by Melissa Hill
‘Don’t you get lonely, though?’
She had seen Elle’s green eyes flicker for a second, but then she shrugged. ‘I don’t really have time to be lonely either,’ and that had been the end of it. Elle could shut a conversation off rather like closing a door; in that way she was more like Ned than she suspected. Perhaps for that reason alone, their father’s withdrawn and sometimes aloof mannerisms never seemed to bother Elle in the slightest, whereas Penny would drive herself crazy trying to get her head around it, wondering why he always seemed so disconnected and distant. Although in truth, Ned always seemed to brighten when Elle was around; it was just Penny he seemed to stare straight through.
Her sister was due to arrive later this morning. But now with Anna gone and the family dynamic so utterly changed forever, Penny wondered how the Harte family would get through the next few days together.
2
Elle was in shock. She knew it was true, but she refused to really believe it. She refused to really believe anything that had happened in the last twenty-four hours. Her sister hadn’t rung her in the early hours of this morning to tell her that their mother had collapsed of a heart attack, she hadn’t packed a suitcase of probably unsuitable clothes and booked a flight back to Dublin, she hadn’t taken a sleeping pill to get through the flight, and she certainly wasn’t in Dublin airport waiting in line for a taxi to take her home to Wexford.
If she wanted to wake up, if she wanted a dose of reality, all she had to do was look at her surroundings. There was a man in the queue behind her in a suit that smelt as though he’d been wearing it for days, in front of her a child held in its mother’s arms was steadfastly picking his nose and rolling the results between his fingers. She’d seen dedicated draughtsmen work with less concentration. Elle stood straighter in line and told herself to face reality. This was happening, wasn’t it? She took one deep breath after another and with each exhalation the news seemed to settle like dust over her heart. She was going home. For her mother’s funeral. Her father, as usual, would be quiet and emotionally out of reach, and her sister would be still resentful of Elle for leaving, though pretending not to be.
Try as she might, Elle knew she would not be able to communicate honestly with either of them, especially without Anna’s open and calming influence. Her mum could always make them all laugh when they were together at least. But Elle knew that the next week or so would be a mire of grief, things unsaid, memories left unshared, until she could go back to London and really let her feelings out in the privacy of her apartment.
It had easily been the worst week of her life. Barely a week before, Sebastian, her boyfriend of eighteen months, had told her that he was moving out, effectively calling time on their relationship.
‘I’m tired of being second-best, Elle,’ he’d told her wearily, after she’d yet again arrived home late to the Clapham flat they’d shared, after an exceptionally busy time at the office.
In truth, she wasn’t sure how to feel about it. Sebastian was a musician and life with him had been fun at first, but lately he had become moody and demanding, expecting her to just leave everything at the drop of hat to do things and go places with him. She guessed the writing had been on the wall for some time but she’d refused to see it, hadn’t wanted to see it.
Sebastian wasn’t the first guy to have given her such an ultimatum, but Elle didn’t see why she had to be the one to compromise. She was who she was, take it or leave it. Though she did wish he was still around now to comfort her, help her through this unbearable grief.
She just had to get through this herself though, she knew. She just had to be strong.
Her bond with Anna had not been damaged by her moving away. Her mum understood her, just as she understood everyone, and knew that Elle had something to prove, if only to herself. She knew that her daughter hadn’t disliked Mulberry Bay and its tiny charms, or that she hadn’t resented the hotel, only that if she stayed, how would she ever truly know what she was capable of?
Anna understood this about her eldest as surely as she knew that her youngest would stay behind in the town, close to her parents and live as gently and unsurprisingly as she could. Penny was soft through and through, as light as a cloud, but Elle glinted like metal with concentration and purpose.
