A Change of Heart (The Heartfelt Series)

by Adrienne Vaughan

  Larry scratched his chin.

  “A settlement, it has to be!” Miss MacReady exclaimed, “She doesn’t want Ryan, or Joey but she does want money. She wants a big fat divorce settlement and a further lump sum for custody. She doesn’t want the full-time responsibility of her son. He’s a commodity, a means to an end. Ryan’s release from the marriage has a price tag and Joey is for sale, part of the package.” Her eyes went brittle. The women exchanged a look. Children traded for cash touched a raw nerve in both of them.

  Sensing the tension in the room, Joey started to grizzle. Marianne released him from Ryan’s grip, smoothing his hair, finding a toy to distract him.

  “Shall I make us all a nice cup of tea?” Miss MacReady offered. Ryan looked at Marianne. She knew that look.

  “Come on Larry, let’s go and visit the viper in its nest.” Ryan pulled on his leather jacket. Larry re-tied his scarf.

  “Ryan, stay calm, listen to what she has to say, we can sort this out, it’ll be fine,” Marianne said. As he bent to kiss her, she flashed a look at Larry over his head. Larry nodded, pulling on his gloves.

  “I’ll see to it, Marianne, but we ain’t pulling no punches. Ryan and me have saved her ass on more occasions than I care to remember. Angelique made a pile of money out of the wedding, she ain’t due anything in reality. If anything she owes us,” Larry growled.

  “No tea then?” asked Miss MacReady as they left. “Good, because I’m about ready for a whiskey, what about you Marianne?”

  “I think I’m about ready for a fight,” Marianne replied, more or less to herself.

  Saturday lunchtime mid-October was not usually busy in Maguire’s. No more than a couple of tourists and a handful of locals having a sandwich and a couple of drinks. Padar tried to keep the live music sessions going throughout the winter, harking back to when punters came from near and far to enjoy some off-season entertainment, but with no bridge and Oonagh gone, hoolies in Maguire’s were scant few. Neighbours on the mainland stayed put. The short trip across the water, a pleasure on a warm summer’s evening, was no fun on a black, winter’s night.

  So the noise and bustle greeting Ryan as he opened the door to the main bar was a surprise. Half a dozen men were at the bar, and by a blazing fire, a cluster of people were chatting and laughing, someone was seated in the midst of them, a woman; Angelique.

  Ryan craned his neck. Oh no, he thought, the Hollywood celebrity in a little Irish pub, signing autographs, regaling her fans with anecdotes.

  “Uh-oh,” he said, under his breath, as people started to notice they had arrived. The bar grew quiet. Angelique’s fans turned to look at Ryan, her estranged husband. He could see their scorn, how could he have abandoned this warm and beautiful person, and so publicly, live on TV, in front of millions of viewers, the callous bastard.

  “Ryan, darrrling,” Angelique, now resplendent in cream silk, suede jeans and cowboy boots, arose, tossing her glossy hair over her shoulder. She extended beautifully manicured hands towards him, cutting through the crowd to take his arm, leaning her head briefly on his shoulder. “You never said how kindly and welcoming these lurvely people are. I mean, we’re the oldest friends already. No wonder you love it here. I must confess, I feel right at home, I honestly do.” She beamed at him, then back at her fan club. Ryan smiled too, not full-on Hollywood but a good enough effort.

  “I’m delighted Angelique, thrilled you’ve met some of my neighbours and can see how beautiful this place is. You’ll come and see us again, next time you need a break from all the razzmatazz of Tinsel Town.” He scanned her perfectly made-up face. She pulled her shades down. The pub hushed to silence, waiting for her response to the man who had abandoned her and taken her child.

  “Well, I don’t know about that, Ryan darlin’, coz how I feel at the moment, I could hardly bear to leave, and that’s the God’s honest truth.” She gave his arm an affectionate squeeze, as her fans heaved a sigh of relief and the hubbub resumed.

  “What are you playing at?” Ryan hissed. “You’re not welcome here, Angelique, so let’s organise some time with Joey and you get back on your side of the pond PDQ.”

  Larry moved to prevent people overhearing. Padar was hovering on the other side of the bar.

  “Drinks?” he asked, hopefully.

