‘Where is it?’ I cried. I looked at Corinne, knowing it was her fault this had happened. I told her she might take my dad, but she’d never take my mom. I’d pushed too far, because Corinne snapped. She shouted back. Why must I always assume the worst of her? What did she have to do to prove herself to me? She’d not touched the photograph.
Dad told me to calm down. But I was beyond reason at this point. Snot and tears streamed down my face. And I pushed Gran away when she tried to put her arms around me.
‘I moved the photograph,’ Dad admitted.
I couldn’t believe my ears. ‘How could you do that, Dad? Mom was the love of your life, but now you’ve met someone else you are going to pretend she never existed? What’s next? You want to get rid of me too, because I remind you of Mom too?’
‘Stop that this minute!’ Dad shouted. He’d never raised his voice to me, in all the years of mishaps and mayhem that had ensued throughout my childhood. ‘The photograph is in your room. On your bedside locker. Now, you need to calm down.’
I couldn’t contain my rage. His words and efforts to placate me only lit a fuse. I threw the new cushions from the sofa across the room. Corinne told Dad that he needed to nip this in the bud. She told him that he needed to put her first the odd time, if they were to ever work. If Grandad hadn’t held me back, I would have jumped on top of her at that. From my vantage point, it had been the Corinne show for far too long.
‘Don’t make me choose between you both,’ Dad warned Corinne, and as soon as he said that, I knew what I had to do. I wanted him to have to choose between us. Because I knew I could win. Dad had always been fiercely overprotective of me. If anybody so much as threatened the safety of his girl, he went all alpha male. I walked by Corinne and tripped myself up. I hit the ground hard, the thud ringing through the room. There was shocked silence, until my screams pierced the air. Dad got to me first and I whispered to him, ‘She tripped me up, Dad. On purpose.’
‘Don’t be silly, love. Corinne wouldn’t do that.’
Corinne’s face was aghast and she denied it, saying she loved me and would never harm me. I cried and put in an Oscar-winning performance, begging Dad to take me to my room, away from her. And as he half carried me back to my bedroom, I threw my final grenade at Corinne. ‘Why would you deliberately want to hurt me?’
As I lay in my bed that night, I could hear them arguing. I heard tears too. They played music so I couldn’t make out the words, but I did hear Dad saying that he had to put me first. Everything he’d done was to protect me. Corinne said he was making a mistake and that lies always catch up with you. I pulled my duvet up higher, over my head, to drown out her words. I didn’t want to listen to them any more. I had this nagging feeling of guilt that I didn’t like. I knew deep down that I’d behaved appallingly, but I didn’t want to admit that to anyone else.
The next morning Dad told me that Corinne and he had split up. There would be no wedding. She would come for her things that weekend.
The final battle had been fought and I’d won.
The funny thing was, after she left, the feeling of victory didn’t taste very sweet. Dad and I both missed her. And things were never quite the same at home after that.
22
BEA
February 2020
Brooklyn Heights, Brooklyn, New York
I walked up and down the tree-lined avenue three times. As soon as I got close to Corinne’s house, my courage deserted me at the last minute. I made my way down Orange Street, walking towards the water and stopped to take in the view of downtown Manhattan and the Brooklyn Bridge. Tourists took selfies of themselves and the sound of their merriment as they posed filled the air. The bridge felt like a connecting portal to another world. It linked Brooklyn to Manhattan over the East River. And more than that, I’d learned through my grandad that it also linked many cultures. When I was a kid, about seven or eight, Grandad woke me early one summer’s morning and told me we were going on an adventure. I jumped out of bed and got dressed quickly, without question. Grandad was full of surprises like this and his excursions never disappointed. We drove to Vinegar Hill, a neighbourhood named for an Enniscorthy landmark, to honour the many Irish who lived there. Once he parked up, Grandad took my hand and then we strolled towards the Brooklyn Bridge pedestrian walkway. The views of the Manhattan skyline were spectacular, the city skyscrapers nestled against a pink sky. We stopped to watch a bride and groom pose as a photographer took snaps.
