• • •
“I’ve decided, Alexander,” she said to him as she arrived back in the kitchen from taking Aurora to school the following morning.
“And your answer is?”
“I can’t stay. I’m so sorry. I have some . . . problems that I really need to go and sort out in New York. You know how much I love Aurora, but . . .”
“You don’t need to say any more.” Alexander held his hands out, almost in self-defense. “Thank you for telling me. I shall now go full steam ahead to find a replacement for you.” He turned on his heel and walked directly out of the kitchen.
Grania crept out of the kitchen and crossed the courtyard to the studio guiltily, feeling like a charlatan for having declined to stay on. The sculpture of Aurora was almost ready, and all it needed now was to be cast out and dipped in bronze. She sighed. The sooner she got away from this house, the better.
She spent the morning clearing up every trace of herself from the studio. And pondering that perhaps her mother was right; that the Lisle effect on the Ryans was insidious and unstoppable—it had certainly addled her brain. Even for Aurora, she could not become emotionally involved with a man she hardly knew. Who might feel fondly toward her because she had cared for his child . . . who might have tried to bribe her with a kiss, and then more . . .
Every instinct in Grania told her to leave.
Collecting Aurora from school that afternoon proved hard. Aurora was full of plans for a future that included her. Knowing she had only a few more days until Aurora would be in the care of someone else was almost more than Grania could bear.
• • •
“What do you mean, you’re leaving?”
“Oh, Aurora, sweetheart, you knew my being here was only temporary. That I couldn’t stay here at Dunworley House forever.”
It was the following morning and since Alexander had turned tail and walked out of the kitchen, Grania had not seen him. But she knew she must tell Aurora she was leaving and allow the child to prepare herself for what she knew the little girl would see as yet another adult deserting her.
“But, Grania, you can’t leave!” Aurora’s big eyes filled with tears. “I love you and I thought you loved me! We’re friends, we have fun, Daddy loves you and—”
Aurora burst into great, heaving sobs.
“Darling, please don’t cry. Please don’t. Of course I love you, but you know that I live in New York. I have a life and a career which is very important to me.”
“You’re going back to America and you’re leaving me!”
“Not immediately, sweetheart, I’m going back to live with my mammy and daddy at the farmhouse first. I’ll be just down the lane.”
“You are?” She looked up at Grania with desperate eyes. “Then can I come and live there with you? Your family like me, don’t they? I promise I’ll help milk the cows, and look after the sheep and—”
“Aurora, you can come and visit as often as you want.” Grania’s reserve was slowly cracking.
“Please let me come with you! Don’t leave me here! The nightmares will come back, Mummy will come back!” Aurora threw her arms around Grania and hugged her so tightly and desperately she could hardly breathe.
The quicksand was closing over Grania’s head now and she had to escape. “Darling, I’m going to talk to you woman to woman.” Grania lifted Aurora’s chin and looked her in the eyes. “Just because someone isn’t in the same room as you, or isn’t with you at that moment, doesn’t mean that person’s not loving you. Truthfully, I wish you were my daughter, and that I could take you with me.” Grania gulped back the tears to enable her to continue. “But you can’t come with me, Aurora. Because you can’t leave Daddy here by himself. He needs you, sweetheart. You know he does. And sometimes in life, we have to do things that are really hard.”
“Yes.” Aurora stared back at her, understanding in her eyes. “You’re right,” she sighed. “I know I need to be here for Daddy. And that you can’t stay with me. You have your own life, and that’s very important.” Aurora suddenly took her hands away and turned her back on Grania. “Everybody’s lives are more important than mine. That’s what grown-ups do.”
“One day you’ll be an adult, Aurora. And you’ll understand.”
“Oh, I understand.” Aurora turned back to Grania. “I understand what it is to be an adult.” After a pause, she took a deep breath and walked back toward Grania. “I understand you need to go, Grania, but I hope I will see you again.”
“I promise you, sweetheart, you will. Anytime you need me, all you have to do is to call me. I promise I will always be there for you.”
