A Change of Heart (The Heartfelt Series)

by Adrienne Vaughan

  “No wonder Sinead’s been cosying up to him, trying to get her feet under the table; stepping into Oonagh’s shoes when I’m out of the way.”

  “Whoa, where’s this coming from? Sinead is one of our best friends, she’s not cosying up to anyone, she’s a great girl, what would we have done without her?” Ryan watched as Marianne picked up her glass and took a deep draught.

  “Precisely, making herself indispensable,” she was snippy.

  “How many of those have you had?” he asked, gently.

  “None of your bloody business,” she replied and turned to leave.

  He crossed the room, gripping her by the elbows.

  “Don’t be like this. All I wanted to do was show you that you have the freedom to choose. Your work is important, it’s part of what makes you who you are. I don’t want to turn up with all my baggage and dump everything on you. I want to be with you, I want a relationship with you first. You decide whether you want the baggage or not, but when you’ve decided about me, whether I’m the one you want to spend the rest of your life with.”

  There was a long silence. She turned to face him, looking up at him with sorrowful watery eyes. She blinked, two large tears slid down her cheeks.

  “There’s something else?” he asked.

  She nodded. “The Lost Babies. Someone came on the website today who said her baby sons had been taken, taken by their father, her own husband, and he’s sold them. Sold them to feed and clothe their other children because he’s dying of cancer and won’t be around to provide for them.” Tears splashed onto Ryan’s hands as he held hers. She took a deep breath.

  “No wonder you’re upset. Do you know when this was, where it happened?” he squeezed her fingers, trying to take the pain away.

  “That’s the most upsetting part. It happened last month, here in Ireland,” she said in a dead voice.

  “Is that one of the reasons you thought it might be a good idea to become a full-time mom?” he asked.

  She nodded.

  “And because you’re so worn out and exhausted with everything that’s going on, you don’t feel as if you can continue with your work. You don’t want to run the Lost Babies website anymore, and you want to stop the project to turn the big house into a holiday home for kids who don’t get a holiday? Christ, I’ve been so selfish!” he said. She frowned at him. “Making things in my life a priority, when my priority in life should be you,” he smoothed her hair back and kissed her forehead. She sniffed loudly. “Now all that’s off your chest, how about a nice cup of tea?”

  She nodded.

  “Come on, we’ll eat in bed, I’ll bring up a tray. You get nice and cosy and we can talk everything through tomorrow. You always say things look better in the morning, especially on Innishmahon.”

  “They always do.” She gave him a weak smile.

  “I love you,” he told her. “I won’t let anything happen to hurt you ever. That’s my job in life now, you do know that don’t you?”

  “Yes Ryan, I know that,” she agreed, smiling now. “I also know Sinead is up to something. Much as I like her, she’s definitely up to something.” She started upstairs, albeit a trifle wobbly.

  “You’re so suspicious Marianne. It must be the journalistic training. Is there no-one you trust?” he said, disappearing into the kitchen.

  She stood on the stairs, swaying a little. “I trust you, you and Monty.” Monty thumped his tail at the mention of his name. She turned and wagged her finger at him. “Don’t you two ever let me down is all I’m saying. Whatever happens, I have you two, right?” she tried to climb upwards but stood on her slipper, tripped and landed with a thud on her arse on the landing - the drink in her hand, aloft.

  “Ha, ha,” she said, as Ryan’s head reappeared. Monty was on the first step, poised to fly to her aid. “Didn’t spill a drop. Look not one drop. Not pissed you see, not pissed at all,” she started giggling to herself.

  Ryan raised an eyebrow at Monty. Monty gave his nose a twitch and trotted back to his basket. I’ll leave that one with you, he seemed to say as he settled under his blanket. Marianne was still fully dressed and out-for-the-count by the time Ryan arrived with the tray. He ate his prawns and toast as quietly as he could, watching her sleep.

