‘Here,’ he said, reaching for her case, so she let him. It felt surreal, to be standing there with her father. He pushed in the handle she’d extended and lifted the case easily. ‘Follow me.’
He led her into a bedroom on the ground floor, with a double bed that was covered with a pink blanket. ‘Bathroom,’ he said, indicating a door that faced the bed. ‘Hot water if you want a shower. I’ll get towels’ – and he was gone.
Just like that, she was staying. He hadn’t told her to get lost. She supposed he could hardly have refused to let her in, with the rain still so heavy and her so drenched. She was lucky he’d returned to the house when he had.
She peeled off her jacket and looked for somewhere to put it. She didn’t want it to drip in the wardrobe, so she took a hanger and hung it in the shower. She stood uncertainly by the bed, wondering how the rest of the day would go. Just after four o’clock by her watch. She’d have to ring Laura and tell her where she was.
Laura would be shocked to hear he’d taken her in.
‘Towels.’ He was back, handing her a white bale, neatly folded. ‘There’s a tumble-dryer,’ he added, ‘off the kitchen.’
No emotion that she could discern in his voice. He’d just met his daughter for the first time, and he spoke as if she were a random stranger he happened to be putting up for the night.
‘I’m glad to meet you,’ she said. ‘I wasn’t sure … you’d be here.’ I wasn’t sure you’d want to see me, she’d been about to say, but her courage failed her. Did you get my letter? she wanted to ask, but that stayed inside too. She felt a shyness in his company.
He acknowledged her comments with a minuscule tilt of his head. He didn’t look dismayed to see her, she told herself. Maybe solemn was his default expression. Maybe he just had trouble communicating. Maybe that was all.
‘I left Roone a day early,’ she found herself saying, feeling he deserved some kind of explanation. ‘That’s why I’m here. I got the bus. I’m flying home tomorrow.’ Let him fill in the blanks himself. Let him think she’d come especially to see him, if he wanted.
Another tiny nod.
‘I won’t disturb you,’ she said. ‘You can pretend I’m not here.’
There was a moment of silence. ‘You must,’ he said, ‘have heard terrible things about me.’ No change of expression, no hint of a smile.
‘No—’ Flustered now, feeling her face becoming hot. Not sure if she’d put her foot in it. ‘Well, I just – didn’t know. Arriving unannounced like this, I mean.’
‘Plenty of room,’ he said, ‘as you can see.’
He didn’t know. He couldn’t know that she knew about Susan and Harry leaving him. She wouldn’t mention them; she’d play safe. ‘Thank you,’ she said, suddenly remembering. ‘For the money, I mean. The cheque you gave to Laura.’
He made no response to that. ‘You’ll want dinner.’ It wasn’t a question.
‘I can do my own thing,’ she said quickly. ‘You don’t have to feed me.’ The idea of sitting across a table from him, trying to make conversation in this stilted way while they ate, was intimidating. She could go out, walk around until she found a deli, or a supermarket. She wondered if it would be presumptuous to ask him for a key.
‘There’s food in the fridge. You’re welcome to help yourself.’
‘… Thank you,’ she said, wondering what he intended doing for dinner. Keeping out of her way maybe. Waiting until he heard her returning to her room.
‘Well,’ he said, and nothing more. She stood where she was, listening to the sound of his retreating footsteps. Off to do some painting, she imagined. She must look properly at the ones hanging in the hall, find out if any were his. After seeing so many of them on the internet, she thought she’d recognise his style, even if they were unsigned.
She undressed and turned on the water, stepping in before she remembered her soap and shampoo, still packed in her case. No matter. She stood under the warm, powerful flow, eyes closed, mouth open, trying to think of nothing at all.
Afterwards, wrapped in a towel, her hair damp and uncombed, she phoned Laura. ‘I’m in Dublin,’ she said without preamble.
‘What? Tilly, what brought you to Dublin? Where will you stay?’
And when Tilly told her, Laura’s voice rose again. ‘You went to his house – and he actually came to the door? He let you in?’
‘He drove up,’ Tilly said, ‘while I was at the gate.’
‘… How is he?’
