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

by O'Flanagan, Sheila

  Her nocturnal adventures had started a few days after they’d visited the police station. Lola had gone to investigate sounds coming from the kitchen in the middle of the night. She’d found Bey sitting at the table polishing knives and forks. Bey hadn’t acknowledged her or woken up, even when she’d touched her on the shoulder to lead her back to bed. She hadn’t entirely believed Lola’s account of what had occurred, but it happened again when she went to Cloghdrom for a few days, a trip that Lola had thought would be good for her. Until then, Lola’s main concern had been that Bey hadn’t been eating, and she’d hoped that farmhouse cooking would restore her appetite, although even her grandmother’s best efforts hadn’t tempted her. The sleepwalking had been the final straw.

  She’d brought her daughter to see a counsellor. The sessions with Paige Pentony were still clear in Bey’s mind.

  ‘What worries you ?’ Paige asked one day when Bey had told her that she knew getting into the car with a stranger had been a crazy thing to do and that nobody had to worry, she wasn’t likely to repeat it.

  ‘Wanting beautiful things,’ she replied immediately. ‘Even when they’re not mine.’

  ‘Everybody wants things they don’t have,’ Paige said. ‘That’s normal.’

  ‘Not everybody takes them,’ said Bey. ‘Not everyone’s a thief.’

  ‘You’re not a thief,’ said Paige. ‘You made a mistake, that’s all.’

  But it was a mistake Bey could never forgive herself for making. And although Paige had insisted it wouldn’t define her forever, Bey knew that she’d become two people. The girl she’d been before meeting her father and before her abduction – cheerful, open and trusting. And the one from afterwards – quieter, more introverted and significantly less trusting than before.

  Leaving Dublin had helped her come closer to rediscovering the version of herself that she wanted to be. It had put a distance between her and the incident that still defined her. Each time she’d returned, it had been on her own terms. This was something different. And thinking about the people she would have to see brought anxieties she wanted to put behind her to the surface all over again.

  Chapter 20

  Amethyst: the most precious quartz gemstone

  The London-to-Dublin flight was full and she was seated in the centre of a row. She closed the paper and folded it when a tall man arrived to claim the vacant aisle seat. He couldn’t find space in the overhead bin for his cabin bag, which he had to squash under the seat in front of him. This left him struggling to find a comfortable place to put his feet, which he eventually placed on either side of the protruding bag. Bey, sympathetic to his predicament but slightly irked by the fact that he was encroaching on her space, suggested he might like to put the bag under the seat in front of her, as her legs were shorter and it was less of a deal for her. He looked at her in surprise, thanked her and then said that as it was such a short flight and the bag was now firmly wedged in place, it would be easier to leave things as they were.

  Bey sat at an angle to avoid his foot and closed her eyes. But despite her exhaustion, she was unable to sleep. She knew it wasn’t surprising that she kept thinking about the Warrens, but she wished she could keep them in the locked room in her head that she used to shut away things she didn’t want to deal with.

  After her abduction ordeal, Lola had accepted that she didn’t want to see her father again. In fact his name hadn’t been mentioned between them until Bey began to look at her college options, and only then because, after much soul searching, she’d decided to study jewellery design.

  She’d stopped making bead necklaces and bracelets after that disastrous Christmas, but in her school transition year, when pupils focused on activities outside the academic curriculum, she started again. Each student had to come up with a business project as part of their programme, and Bey chose to make jewellery. Her pretty snowflake pendants and matching bracelets sold out almost at once, and she was awarded a prize for the most profitable small business at the end of the year.

  ‘I think it’s what I want to do,’ she’d told Lola. ‘But . . .’

  ‘But what?’

  ‘Isn’t it copying the Warrens?’ Her voice was agonised. ‘I mean, that’s them, not me really.’

  ‘Nobody has a monopoly on making bracelets,’ Lola said. ‘If it’s what you want to do, sweetheart, you have to be true to yourself.’

  It was very much what she wanted to do, she realised, as she researched courses. The truth was, she couldn’t imagine doing anything else.

