That Summer at the Seahorse Hotel

by Adrienne Vaughan

  “Wow!” Mia was grudgingly impressed. “What happened to the money?”

  “It’s disappeared and surprise, surprise, so have the dastardly duo.” Ross took a drink.

  Mia was shocked, so much had been going on behind the scenes. “Eamon did write, trying to scare me off.”

  Ross looked at her. “The bastard.” Then smiling wryly. “Good luck with that.”

  “What?”

  “Trying to scare you off … you’re terrifying.” He laughed. “And the other keys?”

  “The ones you dropped off? I forgot about those, where did they come from?” Mia went to retrieve them.

  “The hotel, I came across them in Lost Property. When I saw the seahorse, I thought they were worth a try here. No go?” He took the bunch from her, looking at them thoughtfully.

  “Haven’t tried, although you know that weird door in the library, the one that looks like it’s plonked in the middle of the bookcase?”

  Ross nodded, it stuck out like a sore thumb.

  “It’s never opened as far as I can remember … do you think?”

  They raced to the library, Mia was so excited she could hardly hold the keys. Ross took them, trying one at a time. No luck.

  “Wait,” Mia fetched the WD40. “This time turn the other way.”

  Ross tried again. Nothing.

  “Aargh!” Mia cried, kicking the base of the door in frustration. It opened, just a crack. They looked at each other, she pulled on the handle, the door swung wide.

  They stood open-mouthed before a steep, wooden staircase.

  “This place is full of surprises,” she said. “Come on!”

  He followed her up the creaking steps, cobwebs in corners and one single light bulb hanging halfway down. There was a door at the top, Mia pushed it open. They found themselves in the boiler room on the second floor, it had not been used for years.

  “Well, I never,” Mia folded her arms satisfactorily.

  The clock chimed the hour, it could be heard quite clearly from the top of the stairs. Ross stifled a yawn.

  “You’ll have hours of fun getting to know this place but I’m afraid I’ve had enough excitement for one evening.” He made a slight bow. “If you don’t mind, I’ll head to bed.”

  “Of course, goodnight,” she said, remembering her manners, a disused staircase in an old house was hardly Tutankhamen’s Tomb, she was probably boring Ross rigid.

  He took his leave and as he did she nestled down on the top step to ponder her find and consider the various questions fluttering through her mind, thoughts and images that just would not go away. She must have slept because that’s precisely where the green-eyed cat found her as dawn broke the following morning. She could hardly walk, she ached so. The cat stretched and followed her to bed, let some other early bird catch the worm for a change.

  THE RED KIMONO

  “Are you getting up?” It was Pearl, she was wearing her Irish dancing costume and a large black hat. Mia opened her eyes the merest slice. She tried to move; she was even stiffer today. Pearl pirouetted into the room.

  “You look nice, is it Thursday?” Mia whispered over the duvet.

  “Yes, I’m ready for my lesson.” She gave a quick high kick at the foot of the bed.

  “Humphrey and Bernice are having coffee with Leela, we’ve been packing boxes all morning, Bernice is going to live with him, happily ever after, that’s what Leela says.”

  Mia struggled to her feet and dressing as quickly as she could followed Pearl downstairs. Pearl stopped when she reached the mirror.

  “I’ll lose the hat.” She threw it onto the hall table. “Take care of that please. It’s to go with my project.” She did a little jig as she left.

  “Have you made your decision?” Humphrey stirred his coffee. “I’d understand if you thought it was too much to take on and you’ve your career, of course.”

  Mia was leaning against the sink; she had been turning things over in her mind.

  “I’ve time to think things through?”

  “All the time in the world.” He gave a warm smile. “There are funds invested for when you need them, you might want to put money into the house, do it up, sell it, whatever.”

  “How does Bernice feel? It’s her home after all.”

  “Not any more. We’re buying an apartment in Dalkey, turning one of the bedrooms into a studio so she can paint.”

