Max squeezed it and smiled. ‘I’m fine, just a little distracted.’ He’d given her a brief outline of what Sinéad had told him and then lapsed into silence as he relived the conversation. ‘Sorry, tonight can’t have been much fun for you.’
‘There’s no need to apologise. Do you think Sinéad will be okay?’
Max sighed. He had a new insight into his sister’s moodiness now and felt sick at all she had gone through alone. How hard it must have been for her to keep everything to herself, especially from Sheila. ‘I hope that finally talking about it helped.’
‘I’m sure it did.’
He lifted her hand and kissed her palm. ‘Krystie, move in with me.’
She looked startled. ‘Where did that come from?’
‘I don’t know. I suppose it’s been such a hell of a day that it’s made me realise how lucky I am. Life is short, Krystie, and I love you and I want you with me.’
She looked down, a crease in her brow. ‘I don’t know.’
‘Don’t you love me?’ He smiled but he was anxious to hear the reply.
‘Of course I do.’ She rolled her eyes.
‘So why are you hesitating?’
‘Well, for a start, it’s too soon, Max,’ she said. She leaned over to kiss him and smiled into his eyes. ‘I want to date you more before we take that step. I’m also working very hard at the moment and I’m afraid that if I lived with you it might kill me.’
‘I would find it hard to keep my hands off you, but I would never risk your health, Krystie.’
She laughed. ‘Not intentionally, but you know we wouldn’t be able to keep our hands off each other. And –’ her smile wavered – ‘there’s something else, too.’
‘I’m listening.’
She sighed. ‘Well, every time I’m in your bedroom, in your bed, I’m going to think of the women that have been there before me.’
‘There haven’t been that many,’ he protested.
‘I believe you but even if it was only Natalie I would still always be thinking about you and her together.’
‘I see.’ He chewed his lip. It was a fair point. He’d feel exactly the same. Just the thought of her being with Jacob, a man he’d never even seen, made him feel ridiculously jealous. ‘There’s only one thing for it,’ he said as the cab pulled up outside his apartment block. ‘I’ll have to put the apartment on the market and we’ll get a place of our own.’
Her eyes widened as she stared at him. ‘Seriously?’
He paid the driver and helped her out of the car. ‘Seriously.’ He cupped her face in his hands and kissed her. ‘In the meantime, can you cope if we sleep in the spare bedroom?’
‘Sleep?’ she grinned.
‘Among other things,’ he laughed.
‘In the meantime, Max, I’d be quite happy on the sofa,’ she murmured pulling his mouth down to hers.
Sheila’s stomach churned as the plane dipped and she heard the landing gear go down, and it had nothing to do with travel sickness. She was terrified and the closer they got to Ireland, to Dublin, the greater her terror grew. The thought of facing her brother, Sinéad and even her dad made her feel nauseous.
Karl put his hand over hers. ‘Are you okay?’
She swallowed. ‘Not really.’
His fingers tightened. ‘I’ll be with you every step of the way.’
‘How can you be so calm?’ she asked, envious of his composure.
‘I’ve waited all my life for this, Sheila. It hasn’t worked out quite the way I wanted but at least I will know everything there is to know.’
She said nothing, staring out as the lights of Dublin rose up to meet them. Karl was right. However hard this was, at least the final showdown would put an end to all the secrets. She had walked away from her family once and, if she had to do so again, at least she knew Zach would be waiting for her. She smiled at the memory of his last text before they boarded the aircraft: ‘Go with an open mind, listen to what they have to say and then kick ass! I’ll be waiting. x.’
Zach always made her laugh and nothing ever seemed so bad, no problem seemed insurmountable with him in her life. She wished he was with her now but knew it would have been insensitive to take him along and complicate an already delicate situation. Tears brimmed in her eyes as she thought of the last time she’d seen Philip, and what a difficult time that was for her. How would she feel when they met again? How would he?
The seatbelt sign came on and the steward told them they would be on the ground in minutes. She reached for Karl’s hand and clutched it.
‘Que sera, sera.’ He smiled down at her as they touched down. ‘Welcome home, Sheila.’