Grandad shouted his congratulations to them and they told us that they’d got married the day before, but they were doing their official photographs today at popular landmarks.
‘When I married this one’s grandmother in 1961 a friend of ours gave us a blessing. It goes something like this …’ Grandad said, clearing his throat, ‘With the first light of sun – Bless you. When the long day is done – Bless you. In your smiles and your tears – Bless you. Through each day of your years – Bless you.’
Time stood still in that moment, as his strong voice filled the air between us and the young couple. With their arms wrapped around each other, I saw the woman’s eyes brim with emotion. They shook Grandad’s hand and thanked him. I felt emotion that I couldn’t understand yet. My throat tightened and I was embarrassed that I felt like crying. I was too young to understand why I felt so emotional. But now I know. It was pride. My grandad was a man who could take a moment of his day to stop with strangers and recite a beautiful blessing, making their day a little brighter. That was his superpower. He made all of our lives brighter with the small and the big moments we had by his side.
I placed my hand inside his again and we continued our walk across the bridge. His hand was calloused and the skin was hard from years of manual labour. But I never felt as safe as I did when I held it. ‘One day, you’ll get married, and please God I’ll be there to recite that blessing to you too, Bea.’
I liked the idea of that very much.
As we continued our walk across the bridge, Grandad told me about the many Irish who had helped build the famous suspension bridge that stretched across the water to Brooklyn. At least twenty had perished as the structure was built. He told me about the time that P. T. Barnum, the circus man, brought twenty-one elephants over the bridge to prove how strong it was. I jumped up and down and wished that I’d lived back in the 1880s so that I could have seen the spectacle myself.
‘Why did you bring me here this morning, Grandad?’ I asked.
‘I wanted to tell you something important. Show you too. You see the foundations of this bridge were laid by Irish immigrants who came off the famine ships in the 1860s. It was the toughest of jobs and the saying went that only the hungriest would go anywhere near work like this. But we Irish have always been made of strong stock.’ He touched a steel pole, then took my little hand and placed it onto the steel beneath his. ‘There’s a heartbeat running through this, the heartbeat of every immigrant who helped to build this city. I’m part of this heartbeat, your father is and so are you too. We’re Irish, but we’re American too. That’s a powerful combination. Don’t ever forget that.’
I closed my eyes and I could feel vibrations make my hand tremble. And even though I was young and knew very little about the world, I understood what Grandad was sharing with me. I was part of something bigger than myself. I was born in New York and I stood on the shoulders of my ancestors who helped to build the city that I called my home.
Now, over twenty years later, I watched the sun bounce off the steel suspensions and I thought of all those who had gone before me. And the legacy they had left behind them. When I died, I wanted to leave something tangible behind me too. I wanted to have made a difference. Even though I wasn’t in the slightest bit hungry, I grabbed a slice of pizza from Dellarocco’s and had an impromptu picnic on the grass at the waterfront. As I watched tourists take photographs, I almost persuaded myself that I should abandon my plan to find Corinne Dryden and go back to my studio. I still wasn’t sure why I was doing this.<
br />
Stephanie had queried if I was planning to orchestrate a reunion between Corinne and Dad. I thought about that for a moment too. Was it possible that they could fall in love again? This time without any interference from me. Was it possible to make Dad’s world a little better now?
My phone buzzed and I opened a WhatsApp message from Katrina. It was a photo of a chicken, pecking at the ground. I sent her back a photo of a hairless cat I found on a Google search. Cats creeped out Katrina and the ones with no fur gave her nightmares. I smiled in satisfaction as she responded with a one-finger emoji.
But the message spurred me on. I couldn’t procrastinate any longer. I made my way back to Corinne’s brownstone. Smoothing down my hair, I wiped my face to make sure that there was no pizza sauce on it. Then I rang her doorbell.
‘Please don’t be in, please don’t be in,’ I prayed to myself. But the door opened anyway and suddenly there she was. Older, her hair with streaks of grey through it, lines around her mouth and eyes. Yet she was also the same and, looking at her, I felt regret. I hadn’t realized until this moment how much I missed having her in my life.
