Dreaming About Daran (Whitsborough BayTrilogy Book 3)

by Jessica Redland

‘Jim Cullen?’ I wrinkled my nose. ‘Is he from around here?’

  ‘He is.’

  ‘Where?’ I expected her to say one of the surrounding villages.

  ‘Ballykielty.’

  ‘Really? Cullen. Jim Cullen. How old is he?’

  ‘Same age as me.’

  I shook my head. ‘I don’t remember anyone of that name.’

  ‘Yes, well, you moved away a long time ago, so you did,’ she said. ‘I’m sorry. I can’t talk. I need to make more sandwiches.’

  Conversation over, I turned back to the washing-up. If a stranger had walked into the kitchen and seen us together, they’d never have guessed that she was my sister; my older sister, at that. We were nothing like each other in looks or temperament. I hated that I so clearly intimidated her. She’d always been quieter than me, but I remembered playing with her as a child and there being genuine affection between us. Yet another thing Ma and Da had taken away.

  I looked out the window. Ma had stopped pacing and had taken a seat on the bench with Mrs Leary. I noticed her glass was empty, which meant that she’d probably be coming inside any minute. Which meant that, if I wanted to do what I’d come to do – satisfy myself that Da really was dead – I’d better find him.

  ‘Where’s Da?’ I asked Nia.

  ‘In the small back bedroom.’

  I gulped. Really? That was cruel! ‘My old room?’

  She nodded. ‘Sorry.’

  I shivered. This was going to be very strange. With another glance out the kitchen window to make sure Ma wasn’t on her way in, I wiped my hands on the tea towel. ‘Wish me luck.’

  I had to walk back through the dining room, then the living room, to get to the stairs. A wave of whispers and nudges followed me, along with a few clear statements: ‘She’s got a nerve showing up here.’ ‘Where’s her respect?’ ‘She brought such shame on the family, don’t you know.’ Head high, shoulders back. These people are small-minded and they mean nothing to you. I needed to see him, then get out of there. I glanced around the room brazenly. They weren’t all hostile. I received a few smiles and a couple of nods. Which one was Nia’s arsehole of a husband? There were only four men in the room including Father Doherty and all of them were 50 and above. Jim must have gone out. The men had probably retreated to the pub.

  Aisling grabbed my hand as I reached the door to the hall. ‘You’re not leaving, are you?’

  ‘Soon,’ I said. ‘But I’m going upstairs first.’

  ‘Will you be wanting company?’

  I smiled weakly at my sister. ‘Thanks, but I have to do this alone.’

  My legs shook as I took each stair and slowly made my way towards the back of the house. Nothing seemed to have changed. The carpet was still green, although it had probably been replaced. The swirly brown and cream wallpaper was definitely the same. I passed the hot press and paused to take in the white, glossed door with height measurements of the five of us as we grew. Only, there weren’t five measurements anymore. Someone had scratched out mine. My eyes burned. I shouldn’t have felt hurt or surprised, yet I did. Why not just paint over me? Why scratch me out? But I knew the answer to that: it was a cathartic act of scratching me out of his life. I could picture him sitting there for hours, carefully erasing me from his home and his world.

  The next door was my bedroom door. It was wide open and I could see straight through to the window. The closed curtains fluttered in a slight breeze from the open window. A large mirror had been taken off its hook, turned around and propped against the wall. Most of the traditions observed, then. I heard the word ‘Amen’, then a couple of mourners appeared in the doorway. With barely a glance at me, they squeezed past and headed down the stairs. I hoped nobody was observing the tradition of sitting with the body constantly. I really wanted to be alone with him. I listened, but there was absolute silence, so I took a few steps forward and peered around the edge of the door. Empty. Except for the large, dark-wood coffin on the bed. I shuddered, then took another step closer.

  I recognised his suit immediately: his Sunday best. He’d worn the same navy double-breasted jacket and trousers for as long as I could remember, so it shouldn’t have surprised me that he’d never shelled out on another; he always was tight with money. Rosary beads rested in his left hand. I recognised them from childhood too.

  ‘Hello, Da.’

  I half-expected him to sit up and demand to know what the hell I was doing in his house, when he’d made it clear I wasn’t welcome. But he just lay there. Still. Silent. I slowly reached up my hand and prodded him gently on the arm. Then a bit harder. Then harder still. I smiled and exhaled. It was safe to say that he was well and truly dead.

