My Mother's Secret

by Sheila O'Flanagan

  Colette turned right out of the gates and towards the lower road. She didn’t mind driving in difficult conditions – in fact she enjoyed the challenge – but there was no doubt that this was the most violent rainstorm she’d ever experienced. Nevertheless, she felt secure in the Santa Fe and comforted by the fact that Davey was in the passenger seat beside her.

  She glanced at him but he was looking away from her, out of the window. His profile was sharp and defined and his dark hair curled over the collar of his shirt, damp from the brief run from the house to the car. He hadn’t changed at all, thought Colette. He was still one of the best-looking men she’d ever known. Better-looking than any of her three fiancés. Better-looking than the most recent guy she’d broken up with, long before there was any talk of commitment or engagements. She wondered how it was that her cousin had managed to evade the clutches of a woman for so long. She thought about the very beautiful Camilla Rasmussen and sighed. She’d realised a long time ago that she didn’t have the kind of looks that girls like Camilla had. Her face was simply average, with a nose that was slightly too big and eyes that were a little too narrow. During her goth period she’d festooned her conk with piercings and nose rings and used masses of kohl on her eyes. She still had the marks of the piercings and she still used kohl, although not as extravagantly. Being a goth had worked for her for a few years but she’d grown tired of the entire subculture and hating the world. She’d added pinks and blues to her hair and then eventually had left the whole monochrome look behind. Now she’d gone with rockabilly, which allowed her to embrace her curves and her love of high heels. But nobody would ever call her glamorous or elegant. Not ever. In comparison to his girlfriend, she thought, Davey must think of me as an elephant.

  She shot him a glance, anxious that he might be able to somehow read her thoughts. But of course Davey Sheehan had never read her thoughts. Because if he had, he’d have known that ever since the summer she and her brothers had stayed at Aranbeg, she’d been in love with him. Miserable though her unrequited affection had made her, it had been the only saving grace of an even more miserable summer. She’d known there was something wrong between her parents. She’d been convinced that she and the boys had been shipped away to give them time to fight in private. Because it was all they seemed to do those days. Sarah would do something and James would pick a fight over it, and vice versa. It was exhausting and she hated it. But she hated even more being away from them and not knowing what was happening. Aunt Jenny and Uncle Pascal had been kind to them all, but Colette hadn’t wanted to be there. And she was driven demented by Steffie, much younger than her and nothing more than a child, who’d wanted to be friends and who questioned her incessantly about everything she did and poked around her room wanting to inspect her clothes, her books and her portable CD player.

  That was what had led to the incident in the apple tree, when she’d pushed Steffie and she had tumbled from the branches on to the grass below. Colette had nearly died of fright when she’d seen her fall but at the same time she’d been furious with the younger girl, who’d somehow managed to get hold of her diary. Colette’s big fear was that she’d read it. And read what she’d written about Davey.

  You are the one, she’d scrawled in her big, looping hand. You’re the one who lights up a room every time you walk into it. You’re the one who makes my day better. You’re the one who understands me. Because nobody else does.

  It was true. Davey had been lovely to her that summer. Despite being five years older and practically a grown-up, he’d treated her as an equal. He’d sat and talked to her about friends and family, school and holidays, cars and movies. He was easy to talk to. He didn’t patronise her like her brothers. He didn’t sound perpetually annoyed with her like her mother. And despite their age difference, she’d fallen in love with him and thought that he might have fallen in love with her too. She’d hoped that he’d wait for her until she was the right age for him. She’d almost convinced herself until the day Dervla Murphy had shown up and Davey had told Colette he couldn’t go into town with her because he was spending the day with Dervla instead.

  Dervla was an elegant brunette who lived in one of the neighbouring houses. Her family had been to the Canaries for three weeks. Now they were back and Colette realised that Davey had been kind and friendly to her, but that he was in love with (or at least fancied) Dervla Murphy. When Davey and Dervla were together, there was a completeness about them that wasn’t there when she was with him. She could see it. And it mortified her to think that she had, even for a moment, believed that her cousin could possibly be in love with her. She knew nothing about love. She was an idiot.

