My Mother's Secret (38 page)

‘And are you sorry for being hard on yourself too?’ he asked.

‘I’m not being hard on myself,’ she said. ‘I’ve often allowed myself to feel that life’s been hard on me. But it hasn’t. I have you and the children and I’m luckier than most of the women I know. Sarah and Lucinda are sort of right about me. I’m nothing but trouble yet I always land on my feet.’

Pascal gazed past his wife and out over the garden. The flood water had receded and the grass was visible again. The sun, emerging from behind the clouds, lit up the still damp leaves and flowers, so that they dazzled beneath its rays. It was serene and, despite the black stump of the tree that had been struck by lightning, very beautiful. Jenny had helped to make it that way, just as she’d turned Aranbeg into an oasis for him.

When he’d first told her about the money he’d won on the prize bonds, she’d talked about how many things it would help them with. Putting proper central heating in at home had been high on her list. The houses had been built with warm air heating that had never worked properly, and Jenny had always wanted radiators. Yet when he’d told her of his desire to have a bolt-hole in Wexford, she’d immediately abandoned all notions of an upgraded central heating system and told him that it was a wonderful idea. She’d been thinking of a small cottage. Or even a mobile home. She’d never expected a place like Aranbeg, which had inevitably been a money pit in the early years. Yet she’d never complained, even when he disappeared at weekends without her to do some extra job on the house, leaving her in town with the children. She’d never questioned him or nagged at him or told him that she was fed up having to cut back when the white elephant of Aranbeg was eating lumps out of their available funds. She had always said that one day the house would be perfect, and when all the structural work had been completed, she’d turned her talents to the interior design and to the gardens. She was the one, Pascal knew, who’d made his dream a real home.

Naturally, when it was habitable, she’d loved staying there too, but she’d had faith in him that he’d be able to turn it into somewhere habitable in the first place. If she’d had doubts, she’d never expressed them. In fact, over their entire life together, she’d always fallen in with his wishes no matter what he wanted to do. Of course there was the issue of the summer of Gregory, as he’d come to think of it in his own mind. He doubted he’d ever have known anything about it if she hadn’t got pregnant, and he sometimes wondered if that would’ve been a good thing. As far as he was concerned, Jenny had fallen for Gregory, the model, not Gregory the sheep farmer. It had been an infatuation. And it was over. She swore to him it was over and he believed her.

He was aware that had they known, many people would’ve told him to walk away or throw her out. Yet how could he have done that? What would it have done to his own children? What would it have done to Jenny herself, especially as Gregory was on the other side of the world and she had no way of contacting him? Afterwards, when Steffie was born and Pascal had fallen in love with her, Jenny called him a saint. But he wasn’t. He was someone who knew what he wanted and who had what he wanted. His family was important to him. And he was prepared to make hard choices to keep it.

The thing was, thought Pascal, those choices had been the right ones. Now, more than ever before, he and Jenny complemented each other. They’d come through the bad times and they were still together, with lots of good times in the bank too. As far as Pascal could tell, they were the most complete couple of anyone they knew. They deserved their forty-year anniversary party. They deserved to be celebrated. No marriage ceremony or certificate could give them what they already had.

Chapter 33

After Liam’s simple but incredibly tasty lunch, Steffie made more coffee, which they drank in the back garden because the clouds had completely disappeared and the sky was a brilliant blue again. Then, at his request, she brought down her laptop and showed him more of her design work.

‘I’ve seen this before,’ he said as he looked at one of the images.

She nodded. ‘It’s the packaging design for an eco-friendly hot-water bottle made by an Irish company. They’re sold in a lot of big stores now.’

‘And you created it?’

‘Not the hot-water bottle.’ She smiled at him. ‘The design on the box. But it works very well.’

‘It’s eye-catching,’ he said. ‘The fact that I recognised it proves it. What else have you done?’

‘For the same company …’ She clicked forward and stopped at another design. ‘This is for some candles they do.’

‘I’ve seen them before too. You keep telling me you’re barely keeping things going, but you’ve got some good clients, Steffie.’

‘All the same, I need to keep them coming,’ she said. ‘And times have been tight. But if I get the rebranding contract, that’ll open more doors for me. Speaking of which …’ She reached into her bag and took out her mobile. ‘Hopefully they haven’t tried to ring,’ she said. ‘I just realised that I haven’t charged it since the day before yesterday. It’s dead as a dodo.’

