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

by O'Flanagan, Sheila

  Chapter 23

  Onyx: a banded or layered chalcedony, usually black

  There were television cameras outside the inter-faith chapel at the crematorium, and a reporter was speaking into a mic as he described the scene for that evening’s news. Because Richard had been such a well-known business figure in the city, the mourners included local politicians, gardai and members of the jewellery trade.

  Lola and Bey stood among them and waited for the cortège to arrive. Since the only person they recognised was one of the politicians, who also happened to be a cabinet minister, they kept to themselves and didn’t speak to anybody else. Lola had never met any of Richard’s own family. She knew he was the third of four siblings – he had two older sisters, one of whom was married and lived abroad and the other who’d died in her early twenties from tuberculosis. His younger sister was also married and had a family, but that was as much as Lola knew. As for Adele’s relatives, the Pendletons, she was completely in the dark there.

  There was a low murmur from the assembled crowd as the hearse, followed by two large Daimlers, turned into the gravel driveway leading to the chapel. It stopped outside the door and the undertakers slid the coffin out. Then Philip and Peter along with two men Lola didn’t recognise heaved it onto their shoulders and carried it into the chapel.

  They were followed by Adele, looking strong and elegant in a black linen dress and a short black jacket. Her patent-leather shoes had a higher heel than either Lola or Bey felt comfortable wearing. Her silver hair was styled into her trademark chignon and held in place by an ebony comb. She was also wearing the Adele Nightshade collection, the onyx and garnets dark and sombre against her black dress. She kept her eyes fixed straight ahead of her as she walked into the chapel, flanked by Donna and a much older woman who Lola guessed was Richard’s sister.

  Behind them were Anthony and Astrid. Now eighteen, they looked more alike than they had done when they were younger. Both were tall and fair, with Adele’s fine features, and both wore their expensive clothes well. They were the new generation of Warrens, confident in themselves and their surroundings despite the sombre occasion.

  There was total silence among the mourners. Bey slid her hand into her mother’s, who squeezed it gently while the minister gave a eulogy, listing Richard’s business achievements and calling him a pillar of the community. But, he said, more important were his qualities as a father and a husband. He had been a loving man, said the minister, whose main priority had always been his family.

  And that might be true, thought Lola as she glanced around the church, but not necessarily in the way that the minister meant.

  At the end of the service, Philip stepped up to the lectern and invited everyone present to the house at Rathgar for a brief celebration of his father’s life.

  ‘Not us, though,’ said Bey as they filed out of the chapel. ‘We don’t know anyone and we’re not part of anything.’

  ‘This is different,’ said Lola. ‘Funerals . . . well, there are expectations around them. As for being part of it, I made a huge mistake about that when you were small, and—’

  ‘And you’ve been trying to fix it ever since,’ Bey interrupted her. ‘But it never worked and you don’t have to try any more. Let’s go home. There’s no place for us here.’

  As Lola hesitated, Peter Warren walked over to them, a quizzical expression on his face.

  ‘Lola?’ he said. ‘Bey?’

  ‘Uncle Peter.’ Bey had recognised him straight away.

  He smiled at her. ‘You’ve grown considerably since the last time we met.’

  ‘I hope so. And you haven’t changed at all,’ she said.

  ‘I’m sorry for your loss, Peter,’ said Lola. ‘And for what happened at the store. It must have been awful.’

  ‘It was pretty dreadful all right.’ Peter heaved a sigh. ‘Thank you both for coming. I know we haven’t been close over the years, but it’s nice to know that you cared enough to be here.’

  Bey, knowing that she hadn’t really wanted be there at all, felt guilty and then grateful that Lola had made her do the right thing.

  ‘You’re coming back to the house?’ said Peter.

  ‘We were just deciding what to do about that,’ said Lola.

  ‘Please come,’ he said. ‘Phil has organised a retrospective about Dad. Some photos of his life, that sort of thing. I know Mum would like to have as many people as possible there.’

  ‘Even us?’ asked Bey.

  Peter smiled. ‘Everyone who knew Dad is welcome. And he liked you, Bey.’

  ‘He did?’

  ‘Oh yes,’ said Peter. ‘He was very taken with those bracelets you made. Do you still do stuff like that?’

