Secrets of the Lighthouse

by Santa Montefiore

  Ellen had never before experienced the practised hand of a man, for William was just a boy in comparison to Conor. Everything about this Irishman was intensely masculine, from his weathered skin to his powerful physique, and there was something dark and unfathomable in his eyes which drew her to him like the curious hand of a child to fire, because as much as she knew he could love her, she knew he would never belong to her, nor would she ever tame him. He was too old to change and had been too long in the wild.

  She knew she should tell him about William, but she quickly convinced herself that owning up to her engagement would give it an importance it no longer had. From the moment she met Conor, she had known in her heart that, even if nothing ever came of it, she could never go back to William. Not after he had been so diminished by the comparison. She realized now that there was an unconventional side to her that William would never understand, and for which, one day, he would most likely end up resenting her. It was in her attraction to Conor that she recognized that part of herself, because it was reflected in him. Conor had not only peeled away her clothes but he had peeled away her pretences. She knew now who she was and what she wanted.

  Ellen resolved to deal with William kindly but swiftly. The ramifications would be tremendous, but she’d have Conor and the Byrnes and she’d be strong enough to cope. She lifted herself onto her elbow and ran a finger down Conor’s face. He turned and frowned up at her. ‘What are you thinking about, Socrates?’

  She sank into his deep blue gaze and smiled softly. ‘You.’

  ‘What about me?’

  ‘How I found you up there on the hills.’

  ‘Correction, I found you, and if I hadn’t you’d still be up there.’

  She laughed. ‘But I stumbled upon you.’

  ‘And nearly threw me from my horse.’

  ‘You’re far too accomplished to allow that.’

  He caressed her cheek and sighed. ‘I knew you were special, even though you looked a sight.’

  ‘No, you didn’t.’

  ‘If I hadn’t, I’d have pointed the way and left you to your own devices.’

  ‘I don’t believe that for a second. Beneath your rugged exterior, you’re an old-fashioned gentleman.’

  His gaze grew tender. ‘But your eyes were welling with tears and your face was all red and you looked so lost and frightened. I sensed you’d stumbled into my path for a reason.’

  ‘And what reason might that be, do you think?’

  ‘As a ray of light into my dark world.’

  She raised her eyebrows. ‘That’s dramatic.’

  ‘But true.’

  ‘You’re very sweet, Conor, but I’m no angel.’

  ‘Angels come in many guises.’ He grinned wickedly and the lascivious glint had returned to his eyes. ‘But I’m doing my best to bring you down to my level.’

  It was dark when he drove her back to Peg’s. They had feasted on the cottage pie Meg had left in the fridge and Conor had opened a bottle of wine. Later, Conor had gone over to the stable block to fetch Magnum, whom Robert had taken out for a long walk over the hills, and the dog had lain on the floor at the end of the bed while his master and his new girlfriend fooled around beneath the sheets. Conor had asked her to stay the night and Ellen had wanted to, very much, but she knew Peg would disapprove and she didn’t want her uncles appearing in the morning for an impromptu breakfast to find that she wasn’t there.

  So, they drove down the lanes, holding hands over the gear-stick. ‘I’ll be lonely in my bed tonight,’ he said, dimming the lights as a car appeared around the corner ahead of them. He turned to her, his eyes twinkling momentarily in the glare, and Ellen thought how incredibly handsome he was and how lucky she was to have found him.

  ‘I’d like to stop you feeling lonely,’ she replied softly. ‘And I’d like to wake up with you in the morning.’

  ‘The invitation stands. I could turn the car around now and we could go back.’

  ‘No, I can’t do that to Peg. It’s just not right.’

  He chuckled. ‘You’re not a girl any more, Ellen.’

  ‘I am in my aunt’s house.’

  ‘All right. I won’t try to persuade you. But I’ll come and get you tomorrow and we can spend the day together.’

  ‘I’d like that.’

  ‘Did you finish The Age of Innocence?’

  ‘Not yet.’

  ‘Then I’ll wait until you have before we watch the movie together.’

  ‘It’s a beautiful book. It sweeps me into another world. A fascinating world.’ She squeezed his hand. ‘You know, the novel belonged to my mother. It’s inscribed by Dylan. It reads: To my own Ellen Olenska, May you always be wild and curious, your spirit free. May your heart for ever belong to me. Dylan. July 1977.’

