“Sure go on, why not?” Rob pulled out a chair and sat at the table. “Any news?” he asked Derek, who was busy rinsing two cups and grabbing a tea-towel. Chaos surrounded him in the kitchen.
“Nope, same shit different day, that’s all.”
A silence descended as they waited on the kettle boiling. Rob looked at Derek. His brother-in-law was weary, the unshaven stubble showing his indifference to keeping up appearances. Was he even going in to work each day?
“I was at the graves this morning. I can’t get my head around it all. How are you coping? I mean it, Derek, how the hell do you get through the day?” Robert didn’t apologise for his directness, he needed to ask the question; he needed to know.
Derek placed two steaming cups of coffee on the table, and then sat across from his brother-in-law.
“I get up. I eat. I try to work, and then each night I try to sleep.” Derek looked around the room, as if he was seeing it all for the first time. The stale smell of leftovers and beer cans lingered in the air.
“She would kill me if she were to walk in.” Derek got up and opened the window and gathered up some of the rubbish. “Whatever Willow was, she was a top-class housekeeper and cook.” He tried to smile, but Robert knew tears lurked, waiting, ready to burst out any moment.
“I miss her. I miss her so bloody much.” He stood by the sink, and then the tears began. He cried the tears of a man in deep grief. “I’m putting the house on the market. It’s going on the agent’s books next week.”
Rob was not surprised, he could understand it. How could Derek continue to live here after all that had happened? Robert knew he wouldn’t be strong enough to do so, if it were him.
“Have you somewhere to go, somewhere in mind?” he asked Derek.
“I’m getting out of the city altogether. I’m going to go over to Galway. My sister and brother are settled there and, well, it will be good to have family nearby. No offence, Rob,” he smiled weakly at his brother-in-law.
“None taken. I understand. Aoife and I will be over for a visit. Sure, two hours and you would be there these days.” Robert tried to lighten the mood but failed.
“I’m not abandoning Willow. She’s with her mother, so I guess she is where she’s happiest.” Derek’s voice had an edge of bitterness to it. Who could blame him? Rob thought.
“Do what’s right for you, Derek. Life moves on.” An awkward pause hung between them.
“Do you regret it?” Rob surprised himself with the question.
“Regret what? Marrying Willow?”
Robert nodded.
“No, never. We had our ups and downs, but we loved each other. Maybe if we had had children, it would have been different, but who knows? What about you? Do you think you and Aoife have a future?”
Rob stayed quiet for a few minutes. It was the thought that had played on his mind all morning. Now he was being asked outright what he was scared to give voice to.
“I hope so. I mean, I thought so, but with all the revelations lately...I wonder, can anyone ever be happy, I mean truly happy?”
“Rob, listen to me. Grab happiness anywhere you can. All relationships have rocky patches and doubts. But I don’t regret one single day I had with Willow. Do what you have to do, Rob, whatever’s right for you, but remember you are not the same man as your father. Don’t let someone else’s mistakes colour your life.”
“True, and thanks. Look, I’d better head off. Let me know what happens with this place, okay?”
After a brief moment, Robert gave his brother-in-law a quick hug and walked towards the door. Rob turned and looked at Derek as if he was going to speak, but stopped himself. Derek held out his hand and Rob shook it. They would both be okay.
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
The computer screen was alive with images as Lacey clicked on various websites. Now that she knew for definite that Cora Maguire was her mother, she wanted to contact her. She had Googled the name, and several sites mentioned the fashion designer’s work.
Lacey discovered that her mother owned a shop abroad which was her headquarters, but no longer had a base in Ireland. She specialised in wedding gowns and special occasion wear. Some of her dresses had been showcased at red carpet events, and she had a respectable following. Several television celebrities had worn her gowns and been pictured in women’s weekly magazines and monthly glossies.
