Secrets of the Lighthouse

by Santa Montefiore

  Chapter 16

  The following morning, Ellen awoke to the sound of rain rattling against her bedroom windows. She lay a moment in the semi-darkness, listening to the wind while still warm beneath the covers. A shiver of excitement rippled over her skin as she remembered the feeling of being enveloped in Conor’s arms. She stretched her limbs and writhed with wanton pleasure at the thought of his hands caressing her body.

  She ran a bath and hummed as she brushed her teeth and pulled a pair of navy corduroy trousers out of the cupboard. It had been years since she had gone to Mass. Her mother had dragged her to church every Sunday as a child, but since she had left home and gone to university she hadn’t attended much except for weddings, christenings and the annual religious festivals. She had nothing against church, it was simply that it had ceased to play a big part in her life. As for God, she didn’t doubt the existence of a higher power; she just didn’t spend very much time thinking about it. The fact that she was going to church today had nothing to do with religion at all. She was going to please her family. And she was going to see Conor.

  Peg came in from feeding her animals and they breakfasted together. ‘Well, don’t you look smart for Mass! I suppose you’d better wear that silly fur thing of yours. It dried very nicely.’

  ‘I thought I’d ruined it.’

  ‘Sadly not. Still, it’s better than an anorak and I’m sure you’ll think my best coat too old for you.’ She sat down on Jack’s chair and hand-fed him a piece of bread. ‘So, did you telephone London last night?’

  ‘Yes, I called my friend Emily. Mother is fine. She’s not worrying at all.’ She winced at her lie and dropped her eyes to her porridge.

  ‘Good. You see, it wasn’t so difficult, was it? It wouldn’t do to worry your mother when a simple phone call can put her mind at rest.’

  ‘I’m meeting Conor at the church,’ Ellen added, trying to sound casual.

  Peg was astonished. ‘Conor’s going to Mass?’ She frowned so that her whole face crumpled like a walnut.

  ‘Yes. Is that odd?’

  ‘Odd? It’s unbelievable. Why would he want to put himself through that again?’

  ‘Through what?’

  ‘The last time he went to Mass was for Caitlin’s funeral. It wasn’t at the big church in town where you’re going today, but a small, derelict chapel up on the hill. Still, most of the locals went and they all whispered goodness knows what accusations that he left without talking to anyone. It was a dreadful occasion. I didn’t go, but Johnny and Joe did, and they said it was devastating to watch.’

  ‘Surely it won’t be that bad five years later?’

  ‘I wouldn’t be so sure. I don’t know whether he’s brave or foolish. Why is he going, anyway?’

  ‘I don’t know. Perhaps he wants to go with his children. The man’s entitled to go to Mass.’

  ‘Of course he is, but I think he’s going to see you.’

  ‘He doesn’t need to go to Mass to see me. He only has to ask me over.’

  ‘Then I don’t know why he’s going. But you be careful, now. Don’t go making a holy show of yourself, will you? The boys won’t like it at all. Be discreet, Ellen.’ Peg gave her a long, hard stare as Ellen stared back defiantly. ‘Jaysus, sometimes you have such a look of your mother it alarms me.’

  ‘It alarms me, too,’ Ellen replied with a laugh. She didn’t want to be like her mother, but the photos she had seen of her as a child resembled her much more than she had realized. ‘I’ll be careful, Aunt Peg. I promise.’

  At a quarter to ten, Joe drove up in his father’s truck. He looked quite different in a pair of clean trousers and a jacket, with his hair brushed off his face. ‘You scrub up well, Joe,’ she said, climbing in out of the rain.

  ‘So do you, Ellen,’ he replied, starting the engine. ‘Which is lucky, because everyone’s going to be looking at you.’

  ‘Don’t say that!’

  ‘Why not? It’s the truth. The entire Byrne clan will be there, except for Peg, of course. Everyone’ll want to get a good look at you.’

  A shadow of anxiety passed over her happiness. She didn’t want attention drawn to herself and Conor. ‘They’ll get over me very quickly,’ she added hopefully.

  ‘That’s what you think. But they’re talking about nothing else at the moment.’

  ‘You’re such a tease!’

