She played with the tassel on her scarf again.
‘He did, didn’t he?’
‘It can’t be rape if you’re married.’
‘Oh, Nia. It can be. Did he force himself on you when you said no? Make you have sex when you didn’t want to? Force you to do other things?’
‘Yes.’
‘Then he raped you. Non-consensual sex, whoever it’s with, is rape.’
Silent tears dripped onto the table. ‘He hurts me,’ she whispered.
‘Then don’t let him do it again. Escape from him properly. Come to England. Live with me. I know we barely know each other, but we have plenty of time to do that. We played well together as children. I’m sure we can get along nicely now that we’re all grown up.’
‘I don’t have a passport.’
‘Then get one.’
Nia pulled a tissue out of her pocket, wiped her eyes and blew her nose. ‘Thanks for the offer, but I can’t. I have no money. I can’t sponge off you, and I won’t be able to find a job.’
‘Bollocks. Are no passport, no money and no work experience the only things stopping you?’
‘Aren’t they enough?’
‘They’re nothing that can’t be overcome. We’ll apply for a passport and I’ll give you a job. I’m thinking of going freelance and could do with someone to help me set up my business. I bet you have loads of skills and just don’t realise it.’ I was completely winging this, but I’d do anything to get her away from Jamie Doyle before he laid another finger on her or, even worse, killed her. I wouldn’t put it past him for taking out his anger on her at being questioned by the Guards.
‘I’m not sure.’
‘You don’t need to make a decision right now but will you promise to think about it?’
She smiled weakly. ‘Yes.’
‘And will you promise not to take him back?’
‘I don’t know. I—’
‘Nia! He’s a nutjob.’
‘Where would I go?’
‘I’m sure Ellen would take you in.’
Nia smiled. ‘That was unexpected news, wasn’t it?’
‘Just a bit. But it was a hell of a relief for me, and it explained so much about Ma’s behaviour towards me when we were young.’
‘I wish Mrs Shaughnessy were my real ma too. She’s always been nice to me.’
‘And she will be again. I can ring her if you want.’
Nia shook her head. ‘I need to think about it.’
‘You can think about my offer for as long as you like, but don’t take forever to decide about that rapist. If you let him come back to you, it could be the worst – or even the last – decision you ever make.’
She stood up. ‘I’ve got to go.’
‘Give me your number before you do.’
I typed her number into my mobile and sent her a text to make sure I had it right. ‘Please call me any time, night or day.’
‘Thank you. And I really am sorry. That’s all I came here to say. I didn’t expect to tell you… you know.’
‘That you’d been raped? I know it’s a horrible, scary word because of what it means, but keep saying it to remind you of the horrible, scary thing that he keeps doing to you.’
‘I suppose I should be grateful that we never had children. Imagine what he might have done to them.’
‘Didn’t you want children?’ I asked, as we made our way out of the bar and into the lobby.
‘I’ve always wanted kids, but Jim couldn’t have them.’
I stopped dead. ‘Why not?’
‘He had a really bad case of the mumps when he was fifteen. It made him infertile, so it did.’
‘You’re sure he was fifteen?’
‘Definitely.’
I grabbed Nia in a huge bear hug and squealed. I didn’t care that everyone was looking at me. Shannon was Daran’s daughter. There was no doubt about it.
47
‘I hope nothing comes the other way,’ I said to Ben as I drove down a narrow country lane early that afternoon. High bushes flanked the lane on either side so I’d need to do a hell of a long reverse to the nearest passing point if another vehicle appeared.
I hadn’t been to Wicklow before. In fact, I’d hardly been anywhere in Ireland beyond Cork because Ma hated travelling. Wicklow was stunning, with rolling hills, lush green fields and, pretty villages.
‘What was the name of the farm again?’ I asked.
‘Kylekerry Farm,’ Ben said. ‘There it is.’
I looked at the colourful sign, swinging slightly in the gentle breeze, announcing it as a farm, B&B, and equestrian centre.
