Coming Home to Seashell Cottage

by Jessica Redland

  I’d carefully selected my outfit. I didn’t want to give them any ammunition to accuse me of dressing provocatively, so I wore a pair of tailored boot-cut black trousers, a ruched turquoise blouse that revealed no cleavage, and a pair of low-heeled boots. From the withering look Ma gave me, I might as well have danced down the ward wearing fig leaves on my privates and flowers in my hair.

  She rose from beside his bed and narrowed her eyes at me. ‘The good Lord alone knows why he’s asked for you, you dirty harlot.’

  ‘Hello, Ma. It’s lovely to see you too.’ My voice might have sounded confident but I didn’t feel confident inside. I felt like a sixteen-year-old girl being judged all over again.

  ‘Will we get some tea, Ma?’ Aisling said, grabbing Ma’s shoulders and steering her out of the ward.

  I gasped as I took in the sight before me. When I’d last seen him just two months earlier, he’d looked older, of course, but he’d still been a big, strong, formidable character. Lying on the bed in front of me was an old man with grey skin and sunken features. If I’d walked into a room full of beds, I’d never have picked him out as my da. Wires connected him to various bleeping machines, and I wondered fleetingly what was keeping him alive – the machines or sheer willpower in wanting a final standoff with me.

  I glanced at the chair that Ma had just vacated. Sitting would bring me down to his level. It would take me closer to him. It would imply a relationship – that I wanted to be close because I cared. I pushed my shoulders back and stood tall. ‘You wanted to see me.’

  His eyes flickered open and he turned his head slightly. ‘You’re here.’ It was uttered as a statement – no relief, no sentiment. Just as well I hadn’t sat down.

  ‘I’m here. I thought Aisling might need me.’ Cheap shot but you deserve it. 15-love.

  ‘Why would she need you?’ Ooh. 15-all.

  ‘Because, try as you might to turn my whole family against me, she had the intelligence and integrity to bother to find out the truth.’ 30-15, I believe.

  The beeps on the heart monitor quickened. He closed his eyes for a moment and exhaled deeply a few times until they steadied. I glanced towards the door, my heart racing too. Should I just leave? He meant nothing to me, but he was a human being and I didn’t want to be the cause of his death.

  ‘You found her.’

  I turned back to Da. ‘Who?’

  ‘You know who.’ The strong voice was back. Demanding. Accusing.

  ‘Oh. Would you be referring to Shannon? My daughter? Your granddaughter? Did you know that was her name? Shannon Máire. Beautiful Irish name isn’t it, for a beautiful Irish girl?’ 40-15.

  He stared at me, his dark eyes flashing with the same contempt I’d seen in Ma’s. ‘You say that as if I’d care. You should know that she means nothing to me. NOTHING! You’re not my daughter so she’s not my granddaughter.’ Ouch! 40-30.

  I straightened my shoulders again and narrowed my eyes at him. ‘Why did you ask for me?’

  ‘To order you to stop bringing shame on this family.’

  ‘To order me?’ I slammed my handbag down on the floor in disgust. ‘I don’t take orders from you and haven’t done since you threw me out.’

  ‘Maybe not directly, but I’ve still controlled your life. I made you give up your bastard, didn’t I?’ Deuce.

  ‘Oh, that reminds me. Did you know that my bastard had her own little bastard?’ His eyes widened and the heart-monitor beeps quickened again. Advantage, Ms O’Connell. ‘Yes, I thought that might shock you. A little boy called Luke and he’s absolutely gorgeous. You might have sent my fiancé away from me and stolen my opportunity to be a mother to his child, but you can meet your God knowing that Daran McInnery lives on in his grandbaby. I may not have been a mother, but I’ll be the best grandmother ever.’ Game, Ms O’Connell.

  ‘You’re lying,’ he said.

  ‘No, that’s what you do, Da. I’m nothing like you.’ I picked up my bag and retrieved my mobile. I found a recent shot of Shannon cuddling Luke and thrust the image into his eyeline.

  ‘Gorgeous, aren’t they? My family, who, despite everything you did, I’m reunited with.’

  ‘More shame on the family,’ he spat.