‘He’s – OK. Not what you’d call overly friendly, but he’s fine.’
‘Is he with you now?’
‘No. I think he went upstairs. He put me in a downstairs bedroom.’
Pause. ‘And how are you?’
‘I’m …’ Tilly stopped, her unhappiness rising up. ‘I’m here,’ she said, because that was the best she could manage.
‘Andy called around,’ Laura said. ‘I was just finishing the breakfasts. I told him you were gone.’
The sound of his name conjured up his face, which sent a fresh wave of despondency through her. ‘Did he—?’ She cut the question off. It didn’t matter.
‘Tilly, sweetheart, I’m so sorry this happened. So desperately sorry.’
‘You looked at him,’ she said then, suddenly remembering. ‘The night of your dinner party. I caught you looking at him, and it—’
She stopped. Things slotted into place.
‘You knew,’ she said. ‘Didn’t you? You knew about him and Eve.’
No response.
‘Hello?’
‘I’m here,’ Laura said.
Tilly waited, but no more came. ‘How did you know?’
‘Eve told me. Not about Andy, just that she was … pregnant.’
‘And how did you find out it was him?’
‘Tilly, there’s no point—’
‘How did you find out?’
‘I – asked her, and she admitted it.’
‘You asked her?’ She stood at the window, seeing but not really seeing the perfect sweep of lawn, the trees, the sandpit. ‘You mean you suspected him, without her saying anything?’
‘Tilly, it wasn’t that I thought he’d have set out to be unfaithful, but because they had history, I had to consider the possibility that he was involved. I had no proof, so I asked. Of course I was hoping she’d say no, but …’
He might not actually be the right one, she’d said to Tilly. He might not be meant for you. Knowing then that he’d fathered a child with his ex, knowing it. ‘How could you have found that out and not told me?’
‘Tilly, I couldn’t tell you. I couldn’t do it to you. I’m really sorry.’
It felt like another betrayal. By Laura, whom she’d felt she could trust absolutely.
‘Sweetheart, I messed up, I know I did. I didn’t want to hurt you, but I see now that I should have told you. I hate what he’s done to you: I told him that this morning.’
She could imagine it. Her sister had a scary tongue on her when she wanted to. But Laura was also kind and generous and funny, and the worst she’d done here, the very worst, was keeping something to herself out of a desire not to cause hurt. How could Tilly fault that, even if the hurt had just been deferred, even if her heart had been broken anyway?
‘Thank you,’ she said.
A few seconds passed. ‘For what?’ Laura asked. Suspecting sarcasm, maybe. Waiting for the tirade.
‘For everything. For all you’ve done.’
Another pause. ‘You’re not mad at me?’
‘Well, I am a bit. I think you should have told me, but I know you meant well. I’m not going to hold it against you.’
‘… I wish you hadn’t left.’
There was nothing to say to that. She felt a yawn rise within her. She raised a hand to cover her gaping mouth, even though nobody was there to see. She’d sleep tonight. ‘Your house is very fancy.’
‘I suppose it is. Can’t say it ever really felt like home, though.’
‘I’ll email Ga
vin,’ she said, ‘when I get home.’
‘Do – and I’ll write, end of the week. I’ll make up news if there isn’t any.’
‘Don’t tell me,’ she said, ‘anything about … him,’ and Laura promised not to.
‘Safe trip. Hope all the flights are on time.’
‘Bye.’
She dressed in dry clothing. She bundled up her wet things and found the kitchen, and the tumble-dryer in the room beyond it. The house was still, no sign or sound of her father. She wondered if she’d meet him again before she left in the morning.
She returned to the bedroom while her clothes were tumbling about. She lay on the bed and closed her eyes. Within a minute, she was asleep.
Eve
SHE KNEW.
She worked in the fish shop. Eve didn’t know her name. She glanced up from her magazine when Eve and Imelda walked into the waiting room. She nodded at them, her eyes settling on Eve for several seconds until Eve met and held her gaze, forcing the woman to drop hers.
She knew, for sure. Guess who I saw at the doctor’s, she’d say later, to her husband, or to her friends, or to whoever she felt like saying it to.