‘I don’t know if you remember me, but my name is …’ I began.
She choked out a cry of surprise, then pulled me into her embrace. Corinne felt soft and as she held me tight, and the years fell away like leaves on a tree. She whispered into my hair, ‘Bea O’Connor. My little Bea.’
So she did remember me after all. I felt a rush of relief. We all want to leave an imprint on those we meet in our lives, don’t we?
‘What am I like, leaving you standing on my doorstep! Come in.’ She opened the door wide behind her and I followed her into her home. The hallway was bright, with black and white flagstones and sunshine yellow painted on the walls. It suited her. Warm, cosy and inviting. Exactly as I remembered her to be. We went through to her kitchen and she poured water into a kettle and then flipped the switch on. She kept stealing glances at me and I suppose I was doing the same with her too. ‘I’m going to make some tea. Or maybe you prefer coffee?’
‘Tea would be great. Thanks.’
‘So how are you? You look well.’
I hesitated for a second and she raised an eyebrow. I quickly told her I was good.
‘I’ve thought about you so much over the years, Bea. Tell me first of all, what did you grow up to be?’
‘Do you remember Katrina Petrovic?’ She nodded, so I continued, ‘Well we are co-owners of the Family Finders Agency. We help find missing people.’ I felt a stab of pride telling her this.
‘Yes!’ she said, punching the air, responding as I hoped she would. ‘I always thought you’d end up doing something like that. You and your dad were obsessed with every possible crime show on TV back then.’ She frowned for a moment, then cleared her throat to ask the question that must have been on her mind the second she saw me. ‘How is your dad? You’re not here to tell me bad news, are you?’
‘No! He’s fine. He’s working on his fifteenth novel, almost at the end of the first draft. He’s still addicted to Law & Order in all its forms.’
She smiled as I told her this. But it was one of those smiles crammed full of sadness. I’d seen Dad smile like this many times. Hell, I’d done it too. I spotted a small chicken figurine sitting on the edge of the Belfast sink in her kitchen. It felt like a sign. I found myself thinking about ways to initiate a meeting between them. Maybe my letter did want me to sort out a reconciliation.
‘Thank you for the time-capsule letter.’
‘It took me some time to track down a fair few from the class. You were easiest of all. You always said you’d never leave Innisfree. And you haven’t. Good for you.’
‘Did you read them?’ I asked. I was embarrassed by my comments about her in them and crossed my fingers behind my back, as I used to do as a child, wishing she hadn’t.
She looked offended by the question. ‘Of course not! They were sealed when you put them in the time capsule and they were still sealed when I forwarded them to you.’
‘I’m sorry.’ And I was sorry. Not just for my unfair accusation, but for so much more.
‘You’ve nothing to be sorry about,’ she answered, understanding that my apology had many layers to it.
‘Dad still thinks of you,’ I blurted out, testing the waters.
‘Is that why you’re here? Ryan sent you? After all this time?’ She seemed surprised.
‘Dad doesn’t even know I’m here, I promise you. But I know he misses you. He was never the same after you broke up.’
‘It was such a long time ago,’ Corinne said. ‘I’m sure he’s moved on. I know I have.’
She turned away from me as she busied herself making the tea. Had she moved on? I sneaked a look around her kitchen. I couldn’t see any signs of another man.
‘While it’s wonderful to see you, I suspect you are here for a reason. What do you need from me, Bea?’
I flushed. I’d forgotten how direct she was.
‘Gran always used to say that you got what you saw with Corinne. That there were no sides to you. She really liked you. She was cross with me, for ages, after you and Dad split up.’
Corinne’s face softened. ‘I loved your gran too. I wasn’t close to my mother; she was the complete anthesis of your gran, cold and distant. I remember when your dad said to me that he wanted to introduce me to his family. I was so nervous. Not just meeting you, his only child, but also meeting his mother who he lived with! I was even more afraid when he told me that your mom hadn’t got on well with Peggy. But within a few minutes of meeting, I felt like I’d known her my whole life. I often think of her and her gorgeous scones.’
