That Summer at the Seahorse Hotel

by Adrienne Vaughan

  Bernice wanted lunch at the Harbour Spa Hotel, saying they ought to support their neighbour. Archie was relieved, the hotel was on the way home.

  “You’re going a bit wild with yourself, aren’t you?” he had remarked. Bernice watched her weight like a hawk, unlike Fenella who ate like a horse yet remained slim. “Dinner in a fancy restaurant last night, breakfast in Bewley’s and now lunch in a five-star hotel.”

  “How do you know all that?”

  Archie smiled. “Just a guess, sis. You’re a creature of habit, after all.”

  After lunch, they settled in a corner of the deck café, gazing out to sea through a soft haze of heat. Archie rolled up his sleeves, Bernice took off her jacket. She had not touched her wine.

  “Archie, the will,” she said firmly. “I’ve taken legal advice and I’m entitled to know what’s in it.” She kept her eyes fixed on the ocean.

  “I hope you didn’t pay for that legal advice because it’s inaccurate,” he told her, matter-of-factly. “It’s not the will, it’s my will and what’s in it, indeed what’s in anybody’s will, is entirely their business. The only thing anyone can hope for, following the demise of a loved one, is that they will be taken care of. So rest assured, dear sister, you will be taken care of.”

  “But what kind of ‘taken care’, my kind or your kind? Will whatever arrangements you have made, suit me?”

  He reached out and touched her hand.

  “Of course they will. I only ever have your best interests at heart, you know that.”

  “That’s what worries me. How can someone who doesn’t even know what I want for Christmas, know what I want for the rest of my life?”

  He laughed but she was serious.

  “Just tell me you haven’t left Galty House, our family home to Fenella. Please assure me of that.”

  Archie was ready for this. He took a deep breath. Thank goodness they were outside, the fresh air clearing his head, the sound of the waves soothing him.

  “Fenella is family as far as I’m concerned.” He raised a hand to deflect any response. “And so is Mia. She’s our little girl, representing the next generation for all of us. Galty House belongs to Mia, that’s my decision, it will be hers.”

  Bernice clenched her hands in her lap, a seesaw of emotion making her head spin. Not Fenella. She released her grip. Not herself, but not Fenella either. She was furious and relieved at the same time. Fenella would have been a whole other issue. She would have had no choice but to contest it, take it to the highest court in the land. But Mia would be easier, more malleable; even so, she could not let Archie off the hook.

  “But she’s not really a Fitzgerald, there’s no blood there. I know you’ve always intimated … for the sake of the child … because of what happened … but surely you’re not going to tell me after all this time you really are her father, that would be too outrageous for words.”

  “Bernice, sometimes you try my patience, you really do!” Archie folded his arms across his chest to hold his anger in check. “Anyway, it’s not up for discussion, I’m not leaving you homeless, the house in London will be yours, sell it, buy a place in Dublin, you’ve always wanted to live there.”

  “But Galty is my home.”

  “You hate the place. If you stay you’ll just grow old and decrepit with it. I’m doing you a favour, go away and live a little,” he said, encouragingly.

  “I have a life, it’s here!”

  Archie shrugged. “Galty needs a new mistress, someone with energy and vision.”

  “Is this what Mia wants? Have you discussed it with her? You could be making a big mistake.” Bernice was glaring at him.

  “Of course I have, the decision whether to make Galty House her home is hers, but I have told her she is the next generation and the only one who really loves the place deep down.”

  “Ach, you’re only trying to make up for the past, you still blame yourself for what happened. But believe me, leaving Galty House to Mia is the worst thing you could do. Because if she does make it her home, the truth will come out and then where will we be? You’ll be long gone but the rest of us … Mia would never forgive us, it would open old wounds, there’d be an investigation, the police involved, we could all be ruined.”

  Her anger had turned to fear, her eyes glazed with mounting panic and looking straight at her, he knew she was remembering that same dark, stormy night as vividly as if it were yesterday.