  Humphrey laid down his spoon. “She’s in the morning room, she wants to talk to you. She still feels guilty about all that carry on with the will and Eamon. Although he’s gone too far as usual, ended up in a right mess, the eejit. No one’s seen sight nor sound of him or Driscoll, and the latest I heard is the practice is being investigated for embezzlement and not just regarding the Harbour Spa Hotel either.”

  Standing by the window Bernice looked younger somehow, in her new jeans and sailing top.

  “I’m delighted by your news,” Mia said, giving her a smile.

  Bernice’s expression was serious as she turned to face her.

  “Mia, I’ve something to say. Well, really something to ask.” Mia waited. “I’ve come to ask you to forgive me for being a silly, stupid girl all those years ago.” She was using Humphrey’s words, words they agreed she would say to release them, free them to get on with their lives.

  “Really?” Mia was intrigued.

  “It’s to do with your father.”

  “Archie?”

  “No, love.” Bernice took her hand. “Archie was not your father. It was a long time ago and times have changed but please don’t think badly of us, we were so very young – just teenagers really.”

  Mia stared at Bernice. She knew this day would come, she had hardly dared to imagine it but when she did it was always Fenella who told her what she wanted to know, her mother who finally told her the truth. But now, in reality, it was Bernice.

  “When it all blew up and the boy, only a boy really, was sent away, your mother asked for a letter to be taken to him, telling him she was pregnant and that she wanted to be with him, she wanted them to be together no matter what.” Bernice took a deep breath.

  “You discussed what was in the letter?” Mia was hardly able to speak, trying to imagine Bernice and Fenella ever being that close.

  “No. But I read it and after I read it, I’m afraid I destroyed it. He never received it and that was my fault.”

  “But why?” Mia’s voice was rising.

  “I wish I knew. It’s hard for you to understand but it was such a desperate time and I was scared, we all were, scared of losing everything, it was like the world had gone mad.”

  Mia watched the older woman and briefly she did look frightened, as if just remembering was terrifying too. Bernice gathered herself. “That doesn’t matter, not now. All that matters is you know I’m ashamed of what I did and I’m sorry. Your mother did try to tell him. Why he never got in touch again, I don’t know. We could speculate forever …”

  “But,” Mia stopped her. “You know who he is, you’ve always known and still you, my mother, Archie ‒ all of you ‒ chose not to tell me. Why? What was so awful I couldn’t know?”

  “I’m sorry Mia, it just wasn’t ‒ isn’t ‒ our secret to tell. We made a vow, Fenella would have lost her mind completely if any of us had let her down,” Bernice had tears in her eyes. “The way she felt he had.”

  Mia despaired, things would never change, whatever hold Fenella had over them, it would never be broken, the secret never told.

  She looked at Bernice. Bernice had been in her life as long as she could remember, teaching her to sew, arrange flowers, kindling her passion in art. Bernice made sure her homework was done, her school uniform immaculate. Bernice had been there, sometimes misguided but there, a constant. Bernice had always loved her.

  “It’s not for me to forgive you, I wasn’t even around when you destroyed that letter.” Mia looked into her eyes. “You’ve always done your best for me, Bernice and I love you for that.”

 
A cough. Humphrey at the door.

  “All done here?” he asked gently. “We need to be getting back, there’s a lot to do before we head off tomorrow.” Italy, of course. It was all falling into place, Bernice was exorcising her demons ahead of settling down to her new life with Humphrey.

  “Will you see Isabella?” Mia asked Bernice.

  “We’re having dinner with herself and Giovanni while we’re there, I’m looking forward to seeing them.” She gave Mia a nervous smile. “What about you love, what are your plans?”

  “I’ve a mind to stay,” Mia announced. “With Ross and Pearl needing a home and me letting the flat go, I think I’ll give it a few months, especially if I don’t have to rush into anything.”

  “That is a relief,” Leela had overheard. “At least I’m not being slung out on the scrapheap just yet.”

  Mia rolled her eyes. “Surely the cards told you all you need to know.”

  Bernice laughed and excused herself, she still had bags in her room. Mia followed Humphrey into the hall.

  “Humphrey, do you remember the staircase in the library?”

  “Sorry?” Humphrey was dragging on his jacket.

