A Change of Heart (The Heartfelt Series) (8 page)

Chapter Nine
Guess Who’s Coming To Dinner?

Ryan thought he was dreaming as the familiar voice drifted up through the open window. Rubbing his eyes, as bright autumn sunlight poured onto the floral eiderdown, he propped himself up on an elbow, cocking his head. The voices were raised, growing heated, and his spine chilled as every hair on his body rose.

 Swinging his legs out of bed, he stepped tentatively across the carpet to the casement window and, standing on tiptoe, peered over lacy curtains into the sweeping drive below. Pat’s taxi was not so much parked, as abandoned. A pile of matching luggage was skilfully stacked beside the car and a tall elegant female stood outside the portico, hands on hips, designer sunglasses on head.

 “Just tell him I’m here, I mean to see him and I ain’t going nowhere till you fetch him
right
down,
right
now.”

 Joyce bustled passed the woman to the car.

 “Pat, who told you to unload all this?” she gesticulated at the luggage. “I’ve no booking for this person. You know I don’t take in passers-by.”

 Pat shrugged at his sister.

 “Sure, how was I to know? She said to come here, she knew your man was here anyway.” He scratched his head.

 “I haven’t said he
is
here. She could be anyone, a reporter, a stalker, anything,” she hissed at Pat.

 “I thought the Irish were supposed to be hospitable,” the woman snapped at them.

 “So did I, in fairness.” Pat looked glumly at the bags.

 “Well, I can’t have people just wander in, willy-nilly, asking to see my guests, who may be here incognito or not even here at all.” Joyce was indignant.

 The front door opened and Ryan, hair awry, appeared squinting in the sunlight.

 “Thanks for your concern, Joyce, but I know who this is,” he said.

 “Am I right then, a stalker, a reporter or some such?” Joyce was intrigued.

 The woman spun on her heels to face him.

 “And howdy to you too!” she said.

 “It’s my wife,” Ryan said sadly. “Ex-wife actually.”

 “Jeez,” wheezed Pat, spitting his cigarette butt onto the path. The woman sighed dramatically. Joyce looked at her more closely. She had the look of a foreigner alright, a bit too plastic for Joyce’s taste.

 “Really Ryan, I know this ain’t Texas, but these people are downright uncouth.” She moved towards the open door, “And where, do tell, is my son? I certainly hope you have not left him in the care of that whore you’re shacked-up with. I mean really, where is this all going to end?”

 Ryan placed his foot across the threshold, barring her way.

 “Any more talk like that, Angelique, and I’ll tell you where it will end: here and now and you’ll never see
our
son again,” he said coldly, glaring back at her, making sure she understood every word.

 Angelique threw her shiny hair over her shoulder and eyeballed Ryan.

 “Any more of this threatening behaviour, Ryan, and you’ll end up with absolutely nothing. No son, no marriage and no career. So don’t push it. I’ve come a long way to reason with you.” And suddenly she smiled, “Can’t we at least talk?” she said in a little-girl voice.

 Joyce was now standing shoulder-to-shoulder with Ryan, arms folded.

 “How did you know where I was?” he asked.

 She raised her eyes to heaven. “As long as I
want
to know where you are, I’m going to
know
where you are, you should know that by now, Ryan.”

 He blinked back at her. She was right. Angelique was well-connected; she knew her way round and how to get what she wanted. She always had.

 “I only came to talk,” she said, using that soft tone again.

 “Talking’s good,” offered Pat. “I’d love a cup of tea myself. We could all have a nice chat over a cup of tea.”

 “Shut up, Pat,” Joyce snapped. Ryan stared at Angelique. Angelique continued to smile back.

 “Okay, I apologise for calling, what’s-her-name a whore, I take it right back. I’m sure she’s a nice person for a
home-wrecker.
But I’m desperate to see Joey, we can’t go on like this.” She stifled a sob. Ryan looked at Joyce.

 “A cup of tea, so,” said the mistress of the house, “but anymore foul-mouthing against my kith and kin and you’re out the door lady. I don’t care how far you’ve come, or who you think you are!”

