The Carmel Sheehan Story
Page 51
‘Zeinab,’ Nadia revealed.
It was the first time her name had come up since the accident.
Carmel and Sharif waited for an explanation, and Nadia began, ‘When we went back to the hotel, I decided she and I needed to talk. So we went for a long walk, and she apologised for the way she’d blurted out about Khalid’s affair. I was so hurt, but I realised my hurt was at him, not her. I could have found out anywhere in Karachi on any of the occasions when Khalid and I went back. I’m sure some of our Pakistani friends in London knew, even enjoyed pitying me as the grieving widow, clueless as to what my husband had done.
‘After talking to Sharif, who got his wisdom from our darling Dolly, I have come around to how they saw it. It was one mistake a long time ago. Khalid loved me and Sharif. I know he did. But he made a mistake, and rather than destroy three lives, he bore the guilt and shame himself and allowed me and his son a life of carefree happiness. He was not a selfish man, and his memory is still in my heart. Nothing will ever change that. So, I told her why it annoyed me so much to see her flirting with Joe. I was jealous, simple as that. I... I had—have—feelings for him, and she touching him and trying to ingratiate herself just annoyed me. I wasn’t kind. Her marriage to Tariq was a bad one, and she admits it now. I think she is tired, tired of always pretending, always having to look down on others in order to elevate herself.’
Sharif was glad his mother and aunt had patched things up, but he wasn’t convinced of his aunt’s ability to change. ‘I hope you haven’t said she can live here or anything, though, have you?’
Nadia smiled. ‘I said I forgave her, Sharif. I didn’t say I had entirely taken leave of my senses. Of course not. She could drive the Dalai Lama insane. No, she’s going back to Karachi next week, just like she planned.’
Sharif sighed with relief. Carmel grabbed his hand, her glance questioning. He nodded slightly.
‘Well, since we are in the business of revelations,’ she said and paused. ‘I’m pregnant.’
It was Nadia and Joe’s turn to be shocked.
They gently hugged Carmel and nearly squeezed the life out of Sharif. The delight in the room was palpable. Tears of joy coursed down Nadia’s cheeks as she hugged her son and held her daughter-in-law’s hand.
Joe texted Jen and Luke, who had come with him and were down in the lobby waiting for the all-clear to come up to see Carmel. As his son and daughter entered, he blurted everything out, explaining the scenes of jubilation they met in what should have been a sickroom.
Everyone was talking at once, and Jen and Luke seemed amazed but pleased at both pieces of news.
Joe McDaid stood back and surveyed the various parts of his life, unfolding in ways he could never have imagined. His two daughters, both expecting babies of their own, deep in excited chat about how their children would be cousins. And his son and son-in-law teasing Nadia about the secret romance. He began to sing, at first quietly, but eventually so everyone could hear.
‘When I was just a little girl, I asked my mother, what will I be? Will I be handsome, will I be rich? Here’s what she said to me.’
By the time he got to the chorus, they were all singing along gently.
‘Que sera, sera, whatever will be, will be. The future’s not ours to see, que sera, sera.’
THE END
Thank you for reading the Carmel Sheehan Series, I really hope you enjoyed it. If you would like to leave a review on Amazon, https://www.amazon.com/Jean-Grainger/e/B00BFUM5N4 that would be wonderful, and I would really appreciate it.
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I love hearing from readers, so if you want to drop me a line, you can reach me at jean@jeangrainger.com
This series really was a labour of love for me. So many people in our country, and around the world, ended up in state care over the last century in particular, and their experiences are often only coming to light now, decades later. The inspiration to write this series came about because I was driving one day and a woman rang into a popular daytime talk radio show, telling her story of being raised in church and state care. Her story so moved me, I wrote the first book, Letters of Freedom, that night.
I am so grateful, that I get to do what I do, and none of it would be possible without you, the readers, who continue to support and encourage me every day, so this book is dedicated to you. Thank you.
Jean Grainger,
Cork, Ireland. September 27, 2018