Chapter Thirty-four
On days like today Philip wished he smoked. He had been bouncing from meeting to meeting for three days with little time to eat and, when he eventually fell into bed exhausted at night, he couldn’t sleep. His heart thumped in his chest, his stomach was in knots and when he did nod off he seemed to always wake up in a sweat.
He’d told Barry he wouldn’t need him the next day, as he had some personal business to take care of. The driver had looked surprised. No wonder, as it was the first day off Philip had taken since Sheila’s disappearance.
Once inside, he went straight to the drinks cabinet in the corner of the dining room and poured himself a large whiskey.
‘Fuck you, Bridie,’ he roared and for a moment savoured his words as they echoed around the empty room. He rarely cursed and when he did it was under his breath. He’d learned from watching his fellow politicians make their mistakes and he saw it as a badge of honour that he never raised his voice, swore or drank more than two glasses of wine in public. But he wasn’t in public now. He poured another glass and took it through to the living room. Were Sheila here, she’d be insisting he eat. He wasn’t used to drinking spirits on an empty stomach. She’d cook him something and let him rant and he would feel better; she was always able to calm him. He let his head fall back against the sofa. What the hell had he been thinking? Why had he ever thought he’d get away with it? He’d worked so hard and, now it was finally paying off, he would probably lose everything. No. Bullshit. He sat up, suddenly alert. He had worked his way up from nothing, he was only thirty-four and, if he had to, he could start again. He would take whatever was coming to him and then worry about the future.
His grim determination not to go down without a fight forced him out of the chair and into the kitchen, where he put on a pot of coffee, made some thick cheese sandwiches and put them into the toaster. Then he went to get his briefcase and brought it into the kitchen. Mindful that constituents sometimes dropped in, he ran up and changed into casual trousers and a heavy-knit pullover. He slicked back his hair, brushed his teeth to get rid of the smell of alcohol and went back downstairs.
At the table he opened his briefcase, took out a pad and pen and, ignoring the department reports and constituents’ letters – as he had for four days – he took out the one slim file, the contents of which would dictate his future.
He had talked in confidence to his GP, who in turn had arranged an appointment with a psychiatrist.
That was an experience he wouldn’t forget in a hurry. He had gone in, all businesslike, and explained the situation, couched in the language his doctor had suggested. He didn’t want or need anything official, not yet. He just wanted to know what to expect. But the woman had been very perceptive and before he knew what was going on he was talking about his feelings. He cut it short there and then and she hadn’t seemed surprised, but handed him her card with her mobile number scribbled on it.
‘I think you are underestimating what lies ahead of you. If you want to talk about it, just call.’
He felt afraid, wondering what she had seen when she looked into his eyes, terrified of what he had unknowingly revealed to her, scared stiff of what he might say if he stayed any longer. He’d grabbed the card and, mumbling his thanks, he’d fled.
The meeting with the senior member of the Garda
Siochána had been much easier. Philip had known the policeman long before he had gone into politics and the man had seen and heard it all. Philip presented him with a ‘hypothetical’ situation and was very relieved to hear that special allowances were usually made where a person’s mental health was at risk.
What Philip couldn’t prepare for or control was the reaction of the Fields family. That was in the lap of the gods.
Sinéad felt she’d only put her head on the pillow when the phone rang, rousing her, but a quick look at the clock showed it was almost eight. Damn, she should be in work. Why hadn’t Dylan woken her? But she knew the answer. Despite being exhausted, she’d got little sleep since she’d opened her heart to Max. She found herself going over and over the past, and especially that last night in the mobile home, when her mother had walked out of her life for ever. Rubbing the sleep from her eyes with one hand, she grabbed the phone with the other.
‘Hello?’ As she answered, she saw the note on the pillow next to her from Dylan: ‘I called Krystie and told her you wouldn’t be in today. Sleep! xxx.’
She smiled. She had no intention of taking the full day off, but perhaps the morning.
‘Sinéad?’
‘Max?’
‘Yeah. Listen, I just got a text from Philip. He has some news.’
She clutched the phone, fully awake now. ‘What?’
