Rían: (The O'Malleys Book 3)

by Michelle McLoughney

  When another child wouldn’t play with you, she wished harm on them.

  She wanted that last bite of cake, but you wanted it too and you always came first. She gave it to you willingly.

  She stayed awake at night when you were ill, just in case you woke.

  She would do every second, of every minute, of every hour of it again, every moment of your existence was a gift to her, she knew your heart, and she grew you from the inside out. Think of her often, and with kindness.

  Liadh twisted a damp tissue between her fingers as hot angry tears leaked from the corners of her eyes. She stared straight ahead and rocked slightly as she hugged her little white dog Peanut, closer to her chest. She looked up awkwardly every few seconds and met the gaze of the woman standing in front of her. A work colleague of her mother’s apparently, Mrs Somethingorother. Correction, a woman her mother had cleaned for, hardly a colleague. Mrs Somethingorother, fifties, fur coat and red smokers lips, had insisted on reading the contents of some Hallmark card she had brought with her. Liadh wished she would either feck off out of her mother’s flat, or if at all possible, and preferably, be struck by lightning. Her mother was dead, why the hell would she want to hear some saccharine sweet bullshit about what she had lost? I know what I’ve lost. Things your mother didn’t tell you. Oh feck off!

  It was on the tip of her tongue to tell the stuck up, nosey old bag exactly how much her mother had cried when she found out about her pregnancy. How about any nights she had spent crying in the months spent in a catholic mother and baby home, crocheting little booties and cardigans for the babies that would never go home with their mammies.

  Maybe she should tell the woman how her young mother had sacrificed a life of her own, so Liadh would have one. The words on the card melted into her brain and made everything fuzzy. Closing her eyes tightly and breathing purposefully through her nose, Liadh half listened as the woman’s voice nasally droned on and on. When it finally ended Mrs Somethingorother politely dabbed her eyes and nose, sighed and laid the card beside Liadh’s hands on the kitchen table. Nodding briefly at Liadh and her friend Bonnie, who stood nearby listening with pursed lips, the woman made her way to the front door. Bonnie rolled her eyes at Liadh and followed the woman out to the front door. Liadh waited until till she heard the latch click, before she tore the card in half and threw it into the kitchen sink. That was it, the last of the mourners gone. All twelve of them.

  Liadh was having difficulty keeping up the guise of togetherness that she had been projecting all day. Bonnie came back into the small kitchen and leaned against the doorframe; she kicked off her court shoes and groaned as she rubbed her toes.

  Liadh smiled fondly at her, or what she hoped was fondly, in reality it probably came off as fake and disingenuous. She wasn’t ungrateful, just exhausted from the constant pounding headache that had arrived two days before and was still hanging around.

  Rubbing her forehead roughly she pointed at her friend’s feet and in spite of herself she grinned.

  “Bonnie Stapleton, how the hell did you wear those things all day? Your feet will hurt like a bitch tomorrow.” Bonnie shrugged and continued rubbing her toes and biting her tongue between her teeth her eyes half closed.

  “Yeah, I know, your mam is the only person in the world that could get me to take off my converse in her honour,” she chuckled lightly.

  “She would have loved that Bon. She would have…” the words petered off without Liadh being able to find the sentiment to drag them into a sentence.

  “You okay hon? Do you want me to stay a while longer Li? I don’t mind.”

  “No Bonnie, you’ve been great. I think I’ll have a lie down. I’ll give you a ring later okay?”

  Bonnie kissed Liadh’s head and rubbed her shoulders lightly. There was no real need for words between them; they had known each other long enough to be comfortable with the silences that life allowed. There wasn’t much left to say anyway that hadn’t already been offered in comfort.

  Plastering on a small semblance of a smile, Liadh turned to her friend and nodded at her reassuringly. After Bonnie had tickled Peanut’s ears and promised to return the next morning, she left. Liadh was suddenly overwhelmed by the emptiness of the room, the lingering sensation of dead memories and lost hopes and dreams. Flinging the sugar bowl across the room, Liadh cried out of pure exhaustion and fear. The fear of being alone, the fear of moving on, and the one person who had always had her back, her mother, was conspicuous in her absence.