  And I never really learned, she thought as she slowed down at the flood water. I managed to think I’d found it three times, but I hadn’t. Because nobody has ever lived up to Davey Sheehan. Nobody ever will, and the worst part of it all is that he’ll never know that.

  ‘Oh my God, she couldn’t have got through this.’ Davey was staring out of the windscreen at the flooded road.

  ‘If she came this way she must have,’ said Colette. ‘Otherwise her car would be stuck here.’

  ‘That’s true,’ he conceded. ‘I was being stupid. Thank God you’re logical.’

  Maybe that had been the problem, thought Colette. She’d treated Davey like a friend. She hadn’t batted her eyes or said silly things or looked adoringly at him like Dervla had done. And so he’d never seen her as someone he could love, only someone he could talk to. He saw her as a logical person, not an emotional one. Not that it should matter now. She was, of course, long over him. It was just … there were some things you couldn’t put behind you completely. And for her, Davey was one of them.

  Back at the house, the family had divided up into various groups. Sarah, Jenny and Lucinda were sitting together in the living room. Paul, Pascal and Carl were in the kitchen. Poppy and Dougie were in the small annexe to the living room, watching a Disney movie. Roisin and Daisy, together with Alivia, Camilla and Bernice, were on the veranda. Summer was also on the veranda but she was standing apart from the others, engrossed in her mobile phone.

  ‘D’you think Aunt Steffie is OK?’ Daisy asked her mother.

  ‘Of course I do,’ said Roisin, who was trying to work out how on earth she could fix everything that had gone wrong today but not coming up with any kind of sensible plan.

  ‘Because Poppy said that you all nearly drowned coming back from the hospital. What if Aunt Steffie nearly drowns too?’

  ‘Poppy was exaggerating. And Aunt Steffie can look after herself,’ Roisin said.

  ‘But her car isn’t as good as Bernice’s,’ said Daisy.

  ‘She was silly to go out in the rain but there’s no need to worry.’

  ‘Your Aunt Steffie will be perfectly all right.’ Bernice’s words were calm and gentle.

  ‘She should’ve taken her phone,’ Daisy said. ‘I never go anywhere without mine. Mum won’t let me. She says it’s so she can keep track of me. I don’t like her always keeping track but it would be a good idea for Aunt Steffie right now.’ She looked defiantly at her mother.

  ‘It would,’ agreed Roisin. ‘But Aunt Steffie is a grown-up. She’ll be fine.’

  If it was me out there, that’d be true, thought Roisin. Because I can cope. That’s what I do. But Steffie – she’s hopeless. And I’m not sure she’ll be fine at all.

  ‘She’ll be fine.’ Sarah echoed Roisin’s words as she patted Jenny on the shoulder. ‘She’s a sensible girl.’

  ‘No she’s not,’ said Jenny. ‘She’s a dreamy and impulsive girl. She’s got her head in the clouds half the time. She does daft things and she’s not thinking straight right now.’

  ‘At least you know she gets all that from you and not the nude model.’ Lucinda couldn’t help herself.

  ‘Oh shut up, Luce,’ said Jenny tiredly.

  ‘You should’ve told us the truth about you and Pascal,’ said Sarah. ‘It would’ve made such a difference.’


  ‘How?’ asked Jenny.

  ‘I mightn’t have married James, for a start,’ replied Sarah.

  ‘And I wouldn’t have felt that I’d let Mum and Dad down,’ added Lucinda.

  ‘It’s not my fault.’ Jenny wrapped her arms around herself. ‘You can’t blame me for your choices.’

  ‘We always had to measure up,’ Sarah said. ‘And we were always falling short.’

  ‘Please don’t say that,’ begged Jenny. ‘Please don’t blame me for everything that’s gone wrong in your lives. And for how you feel about it.’

  Sarah opened her mouth but saw Lucinda’s warning look. And so she didn’t say anything else.