  Chapter Twenty Three

  The Prodigal Daughter

  Autumn was refusing to give way to winter as the last days of October burned streaky bronze sunsets across the bay and a gentle ripple of sea flicked lazily on the sand. The air was pungent with the scent of peat fires as Miss MacReady, slipping off her suede gilet to serve as a groundsheet, pushed the faded gold cap back from her eyes and sat down. She was halfway up the cliff on a broad ledge, sitting sideways on. If she turned left she looked directly to the Atlantic and, with a bit of imagination, America; to her right, the sweep of Horseshoe Bay, the lane beyond and the village. She could just make out the pub sign, with the roof of Weathervane nestling behind. She had been coming to this spot all her life. It was a magical place, allowing her wildest dreams to twist and soar high above the waves and yet it kept her grounded, anchored to the island shore, while her fantasies ran free.

  She fiddled with the glittering bracelet on her wrist, stretched out her long fingers to admire how the jewels in her rings flashed in the sunlight and, taking her mobile out of her pocket, dialled his number. The phone gave the long steady ring tone signalling she was dialling foreign parts.

  “It’s me,” she said in hushed tones, though no-one was around to hear her high on her Irish cliff. “What’s the plan?” she listened intently to the response. “Okay, I get it. A couple of guys turn up, make a bit of a mess, break into the safe, yes? I’m to hide the jewellery somewhere else, okay. We’ve to report the burglary to the police, make a fuss ...the newspapers, TV and so forth ...yes got all that.” She went quiet while she listened. “Okay, I understand, but we don’t really know what’s genuine and what’s fake. Any idea what the value could be if say half of it is the real deal?” she waited. “What? Five million dollars! Are you serious? That’s in the post office, sitting in my safe? Dear Lord, why didn’t you say? Good God, man, I could have been robbed, murdered in my bed!” she squawked down the phone. The voice on the other end was trying to calm her.

  “Alright, okay, but get the job organised as soon as you can. I’d no idea there was that amount on the premises, I’m quite overcome.” She fanned her face with her hand and half a million in diamonds twinkled in the sun. “Keep me posted. Goodbye now.” She flipped the phone shut and shivered. Dragging on the gilet, she pulled her hat over her ears and climbed nimbly down to the shore. It she had not been wearing so many of the gems in question she would have called into Maguire’s for a much-needed Bloody Mary. She started off towards the post office, then changed her mind. Sure, no-one in Maguire’s paid any attention to anything she was wearing, ever. She turned back and headed for the pub.

  Marianne had been up at the post office looking for her mother. After a good ‘let’s clear the air talk’ with Ryan that morning, they agreed she was to continue with her work and could be as involved with Joey and Bridget as she wished. Ryan, Padar, Sinead and Miss MacReady could all muck in with childcare as and when, just a like a real family, because that is what they were.

  As Marianne and Monty took the long way up to the post office, she thought it through again. She had a good network of friends around her and nothing to reproach herself about. Everyone was in full support of the Lost Babies website campaign and setting up the holiday home for young carers. Well, Padar was not too keen on Oonagh’s Project, but they would win him round eventually; Joan Redmond’s little nursery was a godsend. The children loved it, and on top of all that, Ryan did not have to go back to the day job for six whole months. Anything could happen in six months, she knew that well enough.

  She smiled, thinking about Ryan. He had given her a lecture about not sharing things that upset her, and after a few tears and some sweet, gentle lovemaking in their big, warm bed before break
fast, everything looked and felt a whole lot better.

  Now walking briskly along the main street, she wanted to find Miss MacReady and organise a meeting. They needed to rota out the work to be done on the big house sooner rather than later. When she arrived at the post office the ‘Back in ten minutes’ sign was on the door. She laughed. Everyone on Innishmahon had one of these signs and used them regularly. Most locals knew it rarely meant ten minutes, and if you headed to Maguire’s you usually found whoever you were looking for there.

  It was a beautiful morning so she took the beach walk back, and not five minutes later ran into the postmistress about to cross to the pub. Miss MacReady hugged her and lifted Monty to be kissed on the snout. It made him sneeze, but he loved the exotic cocktail that was Miss MacReady, so did not mind at all.

  “I haven’t seen a bit of you since you returned from New York. Was it awful? Did the press tear into you over there?” Miss MacReady asked, looking with concern into her face.

  Marianne shrugged. “They weren’t too bad. The funeral was sad though. I felt so sorry for Mr Rossini - big house, farm, vineyards, all the money and success in the world and so terribly lonely,” she said.

