Between The Sheets (39 page)

'But how could you? You didn't believe it yourself.'

'True. I don't suppose you've changed your mind?'

'I'm afraid not.'

'Well, not to worry. I've sent her the manuscript from that new author I was telling you about. That calmed her down slightly. So, tell me, how are you doing? How's the arm?'

'Fine. Everything is fine.'

'Okay, out with it.'

'What?'

'There's something you're obviously dying to tell me.'

Dana laughed. 'I just had a visitor.'

'Who?'

'Gus.'

'No!'

'Yes.'

'And?' he prompted.

'Let's say it went well.'

'You're back together?' Walter screeched.

'Not quite but it's looking good. I finished with Ryan — that's a whole different story — and Gus has broken up with his journalist too.'

'Oh, Dana, I'm so happy for you.'

'Well, it's early days,' Dana cautioned. 'We're not quite out of the woods yet.'

'You'll be fine. Everything is going to be fine, I just know it. Oh, this is so romantic,' Walter sighed. 'You have your brother back in your life. And now your gorgeous husband too. You're a very lucky woman.'

'I know.'

'You have a proper family.'

'Which you are an honorary part of,' Dana assured him. 'Whenever you're in Dublin, you have to come and see us. I know both Gus and Ed would want that as much as I do.'

'Bless you, darling. So what will your brother do if you and Gus get back together?'

Dana smiled, delighted. Wally was trying to sound casual and indifferent, but she knew him too well. 'We haven't talked about it yet, but I can assure you we're never going to lose touch again.'

'That's wonderful. Oh, sorry, darling. There's a call holding that I really must take. Call me as soon as there's more news,' he told her.

'Promise.'

Dana spent the rest of the day alone. She wandered around the house trying to distract herself, but failed miserably. She eventually went to bed and was lying staring at the ceiling, when she heard the doorbell. Ed was out somewhere, and the side gate was locked. So, either it was a very polite burglar, or — Gus! Pulling on a robe, Dana hurried downstairs and smiled delightedly when she saw his familiar outline through the mottled glass. She threw open the door. 'Gus!' Her smile faded when she saw the look on his face.

He stared at her from sad, red-rimmed eyes. 'Dana. I am so sorry.'

She swallowed back her tears. 'Gus?' she whispered.

He opened his arms to her and, silently, she walked straight into them. As Gus held her lightly against his chest and stroked her hair, he kept murmuring, 'I'm so sorry, my darling. I'm so sorry.'

Dana drew him inside and closed the door. Without saying a word, she led him upstairs and into their bedroom. They were both crying as he undressed her, kissing each part of her body as it was revealed. Finally, when they were both naked, Gus took her in his arms. For a long time, they lay in silence, just holding each other. Then Gus took the palm of her hand and kissed it. 'Please forgive me. Please take me back.'

'Of course I will,' Dana whispered.

And then he kissed her. And no kiss had ever been so sweet. She felt as if it were their first, only better. Through his fingers and his lips, he showed her how much he loved her and she closed her eyes and let him carry them both to a place where there was no pain.

They were sitting in their bathrobes, eating breakfast the next morning, when they heard the front door open. Gus buried his head in a newspaper, while Dana went to put some bread in the toaster.

Ed walked through the door, pulling up short at the domestic scene before him. 'Hello!'

'Hi, Ed,' Gus said from behind his paper.

Dana looked up. 'Hiya. Want some breakfast?'

Ed lowered himself into a chair and looked from one to the other.

Dana poured her brother coffee, and put a plate and knife in front of him. 'Did you get any good photos?' she asked.

'Don't give me that!'

She frowned. 'Sorry?'

'When I left here yesterday, you were a separated woman who was planning an early night. Now you may well have had an early night, but you were obviously not alone.' His eyes widened in fake shock. 'Did you spend the night with your husband?'

Dana nodded solemnly. 'I admit it. It's true.'

'Ha!' A grin spread across his face as he looked from Dana to Gus and back again. 'About bloody time!'

Gus put down his paper and smiled. 'If it wasn't for you, I'm not sure we'd have made it.'

'You certainly weren't helping yourselves,' Ed agreed. 'Maybe I should matchmake for a living.'

'Stick with photography,' Dana advised.

'So what did it?' he asked, wrapping his hands around the warm mug. 'Tell me everything.'