  Staring at his body for a few more moments, I felt nothing. No sadness. No regret. And, importantly, no fear. I didn’t want to say a prayer, ask for forgiveness or even tell him what I thought of him because, actually, I didn’t think anything of him. In the same way he’d claimed I was nothing to him, I realised he was nothing to me. He wasn’t my father; he was just someone I used to know. Someone who I’d never felt very fond of. Someone who caused me no end of pain. And, more importantly, someone who couldn’t do that anymore.

  I sighed. ‘Goodbye, Da.’

  Aisling met me at the bottom of the stairs. ‘How was it?’ she asked.

  ‘Reassuring.’

  She nodded. ‘You’ll be heading off now, won’t you?’ Her eyes showed sadness, but I knew she understood why I couldn’t stay.

  ‘I’ve done what I came to do. Me being here’s awkward for everyone. Is there any chance you could run Father Doherty home? I know it’s a big favour but—’

  ‘It’s fine. I’ll see him home safe. I’m assuming you won’t be back tomorrow but you will come on Saturday? To the funeral?’

  ‘I might slip in at the back and shoot away before the end, but I’ll come. I promise. I bought a new dress. I might as well wear it. It’s bright red, shows my cleavage and only just skims my arse. Appropriate, don’t you think?’

  Aisling giggled as she hugged me. ‘A tonic, so you are. An absolute tonic.’ She opened the door.

  ‘Bollocks!’ I said. ‘I’m such an eejit.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘I won’t be getting too far if I don’t have my handbag with me, will I?’

  I reached for the door to the living room.

  ‘Don’t go—’

  But her warning came too late. I opened the door and came face to face with my mother.

  Chapter 38

  ‘You!’ she spat. Clumps of wiry, grey hair had escaped from her chignon and streaks of mascara down her face gave her the appearance of a coal miner. A very angry coal miner. ‘I thought I made it clear that you aren’t welcome here.’ She staggered slightly, then lifted the glass tumbler to her mouth. She frowned and staggered a bit more when she realised it was empty, then dropped the glass on the carpet, where it rolled under a chair.

  ‘I didn’t come to cause a scene,’ I said, my cheeks burning as I took in the curious faces around the room. They’d all stopped talking, eating and drinking, and were watching. Intently.

  ‘Cause a scene? CAUSE A SCENE?’ She laughed – a hollow, chilling sound. ‘You’ve caused a scene your whole life, Clare. From the day you were born, you caused a scene.’

  I wasn’t exactly sure what she meant by this, but a few nods and murmurs of ‘You tell her, Maeve’ from around the room suggested that others knew exactly what she meant.

  ‘I’m going. I just need to get my bag from the kitchen.’ I tried to sidestep her but she blocked me.

  ‘Where do you think you’re going, missy? This is my house. MY HOUSE! And I don’t want you in it.’

  ‘I know that. But I can’t leave without my bag.’

  ‘I never wanted you, you know.’ I felt my stomach clench at her words and heard an audible gasp go around the room. ‘I
thought two girls and two boys were enough,’ she continued, ‘but your da insisted on having you. The moment you were born with your blonde hair and big eyes, I knew you were trouble, and that’s all you’ve been. You’ve brought shame on this family.’ She lifted her hand towards her mouth, then must have registered she no longer had a glass in it. ‘Nia! Bring me a drink. Now.’

  ‘Don’t you think you’ve had enough, Ma?’ whispered Aisling.

  ‘Siding with her, are you? I might have known she’d turn you against me.’

  ‘Ma! You’re being ridiculous. Clare hasn’t turned me against anyone.’

  ‘Nia! Drink!’

  Nia scuttled into the living room, shot a terrified look at me, handed Ma a tumbler of brandy, then darted back towards the kitchen.

  Ma took a couple of gulps, then exhaled. She was so close by this point that I could smell the fumes on her breath. I took a step backwards.

  ‘You still here?’ she demanded.

  ‘I need my bag. As soon as I have it, I’ll go. If you’ll just let me past.’

  ‘I’ll get it,’ Aisling said, but Ma blocked her way too.