  Larry had not painted a particularly flattering portrait of Ryan’s boss. Miss MacReady was surprised at Marianne’s empathy towards this man who controlled so much of her world from afar.

  “Did he not have a phalanx of lawyers and all sorts bombarding ye with questions and suspicions? I believe he’s a terrible tyrant.” Miss MacReady could not resist.

  “Maybe on the set of a movie, but no, he was charming. He wanted to hear the truth about Angelique, so we told him. She led him to believe rehab had worked, but he knew the truth, you could tell. It was heartbreaking really.” She shoved her hands in her pockets, looking out to sea.

  “And Ryan, how was he about it all?” Miss MacReady asked looking into her face.

  “Sad and a little bit angry too. He’s the one who’ll have to tell Joey about his mother when he’s old enough to understand. That’s not going to be easy,” Marianne said. Miss MacReady took her arm.

  “She was a very selfish woman, and they make bad mothers, he’s better off without her,” she said sharply, “I should know.”

  Marianne wanted to ask Miss MacReady what she meant. She had been disparaging about her own mother on more than one occasion but Miss MacReady spotted someone going into Maguire’s and gripped Marianne’s arm.

  “Well, I ...” she said watching the figure disappear. “Come on.” She marched Marianne and Monty across the road.

  Padar was in the porch putting up a large poster. Halloween Hooley – Saturday Night – Dress to Distress! it said in gaudy, blood-dripping writing, with a gaggle of ghouls and ghosties floating off it on little wire springs.

  “Work of art, don’t you think?” he said as they stopped to read it. “Sinead and I did it the other night, the kids helped.” He beamed at the two women. Marianne laughed. She was pleased the Halloween party they were planning was going ahead. She loved Halloween: mystical stories and magical tales, traditional games like apples bobbing in a barrel and delicious food made with all the richness of autumn. An old-fashioned evening of story-telling, game-playing and a bit of a boogie to some appropriately spooky songs, sounded excellent.

  “I have the Finnegan Twins booked and I thought we’d start early so people can bring the whole family. Those coming by boat can get back in the daylight. Sure, we can dress the place up with pumpkins and candles,” Padar told them.

  “If we put black paper at the windows, no-one will know it’s not night. It’s great idea Padar,” Marianne agreed, as they pushed through the doors.

  Miss MacReady, taking in the whole place with a glance, seemed disappointed. She bustled up to join Father Gregory and Sean Grogan, seated in their usual places. She tapped the polished surface impatiently. Padar had disappeared into the gents, and as he ran the place on his own during the week, she would have to be unusually patient.

  “Typical,” she said loudly, “he could have waited until we at least had our drinks.”

  “No bother,” said Marianne, well used to Miss MacReady’s weird concoctions. Taking a glass from a shelf, she went to ask Miss MacReady what she wanted, when the cellar door opened and a voice called up.

  “If that’s you giving out, Kathleen MacReady, I’ll be up in a minute and I’ll make you one of my specials. You haven’t had one of them in a long time.”

  Marianne dropped the glass to the floor with a loud crash. Wide-eyed, she stepped away from the door, staring at it in horror. Father Gregory and Sean looked at each other.

  “What was that?” called the voice. Marianne started to tremble.

  “Who’s that?” Miss MacReady shouted back, but she knew who it was. “Come up here and show yourself!” she called. They heard footfall and a young woman with pale skin and a cloud of dark hair stepped through the cellar door into the bar.

  “Erin Brennan, as I live and breathe,” exclaimed Miss MacReady, rushing around the bar to embrace the newcomer. “Where did you spring from? What on earth are you doing here?”

  The woman hugged Miss MacReady warmly.

  “Always with the questions,” she said, in a deep, husky voice; Oonagh’s voice. She turned and noticed Marianne standing silently beside her. She extended her hand - the same chunky, farmer’s wife fingers. Marianne looked into familiar, grey eyes.

  “Hiya, I’m Erin,” she said.

  “Hiya,” Marianne said back, flatly.

