That Summer at the Seahorse Hotel

by Adrienne Vaughan

  Mia stopped her. “I’m sorry?”

  “That’s right, my Auntie Noleen – Mrs Fitzgerald ‒ and Archie had you baptised … in secret. That’s when he gave me the keys.”

  Mia collapsed onto the settle.

  “Baptised in secret, are you serious? What’s that all about?”

  “It had to be a secret. We all know how your mother feels about anything to do with the church,” Sister Agnes said. “And Auntie Noleen was determined you had the same rights as any child under her roof, she wasn’t a great believer herself but thought a bit of help from whatever’s out there wouldn’t do you any harm.”

  “But what did Archie say, Sister, when he gave you the keys?” Ross was fascinated.

  The nun scratched under her beret.

  “That’s the very thing kept me up all night. Could I remember? I knew the keys were with all the others, thank goodness Sister Sarah is so organised, she writes a label and attaches it to the key ring.” The nun passed a piece of crumpled paper to Mia. In faded ink it read The Seahorse Hotel. “And then I remembered. He said, ‘if my goddaughter ever wants to know, give her the keys, the keys to The Seahorse Hotel.’”

  Ross stared at Mia, clutching the note.

  “Archie was my godfather?” She had tears in her eyes.

  “Of course. He couldn’t tell you, Fenella would have lynched him. Maybe even taken you away. We couldn’t have that, no way.” She bent to caress Mia’s cheek. “You meant the world to us, all of us.” She looked up at the portraits, giving them a wink. “Now, I must away, the champions of the future await.”

  And pulling her bag onto her shoulder she ran down the steps to her bicycle. She stopped to look back at the couple at the door.

  “Good performance down there, young man,” she grinned at Ross. “Haven’t seen the like of that in many a year.” She gave a quick one-two, punching the air. “Love a bit of prize-fighting myself, always have.” And with that, she pushed off along the gravel at a rate of knots.

  “I can’t stay either,” Ross frowned. “The heavy mob are over from the States, I’ve stuff to do.” He was striding towards the Daimler, parked skewwhiff on the drive. She liked the fact he was driving it, Archie would be pleased.

  “Ross, I owe you,” she called out to him.

  “No way, that guy’s a shmuck, you’re well out of that.” He jumped in. “And another thing … you need to get a grip on security. Doors open, no locks on the windows, jeez, you don’t even have gates up here.” He pointed at the crumbling entrance.

  “You’re right, must do something about that.” She looked down at the massive bunch of keys in her hand. Somebody must have been security conscious once upon a time. Ross left a trail of dust as he blasted away.

  As Mia closed the door she was smiling. Despite a most unpleasant episode with her very ex-fiancé, she felt good. Sister Agnes’s visit was a revelation and Ross Power was turning into not only a good neighbour but a true friend. Things were looking up.

  Standing alone in the hall, she cast about. She had never been scared in Galty House. She had been anxious, worried and frightened half to death in lots of other places but never here. Despite its size and decrepitude, Galty was home. She glanced up at the dozens of pairs of eyes staring back down at her.

  “And you lot can look sharp,” she told them. “There are going to be some changes around here, make no mistake!”

  First plan of attack, the silence. One of the keys fitted the grandfather clock. She opened the casement, set the correct time and wound it up, relishing the deep, soft tick.

  Next, armed with a can of WD40, she started trying all the locks, following Sister Sarah’s example of labelling keys, so she knew which fitted where. Mia was good at inventories, she liked things ordered.

  She had been putting off going back to the cellar until she was sure no one could surprise her again. With all the external doors locked, she decided to take a torch, a deep breath and descend the steps. There were still half a dozen keys that did not fit any of the locks she tried, but two small ones looked favourite for the safe.

  Bingo. They worked.

  Now the combination. A four digit code. She tried the year Archie was born. No go. The year Fenella was born, stupid, Fenella was not a Fitzgerald. Bernice? She could not remember how old Bernice was. She tried her own birthday. The safe door popped open as if it had been sealed only the day before.

