Dreaming About Daran (Whitsborough BayTrilogy Book 3)

by Jessica Redland

  I have one more confession. Daran McInnery wrote to you many, many times via your priest, Father Doherty. At my insistence, he destroyed the letters. Your sister Aisling also tried to make contact. I returned her letters, unopened. I know now that I had no right to do either of these things, not that this will bring you any comfort.

  I go to my Maker with my conscience at peace now and hope that one day you can perhaps understand, even if you can’t forgive. At the time, I genuinely did believe it was for best for you, Clare, but I realise now that your father and I were thinking of ourselves, not what was right for you and your daughter.

  God bless you on your journey, should you wish to find young Shannon.

  Great-Aunt Nuala

  I dropped the letter. Jesus Christ! She’s alive? After all these years, Shannon’s alive? They lied to me? Why would they lie? I’d agreed to the adoption. My hands shook and my heart raced as I snatched up the letter again and scanned it for an answer – ‘… so you could never trace them’. What difference would it make if I had? I closed my eyes tightly and muttered, ‘Same as keeping her in the first place. Same reason I was banished to Cornwall. Disgrace to the family. Damn them. Damn them all. She was my baby. It was my choice. My body. My choice.’

  I opened my eyes again and reread the letter. ‘Photo. Where’s the photo?’ I rummaged through the sheets of the letter. It wasn’t there. Stay calm. It’ll be here. Think. The envelope! It’ll still be in the envelope. So where the feck’s the envelope? Not in the bed.

  I found it on the floor, and relief flowed through me when my fingers touched something inside. I sat on the floor, leaned against the side of the bed and gazed at the image. A pretty, blonde baby with green eyes and pudgy cheeks grinned at the camera. She must have been about five or six months old. I turned the photo over. A scribble in blue biro on the back stated: Shannon at 6 months. Thank you for our beautiful gift.

  I flipped the photo back over and stroked her face with my fingertip. ‘I’m sorry I didn’t keep you. I wanted to. I can remember the day you were born, as if it were yesterday. And the pain when they took you away was not a patch on the pain that I felt when they told me you’d died. Because, while you were alive, there was hope that we’d find each other one day, then we’d track down Daran and be a proper family. He’d have wanted that. He loved me and he was true to me, whatever Da says. I’m sorry, Shannon. I’m so sorry they gave you away.’

  For someone who’d barely shed a tear about my past in 17 years, the outpouring of grief was overwhelming. I gasped for air as my body shook and tears rained down my cheeks, soaking my PJs.

  I awoke in the early hours of the morning slumped on the floor beside my bed, cold, damp, disorientated and clutching the photo of Shannon. The first thought in my mind was that I needed to talk to someone. Desperately. But with Ben out of town and Sarah still on honeymoon, who could I turn to?

  Chapter 10

  * To Elise

  Do you have any plans this weekend? I need to talk to someone. Is there any chance I could meet you in Whitsborough Bay? Please!

  * From Elise

  Are you OK? Do you want to talk now? I’ve got 10 mins till break’s over. Just tried to call you but got voicemail. Worried about you! No plans for the weekend xx

  * To Elise

  Sorry for not answering. Don’t want to discuss it on phone. Please don’t worry. I’m fine. Just received some unexpected news and I need to talk through my next steps with someone. And no, I’m not pregnant! Can we meet at a quiet café at 10.30am on Sat?

  * From Elise

  There’s a café called The Stuffed Bun a couple of miles down the coast. It’s lovely and really quiet first thing. Google it for directions. It’s easy to find. See you then, but call me if you need me before xx

  I should have asked Elise to meet me sooner – 10.30am? What was I thinking? I’d pulled into the car park an hour early and the place was closed up. The staff hadn’t even arrived at that point. A heavy frost had settled overnight and blankets of snow covered the higher ground. I had to keep the engine running and the heating on full blast while I waited.

  One by one, staff members arrived. I think they must have taken pity on me, all alone in my car, because the door opened at about 10.15 and one of them beckoned me to come in.

  ‘Sorry,’ I said, yanking the door shut behind me to stop the heat from escaping. ‘I’m meeting a friend at half past and I’m way too early.’

