Beneath an Irish Sky (Choc Lit) (11 page)

Jack shook his head and Sarah allowed herself to breathe again. ‘I’m still her next of kin, so the funeral’s up to me. At least I can give her a decent send-off. Her brothers probably couldn’t afford to do that. Wish Luke would see it that way – cut me some slack …’

‘Luke?’ Sarah jerked back on the sofa.

‘Turns out Annie had a son. Mine, apparently. An angry young man – mad at me, mad at the world. Twenty years and I never knew about Luke. Matt’s made up about it, though – he finally got that younger brother he always wanted.’

‘He’s here? In Baronsmere?’

‘I couldn’t just leave him over there,’ said Jack, frowning at her. ‘He was with Annie in the car. He nearly died, too. Needs looking after for a bit.’

‘Do your parents know?’

‘Oh yes.’ Jack grimaced. ‘They met yesterday. It was a nightmare. Not a civil word to each other.’

Sarah gulped down some wine. ‘Did he tell you why Annie left?’

Jack looked at Sarah but his mind was elsewhere. The strain of all this was clear to see on his face. ‘He claims I threw Annie out.’

‘Threw her out …’ Sarah could only manage a hoarse whisper.

‘As if I would do that. He’s obviously been told a pack of lies.’

‘Obviously …’ She’d have to stop parroting everything he said.

‘I was thinking back to the weeks before Annie left. Did she ever say anything that would make you think she was …’

‘Was what?’ Sarah’s drifting mind suddenly locked back into sharp focus.

‘Well, jealous of you. Do you think she got the wrong idea about us going to Brussels together? It was strictly business. But I wonder …’

‘Don’t do this, Jack,’ urged Sarah. ‘It’s not fair on yourself. You worked so hard to pick up the pieces and get your life back on track. I’m sorry Annie’s dead but she chose to leave you … to abandon you. Short of a medium, we’re probably never going to know why she left, why she lied to her son. Just let it go.’ And she prayed he would.

‘Hard to do that while Luke’s around.’ He put his glass on the coffee table. ‘Thanks for listening, Sarah. I’d better go.’

Any other time she’d have tried to persuade him to stay, but right now she needed to be alone. ‘Call me to discuss the funeral arrangements, okay?’

As the front door closed behind Jack, Sarah curled up on the sofa, overwhelmed by memories. And guilt.

Jack’s words kept playing over in her head.
I never knew about Luke
.

No, Jack didn’t. But she did.

Sunday mornings in Baronsmere irritated the hell out of Jack. Five years ago, the new vicar had shifted the church service from eleven to nine o’clock. Now no one could have a lie-in because of the bloody bells. Last year, Sarah had finally forked out on double glazing for her cottage, sacrificing the special-feature mullioned windows in the process. She’d sent the bill to the vicar claiming noise harassment, but he’d returned it with a box of jellied fruits and a note suggesting she might enjoy the bells more if she attended church.

So, as usual, Jack was up at eight, relaxing in the living room where he could read the papers in peace. Matt wouldn’t show till noon. Nothing but a full-scale earthquake would rouse him. Luke hadn’t appeared yet. He’d eaten dinner in his room last night, claiming tiredness. Avoidance, more like, but at least Jack didn’t have to sit in an unpleasant atmosphere.

The door opened and Maggie came in with a pot of fresh coffee. ‘Sun’s coming out,’ she told him.

How did she do it? Sixty-six, and though she had a touch of arthritis, she still ran the house like clockwork, bossing everyone around into the bargain.

‘Maggie, can I ask you a favour?’

She stopped plumping the cushions and stood there, hand on hip. ‘What is it? I need to get ready for church.’

Jack cleared his throat. ‘Luke needs to see Father Quinn about the funeral, and he might want to go to Mass as well. Could you take him? You can have lunch out. My treat.’

‘You want
me
to go with Luke to sort out his mother’s funeral?’

‘You’re Catholic and going to St John’s this morning. Isn’t it logical that Luke goes with you?’

‘Don’t you think the lad might want his father to go with him?’ It wasn’t a question but an accusation. Maggie had assumed the role of Luke’s protector, just as Matt had.

