Girl on a Plane

by Cassandra O'Leary

  Gabriel had been her rock earlier at the police station. The investigating officer was a kind man and didn’t ask too many difficult questions. When the interview came to Padraig’s treatment of her years ago, she’d stammered through. Gabriel sat through the whole ordeal, holding her hand. She hoped that meant Gabriel was standing by her. He was so stony-faced it was hard to tell what he was thinking.

  The police helped her lodge an application for a restraining order against Padraig but she’d still needed to appear in court. The idea was too much to deal with yet.

  Her contemplation was rudely interrupted by the trilling doorbell. Gabriel. Stupid hope lit up her body, even though she knew he was winging his way to Australia. She dashed out of her flat and downstairs.

  Hoping for a pleasant surprise, she failed to be sensible and look through the spyhole in the front door. She flung it wide open and gaped at the two unexpected visitors in her doorway. She rubbed her eyes. Bridie and their mother. What the hell?

  She stared, without saying a word, crossing her arms over her belly. Probably quite rude, but she didn’t care. At least they both had the good grace to look sheepish.

  Sinead squinted at them. “Hello.” It was a poor opening, but the best Sinead and her shell-shocked brain could manage under the circumstances.

  Bridie flicked her hair back and huffed out a breath. “Hi, Sinead. Sorry to show up like this without calling, but we were worried about you. I spoke to Gabriel and he told me what happened with Paddy.”

  To her credit, Bridie did look worried. Her face was pinched so a sharp line appeared between her brows. Sinead had forgiven Bridie, but it would likely be a long time before she trusted her sister with her whole heart.

  “What are you doing here?” Sinead directed this question at her mother, who was currently staring at her shoes. Clumpy, black, sensible old lady shoes.

  “I’ve come to apologise. I know it’s long overdue.” Ma stared at Sinead, as if studying her face for a reaction.

  Sinead returned the stare. Her mother looked smaller and older, diminished somehow. Her formerly golden hair was sprinkled with silvery strands and her pale, oval-shaped face was crinkled with fine lines.

  It had been two years since Sinead had last seen her mother in person, since Da’s funeral. She’d tried to talk to her mother then, but it was the wrong time. And Padraig had been there, chatting with her brothers. Still, Ma had never made an effort. Until now.

  Sinead nodded once. “Come in then.”

  She wasn’t sure if she’d lost her mind letting them in, but curiosity got the better of her. She itched to hear what her Ma had to say, while hating herself for being needy. Sinead gulped in fresh air, then turned her back on them. She trudged up the hallway stairs without checking whether they’d followed. She heard footsteps behind her, sure enough. Her shoulders tensed in anticipation of the conversation to come.

  At the door to her flat, she paused and waited for them to catch up. She opened the door and stalked in without meeting their gaze. She had to compose herself. Plonking herself down in her raggedy velvet armchair, she let her guests take the sofa. She was all politeness and hospitality, truly. But she wasn’t going to make this easy for them. Why should she?

  “So, talk.”

  Bridie broke the ice, settling into one corner of the sofa and smoothing her wild red hair over her shoulders.

  “I’m so sorry about your things.” Bridie nodded once in the direction of the space where the television should have been. “It wasn’t my idea, I didn’t want to have anything to do it. But Paddy came here to find me, or find you, I’m not sure. He threatened me. Lord, he was scary. He grabbed my arm so hard he left bruises. He was up in my face and his eyes were like an animal.” Bridie rubbed her own arms, up and down. “I realise now why you left home like you did.”

  Sinead fought the sickness rising in her stomach. It was hideous, the truth of what he was capable of, what she’d allowed to happen to her sister. Bridie could have been hurt a lot worse. Heat prickled behind Sinead’s eyes.

  Sinead’s gaze tracked over to her sister, sitting huddled on the sofa, long hippy skirt bunched up over her combat boots. “I’m sorry too, Bridie. I should have told you the truth years ago. I was ashamed. I suppose I didn’t want to talk about it. But I put you in harm’s way. The TV and the other things, they don’t matter.”