‘They’ll hardly ring on a Sunday.’

‘I know. I’m being super-hopeful. Plus I feel like my arm is cut off when my mobile is out of action. Although,’ she added, ‘given that I’d forgotten about both the project and the phone until right now, I mustn’t be quite as addicted as I thought.’

‘Mobiles are a tyranny,’ he agreed. ‘I know you’re anxious about your bid, but I can’t imagine you’ll get a call on a Sunday.’

‘You’re right. And I’ll prove to myself I can live without it by not charging it yet.’ She left the phone on the garden table and went back to looking at the laptop with Liam, showing him her drawings for the illustrated book, as well as rough designs and the eventual finished product.

‘When we talked before about you doing a design for my site, I didn’t realise it would entail so much work,’ he said. ‘Regardless of what you do for me, I want to pay you.’

‘Maybe some things are harder work than others, but I already have an idea for you,’ she told him. ‘If you like it and we develop it, you can pay me. Otherwise it’s absolutely and utterly on the house. And I don’t want you to say another word about it!’

‘OK. OK.’ He held up his hands in mock surrender and she was laughing at him when she heard the sound of the doorbell.

Her immediate reaction was to look for a football, because normally the only time the doorbell rang on a Sunday in summer was when one of the kids next door had kicked a ball over the wall, but she didn’t see anything. She went to answer it.

‘Steffie, my sweet.’ The man on the doorstep leaned forward and kissed her on the lips. ‘How are you? How was the party?’

‘Steve.’

‘That’s me.’ He walked past her into the house. ‘I rang you a couple of times but I kept getting your voicemail.’

‘My battery’s flat,’ she said as she followed him. ‘I didn’t charge my phone. Steve, I wasn’t expecting you to come around today.’

‘Truth is I was feeling bad about yesterday,’ he told her. ‘I finished work earlier than I thought and I kept telling myself that I should’ve come to that party with you. I nearly did.’

‘Really?’

‘Yes. Then the weather changed and it started pelting with rain and so I didn’t bother. I thought you might still be in Wexford actually. But I had to drop some stuff in to a friend so I thought I’d call by and check if you were home. I thought I’d wasted my time when I didn’t see your car in the driveway. Who’s Cody, and why is his van there instead?’

They’d made it as far as the kitchen, where the plates from lunch were still on the table. Steve glanced at them before his eyes were drawn to the open door and to Liam sitting outside.

‘Um, he is. Sort of,’ replied Steffie.

Steve looked at her enquiringly.

‘My car is out of action so he gave me a lift home,’ said Steffie.

She was acutely aware that two men she had slept with were now in her house and that she really didn’t want them to meet at all. And now I’m feeling like some kind of scarlet woman, she thought, even though I’m not.

‘Hi, buddy.’ Steve stepped outside and nodded to Liam. ‘Steve O’Donnell. Steffie’s boyfriend.’

‘Liam Kinsella.’

‘Liam rescued me after the car broke down,’ said Steffie.

‘So Blue Betty has finally given up the ghost,’ said Steve. ‘I told you she’d eventually choke and die.’

‘It wasn’t her fault,’ said Steffie. ‘I drove her into a ditch.’

‘What!’

‘In the storm,’ she explained.

‘Are you all right?’

‘I’m fine.’

‘And you came to her rescue?’ His eyes narrowed as he looked at Liam.

‘In a way.’

‘You were lucky someone was around,’ Steve told Steffie.

‘I know.’

‘So where’s Blue Betty now?’

‘In a garage in Wexford.’

‘Is she repairable?’

‘I hope so,’ Steffie replied. ‘The garage owner seemed to think he’d be able to do something for her.’

‘Why didn’t you ring me this morning?’ asked Steve. ‘I would’ve picked you up.’

Steffie shrugged. ‘I thought you were busy. And Liam offered to drive me.’

‘Did he do such a terrible job of driving that you punished him by giving him lunch?’

Steffie gave him a weak smile. ‘Liam’s a chef. He made lunch for me.’

‘Wow. I’m sorry I turned up too late to share,’ said Steve.

‘Another time, perhaps,’ said Liam as he stood up. ‘Steffie, thanks for the coffee but it’s time I got going.’

‘Oh don’t,’ she protested. ‘Stay for a little longer.’

