The Girl on the Cliff

by Lucinda Riley

  One day in August, Grania stretched and stood up from her workbench. There was no more she could do to them now without harming them. They were finished. Grania experienced a short burst of exhilaration as she wrapped each one carefully, ready to take to Cork to have them dipped in bronze. Once she had done that, she sat at her workbench feeling empty and desolate. The project had allowed her a focus with which to avoid the odd numbness she currently felt. It was as if she couldn’t quite connect with the rest of the world, as though she were looking on from behind a veil, her usual passionate emotions muted. Just now, Grania felt like a black-and-white facsimile of her former colorful self.

  Of course, the fact Aurora would soon become her daughter—Grania had already been interviewed by the Irish authorities with Aurora—was a wonderful and positive addition to her life. She tried to focus on that, rather than other, more difficult aspects of it. For, however much she loved her parents, she did not wish to remain under their roof forever. Dunworley House was in the full throes of renovation, but even when it was finished, Grania was not sure she would be comfortable living in it. Besides, Aurora was blissfully happy on the farm and wouldn’t take kindly to any suggestion of moving. And while she was still adjusting to the loss of her father it would probably be detrimental too.

  So, for now, it looked as if she was stuck where she was.

  • • •

  In September, Hans flew back to Ireland and the three of them went to the family court in Cork city to complete the formal adoption process.

  “Well, Aurora,” said Hans afterward over lunch, “You officially have a new mother. How does that feel?”

  “Wonderful!” Aurora hugged Grania tightly then added, “And a new grandmother and grandfather and,” she scratched her nose, “I think Shane is now my uncle. Isn’t that right?”

  Grania smiled. “Yes, it is.”

  “Do you think they’ll mind if I start calling them Granny and Grandpa . . . and Uncle Shane?” Aurora giggled.

  “I don’t think they’d mind at all,” said Grania.

  “And you, Grania?” Aurora was suddenly shy. “Can I call you Mummy?”

  Grania was moved. “Darling Aurora, if that’s what you’d like to call me, I’d be honored.”

  “Now I am feeling left out,” Hans pouted. “It seems I am the only one who is not officially related to you, Aurora!”

  “Don’t be silly, Uncle Hans! You’re my godfather! And you can always be my honorary uncle.”

  “Thank you, Aurora.” Hans’s eyes twinkled at Grania. “I appreciate it.”

  • • •

  Hans joined the celebration supper Kathleen had prepared in honor of Aurora’s legally becoming part of their family. He stood up after supper was over and said he must be getting off to his hotel in Cork city in preparation to fly back to Switzerland early the next morning. He kissed Aurora good-bye, thanked Kathleen and John, and Grania accompanied him outside to his car.

  “It is good to see that child so happy. And she is a lucky girl to be part of such a close-knit, loving home.”

  “Well, as my mother says, Aurora’s brought new life to them too.”

  “And what of you, Grania?” Hans paused before he climbed into the car. “What about your plans?”

  “I have none, really.” She shrugged.

  “Please, you must remember Alexander’s wish that Aurora’s presence in your life does not inhibit your future,” Hans reminded her. “I have seen for myself how happy Aurora is living here. If you ever wished to make a different life for yourself, I doubt it would hurt her.”

  “Thank you, Hans, but I have no ‘different’ life any more. This is my life.”

  “Then you must find yourself one. Perhaps take a trip back to New York sometime soon? Grania”—Hans put a hand on her shoulder—“You are too young and talented to bury yourself here. And do not use Aurora as an excuse to give up. It is down to all of us to make our own destinies.”

  “I know, Hans,” Grania agreed.

  “Forgive me, I am lecturing you. But I think you are suffering. And that the past few months have been harder on you than you think. I worry you are now in a rut and you must climb out. And to do that, one must sometimes swallow one’s pride, which I understand is particularly difficult for you, Grania.” He smiled and kissed her on both cheeks, then climbed into his car. “Take care, and remember I am just a phone call away. Any help I can give you, either personally or professionally, I will.”