 “I’m with Joyce on that,” said Ryan.

 “Thank feck for that,” said Pat. “I’m dying of thirst.” Joyce stood back to let Angelique inside, as Ryan led the way to the kitchen.

 “Isn’t she an actress?” Pat asked his sister en route.

 “Well if she is, she’s not a very good one. Wouldn’t trust her as far as I could throw her,” retorted Joyce.

But Pat was busy thinking, making the connection between Ryan’s estranged wife and the famous movie director Franco Rossini. The taxi rank at Knock Airport was not the busiest in the world, Pat had plenty of time to read the gossip columns, and now some of the conversation he overheard his fare babble into her cellphone made sense.

She was arguing with someone, saying she didn’t want to do it anymore, she wanted out, the last time was “too close for comfort”, whatever that meant. But as they bumped over a couple of mountains, she lost signal and threw the phone back in her bag.

Pat was intrigued. There seemed any amount of powerful people with money and connections dipping in and out of the island lately, people who would pay for things, information, contraband, whatever. Pat rubbed his hands together. It could be like old times, he might be able to round up some of the team, settle a few scores, earn back a bit of respect.

 “Where is your head at, at all Pat? Are you having a piece of toast with that cup of tea?” His sister’s voice broke through his thoughts.

 “I’d rather have a bacon sandwich,” Pat replied.

 “You’ll never change Pat,” said Joyce, slamming the bread in the toaster. “Always over-ambitious, you’ll have toast and be glad of it. I suppose your woman from Texas wants eggs over easy?”

 “Just coffee,” said Ryan, “I’ll grab my bag. Pat will you take us to the ferry straight away? The sooner we get the
Clash of the Titans
over the better.”

 “You mean we’re going there now?” asked Angelique, emerging from the cloakroom. She had reapplied her lipstick. “But I’m exhausted, I thought we’d at least stay over, catch up?”

 “I thought you were desperate to see Joey?” Ryan looked at her askance. “I’m on my way home
now
, and as you’ve come this far, you may as well come with me and get this over with.”

 “Just as you wish, honey?” cooed Angelique, fixing her hair in the hall mirror, as Ryan took the stairs two at a time.

 “Don’t call me honey, Angelique. Sometimes you’re far too sweet to be wholesome,” he called down to her.

 “Do you know, I can hardly understand a word you say? Poor Joey, to be this far from home, from his own people, in a foreign land,” she drawled.

 “We
are
his people and he
is
home,” Ryan snapped, heading to his room.

 “Only if it’s worth it,” Angelique told her reflection in the hall mirror.

Kathleen MacReady picked up the handset. It was her elder sister, Joyce.

 “What’s wrong?” she knew there was a problem, the sisters spoke regularly at an appointed hour; Joyce armed with a cold glass of sherry and Kathleen with her pre-lunchtime whiskey or cocktail if the call was on a Monday. But today’s call was unscheduled and too early for alcohol.

 “Trouble,” Joyce told her, asking if she recognised the name of the tobacco company on the butt she had retrieved from the drive.

“Expensive, American,” Miss MacReady confirmed.

“Then it’s big, bad, trouble.” Joyce said. Miss MacReady was alarmed, Joyce was not one for drama.

“Okay, hold on a minute.” Miss MacReady decided she better pour herself a whiskey anyway.

The ferry was just coming into view as Marianne climbed out of the 4x4. The sun had disappeared. Larry pulled his collar up and his hat down against the soft drizzle of the early morning. A couple of vehicles drew up beside them, arriving to meet other passengers. The ferry was small, only able to take half a dozen vehicles and thirty passengers when packed to capacity at the height of summer. In October the ferry was heavily subsidised, bringing only a few tourists, stock for the pub and the odd student destined for the Marine Biology Unit and a long, lonely winter working on a dissertation. Pat MacReady’s taxi often made the crossing during the summer, but out of season he left clients at the ferry port on the mainland, rarely able to secure a return fare.