  ‘It’s no problem,’ the waitress said, smiling. ‘If you want food, I can’t help you until we open at half past, but I can offer you a drink.’

  ‘Thank you. A large latte, please.’

  I took a window seat and slowly stirred my drink, staring out at the grey sea pounding the distant shore, as I wondered what I’d say to Elise. Where could I start to talk about a past that had been buried for 17 years? A past that I’d refused point blank to ever discuss with Sarah, even though I trusted her implicitly.

  Elise was right next to the table before I even noticed her. ‘Elise! Sorry. Miles away.’

  She unwrapped a long, fluffy turquoise scarf before sitting down opposite me. ‘You look like you’ve got the weight of the world on your shoulders.’

  I sighed. ‘I may well do. I’m hoping I can unburden some of the pressure on you.’

  ‘Unburden away.’

  I stood up. ‘Let me get you a drink first and then I’m going to tell you a little story that will make your hair even curlier than it is already.’

  ‘Sounds intriguing.’

  ‘More sad than intriguing, but definitely a big surprise.’

  I walked over to the counter and ordered a hot chocolate and a piece of shortbread. As I placed them in front of Elise, I searched for the right words. ‘I found out something this week that has completely thrown me and I need some advice on what to do next.’ I sat down. ‘To get the advice, I’m going to have to talk about my past and, as I’m sure you already know, I never talk about my past, so this is going to be really difficult for me.’

  Elise snapped her shortbread in half and wiped her fingers on a napkin. ‘I’m all ears. Just like you were for me last year.’

  ‘Thanks. Okay, here goes…’

  ‘You must have been terrified, being pregnant at 16,’ Elise said, when I’d told her the first part of my story – my relationship with Daran.

  ‘I was. Not of having the baby, but of telling Da. I knew he’d go ballistic so I kept it quiet. I had no sickness and no fatigue so there were no physical signs of pregnancy. My parents found out, though.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘To this day, I don’t know. I was so careful. I wanted to do right by my baby so I started taking folic acid. I travelled to a town miles away to get the tablets, but all I can think was that someone still managed to see me and word got back. The only other thing I can think of is that Ma noticed I wasn’t having periods. It could have been anything, but I got home from a walk with Daran on New Year’s Eve to find Ma, Da and Father Doherty waiting for me in the living room, looking very serious. A couple of suitcases and some boxes stood in the middle of the room. Da ordered me to put on the clothes that Ma had laid out on my bed, then come back downstairs immediately. His voice was calm, but his face was puce. I knew that he knew. I nearly wet myself with fear. As soon as I got to my bedroom, I could see it had been stripped bare of my belongings. My drawers and wardrobe were empty and the black woollen dress and thick tights that I wore for funerals were laid out on my bed.’

  My eyes filled with tears as I relived that memory. Those faces staring at me. Judging me. Hating me. I didn’t want to start crying again. I bit my lip and stared out the window at the sea. Elise remained silent, waiting for me to continue.

  ‘I changed as quickly as I could and ran back downstairs to face the firing squad. Ma couldn’t look at me. She just sat in the chair, arms folded, lips pursed, s
haking her head. It was Father Doherty who spoke. He wasn’t angry. He just sounded disappointed. He wittered on about sinners and threw out a stack of quotes from the Bible. I wasn’t listening. I was too scared to concentrate. Then Da asked who the father was. I couldn’t tell them. They’d never have understood. I said “I don’t know”, which was like lighting the touch paper. Da obviously assumed I’d been sleeping around. He went absolutely ballistic. For a God-fearing man who never swore, I heard words spew from his mouth that I’d never even heard before. I was called everything, from a harlot to a temptress to the village bike to Jezebel herself, before he told me I’d brought disgrace on the family and I was no longer his daughter.’

  Elise gasped and reached for my hand as the tears started to flow.

  ‘He said he never wanted to see me or hear from me again. I know he was upset and ashamed, but what parent says something like that to their youngest daughter?’

  Elise shook her head. ‘No parent should ever behave like that. It’s appalling. Parents should be supportive, not judgemental. Mind you, with my mother, I know what a bad parent can be like. And don’t get me started on Gary’s evil mother. I’m so sorry, Clare. What happened next?’