Gus shrugged. 'Dana gave me her book to read.'

'Ah.'

'There weren't many surprises, but I suppose it was more heartbreaking having already heard your side of the story.'

Ed nodded. 'And then the London piece—'

'Don't tiptoe around it, Ed,' Dana said. 'We've done that all our lives. I had an abortion. Don't be afraid to say it out loud. I can handle it.'

'I hate that word because I don't think it applies,' Ed argued. 'Saying you had an abortion makes it sound like you made a level-headed, informed decision.'

'And you didn't,' Gus agreed. 'If you had, you wouldn't have been so devastated afterwards.'

Dana sighed. 'I did it to get back at my father. What does that make me?'

'What does that make him?' Gus retorted.

Ed's face darkened. 'A monster.'

Gus looked curiously at his wife. 'I was surprised that your story ended with the publication of your first book. Why didn't you cover your father's death?'

She shrugged and stared into her mug. 'He was already dead to me. Anyway, I wasn't even at the funeral.'

'But what about his estate?' Gus pressed. 'Forgive me, Ed, but if he hated you so much, how come he left you his house?'

'He didn't. The house was my mother's. Her father had built it in the forties and she inherited it from him.'

Dana nodded. 'From the day Ed left, Mum worried about him and how he'd manage. She knew that Dad would never give Ed a penny. So, with my blessing, she transferred the house into his name.'

'But your dad couldn't have left you out of his will,' Gus told Ed. 'You're entitled to half his estate no matter what.'

Dana laughed. 'You underestimate my father. He took a leaf out of Mum's book. When he found out he had cancer, he started writing cheques for various charities and, of course, the parish got a large donation.'

Ed took up the story. 'Father Flynn told me as soon as Dad gave it to him. He was very upset. He told Dad there was no point in asking God to forgive his sins, if he couldn't forgive his own children's. But of course Dad wouldn't listen. Father Flynn wanted to tear up the cheque, but I told him to keep the money and put it to good use. I didn't want it and I knew that Dana didn't want or need it either.'

"The royalties from his books go to an awards fund in his name,' Dana continued. 'He was determined to be immortal one way or another. But though his poetry was greatly admired and two of his poems even appeared on the school curriculum, he never earned huge money. It infuriated him that my first trashy novel earned nearly as much as he'd made in his entire literary career.'

Gus stared at her. 'You said you hadn't talked to him since your mother's funeral.'

Dana looked like a rabbit caught in headlights.

Ed sighed. 'I thought we were finished with secrets.'

'It's okay, Dana. Just tell us.' Ed's smile was encouraging.

Dana braced herself, wondering what words she could use to make her brother understand.

'Okay, then.' She took a deep breath and began the last, unwritten chapter of her story. 'Father Flynn called me too when he knew Father was close to death. He said Dad wanted to see me and that I should probably come, if only for my own sake. So I did.'

Ed stared. 'You came back to Wexford? To our house?'

'Yes. I came down late one evening. Father Flynn was the only one there when I arrived. He said he had to visit another parishioner but he'd be back. He had a key so he said if he wasn't back before I left, to just pull the door after me.' She smiled bitterly. 'I assured him that I wouldn't be staying long. I asked him not to tell anyone I had even come.'

'Why?' Gus asked.

She shrugged. 'I suppose I thought that it would seem odd that I had come to see him and yet not turned up for the funeral. And I knew that no matter what happened between us that night, I probably wouldn't go-'

'Go on,' Ed said.

'Before Father Flynn left, I thanked him for his kindness to Dad. He said it was his Christian duty.' She frowned. 'I thought it was an odd choice of words. The way he said it, it was almost like an apology.'

'Well, you have to remember that he was Father's confessor. He may have known everything that was going on all along.'

'And done nothing?' Dana looked at him in disbelief.

'If it was said in the confessional, Dana, then his hands would have been tied,' Gus said gently.

Dana shook her head in disgust. 'Anyway, he left and I went upstairs. When I walked into the bedroom and saw Dad, I couldn't believe how he'd changed. He looked frail and pitiful. I thought how sad to be so successful and, at the same time, so alone.' She looked up at them and smiled slightly. 'That sounds familiar, doesn't it? I sat down next to him, and he opened his eyes and smiled.' Dana turned her mug between her fingers. 'He said he knew I'd come back eventually. For a few seconds I felt I'd done the right thing. Father Flynn was right and I was glad I'd come. And then he started.' She shook her head. 'First he asked had I managed to write anything decent yet or was I still making a living producing smut.'

