‘Thanks, Mrs McInnery.’ I reached for a cheese scone. ‘This looks amazing.’
‘You must call me Laurel. My poor husband has been gone these past 20 years, the Lord rest his soul. Being called “Mrs” doesn’t feel right, so it doesn’t. I’m just plain Laurel.’
‘I hope you don’t mind us turning up out of the blue, but I was in Ireland for my da’s funeral and—’
‘Oh, my treasure. I’m sorry for your loss. Was it unexpected, God rest his soul?’
‘Heart attack. I’m… Well, we weren’t close, so…’
‘Daran told me. It’s still a sad thing when a parent passes, even if the relationship is an estranged one. I’ll pray for his soul and that the good Lord grants forgiveness.’
I wiped my buttery fingers on a piece of kitchen roll. ‘How much did Daran tell you?’
‘Oh, he told me everything, my treasure. I do know that yours was a loving relationship in every sense of the word and that the good Lord gave His blessing for it to be so. I know that your da found out and sent you away, and that my Daran tried so hard to find you. He wrote to you for years, but he had nowhere to send the letters.’
‘I know. Father Doherty kept them. He gave them to me recently.’
‘And how is the good Father? It’s been years since I’ve seen him. I never have cause to be in Cork. It’s so far away and there’s so much to do here.’
‘Father Doherty is just grand. I’ve seen him a couple of times. He’s the one who gave me your address.’
I reached forward for my mug of coffee, and the light must have reflected off my Claddagh ring because Laurel put her tea down and reached for my hand. ‘You still wear it, my treasure.’
‘Wear what? Oh! The ring.’
‘Did he tell you I helped him choose it? He was so excited. I’ve never seen a man so in love. It warmed my heart.’
‘He never mentioned it. It’s beautiful. You helped him make a good choice.’
‘You wear it on your other hand, though.’ She frowned, then shook her head. ‘Of course you do. You’ve been separated these past 17 years. He’ll be so happy that you still wear it.’
I smiled. ‘I’d like to think he would be.’
‘Oh, I guarantee he will be. Can I tell him? Or do you want to?’
‘Tell him? What do you mean? By praying?’
‘I could pray about it, but the conventional way would be when I next see him.’
I exchanged a confused glance with Ben. Was Daran haunting his mother? A shiver ran down my spine. ‘We are talking about the same person, aren’t we? Daran McInnery, the eldest of eight siblings?’
‘Yes. Such a good boy. Let me think. What day is it today?’
‘Sunday,’ Ben said.
‘I’ll be seeing him tomorrow, but I bet he’d jump in the car and drive straight over if I told him you were here.’
‘I don’t understand. Daran’s dead.’
‘What?’ Laurel leapt up from the table, slopping her tea over her hands. ‘When?’
Jesus! What had I done? Was it possible she had Alzheimer’s and I’d just told her that her son had died when, in whichever year she believed she was in, he was very much alive? I cringed as I said the next words. ‘In the Thailand tsunami of 2004.’
She sat down again and breathed out loudly before reaching for some kitchen roll to mop up the spillage. ‘Goodness me, my treasure. You scared the life out of me just now. Daran didn’t die in that awful tsunami, though many did, God rest their souls. Terrible tragedy. Just terrible. And the day after Christmas too.’
‘But there was a memorial service and everything. Father Doherty went to it. He said you were all there.’
She nodded and closed her eyes for a few moments. ‘That was one of the most painful days of my life. I thought that burying my precious husband was just about the worst pain I could ever experience, but a parent should never, ever have to lay one of their children to rest. I thought the blackness would never lift but I prayed to the Lord and, not only did He help me to see the light again, He returned my firstborn to me. Daran’s alive and well, and living five miles down the road from here.’
Chapter 46
‘Are you sure you don’t mind flying back on your own?’ I asked Ben, an hour or so later.
‘It’s for the best. I need to be back at work tomorrow, and you need to spend time with Daran.’ Ben’s voice cracked as he added, ‘You won’t expect too much from seeing him, will you? It’s been a lot of years. People change.’
