“Salt water. Now,” she barked. Ryan did not want to leave him. “Go!” she shouted. He reappeared in minutes with Larry.
Larry went straight to Angelique. “She’s out of it, what the hell happened?” he hauled her to her feet: her knees buckled, head flopped on her chest. “She needs a pump.”
“We’re here.” Sinead arrived with Phileas. Miss MacReady behind them. Phileas checked Joey, then Angelique. He nodded at Sinead.
“Okay, we need him to vomit,” she told Marianne. “Get that salt water down him, then make him sick.”
“Let’s get her in the bathroom and pump her out.” Phileas was unpacking his kit as Larry dragged Angelique into the other room.
“And turn that music off,” Sinead ordered. Miss MacReady switched off the CD player. At the same time Padar said, “Where’s Bridget?”
They scanned the room, no sign. With the music off they could hear whimpering; it sounded like a child, or an animal. They turned to where it came from - the airing cupboard on the landing. Padar flung the door open, Monty growled and Bridget screamed. Padar fell to his knees, taking the terrified little girl in his arms. Monty limped out, tail barely wagging, searching the room for Marianne; there was a large, bloody swelling above his eye. Ryan was holding Joey upright as Sinead continued to force feed him salt water from a baby’s bottle; he was gagging and fighting her off, growing more and more upset. Ryan looked desperately at Marianne as she held Joey’s hands away from the bottle. She was trying not to cry, trying not to beg Sinead to stop and leave the little boy alone.
“Come on Joey, drink up, that’s the way, you can have something lovely to eat once you’ve had your medicine,” Sinead was saying. Joey’s body went into spasm. Sinead dropped the bottle, grabbed the boy and turned him over. He made a squawking sound and vomited, and vomited and vomited. All was quiet, and then he started to cry - loudly. Sinead checked all his airways were clear and handed him back to Ryan, smiling grimly.
“He might be sick again but not much. When he’s settled we’ll give him some sweet tea. We don’t want him to fall asleep for a good while.” She headed off to the bathroom.
The little boy started to sob softly. Ryan looked at Marianne, relief flooded his face. Marianne was holding an antiseptic wipe against the cut over Monty’s eye. He nodded at Monty.
“He’s fine, must have got in the way of someone’s boot - only doing his job.” She cuddled the dog briefly. Monty’s tail wagged.
There was a loud moan from the bathroom, a scuffle and a thud. Phileas reappeared.
“She’s coming round. She’ll need coffee, lots of it. It’s a bit of a mess in there, best if we keep her awake for as long as possible. I’m really not sure what we’re dealing with.” He went over and took Joey’s temperature. “Nearly normal,” he said.
“Thank God,” Miss MacReady said, handing Phileas the beaker. “What did she give him?”
Phileas smelled the creamy liquid. He raised his eyebrows, tasted it.
“That’s just milk, what does she be on?” he asked Ryan.
“Lots of things,” Ryan replied flatly.
“Prescription? Non-prescription?”
Ryan shrugged, “A bit of both, mainly prescription these days, though, I think.” Phileas scowled, he took the beaker and the thermometer over to the basin and washed them.
“I’ll have to make out a report,” Phileas said.
“You will indeed,” said Miss MacReady. “A big fat report, and I’ll make sure everyone sees it, and copies go to the right authorities. That woman is dangerous - she could have killed them all.”
“And herself,” Padar said, bitterly.
“She’s tried that more times than I care to remember,” Ryan said, “but I never thought she’d hurt Joey. I never thought she would do anything to her own son. I feel such an idiot. How could I have been so naive?”
Marianne squeezed his knee.
“Hey now, enough of that, he’s going to be okay, we all are.”
“And it’s going to be a long night, I’ll get the coffee on the go,” Miss MacReady said, relieved she could finally be of use.
Phileas put his kit away. “It could have been a lot worse,” he said grimly, “I reckon we were only minutes away from them both needing hospitalisation. And how would we have got them there? That’s what people don’t appreciate. The sooner they get that bridge built, the better.”
Larry emerged from the bathroom, dishevelled and sodden. He glanced at Ryan. It was obvious they had been through this before.