  The door swung open and Dermot Finnegan appeared, windswept and freckled from a day spent on the water. He shrugged off his sailing jacket and hung it up. Angelique lit up at the sight of him, the strikingly handsome blond looked every inch a movie star in his own right. He strode up to the bar. Angelique put her hand on her hip, and turned her voluptuous curves to face him.

  “Ryan, where are your manners?” she looked at Dermot under her eyelashes, “I have not been introduced to this gentleman.”

  “Oh, I know who you are,” Dermot bowed gallantly, “I’m Dermot Finnegan, an old friend.”

  “Not that old surely?” Angelique’s sassy laughter rang out.

  Larry decided to appease Padar and buy drinks. Angelique ordered a pint of stout.

  “When in Rome,” she fluttered, lifting the glass to a barrage of flashing cameras and phones, as the locals recorded the glamorous, Hollywood actress, tasting her first pint.

  Back at Weathervane, Ryan recounted the whole episode.

  “And then she did that thing she does - she hones in on someone like a heat-seeking missile, ‘Dermot, do tell me this, and Dermot do tell me that.’ A vampire sucking every bit of information out of him, flirting and flattering and filling him full of all her usual flannel,” Ryan said, stirring soup for his lunch, everyone else replete.

  “And Dermot?” Marianne was clearing away.

  “Lapping it up, the big eejit, completely beguiled and pretty oblivious to anything or anyone by the time I left. Larry said he’d stay and see if he couldn’t persuade her to at least eat something.” Ryan took his bowl to the table.

  “Oh dear, had a little fix of something, has she?” Marianne sat opposite him, passing him the last of the soda bread.

  He looked weary. “What do you think? Of course she has, she’s not clean, anyone can see that. She’s used that phrase ‘freshen-up’ for whatever she’s doing, forever. Who does she think she’s kidding?”

  Marianne shrugged. “So how did you leave it with her?”

  “Just left, no point in trying to discuss anything when she’s like this,” Ryan said.

  “Like what?” Marianne asked.

  “On heat, Dermot doesn’t stand a chance,” he dipped the bread in the soup.

  “No way, not...” Marianne shook her head.

  “Don’t forget, I’ve been on the receiving end. She’s a vampire, no kidding,” Ryan confirmed.

  “And what about Joey, when is she coming to spend time with him?” Marianne asked, dismayed.

  “Just carry on as normal. She won’t even remember she has a son until she’s had her wicked way with Dermot, and that’s all that’s on her mind at the moment, believe me,” Ryan told her.

  Marianne laughed, “But she’s only just met Dermot.”

  Ryan checked his watch. “Been over an hour now, she’ll be shagging him senseless in no time, you mark my words.”

  “Ryan!” Marianne rebuked, throwing a tea towel at him. “Not in front of the children.”

  Smiling grimly, Ryan went to help with the dishes. He knew he was right though.

  Chapter Twelve

  A Deal To Be Done

  The following day, Ryan O’Gorman, world-famous movie star, was totally absorbed. He had discovered a new and liberating artistic skill - finger painting. He had just coloured his own face bright red, sending Bridget and Joey into fits of giggles, when Angelique rapped on the door. She took a step back, pushing sunglasses onto her head.

  “Oh my God, Ryan, what the hell happened?” she exclaimed.

  Ryan did jazz hands at her.

  “Finger painting, want to join us?” he asked.

  Angelique examined her kid gloves. “Not today thanks,
I came to see Joey, spend some time, may be take him out for a ride?” she tried a smile. Ryan looked into her face, checking for signs. She snapped the shades back down. “Please, Ryan.” There was a tremble in her voice.

  “Come in Angelique, we need to talk.” Ryan stood back to let her pass, instinctively stepping outside to check for paparazzi along the lane. No-one there, but he could see Pat MacReady leaning against his taxi in Maguire’s car park. It looked like he was talking to somebody but Ryan could not see who. Ryan surmised Angelique’s ‘driver’ was on standby to take Joey for a ride, at his young age the main purpose for putting Joey in a car was to get him to sleep, and besides Innishmahon was a small island, wild and beautiful in the summer, treacherous in the swirling, dampness of autumn - there was nowhere to go for a ride.