Lacey’s thoughts were scattered. She found it difficult to focus. Should she go to visit Cora, or write to her, or maybe phone her? Should she do it by herself, or could she ask Sally to travel with her if she needed to go abroad? Fixing herself a sandwich and a cup of coffee, she mulled over her options. She needed to be careful how she handled this. Philip had suggested caution when dealing with such a sensitive issue.
She printed out all the details she could find about Cora’s business, and pasted them into her journal. The old photo she had found in the metal box was now displayed proudly in her bedroom. What a wealth of information that box had contained. The others had been shocked by their parents having a contract, and by what Joe Taylor’s letter held. But Lacey didn’t want to dwell on the paperwork. She was determined to find Cora, and then all the crazy details would fall into place.
Her dreams at night no longer featured faceless people. She marvelled at the beautiful gowns Cora designed and, while asleep, she saw herself striding down the catwalk in those very frocks. All eyes would be on her as she swayed her hips and swung her arms, dripping with diamond bracelets. She would be her mother’s number one model. They would hang out together, going to posh openings of theatre nights and premieres of films. She, too, would be photographed for glossy magazines. People would be amazed that they were mother and daughter and not sisters, together they would laugh at this silliness.
The mornings brought Lacey back to earth. In her dreams, Cora was her best friend, but in reality the woman was a stranger she had yet to meet. Before she’d taken her career break, Lacey had worked her way up to a good position within the department. Having received her degree in business studies, she hoped it would show her mother how mature she was. She desperately wanted Cora to be proud of her.
Her main concern was how she should approach her mother. That was the awkward bit, the concern which filled her mind the most. Once again she turned to Philip Sherman for advice. A bit old perhaps to be her knight in shining armour – she giggled at the thought – but definitely her number one saviour!
“Hi, Philip, any hope of you being free to meet?” Lacey kept her fingers crossed on her free hand as she waited for his reply.
“You have news, I take it. I can hear it in your voice. What time do you want to meet?” Lacey knew Philip was fond of her and wouldn’t let her down.
“You tell me, you’re the busy one,” she teased, knowing he was curious to find out what she knew.
“Call over about seven, is that okay?”
“See you then, and thanks.” Lacey hugged herself with happiness. She decided to take the metal box with her to show him everything they had found. He might even be able to add more detail to matters.
* * *
At seven o’clock on the dot, Lacey pressed the Shermans’ doorbell. Philip, greeting her with a warm hug, explained that his wife was out with her art buddies for an expensive dinner.
Lacey placed the metal box on the coffee table in his cosy sitting room, and said nothing. Now that she was here, she was unsure where to start and surprised by how nervous she felt.
“Do you recognise this?”
“No. Can I open it?” he asked after a few minutes, when he noticed she was hesitating. Lacey nodded.
“She kept everything in here?” he enquired, as he sifted through the envelopes. Both of them understood who “she” referred to. Again Lacey nodded.
He did recognise the contract. It bore his headed notepaper and his seal of office. He didn’t need to read it, he was able to recall the details of that particular agreement in his mind. Lacey watched as he picked up Joe Taylo
r’s letter next and smiled, as though the familiar handwriting churned up long forgotten memories. He left it in the envelope, signalling that he felt its contents were private between father and daughter.
Lacey remained silent. She had also brought along the photograph. Philip picked it up and sat back in the armchair. He studied it for what Lacey felt was a lifetime. His face revealed nothing, and she couldn’t work out what his feelings were.
“How about some tea or coffee?” At last he spoke.
“No thanks, I’m fine.” She felt a lurch of disappointment. Had he nothing more to add after what he had just seen?
“Well, neither do I really, but I will have a brandy.” He went to the drinks cabinet and fixed himself a large one. Once settled, he took a long sip and then sighed with satisfaction. Lacey looked at him full of expectation.
“Well?” she picked up the contract and held it in front of him. “You knew about this?”
“I can’t deny it,” he whispered, “but that was a private matter. I cannot reveal confidential files, Lacey. I am never allowed to reveal what goes on between clients, no matter who it can help.”
“This photo, do you recognise her? Did you ever meet her?” Lacey asked.
