Secrets of the Lighthouse

by Santa Montefiore

  ‘No, thank you. It’s a bit late for that,’ Ellen replied, searching her aunt’s weary eyes for a clue to her intention.

  ‘I had Johnny over this evening. He said he’d seen you in the pub with Conor.’

  ‘Yes, he came to find Dylan with me.’ Ellen narrowed her eyes. ‘If this is about Conor, I’m not going to skulk around like a teenager. I don’t care what Desmond thinks . . .’

  ‘No, it’s not about Conor, Ellen, it’s about Dylan.’

  ‘Oh.’ Ellen felt her pulse race.

  Peg hesitated and looked pained. ‘I wanted to check that you were all right.’

  ‘I’m fine,’ Ellen replied, but she knew her aunt was too perceptive to be fooled by that casual statement.

  ‘It’s just that Johnny said you were . . . a bit strange.’

  ‘We went back to Dylan’s for some tea.’

  ‘I see.’

  ‘Spuds. I don’t think Dylan can cook anything else.’

  ‘I think you’re probably right. Martha’s a fine cook, altogether. He should make an honest woman of her.’ Peg looked at Ellen and frowned. ‘I’ve been thinking about what you said, Ellen. That Maddie named you after Dylan’s nickname for her.’

  ‘Yes?’ Ellen’s tone was enquiring, but she knew what was coming.

  ‘I think you know what I’m trying to say.’

  ‘Dylan’s my father,’ Ellen stated simply and sat down.

  Although Peg had already worked it out, Ellen’s words hit her like a blow. She gasped and took a gulp of tea to play for time. Finally, she put down her mug. ‘So, it’s true. It had never occurred to me, not once. In all these years, I never considered it. Not until tonight. Johnny got me thinking.’

  ‘Has it occurred to him, too?’

  ‘Yes, we came to it at the same time. Or rather, he and Desmond already suspected, but it wasn’t until tonight that their suspicions were confirmed. You see, you do have a look of him.’

  ‘It makes sense, doesn’t it?’ Ellen said with a sigh. She felt wearier than ever.

  ‘I don’t suppose your father knows.’

  ‘I’m not going to tell him. I just couldn’t.’ She bit her lip. The thought of hurting him gave her heart a painful tug. ‘I love my Daddy.’

  ‘I think that’s probably wise. I imagine that is why Maddie never came back to Ireland. I’ve always wondered.’

  ‘Why? Because she would have run off with Dylan?’

  ‘Anything’s possible. Our mother would turn in her grave if she knew. It was bad enough that Maddie got pregnant, but there was a little consolation in the fact that she married the child’s father. It would have devastated Mam to know that Dylan was the father.’

  ‘Aunt Peg, if Mum had told your mother she was pregnant, would she have sent her to a convent and given me away?’

  Peg’s face twisted with anguish. ‘I’m afraid she might have, Ellen, dear. I’d like to say otherwise, but when it came to the moral path, any deviation was unacceptable to your grandmother. A child out of wedlock was a sin and a shame.

  Maddie was right to run away.’ Peg put her hand on Ellen’s. ‘She did it to keep you – I would have done the same. But I told Mam in the end because she couldn’t understand why her favourite child had run away.’

  ‘I’m sure she wasn’t her favourite child,’ said Ellen kindly.

  ‘Oh, she was, and everyone knew it. She fell apart when Maddie left. I had to put her out of her misery. Of course, I only exchanged one type of misery for another. But once she knew, her heart hardened towards Maddie and we never mentioned her name in the house again. Mam went to the grave with a calcified heart, Ellen. She never forgave her.’

  ‘It’s very sad.’

  ‘Aye, it’s sad. I lost my little girl to the sea. That puts things into perspective. I could never get her back. But Maddie and Mam could have reconciled and they should have. You see, that is something I can’t understand. It was as if Maddie had died. But Mam could have got her back if she had really wanted to. I can never get Ciara back, not with all the will in the world. Why wouldn’t Mam have tried? Why did she bury her when she didn’t have to?’ Peg shook her head, disturbed by the resurgence of suppressed memories. ‘God’s way is love and Jesus taught us to forgive. But it’s amazing how many Christians reject those two fundamental teachings . . . So, how did you discover that Dylan is your biological father?’ she asked.

