Heartstones (32 page)

‘And did he?’ Phoebe already knew the answer.

‘No, of course not. When he woke up he dressed and said he had a boat to catch. At the top of the stairs I remember him turning back to me and saying “Sorry”, and then he left me sitting on the bed, my new blouse crumpled, my lipstick smudged. I didn’t see him again for forty years.’

‘You saw him again? When?’

‘He came here, to Carraigmore, a few weeks after Anna died. He came into the pub and I served him with a pint of Guinness; I don’t think he recognised me. I must have looked very different, middle-aged, plump and wrinkled, but I would have known him anywhere. Still the same dark chocolate eyes, still all that curly hair – it had turned grey by then but it was just as thick. I couldn’t speak to him; I didn’t know how to begin. He seemed too wrapped up in his own thoughts, too melancholy to interrupt. When he left the pub I followed him. He stood outside the boathouse for a long time and then he walked along the beach and disappeared over the headland. I never saw him again.’ Mrs Flannigan’s voice was getting hoarse but she continued. ‘I heard he went to live in Donegal and then, of course it was all over the news when he died. I hadn’t realised he’d become so famous.’

Phoebe bit her lip. ‘Do you think that Anna would have told my father he was Michael’s son?’

‘I don’t know if Anna ever suspected he was Michael’s.’

‘But Dr Brennan didn’t even try to consummate their marriage, and there wasn’t anyone else, was there?’

Mrs Flannigan’s reply was so quiet that Phoebe had to ask her to repeat it.

‘Your father wasn’t Anna’s child.’

Phoebe stared at Mrs Flannigan. Mrs Flannigan leaned back and closed her eyes.

‘Here it is, your lunch at last,’ a clatter of crockery accompanied Katrina’s arrival in the sitting room. She looked from Phoebe to Mrs Flannigan and back again. ‘Has she been all right, she is looking so washed up and pale?’ Phoebe couldn’t stop staring at Mrs Flannigan. Just when she thought she’d had all her questions answered there were more.

‘What do you mean?’ she asked, ignoring Katrina, straining to make out what Mrs Flannigan was trying to say.

‘What is she saying about?’ Katrina asked. Phoebe put her finger to her lips to quieten her.

Mrs Flannigan started to speak again. ‘He was Michael’s child, but he wasn’t Anna’s.’ She cleared her throat a little before she whispered, ‘He was mine.’

‘So you’re back are you, Phoebe? Come to help the search at last?’ it was Nola now who stood in the doorway, her long hair tangled, her high-heeled boots replaced with muddy wellingtons. Phoebe glanced at her briefly and then took Mrs Flannigan’s papery hand in her own.

‘Yours?’ she asked softly. ‘My father was your and Michael’s child?’

‘What’s she talking about?’ Nola stepped into the room and this time it was Katrina who had her finger to her lips.

‘I think she is telling to Phoebe something very important.’

Nola sat down beside Phoebe on the sofa. Katrina sat beside her and the three younger women all looked at Mrs Flannigan and waited for her to speak again. In the corner the silent television still flickered and the small Jack Russell woke and turned around on his cushion before settling back down to sleep again.

Phoebe shook her head. ‘I’m finding it hard to take this in; are you telling me you’re our grandmother?’

Mrs Flannigan nodded.

‘It must be meaning that Fibber is your uncle and that Maeve would have been being your aunt,’ said Katrina.

Phoebe thought for a while, ‘So that would make Honey …’

‘Honey,’ Mrs Flannigan’s rasping voice was almost a shout. Katrina and Phoebe turned to her and saw her wild-eyed gaze directed at the noiseless television. The whole screen was filled with Honey,
missing child in Carraigmore
going by underneath on a bulletin band.

Katrina grabbed the remote control and turned it off, but Mrs Flannigan was already struggling to get out of her chair. ‘What has happened? What’s happened to Honey?’

Katrina and Phoebe rushed to her side and managed to get her seated again. ‘Is all right,’ said Katrina. ‘Is nothing happen to Honey, she is all right.’

‘What’s she doing on the news then? It said a child is missing in the village, is it her?’

‘No,’ said Katrina.

‘Yes,’ said Phoebe and she crouched down and took both of Mrs Flannigan’s hands in hers. ‘Honey has been missing since Sunday. She ran away and so far no one has found her. The Guards are looking and many people from the village, everyone is trying their best.’

Mrs Flannigan’s hand was at her chest again; her face had become the colour of a bruise.