“She’s gonna be okay, this time. She wants to go home as soon as possible, says she can’t remember a thing,” he shrugged.
“Really? How convenient,” said Marianne going to where Padar held a white-faced, red-eyed Bridget in his arms. “I think we’ve all had enough excitement for one night. We can keep an eye on Joey at home and Monty needs his own basket, is that okay with you?”
Ryan stood up too. The further Joey was away from Angelique the better.
“I’m so sorry,” he said quietly to no-one in particular as they left.
Back at Weathervane Ryan and Marianne switched to autopilot. Joey was washed and changed. Marianne turned back the eiderdown on the big bed, placing Monty’s blanket at the foot and Joey’s teddy on the pillow. Ryan went through every room, drawing curtains and locking doors. It was a bleak, black night; he needed to keep the blackness out there.
Still silent, they climbed into bed, Monty on lookout in his old position, Joey lying between Marianne and Ryan. Ryan was keeping him awake with a brightly coloured storybook. Marianne entwined her feet in Ryan’s legs, resting one hand on Joey’s head and the other on her stomach, willing the swirling anxiety inside to stop. Her eyelids grew heavy, Joey gurgled as she drifted off to sleep. It sounded like sweet music.
* * *
Marianne heard a noise and was awake in an instant. It was daylight. Monty stirred. She looked at Ryan with Joey asleep on his shoulder - they looked peaceful, normal. She let a breath out and, grabbing a fleece, flew downstairs. She looked out of the window – no-one there. The door rattled again: she opened it a fraction. Miss MacReady stood in the porch, still in last night’s ensemble: her only concession to the new day, a headscarf over the curlers pushed hastily into her hair.
“Is everything okay, how’s Joey, Monty? Where’s Ryan? I couldn’t sleep a wink, did you get any sleep at all?” she looked anxiously into her daughter’s face.
Marianne beckoned her in, indicating with a finger at her lips to be quiet. They went into the kitchen, Marianne flicked on the kettle. She assured Miss MacReady everyone was fine.
“And you?” she asked the older woman. There was mascara on her face; she had been crying.
“Fine love, fine. It was all such a shock. There we were having a great night, enjoying the craic and there she was...well, doing I don’t know what, but nearly killing Joey and herself.” She stifled a sob. Marianne gave her a mug of tea. She caught sight of their reflection in the mirror; she could see the resemblance in their strained features. Miss MacReady drank the tea gratefully.
“What happened afterwards?” Marianne asked.
Miss MacReady sniffed. “Padar helped Larry get your woman sobered up and into her rooms. She was making an awful fuss by the time I left, saying she had been drugged and so had Joey, blaming you, Ryan and everyone else she could think of, saying we all wanted them dead and she was going to the police. She’d have won an Oscar for that performance, let me tell you!”
“What do you think happened?” Marianne asked pouring more tea. There was no denying her mother was sharp; she knew stuff.
“Accidental I think, anyone who wanted her dead would have taken a gun and shot her years ago. Should have been drowned at birth that one.” Miss MacReady finished her tea and thought for a minute. “Not altogether sure though, Marianne,” she said, softly. “I’m sworn to secrecy, but she was in a spot of bother before she turned up here, absconded from a secure unit where she was bei
ng detained. She was under investigation.”
“No way, what for?” Marianne was shocked.
“Only embezzlement! You know the famous jewellery collection, well it belongs to Rossini, to the franchise and she’s been siphoning it off, selling diamonds to dodgy dealers, having them replaced with fake ones and pocketing the cash. Oh, she’s a model mother alright. A judge will be rushing to stamp her custody order, I don’t think so.” Miss MacReady was coming round, she started to take her curlers out.
“Bloody hell!” Marianne sat down.
“This custody thing is a load of shite, bluster. She’s using it as a threat to get a more lucrative deal out of Ryan. That’s all she’s interested in.” Now she had spilled the beans, Miss MacReady decided to embellish the story with her take on things. “In my opinion, her career is more or less over. She’s been rumbled as a common thief, and I think last night was either an accident or someone else is trying to get her out of the picture.”
“Wow.” Marianne pushed her hair behind her ears. She really ought to be taking notes. “How do you know all this stuff?”