  ‘Bey is working for a jewellery company in Córdoba,’ Lola told him, and Peter’s eyes widened in surprise.

  ‘Really?’

  ‘It’s a small silversmith’s,’ Bey said. ‘I’m just learning.’

  ‘Nature over nurture,’ said Peter. ‘I shouldn’t be surprised. Dad was right about your bracelets. They were very pretty.’

  ‘Adele didn’t think much of them,’ said Bey. ‘She thought I’d made them from a kit.’

  ‘Oh well, unless they’re diamonds or rubies, Mum wouldn’t give them the time of day.’ Peter grinned.

  ‘I haven’t quite got to diamonds or rubies yet,’ said Bey. ‘I kind of feel I’m better off away from them.’

  ‘Don’t be silly,’ said Peter. ‘I’m sure you’d do wonderful work with them. Cushla loved your bracelets too, you know.’

  ‘Mum told me you didn’t get married in the end. Can I ask why?’

  ‘We didn’t cover ourselves in glory that Christmas,’ Peter replied. ‘Cushla realised she’d be making a mistake.’

  ‘What d’you mean?’

  ‘Oh, Bey,’ he said. ‘It was a difficult day . . . and night.’

  ‘Was it because I ran away?’ Bey was aghast. ‘How could that have affected you and Cushla?’

  ‘It brought out our worst sides,’ Peter said. ‘Things were said that shouldn’t have been. And Cushla decided she didn’t much care for it. Or us.’

  ‘I’m so sorry if I had something to do with it,’ said Bey in distress.

  ‘It wasn’t your fault,’ said Lola. ‘You were the child. They were the adults.’

  ‘Mum, please.’ Bey put her hand on Lola’s arm and turned to Peter. ‘Did you ever marry anyone else?’

  ‘No,’ said Peter. ‘I never quite found anyone I wanted to spend the rest of my life with. Or maybe it was that nobody I met wanted to spend the rest of her life with me.’

  Bey was struggling with the feelings of guilt that were washing over her. It was hard to accept that the consequences of her actions had affected lives apart from her own. She was spared having to say anything else, however, because at that point a man neither she nor Lola recognised came over to express his condolences and Peter moved to talk to him.

  ‘Let’s go get a coffee,’ suggested Lola. ‘Afterwards we’ll head on to the house. But we’ll just stay long enough to pay our respects.’

  Bey nodded. The Warrens were an insignificant part of her life and yet they were taking up a substantial part of her emotional memory right now. And she wasn’t at all sure she was equipped to deal with it.

  The small café close to the crematorium was nearly full, but they didn’t know if any of the occupants had also been at Richard’s funeral. They sat at a table near the back while they drank their coffee in silence. Bey was thinking about precious gemstones and the unpolished ring on her workbench when Lola nudged her.

  ‘Time to go,’ she said. ‘Time to face the Ice Dragon in her lair.’

  ‘Ice Dragon? Mum!’

  Lola grinned. ‘It suits her, don’t you think?’

  ‘Did you have one for Grandfather too?’ asked Bey.

  ‘Mack,’ admitted Lola.

  ‘Mack?’ Bey looked confused. ‘After who?’

  ‘Machiavelli,’ replied Lola. ‘Not
that your grandfather was as devious as him, but he had his moments.’

  ‘I thought we agreed he was the nicest of the lot,’ said Bey in surprise. ‘When was he devious?’

  ‘Oh, I’m just being silly,’ said Lola as she stood up. ‘Come on. Let’s go.’

  And she swept out of the café, leaving Bey to rush after her.

  Lola could hardly believe that so much time had passed since she’d first walked up the steps to the Warrens’ house, wearing her navy dress with the white collar, for dinner with Richard, Adele and Philip. For a fleeting moment she wondered what her life would have been like if she’d said yes to his proposal. She wondered most of all if things would have been better for Bey. If she could have been sure they would have been, she wouldn’t have hesitated. She’d have married Philip Warren without question. But she couldn’t change the past. What was done was done. She took a deep breath and walked through the open door.

