“Brain tumor. I knew a year ago. Times I was away was for treatment.” He smiled sadly. “You can see. Didn’t work. I’m dying, Grania. Thought I’d have longer, but”—he licked his dry lips to aid his speech—“haven’t.”
“I . . .” the tears were rolling unchecked down Grania’s cheeks now. “I’m so sorry, Alexander. Why didn’t you tell me? I knew something was wrong; you looked terrible the last time you came home. And all those headaches . . . it makes sense now. Excuse me.” She rooted in her handbag to find a tissue to stem her running nose. “Why didn’t you say something?” she repeated.
“While there was still hope, didn’t want Aurora to know. Or you,” he added.
“Is there . . . nothing the doctors can do?” Grania knew, looking at him, she was grasping at straws.
“Nothing. Tried everything. Done for, I’m afraid.”
“How long—?” Grania could not finish the sentence.
Alexander helped her. “Two weeks, maybe three . . . way I feel, I think sooner. Grania”—she felt sudden pressure on her hand from his—“need your help.”
“Whatever I can do, Alexander, tell me.”
“It’s Aurora. Worried for her, no one to take care of her when I’m gone.”
“You mustn’t worry about that. I and my family will look after her. You know we will, Alexander.” Grania could see that both the effort of speaking and the emotion were draining him.
“My poor little girl . . . what suffering she’s known.” It was Alexander’s turn to cry now. “Grania, why is life so cruel?”
“I don’t know, Alexander, I really don’t. All I can promise you is that Aurora will be safe and well and loved.”
“Excuse me . . . so tired, the drugs, you know.”
Grania sat there as Alexander’s eyes closed and he slept. She felt giddy, faint with shock. Of all the things she’d expected, sitting at the bedside of a dying Alexander had not been one of them. She tried to think rationally about what this meant, but her brain was numb. She sat there holding his hand as tightly as she could, as if she and her own health and energy were his conduit to life itself.
Eventually, his eyes fluttered open, and he turned his head to focus on her. “I trust you, Grania. Seen your love for Aurora. And your family . . . good people. Want Aurora to be with you and . . . them.”
“I’ve said, Alexander, she can be. She will be.”
“No.” Alexander made an effort to shake his head. “Not good enough. Can’t take any chances. Grania, need to ask you a favor.”
“Anything, Alexander, you know that.”
“Will you marry me?”
After an evening of shocks, this was the largest so far. Grania wondered seriously if Alexander was mentally sound.
“Marry you? But . . . ?”
“Hardly a dream proposal, know that.” Alexander’s lips turned up in a sad facsimile of a smile. “Wish could be asking you under different circumstances.”
“I don’t understand, Alexander. Can you try and explain?”
“My solicitor will do that tomorrow. Then I can die knowing . . .” Alexander took a deep breath to try and curb his emotion, “my little girl is safe.”
“Oh, Alexander—” Grania’s voice cracked.
“Will you? Do this? For me?” he managed.
“I . . .” Grania put her fingers to her forehead, “this is such a shock, I—I need some time to think about it.”
“Haven’t got ‘time.’ Please, Grania, I’m begging you. Promise, I will leave you financially secure for the rest of your life.”
“I don’t want your money, Alexander.”
“Please, Grania. Need to do this before it’s . . . too late.”
She looked at his anguished face and knew she had no choice.
“Yes,” she answered slowly, “I’ll do it.”
• • •
The following morning, having spent an entirely sleepless night—albeit in a beautiful suite at a hotel in Geneva—Grania met Alexander’s chauffeur in the lobby at ten o’clock and was taken back to the hospital.
Alexander managed a weak smile as she walked through the door. Sitting in the chair next to his bed was an older man, graying hair combed neatly, dressed immaculately in a suit.
He stood up, towering over Grania, and offered his hand.
“Hello, Miss Ryan, my name is Hans Schneider. I am Mr. Devonshire’s solicitor, old friend and godfather to Aurora,” he added.
