Things We Never Say (18 page)

‘She was very young,’ said Abbey.

‘Yes, but these days … well, girls her age wouldn’t put up with that sort of stuff now.’ There was a mixture of support and irritation in Fred’s voice. ‘You see them in their short skirts and their long hair and their low-cut tops, yapping away like demented parrots, phones clamped to their heads, doing their make-up on the bus or the train …’ He coughed again. ‘Got a bit of a cold,’ he explained. ‘Excuse me. Anyway, if what happened then happened now, it’d have an entirely different outcome.’

‘It was a difficult time,’ said Abbey, paraphrasing what Ryan had told her.

‘It was a disgraceful time,’ said Fred. ‘Men behaved disgracefully.’

Abbey looked startled.

‘I did too,’ said Fred. ‘I abandoned her. I didn’t care. What d’you think of that, Abbey Andersen? That I didn’t care?’

‘I don’t know the circumstances so I can’t pass judgement, can I?’

‘Very diplomatic,’ he said. ‘You don’t have to be. The truth is, I left her to it and they sent her to that terrible place and she died and that was my fault.’

Did he want her to forgive him? wondered Abbey.

‘I don’t think …’ she began.

‘I didn’t think either,’ said Fred. ‘For a long time. Until I learned about it. And now I do think. A lot. About how I acted and how I behaved. I have a book for you.’ He picked it up from the table beside him. ‘It’s about the laundries. About what went on. It disgusts me to know what happened to those girls. I don’t know what happened to Dilly, but as she died there … I can only imagine it wasn’t good. That her last days were miserable and hard. But I never once thought about it. And I was relieved that I didn’t have to worry about your mother. Who is my daughter.’ His fingers tightened around the book. ‘I completely put her out of my mind, you know. As though she didn’t exist.’

‘To her you didn’t,’ said Abbey. ‘At least, maybe not. Because she never said anything about being adopted. So she might not even know about you.’

‘Which is terrible, don’t you think? I let those people take her and change her name her and bring her to America. I was pleased about that, back then, because it meant that I wouldn’t have to worry about her popping up and demanding to know me and wanting to be part of my life.’

‘She didn’t. She doesn’t,’ said Abbey.

‘Have you spoken to her?’ His voice was eager. ‘Does she know I’m looking for her?’

‘No,’ said Abbey. ‘I haven’t been able to talk to her about it.’

Fred’s brow furrowed. ‘Are you estranged?’ he asked. ‘Because I’m telling you, that’s not a good thing. I know all about it. Families should stick together. Support each other. Look out for each other.’

‘We’re not estranged,’ said Abbey. ‘I know she loves me. But she’s built a certain life for herself and I … I’m not a big part of it.’

‘She abandoned you?’ asked Fred. ‘Like I did with Dilly?’

‘No. No,’ said Abbey, while at the same time remembering the day her mother had left, remembering that she had indeed felt abandoned. ‘She – she does her own thing. It’s … she …’

‘That’s what the investigator told me.’ Fred didn’t wait for her to finish. ‘I said to him that I didn’t care. I wanted her found. But then he suggested I talk to you instead.’

Abbey was surprised. She’d thought that her visiting the old man was his own idea, not that Ryan Gilligan had put it into his mind.

‘He said I’d like you,’ Fred told her.

‘He did?’

‘He said you were feisty.’

Abbey thought about the tin of Mace she’d carried with her when she’d met Ryan in Sausalito, and smiled.

‘You get it from her,’ added Fred. ‘From Dilly. She was feisty too.’

‘Was she?’

‘I suppose you think I’m crazy.’

‘No.’ She spoke slowly. ‘No, it’s not crazy to want to … to make your peace with people.’

He chortled. ‘Before I die, you mean.’

‘Wow, no, I didn’t mean that you were going to die,’ she said quickly.

‘Of course I am,’ he returned. ‘I’m an old man. Old people die, that’s the way life is. We don’t talk about it, though, do we? And these days it’s like we pretend it doesn’t happen. Hush it up in words like “passed on” when we mean dead. It was different when I was a kid. More people died then, I suppose, at younger ages. So you knew about it. Got used to it. Mind you, I’ve got along pretty well so far and I might have another few years in me yet. All the same, you’re right. I think of dying and I think … well, let’s say there is a place where you have to account for yourself, or a place where you bump into the people you knew. I want to be able to say I tried to make a difference, even though it was too late for Dilly.’

‘I understand,’ said Abbey.

‘You’re quieter than I expected,’ Fred said. ‘When Ryan said feisty, I thought you’d come in here all guns blazing and blame me for the death of your grandmother and for anything that ever went wrong in your mother’s life.’

