Aftermath (14 page)

“Well, sir, with all due respect, you know that in our job truth can often be stranger than fiction,” Isabel said.

“Which one is the real wife?” he asked.

“That's the problem. They have different last names; one is Mrs
.
Darcy and the other is Mrs
.
Gilligan. They both seem utterly convinced that this man is their husband but one of them has to be wrong. Maybe it's a case of two different men and it's just a terrible mix-up.”

“How do you explain these men being absolute doubles of each other?”

“I don't know. It could be one of life's extraordinary coincidences,” but Isabel's expression indicated that she clearly didn't believe in coincidences.

“One coincidence too many, I think.”

“I don't know what the true situation is, but I'm determined to find out.”

James
let out a long, low whistle. “It's a real mess,” he said. “I can't see this being anything but a bloody disaster for everyone.”

“None of it makes any sense,” Isabel continued. “Both women were married in a perfectly legal ceremony. They've shown me their marriage certificates.”

“It's a very
intriguing situat
ion,” James
nodded his head thoughtfully. “I think you're taking the right approach in treating Mr
.
Darcy and Mr
.
Gilligan as two individual men.
Research both men's backgrounds and
interview everyone who is connected to them in any way. Cross-reference your notes and you'll find the comm
on thread that connects them
. It's definitely there
somewhere; y
ou just need to find it.”

“You look very pretty today, darling,” Chantale smiled indulgently at her daughte
r as she carefully arranged
sunflowers in a vase.

“Apparently, I'm blooming, mother,” Hope returned her mother's smile, much to Chantale's surprise. It had been months since she'd seen her daughter look anything other than sad and depressed.

“I’m b
looming huge.” Hope gently patted her round stomach before checking her face in her compact mirror and applying a slick of bright red lipstick.

“Where are you going all dressed up?”

“I'm going to visit Kerry Darcy,” Hope replied, a chilly calm in her voice.

Chantale froze. “Pardon?” she couldn't quite believe her ears.

“I'm going to visit Kerry Darcy, you remember, mother, the woman who claims to be married to my husband.”

“Yes, of course I remember her name. How could I possibly forget? Why on earth are you going to see her?” Chantale stared incredulously at her daughter but she had that stubborn expression on her face which meant there was no chance of changing her mind.

“I'm tired of wondering about her,” Hope explained. “I think it's time we met and sorted things out. I'm sure there's a perfectly logical explanation and I'm exhausted from the questions that are constantly going around and around in my head. Who knows, maybe we can help each other.”

Chantale glanced
doubtfully at her daughter. She really thought she'd gone quite mad, not that anyone could blame her, after everything she'd been through.

“Will you let me drive you?” she asked.

“That would be wonderful, mama, thank you,” Hope smiled gratefully at her mother. “I'm finding it more and more difficult to squash myself behind the wheel.”

“Does Kerry know you're coming?”

“No, I wanted to surprise her, catch her off guard. I didn't want to risk her refusing to see me. I need answers, mama, and she's the only person who can give them to me.”

Chantale's first thought was that Kerry Darcy looked old. She seem
ed much, much older than Hope,
although that might have been because the other woman was unnaturally pale and very thin;
she was
skin and bones really. Dark smudges lined her eyes and her cheeks were hollow in her face. Her auburn hair was sticking up around her head, possibly as a result of her incessantly running her hands through it; quite obviously a nervous habit. Her entire body seemed to be collapsing in on itself and she walked with the aid of a crutch, leaning heavily on it as she hobbled through to the living room.

“We meet at last,” Kerry smiled wanly at the two women who stood awkwardly in front of her. “Please, take a seat. I'll make us some tea. I won't be a second.”

“Don't go to any trouble on our account,” Chantale insisted. She felt a sudden dart of sympathy for the other woman.

“No, it's no trouble. The kettle's just boiled. I was about to have a cup anyway.”

She hobbled off to the kitchen, leaving her two unexpected guests alone in the living room. Kerry closed the kitchen door behind her and leaned against the counter for support. She was glad to have a few minutes alone to gather herself together. So this was the woman claiming to be married to her husband. It couldn't be possible, but why would she lie? It was a huge shock to see Hope. Kerry knew the day would eventually come when they would have to meet but she hadn't been expecting to see a heavily pregnant woman at her door
. Conor wouldn't do this to me, would he?
She couldn't believe it, she wouldn't. He loved her too much to ever betray her so deeply.
“This is such a nightmare,” she groaned. “Am I ever going to wake up?”

Chantale appeared in the kitchen, startling her from the whirlwind of thoughts that were engulfing her addled brain. “Let
me help you with that,” she offered
, picking up the tray where Kerry had neatly placed the teapot and cups.

“Thank you,” Kerry smiled
stiffly as she hobbled back into the living room. They busied themselves for some minutes stirring sugar and milk into their tea. The sil
ence between them was palpable.
“I was wondering when you'd show up.”

Hope shifted uncomfortably in her seat. She didn't appreciate the other woman's tone and she could feel her blood beginning to boil. “You're obviously completely out of your mind,”
Hope responded in a
dead-pan voice, looking Kerry directly in the eyes. 

Kerry seemed taken aback for a moment, as if she'd been slapped sharply across the face. She stared at Hope in bewilderment. “I have no idea who you are or who you think you're married to, but I can tell you right here, right now that Conor Darcy is my husband, not yours,” she retaliated.

