Although she tried to avoid talking about it, later that night as they sat in the restaurant that Claire had booked for them, Heather found herself pouring out the whole story about Kirsty and her father.
‘Oh, no!’ Claire said, pressing the napkin to her mouth. ‘I can’t bear the thought of all this bitterness in the family. We’ve gone through enough bitterness in the Grace family – and it just shouldn’t be happening all over again.’
Chapter 65
Kirsty had forced down as much of her Sunday lunch as she could physically manage, and Sophie had said nothing as she scraped the leftover roast potatoes and chicken into the bin. It had been ten days since she last saw Larry and it felt like a lifetime away. There were times when she was even finding it difficult to remember what his face looked like or how his voice sounded.
She had spent a lot of the time up in her bedroom going over and over what had happened and wondering how she could have handled it better. She had only discovered Larry’s feelings for her the night they were stranded and she couldn’t possibly have told her father that the very next day. He had immediately been suspicious of the situation, and she had felt it best to give it all a bit of time to settle down before confessing that there was indeed a romance between her and Larry.
But of course she hadn’t been patient enough . . . she’d had to jump the gun and phone him and rush things on. Rush things on so quickly that she now couldn’t see him at all. And if they waited to see how things worked out – as Larry was now suggesting – they might never see each other again. He would probably meet somebody else more suitable in the meantime, somebody nearer his own age.
Somebody like those glamorous McCluskey women.
There were always women around like that, desperate to get their clutches into someone like Larry Delaney. And somebody like Kirsty Grace would never be able to compete. As she lay back on her bed, she wondered for the hundredth time if there was any point in going down to speak to her father again. To try to make him understand things. So far she had followed her mother’s advice and just let things lie for a while. But it looked as though it was going to lie for ever.
The doorbell sounded and when it went for the second time, Sophie called along the hallway from her sewing-room for Kirsty to answer it. Fintan had obviously gone out somewhere. She moved from the bed and went downstairs, and as she walked along the hallway she could see, through the glass panel in the door, a figure in a red coat moving from side to side. For a moment she thought it was a child – as it was the kind of hopping, jittery movement that children made – then she realised it was too tall for a child.
When she opened the door she was both surprised and shocked to see Liz Mullen standing there with a letter in her hand and tears streaming unchecked down her face.
‘Is Heather in?’ she asked in a shaky voice, her face red and puffy from crying.
‘No,’ Kirsty said, opening the door wide. ‘She’s gone to Glasgow for the weekend . . . she won’t be back until tomorrow.’
If it was possible, Liz’s face looked even more miserable at the news.
Kirsty stared at her now, not quite knowing what to say or do. ‘As far as I know, she’s staying at our auntie’s, and then going straight into work tomorrow morning.’ She wasn’t quite sure as she hadn’t paid any attention to Heather when she’d been telling their mother the arrangements. Kirsty stepped back now. ‘Come on in, Liz,’ she said kindly. ‘You look as though you could do with a cup of tea or something . . .’
Liz glanced back over her shoulder, checking there was no one else around. ‘I’m nearly out of my mind . . .’ she whispered. ‘Jim’s gone – and he’s not coming back.’ She would have by far preferred to divulge all this to Heather, but since she wasn’t there, she decided to take a chance on Kirsty. She couldn’t face going back home straightaway, as she had felt she desperately needed to get out of the house.
‘Gone where?’ Kirsty said in a shocked voice, moving closer to her.
Liz held out the letter. ‘I got it this morning. He must have pushed it through the door when we were all in bed last night.’ She gave a little cough to clear her throat. ‘You can read it for yourself. It says everything in it.’
‘Come into the kitchen, it’s freezing standing here,’ Kirsty said, ushering her in and closing the door behind her.
Dear Liz, Kirsty read, sitting opposite Liz at the kitchen table.
