Ebb and Flow

by Mary O'Sullivan

  “Bed!” Ella said and this time she was not going to take no for an answer. Ella tucked Sharon into the four-poster bed she had shared with Jason.

  “A lot of people will be glad my husband is gone,” Sharon said. “He has caused so much unhappiness. I’m very grateful now for my home in Salzburg and for my son. I’ll never come back here again.”

  Ella opened her mouth to contradict her but, when she thought about what Sharon had said, it was probably true. Instead of answering she stroked Sharon’s hair until she saw her eyelids droop. Then she tiptoed out of the room.

  In the kitchen she had just made a cup of coffee for herself when the front doorbell rang. She rushed out not wanting the noise to waken Sharon. She stood still inside the door. Suppose it was one of Jason’s friends. He must have some pretty unsavoury connections. It couldn’t be Andrew. He had said he would not call until the morning. The bell rang again. Shit! She quickly opened the door and scowled at the caller. Her expression changed when she saw who it was.

  “Peter Sheehan! What are you doing here?”

  He stepped into the hall and caught her by the arms, peering into her face. “Are you all right? Why didn’t you call me? ”

  “I didn’t want to bother you. We weren’t brought to your hospital. St John’s was nearer. How did you know I was here?”

  “I rang your house. Andrew told me. I couldn’t believe this accident happened at the same spot as yours. I thought you might need me.”

  Ella looked up into his clear green eyes and knew that his supposition had been right. She did need Peter Sheehan. She needed to talk to him, to know he was listening but not judging, to see him smile, to watch the crinkles at the corners of his eyes. She suddenly became aware of how she must look in her second-hand clothes. Embarrassed she turned and led him into the kitchen.

  “Coffee?”

  “Yes, please.”

  They were silent as she prepared the drink for him. She blushed, conscious of her box pleats, polka dots and knobbly Aran sweater.

  “Why did you ring my house anyway?” she asked, handing him his coffee.

  “Because I’m still waiting for an answer to my dinner invitation.”

  Ella smiled. How petty a dinner date seemed now! She sat at the table opposite him.

  “I’ve been busy, Peter. Maybe we’ll have dinner before I leave.”

  “Leave? What do you mean? Where are you going?”

  “Home. To Cuanowen. I thought I told you.”

  “You did and I asked if you were running away. Are you?”

  “You mean you thought I was just reacting to my situation. Everything. The accident. Karen Trevor. Maxine Doran. Divorce. And now Jason Laide.” Ella leaned her elbows on the table and looked at Peter steadily. “You’re wrong, Peter. I’m taking control. Acting, not reacting. I have plans.”

  “I’m glad to hear that, Ella. How about you tell me your plans?”

  She did. She told him about her phone call to Mrs Beryl Langford, the owner of Seaview Hotel near Cuanowen. How she had offered to buy fifty percent ownership in the little hotel and run it in partnership with Beryl. And more importantly that Beryl had accepted her offer.

  “She’s a lovely lady, Peter. A widow. I know we’ll get on together. But she’s too frail now to continue on alone. The hotel has huge potential she’s not able to develop. This arrangement suits us both so well. I’ll learn the hotel business from someone who is vastly experienced and Beryl will hopefully benefit from my business know-how. The hotel will be our home too.”

  “No more auctioneering so?”

  Ella shook her head emphatically. “No more anything to do with the life I have been living. It almost destroyed me, as you know. This is a clean slate. Beryl and I, running our Cuanowen hotel, working together, living together. Expanding the business. Walking on the beach. Perfect.”

  “There’s no perfect lifestyle. Are you sure you’re not just trying to have the relationship with Beryl you never had with your mother?”

  “Oh, for Christ’s sake, Peter! Stop analysing me! It’s taken me long enough to get to this stage. Don’t start putting doubts in my head now.”

  Peter reached his hand across the table and caught hers. Quite subconsciously their fingers intertwined and locked together. Ella felt a shiver run through her. A shiver of excitement.

  “I’m not trying to put a damper on your plans, Ella. I just needed to know that you’re sure. I want you to be happy.”