'The old bugger!' Gus fumed.

Ed's eyes never left Dana. 'Go on.'

Dana stared into her mug. 'I don't remember every-thing he said. It was the usual stuff. I had shown such promise, and then I threw it all away. I'd embarrassed him and my mother by getting pregnant like some cheap little tart. And then I'd made things even worse by killing an innocent child.' At this stage, tears were rolling down Dana's cheeks. She hardly noticed when Gus pushed a piece of kitchen roll into her hand. 'And then the final insult, he said. With my talent, my background and education, I had chosen to make my living by peddling filth. I asked him how he knew what I wrote when he hadn't read it. He just said that he knew everything about my publishing deal with "the Yanks". He said they were an immoral lot over there, but I would never be published in a good Catholic country like Ireland.'

'Crikey.' Gus rolled his eyes. 'Did all of this really happen only in the eighties? He sounds like a man from a different century.'

'He was very old-fashioned,' Ed agreed, 'and bigoted and anti anyone different.' His eyes went back to his sister. 'What happened then?'

Dana dabbed at her face with the kitchen towel but the tears kept coming and soon it was a sodden mess. 'He said I was as bad as my brother. I told him I'd take that as a compliment. I thought that would infuriate him but he smiled. He said I didn't know you as well as I thought I did. He asked if I'd seen you since Mum's funeral. When I said no, he laughed. "Then you don't know," he said.

'"Know what?" I asked.

'"That Ed killed your mother."

'I shouted at him and called him a liar. He swore it was true. I said if it was why hadn't he said something before? He said that it had been an accident, and that Ed hadn't meant to push her.'

'I never pushed her,' Ed exclaimed. 'I was downstairs with him. The lying bastard!'

She nodded. 'I know that, Ed.'

Gus put a hand over hers. 'Go on, Dana.'

'Then he pulled himself up in the bed and looked into my eyes and said -' she paused, her voice trembling — 'he said, "If Ed hadn't been there that night, your mother wouldn't have died."'

Ed looked at her, his eyes full of tears. 'And that's true.'

'It was an accident,' Gus said gently.

'How do you know that?' Ed challenged. 'How do you know that I'm telling the truth?'

Dana's tears continued to fall. 'Because you're a good person,' she cried. 'And I know what he was capable of.'

His eyes held hers. 'But you had your doubts, didn't you?'

'I'm sorry. But you know what Dad was like. He knew what buttons to press. Once I had a chance to think about it, I realized he was lying. His story didn't fit in with anything the doctor had told me.'

Ed stared into space. 'Why didn't you say something when I told you my side of the story?'

'I was too ashamed,' Dana admitted. 'I couldn't believe that I'd ever doubted you. I'm so sorry, Ed.'

'Are you sure you believe me now?' He put out a hand and lifted her chin so he could look into her eyes.

'Yes! Honestly! That's why I never told anybody what he said.' She shot Gus an apologetic look. 'I didn't want to risk anyone blaming you.'

'Thank you.'

Dana went to hug him and he buried his face in her hair as she clung to him.

Gus sighed as he watched them. 'I can't begin to understand why your father behaved the way he did. Even if he couldn't bring himself to forgive either of you, the least he could have done was reunite his children before he died.'

'That's the last thing he wanted,' Ed said. 'He didn't want Dana to know my dirty little secret.'

'And he wanted to punish me for the abortion and my books,' Dana said.

'Why not blame your mother's death on Ed?' Gus argued.

'Because,' she told him, 'it would ruin his image. Father was always worried about appearances. He was the successful author with the lovely wife and the perfect children. When he found out Ed was gay, he went out of his way to hide the truth, even from me. Then I — his little princess — get pregnant and have an abortion. The icing on the cake was me making a career writing the type of books he abhorred. The way he saw it, Ed and I ruined everything for him and he wanted to punish us.'

Ed nodded. 'I think that's true. Imagine: his last act, on his deathbed, was to try to make sure that Dana had nothing more to do with me. Because of him, we haven't talked for more than twenty years.'