That Summer at the Seahorse Hotel

by Adrienne Vaughan

  “See you real soon,” Pearl called. Mia waved back and shuffled on. Pearl took Ross’s hand. “Told you she’s a mermaid,” she nodded knowingly, watching Mia struggle through the sand. “Only just getting used to her legs.”

  TOTAL RECALL

  “Where are you? It’s been ages, what’s going on?” Lol shouted down the phone.

  “I can hear you. I’m not on Mars.” Mia was sitting on the steps watching the waves grow restless.

  “You could be, for all I know. When’re you coming back, you’re needed here!”

  “Archie’s ill, I’m needed here too.” She had been away less than two days.

  “He is an actor, you know. Could be milking it for all it’s worth.”

  “Lol, please.” Mia was in no mood for her colleague’s petulance.

  “Sorry Mia, but we’re near to breaking point, loads of people are sick and everyone’s arguing, accusing everyone else of holding things up, it’s a total nightmare.”

  “You okay?”

  “Yeah, I’m fine, I don’t eat any of that catering crap.” True, Lol mostly drank coffee and smoked. “It’s probably Legionnaires.”

  “Serious then?” Mia grew concerned.

  “Horrendous and as much as Archie needs you, we need you too. We’ll never finish this flippin’ thing without you.”

  Mia was torn; Archie was not quite at death’s door; she could probably go back to work till the end of the week but her leg hurt more than she let on. She tried a different tack.

  “You can cope, you’re the best.” Despite being some way down the pecking order, the costume department could make or break a schedule. The wrong earring on the wrong actress could mean reshooting an entire scene; if it involved a particular location or time of day the impact on budget, let alone the director’s patience, could be devastating.

  “We need you … I need you. Archie’s a pro, he’ll understand.” Lol almost pleaded.

  Guilt rippled through her. “Okay, if Archie’s happy for me to leave, I’ll be on my way as soon as.”

  Mia heard Lol’s exaggerated sigh of relief. It did not occur to either of them that Mia’s return could be problematic. A national rail strike had been declared in time for the bank holiday and with all the taxi firms pushed to breaking point, the journey to a remote castle in the Wicklow Mountains might not be that easy.

  Archie was in bed, propped on a mountain of pillows and snoring slightly. Mia reached out to touch the initials embroidered on the pocket of his pyjamas. She remembered working the twirl of letters in silk thread, a skill Bernice had taught her many years ago.

  She looked about the room, somehow Archie managed to be old school and state-of-art at the same time. His computer stood on a eighteenth century desk, piles of books and an electronic tablet on the nightstand, the latest TV on the wall. Archie liked to keep up to speed with the world as much as he tried to shun it.

  Eyeing the shape beneath the covers she frowned, he was wasting away. She made to leave, he looked so peaceful, the pain she had seen dug into his skin the previous evening, smoothed away.

  “Must you go?” he murmured, taking her by surprise.

  “It seems so,” she told him. “Some sort of food poisoning has wiped out half the unit, they need me back on set.”

  He scowled. “But I need you here.”

  Mia pulled a face. Lying there he was thinner, translucent even, but Archie was as vibrant as ever, eyes sparkling with devilment, his raucous cackle spilling out at the merest joke. Until last night. Supper was a simple affair of soup and cheese in the kitchen but Archie had gone straight to bed, suddenly withdrawing to his room, the day at sea totally exhausting him.

  “Does he need the doctor?” Mia had asked Bernice, as she bundled sheets into the washing machine.

  “Not now.” She slammed the door shut. “I’ve tried to explain to your mother, it is just a matter of time, despite the act, Archie won’t be here for much longer.”

  Mia was shocked by the baldness of her words.

  “I’m sorry but there it is. As much as I love the fact he is determined to enjoy every last drop of life he has left, I do despair at times.” Bernice stared out of the window, biting back her frustration as the breeze whipped up, scudding clouds across a darkening sky.

  Mia slipped her arm around the older woman. “It must be very hard.” They were so close, the elegant sister and wayward brother; forever tussling and squabbling. Bernice always pleased to share their home, warmth, love – then anxious for them to leave, disgruntled others less deserving might receive the attention she craved.

