perishables and other items down to
Graunuaille.
It was less than an hour before the sails were hoisted, and they were
on their way, making the most of the light breeze. Sandie sat in the
bow. Everything inside her yearned to turn and look back at
Oilean
an chroi,
but that would be too great a betrayal of how she felt.
Flynn had been polite, but aloof, obviously distancing himself,
making it clear that she had nothing more to hope for from him. And
her dignity demanded that she should echo his attitude, and not let
him see the pain that was destroying her.
Why? she thought, staring resolutely and totally blindly in front of
her. Oh, Flynn, why?
Like all homeward journeys, it seemed much briefer than the
outward one. Almost before it seemed possible, Killane was taking
shape before them, the rays of the sun making the windows of the
music room glitter like gold. As
Graunuaille
moved slowly to her
mooring, Sandie wondered if Crispin had been up there, watching
their approach, and if Francesca was with him.
When the boat was secure, Sandie allowed herself to be helped up
on to the landing stage, and picked up the bag containing her gear.
'I'll take that.' Flynn removed it from her grasp and set up off the
path, his long stride forcing her almost to break into a trot to keep up
with him.
O'Flaherty had mentioned uproar, but Killane seemed almost
deserted, the front door standing open to admit the sunlight. Kelly
was lying in a patch of it, and he thumped his short tail in welcome
when he saw them. Flynn paused briefly to speak to the dog and pet
him, then walked into the hall and up the stairs, still carrying
Sandie's bag. It seemed she had little choice but to follow.
He went straight to her room and tossed the bag on to the bed, then
turned to face Sandie, hands on hips.
'What are you going to do? You realise you can't stay here. Not
now!'
She lifted her chin. 'What are you trying to say— that Crispin won't
want your leavings?' She had the satisfaction of seeing him wince.
'Or perhaps that was the whole purpose of the exercise,' she want on.
'It didn't even occur to me,' he said icily. 'But I wasn't thinking too
straight at the time, as I've tried to tell you. Otherwise I would never
have let it happen.'
'Yes, you've made that more than clear.' Sandie managed to control
her voice, keep the instinctive hurt out of it. 'Now perhaps you'd
leave me in peace.'
'Just like that?' Flynn's brows lifted in open amazement. 'Are you
sure you're going to be all right?'
Sandie dredged up a scornful laugh from the depths she hadn't
known before that she possessed. 'I lost my virginity,' she shrugged.
'No big deal.'
'Don't talk like that!' snapped Flynn. 'You sound like a different girl
entirely!'
She shrugged again. 'Well, I suppose I am in a way. For which I
have you to thank,' she added with an irony that wasn't lost on him.
A dull flush mounted in his face. 'Alexandra -' he began, then
stopped, his face darkening in exasperation as someone knocked on
the bedroom door.'Who in hell's name...'
It was Bridie. 'O'Flaherty said you were back.' She glanced from one
to the other, plainly diagnosing the electric tension in the air.
'Pardon for intruding, Mr Flyim, but there's Croaig Mhor on the
phone this minute asking for you.'
Flynn muttered something under his breath that sounded
suspiciously Jike an obscenity, and glanced at his watch. 'I'll be right
there,' he said, almost wearily. As Bridie disappeared, he turned
back to Sandie. 'I haven't time to talk now, but we can't leave things
as they are. I'll see you later—try to explain.' He walked over to her
and stood for a long moment looking down into her face.
Breathlessly, she thought, He's going to kiss me.... and her entire
being awoke in anticipation and joy. She saw his mouth tauten
almost in anguish, then he lifted a hand and stroked the curve of her
cheek.
He said, quietly, 'Till later,' and the words sounded like a promise.
The door closed behind him, and Sandie sank down on the edge of
the bed. She knew she was being all kinds of a fool, but she felt as if
she'd been granted a reprieve. She reached for her bag and began to
unpack it, knowing that she was giving the task altogether more
time than it warranted. But sooner or later, she was going to be
obliged to go downstairs and face everyone, and she was dreading it.
Eventually, when she had no excuses left for staying in her room,
she walked along the passage, and down the staircase. The twins
were in the hall, and James let out a whoop when he saw her.
'You're back! Steffie said you and Flynn had eloped, but I knew that
couldn't be right. Flynn can't be bothered with all that old romance
stuff. I told Steff he was just keeping you out of the way until the
fuss died down.'
'Has there been a lot of fuss?' Sandie asked weakly, despising
herself.
'You're joking,' said Steffie, her eyes round as saucers. 'They've been
at each other's throats from morning to night. Jessica's moved out
entirely, and gone to stay with a friend in Clifden.'
'Well for her,' said James gloomily. 'We've had to stay here in the
middle of it. Bridie said we should offer it up for the Souls in
Purgatory, but I don't see what good Mother having hysterics and
losing her voice would be to anyone's soul.'
'Not to mention Francesca and Crispin going at it hammer and
tongs,' Steffie added with a certain relish. 'Bridie said the
atmosphere at meals was enough to poison the food in your mouth.'
Sandie bit her lip. 'Is Francesca still here?' she asked, trying to sound
nonchalant.
'No-o-o,' James said scornfully. 'She went back to Croaig Mhor
yesterday to get a divorce. Everyone knows that.' A thought struck
him. 'Did you know that you and she are the dead spit...'
'Yes,' Sandie forced herself to say neutrally, 'I know..' She hesitated.
'Where—is everyone?'