“Hans is here to talk to you about what we discussed last night,” said Alexander. “You . . . haven’t had second thoughts?”
“To be frank, I haven’t had any thoughts at all. I think I’m still in shock,” Grania replied.
“Of course,” said Hans. “What I suggest is that you and I take ourselves off downstairs to the restaurant and I will talk you through everything that Alexander has suggested.”
Grania nodded silently, feeling she was a pawn in a complex game of chess she didn’t understand.
Downstairs in the pleasant restaurant, Hans ordered coffee for both of them. He drew out some thick files. “Now, Miss Ryan,” he said in his clipped German accent, “may I call you Grania?”
“Of course,” she replied.
“First of all, it is important you understand that everything we are doing is to safeguard Aurora when Alexander is no longer able to do so himself.”
“Yes, but what I don’t understand, Hans, is that surely all Alexander would need to do is to state in his will, or maybe on a separate legal document of some kind, that he wishes myself and my family to adopt Aurora?”
“Under normal circumstances, that would almost certainly be enough. But the problem is, Grania, these are extraordinary circumstances,” explained Hans. “I have asked Alexander if I may speak for him—he is too weak now to be able to elucidate his thoughts properly to you, and of course, it is important that you know. His concern is purely for Aurora’s well-being and safety. He wishes to know that when he dies, he has left her future watertight. By marrying him, you become Aurora’s stepmother, and if we start the adoption process now, it is unlikely it can be overturned.”
“But why would anyone wish to overturn it?”
“Grania, Alexander is an extremely wealthy man. The fortune he leaves will go to Aurora. Not only that, but Aurora will inherit Dunworley House and other valuable property from her mother, Lily, when her father dies. Even though most of it is already tied up in trusts until Aurora reaches the age of twenty-one, there is obviously a large lump sum that must be entrusted to the person or persons who will bring her up. At present, Mr. Devonshire has a number of relatives who might be eager to lay their hands on such an amount. For example, his sister—his closest blood relative—who might well have a case in court which overturns Alexander’s wishes. He has not spoken to her for ten years. Trust me, Grania, having met her”—Hans raised his eyebrows—“I can understand why Alexander does not wish Aurora and her fortune to end up in his sister’s hands.”
“I see.”
“Perhaps you think Alexander is being overcautious, but having been a solicitor for thirty-five years, I will guarantee that once Alexander dies, the vultures will descend,” Hans remarked. “And he wishes to take no chances.”
“I understand that,” said Grania.
“Now, not only as Alexander’s solicitor, but his good friend and godfather to Aurora, I must ask you whether you are prepared to take on the responsibility of adopting her?”
“Yes, if that’s what is necessary. I love her,” Grania replied simply.
“And that is the most important thing of all.” Hans smiled. “The only worry Alexander has is that adopting Aurora should not curtail your own future in any way. He wants you to know that, if you wish to return to New York, he would be happy for Aurora to stay living in Ireland with your parents. May I ask, how does your family feel about Aurora?”
“They adore her and she adores them. She’s with them now in Ireland and as happy as I’ve ever seen her. But,
Hans,” Grania shook her head despairingly, “how am I to break it to Aurora that her father . . .” Tears sprang spontaneously to Grania’s eyes at the mere thought of the conversation.
“I know.” Hans reached across the table and patted her hand. “This is the other reason Alexander believes it is a good idea if you marry him. Yes, Aurora will lose her father, but—at the same time—she will have gained a mother. He thinks it might lessen the blow for her. He said that was how she regarded you, anyway.”
“It was kind of him to say so,” Grania answered, trying not to let emotion get the better of her. “I certainly love her like my own. There’s been a bond between us since the beginning.”
“I do believe that God works in mysterious ways sometimes,” said Hans quietly. “And at least if you are prepared to accept Alexander’s proposal, he can die knowing his beloved daughter is safe and loved. I cannot tell you how highly he regards you, Grania. I should also say that time is very short, shorter perhaps than even Alexander realizes. We should arrange the marriage ceremony for as soon as tomorrow. I will contact the local registrar who will come to the hospital and perform it. Sadly, Grania, tomorrow will be your wedding day.”
