Coming Home to Seashell Cottage

by Jessica Redland

  Very astute. ‘The advice was good, though. An added bonus, perhaps. I liked the bit about ranting at the parents. I really will do that, but on paper, like you suggest. I never want to set foot in Ireland ever again. I didn’t want to go last week, and I definitely didn’t want to go to Ballykielty, but I felt drawn to our place. Never again.’

  ‘Are you sure you don’t want to find Daran? What if Shannon wants to know who her dad is?’

  ‘Christ! It never even crossed my mind. If I find Shannon, I’m not expecting it to be easy. If she takes after me in personality as well as looks, she’ll be a tough cookie and will give me a hard time for abandoning her. Quite rightly so. She might not want to hear the sorry story of my past. I really hadn’t thought beyond her reaction to me, but you’re right: she might want to know about Daran. I don’t think I’m ready to find him yet, though. It’s going to be emotional enough finding Shannon. I think adding Daran into the mix will tip me over the edge.’

  ‘Do you fancy a walk along the beach and we can talk some more?’ Elise asked. ‘Unless you feel you’re talked out.’

  ‘I’ve been quiet for half my life and now that I’ve finally opened up, I feel like I could talk for Ireland. Are you sure you can cope?’

  She smiled. ‘Anything to help you get through this. But bean needs another shortbread first.’

  ‘And I need a strong coffee.’

  13

  Seventeen Years Earlier

  I gazed round the farmhouse at my handiwork and smiled. I’d liberated a couple of rectangular straw bales from a nearby field, opened one up and spread the straw across the corner of the room that I’d come to think of as ‘kissing corner’. I’d found an old picnic rug tucked away at the back of the shed at home. Resting on top of a thick blanket of straw, it would be perfect for what I had planned. The second bale acted as a table. Having only turned sixteen that day, I knew there was no chance of being served alcohol anywhere local, so we’d have to pretend with fizzy white grape juice out of plastic picnic beakers.

  I’d chosen my outfit carefully to avoid awkward clothing-removal disasters. The short, cream summer dress had buttons all the way up the front, which could be swiftly undone to reveal a cream and red lacy bra-and-panties set that I’d liberated from Aisling’s drawers, the little minx. Surely Daran wouldn’t be able to resist it.

  As a good Catholic, he was a firm believer in ‘no sex before marriage’, but I could tell with each passing day and every touch that holding back was getting harder and harder – literally! I was determined to change his mind.

  ‘I’m so sorry I’m late. I was worried you might have gone.’ Daran picked me up and spun me around, kissing me, as he always did. After he’d admitted his feelings for me in February, he’d told Father Doherty that he didn’t think life as a priest was the right path for him, but he was still just as committed to learning about and serving God. Father Doherty had been very understanding and had asked if he’d like to stick around and continue to help him out in return for further guidance on the Catholic faith. Daran jumped at the offer. After Easter, he also secured a position teaching religious studies at my comprehensive. Naturally, we had to keep our relationship quiet or he’d have been dismissed. Fortunately, Orla Brennan was seeing a Protestant in Ballyshelty, so we provided constant alibis for each other. She didn’t know who I was seeing, just that he was older than me and that our relationship wouldn’t meet with anyone’s approval. She was convinced he was married and I let her continue to think that.

  He cupped my chin and gave me a gentle kiss on the lips. ‘I’m sorry, Clare, but I’ve only got about an hour and a quarter.’

  ‘And I’ve got to go out for that meal with the parents anyway. Oh no, I haven’t. That’s what normal parents would do to celebrate the birthday of a child they love, whereas mine have barely acknowledged the day. Ma tossed a card at me. No gift. Just a card.’

  ‘I’m sorry they’re so cruel to you. It breaks my heart to see it.’

  I shrugged. ‘I’m used to it. Anyway, I don’t want to waste any of our precious time talking about them. Seeing as time is tight, we’d better get on with things.’

  Daran nodded his head towards the ‘table’ and makeshift bed. ‘What’s this? Are we moving in now?’

  ‘It may or may not have escaped your notice, but I have reached the grand old age of sixteen today. I’m an adult and I’m ready to do everything that adults do.’