  Bridie’s tears ran unchecked down her cheeks and she nodded, twisting the ends of her hair. Their mother had stayed silent. So when Ma exhaled a shaky sound, almost a gasp from a dying woman, Sinead flinched.

  Ma sat forward and opened her mouth a couple of times before speaking. “I’m the one who should be sorry, Sinead. I sent you away when you needed me. I didn’t want to believe what you said about Paddy although I saw the proof with my own eyes. He loved you. I didn’t understand how he could hurt you.”

  Sinead’s blood heated in her veins at Ma’s ludicrous words. She must have been in total denial, to believe Padraig innocent. To believe he’d loved Sinead. What he’d done to her face, the way he treated her, it wasn’t love. It had taken Sinead years to get over it.

  She’d gone to Ma for help, the one person who was supposed to love her unconditionally. And she’d been pushed away. It compounded the break, fracturing something deep inside. Only when she met Gabriel had she finally decided to trust a man, to trust herself, and she’d begun to heal.

  “I don’t know what to say. He hurt me and abused me. You told me to put up with it. I needed my mother and I got nothing from you.”

  “I’m so sorry, it’s given me pain for so long. Your Da was so ill at the time, I hardly knew what I was about. You’d had an argument with Paddy and it got out of hand. I thought you’d sort it out,” Ma said.

  Sinead got it then, finally. The scattered pieces came together in her mind, like when she and Bridie worked on thousand-piece jigsaw puzzles as kids. If she stood back she could envisage the complete picture. Her relationship with Padraig was a copy of the original blueprint, a reproduction, and her parents’ marriage had been an ugly design. Her father had been a rotten, cruel drunk. Never really violent, but he shouted and swore, and took off for days at a time. In Padraig, she’d found herself a man cut from the same pattern.

  Da had spent all the family’s money on booze and gambling, then blamed Ma for never having enough food in the house. He’d talked down to his children, especially his daughters. Sinead had always been insecure around him. According to her father, she was a waste of space. Her Da’s cruel words rang in her ears even now, like Padraig’s taunts haunted her.

  Ma had put up with it all. Of course she expected Sinead to follow her stellar example. Even if Sinead followed her into relationship hell.

  Sinead shook her head, fingers trembling as she forced them to stay still in her lap. “Da wasn’t ill. He was drunk. All the time, for years. You covered for him, always so worried about what people would think. Why didn’t you worry about what your children would think? Your daughters? What do you think we learned from you?”

  Her mother stared straight ahead and sobbed. “I know, I know.”

  Sinead sat forward, entranced, as Ma folded and re-folded her hands in her lap. Over and over again. Repeating the same pattern. Sinead took a deep breath. She’d inherited exactly the same nervous habit. It was time to eliminate old habits for good.

  Ma sighed, looking at the floor. “It’s taken me a long time to understand, to get my right self back again. Since your father died, I’ve been stronger. He made me doubt myself so I was afraid to make my own decisions. I wanted you all to be happy, but I didn’t know how to help.” Their mother glanced up and held Sinead’s gaze.

  “When Bridie told me what Paddy had done, to both of you, I understood. And Eamon called me, so angry, and told me Paddy is calling you both whores all around town. Now I understand what kind of man Paddy is. The evil kind. I told your brother in no uncertain terms to get himself a new best friend. Paddy is no longer welcome around our family
.”

  Sinead stared. Only her brother’s opinion would’ve changed their mother’s mind about Padraig. Eamon must have been livid. About time too.

  Ma sighed. “I know how hurt you must be. I’m asking for your forgiveness, Sinead.”

  The wide-open gaze her Ma laid on her was vulnerable, but too demanding. Sinead didn’t know if she had it inside her to forgive. Not yet, at least.

  “I’ll think about it.” It was the best she could offer.

  Her mother ducked her head, hiding the expression on her face. “Thank you. Think about it, it’s all I ask.”

  Bridie stood and hovered, then rushed towards Sinead with the force of a mini-hurricane. She was all flying red hair and lanky arms and legs, landing on the arm of Sinead’s chair. She fell into an awkward half-hug around Sinead’s shoulders.

