The Moon Over Kilmore Quay: a heartwarming and emotional family drama perfect for summer 2021

by Carmel Harrington

  ‘Is that what the moving of her photograph was about?’

  Dad looked sad as he continued, ‘We fought about that photo a lot. I told her that it made me sad to look at it. She couldn’t see why I didn’t move it.’

  ‘I never knew it made you sad.’ I tried to remember if Dad had ever expressed this fact to me, but I was pretty sure he hadn’t. I felt like I was missing something here. I might have been a kid back then, but Corinne had never struck me as the kind of woman who worried or fretted about my mom. I suppose it was possible that I’d just not noticed. ‘Do you miss her, Dad?’

  ‘All the time,’ he replied, and for a moment I wasn’t sure who he meant. Mom or Corinne. Maybe both.

  ‘Do you regret splitting up? I remember you moping around the place for ages afterwards.’

  ‘I loved her. And I missed her for a hell of a long time. But maybe it was for the best. Maybe I’m not the type who gets to be with someone for more than a year or two at most.’

  That was so profoundly sad. It made tears sting my eyes. I picked up his notebook and pencil – he always kept them to hand so he could jot down ideas for his next novel. I scribbled Corinne’s cell number down. ‘You should visit her. If only so you can get some closure. I think you both could do with that. I’m really glad I went. And I’m going to stay in touch with her.’

  ‘Maybe I will.’

  ‘Dad, there’s something else I’ve been thinking about. Mom’s family in Ireland. Why didn’t we stay in touch with them?’

  His face changed at this question. Hardened. Was that anger too? ‘Don’t put that on me, Bea. It wasn’t anything I did,’ he said firmly. ‘They chose to stay away.’

  ‘And why was Mom buried over there and not here?’

  ‘Her choice.’

  ‘You talked about that?’ This seemed weird to me. A young couple discussing burial plans at the start of their life together. Had she an inkling that she was going to die?

  ‘We’d been at a memorial service for one of the Farrell’s gang. He’d been flown home for his burial. Your mom told me that she wanted to be sent home too, but that we should cremate her to make it easier. She was quite insistent. Of course we never thought for a second that it was something we’d have to worry about for years to come. But a few months later …’ He didn’t finish.

  ‘So she was cremated here, then sent home?’

  Dad nodded. ‘I had to honour her wishes.’

  ‘I wish she had been buried here. It would have been nice to have somewhere to visit over the years.’

  ‘Yes, it would,’ he agreed, his face softening again to the one I was used to. He found this subject difficult. I felt uncomfortable making him feel uncomfortable. But I needed to tell him my plans.

  ‘I’m going to get in touch with my aunt. She might not want to have a relationship with me, but I want to ask her about Mom. And I’d like to meet Michelle too.’

  Dad looked less than impressed with my plan.

  ‘Mom had a life in Ireland for over twenty years before you met her. And I want to find out about that. Corinne thought it was a good idea too.’

  ‘That sounds like something Corinne would encourage all right. Look, you’re an adult, I can’t stop you. But I think you’re making a mistake. She won’t want to see you.’

  ‘Maybe. But it’s my mistake to make. I’m a grown woman, Dad. Old enough to make my own mind up.’

  I noticed a fleeting expression on his face. Was it fear? What on earth could my dad be afraid of?

  ‘What are you so scared of?’ I asked.

  ‘Of you getting hurt. But most of all, of losing you.’

  How could he think I’d ever leave him for my Irish family? ‘Oh Dad. You don’t ever have to worry about that. You’ve got to trust me. I know what I’m doing.’

  And all of that was true except for the last part. I had no clue what my next move should be. But somehow I felt that, whatever it was, it would be life-changing.

  27

  BEA

  February 2020

  Family Finders Agency, 57th Street, Manhattan

  Olive Spadoni arrived at the agency, a frown creasing her forehead. I had no interest in prolonging her agony. I could only imagine the myriad of things going through her mind.

  ‘We’ve found Ted. He’s alive.’ That was the most important piece of information to impart.

  I let Olive enjoy the relief that this gave her, knowing that any joy she felt at her husband being alive and well was about to be squashed by his ugly, cruel infidelity.

