The Girl on the Cliff

by Lucinda Riley

  “Of course, Mam,” said Grania, who was sitting cross-legged on her bed, a half-packed suitcase in front of her. “I’m not sleepy either. I’m wondering what on earth I’m going to face tomorrow.” She raised an eyebrow.

  “Yes, well—” Kathleen sat down on the bed. “That’s why I’ve come to see you. That voice in my head, well now, that voice is telling me I need to tell you the rest of the story before you go. About Lily.” Kathleen reached for her daughter’s hand and squeezed it. “It’s quite a story, and it’ll be some time in the telling, so it might be a late night for both of us.”

  “I don’t mind, Mam,” Grania encouraged, “I can do with something to take my mind off tomorrow. I’m all ears.”

  “Right, so.” Kathleen swallowed hard. “ ’Tis not a story I’ve ever told before on my own tongue. And I might shed a few tears in the telling of it too.”

  “Oh, Mam.” Grania held her mother’s hand tightly. “You take your time. We’ve got all night, there’s no rush.”

  “Right.” Kathleen steeled herself to begin. “This part of the story starts when I was sixteen years old and Lily Lisle was fifteen.”

  “Were you friends, Mam?” Grania was surprised.

  “Yes, we were.” Kathleen nodded. “You have to remember, Lily spent so much time down here at the farmhouse that I regarded her like my little sister. And my big brother—”

  “Your brother?!” Grania stared at her mother in surprise. “I didn’t know you had a brother, Mam. You’ve never spoken about him.”

  “No . . .” Kathleen shook her head slowly. “Now then, where shall I begin . . . ?”

  30

  Dunworley, West Cork, Ireland, 1970

  Sixteen-year-old Kathleen Ryan woke up and jumped out of bed to pull the curtains back and see what the weather was doing today. If it was fair, she, Joe and Lily were taking a picnic down on to the sands of Dunworley beach. If it was raining—which it often did, even in high summer in these parts—it was another dull day inside playing cards or board games. Lily would want to make up a play, in which she would have the leading part. She had her mother’s trunk of old evening clothes up at the big house and liked nothing better than preening in dresses that were too big for her in front of the mirror.

  “When I’m properly grown up, I’ll be beautiful and a handsome prince will carry me away from here,” she would say as she struck a pose.

  There was no doubt that Lily would be beautiful—she was already a stunner at fifteen. “There’ll be boys knocking down her door to take her out, that’s for certain,” Kathleen’s mother had once said to Seamus, her husband.

  Kathleen had miserably regarded her own solid body in the mirror—her mouse-colored hair and pale face with its annoying sprinkling of freckles across the bridge of her nose.

  “It takes more than beauty to win a man, sweetheart, and they’ll love you for your other qualities,” her mammy had comforted her when she’d complained. Kathleen wasn’t sure what these other “qualities” were exactly, but she didn’t really mind being the plain one. Or that Lily seemed to simply demand being the center of attention wherever she went.

  Or that Joe, her brother, worshipped the ground Lily walked on. Kathleen understood that Lily, with her exotic looks, her glamorous mother and her rich daddy up at the Big House, was an entity she could never begin to compete with.

  And she didn’t envy her; in fact, she felt sorry for her. Aunt Anna, Lily’s mother—who was a famous ballerina—was rarely at home. Sebastian Lisle, her daddy, was a distant, elderly figure whom Kathleen rarely saw. And from the sound of things, neither did Lily. She was left in the care of a succession of governesses, whom she spent her life trying to evade, and usually succeeding.

  As Kathleen dressed hastily to begin her morning tasks of collecting the eggs and bringing in a pail of fresh milk from the cowsheds, she thought of Lily, probably still lying asleep in her pretty bedroom in the big house on top of the cliffs. Lily didn’t have tasks to do. She had a maid to serve her breakfast, lunch and supper, wash her clothes and provide her with everything she needed. Sometimes Kathleen would grumble about this to her mother when the day was freezing and she had to go outside.

  “But, Kathleen, you have the one thing Lily doesn’t, and that’s a family,” her mammy would reply.

  To Kathleen’s mind, Lily had that as well—she more or less lived under their roof. And yet no one would ever ask her to lift a finger.