  Alivia was watching her mother and her aunts. She could tell by Jenny’s face that whatever was being said wasn’t what she wanted to hear, and she felt sorry for her. Today was meant to have been a huge celebration but it had turned into a total disaster. Which, if it wasn’t for everything that had unfolded, might have been funny, because Roisin had been her usual self in micromanaging everything and it had been amusing, on one level, to see the expression on her face when Jenny had dropped her bombshell. But Steffie … Alivia’s heart went out to her younger cousin. It must have been an awful shock for her to find out about her father like that. No wonder she went haring off into the rain. All the same, who would’ve thought it of Jenny? An illicit love affair. An unexpected pregnancy. And all that on top of the fake wedding in Rome! We all think, Alivia mused, that the older generation lead much duller lives than us, but the truth is that everyone has their own crisis to deal with.

  She took out her phone and frowned. No messages from Dermot even though she’d sent him a couple of selfies taken in the garden, and had then texted him to say that he was missing out on major drama at Aranbeg but that she’d fill him in later. He usually liked drama and scandal. She knew he was probably busy at the charity event but that didn’t mean he couldn’t send her even one text in reply to all of hers. Her main concern was that Sophie Fisher was at the event too, because she and Dermot were both patrons of the charity. There was no reason for Alivia to think that there was anything more than a professional relationship between them, but as far as everyone else was concerned, Sophie and Dermot were still a happily married couple. And despite what she’d said to Steffie earlier, Alivia wasn’t comfortable with the deception.

  ‘It is clear that Davey and Colette haven’t found Steffie yet.’ Camilla spoke as Daisy left the adults to get a drink, and drew Alivia’s attention away from her mobile, which she put back into her bag. ‘He would’ve called by now if they had.’

  ‘I guess so,’ Alivia said. ‘It might not have been such a good idea to go chasing after her. She’s an adult. She can look after herself.’

  ‘This is not what Davey says about her,’ Camilla said.

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Or Carl,’ added Bernice. ‘He always says that she has her head in the clouds. Like Jenny.’

  ‘She’s not as dopey as everyone’s making out,’ said Alivia. ‘She has her own business, for goodness’ sake.’

  ‘But she doesn’t make any money,’ said Camilla. ‘It is important if you have a business to know how to generate profit, don’t you think?’

  ‘Well …’

  ‘Davey told me she set up her business because she couldn’t find anything else. But that if it weren’t for her parents she would have no money because she’s living in their house rent-free.’

  ‘Not completely rent-free,’ Alivia pointed out, although she only had sketchy knowledge about Steffie’s financial affairs. ‘Besides, it takes time to build a business. It’s good of Pascal and Jenny to help her out while she finds her feet.’

  ‘I don’t disagree,’ said Camilla. ‘But I don’t know if she’ll ever find her feet, as you say. It seems to me that she’s a nice girl but not a businesswoman.’

  ‘You hardly know her,’ protested Alivia.

  ‘I don’t need to,’ said Camilla. ‘It’s easy to see.’

  ‘Not everyone has to be a ruthless businesswoman,’ said Bernice. ‘Sometimes it’s good just to be nice.’

  ‘Not if you’re trying to earn a living.’ Camilla shrugged. ‘I am not trying to be critical of Steffie. After all, I believe that there is more to life than simply making a profit. But you have to make some money to survive.’

  ‘Hopefully Steffie’s business will make money one day,’ said Alivia.

  Camilla said nothing.

  ‘Anyway, my sister’s career choices are hardly the most pressing issue.’ Roisin had kept quiet while everyone was analysing Steffie. ‘Where she’s gone and how she’s feeling are more important.’

  ‘She is embarrassed,’ Camilla said. ‘But there is nothing for her to be embarrassed about. So her father is not her father. And you are her half-sister. She will get over that. I have half-brothers and sisters. It is normal.’

  ‘Not for us,’ said Roisin.

  ‘It doesn’t matter who your biological parent is.’ Camilla was dismissive. ‘It is who you are that counts.’

  Easy to say, Roisin thought. Not always as easy to accept.

  Davey and Colette were debating about whether to go back to Aranbeg. They hadn’t seen Steffie’s car. In fact since they’d been out looking for her they’d only seen one other vehicle, a green Land Rover heading in the direction of McGovern’s farm.