“He’s not y
our husband!” Hope sn
apped. “I feel sorry for you, you poor
deluded
woman. You've got it very
wrong;
you're talking about
my
husband
and for your information, his name is Niall Gilligan.
”

Kerry shook her head, trying to blink back the tears that welled up in her eyes at the sharpne
ss of the other woman's voice.
“I wish I was wrong,” she said quietly. “There's been a terrible mix-up and I'm sorry that you've been caught in the middle of it, but I know my husband,” her voice broke. “He's an honourable, kind, loyal man. He would never cheat on me or our lives together.”

“You're on the wrong end of the mix-up,” Hope persisted, clenching and unclenching her fists in frustration. “
You're wrong; i
t's as simple as that. I don't understand why you're being so insistent but you're wrong.”

“My mom knows my dad,” Saoirse entered the room unexpectedly. She'd been in town with her friends and had arrived home early. Kerry hadn't even heard her key in the front door. She didn't know how long she'd been standing there, hovering by the door. How muc
h had she heard? “I know my dad
too and I know he'd never cheat on my mom. He loves her too much. I don't understand why you're here talking such nonsense while he could be out there somewhere dead for all we know. You're a very bad, cruel woman to come here like thi
s and you have some nerve being
here upsetting us like this.”

Hope glared at the teenager and took a few deep breaths to steady herself. “Do you honestly think that I want to be here?” she demanded. “I've been waiting for my husband to come home for months. I don't know where he is or what might have happened to him, but I can tell you one thing for sure, I'm going to bloody well find out
and I don’t care who
I might upset in the process!”

There was silence as they all stared wordlessly at each other.

“Getting annoyed with each other isn't going to help the situation,” Chantale said, breaking the mutinous silence that had descended. “You shouldn't be distressing yourself and the baby.” She patted her daughter's arm in reassurance.

The burning anger suddenly evaporated from Hope'
s body and she began to shake.
“I can't breathe,” she gasped. “I can't...help me...”

“Quick, Saoirse!
Get the bags in the kitchen,” Kerry ordered.

Saoirse ran out of the room and quickly returned with a small brown paper bag which she handed to Hope.

“Breathe into this,” Kerry instructed the other woman. “Take your time. You'll be fine.”

Hope gratefully took the bag and put it over her nose and mouth. Slowly, but surely, her ragged breat
hing began to return to normal.
“Thank you,” she smiled weakly. “How did you know what to do?”

“You're welcome. I used to have panic attacks for a few months after the tsunami and the doctor told me to breathe into a bag.”

“Attention-seeker,” Saoirse muttered under her breath.

Kerry squeezed her daughter's arm.

“There's no way my Dad would have anything to do with someone like you,” Saoirse snapped. “He hates melodramatics and you seem like a major drama queen to me. I think you're lying.” She glared defiantly at Hope.

“I wish I was lying,” Hope replied, still holding the paper bag.

“How can you come to my house, completely unannounced and create such a big fuss? You've upset me and my daughter and we don't even know if w
e're talking about the same man!
The fact is that we both lost our husbands in the tsunami. You've convinced yourself that they're the same man just because they look alike! I know you're suffering, but we're suffering too.”

Kerry felt very tired. She didn't want the other woman sitting in her house, talking about her husband like he belonged to her. She had no right to be there, intruding on her worry and grief and Saoirse was right; Conor wouldn't be remotely interested in a drama queen like Hope. He liked calm, steady women like her with a bit of excitement in the bedroom, but not this hysterical, over-the-top crying and breathlessness. He wouldn't have entertained her for a minute.

“Do you have to look at me like that?” Hope asked.

“Like what exactly?”

“Like something disgusting you just stepped on,” Hope replied. “You have no right to sit there and look down on me.”

“I don't want to look at you at all. Remember, you invited yourself here, not me.”

Kerry leaned back against the sofa and closed her eyes for a moment. Despite her certainty that Conor wouldn't be interested in someone like Hope, the fact was that the woman was here, in her home. She wasn't an unattrac
tive woman either, Kerry admitted
reluctantly. She wasn't stunningly beautiful or anything, but she could see why some men might be into her. What she couldn't see was the possibility of any relationship between Hope and Conor, let alone a marriage! Where would Conor get the time? He scarcely had enough time for her and his daughters. What if they had been romantically involved? There was no way that Hope could be telling the truth about being married to him, but maybe, just maybe they had had a liaison.
No, Conor wouldn't that to me
, she told herself.
He was always faithful to me. I know it!

“I realise this situation is very upsetting for everyone.”

Kerry jumped at the sound of Chantale's voice. She'd hardly said two sentences so far.

“We do understand how you feel, Mrs. Darcy.”

“Do we?” Hope turned on her mother. “Are you taking her side now?”

“I'm not taking anyone's side, darling,” Chantale tried to explain. “There are no sides in this whole sorry mess.” She reached over and opened her daughter's handbag, rummaging about in it b
efore she unearthed her wallet.
“Look at him,” she passed the wallet
to Kerry
, which contained a photograph of Niall smiling happily.

Kerry and Saoirse stared at the photo, studying it intently.

“He is the spitting image of Dad,” Saoirse said
reluctantly
.

“I've
never seen two people who were
so alike,” Kerry whispered, not quite believing the photo in front of her. If someone had told her that it was a picture of Conor, she wouldn't have argued otherwise. They had the same smile, the same shock of black hair and the same unmistakable twinkling blue eyes. The likeness was uncanny.