The Secret of Eveline House

by Sheila Forsey

  She knew she needed to be strong now. She had tried not to allow her memory to go back. She had carved out a life that she felt at peace in. Chatham had offered her solace. The sea, the pretty quaint fishing town with its quirky shops and painted stores. She had everything that she needed here and most of all she had anonymity. She had even begun to sometimes go out for some food. Doris would take her to see her paintings in the gallery. They were framed in large white frames. Doris would do lots of talking so she could just observe. It wasn’t that she did not like people – she just found it difficult at times and preferred to be at home in her studio or by the seashore. How blessed she was to have Max and Doris in her life! They were in ways her family now. Yes, she had found peace here amongst the pretty houses and the beaches.

  But now it was as if something had shifted. The ghosts of the past were pulling her back. It frightened her. But she knew that there was always going to be a time that she would have to at least revisit Draheen, even if it was only in her mind.

  Max arrived back and knocked on her door before peering in at her.

  ‘Sorry to disturb but I thought you might like a little treat. I have brought your favourite chocolate chip from Buffy’s.’

  ‘Goodness, yes, I will be out in a moment,’ Sylvia replied, smiling.

  She was not the type of person who had gathered friends over the years. Her life was reclusive. She had of course entered the art world but only from a distance. Enough to get her paintings into some galleries. Other than those outings, she only met the world outside when she wanted to. But Max was different. He was part of her world and she cared deeply for him. In ways perhaps the son she would have loved to have. Doris was like a large flower, always full of bloom and happiness, with her colourful dresses and her easy ways. Neither ever intruding on her inner life.

  She tidied her paints. She would come back to her painting tomorrow. She knew what she was trying to capture. She needed to capture the scent of those wildflowers. Because for that fleeting moment in the garden earlier she had felt close to her mother.

  Max was sitting in the bright airy kitchen. He had bought some beautiful lilac and put it in a vase, the colour instantly lifting the room.

  ‘They are so pretty. In Ireland they grow so wild on the hedgerows,’ Sylvia said almost in a whisper. ‘How strange you thought to buy them just now! Thank you.’

  Max handed her the ice cream. Cool and sweet and reviving all at once.

  ‘How did your meeting go?’

  ‘Good, I suppose,’ he said as he devoured his ice cream. ‘We had a good chat about where I’m going. But I feel there is something out there that I really want to write about, but I can’t find it. We were searching for ideas, but I will mill over them.’

  ‘I am sure you will find the right project when you least expect it.’

  ‘Yes, I hope so.’

  ‘My mother was a playwright.,’ she said cautiously.

  ‘Your mother was a playwright!’

  ‘Yes, quite famous in London in the late forties. She had two plays written and performed to critical acclaim. Unfortunately, the third was never published or put on stage.’

  ‘What happened, why?’ Max asked, his blue eyes trying to hide his astonishment at this news.

  Sylvia put down her ice cream and looked at her friend.

  ‘Because, my dear Max, in 1950 my beautiful mother vanished in Ireland and to my knowledge has never been found.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Yes, my mother was a playwright. Oh, her plays were not put on in Ireland. Ireland was a land of a very strong Catholic faith and my mother’s writing was frowned upon. In the winter of 1950, I became very ill. And while I was sick my mother vanished. She was last seen walking up the street in Draheen on January 12th, 1950. She was incredibly beautiful and the most wonderful mother.’

  ‘What happened?’

  ‘Well, there is a wood at the edge of the town, called Blythe Wood. Her silk scarf with a tinge of blood was found there and the key of our home. After that the trail went cold. Max, I need to find out what happened to my mother. I can’t explain it, but it is as if the past has awoken and the truth must be told. Will you help me?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘I will tell you what I know.’ Sylvia closed her eyes, and, in a moment, she was in Eveline.

  CHAPTER 32

  Draheen, Ireland 2019

  Four months had passed, and Peggy was improving. She was now in a nursing home to recuperate. Emily and Jack got down to her as much as possible. But it was clear that she was going to need lots of care.

  Her mother had not spoken of Eveline since and neither had Emily. She knew she would have to but for now it was a case of letting the dust settle until her mother was stronger.

  There was a lot more work needed in Eveline than Emily had anticipated. But it was all moving along a lot quicker than she had anticipated. So many decisions on plumbing, electricity, general repair and decorating. She wanted to try to be in for Christmas. But considering the contracts went through so quickly, she reckoned she would at least have her workshop opened and her studio.

  She had asked Jack to help with it. To her amazement, he was delighted and had moved up to stay with her in Stoneybatter. He was out in Draheen every morning and was taking care of everything like a proper project manager for the past few months. Enormous work had been done and without him there was no way she would have made such progress. The heating and plumbing were complete. There had been huge issues with the wiring, and it had taken more money than estimated but at least it was now all taken care of. They had even managed to get the Aga cooker working.

  She could not believe the difference in Jack. It was as if he had a purpose now and it had totally taken him out of himself. He was putting all his energy into the house, which allowed her to concentrate on her brides and of course her mother. To her delight, he was investigating going back to college as a mature student. He was highly intelligent and was considering his options.