  He glanced at her seriously. ‘I’m not teasing you, Ellen. The entire town’s having a good old chinwag.’

  ‘I can’t believe you all have nothing else to talk about.’

  ‘Oh, we have plenty to talk about. The trouble is we talk so much we need twice as much fodder as anyone else.’ He laughed. ‘Don’t look so freaked out. I’ll look after you.’

  She rolled her eyes and replied with sarcasm. ‘Oh, that makes me feel so much better, Joe. Thank you!’

  Joe drove down the drive and out into the lane. It was still raining hard. The windscreen wipers moved rhythmically and loudly across the glass, struggling to keep it clear. The landscape looked bleak beneath the low cloud, the sea grey and tempestuous, pounding the island where the lighthouse stood defiant against the elements like the last soldier standing.

  They drove into town, where the locals were making their way to Mass beneath wide umbrellas. They were all elegantly dressed in their Sunday best and Ellen was pleased she’d brought a pair of smart trousers and shoes, although she felt a little ridiculous in her fake-fur coat. She was reminded of her mother, who always dressed up for church as if she were going to a wedding, in an immaculately tailored suit, an appropriately sober hat and always high heels to give her stature, for she was not a tall woman. Her attire made her feel important, Ellen thought, and reinforced her position in the highest echelons of London society. Who would guess that she came from this small town in deepest Connemara? And if they knew, would they mind? To Ellen it seemed absurd to think that anyone would care.

  Ellen and Joe dashed up the path and into the church because Joe didn’t have an umbrella. By the time they were under cover it was too late. They were wet almost to the skin. Had it not been for Ellen’s fur jacket she would most certainly have been wet right through. She walked down the aisle and scanned the faces for Conor’s, as much as she could without being too conspicuous. The pews were full of chattering people and there was an air of expectancy and excitement in the atmosphere that mingled with the damp smell of hot bodies. She felt the weight of their curious stares but bore them bravely, encouraged by the thought that Conor was somewhere in the church. She noticed Dylan in a black hat and suit. He was even wearing a tie. She smiled at him and his whole face glowed with affection. But where was Conor?

  The Byrnes were all seated on the left of the aisle. They took up at least six pews with their wives and children. Ellen squeezed in on the end beside Alanna, whispering brief hellos to her uncles. There was a great deal of turning round and hissing introductions before the priest stepped into the nave and a hush fell over the congregation.

  Father Michael was old and bristly like a fat badger. His thinning hair was black at the whiskers but the rest, what little he had, was grey. He parted it at the side to cover his baldness, but it often got caught in the wind and stood up like a lid to reveal a shiny pink crown, sprinkled with freckles. He wore purple robes which draped over the large expanse of his belly and fell to the ground in thick folds.

  As he welcomed his congregation, Ellen glanced across the aisle and was surprised to see the profile of a fine-boned man in a black fedora hat and heavy black coat, seated in the middle of the pew. He was arrestingly handsome, with a strong nose, smooth skin and a boldly defined jaw. It was only when her eyes slid along to the two children and Daphne, who sat beside him, that she realized who he was, and the colour rushed to her cheeks in a hot lava of surprise. Conor had shaved off his beard and cut his hair.

  At that moment he turned, as if the intensity of her stare was as physical as a tap on the shoulder. He might have looked different without
his beard, but his eyes were the same sapphire blue. When he saw her his lips curled only very slightly, but his eyes softened and twinkled with mischief, acknowledging her reaction to the unexpected change in his appearance with undisguised pleasure.

  She turned back to her prayer book, hoping that the racing of her heart and the heat of her blushes didn’t draw unwelcome attention. She tried hard not to look at him again but the desire to do so was overwhelming, and once or twice, she slid her eyes across the aisle only to retract them a moment’s later as if the sight of him had scalded her. She was surprised to see that he looked much younger and no longer tormented, as if his anger had fallen away with his hair. If she had thought him attractive before, she now thought him devastatingly so. She grew hot beneath her coat and unbuttoned it for relief. How many ‘Hail Mary’s would she have to recite to make up for the lascivious thoughts that now evoked ungodly images in her mind?

