A Change of Heart (The Heartfelt Series) (32 page)

When the man sat down beside her, clicking his seatbelt shut, she did not look up. She closed her eyes ahead of take-off. She did not open them again until the refreshment trolley was at her side. She licked her lips; she could do with a drink.

 “What can I get you ma’am?” the pretty stewardess asked.

 “Have a cocktail Kathleen, it’s Monday,” the man beside her whispered in her ear.

 “I’ll need a fecking large one if I’ve to sit next to you all the way back,” she told Brian Maguire fiercely.

 “Better make that two,” he said to the stewardess, “I’ll have whatever the lady’s having. I always do.”

Marianne was itemising the contents of some of the boxes they had discovered in the attic at the big house. One in particular would appeal to her mother, crammed full with furs, gowns and bags of accessories, and not all of it moth-eaten. One dress in particular had caught Marianne’s eye, a swirling purple satin, lined with lavender silk, as new as the day it was made.

She and the team had been hard at work all day, but they were getting there. She was exhausted. She laid her pen down, and was just about to drift off to sleep when the shrill ring of the telephone woke her with a start.

 “It’s me Marianne, your mother.” Miss MacReady sounded tense, yet excited. Marianne wondered why she was telephoning from New York. More news on the mugging? Had the jewels re-appeared?

 “Can you come over?” Miss MacReady asked.

 “To New York?” Marianne was sluggish.

 “No, I’m home, can you come up to the post office?”

 “Now?” Marianne’s stomach rumbled. When had she eaten last?

 “It’s important, I need to see you first before anyone knows I’m back.”

Miss MacReady replaced the receiver. “She’s on her way,” she told the man standing beside her.

 “Okay, if you’re sure the shock won’t kill her,” he said, running his fingers through his hair.

Careful to avoid the tins of paint on the landing in the half-light, Marianne told Monty to stay and headed out into the early evening.

The revelation that the handsome man standing next to the postmistress in her inner sanctum was her father rendered Marianne speechless. She heard a loud whooshing in her ears and her throat started to burn, eyes darting from one to the other. Miss MacReady took her by the hand and sat her down on the large, floral sofa. The whole room appeared in black and white except for that garish piece of furniture. Marianne’s mind whirred blankly.

 “Anyway, I wanted you to know first, meet in private, take it from there,” Miss MacReady was saying. The man was pouring a drink; he handed it to Marianne. She looked up into his face.
Why was it so familiar?
She had never seen him before in her life. She took a sip.

 “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

 “I’m the one who’s sorry,” he said, a warm, soft voice, a hint of the island, shades of New York. “Yet thrilled, delighted beyond my wildest dreams to meet you Marianne, my daughter, finally.”

 “It’s a lot to take in, probably best not to even try,” Miss MacReady said, lighting candles all over the place.

 “Was it planned for you two to meet up? Did you know he was there, in New York?” she asked when she eventually found her voice. The man was sitting quite close to her, a strange look in his eyes.

 “Ah, when fate decides to lend a hand,” Miss MacReady said, staring at them both. The man shook his head.

 “Could someone start at the beginning?” Marianne said, her heart-beat nowhere near normal.

 “Good plan,” Miss MacReady said, drawing up a footstool to sit as close to them as she could. “Let me take you back, right back to a little girl on a boat. It’s only a small boat and her mother is sailing it. She’s a good sailor and the little girl loves it. It’s a summer’s day and they’ve just landed on a tiny shale beach, which leads to a formal lawn, with a tall, elegant building in the background.

 “There’s a little boy playing on the beach, building a very lavish sand castle. He’s singing to himself, the breeze blowing his dark curls like a black halo around his head. He sees the mother and little girl and stands up, politely waiting for them to reach him. He extends his hand to the little girl and says, ‘My name is Brian Maguire, what’s your name?’ ‘I’m Kathleen MacReady,’ says the girl and promptly falls in love with him, and from that day on, despite coming from very different backgrounds, the two are inseparable and will love each other until the day they die.”