  Ryan shuddered, pulling the door closed behind him. Angelique was in the kitchen, standing away from the babies on the rug. She watched transfixed as Bridget streaked fistfuls of yellow paint through Joey’s hair and he, jiggling around to avoid her, slapped sticky blue hands on the back of her pink pyjamas. Monty, who was wearing a violent green mohican, courtesy of Ryan, was wagging his tail at their antics. He stopped when he saw Angelique, and gave a growl in the back of his throat.

  “Still smoking?” Ryan asked her.

  “No, I stopped, all part of the program,” Angelique eyed Monty.

  “It’s just that Monty’s not keen on smokers. Always grumbles at me when I’ve had my after-dinner fag.”

  “I’ve given up all my vices. The team at the clinic were totally supportive, I’ve really turned a corner, I’m so clean, I squeak.” She gave him that beam again.

  Ryan smiled back, trying to seek out her eyes through the ubiquitous black lenses - her face perfectly made-up as usual, the mask sitting on the skin. Ryan knew all the tricks of the trade. But Angelique had been stone-walling the world from behind dark glasses for so long, he wondered if she would ever make it back to normality.

  The actress’ road to stardom had been a given. The daughter of Franco Rossini’s only sister, she told her doting uncle she wanted to be a star, and he said “so be it”. Remembering how easy it had been to fall for her, Ryan stood and watched her: a stunningly beautiful woman no doubt; an accomplished professional when the mood took her; but a self-obsessed, substance-addicted mess most of the time these days. He tried hard to support her, bringing in professionals, but she refused to be helped, and with her blatant infidelities, he was at the end of his tether when he came to Innishmahon to start afresh. Looking at her now, he felt suddenly sad it had come to this: a marriage of convenience with the complication of a beautiful baby boy.

  Ryan made coffee, strong and black, the way she liked it. She sat as close to the babies as Monty would allow. Her hand trembled as she took the mug from Ryan, not taking her eyes off Joey for a second.

  “He looks different,” she said quietly. She lifted her glasses to look more closely at her son. “Better than I remember. He’s truly handsome, beautiful even.”

  “Shall I clean him up so you can hold him, play with him maybe?” Ryan asked.

  “No, don’t do that,” she swept a hand from head to toe, indicating the camel coat and cream dress beneath. “I don’t think I’m much of a player.” She bit her lip, Ryan laughed.

  “Perhaps not that kind of player,” he teased.

  She flashed him a look. “I didn’t come halfway round the world to trade insults with you, Ryan.”

  He raised his hands. “I know, I know.” He waited for calm to return. She took a deep draught of coffee, then gave him one of her best Hollywood smiles. He was immune; he did a good line in superstar beams himself.

  “Sorry, a bit jet-lagged, I guess,” she said, looking around the room, “where’s er...?”

  “Marianne? You know perfectly well what her name is. She’s out, so you can stop with the abandoned wife act, we both know it’s bullshit. You abandoned me and our relationship long before Marianne came on the scene.” Ryan was exasperated. “Anyway, you’re not here to be reconciled with a husband you don’t need and a son you don’t want, so let’s cut to the chase, shall we?”

  Angelique turned to face him. She took her sunglasses off and placed them on the kitchen table. Reaching into her bag she removed a bulky, envelope and pushed it along the surface towards him. He raised an eyebrow.

  “An arrangement: a divorce, custody of our son, with rights for me and maintenance - call it an allowance - paid monthly into a private bank account, in case anything happens to you and I have to take care of Joey - education, college, you know the sort of thing.” Her voice had changed, no sultry Texan drawl for this particular speech. Angelique tapped her toe against the quarry tile floor. Monty growled again, hackles raised along his back.

  “Put that mutt out back for pity’s sake; needs a good horsewhipping if you ask me.” She glared at the dog.

  Ryan ignored her, indicating with his hand for Monty to back off. Monty reversed and sat down next to the children, ears flat back, not taking his eyes off Angelique. Mutt indeed!

  Ryan also ignored the envelope.

  “Everything was agreed before we married, Angelique, you know that. We made sure the prenup was watertight for all our sakes, especially Joey’s. You had your cut of the wedding publicity payoff, a generous settlement, all signed and sealed. Whatever you’ve dreamed up now, no deal.”

  Angelique pushed the envelope nearer to Ryan.

