That Summer at the Seahorse Hotel

by Adrienne Vaughan

  Mia re-read the article and started to laugh. Something else now made sense too, it was time to make a call.

  “Where are you?” Trixie shouted, the line was crackly.

  “Galty House, think I’m staying. Is my mother there?”

  “Excellent news. Is it urgent? She’s giving an interview.”

  Mia would not normally interrupt.

  “It’s desperately urgent!” Mia insisted.

  “Sweetheart, what is it? What on earth is wrong?” Fenella cried into the phone.

  “I’ve seen the picture.” Silence. “You know, the picture. I’ve seen it.”

  “Really?” Fenella’s voice barely a whisper.

  “Yes, in one of Leela’s magazines.”

  “Oh.” Relief. “That picture! What do you think?”

  “I wondered why you were wearing all those bandana things with a pile of curls on top. A wig, right?”

  “Yes, been growing it out for ages, sick and tired of dying it, I was beginning to look like a witch.”

  “But why the wigs?”

  “Archie, really. He was so old-fashioned.‘Don’t change it, Fenella, your fans will hate it.’ Meaning he would hate it, trying to hold on to his lost youth. He could be a real control freak if you let him!”

  Mia silently agreed, Archie controlled Fenella that was for sure. “Well, I love it, you look amazing.”

  “Thank you, sweetheart, it’s so liberating, I can’t tell you!” It was the happiest she had sounded in a long time. “Must dash, darling, I’m giving another interview.”

  “One thing before you go, does The Red Kimono mean anything to you?” Did Mia notice a slight halt, just half a beat?

  “What was that?”

  “Red Kimono?”

  “I had one once darling, why?”

  “Anything to do with Archie?”

  Fenella was thinking. “Now you mention it yes, one of his bloody awful plays, imagine naming a play after a dressing gown, I ask you?”

  “Did you read it?”

  Fenella laughed. “Not at all, never read any of his plays, far too depressing.” The actress rang off.

  Mia frowned. If she never read any of the plays, how did she know they were awful? Poor Archie. One thing Mia did know, was where Archie kept his scripts, an old sea chest at the foot of his bed. Taking the photograph with her, she was unsurprised one of Bernice’s keys opened the chest and there right on top was a fresh sheaf of paper, The Red Kimono by Aloysius Fermoy Fitzgerald.

  Opening the first page, she saw that Archie had written an outline of the story set in the nineteen seventies. It was so melodramatic, so Archie, but could it be true? Mia had studied the era ‒ another world, another time. She knew this by the costumes she worked with, clothes reflected history. Today, of course, not everything was perfect but so many things had changed for the better. The past was indeed another country.

  Mia settled back and in the fading light started to read Archie’s dramatic and desperately sad play. By the time she had finished her face was wet, the desperation of the separated, unrequited lovers making her cry and once she allowed herself tears, she wept and wept, the relief painful and exquisite at the same time.

  Eventually wiping her eyes, she lifted the photograph for a better look. Now she knew who the characters in the play were based on. The young man wearing the love beads was Gregory, the trainee priest. The novice actress, Fenella and the jealous friend, probably Bernice. The cruel, sadistic Monsignor, inspired by the man she now knew was Bernice’s father and the brave rescuers, Archie and Humphrey, who else? And of course, the actress’s unborn child, herself, Mia.

  Emotionally drained, Mia curled up on the window seat and dragging a throw over her shoulders, laid her head on the script and was soon asleep. As she slept ‒ a strangely deep and dreamless sleep ‒ she could feel, somewhere in her subconscious a sweet release, the endless tossing and turning of many years easing away, no more anxious worrying, no more empty answers and no more questions, at least for now.

  Such a soothing, blessed release … at last.

  SHOWTIME

  Mia was in the kitchen, fabric swatches splayed across the table. Leela had overslept, there was little evidence of breakfast and not even a pot of coffee on the range.

  “Leela?” Mia tried.