  He wrapped his arms round me. ‘We’ve talked about this and you know that I can’t do that.’

  ‘Are you trying to convince me or yourself?’

  He laughed. ‘Me! You know I want you but it’s not how I was brought up.’

  ‘I respect you for that, but—’

  ‘And you’re not the age of consent.’

  ‘Also a good point and if this were just a casual thing, I wouldn’t even consider taking that step. But it’s not a casual thing, is it? I love you, Daran. I want to be with you till the end of forever. For me, this is the next logical step. You’ve already got my heart, my mind, my soul. The only thing you don’t have is my body and I want you to have that too. I’m more than ready. Aren’t you?’

  He fixed his green eyes on mine. I could tell he was struggling to find more reasons not to consummate our relationship and the age of consent thing was such a flimsy excuse. Since he’d started teaching, he’d talked a lot more about the different religions he’d studied for his degree. They all had different views on relationships, sex and marriage, and, even though I knew his love for God was unfaltering, I also knew he was starting to question whether everything about the Catholic faith was right.

  ‘I want to give you your birthday present,’ he said.

  I grinned. ‘I didn’t see you bring anything in.’

  ‘My gift isn’t big in size, but it’s big in meaning. Close your eyes and hold your hands out.’

  I did as he instructed. I could hear his shallow breathing, smell soap and shaving balm, feel the light touch of his fingers, as he gently placed something into the palm of my left hand. A shiver of longing ran through me at his touch. It took a hell of a lot of willpower not to drop whatever he’d given me, hurl myself at him and rip his clothes off.

  ‘Open your eyes,’ he whispered.

  I opened them, looked down and gasped. ‘A Claddagh ring?’ I picked up the shiny, silver ring with my right hand. It was a simple yet beautiful design with a heart-shaped sapphire.

  ‘It’s your birthstone. I’m sorry that it’s only sterling silver and a fake sapphire. I promise I’ll buy you a better one as soon as I can.’

  I shook my head. ‘There’s no need, Daran. It’s absolutely perfect.’ My heart raced. I had to ask the question. ‘Which way will I wear it?’

  He took the ring from me and smiled so tenderly that I feared I might cry. Not wanting to make an assumption, I put my right hand out towards him – right hand, the point of the heart towards the wrist, meaning ‘in a relationship’ – but he shook his head. He lifted my left hand to his lips, gently kissed it, then slipped the ring onto my fourth finger, with the point of the heart towards my fingertips. A perfect fit. I stared at him, then the ring, then at him again.

  Daran got down on his bended knee in the straw. ‘When I came to Ballykielty, I never imagined I could love another human being as much as I love God. Then I met you. You showed me a future I’d never considered and you taught me that I can be committed to God’s work but also have a family. I love you, Clare, and I want to be with you till the end of forever too. Will you marry me?’

  I did cry at that point. My lips trembled and great, fat tears splashed down my cheeks.

  Daran leapt to his feet and wrapped his arms around me. ‘Was it too much?’

  ‘No. It was perfect, and the answer’s yes.’

  He stepped back so he could look into my eyes. ‘Really?’

  ‘Really. They’re happy tears. Honestly.’ I wiped my cheeks and passionately kissed my fiancé.

  �
�I think we’re ready for the next step,’ I whispered, nibbling his ear.

  ‘I’m still not sure.’

  I moved my kisses down to his neck, untucked his shirt from his jeans and ran my nails up his bare back. ‘We’re engaged, aren’t we? That’s nearly married.’

  Daran’s breathing quickened. ‘Nearly married isn’t the same as married,’ he whispered.

  ‘I’m just as committed to you right now as I will be when we’re married, so what’s the difference?’

  With shaking hands, I undid his shirt buttons and opened it wide. He gasped as I kissed his chest and my kisses went lower and lower. I wanted to unzip his jeans and continue my kisses down there – the way I’d read in a Jackie Collins novel that Orla Brennan had stolen from her older sister – but I wasn’t brave enough. Instead, I worked my way back up to his neck, then gently steered him towards the makeshift bed. He didn’t protest as we lay down on the rug and I slipped his shirt off.