“Yes.” Aurora nodded. “Well, it’s time we went to school, isn’t it?”
Aurora was quiet on the journey, but Grania understood. Understood, as Aurora got out of the car and went to join her friends in the playground without a backward glance, that the hurt and the pain of rejection she was feeling ran deep.
Grania set her chin and thought of Mary, who had given up everything to protect a child who wasn’t even her own. And who, in the end, had turned her back on Mary when it suited her. Whatever her feelings for Aurora, the child could not be her responsibility. And she could not allow history to repeat itself.
• • •
“I can’t bear it, Mam; her face, so broken, yet so proud and so brave . . . you have no idea what that child has been through.” Grania had dropped in at the farmhouse on her way back from taking Aurora to school. She sat at the kitchen table with her mother, tears streaming down her cheeks.
“I’m sure I haven’t now, pet,” Kathleen comforted. “But what you’ve done, however hard, is right. As you say, she isn’t your responsibility. She’s her daddy’s.”
“I don’t know what she’ll do without me. Everyone’s left her, Mam.” Grania sighed. “Everyone. And she thought I loved her, and cared for her and—”
“I know. But the bond between the two of you will never be broken. And I promise, you can tell Aurora from me, there’s always a welcome for her in this house. We all love her, so we do. Come here now and let your mammy give you a hug.”
Grania did so. For all that Kathleen sometimes irritated her, at this moment she felt blessed to have her.
• • •
The next three days up at Dunworley House were surprisingly calm. Aurora seemed to have accepted the situation completely. She did not distance herself from Grania, but in fact asked if they could spend the remaining time they had together doing her favorite things. Grania complied, and they went for long walks along the cliffs, spent a sticky and successful afternoon indulging in papier-mâché and then, on the last evening, had tea at Grania’s parents’ house.
When it was time for them to return to Dunworley House so Aurora could go to bed, Grania watched her mother hug Aurora as if she were her own.
“I can come and visit you and my puppy lots and lots, can’t I, Kathleen?”
“ ’Course you can, pet. And Grania’s not going anywhere for a while, and our door’s always open, promise,” comforted Kathleen, giving Grania a look of despair. “Bye now, pet.”
• • •
Alexander was waiting for them in the kitchen when they arrived home.
“Aurora, go up and get ready for bed, please. I need to speak to Grania.”
“Yes, Daddy,” said Aurora obediently, and left the kitchen.
There were some envelopes waiting on the kitchen table for Grania.
“That’s everything, paid in full.”
“Thank you.” Grania wondered why she felt so embarrassed and uncomfortable, when it was she who had originally given the favor in his hour of need.
“I have a very nice local girl arriving at ten tomorrow morning. If you would be so kind as to take Aurora to school, then spend a couple of hours with Lindsay, showing her the ropes, she will go and pick Aurora up at home-time.”
“Of course. Now,” Grania collected the envelopes from the table, “I want to go and put Aurora to bed.
”
“Yes.” Alexander nodded.
Grania walked toward the door and pulled it open.
“Grania . . .”
She turned around and looked at him, took in the sorrow in his eyes.
“One day, I hope you will understand why I—” He shook his head. “If I don’t see you tomorrow, good luck for the future. As I said the other night, you’re very special. Thank you for everything, and I hope your life goes well from here on in.”
Grania nodded, left the kitchen and climbed the stairs to say good night to Aurora for the last time.
27
Aurora had shown no signs of despair, nor had she tried to plead for Grania to stay when she’d dropped her off at school the next morning. “I’m going to meet your new nanny now,” Grania explained. “Her name is Lindsay and she sounds lovely. You know Daddy wouldn’t employ someone to look after you who wasn’t.”
Aurora nodded. “I know.”
“And you also know that I’ll be down the road in the farmhouse. And you can come and visit us all as many times as you want?”
“Yes.”
“Good-bye, darling. Come and see me as soon as you can.”