  No reply.

  “You okay?”

  Leela was far from okay, she had been awake all night, not even a lavender bath or rum cocoa could soothe her. Mia had started clearing rooms, Galty House was opening for business next spring and there was much to do.

  In deference to the housekeeper Mia had decreed Archie’s suite Leela’s domain, leaving her to shift through his eclectic collections, deciding what to keep and what to skip. She had spent the week holed-up there with the green-eyed cat and apart from moving things from one side of the room to the other, not a lot else seemed to be happening.

  “Leela, what’s wrong?”

  “I’m sorry, love.” She turned to face her, Mia was shocked, Leela was in public without lipstick.

  “It’s the day that’s in it.” She stifled a sob.

  Mia thought for a second. “Of course, Archie’s birthday. Oh, Leela.” She put her arms around the older woman, who collapsed gratefully into her embrace. “What shall we do, the occasion needs marking we can’t let the old traditions slip.”

  “It was always a party on the beach, whatever the weather.” Leela sniffed.

  “So be it!” Mia gave a watery smile. “Maybe Pearl and Ross will join us?”

  “Taxi picked Ross up early, he’s taken the train to Dublin. Important meeting, Department of the Environment, I believe.”

  Mia remembered Ross said there would be a hearing, the results of the report he commissioned had been revelatory. The dredging and construction work carried out during the Harbour Spa Hotel’s build programme was dangerously substandard. Geological tests and subsequent findings had been ignored in favour of a quick fix, an entire stretch of coastline destabilised as a result. It appeared Ross had decided to take the blame, resolve the situation as best he could, he did not want the family name besmirched in anyway. Typical Ross.

  Mia fetched her new mobile. If she was to get to Dublin, fly to Manchester and back in time to be there for Ross she needed to get a wiggle on.

  Twenty minutes later she reappeared in the library where Leela was arranging lilies in a crystal vase. Mia had changed into a fabulous cream linen suit, soft against her golden skin. Leela thought she looked lovely, she also thought there was something very different about Mia today, she could do with the cards giving her a steer, any more changes she was sure she would implode.

  “I’m heading up to town, I’ll meet Ross there, give him a bit of support.”

  “Shall we save the birthday till this evening? Pearl and I can get everything ready for youse coming back.” Leela placed the flowers on the piano, she had been crying again.

  “Do you know what happened to him?” Mia asked, calmly.

  Leela followed her gaze, giving no indication she was surprised Mia was asking about the dark, handsome man in the photograph.

  This had been coming for some time, she had seen that much.

  “He got away alright. Convalescence in a convent in Kildare and then off to the missions in Africa.”

  “For his sins?”

  “For his vocation. But you’re right it’s tough enough out there.”

  “Did my mother know?”

  “No. She was so fragile with it all, and then losing her mother at the same time. Dr Morrissey thought it best she knew as little as possible, I’m sure she can’t remember half of what happened anyway.”

  “Or doesn’t want to.” Mia looked directly at her. “Anyone know where he is now?”

  “Maybe.” Leela touched her shoulder. “But that’s not for now, maybe when the time is right, love.”

  Mia looked into her shrewd eyes, brimming with tears.

  She knew what she meant, everything was st
ill raw after Archie, in flux, off kilter. The world needed to settle back on its axis, a new course set and steered towards.

  “You’re right.” Mia agreed. The green-eyed cat jumped off the sofa, giving his tail a languid flick. “You’re both right,” she said, not quite as convinced as she sounded.

  It was not long before Mia was zipping along the coast road towards the harbour, humming along to Elvis Costello’s Watching the Detectives and remembering Archie’s hilarious ‘one size fits all’ dance routine, when she was jarred back to the present by the siren and flashing lights of a squad car bearing down on her.