  ‘I don’t know why you’re getting so het up about it. You told me two months ago that I wasn’t your daughter and you’ve just reiterated it now. You’re absolutely right too. I’m not your daughter because I don’t recognise you as my father. That means that you don’t have a granddaughter or a great-grandson. I, on the other hand, have a family who love me unconditionally and, whatever challenges or issues Shannon or Luke face in the future, I’ll be there for them without judgement or prejudice. Because that’s what families do. But, hey, you’d know that if you’d ever been part of a loving family, wouldn’t you?’

  ‘Family? What do you know about family?’

  ‘Loads of things, and none of it was learned from you. I’m not the one who brought shame on the family. You and Ma did that by your actions towards me before you knew about Daran, after you knew about him and every moment of every day ever since.’

  He stared at me, breathing heavily, but I could see that the fight had gone out of his eyes. Whether that was down to fatigue or recognition that the words I spoke were true, I’d never know.

  I put my phone back in my handbag and hoisted it onto my shoulder. ‘What I suggest you do is forget about me from now on. Put your energy into getting yourself better and repairing your damaged relationship with Aisling and the twins, and Nia if you’ve damaged that too. They’re your family. I’m not. So what I do from now on should make no difference to you.’ I shook my head and turned to go. Then I turned back. ‘I feel sorry for you, Pádraig O’Connell. I just hope your God can forgive you for your sins because I can’t. Goodbye.’ Without another glance, I strode out of the ward and out of the hospital. Game, set and match, Ms O’Connell.

  37

  The call came through at 5.47 a.m. the following morning as I lay fully dressed on top of my bed in The River Lee Hotel. ‘He’s dead, Clare,’ Aisling said, in a tone that reflected relief rather than sorrow. ‘I can’t believe he’s died on St Patrick’s Day of all days.’

  The significance of the date hadn’t been lost on me either. ‘I want to say I’m sorry…’

  ‘I know. And I understand. Look, Ma’s lost it so I can’t talk just now. I’ll call you later and we’ll meet. Promise me one thing.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘You won’t go home. I want you here. I need you here.’

  ‘I promise.’

  I lay back on the pillows, clutching my phone to my chest. ‘Wherever you are right now, I hope you’ve found your peace,’ I whispered. ‘Because I don’t think you ever found it in this lifetime, did you, Da?’ A tear slid down my cheek, then another, and soon my cheeks were slick with moisture.

  Why was I crying? Regret? I certainly didn’t regret what I’d said the day before. I’d maintained my dignity while my parents had continued the name-calling. Tempted as I’d been, I hadn’t told him what I thought of him – I wasn’t that heartless – although I had deliberately given him facts that I hoped would hurt him. Relief? I tossed the feeling around my mind. Was I relieved he was gone? Not really because, although his actions from seventeen years ago had had a major impact on my life, I’d blocked thoughts of him from mind until recently, so he hadn’t been on my radar enough for me to be relieved that he was no longer around.

  I turned onto my side, staring towards the curtained window. What was it, then? Loss? I certainly wasn’t going to miss him. You can’t miss something you never had. Maybe that was it. Maybe I was mourning never having had a father, Shannon not knowing her father, and Luke not knowing his grandfather or great-grandparents. But at least Shannon had had her adopted dad, and Luke would have Ben. I sat up and wiped my cheeks. Luke would have Ben? Where had that come from? Ben was just a friend; he wasn’t a father figure. Obviously, I’d meant Callum. I looked at the clock: 6.23 a.m. I nee
ded some fresh air. I wasn’t thinking straight.

  ✉︎ To Aisling

  Hope Ma’s calmed down. I’m out for a walk but I’ve got my phone with me. I’m here for you xxx

  It was a few hours before Aisling called, suggesting that we meet up for dinner and saying she had a surprise for me – Keenan and Éamonn wanted to join us.

  The pub was heaving with St Patrick’s Day revellers. Green and white bunting and flags hung from the ceiling and the bar. All-day drinkers wearing leprechaun hats and ginger beards brushed shoulders with those who’d had to work the public holiday but had stopped off for a swift drink or two on the way home.

  ‘Clare? Is that you? I barely recognised you.’

