The food was better than Atlas even, and it was humbling to hear the incredible charity work so many forfeited their time and goodwill for. With unimaginable prizes, the auction alone had raised over thirty thousand pounds, which, along with the rest of the evening’s proceeds, were going to be divided between Grace’s three named charities, helping bereaved families, children living with cancer and medical research.
Everyone was in good spirits by the time it came to Fergal’s final address of the night.
Ciaran leaned into me. “Each year, after he’s said his thank-yous to everyone, Fergal nominates which of the board of directors has done the most over the year to keep him from being arrested.” He smiled. “It’s a bit of fun, his way of saying thank you and sorry all in one go, without getting sentimental about it.”
“Sounds like a twenty-four-seven job.” I smiled. “What does the nominated great one get for their trouble?”
“Nothing, just his appreciation. Which holds weight with any one of them.”
The whole room listened attentively as Fergal brought us to the end of the night.
“Now then,” he said assuredly, looking at his fingernails before grasping the back of his chair again. “As yeh know, each year it falls teh one person teh hold their hands up an’ admit that ma ongoing freedoms—teh go about ma unconventional lifestyle with questionable integrity an’ little regard—are in part, often largely, down teh them. Teh their unfaltering reliability an’ steadfastness as not only ma colleague, but ma friend.” I looked over to see James Sawyer, completely unperturbed at hearing all the qualities he lacked in a man. It made me cold to think of him turning the holly forest into money. “Over the years I have appointed a true gentleman, an’ two not-so-gentle women, for this accolade, an’ I’m glad teh see all of them present tonight.”
Cordial laughter rippled across the audience. Ciaran leaned over to me and whispered, “I’ll bet you eighty-two pence and a kiss that Bertie Randall gets it this year.”
I shushed him and kept listening.
“But am afraid I havenae been honest with yeh, an’ the time has come for me teh set the record straight.” Ciaran shifted uneasily in the chair next to me. “Cancer is a wicked disease. It gets into the heart of a family, an’ causes damage that cannot be cured by medicine or miracle. I couldn’t help ma beloved Gracie in her fight, but shamefully I have shied away from ma own. Well. No longer.”
Ciaran stood from his chair next to me, and looked across the room of attendees at his father. Clara, her father, Mary, Penny... Every face I knew had the same look of bemusement on it.
Fergal locked eyes on his son. “Sit down, boy. Let your old man finish, eh?”
Ciaran looked around himself awkwardly. Then, across the room a gentleman stood, looking over this way. Another gentleman behind the first did the same.
“Let your father speak, Ciaran,” said the first, calmly. He didn’t sit back down.
“Bertie’s right, lad. Let him speak,” echoed the second.
Behind us, a woman’s voice much nearer. “Let him speak, Ciaran.”
Mary leaned past me towards Ciaran’s waist. “Ciaran, if the board aren’t worried, you’ve no need to fuss,” she whispered. “Sit down.”
Ciaran slowly took his seat again. The jokiness in him was gone.
“My boy, everyone,” Fergal said. “Who, despite my best efforts, has turned out not too badly at all.”
I looked to Ciaran, the tension undulating from him, but he was fixated by his father as if Fergal were talking only to him.
“He turned thirty years of age a few weeks ago. Can you believe that? A know, a dinnae look old enough.” Fergal laughed lightly to himself before the seriousness found him again. “For the last seven years, Ciaran, ma son, has shown the loyalty and tenacity of a man twice his years. As you all know, when Ciaran first made it through the builder’s boot camp I inflicted on him, the company was not at its best.” Like her father, Clara seemed unruffled by the reminiscence. “What yeh dinnae know, what none of you outside of ma unflinching board of directors know, is that since Ciaran was twenty-three years old, he has dedicated himself to cleaning up ma mess an’ saving what we’d built up here. Ciaran, along with the directors, slowed the demise of Argyll Inc. an’ grabbed it by the reins when I dinnae have it in me teh even get out of bed.”
