The Girl on the Cliff

by Lucinda Riley

  • • •

  Two hours later, Grania reappeared in the kitchen, looking disoriented.

  “How long have I been asleep? It’s almost dark.”

  “Just as long as you needed to be,” said Kathleen. “Now, so, I’ve arranged with Jennifer that Aurora sleep over with them. Your daddy popped an overnight bag round there half an hour ago, and he’s taken himself off to the pub with your brother. So you needn’t be worrying about anyone coming in.”

  “Thanks, Mam.” Grania sat down at the table wearily.

  “I’ve made you some lamb stew. It was always your favorite. And you look to me as though that tummy of yours hasn’t seen a square meal since you left.”

  “Thanks, Mam,” Grania repeated as Kathleen put a bowl of stew in front of her.

  “There now, eat what you can. An empty stomach doesn’t help a painful heart.”

  “Oh, Mam . . .”

  “Eat, Grania, don’t talk.”

  Grania shoveled the food into her mouth, chewed and swallowed automatically. “I can’t eat any more, Mam, really.” She pushed the bowl away.

  “Well now, at least there’s a little more color in those cheeks of yours.” Kathleen removed the bowl and put it in the sink. “Grania, I’ll not be pushing you to talk, but you know I’ll be listening if you want me to.”

  “I—I don’t know . . . where to begin.”

  “I’m sure you don’t. While you were sleeping, I’ve been putting two and two together. When Alexander came here that night when Aurora was lost, the color on him, well . . . that told me then something wasn’t right inside him. I’d say he knew a long time ago how ill he was.”

  “Yes, he did. But by the time the doctors discovered the problem, they couldn’t operate because of the size of the tumor and the position in his brain. All he could hope for was that chemotherapy would help. But it didn’t.”

  “No.”

  “He realized he had to accept the inevitable a few weeks ago, when he started to deteriorate. And that was when he began to make plans for Aurora. I . . .”

  “No rush, pet.” Kathleen sat down next to her at the table and put her hand over Grania’s. “You just take your time.”

  Haltingly at first, Grania began to tell her mother the story. Kathleen listened quietly, taking in and understanding all Grania was telling her. And inwardly berating herself for criticizing what she had initially seen as Grania’s capriciousness in marrying Alexander.

  “Hans, his solicitor, will be coming over to see me here in the next two weeks, and bringing Alexander’s ashes with him. He said he wanted them spread on Lily’s grave.” Grania paused and gave a long, deep sigh. “Oh, Mam, watching him die . . . it was dreadful. Dreadful,” she emphasized.

  “From what you say, pet, it sounds like a merciful release.”

  “Yes. He was in so much pain.” She looked up at her mother suddenly and gave a weak smile. “You know, Mam, your instinct that you needed to tell me the story of Lily before I left for Switzerland was right. I was able to tell Alexander what had happened to Lily when she was younger before he died. He said it had helped him and I think it did. He loved her so very much.”

  “Well, let’s hope they’re together now, somewhere up there, and the pain of living is over for both of them,” said Kathleen somberly. “And that they can look down and know that their precious daughter is safe here with us.”

  “Oh God, Mam,” Grania shook her head despairingly. “How on earth do I tell her?”

  “Grania, that is something I don’t have the answer to. And I’m thinking it’s a terrible thing her daddy’s left you to do.”

  “It is,” agreed Grania, “but if you’d have seen the state he was in . . . he looked like his own ghost. And even though he was desperate to see Aurora just one last time, he was adamant that it would make it worse for her if he did. He wants—wanted—Aurora to remember him as he was. We all know how unstable Aurora had been after her mother died. I think he did the right thing.”

  “Have you an idea of what you should tell her?” asked Kathleen.

  “I’ve thought of nothing else for the past few days,” Grania replied desolately. “Do you have any suggestions, Mam?”

  “I’d say it’s better not to lie if you can avoid it. Tell her the truth, as gently as you can.”

  “Yes,” agreed Grania, “but I don’t want her to know that he suffered so much.”

