There was always the option of IVF, but she kept putting it off. If the truth were to be revealed, she liked her freedom and independence of coming and going a little too much. Over the years she had realised this more, and the tiny seed of selfishness had flourished as time passed. Sure, a child would be a blessing, but deep down she knew her need for a child was not top of her “most wanted list”.
The selfish spot in her heart was a little larger than she would admit, but only Willow knew this. Sharing it with her husband would cause hassle and arguments. She didn’t want Derek poking his nose in any further. As it was, he watched her every move. She knew he definitely had something on his mind, but now was not the time to discuss it. She needed to grieve, to adjust to her life without her mother, and to accept Lacey’s new position within the Taylor family.
* * *
“Thanks for supper, Sal. It’s always tastier when someone else does the cooking, as Mum always said.”
“It’s strange being here without her, Rob. I keep expecting her to turn up and give out about the mess I’ve made.” Smiling sadly, Sally cleared the plates to the drainer. She lifted her cup of coffee and sipped.
“Let’s bring the coffee out to the garden. There are some biscuits in the top cupboard on the left.”
The evenings had become cooler but it was still pleasant enough to sit outside.
“So out with it, Sis, what do you think of our little predicament?” He looked over towards Sally as he stretched his legs out and relaxed.
“Did you say little?” she bantered. “I don’t know. Honestly, I just don’t know what to say, what to think. I just don’t know.” The exasperation was clear in her tone.
“I know what you mean, it’s like we’re drifting out aimlessly to sea,” he sighed wearily. Then, catching his sister’s amused expression, they both laughed out loud at his attempt at being poetic. Their rich laughter sparkled in the evening silence in the garden.
“Oh, Rob, that was good. I needed that laugh, I do know that!” Sally grabbed her tummy as the ache inside her spread. It was a good type of ache, though.
“This is what I mean, Sal. When did we last have a laugh? Why should we feel guilty for laughing because we buried our mother recently? Sure, I miss Mum, but damnit, life goes on, doesn’t it? Or is it different for women?”
Tossing the contents of the coffee cup onto the grass, Sally only shrugged. They didn’t have the answers, only questions. And each day seemed to bring more.
“Let’s break this mess up, Rob.”
“What do you mean?”
“It’s what I’ve always done when I’ve been abroad and my troubles seemed greater than my cashflow,” she smiled. “The way I see it, we have three issues to deal with.”
Robert nodded. It felt good to have someone else lead the way; his sister taking charge was good.
“First, there is Mum dying, so we have to grieve and deal with all that brings emotionally. Second, we have Lacey – our little sister, whose life has become such a saga that no-one would believe it. Then third, we have Dad and his affair. Now there’s a revelation we didn’t expect!”
Slapping her hands down on her thighs, she moved on the timber deckchair then got up and paced the garden. This discussion and thinking out loud was finally giving some shape to their situation.
Robert had never seen his sister in this role before. He had always seen her as the happy hippy type, heading off out into the world and letting nature take over. How wrong he’d been. She was a capable and courageous woman who would be brilliant in the business world.
It crossed his mind that he should talk to her about joining the board in one of their offices overseas, but that was for another day. Thinking of business allowed Aoife to slip into his mind, and he wandered off in a daydream. He was glad his mother had approved of her. Lillian could be hard to conquer, but her regular invitation for the two of them to come over for dinner had been a sign of acceptance.
“Are you with me so far?” Sally asked her brother. “What? You think I’m wrong?” she asked, resting her hands on her hips, her auburn hair framing the determined look on her face.
“No, I’m just admiring my sensible sister who I always thought was a bit of a hippy and a little loopy.” His smile was warm and he gestured for her to continue, as though he was chairing an important business meeting.
“How does Aoife put up with you? Okay. Grieving for Mum, that’s done and dusted. Nature will take its course and we’ll have our sad moments, but we’ll pull through.” Robert nodded in agreement.
“Lacey. Okay, we need to be there with support. Let her know that she is still our sister, full stop! Nothing has changed between us at all. This is still her home, too, and...and...and whatever.”
She looked towards her brother. His head was nodding in agreement again, but something in his eyes suggested otherwise.
“Okay, you have an issue with that. Spit it out,” Sally challenged him. She was good at reading people. She’d told him once that it had stood her in good stead on her travels, knowing who to trust or when decisions needed to be made regarding living arrangements. She’d learned to think on her feet and trust her intuition a lot. That gut feeling was the difference between being safe and placing yourself in danger.
“Lacey will always be our sister, I agree,” said Robert, “but it has changed. I mean it’s like a bone with a hairline fracture that is so fine you can’t pick it up with the naked eye; it’s there; it’s the same, but damaged.” His eyes were filled with sadness, and Sally sat beside him once more and held his hand.
“Yeah, I know exactly what you mean, Rob, but I think if we sort out the next issue, then it will help all the mixed-up stuff that’s linked to Lacey.”
* * *
As they sat together in the garden, allowing the brightness and birdsong of the late summer evening to comfort them, Robert couldn’t help thinking that he still hadn’t returned Lacey’s phone call. He really didn’t want to; not tonight anyway.