  Conor raised an eyebrow. ‘So he called her Ellen Olenska. That’s interesting.’

  ‘I know we . . .’ She was about to tell him of her walk to the little chapel but stopped herself in time, remembering that Conor’s wife was buried there. ‘We met in the pub and had lunch together. He told me that he gave her the book. I never expected to find it in Peg’s library. I was astonished when he told me that she named me after his nickname for her.’

  Conor stared at her pensively before turning his eyes back to the road. ‘What does that tell you?’

  ‘That she still loved him when I was born.’

  He nodded. ‘Yes, but don’t you think . . .’

  Ellen cut him off with her own train of thought. ‘I wonder whether she regretted running off with my father? Whether she still held a candle for Dylan?’

  ‘If she didn’t, you’d be called Elizabeth or Alexandra.’

  ‘Then maybe she ran off against her will, like it was her only choice. God, perhaps she has always loved him and that’s why she kept her childhood in Ireland quiet, because she couldn’t bear to go back here, in conversation or anything else. It was too painful.’

  Conor smiled at her indulgently. ‘You’re very romantic, aren’t you, Ellen?’

  ‘Yes. But it is romantic, when you look at it like that. Believe me, my mother is the least romantic person I have ever met, or so I thought. I’m beginning to think I don’t know her at all. She left when she was young. Maybe the life she chose has hardened her. Certainly, the woman Dylan described didn’t sound at all like the woman I know.’

  ‘You’re going to have to ask her all those questions.’

  ‘I couldn’t. I just couldn’t,’ she replied, shaking her head and turning away to look out of the window.

  ‘Then you’ll never know.’

  ‘Perhaps some things are best left alone,’ she said quietly. A sudden chill crawled over her skin. Conor was right, it was all much more complicated than she imagined.

  Sensing her apprehension, Conor squeezed her hand. ‘You’re right, Ellen, it’s better not to know.’

  As they approached the house they saw another car parked in the driveway. Ellen didn’t recognize it as belonging to her uncles. ‘It could be Ronan,’ she said.

  Conor’s jaw hardened. ‘Then I won’t linger,’ he answered, pulling up beside it.

  She bit her bottom lip. ‘What shall I tell them?’

  ‘That you spent the best part of the day in bed with me.’ He grinned at her mischievously.

  ‘You’re so bad, Conor. If I tell them that they’ll kill me.’

  ‘You won’t have to. They’ll read it all over your face.’

  ‘What’s wrong with my face?’ She ran her fingers over her skin. ‘Have you given me a rash?’

  ‘I’m not a horse!’

  She laughed. ‘No, but you’re very bristly.’

  ‘I’m talking of your glow. I’m afraid your face is a blatant display of your lustful behaviour.’

  She slapped his hand playfully. ‘Oh, you’re teasing!’

  ‘Only a little. Your reaction is priceless.’

  ‘No rash, then?’

  ‘None that I can see. But it is dark. So, what’
s your verdict? Beard or no beard?’ he asked, obviously wanting to delay her departure for as long as possible.

  ‘I like you with and without, actually. But if I had to choose, I’d say no beard. I see more of you without it. You’re a handsome man. Why hide it?’

  His teeth shone white as he smiled. ‘So, I’ll pick you up tomorrow morning.’ He wound his hand around her neck and leaned forward to kiss her. His lips were soft and full, parted to kiss her fully. She closed her eyes to savour it, forgetting her anxiety about the lights from the house that beamed on them as if they were actors on a stage. When he pulled away he held her gaze for a long moment. Then he smiled incredulously, as if he, too, was astonished and grateful that they had found one another. ‘Sleep well, Ellen.’

  ‘I will. You’ve exhausted me.’ She laughed shyly, unable to bear the intensity of his stare without blushing.

  He lifted her chin and kissed her again. ‘It’s a bit late for bashfulness.’

  ‘I know, you’ve stripped me of all modesty.’

  ‘I’m so pleased. I’d hate to have missed a bit.’