  ‘I nicked one of his CDs and listened to his old songs. It was pretty obvious.’

  ‘I’m so sorry. What a terrible shock.’

  ‘I think I sensed it earlier, though. The moment I realized that Mum had given me the name Dylan used to call her. I was just too afraid to face the truth.’ She laughed sadly. ‘I tried to convince myself that she did it because she was still in love with him. And I did convince myself for a while, until the CD. Then I was forced to accept it.’ She yawned and her eyes watered.

  ‘You look as white as a sheet. I should let you go to bed. I just wanted to make sure that you’re OK.’

  ‘Thank you, Aunt Peg. But I don’t know how I am, really,’ Ellen said. ‘I just feel numb.’

  ‘Of course you do, pet. Come, let’s tuck you up. You’ll feel stronger in the morning.’ Peg switched off the light and closed the kitchen door behind them. ‘It’s touching to think that Dylan sobered up for you, Ellen. He wants you to be proud of him.’

  ‘He’s a good man. I’m very fond of him.’ She began to climb the stairs. ‘It’s strange how the knowledge that he’s my father has bonded us suddenly. I mean, it’s nothing but a thought. But that thought has changed the way I feel about him. It’s changed the way I feel about Ballymaldoon.’

  ‘In what way, pet?’

  Ellen stood in her bedroom doorway. ‘I want to stay,’ she replied firmly.

  ‘There’s nothing to prevent you staying, if you want to.’ Peg smiled. ‘I’d like you to stay.’

  ‘I have one or two things I need to sort out back in London.’

  ‘Of course you do.’

  ‘But I’d come back.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘That means I’ll have to tell Mum where I am. I’m scared to tell her. Now I know the truth . . .’

  ‘Don’t think about that now, pet. It’s late. Get some sleep. It’ll all be so much clearer in the morning.’

  So Ellen went to bed and laid her head on the pillow with a weary sigh. Dylan, her parents and Conor fought a moment for her attention, but finding no response they retreated, for Ellen was too tired even to dream.

  Chapter 28

  When Ellen awoke the following morning, it was still dark and the cockerel had yet to crow. She lay in the silence, bewildered by the strange chill in her heart and the loneliness that now engulfed her. Little by little the revelations of the evening before came back to her. She wasn’t her father’s daughter; she was Dylan’s.

  She sat up in panic and groped about in the darkness for the lamp. As soon as she found it, she switched it on and the room was flooded with light. She rubbed her eyes. Yesterday she had felt little emotion, but today she felt desolate. She stared into space and tried to find the root of her desolation. She considered it for a long time and at last came to the conclusion that, after having felt alienated from her family for most of her life, the fact that she really didn’t belong now made her realize just how much she wanted to. It was ironic that all the while she had cursed her mother for trying to make her fit in, deep down inside she had actually longed to.

  Her eyes filled with tears when she thought of her father and whether or not he knew the truth. He had never treated her any differently from Leonora and Lavinia. He hadn’t given her more attention to compensate for the fact that she wasn’t his – or less because his natural instinct was to favour his own. He had been consistently fair, loving and sincere. The fact that she didn’t look anything like him had never been an issue. Lots of children don’t look like their parents. She had never questioned it, as children never do. It’s grown-ups who comme
nt on the mystifying distribution of genes, and they had always been very certain that she had inherited hers from her mother.

  So, had her mother kept the secret from her husband as well as her daughter? If she had, how had she managed it? Ellen wasn’t sure she’d have the courage to ask. Her mother’s past had always been taboo. Well, now she understood why Ireland had been erased from the family history. Dylan was always here in Connemara as living proof of her lie. But now that Ellen knew, was it possible for her to conceal the truth?

  She looked at her watch. It was 6 a.m. She didn’t feel remotely sleepy. In fact, she felt agitated, as she used to feel at school the morning prior to an exam. It was dark outside, but she felt a yearning to be down on the beach. She knew she’d feel better there. So she dressed in jeans and a jersey and crept downstairs, careful not to go into the kitchen and wake Bertie. She didn’t want to take him by surprise. She threw on a coat of Peg’s, a woolly hat and rubber boots and set off down the hill at a brisk pace.