  ‘She might have made it to Wexford,’ Davey said. ‘In which case we could be driving around for hours without spotting her.’

  ‘Does she have any money with her?’ Colette looked at him thoughtfully. ‘She left her phone behind; maybe she left her bag behind too. And that means she can’t stay anywhere.’

  ‘Why did she have to be such an idiot!’ exclaimed Davey. ‘I know she was upset, but running away never solves anything.’

  ‘Yet you did,’ said Colette.

  ‘Excuse me?’

  ‘You left Ireland after you split up with that girl, didn’t you?’

  ‘I left because I got a job in Denmark,’ Davey said.

  ‘But would you have taken it if you’d still been going out with Emily.’

  ‘How on earth do you know the name of my very ex-girlfriend?’ Davey asked in astonishment.

  ‘I’m female,’ said Colette. ‘We remember these things.’

  ‘Mother of God.’ He shook his head. ‘I hardly remember her name myself.’

  ‘I talked to Steffie about it before,’ explained Colette. ‘She told me she’d always felt a little guilty because she was the one who’d mentioned that she’d seen Emily with someone else.’

  ‘You women are incredible.’ Davey was still taken aback. ‘I didn’t even think you and Steffie were in touch with each other.’

  ‘We’re not that close,’ Colette said. ‘I bumped into her in town one day and she mentioned it.’

  Colette didn’t add that Steffie had only told her because she’d specifically asked how Davey was. When she’d heard, she’d had to stop herself phoning him to ask him if he was OK.

  ‘I certainly didn’t run away because of her,’ Davey said. ‘I admit that I was a bit hurt. But I would’ve taken the job regardless.’

  ‘And would Emily have come with you to Denmark?’

  ‘How would I know? It’s not something I ever even thought about.’

  ‘How is it that men get over things so quickly?’ she asked.

  ‘Hey, you get over things quickly yourself,’ he returned. ‘Three fiancés?’

  Colette was silent.

  ‘Sorry,’ said Davey. ‘I didn’t mean it to sound as though I was getting at you.’

  ‘You’re not,’ she said. ‘You’re right. Three of them and I don’t regret any of those break-ups.’

  ‘Why did you split with them all?’ he asked.

  Because none of them were you, she thought. Although that wasn’t what she said. Instead she joked that she liked engagements but not weddings, which made him laugh. And then they discussed again what to do about Steffie.
<
br />   ‘Tell you what,’ said Davey. ‘We’ll go back up the road, past the house. I’ve just remembered there’s a garage about two kilometres further along, on the way to Castlemoran. We’ll ask if anyone’s seen her. If not, we’ll give up and hope she’s found somewhere in Wexford to stay.’

  ‘Does she have any friends there?’ asked Colette.

  ‘She could have,’ said Davey. ‘I wouldn’t know, but perhaps Mum and Dad do. I’ll phone them and ask.’

  It was Roisin he called, and she told him that Steffie hardly spent any time at Aranbeg these days and that she didn’t know of any friends, but to hold on while she asked their parents. When she spoke again, it was to say that neither Jenny nor Pascal were aware of friends in Wexford, but that Steffie could, of course, have gone back to Dublin. They knew that her best friend there was called Brianna but they didn’t know her number.

  ‘I tried checking her phone,’ said Roisin. ‘But there’s a code and I don’t know it. I had two guesses, neither of which was right, so I stopped before I locked her out.’ The frustration in her voice was evident.

  ‘OK,’ said Davey. ‘Colette and I will give it one last shot and let you know.’

  ‘Good luck,’ said Roisin.

  ‘How’s Mum?’

  ‘So-so.’

  ‘And Camilla?’

  ‘She’s fine,’ said Roisin. ‘Why wouldn’t she be?’

  ‘Well, it’s not what you’d call a great introduction to the family for her, is it?’ said Davey. ‘She’ll think we’re all complete nutters.’

  ‘And she’ll be right,’ said Roisin.

  Davey disconnected the call while Colette turned the car around and began to head back towards Aranbeg. The flood at the end of the road was as deep as ever, but she drove through it quickly and fearlessly. Then she took them past the house and up the hill.