Flurries of whispers floated around us.
“It was not me who led the board in getting Argyll Inc. back on track, but ma boy.”
Whispers grew into murmurs.
“He’s come in for a lot of criticism, an’ he’s had a lot to prove. Had he have been like the rest of us, he’d have never sworn the board to secrecy to save belittling me to the rest of ma peers. He’d have enjoyed the praise he was worthy of, instead of allowing the rest of the world to regard him as some snot-nosed kid hanging on to his father’s coat-tails.”
Ciaran’s hands were stiff against the table.
“But ma son is not just ma son. He’s Gracie’s, too...and his mother’s influence still resonates inside him.”
There were no whispers, no murmurs now, but Clara at least looked less comfortable.
“Ciaran, you are true of heart. You have galvanized Argyll Inc. Son, you’ve galvanized me. But it’s time that you took your rightful place at the helm. Not standing in the shadows so that a can save face, but driving the family business. The business a started, and you’re going teh continue pushing forward.”
Mary was dabbing her eyes with one of the napkins. Ciaran had gone quite still next to me.
“Son, there isnee an award big enough fer what you’ve done fer me. So am giving you what you’ve earned. I’m giving you the company.”
Mary’s whimpers grew, and from behind me somewhere another woman began to sniffle.
“Would you all stand with me now an’ raise a glass, in toasting the new CEO of Argyll Inc., ma son! Ciaran Argyll!”
I just caught sight of Penny, a furious pout on her face before the people between us stood, blocking her nicely from view. The room thundered in rapturous applause around us, and Ciaran, shell-shocked, weaved his way between hand-shakers and back-slappers as he tried to reach his father. My hands were aching I was clapping so hard, and on tiptoes I could just see Fergal embracing his son.
“Right then, let’s get the bloody music started!” he roared over the crowd.
chapter 35
Ciaran returned to our table, eventually, where both Mary and I group-hugged him until he had to ask for us to put him down.
“I take it this means we won’t be slipping away, then?” I whispered into his ear.
“Do you see all these women?” he asked, putting his head next to mine. The room did have a high proportion of older ladies. “They all want to dance with me now.”
“I’ll just bet they do. I mean, you have letters now and everything, Mr CEO.”
“As soon as I’ve danced with them, we’ll be slipping away, okay? I promise.”
I was just so proud to be with him that I didn’t mind losing Ciaran after that. Like a new bride, everybody wanted to talk to and congratulate him. He didn’t need me slowing him down, so I left him to it, spending most of my time being flung around the dance floor by Fergal. That man had some energy; it was a mammoth task just to keep up. Even the flats couldn’t save my feet, though. After he finally said he was going for breath, I decided to sit out in the hall in hiding before he came back.
The cool of the tiles felt good under one foot while I rubbed the ache from the other.
“So where’s the golden boy?” Penny spat, waving an unlit cigarette in her fingers.
“I don’t know, enjoying himself somewhere, I hope,” I said, ignoring the glare peeping from beneath a sweeping platinum fringe. Black wasn’t really Penny’s colour. It made her look more tyrannical than usual.
&nb
sp; “No doubt. You know, I’ll bet I know where he is.” She smiled, almost crossing her arms. “If you were interested?”
I wasn’t going to bite.
“It’s no surprise that you are interested, Penny. You backed the wrong horse.”
Penny bit onto her bottom lip and smiled. “I’ve ridden both of those horses, Holly, and they’re both the wrong ones.”
“Save it, Penny. I’m not interested in anything you have to say. There isn’t a good word in you, so go smoke your cigarette.”
Toby walked in from the courtyard. “Evening, ladies. Anyone seen Ciaran? I want to know if I can knock off or not.”
“You are so pathetic,” Penny sneered at me. “One taste of the high life and you think you’ve made it.”
“Made it? What do you think I’m trying to make, Penny? You shouldn’t judge everybody by your standards.”