And that was how she’d lived her life: purposefully. She’d wanted adventure; she’d got it. She’d wanted a career, and now some of the buildings she’d designed might be famous one day. Elle didn’t know how she’d get through her days in London now without Anna’s regular emails, her little jokes about the townspeople and her gentle words of encouragement. She had always told herself she loved the city, loved its great bursts of energy, so many people struggling to fit into one small space all at once; the noise, the smells, the anonymity, but the truth was that sometimes she had to steel herself against it. Sometimes she longed for calm, and the only thing that could get her out the door was thinking of a message from Anna: ‘So proud of my clever girl – go and build me a castle.’ She seemed to think Elle and Penny had each hung the moon, despite how different they both were.
She tried to remember the last conversation she’d had with her mother. They’d talked about all the usual things, laughed over some misunderstanding Anna had had with Ned. He’d spoken too quietly when he told her what he wanted for his dinner: she’d made him a cake, when he’d asked for hake.
‘Oh, I knew what he wanted,’ her mother had admitted mischievously. ‘I always know what he wants. But I just thought it would teach him to speak up a bit. I think he enjoyed the cake.’
An avid music fan, Ned Harte was a deep thinker, and oftentimes silent above all else. An engineer by profession, but long retired, her father had always been cerebral, reserved, and analytical. Ultimately, he was the complete opposite of his buoyant, cheery wife who chatted happily with hotel guests, bubbled over in enthusiasm for making everyone comfortable at all times, and was always keen to know the life story of everyone who walked through the front doors.
Ned, however, had always appeared detached from the operations, despite it being the only source of income for his family. Elle wondered now what would happen to the place, which doubled as the family home and as Penny’s place of work.
Penny and Ned both worked at the hotel, but it had always been Anna’s passion. Her dad and sister had operated largely in the background, while it was her mum who’d kept on top of the day-to-day running of the place as well as the business side, keeping accounts, paying taxes etc. For as long as Elle could remember, her father’s passion was his beloved Beatles music, not the The Bay Hotel, and with her mother gone, she wondered what exactly, would happen next with her family’s home and long-standing business.
Thinking again of that story about the cake, she certainly knew that there would be no such carefree joy in her family again.
Not without Anna.
As she moved to the front of the line, Elle put a fist up against her mouth, trying to stifle a sob, and push away the grief that was building afresh.
On approach from this vantage, Elle thought, as the taxi snaked its way along the coast road through Mulberry Bay and up the hill towards her childhood home, the hotel always suggested the splendour it once had been.
There was no sign of any obvious wear and tear: you couldn’t see the paint peeling in flakes from the exterior window frames, the worn carpets at reception, the scuffed ballroom floor, or the hopelessly outdated wallpaper. You definitely couldn’t see that the ballroom chandelier was lightly coated with dust, missing small jewels, or that the staircase creaked unmercifully when you took the wrong step.
Elle recognised that the 1800s architecture of the building was completely outdated, and guessed that her colleagues in London would no doubt chuckle at the high ceilings lined with dark wood, the large imposing doorways, and the turreted ceiling of the bar’s sitting room, which she had so loved as a child. How glamorous, she had thought then, and although she knew she should dismiss it, the hotel hung off h
er heart like a fishhook, pulling painfully when she least wanted it to.
Her taxi pulled up to the entrance, and here was the moment she’d been dreading. She stepped onto the gravel and saw her sister waiting for her in the doorway. Penny came towards her, arms outstretched and Elle could tell that she was already crying. It struck her suddenly how much like their mother her sister was: slightly plump, blonde, easy in her body.
It was only when she saw Penny coming towards her that Elle finally broke down, letting out all the feelings that had built up over eight hours and six hundred kilometres.
3
A few days later, for the first time in an age, the hotel was full of people, all talking and laughing with the kind of relief that comes after intense periods of feeling. It had seemed fitting to Elle and Penny that Anna’s final farewell should be held here, after the church burial service.
The whole Mulberry Bay community had turned out, and they were moving in small, dark swathed circles, catching up on old times. It seemed to Elle almost like a duller reproduction of older celebrations the hotel had seen over the years.
