by Cathy Kelly
‘And this is Bess,’ said Edward pulling forward a dark-haired woman in a sheath of emerald-green silk that Faenia recognised as being a very expensive dress.
‘She’s my wife.’
‘Bess,’ said Faenia, reaching forward to hug the woman who stood stiffly.
Oh, all is not well here, she thought, and it was nothing to do with her coming back. Nobody said Lottie was dead but Faenia knew it anyway. Isobel had filled her in on all the details. There was always someone in Lisowen who knew what was going on, always a person who would keep in touch with the Dublin papers and who’d died, who’d married, and someone who kept an eye out for the gossip columns of news of the rich and famous. And certainly Edward Brannigan appeared to have been famous and yet he was still her big brother. The crowd of people around them diminished as if someone had gone along whisking people away saying, go on, shoo this is family.
‘I’m Helen,’ said a voice, a slightly self-important voice and a small, slim woman wearing far too much make-up pushed herself forward and stood in front of dear Kit.
Faenia loved Kit but he’d always been the weakest of her three brothers, the one who’d fibbed to get himself out of trouble at school, the one that Edward and Mick had to protect for all that Mick was younger.
‘I’m Kit’s wife.’ The made-up woman held out a beautifully manicured tanned hand, fake-tanned to a faintly orange colour, Faenia noticed. Faenia noticed those sort of things.
This Helen didn’t have the warm vibrancy of dear Nora or even poor Lottie, whom Faenia could barely remember because she had been younger than the rest of them when Faenia had left. But in the reports over the years, Faenia had never heard anything but good about Lottie.
‘And the children,’ she said, ‘now tell me who is who.’
‘I’m Cari,’ said a tall, dark-haired girl with the same sparkling emerald eyes as Faenia herself, and a wide smile. She was attractive, Faenia thought, and clever and funny and was this the one who had been jilted at the altar? Isobel had had some news about that. It was dreadful, Isobel had said in an email – ‘Some young pup left her at the altar and went on to marry a cousin, I think.’ Faenia wondered if the cousin and the scurrilous young pup were here tonight and thought possibly not because that would be a little hard for any woman to take.
But this Cari didn’t look too much put out – the tall, sexy man standing proudly beside her was probably why.
‘I’m Conal,’ he said, preferring a strong hand. ‘Cari’s intended.’
‘Intended for what?’ Cari demanded of him.
‘See what I have to put up with?’ said Conal with a wicked smile.
‘Intended my backside,’ she muttered to him and Faenia smiled. Young, sparkling love.
She reached out to shake hands with this Cari, but Cari pulled her into a hug. ‘It’s amazing to meet you,’ she said, ‘I never knew you existed.’
Faenia laughed. ‘You’re Nora’s daughter, for sure,’ she said, and Nora laughed, the same loud, vibrant laugh.
‘You’ve nailed it perfectly there, Faenia,’ she said. ‘We slightly wrote you out of the history because we didn’t know how to handle it.’
‘That’s understandable,’ Faenia said, ‘I wrote myself out of the history.’ She thought for a minute about what all this meant and realised that all those years of therapy had worked. She’d run away at high speed because of what had happened and yet here, now, her family were welcoming her back with delight, except perhaps for Helen, who didn’t look too delighted at anything.
Faenia was introduced to Paul, Edward’s son, and his wife Lena and a darling little baby named Heidi whom she had to pick up immediately.
‘She should be in bed,’ said Lena, ‘we have a babysitter and everything but she refused to sleep – probably knows there’s a party on.’
Faenia agreed, thinking of how blithely she talked about babies as if she knew what she was talking about when, sadly, she had never had one.
‘And Jojo,’ said Edward suddenly looking around. ‘Where’s Jojo?’
‘Here,’ and there was a beautiful blonde woman who looked anxious but had a big smile on her face.
‘So you’re Fáinne, the one they tried not to tell us about.’
‘Because she left,’ said Nora, crying, ‘and we didn’t know what to say.’
Faenia hugged Nora.
