And after having the worst possible thing already happen to her, after managing to cling on to the impossible, but ultimately essential, assembly line that Time insisted on, Imelda wondered if anything else, anything else, really mattered all that much. Before Hugh’s death, this news would have seemed like the end of the world – but now that she’d been brought to that very place, or to within a stone’s throw of it at least, this was … what? A shock, certainly – but nowhere near the end of the world. Miles and miles from the end of the world.
And this was Eve, whose mother had failed her, who’d been abused within the family she’d been entrusted to. This was Eve, the closest thing to a daughter that she and Hugh had been given, whom they’d both grown to love. This was Eve, who’d baked her very first cake for Imelda’s birthday, a few months after she’d moved in with them, Happy Bday she’d written in wobbly lettering on the top, because she’d run out of space.
This was Eve, who had held Imelda’s hand all through the first endless night without Hugh, when they’d sat up with the other islanders to look after what remained of him. This was Eve, in tears and in trouble now, looking to Imelda for forgiveness and help. How could she turn her back, even if she wanted to? Hugh wouldn’t have done that: she was certain of it. He’d have been disappointed, of course, but he’d have been there for Eve, like he’d always been there for her. Like they both had.
‘Come and sit over here,’ she said, patting the couch beside her, and Eve obeyed. Imelda put an arm around her shoulders and Eve rested her head on Imelda’s chest and went on crying as Imelda told her that she wasn’t alone, that they’d cope. ‘You can move back here if you want,’ she said, ‘and we’ll go from there. How does that sound?’
She had no idea what she was taking on. She didn’t know the ins and outs of it yet, but she’d hear soon enough. She didn’t think there was a steady boyfriend: Eve would surely have mentioned him. She hoped to God he wasn’t someone else’s partner – but if he was, they’d cope with that too. Having survived the unbearable, she could bear everything else.
People would talk, once the news got out. If Eve wanted to keep the baby – let her want to keep it: the alternative was abhorrent to Imelda – people would have plenty to talk about. Let them say what they wanted.
A baby in the house. A grandson or granddaughter for Imelda, or as near to it as made no difference. Once he’d got used to the idea, Hugh would have loved it, would have doted on it. Look how wonderful he’d been with Nell’s little two.
She was about to suggest tea when the doorbell rang. She felt Eve instantly stiffen. ‘Stay here,’ Imelda said, getting up. ‘It’s probably a neighbour. I’ll get rid of them.’
Eve sat up, swiping beneath her eyes, dabbing at them again with a sleeve. ‘Imelda,’ she said quickly, ‘I have to tell you—’
A hammering on the door interrupted her. A voice. ‘Eve? Are you in there?’ A woman’s voice.
Nell, it sounded like.
‘God,’ Eve whispered, dipping her head into her palms.
More hammering, followed by repeated short bursts of the doorbell. ‘Eve!’
‘I’ll handle it,’ Imelda said. She left the room, pulling the door closed. ‘Coming!’ she called. What now? Nell was clearly not happy – and it could only, she thought, have something to do with Eve’s news.
Andy. The name flew into her head as she opened the door. ‘Nell,’ she said.
‘Imelda, is she here?’ Nell demanded, her face pinched with anger, her words clipped. ‘I’ve been to the apartment and there’s no sign of her.’
‘Nell, what’s going on? Eve is here, yes, but—’
‘I have to talk to her.’ She moved forward, forcing Imelda to step aside and allow her entry.
‘Nell, please, calm down—’
‘Where is she? I need to talk to her, Imelda. Where is she?’ Her eyes darting around the hall, as if she might find a clue. ‘Is she in there?’ Pointing at the sitting room door.
‘Look, she’s told me—’
‘Please just get her, or bring me to her. Don’t make me search the house.’
‘Nell, for goodness’ sake, please get a—’
‘I’m here.’
Imelda swung around, and there she was, standing in the doorway, her hand on the jamb. Looking at Imelda, not Nell.
At the sight of her, Nell strode forward. ‘You!’ she snapped. ‘How dare you accuse Andy? How dare you? You know as well as I do that he had nothing to do with it!’
Andy, Imelda thought. Andy, who was going out with Laura’s sister. Could it be true?