  “Read it,” she snapped. “It all changed when you abducted my son. If you’d read the small print before your pathetic announcement, you’d have known that. You made the prenup null and void when you got on that airplane with my son, without my permission.”

  Joey made a small sound. Ryan lifted him up.

  “Keep your voice down, you’re upsetting him,” he said.

  “And you’re upsetting me,” Angelique flashed back. “Just do as I ask and I’m gone, outta your hair for good,” she gathered her gloves and glasses.

  “What’s changed, Angelique? What’s wrong now? What kind of trouble are you really in?” he asked.

  “Just do it, Ryan. Sign it and send copies to your lawyer and the money to my account.” She rose to leave.

  Joey was whining softly under his breath. She glanced at the child.

  “I have to go before he starts that...that noise he makes. Christ, it sets my teeth on edge. How can you stand it when he makes that noise?” Her eyes scanned the room for an escape. “How can you live here, all of you?” she admonished. “It’s no more than a shack, Joey could burn himself on the fire, there’s no yard, no pool, no help – I could easily have him taken from here, into proper care, the care he needs.” Her voice was rising. She twisted her gloves in her hands.

  Joey was whining louder now, Bridget had started to snivel. Ryan stood to open the door, facing Angelique with Joey in his arms; Joey turned his head into his father’s chest.

  “Leave now please, Angelique, I won’t have the children upset.” He indicated the door leading to the hall, as Marianne came in from the garden.

  “Oh sorry,” she said, and was immediately annoyed for apologising. It was her kitchen. She looked quizzically at Ryan. Monty rushed at her, yapping and wagging his tail in relief. She gathered Bridget into her arms, shaking her head to clear the jangled atmosphere in this, her home, her haven.

  “Angelique is just leaving,” he said coldly.

  “Really, I’m sorry,” she apologised again. “Won’t you stay and have lunch with us, I’m sure Joey would like that.”

  Angelique turned a strained smile on Marianne. Joey was making a hideous high-pitched whine. Marianne looked at him; she had never heard that sound before.

  “I’m afraid I have to go. Maybe we could do lunch tomorrow?” Angelique said.

  “We could,” Marianne ignored Ryan’s glare, “or dinner later?”

  “I can’t do dinner,” Angelique flustered. “I have a da...dangerously, blinding headache coming on. I’ll need to lie down u
ntil it passes. I should be fine by tomorrow, will you call around one. Is there anywhere to eat around here?”

  “We could eat in the pub?” Marianne offered.

  “Really,” Angelique was incredulous, “What about Joey?”

  “That’s no problem, he’ll come too,” Marianne replied. Did Angelique actually wince?

  “Just you two then,” she called as she left. Joey stopped making the bizarre noise immediately.

  “What’s in the envelope?” Marianne asked Ryan, as the atmosphere lifted.

  “A new deal, she’s saying the prenup’s out the window because I abducted Joey. She wants more money, a big payoff and- get this - a regular allowance in case I’m off the scene and Joey needs looking after.”

  Marianne frowned. “So Larry was right. Do you want me to read it?”

  “Nah, leave it for now. I’m up to here with it. I’ll look at it later when I’m in a better frame of mind.” Ryan pulled his mouth in a tight smile. “No need for her to spoil the whole day. Do you think it’s wise to have lunch with her though, she obviously wants to tie you up in knots to help her get what she wants?” Ryan asked.

  “Well, at least if I talk to her woman-to-woman, I might find out what’s going on in her head,” Marianne told him.

  “Good luck with that one,” he replied. “What makes you think she’ll tell you? She’s very good at twisting everything anyone says to her own advantage.”

  “’Course she’ll tell me, I’m an award-winning, investigative journalist, don’t forget. She doesn’t stand a chance,” Marianne told him, wiping Bridget’s nose.

  “Be careful,” Ryan said, kissing her on the forehead before taking the envelope and putting it in a drawer, out of sight.

  Chapter Thirteen

  All That Glitters

  Kathleen MacReady was photocopying paperwork for Oonagh’s Project, the young carers’ holiday home. She and Marianne had ploughed through acres of forms and spreadsheets, and were relieved that everything the EU, Irish government and it would seem, any passing alien visiting from another planet might require to give the scheme the green light, was now in place.