What Happened That Night: The page-turning holiday read by the No. 1 bestselling author

by O'Flanagan, Sheila

  ‘Actually, Peter’s marital state is irrelevant,’ said Lola. ‘More pressing is the fact that Bey did get out of the house and ended up with complete strangers. Did something happen to upset her? To make her want to come home?’

  Philip said nothing.

  ‘What?’ demanded Lola. ‘What did you say? What did you do?’

  ‘I did nothing!’ Philip was angry. ‘Stop looking at me as though I’m some kind of monster.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘I’m not trying to . . . It’s just . . . she ran away, Philip. In the middle of the night. In the snow. And she’s only twelve years old.’

  ‘Nothing happened that should’ve made her do that,’ said Philip. ‘Yes, there was a slight contretemps. But honestly, Lola, it was . . . in the grand scheme of things, it was just a bit of a dust-up.’

  ‘What sort of dust-up?’

  ‘I stole Astrid’s ring.’

  They both turned around at the sound of Bey’s voice. She was standing in the doorway, hugging her red dressing gown around her and looking at them from anxious eyes.

  ‘You what?’ Lola stared at her.

  ‘I saw the ring and I took it,’ said Bey. ‘It was real sapphire, not a glass stone. They said I was a thief and a liar and they were right. But I’m not going to the police. I’m not talking to them about anything. I’m not.’

  And then she burst into tears.

  Chapter 18

  Opal: a delicate, semi-transparent gem with points of shifting colour

  Even though Lola’s arms were around her in an instant, Bey knew that her mother would be as disgusted with her as she was with herself when she heard the full story. But as Philip began to explain what had happened, she realised that her mother’s anger was directed at him rather than her.

  ‘Oh my God!’ Lola’s voice was shaking with anger. ‘What sort of . . . of . . . emotional fuckwit are you to talk like this? Your daughter – who’s still only a child, for God’s sake – ran away in the middle of the night because your entire lunatic family made her feel so bad that she didn’t think she could stay in the house. Anything could have happened to her.’

  ‘She behaved like a drama queen, just like you.’ Philip’s face was red. ‘Running away instead of facing up to things. Making everything into a bigger deal than it needed to be. Staying silent when she should have spoken up. Making everyone dance to her tune. All I asked for was an apology for stealing Astrid’s ring, and she wasn’t prepared to give it. She deserved to be punished.’

  ‘I’m sure she would have said sorry eventually,’ said Lola. ‘You didn’t have to make her feel so horrible about it.’

  ‘You mean I shouldn’t have pointed out the difference between right and wrong,’ said Philip. ‘Some father I would have been then.’

  ‘I know the difference,’ Bey whispered. ‘I really do. I’m sorry.’

  ‘It’s a bit late now,’ said Philip. ‘But I hope you’ve learned your lesson, young lady, and you’ll never take anything that doesn’t belong to you again.’ He sent an angry glance in Lola’s direction before turning back to Bey. ‘Now, tell me truthfully, how on earth did you arrive at that house in Killiney? Why didn’t you simply phone your mother and ask her to bring you home?’

  She swallowed a couple of times and then told them about getting into the car. Her explanation faltered when she saw both her parents looking at her with horror in their eyes.

  ‘Did you mother teach you nothing?’ demanded Philip before Lola could speak. ‘You were lucky that he left you at that house. He could have . . .’

  Lola’s hand on his arm stopped him from completing the sentence. Bey stayed silent. She wasn’t going to elaborate on exactly what had happened, even though her heart was racing and she trembled at the memory of hiding among the snow-covered bushes. She was afraid he’d be even angrier with her than before.

  ‘I want you to promise me you’ll never do anything like that again,’ said her father. ‘It’s the only promise I’ve ever asked of you and the only way I’ll ever forgive you for what you’ve done.’

  She nodded, and he continued with the words that would remain etched on her mind for ever afterwards.