  She swallowed, in two minds whether to lock it again; keep whatever was in there a secret. Curiosity won, she shone the flashlight into the dark recess. Well, what a surprise! She started to laugh, her laughter echoing off the dark, dank walls.

  The safe held a secret alright, a neat wine rack packed tightly with bottles. She eased one out, the label read Vosne-Romanée, Cros-Parantoux Henri Jayer, 2001. Mia had no idea about fine wine, but Archie did and as these were under lock and key, she surmised this collection was probably very fine indeed. She made a note of the name and placing the bottle back very gently, labelled the keys and locked the safe.

  Archie’s room was organised chaos. On the rare occasions dusting was on Leela’s schedule, she just went round everything, so Archie’s room had hardly changed in all the years Mia could remember. She pushed open the door, half-expecting to see her mother, poring over his vinyl, searching for something suitable for him to wear or stretched out on the chaise longue, gazing out to Phoenix Island re-imagining their lost youth. Well, that’s what Archie used to say.

  Pushing the melancholy in her heart to one side, she set about her task, trying doors and drawers but none were locked, such was Archie’s way, he always shared everything. She came to his desk, which belied the rest of the room. It was pristine, computer screens and keyboard just so, paperwork in folders, files neatly stacked. She opened a large drawer; a document case held insurance certificates, his passport. There was another file, it looked new, which was odd, Archie loved to recycle. She opened it.

  The title on the first page read,

  Harbour Spa Hotel – Phase II.

  She frowned, turning to the next page.

  ‘Introduction:

  Five star plus requires a number of essential facilities.

  The only facility the Harbour Spa Hotel is without is a golf course.

  Proposal:

  The adjacent property Galty House and estate, a total of 250 acres is ideally located for redevelopment, creating a nine-hole links golf course. This proposal outlines the redevelopment plans, including the purchase and demolition of said property.’

  As Mia lifted the document out a piece of paper fluttered to the floor. It was a photocopy of a handwritten note, it read.

  ‘I can now confirm the property has been willed to my client and once we are in receipt of the deposit, following valuation, the sale will proceed immediately after the demise of the current owner. By making the usual arrangements, unconditional planning permission will be granted for the redevelopment at the next appropriate planning meeting. I can also guarantee any other waivers or rights to the property will be declared null and void by the planning officer.’

  The words blurred before her. She scanned the page, no addressee, no signature. It was as if the note had been hidden in the report, passed discreetly to whoever was reading it. A done deal. The fate of Galty House sealed before Archie had even died.

  Mia sifted through the file, dates of meetings, phone calls, memos, agendas. Archie had it all, all the evidence he needed. The local mayor, the planning committee, architects and builders, everyone who could have queried any element of the project was on the payroll, the payroll of a paymaster with a vested interest ‒ The Power Corporation.

  She sank slowly to the floor, clutching the file to her chest, her head spinning. What with this and the letter from Eamon demanding she vacate Galty House immediately so a legal wrangle could take place to rob her of her inheritance … she was beginning to feel very uneasy indeed. She started re-reading the paperwork slowly. No wonder the ‘heavy mob’ was over from
the States. No wonder Ross Power was being nice to her, buttering her up.

  Well, the plan was coming unstuck. The plan to demolish Galty House, build a golf course and wipe away everything that meant anything to her had hit a glitch. A great big scary glitch called Mia Flanagan.

  BOARDOOM GAMES

  The door burst open. Ross looked up. His expression filtered a myriad of emotions; surprise, delight, concern and sensing the ball of fury inside her, fear.

  “You bastard!” she spat. “You two-faced, yellow-bellied bastard!”

  The room became still. The men gathered around the boardroom table stopped talking.

  “Mia, I …” He stood. “You just can’t …”

  “I can just.” She walked towards him, eyes blazing, copper curls bouncing angrily as she stomped. She slapped the file down where he had been sitting, upending his coffee cup. The man beside him started mopping it up.

  “Leave it,” he said, barely audibly.