“Yes. Good-bye, Grania.” Aurora smiled, turned on her heel and walked into the school.
Lindsay, the local nanny Alexander had employed, seemed to be kind, experienced and up-to-date with the situation. “I’m used to sole charge, so it’s really no problem, Grania,” she said.
“Yes, I’m sure you’ll do a much better job than me. I’m only an amateur who’s been filling in.”
Nevertheless, Grania had needed to tell Lindsay all about Aurora’s particular needs and wants. Where the teddy should be placed on the pillow, how she liked being tucked in, that she was ticklish on the right side of her neck . . .
Grania had asked Shane to come and collect her. She was driven away from Dunworley House experiencing relief and foreboding in equal measure.
• • •
It had been three days now since Grania had left and the entire family had been on tenterhooks waiting for the sight of Aurora’s small, graceful body tripping down the lane toward them. So far, she had not appeared.
“It must mean she is settled and happy with the new girl,” Kathleen commented.
“Yes,” Grania answered weakly.
“She’ll be down in her own time, so, and you’re not to worry. Children are survivors, and Aurora has got strength.”
“Yes,” repeated Grania.
But both of them knew they didn’t believe a word of it.
Later that evening, Grania’s cell phone rang. It was Lindsay.
“Hi,” said Grania, closing the kitchen door behind her and wandering into the sitting room for some peace. “How are the two of you getting on?”
“I thought we’d been getting on fine. Up until this afternoon, when I went to collect her from school. And she wasn’t there.”
“What do you mean, she wasn’t there?”
“She’d vanished. Her teacher said that one minute she was in the playground and the next she’d disappeared.”
“Jaysus,” Grania muttered as her heart rate increased. She glanced down at her watch. It was ten to six. That meant Aurora had been gone for over two hours. “Where have you looked?”
“Everywhere. I—” Grania heard the desperation in Lindsay’s voice. “I was calling you to find out if you knew any special places she liked to go to, or someone she might run to. I thought—that is, I hoped—she might be with you.”
“No, although I will check around the house and in the barns. She could have come in over the fields without us noticing. Is Alexander there?”
“He went off to Cork city this afternoon and he hasn’t returned yet. I’ve tried his cell phone several times, but he’s not answering.”
“You’ve checked by the cliffs?”
“Yes, but no sign.”
Grania stopped herself from asking whether Lindsay had looked down on to the rocks below.
“Right, why don’t you go round the house and gardens again and I’ll check our farm this end? If there’s no sign, just sit tight in case Aurora comes back. I’ll call you if there’s any sign of her, or if I have any ideas. We’ll speak soon.”
Grania sent Shane out to comb the barns, while John took off in the Land Rover to check the fields around the farmhouse. Kathleen stood in the garden, uselessly shouting Aurora’s name for want of something better to do.
Shane met Grania in the courtyard. “No sign, I’m afraid,” he reported. “But that pup she was so keen on seems to be missing too.”
“Really?”
“Perhaps it’s coincidence, but do you think Aurora’s been here and taken her?”
“If Lily’s gone, then yes,” agreed Grania, comforted that at least there was some possible knowledge of Aurora’s recent whereabouts. It gave her hope that the child was heading somewhere with the dog, not lying dead and broken on the rocks at the bottom of the cliffs. “I’m taking the bicycle up the cliff path. Why don’t you go in the opposite direction, toward Clon?” Grania suggested, pulling a rusty specimen away from the barn wall.
“Right,” said Shane, pulling another out and climbing on. “I have my phone with me, as has Dad. Mam can stay here just in case she turns up.”
Two hours later, the Ryans reconvened in the kitchen. None of them had found any trace of Aurora.
“I’ve been racking my brains to try and think of hidey-holes where she might be,” said Kathleen, pacing the kitchen. “Jesus, Mary and Joseph! If anything has happened to that poor little mite, then . . .”
“Should we be after calling the guards?” suggested John.
