That Summer at the Seahorse Hotel

by Adrienne Vaughan

  “Steady,” the sergeant warned, totally unfazed.

  “How do you know?” Regan asked, when he found his voice.

  “No one saw anything, all suddenly blinded by the bright lights. The security men had mixed their shifts up or been paid to disappear more like and the girls in the costume truck had the investigation all wrapped up before we even got there. Clever stuff. Nah, an inside job, someone wanted to cause trouble for some reason, so they did. Nobody’s been murdered, no real damage, not even a proper crime really.” He closed his eyes.

  Garda Regan was going over the interviews in his mind. Sergeant O’Brien was right, no one knew anything, so how could he tell who was lying and who was telling truth? It was like he had a sixth sense, a proper copper. Sometimes he wondered if he would ever make a decent policeman, he had no idea it was an inside job.

  “You never told me you knew Archie Fitzgerald and Fenella Flanagan, how come?” A hint of grudging admiration in the young man’s tone.

  “Ah, it was way before they were famous, I was a rookie on a job down at the harbour. A priest went missing. Senior fella, in charge of the seminary. Monsignor …Whelan that was it, Monsignor Sylvester Whelan. Another inside job if you ask me. Mind you, anything to do with that place on Phoenix Island has always been ‘secret squirrel’.” He tapped his nose. “You know what the clergy are like, worse than the mafia.”

  “That ole ruin of place? I’ve heard it’s haunted. What happened the priest?”

  “No one knows. Had a bad reputation though, right cruel bastard. They shut it down after that.”

  “I heard someone found a bomb, isn’t that right?” There had always been myths and legends about Phoenix Island.

  “God alone knows what you’d find over there.”

  “What did they have to do with it? Archie Fitz and the actress one?”

  “They were just teenagers at the time, friends with one of the students, that’s all. I was a young fella myself, only allowed help with the paperwork. But I do remember Fenella was a fabulous looking woman alright, made you hungry with lust just looking at her. Did me, anyway. Mind you, there were a few odd things happened around Rosshaven back then. Things before the priest went missing, unexplained things. But they’re a tight crew that lot, if there was a conspiracy, which the inspector said there was, they conspired to keep it all secret, one way or another.”

  “I always thought it was just a sleepy little seaside town, nothing much happens there, surely?” said the young guard.

  “Nothing much the likes of us would ever get to hear about anyway.” Sergeant O’Brien laughed, pulling his cap over his eyes against the sun. “If it’s excitement you’re looking for, son, you’re in the wrong business, that’s for sure.”

  Lol was sorting through hire stock, special pieces to be returned intact. Luckily, the vintage collection had been safely locked away, awaiting the final scene, the breath-taking finale scheduled to take place in the ruined abbey. Sadly, with the project abandoned it had been scratched, the fabulous costumes destined never to be seen.

  “Is that the last of it?” Mia asked.

  “It is, except I’ve found something odd, just wanted to run it past you.”

  Mia limped to the rear of the truck, less cramped now with most of the garments labelled and bagged. She sat down wearily, pulling spectacles from her pocket.

  “Look.” Lol lifted a large box out of a packing case. Old yet immaculate. The cardboard was a pale turquoise edged in navy blue, with a flourish of gold lettering.

  Mia read out loud. “Madame du Fouray, Couturiere, robes de mariée et robes de bal, Rue du Saint Martin, Paris.”

  She ran her fingers over the lettering, lifting the lid; tissue, as fresh as the day it had been folded, filled the box. Mia could see a piece of lace, creamy rich, the colour of buttermilk.

  “Take a good look,” Lol urged.

  Mia patted the tissue back down.

  “Shame to spoil it. Original?”

  Lol had a particular flair with vintage pieces, her knowledge second to none.

  “First World War, I’d say.” She whipped the tissue away and taking folds of fabric lifted the gown from the box, stepping back so Mia could see the full effect.