They sat in silence while the clock on the wall ticked the minutes away. Imelda made no move towards the magazines on the low table to their left, and neither did Eve. She hoped fervently that nobody else would come in.
The walls of the waiting room were a putrid shade of green. She wondered who could possibly have thought it attractive. A small radio on the windowsill was plugged into a socket below, but not turned on. A smell of sour milk crept up from under the air-freshener that someone had tried to banish it with.
The last time Eve had been here was two weeks before Christmas, when she’d got a chest infection that had refused to leave of its own accord. That time the room had been full of people coughing and snuffling, and a tiny baby who had screamed non-stop in its apologetic mother’s arms.
After what felt like an eternity, the door opened and Dr Jack’s secretary put her head in. ‘Now, Julie,’ she said, and the fish-shop woman got up and walked out without another look at them.
Eve felt wretched. Could it have been this time yesterday that she’d been making party preparations at the hotel? It felt like a month ago. Her prospects then had been bleak, her future uncertain to say the least, but she’d had a plan. She’d had a course of action all mapped out, and she’d been prepared to follow it and hope for the best. Now, because she’d lost her cool and revealed in anger what she’d meant to keep for later, everything was up in the air.
The worse part, the very worst part, was his reaction. She kept seeing his face, and the look of utter bafflement on it. As if she was speaking in a language he didn’t understand, as if what had happened between them was so unimportant he’d wiped it from his memory. He’d had no right to look at her like that – and now he was denying it entirely. He was making her out to be a liar.
And Nell this morning, arriving at Imelda’s in such a state. Looking like she wanted to kill Eve, like it would have taken very little for her to raise her closed fist and strike a blow. If Imelda hadn’t been there, it might well have happened. Nell, of course, believed Andy without question.
So now what? She was still trying to get her head around the fact that Imelda hadn’t hit the roof when she’d heard the news. On the contrary, she was being brilliant. Eve was back in the house with her, installed in her old room again. But could she remain on Roone as things were, with Andy having abandoned her, and Nell, and probably James too, gunning for her? And Laura was mad on Tilly’s account, which probably meant Gavin would turn against her too.
She’d made enemies, and they all lived a stone’s throw from Imelda. Could she really stay in such a situation – and was it fair to Imelda, who’d said she didn’t want to take sides? How could she not be seen to be taking sides, with Eve living in her house? Already it had caused trouble between Nell and Imelda, and it would only get worse as time went on.
She would go; she had no choice. She would stick to her original plan and leave the island. She’d manage without Andy Baker’s help; she wouldn’t beg. She wouldn’t do a DNA test either – what was the point, if he didn’t want to know? She had her pride. But she’d tell her child, when the time came, who its father was. Every child deserved to know that.
And in the meantime, her summer job was finished. After the scene with Andy she’d gone straight to the staff locker room and changed out of her black dress, and taken a back way out of the hotel without saying anything to anyone. She figured the owner would hear soon enough what had happened; no way would he want her back. She felt bad leaving things like that, but she’d lacked the courage to ring him this morning and apologise. Another person she’d have to avoid until she left.
She sighed. Imelda looked at her. ‘Alright?’
She shook her head. ‘I’ve messed up, Imelda. I’ve been so stupid – and I’ve put you in a horrible position with Nell. You don’t need this, not now.’
‘No,’ Imelda agreed. ‘I don’t need it.’ She paused. ‘On the other hand—’ She stopped again, started again. ‘You know,’ she said, ‘when you came to us first, and you were so unhappy, and so … closed off from us, I really thought we’d never be able to connect with you. I felt like a real failure as a foster parent, and I know Hugh did too, although he wouldn’t admit it. And then you opened up, and we were able to help you, and I loved seeing the change in you. You blossomed, you really did, and we took some of the credit for that.’
‘It was all down to you,’ Eve said, ‘you and Hugh’ – but Imelda carried on as if she hadn’t spoken.
‘And then you did the childcare course, and you got the job in the crèche, and we were so proud at how you were turning out.’
Eve bit her lip. They had been proud of her. They’d told her that, when she’d got her qualification. They’d taken her and Keith out for dinner to celebrate. They’d given her a bottle of her favourite perfume.