  “Can you forgive me?” Bridie muttered against Sinead’s hair.

  Words stuck on a lump in her throat. “I already have.” Sinead raised her arms and hugged her sister close. Bridie was a bright spark in the shadows of Sinead’s heart. She didn’t want to live without her sister.

  Then Ma was beside them, reaching for Sinead’s face, gently wiping a tear from her cheek. A tender gesture, the first from her mother in a long time. Her breath hitched.

  It was a start. She was on the road to a reunion with her family, even if it was likely to be a bumpy ride.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Melbourne, Australia

  The sun was setting over Port Phillip Bay, casting a golden glow across the flat, calm water reaching all the way from the horizon to the pale sandy beach. Gabriel focused on the stunning view as he pulled himself onto the wooden steps of the sea baths where he’d been swimming laps. His muscles ached, but it felt good.

  Dripping wet in his swimming trunks, he grabbed his towel and dried himself. He stood in front of the baths at Brighton, right across the road from his townhouse on Beach Road, millionaire’s row by the bay.

  It was one of the first places he visited when he came back to Melbourne, but not number one on the list. The first visit was reserved for his mum. But instead of returning to the familiar tumble-down wooden cottage he’d called home since childhood, this time he visited her in the aged care centre. A soul-sucking, white-walled prison for people who could no longer care for themselves and whose families could no longer look after them.

  No, it wasn’t a prison so much as a waiting room. They were all waiting to die. The people who weren’t aware enough to wait on their own terms, like his Mum, had others sitting by waiting on their behalf.

  He towelled his hair dry roughly, probably leaving strands sticking out all over.

  Seeing his Mum so helpless was the real cause of his tension. Don’t think about it. Not when he’d be going back tomorrow and the next day. Not when he wanted to call Sinead. He didn’t want to sound all down in the dumps talking to her.

  It was mid-morning in London, hopefully he’d catch her. Grabbing his phone from the gym bag by his feet, he called her, watching the shimmer of the sinking sun. He’d have to bring her here when she arrived. It was only another day, but it felt like an eternity.

  His lips stretched out in a smile. “Hey Irish, how are you?”

  “Better now I’m talking to you. I miss you already.”

  “Right back at you. Guess where I’m standing?”

  “Is this a trick question? Like you want me to say, standing in your bedroom, wishing I was there too?”

  “No, but I like where your mind’s going. You’ll be here in Melbourne with me soon. I definitely want you in my bed. You’re booked in, like a date.”

  Sinead giggled through the phone. “Nice date. Very romantic.” He was glad to hear her sounding happy. He’d been worried about her, after the drama back in London.

  “I’m all sorts of romantic when it comes to you. Actually, I’m standing in my favourite spot in my home town, wishing you were here with me. Watching the sunset over the bay at the sea baths at Brighton Beach.”

  It was a stunning spot. The late summer sun shimmered across the water’s surface, and still radiated enough heat to warrant a swim even at eight o’clock at night. He’d needed it. The tension in his neck and shoulders after the long flight from London had been bugging him. Hopefully his muscles would ease up with exercise and he’d stop another migraine in its tracks.

  Sinead sighed, her voice airy as the breeze. “I know the spot, been there once or twice when I lived in Melbourne. You’re right, it’s beautiful.”

  He leaned on the jetty railing. “It’s right across the road from my place. I want to take you to dinner at the swanky restaurant here, then I’d talk you into skinny-dipping …”

  He could picture it. They’d eat a delicious meal at the restaurant on the beach. Seafood, something starting with the letter ‘c’, for Sinead. Crab omelette followed by citrus crème brûlée and champagne, perhaps. They’d watch the sunset over the water through the restaurant’s full length windows with a panoramic view. Then after dinner, they’d walk on the boardwalk by the sea baths and he’d chase her into the water. He’d give her a head start, or kiss her senseless first. Yes. If she was here, he’d kiss her until her lips were swollen and her expression was fierce and fiery. He could’ve groaned with frustration.