  ‘I’d like to give you an engagement gift,’ I said.

  Holding his gaze, I undid the top two buttons of my dress, revealing my bra. His breathing quickened even more, sending a ripple of electricity through my body. ‘I want you, Daran.’ I undid the rest of my buttons and he gasped.

  ‘Clare! That’s playing dirty.’

  I giggled. ‘That’s what I’m hoping for.’ I slipped out of my dress completely and reached round to unclasp my bra. I eased it off my arms and let it slip to the floor. ‘I think you might be a bit overdressed,’ I said.

  Daran propped himself up on one arm as he lightly traced his other hand down my face, neck and arm, gently skimming my breast and sending another fizz of pleasure through me. ‘I do want you too, Clare. You have no idea how much.’

  ‘Then why wait? We love each other. We’re engaged. I don’t know what else I can say to convince you it’s okay to do this.’

  When Daran didn’t respond but continued to stroke me, touching more of my breast with each hand movement, I knew he didn’t need much more convincing. I’d done enough talking. Actions spoke louder than words, didn’t they? I reached down and, with fumbling fingers, undid the belt and zip on his jeans. He didn’t protest. I slipped my hand inside, hoping I’d learned enough from a combination of biology books and Ms Collins to do things right.

  Daran groaned as I touched him through his underwear. This was potentially the point of no return. ‘Do you want me to stop?’ I whispered. ‘Because I will if you really want me to. It’s just that I don’t think you do.’

  I caressed him and he groaned again.

  ‘Will I stop?’

  ‘No! Don’t stop. Oh, Clare! That feels so… I’ve never done this before. It might be quick.’

  ‘If it’s quick, it’s quick. We can always do it again. Lots of times, I hope.’

  Daran kissed me. ‘Are you sure this is what you want?’ he asked.

  ‘Yes! You?’

  ‘May God forgive me, but yes. I really, really do.’

  ‘Then you’re wearing too many clothes.’

  He wriggled out of his jeans and we lay side by side in only our underwear, gazing into each other’s eyes. I lifted my hips up and wriggled out of my panties, then carefully pulled his boxers down and gasped. From the research I’d done, he really wanted this.

  I straddled him and slowly lowered myself down, letting out a little squeal as he entered me.

  ‘Are you okay? Does it hurt?’

  ‘A bit. Ow! Oh, but it feels good too. Oh my God. Daran! Are you okay?’

  ‘I’m incredible.’

  I collapsed against Daran’s chest a few minutes later, trembling from the new sensations. ‘Are you okay?’ I asked again, feeling him trembling too.

  ‘I’m in shock. I’ve never… you know… even as a teenager… so that was… that was…’ He shook his head. ‘Why was I even considering a life in which I’d never get to do that?’

  ‘I take it you enjoyed it.’

  ‘Immensely.’

  I snuggled against his bare chest. ‘I know you won’t like this, Daran, but I’m going to go on the pill. I know someone in Ballyshelty who knows someone who can get me it. I’ve already got the morning-after pill from them for what we’ve just done. I know it’s not the Catholic way but—’

  ‘It’s your body. It’s your choice,’ he said gently. ‘Sure, I can hardly preach about the Catholic way after what I’ve just done.’

  ‘No regrets?’ I asked, looking into his eyes.

  ‘Just one.’

  My heart thumped. ‘Dare I ask?’

  He smiled. ‘That it didn’t last longer. It will this time, though.’ He pulled me closer and kissed me, then rolled me onto my back so he could trace kisses down my body from tip to toe, then back again. By the time he entered me for the second time, I was burning with desire for the man I loved, who now had my heart, mind, soul… and body.

  14

  Present Day

  ‘Are you sure you’ll be okay?’ Elise asked, as we stood by her lime-green Beetle in the car park of The Starfish Café. ‘You’re welcome to stay with Stevie and me.’

  I smiled as I shook my head. ‘I appreciate the offer but I’m not being a gooseberry.’

  ‘You won’t be. Stevie won’t mind.’