‘He wouldn’t discuss it on the phone. He wants us to go over.’
‘To the house?’
‘Yes.’
‘Okay,’ she said, wondering why the mystery.
‘Want me to pick you up?’
‘Yeah, that would be great, Max, thanks.’
‘See you in about an hour.’
She was standing outside the apartment block when Max drove in and he was already pulling back out again as she put on her seatbelt. ‘What do you think this is about?’ she asked, searching her brother’s face.
‘I have no idea but he obviously didn’t want to go into it on the phone or meet us in a public place, so I assume the investigators have found out something.’
‘It has to be good news, right?’
He gave a wry smile. ‘Exactly what is good news in a situation like this? I suppose it would be if it was confirmed that she’s alive.’
‘He could tell us that on the phone, couldn’t he?’
‘We’ll be there in a few minutes and all will be revealed. Calm down, Sinéad.’ He patted her hand.
Philip paused before opening the door to smooth back his hair and take a deep breath. He couldn’t remember ever feeling so nervous, not on his wedding day, not the day after the elections when the votes were being tallied, not even the first time he walked into government buildings and took his seat in the Dáil. He cleared his throat and grimaced. He’d thought he’d broken that nervous habit. He opened the door and smiled. ‘Sinéad, Max, thanks for coming.’
She looked at him as she stepped into the hall. ‘Is everything okay?’
‘Everything’s fine, Sinéad, come through.’ He walked into the sitting room and gave his wife a reassuring smile before standing to one side.
Sinéad came to a stop beside him and gasped as her sister stood up. ‘Sheila!’
‘Hello, Sinéad.’ Sheila’s smile was nervous.
Sinéad threw herself into her twin’s arms and Sheila held her tight, her wet cheek pressed against her sister’s.
‘Sheila, Sheila, Sheila,’ Sinéad sobbed into her hair, and then she started to pummel her back with her fists. ‘I hate you, I hate you.’
Sheila winced as the blows got harder but when Philip went to help her she waved him away.
Finally, Max came over and gently pulled them apart. ‘Welcome home, Sheila,’ he said as Sinéad dropped onto the sofa and buried her face in her hands.
Sheila let out a sob as her brother hugged her. ‘It’s so good to see you, Max.’
He stroked her hair. ‘And you, Sheila.’
She stepped back and pulled out a tissue to wipe away her tears, and Philip caught her eye. ‘I’ll leave you to talk.’
She went to him. ‘Thanks, Philip, for everything.’
He hugged her close. God, how he’d missed her. He pulled away and looked into her eyes. ‘Will you be okay?’
‘Yes but . . .’ Her eyes searched his. ‘Are you sure about this? It can wait if you want—’
‘No.’ It had taken Philip days to come to a decision and if he backed down now he was afraid he would chicken out altogether. ‘They’re family, they should know.’ He touched her cheek and smiled. It was so good to see her again and with her support he knew that he would get through this.
‘Shout if you need me,’ he whispered and, with a wave at the others, he left the room.
Sheila looked over at her sister. She still had her face in her hands and her shoulders shook occasionally, yet she was completely silent. Sheila ached for her; she had caused this pain. Max sat rubbing her back and whispering into her ear. Sheila felt like an outsider. It was strange to be here in the same room with them and yet feel further apart than ever. Would they be able to understand what she no longer really understood herself?
Max was the one to break the silence. ‘Why did you go, Sheila?’
‘There were a couple of reasons,’ she started. ‘When I was going through Bridie’s papers I found out something about Mum’s death . . .’ She hesitated.
‘It’s okay, I know everything,’ he assured her, and then looked at Sinéad. ‘At least I think I do.’
‘I found her suicide note and –’ Sheila looked from him to her twin – ‘your letter.’
‘What letter?’ Max looked at Sinéad. ‘So, I don’t know everything?’
‘You do,’ Sinéad assured him. ‘I’d forgotten the letter. I’d tried a few times to talk to Bridie about everything but she’d just close me down, so I wrote to her. Not that it made any difference. She said it was grown-up stuff and that I must just put it out of my mind. I’m surprised she even kept it.’