  What she hadn’t expected was to go away to study. She’d downloaded the prospectus from Birmingham University more for comparison purposes than anything else, but when she’d read it, she’d been enthusiastic. Lola, seeing her engrossed in the pages, had asked about it, and when Bey had explained that she’d go like a shot if only she could afford the fees, Lola had asked why.

  ‘The course is brilliant,’ Bey said. ‘And it would be fantastic to get away. Not from you,’ she’d added hastily, seeing Lola’s eyes cloud over. ‘Just, you know, out of Dublin. Somewhere else. Somewhere I didn’t have to . . . where I didn’t feel . . . well, somewhere different.’

  Lola didn’t want to let her go. Lola wanted to protect her precious child forever. But Bey wasn’t a child any more. She was almost an adult. She had a right to do what made her happy. And more than anything else, Lola wanted her to be happy. She wanted to believe that Bey could live a life without always having a slightly anxious air about her. Without always seeming to be careful about whom she met and whom she allowed to get close to her. Without looking over her shoulder and blaming herself for everything that went wrong. Lola wanted her to feel safe. And to feel free.

  ‘If this is what you want, then we can afford the fees,’ said Lola. ‘I have money saved for your education.’

  Bey looked at her in astonishment. She’d never got the impression that they’d been well off enough to save money for anything. But her mother was nothing if not amazing. She flung her arms around Lola’s neck and told her that she was the luckiest daughter in the world. And that one day she’d repay her.

  She hadn’t got around to that, she thought, as she wriggled in her seat once again. But hopefully after she’d finished her apprenticeship with the Jurados, she’d get a decent job and start contributing properly at home. More than anything, she wanted to make Lola proud. Her mother had been there for her when she needed her most. Which was the only reason, she told herself, that she was coming back to Dublin now.

  Lola switched off the TV. The lead news had been about the raid on the Warren’s store, but there were no hard facts about the incident and the report was padded out with shots of well-known Irish celebrities wearing pieces from the Adele collections. Richard would hate the personal publicity, she thought, but he’d be delighted to think that the shop was in the news, even for such a horrible reason.

  Despite the prognosis of the doctors, Lola couldn’t help hoping that he’d pull through. Richard was a good deal tougher than he seemed and she was well aware of his fighting qualities. Although she didn’t talk to Bey about the Warrens any more, she’d kept in touch with him even after Bey’s Christmas escapade.

  ‘Maybe I’m just used to our annual meeting,’ he’d said to her the first time they’d met after it. ‘Or maybe it’s that I’m concerned about my granddaughter.’

  Lola didn’t tell Bey about these meetings. There was no reason to.

  The last time they’d met had been after he’d been hospitalised for bypass surgery a couple of years earlier. Lola had gone to visit him and seen him looking greyer and older, but with his blue eyes still as determined as ever.

  ‘Why are you here?’ he’d asked her.

  ‘I was worried about you,’ she replied. ‘I’ve no ulterior motive,’ she added. ‘Just in case you thought I had.’

  ‘Oh, I never truly knew your motives, Lola Fitzpatrick.’ Richard had laughed then, a slightly pained laugh. ‘I never will.’

  S
he’d been laughing too when Adele Warren walked into the room. Despite the fact that it was over twenty years since Lola had seen her, Adele hardly seemed to have aged at all. She was as slim and elegant as ever in a fashionable three-quarter-length grey coat over a red wool dress. The Snowdrop necklace glittered around her throat. But when she saw Lola, and recognised her immediately, her eyes had flashed in anger.

  ‘You have no right to be here,’ she’d hissed. ‘Get out at once.’

  ‘I came to see how Richard was,’ Lola told her. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t realise you’d be here at this hour.’

  ‘Why do you need to know how he is? Were you hoping he was at death’s door? Were you thinking you could force him into supporting you and your dreadful daughter all over again?’

  ‘Don’t you dare talk about Bey like that,’ said Lola. ‘And the only reason I came was because . . . because I care.’

  Adele had stared at her wordlessly. Richard had looked between the two of them, his expression wary.

  ‘You have no right to care.’ Adele’s voice was icy. ‘You have no right to be here. You have no rights at all.’