This time he was sharing with Sally was good. It eased his troubled thoughts and any guilt about their baby sister was disappearing, for tonight at least. He knew he was avoiding Lacey only because he did not know what to say to her. What if she asked too many questions? Spoke ill of his parents? Was he in a position to hear his family being torn apart?
Tonight it could wait. Tonight was his.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
It had been an age since Lacey had been to the cinema, but she was determined not to sit on her own at home again. Her walk to the park had made her realise that life needed to be taken on and challenged, so she headed out for the evening with renewed determination for living.
The darkness of the cinema was rather comforting. Lacey was relieved to see that she wasn’t the only person here on their own, and the light romantic comedy suited her needs. When her thoughts wandered off at times, it was simple enough to pick up the plotline again.
Crunching on the warm buttered popcorn, she relaxed and allowed the people on the screen to entertain her and occupy her mind. It was easy to drown with longing in the company of the gorgeous Colin Firth. If only she knew a real life Colin Firth hero who would sort her out with the right words and hold her tight in a loving embrace.
* * *
When it got too cool to sit in the garden, Sally and Robert moved inside and settled in the living room. He decided he would stay over so that they could continue their talk. Lillian had always kept a room for Robert. It would be there for as long as their home remained, she’d said.
“I was looking at the photographs here, Robert, and I found something very interesting. Actually, it’s a bit freaky, I suppose. But, anyway.” She handed him two photos that were on top of the now dusty walnut sideboard.
They were two photos of a happy Taylor family, one taken at Dublin Zoo. They had always been great days out. Robert smiled as he remembered the time they had gone there with their dad. Instead of looking at the wild animals, they had chased a mouse a
s it ran from the monkey cage into the nearby bushes.
The other photo had been taken at a Christmas school play, with Willow as the chief angel in charge of minding the baby Jesus. No minor role for Willow; even back then she had been capable of being centre stage. In the photo, Lillian held hands with Robert and Sally, while Willow, in her white costume complete with halo, stood near her brother.
“They were good times, Sally. Innocent, carefree times.”
“Yeah, sure were. But come here and look at some of these.”
Striding across the room, he stood beside Sally.
“Wow, so many memories here.” He replaced the two photos he had been holding.
“You would never make a detective, Rob. Look and see if anything catches your eye.”
He studied the items in front of him. There were about eight or nine framed photographs to admire. Everyone was smiling; happy families, or so it seemed to him. The quizzical look on Sally’s face told Robert that he should be picking up on something.
“You really don’t notice anything?” She looked at her brother in amazement.
“No, all I see are happy family outings and lots of dust you seem to have ignored, Sally Taylor,” he teased.
“You really are blind, Rob.”
“Well, tell me then, Miss Marple, what should I have noticed?”
“Any photos that Lacey is in, Mum isn’t, and vice versa.”
“But some were taken before Lacey was born.”
“I know that, and those are the only ones that both Mum and Dad are in, apart from the odd one here and there, of course.”
He searched once more. This was impossible, surely. Their own mother had run the Taylor home with military precision, right down to who was in the photos that were taken.
Robert sat back down, stunned. So his mother had taken Lacey in, yet managed to avoid her while raising her. This was really complicated.
“Sure was one hell of an actress our mum, wasn’t she?” he commented, while Sally went for some fresh coffee.
* * *
Coming out of the cinema, Lacey glanced at her watch: ten-thirty. Pulling out her phone, she switched it back on and felt disappointed not to see any missed calls or messages from Robert. The pleasant evening, though, had soothed her, and Lacey strolled slowly back to her apartment. While hanging her coat in the hall, she hesitated for a couple of seconds only before grabbing her keys again and out to her car. She didn’t know where she was going, but she would let the night take her where it wanted.
The pubs had their tables and chairs outside, and here and there people sat sipping their drinks, laughing and sharing stories. She drove through crossroads and down side streets, the traffic lights seldom against her. When she saw the high wall looming up out of the darkness, she realised where she was. She had pulled up outside the cemetery. The place where both her father and Lillian lay, side by side, united once more in death.
The tall grey gates were locked at this late hour, the flower sellers’ stalls closed. Getting out of her car, she walked towards the cemetery. Lacey stood by the soaring ornate iron gates, clutched the cold metal bars and stared into the other world – headstones of all styles; and flowers – some fresh, some withered, and others plastic. The tall dark green cypress and yew trees stood to attention in a world of silence and peace.
Her heart ached with emptiness. Yet deep in a corner of her soul lay anger towards her dad and Lillian. How many more secrets were buried in this sacred place? How many families had been pulled apart after losing a loved one? Had other families’ lives fallen apart like theirs?
Beyond the gates, it looked so serene and composed. It was here outside the gates that chaos reigned. Turning, she walked away; the silence followed her like a shadow. Easing herself into the car, her whole body sagged with exhaustion.
Maybe being drawn here was a message. Did her dad and Lillian want her to leave well enough alone? Perhaps they wanted her to forget going after her birth mother and just get on with her life, as Lillian had told her in the letter. The now familiar tiredness washed over her as she started up the car to drive back home.