  ‘I was sent to live with Da’s aunt Nuala in Truro. There was no talk of me returning. Father Doherty seemed shocked at that part and tried to convince them to have me back after the baby was born, but they both refused. It got pretty heated. He started talking about forgiveness, but Da just hurled back at him everything he’d said about sin. He couldn’t win. I got a letter from Ma a month later telling me that they knew who the father was. Apparently, Daran had been asking after me and they’d noticed he seemed overly surprised and concerned that I’d moved to the UK to help an elderly relative. It wouldn’t have taken him long to work out that I was pregnant and that I’d been sent away because of it. So he went to Father Doherty and confessed his sins. He was removed from the county and given strict instructions never to contact me or else face legal consequences for having sex with a minor. Apparently, my parents didn’t judge or blame him because I’d clearly been – and I quote – “the harlot who’d chased and hounded a celibate man until he was powerless to resist your advances”. That was the last contact I had with either of them.’

  ‘Oh, Clare, I don’t know what to say. I had absolutely no idea you’d been through anything like this. I knew you weren’t close to your family, but I never imagined this.’

  I wiped my tears and blew my nose. ‘Nobody knows. Not even Sarah. It hurts too much to think about it. It’s one of the reasons I don’t do Christmas and New Year. It reminds me of being with Daran, then having our happy bubble burst on New Year’s Eve.’

  ‘I don’t blame you,’ she said. ‘So what happened to the baby?’

  ‘It was a baby girl. Shannon. She was born on 12th June. She was beautiful. Absolutely beautiful. But I only got to hold her for a few minutes before they took her away. Da and Great-Aunt Nuala had arranged for her to be adopted. I’d had to sign some paperwork to give her to the Flannerys – a good Irish Catholic family from Exeter. I kept telling myself it was for the best, but best for whom? Me? Shannon? Or my prejudiced family? I tried to convince Great-Aunt Nuala to let me keep her, but she gave me an ultimatum: give Shannon up and she’d put me through school, college and university, or keep her and she’d throw me out with no money.’

  ‘What sort of ultimatum is that?’ Elise cried. ‘It didn’t give you any real choice.’

  ‘I know. I knew I couldn’t support Shannon because I had no money, no qualifications, no job and no prospect of getting one. I’d had to pack in my Leaving Certificate exams and was going to have to start my GCSEs in England from scratch, two years later than everyone else. I had a lot of studying ahead of me. I figured that if I let her get the right start in life with a family who could provide for her, I could try to find her once I got my education and a job. I knew I could never fully be her mother, but perhaps I could still be in her life.’

  ‘And you never found her?’

  ‘I never looked. She died. Or at least that’s what they told me. Post-birth complications or something. She supposedly died a few hours later, but I got this letter yesterday.’

  I reached into my bag and passed Great-Aunt Nuala’s letter to Elise. She scanned down the contents and I watched as her jaw dropped open. ‘Wow! And you thought she was dead for, what, 16-and-a-half years?’

  I nodded. ‘This is her at six months.’ I passed Elise the photograph.

  Elise smiled. ‘There’s no doubting she’s yours. Absolute image of you. She’s beautiful, Clare.’

  ‘I know. So now you know the huge skeleton in my closet. Only, it turns out it’s not really a skeleton, but a young woman now. And while I’m confessing everything, I have another biggie that you may as well know. I hope you believe me that I wasn’t the village bike at age 16, as my father so nicely put it, but I want you to know that I’ve never been the village bike since then…’

  She shrugged. ‘I don’t judge, Clare. I know I’ve made snide comments in the past, but I haven’t meant them. How many men you’ve had sex with is up to you.’

  I laughed. ‘That’s just the point. I haven’t had sex with any. Well, obviously I did with Daran, but he was my first and only.’

  ‘But why…?’

