Jenny looked back at her iPad. ‘Lucy, have you ever looked up Tom?’
Lucy froze. Sarah held her breath.
Through gritted teeth, Lucy hissed, ‘No, I haven’t, and I never will. I don’t want to know or hear about him. Ever. Why the hell would I want to see how great his life is on Facebook? Jesus, Jenny, have you forgotten what he did to me? To my children? They have never had a father. There is a huge hole in their lives where Tom was supposed to be. I hate him. I fucking hate him.’ Lucy stood up and grabbed her coat. ‘I need to go home. I’ve got a headache.’
‘Lucy, I’m sorry,’ Jenny said. ‘Come on, don’t go.’
‘It’s fine. I’m just tired and the wine’s gone to my head. But please do not ever mention his name again.’
Sarah walked her out to the front door. ‘Are you really okay?’
Lucy’s eyes filled with tears. ‘Yes – I shouldn’t have drunk so much. It’s ridiculous, but even after all these years when I hear his name, it’s like a dagger in my stomach. I still can’t believe he did that to me and the kids. I guess I’ll never get over it.’
‘Don’t go. Stay, and we’ll talk nonsense again.’
Lucy shook her head. ‘No, I want to sleep this off. I’ll see you tomorrow.’
‘Okay. Love you.’ They hugged and Lucy wandered off into the night.
Sarah went back into the kitchen.
‘Is she all right?’ Jenny was worried.
‘Yeah. Too much wine and the mention of Tom is a bad combination.’
‘I shouldn’t have suggested looking him up, that was stupid of me. I know how much she hates him.’
‘Ah, come on!’ Darren said. ‘I get that she’s still furious, but she doesn’t have to go off the deep end at the mention of his name. It’s been nearly twenty years. That’s a lot of water under the bridge.’
‘It’s the twins missing out on a dad that hurts her most, and I get that,’ Sarah said. ‘Imagine life for our two with no dad. It would break my heart.’
‘Yeah, but I’m Superdad.’
‘Go on, Superdad, open another bottle there.’ Sarah winked at him.
Darren didn’t need to be persuaded. ‘Will we look him up anyway?’
‘Tom?’ Jenny said.
‘Yeah, why not?’ He poured them all another glass.
‘I dunno. It feels a bit like betraying Lucy.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous. Here, give me that.’ Darren pulled the iPad towards him and began typing. ‘What’s his surname again? Some stupid double-barrel thing, isn’t it?’
‘Harrington-Black,’ Jenny said.
‘Well, the good thing about having a ridiculous name is that you’re easy to find.’ Darren grinned and the two women rushed to his side to get a look at Tom’s Facebook page.
Tom Harrington-Black. Married. There were a few photos of him and a good-looking blonde woman, at a baseball game, walking on a beach with two dogs and skiing.
‘He’s not exactly Mr Facebook,’ Jenny noted. ‘The last time he posted was eight months ago.’
‘Interesting that he seems to have no kids,’ Darren said.
‘Well, he’s clearly not father material, so that’s a good thing,’ Sarah replied.
‘The wife’s not bad.’
Jenny slapped Darren on the arm. ‘She’s not a patch on my sister.’
‘No, obviously, I’m just saying.’
‘Zip it, Darren,’ Sarah warned him.
Jenny sat back. ‘Lucy needs more in her life.’
‘Lucy needs to get laid,’ Darren said.
‘No, that’s not it. Lucy needs love,’ Sarah said. ‘She needs someone to put their arm around her at night and tell her how wonderful she is, how well she’s doing raising two kids on her own, how she works too hard and needs to give herself a break, how she needs to start living her own life because the kids will be gone soon and she’ll be alone.’
‘I keep hoping she’ll meet someone at one of the ceremonies she does, uncle of the bride or cute groomsman or maybe even a hot brother,’ Jenny said. ‘I’d love to see her meet a really nice guy who’d sweep her off her feet and make her happy again. Like proper happy, giddy and silly. She’s too serious and too focused on the twins. I know she keeps saying, “When they’re in college, I’ll get my life back and I’ll travel,” but I bet she doesn’t. She’ll be making Dylan’s lunch for him and checking who Kelly’s out with when they’re thirty.’