  ‘I cannot believe it. He’s OK? Well?’ Olive asked, tears flowing down her face.

  I nodded. In rude health, from what I could gather from my intel.

  ‘Wait until Teddy hears this. He’s going to be so happy. You said you’d find him before Teddy’s birthday and you did.’

  While that might be true, I didn’t much feel like celebrating.

  ‘Where is he?’ she asked. I wondered when the penny would drop that if he was alive and well, why wasn’t he at home with her and their son?

  I glanced at Katrina, who looked pensive as she stroked Karl on her lap. This was a part of our jobs that we both hated. Imparting bad news to clients.

  ‘Ted has started a new life in Ireland.’

  The woman was predictably confused by this information. She shook her head, over and over, as if that might make it untrue. ‘That makes no sense. We have no family in Ireland. Or friends. What is he doing there?’

  ‘It appears that Ted is in a relationship with another woman. She’s called Paula Quigley and she’s Irish. They are living in Co. Cork.’

  This time a louder denial, ‘I don’t believe it.’

  ‘I’m afraid it’s true.’ I explained how my investigation had led me to the Irish Center and their book club. And how I eventually found Paula. I passed several screenshots of Paula’s social media, which spoke about her boyfriend and their love for each other.

  ‘How do you know it’s him? I mean, there must be hundreds of Ted Spadonis. Is there a photograph of him in any of her posts online? Something to confirm their relationship?’

  ‘Your husband has been quite careful to ensure he’s not photographed.’

  ‘I don’t understand why he would do this to us. Fine, he fell out of love with me. But we have a son. And he loves Teddy. I’m sure of it. Why not set up home here with this woman? Why lie and run away?’

  I had no answer to that.

  ‘Your husband is the only one who can answer those questions,’ Katrina said.

  I passed Olive a contact sheet with his new address in Ireland. Getting that had been easy. I contacted Paula via email, pretending I had found a piece of her jewellery in the Irish Center. She gave me her address so I could forward it to her.

  ‘What should I do?’ Olive asked. Her face had gone a paler shade of white.

  On cue, Nikki came in with a glass of water for her and we watched as she shakily accepted it, taking a small sip.

  ‘I can’t tell Teddy this …’ She motioned to the pages we’d handed her moments before.

  ‘At least he will know that his father is alive.’

  ‘He must be sick. Amnesia. Something like that. Or maybe the woman, this Paula, is blackmailing him.’

  ‘It’s possible,’ I said, before continuing as gently as I could, ‘but it’s also possible that he chose to live a new life without you both, but was too cowardly to tell you.’

  I could only imagine what was running through the woman’s head right now. It was a lot of news to take in.

  ‘What would you do?’ Olive asked us. ‘If you were faced with the same news.’

  ‘I would cut his balls off. Then feed them to Karl,’ Katrina said, making her fingers scissor-like, then stroking a sleeping Karl on her lap.

  ‘Katrina, not helpful,’ I said, but thankfully there was a ghost of a smile on Olive’s face now.

  ‘That does sound tempting,’ Olive said.

  ‘What you need to do
is take a little time to think about your next move. You’ve had a shock. It’s a lot to take in. But you can’t hide from it either. Eventually you will need to make contact with him,’ I said.

  Olive shook her head. ‘I can’t do that, not until I have all the information. I need you to go to Ireland. Find out why he left. What his life is like over there.’

  ‘I think it might be better if you went. Or perhaps call him. We’ll be here to support you.’

  She shook her head. ‘No. Not yet, at least. I want to know all the facts before I speak to him. Will you go?’

  I looked at Katrina questioningly. We’d travelled as part of our investigations before, but the furthest we’d been in the past was Canada.

  ‘You would have to cover all costs for flights and hotels. Plus the usual daily rate. And if we go, it would be for at least five days; it’s too far to go over and back in twenty-four hours,’ Katrina said, trying to put her off.

  ‘Money isn’t an issue. I’m willing to pay for all expenses and up to a week of your time. Before I speak to Teddy, I need to know what kind of asshole his father really is.’

  I noted that she didn’t refer to him as her husband this time.