‘I was pregnant,’ she whispered. ‘I didn’t want to cause trouble, you know what it was like then, and I went and once you go—’
‘It’s easier to stay away,’ said Nora.
And Faenia nodded.
‘Well,’ interrupted Helen of the orange skin and the calculating eyes, ‘here is my daughter, Trina.’
Trina, a minxy gorgeous creature with long dark hair appeared with another girl who could have been her twin.
‘And Maggie, my other daughter,’ said Nora.
Both the younger women looked as if they were having a ball, delighted with the party, with themselves and possibly having already had a couple of cocktails that made them giggly and smiley and bright-eyed. Maggie smiled at PJ as if she’d been at sea, manless for a month.
The girls had the Brannigan dark hair and the eyes and they looked so full of happiness.
‘I’m sorry I stayed away so long,’ said Faenia.
‘But why?’ said Mick, sitting down. For a second, he looked older than his age, older than a man in his sixties and Faenia was acutely aware that she had missed much of his life. ‘It’s a long story and maybe now isn’t the time to discuss it,’ she said gently. ‘Plus, this is a celebration, isn’t it?’
Bess got to her feet. There was something about this rush of emotion that was killing her: she’d thought she could take the weekend here by Edward’s side but she couldn’t, she’d go now.
Hoping nobody would notice her, she slipped away, but Edward was too fast for her.
‘Where are you going?’ he said quietly, away from the hubbub.
Her eyes met his.
‘You know where I’m going,’ she said quietly. ‘It’s over, I can’t compete with all of this. I can’t make Jojo even like me and you’re too guilty to let our marriage continue. I deserve better, Edward. So I’m going.’
‘Please, Bess—’
And then Edward Brannigan felt the strange pain in his chest again, the tightness, then a terrible pain, and he clutched his chest and fell to the ground.
‘Edward!’ Bess stood looking at him and then fell to the floor beside him, holding his hand, weeping.
Lena was on the floor in a flash checking for breath sounds while Paul roared for someone to ring for an ambulance.
‘I think his heart has stopped!’ shrieked Lena. ‘Massive heart attack.’
‘Oh, Jesus,’ said Paul.
Mick was so pale he looked as if he might possibly have a heart attack too.
Jojo raced over, and threw herself as close to her father as she could.
‘Dad,’ she said, ‘Dad, please don’t die!’
At this, Bess bit heavily on her lip and moved aside. It was time for her to go. He wouldn’t want her here no matter that she was feeling as if her heart was breaking with pain.
‘No,’ said Jojo, pulling Bess back. ‘You have to stay.’
‘Why?’ cried Bess.
Jojo took both of Bess’s hands in hers. ‘Because you’re his wife and he loves you.’
A member of staff appeared holding onto a box. ‘I’m Fiona, I’m trained in CPR, first aid and use of the defibrillator.’ She held up a phone, ‘I’m onto the emergency services now. They’ll talk us through this.’
‘Are you sure?’ said Lena, moving reluctantly out of the way.
‘Absolutely sure,’ said the woman. ‘Somebody has to hold the phone up to my ear, though.’
Lena held the phone up to the woman’s ear.
‘Edward, is it? Edward, I’m Fiona, we’re going to help you. The ambulance is on its way.’
There was no response from Edward.
The first aid responder leapt into action, listening for breath sounds and checking Edward’s heartbeat.
‘Right, we’ll start CPR,’ Fiona said.
They sat together, Jojo and Bess, on opposite sides of the bed in ICU and waited for someone to throw them out. Both women were pale but Bess looked as if she might faint any minute. Jojo kept watching her in between watching her father. Paul had been in, along with Mick and Kit.
‘It’s going to be OK,’ Jojo said. ‘Dad’s strong, isn’t he, Paul?’
‘Yes,’ said Paul, who was crying on and off and kept having to go outside.
‘It’s my fault,’ sobbed Bess, ‘I told him I was leaving …’ and Jojo moved from her side of the bed to sit beside Bess and hug her. How could she have hated this poor woman? She felt the guilt weigh heavily upon her – it was her fault that her father was here, her fault entirely.