  ‘You clearly don’t know how to judge men. Even if it’s someone you know, don’t get into their car unless they’ve been specifically sent by your mother or by me. And when you’re older and going out with boys, be careful where you go with them and always tell someone where you are. Don’t let anyone you don’t know near enough to touch you. Girls disappear, you know. You could have been one of them. You could have totally ruined Christmas for everyone in the family forever by going missing and never being found. If the worst had happened, we’d be reminded every single year. You should have been more thoughtful.’

  Bey nodded again. Lola didn’t trust herself to speak.

  ‘Anyway,’ he finished, ‘I’m glad you’re all right. Everyone is glad you’re all right. In fact Astrid was so pleased, she asked me to give you this.’

  He put his hand in his pocket and withdrew a purple Warren box. He handed it to Bey, who took it uncertainly.

  ‘Open it,’ said Philip.

  Bey didn’t need to open it to know what was inside. But she did anyway.

  The sapphire ring twinkled at her.

  She closed the box again.

  ‘Well,’ said Philip. ‘Can I tell her thank you?’

  ‘I don’t—’

  ‘You’d better not say you don’t want it,’ said Philip. ‘Not after all the trouble you’ve caused and not after she’s been so generous in giving it to you. Just say thank you. Properly.’

  ‘Thank you,’ said Bey.

  ‘You also left this behind.’ He took another box from his pocket. ‘It’s your locket.’

  Bey took that too.

  ‘All’s well that ends well,’ said Philip. ‘I’ll let myself out.’

  But Bey knew that wasn’t the end of it. She’d seen the expression on her mother’s face. She knew that Lola would have more questions. She went into the kitchen and sat at the table with her sketchbook while her mother saw her father to the door. She’d nearly finished her detailed drawing of a snowflake when Lola came and sat down opposite her.

  ‘Tell me about this man in the car,’ she said. ‘Where did you meet him and why did he bring you to Killiney?’

  ‘It doesn’t matter now.’ Bey concentrated on her drawing. ‘Can we forget about it? We’re supposed to be going to Cloghdrom today. Gran and Grandad will be expecting us.’

  ‘We’re not going anywhere until you tell me everything,’ said Lola. ‘Look at me. Now.’

  Bey knew from the tone of Lola’s voice that she was deadly serious. So she looked up. And then she told her. And they didn’t go to Cloghdrom because Lola insisted on bringing Bey to the police station, where they asked her lots of questions about the man and what he’d looked like and where he’d taken her and how she’d escaped. Yet somehow, the frightening journey with her abductor, her frenzied escape from his car and the time she’d spent hiding in the snowy hedgerow at the side of the road seemed less real and less vivid than the moment when she’d had to admit to stealing Astrid’s ring. Her abduction and escape had taken on a surreal quality, as though it had happened to someone else entirely, but the shame and humiliation she felt about Astrid’s ring was deeper and personal.

  The policewoman who was taking her statement praised her quick thinking and resourcefulness, although later Bey heard her murmur to Lola how lucky they were that things had turned out as they had. When they’d finally finished questioning her, the policewoman told Lola that they’d keep them informed if they heard of any other incidents that might be relevant. Bey didn’t want to know. All she wanted to do was forget about how stupid she’d been in the first place. Being abducted was, she thought, an entirely appropriate punishment for a jewel thief.

  But at least the garda hadn’t asked her why exactly she’d left Cleevaun House.

  Which meant that Lola’s criminal
past – if it existed – remained a secret.

  And she was very relieved about that.

  The Raid

  Ten years later

  Chapter 19

  Sunstone: a spangled red-orange gemstone

  The workshop was at the top of a three-storey whitewashed building near Córdoba cathedral. A row of wooden benches lined the wall and a selection of jeweller’s tools hung from a dried tree stump in the centre of the room. All the benches were empty except one. And the young woman sitting at it was far too engrossed in the silver ring she was working on to hear the laugher and excited chatter of the tourists in the narrow street below through the open window.

  She was about to solder the two ends together. She used pliers to hold the ring, and was just focusing the flame from her torch on the area she wanted the solder to go when her mobile phone, which was in the bag at her feet, began to vibrate, followed by her ‘Single Ladies’ ringtone at full volume. She jumped in surprise and singed her finger with the flame.