Sarah nodded. ‘It’s just that she feels she has to be so perfect, always trying to prove that fecker Gabriel wrong. I wish she’d just forget about him and Tom. Put it behind her. They’re like a poison inside her. It’s not healthy. And now the twins going to St Jude’s seems to have brought all the old wounds back. I’ve seen such a change in her in the last few weeks.’
‘I know what you mean,’ Jenny agreed. ‘She’s so tense and uptight, these days, trying to make sure the twins prove themselves at St Jude’s. To who? What for? Gabriel is a dickhead and Tom is a pathetic coward. I wish Dylan hadn’t got that scholarship. It’s unsettled all of them.’
Sarah, too, was worried about how the three of them were coping with the new move. The pain and humiliation of Gabriel kicking her out of the house with the twins that day seventeen years ago had bubbled back up, she could see. Lucy seemed so raw with emotion, these days. Sarah thought her best friend was getting far too caught up in proving herself to the world and missing out on what was really going on with the twins, especially Kelly.
‘Do you think we should try to say something?’ Sarah said to Jenny.
‘And be shot down and maimed?’ Jenny said. ‘No, thanks. Lucy is going to have to work through this herself. All we can do is be there for her and keep an eye out for the twins.’
19
Lucy sat in her little Nissan and looked around the car park, which was full of big flashy cars. Hers seemed out of place. She felt a bit intimidated. She watched as men in expensive jackets and women in designer coats walked towards the football pitch.
She had a flashback to her days with Tom, sitting in silence as his St Jude’s friends talked about holidays in Barbados and skiing in the Alps. Lucy had always felt slightly out of her depth with them. She was feeling the same now.
She took a deep breath. Get out of the car and go and watch your son play. You’re just as good as them. She reminded herself that St Jude’s had begged her to send her children there.
Her eyes darted from side to side, making sure she didn’t recognize anyone from the old days, but no one was familiar. Thank God. She breathed a sigh of relief and got out of her car.
She looked up at the huge stone building with ‘St Jude’s’ carved in a semi-circle at the top and smiled. Her twins, stars of St Jude’s. Every time she thought of Gabriel now, she grinned. Little did he know that his grandson was the sports star of the school and his granddaughter would probably come top of her class. How do you like them apples, Gabriel? She chuckled to herself.
Lucy walked to the pitch and stood at the side. It was St Jude’s first match of the season. She had watched Dylan play hundreds of times, and now he kept pulling up his socks, which was what he always did when he was nervous.
‘Leave your bloody socks alone and focus,’ Jordan shouted at him, from the sideline.
Lucy held her breath and prayed Dylan would have a good game. She wanted him to show them how brilliant he was, to impress Jordan and the headmaster, who was watching from the corner of the pitch. Lucy waved to catch Dylan’s eye. When he looked over, she pointed at his boots and smiled.
He nodded. It was their sign. She’d first done it at a game when he was about seven. He’d been playing badly and had turned to her in tears. She’d been close enough to him that he could hear her. She’d pointed at his boots and said, ‘Trust your feet.’ He’d gone on to score two goals. Since then it had been their signal.
Dylan relaxed and played out of his skin. He scored a hat-trick. When he put the third goal in the top left corner of the net,
he’d run back down the line close enough to Lucy to high-five her. She’d almost burst with pride. Everyone had turned to look. They now knew she was the mother of the star of the team. Lucy felt ten feet tall.
After the match, parents came over to say hello and congratulate her on her ‘amazing son’. She almost felt like she belonged.
Then one mother asked, ‘Any plans for midterm?’
‘Taking the kids to London.’
‘We’re off to Paris. Rupert can take ours to the art galleries while I shop,’ a mother in a long cream suede coat said. She reminded Lucy of Tom’s annoying St Jude’s friend, Olivia, privileged and not much substance.
‘We’ll head to our place in Connemara.’
‘How about you, Lucy?’
‘I’ll be working,’ Lucy said.
‘Me too,’ another mother said, sighing. ‘Medical conference. Mind you, it’s in Chicago so it could be worse. The last one was in Frankfurt.’
‘Lucky you, I’m stuck here defending Jenson,’ a father said.