  “Thank you.” Grania waved Hans off, sad to see him go. The two of them had grown close over the past few months and Grania respected his opinion. He was a wise man, and seemed to have an unerring knack of pinpointing and voicing Grania’s innermost thoughts and fears.

  Perhaps she should go back to New York . . .

  Grania yawned. As Scarlett O’Hara had famously said, she’d think about that tomorrow. It had been a long day.

  • • •

  As the cold winds of the Atlantic began to blow once more across the West Cork coastline and fires were lit again in the hearths of its residents’ homes, Grania started a new series of sculptures. This time, she used Aurora’s grandmother, Anna, as her study, taking the painting of The Dying Swan that hung in the dining room at Dunworley House and giving it physical form. She remembered how it had been her original “swan” sculpture that had allowed her path to cross with Matt’s. There was a sad irony in the title of her current work-in-progress. But, if nothing else, she had found out of adversity her particular metier. The elegance and grace of dancers inspired her and suited her particular abilities as a sculptor.

  Aurora’s ninth birthday fell at the end of November, and when Grania heard that the English National Ballet was coming to perform in Dublin, she secretly booked tickets. As she’d known Aurora would be, the little girl was beside herself with excitement.

  “Grania! This is the best present I’ve ever had! And it’s Sleeping Beauty—my ballet!”

  Grania had booked the two of them into the Jurys Inn Hotel in Dublin for the night, thinking they could enjoy some shopping while they were in the city. Observing Aurora’s enraptured face as she watched the ballet was more pleasurable than the ballet itself.

  “Oh, Grania,” Aurora said dreamily as they left the theater, “I’ve decided now: even though I love the animals on the farm, I think I need to be a ballerina. One day, I want to dance the part of Princess Aurora.”

  “I’m sure you will, sweetheart.”

  Back in their hotel room, Grania kissed Aurora good night and climbed into the twin bed next to her. As she switched off the light, a voice came out of the darkness.

  “Grania?”

  “Yes?”

  “I know Lily always said she hated ballet, but if she did, why did she call me after the famous princess in one?”

  “That’s a very good question, Aurora. Perhaps she didn’t hate it, really.”

  “No . . .”

  There was silence for a while. And then, “Grania?”

  “Yes, Aurora?”

  “Are you happy?”

  “Yes. Why do you ask?”

  “Because . . . sometimes, I see you looking very sad.”

  “Do you?” Grania was shocked. “Of course I’m happy, sweetheart. I have you, and my work, and my family.”

  There was another pause. “Yes, I know. But you don’t have a husband.”

  “No, I don’t.”

  “Well, you should. I don’t think Daddy would be very happy if he thought you were by yourself. And lonely,” Aurora admonished.

  “That’s kind of you to say so, sweetheart. But I’m fine, really.”

  “Grania?”

  “Yes, Aurora?” Grania sighed, weary now.

  “Did you love anyone before Daddy?”

  “Yes, I did.”

  “And what happened?”

  “Well, it’s a long story, and the truth is . . . I don’t really know.”

  “Oh. Well, shouldn’t you find out?”

 
“Aurora, you really should be going to sleep now.” Grania wished to end the conversation. It was far too uncomfortable. “It’s late.”

  “Sorry. Just two more questions. Where did he live?”

  “In New York.”

  “And what was his name?”

  “Matt, his name is Matt.”

  “Oh.”

  “Good night, Aurora.”

  “Good night, Mummy.”

  40

  Charley was now six months into her pregnancy. She was blooming with health, her wardrobe of designer maternity clothes equally expansive. The purchase of the house, three leafy streets away from both his own and Charley’s parents, had been completed. Charley was hard at work giving the house a complete overhaul, even though Matt thought it was just fine as it was. She had already taken maternity leave, and spent most of her time at her parents’ house so she could oversee the renovations. Matt was grateful; it gave him some breathing space and some time to concentrate on work. They’d had heated discussions on Matt’s refusal to join his father in his investment business, but he felt he must at least salvage something of who he had been—the identity he had worked so hard to create seemed to be dwindling by the day.