  When the congregation stood to queue for Holy Communion, Ellen found herself facing Conor across the aisle. She glanced up at him in alarm, not knowing how to respond when so many people were staring at them. But Conor smiled coolly and gestured for her to go first. She stepped out into the aisle and found herself standing almost directly in front of him, with Alanna sandwiched between them like a piece of wood between a pair of attracting magnets. Ellen couldn’t turn around, but she could feel his eyes upon her back and chewed her thumbnail nervously. When at last they knelt before the altar, Alanna took the place on Ellen’s right, leaving her left open for Conor. He took it and knelt, waiting for the approach. They didn’t look at each other, for they both sensed that they, and not Father Michael, were the focus of everyone’s attention. But their arms were so close, almost touching, and Ellen could see him out of the corner of her eye. His face remained impassive like the calm surface of a lake, but she could sense the pull of attraction, like an undercurrent, in the small space between them.

  Father Michael reached them much too soon and offered them the blood and body of Christ. Once she had sipped from the cup and put the Holy Bread on her tongue, she managed to glance at Conor before standing up and returning to her pew. His new face was compelling. She wondered what it would feel like to kiss him now that his skin was smooth, and ran a finger absent-mindedly over her lips. He glanced back at her, giving her just enough time to see the humorous gleam in his eyes, as if he was relishing her astonishment and trying hard to conceal his pleasure.

  As Conor walked back up the aisle, Ellen noticed how everyone’s attention was drawn to him. A low murmur, like the hum of bees, vibrated through the congregation. A couple of old ladies in black mantillas whispered behind gloved hands, their mouths pursing into tight O shapes. If Conor noticed their ill-disguised curiosity, he didn’t let it show. He held his chin up and kept his gaze above their heads, a facade which could easily be mistaken for arrogance. He didn’t even look at Ellen, and after a hasty glance, she didn’t look at him either. How ridiculous, she thought, for grown people to behave in such a childish way. It was as if they were schoolchildren, defying their parents.

  When Mass ended, the congregation spilled out into the churchyard. The rain had stopped and a brief burst of sunshine broke through the cloudy canopy above them, catching the drops on the budding branches of the sycamore trees and causing them to sparkle. Ellen was gathered up by her family. She felt like a small fish besieged by a large shoal of bigger fish, barely able to see beyond them. Alanna began introducing her to those she hadn’t yet met, and while she shook hands and smiled, she felt a rising sense of urgency and the need to get away. She looked over the heads to see Conor and Daphne speaking to Johnny, while the children were walking down the path towards their car, parked below on the grassy verge. Every time she raised her eyes she was pulled back into the throng, well and truly caught in the net, unable to wriggle out.

  ‘I’m so pleased you’re coming to lunch,’ Alanna said. ‘Johnny and Emer are coming with Joe. It’ll be a good opportunity for you to get to know more of your family. Joe’s not the only one of your age, you know.’ Ellen half listened as others joined in and fired questions at her without giving her time to answer; they were all very excited to meet the daughter of the notorious Maddie Byrne.

  Ellen raised her eyes as a drowning woman raises her lips to the air, and spotted Dylan a short distance away, staring at her with dark, brooding eyes. His wasn’t the stare of the curious crowd of locals. It was the stare of a man filled with longing. Ellen turned away, for his pining alarmed her; she might look like her mother in the days when he knew her, but she wasn’t her – and if he met Maddie now he’d realize that she wasn’t her, either.

  At last, Alanna was distracted for a moment and Ellen seized her opportunity. ‘Back in a minute,’ she mumbled, pushing through the crowd. She hurried down the path to where Ida and Finbar were now playing on the steps that led down to the road. When Ida saw Ellen, her face lit up. ‘Hello, Ida,’ Ellen said, smiling back. ‘I want to paint your nails before you return to Dublin. You can’t go back with chipped nail polish!’

  ‘Grandmam says I’m not allowed to have nail polish at school.’

  ‘Really? When do you go back?’

  ‘Tomorrow.’

  Ellen tried not to show her disappointment. ‘But you’ll be coming back soon, right?’