  ‘Will you excuse us for a moment?’ I said, then nodded to Katrina to follow me to my office.

  ‘I don’t want to take this case for the wrong reasons,’ I said. Katrina understood. She knew that I planned to get in touch with my aunt. And this trip was giving me the perfect opportunity not only to call her, but to visit her in person.

  ‘Your chicken has led crumbs all the way to Ireland. You said you want to find out about your mother. This is way you can do it, at same time. You cannot not do this.’

  I felt a tremor of excitement build up inside of me. It did appear that the universe was sending me to Ireland.

  ‘If nothing else, I’d like to visit my mother’s grave. Maybe lay some flowers on it.’

  Katrina nodded.

  ‘What about our cases here? Can you manage without me?’

  ‘I will be going with you. I am not letting you do this on your own.’

  I didn’t even pretend to put up a fight. I was grateful for the offer. I knew I did not have the strength to do this on my own.

  ‘We can’t charge Olive the full rate, not when I want to go anyhow. How about if we charge her for the days we spend over there working on the case? But we cover our own costs.’

  ‘That sounds good. We have had a good year in the business, so we can afford this. And money does not matter. I think you will need me, so I go.’

  I pulled her into me for a hug.

  ‘Is fine,’ she replied. ‘Good luck telling Ryan though.’

  ‘He’ll be upset.’

  ‘Maybe. But this is your life. I’ll get Nikki to start looking at flight options.’

  28

  LUCY

  September 1992

  Woodside, Queens, New York

  When the phone rang early on Saturday morning, I knew that something was wrong. Call it intuition or sixth sense, but as I climbed out of bed, leaving a sleeping Ryan behind, I felt a shiver ripple its way through my body. Whoever was on the end of the line, they weren’t calling with good news.

  Mam’s voice, tearful and hesitant, gave me relief for a few seconds. If she was talking on the phone, then she was OK. But then she delivered the news that I was not ready to receive. I don’t suppose anyone would ever be ready for this kind of news.

  ‘There’s no easy way to tell you. I’m so sorry. Dad had a heart attack, love. He died on the way to the hospital. The paramedics did everything they could to save him. I’m so sorry, love. I’m so sorry.’

  People say all the time that their knees buckled beneath them. Maeve and I spent a large amount of our spare time watching Maury Povich and laughing at his guests, who always fell to their knees when they received bad news. But I understood now. Because I had to hold onto the countertop to stop myself collapsing. Ryan walked into the kitchen, still in his boxer shorts, stifling a yawn. But as soon as he saw my distress, he ran over to my side.

  ‘What is it?’ he whispered.

  ‘Lucy, are you there? Say something,’ Mam asked.

  ‘I’m here, Mam.’ Here in New York, thousands of miles away from my family, away from my dad, who was now dead. I felt dizzy from the pain and even more so, the guilt.

  ‘Father Kelly said we can delay the funeral for two days, so you can both come home. I need you, Lucy. I need both my girls.’ Then she broke down in sobs so loud that I couldn’t understand another word. A neighbour of ours, Eileen Doyle, took the phone from her. She said I should call back when I’d organized flights. And then she hung up, leaving me standing with the phone receiver in my hand.

  The whole thing felt surreal, I wasn’t even sure whether I had imagined the call. I turned to Ryan and said, ‘I don’t trust that I’m not asleep. Pinch me.’

  ‘You’re awake,’ he said, cupping my face in his hands, so tenderly that it made me want to weep. ‘Is it bad news from home?’

  I nodded, but I couldn’t tell Ryan before I spoke to Maeve. I wasn’t sure how I’d find the words though. And as if the very thought of her conjured her up, my sister walked into the kitchen rubbing her eyes. ‘Did I hear the phone ring? What time is it? Ah here, it’s only six o’clock in the morning. On a Saturday! Oh for goodness’ sake! Who was ringing us this early?’

  ‘Mam.’ I couldn’t look at her. How was I supposed to impart the pain that was attacking me right now onto my sister?