  ‘You see! You’re siding with her. I knew it. She always gets what she wants. Just look at her. She’s like a blonde Mary Magdalene. Bats her eyelashes and all men keel over and give her whatever she wants.’

  ‘Ma!’ Aisling cried. ‘Stop it!’

  Ma pointed at me, sloshing liquor over her hand. ‘You were always his favourite, but I knew you were trouble. I warned him, but he never saw it until it was too late. When you left, you took a piece of him with you. He was never the same. You did that to him.’

  ‘He threw me out. I had no choice.’

  ‘You had lots of choices, but you chose whoring.’ Another gasp went around the room. I flinched, but I’d heard it all before. Well, apart from being Da’s favourite. I’d never have guessed from the way he treated me, even before Daran. And her not wanting me was new information too, although not surprising in the least. She’d never shown much tenderness towards any of us, but least of all towards me.

  ‘Enough, Ma.’ Keenan appeared by her side with Éamonn just behind him. They must have arrived while I was upstairs and been out in the garden.

  She twisted around, slopping more brandy. ‘Ah! Keenan. The other embarrassment. Soon to be divorced. Just like that one.’ She twisted back around and pointed at Aisling.

  ‘Don’t be starting on Keenan and Aisling,’ Éamonn said, stepping forward and taking the glass from her hand. ‘Da’s laid out upstairs and this really isn’t the time or the place, is it now?’

  ‘But he loved her more than me,’ she cried.

  I flinched again. Really? But I couldn’t remember Da ever showing Ma any affection. Perhaps they’d stayed together to avoid the shame of divorce but actually hated each other.

  ‘Nia,’ shouted Éamonn. ‘Can you get Clare’s bag for her, please?’

  Nia appeared from the kitchen a few moments later and handed me my bag. ‘Thanks, Nia,’ I said. ‘It was nice to meet you today.’

  ‘And you,’ she whispered.

  ‘Don’t say that,’ shouted Ma. ‘Don’t be making friends with her. She’s an embarrassment to us all and I want her out of my house. NOW! Why’s nobody listening to me? Why are you all on her side?’

  ‘I’m going.’ I turned towards the door.

  ‘You’re not welcome tomorrow or at the funeral,’ Ma screeched. ‘Don’t you dare show your face. I’ll call the Guards if you do. I’ll have you removed. You ruined our lives, you little slut. I’ll never forgive you for—’

  I slammed the door on her shrieks and ran down the driveway as fast as my stupid heels would let me. I stumbled down the lane that ran alongside the house, where I’d parked the car, then leaned against the driver-side door, gulping in fresh air, waiting for the churning in my stomach to subside before I unlocked the door and left Ballykielty. For good. Forever.

  Gradually, my heartbeat slowed and my breathing regulated itself. For a moment there, I’d thought I might pass out. I unlocked the door and grabbed a bottle of water from the door compartment. I took a few greedy gulps, keeping an eye towards the end of the lane, in case Ma decided she was ready to unleash another torrent of verbal abuse and I needed to dive into the car for safety. She’d said some nasty things in the past, but the venom with which she’d let go just now had been something else. Why did she hate me so much, though? I didn’t buy that bullshit about Da loving me more, because he’d never behaved as though he did. I remembered my childhood and teenage years as being filled with lectures, punishments and expressions of disappointment.

  I was just about to get into the car when a figure appeared at the end of the lane. Shit! I should have got away from the house and caught my breath outside the village borders. I squinted in the low sun. The figure was waving something. I shielded my eyes with my hand. Was that Nia? And was that…? I put my hand up to my neck. Of course! I’d removed my scarf in the kitchen because it kept dipping into the washing-up bowl. I closed the car door and headed down the lane towards her. She took a few steps closer to me too, then she stopped abruptly and looked to her right as a gruff voice shouted, ‘Nia! What the feck are you doing? Get back in the kitchen, where you belong. Christ, woman, what the hell was I thinking when I married you?’

  The sun in my eyes meant I couldn’t see his face, but I could make out the silhouette of a large bulk of a man staggering towards my sister. So that was the gobshite of a husband, was it? Poor Nia.