Miss MacReady shrugged, fluffing her hair out as she walked to the dresser and lifted the whiskey decanter. She looked at Marianne.
“Sure, help yourself,” Marianne said. Miss MacReady poured a couple of stiff ones.
“You could do with one too,” she said, pushing the glass in front of her daughter. Simultaneously, they lifted the drink to their lips, but Marianne put her glass back down, untouched.
“Does Ryan know any of this?” Marianne watched Miss MacReady carefully.
“Not at all, sure Ryan’s head’s all over the place, God love him. He wouldn’t be aware of anything. I’m led to believe this whole thing is very hush-hush, it’s not even hit the news, at least not yet,” Miss MacReady assured her.
Marianne thought for a while. It seemed to make sense. Miss MacReady tapped the table with a fingernail.
“Have you actually read the documents detailing what the Angelique-one wants?” she asked.
“No,” Marianne replied.
“Why not?” Miss MacReady was incensed.
“Haven’t got round to it yet, there’s been a bit going on!” Marianne went back at her.
“Bullshit, Ryan hasn’t shown them to you.” Miss MacReady needed a cigarette, giving up did not suit her one bit. “Why didn’t you just read them anyway? It affects your man, your life.”
Marianne shrugged. “It’s still his business.”
“But you’re an investigative journalist!” the other woman insisted.
Marianne looked her mother in the eye.
“Yes, and I’ve always played by the rules, fair and square. No bribes, no hacking, no cheating - call me old-fashioned.”
“Where are the papers?” Miss MacReady demanded, exasperated. Marianne’s eyes flicked over to the drawer where she had seen Ryan place the envelope. Miss MacReady was there in a flash.
“Mother, that is not addressed to you,” she hissed.
“Marianne, I am the postmistress, the head of communications on this island, it’s my job to handle and monitor all correspondence.” Miss MacReady unfolded the document, holding it far enough away to read. “Pretty much as I thought, she wants a lump sum payoff, more or less to go away and not cause any trouble, then a monthly allowance paid directly into her bank account as maintenance. It increases substantially if Joey is with her at any point, and she wants the majority of Ryan’s estate when he dies.”
“Nice!” Marianne said.
“Aha, here’s another nice twist alright - he’s not to remarry.” Miss MacReady placed the document on the table before Marianne, pointing at the paragraph.
“What? Why?... what’s that all about?” Marianne was bemused.
“She’s a control freak, clearly. It says ‘for the sake of their son’s ongoing welfare and security, his father is not to remarry until Joey is over the age of 21; and if Ryan has any more children their allowances and inheritance are to be legally agreed in line with what has already been agreed, on Joey’s behalf,’” Miss MacReady stopped reading.
“But Ryan already has a son. I know Mick is an adult and Ryan had very little to do with him growing up, but they’re close now and Mick too has a child, what does the arrangement say about that?” Marianne asked.
Miss MacReady examined the small print. “To all intents and purposes anyone claiming to be a benefactor of the estate needs to have had all their rights verified and their legitimacy signed in blood and witnessed by the devil himself.”
Marianne frowned at her.
“Meaning, if this sticks, her clever lawyers will have everyone and everything tied up in knots,” Miss MacReady concluded, dropping the documents on the table.
“But that’s horrendous.” Marianne was aghast. “Sounds like she expects Ryan to work his heart out till the end of his days and give whatever he earns to her.”
“That’s about the size of it and he’s not to marry because a wife will have all sorts of claims on him. She doesn’t want you or anyone else in the picture at all.” Miss MacReady folded the papers away. “Sounds like you have another battle on your hands, I’m afraid.”
Marianne was quiet for a minute.
“We’ve never discussed marriage,” she said.
“Really?” Miss MacReady was surprised, “Well, it looks like it’s time you did!”
“The mere mention of it seems to put the kibosh on it for me. I prefer things as they are,” Marianne said glumly.
“But surely you’ll marry. You’re perfect together, so in love, so suited. Getting married would be the best thing ever, then you could be a proper family and you would have your happy ever after.” Miss MacReady smiled broadly.
