But Lola didn’t need to. With just one look at her daughter, Eilis had guessed already.
She brought her to the farm and made her drink a cup of home-made broth, which Lola managed to keep down for fifteen minutes. After she came back from the bathroom, her eyes almost black in her paper-white face, Eilis insisted on full disclosure. She pursed her lips when Lola told her about the hyperemesis gravidarum.
‘Your Aunt Madge suffered from it,’ she said. ‘That’s why she only had one child. She said she couldn’t go through it again.’
‘I know how she feels,’ muttered Lola.
‘So what are your plans?’ demanded Eilis. ‘You know that boyfriend of yours is going frantic looking for you?’
‘He is?’ Lola was surprised. She’d thought that Philip would be too angry with her to ever want to talk to her again. And then it struck her. He knew about the earrings. He thought she’d taken them. That she was a thief. Her stomach lurched.
‘He phoned here earlier. That’s how I found out you were at Nuala’s.’
‘I didn’t think he’d call,’ said Lola.
‘Why don’t you want to talk to him? Have you had a row about this unplanned pregnancy? Is he trying to say it’s nothing to do with him?’ Eilis looked grimmer than ever.
‘He doesn’t know about it,’ said Lola. She didn’t say anything about the earrings. She didn’t want to complicate matters with her mother.
‘You’d better tell him right away, so that he can take care of his responsibilities.’
The baby wasn’t Philip’s responsibility, thought Lola. It was hers. She was the one who’d skipped the pill.
‘I don’t want him to know.’
Eilis stared at her.
Lola explained about Philip’s proposal and how she’d turned him down. Eilis said the same to her as the girls had done – that things had changed and she had to think about the baby. But Lola was insistent that it would be more of a mistake to marry someone when she had doubts.
‘It’s a bit late to talk about mistakes!’ cried Eilis. ‘I’d say getting pregnant is a far bigger one.’
‘No point in making two,’ said Lola.
‘So you’re happy to bring disgrace on this family?’
‘Oh, come on, Mam. It’s not a disgrace.’
‘Maybe not in Dublin. But in Cloghdrom . . .’
‘You’d be happy for me to be married to someone I don’t love?’
‘You shouldn’t have slept with him.’
‘Girls do.’ Lola kept her voice steady with difficulty. ‘Girls sleep with boys and get blamed for falling pregnant. We’re the ones who are looked down on and called sluts, while they get on with their lives, and it’s bloody well not fair!’
‘Life isn’t fair! You know that.’
‘I do know that, yes. But I’m not making a bad situation worse by marrying him. Besides, he probably wouldn’t want me now.’
‘The Warrens won’t allow him to walk away from you. This baby is their grandchild too, you know.’
‘Look, right now I’m only barely pregnant,’ said Lola. ‘You know yourself that nobody ever talks about it until they’re around three months gone. I’m so sick, every time I throw up I think the baby will come with it! I’ll tell him when I need to.’
‘And when will that be?’
But Lola didn’t answer.
And she didn’t know which would be harder to confess to him. Being pregnant with his child or having a pair of Warren’s earrings hidden in her soap box.
Chapter 8
Briolette: a faceted tear-drop-shaped stone
After she’d recovered from another bout of severe sickness the following morning, Lola rang the Warren’s shop in Duke Lane. Lorraine told her that Philip wasn’t there.
‘Was he expecting to come in today?’ she continued. ‘I thought he was going to be at least a week on crutches.’
Lola was gobsmacked at the woman’s words and immediately asked what on earth had happened.
‘Don’t you know?’ said Lorraine. ‘Haven’t you seen him or phoned him?’
‘Not since Friday,’ she said. ‘I’ve been sick.’
‘Oh,’ said Lorraine. ‘Well . . . he crashed his car.’
‘Oh my God! Is he OK?’
‘He’s broken a bone in his foot and he’s in a surgical boot,’ said Lorraine. ‘So naturally he hasn’t come into the shop. Look, I’ve got to go, there’s a customer waiting.’
‘Of course. Thanks, Lorraine.’