  It cascaded from Lol’s fingers like a waterfall. Transparent, gossamer tulle, the palest hint of blush, draped behind a shimmering lace overlay. There was a scalloped hem just beneath the bust, another at the thigh, then below the knee, till it fell in soft folds to the floor. Each beautifully crafted curve sewn with pearls, crystals and tiny peach shells. Sheer sleeves featured a long cuff, decorated to match the scalloped edges of the gown. Satin covered buttons fastened the bodice at the back. It was exquisite.

  In all her years in the business, Mia had never seen anything quite like it. She reached out to touch the dress, Lol swished it away. Holding it against her scrawny frame, turning and twirling, watching Mia smile as she danced, the elegant shimmering sheath contrasting with the billowing chiffon, visible only when the gown moved.

  “Isn’t it stunning?” Lol slowed to a stop.

  Mia was suddenly sad. “What a pity we won’t see it worn. Will they even film that scene now?”

  “Who knows?” Lol shrugged. “But the real shame is, this has never been worn.”

  Mia lifted the gown, smoothing it with her palms. “You think the wedding was called off?”

  “Judging by the date of the dress, worse than that.”

  “What could be worse?” Mia asked, running fingers over pearls and shells.

  “My guess is the fiancé never came home from the war.” Lol was serious. “Happened a lot.”

  Mia let the fabric fall.

  “There’s something else.” Lol rummaged about and brought out an identical box. She lifted the turquoise lid with the same gold writing and there, amidst the delicate tissue lay another dress. Same size, same colour, same delicious design.

  “They had a copy made?”

  “I found this inside,” Lol was holding up a delivery note; beautifully handwritten on headed paper, the same lettering as the box. She gave it to Mia, who started to read it in French. Lol poked her in the ribs.

  “It says this is the fulfilment of an order placed by Madame Daphne Beaumont, on behalf of the Mademoiselles Lydia and Louisa Beaumont. Giving an address in Dublin, Lansdowne House, Ballsbridge.” They stared at the note in silence.

  “I don’t get it,” Mia said finally. “A woman orders identical dresses, for her daughters perhaps, but identical wedding dresses?”

  “Maybe it was a double wedding. Looking at the gowns, the girls could have been twins, but neither of these dresses have been worn.”

  “You mean both fiancés died in the war?” Mia’s eyes widened in horror.

  “Highly likely and the poor Misses Beaumont lived out their lives waiting and hoping their beaux would return. I’d say a collector picked these up for a song.”

  Mia looked at Lol, her theory was perfectly plausible. She closed her eyes.

  “That’s too sad.”

  Lol folded the gowns away. “Bet I’m right, though.”

  Mia thought of Rupert, imagining herself in Lydia or Louisa’s shoes, waiting for him to come home, knowing they would be married as soon as he returned and then the gradual, cloying realisation, as the weeks, months, years went by, that he was not coming back. Suddenly she missed her gorgeous man very much indeed.

  “Right,” she said, tapping the clipboard to bring herself back. “Let’s get this finished and go. I can’t wait to get away now.”

  “Me too,” Lol agreed, carefully storing one of the boxes with the other vintage originals. “But check that inventory for me, because something’s not right.”

  Mia checked the list again. “Strange, only one of the wedding gowns is listed. It’s not on another list, is it?”

  Lol shook her head. “That’s the only list, you know that.”

  “Think it’s been missed off?”

  “I think because
it’s the same thing twice, identical gown, packaging the lot, it’s only been counted once. Just one wedding dress, right there.” Lol pointed at the entry on the inventory.

  “Most unusual,” Mia said.

  “It is unusual and there are two but we’re only supposed to have one and that’s why you ought to have the spare.”

  Mia was confused. “Spare what?”

  Lol looked left and right. “Wedding dress, don’t think anyone else is getting married around here.”

  “I couldn’t do that, take something like that, I mean it must be worth a fortune. No way,” Mia said.

  “But no one knows it exists, one dress does, it’s here on the list but the other, no one has any idea. Take it, give it a good home. A few minor alterations, it’ll fit you perfectly. It’s precisely what you would wear if you could afford it, so take it, you’re meant to have it, please take it.”

  “But we’ll have to report it, it must belong to someone.”