  Bernice stiffened. “How’s your leg?”

  “Loads better. The sea water helped. It was odd, as if the sand gave way. I’ve never known anything like that on our stretch of beach before.”

  “The coastline’s always changing, tides, erosion.”

  “But it’s safe here, that’s why holidaymakers love it so much.”

  Bernice changed the subject. “Lay the table will you, Mia, there’s a good girl.”

  Supper had been a subdued affair with Fenella excusing herself to spend the rest of the evening with Archie. Not unusual, they often took refuge in his room, watching movies, listening to music, immersing themselves in the sounds and pictures on which they had built their dreams; reminiscing a shared history.

  “Make him tell you what he’s up to,” Bernice had insisted as Fenella left.

  The actress raised perfect eyebrows.

  “As if I could ever make Archie tell me anything,” she said coolly, closing the door.

  “More secrets and lies,” Bernice had muttered, folding her napkin and pushing the soup away.

  Upstairs they had lain side by side on Archie’s huge French bed watching Sophie’s Choice. Archie had been up for the Kevin Kline part or so he said, and therefore spent most of the movie criticising his rival’s performance. It broke Fenella’s heart every time she saw it, so having finished the wine she could feel her own bed calling.

  “Shall I leave the door between us unlocked?” she asked, drowsily.

  “Why not? I’m hardly going to pounce on you these days.”

  “I never locked it for that reason.”

  “No, you locked it so he wouldn’t doubt you, I understand why.”

  “So you should, you had more or less told him we were lovers.”

  He paused the film.

  “I’m sure we were, on more than one occasion.”

  “Nonsense, high jinks is all that was.”

  “Really,” he gave her a soulful look. “Didn’t feel like that to me.”

  “You’ve always been oversexed Archie, your auto-biography claims that in every chapter.”

  “Perhaps, but I admire your myth.”

  “Which myth?” she was becoming irritated now, she was tired.

  “The Virgin Queen of the Screen … apparently you’ve never had sex with anyone before or since Mia’s father.”

  “That’s true!”

  “Of course it is. Anyway why do you want the door left open, you’re not still having those nightmares are you, after all these years?”

  “No, no I have medication to help me sleep now, especially here. No, it’s to keep an eye on you, my love. Why else?”

  “Christ, I’m not that ill. And although I may have forgiven you for the dreadful names you called me last time we met, I still think Mia needs to know the truth.”

  Fenella sighed heavily.

  “Why now? After all this time, it makes no sense.”

  “Because if she is to marry and have her own family she needs to know these things, it’s disrespectful to keep them from her.”

  “What? And give her nightmares too?”

  Archie shook his head. “Open your eyes, Fenella. Mia has always had the nightmares, she was in your womb when it happened. You can’t believe she was immune, surely?”

  The door from the landing opened slowly.

  “Oh, there you are darling, what’s wrong?” Fenella
asked gently, Mia was standing tentatively in the doorway, just as she had as a little girl.

  “Came to say goodnight.” Mia crossed the room and kissed Archie. “Love you.” And as she left. “Goodnight, mother, sleep well.”

  Fenella watched her go.

  “Let sleeping dogs lie, Archie, don’t be a selfish bastard there’s a good boy, just because you want to die with a clear conscience. We’re the ones who’ll have to deal with the fallout when you’ve gone.” Fenella also took her leave, closing the door between them. Archie listened for a moment, no lock turned.

  It was still early but Mia was dressed and packed, standing in his room watching the rise and fall of his chest as dust mites flickered through the sunlit gap in the drapes. Archie’s eyes were closed and here in the silence, she wondered how long she would have this precious, gorgeous man in her life and how, when he was gone, would she survive, pretending to carry on with a great, gaping hole in her heart.

  He slid her a look. “We still haven’t had a proper chat. I wanted us to go sailing, take a picnic like the old days.” He took her hand, tapping the lump of metal on her finger. “And I want to hear all your plans, know you’re going to be alright.”