  It was dreadfully cold. The air was damp with drizzle and an icy wind blew in off the sea. She thrust her hands deep into the pockets of Peg’s coat and hunched her shoulders against the gale. She wondered what it must be like to be a sheep out here in the elements, night after night. She now knew why Peg counted them every morning – to see if any had blown away.

  The sky was pale in the east where dawn was breaking weakly onto the wintry landscape. It gave her just enough light to see her way down the track and across the lane to the beach. She took pleasure in the roaring sound of the ocean and the blustering gusts of wind that thrashed the hills erratically. Somehow they soothed her soul and calmed her nerves, almost as if the tempest outside reduced the tempest inside on account of it being so much greater.

  She walked along the sand to where the waves rushed up to flood her boots, and stood gazing into the blackness, as if at the threshold of a new existence. The view wasn’t clear; she was uncertain about where she was going, but she knew that the change in the present would undoubtedly change her future, too: she just wasn’t quite sure how.

  She remained on the beach until the sun began to rise behind the hills and the lighthouse emerged out of the cloud, bringing thoughts of Conor in its silver lining. She watched it grow brighter, as if her future was being slowly revealed to her in symbols. In which case, Caitlin’s tragic loss was her lucky gain. Her future was here with Conor.

  The wind died down a little and day broke at last. She made her way up the beach, feeling a lot better. Her head was clearer and her heart less heavy. She decided to be positive; after all, not many girls could claim to have two fathers.

  When she reached the house, Peg was in the field putting out extra feed for the ewes in preparation for the coming lambing season. ‘You’re up early, Ellen,’ she said in surprise.

  ‘I needed a walk.’

  ‘You must be hungry, then. I don’t suppose you dared go into the kitchen and wake Bertie.’

  ‘Not after you told me how he mauled Oswald.’

  ‘Come on, then. Let’s have some breakfast.’ She accompanied her niece inside. ‘How are you feeling this morning?’

  Ellen sighed. ‘A bit uneasy about the whole thing, to be honest. It’s quite a lot to get my head around. But I’m feeling better having been down on the beach.’

  ‘I bet you got blown away down there.’

  ‘Very nearly.’

  They took off their coats and hats and Peg put the kettle on the stove. Ellen was cold to the bone. She lay on Mr Badger’s beanbag and put her hands in his fur to warm them.

  ‘Don’t be surprised if Johnny turns up this morning on his way to work,’ said Peg, taking mugs down from the cupboard.

  ‘I imagine most of Ballymaldoon knows that Dylan’s my father now.’

  Peg was quick to dispel her fears. ‘Oh, Johnny won’t have told a soul. Not about this.’

  ‘I would have thought it irresistible.’

  ‘Not when it involves shaming the family, Ellen,’ Peg told her firmly. ‘It was bad enough that Maddie ran away with her Englishman, but if she was pregnant with Dylan’s child . . .’ She sighed heavily. ‘Jaysus, my mam would turn in her grave. Thank the Lord she didn’t live to hear the truth. No, Johnny won’t tell a soul, I can promise you that.’ She glanced out of the window. ‘But he’ll be turning up, I guarantee it.’

  They drank their tea and ate their porridge, their conversation repetitive as they asked the same questions over and over, which only Madeline could answer. A little while later, they heard the sound of a car drawing up outside the house.

  ‘Told you,’ said Peg, getting up to look out of the window. But she was surprised to see Conor’s Range Rover on the gravel. ‘It’s your man,’ she said, watching her niece’s face light up. ‘Why don’t you ask him in for a cup of tea?’

  Ellen hurried outside to meet him. She didn’t climb into the car, but walked round to his window, where she leaned in to kiss him. He took in her wild hair and red cheeks and smiled at her appreciatively. ‘Where have you been this morning?’ he asked.

  ‘Down on the beach.’

  ‘Already?’

  ‘I woke up feeling dreadful. The wind has blown my troubles away.’

  He looked concerned. ‘You should have called me.’

  ‘It was still dark outside.’

  ‘So? Magnum would have liked an early walk.’

  ‘I’m with Peg. She knows about Dylan. We discussed it last night. Why don’t you come in and have a cup of tea? She’d love you to.’ He looked uneasy for a moment. ‘The kitchen isn’t full of Byrnes, I promise.’