  ‘Sorry, Jim. It’s just that… Well, I… It was Clare. She left her scarf behind. I just wanted… She was leaving and…’

  He grabbed at her arm and she yelped like a puppy. ‘I’ll give her that.’ He snatched my scarf out of Nia’s hand. ‘After all, Clare loves it when I give her things, don’t you, Clare?’

  I took another step closer, ready to do battle with Nia’s arsehole of a husband, but the sun dipped behind a cloud at that moment and I gasped. Jesus Christ!

  He released Nia and shoved her roughly in the direction of the house. Running one scabby hand through his greasy, ginger hair, he raised my scarf up to his nose and sniffed.

  ‘You still wear the same perfume. I always did like that smell.’

  I stared at him, then at Nia hovering awkwardly nearby. ‘This is my husband, Jim,’ she said. ‘I think you knew him as Jamie.’

  ‘Jamie Doyle,’ I whispered, still staring at Nia. ‘Cullen. You said your name’s Cullen.’

  Jamie laughed and I shuddered at the chilling sound. I knew that laugh. It reminded me of… What was it? I closed my eyes tightly, trying to think.

  ‘The Guards took my da away again.’ He lifted a bottle of whiskey to his mouth and took a swig. ‘Ma changed our names to wipe us clean of him, stupid cow. Couldn’t change my blood, though. Bad blood runs through my veins, doesn’t it, Clare?’

  He lifted my scarf up to his nose again and inhaled deeply, closing his eyes momentarily. ‘Brings back memories, so it does. Good memories.’

  Memories? My breathing quickened. The shadows. The shapes. It was…

  ‘Jim? What are you doing?’ I heard fear in Nia’s voice, but I couldn’t tear my eyes away from Jamie’s face. There was something so familiar…

  ‘None of your business. Get inside, Nia.’

  ‘But, Jim…’

  ‘NOW! Unless you want my fist to connect with your face again, you useless bitch.’

  I heard the sound of gravel crunching as Nia turned and ran.

  Jamie took another glug of whiskey, then let the empty bottle drop to the ground with a smash. He slowly wound my scarf around his left hand, then twisted it around his right, before pulling his hands apart so that the material was stretched between them. He laughed that sinister laugh again. ‘This would make a good gag, wouldn’t it, Clare? Not that we really needed the one we used before. W
ho was going to hear screams from a deserted farmhouse in the middle of a meadow?’

  Oh my God! Sweet Jesus. The shadows. The shapes. The fear. It had been him. It had been Jamie Doyle.

  Chapter 39

  Seventeen Years Earlier

  Daran pulled on his boxer shorts and jeans after we’d made love for a third time on my 16th birthday. The second time had been slow and tender, and the third more frantic and daring as we started to understand each other’s bodies. ‘I really don’t want to leave you, but I have to get back to Mrs Murphy and see whether old Carrig is still with us.’

  ‘I wish you could stay here all night with me, but I understand. They need you.’ I reluctantly got dressed, cringing at the dampness in my panties.

  ‘What’s up?’ asked Daran.

  I grimaced. ‘I’m a bit wet between the legs. I think some of your swimmers are making a bid for freedom.’

  ‘Urgh. Sorry. Will you be okay to walk back like that?’

  I shrugged. ‘I might stay here a little longer, dry off a bit, and gaze at my gorgeous ring before I have to hide it from view.’

  ‘I can wait for you.’

  ‘No, you can’t. You’re already late for a dying man. I won’t be the one who stops you doing God’s work. See you here tomorrow night?’

  Daran held me tightly. ‘I can’t. Remember I’m going away in the morning.’

  I pouted. ‘Shite! I’d forgotten about that. I don’t know if I can last 10 days without you.’ Daran was going on a school trip to Jerusalem, returning via Vatican City.

  ‘I wish I didn’t have to go, especially after what we’ve just done. I’ll be thinking of nothing else for the whole 10 days.’

  ‘I’ll miss you.’

  He kissed me tenderly. ‘I’ll be counting down the hours. Happy birthday, fiancée. Don’t forget that I’ll love you till the end of time.’

  ‘And I’ll love you for longer than that.’

  ‘Don’t stay long. It’s a quarter to eight now, so you only have about half an hour till sunset.’

  ‘I’ll be grand. Ten minutes should sort things out.’ I blew him kisses as he headed for the doorway, then disappeared into the meadow.