  Archie had walked up from the beach. Humphrey was mooring the boat, their trip to the island had been unsuccessful. Postulant Gregory was on retreat. He could not be reached, never mind disturbed. Of course they could leave a message, but what business a couple of young bouzies could possibly have with the soon to be fully ordained priest, Brother Aquinas could not imagine. Waving them off, he drew the gate across the entrance and locked it noisily.

  “Go in peace, now boys.” The man gave them a sneery smile, showing broken yellow teeth.

  “That place gives me the creeps,” Humphrey said as they scrambled down the hillside.

  “It’s supposed to,” Archie replied, pulling on his jacket. The sea was a grey swirl about the boat, the mist building.

  “There’s no way I’m giving this letter to anyone but Gregory.”

  “What does it say, anyway?”

  “It’s from Fenella, I guess it’s telling him about the baby.”

  “Best he doesn’t get it then.”

  “Why do you say that?” Archie did not understand Humphrey sometimes, he could be very hard hearted.

  “How will knowing make anything any better? Probably just make things a whole lot worse.”

  “You always were a real romantic, Humphrey.”

  “There’s enough of you poncey poets around, sometimes you just have to be practical for everyone’s sake. The happy couple sailing off into the sunset is a load of old bull. No money, no job, no future. A disaster waiting to happen.”

  Desperate to get back and find out what was going on, Archie left Humphrey at the boat and was just about to run up the steps when he heard voices. There were sheets on the line, he could make out two pairs of legs, one in riding boots, the other stockinged, in stout brown shoes.

  “But what about hell and damnation? Mortal sin?”

  “What are you talking about? Nobody believes all that stuff anymore. That was made up to keep the medieval masses guilt-ridden and in emotional chains, where have you been Ursula, have you never read a book?”

  “Of course I’ve read a book.”

  “That wasn’t the life of a saint?”

  “Please, don’t mock my faith, Noleen.”

  “I’m not mocking your faith, I’m questioning your sanity!”

  “I think we should send her away. You’ve a sister in Galway.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous, what do you want my sister to do, keep her in the barn until she has the baby then sell it on the black market?”

  “I don’t know … I …”

  “Anyway, she’s staying here where she’s safe. I’ve just had Monsignor Whelan on the phone. I don’t know how he found out but he knows and he’s talking like a madman, I dread to think what’s going through his mind.”

  “Oh God! How did he find out?”

  “Does Gregory know? Has anyone got to him yet?”

  “I saw the boys go off in the boat.”

  “To the island?”

  “I don’t know. I went into town.”

  “I told you to stay with Fenella. I’m worried about her, she could do something irrational.”

  “Bernice was here. I … I had to go and talk to someone. I saw Sister Agnes.”

  “Sister Agnes? What about?”

  “To see if she could help – she’s a nun after all.”

  “For God’s sake, she’s a brainwashed young woman in a long black frock, how can she help?”

  “Then I went to Confession.”

  “It gets worse. What on earth have you to confess?” It went quiet. Archie strained his ear
s. Then a shout. “You idiot! That’s how the Monsignor knows, you told the bloody priest!”

  “Ah no, the sanctity of the confessional … it’s sacred.”

  “Sacred my arse.” Mrs Fitzgerald started dragging sheets off the line. “Get this washing in, I’m going to make sure every door in this house locks and I want all the keys. Bernice! Bernice!” She was striding off towards the kitchen.

  Humphrey had joined Archie behind the wall.

  “Sounds bad,” he whispered. Archie put a finger to his lips. He hotched up to look over the wall. There was a pile of linen crumpled on the ground, Ursula was kneeling in the middle of it, crying. She was tearing the sheets into tiny shreds as she sobbed. Archie stared at her hands, her fingers were leaving bright red stains on the linen as she ripped. He moved closer, it looked as if her nails had been chewed till they bled.

  Blinking the memory away, Archie leaned across the table.

  “Quite right, darling sister. That child was denied her father and that father his child because of you, because of what you did.”

  Bernice leaned in to him, their noses almost touching.