“I don’t.” She grinned derisively. “I judge them by Clara’s, and you haven’t got a chance.”
Penny may not have had any good words, but she always knew the words that would dig deepest.
“All right, Penny. That’ll do,” Toby said.
“Mind your own business, taxi driver,” she hissed. “Are you supposed to even be inside the house? You don’t belong in here.”
I was already standing. “You nasty piece of work, Penny—”
“And you don’t belong here, either. Ciaran would have ditched you sooner if you hadn’t played the poor-little-widow card.” It was amazing how some people knew just what to say to make you feel physically sick right then and there. “And now Clara knows what he’s worth, it won’t be long before they’re all loved up again. Now, where was it I saw Clara disappearing about twenty minutes ago? Ah, yes, up those stairs,” she hissed, jabbing a black painted fingernail towards the landing above us. “Did you say you didn’t know where Ciaran was?” she taunted. “Oh, dear, Holly, widowed again.”
Penny pushed past Toby, blowing out through the doors like a storm.
“Ignore her, Holly. She’s sick with jealously. She’s been trying to bang Ciaran forever. He’s not interested.”
Toby left me to my thoughts.
I hadn’t seen Ciaran for at least half an hour. Don’t bite, Holly. Don’t take the bait. I looked up through the staircase to the landing above.
I wasn’t biting; I was simply going to use the upstairs bathroom. I’d been invited to stay, after all. I wasn’t wandering around. I just wasn’t using the same floor that the rest of the guests were using.
Okay, so I didn’t actually need the bathroom, but once upstairs the bathroom I knew lay at the far end of the corridor seemed a good place to try to talk myself down. I clicked the door closed quietly, and went straight to the vanity unit to tell myself what an idiot I was being. An untrusting, ungrateful idiot who couldn’t just let herself get on with it.
I looked at my reflection in the subtly tarnished mirror. I still looked pretty sharp. My hair had sagged a little, probably from Fergal’s vigour, but otherwise my make-up still looked good.
Clara’s glossy brunette hair had been perfect, all night hanging flawlessly over her primrose-yellow dress, until she’d disappeared, half an hour or so ago.
Don’t poke holes in it, Hol. You like him. You really, really like him. Go back down to the party.
Yes, that was what I would do. Right after I’d freshened up a little.
The night was drawing to a close and, anytime soon, I was going to get Ciaran all to myself, and peel him out of that kilt. I was still smiling into the mirror when the first strained whimper came through the wall next to me. I froze over the taps, just stopping short of setting them to flow.
Another frantic whimper, then thud, thud, thud.
I knew it wasn’t Penny.
The distinctive grunts and groans of sex became clearer with every cry she made, but he, whoever he was, was a quiet lover.
Silently, I let myself out of the bathroom and followed the wall around to the left, to the room I could hear for certain was where they were having sex. Just a few lamps on tables kept the first floor in subdued light, but I could see that the door was slightly ajar.
It smelled of flowers outside of these rooms. Mary must have had them all freshly dressed for the party, in case anyone was to stay over. I shuffled along the wall, and stumbled on the soft mound of fabric.
I thought it was a yellow blanket at first, but blankets didn’t come in silk and chiffon, unzipped so that their wearer could slip effortlessly from them. My heart started to thud in my mouth.
“Yes, yes!” she cried. I held my breath. “Ooh, yes. That’s it, there...”
I watched the floor now, in case I staggered on anything else, but at sight of Ciaran’s kilt and jacket on the floor, my feet simply wouldn’t go any further.
“Oh! That feels...so...good! Yes! Harder, harder...”
I felt dizzy. Her body, thudding against the wall, mimicked the pulse jumping in my neck. I was going to faint.
“Holly? Are you looking for Ciaran?” I spun my head around to see Mary at the end of the hall.
Panicked interruption in the room behind me and the door that had been ajar slammed shut on us. Mary’s smile had dropped when I turned back to her, then she, too, saw Clara’s and Ciaran’s clothes strewn on the floor.
