‘Your mother’s diaries? You found them? You read them? How dare you!’ He was still ashamed of himself for losing his temper at her, for choosing that moment to do it, when he should have been calm, supportive and helping her. But he had seen red. She knew that the shed was out of bounds, the cupboard was out of bounds. All the tension of the past two weeks had spilled over as he accused her of snooping, of underhand behaviour, of poking her nose where she shouldn’t…
Sadie didn’t try to explain herself. She didn’t tell him how she’d found them or when she’d read them or what she had read. She didn’t say anything. She simply turned away from him while he kept shouting. He faltered, ordered her to pay attention, to look at him while he was talking to her. She didn’t. She just sat there, as if he wasn’t there, as if he wasn’t talking to her.
He had no choice but to leave. He told her he’d be back the next day, that they’d all sleep on it, tomorrow was a new day. All the clichés poured out of him. None of them had mattered in the end. When he came back to the caravan park in the morning, she was gone.
When he, Clementine and Maggie arrived back in Hobart the following day, one of the first things he did was go to the shed and unlock the cupboard. The red basket was pushed into the bottom shelf, roughly, on an angle. How had he not noticed that? He was always careful to put everything back neatly, keep his shed meticulously tidy. He took the basket out, lifted the magazines that were on top, saw the familiar nine notebooks underneath. He knew as soon he saw them that what Sadie had said was true. They were out of order. He had never left them like that.
He sat in the shed for a long time, the diaries on his lap. What had she read in there? What were the lies she mentioned? The fact is he didn’t know. He had never read the diaries. He still didn’t want to read them now.
Two months after Tessa had died, when his whole world was in pieces, when it hurt even to get up, he had made the mistake of thinking it would help to read her words. He made a ritual of it. He made himself shower, shave, not be the haunted man who had looked back at him in the mirror for the past two months. He brought a cup of freshly brewed tea in her favourite blue cup down to the shed, prepared his desk, made it tidy. He unlocked the cupboard, took out the red basket and picked out the first diary. He opened it at a random page, telling himself it was what Tessa would have wanted. That she would send him a message through her diaries. He knew it was fanciful thinking, but he was so desperate for her, so sure that she was watching over them all, that he convinced himself this was the best way – the only way – to keep up contact with her.
He opened it at a page a third of the way in. He read the first three sentences:
Bill took me to the heath today, for the most romantic picnic. It is love. I know it!
Leo almost physically recoiled. He shut the book, pushed it away as if he had been burnt. He returned it to the basket, put the basket into the cupboard, locked it. His breathing was ragged. He realised he was crying. Sobbing. He couldn’t read that. He couldn’t read anything about her and Bill. Not now that it was too late to recreate memories. He couldn’t bear to think of her and Bill together when she was alive. He could not allow any other memories to invade his memory of her now she was dead.
Months passed before he looked at the diaries again. His grieving was still fierce, his sorrow deep. He didn’t read them the second time. He held them, he put them back into the right order, he made himself think good thoughts, of Tessa laughing, or Tessa with the girls, of Tessa excited about one of their birthdays or about a trip home to the UK. That thought was a jagged one. She had never gone into great detail about her trips home every two years. He had asked her lots about each one, all the questions except the one he didn’t want to know the answer to. ‘Did you see Bill?’
He couldn’t bear to know if she had.
He knew the answer would be in these diaries. She always took them with her to the UK. If he wanted to know whether she had seen Bill, all he had to do was open the right diary, find the right page. He could read all about it. Know once and for all what had happened, whether his greatest fear had been true – that she had gone on loving Bill even after she had married him.
Is this what Sadie had read? Had she found out all about Tessa’s history with Bill? Had she found out even more – that Tessa hadn’t just had a history with Bill, she’d had an ongoing relationship, even after their marriage?
Was that what had caused her to run away and take Maggie with her? Once the thought wormed its way into his head, he found it almost impossible to remove. What could Sadie have read that would make her want to leave the family?