She was glad to finally have a moment where she didn’t need to keep bravely smiling and nodding as people gave their sympathies. Since coming home, she hadn’t fallen apart again, and she had kept her composure through the hardest parts of the funeral arrangements and service. Her father, though, had showed surprising emotion (for him) when she arrived, and not for the first time she worried about how he would realistically cope once all of this was over and normal life, as such, resumed. She’d spoken a little to him about what had happened that first night of her arrival, when Penny had returned home to her little cottage in the town.
‘I hate to ask, but what exactly happened?’ she’d ventured. ‘Mum was in good health – or so I thought. A heart attack seems a bit out of the blue.’
As always, Ned averted his eyes from his daughter’s gaze. ‘She was healthy enough as far as I know. There were little things of course. There always are as you get older. Just part of life.’
Elle narrowed her eyes as her father stopped talking. ‘I’m sensing a but . . .’
‘Well, yes. Your mother was dealing with some . . . anxiety.’
‘Anxiety?’ Elle frowned. She couldn’t imagine Anna as an anxious, stressed person. These things were more Penny’s domain. ‘About what? What was she stressed about? Anxious about?’
‘There were some money problems,’ Ned said frankly without elaborating.
‘With the hotel?’ Elle hated to sound like she was pressing, but that was the way you had to be with Ned, and she needed some answers. And it seemed as if the state of the property was the big elephant in the room since her return. She’d noticed some things on arrival about the interior, over and above the usual wear and tear. The reception area was looking very tired – the wooden floors hadn’t been polished in ages and really needed to be refinished, the moulding around the door frames was cracked in places, and the staircase leading to the second floor was sagging.
She’d noticed in particular the tea rooms, a once beautiful space that Elle and Penny had spent so much time in as children, having tea parties and acting out scenes from Anne of Green Gables – Penny had been Diana to her Anne of course. Now, the pale mint wallpaper was peeling from the walls, the fireplace lay dark and dusty, and all of the furniture, looked worn and tatty. It was no longer the cosy inviting space that Elle had once known.
Ned shrugged; it was neither a yes or a no. Elle could feel her frustration building. As an architect, she liked it when she had all of the information she needed in order to form an opinion, or a design strategy. She hated it when clients were evasive, especially when she was looking to help them and keep their best interests at heart.
As devastated as she felt over the death of her wonderful mother, the discovery that their family home and Anna’s great passion seemed to also be suffering a horrible and painful death by deterioration, troubled Elle. And another part of her – the high performing business woman in her – wanted to know exactly why that was the case. And worse, if this ‘stress’ had contributed to her mother’s demise.
She could see Ned now, sitting at a table nodding dumbly as the Italian owner of the fish and chip shop in town spoke to him. Fondly nicknamed ‘Johnny Chips’ by everyone in Mulberry Bay for as long as Elle could remember, she wasn’t even sure what the man’s real name was. His younger brother Luca, who ran the Bay’s ice-cream parlour Scoops, had fortunately for him, managed to keep his given Italian name.
Penny came up beside her. ‘I can’t wait for today to be over,’ she sighed.
‘Me neither,’ Elle replied. ‘It doesn’t seem real. I feel like it’s going to take so long to sink in. I keep thinking, Oh, I must tell Mum about this . . . or she’d really enjoy hearing that.’
‘I know . . .’ Penny’s voice broke and she looked like she might cry again. ‘She did love a big party though. It’s the biggest crowd this place has seen in years.’
Elle bit her lip. It wasn’t exactly the time or the place but she felt she needed to ask, if for no other reason than to keep her sister from breaking down again. ‘Do you know anything?’ she asked, indicating the tea room’s worn wallpaper, ‘about . . . how this place is doing?’
Penny looked a bit taken aback. ‘Not much about the financial stuff to be honest. We weren’t doing well though, anyone can see that. The upkeep alone was crippling, and the dogs on the street know the place needs an overhaul.’ She sniffed. ‘Let’s talk about all that later OK? Today is about Mum.’