By the time you read this I’ll be a long way from Rowanhill. I was never sure about getting married, and I was only doing it because you were expecting. But now there’s no baby, I think getting married would definitely be the wrong thing for me to do. Since Gerry died I’ve been thinking a lot, and I realise that we’ve only got one life to live and we don’t know when that will end. It could be today or tomorrow – none of us knows. If Gerry had gone to Australia, I’d always planned on following him later, but now that will never happen. He’s gone and he’s never coming back.
If we’d got married and Gerry had stuck with Heather, things might have worked out here. The idea of getting married didn’t seem as bad when there was the four of us. We could have all gone out together and got houses near each other and still all kept pals. But now Gerry’s gone, it’s all different.
I know getting married to you or any other girl at this time would be a big, big mistake. I’ve decided I’m going to go out to Australia on my own and start a brand-new life. Gerry’s uncle has offered to give me the start he was going to give him.
I’m going to London for a bit until it’s all organised then I’ll go straight out. I won’t be back home in between, as I think it’s the best way.
I’m very sorry for hurting you like this, but better now than in a few years’ time when we have a family.
I hope you find somebody else who is more suited to you,
Jim
Kirsty put the letter down on the table and shook her head. ‘Oh, Liz,’ she said, her own eyes filling up with tears, ‘I’m so, so sorry . . .’
Liz nodded, grateful for Kirsty’s sympathy. ‘My mammy says she’s delighted, she says it would never have worked . . . she said Jim wasn’t dependable, and that I was the one that always did the running.’
‘I don’t know what to say to you,’ Kirsty reached across the table and squeezed Liz’s hand, ‘because I know you really loved him. I’m not going to say the same things that your mother has said because I know it won’t help you. You loved him and that’s the only thing that matters to you.’ And then, because she wanted to make this sad girl feel a bit better and because she needed to talk about it with somebody else, she suddenly blurted out, ‘You’re not going to believe it . . . but I’m in a similar position myself. I’m in love with a man, and I’ve lost him too.’
Liz looked up at Kirsty now, not sure if she was hearing right or whether Kirsty might even be joking. They had a very different sense of humour at times. ‘Are you being serious?’ she checked in a strained voce.
‘Yes I am,’ Kirsty told her. ‘I’m being very serious.’ Then she poured out the whole story about the romance between herself and Larry and all the trouble it had caused. Liz had sat open-mouthed, unable to believe that the skittish Kirsty, who was always teasing her about running after Jim, was sitting there telling her how she was madly in love with an older man.
Later, when they’d drunk two cups of strong tea and sympathised greatly with each other, Kirsty put her coat on and called upstairs to her mother that she was going to walk back up to Liz’s house with her. She was glad that Sophie had stayed upstairs and that her father hadn’t walked in on Liz breaking her heart over Jim. If they had been all understanding and sympathetic with Heather’s friend, Kirsty would have had to walk out, because Fintan had certainly shown no sympathy where his own daughter was concerned. In fact, he had never appeared less understanding in the whole of his life.
The girls walked slowly, talking in low whispers all the way, and then they stood outside Liz’s door, talking some
more until they were both starting to get stiff from the chilled winter air.
‘You better go,’ Liz said. ‘It’s going to be dark soon, and you can’t take a chance on being out on your own.’
‘Aye, you’re right,’ Kirsty said. ‘I wish they’d catch that blidey nuisance – you can’t walk the streets at night now without bein’ afraid of your life.’
‘They’re supposed to have brought somebody in for questioning,’ Liz paused. ‘You’ll let Heather know,’ she said, ‘won’t you? I’ll need her more now that Jim’s . . .’ She stopped abruptly now, trying not to break down again.
Kirsty nodded. Even though she and Heather weren’t great friends now, she wouldn’t leave Liz in the lurch. ‘I might even give her a quick ring from the phone box on my way home. I think I have my auntie’s number in my purse somewhere.’ She had copied it down on a slip of paper the time she and her father went out to Claire’s when Heather had fainted.
She looked at Liz now, and knew that however bad she was feeling herself, poor Liz’s life was completely shattered. One minute she had a wedding and a baby to look forward to – and the next minute she didn’t even have a boyfriend.