  “You lied to me. You’ve been after Galty House all along. You need it, this place can’t survive without it, you have to have a golf course and it’s the only place you can build one. You’ve been trying to lull me into a false sense of security, hoping I’ll sell, give up my inheritance so you can make even more profit. You greedy, self-serving bastard.” She drew breath.

  “It’s not like that,” he spoke sharply. No cajoling, no apology. “Now, if you don’t mind, this is an important meeting. If we need to discuss anything I suggest you call my assistant and make an appointment. Good day, Miss Flanagan.”

  “Don’t you ‘good day Miss Flanagan’ me,” she snapped back, pointing at the file on the table, papers splayed out. “There’s the evidence, emails, records of phone conversations, bribes.”

  He was staring at her now. A man at the far end of the room coughed gently.

  “Miss Flanagan, you seem a little overwrought. Maybe some tea in the outer office, a little time to gather your thoughts?” He came towards her. It was Christie Power, Ross’s uncle, the global chairman of the hotel group. It was an important meeting.

  “I don’t need to gather my thoughts,” she told him. “I’ve gathered my evidence and I’m taking it to the police. I just wanted to warn Mr Power here to back off. Leave me and my property alone.” She glared at Ross.

  He glowered back, then flicked a switch on the desk. “Security to the boardroom, security immediately please.”

  Mia was astounded, had he really just sent for security?

  “Ross, surely …” Christie Power began.

  Ross raised a hand. “I’m in charge here.”

  The door crashed open and Joey Doyle’s vast bulk filled the space. He scanned the room. If there was trouble here, he was hard pressed to find it.

  His face sank with disappointment, it was the first time he had been called to action, he knew the big wigs were over from New York and he wanted to make a good impression.

  He noticed Mia Flanagan standing in the midst of the suits. They had made their Holy Communion together, she looked gorgeous as ever, flowing copper hair, bright shiny eyes, she had never changed.

  “Howaya, Mia?” he smiled sheepishly.

  “Joseph, please escort Miss Flanagan off the premises,” Ross barked. Joey’s smile froze. Surely they were only testing to see how long it would take him to get to the boardroom once the alarm went off. “Right now.”

  “Are you serious?” Joey doubted Ross was joking, Ross never joked.

  “Don’t worry, I’m going.” Mia gathered up her file. “You’ve not heard the last of this, Ross Power.” Joey followed her to the door.

  “Miss Flanagan is barred from these premises,” Ross addressed the security man. “Make sure everyone is fully aware of that.”

  “Yessir,” Joey replied. “Come along quietly now, Miss Flanagan.”

  “Ah feck off, Joey, what do you think I’m going to do, start screaming the place down?” Mia shrugged his hand from her arm. Joey had been one of the bullies, one of the cowardly sliveens who used to hide in the cloakroom and hiss, ‘Ssscandal’ whenever she walked past. “And you look a right eejit in that uniform, a cross between the Keystone Kops and Napoleon – doesn’t even fit you!”

  Joey blinked. That stung. The uniform was the best thing about the job.

  Mia was storming towards the car park when she heard someone call her name. She kept going. No one in this rotten place could have anything worthwhile to say to her, she had been taken for a mug once too often. She heard steps behind her, someone running to catch up. She quickened her pace.

  “Wait!” Mia was rugby tackled from behind. It was Pearl. “I tried calling but no one answered the phone. I should’ve guessed you’d come to get me, keep the faith, that’s what Sister Agnes says.”

  Mia looked down at the little girl. Pearl was dressed in school uniform, hair in bunches, wheeling a suitcase.

  Mia really did not have time for this now. Pearl’s childish flights of fancy had no place in her stressed out world of deceitful liars, two-timing bastards and crooks.

  “I came up with a plan.” Pearl gazed up at her. “To stay with you until my uncle’s gone back to the States.”

  “What? Pearl, you can’t stay with me. I’m really busy. Call me next week, we’ll talk then.” She marched off. Wheels rattled behind her.