 “Is that Pat’s taxi?” Larry asked, pointing at a vehicle on the deck. Frowning, Marianne nodded, shoving her hands in the pockets of her cords. She was longing to see Ryan, and felt, as she always did before they were reunited, the soft burning at the base of her chest, yet something was not right. Was it because Larry was with her? Or the dankness of the day dampening her anticipation, her bubble of joy suppressed as she scanned faces of passengers emerging from the salon. No Ryan.

 Then she saw him, standing apart, hands on the rails, face set stern. He lifted his hand in stiff salute. She pushed forward, moving faster, Larry jogging to keep up. A woman appeared behind him, glossy hair whipping back, long camel coat flapping in the breeze.

 “Oh my God, is that who I think it is?” Larry whispered hoarsely beside her. Marianne felt a rush of blood to her head.

 “What the hell is she doing here?” Larry said, catching Marianne by the arm.

 Marianne’s insides flipped over, she took a breath. “Now that
is
a surprise.” She swallowed hard. “It had to be dealt with sooner or later. I guess this is sooner.”

 “
Jeez-us
!” Larry exclaimed, looking up at the boat, then back at Marianne. “Okay, let me help with this Marianne, I know what we’re dealing with here,” he said, waving briefly at the wooden figures staring at them from the deck.

 “But
we
need to deal with this, Larry, me and Ryan,” her voice tight. Larry placed a hand on her shoulder, turning her to face him.

 “Please let me help, Marianne,” he said. “I know the rules of her game. There ain’t none, that’s all I’m saying.”

 She glanced up at the boat, hardly bearing to look.

 “Okay Larry.” She pulled her shoulders back, striding towards the water’s edge, smiling broadly now.

 “Hey, hi there, what a surprise, great to see you!” she called above the wind.

Ryan beamed back.
Bloody hell,
he thought,
Marianne should be the actor.
Marianne grinned back at him.
I’m going to kill you for not warning me about this,
her eyes blazed radar-like at her beloved.

“What the hell could I do? I left you a voicemail as soon as she was out of earshot, and yes, she just showed up, just like that.” Ryan pulled the door of the 4x4 closed, after ensuring Larry and Angelique were safely on their way in Pat’s cab.

 “You’d no idea?” Marianne was furious.

 “Are you joking, I thought she was still on tour with the boyfriend. We all thought she was. What we didn’t know was his tour took him to London, that’s how she got here so quickly, how she knew about the TV show, me quitting.” Ryan was livid too. “Please don’t be angry, Marie, that’s playing right into her hands. This is as much a shock to me as it is to you. I thought Angelique would be out of circulation for a long time, long enough to make things legal anyway. I can’t believe she just showed up like this.”

 Marianne put the key in the ignition. “I can, when you think about it, it’s only what any mother would do as soon as she heard her husband had absconded with her child.”

 “Aw, come on she’s not ‘any mother’, she’s hardly seen Joey since he was born. He’s had a string of nannies and me whenever I could be there. She’s been either partying here, there and everywhere or collapsed in a heap.” He placed his hand on her arm as she reached for the steering wheel, “That’s why I brought him here, that’s why I want him with us, you and me, he deserves better.” His voice turned to a whisper, “He’s only a little boy.”

He sounded bereft, desolate. She opened her arms and he threw himself into her embrace, gripping her tightly to him, burying his face in her hair, breathing her in. After a moment he lifted her chin, pressing her mouth firmly with his, and then, because he was hungry for her, a deep warm kiss, sliding his tongue between her lips, lighting the fire inside her, the way he always did. She bit his lip playfully as she pulled away.

 “Okay?” she asked, smiling grimly.

 “Yep, okay now I’m on solid ground.” He looked into her eyes and then straight ahead. “Onwards then, let’s get to Maguire’s before all hell breaks loose.”

 “Larry will have things under control. He was very keen to travel with Angelique in the taxi, I got the impression he wanted to get the lie of the land, hear her version of events anyway.” Marianne started the engine.

 “Larry’s a good negotiator, I’ll give you that, and he’s used to dealing with difficult women, Lena’s pretty scary, but I’ve just spent an hour and a half with Angelique and she’s weirder than weird at the moment. She may be out of rehab but she’s not okay, not by a long chalk,” Ryan said.