  ‘Why do I make out that I sleep around?’ I wet my finger, picked up some sugar granules off the table and dropped them into my empty cup. ‘It’s easier that way. I created a persona to protect myself from my past, based around the person my parents clearly thought I was. If you make out that you don’t do relationships, people want to know why. If you make out that you don’t do relationships because you prefer one-night stands, people don’t question it. They see it as a lifestyle choice. Which begs the question why I don’t do relationships. Quite simply, it was because I loved Daran so deeply that nobody else stood a chance. Every moment we were apart hurt.’ My tears started again. ‘Sorry. I can’t stop crying now. It’s like a dam has just burst.’

  ‘Are you going to try to find Daran?’ Elise asked.

  I shook my head. ‘No. I thought of him constantly for years after I moved to Cornwall. I’d dream about how different things could have been if I’d told Daran I was pregnant or if I’d stood up to Da. The thing is, I don’t even remember why I didn’t tell Daran. I’ve been racking my brain and it feels like there was a reason, but I just can’t put my finger on it.’

  Elise shrugged. ‘It was a long time ago and you’ve been through so much since then.’

  ‘I know. It’s so strange, though. It’s not the only thing I can’t remember. I was going to take the morning-after pill after we… you know… but I don’t remember taking it. Considering I ended up pregnant, I’m guessing I didn’t, but I don’t understand why. I don’t get it because there are some things I remember so vividly and other things… Well, it’s like there’s a thick fog hanging over parts of my past and I can just see shapes, but I can’t convert them into anything tangible.’ I smiled at Elise. ‘Sorry. That sounds like absolute bollocks, doesn’t it now? Hindsight’s a great thing. ‘I know now that I should have stood up to my da, but the man terrified me. He still terrifies me. I saw him on Sunday and I was completely defenceless all over again. I didn’t put up a fight on Sunday and I didn’t put up a fight when I was 16. I let him put me on a plane and send me to England, away from Daran. I wrote to Daran every other day until Shannon was born. I sent the letters to Father Doherty and begged him to pass them on. I’m assuming he didn’t, since he destroyed the letters that Daran wrote. The only thing I do know is that we could have been really happy together if I’d been a bit stronger and pushed a bit more. But I can’t try to recover what we had nearly two decades later. I just can’t.’

  Elise shook her head again. ‘What a waste.’

  I sat back in my chair and looked out the window again. ‘Father Doherty used to say Con
fession was good for the soul. I do admit that I’m feeling a little relieved just now.’ I looked back at Elise. ‘What should I do?’

  She took a deep breath. ‘Crikey. Where do I start? That was a lot of unexpected information that I can’t believe you’ve been carrying around for half your life.’

  ‘I know. And now I expect you to solve all my problems.’ I smiled. ‘Thanks for listening.’

  ‘You’re welcome. You’ve been there for me and baby Bean so it’s the very least I can do. Firstly, I’d say don’t beat yourself up about any of this. You couldn’t have prevented what happened. Making you put Shannon up for adoption was cruel, and to tell you she’d died was unforgivable.’ She rubbed her own stomach, as if to reassure her baby that she was safe from imminent adoption. ‘Secondly, I suggest you drop the sex-mad persona and just be you. If you don’t want a relationship, you don’t have to have a relationship, but you don’t have to make out that you have a different one every week, either. Thirdly, I think you should confront your parents. I don’t mean you have to fly to Ireland to see them, especially as it sounds like things with your dad didn’t go well on Sunday. You could write to them instead. You don’t even have to post it, but I think it would do you the world of good to get down on paper what you think of them, to help box it off and move on.’

  ‘Did you do that to your mum?’ Elise had a very volatile relationship with her alcoholic mother, who, even before the drinking, had resented the disruption that Elise and her sister had created by being born.

  Elise nodded. ‘My counsellor, Jem, suggested it. I’ve written loads of letters in my time. I’ve never sent any. Mind you, when I saw her between Christmas and New Year, I gave her a piece of my mind, then walked out on her, so I think I’ve finally had my opportunity.’

  ‘Good for you.’ I pondered on what she’d said. ‘That’s all good advice, so it is. To be fair, I think I’ve naturally dropped the man-eater act since getting promoted last year. It didn’t fit so well with the responsible, professional image and, to be honest, I don’t think anyone’s noticed. Anything else?’