Heart thumping, I turned the car onto a gravel driveway and drove about half a mile up a steady climb with nothing to see but meadows each side. The road then dipped revealing a pretty stone cottage, several barns and a collection of other outbuildings. Fields containing sheep, cattle and horses surrounded the farm. It was absolutely gorgeous.
‘Are you nervous?’ Ben asked.
‘Very. I’m wondering if I should have rung ahead rather than just turn up.’ Father Doherty didn’t have Daran’s mother’s number but it was a working farm so I could easily have found it online. I hadn’t known how to broach the conversation: You don’t know me, but I’m the woman your son gave up his plans to go into the priesthood for, and I wanted to tell you that you’re a granny. Was it going to be any easier face to face, though? From what Daran had told me about his mother, she wasn’t likely to scream abuse and order me off her land, but I knew she’d been proud of him for considering the priesthood, so she might not react well to the woman who’d ruined his vocation for him.
I drove carefully into the farmyard, avoiding a striped ginger cat and a few hens wandering round, pecking between the gravel.
‘Do you want me to wait here or come with you?’ Ben asked. ‘I won’t be offended if you’d prefer to do this alone.’
‘Will you come with me?’ I might need the moral support.
A dog barked as we approached the large, wooden stable door. I rapped on the wrought-iron knocker, sending the dog into a frenzy. When the door opened, an excitable poodle ran out and playfully bounced round my feet.
‘Sorry about that.’ A slim woman in her early sixties with long silver hair in a side plait and twinkly grey eyes bent down to pick up the dog. ‘This is Frodo. He loves visitors, don’t you, boy?’
She tickled his belly, then looked up and smiled. ‘Can I help?’
‘I’m looking for Mrs McInnery,’ I said. ‘Is that you?’
‘It is. Are you looking for a room?’
I glanced at Ben and he nodded in encouragement.
‘No. I actually came to see you. I used to know your son, Daran.’
Mrs McInnery stopped tickling the dog. ‘Oh my goodness! Clare? Is that yourself?’
‘You know who I am?’
‘Of course. My Daran showed me photos of you. What a beautiful young woman you’ve grown into. Come in! Come in! Kettle’s just boiled and I’ve got some scones cooling. Do you like scones? I always say you can’t beat them fresh out of the oven, so you can’t.’ She ushered us over the doorstep and my nerves steadied. Tea and scones were a good sign.
She led us into an enormous kitchen-diner. A Belfast sink, pale-blue Aga, and a large fridge-freezer broke up sturdy wooden units. A preparation island stood in the middle of the room, on which racks of scones and a chocolate cake were cooling. At the other end of the kitchen, a pair of two-seater sofas covered in bright-coloured blankets flanked an open fireplace, and between them and the kitchen was a large, solid dining table.
‘This is my friend, Ben,’ I said, as she directed us towards the table.
Mrs McInnery released Frodo, who ran towards a dog basket on the hearth, where he rolled around with a knotted rope between his teeth.
‘Pleased to meet you, Ben,’ she said, shaking his hand.
She turned to me. ‘God told me this day would come. Come here, child.’ She reached out her arms and hugged me. ‘I’m thr
illed He brought you to me on a day I’ve baked. Sit at the table while I get you a bite to eat.’
A few minutes later, she was back with a tray laden with scones, butter, jam and cream, plus a coffee for me and tea for herself and Ben. ‘Tuck in! There are fruit and cheese scones.’
‘Thanks, Mrs McInnery.’ I reached for a cheese scone. ‘This looks amazing.’
‘You must call me Laurel. My poor husband has been gone these past twenty years, the Lord rest his soul. Being called “Mrs” doesn’t feel right, so it doesn’t. I’m just plain Laurel.’
‘I hope you don’t mind us turning up out of the blue, but I was in Ireland for my da’s funeral and—’
‘Oh, my treasure. I’m sorry for your loss. Was it unexpected, God rest his soul?’
‘Heart attack. I’m… Well, we weren’t close, so…’
‘Daran told me. It’s still a sad thing when a parent passes, even if the relationship is an estranged one. I’ll pray for his soul and that the good Lord grants forgiveness.’