‘It was him,’ Eve said, and Imelda heard the wobble in her voice. ‘He’s the father, he knows he—’
‘Shut up!’ Nell shouted, her face darkening, her hands in fists by her sides. ‘Shut up with your lies! Just stop it!’
Imelda was horrified. Was this really Hugh’s smiling, cheerful niece? She’d never seen her in such a state. ‘Please,’ she said, taking a step towards them, ‘please Nell, it’s obvious you’re upset, but—’
‘I am upset,’ Nell shot back. ‘Of course I’m upset! I’m sorry, Imelda, I didn’t mean you to be involved—’
‘Well, it’s too late for that,’ Imelda said, trying to sound calmer than she felt. ‘Eve has come to me for help, and I have to stand by her. I will stand by her.’
‘Imelda, she’s lying!’ Nell insisted. ‘She’s saying Andy made her pregnant, and it’s a lie! She’s a pathetic, jealous liar, and she—’
‘I’m not lying!’ Eve cried. ‘I’m not! It was Andy!’
Nell swung back to her. ‘You’re jealous of Tilly!’ she snapped. ‘You broke his heart, and now you can’t bear to see him happy again – it’s pathetic! God knows how many men you’ve had, but you’re determined to pin this on Andy!’
Imelda attempted again to intervene. ‘Nell, please, there’s no need for—’
‘Imelda,’ Nell said urgently, ‘you must believe me. Whatever she’s told you, whatever she says, it’s a pack of lies. Andy was not involved in this.’
Imelda felt pulled in two, wanting to believe both – but both couldn’t be right.
‘She lied last night, for all the world to hear,’ Nell went on. ‘Did she tell you that? She accused him, at Henry’s party, in front of everyone – in front of Tilly too – and now the whole island thinks he did it.’
Imelda couldn’t imagine it. ‘Is this true?’ she asked Eve. ‘Did you do that?’
‘Yes, but I wasn’t planning to. I wanted to—’
‘Whether she planned it or not, it’s a lie!’ Nell repeated. ‘He swears he didn’t, and we believe him. She’s the liar,’ jabbing a finger at Eve, ‘she’s the one—’
Imelda had had enough. ‘Nell!’ she cried. ‘I need you to stop this! If you can’t calm down, you have to leave right now! You’re in my house and I won’t have it! This is a house of grief – shame on you!’
She wasn’t given to outbursts. This one made her face flame, her heart bang in her ears, her legs turn suddenly to rubber. In the pause that followed it she was conscious of her loud, ragged breathing, and the awful shrillness that had been in her voice. She put out a hand and clutched a banister, needing something to hold on to.
‘You believe her,’ Nell said dully. ‘You actually believe what she’s saying.’
‘Nell, I honestly don’t know what to believe. You’re giving contradictory accounts. I can’t possibly tell—’
Nell’s face hardened. ‘You’re against him too. I should have known you’d take her side.’
‘Nell, that’s not fair,’ Imelda protested. ‘I’m not against anyone. This isn’t about taking sides – but I must listen to Eve’s point of view too. You have to see that.’
‘Oh, I see that,’ Nell said grimly. ‘I see it clearly. She comes to cry on your shoulder, and you want to save her all over again.’
‘Oh, that is so—’
‘I just wish you could see what this is doing to Andy, and to Tilly.
Try to remember that when you’re listening to her point of view.’
What was Imelda to do? What was she to say to that? Before she could find a response, Nell wheeled and left the hall, striding through the open front door and on down the path to the gate. Imelda looked at Eve, who regarded her mutely.
No. They couldn’t leave it like that. She hurried outside. ‘Nell, please wait, please let’s try to sort this out.’
But Nell didn’t wait. She climbed into her car and slammed the door and drove off too quickly, without another look in Imelda’s direction. Imelda remained on the path, shocked and upset, waiting for her racing heart to slow down. Nell falling out with her was absolutely the last thing she needed.
She returned to the house. She closed the front door and leant against it. Eve stood unmoving, arms folded across her chest now, face pale, eyes glittering.
‘Will you tell me the truth, Eve?’ Imelda asked quietly. ‘On Hugh’s grave, will you tell me the truth of what happened?’