‘With Kerrygold butter …’ I said as my mind digested the latest titbit I’d learned. My mom hadn’t got on well with Gran. That was news to me.
She placed a pretty flowered plate onto the table in front of me, with a couple of stacks of chocolate chip cookies. Then poured the tea into two mugs.
‘You must miss your gran.’
‘Every day. And Grandad too.’
‘I went to their funerals. It was a beautiful service for both. A packed church, which was no surprise to me. They were much loved and respected in the neighbourhood.’
I looked at her in surprise. I hadn’t known she’d been there. ‘I didn’t see you at the wakes. You should have said hello.’
‘I didn’t want to intrude. I could see the pain you were all in. Especially for your grandad’s, so close after losing Peggy.’
‘I don’t think I’ve got over either of their deaths. I miss them both so much. And it’s funny, but since I received the letter from the time capsule, they’ve been in my thoughts even more. I don’t have a memory from my childhood that doesn’t include them really.’
‘That’s understandable.’
It was time to fess up and face the music. ‘Upon mature reflection, I suppose on occasion there were times back then that perhaps didn’t cover me in glory.’
Corinne didn’t say anything, just carried on stirring her tea with a tiny teaspoon.
I wasn’t sure how to begin and all my rehearsed speeches flew out of my brain. There wasn’t a correct way to own up to a bad deed, I supposed. ‘In school I used to scrape my chair loudly on the ground because I knew it irritated you.’
‘You used to stick your tongue out at me too,’ she said with an easy laugh.
‘You were my favourite teacher.’
‘Until I started to date your dad and then the battle lines were drawn.’
‘I was so angry back then and it was unfair of me to take it out on you.’
‘Please don’t worry about it.’
‘I have been worrying and I need to tell you something. That night you and Dad rowed, when you made some changes to the sitting room. I did something bad.’
‘We all have moments that we regret, Bea. And that evening is one of them for me too,’ Corinne said, taking me by surprise.
‘But you didn’t do anything wrong. It
was all me. I mean, as well as the way I spoke to you, I tripped myself up on purpose. I pretended it was you, because I wanted to make Dad choose between us. I was a complete and utter spoiled brat. So if anyone should regret that evening, it’s me.’
She took her time responding. The silence filled the air between us and as the seconds added up to a minute, I felt sick. I wanted her to shout at me. Maybe give me a slap. Not a hard one, but a little one would help to make me feel less guilty. Goodness knows I probably deserved it.
But all she said was, ‘I knew that.’
‘There is no excuse for my behaviour. I was angry with you and Dad, because I felt blindsided by you both. It wasn’t only the cushion; Mario’s had always been our thing. But I never wanted you to split up. I really am sorry that I did that to you. It wasn’t just Dad that missed you afterwards. I did too.’
‘At one time I thought you might have been the daughter I’d never had. I would have loved that. I need you to know that I would never have changed that cushion, had I known how precious it was to you. Your gran asked me to give the place a spruce up, as she called it.’
‘Grandad always used to say that there were three sides to every story. Yours, mine and the truth.’
Corinne smiled as she topped up my tea.
‘Please accept my apology. It’s important to me that you know I’m sorry for being such a little cow.’
‘Oh Beatrice, I really appreciate you coming here to say that to me. But there was no need.’ She leaned over and gave my hand a squeeze, to reaffirm that she meant it. ‘Your dad never believed for one second that I tripped you up. He saw how much I loved you. He knew that I could never hurt you like that.’
‘But you fought, I heard you. And then you left …’ I said, confused by what she was saying.
‘Yes. But that was for a very different reason. Your trip was the catalyst to the inevitable. We would never have married. I saw that as time moved on after our engagement. I don’t think your dad really loved me, Bea.’
The Moon Over Kilmore Quay: a heartwarming and emotional family drama perfect for summer 2021 Page 17