  “Well, it’s an awful burden he’s given you, but all I can say is that we’ll be here for her when you have told her, and we’ll give her, and you, as much love and support as we can. You know, Grania, that whatever you decide to do with your life, Aurora will always have a home here with us.”

  “Yes, Mam, thank you. It was the one thing that worried Alexander; he didn’t want my adoption of Aurora to affect my future plans.”

  “And your mammy will be making sure it doesn’t,” said Kathleen firmly.

  “Well,” Grania sighed, “I doubt I’m off anywhere soon. I have nowhere else to go.” She shrugged, then yawned and rose from the table. “Oh, Mam, I’m so tired. If I’m to tell Aurora tomorrow, I think I should try and get some more sleep.”

  “Yes.” Kathleen put her arms around Grania and hugged her. “Sleep tight, pet. And I just want to tell you how proud your mammy is of her daughter,” she whispered.

  “Thanks, Mam. Night-night,” Grania answered, and left the kitchen.

  John and Shane came home half an hour later. Kathleen told them the dreadful tale Grania had related to her.

  “That poor little pet,” said John, surreptitiously wiping a tear from his eye. “Well now, at least Aurora has us.”

  “She does that,” added Shane. “We all love her like she’s our own.”

  “And she’s going to need to feel every ounce of it,” Kathleen underlined. “And Grania too. She’s been put through a terrible time, through no fault of her own.”

  “Well now, seems your sixth sense was right again, sweetheart,” said John. “You said you had a bad feeling right from the start.”

  “There’s no doubt you’re a witch, Mam,” Shane agreed and patted his mother’s arm affectionately. He stood up. “I’m for my bed now, Mam, but you be telling Grania and that small one I love them both.”

  Later, as husband and wife climbed into bed, John asked, “When is Grania going to tell Aurora?”

  “I’d be thinking when she comes back from school tomorrow afternoon. It’ll give Grania another day to collect herself.”

  “Come here, darlin’.” John reached out his strong arms and encircled his wife inside them. “Try not to worry. I’d be looking on the bright side and say that, although Aurora’s in for a terrible shock tomorrow, at least there’s no future uncertainty for her. She’ll know she has a home here with us for the rest of her life. And for all it’s put our Grania through, I admire Alexander for having the foresight to make sure it would be the case.”

  “Yes. Night, pet.”

  “Night.”

  It was only then, as Kathleen closed her eyes to try to sleep, that she remembered the phone call from Matt.

  • • •

  Grania woke the following morning feeling at least physically refreshed. She lay and tried to take on board what had happened to her, not just in the past two weeks, but in the past four months. Aurora had arrived like a whirlwind in her life and changed it irrevocably. To the point where she was now officially Mrs. Devonshire, stepmother to a child who would soon become officially her daughter. And a widow . . .

  Just like Mary before her.

  Grania tried to focus on the words she would choose to tell Aurora about her father then decided it was pointless. She couldn’t plan, because she had no idea of how Aurora would react. She’d have to play it by ear. And the sooner it was over, the better.

  Grania felt a sudden urge to leave the house and breathe some fresh air into her lungs. Being cooped up in a stuffy hospital for the past two weeks had been an ordeal. She threw on her tracksuit
bottoms, hoodie and trainers, and went downstairs. Kathleen was nowhere to be seen, so she jogged off down the lane and turned right up the cliff path toward Dunworley House. It was a beautiful day and the sea was mill-pond still.

  Panting, Grania sat down on the grassy rock where she’d first seen the little girl standing alone on the cliff’s edge. She looked up at the house above her—a house that was now in trust for Aurora to live in if she so wished.

  Hans had eventually outlined the amount Alexander had left Grania in his will; enough to ensure that, if she chose not to, she’d never have to do another day’s work for the rest of her life. She was a wealthy woman.

  “Oh, Matt.” Grania suddenly choked out his name. Her mother had been wonderful, but right now she was in desperate need of the warmth, understanding and love of the man she’d always considered her soul mate. The pain of his loss was physical. And the fact that it was over and she would never know the comfort he had offered her again was palpable.