‘It’s my fault,’ said Jojo. ‘I put him under so much stress. I am so sorry, Bess. So sorry. I know you love him—’
Bess couldn’t respond. It didn’t matter any more. What was the point in screaming at Jojo?
Edward would die and it wouldn’t matter that finally Jojo had forgiven her or got over her strop or whatever. He would be gone.
Gone for ever. Her life would have no meaning. She might as well be dead herself.
Silently, Bess began to cry.
‘No, he can’t see you cry!’ said Jojo fiercely. ‘He will recover, won’t you, Dad? We need you. Listen to me, you two,’ said Jojo fiercely, to both Paul and Bess. ‘He is not going anywhere, are you, Dad?’
She grabbed her father’s hands and held them gently so as not to dislodge the lines feeding drugs and fluid into him.
‘When Mum was dying, she told me that she wanted you to have more life, another person in your life and you found her, Dad. You found Bess and I’m sorry I didn’t understand that, really sorry. It’s my fault we’re all here but you’ve so much to live for. You have Paul and Lena and baby Heidi, and if my treatment ever works’ – both Bess and Paul stared at her in astonishment – ‘Hugh and I might be able to give you a grandchild too. So wake up right now!’
One of the machines began to beep, Edward Brannigan began to move and the nurses shoved them out of the way.
‘Outside, for a moment, please,’ one of the nurses said.
Outside the ICU, Paul wanted to talk to her but Jojo said she needed to make a phone call first.
‘Hold onto Bess, will you?’ she said. ‘I’m worried about her.’
‘You’re worried about Bess?’ he whispered.
‘Yes,’ she whispered back. ‘Leopards can change their spots, especially stupid, childish leopards. Now grab her and put her in a chair before she falls.’
Jojo rounded the corner to get some privacy and dialled her husband’s number.
‘Hugh,’ she said when he answered. ‘I know it’s a big ask, but do you think you could come to Kerry? Dad’s in hospital: he’s had a heart attack and I need you.’
‘I never cheated on you with Elizabeth—’ began Hugh fiercely.
‘I know you didn’t,’ said Jojo, and the emotion of it all got to her. She hadn’t cried as she’d sat in the hospital beside her father’s bed. She didn’t want him to wake up and see her crying, but the tears came now. ‘I know you better than that, Hugh, darling. But let’s not double date with Elizabeth and Wolfie ever again, right?’
Bess was allowed back in first and she held Edward’s hand.
He was improving slightly, the doctor said. But he must be kept quiet. No more yelling.
‘I love you,’ she whispered to him.
He tried to speak but she couldn’t hear him at first.
‘What is it, darling?’
The grasp on her hand got tighter.
‘Don’t leave me,’ he said so quietly she could barely hear him.
‘I won’t,’ she said and she kissed his forehead gently. She was going nowhere.
As her husband slept, Bess listened to the steady beep of the machines that told them Edward was stable and she thought about Lottie: a person whose presence could have hung over Bess’s newly married life like a shroud, except that it hadn’t.
There had been no pronouncements from Lottie from the grave about the house, the family, traditions. No diaries of pain and family anniversaries to be held in such a particular way.
Lottie had left with grace and courage, had told her heart-broken husband that he needed to find someone else. She had had the courage to do that, even as she lay dying.
And she’d been able to say it to Jojo.
Outside, Jojo sat beside Paul on the hard hospital seats and thought about her mother, near the end.
They’d been in the hospice. Lottie hadn’t wanted to die at home.
‘I don’t want you to see my death filling every corner,’ she told them all.
Alone, she turned to Jojo. ‘Your father will need someone else, another wife, darling.’
‘No!’ Jojo hated how loud she’d said it but she couldn’t help the basic revulsion at the thought of another woman taking her mother’s place.
‘Men are not so strong as us, darling. I don’t want him to be lonely. You have Hugh and Paul has Lena. You’ll have families, lives and he will have only memories.’
Jojo had thought Bess had married her father for his money but she knew now that she’d been totally wrong. Bess adored her father, which was what her mother would have wanted. Her own grief had got in the way and she was ashamed of that but she would make it better – for her father, for Bess and for Hugh, who loved her so much.
