My Mother's Secret

by Sheila O'Flanagan

  It’s only the women on Mum’s side who stay single, Steffie mused as she closed her eyes again. On Dad’s side, they’re all married. But perhaps I was right when I told Roisin there was nothing else to do in the nineties. All the married women are hitting forty. All the single ladies are in their late twenties or early thirties. We’re a different generation. We have a different outlook. And that’s a good thing.

  A distant chime startled her and she sat up abruptly, sending a tidal wave over the side of the bath. She swore under her breath and for a brief moment wondered if it was Steve after all. Maybe he’d phoned her from his car on the way down to the house and had told her he wouldn’t be there so that she’d be pleasantly surprised when he did turn up. Highly unlikely, she admitted to herself as she got out of the bath and grabbed two towels, one for herself and one for the wet floor. It wasn’t his style. As she hastily wrapped the towel around her, it caught the edge of the stool and knocked her mobile to the floor, where it slid across the white tiles and slammed into the wall. Her heart sank as she picked it up. But although the screen was cracked for the third time in as many months, the phone itself was still working. She gave both it and herself a hasty wipe with the towel before pulling her dress on to her still damp body and then hurrying down the stairs in her bare feet, re-securing her hair with clips as she ran.

  ‘All right, all right,’ she yelled as the bell rang again. ‘Give me a second.’

  At first she could hardly make out the man on the doorstep in front of her, shielded as he was by a simply gigantic bouquet of flowers arranged in a bronze vase. But then he lowered them and she could see that beneath a shock of ink-black hair, and day-old stubble, his indigo-blue eyes were sharp and piercing and looking at her with recognition.

  ‘Hi,’ he said. ‘Sorry if I disturbed you. It’s Steffie, isn’t it?’

  ‘Um, yes.’

  ‘You don’t remember me, do you?’

  Steffie hated when people did this. Nobody in the world could be expected to remember everyone they’d ever met. And she met a lot of people these days. Although, given the still precarious nature of her business, she could always do with meeting more.

  ‘I’m sorry.’ Better to ’fess up now than try to pretend. ‘I’m not sure …’

  ‘Liam. Liam Kinsella,’ he said.

  It took a moment and then she remembered.

  ‘Liam Kinsella? Michelle’s brother?’

  The Kinsellas lived in Castlemoran and she and Michelle had played with each other as children during the long summer holidays. But they’d lost contact when they’d left school and Steffie hadn’t heard from the other girl in years.

  ‘You’ve changed,’ she said, barely managing to keep the shock out of her voice. When she’d known him, Liam had been a barrel of a boy. Overweight, with train-track braces on his teeth and a perpetual hangdog expression, he hadn’t given any indication of turning into the undeniably attractive man standing on her doorstep.

  ‘So have you.’ His eyes flickered up and down her body and she suddenly realised that her cotton dress was sticking to her. And that she hadn’t bothered with any underwear.

  ‘Yes, well,’ she said as she tugged at the dress and hoped that it wasn’t too revealing. ‘What can I do for you?’ As far as she remembered, he hadn’t been invited to the party. Neither had Michelle. Although Mr and Mrs Kinsella were on the guest list, and had accepted.

  ‘Mum asked me to bring these around,’ he said, indicating the floral display in his arms. ‘She wanted to get it here early so that you could place it somewhere suitable.’

  ‘That’s really nice of her,’ said Steffie. ‘It’s gorgeous. And very extravagant.’

  ‘Mum owns the florist’s,’ Liam reminded her.

  ‘Oh. Yes. So she does.’ Steffie had forgotten that too. The truth was, she’d left her life at Aranbeg and all the people in it behind her a long time ago. ‘I’ll put it on the veranda,’ she suggested. ‘It’s where most of the party will be happening.’

  ‘Do you want me to carry it for you?’ asked Liam.