  Grania stood and continued up the hill toward Dunworley House. She could not dwell . . . life had happened and there was no turning back. She pushed open the gate and walked through the front garden. Alexander had stipulated in his will that the house would become Aurora’s on her twenty-first birthday. It was then up to his daughter to decide whether she wished to keep it or sell it. He had set aside a healthy sum to renovate it, but she would discuss all that with Hans when he arrived over here.

  Walking into the courtyard at the back, Grania rooted under the boulder for the key to her studio. Once inside, she studied the sculptures sitting on her workbench. And for the first time in two weeks, felt a tiny surge of pleasure. They were as good as she’d remembered they were, but they could be better.

  • • •

  “Jesus, Mary and Joseph, Grania! Where have you been?” exclaimed Kathleen as Grania entered the kitchen.

  “Sorry, Mam, I went up to my studio and must have lost track of time. Is there anything to eat? I’m starving.”

  “I’ll make you a quick sandwich.” Kathleen glanced at the clock nervously. “You know Aurora will be home in half an hour?”

  “Yes.” Grania’s stomach turned over at the thought. “When she gets here, I’m taking her off for a walk.”

  • • •

  “Grania!” Aurora catapulted herself into Grania’s arms and hugged her tightly. Mother and daughter shared a glance of sorrow over the top of her head.

  “It’s wonderful to see you, sweetheart,” Grania responded. “How have you been?”

  “I’ve been very well, thank you,” said Aurora. “Did Shane tell you that Maisie, the sheepdog, is having pups? He said I can be there when she gives birth even if it’s the middle of the night,” she added, throwing a surreptitious glance at Kathleen. “And I’ve been telling all my friends at school that you are my real mother now.” Aurora let go of Grania and began to pirouette around the kitchen. “I’m so happy!” She paused in mid-twirl and suddenly asked, “Where’s Daddy?”

  “Aurora, why don’t you fetch Lily and we’ll take her up the cliff path for a walk?” suggested Grania.

  “All right,” she agreed. “Be back in a minute.”

  “I wait for you outside,” Grania called to Aurora’s retreating back.

  Kathleen walked over to her daughter and placed a comforting hand on her arm. “Good luck, Grania. We’ll be here for you both when you get back.”

  Grania nodded silently and left the kitchen.

  Aurora was full of chatter on the way up the hill as the puppy chased flies and darted in and out of her young mistress’s legs.

  “You know, I was thinking the other day,” Aurora said in her quaint, adult way, “how much more I like my life now. I was so lonely before I met you and Kathleen and John and Shane. And I love living on the farm. And now you’ve married Daddy, they are my real family too, aren’t they?”

  “I’m going to sit down for a bit now, Aurora,” said Grania as they reached the grassy rock overlooking the sea. “Will you come and sit with me?”

  “Yes.” Aurora sank gracefully to the ground and Lily came to snuggle into her lap. She looked up at Grania’s solemn face. “What is it? You have something to tell me, don’t you?”

  “Yes, I do, Aurora.” Grania reached for the child’s hand.

  “Is it about Daddy?” Aurora asked earnestly.

  “Yes. It is. How did you know?”

  “I don’t know, I just . . . did.”

  “Aurora, darling, I’m not really sure how to tell you this, so I’m going to say it very quickly . . .”

  “Daddy’s gone, hasn’t he?”

  “Aurora . . . yes, he has.”

  “Up to heaven?”

  “Yes. He was very ill just after we got married and . . . he died. I’m so, so sorry.”

  “I see.” Aurora’s eyes concentrated intensely on stroking the puppy on her lap.

  “But I just want to tell you, my darling, my darling Aurora, that you’re going to have all of us—your new family—to look after you. And,” emphasized Grania, “not only am I your stepmother, but Daddy and I signed the papers which mean I will legally adopt you as soon as possible. You will be my daughter and no one will ever be able to take you away from me.”

  So far, Aurora was showing no visible signs of distress. Grania’s own vision was blurred by tears. “You know I love you like my own child. I always have . . . somehow,” Grania continued, wishing she could show the same amount of strength as the little girl in front of her. “Aurora, do you understand what I’m telling you?”