'Mother's laid down on her bed,' Steffie said disapprovingly. 'She
wants Flynn to send for a throat specialist from Galway or Dublin.
She's mad with Dr Grogan because he said there was nothing wrong
with her voice that time and holding her temper wouldn't cure.'
In spite of her own inner turmoil, Sandie's lips twitched as she
visualised Magda's silent outrage at the suggestion. She said, 'And—
Crispin?'
'Oh, he's in the music room, giving the piano some stick,' Steffie
told her, wrinkling her nose. 'He's playing the same tune over and
over, and when we asked him to play something else, he said the "f"
word that Father Donaghue says is a sin,' she added in a tone of
conscious virtue.
Sandie forced down a giggle. 'Well, that was very wrong of Crispin.
I—I'd better go and talk to him.'
'Are you going to marry him?' James' clear eyes fixed on her face.
Sandie gasped. 'No!' she exclaimed more forcefully than she
intended. 'No, of course not!'
'We thought that you might, that's all,' said Steffie calmly. 'It would
have made everything neat and tidy now that Flynn's going to marry
Francesca.'
The hall, the twins, the house, all reality receded to some strange
distance. Sandie forced her numb lips to move, and heard a voice
she hardly recognised ask, 'Is—is that what he's going to do?'
'Naturally it is. They should have been married years ago, everyone
knows that. But now she's divorcing Crispin, there'll be nothing to
stop them. Flynn's driven over there now to fix it all up with her.
They can't get married in church, though,' Steffie added, frowning a
little.
'What a shame,' Sandie managed from her well of shock and
wretchedness.
'Arc you all right?' James asked curiously. 'You've gone dead white.'
Sandie shook her head. 'I'm still getting over 'flu,' she invented
swiftly.
'Well, don't give it to Mother,' James threw over his shoulder as he
and his sister headed for the garden, 'or there'll be hell to pay.'
Sandie's thoughts were in chaos as she stood staring after them.
James' parting words seemed to echo in her brain. 'Hell to pay.'
That, it seemed, would be the price to be exacted for loving Flynn.
The hell of knowing that he belonged to someone else. That was
why he'd changed from lover to stranger, she told herself dazedly.
Because O'Flaherty had brought him the news that Francesca was
not to remain as Crispin's wife—that soon she would be free again.
She stood, her arms wrapped round her body, wretched, confused,
and aware of a feeling of total betrayal. And yet that was hardly fair,
she tried to tell herself. Flynn had warned her there could be no
future in any relationship between them. He hadn't tried to deceive
her.
Indeed, if she was honest, she'd more or less forced him to seduce
her, she thought, wincing with the humiliation of it. What a pathetic
fool she'd made of herself! First it was Crispin, but that didn't
matter- had never mattered.
Why couldn't I see that from the beginning? she asked herself
despairingly.
Not that Flynn would believe in such a fundamental change of heart
on her part. He only thought, cynically, that she was ripe for a little
adventure, if not with Crispin then with the next man along. The
skill, the passionate expertise he'd brought to her initiation hadn't
been a sign of caring or commitment, she realised, but merely the
means to an end, his goal being their mutual pleasure. Flynn hadn't
wanted a shy novice in his bed, but an eager and responsive partner.
Her ecstatic readiness to surrender must have amused him.
I mustn't think like that, she told herself. I mustn't—or I shall go
mad.
With an effort she pxade herself move, forced herself to walk along
the passage to the music room. She opened the door to a torrent of
music played
fortissimo.
As the twins had said, Crispin was angry,
and he was expressing his rage through the
Elegy.
Even through her
own misery, Sandie could recognise that this was a brilliant,
virtuoso performance in spite of the underlying fury which was
inspiring it.
She stood quietly by the door, her head bent, listening as the piano
tore its way to a savage
crescendo,
then stopped with shocking
abruptness.
'So,' said Crispin, 'the voyager returns. I hope you enjoyed your
cruise.' His voice bit at her.
She said slowly, 'It wasn't exactly my idea.'
'No? But I understand you didn't protest too much at the time.' He
gave a derisive laugh. 'Poor little Sandie, what a romantic you are! I
hope you didn't expect too much from your—interlude with Flynn.
He likes to love 'em and leave 'em, as I've pointed out to you
before—with one notable exception, of course.'
'Crispin, I...'
'There's no need for excuses or explanations,' he cut across her
stumbling words. 'It's a pity my dear wife didn't come here with her
ultimatum a little earlier, then maybe we could all have been spared
this distasteful mess. But Francesca's timing was never her strong
point.'
'She was the reason you brought me here,' Sandie said quietly. 'I was
never going to be that good a pianist, and you knew it, but I looked
like her, and you thought you could turn me into her.'
Crispin gave a scornful laugh. 'Oh, don't over- dramatise the
situation, sweetheart. I'm no Pygmalion. Maybe I just like pretty
blondes. As for your playing...' he shrugged, 'that's another thing
you and Francesca have in common. You're both lightweights,
artistically. You lack the purpose, the commitment that could have
transformed you. You let emotion get in the way. That's the trouble
with most women—they confuse emotion with wedding rings—
domesticity.'
Sandie winced at the contempt in his voice. 'That isn't what you told
me originally. You said Francesca had tried to use you for her
career.'
'Did I?' He shrugged again. 'Well, what does it matter, anyway?
She's going to get what she wants, one way or another. It was
always Flynn, and it always will be. They'll probably settle in
Tipperary and breed horses and children. Commonplace minds, the
pair of them.' He looked at her stricken face. 'I trust you didn't have