  “The staircase, behind that odd-looking door.”

  “Can’t say I do. Mind you, I wasn’t often allowed in the house. Archie’s mother thought I was a bad influence, I’ve had a hard time getting this family to love me, I can tell you.” He glanced up at the portraits, seemingly still unsure if he was accepted. “One last thing. Bernice wondered if there was a set of keys anywhere, seahorse charm on the key ring?”

  Mia thought for a moment, technically the keys were hers, they belonged to Galty house. “Not seen them.”

  As Humphrey looked around hopefully, he spotted the battered black hat on the hall table. Mia saw a flicker of recognition.

  “Where did that come from?”

  “Pearl found it, it’s for her project,” was all Mia was prepared to say.

  “For the journey.” Leela appeared, handing Humphrey hastily wrapped cake. “I was telling Humphrey all about the other night while you were upstairs, you and Ross over on the island, rescuing the little one from the well.”

  “Awful business,” Humphrey agreed, he had picked up the hat. No distinguishing marks as far as he could tell, could have belonged to anyone.

  Bernice arrived with her bags, the tears had started again, time to go.

  “Don’t be a stranger,” Mia called to her as she climbed into the car, she knew Bernice felt closer to Archie at Galty; they all did.

  “I’ll wait to be invited. It’s your home now,” Bernice said, then thinking better of her words, wound down the window. “When we’re back from Italy, we could come then.”

  Humphrey followed his fiancée. Mia stood at the door, watching him, thinking.

  “Humphrey, wait!” She ran out, catching him up.

  “What happened to the photos?”

  “Photos?” Humphrey was puzzled.

  “The ones you and Archie took from the school. The pictures of the student priests.”

  He gave her an odd look.

  “Sister Agnes said you had them.”

  “God knows, we often had a bonfire though, Mrs Fitzgerald insisted Archie burn all his seedy magazines and awful scripts. Doubtless ended up in one of them. Why do you want them?”

  “Just Pearl’s project.” she replied, waving them off.

  The Range Rover scorched down the drive. Humphrey Beaumont seemed in an awful hurry to escape.

  Leela was looking for Mia, with everyone gone the house was suddenly very empty. She found her in the library looking at one of the many photographs on the piano ‒ Archie and Humphrey playing guitars ‒ she was trying to decipher where it had been taken, there were buildings in the background, it could be the seminary on Phoenix Island. But no priests. The pictures Sister Agnes said Archie and Humphrey had stolen had probably been destroyed after all.

  “I thought that place was out of bounds,” she said when Leela appeared brandishing a duster on the pretext of attending to her ‘schedule’.

  “Not then, the general public weren’t permitted but they had a friend ‒ a trainee priest, they used to go over and see him.”

  “Who took the photo?”

  “Bernice, I’d say. She got the camera for her birthday that year. The latest, a Polaroid, very expensive.”

  That explained why the pictures suddenly changed from grainy black and white to technicolour. Not the realistic colours of today’s imagery but garish yellow, tangerine, bright red.

  “They look a bit orange,” Mia said.

  “It was a very hot summer.” Leela took it from her, gazing at them pictured there in the sunshine. She gave the frame a cursory flick and put it back.

  “Who gave Bernice the camera?” Mia asked.

  “My father.”

  Startled, they turned round. They hadn’t heard Bernice enter the room.

  “I forgot something.”

  “I’ve never really looked at this before, was it taken on the island?” Mia said.

  “It was.” Bernice confirmed. “Our own private paradise, music, dancing, barbecues … heavenly.”

  “Shouldn’t have been there at all,” Leela muttered under her breath.

  Bernice put the photo back. “I had permission to go whenever I wished, special dispensation if you like.”

  “Because you were an artist?”

  “Because of my father.”

  She picked up another frame. A black and white photo of a group, formally dressed, a reception of some kind.

  “Here he is.”

  She passed the picture to Mia, who was fully expecting to see the elegant features of Mr Fitzgerald, an image rarely displayed in the house. But Bernice was pointing at another man. A broad handsome man, dressed in black, standing next to Mrs Fitzgerald, laughing.