‘I didn’t even know about Dilly until he told me,’ Abbey said. ‘As far as I’m concerned, my grandmother isn’t that woman. And as for my mom, well, I guess she’s happy with her own life. Which is obviously different to the life she’d have if you and her mother had got married and lived here together.’

‘I keep wondering about it,’ confessed Fred.

‘But if you’d married Dilly, you wouldn’t have the family you do now,’ said Abbey. ‘So I guess it’s swings and roundabouts, isn’t it?’

‘That’s true. Although who knows …’ Fred made a dismissive gesture.

‘My grandparents were good to my mom,’ said Abbey. ‘They gave her lots of freedom.’

‘Hmm.’ He looked sceptical. ‘Not always a good idea.’

‘We live in the land of the free,’ Abbey reminded him.

‘And the home of the brave.’

‘Absolutely.’

‘You were,’ he said. ‘Brave. Coming here on your own. Not knowing me or anything. I was surprised when you agreed.’

‘So was I.’

‘That investigative guy is very persuasive, though.’ He chortled and winked at her.

‘Mr Gilligan was a total professional,’ she said, wondering if she’d misinterpreted the wink.

‘How is the hotel?’ Fred changed the subject

‘Lovely.’

‘So are you going to stay?’

‘In Ireland?’

‘Of course.’

‘Until I’ve told you everything you want to know about my mom.’

‘Excellent,’ he said. ‘I want to introduce you to the family, too.’

‘How much have you told them?’ asked Abbey.

‘Nothing yet.’

‘Nothing?’ She looked worried. ‘They don’t know anything about Dilly? Or Mom? Or me?’

‘No,’ said Fred. ‘But they’ll be OK about it.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘Oh yes,’ said Fred. ‘I reckon they always guessed there was something. I wasn’t an angel, you know.’

Abbey wasn’t so certain that the old man’s family knew anything about his younger days. And she couldn’t help thinking that there were plenty of reasons why they wouldn’t be too impressed by the news that he had a secret daughter and granddaughter. She looked around her. ‘Do any of them live here, with you?’

‘No,’ he said. ‘I’m an independent person. A bit of a crock at the moment, what with my bad wrist, bloody cold and all, but independent all the same. My daughters-in-law drop in from time to time and I have a woman who does light housework twice a week. I do everything else myself.’

‘I was wondering how you get up and down those steps,’ said Abbey. ‘If you’re crocked.’

He laughed. ‘There’s a lift from the scullery to the garage. No problem.’

‘Cool,’ she said.

‘Want to see?’ he asked.

‘Love to.’

He got up from the chair. He walked slowly, but he wasn’t as infirm as she’d initially thought, although she could see that beneath the long-sleeved shirt there was some light strapping on his right wrist. He brought her through the kitchen of the house and then into a utility room which contained a boiler, a washing machine and a dryer as well as the lift. He pressed the button and the doors slid open.

It only took a couple of seconds to reach the garage. Abbey was astonished to see a restored Volkswagen Beetle and a Mercedes there, along with a Ford Focus.

‘I used to love driving,’ he said. ‘Cars were a hobby that became a business and eventually turned back into a hobby again. I worked on the Beetle and the Merc but I’m stuck with the Ford for day-to-day driving. Not that I drive much any more.’

‘What were you?’ she asked. ‘A salesman? A mechanic?’

‘No, no. All I did was install car alarms,’ he replied. ‘Afterwards I moved into home alarms and security systems. But the car business meant I got to work on some great motors.’ He pressed a button and the garage doors slid open. ‘Come on,’ he said. ‘I’ll walk you around the rest of the property.’

At this level, with the high surrounding walls, it was impossible to see the sea any more. But the garden, as they walked along a narrow twisting path, was lush and green, although a little overgrown, and crammed with multicoloured flowers.

‘I fired the gardener a while back,’ said Fred. ‘Haven’t got a new one yet. But I will.’

‘I like it,’ Abbey told him. ‘The whole untamed look you’ve got going outside works.’

‘Too much land,’ Fred said. ‘Relative to the size of the house. But I always wanted space. Where I first lived in Dublin all we had was a small yard, so this is heaven for me. When we moved here, I spent a lot of time in the garden and the garage. Then the old ticker started to give me some trouble so I don’t walk around it as much as I used to.’ He pulled a dead blossom from a rose bush. ‘This place was worth a fortune at the height of the property boom. Not so much now, I’m afraid.’

‘Oh, that doesn’t matter in the slightest when you’re living in it, does it?’ she said. ‘I think it’s beautiful.’