‘I’ll be grand. I’m not really expecting anything. I don’t think I’m quite over the shock of discovering he didn’t really die.’
Ben and I had listened in stunned silence as Laurel told us how Daran had indeed been caught up in the disaster, but he hadn’t died. He’d been swept along with the tidal surge but had managed to cling onto some debris and stay afloat. He awoke to find himself in hospital, with no idea who he was or how he got there. He had several broken bones so was laid up for quite some time.
In the meantime, a body had been found matching Daran’s description, with Daran’s wallet in their pocket, so his death was reported back home by the charity he was working for and the family never viewed the body because of the state it was in.
Many weeks later, a former colleague of Daran’s happened to be visiting someone at the hospital where he was, and she recognised him. All it took was her telling him his name and some details about his family, and his memory started to return. He couldn’t remember anything after entering the water, but he could remember the lead-up to it. He’d been demonstrating to a new recruit how to do some repairs on a shack. As he’d bent over, his wallet had dug into him and he’d passed it to that colleague, asking him to hold it until he was finished. Next moment, there were shouts and screams and they looked up to see a wall of water rushing towards them.
After the tsunami, Daran spent another four years in Thailand, helping rebuild communities, before returning to Ireland to live a low-key life. Laurel thought she’d told everyone he hadn’t been killed, but she must have omitted to tell Father Doherty, for which she felt terrible.
‘Don’t rush into anything,’ Ben said, opening the driver’s door. ‘Take your time. Just let me know when you’re coming home. Assuming you do come home, that is.’ His dark eyes fixed on mine.
‘Don’t be daft. Of course I’m coming home! I’ve got a daughter and a grandson, and the possibility of an exciting new life and career at the seaside. I’m not about to give all of that up. And, of course, I need to win that king back, don’t I?’
Ben smiled, then hugged me tightly. ‘Take care of yourself. Ring me any time.’
I hugged him back, closing my eyes at the safety I felt in his embrace. ‘Thank you for everything this weekend. You’ve been my rock. Now, release me because you’re crumpling my lovely new Primark T-Shirt.’
Ben laughed. ‘I never thought I’d see the day when you went for the Primani look. I like the new, relaxed Clare, though. Apt slogan too.’
I looked down at my grey skinny-fit T-Shirt. Emblazoned across the front in white letters, it said: Life Begins After Coffee. Yes, very apt. I’d had my coffee. Was my life with Daran about to finally begin? After all of these years of wishing, and waiting, and wondering what if…?
As I stood in the farmyard with my suitcase by my side and a black and white cat weaving around my ankles, waving goodbye to the hire car disappearing over the summit, I felt quite overcome with emotion. A stream of tears rained down my cheeks.
‘He’s a remarkable young man, isn’t he?’ Laurel said, appearing by my side. ‘A true gift from God.’
I couldn’t answer her. Without Ben by my side, I felt very vulnerable.
‘Let’s get you inside, my treasure. Get those tears wiped away before Daran arrives.’
‘Did you tell him I was here?’
‘No. I told him he had a very important visitor and that he and the children should get over here immediately.’
My heart skipped a beat. ‘Children?’
‘Ah, yes. I might have left that part out. You see, Daran got married and had three beautiful children. They’re not together anymore, though.’
‘Oh. What happened?’
‘I think I’d better let Daran tell you that. Come on. Let’s get you settled in one of the guest rooms so you can freshen up and change if you want to. Not that there’s anything wrong with what you’re wearing, of course. They’ll be here in about 40 minutes.’
Laurel settled me in a beautifully decorated guest room on the ground floor of one of three barn conversions. She told me that they had eight rooms in total: six doubles/twins and two family rooms. It had always been Daran’s father’s plan to convert the barns and, 10 years ago, she’d finally seen it through. The farm was very much a family business, with three of Daran’s brothers working the land and tending to the cattle, two of his sisters running the equestrian centre, and his youngest sister managing the B&B business. His remaining brother was a vet, so closely linked with the business too. Daran was teaching again, but he kept the accounts for the business.