‘Maybe when you’re feeling a wee bit better we might have a night out . . . Maybe just the pictures or something quiet like that?’
Liz gave a deep sigh. ‘The way I’m feelin’ I don’t think I’ll ever want to go out socially again. But thanks, Kirsty, you’ve been a big help.’ She managed a terse little smile. ‘I’ve known you for years – but I didn’t know you could be so nice.’
The compliment almost took Kirsty’s breath away, because the implication behind it was that she wasn’t always nice to people. But today wasn’t the day to start heaping more problems onto her already troubled mind.
Kirsty went into the phone box with the slip of paper with Claire’s number written on it. She had her four pennies all ready, but when she dialled the number it was engaged. She waited and tried again but it was still engaged. She looked out of the grimy phone-box window at the darkening sky. She’d go home now and tell her mother what had happened and maybe in an hour or two they might both walk up and try phoning Claire’s number again.
Then, just as she had her hand on the phone-box door to push it open, she suddenly halted. She turned back to the phone and before she could stop herself she had dialled Larry Delaney’s number.
After only two rings he picked up the phone and at the sound of his voice Kirsty felt herself shaking so badly that she had difficulty pressing in the coins, fumbling and almost dropping them. Eventually the money went in, the pips stopped and the line became clear.
‘It’s Kirsty,’ she said in a breathless voice. ‘I was in the phone box and I –’
‘Are you all right?’ he cut across. ‘I’ve been worried sick about you.’
‘I’m OK,’ she said, not sounding OK at all. ‘I’ve missed you like mad.’
‘And I’ve missed you, darling,’ he told her. ‘But I’ve been busy sorting things out – trying to make things easier for us to be together when it’s all settled down.’
Her heart lifted at his faith in the fact that they would be together at some point. ‘What do you mean?’
‘About David,’ he said. ‘I’ve been out to see Helen and the fellow she’s with, and they were going to see a lawyer this week to have something official signed to state that he is actually David’s father.’
Kirsty caught her breath. ‘How do you feel about it?’
‘I’ve very mixed feelings,’ he told her, his voice sounding weary now. ‘But it couldn’t go on the way it was . . . and although I love him, I think I always knew deep down that he wasn’t mine. As I said before, it’s better for him to be part of a real family with both his mother and father. That would never have happened with me and Helen.’ There was a pause on the line. ‘It means that there’s one less thing for us to worry about with your family.’
‘My father’s been terrible,’ Kirsty said now. ‘We’ve hardly spoken all week. He’s still convinced that you deliberately organised us to be in the hotel for the night together, and he won’t believe that nothing happened in your flat when we were there together.’
Larry gave a big sigh. ‘I wish you’d agree to me coming out to see him and explain the whole situation properly to him – man to man.’
‘He won’t listen, Larry. He wouldn’t let you in the door.’
‘But he needs to know that we were telling the truth about that night in the hotel. He needs to know that nothing did happen – and I would never have let it.’
‘Well, it was me who wanted to go further,’ Kirsty said.
‘And you’ll never know how much I wanted to make love to you,’ Larry told her, his voice hoarse with emotion. ‘But the fact is we didn’t. But it was very unfortunate the way it all looked. I can actually see why your father is angry, and I would never have put us in that position if I’d known how it would turn out.’ He halted. ‘I was just trying to give us a bit of time on our own to make sure you really knew what you were getting into. I wanted you to know all about my background – I didn’t want you to be under any illusions about me. I didn’t want you to think I was somebody I wasn’t.’
‘After these few months together,’ Kirsty told him, ‘I know everything I need to know about you. I know enough to know I don’t want anybody else.’
‘Good,’ he said in a low, gentle voice. ‘That’s all that matters.’ The line was silent again for a few moments. ‘Don’t worry about anything, Kirsty,’ he told her. ‘It’s all going to be sorted soon.’
‘But how?’ she asked. ‘How can this be sorted?’