‘Don’t look at me like that, Maggie. I know it’s not ideal but I have to see a few people – Dave and Evie, Tony and Barbara – to tell them about Annie. Hopefully they’ll come to the funeral. After that, I’m going to Edenbridge to settle things with the family. For Luke’s sake.’ Fat chance of that, but he’d have to give it a try.

‘For your sake, you mean!’

‘Don’t give me grief. I can’t leave things as they are. Luke’ll probably prefer to go with you anyway. Where is he now? Still asleep?’

‘
I’ll
go and check on him, shall I? God forbid he might see you taking an interest.’

Jack banged his cup down on the saucer. ‘Sometimes, Maggie, you go too far!’

They glared at each other.

‘You’d better sack me, then. I speak my mind, Jack – always have, always will.’

God knows, he’d been tempted more than once to send her packing, but they both knew he’d never do it because they shared a history. Right back to when Maggie had been Caroline’s nanny, and she and Jack’s nanny were friends who often helped each other out in times of need. Maggie had been there at every stage of Jack’s life, through good times and challenges.

Maggie finally broke the charged silence. ‘I
will
take Luke to Baronswood, but will
you
go and get him up for breakfast, please. He needs to eat more.’

‘Thanks, Maggie.’ He left the room before she could change her mind. One confrontation over, another looming. He knocked on Luke’s door and heard a muted, ‘Come in.’

Luke was stretched out on the bed, fully clothed, reading a book. ‘So you’re awake,’ said Jack. ‘Why haven’t you come through for breakfast?’

Luke stayed focused on his book. ‘Not hungry.’

‘Well, Maggie wants you to eat something. You need to build your strength up, hungry or not.’

‘Okay,’ said Luke, still reading.

Jack resisted the urge to shake him for his rudeness. ‘What are you reading?’ he asked.

‘
The Dead.
’ said Luke. He turned back to the front cover of the book. ‘Short stories by James Joyce. Found it in the bookcase in the livin’ room.’

‘It was your mother’s,’ murmured Jack. ‘I gave it to her on her twentieth birthday.’

Luke breathed in deeply and laid the book down on the bed. Jack regretted blurting it out like that, but at least he now had Luke’s attention. ‘Maggie’s going to take you to see Father Quinn, the priest at Baronswood, to discuss the funeral.’

Luke frowned. ‘Maggie is?’

‘I need to smooth things over with the family.’

‘And that’s more important …’

‘It
is
important, Luke, yes, for everyone’s sake.’ There was silence from the direction of the bed. ‘Anyway, Maggie will take you. Matt’s still asleep, and probably won’t surface much before the afternoon.’

‘So Maggie drew the short straw?’

Jack sighed. ‘It’s not like that.’

‘Whatever.’ Luke picked up the book again and started flicking through the pages.

‘I’ll see you later, then.’ Jack was determined to keep things civil. ‘Make sure you get some breakfast.’

He turned to leave, but Luke brought him up short. ‘What about the funeral? Think you’ll manage to make that?’

‘Father Quinn was very helpful,’ said Maggie as they drove away from St John’s. ‘Younger priests like him sometimes don’t mind breaking with Catholic tradition a bit. It’s good that you can have things the way you want them, isn’t it?’

‘Yes,’ Luke agreed. He’d been surprised to get approval for modern music and a eulogy before the Mass rather than at the interment. Maybe Father Quinn was a bit of a rebel, or maybe he was concerned about Luke having to stand too long on crutches at the graveside on what could be a damp day. At least it wasn’t going to be a full Mass, so he wouldn’t need to take communion. He had no plans to make confession. Maybe he never would again. He took no comfort in the church now.

‘Tell you what – why don’t we drive back via the scenic route,’ suggested Maggie. ‘Make the most of the sunshine. Then we can stop somewhere for lunch.’