  Still, despite Lily’s privilege, and her sometimes irritating airs and graces, Kathleen felt very protective of her. Even though Lily was about a year younger, she had a childlike quality, a vulnerability that brought out Kathleen’s latent maternal instincts. And she didn’t seem to have an ounce of common sense on her. Lily was always the one to suggest adventures—climbing down precarious rocks, sneaking out at night to go to the beach and swim in the sea—and she seemed to have little fear. Often, these ideas would go horribly wrong, and Kathleen would not only find herself rescuing Lily from danger, but taking the punishment from her mam and dad as though it had been her idea in the first place.

  And of course, Joe, bless him, would follow Lily to the ends of the earth if she asked him to.

  If Kathleen felt protective of Lily, it was nothing to what she felt for her big, gentle brother. Three years ago, Kathleen had arrived home wretched, having found Joe in the lane. He’d been used by the boys in the village as target practice after the recent conker harvest.

  “They called him names, Mam, terrible names! They said he was the village idiot, that he had no wits, that he should be in a home for spastics. Why do they do this to him, Mam? He just wants to be friends.”

  After Sophia had bathed her son’s bruises with witch hazel, then sent him off outside to help his daddy bring in the cows, she shut the kitchen door and explained to Kathleen why her big brother was different from other boys.

  “It was a difficult birth,” Sophia had said, “and the doctors think that Joe was starved of oxygen for a while before he was born. It did something to his brain.”

  “But Joe’s not stupid, Mam, is he? He can write his name and count a bit?”

  “No, darling, Joe’s not stupid. He’s just what the doctors would call ‘slow.’ ”

  “And the animals love him, Mam. He talks to them so gently and they trust him.”

  “Yes, Kathleen, they do. But then, animals are kinder than human beings,” Sophia had replied with a sigh.

  “Those boys at school are always getting him into trouble, Mam. And just because he’s bigger than they are, the teachers always believe ’tis Joe that started it. And, Mam, he just takes it!” Kathleen had buried her head in her hands. “I can’t bear to watch how they bully him. And he never fights back, just smiles and accepts his punishment. It’s not fair, Mam, it’s not fair. Joe wouldn’t hurt a fly, you know he wouldn’t.”

  Shortly after that, her mother and father had taken Joe out of school. “I’d say he’s learned all he ever will and he’ll be happier on the farm with me and his animals,” Seamus had said.

  And her daddy had been right. Joe now helped full-time on the farm, his way with animals and his astonishing physical strength an asset to the family business.

  As Kathleen collected the eggs, she pondered Joe’s existence. He was always happy, never seemed to be getting down or cross. He’d rise early in the morning, eat his breakfast and be out on the land until the night. He’d come in, eat the supper prepared for him and go to bed. Joe had no friends outside his family, yet he didn’t seem lonely. And at seventeen, he had none of the normal teenage interests of other boys his age. The only moment Joe’s eyes really lit up was when Lily Lisle came to the house. He would watch her silently as she pranced around the kitchen, flicking her mane of red-gold hair back over her shoulder.

  “Tiger,” Joe had once said suddenly when the three of them were out on a walk together.

  “Where’s the tiger, Joe?” Lily looked around.

  “You, tiger.”
r />   “Tiger-Lily!” Kathleen and Lily had exclaimed together.

  “Hair,” Joe had pointed at Lily. “Tiger color.”

  “Joe, that’s a very clever name for me,” Lily had said, tucking her small, pale arm into his big one. “It’s a character from a book called Peter Pan, and she’s an Indian Princess.”

  “You are princess.” Joe had looked down at Lily, love shining from his eyes.

  Despite Lily’s inherent selfishness, she was very good with Joe. She’d take time to listen as he formed his words, and feign interest in the thrush with the damaged wing that Joe had rescued and was nursing back to health. This, above everything, made Kathleen forgive Lily her many failings. Spoiled and self-obsessed she might be, but she was kind and caring to Joe.

  Kathleen placed the fresh eggs in the pantry and went into the kitchen for breakfast. Joe was already sitting at the table eating, his big hand curled around his cereal spoon.

  “Morning,” Kathleen offered as she sliced some bread and buttered it. “The day’s fine, Joe, will we go to the beach?”

  “Yes. And Lily.”