  “No, Archie, because of what we did, that’s the truth of it, that’s what’s tearing you up inside, always has and always will!”

  And because the memory had touched her too, she reached into her bag and pulling out her keys threw them at him. He ducked as they landed with a crash on the floor.

  “Keep it, keep the lot, you miserable bastard, and may you rot in hell!”

  Archie’s mouth twisted; sometimes he wondered if Bernice should have been the actor. She was just about to storm off when Ross Power strode over to them.

  “Hey you guys, how was lunch?”

  Bernice quickly rearranged her face into a welcoming smile. Ross was very easy on the eye.

  “Delicious, we’re just having a drink. Join us why don’t you?” Archie charmed. “Not many dining today?”

  Ross shrugged. “Everyone’s on the beach, we’ll be busier later.”

  “Perhaps just as well,” Bernice said, sipping her wine now Ross had joined them. “Not sure how many people this could take.” She pointed at the rails fixed around the decking. Ross’s gaze followed her finger. There was a large crack to one side of a concrete strut, the metal had worked loose. He stood up slowly.

  “Let’s take that drink inside, sun’s pretty fierce out here.” He turned to Bernice, “I’ll get maintenance on it straight away, ma’am.”

  “Ah, sure we have cracks and splits all over Galty House,” Archie told him. “As soon as one gets filled in a new one appears.”

  Bernice laughed despite their quarrel.

  “Filled in? That’s news to me. Galty House has been falling down since it was built.”

  “Still worth a fortune though,” Archie said good-naturedly. “Just like the Harbour Spa Hotel, a quality building will always stand the test of time. Isn’t that right, Ross?”

  But Ross Power was already on his phone.

  Back in the now, Archie watched Ross stride across the decking, a tray laden with beer and sandwiches in his hands.

  “Did you manage to sort out that little problem we noticed earlier?” he asked.

  Ross glanced at an area of terrace, cordoned off for repair.

  “Maintenance will be on it first thing. Be sorted in no time.”

  “Excellent,” Archie said, taking a beer and ignoring the food. “I’m very impressed with how you operate Ross. Calm, efficient, professional. You’re certainly making your mark on Rosshaven, of that there’s no doubt.”

  Ross felt the bite of sandwich he had just taken stick in his throat.

  TRIXIE’S PLAN

  The discussion about Rupert and their relationship was one of the most difficult Mia had ever had. She was grateful for Trixie’s intervention as Fenella grew more and more fractious, pacing the floor, twisting and untwisting the long strand of pearls she wore over her flowing jumpsuit.

  “You planned to marry? I had no idea.”

  Trixie went to the fridge, took out another bottle of wine and poured them each a glass.

  “It’s so unlike you,” Fenella declared. “Why the big secret, why keep this from me?”

  Mia’s eyes widened. Despite living in the same city and working in the same industry as her mother, they were not close. Things were easier now Trixie was in residence, Mia could at least communicate, ask where Fenella might be spending her birthday or Christmas, but her mother never phoned just to see how she was, never asked what she was working on, were things okay in her life? And she could never remember Fenella ever arranging a trip, a jaunt, even just a meal together to celebrate her own birthday. She knew Fenella loved her, of that there was no doubt, but sometimes she wondered if her mother liked her, and if just the sight of her reminded her of something, someone she longed to forget.

  “Maybe she just wanted something for her and Rupert. No big deal,” Trixie offered. “Is the right, Mia?”

  Mia took a deep breath.

  “Not entirely. I did want something just for me and Rupert but I did want it to be a big deal. I wanted a beautiful dress, a fabulous venue and a glorious marriage. I wanted all of that. Not to impress anyone else, not to make anyone else happy, I just wanted it for me. Something to treasure and remember for the rest of my life.” Her mouth turned down at the sides as she finished her speech. Trixie patted her hand.

  “Oh.” Fenella looked sheepish. “Well, that is surprising.” She sat down again, staring blankly out of the window.

  “Have you heard from him yet?” Trixie asked.