  “Of course, I’ll be alright.” She tried a bright smile but her eyes were clouded.

  “Tell me all about him then, I want to hear everything, make sure I approve.”

  But Archie knew all about Rupert Boniver, Archie knew most things about Mia. He had been keeping an eye on her ever since she left Ireland to attend college in London. Back then she was a young girl in the big city and Archie made it his business to know when she might need a little help. He wondered if his role as fairy-godfather could be required again soon. He lay back on the pillows, hands across his chest, as if awaiting a bedtime story.

  Mia explained she had been contracted as wardrobe supervisor on the remake of The Three Musketeers. It was the most challenging job she had ever undertaken, not least because she was working with an inexperienced team who seemed determined to argue over every detail. There had been a freak heat wave, cast and crew were dropping like flies. It was all going horribly, irretrievably wrong when a handsome young actor, namely Rupert Boniver, came to her rescue, setting up a makeshift air conditioning system in the truck, having purloined some ancient refrigerators from the castle’s kitchen.

  “And thus beholden to the dear boy, you fell for him,” Archie surmised. Being on location often kindled romantic alliances, most of which would not survive an hour once sets were dismantled and equipment packed away. “And?”

  “We were friends first,” Mia said, blushing at how brazen she had been, making sure Rupert knew she wanted to be seduced. Always professional, Mia could still be shocked by the antics of her co-workers but with Rupert she had thrown caution to the wind, flirting outrageously, teasing him at every opportunity, behaving totally out of character. For Rupert she had been wanton and wild, tempting him beyond reason until with her full permission he had completely and utterly devoured her, the most delicious deflowering she had ever experienced. She looked up, Archie was watching her.

  “Back in London, the lease on his flat was up. I said he could stay until he found somewhere, it just went from there,” she told him.

  “How long have you been together?”

  “Eight or nine months.” She knew to the second. It was just after Fenella had told her about Archie’s illness. He had been diagnosed with a rare form of cancer and although determined to fight tooth and nail, the prognosis was not good. Few with the illness lasted longer than twelve months. That was fourteen months ago, Archie was into extra time.

  “Is it true love?” Archie asked. “Is he the one?”

  “Yes.”

  “Does he feel the same?”

  She nodded.

  “You plan to marry?” Archie was using the patriarchal voice he saved for Victorian roles.

  “One day. He’s just starting out, needs the big break, you know how it is.” She did not need to explain how difficult it was for actors to make a decent living, so many came into the business with stars in their eyes, only to leave broken and disillusioned after a few short years.

  He patted her hand. “You light up when you talk about him, that’s a good sign.”

  “Wait till you meet him, you’ll love him, too.”

  “Once he makes you happy, my angel, I just want you to be happy. I can picture it now, a fairy-tale wedding to your prince and a wonderful, blissful marriage with hordes of babies, running barefoot on the beach.”

  “A fairy-tale wedding? I don’t think so, not really me is it?”

  Archie was prone to flights of fancy.

  “Why not? It should be the one day you let rip, go for it, have all the glamour and romance you’ve ever wanted.”

  “But I don’t want glamour and romance, never have,” Mia insisted.

  “Nonsense, of course you do, you used to love to dress up as a child, now you make others look fabulous instead. It’s still the pursuit of gorgeous, fabulousness.”

  She gave him a crooked smile. He had hit a nerve.

  “One day, just one day, with the spotlight on you. Everything wonderful and special, and all about you for a change. I do love a good wedding.”

  They giggled together. The door to the adjoining room opened and Fenella appeared. She had been straining her ears to catch what they were talking about and hearing them laugh, knew she had not been betrayed.

  She and Archie had been inseparable ever since the Flanagans had moved to Galty House when they were both babies. Fenella’s mother, a young widow had been struggling to make ends meet and when Mrs Fitzgerald heard about the woman’s plight she sent for her, appointing her secretary to her husband and nanny to her infant son. It was not long before the Fitzgeralds had adopted the Flanagans and the Flanagans had fallen in love with the Fitzgeralds.