  It was no surprise that the house had changed. The fussy decor that she remembered from her solitary visit had been replaced with light creams, pale greens and muted taupes. The walls in the hallway were covered with stylised photos of the Adele collections, while a large portrait of Richard and Adele hung on the main living-room wall. The marble fireplace had been removed and replaced with an old-fashioned cast-iron one, which Lola supposed had been the original style for the room. The furniture was quietly elegant. The entire house gave off an air of understated wealth.

  Three large albums containing photos of Richard from boy to man, at home and at the Warren shops, with his family and with members of the trade, had been left on a table in the window alcove, and earlier arrivals were already looking through them. Meanwhile, other people gravitated towards the dining room, which was linked to the living room by double doors. From there, French doors leading to the well-kept garden were also open. Another table had been set up where two waiters were serving drinks, while three more offered canapés and neatly cut sandwiches to the mourners.

  ‘Crikey,’ said Bey as she took an egg and watercress. ‘This is more like a cocktail party than a funeral.’

  She’d only been to one funeral before, that of Hetty Banks, the grandmother of one of her school friends, from the adjoining farm in Cloghdrom. It had been an altogether more traditional event, with soup and sandwiches at the local pub after the burial. Nobody in Cloghdrom got cremated. They were all laid to rest in one of the town’s two churchyards.

  ‘Adele clearly likes to keep up standards,’ murmured Lola. ‘No matter what the circumstances.’

  ‘She looks amazing, doesn’t she?’ said Bey. ‘All sort of regal and superior. That dress and those shoes are fabulous, and although I’m not crazy about the Nightshade collection, she wears it well. Oh look. Here’s Donna, come to give us the once-over.’

  Donna, wearing a black dress and jacket, and the Bouquet collection, was making her way towards them.

  ‘Lola,’ she said, extending a perfectly manicured hand. ‘It was kind of you to come.’

  ‘Of course we came,’ said Lola. ‘We were both stunned when we heard the news.’

  ‘It’s awful.’ Donna’s voice lost some of its polished politeness. ‘The boys are devastated and Adele is still in shock herself.’

  ‘I hope they find who did it,’ said Lola.

  ‘The Garda have a good idea who they were,’ said Donna. ‘Known criminals apparently. I don’t know what we’re paying our taxes for when these thugs can roam the streets with impunity. And even if they’re caught, a decent solicitor will probably get them off. Maybe not for robbing the shop, but they’ll say Richard had a heart condition and could have dropped dead any time.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ said Lola.

  Bey, feeling uncomfortable standing beside them with no idea what to say, sidled away and got a drink of water. While she was sipping it, Astrid came up to her.

  ‘I hardly recognised you,’ said the younger girl. ‘You look completely different.’

  ‘And you look great,’ said Bey.

  Astrid was as groomed as a fashion model, with her perfectly made-up face and artfully styled hair.

  ‘Thank you,’ she said.

  ‘I’m sorry about what happened.’

  Astrid’s lip quivered.

  ‘Poor Grandfather,’ she said. ‘Those awful people. They could have killed anyone. Me even, if I’d been there.’

  Bey gave her a sympathetic smile.

  ‘Dad says we have to review security,’ Astrid continued. ‘Not that we don’t have a lot at the house and shops anyway, but we have to be more careful. I asked him if I needed a bodyguard, but he said that was probably going a bit far.’

  ‘Probably,’ agreed Bey. ‘After all, they were only after the stuff in the shop, not you personally.’

  ‘All the same,’ said Astrid, ‘it’d be terrible to be snatched and ransomed.’

  Bey nodded.

  ‘Of course, you know all about that,’ Astrid said. ‘After all, you were kidnapped yourself, weren’t you?’

  Her words were spoken in such a matter-of-fact way that they took Bey totally by surprise.

  ‘I wasn’t kidnapped,’ she said when she’d recovered. ‘I was just . . . abducted.’ Her voice faltered.

  ‘You never know,’ Astrid said. ‘If he’d seen you leave Cleevaun House, he could’ve thought you were from a rich family and we’d have to pay a ransom for your safe return.’

  ‘I doubt he was hanging around Cleevaun House at that hour of the night waiting for me to come out,’ said Bey. ‘Besides, I was miles away when it happened.’