I opened out my suitcase on my bed. Christ. What the hell should you wear for your first meeting after 17 years with the fiancé you’d thought was dead? I finally settled on a cute, soft-lemon dress that had taken my fancy in Cork when I’d shopped for my funeral attire. It had a baggy bodice with spaghetti straps and gathers around the neckline. The flared skirt was covered in pansies, cornflowers and some pretty yellow flowers I couldn’t name. It made me think of the meadow outside our farmhouse. I wondered if Daran would make the connection. I’d bought the dress for the summer, but it was a beautiful spring day and, let’s face it, I didn’t have many alternatives.
I slipped my feet into a pair of beige Converse and pulled a soft, cream cardigan on. Staring at my reflection in the shabby-chic cheval mirror, I could vividly picture myself standing in front of my wardrobe at home, trying to see whether I looked innocent yet alluring on my 16th birthday, before I fully gave myself to Daran. I’d been wearing a pretty flowery dress back then too. I’d loved that dress. If only Jamie Doyle hadn’t ripped it and my blood hadn’t smeared across it. I closed my eyes and shivered. This was not the time for thinking about him. He was not going to ruin this for me.
‘Goodness me, aren’t you a vision of summer meadows and sunshine?’ Laurel said, smiling as I slipped back into the kitchen.
‘Do I look okay? I didn’t really have much else to wear.’
‘You look perfect.’
My heart jumped at the sound of a car crunching on the gravel. Laurel squeezed my hand. ‘That’ll be them. Don’t you be expecting too much. Neither of you are the same people who fell in love back then.’
‘Ben said something like that too.’
She smiled at me. ‘He’s got a wise head on young shoulders, that one. He sees things.’
Frodo started barking again and jumping up at the stable door. ‘Why don’t you go through to the sitting room and out onto the patio. I’ve put some iced lemonade out there. I’ll keep the treasures amused. You and Daran can talk.’
She pointed me in the direction of the sitting room. I heard car doors slamming and the squeals of young children. What was I doing here? How would he react after all these years? Would he even recognise me? I shook my head. Of course he would. Laurel had recognised me and she could only have seen me as a teenager in a handful of photos.
Sliding patio doors at the end of the room opened out onto a stepped terrace with stunning views across the farm. What an incredible place to live, knowing that everything the eye could see belonged to them.
I looked at the wrought-iron chairs but didn’t sit down. I had too much nervous energy for that. I paced up and down the patio, waiting for Daran to appear. What would he look like? Fat? Grey? Bald? Or just as damned gorgeous as he’d been that first Sunday Mass when he’d stolen my heart?
The patio door slid open, and there he was. He’d filled out a little, his hair was receding slightly and he wore glasses; otherwise, he looked exactly how I remembered. My heart fluttered and a well of emotions threatened to overcome me. Daran was clearly shell-shocked. He didn’t move or speak for several moments, and I found that I couldn’t either.
Eventually, he said, ‘Clare? Is that you? Or am I dreaming?’
‘It’s me, Daran. It’s been a long time.’
The next minute, we were in each other’s arms, holding on tightly. Tears streamed down my cheeks and I could hear Daran sobbing too as he stroked my hair and my back.
‘Where did they send you?’ he said, when we finally separated.
‘Cornwall. To my great-aunt Nuala’s house.’
‘I heard you’d gone to England, but nobody mentioned Cornwall. I heard London, the Cotswolds, Liverpool and Brighton, I think it was. Why did they do it? I know your da was angry that we were seeing each other, presumably because of your age and my vocation, but surely sending you away was a bit extreme.’
‘It wasn’t because we were seeing each other. It was because… Actually, I think you’d better sit down.’
Laurel was true to her word. She kept Daran’s children entertained and out of our way so Daran and I could talk. He was absolutely stunned to hear about Shannon, especially as the suggestion of my pregnancy had been vehemently denied.