  But before he could answer, the sight of a gleaming black car motoring sedately up Peg’s drive distracted them both.

  ‘Who’s that?’ Conor asked.

  ‘Well, it’s not Johnny,’ Ellen replied.

  Peg, who had been at the window, now came outside. ‘Would you look at that fine car! It must be lost. You’re not expecting anyone, are you, Conor?’

  ‘Not that I’m aware of,’ Conor replied.

  The car slowed down as it approached the house. They peered through the glass to see a driver at the wheel and a woman in the back seat in a thick coat, gloves and hat.

  Ellen caught her breath and blanched. ‘It’s my mother,’ she managed, before the driver got out and walked around to open the door for Lady Anthony Trawton.

  Peg’s hands dropped to her sides and she stared in astonishment and disbelief at the strange woman who now stood before her, beautiful but uncertain beneath her finery. For what seemed an interminable amount of time, no one said a word. They just gazed at each other warily, like cowboys in an old Western movie waiting for someone to draw a gun.

  At last, Madeline broke the silence. ‘Peg,’ she said.

  ‘Maddie?’ Peg replied, searching the woman’s face for the girl she used to know. ‘Is that really you?’

  ‘I’ve come for my daughter,’ she told her steadily. She settled her chilly blue eyes on her child. ‘Your note was unacceptable, Ellen. You will come home now and you will marry William and we will put this silly nonsense behind us.’

  It was Conor’s turn to look surprised. He turned to Ellen. ‘You’re getting married?’

  ‘I was going to tell you—’ she began.

  ‘Of course she’s getting married!’ her mother interrupted. Her jaw stiffened and she turned her gaze onto the dashing man in the car. ‘And you are?’

  ‘Conor Macausland,’ he replied coldly, but he didn’t extend his hand or get out of the car.

  By the look on her daughter’s face, she instantly understood their relationship. ‘She’s engaged to William Sackville. Didn’t she tell you?’

  Conor’s face flushed and hardened, and he closed his eyes a second, inhaling slowly through his nostrils.

  ‘That’s why I ran away,’ said Ellen. ‘Because I didn’t want to marry him.’

  When he opened his eyes, they were dark and unfamiliar. Ellen’s heart plummeted.

 
‘You should have told me,’ he replied in a quiet voice.

  ‘I was going to,’ she replied.

  He gripped the steering wheel. ‘Were you?’ He turned the key, and the roar of the engine made Ellen step back a pace. ‘Look, I’m going to leave you women to it.’

  ‘I was going to tell you, Conor, I promise,’ she protested.

  ‘When? Today? Tomorrow?’ She didn’t answer. Conor shook his head and his mouth twisted with disappointment. ‘I trusted you, Ellen. I trusted you.’

  She didn’t know what to say. She had had countless opportunities to tell him and she had failed. She hadn’t thought it would matter. She knew now that it mattered more than anything else.

  ‘Conor, please don’t drive off!’ She choked, but he accelerated and the car sped down the drive and round the corner, taking her future with it.

  Ellen rounded on her mother. ‘How could you?’ she shouted. ‘I don’t want to marry William. I don’t love him. I love Conor. I ran away because I don’t want the life you want for me.’

  Peg saw what was coming and was quick to intervene. ‘Let’s go inside and talk calmly,’ she urged.

  But Madeline stood firm. ‘Go and pack your things. I’ll wait in the car,’ she commanded.

  ‘You think you can treat me like a child? You think I’m just going to go upstairs, pack my things and come home quietly? I’m thirty-three years old, for God’s sake. I’ll do what I please.’

  ‘Ellen, be sensible. What’s got into you?’

  ‘Please come inside,’ said Peg, more urgently this time. She glanced at the driver who was listening to every word, although he was pretending not to hear.

  ‘No, Peg, I’m not staying,’ Madeline replied loftily. ‘I came to get Ellen. That’s all.’

  ‘Aren’t you even going to say hello to Dylan?’ Ellen challenged.

  Peg stiffened. ‘Jaysus, will you two listen to me. Come inside, right now!’

  Madeline’s mouth twitched at the mention of Dylan and she fidgeted her fingers in agitation. Reluctantly, she followed Peg and Ellen into the house.