‘Better not,’ said Liam.

‘Don’t go on my account,’ said Steve. ‘Anyone who looks after my girl deserves at least another cup of coffee.’

‘You’re very kind,’ said Liam. ‘But I need to get back to my restaurant and see how it’s drying out. Storm damage,’ he added for Steve’s benefit.

‘I’ll see you to the door,’ said Steffie.

She led Liam through the house to his van.

‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘I wasn’t expecting him to call around.’

‘No problem,’ said Liam.

‘We’re not … I mean … we were, but we’re not …’

‘You don’t have to explain,’ he said. ‘We all have busy lives with lots of people in them.’

‘Yes, but …’

‘You’re a grown-up, Steffie. I didn’t expect you to be without boyfriends.’

‘Of course not. But all the same …’

‘And I don’t want to mess up any relationship you do have. Which I’m sure you don’t want to do to me either.’

She exhaled sharply.

‘It was fun,’ Liam continued. ‘I’m glad we spent some time together. I enjoyed … well, I enjoyed being with you. I hope you’ll come back to Cody’s some time in the future. And in less dramatic circumstances.’

‘Liam …’

He took his keys from his pocket and unlocked the van.

‘It was fun,’ he repeated as he stood by the open door.

Steffie had told Alivia she was OK with it being a one-night thing, but suddenly she realised she wasn’t. Yet Liam clearly was. And she didn’t want to make a fool of herself over him.

‘I guess it’s … just thank you,’ she said. ‘For everything.’

‘You’re more than welcome.’

‘I don’t know which bit to thank you for most. Yesterday or today.’

‘One all-encompassing thank you was more than sufficient,’ he said.

She didn’t want him to go. But she didn’t know how to make him stay.

‘Everything all right?’ Steve was behind her. He put his hand on her shoulder.

‘Great,’ said Liam. ‘I’m off now. Goodbye, Steffie.’

‘Goodbye,’ she said and watched him drive away.

‘So tell me all about the party. And about your car,’ said Steve. ‘And Sir Galahad there too.’

They were sitting at the garden table. Steve had taken a beer from the fridge and began to drink as Steffie gave him an edited version of her exploits the previous evenings.

‘That sounds scary,’ he commented. ‘But why on earth did you go out in such awful weather in the first place?’

She wasn’t prepared to tell him that. She didn’t want to talk to him about her family’s issues. So she simply said that they’d needed to collect something.

‘From the restaurant?’ asked Steve. ‘That’s where you were going?’

‘Mmm.’ She didn’t want to tell him a direct lie, but the truth would take for ever.

‘So were your parents really surprised by the party?’ he asked.

She nodded.

‘And how about your sister?’

‘You know, if you cared all that much about it, you would’ve come,’ she said.

‘Whoa, Steff!’ He looked at her. ‘I’m trying to be nice.’

‘Well there’s no need,’ she told him. ‘You didn’t want to come and that’s that.’

‘But like I said, I feel bad about it.’ He leaned towards her. ‘Honestly I do. I was too caught up in my own stuff to think about you. And I’m sorry.’

She was taken aback. The fact that Steve rarely apologised for anything was something that usually drove her mad. When he was late for a date, as he frequently was, he’d simply turn up and greet her as though nothing was amiss. If they were having a disagreement about anything, he never admitted he was wrong, even when he was. But now he was actually apologising. Without her suggesting that he should.

‘It doesn’t matter.’

‘It kinda does,’ he said. ‘When I talked to you on the phone yesterday and you were in the bath and everything, I was thinking, why am I putting my job before my girlfriend? And I don’t know the answer to that because you’re a really important person to me, Steff.’

She stared at him. He was saying the kind of thing she would’ve liked him to say before. Only now … now it was too late. She didn’t want to hear it.

‘Anyway,’ he said, ‘I wanted to bring you out to make up for it. I was going to take you for something to eat, but if you’ve already had a gourmet lunch cooked by a chef, you might not be up for that now.’

She shook her head. She wasn’t hungry, and the idea of food was making her stomach heave.

‘I’m starving, though. How about we stay here, I’ll order pizza and we’ll download a movie?’

‘I’m really tired,’ she said. ‘I don’t know if—’

‘I came all the way over,’ he said.

Steve lived in Newbridge, which was almost fifty kilometres from Steffie’s house, although an easy drive on the motorway.