“I recognise her. I don’t recall meeting her, but she could have been at functions and I wouldn’t have noticed her.” He paused. “So what do you need, Lacey? You know who she is now, and you know why, so what’s next for you?”
“I want to meet her, Philip.”
Her steely gaze left no doubt that she was determined.
“How do you plan on doing that?” he questioned gently, taking a sip of his comforting brandy.
“I hoped you could advise me. Any ideas?”
“Best to write to her, I guess. You can’t just turn up on her doorstep. Remember, she may not want to meet you.”
Philip, Lacey mused, always the voice of reason. She mulled briefly over his words, but chose not to dwell on them. In her mind, Cora would welcome her with open arms.
“Remember, Lacey, Cora didn’t contact you after Joe died. She had an opportunity then but she didn’t take it.” Lacey bristled at his words, but he held up his hand for her to allow him to continue. “It’s not all going to be a bed of roses; there will be some thorns along the way, that’s all I’m saying.”
His words startled her. Thorns! Was she nothing but a source of grief to everyone? Lillian had described her as a thorn in her side, and now Philip was telling her she may be the thorn in the side of her birth mother. Lacey was distraught. Why couldn’t people be happy for her? Why were they only seeing obstacles? Surely Cora would be happy to meet her? She and Joe had loved each other, after all, and she would be a reminder of that great love.
“Lacey, I’m not trying to dissuade you or dishearten you, but I do want you to be aware of what could happen,” his voice was gentle again. “I have seen too many families torn apart by wills; wonderful reunions with lost families are a rarity. Be realistic about it and then, if and when you meet your mother, it will be what you want it to be.”
She settled back in the comfy armchair, still feeling deflated at Philip’s sobering words.
Over the next few hours they agreed that Lacey should write to Cora, and Philip would also write a brief letter on his office notepaper to confirm Lacey’s identity. He advised that she should keep her correspondence brief and not ask too many questions. The time for all the unanswered thoughts, he advised, should be when – or if –they met face-to-face. Since they had no home address for Cora, some quick and discreet phone calls to some of Philip’s business acquaintances would be needed to reveal her personal whereabouts. Or they could contact her business headquarters, of course. That might be the better option to avoid upsetting Cora.
Lacey drove home to Sally, relieved that her next steps were planned out but almost overwhelmed by the feeling of huge butterflies taking over her tummy. It really was full steam ahead now, and there was no going back. Before the year was over, she would have found her real mum! She slept soundly that night. Her dreams were more colourful and filled with laughter, and she woke happy, convinced that those dreams would soon be reality.
* * *
Cora Maguire couldn’t sleep. She was troubled and, though she couldn’t put her finger on what exactly played on her mind, she felt disturbed. This heavy feeling of foreboding stayed with her, making Cora feel unsettled and downright anxious.
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
NOVEMBER
“You’re up early.” Sally was surprised to find her sister up before her and sitting in the kitchen eating breakfast.
“Morning, Sis, I’ve a lot to do today. What are your plans?” Lacey tucked into her cornflakes.
“I’m going over to Derek to help him pack away Willow’s belongings.” Yawning, she poured herself a coffee.
“How’s he doing?” Lacey asked.
“Surprisingly well. He’s selling the house, had you heard?” Sal put on some fresh toast.
“Yeah, he mentioned it the last time I spoke to him.”
“He is going to move to Galway, near his own family.” Sally spread some raspberry jam on the warm toast and munched, her hunger obvious.
“Oh, I didn’t know that! Well, good for him. It must be lonely over at the house now. Has he a time set for the move?” Lacey washed up her breakfast dishes.
“No, unless he has decided since,” Sally replied.
“Do you want me to help?” Lacey offered.
“No thanks. We’ll manage. You do whatever you’re up to and we can chat tonight. I might ask Derek for dinner, though. Is that okay?”
“Sure. We can all catch up then. See you later so. I’m going to have a shower.”