  “She said she’d be down here about eleven. She promised to bring some food, but she’s always after saying that and forgetting,” said Kathleen. “I’ll make enough sandwiches for the three of us.”

  • • •

  “Hello, everyone, I’m here!” Lily appeared in the kitchen later with her usual dramatic flourish. “Guess who’s home?” she said, rolling her eyes as she plucked an apple from the fruit bowl and bit into it.

  “Who?” asked Kathleen, stowing the sandwiches into the picnic basket.

  “Gerald! My ghastly half brother, Gerald.” Lily flopped daintily into a chair. “I haven’t seen him for over a year—last hols he went to stay with his mother’s relatives up in Clare.”

  Both Kathleen and Joe sent Lily sympathetic glances. Gerald, Sebastian Lisle’s only son by his first wife, Adele, had been the bane of their lives. An arrogant little boy who regarded Kathleen and Joe as though they were a nasty smell under his nose, he’d still want to join the three of them in their games, but spent most of his time ruining them. He’d sulk if he didn’t win every time, accuse them of cheating, and often lash out aggressively, especially at Joe, whom, being the same age, he teased mercilessly.

  “He isn’t coming to the beach, is he?” Kathleen asked anxiously.

  “No, he told me this morning that he’s nearly eighteen now and practically an adult. Luckily, I don’t think he wants anything to do with us. He’s grown up a lot, really. I hardly recognized him. He looks like a man and he’s almost as tall as Daddy. If he wasn’t Ghastly Gerald, I’d actually think he was rather handsome,” Lily giggled.

  “Not with that personality on him.” Kathleen shuddered. “Well now, it sounds grand that he’s too above himself to join us. Are you ready, Joe?”

  Joe, as always, was staring adoringly at Lily. “Ready,” he answered.

  The three of them made their way to the beach, Lily hitching a piggyback on Joe’s strong, broad shoulders, clinging like a baby monkey and screaming in pretend fear as he clambered down the rocks.

  “There now,” said Kathleen, panting as she set down the heavy picnic basket on the soft sand, “let Lily down, Joe, and she can help me unpack the basket.”

  “Oh, but it’s so hot and I want a dip in the sea immediately!” answered Lily, removing her dress to reveal a bathing costume, and the soft white contours of a body burgeoning into womanhood. “Race you, Joe!” Lily screamed excitedly as she charged off across the sand toward the sea.

  Kathleen watched as Joe lumbered behind Lily, throwing off his shirt on the way and plunging into the sea in his shorts a few seconds later. Kathleen set the blankets on the sand and placed the picnic she’d made earlier on one of them. She looked at Lily, in all her lithe-limbed beauty, screaming and splashing in the waves with Joe, then down at her own dumpy body, and wished she could be as unself-conscious as her cousin.

  Ten minutes later, Joe plodded back toward her and pointed to the towel. “Lily cold,” he said.

  Kathleen nodded, handed over the towel and watched Joe return to the shoreline to shroud the shivering Lily in its warmth. She thought it was a good job she was not the jealous type. Even though she’d looked out for Joe all of his life, protected him fiercely because he was incapable of protecting himself, loved him and defended him, Kathleen knew where Joe’s heart lay. If it were a choice between saving his sister or his cousin from drowning, Lily would win hands down. Joe’s adoration of Lily lit him up; any crumb from her table would be worth a year of practical and domestic care from herself. And if Lily made Joe happy, then what harm? Kathleen only hoped that when Lily grew up and moved on—there was no doubt she was so beautiful she’d have the pick of any man she chose—that Joe would survive it.

  Kathleen already understood how beauty helped you; even at school, the pretty girls got away with more than the plain ones. It didn’t seem to matter who you were inside—good or bad—but if your packaging was more appealing, it seemed you had an immediate advantage. People were in awe of beauty, especially men. They said it was only skin deep, but Kathleen disagreed. All the film stars were beautiful, the ladies who lived in the big houses were beautiful, and you rarely found a beautiful girl languishing as a skivvy in a kitchen. Unless you were Cinderella, but then your prince came along and knew you were the one because you had a pair of tiny, feminine feet on you.

  “Oh, Kathleen! I’m starving! Can I have a sandwich?” Lily was back, Joe following a few paces behind her.

