‘Yeah, but that’s not the end of it. Tom, Sean and even Gerry decided they’d do the same too. Brotherly solidarity or something. Then to make matters worse, Tara and Abby actually said they’d do it too.’
‘Oh my word!’ Catherine exclaimed.
‘Exactly. I don’t know what they were on when they came up with that one. We’d look like a group of Hare Krishnas when we got together for God’s sake!’ Grace said laughing.
‘So you put a stop to it?’ Catherine said.
‘You bet I did. I told them I’d never forgive them if they did that. Can you imagine the looks we’d get if we all went out together?’
‘Ah they were only trying to be supportive. Bit disappointed they didn’t go through with it, would have been fun to see!’ Catherine finished mischievously.
‘I’d say Tara and Abby are relieved anyhow. They only went along with the crazy idea because the guys talked them into it. Poor Abby has a date tonight. Can you imagine the guy’s face if she turned up bald!’
Catherine and Grace chatted and laughed for another hour or so. Then the treatment was over and Grace was unhooked.
‘Another one down!’ Grace declared.
Catherine smiled at her daughter. She was constantly amazed at how brave she was being.
Grace decided it was now or never. ‘Catherine, there’s something I need to know. Can you tell me about my father please? I’d like to fill in the gaps?’
All at once the atmosphere changed in the small room. Catherine’s smile vanished and she started twisting that bloody ring again. ‘I don’t know, Grace. I don’t know who your father is. I’m not proud of it, but I had a one-night stand. I was drunk. I can’t remember who the guy was. I’m sorry.’
Grace couldn’t believe what she was hearing. She didn’t know why, but she knew without a shadow of a doubt that Catherine was lying. She was hiding something. ‘You don’t remember anything, not even a name? I find that hard to believe,’ Grace said gently. She didn’t want to frighten her by pushing too hard.
‘His first name was Michael. That’s all I know. Now if you don’t mind, I’d rather not discuss this any further. It’s all rather painful.’ And with that she got up and picked up her things. She kissed Grace on her forehead and practically ran out the door.
Just as she was leaving, Tom arrived nearly colliding with her. ‘Jaysus, what’s the rush?’
Muttering an apology, Catherine glanced back at Grace sorrowfully and went out.
‘Was that Catherine?’ Tom asked.
‘Yep,’ Grace said.
‘Something happen?’
‘You could say that. I asked her about my father. She freaked and told me a pack of lies.’
‘What did she say?’ Tom asked.
‘That she got drunk, had a one-night stand with a guy called Michael and got pregnant. She doesn’t know any more about the guy.’
‘Sounds basically like a hundred stories I’ve heard before. We sometimes get enquiries from women trying to trace their adopted kids. How’d you know it’s a pack of lies?’ Tom asked.
‘Intuition. Instinct. I don’t know how, I just know she was lying. It was written all over her face. I’ve had a feeling she was hiding something a few times since we met, but thought it was my imagination.’
‘She sure doesn’t look like the type to have a drunken one-night stand. But you never know, Grace. She could have been embarrassed about it and that’s why she seemed nervous when you asked her. Not the easiest thing to tell your newly found daughter I would assume.’
‘No, I don’t buy that. When she talked about giving me up and why she did it, she looked me in the eye the whole time. She was upset and nervous yes, but I knew she meant every word she said. She looked everywhere but at me when she told me about this “Michael”. She was lying. I’m sure of it.’ Grace lay back against her pillow and closed her eyes for a moment. She felt betrayed all over again. Surely she deserved more than that from Catherine?
Tom felt terrible seeing Grace suffer. She was so pale and looked so tiny lying in the hospital bed. Seeing a tear fall down her face was the end of him.
‘Ah, Jaysus Grace. Don’t cry, you know I’m useless with women in tears. Look, maybe I can help.’
Grace opened her eyes. ‘How?’
‘Well, I could do a little bit of investigation into Catherine. She had you when she was twenty five?’
‘Yeah. What kind of investigation?’ she asked.
‘Look, I can pretty much find out anything about anyone if I really put my mind to it. There’s information about all of us out there just waiting to be found! Have you got her date of birth and all that stuff?’
‘Yes I do. She lived in Wexford until she got pregnant with me, you know,’ Grace told her friend, beginning to feel more hopeful every minute.