Lacey dashed upstairs. She was excited by all she had to do. Later she was going to her local library and there, in the comforting silence of the historic building, she would write her letter to Cora. She loved the old building. It had been a church in its early days, then it lay empty – so many of its parishioners having moved out of the area. But the local authorities had bought and converted it to the local library for the community; a way of saving a building that was steeped in history. The quiet corners of the converted structure always soothed her, as though the tranquillity of the church still remained there amidst the shelves of books.
* * *
Sally dumped her plate and cup into the sink. She would clean up later. Gathering her coat and car keys, she shouted goodbye to Lacey as she closed the door behind her. She was unsure what the day would bring. It would be tough and sad – no doubt about that – but it was something that needed to be done.
Rain poured down her windscreen, the wipers working furiously to clear her vision. She turned off the radio; she didn’t want people interrupting her thoughts. Sally was tired of bringing closure to people’s lives. First it was her mother, and now her sister.
When Willow had helped her with Lillian’s stuff, it had been difficult but she could accept it. Losing your mother and clearing out her things was part of life. That day, she and Willow had shared the load. They had laughed, cried, and even shared long silent moments as bit by bit they sorted through Lillian’s belongings.
But today, not six months since Lillian died, and she was going to be putting Willow’s life into boxes labelled Charity, Keep, and Throw Out. It wasn’t right. Willow was her big sister. They had shared a childhood together. They had laughed and plotted about boyfriends in their teenage years, sharing make-up, and secrets and dreams. Sally pulled her car over to the kerb and turned off the ignition.
Tears came slowly at first, as she tried to reason with herself that this was life. But they persisted and she gave in, allowing the hot salty drops to wash over her cheeks and fall into her lap. She wanted her big sister back; she wanted her mother, too. No longer fighting her feelings, she sat at the roadside and cried without constraint. The rain came stronger, and it was like the world knew how she was feeling and shared her pain. The heavy drops splashed against t
he windscreen and the day changed to a cold, grey, dull Thursday.
Looking through the windscreen at the heavy sky, Sally decided it was time to go abroad again. Maybe before Christmas, she thought, instead of waiting until the New Year as she had planned. But they were thoughts for another day. Sally had a job to do; Derek would be waiting. She turned the car engine back on and pulled out into the traffic.
* * *
The library was busy, but Lacey found a quiet corner where a desk and chair were not being used. Her hands were shaking, she was so nervous. How should she start? Dear Cora? Dear Mum? You don’t know me but I am your daughter? That would be too forward and might frighten her, and Lacey did not want that. Now that she had discovered Cora, she didn’t want to lose her.
After several attempts at writing the letter, Lacey balled up the latest draft and flung it down on the desk, where it joined the others. Her scrunched-up attempts taunted her, showing her efforts to write as futile.
This was frustrating. Why couldn’t she just phone or visit her and get it over with? Take the chance, seize the moment. Okay, it might be a shock, but at least everything would be out in the open and that was what Lacey craved. She was sick of secrets and lies. Sipping from her bottled water, she knew that idea was not a serious option. It had to be this way, by letter. Stuff Philip Sherman for always being right.
She took up her pen and tried again to put into words what she felt, without causing Cora to run and seek shelter in the highest of hills far away from her. Lacey tried to put herself in Cora’s shoes. What if she were the one receiving the letter? What would she want to read? Oh dear Christ, what a bloody mess! How could she even begin to imagine what it would be like to receive a letter from a long lost child?
Lacey wondered what she would have done all those years ago, if she had been in Cora’s position. She didn’t think she would have given up her child, but Philip Sherman kept reminding her it was a different Ireland back then, a lot less accepting of affairs of the heart and unmarried mothers, as well as other stuff like abortion, suicide and even homosexuality. Glancing at the many balled-up sheets of waste paper gathered near her, she believed she still would have taken her baby with her. It would have been a struggle, sure, but hadn’t Joe been supportive? Lacey didn’t think she would be content with abandoning her baby to another woman’s care.
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