  “Phone’s flat.” Mia gave Trixie a look. She did not want speak to Rupert ever again.

  “Have you anything else on the agenda? I heard they wrapped your movie early.” Trixie was trying to find something practical to focus on. “Found anything yet?”

  Mia shook her head. Bills would be mounting up, she needed a job sooner rather than later.

  “Why don’t you take the rest of the summer off, darling? You’re always working and with so much going on, Archie and now this, you’ve a lot on your plate.” Fenella advised. “I’ve agreed to take the soap, perhaps I can find you something there? They’re a good production company, nice crowd ...”

  Mia did not answer; she had never used her mother’s connections for business. She had built her own reputation but could not even think about work at the moment, right now all she could think about was how shell-shocked she felt … shell-shocked and foolish. Maybe a job on a long-running soap might be a good idea, perhaps it was time for a change. But Mia just felt leaden, hardly able to muster the energy to change a light bulb, let alone her life.

  Trixie took the glasses away. “Fetch your phone, Mia, I’ve a charger in the office, we need to know where Rupert is.”

  Fenella looked up. Trixie had a plan.

  “He had an audition, Manchester I think, out of town anyway.” Mia could barely remember the last conversation she had with Rupert everything in her head was such a jumble.

  “Good we need to go to the apartment, collect all his stuff and take it straight to the tip.” Trixie was already on her way to the office.

  Fenella was thinking; she turned to Mia.

  “What was his surname again? Did you say Boniver … Rupert Boniver?” The actress did not wait for an answer, she was on her way to the office too, an email needed to be sent, urgently.

  Four hours later all the locks had been changed and Rupert’s meagre belongings were in two bin bags in the back of Trixie’s Golf on the way to the municipal tip.

  Mia dreaded getting in touch with him. His picture appeared when she dialled his number; she could not bear to see his handsome, smiley, two-timing-bastard face. Mia dictated, Trixie texted. He came straight back, oblivious he had not heard from her in days, saying he had been recalled to Manchester, another run-through, he was pretty sure he had the part.

  The flat was spotless when they arrived. Classic behaviour, according to Trixie. Rupert had to c
hange the sheets, which would have looked suspicious if he had not cleaned the whole apartment. She did not read Mia the message that pinged back.

  Hope you’re pleased when you get home, I’ve been a REALLY good boy.

  But Mia saw it. Handing the phone back to Trixie, she went to fetch the spare duvet for the sofa; she would never sleep in her beautiful brass bed again.

  Archie was in the library when Leela announced Trixie was on hold.

  “Sounds a bit anxious,” Leela told him. Trixie was not easily fazed, there was something wrong. Archie went to the hall, the only extension was in his bedroom. Bernice’s theory was Archie liked to keep tabs on everybody, the hall phone meant conversations were never private but these days even Leela had a mobile. Archie, however, despite his penchant for gizmos still eschewed the cell-phone, ‘for emergencies only’ he stubbornly insisted.

  “What gives Trix?” He and Trixie kept a wary alliance for Fenella’s sake.

  Trixie explained the situation regarding Mia and her so-called fiancé in her usual uncompromising fashion. Archie listened. Trixie was concerned about practical details; did they have a joint bank account, did Rupert owe Mia money, had any deposits been paid for the secret wedding?

  “Not entirely secret,” Archie said. “I knew. But Mia insisted I said nothing. This is bad news, he hasn’t changed then, the despicable bastard.”

  “You know him?” Trixie asked.

  “I’ve come across him before, he was sacked from a job I was on a couple of years ago, lazy, belligerent, caused mayhem sleeping with two sisters playing twins, the director tried to throttle him.”

  “You told Mia all this?”

  “Of course not!” Archie was aghast. “She was obviously besotted, totally caught up in the whole idea. My plan was to support her as best I could and hope against hope he had either changed, or she would see him for what he is before the big day. The worst thing anyone can do when someone is infatuated is decry the match, sends them rushing straight into the undesirable’s arms, surely you know that?