Beneath an Irish Sky (Choc Lit) (3 page)

‘What did your parents think about you marrying Annie?’

It still hurt to think about it. His mother had actually screamed at him. Called him selfish. His father, Sir Nicholas Stewart, knight of the realm and prime bigot, had spent days trying to talk him out of it.
The shame of it
he’d said.
A gypsy in the family.
‘They weren’t exactly overjoyed. They didn’t come to the wedding.’

But it had been fine without them. Annie’s delicate face framed by a white tulle veil. Matt, a charming little pageboy. Dave, his best man, calling him a lucky sod. Maggie, his housekeeper, crying for England. It had been a great day.

‘And Annie’s family? Did they come to the wedding?’

‘No. They were back in Ireland by then.’

Annie had begged her father to come. She’d cried uncontrollably on the phone. No good, though. Jack always blamed her brother Joe for that. He’d likely persuaded the Kiernan family to cast her out because she refused to conform to their idea of how she should live – full-time housemaid for them until she married a fellow Traveller. But Annie was a free spirit – she wasn’t afraid, like so many Traveller girls back then, of being on the shelf if she hadn’t married by her eighteenth birthday. She wanted to earn a living and marry when the right man came along. In the end, Tony Hayes, owner of the pub where she’d worked, gave her away.

‘Did Annie have much contact with your parents after you were married?’

‘Not really,’ said Jack. ‘But there were times when they couldn’t avoid each other.’ He thought about the awkwardness of such occasions. The memories weren’t pleasant. Like the elaborate cake his mother bought for Matt’s birthday. Matt had preferred the one he’d helped Annie bake – Chocolate Mess they’d called it. You could have cut the atmosphere, never mind the cake, with a knife.

‘But there were people who adored Annie,’ he continued. ‘My housekeeper considered her the daughter she never had. My sister, Claire, thought of her as family. And to Matt, she was simply his mother.
I
adored Annie. There was nothing I wouldn’t have done for her. And, before you ask, we both wanted children. Even chose the name for our first child. Rebecca for a girl … and Luke for a boy. We had Matthew and would joke about eventually having Mark and John, too. I’d
never
have thrown Annie out. Or our child.
She
left
me
!’ God, he felt like he was going to cry. All the memories. Things he hadn’t thought about in years. It was too much. Emer must have guessed because she poured him more tea. The answer to everything.

‘I believe you,’ she said. ‘And it must be terrible to be accused of something you haven’t done.’

That was unexpected. He’d thought counsellors stayed neutral.

They did.

‘I also believe Luke … well, I believe that
he
believes it. He’s been told you rejected him and his mother. You never showed up to contradict that. So why should he trust you – a stranger – over the people who’ve taken care of him all his life? Can you see that, Jack?’

He could, but there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it.

‘In a strange way, the accident might help,’ Emer said. ‘Luke’s not in a position to walk away right now, so you should have some time to try and convince him you care.’

‘I don’t know if … if I do care.’ There, he’d said it aloud. Voiced the fears he’d held ever since Flynn told him of Luke’s existence. He looked at Emer, expecting to see disgust.

‘You’ve had a terrible shock,’ was all she said. ‘Not only learning your wife has died, but also finding out you have a grown-up son. And you don’t know Luke. He’s not like a child you’ve raised from birth. You can’t be expected to feel instant love.’

‘I don’t even feel instant
like
. And if he isn’t mine? That Traveller the detective said she was with, after she left England – he might be the real father.’ He didn’t tell her he wanted that to be true so he’d be off the hook.

Emer flicked through a form on her desk. ‘Luke was born on the 28th of October. When did Annie leave?’

‘Late February. So Annie was pregnant before leaving Baronsmere – unless Luke was premature. But …’

‘But what?’ prompted Emer.

‘But maybe she met the Traveller in England. An affair would have been a reason for her to leave.’ And what better time to do that than when Jack was abroad for a week? No arguments, no drama. But if that were true, then he’d completely misjudged Annie’s character. And she’d given a performance worthy of an Oscar.

‘A DNA test is the only way to find out for sure if you’re the father.’

Jack nodded slowly, but he wasn’t sure if he wanted hard proof that Annie had been unfaithful to him. Why put himself through all that? Luke hated him, and would want nothing more to do with the Stewarts when he got out of hospital.