“Lindsay says she’s managed to get in contact with Alexander, who’s on his way home from Cork. If anyone’s going to make that decision, it should be him.” Grania warmed her hands against the range.
“Anyone for a brew?” asked Kathleen.
“Yes please, pet,” said John. “Without transport, an eight-year-old girl and a puppy aren’t going to get far, are they now? Someone’s bound to spot them. I doubt she’d have any money on her. Perhaps she’ll come back when she’s hungry,” he said rationally.
“Well now, that pup won’t be too happy at not having its mammy’s milk,” added Shane.
Grania was hardly listening. Her mind was speeding across the past ten weeks, trying to identify any place to which Aurora would go. She heard the crunch of gravel under tires and saw it was Alexander’s car. He jumped out and walked toward the kitchen door. When he entered, the entire family saw the gray tinge of fear on his gaunt face.
“Sorry to barge in like this, but Lindsay said you’d all been out looking for Aurora. Any news?”
“No, Alexander, not so far. We’ve scoured everywhere. This is my mother, by the way, my father, and my brother, Shane,” Grania added.
“Good to meet you.” Alexander offered the polite response automatically. “Has anyone got any ideas?”
“Well, we’re thinking maybe she took that pup she loved with her, so at least she’s not alone,” offered Shane.
“There, pet.” Kathleen handed Alexander a hot cup of tea. “Drink that, it’s got plenty of sugar in, good for shock.”
“Thank you. You say she’s taken the puppy? Which means . . . ?”
“That she was around these parts earlier, sir,” said John.
A flicker of relief appeared in Alexander’s eyes. “Well, at least that’s something. How far can a small girl with a puppy get in a few hours?”
“Not far, I’d say,” said Kathleen.
“We were wondering, sir, if it was time to call the guards?” said Shane.
“Not yet,” said Alexander quickly, “but if there’s no sign of her in the next couple of hours, I suppose we’ll have to.”
“If you’ll excuse me now, and if it’s all right with you, I’m going to put the word out to my farming friends,” said John. “They can at least have a quick scout of their barns and their land for
us, while we still have some light left.”
“Good idea, pet,” Kathleen agreed as John got up and left the room. She stared into her teacup. “You know, this might only be a feeling, but I’d be thinking that little girl is somewhere close.”
“Your instincts are usually right, Mam.” Shane gave an encouraging nod in the direction of Alexander. “The question is, where?”
• • •
After further fruitless forays up and down the cliffs, in surrounding barns and the fields, Alexander capitulated and said it was time to call the guards.
Grania took herself outside and stood in the field in front of the farmhouse. The sky was a deep black now, with no moon or stars to help shed light on Aurora’s whereabouts.
“Where are you, sweetheart?” she whispered into the darkness. She paced up and down. There was something nagging in the back of her mind which would not surface. Suddenly, she knew what it was. She turned on her heel and ran back to the kitchen. Alexander had just put the phone down to the guards.
“They’ll be up to Dunworley House in the next ten minutes to take some details. I’d better be on my way so I’m there to greet them.”
“Alexander, where was Lily buried?”
Alexander turned slowly to Grania. “In Dunworley church. You don’t think—”
“Can we take your car?”
“Yes.” He needed no second bidding. The two of them left the house, climbed into Alexander’s car and sped off up the road to where Dunworley church sat, nestled on its own in a side of the hill.
Alexander broke the silence as they drove. “Lily always said it was where she wanted to be laid to rest. She said she’d have the best view in the world for all of eternity.”
They parked the car on the roadside and, using a torch Alexander had produced from a pocket in his car, passed through the creaking wrought-iron gate and into the churchyard.
“She’s just to the left, right at the end.” Alexander led as they picked their way carefully around the graves.
Grania held her breath as they drew near enough to shine the torch on Lily’s headstone. And there, nestled in the wildflowers and weeds that had sprung up on top of the grave, lay Aurora. In her arms, fast asleep, was Lily the puppy.
The Girl on the Cliff Page 25