I wiped my buttery fingers on a piece of kitchen roll. ‘How much did Daran tell you?’
‘Oh, he told me everything, my treasure. I do know that yours was a loving relationship in every sense of the word and that the good Lord gave His blessing for it to be so. I know that your da found out and sent you away, and that my Daran tried so hard to find you. He wrote to you for years, but he had nowhere to send the letters.’
‘I know. Father Doherty kept them. He gave them to me recently.’
‘And how is the good Father? We send cards at Christmas, but it’s been years since I’ve seen him. I never have cause to be in Cork. It’s so far away and there’s so much to do here.’
‘Father Doherty is just grand. I’ve seen him a couple of times. He’s the one who gave me your address.’
I reached forward for my drink, and the light must have reflected off my Claddagh ring because Laurel put her tea down and reached for my hand. ‘You still wear it, my treasure.’
‘Wear what? Oh! The ring.’
‘Did he tell you I helped him choose it? He was so excited. I’ve never seen a man so in love. It warmed my heart.’
‘He never mentioned it. It’s beautiful. You helped him make a good choice.’
‘You wear it on your other hand, though.’ She frowned, then shook her head. ‘Of course you do. You’ve been separated these past seventeen years. He’ll be so happy that you still wear it.’
I smiled. ‘I’d like to think he would be.’
‘Oh, I guarantee he will be. Can I tell him? Or do you want to?’
‘Tell him? What do you mean? By praying?’
‘I could pray about it, but the conventional way would be when I next see him.’
I exchanged a confused glance with Ben. Was Daran haunting his mother? A shiver ran down my spine. ‘We are talking about the same person, aren’t we? Daran McInnery, the eldest of eight siblings?’
‘Yes. I’ll be seeing him tomorrow, but I bet he’d jump in the car and drive straight over if I told him you were here.’
‘I don’t understand. Daran’s dead.’
‘What?’ Laurel leapt up from the table, slopping her tea over her hands. ‘When?’
Jesus! What had I done? Was it possible she had Alzheimer’s and I’d just told her that her son had died, when, in whichever year she believed she was in, he was very much alive? I cringed as I said the next words. ‘In the Thailand tsunami of 2004.’
She sat down again and breathed out loudly before reaching for some kitchen roll to mop up the spillage. ‘Goodness me, my treasure. You scared the life out of me just now. Daran didn’t die in that awful tsunami, though many did, God rest their souls. Terrible tragedy. Just terrible. And the day after Christmas too.’
‘But there was a memorial service and everything. Father Doherty went to it. He said you were all there.’
She nodded and closed her eyes for a few moments. ‘That was one of the most painful days of my life. I thought that burying my precious husband was just about the worst pain I could ever experience, but a parent should never, ever have to lay one of their children to rest. I thought the blackness would never lift but I prayed to the Lord and, not only did He help me to see the light again, He returned my firstborn to me. Daran’s alive and well and living five miles down the road from here.’
48
‘Are you sure you don’t mind flying back on your own?’ I asked Ben an hour or so later.
‘It’s for the best. I need to be back at work tomorrow, and you need to spend time with Daran.’ Ben’s voice cracked as he added, ‘You won’t expect too much from seeing him, will you? It’s been a lot of years. People change.’
‘I’ll be grand. I’m not really expecting anything. I’m still shocked that he’s alive.’
Laurel told us that a man’s body was found matching Daran’s description and with Daran’s wallet in his pocket so there was no reason to believe it wasn’t him. Weeks later, one of Daran’s colleagues was visiting a hospital and she recognised one of the patients as Daran. He had no idea who he was or how he got there but seeing someone familiar finally jolted his memory. He couldn’t remember anything after entering the water but he could remember the lead-up to it. He’d been with a new recruit, demonstrating how to do some repairs on a shack. When he bent over, his wallet dug into him so he passed it to the recruit to put in his pocket until the demonstration was complete. Next moment, there were shouts and screams and they looked up to see a wall of water rushing towards them.
Laurel could have sworn they’d told everyone Daran hadn’t been killed so was surprised that Father Doherty didn’t know. Aisling said he’d had a stroke around then, though, which would certainly explain him missing the news.
