Cathy Kelly 3-book Bundle (79 page)

Star knew what she’d say next.

‘You weren’t here and I was desperate to know–’

‘You used the teapot.’

‘I used it. I don’t have six months, Star. They said I might, but I don’t, not even that. It’s cold at the funeral, you see. I saw it and everyone’s in winter coats.

‘I can’t leave Natalie. I love her so much. I’ve a pain in my heart now,’ Dara said quietly. ‘It’s like an ache, a dull, huge ache that spreads from my throat down.’

‘There must be treatment,’ Star said, and even as she said it, she knew it wasn’t true. The magic of the Bluestone teapot didn’t lie. What Dara had seen was the truth.

But Dara shook her head. ‘It’s not cancer pain,’ she said. ‘My heart is broken. That’s what the pain is. Natalie will grow up and I’ll never know her. All I can think is that I’m damaged, dangerous. All I bring to people is pain–pain to poor Des and now pain to Natalie. Perhaps, if I’m gone, the pain will be gone from my family, it will all be wiped out and Des and Natalie can start again.’

‘How can they start again without you?’

‘They can move on, forget me and find a new life,’ said Dara fiercely.

Star took her hands then and she could see that Dara meant it.

‘I want her to be happy, and my history never made anyone happy. She deserves a fresh start, with good parents. With Des and somebody else. Not me with my darkness. What sort of a dead mother would I be? A crazy one that no child would want to be like.
Who was your mother, Natalie? Oh, an alcoholic, the daughter of an alcoholic, who was abused, raped and tried to self-destruct?
That’s no role model for a person. No, better she has a fresh life without me.’

‘But you got better.’

‘I tried,’ Dara said quietly. ‘I did my best, but it’s still in me, the darkness, why else would this happen to me? I love them both so much, my love will always be there for her,
whether she knows about it or not. I’ll be with them in spirit, somehow.’ She half-laughed. ‘You’ll feel me, Star, although nobody else will.’

‘Natalie has a right to know about her past.’

Dara shook her head. ‘Some pasts are best left buried.’

Only one person can change your life, and that’s you. Don’t wait for anyone else to do it, Prince Charming or otherwise. Be your own prince.

Morning rain had lashed Ardagh with floods of water, but now, as evening light turned the sky opalescent pink, it was mercifully dry. The rosy rays of the dying sun looked for all the world like a medieval painting and Natalie reflected that all the scene needed was the figure of an angel hovering over the coast for the look to be complete.

She was silent as her father drove his old pick-up truck out past Ardagh on the road to the Black Abbey. He might have thought she was locked up in darkness and confusion, yet it was merely that she felt unnerved and other-worldly. After all this time, she knew something about her beloved mother, Dara. What a story it had been, even if that was just a short version of it.

‘Star will tell you more,’ Dad said.

He’d told her how much he loved her mother, how devastated they’d both been when they found out she was going to die. But there was a lot of darkness in her mother’s life, things, he said, that even he didn’t know.

‘Dara went through a lot of awful stuff when she was a child, and she didn’t want me to know everything,’ he said. ‘Kind of like how she felt it would be better if you didn’t know about her because she said being the daughter of a dead alcoholic from a dysfunctional family wasn’t any legacy to talk about.’

Natalie had just nodded; she felt too emotional to speak. This woman from the photograph had become a flesh-and-blood person to her, a person who’d travelled a hard path.

And now she was going to see her grave.

The car rounded a bend and the dark shape of the church and its surrounding graveyard were visible in the distance, under a threatening dark blue cloud bearing rain. To the right was a narrow road that led further down the headland. When she’d been a teenager, Natalie, Lizzie and Anna sometimes went there with boys, scrambling down the stony outcropping to reach the rocks below, where they’d sit, dangle their feet in the water and flirt. It was very beautiful and wild, and there was a thrilling, dangerous feeling that if you weren’t careful, you could slip into the frothing waves and never be seen again.

Her mother had spent a lot of time with Star; had she wandered around these rocks too?

As the Black Abbey got nearer, Natalie could barely see it because her eyes were blurred with tears.

‘She didn’t want me to know about her pain…because she loved me?’ she asked, when they’d parked and he’d switched off the engine.

‘She adored you, Natalie,’ he said, his voice cracking. ‘I could talk forever and I’d never be able to get across how much she loved you. That’s the only reason why she didn’t want you to know about the past, because it might hurt you, and she wanted to protect you from all that.’

Natalie’s father held her hand as they made their way across the grass and gravel of the graveyard, out past the carefully tended newer graves–one of them David’s–to the wilder
part at the back. Here, they were closer to the sea and the ground was strewn with rocks, as if the sea was slowly claiming it back.

Natalie’s eyes darted to and fro, wanting the satisfaction of identifying the right grave before her father told her.