‘What I’m saying,’ Imelda continued, ‘is that you’re a good person, Eve. And good people make mistakes, just like everyone else, but it doesn’t make them bad. Try not to be too hard on yourself. We’ll cope with this. It might be tough, you might get people saying nasty things. If you do, you’ll need to be strong – and I’ll be here for you.’
‘Thank you. I don’t deserve it.’
‘You do. Everyone deserves to be helped.’
They sat on until the receptionist returned. ‘Do you want me to come in?’ Imelda asked her, and Eve said yes, so they went together.
‘Imelda,’ Dr Jack said, shaking her hand, ‘and Eve. Good to see you both.’
Danny, his first grandchild, had attended the crèche the year before, when Eve was still Avril’s assistant. She liked the doctor. He gave you time when you visited, he let you talk if you needed to. Imelda had brought her to him when she couldn’t sleep, around the time she’d finally told them about Derek Garvey, and he’d given her a week’s worth of pills that had got her back on track, more or less. He’d been the one to recommend counselling, but she didn’t blame him when it hadn’t helped.
Now he sat behind his desk and rested his forearms on it. ‘What can I do for you?’ he asked, looking from one to the other.
He didn’t show surprise when Eve told him. Like everyone else he’d already heard it, or else his training would have taught him not to react to news like that. He asked if she knew how far gone she was, and she gave him the date of Frog’s party.
He tapped buttons on his computer. ‘Have you done a home pregnancy test?’
‘No. I don’t need to,’ Eve told him. ‘I know I’m pregnant. I’ve missed two periods, and for the first few weeks I was throwing up a lot, and my stomach felt sick all the time. I’m just here to get advice, to know what I should and shouldn’t do.’
‘Sure,’ he said. ‘I understand that. I still need to check you out though, do my own diagnosis. Call me a fusspot.’ Smiling at her, opening a drawer in his de
sk. ‘Could you pass water for me?’
She could hardly refuse, although it seemed like a waste of time. He gave her a little plastic container and sent her to the toilet off the waiting room. She wondered, as she hunkered over the bowl, what he and Imelda were talking about. Maybe nothing at all to do with her. Maybe Imelda was asking after his family; maybe he was enquiring as to how she was coping as a widow.
She returned to the surgery and gave him the sample. ‘This will take a couple of days,’ he said. ‘I have to send it off for analysis. If you want to do a home test in the meantime, go ahead – they’re very accurate now, and you’ll get an instant result, particularly as this much time has passed.’
Eve smothered her irritation. Hadn’t he been listening? Maybe he wasn’t as good a doctor as she’d given him credit for. ‘I’ll wait,’ she said stiffly.
If he noticed her annoyance, he didn’t show it. ‘No problem. I’ll be in touch as soon as I hear.’
Back in the car, Imelda didn’t immediately turn on the engine. ‘Eve,’ she said, ‘I think you should take a home test.’
Eve stared at her. ‘Why? Don’t you believe me?’
‘Of course I do. But wouldn’t you like to know for sure?’
‘I do know for sure.’
A beat passed. Rain began again, splattering onto the windscreen, harder than before. ‘How about,’ Imelda said, ‘you take it to keep me happy then?’
Eve bit back a retort. She owed Imelda, her only ally, so much. It wouldn’t kill her to take a test. ‘OK,’ she said, ‘if you really want me to.’
They stopped outside the chemist in the village. ‘I’ll go in,’ Eve said – but to her relief Imelda said no, so she waited in the car, careful not to catch the eye of anyone who passed. Imelda returned with a two-pack of tests, and Eve took them both early the following morning, before breakfast, like the instruction leaflet recommended.
And both gave a negative result.
Laura
‘THIS IS RIDICULOUS,’ SHE SAID.
Nobody answered, because nobody was there. Poppy was napping in the playpen, which had become her daybed. Marian and Evie were spending the afternoon at the home of their pal Nuala White. Gav had taken the boys to a matinee at the drive-in cinema, after the donkey rides were cancelled on account of George being a bit poorly. Her B&B guests had checked out, or disappeared for the day.
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