  ‘No, I think you just about covered everything.’ They laughed together. He kissed her again and finally, with great force of will, Ellen stepped out of the car and watched him drive away.

  As the tail lights disappeared into the darkness, she lifted her eyes to the sea beyond, where the ghostly silhouette of the lighthouse stood out against the night sky. The water glittered like fallen stars, tossed about by the waves, and a crescent moon shone brightly through a misty aura. She wondered whether the questions surrounding Caitlin’s death would ever be answered, or whether Conor would simply erase the whole episode from his life and never speak of it. In his opinion, there was probably no mystery, just a tragic accident that the locals had whipped up into something more sinister for lack of anything else to gossip about. She knew for certain that she’d never be able to ask him about it. The darkness in his eyes assured her of that. She could imagine his temper when crossed. That face that so easily creased with mirth could just as quickly harden with fury, she had no doubt about that. However, her curiosity was as keen as ever. She hoped that in time he might confide in her.

  She walked into the house to find Peg pacing the kitchen floor while Ronan and Oswald reasoned with her from the table. When she appeared in the doorway they all stared at her. She registered Peg’s anguish immediately. Her face was pink and her eyes glistened with tears. ‘What’s happened?’ Ellen asked, ignoring Mr Badger who padded over to sniff Magnum on her legs.

  ‘Jack’s gone,’ said Oswald dolefully.

  Ellen’s looked at the jackdaw’s chair in horror. ‘Did he fly away?’

  ‘We don’t know what happened,’ Ronan answered. ‘He often flies off . . .’

  ‘But he always comes back,’ interjected Peg miserably. ‘I can’t understand it.’

  ‘Might he have run into trouble with a bird of prey?’ Ellen suggested, then wished she hadn’t.

  Peg paled. She dabbed her eyes. ‘Jaysus, that’s a brutal thought, Ellen.’

  ‘I didn’t mean to upset you.’

  ‘I know, pet. We have to hope and pray that he comes back in the morning.’

  ‘Has he ever spent the night away?’

  ‘Not ever. I’m sick with worry. I don’t think I’ll sleep a wink tonight.’

  Ellen noticed they were all drinking. She suspected Peg was gasping for a cigarette. Surely, in these circumstances, Oswald wouldn’t mind if she lit up. Since meeting Conor, Ellen hadn’t craved nicotine at all. She presumed that the constant rush of adrenalin masked her body’s need for the drug.

  ‘I suggest you go to bed, Mam,’ said Ronan kindly. ‘Do you want me to stay the night?’

  ‘I have Ellen. I’ll be all right. Don’t worry.’

  ‘And I’m next door should you need company,’ Oswald added. ‘As you know, I’m a terrible sleeper, so don’t hesitate to come knocking. I’m always on for a midnight feast or a game of chess.’

  ‘I don’t suppose there’s any point staying up. He’s not coming home tonight. I hope he’s found somewhere warm to roost.’ Tears began to spill over onto her grey cheeks. She blotted her skin with the tissue. ‘So silly to be sentimental about a bird.’

  Oswald’s face softened with compassion. ‘No, Peg, it’s not silly at all,’ he said and his voice was so kind and gentle it sent a ripple across Ellen’s skin. She thought he was going to add that her animals were like her children. The words hung in the air unspoken. But he did not. He didn’t need to. They all felt it and Peg knew, for that was why she was crying.

  ‘I lost my little girl, Ellen,’ Peg said suddenly, and she stared at them all in surprise, as if the sentence had been spoken by someone else. Oswald and Ronan gazed at her, their jaws loose, not knowing how to respond. It was as if a great wall had at once collapsed after years of defending her against the onslaught of pain. She took a deep breath that sounded more like the howl of a wounded animal. ‘Oh!’ she wailed, her chin wobbling uncontrollably. ‘Did I . . . did I . . . I don’t know . . . my little girl . . . my little Ciara.’ Ellen’s hand shot to her mouth and her eyes welled with tears as she watched her aunt turn mad with grief.

  In a moment, Oswald was wrapping his arms around her diminished frame, hugging her tightly to stop her shaking, reassuring her in his soothing voice. ‘It’s all right, old girl. You’re going to be fine. This is good. All good. It’s so much better out than in.’