  ‘Maybe. I don’t know.’ The little girl shrugged. ‘You’ll have to ask Daddy.’ Ida lifted her eyes and Ellen knew from the affectionate look on the child’s face that Conor was approaching and her stomach gave a nervous little lurch.

  She turned to face him. His smile was now unguarded, raffish and bold. He rubbed his chin. ‘So, what do you think?’

  She grinned back. ‘I didn’t recognize you!’

  ‘I thought so. Do you like it?’

  ‘I love it. You look younger.’

  He winked at his daughter. ‘Doesn’t she say all the right things, Ida! Are you hungry, Finbar?’

  ‘Yes, can we go home now?’ The little boy pulled a sulky face.

  Conor put his hands into his coat pockets and glanced back at the throng. ‘I think we’ve set the town talking,’ he said, not at all worried about it.

  ‘I think it’s the loss of your beard.’

  ‘If only! I spent the first half of Mass without anyone knowing who I was.’

  ‘Does it feel different?’

  His eyes twinkled at her and he rubbed his chin again. ‘You ’ll have to tell me,’ he replied quietly so that the children couldn’t hear.

  She coloured, but the suggestive tone in his voice made her smile. ‘I’ll be happy to.’ She folded her arms in front of her chest because the desire to reach out to him was almost unbearable.

  ‘Shame you have to join your family for lunch. Meg is cooking a roast.’

  ‘Father Michael is coming.’

  ‘And you have lots of unanswered questions for him, I know. I’m not sure lunch will be the right time to ask them, though.’

  ‘I might be able to take him off into a corner.’

  ‘I’m sure you will. After a few glasses of wine, he might be more garrulous.’

  Daphne now joined them and the formality of their conversation was torturous. Aware that the eyes of the locals were still upon them, questioning their acquaintance, they remained a polite distance apart, Conor’s hands deep in his coat pockets, Ellen’s still folded across her chest. The children began to get impatient.

  ‘All right, sweetie,’ said Daphne, taking Ida’s hand. ‘We’d better go. It’s nice to see you, Ellen. Send my regards to Peg, won’t you?’

  ‘I will, thank you,’ Ellen replied, as Daphne and Ida walked away.

  Conor hung back a moment. ‘It’s killing me that I can’t kiss you, Ellen,’ he said in a low voice, his gaze unwavering.

  ‘I think my newfound family would send me straight back to London.’ She laughed, but inside she felt suddenly desperate. Conor was leaving and she didn’t know when she’d see him again. If it hadn’t been for the throng of
spectators who stood like a herd of cattle outside the church, she’d have thrown herself against him and begged him not to go. ‘I’ll just have to wait to experience the feel of your new face,’ she said instead, trying to steady her voice so she didn’t come across as needy.

  ‘The woodcutter won the day,’ he grinned.

  She smiled back at the shared memory. ‘Yes, he well and truly slew the wolf!’

  ‘We’ll make up our own fairy tale, Ellen,’ he said, looking serious for a moment. ‘Come on, Finbar, let’s get you home.’ He took the child’s hand, then turned to Ellen and gave her a meaningful nod. ‘I’ll be back.’

  She watched him walk down the steps to the Range Rover where Daphne and Ida waited for him. The boy looked very small beside the tall figure of his father. Ellen wished she were climbing in with them, but she had committed to lunch with Alanna and Desmond. There was nothing she could do but watch them drive away. No doubt her family would all be asking her about Conor. She resolved to keep her cards very close to her chest. She didn’t want to raise Desmond’s suspicions any higher than she already had.

  Lunch was a jolly affair. Joe’s sister, Ashley, was there with her husband and two young children, and Alanna’s brother Patrick had come with his wife, Clare. Father Michael said grace, then they all sat down at the long dining-room table and tucked into a hearty Sunday lunch. Ellen had been deliberately placed next to Father Michael, but it wasn’t until the end of the meal, when people began to disperse into the sitting room, that her mother’s name was mentioned.

  ‘Don’t you look like your mother, Ellen?’ he said quietly, as if it was a secret.

  ‘I don’t know. Perhaps,’ Ellen replied. In London no one ever mentioned that she resembled her. It was becoming clear that Maddie Byrne had shed a skin when she left Ireland all those years ago, and emerged an entirely different person.