‘Luke might react very badly to a request for a DNA, though,’ Emer commented. ‘In his mind, it would be like another rejection. If he really is your son, you could lose him completely because of that. Perhaps you should wait until he’s fully recovered from the accident.’

Jack frowned. ‘He’ll be back with his family then. He’s not likely to want any more contact with me.’

Emer shook her head. ‘I don’t think so. Remember what happened when you asked about his uncles?’

True. Luke had seemed terrified. ‘That would be any sane person’s reaction.’

‘Were they violent?’

‘Liam Kiernan wasn’t so bad. Annie told me they’d been quite close until he suffered a head injury on a construction site. After that, he had mental health issues and suffered bouts of aggression that were aggravated by booze. Joe Kiernan had a real temper. He got involved in more than one pub fight while he was in Baronsmere.’ Jack gave a wry laugh. ‘One of which was with me.’

‘Do you think Joe was responsible for Luke’s bruises?’

Jack shifted in his chair. He remembered the doctor’s words:
He’ll need peace and quiet … and support … to heal
.
But Luke was an adult. He could make his own decisions. ‘It’s possible. Or a brawl … who knows? You’d have to ask Luke.’

‘You know he and Annie were leaving Ireland,’ said Emer. ‘Luke told me they were going to Wales.’

‘No, I didn’t know that.’

‘It’s odd, though,’ Emer said. ‘There was just one suitcase between them. The hospital staff opened it, looking for information. There were a few personal items but little else.’

‘So?’

‘It seems they left in a hurry. Didn’t even pack clothes. I wonder why.’

Jack sighed. ‘You’re asking me to guess the motives of a woman I haven’t seen in more than twenty years. Well, I can’t. Luke’s the one who has all the answers, and he’s not talking.’

‘Not yet.’

Not ever, probably.

‘There was no definite plan according to Luke. No job, nowhere to live.’

‘I’ll give him money,’ said Jack. ‘I’ll make sure he’s not homeless.’

‘I see.’ There was clear disapproval in Emer’s voice.

‘What’s wrong with that?’ he asked. ‘It’s probably more than anyone else would do for him.’

‘Yes, I’m sure,’ Emer agreed. ‘But money isn’t always the answer.’

In Jack’s experience, it usually was. It bought comfort, security, opportunities. What more did people want? ‘Emer, even if he is my son, he hates me. I’ll do everything I can for him, but I’m not a miracle worker. I can’t change the past.’

‘You could take him home with you. At least for a few weeks until he’s fully recovered. It’ll be hard for him to manage on his own.’

He wished she hadn’t suggested that. It was ridiculously out of touch with reality. Luke couldn’t even bear to be in the same room as him. There was nothing to build on. No prospect of even liking each other, let alone the love a father and son should share. ‘How would I explain to everyone back home who he is? Introduce him as my maybe-son?’

‘I’m sure you could find a way to deal with that.’

Jack was silent, mulling it over.

‘Are you ashamed of him?’ asked Emer.

‘No!’ He was insulted she’d even asked. ‘I’m not a bigot. I married a Traveller, didn’t I? It’s just … Luke’s so angry. And hard. I don’t even know if I can feel anything for him. It wouldn’t be fair to give him expectations.’

‘I doubt very much he’s hard. Give him the benefit of the doubt. Try to get to know him – and let him get to know you. Show you’re making an effort. You still need answers. If you get closer to Luke, break down those barriers, he might tell you everything Annie told him.’

‘Maybe …’

The phone rang, and Emer answered it. ‘Okay, I’ll be there soon.’ She replaced the receiver. ‘Sorry, Jack. I have to see a patient.’

‘Are you free later for a drink?’ Jack asked. ‘Talking to you really helps.’ The prospect of another evening spent alone in his hotel room was depressing. He’d only brood and rake over the past.

She held up the in-tray. ‘Alas, I’ll have to spend the evening with all this paperwork.’

‘Lunch tomorrow?’ God, he sounded desperate.

‘I usually grab a sandwich in the hospital canteen around one o’clock.’

Jack smiled. ‘I might see you then.’

At the door, he glanced back, appraising Emer this time as a woman rather than a counsellor. He liked what he saw, especially the long red curls. He noticed the light sprinkling of freckles on her nose, and her mouth had an enticingly full lower lip. She thankfully wasn’t thin as a rake; the blue dress she wore showed curves in all the right places – and enough of her long legs to set a man’s imagination alight. No ‘might’ about it. Jack would be in the hospital canteen tomorrow for sure.