  ‘Classic Mam! She’ll never get used to the time difference. Last week she rang in the middle of the night. I suppose we should celebrate this as an improvement!’ Maeve began pulling mugs out of the press and filled the kettle. ‘Coffee. I need lots of it. That was some session in Saints and Sinners last night, wasn’t it? Mad craic.’

  I moved closer to her.

  ‘You look awful, Lucy. As white as a ghost. Go back to bed and sleep your hangover off.’

  ‘Dad had a heart attack last night.’

  Maeve turned towards me, alarm and fear on her face. Years fell away and she looked like a small child again. ‘It’s the bloody cigarettes. How many times have we told him to give those up? But he won’t be told. How bad is it? Is he in intensive care in Wexford Hospital? Or did they send him to Waterford or Dublin?’

  I wished I could go back in time and ignore the phone. I wished I could run away from all of this pain. I wished it could be anyone else but me to break my sister’s heart.

  ‘Say something, for goodness’ sake, Lucy! How bad is it?’ Maeve shouted at me. She swiped at the tears that were spilling down her face.

  ‘He … he died,’ I whispered.

  The coffee jar fell from Maeve’s hand and landed with a clatter on the floor.

  I felt Ryan’s hands on my arm and I heard him say how sorry he was. Maeve was rooted to the spot by the kettle, like a deer in headlights. I moved towards her and we looked at each other, taking in the pain mirrored in the eyes in front of us.

  ‘Was it our fault?’ Maeve whispered, and I honestly didn’t have an answer. Dad had been so upset with us when we said we were leaving. And he’d held on to that ever since. And now he was gone.

  ‘Poor Mam. She must be in an awful state,’ Maeve said.

  ‘Sit down. I’ll make the coffee,’ Ryan said, and he gently guided us towards the sofa. We sat side by side in silence for a few moments and then I felt Maeve’s hand reach for mine. I pulled her into my arms and we cried for our daddy that we loved and would miss for the rest of our lives. Life had changed in an instant now that he was gone. We didn’t know it, but our mam would never recover from the pain of his loss. A light switched off in her when Dad breathed his last breath and, over the coming weeks, the darkness would spread like a virus.

  The next few hours went by in a blur. Ryan booked flights for us both for that night. It was an overnight flight and we would arrive early the next day into Dublin airport. Michelle called to say
she would collect us. Dad would be waked at home, as was the traditional way to mourn the loss of a loved one in Ireland. Eric arrived, with takeout from the Stop Inn. I was glad Maeve had him. I watched him, how he was with her. He was in love with her, I could tell. And Maeve seemed to like him a lot. Maybe her sadness would bring them closer together.

  I rang the Woodside Steakhouse and asked for some time off. I was worried they’d fire me, because I’d only been there a short time. But Mick, the manager, was incredibly understanding. ‘It’s an emigrant’s worst fear, that long-distance death call. Your job will be here when you get back, Lucy, don’t let this be a worry for you.’

  Maeve and I packed our bags. We only seemed to have cute tops in bright colours, it all seemed so inappropriate. I was grateful for the black knitted sweater I’d bought only a few weeks ago in JCPenneys. Ryan borrowed his dad’s car and drove us to the airport. Peggy had called earlier and told me she’d have Mass said in St Sebastian’s for Dad. Eric came to the airport too, and I marvelled at how much had changed for us two sisters in such a few short months. When Ryan hugged me goodbye, I had that same feeling I’d experienced earlier that morning when the phone rang. Dread and fear.

  ‘I’m afraid,’ I told him.

  ‘That’s only natural. I can’t imagine how it must feel to go home, knowing your dad won’t be there. But remember this: I love you. I’ll be here waiting when you get back.’

  ‘I love you too.’ And we kissed a sweet, lingering kiss of goodbye.

  The flight home passed in a dazed blur. The Aer Lingus stewardess was kind and gentle with us when we explained that we were going home to a funeral. I’d dreamed of going home many times over the previous months, of flying over the green fields of Ireland. But the pain of loss and dread dulled any joy I might have had, returning home.

  Michelle was in Arrivals waiting for us, as promised. She ducked under the chrome barrier and ran towards us both, her two arms open wide to pull us close. The Three Amigos back together again and for a moment, as we clutched each other, we could pretend that everything was OK.