  “Erin, this is my daughter, Marianne,” said Miss MacReady. Erin raised her eyebrows at the postmistress. “Long story,” Miss MacReady continued. “Marianne, this is Erin Brennan, native islander like myself, took off to the bright lights of the city years ago. And here she is back among us. Have you landed just this minute?” Miss MacReady smiled broadly.

  “I arrived yesterday,” Erin said, with an arm around the postmistress’ shoulders. “Not quite got my bearings yet, but so far very little has changed.”

  “Sorry about that, ladies,” Padar clattered into the bar. “Aha, I see my surprise is spoiled, so you’ve seen who’s back, Kathleen.” He grinned at them, “herself!”

  Marianne continued to look askance. Had she just entered a time-slip, a remake of Sliding Doors? She could hear whooshing in her ears as she gripped the bar for balance. Father Gregory noticed.

  “Perhaps we should have mentioned, Marianne,” the priest said softly. “Erin is Oonagh’s younger sister. You can probably see the likeness.”

  Marianne’s mouth was dry; she struggled to find her voice.

  “I didn’t know, I can’t remember Oonagh ever mentioning she had a sister. I’m sorry.”

  Erin smiled, but her eyes stayed hard.

  “Don’t apologise. I’m sure she never did, we weren’t what you’d call close.”

  “Oh,” was all Marianne could manage, looking at the glass on the floor, “I’ll go and fetch the dustpan.”

  As she left, she heard Miss MacReady declare this was surely something to celebrate, the return of the prodigal daughter. But Father Gregory could not stay, he had some calls to make before the Stations of the Cross and despite the likelihood of at least one free drink, Sean decided he too needed to be elsewhere. He passed Marianne coming back.

  “Perfect timing, I reckon,” he said, flicking a look back at the bar.

  “What is?” she asked, still in shock.

  “Erin Brennan, back for Halloween,” he said. “Hope she hasn’t left her fecking broomstick in Padar’s disabled entrance or there’ll be hell to pay.” He left laughing at his own joke.

  “Did you ever hear of anyone called Erin Brennan?” Marianne asked Sinead later that day, as they sat on the little sofas Joan Redmond arranged in the kindergarten for grownups to enjoy a coffee while the children played. Sinead looked at her over her cup.

  “You’ve met her then?” she said.

  Marianne nodded. “I’d no idea Oonagh had a sister, she never menti
oned her ever!” Marianne had not stayed to have a drink with Miss MacReady celebrating the return of the prodigal daughter as she called her, she was so badly shaken. She left the pub on the pretext of an urgent email, leaving Miss MacReady and Erin chatting like long-lost friends.

  “Apparently they fell out badly years ago. Oonagh, as you know, left the island in her late teens, Erin’s a bit younger, she took up where Oonagh left off.” Sinead spoke in hushed tones but only the children laughing in the ball pool were there.

  “Took up what?” Marianne asked.

  “With Padar. You know Oonagh was engaged to Padar when they were only teenagers. She met someone holidaying on the island and followed him back to Dublin, leaving Padar brokenhearted. Erin stepped in and she and Padar became an item.” Sinead explained.

  Marianne’s eyes widened. This had clearly all happened a very long time ago. Padar and Oonagh were the type of couple you imagined had always been together.

  “Anyway, the fella up in Dublin, one of those rich, Hooray Henry types, dumped Oonagh for the girl his parents wanted him to marry. She came running back to surprise Padar, only to burst in on himself and Erin at it like rabbits in the cellar of the pub.” Sinead put her cup down.

  Marianne blinked, “No way!”

  “Well, that’s what I was told,” Sinead said.

  “Who told you?” Marianne asked.

  “Sean Grogan, but Joan confirmed it ... Didn’t you Joan?” Sinead said to Joan as she arrived back with a couple of large brack loaves: delicious dark sticky fruit cake the Irish love to eat at Halloween, and all through the winter if the truth be told.

  “What have you involved me in now, Sinead Porter?” Joan laughed. She was small, with Brillo Pad hair, bright-blue eyes and, despite five young children, a big, bruiser of a husband and a full menagerie to care for, was always smiling. She had grown up on the island and knew the Brennan sisters well.

  Joan was slicing the cake and slavering it with rich yellow butter. Sinead went to make drinks for the children.