He looked pleased. ‘You really do, don’t you?’

She nodded enthusiastically. ‘I love being near the sea and being able to see it from the house. In California …’ She stopped. She’d been about to tell him about Pete’s place, but she wasn’t sure if he’d want to know.

‘I’d like to know all about you,’ he said when she faltered. ‘And I want to know about your mother and your lives. Unvarnished truth,’ he added. ‘No sugar-coating.’

‘OK,’ said Abbey.

‘Let’s sit in the garden,’ suggested Fred.

They walked slowly to the back of the house, where there was a large patio area with outdoor seating.

‘Why don’t you sit down and I’ll make us some tea,’ said Fred.

‘That would be lovely,’ Abbey said. ‘But I should do it. You’ve a sore wrist …’

‘I’m perfectly capable of doing it myself.’ Fred’s voice was testy. ‘But of course – you’re American. Would you prefer coffee?’

She smiled at him. ‘Yes please.’

‘Coming up,’ said Fred, and went into the house.

It was peaceful in the garden. Enormous bumblebees lumbered from flower to flower, while graceful butterflies alighted then departed from the small green bush to the side of the seat where Abbey was sitting. Amid the sweet smell of honeysuckle and later summer blooms, she could detect the tang of the sea, which sparkled in the distance. Furze Hill was both similar to and different from Bella Vista Heights. But it struck Abbey as a happy coincidence that both Pete and Fred’s homes had magnificent views over water.

She tapped her fingers anxiously against the arm of the seat. Fred had asked for the unvarnished truth. She wasn’t sure how that would present either her or her mother from his perspective. She wondered if he was still holding a grudge against these Magdalene laundry people (she’d googled it after her meeting with Ryan Gilligan and been appalled) and if he’d expect her and Ellen to hold a grudge too. But how on earth would Ellen feel about that? She wished now that she’d emailed her mother before coming here, no matter how difficult that would have been for her. It would have been good to have found out how much Ellen herself already knew.

She strained her ears to hear if Fred needed any help with the coffee. Despite his protestations that he was able to manage, she was very conscious of his age. He could be weaker than he thought and she didn’t want him putting himself to any trouble for her. She thought she’d heard the sound of beans grinding earlier (and had been impressed that he had a grinder and hadn’t succumbed to Nespresso like everyone else she knew), but she hadn’t heard any sounds from the house for the last few minutes. Still, she thought, making decent coffee took time. She didn’t want to hassle him.

She leaned back in the seat and closed her eyes. She truly could be on Pete’s deck, she thought, as the sun warmed her face. There was the same sense of serenity. Calming. Soothing. She felt herself drifting into sleep. It had been a busy few days, and despite sleeping on the flight (she’d always been good at sleeping on planes), her body clock was completely out of synch. Her head lolled to one side. She was only half conscious now, thinking that her mother was sitting beside her, talking of how her father had abandoned her and her mother and of how lonely that made her feel.

‘But you can’t be lonely,’ she told Ellen seriously. ‘You have me.’

And then she heard the crash and she woke up.

More than fifty people had been invited to Zoey’s thirtieth birthday party. Too many, really, for the house in Baldoyle, even with the double doors between the living and dining room open. Now that the rooms had been festooned with balloons and banners, as well as vases of fresh flowers, the space looked even more limited. But, thought Zoey, as she looked at it critically, people could drift into the garden because the warm spell of weather still hadn’t broken. So all things considered, it would probably work out OK.

She walked upstairs to the bedroom and looked at her dress. It was firecracker-red and plunged pleasingly both front and back, showing off her sleek body and its generous curves to their best advantage. She’d bought a set of matching costume jewellery with ruby-red stones (so totally cutting back by not asking for real gems) which complemented the dress (Harvey Nicks, expensive but definitely worth it) and the almost identically coloured shoes (Topshop, absolute bargain). She reckoned that she was putting together a fabulous look for a fabulous party as cheaply as was humanly possible. There was the slight issue of her hair, to which she’d added more extensions for the evening, which weren’t cheap, but by and large she felt that Donald couldn’t complain. And he wouldn’t, she knew, when he saw her in her gorgeous dress, looking beyond stunning. He wouldn’t be able to help comparing her to her sister-in-law, Lisette, who’d undoubtedly be wearing something supposedly understated and chic, but which in reality would be safe and boring. Zoey knew that Lisette thought she was sophisticated, but she wasn’t, she was dull. And as for her hair – Zoey reckoned the older woman could knock at least ten years off herself if she’d get a decent colouring job done. Or even if she bought a bottle of Clairol and did it herself!