  ‘It’s not about rights,’ Lola had said. ‘It’s about . . .’ But she didn’t know what to say to Adele. Philip’s mother had been one of the deciding factors in Lola’s decision not to marry him. Of course it hadn’t all been down to her, but Lola realised that when she’d told everyone she didn’t love Philip enough, that included that she didn’t love him enough to put up with his mother. If Adele had been softer, kinder and more welcoming, Lola had sometimes thought, then perhaps she might have thought about things differently.

  ‘I asked you to leave,’ said Adele. ‘I don’t know why they even let you in.’

  Lola picked up her bag from the windowsill and slung it over her shoulder.

  ‘I’m glad you’re recovering, Richard,’ she said. ‘I hope you’re home soon.’

  But Richard Warren had said nothing in reply. And Lola wondered if she’d ever hear from him again.

  Despite the turmoil that was going on in her mind, Bey eventually drifted into a state of semi-consciousness. So when the plane hit a sudden patch of turbulence, she wasn’t quick enough to catch the almost-empty coffee cup on the tray top in front of her. It slid sideways and landed upside down on the keyboard of the notebook computer that the passenger beside her was working on.

  ‘Oh crap!’ she gasped as he swore loudly. ‘I’m so sorry.’

  The coffee was rolling off the keyboard and onto his trousers as she offered him her crumpled napkin, continuing to apologise.

  ‘It wasn’t your fault.’ His accent was more Celtic than English, and the softer cadences almost hid the irritation in his voice.

  ‘You should turn off the computer,’ she told him. ‘Ideally you need to open the case as well and let the liquid drain out, but there wasn’t that much in it . . . I hope.’

  He hesitated for a moment, then powered down the notebook. ‘Are you a tech person?’ he asked, fixing her with a look from eyes that immediately made her think of violet amethysts.

  ‘No,’ she said. ‘But my best friend’s brother is pretty good with technology. His other bit of advice is to let it dry out thoroughly before you try switching it on again. Three days is his recommendation.’

  ‘Three days!’ The man looked horrified. ‘I need to use it in three hours.’

  ‘I really am sorry. It just . . . it was so sudden, I didn’t have time . . . I . . .’ She shrugged helplessly.

  ‘Don’t worry about it,’ he said, although this time he couldn’t hide his exasperation. ‘Really and truly, air travel is shit. Nobody would dream of breaking out a trolley full of drinks on a bus journey that lasted an hour. This desire to pour stuff down you on planes is beyond me.’

  He was being grumpy beyond his years, thought Bey, as he shoved the computer back into its bag. He didn’t appear to be much older than her, after all.

  ‘I appreciate you didn’t do it deliberately.’ His tone had softened a little.

  ‘Thanks.’

  ‘And I apologise if I was a little abrupt.’

  ‘That’s OK,’ she said.

  ‘But I’m right about air travel,’ he said. ‘It really is shit.’

  She felt as though she should say something else, but she was hopeless at small talk, especially with men she didn’t know, and couldn’t think of anything. So she simply gave him a slight smile and then busied herself with the newspaper again.

  A few minutes later, the cabin crew announced their descent into Dublin airport. They rushed through the aircraft clearing up the rubbish while the passengers began to organise themselves for landing. As the plane bumped its way through the grey clouds, Bey craned her head to see past the passenger at the window and spotted Howth harbour, with the green fields of north Dublin beyond.

  As soon as the aircraft had come to a stop, the man next to her pulled his leather cabin bag from beneath the seat in front and then asked Bey if she had any luggage in the overhead bin.

  ‘A green case,’ she said.

  He took it down for her, and she thanked him. Then he took his mobile from his pocket and switched it on. It immediately beeped with a message. He looked at it and dialled a number.

  ‘I have a problem with my computer,’ he said to the person on the other end. ‘I’ll have to work my way through it.’

  Bey gave him another apologetic smile, but he was intent on his conversation and didn’t notice.

  He was still talking as they began to disembark and was soon caught up in the flow of people streaming through the terminal. Bey walked more slowly. She was looking forward to seeing her mother again. But everything else was sure to be a nightmare.

  She saw Lola at once, standing beside one of the pillars in the arrivals hall, and hurried over to her.