  ‘Thanks, but no thanks.’ I rubbed my hands together. ‘It’s feckin’ freezing. Get yourself home and get your lovely man to warm you up. I need to get back to Leeds and plan what to do next.’

  Elise opened her car door. ‘You’re sure?’

  ‘I’m sure. Be off with you!’

  ‘I really don’t think you should be alone at a time like this.’

  I laughed. ‘You know me. Hard as nails. It takes more than my past catching up with me to knock me down.’

  Elise raised an eyebrow at me.

  ‘Go!’ I cried. ‘That’s an order.’

  ‘You’re not as hard as you like to make out and you don’t need to pretend you are.’

  My throat tightened and tears pricked my eyes. I hugged Elise, whispering into her hair, ‘Thank you for today.’

  ‘Any time,’ she whispered back. ‘I mean that.’

  We released each other and she eased herself into the driver’s seat. ‘Go and find your daughter. Keep me posted. I’m here for you.’

  ‘I know.’ I waved her off and walked back to my car. I started the engine and turned the heating up full blast but didn’t set off. I actually felt quite shaky. Seventeen years. I’d kept my past hidden for seventeen years; more than half my lifetime. But, Christ, it had felt good to finally share it with someone.

  Elise had been amazing. She’d listened and she hadn’t judged. She’d asked lots of questions, but she seemed to have a gift for asking the right ones; the ones that made me think about what I wanted to do, instead of the sort that were clearly about getting the juicy gossip from the situation and – let’s face it – ‘sixteen-year-old gets pregnant by former-priest-in-training-turned-teacher’ is scandalous stuff. We’d talked for hours and it had done me the world of good. It felt as though the cobwebs on the skeletons in my closet were being blown away. If I’d known that a chat to a friend could have so easily lightened the burden I’d carried for so long, I’d have done it long ago.

  I took a swig from a bottle of water in my bag, ran a brush through my tangled hair, then pulled out of the car park. It was fine; I could do this. I was fine on my own. I was used to it.

  But as I got closer to Leeds, a feeling of unease overcame me. Bollocks. Elise had been right. I really didn’t want to be alone. What choice did I have, though? I could hardly turn round and drive an hour-and-a-half back to Whitsborough Bay and ask to stay the night. Elise and Stevie needed to make the most of their moments together before the baby arrived. If only Ben hadn’t gone away for work. I didn’t feel the need to talk – I’d done enough of that with Elise – but I did feel the need for company. An evening stretched out in front of the TV with him, a film, a takeaway and some trivial banter would have been perfect. In
stead, I had a sparse, soulless, rented apartment and silence to return to. I pictured Ben’s cosy lounge and knew what I was going to do.

  There were no lights on at Ben’s house, but I still rapped loudly on the door knocker a few times, just in case his plans had changed and he’d unexpectedly returned home for the weekend. When I felt confident that the house really was empty, I let myself in with the spare key that Ben had suggested I hang onto as long as I pinkie-promised him not to break in and steal the king whenever it was in his possession.

  I hadn’t realised I was quite so tense until I shut the door behind me and a wave of relief washed over me. A small two-up two-down mid-terrace, with film posters on the walls rather than pictures, and piles of books, CDs and DVDs everywhere, Ben’s place was homely and safe. It would be my haven for the evening and I’d head back to Orion Point in the morning.

  I dumped my handbag in the hallway, wandered through to the kitchen, filled the kettle and popped a bottle of wine into the fridge for later. I went upstairs and poked my head round Ben’s bedroom door, just in case, but his room was empty. In my former room at the front of the house, I drew the curtains, then undressed and pulled on a pair of fleecy pyjamas and slipper socks that I kept there.

  Thirty minutes later, I was curled up on the sofa with an Indian takeaway, a glass of wine and a film. It had definitely been the right decision to come to Ben’s. It was just a shame that he wasn’t there.

  Sunday dawned and I still couldn’t bring myself to go back to my empty apartment. Even though Ben’s house was empty too, it felt different.

  I had a long soak in the bath, put on a pair of Ben’s PJs and his dressing gown, and retreated to the sofa to watch back-to-back films.

  A text came through shortly after I’d had some lunch: