection in the mirror.

  “And here’s looking at you,” said Marianne. “Good work, how did you get into it?”

  “Police force, then Special Branch, then I was made an offer I couldn’t refuse. The insurance companies pay well if you’re successful. With my connections to the island, no-one was going to suspect why I was here. Sometimes it can be dangerous though. South America is vast and the Russians very tricky.”

  Marianne sat down on the bed fascinated. What a brilliant interview Erin would make, even if she had to stay undercover for the story.

  Miss MacReady returned, composed, offering tea and cake.

  “There are quite a few boudoir ensembles here, Mother dear,” Marianne said teasing. “I assume you’re staying with Larry? Any idea what the s
leeping arrangements are?”

  Miss MacReady put her cup down. “Well, I didn’t like to ask. I know Larry lives alone and no mention of a partner, but I wouldn’t like to assume a romantic assignation where there’s none intended.”

  “You’re a bit old for him aren’t you?” asked Erin taking a slice of cake.

  “Nonsense, look at Fliss Alridge the actress, her husband is thirty two years her junior and Trula de Ville, the singer, her beau is sixteen years younger than her, so with only a few years between us I’d say not in this day and age,” Miss MacReady replied haughtily, checking her temples for greys at the same time.

  Marianne hid a grin beneath a blouse she was folding.

  “I may be wrong, but I never got the impression Larry is particularly interested in sex, he doesn’t give off any vibe really.”

  “I disagree,” Miss MacReady retorted. “He has a lovely mouth and have you seen him dance? Shades of the gorgeous Ricky Divine, make no mistake.” The other women looked at each other. “Check him out on YouTube, sex on legs,” Miss MacReady confirmed. They burst out laughing.

  “Your generation really needs to get a grip,” she wagged a finger at them. “You totally understand the concept of a dirty old man but think older women stay home and knit. Grow up. We’re the ones who invented vibrators don’t you know!”

  “Stop!” shouted Marianne, throwing a slipper at her.

  “Well, you started it,” laughed Miss MacReady, throwing it back. “And if I have intentions on Larry, that’s our business, so I’d keep this conversation between ourselves if you don’t mind.”

  Erin opened a bedside drawer and took out an instantly recognisable sex toy. She waved it at the postmistress.

  “Well if you’re not taking this with you, can I borrow it while you’re away? I left mine in Dublin!” And the three of them roared their heads off.

  “What’s the plan?” Ryan spoke into the phone.

  “I’ve had an idea if you don’t mind staying in Maguire’s for a bit longer. I want to decorate the spare room for Joey, so when you come back for good he has his own space, what do you think?” Marianne sounded excited.

  “Great idea. He’s never really had his own room, can I help?”