  Is this how it’s going to be? Liadh wondered, as she wiped a tear angrily from her chin. The feeling of loss so strong it felt as though a limb had been severed and tossed away from her in a heap. Her mother had been her everything, her champion, her protector, the love of her life. In the end, the cancer had ravaged her mother until she was only a shell of the woman she had been. So small and slight, lying boxed in a crematorium across the city, waiting to be poured neatly into a steel urn where only the ashes of her would remain.

  I miss you so much already.

  Here’s to good friends,

  Never above you,

  Never below you,

  Always beside you.

  - Irish toast

  Summertime in Kilvarna, County Clare

  “Are you serious? Wow, when you said small and rural, you weren’t shitting me were you?”

  Liadh snorted, took a piece of chocolate from the outstretched hand of her friend, popped it into her mouth and groaned at the soft velvety texture. Chocolate is sex for the single lady. Putting her hand over her mouth she muttered in Bonnie’s general direction as she left the motorway and onto the more rural roads of county Clare.

  “Now Bonnie, you knew exactly what you were getting into before you agreed to come. Yeah, pretty rural all right. Do you think you can handle three months of it?”

  Bonnie shuffled about in her seat and pulled on her seat belt in annoyance.

  “Of course I can handle it. I’m really looking forward to having some quiet time, some me time. Three months isn’t that long. I’m not back teaching till September 5th. Anyway, how could I let you come back here alone to face the ‘love of your life’?” Bonnie gave exaggerated air quotes that had Liadh groaning aloud.

  “Ah! Stop will ya! I wish I’d never told you about him. He’s not the love of my life, he’s just a boy I knew once. When I was eight years old no less. I think it’s safe to assume that Rían O’Malley and I will have little in common, and I’m sure he will have even less interest in rekindling our search for worms and other adventures. If my YouTube stalking is anything to go by, he is quite the playboy and all round cheeky chappie. I think it’s fair to say this face will not be featuring in Rían O’Malley’s glossy magazine shoots anytime in the near future.” Bonnie rounded on her, annoyance obvious on her face.

  “Don’t put yourself down, you know I hate it when you do that Li. You’re beautiful and any man would be lucky to have you in his life. Magazine shoots are for assholes by the way. Common knowledge by the way.” Liadh cringed internally and immediately felt guilty for dragging her shit onto Bonnie. She glanced quickly in the car mirror and raised an eyebrow at herself, her sense of humour could veer towards the self-deprecating at times and she knew it cut Bonnie deeply.

  “Of course, I’m only joking Bon.” Bonnie nodded and squeezed Liadh’s hand as it lay on the gear stick. Liadh smiled over at her. Soft old thing Bonnie, best in the world though. Liadh tried to hold in the giggle as she watched her friend gasp in awe as they drove past different landmarks.

  “It’s like a completely different country.”

  Liadh snorted loudly and shook her head in amusement.

  “How the hell has someone who has lived in Dublin all her life never been to the west of Ireland for heaven’s sake?”

  Bonnie shoved a square of chocolate into her mouth and rubbed her nose.

  “Hey don’t blame me because you are a complete bog person from Clare, and I’m a sophisticate from the big smoke.
I’m city folk Liadh, I’m not sure I get this country living. There seems to be a lot of farm animals involved.” Bonnie pressed her face to the car window. Grinning to herself, Liadh was once again reminded of how lucky she was to have Bonnie, and the light heartedness of her soul.

  Bonnie had been her best friend since Liadh and her mam had moved to the flats in Dublin all those years ago. Actually she wasn’t even sure how they had become friends with Bonnie, she had never really had a choice in the matter. That first day they had arrived in Dublin city, Liadh had looked out the window of their three story flat and been shocked by the absence of green fields, immediately hating the concrete jungle outside. In her peripheral vision she spotted a small form, which had turned out to be Bonnie, standing in the hallway looking at her like some kind of enthusiastic ghostly spirit. After that, no matter how hard Liadh tried to ditch Bonnie, it was a feat doused in futility, eventually she just accepted that Bonnie was going to be a part of her life whether she wanted her to be or not. Liadh knew now that Bonnie had probably saved her life.