Lucy had been following that trial. Harold Jenson, a well-known businessman, was accused of murdering his business partner, then trying to make it look like a break-in. He’d found out his partner had misappropriated the company funds and had allegedly gone mad and stabbed him.
This must be Jenson’s defence barrister, John Madden. He was very highly regarded. Lucy remembered him from college. He was in the year ahead of her, and even back then the other students were talking about how brilliant he was. She felt the old regret sweeping through her, like a physical pain. If only … It might have been her defending Jenson.
‘Do you think Jenson’s brother’s testimony about the funds in Turks and Caicos will save him?’ she asked.
John turned to her. ‘Ah, a fellow lawyer?’
‘Oh, gosh, no, I’m not … I’m, well, just interested.’ She blushed.
‘I’m hoping the brother’s testimony will be enough. We’ll see how it goes next week. What do you do?’ he asked.
‘I work in my father’s business, a grocery shop.’ Lucy wanted to shout, But I studied law and I could have been good – I could have been great. I was smart enough …
‘Good business to be in,’ John said.
‘What? Oh, yes, I suppose it is.’ Not half as bloody good as yours, though, she thought. Still, Kelly would do it. She’d be the first woman in the Murphy family to be a lawyer. She’d be the one defending the Jensons of the world. Kelly would do it and make them all proud, like Lucy was supposed to.
‘And you’ve raised one hell of a footballer. Does his father play?’ John asked.
Lucy flinched. She could feel everyone looking at her. Act natural, she willed herself. ‘Uhm, no, it was actually my father, Dylan’s granddad, who got him into it.’
‘Good old Granddad! He’s certainly done St Jude’s a favour.’ John turned, called to his son and strode off towards the car park.
‘Right. I’d better grab Lorcan – he has a violin lesson at three,’ the doctor said, waving to her son.
‘Declan has a maths grind,’ someone said.
‘Chemistry,’ another chipped in.
Wow! Violin, maths and chemistry grinds – these parents were really pushing their kids. Lucy would have to keep on top of Dylan and his studies. As they all began to disperse, a small dark-haired woman came over to her.
‘Hi, I’m Heather, Conor’s mum. Conor’s told me all about Dylan. He was fantastic today.’
‘Thanks.’ Lucy smiled. ‘Conor was great too.’
‘Is Dylan settling in well?’
‘Yes, he loves it.’
‘It’s a great school, and they’re obsessed with winning this football trophy. The old headmaster was all about rugby, but Mr Gough is mad keen on football. I’m thrilled because Conor is rubbish at rugby.’
‘Well, it’s certainly good for Dylan,’ Lucy said.
‘We’re lucky to have him,’ Heather said. ‘He’s fantastic. Everyone thinks so. I was going to ask you for your number for our football WhatsApp group. I know they can be a bit of a pain, but it’s the best and easiest way to get information about games and training sessions.’
‘Sure, of course.’ Lucy gave it to her.
‘Great, thanks. See you next week.’ Heather walked over to her son, leaving Lucy feeling warm and happy.
Lucy was about to go back to the car to wait for Dylan, who was talking to the coach, when Mr Gough approached her.
‘Wonderful start to the season, Ms Murphy, what a performance by Dylan.’
Lucy beamed. ‘Yes, he was on form today.’
‘We really are so pleased he decided to come to St Jude’s. He seems to be settling in well.’
‘He loves it here,’ Lucy said. ‘Thanks, Mr Gough.’
‘Not at all, thank you for raising such a fine young man. And how is Kelly finding it?’
Lucy chose her words carefully. ‘I think it might take her a little longer to settle in, but she is very happy to be here.’
‘Good, excellent. Glad to hear it.’ He walked off to talk to some other parents.
Lucy watched Dylan, surrounded by his teammates, all clapping him on the back. He was the centre of attention, the star. She savoured the moment.
A group of girls approached the team. A very pretty blonde went over to Dylan and, judging by her body language, was doing some serious flirting. There was lots of hair-flicking and giggling and eyelid-batting. She was a real pro, and Dylan seemed to be enjoying the attention.