Deep down, he thought he knew. Had Sadie read that she wasn’t Leo’s daughter? That she was in fact Bill and Tessa’s daughter?
The thought wouldn’t go away. Yes, all five girls looked like him, but they could also just as easily be Bill’s daughters. He found himself studying photos of all five of them, finding the resemblances, convincing himself that there were only his features replicated in them. But the voice inside continued to torment him. Did they all look like him, or did any of them look more like Bill? He and Bill had shared the same colouring, and they were alike in facial features and build, though Bill was the taller, nearly six foot. Tall, like Miranda and Juliet were tall. His hair was curlier too, like Sadie and Eliza’s hair was. He was prone to sunburn – as was Clementine. Leo was making a mental checklist and he didn’t like the findings.
He spent hours sitting and holding the diaries, knowing the truth was inside and fearing it. He imagined Sadie sitting in the same position, reading them and discovering what? That she was the only one who wasn’t his daughter? That none of them were his daughters? He couldn’t bear to think about any of it.
So he’d had to lie to his other four daughters. He couldn’t tell them the truth about his conversation with Sadie that day in the caravan park. If he said that she’d read the diaries, they would know he’d lied about burning them. They would insist on reading them too. And if they did, everything might come tumbling down around him.
So he told them Sadie left for a different reason. That she had wanted to find herself. He had let them think that, all these years Sadie had been away. Then another equally unsettling thought had occurred to him. What if Sadie came back and shared what she had discovered with her sisters? He pictured the scene. She would arrive, different, confident and determined to tell the truth. She wouldn’t let Miranda intimidate her, Juliet smother her, Eliza dismiss her or Clementine keep her away from Maggie again. She would stand there and tell them their whole family was based on lies, that Leo wasn’t her father and wasn’t their father either. And all he had worked for, all he loved, would collapse in front of him…
He had written to her each year, enclosing his letter with Maggie’s cards, urging her to get in touch. Urging her to meet him somewhere, anywhere. He was careful with his wording. He didn’t say, ‘Come home’. He was too unsure, too scared to invite her back without knowing what it was she knew.
In the early years after Sadie left, Leo had thought about tracking down his brother and just asking him outright. It would be difficult. They had lost contact with each other in the years following Tessa’s death. Leo hadn’t even been sure where Bill was living; in the UK or South Africa or somewhere else. Then, while he was still deciding what to do, he’d got word from a solicitor in London that Bill had died. His daughters had been full of sympathy. Leo hadn’t known how he felt. He and Bill hadn’t been close for a very long time. Now all chance of a reunion, and all chance of finding out the truth from him, were gone.
He’d put it out of his mind as best he could back then. But he couldn’t live with the uncertainty any more. Something had led him to find that photograph of Sadie – fate, Tessa, something. He had to put things right while there was still time, while he was there to soothe any trouble between them all, to remind them of their closeness. But this time, he would meet her on equal ground. He would know what was in the diaries too. Not be
cause he had read them, though. He still wasn’t able to face that.
He was going to ask Maggie to read them for him.
The idea had come to him two weeks previously. It was the perfect solution. Maggie had never known her grandmother. She had no personal memories that might be destroyed. She had grown up hearing wonderful things about Tessa – of course she had – but this went beyond changing any of those memories. He was going to ask her to read through them and tell him what it was Sadie must have discovered; why she had run away like that. That way, when Leo met her, he would be prepared. If it was true that Bill was Sadie’s father – if Bill was the father of any of his daughters – then so be it. He felt differently now. Tessa was dead. Bill was dead. All that had happened had happened. What he had to do now was make peace with the living, with his daughters, and with Sadie, most of all.
Once he had absorbed whatever it was that Maggie discovered, he was going to tell his four daughters that he thought he knew where Sadie was. Tell them the truth. All of it. That he hadn’t burnt their mother’s diaries. That Sadie had read them. That the reason she had run away was – well, whatever that reason turned out to be.
Then his plans had gone awry. Maggie announcing she wasn’t going to be in Donegal and Clementine and Eliza following suit. All of them laughing at his insistence that it was important this time.