‘It’s this one,’ he said, stopping beside a small mound with a plinth and a white marble stone angel. The angel’s beautiful carved head was bowed in prayer, and the white eyelids were closed. Her hair was a plait tied around her head and everywhere she was slender, from the nape of her neck to her folded hands.

There were pretty plants in containers sitting neatly under the angel, and Natalie wished she’d brought something to lay at the grave. It must be Star who kept it tended.

Above the flowers, on the plinth, was the inscription:

Dara Flynn died aged 28. Deeply beloved wife of Desmond and adoring mother of Natalie. Mourned by family and a large community of friends.

Natalie’s hands flew to her mouth. It was written here, everything she’d ever wanted to know or feel.

‘She only wanted a simple headstone,’ Des said hoarsely. ‘Nothing fancy. But I saw the angel in the stonemason’s and I knew it was right for her grave. She was an angel, you see. My angel.’

Natalie knelt down at the base of the grave and began to pray. She wasn’t a frequent Mass-goer, but right now, she felt the holiness of both the church and the graveyard flowing through her.

For the first time in her life, she allowed herself to talk to her mother.

Mum, I’m so sorry this is my first time here. I should have asked sooner. I thought it was easier to say nothing, let life go on, but now I know different. I want to know you.

There was no sign that anyone was listening. The wind made the vast trees in the graveyard shudder and large drops of rain began to fall.

‘Come on, we’ll be wet through,’ said Des, hauling her to her feet.

They made it back to the pick-up just before the rain came down properly, huge raindrops bouncing against the roof and windows.

‘Let’s go to see Star,’ he said.

Star’s house smelled deliciously of seafood chowder. She’d woken up that morning with an intense longing for the dish and had gone to the quays in Ardagh to see what the fishermen had brought in.

‘I haven’t seen you down here for a while,’ said old Liam, as he worked on the wet quay beside his boat, the
Lady Anne,
named after his wife.

Anne and Star had gone to school together and enjoyed a comfortable friendship.

Years before, when the
Lady Anne
had gone missing one evening after a storm, it was to Star that Anne had run, needing to know whether Liam and his crew were safe.

‘I woke up with the notion of fish soup in my head,’ Star told Liam now.

‘I wake up like that every day,’ said Liam. ‘What would you like?’

Star went home with some mackerel, pollock and a small sack of mussels. She spent an enjoyable half an hour scrubbing the mussels, and then cooked her mother’s special seafood chowder. She never knew why she got random urges to do things like this, but when the urge came, she acted upon it. There was a reason for everything.

She was reheating the chowder on the stove now, and had turned on the table lamps and lit the fire in the living room, enveloping the room in a golden light. It was a nice contrast
to the thundery rain lashing down outside. Star liked rain sometimes, but tonight it seemed intrusive.

Instead, she felt in the mood for music. She flicked a switch on the CD player and let the pure clear music of Delibes fill the room.

Lena from Kenny’s had been surprised to see Star’s high-tech CD player.

‘We used to have a wind-up gramophone,’ Star had teased her, ‘but I got tired of winding it.’

‘No, it’s just that everything here is green, organic and–’

‘–and very old. Myself included.’ Star laughed. ‘I love old things, but not exclusively. When a modern piece of equipment makes sense, I’m first in the queue.’

She’d applied that principle to the conservatory where she worked. It had been a very old structure, made of metal with green chipped paint, and when the wind blew, the panes of glass rattled.

With the money she’d made in the first three years’ trading with Kenny’s, Star had finally been able to renovate the conservatory with modern materials so that she didn’t have to wear layers of clothes. Now Delibes followed her from room to room, melting into the very beams of the house.

It was a strange evening, rain pelting down outside and dark purple clouds rising ominously in the background, while over to the right the sun shone through the clouds into the conservatory, bathing Star’s precious orchids in light. She loved orchids. Lady Slippers were her favourites. So delicate, with their silken membranes and the delicate colours. As the chowder finished heating, she wandered around the conservatory, checking the soil for dryness, watering here, spritzing mist there. Her beautiful Victorian terrarium sat in state in one corner with another orchid inside. Star gave it a little pat as she walked by. The chowder must be nearly ready, she could smell it. Then she heard the crunch of a car’s tyres on the drive–that was the great
thing about the pebbled drive, you could hear anybody coming a mile away.

She peered out the kitchen window and saw a man get out of a car, a tall, lanky man, and then a young woman.

‘Dara!’ Star collapsed against the window. She had to grip the sill so she wouldn’t sink to the ground. No, it wasn’t Dara, it was Natalie, darling Natalie and Des.

Des looked so much older–didn’t they all?, Star thought wryly. She hadn’t seen him in over twenty years. Her heart swelled at the thought that Natalie was finally here. Star had never tried to look into the future, but somewhere deep inside, in the most magic part of her, Star had known that Natalie would come here one day.