  “Yes, Lydia or Louisa but they couldn’t wear it and you can. It’s far too beautiful to lie rotting in its box for another hundred years. I insist you take it.” Lol thrust the box into Mia’s hands.

  “You can’t insist, I’m senior to you.” Mia had her there.

  “Not where vintage originals are concerned. Check our contract, my department, you’ll find. All repairs, renewals and disposals are at my discretion, and I ‘discrete’ you take it!” Lol was right. “You are still getting married to Prince Charming, aren’t you?”

  Mia laughed. “Don’t call him that, he has to be charming, he’s an actor.”

  Lol wanted to say she heard he was more than charming but decided against it. Besides, he was Mia’s choice, her blushing bridegroom.

  “It’s beautiful but it wouldn’t be right, it just isn’t meant for me.” Mia handed the box back to Lol. “Now, let’s pack. I want to ring Rupert and tell him I’m coming home.”

  They locked the door together.

  “You know what I could do with?” Lol said taking Mia’s arm as they headed to the caravan. Mia stopped dead. “A nice cup of tea.” And she laughed, tugging one of Mia’s ever escaping ringlets, till she squealed.

  The sun was setting over the mountains, the sky streaked silver as the amber glow dipped behind peaks to the west and evening deepened into night. Sitting on the steps of the ruined abbey, Mia took a moment to savour the stillness. She felt calm yet restless. The past few days had been a strain, everything weird, unreal, as if the axis of her life had slipped and she was very definitely off kilter. She rubbed her eyes … probably just tired.

  Taking her phone from her pocket, she tried Rupert. They had not spoken for days and she was desperate to hear him. She wanted to go home now. She knew Archie was expecting her back, and she would go back but right now she needed Rupert, she longed to tell him she was on her way and would be in his arms in less than twenty-four hours.

  The phone connected.

  “Hello, hello.” She was anxious.

  “Mia, what gives?”

  “Rupert, at last!” A breath.

  “Has the old boy gone?” Rupert asked gravely.

  “No, thank goodness but I’m back on set. We’ve been wrapped, I’m coming home.”

  “So soon? Isn’t there an investigation or something?” Mia was not surprised Rupert was up to speed, even just a hint that a production was being pulled had everyone calling their agents, seeking a new start as soon as possible.

  “We’ve done our bit, given statements. I just want to get back now. I miss you.”

  “Miss you too. I, however, have exciting news!”

  “You do?” Mia did not need any more excitement.

  “Yep, I’ve been called for a second audition for the soap opera gig.”

  “That’s wonderful, when?”

  “Tomorrow, Manchester. I’m heading up north in the morning.”

  “Oh.” Mia pushed her disappointment away. “For how long?”

  “As long as it takes.” He was buoyant. Rupert had been looking for a decent TV role for ages. Deep down he was beginning to despair. To date his current job, a supporting role in a ‘not quite the West End’ musical, was the longest running gig he had ever had.

  “Brilliant news, be sure to give it your best shot!” she told him, bracing up.

  “Sure will. Look, why don’t you stay in Ireland till the weekend, I should be back by then and we can spend some of that nice quality time together,” he purred seductively, making her laugh.

  Mia thought for a minute. A few sunny days in Rosshaven was infinitely more appealing than an early morning flight and Tube ride back to an empty flat.

  “What’s the weather doing?” she asked.

  “Grey and hot at the same time, the city before a storm.”

  “That’s decided then, see you at the weekend. But ring as soon as you’re out of your audition. If you can’t get me on the mobile, call the landline.”

  “Which landline?”

  “Galty House, ask the butler to fetch me.”

  “Are you serious?” Rupert was impressed.

  “Of course not but wait till you see it, you’ll love it. Once we know your schedule maybe we can both come back for a few days? Archie will love you, I just know he will.”

  “Sorry, what was that?”

  The signal was fading. Gone. No matter, Mia had a spring in her step.