He’d had to concoct Plan B. It all relied on Maggie’s agreeing with his plan. Not just agreeing to read the diaries. Agreeing to come to Donegal after all, which would hopefully also make Clementine and Eliza change their minds. He would have to tell Maggie everything, he’d realised. Express how important it was. Make it clear that time was of the essence.
He just wished she would hurry up and come home so he could set everything in motion.
Nearly an hour passed before Maggie finally appeared. He spotted her before she saw him. From his seat he had a good view down the street. He smiled at the sight of her. His little Miss Maggie, living here in New York, all on her own. A second later he saw that she wasn’t on her own. She was smiling up at a tall young man. A man who had his right arm around Maggie’s shoulder and what looked like a large suitcase in his left hand. As they got closer Leo saw it was a guitar case.
How long had Maggie had a boyfriend? he wondered. Surely he would have been told if one of his daughters knew. He hadn’t heard a whisper about it. Perhaps they didn’t know yet. He would be first with the news for once.
He stood up and straightened his light jacket. He was standing, beaming, as Maggie and Gabriel walked in through the door.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
‘Tadpole?’ She was shocked. He could see it. ‘What on earth are you doing here?’
‘Waiting for you,’ he said.
‘What is it? Has something happened to Clementine?’
‘Nothing’s happened. Everyone’s fine.’
‘But what are you doing here? You’re supposed to be in Ireland.’
‘I’m on my way there.’
‘Via New York?’
‘You know how much I like flying.’ Leo turned and put out his hand to the grey-haired man standing beside her. ‘Good evening. I’m Leo Faraday, Maggie’s grandfather.’
‘Hello, Mr Faraday. I’m Gabriel West, Maggie’s… I’m a friend of Maggie’s.’
Maggie looked back and forth between them, as if thrown by the sudden display of introductory manners. ‘Tadpole, why didn’t you ring me?’
‘I did. I rang both your numbers and didn’t get an answer from either.’
‘You rang tonight?’
He nodded. ‘From JFK airport, as soon as I got in. I’d have called you before I left Paris, but I was on my way before I realised it myself.’
Gabriel spoke then. ‘Maggie, I think I should probably go.’
She turned. ‘Gabriel, I’m sorry, I —’
‘No, I’m the sorry one,’ Leo said. ‘You’re right, Maggie, as always. It was bad of me to arrive like this. I apologise to you both.’
‘Oh, Tadpole. I’m sorry too.’ She hugged her grandfather. ‘I’m sorry not to sound more pleased. It’s wonderful to see you. You just surprised me, that’s all.’
Leo hugged her back. ‘You’d think I’d have learned some manners by now, wouldn’t you? At my age. Mind you, I think it’s my age that is to blame.’ He turned towards Gabriel. ‘It’s a theory I have, Gabriel. Keep on the move and that way the Grim Reaper doesn’t know where to find you.’
‘It’s an excellent theory. I’ll keep it in mind.’
Leo looked pleased at that. ‘Is that a guitar you have with you? How marvellous. I haven’t got a musical bone in my body. What do you play?’
‘Tadpole, please —’ Maggie interrupted.
‘Tadpole?’ Gabriel said.
Leo beamed again. ‘It was her nickname for me when she was a little girl. She just couldn’t seem to say grandpa.’
Maggie interrupted. ‘I’m sure Gabriel doesn’t want to hear all this —’
‘He does, actually,’ Gabriel said.
Leo turned his attention back to Gabriel and his guitar. ‘So what kind of music do you play?’
‘Background music, mostly, in Irish and Spanish bars.’
‘I take my hat off to you. Are you playing the next couple of nights? Perhaps I could pop along and listen to you? Maggie, what do you think about that?’
Maggie was looking a little red in the face.
Gabriel noticed. ‘I really should go.’ He put out his hand. ‘Mr Faraday, it’s been a pleasure to meet you.’
‘None of this Mr Faraday nonsense, thank you. Call me Leo.’