  Things were looking up in other respects too.

  Preparing for the showcasing of her two bridal gowns at the charity ball had been chaotic with her mother ill, but she had managed to get them finished and they went down a storm. Her lace creation was inspired by Princess Grace’s wedding gown and her pink fairy creation had almost brought her to tears, it looked so angelic on the model. She had acquired more commissions and was busy trying to balance work and marketing her business. Soon she would need some help.

  Sebastian had gone back but would be in Ireland for Christmas. He was looking at an apartment in Barcelona and was loving it out there. Emily was happy that he was happy – that was all that mattered. She would not allow herself to be sad that he was not in Ireland. She had him close for so long and it was not as if Barcelona was so far away. But at times she just simply missed him. She was glad she was so busy it gave her less time to be thinking about him.

  Her phone rang while she was up in Eveline trying to design the work studio with the carpenter. To her surprise it was Gerry Hynes.

  ‘Good afternoon, Emily. I hope you are well settled into Eveline House. It’s Gerry Hynes here from the Draheen Post.’

  ‘Oh, hi, Gerry. Yes, lots has happened with the house and I hope to be settled in for Christmas. How can I help you?’

  ‘Would you mind popping into the office, Emily? I need to talk to you about Eveline. It’s a little sensitive.’

  ‘Okay. I’m in Draheen. I’ll come straight away if that suits?’

  ‘Perfect.’

  ‘What’s all that about?’ Jack asked when she hung up.

  ‘I have no idea. But he was helpful when I asked him about the house. Oh God, I hope he hasn’t been digging and realises who Mam is.’

  ‘He possibly wants to talk to you about advertising the business,’ Jack suggested.

  ‘No, I don’t think so. Why drag me up to the office?’

  ‘Was he cute? Maybe he wants to ask you out?’

 
‘No, that’s definitely not it.’ Emily gave him a dig.

  Neither Jack nor herself were lucky in love so far in life. Both had had relationships, but they had never worked out. Jack had so many girlfriends when he was younger but then when he was in recovery he had stayed away from any relationships. Emily had got so used to being on her own that she wasn’t even sure if she would want something permanent. Her mother despaired of either of them ever having a relationship. But in truth Emily was always wary of relationships when Sebastian was young and now she liked her life as it was. She did go out now and again, sometimes even on a blind date set up by her friends. They had normally ended in pure disaster.

  ***

  Gerry Hynes was waiting for her in his office. He looked quite animated and excited.

  ‘Thanks for coming up, Emily. I received a letter and I wanted you to have the chance to read it. It is in connection with Eveline and very intriguing. I will print some of this. I feel you have the right to know what is going on.’

  Emily did not like the sound of this. He handed her a printout of an email.

  Dear Mr Hynes,

  I see you are the editor of the Draheen Post. My name is Max Bradford and I am a close friend of Sylvia Ward. Sylvia is the daughter of Henry and Violet Ward.

  Her mother Violet went missing in January in 1950 and to her knowledge vanished without a trace. Sylvia now lives in Chatham in Cape Cod in America but would very much like to know any updates on this case. We tracked some information on the internet, and we see that you have followed it and indeed have done some investigative journalism on it.

  We have also written to the local police station to see where the case is. We have been told that the case is still open pending new information. We also see that the house has been recently sold.

  My friend Sylvia wants to do everything she can to try and discover what happened to her mother. There was a belief that her mother simply ran away, but Sylvia is quite confident that this is not what happened. We would very much appreciate your help.

  I am adding Sylvia Ward’s phone number. If you wish to verify who she is, she is an artist here in Chatham and very well respected. Her work is in many galleries throughout the area.

  Sylvia has told me everything that she knows but is at a stage in her life where she would really like to know what happened to her beloved mother and at the same time clear her father’s name as she believes he was under suspicion for her murder.

  I look forward to your response,

  Max Bradford

  Emily felt sick. Why now? Why after all these years would she decide to reappear?

  ‘What does this mean? Why does she suddenly want to investigate it? You tell me this woman is missing since 1950 – why leave it until now to figure out what happened?’

  ‘Well, I have no idea why now. But as a journalist I would like to print that Sylvia Ward is alive. As I told you, she was called “The Jeweller’s Daughter”. The story of the Jeweller’s Daughter has passed down through the decades in the town of Draheen. Almost folklore. Except it is all true. Well, what we know of it. I will contact her and ask her permission to run a story, but I think it is in her interest as some new information might come up. People who did not want to talk then may just decide to talk now.’

  Emily scanned his face. There was no way he would have connected that girl in the photo to her.

  ‘There is no mention of the housekeeper that went missing. I thought she went missing with them.’

  ‘No, there is no mention of her or Sylvia’s father. I looked up this Max Bradford. He is a published author. Has had some success and has done a little journalism too so just to let you know I have checked him out. His reputation is very respectable as far as I can see.’

  ‘But what age is this woman now?’ Emily asked.