Lola replaced the receiver slowly. Then she picked it up again, took a deep breath and dialled the Warren house in Rathgar.
Philip, who’d been dozing in the conservatory, wasn’t quick enough to pick it up before Adele answered. She came into the room and told him that Lola wanted to talk to him.
‘She’s probably changed her mind about splitting up with you,’ she said. ‘Realises which side her bread is buttered. I hope you hold firm.’
‘Give it a rest, Mum.’ Philip hauled himself out of the chair and went to the phone.
‘Hello,’ he said. ‘I wondered if I’d ever hear from you again. I thought you were too much of a career girl to throw a sickie, but obviously work only matters when you’re choosing it over me.’
‘I am sick,’ said Lola. ‘I’ve come to the farm to recuperate.’
‘Your mother said you weren’t there.’
‘I wasn’t when you rang.’
‘Where were you?’
‘That doesn’t matter. Look, I’m phoning you because I have those earrings.’
‘Your conscience finally woke up, then?’
‘I didn’t realise I was still wearing them. I forgot to take them off in the shop, and—’
‘And you were too sick to bother getting in touch straight away.’
‘I told you, I didn’t know I had them.’
‘Yeah, right. You’ve probably spent the weekend out and about in them, throwing yourself at other men. Well listen to me, Lola Fitzpatrick, you’d better get them back to me right now.’
‘I . . . I’m not sure how to do that,’ said Lola. ‘I’ll be in Cloghdrom for a few weeks. Can you come and get them?’
‘Haven’t you heard about my accident?’ he asked. ‘Caused by how upset I was about you, by the way.’
‘Lorraine told me. I rang the shop, you see, and—’
‘I’m lucky I wasn’t killed,’ said Philip. ‘Not that you’d care. In fact you’d probably have been delighted. That way you could have kept the Bluebells.’
‘Don’t be stupid,’ she snapped, and then swallowed a couple of times as a wave of nausea hit her. ‘I’m sorry you had an accident, but it wasn’t my fault, and being sick . . .’ She’d been about to say that wasn’t her fault either, but of course it was. ‘I can send them registered post,’ she said. ‘It will take a few days, though.’
‘Are you out of your mind?’ demanded Philip. ‘They’re worth thousands. Even with registered post I wouldn’t risk them. You’ll have to come back to Dublin with them.’
‘I can’t,’ said Lola.
‘Yes you bloody well can. Get the bus.’
‘Please, Philip. It’s not possible.’
‘Listen to me. I want those earrings and I want them before Friday. Otherwise I’m going to the police.’
‘Philip!’
‘Just think,’ he said. ‘If you’d said yes, you’d be the owner of a diamond ring and maybe those earrings too. As it is, you don’t own them; you’ve taken them without permission, which in anyone’s book is stealing. You’re lucky I haven’t reported you already. I don’t care how you get them to me, but you’d better do it, unless you want to end up on Garda Patrol .’ He slammed the phone down.
Lola stared at the receiver.
Then she raced to the bathroom again.
Philip felt as though he’d dodged a bullet. The longer he’d gone without being able to contact Lola, the more he’d worried about having to confess to his father that she had the Bluebell
earrings. Having made it clear to her that she’d have to get them back to him, he was feeling relieved. But his relief was short lived, because that evening Richard asked him about them himself.
‘I was doing a stock check,’ he said. ‘They’re missing, but Lorraine says you know all about it.’
‘Well, yes,’ said Philip. ‘It’s just that Lola has them, and—’
‘Lola!’ Adele, who was sitting in the armchair near the window, looked up sharply. ‘But you’ve broken up with her. Did she buy them?’
‘Of course not. She couldn’t possibly afford them. She didn’t realise she had them,’ said Philip.
His parents stared at him.
‘She was wearing them in the shop and she left still wearing them, and—’
‘Was this before or after you asked her to marry you?’ demanded Adele.
‘After, but that—’
‘She deliberately walked out of the shop with a pair of Bluebell earrings?’
‘Yes, but—’
‘I knew it,’ said Adele. ‘That girl had her eye on the jewellery from the start. She always intended to have something. She’s nothing more than a common thief.’