Passing by The Long Mile pub, Lacey realised she was close to the family home, and thought maybe she should call in to Sally for a quick hello. Turning right at the next set of lights, she drove towards the house. Glancing at the clock, it was eleven-thirty. Was it too late for a social call?
Pulling up outside, Lacey noticed the upstairs lights on. It looked as though Sally was getting ready for bed. Deciding to leave, Lacey checked her mirrors to drive off when something caught her attention. Robert’s car was parked in the far corner of the driveway, tucked from sight of any passing traffic.
So he was here with Sally. And judging by the lights on upstairs, he was spending the night. Yet he hadn’t returned Lacey’s call. Instead, he was here with their sister, probably discussing her and the mess her existence had created in their life. Her bloody big brother was avoiding her.
The anger and hurt bubbled up inside her and she slammed the car into gear and drove off, fighting back tears. She would search for her real mother without their input. Let the Taylors have each other; she would not be a source of pity for them. It would be a cold day in hell before she would let that lot know what her plan of action was!
* * *
Lying in his old bed, Robert’s head was filled with memories. His room was immaculate now, very different from when he was growing up with posters of his favourite football team, pictures of racing cars, and his clothes strewn around the floor. He remembered his mum saying he had the largest odd-sock collection ever. It was good to be here. Chatting with Sally had been consoling for both of them, he reckoned. It had brought some sort of comfort to them, knowing they shared similar feelings.
Tomorrow he would phone Lacey and ask her to lunch. He was in a better frame of mind now to help her. Turning out the bedroom light, he heard a car rev up as it drove off, probably one of the neighbours. He had forgotten how close to a busy road the house was, but it wouldn’t disturb him. He knew he would sleep well tonight.
* * *
Milly hadn’t returned again. Fine, thought Lacey stubbornly. If the lousy cat wasn’t going to come home, then she could stay out all night. She slammed shut the small window and went to bed. She was frustrated and angry with herself for thinking things wouldn’t change within the family. Lying in the silent room, she held her tummy tightly. Hurt and abandonment mixed with crushing disappointment churned inside her.
Clutching her stomach tight, she thought she could manage to squeeze away the pain. As a child, when her tummy ached she would press hard on it and pretend the nasty feelings were banished forever.
Lacey didn’t want to cry; she wouldn’t cry. Tossing and turning, she knew sleep was not going to happen tonight. She wrestled with the soft green duvet as she tried to settle both mind and body, but failed miserably. Why wasn’t Milly here to curl up with? What was with that cat? Damn the Taylors! Damn Robert for ignoring her!
* * *
Mr. Sherman ordered some coffee for them both. Even after all these years, he still enjoyed his job, the feeling of being on the inside, knowing how many people’s lives were never as they appeared in public. But he was the soul of discretion. He prided himself on never even discussing with his wife the more explosive and seedy details of some high publicity clients’ court cases.
He knew that others in his profession discussed juicy bits of gossip with their partners or spouses. His wife would return from her lunch with her friends and excitedly share the latest rumour that had come straight from the horse’s mouth. Nine out of ten times, the details were wrong and exaggerated. Without interrupting her, he would smile, never offering a word to dispel or encourage her breaking news.
Looking down at the blue folder, he shook his head. The file on his desk was a complicated case, fraught with difficult emotions, and he was uncomfortable with the task ahead of him. Lacey looked fragile and Mr. Sherman so wanted to help her,
but how much he could was a different story. If she was expecting answers or revelations about her parents’ marriage, then she would be disappointed.
He knew some details, but all the answers didn’t lie in the folder of documents that sat between them today. He could only advise her, maybe direct her to the proper support systems.
The young woman was pale, dark lines around her eyes, her hair scraped back in a tight ponytail. She looked lonely to him. Mr. Sherman had questions of his own. He was curious why the girl was here by herself this morning. The others had been so adamant that she be included in the will not so long ago. Yet here she was sitting in front of him, all alone and vulnerable. Had the others abandoned her so soon?
CHAPTER TWELVE
Willow was so surprised to see Sally at her front door, she stood blocking the doorway and didn’t think of inviting her sister in. Sally stared at her.
“Are you going to let me in?”
“Sure I am. Sorry, I wasn’t expecting anyone and I was going to head out actually,” Willow stammered a little.
Sally wasn’t convinced her sister was telling the truth, as she had her slippers on and no make-up. No-one saw Willow Taylor-Shaw without make-up.
“Oh right, anywhere special? Maybe I could join you?”
“No, no, it can wait. Come in, Sally. I can leave it till the afternoon.” Willow turned and walked away, leaving Sally to close the front door behind her.
Walking through the house, Sally felt the heavy stillness that seemed to reach out from every corner. How did Willow stick it? The house screamed of emptiness. Approaching the kitchen, Sally was relieved to hear the radio on. At least there was some evidence of life in here.
The worktop was covered with food and delph not yet stacked away. The sun cast its warmth on the table where Willow indicated for Sally to sit, but the black leather and chrome chair was uncomfortable. Designed to look good only, but not for sitting on for too long.
“The heat is lovely when the sun comes in, Willow,” Sally tried to make conversation. “I love that you put the table and chairs here.”
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