  His thumb was distracting her. It was gently rubbing her palm and sending signals all over her body. She withdrew her hand. This handsome man must be well versed in the techniques of seduction and at this moment Ella felt very vulnerable to his charms. Peter Sheehan, with his green eyes and long black lashes, was a complication she did not need in her life. It was just Ella and Beryl until she felt confident enough to trust her instincts again. If ever. They had let her down when she believed Andrew Ford was her partner for life. She stood up.

  “More coffee?”

  Peter stood too. They stared at each other across the table. Her resolve weakened. When he moved towards her and put his arms around her, she laid her face on his broad shoulder, breathing in his meadowsweet scent. He slipped his hands underneath her knobbly Aran sweater and gently massaged her back. She felt the heat of his hands through the fabric of her polka-dot blouse. Her tensed muscles relaxed as she leaned against him, secure in his arms. Protected. Safe from harm. From accidents. From illusions and fantasies of dead people who were not dead at all.

  She was safe from everything except the response of her own body as Peter brought his lips to meet hers. Her eyelids closed as she savoured the warm sensation of his kiss. It was not until she felt his tongue slip into her mouth that she broke the contact and quickly pulled away from him.

  “I’m not ready for anything like this, Peter. You know I’m not. Andrew and I have to say goodbye, to finalise our divorce, sell our home, decide what to do about our business. And Ballyhaven. We’ve been together since we were students. I’ll need time.”

  Peter raised his hand and gently pushed a stray strand of her dark hair off her face. He smiled at her and his eyes crinkled at the corners in the way she was beginning to like so much. Putting his hand on her shoulder Peter gently pushed her back down on her chair.

  “Sit down. I’ll make coffee. And of course you’re right. You need time and space, Ella. But will you promise me you’ll keep in contact with me? Maybe I can go to see you sometimes. Cuanowen isn’t the end of the earth. In fact I’m quite interested in a consultant’s post in the Western Regional Hospital. That’s only twenty miles from Cuanowen.”

  “We’ll see,” Ella said and watched as Peter filled the kettle and got out clean mugs and a jar of instant coffee. A man who knew his way around the kitchen. Had he always looked after himself? Surely someone as attractive and kind as Peter Sheehan had a history. Someone special, or maybe a string of special somebodys in his past. How could she respond so strongly to a man about whom she knew nothing? He was leaning against the granite counter top now, waiting for the kettle to boil.

  “Do you think it was all coincidence?” she asked. “Manor House and Karen Trevor and the influence they seem to have had on my life?”

  “Maybe.”

  “That’s not an answer.”

  “There isn’t a right answer. Who knows? You can take every event that led us here and put it in a logical sequence. Manor House is just an old building which happened to be the home of Karen Trevor, who happened to be involved in a car accident with you.”

  “And I happened to be married to a man who is having an affair with Maxine, who turns out to be a relation of Karen’s. Coincidence? Then Jason Laide, the man who was killed tonight in the very same spot as Karen Trevor, was trying to buy Manor House. Coincidence?”

  The kettle boiled. Peter made the coffees and brought them over to the table. He spooned sugar into his mug and stirred thoughtfully.

  “Yes. I’d have to agree. A l
ot of coincidence. But there are probably a lot of logical explanations too.”

  “I must work out the answer for myself, Peter. And it wasn’t just me. The unhappiness of the past year seems to have spread out and affected a lot of people. Like Oliver Griffin. You saw him. The man was desperate.”

  “He has a gambling addiction. Nothing at all to do with Karen Trevor or Manor House. He has agreed to start counselling by the way. And why are we talking about other people when all I really want to talk about is us?”

  “Us? Is there an us?”

  “I want there to be but it’s up to you, Ella.”

  Needing to look away from the distraction of Peter’s eyes, Ella bowed her head and looked down at the table, examining the whorls and knots in the timber. She could not possibly get involved with anybody now. Her newfound confidence was too fragile and the hurt of Andrew’s unfaithfulness too raw. Nor could she bear the thought of never getting to know Peter Sheehan, his likes and dislikes, his hopes, his dreams. She looked up and smiled at him.