Marianne blinked at Miss MacReady.

 “But I’m guessing you’d like a bit more of the practical detail,” Brian said, smiling at Marianne.

 “Only tell me what I need to know,” Marianne replied. “Mother can be either vaguely ethereal or brazenly graphic depending on her mood.”

 He laughed out loud, making the women jump.

 “Mother. I like that, suits her doesn’t it?” he said, and Miss MacReady gave a sparkling smile as Brian Maguire told his side of a very typical ‘girl gets pregnant, family disowns her, boy is sent away by his parents’ story and Marianne listened in awe as she watched the years between them fall away and this long-time, brokenhearted couple weep fresh tears for the child they thought they had lost and a life together they never shared.

 “But, you didn’t stay in touch,” Marianne said eventually in a small voice.

 “I wrote every week, the only message I received was ‘The baby died, Kathleen never wants to see you again’. The postmistress at the time ...”

 “My aunt, Dolly,” Miss MacReady interjected.

 “Destroyed each and every one of them,” Brian said. “She was under strict instructions from our parents to prevent us ever communicating with each other again.”

 “So they made sure you could never be together, never marry, never have any more children?” Marianne asked, shocked by all she had heard.

 “That’s the truth of it,” Brian looked up at Miss MacReady. “And now we’ve found each other again.”

 Miss MacReady’s face was wet with tears.

 “How cruel, our own parents, it was obvious we were in love, we were young, it wasn’t even a mistake, you were a gift, a precious gift.” She blinked at Marianne. “My own mother did this despicable thing to her own child.” Miss MacReady put her hand to her throat, where a rash of anger burned.

 “Now Kathleen, don’t talk like that,” Brian said, trying to mollify her.

 “I will talk like that, ruined my life that bloody bitch did,” she flashed at him.

 “At least it’s not my fault anymore,” Brian said smiling at Marianne, who liked him more and more the longer she spent with him.

“Well, well, well, there’s a turn-up, as they say,” Ryan was tearing lumps of ham off a joint Marianne was resting ahead of carving it for the ‘Ham & Egg’ special on Maguire’s lunchtime menu. He had just had a pint with his old pal Brian Maguire or Mac, as he called him and was filling Marianne in, on how the island connection had meant Mac instantly took to him, and his buddy Larry, when they were young, out-of-work actors in New York.

“He was a bit like a kindly uncle to both of us,” Ryan explained, disappointed they could not spend more time together, before Miss MacReady took Brian to the airport and he headed home to New York.

 “I bet those who remember him were surprised to see him?” Marianne said, putting mustard into little pots.

 “Sean was his usual happy self about the whole thing, asking was it still Halloween, seeing as the dead had come back to haunt us!” Ryan was smiling.

 “Surprised we’ve any tourist trade at all with charming locals like him waiting to greet everybody.” Marianne was not amused.

 “I think Kathleen has made him welcome though,” Ryan twinkled at her.

 “Suit each other don’t they?” Marianne said, moving the ham out of his way.

 “Yes, they do, but she’s left Larry brokenhearted,” Ryan told her. “He’s emailing me every hour with script amendments, schedules, dates for costume fittings, all sorts of crap, clearly throwing himself into his work, now she’s taken up with her old flame.”

 Marianne tutted at him. “Shame Brian couldn’t stay longer, I’d like to get to know him, seems a nice guy.” She was wistful.

“Said he had some business to attend to, appointments and such, I think he’ll be back though, they still seem pretty crazy about each other,” Ryan said.

 She sidled up to him, “Do you think we’ll be like that?” she blew hot breath on his neck. He grabbed her wrist, pulling her to him.

 “Oh yes, I’ll always be hot for you, especially if you feed me a bit more of that ham, it’s delicious.” The baby alarm shrilled to life; Joey was teething and cranky.

 “Go and see to your son, I’ll make you a …” but before she could finish her sentence Sinead swept through the room and up the stairs.

 “I’ll see to him, don’t want him to set Bridget off,” she said as she passed.