“Good grief, I didn’t think you of all people would perpetrate that despicable myth. I thought you were a feminist!” Marianne teased.
“Not at all, I’m an equalist, but the sexes are very different, we each have to play to our strengths. But if we don’t believe in happy every after, why bother to fall in love?” Miss MacReady said.
“Like we have a choice?” Marianne asked.
“I take your point. If we had a choice I would never have fallen for that spineless bastard, Brian Maguire!” Miss MacReady hissed.
“My father?” Marianne queried.
“The very man, but then I wouldn’t have had you, so I was compensated along the way. That’s more than most people get who fall for the wrong person,” Miss MacReady said, matter-of-factly.
Marianne laughed out loud. “Mother, you’re hilarious.” She knew Miss MacReady loved her to call her mother, even if it was just when they were on their own.
“Amn’t I?” Miss MacReady replied sardonically.
Monty trotted into the kitchen. He looked up at her, his left eye closed from his vicious encounter of the night before.
“Give me that,” she said to Miss MacReady, getting to her feet, stuffing the documents in her pocket.
“Where are you going?” Miss MacReady asked.
“To engage the enemy,” Marianne replied, dragging on her jacket as she headed out into the dawn.
Marianne climbed over piles of luggage in the hallway, having let herself into the now deserted Maguire’s. Angelique’s rooms were empty. She wondered what time the poor girl she hired as her maid had been roused from her bed to pack and clear away after the film star’s night of overindulgence. She looked around for Monty; he had a way of indicating with a twitch of his nose where something or someone might be. But she had left him at home, telling him not to rub his poorly eye.
She looked out through the landing window, across the pub car park, the street and beyond to the row of shops and the beach. She saw a flash of red, Angelique was at the shore. Marianne took the stairs, two at a time. She looked left and right. Angelique was nowhere to be seen. Shit, she thought, I hope she’s not thrown herself into the ocean and I’m the only one around to rescue her. That would be ironic. She looked left again, catching
a glimpse of crimson beyond the rocks. Marianne ran along the beach. Angelique was crouched behind a sand dune, hugging her knees, scarlet fur draped over her. She looked dreadful, smaller, shrunken. Marianne slowed when she saw her, the angry words she had been rehearsing dissolved on her lips.
“Hi,” she said, “mind if I?”
Angelique continued to stare ahead. Marianne sat down. They looked out to sea.
“I didn’t mean any of that to happen,” Angelique said finally.
“Didn’t you?” Marianne’s tone was light, gently questioning.
“No,” Angelique sighed, “I’d had a glass or two yes, but not a huge amount, I just wanted to see him, check he was okay, to see if he was, I don’t know, any different with me on our own.”
Marianne remained quiet, waiting for Angelique to continue.
“But he wasn’t,” she said. She turned huge eyes on Marianne. She looked so desperately sad, Marianne almost pitied her. “He got all tensed up and started that god-awful noise. I was only holding him for Chrissakes and then that mutt started growling and the other kid howling. I don’t know, I just snapped, put them in the closet till they shutthefuckup - it never hurt me when I was a kid!” She twisted a strand of hair in her fingers. “But Joey kept on, so I gave him a drink to make him sleep and guess I must’ve passed out. And that’s it, that’s all that happened.” She looked back out to sea. “No harm done, as you say.”
Marianne took a deep, calming breath. “Not this time, thank God, but there could have been serious harm done. What did you give Joey?”
“Milk.”
“And in the milk?”
“Nothing. Wait, no now I remember, the tiniest drop of vodka.”
Marianne bit her lip. “And you Angelique, what had you taken?”
Angelique’s head snapped round. “Only a drink. I only drink vodka or champagne. Why? What’s it to you?” Angelique pulled the fur more tightly around her shoulders.
Marianne could see perspiration on her upper lip.
“I see you’re packed to go,” she said.
“As soon as the ferry is ready to leave, I’ll be on it. I’ve had enough of this place. I’m not a bit happy about Joey staying here, but it will have to do, until Ryan gets his act together and my maintenance and Joey’s custody arrangements are settled.” She flashed Marianne a look. “But in the meantime, I guess you’re harmless enough.”
A Change of Heart (The Heartfelt Series) Page 15