  “I’d be more like your patient now. I need time to settle into my new life. ”

  Peter caught her hand and their fingers entwined again. “You know where I am if you need me,” he said.

  He stood then, stooped to kiss her on the cheek and let himself out of the house that used to be Jason Laide’s home.

  Tiptoeing into the master bedroom, Ella checked on Sharon before going to the guest bedroom herself. Jason’s widow was sleeping peacefully. All the unrest, the cruelty, the viciousness that Jason had brought into their lives seemed already to be losing the power to hurt and disturb.

  Ella removed her hospital clothing and snuggled down underneath the fluffy duvet. She felt exhausted. Totally drained by the events of the past days, the past year. She slept. She dreamt. In her dream she was running, alone, wild and free along the strand in Cuanowen, cool wind in her hair and warm sand beneath her feet.

  Ella woke with a smile on her face and hope in her heart.

  Epilogue

  Two Years Later

  The narrow pathway leading onto the beach was stony and bumpy. Ella kept running, her trainers absorbing the shock as her feet pounded the hard surface. She slowed as she hit sand, starting her warm-down. When she was cool enough, she sat on a rock and sighed with satisfaction. The route she had chosen to run this morning had been punishing but she felt great now that she had finished it.

  Taking off her baseball cap and loosening her hair, she turned her face up to the sun. She closed her eyes and absorbed the warmth while listening to the gentle rhythm of the sea. A gull screeched. She opened her eyes immediately. She loved to watch the graceful swoop and dive of the gulls. She was just in time to see the bird break the surface of the water, dip its beak and soar again.

  Unknotting the laces on her trainers, she kicked them off and walked barefoot towards the water. The tide was almost full in. She dipped a toe into the sea and quickly drew back. It was freezing! Ella stepped a little from the water’s edge and began to jog along the sand. Just a gentle canter. The sun shone on her face and the wind blew her hair back from her face. She felt free and wild, at one with the sea and sand. At peace with herself.

  A quick glance at her wristwatch shattered her dreamy peace. Jesus! It was already after ten o’clock. The run had taken longer than she had realised. Beryl would be fussing. And how! She would be driving the staff to distraction. Ella put her shoes and cap on again and headed back towards Seaview Hotel by the coast road, trying to run faster than her legs wanted to carry her. Hearing a car approach her from behind on the narrow road, she hugged the ditch. The car drew up beside her and slowed down to match her speed.

  “I thought you’d be too busy for running today,” Pebbles Shorten said. “What time is this big do on?”

  A stitch in her side took Ella’s breath away. She bent over, trying to ease the sharp pain.

  “Jump in,” he said. “I’ll drop you back to the hotel. You’re hardly going to greet the Minister for Tourism in a tracksuit and baseball hat, are you?”

  Ella sat in gratefully. “You’re a darling, Pebbles! I’ve stayed out too long and there’s so much to do before all the guests arrive. You and Norma will be coming, won’t you?”

  “You bet!” he laughed. “Nobody in Cuanowen is going to miss the official opening of the revamped Seaview Hotel. Anyway, since Norma and I will be the first to hold our wedding reception in the new function room, I don’t think wild horses would keep the future Mrs Shorten away.”

  They rounded a sharp bend now and the land began to slope gently downwards. Beneath them, about mile away on their right-hand side, the newly painted Seaview Hotel glowed in the morning sun. Ella felt her heart beat faster as she looked down at the end result of all the planning and hard work she and Beryl had done over the past two years. Seaview was sleek and modern now but yet they had managed to retain the old-world warmth and charm which had first attracted Ella. A harmonious blend of old and new. Just like herself and Beryl. Most of the time.

  “I suppose the Minister will have a retinue with him.” Pebbles said. “And a bloody big car.”

  “He’ll have a police escort maybe but Pascal McEvoy has no interest in pomp and ceremony. He’ll probably just stay long enough to cut the ribbon. Unfortunately we’re opening up the same day as the super casino in Ballyhaven that all the fuss has been about. Pascal has to officiate at that too. He won’t want to miss the photo opportunities there. Do you know it’s built on land Andrew and I used to own?”