  ‘I think she is in her late seventies. So, the housekeeper and her father may well be deceased.’

  ‘You told me that this child Sylvia was unwell?’

  ‘Yes, well, he doesn’t mention that. Not just unwell but as I said some said she was possessed. Personally, I have no belief in any of that. I have yet to respond. I wanted to check it all out to make sure it was quite authentic. I have even checked out her paintings. I am no art connoisseur, but they are quite striking. Mostly of the sea and of the landscape around the Cape Cod area. She is quite respected but possibly not very well known. But as far as I can see there is no reason why she is claiming to be this woman if she is not. The house cannot be claimed back by her. The deeds were gone to the bank and now you are the rightful owner. From the letter all she wants to know is what happened to her mother. The question is, though, why now? Why decide only now to look? I felt it only right to tell you. I think if we put an article in the paper it will put pressure on anyone with any information and there will be a bit of interest in the house. He said that they have also contacted the gardaí here in Draheen. I am not sure if they will do anything about it though. As far as I know there is no more evidence.’

  ‘What could they do?’

  ‘Well, it is a cold case. I suppose if there was any new evidence, they would have to act on it. But as far as I am aware there is none.’

  Emily felt nauseated.

  ‘Alright, I appreciate you telling me. If there is any more news, I would appreciate the same.’

  ‘I certainly will.’

  ‘Just one thing. The young girl that was in that article. Do you know anything about what she may have known?’

  ‘No, it was a dead end as far as the gardaí were concerned. Poor girl was traumatised, I am sure. Whether she ever really knew anything or not, no one ever found out. Maybe she did but maybe the beating silenced her. Hopefully they might even follow up that line of enquiry. But, sure, if she is alive, she must be in her eighties. She could be dead.’ He paused and looked at Emily. ‘Are you okay? You look a bit shaken?’

  ‘I’m fine. Really, do you think they will try find this girl who was beaten?’

  ‘I have no idea. But it never looks good to have crimes unsolved. The papers will love it all, of course. Sure, Violet Ward was like a film star. A ringer for Vivien Leigh.’

  ‘Yes, I can see why they would. But if there is no new evidence? What good will come of it?’

  ‘Well, someone must know. Maybe the woman did have an affair. There was talk of the parish priest and her being very friendly. It was a different Ireland. There were many secrets.’

  ‘Right, well, I’d better let you get on with it. Thanks again for letting me know.’

  When she got home, Jack said that a local garda had arrived to speak with her and had left a number.

  Emily felt sick. This was not going away.

  ‘Sis, you have to show them that letter.’

  She had eventually shown him the letter she had found and since then he had been urging her to show it to the gardaí.

  ‘But what about Mam? If they find out that Mam was the young girl? She might not be able to cope with that. Oh God, I feel so guilty!’

  ‘How could you know? She could have warned you of what you were getting into, but she didn’t!’

  ‘She couldn’t go there, Jack! The whole thing was traumatic for her!’

  ‘Emily, stop. Beating yourself up is not going to help you or anyone. Ring that garda.’

  She rang his mobile. His name was Garda Vincent Ryan. He asked if she could call to the Garda Station. It was in connection with a missing person.

  ‘Sis, you have to at least show them the letter. Say nothing about Mam until we see what they know. This is unreal. I need a fag. I’ll make you a cuppa first. But you must tell them.’

  ‘Jack, there is something else.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Jack, can you ever remember being here in Draheen before? When we were children? At the woods – Blythe Wood? Please try to remember.’

  ‘Now that you say it, I did think something felt familiar since I came here. But I can’t remember just when I felt that. Feck, it’s ju
st after coming back to me. Mam has an old biscuit box with all those memory cards. I saw a cutting from an old paper and what I think may have been a picture of this house! I am sure of it. Shit! There is also an envelope. I was looking for Mam’s passport – that time she was going to Lourdes last year. Her passport went missing and we were tearing the house apart looking for it. I came across the box and the envelope and she nearly took my head off for looking in the box. I actually had the envelope in my hand. It looked an old envelope. There was something in it like a small box. There was a name on the envelope. A name but not hers. Oh Jesus!’

  ‘What?’

  ‘It just had a name on it. Oh, I can’t remember. But Mam nearly went spare and grabbed it from me. There was something strange about it all. Seriously, she went spare. And she wasn’t right for a day or two after. Oh, yes – she asked me if I had opened the letter. I had to show her that it was sealed. I just thought it was something to do with her religious pilgrimages. Some relic or something. In fairness, it probably is – you know what she’s like. Sometimes I think she would have been happier as a nun. If she is not at Mass, she is talking about it. Praying at home. It’s obsessive. Did I tell you? A few months ago, she took to saying the rosary every evening. Down on her bad knee. It is fanatical.’

  ‘Oh, still it’s worth checking out. This box.’

  ‘Yeah, we should. Jesus, sis, this is all a bit bloody much. Poor Mam! But somehow it makes sense. I often wondered did something happen to her. Sis, you must show the letter to the gardaí. It is evidence and you are withholding it.’

  ‘Okay, I will.’