‘She could’ve had an engagement ring if she’d said yes,’ Philip pointed out.
‘But she would have had to marry you for that,’ said Adele. ‘Why hasn’t she returned them?’
‘Because she went home to the farm.’
‘Why?’
‘I don’t know!’ cried Philip. ‘I suppose she was upset at not saying yes to me.’
Adele snorted. ‘She probably went home for some country hoedown and decided she’d wear those beautiful earrings to impress people.’
‘Maybe.’ Philip sighed.
‘She should have brought them back immediately,’ said Richard. ‘You should have made sure that she did.’
‘In case it escaped your notice, I’ve been a bit incapacitated,’ said Philip.
‘It’s almost as though she planned it.’ Adele tapped her foot angrily.
‘In fairness, she could hardly have planned Philip’s car accident,’ Richard pointed out.
‘I’ll get them back from her,’ said Philip.
‘You’d better,’ Adele said. ‘Otherwise we’re calling the police.’
‘I told her that already,’ said Philip.
‘So you think she’s stolen them too?’ asked Richard.
‘I don’t know what to think. Except that I thought I loved her, and I was a total idiot. And I guess you’re both happy about that.’
Neither of his parents replied.
Philip was fuming. Lola Fitzpatrick had made an utter fool of him, and he’d never forgive her for that.
Ever.
The Agreement
Four years later
Chapter 9
Peridot: a green semi-precious gemstone
Your life could change in an instant, thought Lola as she looked out of the window to where her daughter was chasing the farm kittens, falling over as she rushed after them but getting up straight away and starting the chase again. In all her plans, she’d never considered being the unmarried mother of a three year old. She’d thought that crisis pregnancies happened to other people, dismissing unmarried mothers as stupid fools. Yet she’d been the foolish one. She’d been the one who’d had to go rushing back to her own mother when everything had gone so spectacularly pear shaped.
Even if she’d had the faintest thought of telling Philip Warren about her pregnancy, it had disappeared when Shirley had called her a few days after a visit to the farmhouse. Lola had given her the Bluebell earrings to return to him – wrapped in cotton wool and sealed in an envelope – and when Shirley phoned to tell her the deed was done, she also told her how angry Philip had been.
‘He said you could rot in hell for all he cared.’ She repeated his words exactly. ‘He said you were lucky they didn’t call the police.’
‘I suppose I was,’ said Lola. ‘Adele never liked me; she’d probably have been delighted to see me arrested!’
‘Ah, Lola . . .’
‘I made such a mistake with all of them,’ said Lola. ‘But it’s a whole new ball game for me now. I’m going to have my baby and I never need to talk to them again.’
‘But you’ll have to tell Philip when it’s born,’ said Shirley. ‘You can’t keep quiet.’
‘Of course I can,’ said Lola.
And she had. For three years. But now . . . she continued to watch the little girl through the kitchen window . . . now things were changing. And she wasn’t as sure of everything as she’d been before.
It had been a simple moment that had caused her to think differently, the day Danny Coghlan, one of the farmhands, had come into the kitchen looking for her father.
‘Dad’s not here,’ Lola told him. ‘I’m not sure where he’s gone.’
‘Daddy!’ Bey beamed at Danny. ‘Daddy!’
Danny blushed deep scarlet as Lola burst out laughing.
‘She calls every man who comes into the kitchen Daddy,’ she reassured him. ‘It’s not just you.’
But when she was relating the story to the rest of the family over dinner, she suddenly realised it wasn’t really a laughing matter. Right now, Bey didn’t care who her father was. But one day she would. One day, just as everyone had said to Lola, she’d have a right to know.
‘I’ve been selfish,’ Lola told Eilis that night. ‘I came here and took advantage of you and I didn’t take proper responsibility for what I’d done.’
‘Nonsense,’ said Eilis. ‘Sure where else would you go, pet? We’re your family and we love you.’
‘You’ve been brilliant,’ said Lola. ‘You haven’t judged me, you’ve supported me and Bey, you’ve done everything a mother could do. But I have to stand on my own two feet again, Mam. And I have to think about what’s right for Bey. She deserves to know that every man in wellington boots isn’t her father. And Philip should know he has a daughter. Whatever his feelings are about it.’