  The loss of Rían, uncle Neddy, and everything else she knew in Kilvarna was somewhat lessened by Bonnie’s incessant chatter and intrusive questioning. No matter how much Liadh had tried to turn inward away from the pain, Bonnie was always there in the background, ready and waiting, willing her to make peace with her demons.

  It was Bonnie who had helped her throughout her mother’s illness, Bonnie who had supported her mother and accompanied them to every one of Liadh’s hospital appointments for the skin grafts in the years following the fire. It was Bonnie who had nursed her, and held her, when despair set in and she needed a friend. Bonnie was family, the best kind too, the kind you wanted and in turn wanted you.

  Clenching her jaw as they passed the castle and Folk Park, Liadh knew they were getting close, and it felt as though they were driving into an abyss. Okay Liadh, slight dramatics there! He was on her mind constantly since she found out about the cottage, all she could think about when she thought of her childhood, of Kilvarna. Maybe he’ll be away somewhere. Yeah, maybe he’ll be over on a yacht in his Caribbean resort. Riding some young one probably. Stop being a bitch Liadh. I can’t, I’m scared.

  The reasons for leaving the town were like boiling oil, bubbling close to the surface, where inevitably they would corrupt and destroy everything in their path. Even though she had only been a few months shy of eight years old when they had left, Liadh could suddenly feel the urine running in streams down her leg as though it had happened yesterday. The shame, humiliation and pain of that day, embedded so deeply under her skin, it cut through to the very marrow of her bones. It was all she thought of when she thought of Kilvarna. Liar...Liar. Yeah okay not all I think about, I also think about him, feel him.

  Rían O’Malley, the best thing, the only thing, that ever happened in her childhood to make it extraordinary. Memories of him attempted to flood her mind. No. No. Liadh wagged a mental finger at them—that was not happening now. Rían was a distant memory and she had probably built him up to be something better than he was anyway. No one could be that perfect, that lovely. Could they? Nope.

  Catching Bonnie looking at her out of the corner of her eye, she rolled her eyes.

  “What?” She clipped.

  “You’re thinking about Rían aren’t you? You always get that look on your face when you think of him. Like a mass of chocolate gooey cake. Oh Rían, I flove you, I FLOVE YOU SO MUCH!” Peanut proceeded to bark at Bonnie as she raised her voice.

  “Ah stop it Peanut,” Liadh cooed looking at her and smiled into the rear-view mirror. “Flove? What the hell is flove, Bonnie?”

  “Jesus Liadh, you’re so behind on everything, flove is short for ‘fucking love.’ How the hell do you even survive in the world being so out of the loop?”

  “Hey!” Liadh said feigning horror.

  “I’m not out of the loop, I’m just not as good as you at immature, Facebookish terminology, so shoot me. Oh and for your information, or FYI to you. I do not flove Rían O’Malley. Stop being so feckin’ juvenile. And please change it from ‘fucking love’ to fecking love. I hate that word.”

  “Hmmm,” said Bonnie playfully.

  “So you hate fucking? The word, or the deed itself? Because personally I like a good fuck. Now finding a good fuck, that is fucking hard to do! Do you remember that guy Brian, I dated. Now he was a good fuck. Unfortunately the fact that he had a crazy ex-wife made him less fuckable. As much as I like waking up to a woman standing at the end of my bed, I had to pass.”

  Liadh groaned at Bonnie and shrugged her shoulders.

  “Maybe Brian was so good at fecking that the crazy ex couldn’t let him go. Anyway, this trip back to Kilvarna has one goal, and one goal only. To sell Rua Cottage. I have no interest in Rían as a person, conquest, or whatever.”

  “Riiiiiiight, you’re so full of shit Liadh. I’ve seen you mooning over his pictures online. Rían all lovely and grown up. Ah look at him there with his big body and big cock, looking all Italian and shit.”

  Liadh thumped Bonnie in the arm as hard as she could, considering she had one hand on the wheel.

  “Seriously Bonnie, you are disgusting. Vile. I don’t know how you can even look at yourself in the mirror, you filthy article!”

  Bonnie laughed and stuck her tongue out, flicking it up and down suggestively. Liadh rolled her eyes, amused at her friend’s banter. Bonnie was shameless and didn’t care who or what she offended in the process, 100% genuine. Liadh was secretly a small bit envious of her friend’s lack of inhibitions, she knew she was a bit uptight, she just didn’t find life as carefree as Bonnie. Liadh had seen a side of life that others were usually spared.