‘Well that’s a good place to start. Leave it to Uncle Tom. I’ll make some enquiries. Find out what kind of girl she was. Whether she enjoyed a jar, that kind of thing? I’ll see if I can find out if she had any regular boyfriends. Might give us a lead on who your father could be,’ he reassured her.
Tom was relieved to see this put a smile on Grace’s face.
‘Thanks, Tom. That would be great!’
‘Anything for you, Grace. No guarantees, but I promise I’ll do everything in my power to find your father.’
Chapter Sixteen
Tom and Gerry were on their way to Wexford. Gerry was singing along to Staying Alive by the Bee Gees. God, Tom loved him so much. There was something about Gerry that just made everything they did that bit more exciting. He remembered springing the surprise of the trip on Gerry yesterday and his reaction to it.
‘How do you fancy a weekend in the country, Gerry?’
‘Twice as much as I fancy Matt Bomer, that’s how much!’ Gerry responded, laughing. ‘Fabulous! Where are you bringing me?’ Gerry was beside himself with excitement. He loved it when Tom surprised him.
‘Wexford. That do you?’ Tom laughed. Gerry was like a small child at Christmas.
‘Where are we staying, Tom? The Seafield, please say yes!’ he asked. They loved staying there; it was a firm favourite for them both.
‘Not this time, pet. But don’t worry; I’ve booked somewhere really nice. It’s a beautiful country hotel called the Rose Tree Manor.’ Tom passed some brochures of the house to his partner to look at. Tom had been to a small wedding there about ten years ago and he’d always wanted to return. He thought he’d better confess that he had a hidden agenda for this trip too, before Gerry got too carried away. He was already declaring that they’d go horse riding and for long walks in the grounds, not to mention fishing and playing golf!
‘Now listen to me Gerry before you start spending money on golfing and fishing outfits,’ Tom laughed at Gerry’s look of astonishment as he couldn’t believe that Tom had guessed he was already planning a shopping spree just for this trip! Gerry forgot sometimes just how well Tom knew him. ‘I have some work to do when we’re down there. Grace’s asked me to do some research on the q.t. on her mother. She wants to find out a bit about her and maybe get some leads on her biological father.’
Gerry didn’t mind at all. In fact he was pleased to be doing something to help Grace. He thought it was appalling that Catherine wouldn’t tell Grace about her father. ‘Can I help in the investigation, Tom?’ Gerry pleaded.
‘We’ll see. You can come with me when I visit Catherine’s home village, but try not to say anything!’ Gerry was often more of a hindrance than a help when Tom was trying to remain incognito. He couldn’t help himself, Gerry was about as discreet as a tribe of Aborigines in O’Connell Street!
****
The traffic wasn’t too bad and the journey was going nicely. They had left Dublin at lunchtime to avoid the busy Friday evening rush. It wasn’t long before they were getting close to Wexford and the hotel was located just a couple of miles outside it.
‘Tell me what you know so far about Catherine?’ Gerry asked Tom.
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‘Well, her full name is Catherine Grace Dunne. She was born in Ballymichael, a small village about five miles from Wexford. She has one brother, Noel, who lives in Australia. She’s fifty seven years old and both her parents are now passed on. She does have a couple of cousins living in the area still. Ann Dalton, nee Dunne, is one I’m interested in meeting. She’s the same age as Catherine, so it stands to reason that she might know something.’
‘Are Ann and Catherine still in touch?’ Gerry asked.
‘That I don’t know. We’ll find out soon enough I suppose. Ann and her husband Pat run the local pub in Ballymichael. Reckon we’ll have to pay that local a visit!’
‘Who’s the other cousin?’ Gerry asked.
‘That would be Mary. She’s a bit younger at forty eight, so not sure what she can tell us. She’s married to the local Guard, Robert Hegarty.’
‘What’s your plan? I’m not so sure these women will start spilling their guts the second you question them.’
Tom put on his best German spy voice saying ‘Ve have vays of making zem talk!’
‘Ha ha very funny, Tom. Seriously, you can’t just go up to these women and start asking them questions about Catherine. They’ll be suspicious.’