‘Why didn’t you tell me what happened? How could you keep it from me all these years?’ Sheila demanded, frustrated by Sinéad and angry with Bridie.
Silent tears coursed down Sinéad’s cheeks. ‘I was scared. Bridie said she’d have me packed off to boarding school if I didn’t keep my mouth shut.’
Sheila shook her head, feeling riddled with guilt. ‘How could she do that to a child? I suppose when I was reading I forgot how young we were when this all happened. I just felt hurt and stupid, as if I was the butt of some cruel joke. You knew all this time what kind of man Dad was, and, not only did you let him get away with it, you fawned all over him. How could you, Sinéad? I can understand you doing it as a child, but five years ago, ten years ago, why didn’t you do something? Why didn’t you tell me then?’
Sinéad sighed and shook her head. ‘As we got older and everything was okay and everyone was happy, I just locked it all away and tried to forget.’
Sheila looked at her sister feeling sick when she thought of how her father and aunt had behaved. ‘My God, how they both messed with our heads. I knew you didn’t really like Bridie but I thought you were just missing Mum and hated how tough she was by comparison. I did my best to protect you and Max, to be a buffer between you. I spent my time promising Bridie we wouldn’t upset Dad, while promising him that I would mind you. He went on and on at me about how sensitive you were, that you were missing Mum the most and that as your sister and twin it was my duty to look after you. He even pressured me into doing the design course because he was worried you would get into trouble if I wasn’t around to look after you—’
‘Hang on just a second – that is bullshit!’ Sinéad protested. ‘You wanted to do that course as much as I did.’
Sheila held her gaze. ‘No, Sinéad, trust me, I didn’t. And let me tell you something else, I hated making fucking hats.’
Sinéad shook her head in bewilderment. ‘That’s not true.’
‘It is true and you know it and you�
��ve always known it,’ Sheila said, Zach’s words ringing in her ears. She’d come here to say her piece and to get answers, too, and, no matter how hard it was, she had to do that. She continued more gently, though. ‘Think about it. All the time you and Mum were messing around with material and buttons and bows, what was I doing?’
Sinéad just stared at her, either unable or unwilling to answer.
‘You were painting,’ Max said, running a hand through his hair. ‘You loved to paint.’
Sheila gave her brother a grateful smile.
Sinéad’s expression hardened. ‘I thought you’d grown out of that. You never painted after . . .’
Sheila raised an eyebrow. ‘After Mum died? You’re right. Because then it was, “Oh, Sheila, Sinéad needs help. Sinéad seems lonely. Sinéad’s missing Mum, they always used to do that together.” On and on and on it went, but you know what? I didn’t mind. I loved you more than painting and I was always happy when I was with you. But making it my career because you were making it yours? That was damn hard. College bored me witless. I did enjoy the challenge of setting up the business. It wasn’t what I would have chosen to do, but how many people get to do something they love for a living? So I was content. Until I found out that not only had Dad driven Mum to kill herself but that my sister knew all about it. I couldn’t take that, not on top of . . .’ She trailed off.
Max looked at her through narrowed eyes. ‘On top of what, Sheila? What else? Come on now, no more secrets.’
She nodded, stood up and walked to the window. ‘I never should have married Philip. It was a mistake. He was my friend and I loved him, but I wasn’t in love with him and I was pretty sure that he wasn’t in love with me either.’ She heard Sinéad’s intake of breath but didn’t turn round. ‘It wasn’t a problem,’ she insisted, but how could she explain to them that Philip’s easy undemanding company was a rest after living with the madness of the Fields household? ‘We were happy and we had fun together. It was a good life. And, looking at some couples we knew who were supposedly in love but seemed to fight half the time, it seemed to me that our marriage was built on a much more solid foundation.’ She turned to face them. ‘I had no intention of telling you this but Philip insisted. He wanted you to know that he was partly to blame for me leaving.’ She took a break and a breath before she felt able to carry on. ‘Just before Bridie went into the home Philip told me that he thought he was gay.’
First We Take Manhattan Page 29