  “Mia, please wait. I know they’ve come for me, I heard them talking, Uncle Christie’s brought men to take me back. I’m done for.” Mia gave Pearl a double take, she had obviously been reading Archie’s well-thumbed copies of Just William. She knelt in front of the little girl.

  “Pearl, listen. I’m sure it’ll all turn out okay. If you’ve to go back to the States you’ll just have to take it on the chin and do the best you can. That’s what we all have to do.” Pearl’s lower lip trembled. “Now, I’ve urgent business, I have to go.”

  Pearl’s eyes filled with tears. That’s what her mom always said when she went off and left her, sometimes for days on end.

  “Is it urgent mermaid business? I get that if it is. The rooms under the sea are leaking, they’ve been shut off. I told Ross the sea god was angry, you know, people trying to live in the ocean without the proper cred …cred…”

  “Credentials?”

  “S’actly. Without being mer-people. Guessing that’s what the business is, huh?”

  Mia sighed.

  “Pearl, I’m not a mermaid. They don’t exist and you’re old enough to know better.” Mia forced herself not to look back at the little girl in her uniform with tears in her eyes. She had enough on her plate.

  Driving past the station, she spotted another case-wheeler she recognised; Leela freshly returned from Torremolinos.

  “Thank God,” Leela’s electric smile was even brighter against her tan. “Not a taxi at the rank. Has the Driscoll fella done a bunk? Wouldn’t surprise me, never stays anywhere very long, scared his past will catch up with him, if you ask me.”

  Mia did not answer, eyes fixed on the road.

  “Did you have a good time Leela? What was the weather like? How’s your sister? Did you get any sex?”

  “Sorry?”

  “Just talking to myself,” Leela replied. “Jesus, slow down would you, where’s the fire?”

  “Brace yourself, I’ve bad news.”

  Leela put on her new Dior sunglasses. Bad news? Had Mia taken leave of her senses? There would never be bad news again, Archie was dead; that was all the bad news in the world in one fell swoop.

  By the time they had finished Leela’s bottle of sangria and opened the Spanish brandy, Mia had told Leela everything, even the gory details of Rupert’s visit. They were sitting on the bench looking out to sea.

  “I’m not surprised,” Leela said, sipping her drink.

  “About which bit?”

  “All of it. Someone was bound to contest the will. Bernice always said she would if Archie gave her home away but we all knew that would change once Humphrey was back on the scene.”

  Mia tasted t
he brandy, winced and put the glass down; she did not need a hangover on top of everything else. “Fenella said they were engaged once. Do you know what happened?”

  “Ah, Bernice can have a touch of the green eye,” Leela said. Mia raised an eyebrow. “Jealousy. She accused Fenella of having a fling with Humphrey, made his life hell and then dumped him saying she was joining the convent.”

  That did not surprise Mia, Bernice was always a bit on the pious side but Fenella and Humphrey? She found that hard to believe. Her mother loved the company of men but as charming as Humphrey was, he was certainly not her type.

  “Bernice changed her mind about the convent, but it was too late. Humphrey had married.” Leela poured another drink. Mia watched her. If anything, losing Archie had made her even more philosophical. Leela bent and kissed the snout of the green-eyed cat that had nestled on her lap. It was then Mia showed Leela the letter about the will.

  “Well, that has Eamon written all over it. Thinks he’s clever,” Leela announced, having read it. “He was caught drinking and driving one time, actually driving the car with one hand, a bottle of whiskey in the other. Tried to bribe the Garda to let him off with shares in his apartment in Croatia.”

  “I didn’t know he had an apartment in Croatia?” Mia said, surprised. Eamon always pleaded poverty.

  “He’d have got away with it if he had. The policeman went out there with his girlfriend, they hadn’t even put in the foundations. Came back and dropped Eamon right in it. Served him right.” Leela poured another drink.

  “And the golf course?”

  “Ah, sure I knew that was part of the plan.”

  “Did you see it in the cards?” Mia had great faith in Leela and the tarot.