Eve flinched at the words. Her chin trembled. ‘Imelda, don’t say that.’
‘On his grave,’ she repeated. ‘I need to know, Eve. I really need you to be honest with me now.’
Eve looked at the floor, drew in a deep breath. ‘Andy walked me home from a party,’ she said, so quietly that Imelda had to strain to hear her. ‘It – wasn’t long after Hugh. I was in bits, you know that. I wasn’t going to go to the party, but my friends … they said it might do me good, let me forget for a while. I – I had too much to drink, and Andy brought me home. He came in, and—’
She broke off. Imelda waited. Not wanting to hear, but forced to listen. Owing it to Nell, to Andy, to James, to Tilly, to get at the right version.
‘Eve, I need the truth. Was it Andy?’
‘… Yes. He … was there.’
Imelda frowned. ‘He was there? You mean in the apartment?’
‘Yes. He was the only one. It had to be him.’
‘Eve, you don’t sound very sure. How can you not be sure? Either it was or it wasn’t Andy.’
‘I am sure. It was him. There was nobody else. I just—’ She broke off, pressed her hands to her cheeks, inhaled deeply. ‘I just can’t remember that part.’
She stopped again, chewed at her bottom lip. ‘Imelda,’ she said earnestly, ‘it had to be him – I haven’t been with anyone else. You must believe me. It’s true, I swear it.’
Distasteful as the story was, Imelda wanted to believe it was the truth. ‘Did others see you going home with him?’
‘Yes – we left in a group. Bugs was there and … a few others.’
‘But Andy was the one who brought you home. You’re absolutely certain of this.’
‘Yes. Yes. The others dropped away one by one. It was just the two of us by the time we got to my place. He came in, and one of us made coffee – the mugs were there the next morning.’
‘And Andy?’
‘… He was gone.’
‘Have you spoken with him since?’
She shook her head. ‘No – at least, not about this, not until last night. We met a few times, but I thought – I didn’t think he’d want me to bring it up. I thought he must have … regretted it.’
‘And when you found out you were pregnant?’
‘I decided I should wait – till Tilly was gone back, I mean – before I told him.’
‘But instead you told him last night. At the party, in front of everyone.’
Eve grimaced. ‘I didn’t mean to. I met him, and he – tried to make little of it, acted like it was just a bit of fun, and it made me mad to think he could just dismiss it like that, when I was going through—well, and it all just came out. I wasn’t going to say anything, honestly I wasn’t. I knew I’d have to tell him after Tilly left, but … I was going to wait. And when I told him, I shouted it because I was angry, and … people heard.’
‘What did he say?’
‘He didn’t say anything. He – he looked completely shocked. It was like he’d forgotten it or something. And then – I went away, I left, because I was embarrassed, with everyone looking at us.’
‘And Tilly heard.’
‘She must have. I didn’t know she was there.’
Imelda closed her eyes briefly. ‘And Nell was there too.’
‘… She must have been. I didn’t see them.’
Imelda could imagine it. The row that had sprung up, the angry words clearly heard, the stir in the crowd. And oh, poor Tilly to witness such a thing, to be there when Eve had dropped her bombshell.
Eve’s account sounded genuine. It had the ring of truth about it – but how could she be sure of anything, if she’d drunk too much to remember it properly? And Nell had seemed so certain, so convinced of Andy’s innocence.
What would Hugh do, faced with this impossible situation? He’d be torn, like Imelda was, with his niece saying one thing and his former foster daughter another. What was the answer? How was Imelda to arrive at the truth of it?
‘Were you thinking,’ she asked, ‘of telling me at all?’
Eve’s face flushed instantly. ‘I – I wanted to tell you, but – I was afraid. I knew it would be a shock, and you wouldn’t like it, and especially not now, after …’
After Hugh.
‘I had decided to leave the island. I didn’t want to … embarrass you. I was going to write to you, when I was gone.’
She had planned it all, and Imelda had known nothing.
‘I’m really sorry, Imelda. I’ve let you down and I have no excuse. But everything I’m telling you is the truth, I swear it.’
It was the truth. Imelda was sure of it. Or she was telling a version of the truth, as she remembered it. She was telling her truth.