  ‘Oh bloody, bloody hell!’ Bey Fitzpatrick exclaimed, switching off the torch before pushing her safety goggles onto her head. ‘Ow, ow, ow!’

  ‘Everything OK?’

  She whirled around, nearly as startled by the voice as she’d been by the phone, which had now stopped ringing.

  Martín Jurado, son of the owner of the jewellery design studio where Bey had been working as an apprentice for the past few months, was already reaching for the first-aid box.

  ‘I got distracted by my phone,’ she said, waving her hand around.

  ‘Here you are.’ Martín took a tube of cream from the box and handed it to her.

  ‘Thanks,’ she said as she dabbed it on her finger. ‘I’m an idiot.’

  ‘Accidents happen,’ said Martín. ‘That’s why we have the box.’

  Bey’s phone began to ring again, and she frowned.

  ‘It’s Mum’s ringtone,’ she said as she reached into her bag with her uninjured hand and retrieved the phone. ‘She’s not normally so insistent. I hope everything’s OK.’

  Even though her finger was still throbbing, she kept her voice light and carefree as she answered.

  ‘I have some bad news,’ said Lola after they’d exchanged greetings.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ Despite the warmth of the workshop, Bey felt a chill run through her. ‘Is it Gran?’

  Eilis had had a hip replacement the previous month. Bey had thought about going back to Ireland to see her, but her grandmother had insisted that she was fine and that she’d see her later in the year. Now Bey was feeling guilty that she hadn’t gone home after all.

  ‘No, no, your gran is OK,’ Lola assured her. ‘It’s Richard Warren. There was a raid on the shop today by masked men with a gun. Your grandfather and the store manager were on the shop floor, your dad was upstairs in the office. They weren’t injured, but your grandfather has had a heart attack.’

  ‘Oh my God!’ exclaimed Bey. ‘That’s . . . that’s dreadful. Is he OK? Have they caught the raiders?’

  ‘Not yet,’ said Lola. ‘Although according to the news they’re following a definite line of enquiry.’

  ‘That’s good.’

  ‘But the news about your grandfather isn’t. He’s very poorly and . . . well, they’re not sure he’ll make it through the night.’

  ‘Oh.’ Bey didn’t know what to say.

  ‘So I need you to come home.’

  ‘But . . . but why? I haven’t seen him in years! I haven’t seen any of the Warrens in years. There’s no need for me to be there.’

  ‘He’s your grandfather.’

  ‘So what?’

  ‘Bey. Please. This is serious. You have to come back.’

  Bey hadn’t thought of the Warrens in a long time. They were part of a past she’d long since put behind her. A past that had changed her. And she had no desire to revisit it. But she recognised the tone of her mother’s voice. She knew there was no point in arguing.

  She took off her green work apron and dropped it on her bench.

  She was leaving Córdoba.

  She was going home.

  And she was going to see them all again.

  Martín drove her to the train station the next morning to catch the first train to Madrid. At such short notice, the only available flight was via London. Which wasn’t ideal, said Bey as she said goodbye to him, but at least it got her home.

  ‘I’m so sorry this has happened,’ he said. ‘Take care of yourself, Bey. Let us know how things are. Come back soon.’

  ‘I left the ring on the workbench,’ she told him. ‘Hopefully I’ll be back in a couple of days to work on it again. Hopefully . . .’ Her voice petered out.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ he said. ‘Don’t worry about anything but your family.’

  He didn’t know about the fractured nature of her relationship with them. The Jurados were a warm, big-hearted clan, more like the Fitzpatricks than the Warrens. There were no hidden depths to their relationships and no hidden meanings in the words they spoke to each other.

  ‘Safe travels,’ he added when she reached the barrier. ‘Come back soon.’

  He hugged her and then kissed her gently on the lips. She put her arms around him, holding him tightly as the desire to stay with him, safe and secure, threatened to overwhelm her. He continued to hold her too, and in the end she was the one to disentangle herself.

  ‘I’ll be in touch,’ she said.

  ‘ Hasta pronto .’