  He was losing himself . . .

  He’d also begun to sift through his belongings in preparation for the move to the new house. Grania’s stuff was still here in the loft. Matt had no idea what he was meant to do with it. Perhaps he should simply box it up, put it into storage and write to Grania at her parents’ address to let her know where it was. If she hadn’t wanted it by now, it was doubtful she ever would. Besides, Matt thought coldly, he was sure her new husband had helped her replace everything she’d needed.

  He only wished the love and the pain of missing her could turn into anger. There was the odd moment when this happened—when he got real mad at her—but it didn’t last long.

  Matt decided to go out and get himself some breakfast. He sat in a small café, drinking a latte and chewing on a bagel.

  “Hi there, Matt, how’s it hanging?” Matt looked up and saw Roger, Grania’s friend, standing by him.

  “It’s good, good.” He nodded, with as much enthusiasm as he could muster. “You’re a local now, Roger?”

  “Yup, love the neighborhood. How’s your girl?” Roger asked.

  “You mean Charley?”

  “Yeah, Charley.”

  “She’s good. We’re”—Matt blushed—“getting married.”

  “You are? Congratulations.”

  “After Charley’s had the baby.” Matt thought he might as well go for broke. There was no point in lying.

  “That’s great news!” Roger smiled. “To be honest, I knew you guys had been trying. After I saw Charley in your loft that night, I remembered where it was I’d seen her before. I work in the fertility clinic and she came in. You can tell her from me, she’s a lucky lady. Despite the progress of medical science, it’s only a small percentage who manage to conceive, even with the best treatment.”

  Matt shook his head in confusion. “You saw Charley at the fertility clinic?”

  “Yeah, it was definitely her, I helped her get into her gown. But I understand that a lot of couples don’t want it broadcast. Anyway, good luck with it all in the future.”

  “Thanks.”

  “See you around, Matt.”

  “Yup, see you.” Roger turned to walk out of the café.

  “Roger? Can you remember when this would have been?”

  Roger scratched his head. “Mid-May, I guess.”

  “You sure?”

  “Yeah, pretty sure, but . . . is there a problem?” Roger looked confused.

  “No, I—hey, it doesn’t matter.”

  Matt walked back home to the loft. Surely Roger must have made a mistake? Why would Charley have been in the fertility clinic in mid-May? Unless . . .

  His cell phone rang and Matt answered it automatically.

  “Hey, Matt, Mom here. How’s the daddy to be?”

  “Um . . .”

  “You OK, son?”

  “You know what, Mom? Right now, I don’t know. I just heard something . . .”

  “What is it, what’s happened, Matt?”

  “Jesus, Mom, I . . . don’t think I can tell you.”

  “Matty, you know you can tell me anything.”

  “OK, Mom, but I wanna tell you I have no proof it’s true. I just met an intern guy I know who told me Charley went for treatment in the fertility clinic he was working in. He recognized her when he came to the loft to drop something off. He says it was around May—the time when . . . shit, Mom! He’s probably made a mistake, I guess, but . . . I feel real confused. He was pretty certain it was her. Do you think—?”

  It was some time before Elaine answered. Finally she sighed, and said, “No, I don’t ‘think.’ Listen, Matt, there’s something I’ve known but I haven’t told you. You wanna come here?”

  “I’m on my way.”

  • • •

  “Charley had a problem when she was a teenager and started her—woman thing.” A faint color came to Elaine’s cheeks at the mention of it. “She was in a lot of pain every month—to the point where she missed a lot of high school. In the end, her mom took her to see a specialist uptown. He diagnosed her with something called endometriosis—which means you have cysts on your ovaries. Charley was told then she would probably never conceive naturally, if at all. I only know this because her mom came to see me. She was distraught that her daughter might not be able to have kids. They didn’t tell anyone else—it’s not the kind of thing you broadcast round the country club, especially if you’re hoping your daughter will make a good marriage. Charley was put on the pill, which helped control the pain. And I’ve never heard her mom mention it since.”