She nodded silently, the bitter irony of refusing to marry Matt for all those years, set against this tragic act she seemed to have no choice but to make, bringing a lump to her throat.
“I believe Alexander asked you to bring your birth certificate. If I could take that and your passport with me, and you could sign this, which I have already taken the liberty of filling in, I will make the arrangements.”
Numbly, Grania scribbled her signature at the bottom of the form, then took her birth certificate and passport from her handbag and handed them to him.
“Thank you. Now, these are the papers to start the formal adoption process.”
Grania signed form after form mindlessly and passed them back to Hans.
“So . . .” Having stacked his papers together and stowed them in his briefcase, Hans looked at her. “You know nothing of the settlement Alexander is proposing for you, as his wife. Yet you have signed all these forms?”
“It’s hardly the money that matters in this, surely? I’m doing it simply because I love Aurora and I’m very fond of her father.”
“Yes.” Hans gave her a sudden warm smile. “I now understand why Alexander wishes you to bring up his daughter. He said you would not be interested in the financial arrangements and”—Hans winked at her—“he has just been proved right.”
“Good,” said Grania defensively, realizing he had tested her. “Please remember, I haven’t asked to be involved in any of this. And I earn my own living, thank you. I don’t need Alexander’s money.”
“My apologies. Knowing what Alexander is entrusting to you, I had to make sure for myself, given he is so ill, that he was sound of mind, if not body. I can now categorically sign the papers to say he is. I will be executor of his will and handle his financial affairs for you and Aurora in the future. I will be helping you as much as I can. And I will tell you now that in his will, he has left you—”
“Enough!” Grania was exhausted and couldn’t take any more. “Could we leave it there, Hans? We can talk about that another day. I’d like to go back and see Alexander now.”
• • •
“Alexander,” whispered Grania as she sat down next to him. He opened his eyes and looked at her.
“Hello, Grania.”
“I wanted to tell you that Hans and I have sorted everything out. I’ve signed the adoption papers, and you and I are getting married tomorrow.”
With great effort, Alexander twisted his head to look at her and lifted a hand out to be held. “Thank you, Grania. Will you buy yourself something beautiful to wear? And, of course, there’s the ring.” Alexander indicated the drawer in the bedside table next to him. “Open it.”
Grania did so and inside found a red leather Cartier box. Alexander held out his hand to receive it from her. With much effort, he propped himself up, opened the box and took out an exquisite diamond solitaire ring.
“Grania Ryan, will you marry me?”
Her eyes blinded by tears, Grania nodded. “Yes, Alexander.”
With all the strength he possessed, Alexander placed the ring on her finger. “Just one more thing, Grania.” The pressure on Grania’s fingers increased. “Will you . . . stay with me until . . . the end? Like . . . my wife would.” He smiled sadly.
“Of course I will. But . . . what do we tell Aurora?”
“That we are on honeymoon. She’ll be pleased.”
“Oh, but, Alexander, what do I—how do I tell her?”
“I trust you to say the right thing. And at least now she has a new mother she loves.”
Alexander’s eyes drooped. Grania sat at his bedside as he slept, gazing out of the window at the magnificent view of Mont Blanc in the distance.
Even though tomorrow would be her wedding day, she had never felt more alone in her life.
• • •
After Kathleen had dropped Aurora off at school, she came back to feed the chickens and collect the eggs. It had been four days now since Grania had left. And not a word from her. Kathleen had tried that phone of hers on numerous occasions. It was permanently switched off.
“That girl needs a good leathering,” she grumbled as she stomped back into the house with the eggs. “Taking off and not letting her mammy know how or where she is, and having her worry half out of her mind.”
Later that day, the telephone rang and Kathleen picked it up.
“Mam? It’s me, Grania.”