  She boarded the train and checked her phone to see if there were any messages from Lola. But the only one was her mother’s acknowledgement of her travel plans and her confirmation that she’d pick her up at Dublin airport later that evening.

  Such a nuisance you have to come through London , Lola had texted. And horrible circumstances for your journey. But I’m looking forward to seeing you .

  Despite herself, Bey couldn’t help a brief smile. Lola never used text speak or abbreviations and insisted on using perfect capitalisation and punctuation too, which always made her messages longer than they needed to be.

  The timing between her arrival at the train station in Madrid and the departure of her flight from the airport was tight, and Bey arrived at the gate just as it started to board. She sat back in her seat and closed her eyes. She hadn’t slept much the previous night and tiredness was catching up with her. Even though she hadn’t wanted to think about the Warrens, she couldn’t help picturing what it must have been like in the shop when the raiders had burst in, her imagination drawing on crime movies she’d seen on TV. Had they worn masks? Fired their guns? Destroyed the displays as they grabbed the diamonds and rubies and sapphires? It was hard to reconcile her Hollywood interpretation of a heist with something that had happened in Dublin. She simply couldn’t get her head around it.

  When she transferred at Heathrow, she bought an Irish newspaper and saw the story on the second page. Masked Raiders Swoop On Iconic City Store , she read. Unknown quantity of precious jewellery taken. Founder critically ill in hospital . The report didn’t tell her anything new. It talked about Warren’s and its history and included photos of Adele and Richard, as well as a close-up of the Nightshade collection and thumbnails of the Rose and Snowdrop rings. Bey wondered which jewels the raiders had got away with. It was horrible to think about the gems in the hands of people who didn’t appreciate them for their beauty, only for their monetary value. But of course it was even more horrible to think that Richard might die because of them being stolen.

  Of all the Warrens – her father included – Richard was the only one with whom she felt the slightest empathy, although she’d only met him once following that horrible Christmas. He’d called to the house about a week later to speak to Lola. Her grandfather and her mother had sat together in the kitchen while Bey watched a movie on TV. After they’d finished their conversation, he’d walked into the living room. He hadn’t said anything, but he had sat beside her until the movie had ended. Then he’d asked how she was feeling.
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  ‘Fine,’ she’d replied, though the truth was she still had nightmares in which she was burrowed into the holly bush waiting for the cobweb to break.

  ‘It was a silly thing you did,’ he told her.

  ‘I know. Mum said so. Dad said so. You don’t have to tell me too.’

  ‘I suppose not. I’m glad you’re OK, Bey. I think you were really brave.’

  ‘I thought you said I was silly.’

  ‘Silly to get into the situation. Brave to deal with it. But what would’ve been braver still would’ve been to come downstairs and talk to us all instead of running away in the middle of the night.’

  ‘I didn’t need to be called a thief again,’ she said. ‘And Adele . . .’ she stumbled over saying her grandmother’s name, ‘well, she definitely thinks I’m a kind of Pink Panther.’

  Richard smiled. ‘Not really.’

  ‘She doesn’t like me,’ said Bey. ‘She’s happy to think the worst of me.’

  ‘What makes you say that?’

  ‘The way she looks at me,’ said Bey.

  Richard nodded slowly. ‘That’s probably my fault. Mine and your mum’s. Sometimes adults can be really silly too.’

  Bey smiled faintly at him.

  He stood up. ‘I’m glad you’re OK,’ he repeated. ‘I hope I’ll see you again.’

  But she hadn’t seen him. She hadn’t seen any of them. It had been her choice and it seemed the Warrens were happy enough to embrace it. When she’d told Lola that she didn’t want to see her father for a while, Lola had acquiesced. Neither of them had expected that ‘a while’ would drift into an almost permanent state of affairs. But Lola was worried more about Bey herself than the relationship she’d hoped she’d have with Philip. She was particularly concerned that Bey was spending more and more time alone in her room with her sketchpad, drawing leaves, snowflakes and spider’s webs.

  Bey herself still believed that being abducted was a perfectly reasonable punishment for being a jewel thief. She knew she’d done the wrong thing. And she knew, because of the sleepwalking, that her mistake had become part of her.