  ‘He could have been casing the joint for a robbery,’ said Astrid. ‘And then taken a different opportunity when you appeared. I heard them talking about it,’ she added. ‘Dad thought it was a possibility.’

  ‘He was wrong.’ Bey frowned. Despite the counselling sessions where Paige Pentony had tried to make her remember events so that she could deal with them, Bey had worked very hard to lock them away as much she could. She didn’t want to recall the moment when she’d realised she’d made the biggest mistake of her life. And she definitely didn’t want to relive the sheer terror of crouching in the snow, trying not to breathe, waiting to be found by her captor. All she wanted was to forget. And the knowledge that Raymond Fenton was dead was making that easier by the second.

  ‘Were you scared?’ Astrid’s voice was eager and interested.

  ‘Yes,’ Bey said. ‘I was scared.’

  ‘But you escaped.’

  ‘I was lucky.’

  ‘That’s what Adele says.’ Astrid smiled slightly. ‘She says you live a charmed life.’

  ‘I don’t think so,’ said Bey.

  ‘You’re wearing the same earrings as me.’ Astrid brushed a strand of her golden locks from her eyes as she changed the subject. ‘The Bluebells. Where did you get them?’

  ‘Mum gave them to me before I went to college,’ said Bey.

  ‘That was an extravagant gift, don’t you think?’

  Bey bit back the retort she’d been about to make, although she agreed with Astrid that it had been very extravagant indeed. She’d been shocked when her mother had produced the earrings, and asked if she’d actually gone to Duke Lane to buy them for her. But Lola had said they’d been a gift to her when she was younger, and now she wanted Bey to have them. Bey had asked if the gift had been from her father, but Lola had shaken her head and said that there had been more men in her life than Philip. Bey had wondered why she’d never worn them herself, and her mother had said that she’d wanted to keep them as an heirloom for Bey. But even as Bey had hugged her and told her they were the nicest present anyone had ever given her, she couldn’t help thinking that Lola was keeping something from her and that the earrings meant more than she’d ever know.

  ‘They suit you,’ said Astrid when she realised that Bey was remaining silent. ‘But then, you like Warren jewellery, don’t you?’

  ‘These are all I have,’ Bey told her.

  ‘And th
e ring.’ Astrid’s smile didn’t reach her eyes. ‘My ring. From the Christmas cracker.’

  After all this time, she hasn’t forgiven me for taking it, Bey realised. She still thinks of me as a thief. She felt her face flush.

  ‘Dad made me give it to you,’ Astrid continued. ‘He said it was the least I could do after your ordeal.’

  ‘I didn’t want it,’ said Bey.

  ‘But you took it all the same.’

  Bey had no answer. The silence between them was growing increasingly uncomfortable, and she was relieved when a young man she didn’t know came over to them and asked Astrid how she was feeling.

  ‘Tired,’ Astrid replied. ‘It’s been a difficult day.’

  ‘Of course it has.’ The man put his arm around her shoulders. ‘Come on, sweetheart. Let’s sit in the garden for a while.’

  Astrid allowed herself to be led away without saying another word. Bey hadn’t realised she’d been holding her breath until she exhaled in relief. Then she opened her small leather handbag and looked inside.

  She’d begun to walk towards the kitchen, but stopped in complete astonishment when she saw the tall, dark-haired man standing close to the door. It took a moment for her to be sure it was the same man who’d sat beside her on the flight from London, and who she’d seen standing outside the pub that same evening. Bey didn’t believe in coincidences or karma or things that were meant to be, but it was startling to see him here and now in a completely different context. He turned suddenly and a flash of recognition passed over his face.

  ‘Hello again,’ he said. ‘I didn’t expect to see you again so soon. And here of all places.’

  ‘I was thinking the same. And I saw you before.’ She blurted out the words. ‘The other night. Outside a pub.’

  ‘You say that with a slightly accusing tone.’ He grinned. ‘As though I shouldn’t have been. And this might freak you out, but I saw you too.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘But I stayed well away in case you wanted to dump my drink all over me.’

  ‘Do I need to apologise for that again? Is your notebook OK?’

  ‘Surprisingly, yes. I was going to yell across the road to you and tell you, but you were engrossed in conversation.’