  “Monsignor Sylvester Whelan. My father.”

  Leela gave a loud harrumph. Mia was stunned to silence.

  “He and my mother were in love. When she found she was pregnant, to avoid a scandal she asked Mr Fitzgerald to say the child was his. They had an agreement. She would leave him to his life in Dublin and we would live here, the official explanation being I was the result of a brief reconciliation that didn’t work out.”

  “Wow,” Mia said when she finally found her voice. She had been so preoccupied with her own back story, she had never considered anyone else might have an equally dark secret hidden in the closet, least of all Bernice.

  “I’m sure it happened a lot.” Bernice could see she was shocked. “No one free to say they’d made a mistake, the wrong choice. Everyone supposed to just get on with things, some people desperately unhappy and others living a lie, a miserable state of affairs.” Bernice gave the photograph a sad glance.

  “But what happened to your father, did you know him well?” Mia pressed.

  “He could never acknowledge me officially of course, but he was always kind to me. Disappeared the night of a terrible storm.” Bernice was standing by the window now, gazing out to sea. “That was the worst night of our lives, wasn’t it Leela? How any of us survived I will never know.”

  A car horn sounded. Bernice sighed heavily. “I have to go. I’ll call when we get back.” The door closed.

  “What on earth was she talking about?” Mia looked askance. “The worst night of your lives?”

  “Not for me to say.” Leela replied, glaring after Bernice. “Not my place, I’m just the hired help around here. I’ve never been allowed to forget that.” And taking the unemployed duster from the desk she left the room.

  But Mia was rattled. Bernice’s confession was one thing, her way of clearing the decks ready for her new life but now with ‘the letter’ and the ‘worst night of their lives’ mentioned on the same day, almost in the same breath, surely more clues would come to the surface. The story was definitely emerging and she felt that if she just held her nerve, Galty House would tell her all she needed to know.

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nbsp; Fired up, Mia started striding around the room, books everywhere; pictures too, on walls, in frames, standing on every surface. Where would she look when she did not even know what she was looking for?

  She stood at the desk by the window and finding a tissue started cleaning the picture frames. She stopped, holding in her hand a colour photograph, a row of men. Had it always been there? She looked again. Some of them wore dog collars. Of course, trainee priests. She looked closer; the one in the middle stood out, tall and dark, no dog-collar. His striped shirt was open at the neck and he was wearing beads. Choker-style love beads, silver and blue against his tanned skin.

  She nearly dropped the picture and catching it just in time, caught her nail on the clasp as the back came away. Turning it face down to put it back together she saw there was handwriting on the reverse. It read – Gregory, centre stage, The Red Kimono – in Archie’s mad scrawl.

  Gregory, whoever he was, was wearing Pearl’s necklace.

  Mia felt a shiver crawl along her spine, why had Archie saved this one photograph and hidden it so cleverly, on full display? She had never noticed it before and why would she? It was unremarkable and then she spotted another picture, one taken in the library, Archie at the piano, Fenella close by, probably singing. There was something odd about it, where the door now stood there was no door but a bookcase. The staircase had been hidden behind the bookcase, a secret staircase. Mia was bemused, the longer she was here the more the house seemed to want to reveal. So what was The Red Kimono, a code, a message?

  “I’m back!” Leela called from the hall. Mia had not realised she had left

  “In the library.”

  Leela lumbered in waving a celebrity magazine.

  “Look at this.” She pointed at the cover. The headline screamed, ‘Silver Star Strikes Out!’ above a picture of a beautiful woman, cropped silver hair, draped in a sheath of metallic silk. It was Fenella. The story read:

  Irish actress Fenella Flanagan revealed her fabulous new look at a star-studded premiere in London last night. Fenella, famous not only for her award-winning performances but her trademark blue-black hair, declared it was time to reveal ‘the real me’. In an exclusive interview with Outre! Fenella said: “I’m a woman of a certain age being offered more roles than I know what to do with, it’s a great time to be in this business as it at last recognises one of our greatest gifts is age and wisdom. I applaud my age, I salute silver, bring it on.’