  Aurora raised her eyes from the puppy and looked over the cliff top, out to sea. “Yes, I understand. I knew that he would be going soon. I just didn’t know when.”

  “Aurora, how did you know?”

  “Mummy”—Aurora checked herself—“my old mummy told me.”

  “Did she?”

  “Yes. She said the angels would be coming to take him to heaven, to be with her.” Aurora turned and looked at Grania. “I told you she was lonely.”

  “You did.”

  Aurora sat in silence for a long time before she said, “I’ll miss him. Very much. I would have liked to say good-bye.” She bit her lip, and Grania saw the first glimmer of tears.

  “Darling, I know I can’t replace your mummy and daddy, but I promise you, I’ll do my best.”

  Aurora was looking out to sea again. “I understand Mummy wanted him with her, but why does everyone I love leave me?”

  Then she cried, great sobs that racked her body. Grania pulled Aurora into her arms and sat her on her knee, rocking her like a baby.

  “I won’t leave you, darling, I promise,” she murmured over and over again. “And Daddy didn’t want to, believe me. He loved you so very much. He loved you enough to make sure that you’d be safe with me and my family. That’s why we got married.”

  Aurora looked up at her. “I think he loved you a little bit too.” She wiped her tears away with her forearm and asked, “Are you sad, Grania? That he’s gone?”

  “Oh, yes,” said Grania, “I’m terribly, terribly sad.”

  “Did you love Daddy?” asked Aurora.

  “Yes, I think I did. I’m just sad I didn’t have very much time with him.”

  Aurora reached for Grania’s fingers and clasped them tightly. “So, we both loved him. And we’ll both miss him, won’t we?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then we can help cheer each other up when one of us feels sad about it, can’t we?”

  Aurora’s bravery and strength was far more poignant than her tears. “Yes,” Grania said as she held Aurora tightly to her, “We can.”

  • • •

  “Where’s Aurora?” Kathleen asked as Grania walked back into the kitchen.

  “She’s putting Lily to bed and she says she wants to go with Shane and check on the sheep.”

  “Really?” Kathleen raised an eyebrow. “You did tell her? Didn’t you?”

  “Yes, I did.”

  �
�And how did she take it?”

  “Mam”—Grania shook her head in confusion and amazement—“she said she already knew.”

  Aurora

  Yes. I did know.

  Though to explain “how,” exactly, is almost impossible. If I say I heard voices telling me, you will almost certainly, and with good reason, think I’m as mentally unstable as my poor mother, Lily. Let’s just say I had a “premonition.” Lots of people have those, don’t they?

  Still, it was an awful shock, just as everything was going so perfectly. Grania married to my father . . . what I had wanted, and yes, I admit, had helped to engineer.

  The change between joy and sadness happened in the blink of an eye. There was no time to “tread water,” to savor the moment for a few months, or even weeks.

  Daddy had done all he could to protect me by marrying Grania and making it easy for her to adopt me. He showed his love for me in practical ways, as many men do. But I would have liked to have said good-bye in person, however awful he looked.

  I wouldn’t have minded, because I’d known he was ill all along. And if you love someone, it’s not at all about how they look . . . it’s feeling their “essence,” one last time.

  In retrospect, it was probably just as hard for Grania. Her life had been tossed into the maelstrom of our family’s storm, forced to adapt by a father desperate to protect his beloved child.

  I read a book recently that explained how spirits travel in “groups” through time. They change roles, but are endlessly drawn to each other through an invisible connection.

  Perhaps that could explain why Kathleen felt history was repeating itself with Grania and me. After all, she was kindhearted and needy for a child to love when she met me, and I was the “orphan” she took under her wing. Oh dear, Reader, I hope I’ve never behaved as callously as my grandmother Anna did to Mary. The Buddhists say we must come back to earth until we’ve learned our lessons and I hope that I’ve always treated Grania with gratitude and love. As, actually, I would quite like to move on to the next level after this. Nirvana sounds very pleasant. Perhaps I have some way to go yet, but I’ve always tried to be a good person. And I could certainly do with a new, stronger body . . .