“I know ’tis you! Jesus, Mary and Joseph! I’ve been imagining all sorts of things.”
“Sorry, Mam. I can only say that whatever you’re imagining won’t come anywhere near the truth, but I can’t talk now. Is Aurora there?”
“No, it’s Monday, if you’ve forgotten. She’s at school.”
“Of course,” said Grania distractedly. “Listen, I’ll try to talk to her later, but it’s difficult at the moment. Mam, I need you to tell her something for me.”
“And what might that be?”
“Tell her . . . that her daddy and I have got married. And that I’m to be her new mummy.”
Kathleen felt as though all her breath had been knocked out of her body. “What?! You’re telling me that you and Alexander have got wed?”
“Yes, but Mam, it’s a very long story. I can’t explain now, but I promise you, it’s not what it seems.”
“I’d say it is,” said Kathleen, “and there was you the night before you left, telling me you were still hankering after your Matt. What possessed you, girl? Are you out of your mind?”
“Mam, for once in your life, please trust me. I need you to tell Aurora that her daddy and I are taking a honeymoon. We’re not sure”—there was a sudden catch in Grania’s throat—“how long for.”
“I see. And can you be telling me how long for?”
“I wish I knew, Mam.”
“Grania Ryan . . . or in fact, Grania who? These days—”
“Devonshire. I’m Mrs. Devonshire.”
“Well, at least it’s not a Lisle name you’ll be taking.”
“Look, Mam, I really have to go. I promise I’ll explain everything when I get home. Send a big kiss to Aurora, and tell her that both her daddy and I love her very much. I’ll speak to you soon.”
The line went dead in Kathleen’s hand.
It wasn’t often Kathleen took to the drink, but she walked into the sitting room and poured herself a glass of sherry from the tray. Swigging it down in one, she went back to the phone, looked up her husband’s rarely used mobile number and dialed it.
35
Matt felt as though he was living in a miasma of misery and confusion. For someone who spent his life lecturing others on the workings of the human mind, wrote papers on the subject regularly and had a book published by Harvard Press, he seemed to have screwed up his own life well and truly.
When Cha
rley had told him her news, Matt had been lost for words—and, in fact, thoughts. He still was. He knew he’d reacted badly. Charley had left the restaurant that night in floods of tears. After he’d paid the bill and followed her home a few minutes later, Charley had already disappeared into her bedroom. He’d knocked on the door and received no reply.
“Can I come in?” he’d asked.
Again there had been no reply, so he’d walked in anyway. Charley was lying huddled under her covers, her face streaked with tears.
“May I sit down?”
“Yup,” had come the muffled response.
“Charley, honey. I am so, so sorry.”
“Thanks,” she’d replied miserably.
“Have you . . . thought about what you wanna do? I mean . . . do you want it?”
At this, the covers had been thrown back and Charley had sat upright, anger blazing from her eyes. “Are you asking me to have a termination?”
“No. Shit! I haven’t even begun to think what I want. This is about you.”
“What?! Hey, Matty boy, you were there too, you know. This isn’t just about me, it’s about us.”
What “us”? Matt had thought, but didn’t say, not wishing to incur Charley’s wrath any further. “I know, honey, but I thought I should get your thoughts first.”
Charley had drawn her long legs up to her chin and put her arms around them protectively. “As on the night in question you swore you loved me, then right now I suppose I would be looking forward to the prospect of you, me and ‘it.’ But as that’s not the case, and you’ve sure made that clear to me tonight, I just don’t know what I want.”
“Then maybe we both need some time to think.”
“Yeah, well, I don’t have the luxury of too much time. This is growing inside me and I don’t wanna get attached to it if I have to . . .”
The words had hung in the air.
“No,” Matt had agreed. “You are . . . real sure, aren’t you?”
“What? Are you doubting me? Next thing, you’ll be asking me for DNA tests to prove the goddamned baby is yours!”
The Girl on the Cliff Page 32
