The Hollow Heart (The Heartfelt Series) (34 page)

With Oonagh currently in hospital undergoing surgery, it was
surely no coincidence she should be one of the small percentage of younger
women to succumb to such a serious illness. Marianne felt sure Oonagh’s illness
had some bearing on the problems she had experienced trying to conceive, it
seemed perfectly logical to her that it was connected. How long had her beloved
friend been harbouring this insidious disease?

Marianne grew increasingly frustrated because no matter how
many times she typed ‘cure’ into the computer, she could not find a definitive
answer. She sat staring at the screen for some time. Everything she had read
just made Bridget more special, even more of a miracle. She sighed heavily,
turning the machine off. It would all be alright. Oonagh would recover fully
and, appreciate more than ever, the blessing that was her precious little
family.

Marianne could hear noises coming from the next room. She
closed the laptop and crept across the landing to find Bridget in her cot,
gurgling in animated conversation with Monty, who, with his paws on the rails,
was making a soft gravelly noise back at her. Marianne stood in the doorway,
marvelling. Two completely different species communicating contentedly with
each other in a language they both fully understood; a pair of precious souls
sharing a moment of communion in their own private corner of a very crowded
planet. She had never felt the weight of responsibility so acutely.

Sending Monty to his basket and settling Bridget down for
the night, Marianne did something she had not done since she was a child. She
knelt by her bed and prayed. Not to a God she had seen in holy pictures or on a
cross, or to any of the deities man had conjured up to worship or fight for.
But to whatever was out there; holding things together; keeping the gifts of
love, life and hope coming at her. To whatever was giving her the strength,
will and determination not to give in, not to crumble, not to let the side
down. Because this was her side, the side she was on and she was damn well here
to stay.

 “Amen to that!” she said out loud, before hopping under the
duvet.

Miss MacReady had lovingly
washed and styled a variety of wigs for Oonagh’s homecoming. Marianne and a
cluster of Quinn cousins had polished the pub until it shone. Padar filled
every receptacle he could with flowers; lilies and roses, Oonagh’s favourites. He
had cooked a huge paella, just the way she liked it, so she could share a bite
with family and friends before retiring to her boudoir, freshly cleaned, and
now home to the aforementioned wigs, grotesquely displayed on a selection of
decapitated mannequins, Miss MacReady had collected over the years.

The woman who stepped gingerly from the vehicle was hardly
recognisable as the colourful, robust Oonagh Quinn they had all been waiting to
welcome. She moved slowly, stooping slightly, her well-loved lilac leisure-suit
hanging off her and, what remained of her lustrous hair, hidden beneath a
towelling turban; the whiteness of it, stark, against the blotchiness of her
skin, despite the makeup. There was nothing frail about her smile though. She
beamed when she saw them crowding in the doorway of the pub. Taking Bridget
from Marianne, she smothered her shining little face with kisses.

“Mama Ooo-ah,” Bridget said loudly, eyeing Marianne to check
if this was correct, hugging Oonagh happily. Padar bustled them inside, showing
Oonagh to an armchair near the fire, which had been lit, even though it was a
beautiful spring day. No-one needed to tell Oonagh it was great to have her
home, nor did Oonagh need to say it was wonderful to be back, the sheer joy and
delight of the whole occasion trickled into every corner of the room.

Marianne was just getting used to Oonagh in the blonde Dolly
Parton, when Oonagh announced two items of news. The good news was, her hair
was growing back. The bad news, the Oncology Unit wanted to see her as soon as
possible. Oonagh was very matter of fact about the situation. She assumed they
had found secondary tumours and, although new battle lines were being drawn and
the war was not yet over, just the thought of having to pull together every dilapidated
fibre of her being to face another fight, completely exhausted her.

Marianne took her friend’s
hand. They were sitting together in one of their favourite places, a small
clearing halfway up the cliff, just off the new road. It was where they brought
Bridget and Monty on picnics as the days grew longer and summer started to
stretch ahead. The Atlantic glistened below, a shimmer of diamonds, gentle and
calm on today, of all days, when all Marianne could hear was a crashing in her
chest and roaring in her ears.

“You’ll be grand,” she said, unsmiling, to Oonagh.

“Ah sure.” Oonagh’s universal response when things were too
difficult or complex to be aired. She nodded over at the baby sitting beside
the terrier, sharing her sandwich, diligently checking the halves were equal so
neither would be deprived of sustenance. Monty waited to take the bread
daintily as Bridget gurgled at him, deep in discussion about whatever was on
the infant’s mind.

“I just wanted to ask, Marie, if it’s not good, you know, at
the hospital, well I’d feel better if I knew you’d be there, afterwards, when
I’m not around. I know it’s a lot to ask but…”

“Stop it Oonagh, don’t talk like that.”

“I’m being serious. I will need to make arrangements, need
things sorted.”