‘I’ll find a way . . . I promise.’
Chapter 66
Heather had really enjoyed her weekend out at the McPhersons’ house. Claire had planned everything down to the last minute, and it had taken her mind off all the things that had recently happened back in Rowanhill.
She loved everything about her aunt’s house. She’d loved sleeping in the comfortable big double bed with the electric blanket, she loved all the vases with the fresh flowers and the fancy little ornaments and she loved all the unusual meals that Claire had cooked for her. She’d really enjoyed the meal they had out in the hotel on the Friday night, and then all the different but interesting things they’d done over the weekend.
On the Saturday morning after a breakfast of crispy rolls and bacon, they’d driven into Glasgow around eleven o’clock and spent the rest of the day shopping. They went into Lewis’s department store where there were still loads of things left in the January sales. Claire had been very generous and bought Heather a lovely grey tweed skirt with a matching grey sweater and made her pick a similar outfit in blue for Kirsty. Claire had brushed away Heather’s offer of paying for them herself. ‘They’re less than half-price,’ Claire had said, ‘and anyway, I owe you and Kirsty a few presents for all those times I didn’t see you.’
Later, when they were in the tea-room having a hot drink and a cake, Claire came back to the same subject. ‘I feel I’ll be trying to make it up to you and Kirsty for the next few years.’ She stretched across the small table and rubbed Heather’s arm affectionately. ‘I’m really glad your father and Pat had the sense to forget all the differences we had, and I wish Mona would do the same thing.’
‘She’s always been awkward,’ Heather said, lifting her teacup. ‘She never seems happy unless she’s something to snipe and moan about.’ She gave a little giggle. ‘My mammy says she’s well named – Moan-a.’
Her aunt nodded but didn’t smile. The wound between herself and Mona was too deep for that. ‘I’ll never forgive her if she stops me seeing Lily again,’ she stated. ‘Because that wee girl will grow up thinking I didn’t care about her, when I think the world of her.’ She sighed. ‘And this is all because I married an older man who was a different religion. Surely people should realise that we can’t choose who we fall in love with? And what does it matter what a g
rown adult chooses to do if it’s not actually hurting anybody else?’
She looked straight at Heather now, her green eyes piercing and direct. ‘Mona Grace is no angel, you know. She’s not always followed the rules of the Catholic Church. In fact, she’s the last one who should be throwing stones at anybody – but people are too afraid of her to speak out.’
‘What do you mean?’ Heather asked, intrigued now. Surely her sanctimonious Auntie Mona had nothing to hide?
‘Look,’ Claire said, putting her empty cup back into her saucer, ‘if I were to start gossiping about Mona for the sake of it, it would make me just as bad as her. If people would just get on with their own lives and let others get on with theirs, we wouldn’t have all this animosity.’
Heather felt a real pang of guilt when her aunt made the statement, because she knew she had caused some of the animosity in her own family. She had been horrible to Kirsty about Larry Delaney, and she knew her sister was right. She hadn’t got to know him. She hadn’t even given him a chance.
When they came back from the shops Claire made a lovely meal with quiche and salad and chips and a glass of cold white wine, and then they had a homemade chocolate pudding to follow. They spent the rest of the evening watching television and reading fashion magazines and drinking coffee, and then Claire went into the kitchen to start preparing beef goulash for dinner the following day.
When she was on her own, Heather found her mind kept flitting back to Kirsty, and she wished they had a phone in the house, because she would have felt better if she could have phoned her and checked how she was.
Sunday was equally nice. They got up around nine o’clock and had a lovely cooked breakfast of bacon, sausages, black puddings and fried eggs, while still wearing their pyjamas and dressing-gowns. Heather wished that Mona could have seen them so easy and relaxed, sitting at the kitchen table, chatting and at times singing along with the radio. Heather felt every bit as relaxed as she would have done in her own house, and there was no way that anyone could have accused Claire of acting uppity or over-formal.
The Grace Girls Page 48