  Pebbles grunted a disinterested reply. Super casinos did not impinge on Cuanowen life. Ella tried at conversation again.

  “Andrew and his wife will be here too. You know, my ex-husband? He and Pascal McEvoy went to college together.”

  Pebbles did not comment on this topic either. But then he always went silent at the mention of Andrew’s name. Like Beryl, he believed Andrew had broken Ella’s heart by marrying Maxine Doran. Nothing Ella said ever changed their minds. She had learned to ignore their tightlipped disapproval of Andrew. None of the Andrew and Maxine things mattered any more.

  As they drove into the grounds of the hotel Ella saw that the length of red ribbon had already been strung across the entrance to the new extension. Typical of Beryl! The ribbon was in place but the hors d’oeuvres had probably not yet been started. Ella gave Pebbles a quick peck on the cheek. Somehow they managed to bash noses. They both laughed.

  “We’d better give up on this kissing business, hadn’t we?” Pebbles laughed. “I hope you do better with your doctor boyfriend. I certainly do with Norma.”

  “Much, much better,” Ella smiled and then felt herself begin to blush as she recalled just how much better she and Peter Sheehan did with ‘the kissing business’.

  Pebbles waved as he drove off. Ella stood and watched him go. The man who had been the first to kiss her and the one to save her when she was clinging to Dog Rock by her fingertips. Holding onto life by a thread. She shivered. Today was not for looking back. Today was for welcoming the future. She was already mentally ticking off to do’s as she climbed the steps to the entrance of Seaview Hotel.

  * * *

  Beryl was in a right dither. Her hair wasn’t right and she couldn’t find the pearl and ruby brooch her husband had given her as a present for the last birthday they had shared together. Ella sat her down and brushed the silver silky hair, then handed her the ivory and ebony box where the old lady kept her jewellery.

  Beryl smiled up at her. “Thank you, dear. I’m getting to be rather a nuisance, aren’t I?”

  Ella stooped down and hugged the old lady close to her, breathing in her lavender scent. “Never, Beryl. How could you be? You’re my rock. And my business partner.”

  “I don’t have anything more to teach you now. You’re going to be one of the best hoteliers in Ireland.”

  “You’ve taught me so much, Beryl. I’ll never be able to thank you enough. You’ve restored my trust in human nature.”

  “
Really? I didn’t do much. You’re the one who’s put in all the work.”

  “Remember when I rang you two years ago, confused, just coming out of a depression and a marriage which had never worked? You trusted me then, didn’t you? You took my word that I’d pay you for my share of the hotel when I had my financial affairs with Andrew settled up. You gave me a home, Beryl, as well as a career. So don’t ever again say you could be a nuisance to me. I won’t listen.”

  Beryl looked in the mirror and patted her hair. She glanced at Ella’s reflection and smiled. “Yes, dear. We’re a team. And we both look lovely. I really like that suit on you. Cream is perfect with your colouring. Sort of bridal, do you think?”

  “Don’t start matchmaking again! You only gave up on matching me off with Pebbles Shorten when he got engaged to Norma. Now you’ve started on Peter Sheehan since he moved to the Western Regional Hospital. I’ll admit Peter and I are good friends. Maybe a bit more . . .”

  “Cyril was my best friend and we were married for forty years. Your husband should be your friend. You’re making a good start with Dr Peter Sheehan. Is he coming today? I invited him, you know.”

  Ella laughed in exasperation. She could never stay cross with Beryl for long.

  * * *

  Adrenalin had kept Ella on a high all day. She had organised catering and entertainment with flawless efficiency, supervised staff, mingled with guests and generally handled the whole ceremony with great aplomb. It had been a success from the ribbon cutting by Minister Pascal McEvoy to the chicken vol-au-vents and the myriad of other things in between. She was proud of what she and Beryl had achieved but she was also suddenly very tired.

  Most of the guests had left by now. Stragglers had retired to the bar where a singsong was starting up. Ella went to the door of the bar, looked them over and decided they could be left to their own devices. Anyway Beryl was in there with them sipping her glass of port. They were in good hands. Fresh air was what Ella needed now and a few minutes’ peace and quiet.