  The police car nipped out from behind. A camper van careering towards them blared its horn, wheels screeched as the three vehicles struggled to avoid each other. Both the Daimler and the camper van stopped nose to nose. The Gardai had somehow managed to squeeze through, going like a bat out of hell en route to the ferry port. The driver of the camper van stuck his head out.

  “Flippin’ heck that was close.” English accent, nice looking man about Archie’s age. “Phew! I’d rather have hit the police car than that.” He gave the Daimler an admiring glance. “Who do you reckon they’re after, gun-runners, drug-dealers, illegal immigrants?”

  “Probably just late for lunch!” Mia laughed, putting the car into reverse.

  Motoring on, Mia was pleased there was no roadblock at the roundabout as she turned onto the main Dublin road. She had a plane to catch. Yet if she had been forced to follow the gardai down to the harbour she would have witnessed a rather arresting scene.

  “Well, well, well if it isn’t me old sparring partner.” Sergeant O’Brien sauntered over to the solicitor.

  Eamon Degan pulled nervously at the collar of his new jacket.

  “Brendan, there you are!”

  “Haven’t seen you in a long time.” The policeman leaned against the railing. “When was it?” Eamon fidgeted. “I remember, I’d just arrived back from your non-existent apartment in Croatia.”

  “Ah, Brendan, water under the bridge.”

  Eamon surreptitiously kicked his travel bag to one side, casting about as if waiting for someone to arrive off the ferry.

  “Really? My wife was waiting for me with divorce papers when I got back. She didn’t know about the girlfriend until someone told her you were having a great laugh about a certain Garda headed to your ‘not quite finished’ apartment over there. The girlfriend wasn’t too impressed either.”

  Eamon started to sweat. The ferry was ready to leave.

  “I need to go,” he said. The policeman barred his way. Another Guard appeared at his side.

  “You do, in fact we all do. We all need to go to the station right now, you’re under arrest.” Sergeant O’Brien swung a pair of handcuffs in front of Eamon’s face. People queuing stopped to watch. “Will I be needing these?”

  “How dare you!” Eamon tried, but he was beaten. He knew he should never have listened to that eejit Driscoll, telling him to board at the harbour, act natural, no one will suspect anything. And where was he, the snidey, two-faced, slippery sliveen? Long gone, changed his name and on a cruise ship, half way to the Caribbean by now, jammy bastard.

  Mia was at the studio. Normally she would have found security intimidating, but nothing would stand in her way today.

  “I’m Fenella Flanagan’s daughter. I need to see her urgently, a private family matter.”

  The security man gave the attractive young woman the once over.

  “It’s a closed set today, I’m afraid.”

  “Well, I’m afraid you’ll have to open it. I have to see her, now!”

  “I’m sorry.”

  She spotted a rail of costumes being wheeled through a door. “Hello, wardrobe!” She shouted on the off chance.

  A spikey head popped up. “Bloody hell, about time too!” It was Lol. “Jeez look at you, look like a bleedin’ movie star yourself, what’s going on?”

  Mia glanced at the security man.

  “It’s alright Mick, she’s with me, wardrobe mistress,” Lol said.

  “She ain’t got no badge.”

  “She don’t need no fucking badge, her mother’s the lead, her ex-fiancé’s the baddy and I’m her best mate, got it?”

  “Alright, keep your hair on.”

  He handed Mia a visitor’s pass.

  Lol took her arm. “I can see by the outfit you’re not joining us then?”

  “I thought you were filming with Courtney?” Mia fell into step, helping Lol wheel the costumes away.

  “Haven’t your heard? He’s left the business. His granny in St Kitts is getting too old to run the restaurant, so he took his little girl and moved back. Far less stress and lots of sunshine, what’s not to like?”

  Mia smiled, pleased for him. It seems things were changing all round.

  “And Rupert’s here?” She glanced around, he was one person she did not want to run into.