  ‘I did. It’s the eyes. I remember those green eyes.’

  The four of us stood awkwardly in a small gap near the bar. Hug? Shake hands? What was normal in these situations?

  I looked at Aisling for reassurance and she nodded encouragingly. ‘I’d have recognised you two,’ I said, ‘but I must confess that I don’t know which is which anymore.’ As boys and young men, they’d been identical, although, being their sister, I’d never mixed them up. Now they’d both changed. You’d have put them as brothers, but not necessarily twins. One was freshly shaved, smartly coiffed and wore contact lenses. The other had greying hair curled up at the collar of his shirt. Glasses couldn’t hide the dark circles under his eyes, which fitted well with a few days’ growth on his chin. I suspected he was the soon-to-be-divorced Keenan. I was right.

  ‘Quick! Grab that table!’ Éamonn called, pointing to a table by the window about to be vacated by a gaggle of leprechauns. Aisling practically launched herself at it. We took our seats and an awkward silence descended on us again. The pub door opened and I half-expected a collection of tumbleweed to blow through and spin past us. I was about to make a flippant comment about that to try to break the ice when I saw Keenan remove his glasses and rub his eyes. At that moment, I registered what they’d been through that day and that the silence was more about that than it was about meeting me again. I might have detached myself from Da years previously, but they hadn’t. They’d lost their father that morning and were probably hurting like hell.

  ‘I’d ask “tough day?” but I’m guessing that would be a daft question,’ I said.

  Keenan gave me a weak smile. ‘One of the toughest.’

  ‘Look, I really appreciate you coming to meet me, but I understand if you’d rather not do the big reunion thing tonight. You all look exhausted.’

  ‘We are,’ Éamonn said. ‘But it’s nothing a bit of food won’t fix. I’m starving. I need to order some food pretty damn quick. Apologies if that’s rude.’

  I smiled. ‘I understand. I’m pretty hungry myself.’

  ‘It’s been a long time,’ Éamonn said, after we’d ordered our meals. ‘You look great, Clare. Aisling says you’re a PR manager or something like that?’

  I nodded. ‘I was, but I’m taking some time off at the moment.’

  ‘Oh. To do what? Are you going travelling or something?’ Keenan asked.

  I glanced towards Aisling, who shook her head and said, ‘It’s your news to share, but I think they’ll be pleased.’

  ‘What’s going on?’ Keenan said. ‘Oh. You’re pregnant?’

  I laughed. ‘Are you saying I’m fat?’

  ‘No. Just…’

  I laughed at his red cheeks. ‘I’m so not pregnant. You have to be having sex with someone to get pregnant.’ I laughed again at both their shocked expressions. ‘Sorry. Way too much information to share with my brothers who I haven’t seen for seventeen years. No. I’m not pregnant, but I am bringing up a baby at the moment. It might be back-story time…’

  They listened in stunned silence as I told them my side of the story, from my relationship with Daran right through to reuniting with Shannon and looking after Luke. It took every bit of diplomacy I could muster to avoid painting Da in his true colours, but it wasn’t right to speak so ill of him when he was only just cold, and I had no idea what their relationship had been like until the recent divorce debacle.

  My twin brothers were obviously pretty astute, though. ‘It’s good to hear your side at last,’ Éamonn said, ‘and thank you for not dwelling on the part Da played. I think I can fill in the blanks.’

  ‘Sorry. I tried.’

  ‘We appreciate it.’ Keenan rubbed a hand across his stubble. ‘So, that would make us both… what? Uncles and great-uncles?’

  I thought for a moment, ‘Yes. Shannon’s uncles and Luke’s great-uncles.’

  ‘That’s pretty special,’ Éamonn said.

  ‘It sure is,’ Keenan agreed.

  Another silence descended, and I let it rest for a while so that they could chew over the implications of family lost and family found. I studied their pale faces. I could see so much of Da in them, in terms of physical looks, but there was something in the way they held themselves that reminded me more of myself: someone who’d taken a battering but was trying to prove to the world that they were strong and could take whatever else life threw at them. I saw it especially in Keenan. As if aware I was focusing on him, he said, ‘I take it Aisling told you I’m getting divorced?’