  ‘If you wouldn’t mind.’ It wasn’t that she was weak or feeble or anything, but the arrangement looked heavy and Steffie didn’t fancy dropping it on the floor that she’d swept and washed half an hour previously. She led the way to the veranda, where Liam commented on how festive the celebratory banners and balloons made it, before placing the floral arrangement on a small table that he thought was prominent enough to satisfy his mother.

  ‘It really is nice of your mum to send it,’ said Steffie.

  ‘She’s good with flowers,’ agreed Liam.

  Steffie vaguely remembered occasionally calling to the florist’s to meet Michelle. She’d liked the scent of the cut flowers and the artistic way that Liam’s mum had arranged them.

  ‘Do you work with her?’ asked Steffie.

  Liam grinned. ‘Not me. I’m a chef.’

  Recalling the fact that she’d rarely seen him without some kind of food when he was younger, Steffie wasn’t altogether surprised. Although clearly he cooked more than he ate these days.

  ‘In Cody’s,’ added Liam. ‘It’s my restaurant.’

  ‘You own a restaurant?’ And perhaps that shouldn’t have been a surprise either.

  ‘The best in town,’ he assured her. ‘If you’re staying for a while, you should come and eat there. I guarantee you’ll like it.’

  ‘Unfortunately I’m going back to Dublin first thing,’ Steffie told him.

  ‘That’s a shame. We do a superb Sunday lunch at Cody’s.’

  ‘Sadly, I have to pass,’ she replied. ‘Another time, maybe.’

  ‘I look forward to welcoming you.’ He smiled at her. ‘What are you doing with yourself these days, Steffie?’

  ‘I’m a graphic designer,’ she said. ‘I have my own company.’ She added the last with a touch of pride.

  ‘Good for you,’ said Liam. ‘I always thought you’d end up in something arty. I remember you trailing around the place with notebooks and pencils, drawing stuff. Just like your mum.’

  ‘Oh.’ Steffie was taken aback. She hadn’t thought he would’ve noticed her at all. Older brothers generally didn’t have time for their younger sisters’ friends. ‘Well, I suppose you’ve found your right choice of career too.’ Even as the words were out of her mouth she felt her cheeks flame, and regretted her lack of sensitivity.

  ‘I always loved my food,’ he said, unperturbed. ‘Now I love cooking it for other people. So do please drop in if you change your mind and stay longer. Or indeed any time you come down.’

  ‘Thank you. I will.’

  ‘Meantime it looks as though you’re all set up for a great party,’ Liam said.

  ‘I think we’ve gone a bit overboard on the red.’ Steffie wrinkled her nose as she looked around her. ‘But it’s their ruby wedding so we’ve kind of embraced the theme.’

  ‘They’ll love it,’ he assured her.

  ‘Hope so.’ She hesitated. ‘We didn’t invite you or Michelle, did we?’

  Liam shook his head. ‘But I wouldn’t have expected you to.’

  ‘All the same … if either of you want to drop by, you’re very welcome.’ She shrugged. ‘It’s a case of the more the merrier.’

  ‘I’m working tonight, and Michelle is away on holidays, but thank you anyway,’ said Liam.

  She nodded. ‘Of course. Saturday night must be your busiest.’

  ‘Thankfully,’ said Liam. ‘I’ll be off. I hope you have a wonderful time and that the weather holds.’

  ‘Fingers crossed,’ said Steffie. ‘Thanks again for bringing the flowers, and tell your mum we’ll see her later.’

  ‘Will do.’ Liam gave her a cheerful smile and turned back towards his car at the front of the house. ‘Lovely seeing you again, Steffie. You look fantastic.’

  When he was gone, Steffie went back upstairs to the bathroom. She picked up her cracked phone and checked the weather forecast. The icon had changed from a smiley sun to white
clouds, although the temperature was still high. So was the humidity.

  She closed the app, then looked at herself in the full-length mirror and squeaked in horror. Thanks to her damp skin, the dress was practically see-through. Liam Kinsella had probably been laughing at her, if not leering at her, the whole time. She went into her room, peeled it over her head and put on the light robe hanging from the door instead. Then she opened her overnight bag and took out the summer dress, white with a purple floral print, that she’d chosen to wear to the party. She was fastening the tiny mother-of-pearl buttons when she heard the sound of the front door opening.