  “Yeah, just a small role but he’s good in it. Not mended his ways mind but not as attractive as he was. He’s been in an accident or something, bashed his nose in. He told me he was going to get it fixed but since it’s happened he’s been offered more roles, so reckons he’ll keep it. Thinks it suits him, always was a vain bastard though.” They were walking through the back lot now, Lol needed a cigarette, some things had not changed.

  “Where’s my mother?”

  “Due on set anytime now.”

  “Her trailer?”

  Lol pointed. “Just there. What’s up?”

  “I’ve something to tell her.”

  “Oh, what’s that?”

  “I know who my father is.”

  “Archie! He told you!” Fenella had been expecting this, she waved the makeup boy away.

  “No, he didn’t tell me and how I know is not the point. But what I do want to know is, why haven’t you told me, ever?”

  Mia watched her mother fanning her face in the mirror, taking tight little breaths.

  “But darling you know why, he rejected us. Didn’t even acknowledge we existed. What would be the point?”

  “The point is, Mother what if he didn’t know about us? Maybe he had no idea.”

  “But he did know, I wrote to him, told him everything.” Fenella took a sip of water. “Darling this is not the time or the place, I’m due on set any second.”

  “But if he never received the letter?” Mia kept her voice calm. “What if the person sent to deliver it, destroyed it and he never knew. And what if he did try to get in touch and his efforts there were thwarted too.”

  Silence.

  “I’ve always suspected that might be the case. Archie always said not, but jealousy can manifest itself so wickedly.” Fenella looked at Mia in the mirror. “It was Bernice who destroyed the letter, wasn’t it?” she asked quietly.

  Mia did not really need to answer. Fenella had always known, her anger and despair had dissipated over the years but what she did not know was that it was Archie who had told Bernice to burn it – they were in it together.

  “He still rejected us though.” Fenella was remembering how Humphrey had tried to comfort her, telling her to prepare for the worst, to imagine she might never see Gregory again, because after finding him half-dead, who knew if he even survived.

  “How do you know that?” Mia pressed.

  A young female director opened the door. “In five please, Miss Flanagan.”

  “Of course, I’ll be right with you.” She looked at Mia through the mirror. “I never heard from him again …” Her voice broke in a sob. “I felt betrayed, abandoned. I was going to give you up, but I couldn’t, so I ran away with you instead. I was so desperate.”

  Fenella remembered only too well when the baby arrived she had loved it and hated it at the same time. Adoring its pale, squishy flesh, the scent of freshly washed skin and gripe water. Then despairing at its inconsolable cries, even though she rocked and rocked the shuddering bundle through the night.

  Arrangements were made, a new home for the infa
nt, a better start in life. But she ran away, taking the baby with her, the child she did not want yet could not give up, the wailing alien, sent to chain her to their sin forever. Oh, the shame of it, the scandal she had wreaked.

  Archie had found her, in a miserable bedsit in Liverpool and begged her to come home. ‘Let he who is without sin cast the first stone’, he told her and besides, it would be good to have a child in the house. ‘She belongs to us all’, he had insisted, smiling adoringly at the little auburn-haired dote.

  “And?” Mia pressed.

  Fenella gave one of her tremulous sighs. “Thank God Archie found me.”

  Although she hated having to come back to Galty House to throw herself on the mercy of those she imagined despised her.

  “You should have read more of his plays,” Mia told her. “Most enlightening.”

  Having devoured The Red Kimono is one sitting, she had read it again more slowly and it was good, very good. It also told of how the young priest had written repeatedly, his correspondence either intercepted or destroyed, an unspoken conspiracy to repress the truth, eradicate her father’s identity because the shame of it would have been too much to bear. It had certainly been too much for Ursula.

  Fenella was being called, camera waiting.

  “Darling, now is not the time. I’ll come back soon and explain everything, we can talk, you’ll understand, I had no choice.”

  Mia steeled herself.

  “No, Mother, don’t come back. You’re right, now is not the time.” No drama, no histrionics, not in Galty House, not in her home. She lightened her tone. “You know I’m turning Galty into a guesthouse?”