Edward opened his eyes slowly. He wasn’t sure where he was but he felt so tired, as if he couldn’t have moved to save his life.
Two faces came into focus. First, Bess, her lovely dark eyes wet with tears as she saw him waking up. And then, beside Bess, Jojo.
‘Welcome back, darling,’ said Bess.
‘Dad, we love you,’ said Jojo. ‘I’ll get Paul. He’s asleep on a chair outside.’
‘You’re here together?’ whispered Edward, because all he could do was whisper.
Jojo held up one hand and he saw that she was holding Bess’s hand with it.
‘Together,’ she said and smiled.
‘Is Fáinne OK?’
‘Yes,’ said Bess, ‘Nora was taking care of her but now she’s in here taking care of Aunt Helen, because Uncle Kit is having an angina attack over his double mortgage.’
‘It’s the gambling,’ said Edward, still whispery. ‘Between him and the horses and Helen and the shops, I don’t know how they have any money.’
‘Nora’s calming them both down,’ said Jojo.
‘What would we do without Nora?’ said Edward in his whispery voice.
‘What would we do without you?’ said Bess, leaning in to kiss him.
Jojo came round the other side of the bed and kissed his other cheek.
‘I’ll leave you two together and wake Paul. Then I’ll phone the hotel and tell them you’re awake and doing well.’
‘Doing miraculously,’ said Edward and his eyes were shining wet as he looked at the two women he loved.
Faenia lay back in her hotel bed and listened to her mobile phone with relief. Edward was awake and doing well.
‘And Bess and Jojo are sitting by his bed, happily, taking turns to go out and get tea,’ said Nora delightedly. ‘Bet you didn’t think your return was going to be so jam-packed, Fáinne,’ Nora went on.
‘I like a bit of excitement as well as the next woman,’ said Faenia, ‘but brothers having heart attacks – that’s too much excitement. I feel so guilty—’
‘Edward was under huge stress,’ Nora said. ‘You coming home was perhaps a final blast but things have been very hard for a long time. Second marriages are not easy on kids.’
Nor were third relationships, particularly when those relationships were a little more complicated, Faenia thought sadly.
When she’d hung up, she wondered was it wort
h checking her answering machine back home again.
She dialled in, expecting nothing but cold calls from insurance salesmen and aluminium siding people but there was Nic’s voice, the same soft ladylike voice that had made Faenia turn that first time she’d heard it.
Nic or Nicolette as her family knew her, was a Southern lady born and bred. A daughter of the American Revolution and a lady who knew how to offer Southern hospitality. She wore elegant clothes, had blonde curls, her grandmère’s pearls always around her neck, drove a reconditioned classic Mercedes coupé, wore St John knit suits and kissed Faenia in a way that made Faenia’s heart contract with pure love.
But Nic had grown-up children and grandchildren.
‘They won’t understand,’ she said. ‘I’ve never told them about the way my life has changed, the way my feelings have changed. I was married to their father for thirty-five years and they can’t see any other life for me than a widow lady with her own art gallery and friends to go to the theatre with. I can’t do this to them, Faenia, I just can’t. They think you’re my friend, nothing more.’
The months since had nearly killed Faenia but there was nothing she could do. It was Nic’s decision and she couldn’t fight her.
Faenia could understand it. She’d never so much as looked at another woman all her life. She’d been married, had two husbands and then, when she thought sex was long gone from her life, she met Nic and realised, with a huge shock, that she was attracted to this woman.
She’d gone back to a therapist she’d seen for years to discuss it.
‘I can’t be a lesbian,’ she’d said. ‘This makes no sense. I’m not saying this because I’m homophobic but – but how?’
‘It’s more common than you’d think,’ the therapist said, with that Zen-like calm that had helped Faenia so much. ‘There is no choice element in it and it’s a growing phenomenon. Late-blooming lesbians – there’s a new label for you.’
‘I work in a business surrounded by labels and I’m not threatened by them,’ Faenia had said, smiling. ‘I just don’t understand it.’