‘Don’t rush into anything,’ Ben said, opening the driver’s door. ‘Take your time. Just let me know when you’re coming home. Assuming you do come home, that is.’ His dark eyes fixed on mine.
‘Don’t be daft. Of course I’m coming home. I’ve got a daughter and a grandson, and the possibility of an exciting new life and career at the seaside. I’m not about to give all of that up. And I need to win that king back, don’t I?’
Ben smiled, then hugged me tightly. ‘Take care of yourself. Ring me any time.’
I hugged him back, closing my eyes at the safety I felt in his embrace. ‘Thank you for everything this weekend. You’ve been my rock. Now, release me because you’re crumpling my lovely new Primark T-shirt.’
As I stood in the farmyard with my suitcase by my side and a black and white cat weaving around my ankles, waving goodbye to the hire car disappearing over the summit, I felt quite overcome with emotion. A stream of tears rained down my cheeks.
‘He’s a remarkable young man, isn’t he?’ Laurel said, appearing by my side. ‘A true gift from God.’
I couldn’t answer her. Without Ben by my side, I felt very vulnerable.
‘Let’s get you inside, my treasure. Get those tears wiped away before Daran arrives.’
‘Did you tell him I was here?’
‘No. I told him he had a very important visitor and that he and the children should get over here immediately.’
My heart skipped a beat. ‘Children?’
‘Ah, yes. I might have left that part out. You see, Daran got married and had three beautiful children. They’re not together anymore, though.’
‘Oh. What happened?’
‘I think I’d better let Daran tell you that. Come on. Let’s get you settled in one of the guest rooms so you can freshen up and change if you want to. Not that there’s anything wrong with what you’re wearing, of course. They’ll be here in about forty minutes.’
Laurel settled me in a beautifully decorated guest room on the ground floor of one of three barn conversions.
I opened out my suitcase on my bed. Christ! What the hell do I wear for my first meeting after seventeen years with the fiancé I thought was dead? I finally settled on a cute, soft-lemon dress. It had a b
aggy bodice with spaghetti straps and gathers around the neckline. The flared skirt was covered in pansies, cornflowers and pretty yellow flowers. It made me think of the meadow outside our farmhouse. I wondered if Daran would make the connection. I slipped my feet into a pair of beige Converse and pulled a soft, cream cardigan on.
Staring at my reflection in the shabby-chic cheval mirror, I could vividly picture standing in front of my wardrobe at home, trying to see whether I looked innocent yet alluring on my sixteenth birthday, before I fully gave myself to Daran. I’d been wearing a pretty flowery dress back then, which I’d loved. If only Jamie Doyle hadn’t ripped it and my blood hadn’t smeared across it. I closed my eyes and shivered. This was not the time for thinking about him. He was not going to ruin this for me.
‘Goodness me, aren’t you a vision of summer meadows and sunshine?’ Laurel said, smiling as I slipped back into the kitchen.
‘Do I look okay? I didn’t really have much else to wear.’
‘You look perfect.’
My heart jumped at the sound of a car crunching on the gravel. Laurel squeezed my hand. ‘That’ll be them. Don’t you be expecting too much. Neither of you are the same people who fell in love back then.’
‘Ben said something like that too.’
She smiled at me. ‘He’s got a wise head on young shoulders, that one. He sees things.’
Frodo started barking again and jumping up at the stable door. ‘Why don’t you go through to the sitting room and out onto the patio. I’ve put some iced lemonade out there. I’ll keep the treasures amused. You and Daran can talk.’
She pointed me in the direction of the sitting room. I heard car doors slamming and the squeals of young children. What was I doing here? How would he react after all these years? Would he even recognise me? I shook my head. Of course he would. Laurel had recognised me and she could only have seen me as a teenager in a handful of photos.
Sliding patio doors at the end of the room opened out onto a stepped terrace with stunning views across the farm. What an incredible place it must be to live, knowing that everything the eye could see belonged to them.
Coming Home to Seashell Cottage Page 27