‘Thanks, Leo. And thanks, Maggie, for a lovely evening. I really enjoyed it.’
‘I did too. Thanks again. For everything.’
Leo watched them with keen interest. ‘You see him out, Maggie,’ he said. ‘I’m perfectly happy here for a few more minutes.’
He watched as she accompanied Gabriel to the door and stood talking to him outside for a minute or two. He saw Gabriel lean down and kiss her cheek. Oh, how sweet. He seemed like a fine young man. Leo was still smiling when Maggie came back in. She, however, wasn’t smiling. She looked very serious indeed.
She got straight to the point. ‘What’s wrong, Leo? I appreciate you not telling me in front of Gabriel, but I need to know what it is. You wouldn’t just turn up here out of the blue. I know you wouldn’t.’
He hated to see her so worried. He decided to change the subject. ‘He seems like a charming man. Is he your new boyfriend?’
‘No, he’s not. I just met him tonight.’
‘Tonight? You’re getting on very well considering you just met him.’
‘I’ve known him for a while, but we only met tonight. I met him through his mother. She runs an agency –’
‘A dating agency? I told your mother I was sure you’d be feeling lonely over here, in such a big city on your own.’
‘Tadpole, please listen to me. Gabriel’s mother doesn’t run a dating agency.’ She explained about the Rent-a-Grandchild scheme, about Dolly. She told him all that had happened that day. She felt the tears well again and wiped them away. ‘I shouldn’t be this upset, I hardly knew her. It’s your fault. You’re here for less than ten minutes and you’ve made me cry.’
‘You cry as much as you need to. I have pockets full of tissues.’
She took the tissue he was offering and wiped her eyes. ‘Sorry, Tadpole.’
‘It’s me who should be apologising. Your silly old grandfather turning up out of the blue like this, stepping on toes, butting in where he’s not wanted.’
‘You’re not silly. I’m glad you’re here. Shocked, but glad.’
‘I’ve shocked myself, to tell you the truth. But I’m really glad I’m here too. For even more reasons now.’ He put his hand on her head, touched her cheek, then the end of her nose, the affectionate routine he’d done with her since she was a child. ‘What about you and I go and have a hot chocolate, or something sooth
ing like that?’
‘Aren’t you too tired?’
‘How can I be tired? I’m in the city that never sleeps, aren’t I? Let’s hit the town together until I collapse. If you can bear to be seen with your old grandpa, that is?’
She softened. She had never been able to stay mad at her grandfather. ‘We’ll keep to badly lit places,’ she said as she linked her arm through his.
An hour later, Maggie was back in her apartment on her own. She’d just waved Leo off in a cab, his suitcase and briefcase with him. He wouldn’t dream of staying with her, he said. He already had a booking in an excellent hotel close to Central Park.
They had found a late-night café on Bleecker Street with several empty tables. It was too hot for hot chocolates. They’d settled on iced tea instead. He asked her all about her time in New York, but refused to answer any of her questions about why he was there. ‘It’s too late. You’ve had a big day and I’ve had a long flight. Let’s stay with desultory chat. I’m too tired now to have a serious conversation tonight.’
‘I’m not surprised, considering you are nearly eighty years old and still flitting around the world like this.’
‘You’re one to talk about flitting.’ He dropped the joking tone. ‘We’ve all been worried about you, you know.’
‘I’m fine, Tadpole. I needed to do it.’
‘I’m proud of you, Maggie.’ He reached across and squeezed her hand.
They arranged to meet the next morning at eleven, in his hotel. As he climbed into the cab, he had one final thing to say. ‘I need to ask you to do something else, Maggie. Just a small white lie. If your mother rings, or if any of your aunts ring, you haven’t seen me, okay?’
‘They don’t know you’re here?’
‘Not exactly. Juliet possibly thinks I’m in London, on my way to Belfast, and after that on my way to Donegal.’
‘And the others?’
‘I don’t think they’re too sure. They washed their hands of me years ago.’
‘You’re incorrigible.’
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