‘I know. I thought we’d just have to play it by ear and see how it goes. I may just have one other card up my sleeve too. The pressure’s on us for this one, Gerry. It’s personal, it’s for our girl. We can’t mess it up,’ Tom said seriously.
They soon arrived at the aptly named Rose Tree Manor. Surrounding the entrance to the hotel were the most amazing rose trees the guys had ever seen. There were luscious reds, vibrant oranges, pure whites and the most beautiful yellow roses. Gerry squealed ‘fabulous’ over and over and Tom had to agree. It really was beautiful. They grabbed their bags – one small leather holdall for Tom and a beautiful Louis Vuitton case for Gerry – and checked in, before being shown to their room, The Yellow Room. It was lovely, full of gorgeous antiques and period furniture. A big vase of yellow roses cut straight from the garden stood on top of a large mahogany dresser. They had a quick freshen up then went downstairs to have afternoon tea. Gerry had spied it being served in the drawing room on the way in and had declared he simply would die if they didn’t go and have some! The tea was served in a beautiful silver tea service with bone china cups and saucers. Home-made scones with strawberry jam and cream accompanied the tea, with a couple of large chunks of fruitcake. A big fire was roaring and playing softly in the background was Adele’s sultry voice.
‘Jaysus this is a bit of all right! I could get used to this life, Gerry my love!’ Tom said then bit into a scone piled high with jam and cream.
‘Don’t curse in here, darling!’ Gerry declared, looking around to make sure nobody had heard.
‘Sorry, Gerry. I’ll try to mind my P’s and Q’s! Wouldn’t want to offend the genteel country folk!’ Tom replied in a faux-posh voice, with a wink at Gerry, who giggled despite himself.
The waitress began to clear away their plates when they had finished the mini feast.
‘That was beautiful. Thank you.’ Tom said. ‘Have you worked here for long? It’s an amazing hotel.’
‘I’m glad you enjoyed it, Mr Whelan. I’ve been here for almost ten years now. It’s a lovely place to work. My name is Fiona; if you need anything just let me know,’ she answered with a smile.
‘That’s a long time, Fiona. You must really enjoy it,’ Tom continued with a smile. ‘I suppose you have the longest service here?’ Tom further enquired.
Gerry looked quizzically at Tom. Tom was in detective mode, the tone of his voice always changed when he was trying to get some information. It always got quieter, gentler somehow. Why he wanted to know how long Fiona worked here though Gerry couldn’t guess.
‘Oh no, not at all. Mrs Murtagh has been here for over thirty years now. She’s the housekeeper and pretty much runs the place. Her husband is the gardener and general handyman and he’s been here even longer. They’re lovely. I’m sure you’ll see them around during your stay,’ Fiona replied, happy to chat to the two nice men.
‘I’ll look forward to that, Fiona. Thank you again,’ Tom said as he handed her a couple of euros for her tip.
‘What are you up to, Tom Whelan?’ Gerry asked when Fiona had left.
‘Nothing. It’s always nice to get to know the locals,’ Tom said with a grin.
Gerry knew there was no point pushing him any further. He’d reveal all when he was ready.
‘How about a walk around the gardens, Gerry? Let’s get some of that country air you were talking about.’
‘And walk off some of that 2000-calorie snack you just demolished!’ Gerry shot right back. He’d delicately nibbled on half a scone while Tom devoured one full one and two slices of fruitcake.
‘Do you know how much money I’ve invested in this baby,’ Tom said, rubbing his potbelly with a grin.
‘Enough to cancel third-world debt, darling,’ Gerry quipped, and then continued seriously, ‘You’re going on a diet on Monday, Tom. I’m not having you dropping dead on me with a coronary.’ Ever since Gerry had seen Four Weddings and a Funeral he was convinced that Tom would end up like Simon Callow’s character, Gareth, and drop dead unexpectedly with a heart attack.
Tom couldn’t resist the urge to tease Gerry, so very melodramatically started reciting the famous Auden poem used in the movie.
Gerry was desperately trying not to laugh but failing miserably. ‘Stop it, Tom. I’m serious. I couldn’t cope without you.’