No matter that Dara had tried to wipe the effects of her painful past from Natalie’s life, the truth would make its way out, like the tendril of a plant through dark soil. People deserved to know their histories; that was what made them what they were.

‘I’m a bit anxious, Dad,’ said Natalie, grabbing her father’s hand as they walked to the front door.

‘Don’t be, love,’ he said calmly. ‘You’re going to love Star, she’s wonderful. She always was wonderful. I’m sorry I haven’t seen her for so long.’

The door flew open and Star stood there, smiling at them, her arms held out wide.

‘It’s you–you helped me at Mr Kenny’s funeral,’ said Natalie, startled, recognising the woman with the long bright hair who’d held her when she’d fainted that day. ‘And you knew my name then, you called me Natalie.’

‘I nearly called you Dara,’ admitted Star. ‘You look so like your mother.’

‘Do I?’

‘Oh, you’re the image of her, it’s almost scary.’ Star reached forward and put her arms around Natalie. ‘This was sort of
your mother’s other home, so welcome home, Natalie.’ She included Des in the hug.

Natalie closed her eyes and let herself cry. Why did this feel so good when she’d just experienced something so utterly sad: her mother’s grave? She remembered the little plants that grew there and how she had known instinctively that Star had left them. It was wonderful to think that Star had tended the grave.

‘She’s never been forgotten or unloved,’ Star said.

Natalie jerked away, shocked. ‘You knew what I was thinking. How?’

‘I don’t really. I was holding your hand and I can see things that way,’ Star said. ‘It’s my gift, my magic.’

‘Magic?’ Natalie stood with her arms wrapped around herself, watching Star warily. ‘If you had this magic, why didn’t you come to me all the times when I wanted to know about my mother, when I cried myself to sleep–where was the magic then?’

She didn’t see her father hang his head, looking heartbroken.

Star put a hand out to pat him on the shoulder. ‘It’s not that sort of magic, Natalie,’ she said.

She reached out with her other hand to Natalie. ‘Please come inside.’

At Star’s touch, Natalie felt the energy run through from her body to Star’s: it wasn’t frightening, just a pleasant ripple that seemed to come from deep within her, calming her. ‘What are you doing?’ she asked.

‘Very few people have any idea I’m doing it,’ Star commented. ‘Your mother did too. Knew instantly, that first night I met her crying here out on the road.’

‘She was on the road crying?’ Natalie echoed. Her father hadn’t told her that. He’d said Dara had lived with Star in those early days when she’d given up drinking. And it hurt in an almost physical way to think of her mother’s suffering.
How could she have gone through so much and Natalie not know any of it?

‘You can’t tell a life story in an hour,’ Natalie’s father pointed out.

‘I know. It’s simply that I feel…cheated,’ Natalie said. ‘Angry almost, that you all knew and I didn’t.’

‘It’s complicated,’ said Star. ‘Let’s go slowly and I’ll tell you what an amazing woman she was and how much she loved you,’ Star went on. ‘There was a lot of pain in your mother’s life, Natalie, but you can hear that after I tell you how she turned it around, changed it utterly, and how she adored you and your dad. That’s what you need to learn first about her. The other stuff, the childhood stuff, the things she wanted wiped out, you can hear about them when you find what sort of person she really was.’

‘Was her childhood really awful, then?’

‘The worst,’ Star said calmly, leading Natalie into the kitchen. ‘Unloved and betrayed. What happens when you’re a child shapes you as an adult, and if you’re scarred as a child, you carry those scars always. Dara overcame her childhood experiences, but when she found out she was dying, she was afraid that all you’d know of her was the bad parts of her past.’

Star and Des exchanged a look.

‘Perhaps she was right. A small child can’t understand a grown-up’s pain and shouldn’t have to. She wanted the best for you, a happy family, no shadowy past, nothing but normality. But I knew you’d come one day.’ It was Star’s turn to feel her eyes brim with tears.

The chowder on the stove began to bubble ferociously and Star was glad of the chance to turn away and see to it.

‘I don’t suppose you like seafood chowder, Natalie?’ she added. ‘I had a sudden impulse to make it this morning, it was your mother’s favourite.’

‘That’s uncanny,’ said Natalie. ‘I love seafood chowder, it’s one of my favourites, too. How did you know?’

‘I didn’t.’ Star took three earthenware bowls from the dresser. ‘My magic is a law unto itself. I woke up with a longing for seafood chowder, so a deep part of me knew you’d be coming tonight. There are times when I’m just the conduit.’

As they drank their soup and dipped buttered bread into the steaming bowls, Star and Des talked about Dara.

Natalie listened, wide-eyed, as she heard about Dara’s pleasure in motherhood, how she’d adored Natalie and Des, and wanted to do everything for them. She heard too about her mother’s upbringing in the sprawling council estate with her brother, Greg, and their alcoholic father. Star skimmed over the years when alcohol possessed Dara, but Natalie could read between the lines to the misery therein.