  Matt whistled. “I see.”

  “Please understand, honey, that I’m breaking a confidence to tell you this, and perhaps losing a friendship too. But, maybe, if you decide to talk to Charley about it, you keep my name out of it. Will you, Matt?” Elaine begged. “Because the chances are that your intern friend is telling the truth. And even though it will make my life difficult if Charley’s mom finds out I told you, I won’t have my boy deceived over something as important as this.”

  A rare anger had appeared in Elaine’s eyes. Matt patted her hand. “Don’t worry, Mom, I won’t say a word. And I need to think about what I should do. If Charley did . . . if she has—Christ, Mom! I just don’t get it, I really don’t. I need some time to think before she comes home.” Matt stood up and hugged his mother. “I really appreciate your telling me. I’ll call you in the next couple of days.”

  Matt drove back to the city, his brain a whirling mass of confusion. He didn’t know what to think, what to feel . . . At best, it had been an unfortunate coincidence that Charley had decided to have a baby and he had gotten drunk that night. Hell! He couldn’t even remember if he had screwed her, after all . . . Had she prepared her body in some way to maximize her chances? Had she engineered the whole thing and he had been simply an innocent victim of Charley’s desire for a child . . . ?

  The options were endless, and endlessly confusing. Matt knew, as he opened the door to the loft, that these were questions which could be answered by only one person. And even then, whether he’d get the truth or not, he really didn’t know.

  • • •

  Charley arrived home later that night, buzzing with excitement that she and the interior designer she’d chosen had bonded and had some great ideas for the new house.

  Matt could hardly speak to her. He needed to get his thoughts in some kind of order before he confronted her. Anger, he knew, was not the best way to approach this. Charley would become defensive and less likely to be honest with him. And even though there was damning evidence against her, she was innocent until proven guilty.

  Matt managed to get through the evening, nodding and smiling at the appropriate moments. They climbed into bed and Charley reached over to kiss him.

  “Nig
ht, honey. I’m so excited about our future.” She turned to switch off the light.

  It was then that Matt cracked. He switched the light back on.

  “Charley, we gotta talk.”

  “Hey, OK, hon.” She sat up in bed and took his hand. “You feeling nervous about being a daddy? Don’t worry, Matty, the doc said it’s perfectly normal to feel like that. He said—”

  “Charley, I need to ask you something. And I need you to tell me the truth.” Matt looked at her intently. “Whatever the consequences, I need you to do that for me, OK?”

  “Sure, honey, I’d never lie to you.”

  “OK . . .” Matt took a deep breath. “Did you go to a fertility clinic in May to have treatment to help you conceive a baby?”

  Matt did not let his gaze move from her face. He knew that in those first few seconds, before the brain had moved into gear to concoct a story, the truth would appear in her eyes.

  “I—Christ, honey!” She gave a nervous smile.

  And in that moment, Matt knew she’d deceived him.

  “Jesus, Charley! I’m not sure of how, or why, but you did go for treatment, didn’t you? You need to be honest with me, because I have to know what the story is.” Matt was still holding her stare. Charley wavered uncertainly for a few seconds before she burst into tears.

  “Oh, Matty . . . how did you find out?”

  “I saw that guy Roger in a coffee shop yesterday. He congratulated us on a successful conclusion to our project. But ‘how’ is irrelevant, I—”

  “OK! Yes, I did go for treatment, but I wasn’t trying to dupe you or trap you. I was prepared from the start to have this baby alone. Remember?” she urged desperately. “When we talked about it? I told you then I was going to have the baby whatever you decided. It was a miracle, Matty, after all those years of thinking I’d never have a child of my own. To find myself pregnant . . . Oh, Matty, can you forgive me? Please, I love you!”