Tom knew that Gerry worried about him, and felt bad for teasing him, so quickly promised to cut down on the cakes on Monday morning. Mollified, Gerry continued his walk with Tom. The gardens were stunning, set on two acres surrounding the house. There were beds of the most colourful flowers Tom and Gerry had ever seen. It was a lovely evening, with only a slight chill in the air. Arm in arm they explored the grounds, eventually finding a pond with swans and ducks swimming on it.
‘It’s like a postcard, Tom,’ Gerry sighed. They sat down on a bench beside the pond, sitting silently and taking in the beautiful surroundings, Tom with his arm around Gerry.
‘If you ring down to the kitchen, they’ll give you some bread to feed the birds,’ a thick country voice interrupted their quiet contemplation.
Looking around, an elderly man was standing beside them smoking a pipe. He was wearing overalls and it didn’t take Einstein to work out who he was. Tom and Gerry instinctively pulled apart. Both knew that some people of this guy’s generation could have a problem with their relationship.
‘Mr Murtagh at a guess?’ Tom questioned.
‘The very one,’ Mr Murtagh responded. ‘You must be Mr Whelan and Mr O’Leary.’
Gerry laughed, saying, ‘That’s right. How’d you know?’
‘Ah, we make it a point to know all our guests at Rose Tree Manor. It’s a soft day, thank God.’
Tom hadn’t heard that phrase since he was a kid in Kerry. ‘That it is, Mr Murtagh. The gardens are a credit to you,’ Tom responded.
The compliment pleased the gardener. He had put a lifetime into these grounds and it showed. He loved his work, but nothing pleased him more than having the guests appreciating his hard word. It made it all worthwhile.
‘Fiona told us that you’ve worked here over thirty years?’ Tom continued.
Gerry glanced at Tom again. Back with the questions about length of service; he was definitely fishing for something.
‘It’ll be forty years this summer. Started here when I was eighteen as a general handyman. But I always had an interest in horticulture. I couldn’t believe it when the O’Connors – thems the family who own the hotel – said I could start work on the gardens. They gave me a free rein and the money to buy the bulbs and trees I needed.’
Tom was nodding encouragingly at everything Mr Murtagh was saying. ‘You must have seen some people come and go over the years so.’
‘Aye, there have been a lot of people work
ing here in one way or another. They usually move on after a couple of years. We’ve a lot of temporary workers too for the summer months.’
‘I’ve a good friend who used to work here thirty years ago. Ah, I’m sure you wouldn’t remember her. It was a long time ago,’ Tom said.
Here we go, Gerry thought. Now we’re getting to it.
‘The body’s getting old, Mr Whelan. But the mind is as fresh as it was when I started here forty years ago. Who was it?’ Mr Murtagh replied.
‘Her name is Catherine Dunne,’ Tom stated.
‘Young Kitty Dunne. God, I haven’t thought of her in years. She was a grand lass. Worked in the kitchen back then. Lovely looking girl. Yes I remember her well. How’s she doing?’
‘Kitty! Never knew anyone called her that! She’s doing great, Mr Murtagh. Living in Meath now, running her own teashop. She’d give this place a run for its money with the home-made scones!’ Tom said with a wink.
Gerry raised his eyebrows at this. Talk about free licence with the facts. Tom had barely met Catherine, never mind knew what she served in her teashop!
‘Oh she was a grand cook was Kitty. She did a lot of the food back then. Wait till I tell the missus, she was great friends with her. They started here at the same time.’
This was good, Tom thought.
‘Well I’d better keep going. I’ve a couple of blocked drains to see to before it gets dark. It was nice talking to you both,’ Mr Murtagh said. And with a nod he ambled off.
‘Damn. I wanted to ask him some more questions,’ Tom said to Gerry.
‘Catherine worked here! Why didn’t you tell me?’ Gerry demanded.
‘Thought I’d surprise you, my love. Anyway I wasn’t sure if it would be a good lead or not. It was a long shot that anyone here would remember Catherine from thirty years ago.’
‘Why didn’t you stop him going and ask him some more stuff?’
‘Don’t want to let him think I’m being nosy. Nah, let him go back to Mrs Murtagh with the news and hopefully they’ll come to us later on. I’ve a suspicion that Mr Murtagh enjoys a jar or two, we might just ask them to join us for a drink later on.’
Beyond Grace's Rainbow: HarperImpulse Contemporary Romance Page 11