  Ronan got to his feet and hovered uncertainly. Ellen knew he wanted to comfort his mother but didn’t know how. She felt just as powerless. For a moment they caught eyes. In that instant, Ellen found a bond with the one member of the family with whom she had previously felt no connection. She gave a small, sympathetic smile. His shoulders dropped and he sighed helplessly. ‘There you go, Peg my dear, cry me a river and let your unhappiness be washed away,’ said Oswald, as Peg’s trembling subsided and her sobs grew quieter. Oswald was right, her grief was so much better out than in. Ronan smiled feebly at Ellen.

  At last, Oswald helped her into a chair. She took a long swig of Jameson, neat, and wiped her eyes with shaky fingers. They all sat down and waited for her to speak. She didn’t utter a word for what seemed like a long time, but when she did she let it all out, in a long, heartbreaking soliloquy.

  They let her talk without interruption. Only Bertie’s loud snoring from the stove disturbed the silence in the room. She spoke of the moment she realized Ciara had gone missing to the moment she was found, face down in the water. To speak about it was cathartic but desperately emotional. Peg tore the tissue to shreds, unaware of the nervous actions of her fingers, until Oswald put his hand on hers and she stopped, dropping her shoulders at once and taking a deep, cleansing breath.

  ‘I pray for her every night,’ she continued, calmer now. ‘I light a candle and kneel by my bed and pray that the angels are looking after her. I pray that she’s at peace. I pray too that she never leaves me, because I can’t bear to be without her.’ Her feverish eyes spilled over again. ‘You’re not mad, Oswald, but it’s not leprechauns and fairies who blow out candles and move things.’

  Oswald smiled tenderly. ‘I know.’

  ‘You know?’

  ‘Of course I know, my dear Peg.’

  She took a ragged breath. ‘I want it to be her so badly my body aches with longing. Sometimes I think I’m going crazy and hearing things that aren’t there.’

  ‘She’s still with you, Peg,’ said Oswald, and the certainty in his voice was like a blanket to a woman stiff with cold.

  ‘Do you think so, Oswald? Do you really?’

  ‘I’m sure of it,’ he replied, and the honesty in his face reassured her that he was.

  Ellen decided now would be a good moment to confess about the candle. Peg was astonished. ‘So, it’s not just me, then?’ She smiled weakly. ‘I thought I was going crazy.’

  ‘Do you think she’s trying to tell you that she’s still close?’ Ellen asked.<
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  ‘I don’t know.’ Peg looked to Oswald for an answer.

  ‘Of course she is,’ Oswald replied. ‘And she won’t leave you until you’re ready to let her go.’

  ‘How do you know?’ Peg asked keenly.

  ‘I’ve always known.’

  ‘Always?’

  ‘I’ve always had an overdeveloped sixth sense,’ he said casually.

  ‘Can you see things?’

  ‘Oh, I’m sure I did as a child but I see nothing now. I sense things, though.’ He smiled at her. ‘Leprechauns and fairies.’

  Peg smiled back. ‘But they’re not leprechauns and fairies, are they?’

  He beamed at her affectionately, as if she were a child who had just unravelled a great mystery. ‘No, old girl, they’re not.’

  She sighed and looked at Ronan, who was very quietly listening to his mother’s every word. ‘I’m glad you’re here, Ronan. I should have talked to you boys about your sister. I should have shared her with you. After all, she belonged to you as well.’

  He nodded, the muscles in his face taut with the effort of controlling his emotions. ‘I think of her from time to time,’ he said quietly. ‘She was a happy little thing, wasn’t she?’

  ‘Aye, she was,’ Peg agreed. ‘She had the light and happy soul of an angel.’

  They remained talking until the early hours of the morning, until Peg’s eyelids began to droop with tiredness. Oswald and Ronan bade her good night, reassuring her that they’d both pray for Jack’s safe return in the morning.

  Ellen was about to take her aunt upstairs when Peg stopped in the doorway. She turned to her niece and grabbed her arm. ‘Let’s have a smoke before we turn in, shall we? Now the boys have gone.’

  ‘You sure you’re not too tired?’

  ‘No, pet, I’m not too tired. I’ve been desperate for one all evening.’