  “So he’s hot, right? And he has brothers and sisters?” Bonnie asked, as she pulled on the stick of raspberry liquorice between her teeth, her eyes interested and wide.

  “Hmmm, yeah he has two brothers, and two sisters, one brother just married, businessman and the other is a restaurateur, one of the girls is a vet, and the other is a writer.”

  “Ohhh a restaurateur, so is my uncle Johnny, but something tells me the O’Malleys don’t own a fish and chip shop in a shitheap estate in Dublin?”

  Liadh scrunched her face up, amused, and turned her head to face Bonnie. “Yeah, I don’t think so Bonnie. Your uncle Johnny makes the best chips ever though. For real.”

  Bonnie grinned at Liadh. “How do you know so much about them, about him?”

  Liadh sighed dramatically rolling her eyes upward.

  “Google is your friend Bonnie, I may not know the meaning of fahlove-”.

  “Flove,” Bonnie corrected.

  “Flove, for heaven’s sakes. Anyway, I do know how to use Google. They are well known; the whole millionaire shite makes sure they are well known. They’re not like us. Remember that. No matter how nice the O’Malleys are, they are not like us.”

  “Jesus Liadh! You make them sound like a different species. They’re only people, just like you and me. No better, no worse. Just people,” Bonnie said.

  Liadh suddenly remembered the words her mother had made her repeat on the first day of school. I am better than no one and no one is better than me. Shaking her head, Liadh half listened as Bonnie chattered on. Poor, poor fool. Bonnie was the most trusting person ever, despite what she had been through. People with money are different to people who have none. Fact.

  Sometimes when she looked at photos or videos of Rían online, she tried to piece together the years they had been apart. So much time had gone by, over twenty years. Although trying to reconcile the face of thirty-year-old Rían with that of eight-year-old Rían was surprisingly easy. He had aged and grown, boy had he grown, but the meat and bones of him were the same. Gone was the boyish glint in his brown eyes, replaced by a cheeky but hard look of a man who knew what he wanted and went out and got it. Six foot five inches of 100% prime Irish beef, well 50% anyway. His Italian mother made up the rest of the gene pool. Liadh had sat for hours studying each lin
e and indentation of his face, each crease in the skin around his eyes, the width and breath of his form. She felt as though she knew him, and yet he was a complete stranger. But, the goodness was still in him, the charity work, and the selfless philanthropy, all showing her glimpses of the boy who had been her best friend.

  As they drove down the country lanes blasting Lana Del Ray’s ‘Summer Time Sadness’, Liadh’s heart beat to a furious rhythm in her chest. Slowing down the car, she indicated to the left and turned down into Cherry Tree Farm, Rían’s home place. Breathing deeply through her nose, she counted the seconds until the turn off for the cottage lane came into view. Her memory had altered a few details; she had forgotten that you had to use the entrance to their farm as an access road to the cottage. Great, just peachy. Veering left, she bit hard on her bottom lip as Bonnie jerked forward suddenly pointing and clasping her hands together in her usual dramatic style.

  “Oh my frickin God! Is that it, oh its precious, Li. Look at your little cottage awwww!”

  Liadh stopped the car outside the cottage and grinned when Bonnie clapped her hands together and unbuckled her seatbelt jumping out. Liadh sat still for a few moments and gathered herself, her hands rubbing the sides of her face. The cottage was just as she remembered, but smaller somehow, to be expected she supposed. As a child the world seems bigger somehow, everything spatially altered to accommodate a child’s mind. The cottage had survived the last twenty years surprisingly well; someone had obviously been taking care of it, Granny O’Malley. It made her heart jump a bit when she thought of one of the O’Malley men tending the garden, minding her little home for her mother. The cottage was compact, a bungalow with whitewashed walls and a straw thatched roof, the door had been painted blue, as had the window frames - they had always been red when they had lived there. Surrounded by a small-whitewashed wall, the cottage was the epitome of Irish twee. Postcard perfect. A small rose garden at the front made the plot seem deceptively small, until you walked around the back of the cottage and saw almost an acre of garden splayed out in front of you.