‘Okay.’ Luke knew Maggie was trying to distract him and he appreciated her concern. He’d been upset when Jack said he wasn’t coming. One minute he claimed he’d loved Annie, the next he couldn’t even be bothered to help plan her funeral. At least Annie wasn’t being buried on Stewart land. He couldn’t have stomached that. Thinking about burying his mother gave him a pain in his heart that was almost physical. ‘Y’know, Maggie, Mam was devout all her life but it didn’t get her anywhere.’

‘Good people get their reward in heaven, lad.’

‘She’ll be livin’ it up now then, but she deserved it when she was here.’ A moment later, he regretted dismissing Maggie’s attempts at comfort. None of this was her fault. ‘I’m sorry, I just miss her.’

Maggie squeezed his hand. ‘Of course you do, love, she was your mum. Life can be very cruel.’

‘I keep thinkin,’ if only we hadn’t been on the road at that time – even just a few minutes earlier or later, and things might have been different. If only …’

He paused. If only he’d kept his temper, if only he hadn’t borrowed Joe’s car on St Patrick’s Day. Remembering made him feel light-headed and hot as his mind filled with unpleasant memories. He reached out for the dashboard, using it to prevent himself falling forward. He was finding it hard to breathe.

Cool gusts of air filled the car as Maggie pulled off the road and the windows were automatically opened. ‘Take slow deep breaths, Luke,’ she commanded, and he gasped in lungfuls of air until he felt better.

They were quiet for some time, staring out at the view of green fields and trees that were just beginning to sprout leaves. A river wound its way gently into the distance. The peaceful scene calmed Luke. It wasn’t unlike Ireland. Suddenly, a red deer stepped out from between the trees. It glanced briefly at the car, then picked its way delicately over the gravel before disappearing.

‘Did you see that?’ said Maggie, in a hushed voice. ‘He must have come from Tatton Deer Park.’

‘She,’ corrected Luke. ‘It was a hind.’ Maggie looked at him in amazement. ‘Animals I know, Maggie,’ he said. ‘It’s people I have problems with.’

‘Speaking of animals, I’ll let you into a secret. I call your Grandmother the Cheshire Cat.’

Luke couldn’t help it. He started to laugh. It was a relief, even though it hurt his ribs. And seeing the deer had been magical. An omen of love, some believed. Maybe Annie had sent it.

Lunch at the Foresters Arms was in full swing when Luke and Maggie arrived. They squeezed into a corner table with just enough room for Luke to stretch out his injured leg. He was aware of people giving him sidelong glances, probably wondering who the hell he was. Unless they’d heard and just wanted to stare at the Traveller.

‘Don’t mind them, Luke,’ said Maggie. ‘They’re just curious. Not much happens here, so anyone new is the centre of attention. Next week, they’ll be talking about someone else.’

He hoped so. He wanted to keep a low profile. Quick in and out, as they’d often had to do in Ireland.

‘Nice to see you here, Maggie.’ A waitress appeared at their table, and Luke was now the one staring. The girl had light brown hair with blonde highlights, big green eyes, and a friendly smile.

‘Hello, Kate,’ said Maggie. ‘We thought we’d have a spot of lunch. This is Luke – Matt’s brother.’

The green eyes turned on him. ‘Hello, Luke. Matt told me all about you – he was on the phone the minute he knew. He’s made up. It’s lovely to meet you. I’m Kate – Kate Walker.’

She held out her hand. It was cool and dry. His wasn’t. ‘Good to meet you, too.’

‘Kate’s mum – Sarah – is the owner,’ said Maggie. ‘That’s her behind the bar.’

Sarah was blonde. Bleached by the look of it. Not as subtle as Kate’s. Her clothes weren’t subtle either – looked like she was going to a film première. And she must have bought some shop’s entire supply of make-up. Not an original piece of skin in sight. She’d been one of those staring when he came in, or scowling more like. Did she know who he was? Didn’t want a Traveller in her pub?

‘I’m afraid there’s not much on offer,’ said Kate. ‘Chef’s sick today, so it’s fish and chips or spaghetti bolognese.’

Luke and Maggie decided on fish and chips, with the promise of chocolate cheesecake for dessert.

‘Come over and have a chat, Kate, if you get a minute,’ suggested Maggie. ‘You can give Luke the low-down on Baronsmere.’