 Erin came through from the bar; there was a speaker there too.

 “It’s okay,” Marianne told her.

 “Sinead?” Erin asked. Marianne nodded.

 “She’s obsessed with those kids,” Erin said.

 “Is she?” Ryan asked.

 “She is a bit,” Marianne agreed, “and she’s not looking at all well lately, very pasty.”

 “I know what she needs, what we all need - a day out at sea!” Erin declared.

 “It’s November,” Marianne reminded her.

 “Sure you can get a gorgeous day this time of year. Head out early, pack a good hearty picnic, take a turn around the bay and home in time for tea. Come on, it’ll be great, and I’d love to get out on the water before I have to go back to the
rat race
.” Erin said.

 They both looked up. Despite rocky beginnings Marianne did not want Erin to leave and Ryan liked her, hoping she and Dermot might hit it off, and Dermot would give up making
puppy-dog-eyes
at Marianne.

 “Have you a boat in mind?” Ryan asked her. “Ouch!” Marianne slapped his hand wandering towards the ham.

 “Padar,” Erin called down the cellar, “will you give me and Marianne a loan of that old boat you have for a turn around the bay?”

 “What?” Padar called back, amid clunking.

 “Your boat, give us a go of it, will you?”

 “Sure, if it keeps you out of my hair for a few hours. One of the building lads hired it for the weekend, you’ll have to get it back off him,” Padar told her.

 Erin shrugged, “I saw it back on its mooring this morning. I know where the keys are, I’ll check the weather and we’ll make a plan, say Wednesday or Thursday this week. Are you on?” she looked at Marianne.

 “Can you skipper her?” Marianne asked.

 “No bother,” Erin replied, “what about you?”

 “Incompetent crew,” Marianne smiled.

 Sinead appeared with Joey on her hip, he was sucking a banana covered in
Bonjela.

 
“Fancy a girlie day out this week?” Erin asked.

 “Not sure, the children, you know,” Sinead replied.

 “We’ll bring them with us,” Erin smiled at Marianne, “and Monty too. We’ll all go, we could do with a nice restful day on the water, a bit of sea air.”

 “I’d better warn the coastguard,” Ryan said, stuffing more ham into his mouth as he fled the kitchen.

“Goodness me, to what do I owe this honour? You haven’t been on the island since, let me see, when was it, Bridget’s christening? And only then because we had you carried over the water in five star luxury, on one of those superstars’ yachts. We’ve always been a bit rough and ready for you, haven’t we, Joyce?” Miss MacReady said, hugging and kissing her sister repeatedly during the diatribe. Joyce waved her away.

 “Stop fussing Kathleen, I don’t think that at all, but I do think you need a decent bridge to the mainland and the sooner the better. Good men and women fought long and hard to get that bridge built back in the day. It’s a disgrace that shower up in Dublin didn’t declare it a national priority and send the boys down by the lorry load to get the job done!”

 She dropped her bag in the doorway and walked through the spangly curtain into the kitchen. It was
gismo central,
everything coloured, mainly purple. Very appetising, Joyce surmised. She would love a cup of tea, but where to start, was there even a kettle in amongst all the paraphernalia?

 “A drink Joyce?” Miss MacReady eyed Joyce’s overnight bag uncertainly.

 “Yes please Kathleen. I don’t enjoy travelling as you know.” Joyce re-emerged, beaten.

 Miss MacReady disappeared into the kitchen and returned almost immediately with an ice cold sherry for her sister and a large whiskey for herself.

 “Well,” Miss MacReady asked, settling herself on the sofa, while her guest took the merest sip of her drink, pacing around the room in sensible shoes.

 “I’m all ears,” Miss MacReady tried again, although she was pretty sure she knew what had brought her well-meaning sister to her door.

 “It’s a surprise!” Joyce said.

 “What’s a surprise?” asked Miss MacReady.

 “Well, I am, obviously,” Joyce replied, lifting her arms and twirling a bit.

 “Okay I get that, but why, why are you surprising me?”