  The caravan was in darkness, Lol fast asleep. Mia did not fancy a long, winding drive through the night, nor would she leave without saying goodbye; who knew when she and Lol would work together again. Deciding to make an early start the following morning she crawled under the duvet, soon dreaming of Leela’s full Irish breakfasts; local sausages, thick cut rashers, spicy white pudding with home grown tomatoes and eggs fresh from the hen house – her tummy rumbled ‒ maybe that longing ache was just hunger after all?

  THE KISS OF JUDAS

  Not long after Mia had left Galty House the weather turned. Rosshaven Harbour had enjoyed unbroken sunshine for over a fortnight, but dawn’s red sky warned of things to come and by breakfast dark purple clouds hung low out in the bay.

  Fenella had spent the night nursing Archie. Unable to sleep, he had pleaded for more medication, more than Fenella dare administer, yet when she could no longer distract him she relented, topping up his morphine until he drifted off. Laying beside him, she remained awake, fearful. It was dawn when his eyelids flickered open. He gave her a weary smile.

  “Not dead yet, darling.” he said, through dry lips. She offered him water, he waved it away. “What time is it? I’m ravenous.”

  “You didn’t eat yesterday,” she reminded him. “What do you fancy? I’ll make it, everyone else is asleep.”

  “You cook? That would surely finish me off!” He started to cough.

  “Cheeky sod.” She laughed, then seizing the opportunity. “I know you don’t want to tell me, but why did you want to see Mia? What do you need to tell her?”

  Archie struggled up, she placed a fresh pillow behind him.

  “It’s between Mia and myself. Besides, I’ve not discussed it with Bernice and I won’t discuss it with you either, that would be unfair.”

  Fenella frowned, Archie’s sense of fair play had increased a hundredfold since his diagnosis.

  “Very well. Just assure me it’s not something we have agreed not to tell her, ever.”

  Archie gave her one of his looks. “I might have guessed. Haven’t I promised I would never tell? Did we not stick pins in our veins till we bled, became blood brothers and sisters, making a pact on that very beach?” He pointed out of the window, then turned to her. “You do know your stupid secret has blighted that child all her life? And yours. You feel guilty that Mia not knowing the truth is holding her back, preventing her from making the ultimate commitment.”

  “Nonsense, we agreed never to tell. It was for the best.”

  “Then yes, but what about now?”

  “All I know is if she wants a family, I wan
t her to be married.”

  Archie sighed. “That’s not a requirement these days.”

  “There would still be talk, like mother like daughter. I just couldn’t bear her to go through what I went through.”

  There were tears in her eyes.

  “That wouldn’t happen, you’re living in the past, besides it wasn’t that bad.” Archie took her hand.

  “Wasn’t that bad?” She stared at him in disbelief. “You’ve no idea. I was betrayed by those I consider my own family.”

  “Fenella, that never happened.”

  She was being dramatic, she did not know everything, he was sure of that.

  “I asked Humphrey, when it was obvious I’d been abandoned, if he thought the letter was delivered. He didn’t reply but I knew the answer by the look in his eyes.”

  “Not this again, please.”

  She let go of his hand. Silence. Then giving him a sideways glance, she gasped.

  “Humphrey, of course, you have made a will, it’s with Humphrey!” She jumped off the bed. Archie laughed, then coughed again. “And you better not have that stupid bitch Venetia Bailey singing at your funeral or I’ll give you hell.”

  Fenella was wagging a finger at him.

  Archie started to cry he was laughing so much. Fenella could certainly hold a grudge. Long ago he had been briefly engaged to the opera singer, when at the same time, Fenella announced she was marrying a sheik. They had all managed to escape, unscathed.

  She poured water.

  “I could murder some coffee.”

  He lied, the very thought made him nauseous but he wanted her to leave, he was in a mess. Fenella was part of his heart and soul, but there was only so much she needed to know, bear.

  She pressed her mouth to his forehead.

  “I won’t be long.” she whispered, tucking him beneath the eiderdown that had graced his bed since they were children.

  As usual, being there had stirred her. She had been dreaming again, the same dream, watching it all over again, like a film that never quite reached the end. They were chasing along the landing, entwined as they tripped down the stairs, like butterflies dancing in a flutter of their own wings, until they fell through the door into a room full of people.