‘Will do.’

Kate flashed her glorious smile at Luke as she walked away. She looked as good from the back as she did from the front. ‘She seems nice,’ said Luke. Serious understatement.

‘Yes, she is. She only works here sometimes.’

Definitely his lucky day, then.

‘She’s at university,’ continued Maggie. ‘Studying journalism.’

Out of his league. She’d be going places, and in the opposite direction to him. Christ, he had to stop this self-pity.

‘Sarah used to be your dad’s girlfriend,’ Maggie told him. ‘They split up a few months ago. Not the first time that’s happened, though. They could be back together again soon.’

That would be why she was giving him the evil eye then – Jack had dumped her so she thought of any family members as guilty by association.

‘Afternoon, Maggie.’

One of the customers came to their table, probably to gossip and gawp. Luke plastered a smile on his face for Maggie’s sake.

Jack was seated opposite the scowling Sir Hugh Vernon, who had been hanged for supporting the Royalist cause at the Battle of Rowton Moor but who continued to haunt the Stewarts through his depressing portrait. Sunday lunch at Edenbridge was always a stuffy, formal affair. The Sèvres porcelain, Sheffield plate and expensive damask tablecloth embroidered by Belgian nuns put in an appearance every week without fail. All for show. Was it any wonder he preferred the simplicity of his own plain wooden kitchen table?

‘Where’s Matt today, Jack?’ Nicholas asked, selecting a choice piece of salmon from the platter the butler had presented. ‘We don’t see as much of him as we used to.’

‘He’s busy.’

‘Hah! Pulling pints? Very demanding.’ Gavin, Jack’s obnoxious nephew, was always shoving his opinions down people’s throats. He was the main reason Matt missed so many Sunday lunches, worried he’d lose it and break a family heirloom over Gavin’s thick skull.

‘He’s supervising the planning of the new nightclub,’ said Jack, through gritted teeth.

‘I really don’t see the need for a nightclub,’ said Grace, frowning. ‘Loud music and late-night drinking, and cars revving at all hours. It’s so out of keeping with Baronsmere. I must say, I’m surprised at Sarah.’

‘The new nightclub?’ said Richard Morland, walking into the dining room. Jack wondered where his brother-in-law had been skulking. It wasn’t like him to be late for Sunday lunch, especially since he was on site, living with Claire and Gavin in the east wing at Edenbridge. Richard never missed a chance to ingratiate himself with the in-laws. Now the despicable crawler was grovelling an apology to Grace. Jack should have seen him off years ago when he’d first started sniffing around Claire. No apology or kiss for her, Jack noted. She might as well have been invisible.

‘Whilst socially it might be a bit of a nightmare,’ said Richard, sitting down and unfolding his napkin, ‘it does make good business sense. Lots of young people in Baronsmere and the surrounding villages now. A nightclub will be a draw.’

Richard was just repeating what he’d heard Sarah say. The idiot had zero intuition when it came to business, and absolutely no ethics. Jack wanted to say as much but wouldn’t upset Claire by starting an argument. Richard wasn’t worth it.

‘How’s Luke doing, Jack?’ asked Claire. Her voice was little more than a whisper, her eyes wide and nervous.

‘Thank you, Henderson,’ Grace told the butler before Jack could answer. ‘We can manage from here.’

Jack knew exactly what she was doing and resented it. ‘What’s wrong, Mother? Don’t want the servants to hear?’ he asked as the door closed.

‘Servants do gossip, Jack – as you know.’ This was obviously a reference to Maggie, who Grace believed shared her knowledge of the Stewart family with her equally inquisitive sister.

‘Everyone will know about Luke soon enough,’ said Jack, setting down his cutlery – he’d lost his appetite. ‘It’s Annie’s funeral on Wednesday, at St John’s. I spoke to Dave and Evie this morning – they’re coming. And Tony said he and Barbara will be there.’ Silence. Everybody suddenly seemed intent on their food. ‘So, who else is going to come to represent the family?’ he asked. ‘Apart from myself and Matt.’