  Lola’s first words were that Bey had lost weight.

  ‘Mum. For heaven’s sake.’ Bey gave her an exasperated look. ‘You say that every time you see me, and every time I tell you that I haven’t lost a pound. Not only that, but I’ve actually put on a few over the last couple of months.’

  ‘Hmm.’ Lola held her daughter by her shoulders and looked at her. ‘Are you sure about that?’

  ‘I’m certain,’ said Bey. ‘How could I not? I’ve been eating all sorts of great food in Córdoba.’

  ‘Oh, all right.’ Lola kissed her. ‘It’s just that you always look thin.’

  ‘I’m long and leggy,’ Bey said. ‘I seem thinner than I am, that’s all.’

  Bey knew that her mother had never quite got over a fear that she’d decided to stop eating in order to make herself unattractive to men. After Lola had admitted as much to her, Bey had done her best to reassure her that this wasn’t the case; that she’d simply lost her appetite for a while. But she wasn’t sure Lola truly believed her, and whenever they were together, she was conscious that her mother monitored her eating habits like a hawk.

  ‘Anyway,’ said Bey as they began to walk to the car park. ‘What’s the news on Richard?’

  ‘None yet,’ replied Lola. ‘I haven’t heard anything more from Philip, but he said he’d let me know if there was any change.’

  ‘I’m astonished that he called you at all,’ said Bey.

  ‘When I heard the news, I sent him a message,’ said Lola. ‘He phoned me back.’

  Bey nodded silently. It always surprised her that despite the fact that her parents were virtual strangers to each other these days, they’d never entirely broken off the tenuous connection that sharing a daughter gave them.

  ‘How’s Dad?’ asked Bey. ‘You said he was in the office when it happened. Did he walk in on them, or did they storm the office too? And what about the store manager? Is it still . . . um . . . Lorraine?’

  ‘Lorraine retired a while ago,’ said Lola. ‘I don’t know who the store manager is, but I didn’t hear of any injuries. I only spoke briefly to your father when I heard the news.’

  Bey shot a sideways look at her
. The connection might be tenuous, but Lola still stressed out on the rare occasions she talked to Philip. And she knew that Philip always spoke to her mother as though he were superior to her in every way. It surprised her that Lola, who normally stood up for herself very well, never quite seemed to manage to keep her composure when talking to him.

  They reached the car park and Bey put her green bag in the boot before sitting in the passenger seat and heaving a sigh.

  ‘Are you all right?’ asked Lola.

  ‘A bit tired, that’s all,’ replied Bey. ‘A couple of hours in a train followed by two flights takes it out of a girl.’

  ‘You’ve probably been burning the candle at both ends while you were away. Maybe a spell in Dublin will be good for you. Get you eating and sleeping properly again. How has your sleeping been, by the way? Nothing you need to tell me about?’

  ‘Please get off my case,’ said Bey. ‘My weight, my sleeping – what’s next? My love life?’

  ‘Sorry.’ That had, in fact, been the next question Lola was about to ask. ‘I kind of forget you’re not my baby any more.’

  ‘I’m twenty-two.’ Bey sat upright again. ‘I’ve graduated from college. I’ve sold my own jewellery for actual money. I’m training in another country – where, by the way, I’m not burning the candle at both ends because I’m too busy learning stuff to ever have time for mad socialising. There’s no reason to think of me as a baby.’

  ‘I know I shouldn’t,’ said Lola. ‘I just can’t help it sometimes.’

  Bey settled back into her seat, pleased that Lola had accepted the point.

  ‘So how are things going in Córdoba?’ asked Lola as they exited the car park. ‘Everyone says it’s a lovely city. Are you having fun?’

  ‘It’s beautiful,’ agreed Bey. ‘There’s history oozing out of every building. And of course the jewellery quarter is fabulous. I was so lucky to meet the Jurados at the fair and get the opportunity to intern with them.’

  It had been during her last year at college. She and her friend Vika had taken a stand to exhibit their designs. Martín and his father, Manolo, had been attracted to her silver snowflake pendants and bracelets, and after talking to her for a while, Manolo had offered her the apprenticeship.