  ‘Yes. I’m sorry. I think it’s time for your back-stories now.’

  We spent the next three hours in the pub eating and chatting, until the live music started and it became impossible to talk. We dwelled very little on our childhood, instead focusing on the paths our lives had taken since. I liked them, but I didn’t feel the same instant affinity with my brothers that I’d felt with Aisling, despite them being closer to my age, at four years older than me compared to her six. I knew I held some wariness towards them from what Aisling had told me about them being very religious and, despite the impending divorce, it was clear they did hold strong Catholic beliefs and were struggling to understand why I – shock, horror – had no man in my life to provide for me. I held my own, though, and made it very clear that I had been and always would be fiercely independent and if they judged that, then they needed to pause a moment and think about why I’d become that way.

  When we said our goodbyes, I suspected we wouldn’t become the closest of siblings, but a truce had certainly been called, and they clearly had an interest in getting to know their new family members.

  ‘The wake’s probably going to be Thursday and Friday and the funeral Saturday,’ Aisling said, after the twins had gone. ‘You’ll be coming?’

  ‘I don’t know whether I should. I won’t be welcome.’

  Aisling shrugged. ‘I can tell you right now that, from Ma’s perspective, a dose of the clap would be more welcome than you at Da’s wake.’ She smiled and I laughed at the crudeness of her comment – the sort of thing I’d come out with.

  ‘I half-want to come to make sure he’s really dead. And I want to be there for you. But I don’t want to turn it into a circus.’

  Aisling pulled me into her embrace and whispered, ‘You do what’s right for you. Don’t mind the rest of us.’

  I caught a taxi back to the hotel, where a wall of sound hit me the moment the sliding doors opened. A St Patrick’s Day event was in full swing in the bar, with live music and laughter. I hesitated for a moment in the lobby. Not that long ago, I’d have joined the party, not caring that I was on my own. I’d have chatted and flirted, then slipped away before any expectation that it would go further. At that very moment, though, I was aware of being alone and I didn’t like it at all. Somehow, I’d gone from being fiercely independent and happy in my own company to someone who longed to be surrounded by my family and friends. My arms ached for Luke. I missed Shannon’s sharp tongue, her zest for life, and the softness in her eyes when she let her guard down and allowed a moment of closeness to pass between us. I missed Callum’s eternal optimism and his passion for his family.

  Crossing the lobby, I caught the lift up to my floor. Without switching my light on, I crossed the bedroom and looked out over the River Lee. Yes, I’d
admit it, I missed Ben too. As a companion, though, not anything else. I closed my eyes and pictured a typical Saturday night in his cosy terrace, curled up on the sofa with a takeaway and a bottle of beer, watching a film, an easy banter flowing between us. I’d have done anything at that very moment to open my eyes and be there with him.

  38

  ‘Clare? Is that yourself? Come in, child, come in.’ Father Doherty shuffled back to let me pass the following morning.

  ‘These are for you,’ I said, handing him a large carrier bag bursting with fresh fruit and vegetables. ‘And because that’s all very healthy, I have a little treat too.’ I handed him a chocolate orange.

  ‘My favourite,’ he said. ‘How did you know?’

  ‘I asked the warden.’

  He smiled but tears glistened in his pale eyes. ‘I don’t deserve your company or your kindness.’ He lowered himself into his armchair and I sat on the sofa.

  ‘You know I’ve forgiven you,’ I said. ‘Because you asked and you apologised. Which is more than I can say for the guiltiest party.’

  Father Doherty nodded. ‘I heard about your da. How do you feel?’

  ‘I don’t know. I cried when I found out but not because I’m sad that he’s dead. I’m not glad, either. I’m not sure what I am.’

  ‘You don’t have to know at this moment. You may not know how you feel for a long time to come. He didn’t ask for forgiveness, then?’

  ‘I didn’t think he would. He called for me so I jumped on a plane like an eejit. I suspected there’d be an ulterior motive and there was. He knew I’d been searching for Shannon and wanted me to stop bringing shame on the family.’

  Father Doherty’s shoulders sagged. ‘He never did. Oh, Clare. I’m so sorry, child. What did you say?’