‘I must get the pills,’ Katrina hurried out of the room and was back in seconds, a brown bottle in her hand, desperately twisting at the lid. ‘I can’t undo child-proofing.’ Nola took it from her and opened it. Katrina tapped out two tablets and tried to make Mrs Flannigan swallow them with a drink of water. Mrs Flannigan pushed her away, the water spilling onto the blanket.

‘The mirror,’ Mrs Flannigan gasped. ‘In the boathouse. Have they looked behind the mirror?’ 

Chapter Thirty

In seconds Phoebe was running down the high street. In her mind she had the image of the full-length mirror in the flat; she’d often thought it was unusually big for the size of the room, thinking about it now Phoebe realised that it could well be as big as a door.

‘Hey, Phoebe,’ someone called. She turned and saw Rory on the other side of the street, he had an Ordnance Survey map around his neck that no doubt showed the area he was either about to search or had just finished.

‘Tell Theo to meet me down by the boathouse,’ Phoebe shouted over her shoulder. ‘I’m not sure but I think I know where Honey is.’

‘I’ll find him.’ Rory broke into a sprint and ran off in the opposite direction.

‘Phoebe, wait.’ Still running, Phoebe looked over her shoulder just as Nola caught up with her.

‘I don’t need you with me, Nola, haven’t you done enough damage already?’ Phoebe tried to run faster but Nola’s Zumba classes seemed to have made her capable of keeping up with her sister.

‘That woman,’ Nola said a she jogged beside Phoebe, ‘that Mrs Flannigan. What was she talking about back there? Is she really our grandmother?’

Phoebe nodded. ‘I can’t explain now.’

‘If she is our grandmother why didn’t she get in touch after the accident?’

‘I don’t know; I can’t even think about it. I need to find Honey.’

Nola kept pace as they left the shops and cottages behind. ‘She could have come and helped us; she could have helped me instead of leaving me with a child to bring up when I was no more than a child myself. She just left us all alone and let me ruin my life.’

‘What do you mean “ruin your life”?’ Phoebe was panting now as they reached the top of the lane.

‘I was seventeen, I had everything ahead of me: my A-levels, a place at university, a chance to become a doctor – and instead I gave all that up.’

‘You gave it all up to marry Steve.’

‘I gave it up to look after you. I thought marrying Steve would be the best thing to do for your sake; I wanted to make a home for you, get a job, help you get through school.’

‘Have the chance to boss me around at every opportunity, put me down, make me feel like a failure.’

‘I’ve only ever wanted to look after you Phoebe; I’ve only ever wanted to do the right thing.’

They’d reached the boathouse now. It looked deserted; there wasn’t even anyone the beach, though Phoebe could see the cliff tops were crawling with people and a helicopter was circling round and round the headland.

‘And I suppose you thought the right thing was humiliating me in front of the entire village on Saturday night.’ Phoebe stopped on the path, her hands on her knees as she tried to get her breath back.

‘I’m so sorry, I was drunk, I didn’t know you hadn’t told your new friends the truth.’

Phoebe turned away from her and tried the door. It was locked.

‘Damn!’

‘To be honest I think I felt a little jealous,’ continued Nola. She gave the door a push herself. ‘Haven’t you got a key?’

‘I posted the key back through the letterbox when I left. What do you mean “jealous”?’

‘We’ll have to try to break it down,’ Nola started kicking it with her foot. ‘I mean coming here, finding you with a gorgeous man and lovely friends – everybody telling me how great my little sister is. That made me feel jealous. Maybe I’ve always been jealous of you.’

‘Have you?’ Phoebe was pushing at the door with both her hands. ‘This isn’t budging! Why would you have ever been jealous of me?’

‘You’ve had it all: the education, the opportunities, the chance to travel, the chance to have loads and loads of boyfriends.’

‘There weren’t loads and loads – you always wanted to make out I was just some sort of promiscuous dropout.’ Phoebe’s hands were beginning to hurt but she kept on pushing, using her knees and feet as well. ‘I never could do anything right.’ Her words came out in short bursts with each kick and shove. ‘I didn’t get as many exams as you. Art college wasn’t nearly as good as medical school. Travelling was simply squandering my time and money. In your eyes I’ve always been a failure. God, why’s this bloody door so strong?’

Nola stopped kicking and looked at Phoebe. ‘But I’ve always thought you were wonderful! I admired the way you just got on and did your own thing, saw the world, made the most of your life while I was stuck in suburbia eating Snickers bars and ironing shirts. That’s one of the reasons I was so angry about David. For the first time I thought you’d let yourself down. You deserved someone better than another woman’s philandering husband.’ She took a step back. ‘Look, I think we’re both just going to have to throw ourselves at this with everything we’ve got.’