  She waited, immobile, until she heard Roisin call her name. Then she stepped on to the landing and peered over the banister.

  ‘That was quick,’ she said. ‘You must’ve driven like a maniac.’

  ‘Not a bit,’ said Roisin. ‘I was in Bunclody when I rang you.’

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘Anyway, Paul texted a while back. He managed to delay them some more because Dougie insisted Dad help him shower.’

  ‘Good old Dougie,’ said Steffie.

  ‘They won their match,’ Roisin said in satisfaction. ‘And I bet Dad enjoyed it anyway.’

  ‘Are Mum and Dad on their way now?’

  ‘I guess so. There were getting ready to leave when Paul texted me.’

  ‘You still think he’ll manage to get here ahead of them?’ Steffie sounded doubtful.

  ‘Everything was ready. I laid out Poppy’s dress and Dougie’s shirt and shorts earlier. Daisy, of course, has had her own outfit selected since last week, and despite the fact that she takes an age to get ready, she’s been primping herself all day. So they don’t have to do much and at least this way I get time to do my own make-up.’

  ‘Mum wasn’t suspicious when you left with a case?’ asked Steffie.

  ‘I put most of my stuff in my biggest handbag,’ said Roisin. ‘Anyway, let’s have a look at what you’ve done so far.’

  Still fastening the buttons of her dress, Steffie came downstairs again and both sisters walked to the veranda.

  ‘Not bad,’ said Roisin as she rearranged the balloons. ‘When did you get the flowers? They’re nice. A bit OTT, but nice.’

  Steffie told her about Liam’s delivery of them.

  ‘That was good of Mrs Kinsella.’ Roisin moved the arrangement to a different part of the veranda and looked at it critically. ‘Better there,’ she said. ‘D’you think we should’ve invited Liam and Michelle?’

  ‘I asked him if he’d like to drop by later,’ said Steffie. ‘But he’s working and Michelle’s away. He owns a restaurant, by the way. Cody’s. He’s the chef.’

  ‘Really?’ Roisin looked surprised. ‘Mum never told me that. Hopefully he doesn’t mind that I cancelled their reservation.’

  ‘What reservation?’

  ‘They were supposed to be eating there tonight. That’s why I asked you to put out Mum’s black dress. It was what she’d planned to wear.’

  ‘No! Maybe she would’ve preferred a flashy meal out to a party.’

  ‘Don’t be silly,’ said Roisin. ‘Nobody would prefer dinner in a restaurant to a party.’

  Steffie said nothing.

  ‘Where are the lanterns?’ asked Roisin.

  ‘Oh, sorry, I left them in the car,’ replied Steffie. ‘I’ll get them now.’

  ‘I got some citronella torches too,’ added Roisin. ‘To keep the midges away. Get them as well, will you?’ She handed her car keys to her sister.

  Steffie left Roisin rearranging the veranda while she ferried in the torches as well as the half-dozen glass lanterns plus candles that she’d picked up from Roisin earlier in the week. Roisin had got them on one of Lidl’s discount promotions, saying that it was too good a deal to pass up and that even though Jenny and Pascal already had some lanterns themselves, a party situation needed more.

  Roisin always thought of the extra touches, Steffie acknowledged as she placed them on the veranda, and then noticed that her sister had scattered red and gold foil hearts on the table. She’s good at this sort of stuff. And I shouldn’t doubt her. It’s going to be a great party. She’ll make sure that it is.

  Chapter 6

  Steffie and Roisin were drinking pre-party glasses of wine on the veranda when the first of the guests showed up. Roisin went to answer the door because she half expected that it would be Paul and the children, but the arrivals were her mother’s younger sister Sarah and her eldest son Carl, who was accompanied by a striking young woman that neither Roisin nor Steffie had ever seen before. Carl’s companion was wearing a very short, very low-cut yellow sundress and matching yellow high-heeled sandals. Her champagne-blond hair was arranged in a deliberately messy updo, secured by diamanté clips and topped by a pair of sunglasses with heart-shaped frames. Her wide blue eyes were accentuated by even bluer metallic eyeshadow, while her lashes were sweeping and black. Her lips were cherry red. Carl introduced her to them as Summer.