She seemed annoyed and Elle felt duly chagrined for bringing the matter up but it was just how her brain worked, had always worked. In times of emotion, always try to look for equilibrium by seeking out the practical.
‘Of course,’ she said. ‘It’s just that so many people are talking about Mum and the hotel, and what it means to them. All those life-defining moments, right here.’ She shook her head. ‘It’s hard to believe it’s not doing well.’
‘Yes, this place – our home – means something to people,’ Penny said proudly. ‘It’s beautiful and I know you might not think so, but it’s also something even more than that. It represents something to this community, milestones in people’s lives.’
‘I do know that,’ said Elle, annoyed at herself for raising hackles when it really wasn’t her intention.
‘Oh, there’s Rob,’ Penny said suddenly, perhaps to change the subject or just to needle her. She couldn’t tell. Either way, simply the sound of the name had an unnerving effect. Even after all this time.
All those years ago she’d tearfully said goodbye to Rob Callahan at the bus stop outside Pebbles Café on Main Street, promising to return for good when she’d finished college in Dublin. But she hadn’t. She’d written him a letter instead, begging him to leave and move to the city too.
But Rob wouldn’t go. He had told Elle that he wouldn’t be the same man if he left the small town where his heart and family belonged. And this sense of loyalty appeared to have worked for him, Elle realised, studying him now. He did look much the same man as he had all those years ago; broader across the shoulders, creased around the eyes, skin darkened from time spent outdoors, but the same Rob. Same dark twinkling eyes, same dimple on his left cheek. She wondered if her teenage self was also still visible, if despite the years he could look at her now and see the girl he had once loved.
Elle mentally slapped herself. It was the whole weight of the day making her think such maudlin thoughts. It had been a teenage fling: that was all. Rob Callahan probably had a wife now and a tribe of kids. She had stubbornly refused to ask after him after they broke up, and over the years had purposely tuned out if her mother ever mentioned him.
‘He’s coming over,’ said Penny.
Elle flushed despite herself. ‘Yes, I can see that, thank you.’
Rob didn’t bother with platitudes, but moved in smoothly to kiss Elle’s cheek. She got a second of his sharp, woody smell, before he
stepped back and turned to Penny.
‘Holding up?’ he asked softly, squeezing her arm.
Her sister nodded wordlessly, overcome by fresh emotion.
‘Your mother was a legend,’ he said. ‘My Friday nights won’t be the same without her.’
‘What Friday nights?’ asked Elle, surprised.
‘Oh, I always came up on a Friday night, for Anna’s famous roast chicken and mash spuds. Kept up with all the news,’ he added, and looked at Elle in a way that let her know that she had been part of this ‘news’ now and again.
‘We’ve had some great times over dinner, haven’t we?’ whispered Penny, her eyes shining. ‘I know Mum loved seeing you too, enjoyed you teasing her.’
Rob gave a wistful smile and as he and Penny continued to reminisce, Elle felt suddenly that she had missed out on something precious, something that wasn’t replaceable. She felt bereft, at the whole day, but also at how everyone was treating her like a stranger, almost. At the graveyard, old school friends and past acquaintances had come up to give their condolences, and while they all hugged and exchanged memories with Penny, they simply nodded and formally shook hands with Elle, as if she was an outsider. Then again, she supposed she was.
‘. . . repairs,’ Penny was saying and Elle guessed she must be talking to Rob about something concerning the hotel. His family’s construction business had been one of the reasons he’d decided to remain in town, and as far as she knew he was still in the same line of work. ‘Would be great to get your opinion.’
‘Don’t worry about that, Penny,’ A miffed Elle found herself saying, ‘I know someone eminently qualified to drag this place into the right century.’
Though she’d intended for this to sound reassuring, she realised that it actually sounded patronising, and feeling again like a fish out of water, Elle turned and left Penny and Rob to their silly chat about times they’d had in this small little town, while she was off doing something that was actually important.