Any girl would be lucky to have Dylan, but he deserved a smart, kind, decent one. That blonde seemed very into herself – Lucy wasn’t sure she liked the look of her. Besides, she wanted Dylan to focus on football and his schoolwork, not girls. He couldn’t put a foot wrong: he had to show them all that he merited the scholarship and do himself proud.
Dylan came over to her, smiling.
Lucy hugged him. ‘Well played. Everyone was congratulating me on my son being the star of the team. You were wonderful.’
‘Thanks. I’m just glad it went well. I really wanted to impress Jordan and the headmaster. I feel like it’s all okay now. I was worried if I played badly, they might take away the scholarship.’
‘Don’t be silly. They’ve given it to you and they won’t take it away even if you break your leg and can’t play at all. But it’s brilliant that you played so well. They were seriously impressed. Even the headmaster came over to me.’
Dylan smiled. ‘I feel like I can relax now that I’ve proven myself.’
‘I’m so proud of you,’ Lucy said.
‘Oh, God, Mum, don’t get emotional.’
‘I won’t, but I’m really proud of you. You didn’t have it easy with no father in your life, but you’ve never let that hold you back. You’re just brilliant.’
Dylan put his arm around her. ‘You’re not so bad yourself, Mum.’
‘See you on Monday, Dylan,’ the blonde called.
Lucy saw her waving at him.
‘See you, Taylor.’
‘Who’s she?’ Lucy asked.
‘A girl in my year.’
‘She’s very pretty.’
‘And smoking hot.’
Lucy laughed. ‘Well, yes, I suppose that too. She seems to like you, from the number of times she flicked her hair when she was talking to you earlier.’
‘Do you think so? Really?’
‘Yes.’
He grinned. ‘I thought I was getting some good signals, but she’s kind of flirty with all the guys.’
‘No, she definitely likes you. Trust me, I’m a woman. I know these things.’
Dylan’s grin broadened. ‘Cool.’
‘Just be careful to choose the right girl, you deserve someone really special.’
Dylan snorted. ‘I’m not looking for a wife, Mum, just a bit of fun.’
‘But not too much. You need to focus on football and your books.’
‘Did you say football and boobs?’
Lucy hit
him playfully with her handbag and they walked to the car laughing.
20
Mr Flanagan read out the results of the tests. Kelly was top of the class. ‘Congratulations, Kelly, you certainly seem to have an aptitude for maths.’
‘Thanks,’ Kelly said quietly.
Behind her she heard Ted hiss, ‘Looks like you’ve got competition, Melissa.’
Kelly watched Melissa’s face redden. ‘Shut up, you retard.’
Melissa gripped her exam sheet and stared at the result – ninety-five per cent. How the hell had this stupid scholarship loser beaten her? Maths was her thing. Being smart was her USP. She wasn’t beautiful like Taylor, she was smart.
It was bad enough having to look at Taylor’s perfect face and body every morning at breakfast these past six months, now that her mum had married Taylor’s dad, but to have her place at the top of the class threatened was too much.
Even Taylor’s dad, Stephen, had been impressed with her results in her summer tests – she’d got over ninety in every subject. He’d told Taylor to try to be more like her step-sister, which was ironic because Melissa’s mother, Patrice, spent her whole time telling Melissa to try to be more like Taylor.
‘Maybe if you stuck to rice cakes and cut out sugar and carbohydrates you could be svelte like Taylor,’ Patrice had told her, as she’d admired her own slim figure in her dressing-room mirror. Melissa had inherited her father’s figure, short and square. She was never going to be thin or beautiful like Taylor. No matter how hard she dieted, her thighs remained chunky, and no amount of mascara or eyeshadow made her small eyes look bigger.
Melissa wanted to shout at her mother, ‘You didn’t look so great before all the liposuction and the Botox and the eye lift and the nose job transformed your face, so give me a break!’
But she never disagreed with her mother. Patrice was not someone you crossed. She was razor sharp and very successful. When Melissa’s dad had died suddenly of a heart attack fifteen years ago, Patrice had taken over his property company and grown it into a multi-million-euro empire. She worked incredibly hard and was always impeccably groomed. She expected Melissa to do and be the same.
Our Secrets and Lies Page 12