I told him everything, from the moment my parents threw me out right up to the events of the last few days, including the return of my blocked memories.
‘I should never have left you alone that night,’ he said, as we ambled side by side through a field full of grazing sheep.
‘Don’t do that,’ I said. ‘I’d been alone at night loads of times. You had prayers to perform, and I told you to go. Jamie Doyle was determined to take me sooner or later. If it hadn’t been there, it would have been somewhere else.’
‘I remember you being distracted when I got back from the school trip, but you said you’d had a huge argument with your parents, and I believed you.’
‘Why wouldn’t you? My wounds had healed by then. Well, my physical ones had.’
‘When we made love that first night, you cried. You said it was with happiness at having me back. But it was because of what he’d done, wasn’t it?’
I nodded. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘Oh, Clare! You have nothing to be sorry about. And you’ve only just remembered that this happened?’
I nodded again. ‘I didn’t block it out immediately, because I remember not telling you about the baby in case Jamie Doyle was the father, which, thankfully, he isn’t because he’s infertile. I’m wondering whether the loss of Shannon was the trigger for putting it in a box and hiding it in the back of my mind.’
‘Like one traumatic thing wiping out another?’
‘Something like that. I’ll ask the counsellor about it when I get home.’
‘I can certainly relate to lost memories,’ he said.
Daran talked to me about his work in Thailand, before and after the tsunami, and the disaster itself. He hadn’t planned to return to Ireland, but he’d received the news that one of his brothers was seriously ill and needed a bone-marrow transplant. Wondering if he might be a match, he started thinking about home and decided to wrap up his affairs in Thailand and set up home in Wicklow. He was a match so he donated and his brother recovered. While in hospital, he met a Finnish nurse called Freja. They married and had three children – two girls, now aged six and five, and a boy aged three. He awoke one morning to a note from Freja telling him that she’d gone back to Finland and he wasn’t to follow her.
‘Jesus, Daran! Why would she abandon her husband and kids just like that?’
‘She never really took to motherhood. She found it difficult showing affection t
owards the children.’
‘Yet you had three of them?’
Daran laughed. ‘Still the same Clare – as blunt as ever. It’s a valid point, so it is. I think she kept hoping she’d feel something different with each birth, but she just found it harder and harder. She said in her note that she couldn’t stay, when she knew she’d never have the whole of my heart. She said I gave too much of it to our children and what was left had been given away a long time ago, leaving none for her.’
I stopped and faced him. ‘You mean, to me?’
He nodded. ‘Until the end of forever, remember?’
My breath caught in my throat. As I stood face to face with Daran, looking deep into his eyes, the years seemed to melt away. We could easily have been standing in our meadow 17 years ago. My heart thumped uncontrollably.
Daran reached out and tenderly cupped my face with his hand. ‘We haven’t reached the end of forever yet.’
He titled my head ever so gently as he moved closer and closer until his lips found mine. His kiss was so light and tender, and so full of love, that I couldn’t help but respond. As I wrapped my arms around his neck and pressed my body against his, Ben’s words came into my mind – Don’t rush into anything – swiftly followed by Laurel’s – Neither of you are the same people who fell in love back then. Was this a mistake? He was single. I was single. We were in a beautifully romantic setting. We were reminiscing about what might have been. The moment felt right. But was it just that: a moment? Could love really be rekindled after so many years apart, especially after what we’d both gone through during those years?
Obviously sensing my hesitation, Daran pulled away. ‘Sorry. Probably too soon, isn’t it?’
I nodded. ‘I’m just a bit overwhelmed by everything. Until a couple of hours ago, I thought you were dead. Now you’re right here and we’re kissing, and you’ve got three kids and a life in Ireland, and I’ve got a home and family in England. Well, I don’t actually have a home, but I will and… and I’m babbling and going to stop talking right now.’
Dreaming About Daran (Whitsborough BayTrilogy Book 3) Page 29