‘I’m glad you’ve finally recognised it,’ Eilis said. ‘You know your dad and I will always be happy to have you here. And we both love Bey to bits. But there’s unfinished business between you and Philip Warren and you need to deal with it.’
‘You’re right,’ said Lola and smiled at her. ‘But then you’re my mammy. You’re always right.’
‘Get away with you!’ Eilis laughed. ‘So what are your plans?’
‘I called Shirley,’ said Lola. ‘I’m going to Dublin. I’ll stay with her for a while and then I’ll get in touch with Philip and tell him. I know he’ll be furious with me, but I’ll get over it. I’ve got over everything else, after all.’
‘You won’t regret it,’ said Eilis.
‘I hope not,’ Lola said. ‘I really do.’
Shirley was renting a small terraced cottage in North Strand, close to the city centre. Her former flatmates, Crona and Fidelma, had moved on. Crona was nursing in Oman, while Fidelma was engaged and living with her fiancé. Shirley had split from her most recent boyfriend. ‘I’m clearly congenitally incapable of having a relationship that lasts for more than three months,’ she told Lola when she arrived a couple of weeks later. ‘So I’ve decided to be a single lady around town and settle down in a place of my own instead of a scummy flatshare. It’s not much, but it’s home. I can’t believe whole families used to live here in the past – there’s hardly even room for me and a cat – but I suppose people’s aspirations have changed.’
‘It’s fabulous,’ said Lola as she settled Bey, who’d fallen asleep seconds before the taxi from the bus station had pulled up outside the door. ‘I really have to start thinking about moving out of the farmhouse.’
‘I thought you liked being at home. After all, you resigned from the Civil Service to stay there.’
‘I had to resign. I would’ve been out sick for ages and I couldn’t have stayed working there after Bey was born.’ Lola took the big pink mug of tea that Shirley had made for her. ‘Mam has
been great over the last few years, but I can’t rely on her forever. Besides, living at the farm makes me feel like a kid myself sometimes.’
‘Would you marry Philip now?’ asked Shirley. ‘If he asked you?’
Lola laughed. ‘I think Mam secretly hopes we’ll get married and live happily ever after,’ she said. ‘But that’s not going to happen.’
‘Even if he asked you? Because of Bey?’
‘That’s highly unlikely,’ said Lola. ‘Especially after everything he said to you about me. No, I’m going to tell him he has a daughter, and assure him I’m not looking for anything from him. I’ll say I’m looking for work in town so that he can see her if he wants. After that, it’s up to him.’
‘You’re doing the right thing,’ Shirley told her.
‘I know,’ said Lola. ‘I should have told him at the start. You were all right about that. I was too stubborn to see it.’
‘Ah, listen, you were sick as anything and in no fit state to make decent decisions,’ said Shirley. ‘The main thing is you’re going to put things right now.’
‘I hope Philip sees it that way,’ said Lola.
She was allowing herself two days in Dublin before contacting him. Two days to remember the person she’d been before everything had changed so abruptly.
Even with Bey in tow, she was able to connect with the girl she’d been a few years earlier. She revelled in the anonymity of city life, of walking out of the house and not seeing anyone she knew, not being asked how she was and how Bey was getting along. She enjoyed the freedom of coming and going as she pleased without having to tell her mother her plans – or knowing that someone else would tell her anyway because nothing stayed secret in Cloghdrom for very long.
‘I’m a city girl at heart,’ she told Shirley as they drank iced smoothies in St Stephen’s Green and luxuriated in an unexpected spell of fine weather. ‘I know Cloghdrom is heavenly at this time of the year, but it’s so damn quiet. Whereas here we’re in a lovely park in the centre of the city and I can combine greenery and flowers with the sound of cars and planes.’
Shirley laughed. ‘It’s not Manhattan,’ she said. ‘It’s just Dublin.’
What Happened That Night: The page-turning holiday read by the No. 1 bestselling author Page 8