  Galty House was the only home Fenella had ever known and she had been privileged to grow up in the midst of this delightfully disarming yet dysfunctional family, who loved every inch of her and made her believe, without a shadow of a doubt, she was born to be adored by the entire world. What could possibly go wrong?

  “Why Archie, you old romantic.” Fenella said, sweetly, the strains of a classic Roxy Music album drifting from her room. “Who’s this you’re talking about?”

  Mia dug her fingernails into Archie’s palm.

  “Never you mind,” he replied. “We’re gossiping.” Mia gave a relieved smile. She had not discussed her plans with anyone, least of all her mother.

  “You were talking about marriage, Archie.” Fenella was not put off. “Not regretting your relentless bachelorhood surely?”

  “You know full well, you’re the only woman for me and when you refused me, I just gave up all hope of ever being happy.” He turned doleful eyes upon her.

  “Outrageous claptrap,” Fenella laughed. “No wonder poor Mia shows no sign of making me a grandmother. You’ve put her off marriage for life.”

  “I think we all have.” Archie squeezed Mia’s hand.

  Fenella joined Archie on the bed.

  “Did you sleep, darling?” she asked him, tightening the towel about her hair.

  “I was awake all night, you never came back to check on me.” He gave her an accusing look. “And now this one has been recalled.”

  Fenella pouted, pushing his hair from his brow.

  “I do have to go,” Mia was firm.

  “It’s a dreadful film,” Archie complained. “But if you must, you must.”

  “She’s a responsible girl, you know that.” Fenella slapped his hand.

  “Works too darn hard, always has.” Archie pulled Mia closer.

  “Her work is important. Don’t be selfish,” Fenella reprimanded, then frowned at her daughter. “Slight problem though, Mia … transport.”

  “I only heard about the strike this morning,” Mia said.

  “You’ll have to stay, so!” Archie was triumphant.

  “I
’ll stay, my love,” Fenella told him. “But Mia must go, for now.”

  This was looking more promising, Fenella thought. She wanted Archie to herself, she still needed to know what he wanted to say to Mia and if it was what she suspected, she had to prevent it; prevent it at all costs.

  “Promise you’ll come back once you’ve dealt with whatever crisis they have contrived to take you from me?” Archie’s gaze searched Mia’s face, she had a life elsewhere. “And if you must go, take the car, I insist.”

  Mia gave him a look. “You mean the Dame, you’re actually lending me the Dame?”

  He waved at the dressing table. “Keys are in the drawer, goes like a dream.”

  “Bloody liar.” Fenella was incredulous. “You’re taking your life in your hands going anywhere in that death trap.”

  “But, Archie, you love that car, you never let anyone borrow it.” Mia was grinning.

  “The sad fact is, my precious child, I’ll never drive again. Take it, I want you to have it.”

  Despite her apprehension, Mia was excited. She adored the old car, it had featured solidly throughout her childhood, taking her to parties, dancing lessons, impromptu excursions into the mountains.

  “Oh, Archie! Thank you, that’s perfect.” Then realising she had no idea how to drive it or even where she was going. “Does it have SatNav?”

  Archie and Fenella were still laughing as she left.

  SUFFERING SABOTAGE

  Nervously easing the Daimler out of the garage, Mia drove in slow, jerky zigzags, anxious to avoid the huge potholes littering the drive. At the gateway, she lurched right towards Rosshaven and squirming as the gears squealed, finally let out her breath as the car began to warm up.

  The sign to the Harbour Spa Hotel shimmered by the roadside as she drove and glancing through the impressive entrance, she caught sight of the new marina, palms swaying as shiny yachts bobbed on the water. It looked sophisticated, impressive ‒ expensive.

  Nearing the town she came upon a swishy new roundabout and slightly bemused, drove round it twice, barely recognising the place with its new shops and cafés; people milling about. She could hear music. She drove round again, it was Rosshaven alright. Maybe the fallout from the Harbour Spa Hotel was not so bad after all she considered, guiding the Daimler away from the coast and on towards the mountains.