Phoebe stepped back too. ‘OK on the count of three: one, two, three …’

Together they charged, hitting the wooden timbers with their shoulders at full force. With a splintering crack the door gave way and Phoebe and Nola fell inside, tumbling against each other, landing in a heap on the floor. Phoebe untangled herself from Nola and holding out a hand helped her sister up.

‘I’m sorry, Phoebe,’ Nola brushed down her jeans. ‘I never meant to boss you around, or put you down; I’ve only ever wanted to do the best for you.’ She looked around at the room. ‘My God, it’s just the same as it always was in here.’ She nodded towards the row of blue and white pots still lined up on the table. ‘I like those.’

‘I decorated them,’ said Phoebe.

‘You see. Another talent that I’ll never have, and you ask why I’m jealous?’

‘I’m sorry.’ Phoebe touched her sister’s arm. ‘Maybe I’ve never properly appreciated what you did for me after Mum and Dad died; the sacrifices you had to make. You were amazing.’

They both looked up at the sound of scuffling up above them. ‘Honey!’ Phoebe shouted, and she and Nola rushed up the stairs.

Phoebe stood in front of the mirror feeling along the edges of the wide mahogany frame, trying to find some catch or handle, tearing away the Michael Flynn postcard as it got in her way.

‘Honey! Honey!’ She called the little girl’s name, again and again. She stopped as a she heard a muffled noise coming from behind her own reflection.

‘Phoebe?’ she heard a child’s voice clearly say her name. She pulled the frame as hard as she could, first on one side and then the other.

‘Help,’ the voice behind the reflection said. Nola jammed the fire poker behind the frame and used it like a lever. Phoebe pulled again and suddenly the mirror swung open and she could see Honey huddled in one corner of a gloomy, narrow room. The little girl still wore the dungarees that she’d had on when Phoebe had tucked her into bed two days before, and her baseball boots were caked in mud and grass stained.

Honey didn’t move; Phoebe crouched down in front of her. ‘Are you all right?’

Honey nodded but tears were streaming down her face. ‘I couldn’t make the door open.’ She gulped. ‘I wanted to get out and I couldn’t and I’ve been so frightened.’

Phoebe looked around her. There was a small skylight in the ceiling, but the branch of an oak tree grew across it and not much daylight filtered through the leaves. Some things were stacked up against the wall at one end but apart from that the room seemed empty.

‘You’re all right now.’ Phoebe put her arms around Honey and held her tightly. When she felt the little girl tremble she asked Nola to fetch an old shawl of Anna’s and wrapped it round Honey’s shoulders. ‘This will keep you warm; it used to be my granny’s.’

Granny?
Phoebe thought. She’d have to get used to the fact that Anna hadn’t been her granny at all.

‘I didn’t mean to close the door,’ said Honey, her teeth chattering. ‘Grandma always tells me I mustn’t let it close, but when I saw the Gardai coming from the window I ran inside and slammed it shut and then it was stuck.’

‘How did you get into the boathouse in the first place?’ Nola asked. ‘We nearly did ourselves a serious injury trying to get in.’

‘Grandma keeps another spare key under the flowerpot by the door.’ Nola raised her eyes and glared at Phoebe.

‘Sorry,’ Phoebe shrugged, ‘I never thought to look.’ She turned back to Honey. ‘Is this where you’ve been since you ran away?’

‘No, first I thought I’d go to Dublin. I thought I’d get a job in a pub. I started walking but coaches kept coming and nearly running me over, and then I went on to the moor, but I got lost and frightened and I didn’t want to be in a pub in Dublin, I just wanted to be here. I remembered something Mr O’Brian had said at school, about the sun always setting in the sea so I followed the sunset.’ She looked at Phoebe with brimming eyes. ‘I’m sorry, but I ate all your biscuits and a bar of chocolate and the rest of that bottle of orange juice you’d left behind.’

‘It’s all right, sweetheart,’ Phoebe smiled, ‘I don’t mind; but you must be starving now. Why don’t we go and tell everyone that you’re safe and get you something to eat.’ She tried to gently pull Honey up but the little girl resisted.

‘Is Daddy still going to sell the Castle and make me go and live with Granny Stick?’

Phoebe tried to think how to answer – she didn’t want to make rash promises but she didn’t want to upset Honey either.

‘Thank God!’ a voice cried out behind them. Phoebe looked up to see Theo bounding to the top of the stairs.

‘Daddy!’ Honey sprang up and ran into her father’s arms. ‘Phoebe found me, Phoebe let me out. I thought I was going to be in that room for ever and ever, and I’d never get to see you again.’