  ‘Summer, as in the season?’ asked Roisin after she’d greeted her aunt with a kiss and a hug, then given her cousin a peck on the cheek. He hadn’t emailed his acceptance until the last minute, adding that Bernice, his girlfriend of eight years, wouldn’t be with him owing to the fact that they were currently ‘on a break’ but giving no indication that he was ‘on a break’ with someone else. And that the someone else bore no resemblance to his former girlfriend, who outwardly at least was as staid as Summer was startling.

  Summer herself giggled at Roisin’s question and confirmed that she was indeed named after the season, although she’d originally been called Sarah.

  ‘Like Carl’s mum,’ she added, giggling again. ‘So just as well I changed it for career purposes.’

  ‘And that career is?’ Steffie was finding it hard to believe that this girl was Bernice’s replacement. It was as though Carl had deliberately sought out the polar opposite of the woman he’d lived with for nearly a decade.

  ‘I’m a model,’ said Summer, a reply that made Roisin immediately determined to keep her well away from Daisy. ‘Thanks for inviting me,’ she added. ‘I’m really looking forward to the party.’

  Roisin didn’t say that the invitation had gone to Carl and Bernice, and that it hadn’t made any mention of substitute girlfriends. Steffie, seeing that her aunt’s eyes were hard and flinty, guessed that Sarah hadn’t known there’d be a substitute either. When she’d last spoken to her a month or so earlier, Sarah had been mentally planning Carl and Bernice’s wedding.

  ‘What would you like to drink?’ she asked her now.

  ‘Gin and tonic,’ replied Sarah. ‘Make it a double.’

  ‘And you?’ Steffie looked at Summer.

  ‘A mojito would be nice.’

  ‘I don’t actually know how to make mojitos,’ Steffie confessed. ‘I know it’s rum and mint leaves, but …’

  ‘If you have the ingredients, I can do it myself.’ Summer beamed at her. ‘I’m good at mojitos. And daiquiris. Cocktails generally.’

  ‘Um, OK then, as you’re the expert …’ Steffie led the way into the kitchen, the other girl following her.

  Meanwhile Roisin looked quizzically at her aunt and cousin.

  ‘I said he shouldn’t bring her,’ Sarah told her. ‘I said it was very bad manners.’

  ‘Oh, chill out, Mum,’ said Carl. ‘It’s a party.’

  ‘It’s fine, Aunt Sarah,’ said Roisin, although inside she agreed totally with her aunt. In her view Carl shouldn’t have brought anyone other than Bernice. And certainly not this … well … the girl might call herself a model, but given the way that she was bursting out of that dress, the word ‘glamour’ should clearly have been put in front of it. There was no way Summer would be gracing the catwalk, not with those boobs. Page 3 was another story altogether. However, Roisin didn’t want to start off the party by arguing with the first guests, so she simply turned to Carl and asked him what he was going to have to drink.

  ‘I’d love a beer,’ said Carl
.

  ‘We have a cooler over here.’

  She led him to the other end of the veranda, where she took a can of beer from the large tub of ice in the shadiest corner and handed it to him.

  ‘Don’t go all judgemental on me, Ro,’ he said as he pulled the tab.

  ‘Judgemental? Me?’

  He laughed. ‘Come on. It’s written all over your face. You’re looking at Summer and you’re thinking that she’s a total ditz and you’re horrified to have her here.’

  ‘I’m thinking that it would’ve been nice to know in advance she was coming,’ Roisin told him.

  ‘Sorry about that. I didn’t know myself until yesterday.’

  ‘Carl!’

  ‘I asked her and she said yes.’

  ‘How long have you known her?’

  ‘Not long. But I’m having a good time with her. She’s fun to be with.’