‘So the party was the end of May?’
‘Yes, the twenty-fourth.’
And this was the first week of August. She totted up the weeks and arrived at eleven, give or take. ‘Have you seen Dr Jack?’
‘No.’
‘But you’ve done a test.’
‘… Well, no, but I’ve missed two periods, and earlier I felt sick, and I was throwing up. I’m definitely pregnant.’
‘Will you come with me to the doctor, Eve? Will you let him check you out?’
Eve nodded. ‘If you want me to, I will.’
It was all she could think of, a visit to Dr Jack. It probably wouldn’t help a lot – it wouldn’t come at the truth they needed, but she’d have to see a doctor at some stage, and Jack was sensitive, and tactful.
‘Will you come back to this house?’ Imelda asked. ‘Will you move in here again?’ Because this was her home, not some dreary little collection of rooms above a crèche with no companions, no neighbours.
‘I’d like that,’ Eve whispered.
‘Let’s go and pack up your things now so. Let’s get you moved back, and we can go to the surgery after lunch.’
She didn’t want to think about the next few months, and the challenges they’d bring. She couldn’t dwell on the awful things Nell had said, or the way she’d looked at Imelda just before she’d left the house. She couldn’t face the thought of the whispers this scandal would cause.
All she could do, all they could do, was get through today, and take it from there.
Tilly
IN THE END, TILLY HAVING GIVEN HER NO OTHER choice, Laura had to let her go. ‘Get off the bus in Cahersiveen,’ she instructed, ‘and call this number.’ She handed Tilly a small cream card. Sycamore House Bed & Breakfast, the card read. Joshua and Mary Finnerty. Free WiFi. Organic eggs. All rooms ensuite.
‘Mary is a niece of Maisie Kiely’s,’ Laura told her. ‘I met her at Maisie’s eightieth party last year. She’s lovely. She’ll put you up, or she’ll find you somewhere else if she’s full. Give me a ring when you’re sorted.’
Cahersiveen, half an hour or so from the ferry terminal. Tilly had passed through it on every one of her journeys to and from Roone, but had never paid it much heed. A long main street – a petrol station,
a library, a church – was all she could remember.
‘Gav will pick you up tomorrow,’ Laura went on. ‘I’ll be in the middle of Poppy’s party but he’ll come and bring you to the airport,’ and Tilly said nothing to that, although she knew it wasn’t going to happen. She had no intention of getting off the bus in Cahersiveen. She wasn’t going to call Mary or Joshua Finnerty with their free WiFi and their organic eggs. She was staying on the bus until it pulled into Tralee bus station, and from there she was travelling on to Dublin.
She’d crept downstairs when everyone was asleep, and planned her trip using Gavin’s computer. She wanted to get as far from Roone as she possibly could, and Dublin seemed like the most logical place to aim for. She’d been scheduled to travel through there anyway on her way home. Kerry to Dublin to Dubai to Singapore to Brisbane: now she would have only three flights to endure.
And as long as she was going to Dublin, she figured she might as well look up her father. Why not? She had nothing to lose. She still had his address: she’d held on to it, even after he’d ignored the letter she’d written to him. She’d find his house – she’d figure it out.
He’s not child friendly, Laura had said – but Tilly wasn’t a child now, she was an adult. Susan had left him, and so had Laura and Tilly’s mother, so clearly he wasn’t wife friendly either, but Tilly didn’t care about any of that. She didn’t give a damn how it turned out. I don’t want anything from you, she’d say. I just need a place to stay for one night. You won’t have to do anything. You don’t even have to talk to me if you don’t want to. Worst case scenario, he’d tell her to get lost. If he did, she’d find a hostel.
Try as she might, the ugly little scene in the hotel garden insisted on replaying itself over and over in her head, every detail still cruelly intact. Her appalled disbelief as the angry words that had burst from Eve had sunk in. The feel of Nell’s hand suddenly on her arm, the dead silence from all the people who had heard Eve’s pronouncement too. An odd sort of ringing in her head as she’d watched Eve turn and hurry off.
The Birthday Party: The spell-binding new summer read from the Number One bestselling author Page 25