Theo glanced at Phoebe for a second, then all his attention was back with Honey. ‘Whatever possessed you to run away like that? You’ve had us all worried sick.’ He was out of breath, his face flushed from running.

Honey nuzzled into his shirt. ‘I’m sorry,’ she mumbled. ‘I didn’t think you’d really care; I know I’m just a nuisance to you.’

Theo sighed, crouched down and wiped her tears with his fingers. ‘You could never be a nuisance, Honey. Even when half the Guards in Kerry and several television crews descend on Carraigmore because of you, I never think of you as being a nuisance. You know you’re more important than anything else in my life.’

‘More important than your pots?’ Honey asked looking up at him. Theo hugged her tightly.

‘Much, much more important than any pots.’

Honey smiled for the first time. ‘Was I really on the television?’ Theo nodded. ‘Did you record it?’ Honey asked.

‘Honey!’ Theo held his daughter at arms length. ‘All I’ve been doing for forty-eight hours is desperately searching for you. I haven’t even slept, let alone recorded the news! I’ve been terrified that I’d never see you again.’ He hugged his daughter even tighter while she whispered ‘Sorry’ over and over again.

Phoebe leant against the doorway and watched. She saw how tired Theo looked, his face unshaven, his shirt dirty. He seemed to have aged since she’d last seen him. He turned and looked at her, Honey still pressed against him.

‘Thank you,’ he said.

‘You will ask her to stay now won’t you, Daddy? Don’t let her go away again.’ Honey wriggled out of Theo’s embrace and threw her arms around Phoebe’s waist.

Theo smiled at Phoebe. ‘My two favourite women running away from me on the same day, a man’s got to be very unlucky or have done something very bad.’

‘No!’ protested Phoebe. ‘I was the one that had done something bad.’ She looked down at Honey; she didn’t want to say too much in front of her.

‘If you mean what your sister said, I don’t care. Well, I did at the time – a bit – but not now. She should never have told everyone like that.’ Nola gave a short cough, and for the first time Theo noticed she was there. He shot her a fierce look. Nola made a grimace and mouthed
Sorry.

Phoebe bit her lip. ‘You don’t mind about my …’

Theo interrupted her, ‘I don’t care about your past Phoebe; it’s only your future that I’m interested in.’

‘Good line!’ Nola muttered under her breath.

‘What are you talking about?’ Honey looked from one adult to the other.

‘I’m trying to follow your advice and am asking Phoebe to stay,’ said Theo.

‘Why don’t you just ask her properly then?’ She looked up at Phoebe, her face suitably solemn. ‘Are you going to stay?’

Phoebe looked at Theo and then she nodded. ‘Yes, I think so.’

‘Good, because it’s much nicer with you here and my dad’s in love with you.’

Theo and Phoebe burst out laughing. Nola rolled her eyes but couldn’t help but smile.

Honey looked up at Theo. ‘And what about the Castle? You can’t sell it to those developing men, you just can’t.’

‘I think before we talk any more about the future we’d better tell the Gardai and the television crews that they can go home now.’ Theo put his arm around his daughter and started to steer her towards the stairs.

‘And get that food we talked about,’ added Phoebe. ‘And we must tell your grandma and Katrina that you’re safe, poor Mrs Flannigan was in a terrible state when she saw your picture on the news, though we never would have found you without her help.’

‘Honey! Am I pleased to see you!’ Rory emerged at the top of the stairs.

‘Did you know I’ve been on the television, Mr O’Brian?’ Honey said proudly.

‘So have I,’ Rory said. Phoebe’s face fell. ‘Though I think it’s safe to say you were the star of the show.’

‘There’s actually a little metal catch here.’ Nola had been examining the secret door. ‘But it’s very well hidden by the mirror’s frame.’

‘Don’t tell Grandma that I went in the special room.’ Honey looked imploringly at Theo. Theo stroked her head and told her not to worry.

‘I’m off back to the village,’ said Rory. ‘I’ll tell everyone you’re alive and well, Honey, and give them a chance to hang out the bunting before you arrive.’ He bounded down the stairs two at a time and disappeared.

‘We’d better make a move now, too,’ Theo said.

‘Hang on.’ They turned at the sound of Nola’s voice coming from the hidden room. ‘What are all these? There’s loads of them.’ She emerged with a canvas in her hands. ‘I don’t know much about art but I rather like these paintings.’

‘They’re the pictures Grandma likes to look at,’ said Honey.

They all followed Nola back into the room. A pile of canvases were stacked up neatly against the far wall, each one a similar size – as wide and high as a fully spread out broadsheet.