Emer leaned against the kitchen counter and watched the tuna casserole begin its solo circular dance inside the microwave. It was a godsend to have a sister living close by. Maeve kept Emer supplied with all her favourite home-cooked meals, believing a single woman who worked for the health service would have no time to shop or cook for herself.

She wasn’t far wrong. The hours as a counsellor could be punishing and the irregularity made a personal life tricky. Emer glanced at the fridge, singling out the photo of her and Colm on holiday in Rome last year. She really should take the picture down. Their five years together were well and truly over. All through the autumn and winter she’d forced herself to look at it, and each day the pain eased just a fraction. Now she still felt sad at the sight of Colm but no longer had the urge to drown her sorrows in red wine. Emer had heard through the grapevine he was engaged to the woman he’d two-timed her with. Good luck to her. Once a cheater, always a cheater …

The food was ready and Emer served it up, brushing aside the guilt about not preparing a salad to go with it. Healthy eating took time and energy, and she was out of both this evening. Besides, she had a mission.

Moving through to the living room, Emer set the plate of bubbling food on the desk and settled down in front of her laptop. Once the search engine flicked up, she typed in
Jack Stewart, Baronsmere
.

She was spoiled for choice. The internet was teeming with information about the man Emer had met for the first time yesterday. Business magazine profiles jostled with short announcements in financial newspapers. Local Cheshire websites focused on Jack’s charity work on literacy programmes and a scheme he’d set up to provide a taster of business work experience for older teens still at school.

There was a standard photo used in many of the articles and Emer enlarged it. Taken a few years ago, she reckoned, because there wasn’t any grey in his hair at all. No hint of a smile but the eyes flashed an alertness, a power, that spoke of a man who knew how to get what he wanted.

And now he’d been blindsided by Annie and Luke. The Jack she’d seen in her office earlier was quite different from the man the internet articles portrayed as an astute and in-control businessman. Today, he’d been angry, confused and vulnerable. Was that why she’d refused his offer of a drink? Not because of any work conflict, certainly, because he wasn’t her patient and she could have met him in the pub with a clear conscience. But Jack’s life right now was complicated, and she wasn’t sure if she could handle that.

Her mobile rang and she glanced at the caller information. Maeve.

‘Don’t tell me you got all the kids in bed,’ Emer said, by way of a greeting. Her three nephews were proving to be night owls. ‘That must be a record.’

‘For sure,’ laughed Maeve at the other end of the phone. ‘Don’t jinx it now. I’m sitting here, feet up, glass of wine in hand. Nothing good on the telly, of course. What are you up to?’

Emer clicked and saved Jack’s photo to the computer. ‘Oh, nothing much. Just a bit of research.’

‘All work and no play …’

… makes Jack a dull boy.
Emer mentally finished the proverb and smiled. Perhaps it was a sign. Of what, though? Emer decided to give the analytical side of her brain the night off. And the warning bells could sod off, too.

After she’d finished talking to Maeve, Emer went into the kitchen, took the photo of Colm from the fridge, and relegated it to the bin.

‘Goodbye to all that,’ she murmured.

Jack woke with a start. Where the hell was he? The window was in the wrong place. And what was that wardrobe doing near the door? Then he remembered. This was the Beaumont Hotel in Dublin. He had a new son and a corpse to take care of. He glanced at the bedside clock. Past nine. Darkness had fallen outside. He’d slept for two hours, needing a break from the memories of Annie that kept flooding his mind.

He went into the bathroom and splashed water on his face. That woke him up a bit. Drying his hands, he assessed himself critically in the mirror. Forty-six but still looking good. Some grey flecks in his fair hair, but his mother said they made him look distinguished. Not balding at all, thank God. Some wrinkles on the forehead and round the eyes, but he could still pass for forty in the right light. He patted his stomach. No paunch. He exercised every day in the gym at work.

What age was Emer? Mid-thirties? No wedding ring. Admittedly, women didn’t always wear them now. She was a looker. And sharp. The pillow talk would be great. He felt a stab of guilt. A dead wife and an injured son, and he was working out how to screw the bereavement counsellor.