  “There now, we’ve potted meat and jam.” Kathleen handed Lily a paper napkin with the sandwiches placed on them.

  Joe picked up the spare blanket and wrapped it around Lily’s shoulders. Then he sat himself on the sand in his wet shorts next to his sister.

  “Here, Joe, you need to eat too.” Kathleen indicated his share of the sandwiches.

  “Joe, can I swap my potted meats for your jam?” said Lily. “I hate potted meat.”

  Kathleen watched Joe hand over his jam sandwiches silently. Lily chewed them, tossing the crusts into the sand, then lay back and stretched her long, slim legs in the direction of the sun.

  “Why did I have to be born with such pale Irish skin?” Lily groaned. “I look like a white moon on a dark night.”

  “No. Beautiful.” Joe smiled.

  “Thank you, Joe. Do you know what, Kathleen?” Lily pulled herself up on her elbows. “Joe asked me to marry him when we were in the sea.” She giggled. “Isn’t that sweet?”

  “Well now, I should say it was,” said Kathleen, not liking the patronizing look in Lily’s eyes.

  “Look after you,” Joe nodded as he chewed his way through another potted meat sandwich.

  “Thank you, Joe. I know you always look after me. And I promise you I’ll think about the offer.” Lily, eyes full of amusement, lay back down on the sand to sunbathe.

  31

  I hope you don’t mind, but Gerald wants to come along.”

  Kathleen stared at the tall, handsome figure standing behind Lily on the doorstep of the kitchen. She tried to equate the “new,” manly Gerald with the Gerald of old, and was comforted to notice the familiar sneer on his thin lips. “Hello, Gerald,” she offered.

  “Hello . . .” Gerald scratched his head. “Sorry, can’t remember your name.”

  “Kathleen, ’tis Kathleen Doonan. And this is my brother, Joe.”

  “Of course, excuse me. How are you both?”

  “Grand altogether,” said Kathleen. “Well now, are we off?”

  “Hello, Lily,” Joe said, waiting for his usual hug.

  “Hi, Joe,” Lily replied, not moving from Gerald’s side. “We’ve stolen Daddy’s fishing rods, haven’t we, Gerald?” Lily smiled up at him.

  “Yes, a little better than a wooden pole and string with a piece of bacon on the end of it,” he smirked, glancing at Kathleen’s and Joe’s tools for the job in hand.

  The four of th
em left the house and walked down toward the stream. There was an uncomfortable silence, Kathleen unnerved by Gerald’s presence. Lily walked by her half brother’s side, chatting to him comfortably, while Joe brought up the rear. They reached the stream, Gerald producing a smart folding stool, which he immediately handed to Lily with a flourish. “Can’t have that derrière of yours getting soiled, now can we?” he commented.

  “Thank you, Gerald, it’s very kind of you,” said Lily, sitting down.

  The other three settled themselves on the bank, Gerald taking care to show Lily how to use the rod. They sat in silence, their normal banter quieted by Gerald’s presence. Every sentence Kathleen thought of stuck on her lips. She glanced to her left and saw Joe gazing morosely into the river, nose out of joint that he was not sitting next to his beloved Lily.

  Of course, Gerald was the first to get a catch. There was a lot of excitable praise from Lily as Gerald reeled in a very respectable trout.

  “Well done.” She smiled at him. “You obviously have the knack.”

  “It helps that these rivers are still well stocked. Father’s always looked after our lands well.”

  “Beg pardon, Gerald, but ’tis our stream now. My mammy and daddy bought this land last year.” Kathleen’s pride couldn’t stop her from mentioning it. “We hope to buy the rest of the land we rent and the farmhouse too, when your daddy has a mind to sell it to us.”

  “Well, well, landowners after all these years,” Gerald sneered. “I presume Lil’s mother had something to do with that, eh? Wanted to give her sister a gift, perhaps?”

  “No, sir, I mean, Gerald.” Kathleen reddened with anger. “My mammy and daddy bought it outright fair and square, so they did.”

  “I see.” Gerald raised an eyebrow, the news not pleasing him.

  “Really,” sighed Lily, “What does it matter who owns it? That poor fish will still end up on someone’s dinner plate tonight. I shouldn’t think he cares. Take my rod, Joe, I’m hot and I want to go for a swim.”