“Oh, dear,” she said, her face gone ashen.
The tears were coming. No, no tears!
The corridor seemed to have grown in length when I ran past Mary for the head of the stairs. I skipped down them and yanked open the heavy wooden door.
The rain had started again outside; Penny was chain-smoking in the vestibule. I ran out past her.
“’Bye, Holly.”
Out across the courtyard, towards the walled entrance.
“Holly?” Toby shouted. “Where are you going?”
I kept on running. I needed to get out of here now.
“Holly?”
I’d nearly made it across the courtyard when Toby backed the car all the way out until it sat between me and the wall pillars. He ran the window down. “Holly? What’s happening? Where are you going?”
“Home.” I shivered.
“Home?” I moved to walk around the car, and he jumped out then. “Hang on. What’s happened?”
I started snivelling against the imminent explosion of crying. “All right, Holly, all right. Do you want me to take you home?” he asked.
“Yes, please,” I managed as the first tears began to fall.
“Holly?” Ciaran crowed from the steps where Penny now stood, risking the rain for a better view. He’d managed to get his kilt back on but he hadn’t had time for the jacket and waistcoat.
I scurried into the back of Toby’s car, and tried to hold myself together as he pulled forward again to swing the car around.
Ciaran dashed out in front of us and Toby stopped for him. Through Toby’s open window Ciaran called to me. “Holly, where are you going?”
“Go away, Ciaran! Leave me alone!”
“What? Holly?”
“Toby, drive!” I said.
“Holly? Have you gone mad?”
“Toby, if you don’t drive, I’ll walk, damn it!” Although I didn’t sound so convincing snivelling between words.
“Look, mate, let me run her home, then you can call her, okay? I’m just going to take her,” Toby said, pulling the car away.
“Holly!” Ciaran shouted.
“Drive, Toby!”
“I’m driving! I’m driving! Blimey.”
Toby flicked the wipers on and their rhythmical schlumping sound masked my fitful sobs in the back.
You stupid girl. You stupid, stupid girl.
We’d been travelling in thick silence for nearly ten minutes when Toby broke the qu
iet.
“I hope you’re ready to kiss and make up, ’cos those look like Aston Martin headlights behind us.”
Ciaran was on the hill behind, closing the distance.
“Ignore him, Toby. Once we’re through the forest, he’ll get bored,” I said.
“Then you don’t know Ciaran very well,” he muttered.
“Isn’t he drunk? He shouldn’t even be driving,” I snapped.
“Ciaran never drinks more than a glass. Haven’t you noticed that?” he said.
I hadn’t noticed that, no.
It was no darker under the canopy of fir trees as we cruised into the forest. Everything was just black everywhere. Black and wet.
I ignored Ciaran, who was now hanging back several car lengths behind.
“He’ll wait now until I drop you at the cottage, in case he distracts my driving,” Toby said.
He put his main beam on, lighting up the entrance to the forestry commission.
The speed monitor flashed. We were doing the forty limit. I wanted Toby to go faster, but didn’t ask.
“Did you see that?” he said, shifting the lights from full beam to half and back again.
“See what?”
I looked up through the motion of the wipers in time to see a doe, just standing there in the middle of the headlights, right ahead in the road.
“Shit!” Toby slammed the brakes on, sending the car skidding over to the right of the deer as she bolted for the trees. We came to a halt just in time to see the silhouette of three or four more deer leaping from the embankment across the road behind us, their forms lit brightly by Ciaran’s growing headlights.
A second screech of wet wheels and, in the shining beams of Ciaran’s car, I saw the explosion of his windscreen, splintering into a thousand twinkling fragments across the road.
The last thing I heard was screaming.
chapter 36
Follow the red arrows, they said.
Not green, the colour of new babies. Or white, the colour of loved ones gone before they’d arrived.
Red. Like the colour that glistened on Ciaran’s roof as the stag suffered its last there.
Since You've Been Gone Page 26