  Sinead giggled. “You dirty man. I’m not skinny-dipping right in front of the restaurant. Unless it’s the middle of the night when everyone has gone home. I might let you talk me into anything then.”

  He ran his towel over his hair one more time, then wrapped it around his waist. Damn, if he wasn’t half-hard already. “I like the way you think. When you get here, we can do as much night swimming as you want. What are you up to right now?” He wished he was there with her, to hold her close and make sure she was safe. And just to hear her laugh.

  “Getting ready to meet Bridie for brunch. We made up, you know, after everything. She even brought Ma with her to visit me yesterday.” From the slight tremor in her voice, he knew it was a sensitive topic.

  He stood still, watching a yacht cross the bay near the horizon. “Are you all right? You don’t have to talk about it, unless you want to.”

  She blew out a breath so it echoed in his ear. “It’s okay. Ma asked for my forgiveness. She sounded genuine. She said she understands she was wrong to turn me away when I needed help. It still hurts, but I’ll try to forgive her. Bridie too. She didn’t know what Padraig was really like. She’s too trusting. I was too, years ago. I know how easily he could have manipulated her, because he did it to me too.”

  His chest constricted when she talked about her family and her bastard ex. It was real physical pain, as if Sinead’s hurt had been transferred to him, even half a world away. He didn’t know how to make her feel better, he only knew he wanted to try. He wanted to be the kind of man who deserved her trust, her love. A better man.

  “Oh, Irish. Do you want to reconcile with your family?”

  “Aye, Bridie at least. But I’m so worried about her. She’s got no real direction in her life and massive debts. I don’t want her going home to live with Ma, with the rest of the family hanging around. She’ll get dragged into working for my brothers. Next thing you know, she’ll be stealing from stores for them, or breaking into houses.” She sighed.

  He wanted to reach out to her, make her feel better, and forget everything except how good it was when they were together. This long-distance thing was a killer, already. But he had the beginnings of an idea, something he could help out with even from so far away. He needed to call in a few favours.

  “I’m sure it will work out for Bridie. She’s young, there’s still time for her to do something different. And you need to stop worrying about everyone else and focus on getting yourself on a plane tomorrow to come see me. But no chatting up the first-class passengers. I’ve heard some stories about flight attendants. Some of them are very naughty.”

  “Hmm, I’m sure. Don’t you get any ideas about looking up your old girlfriends in M
elbourne. I’m going to miss you like crazy with you living in the upside-down hemisphere.”

  He needed to see her face, to touch her. “There were no other girlfriends, I told you already. A few women, acquaintances really. Nothing to worry about.”

  “A whole city full of random women to worry about, you mean. Promise me there won’t be anyone else. Even if I don’t get scheduled on Australian flights all the time and I can’t see you for a while. Lord, listen to me. All needy and pathetic.”

  “I promise. No other women, no one but you. We’ll be together soon. And don’t worry about sounding needy,” he paused, wanting to say so much. “I need you too.”

  Her voice came out breathy as the breeze playing over his bare chest. “I want to kiss you right now, but I can’t. But I’ll be thinking about it. Kissing you, touching you. All sorts of thoughts. Naked thoughts.”

  His groan was loud, even to his own ears. “Me too.”

  “I’d better get going. Bridie will think I’ve stood her up. See you soon.”

  “Bye, Sinead.” I love you. He almost said it.

  Sinead walked like a wind-up toy, operating on low batteries. She checked in to the familiar Southbank hotel in Melbourne’s CBD with a friendly hello to the staff at the glossy marble reception desk.

  When she made it upstairs to her room, she wanted nothing more than a quick shower and change of clothes before she worked out how to get to Gabriel’s place. She should look up his address online or call a cab. Too much energy required.

  She dumped her bag and flung herself on the bed, kicking off her high heels. More than twenty-four hours in transit had taken its toll, as usual. But this trip, she simmered with excitement. Usually she’d be down for a twelve-hour slumber, a Do Not Disturb sign on the hotel doorknob. To sleep like the dead, or the terminally jet-lagged.