Marianne closed her eyes briefly. “Of course, you can depend
on me, whatever you need.”

“Or whatever
she
needs.” Oonagh’s eyes filled with
tears as she watched her little daughter. She wiped her nose on her sleeve.
“You’re so good with her, the little one. You never wanted your own, Marie?
Were you always the career woman?”

“It wasn’t through choice.”

“Really?”

“No. I had a miscarriage, years ago. It made a bit of a mess
of me, so they had to operate. It left me unable to have my own.”

“Oh God, that’s terrible. I never thought… and all through
this, me and my problems you never said a word. What happened?”

Marianne looked out to sea, plucking at the grass, “Ah, it
was a long time ago…”

Oonagh was quiet for a moment and then asked, “And was this
before George?”

“Yes before George. A bad relationship, I was very young. A
mistake.”

Oonagh took Marianne’s hand, her pale face even whiter.
“Tell me, Marie, you shouldn’t keep things like that to yourself.”

Marianne took a deep breath.

 “Not long after my parents died, I had a mad fling with a
well-known photographer in Paris. I was crazy about him, when he said we’d get
married, I believed him. It was great to begin with; we partied as hard as we
could, for as long as we could. Anyway, it turned out he’d always been a
womaniser, and though I had a feeling there had been a few affairs, when I
found out his young assistant was pregnant by him, well that was the last
straw.”

Oonagh gasped, nodding Marianne to continue. “I confronted
him, he flew into a rage, denied everything, we had a huge row and he said he
was leaving. I was distraught, we’d both been drinking. I ran out of the
apartment after him, he was in the car, the engine was running, and I jumped in
front of it as he pulled away. I flipped over the bonnet, like a rag doll, splat
on the road, unconscious.”

“God!” Oonagh exclaimed. “Did he not see you?”

“He said not, but who knows, he was out of his head anyway.
When I woke up in hospital, they told me I’d lost the baby – I hadn’t even
known I was pregnant – I was bleeding internally, it was very serious and they
had no choice but to operate.” Oonagh blessed herself.

 “Oh Marie, I’m so sorry. I never even thought you might
have wanted children. Though you did seem to want Padar and I to have a child
almost as much as we did. You never said a word though.”

Marianne squeezed her friend’s hand.

“It’s weird you know, everyone makes that assumption, if a
woman doesn’t have children, particularly a career woman, they assume it’s by
choice, when it’s usually the other way round. She has the career because she
has no choice. It’s like being an amputee, everyone can see a limb is missing,
but no-one dare ask how it happened.”

“Marie, that’s just awful.” Oonagh’s eyes filled with tears.
“And what happened to the father?”

“We never told anyone the real story about my accident. The
police would have been called and it would have been an awful mess. He took me
in a taxi to the hospital so the emergency services weren’t involved, and
no-one knew about the baby but us; it was our terrible secret.” Marianne looked
out at the Atlantic, the flat horizon in the distance. “He married the
assistant soon after. I moved back to England…made a new life.”

“And did he get his happy ever after?”

“Oonagh, life isn’t a film, I keep telling you that. I don’t
know if he did, I hope he did. He’s not around now, anyway.” Marianne chose not
to mention how Claude’s life ended.

“The bastard, good riddance,” Oonagh hissed.

“Don’t feel anger on my part, Oonagh. I let it go, ages ago.
I didn’t think I could and then, I felt different and all the bitterness and
pain was gone and I hadn’t even noticed. It wasn’t to be, it wouldn’t have been
right. If we’d had a baby, I’d have stayed for the wrong reasons. That’s no way
to raise a child, ending up blaming them for staying in a bad relationship. No,
it was for the best.” She took Oonagh’s hands, looking her straight in the eye.
“And there is more than one way to have a family, more than one way to be
cocooned in love. It comes in many guises, I find. I mean, I would never have met
George, you, Padar, Miss MacReady, Ryan – I wouldn’t have Bridget or Monty in
my life.” She smiled across at the pair on the tartan rug, snuggled together in
the sunshine.

“And that’s a good thing? Have we brought you happiness,
real love?”

Marianne was shocked. “Are you joking? I love you. All of
you. Okay, things aren’t perfect, but I wouldn’t swap any of you, change
anything. I love every hair on your baldy head, you silly woman.”

Oonagh smiled, wiping her eyes.

“We’re more like sisters than ever now, that’s why I want
you to mind Bridget, and Padar too, if you were able, I’d worry less when I’m
over the other side.” Oonagh’s grey eyes were piercing. Marianne stared back at
her.

“The other side? What side is that you’re going to? Hey,
they’re not holding a pair of white feathery wings in readiness for you, Mrs
Quinn. George is on angel duty maybe, but you and I have no chance.” Grinning,
Marianne tugged the blonde bouffant from Oonagh’s head to reveal her patchy
pink, sprouting scalp. “You’re looking loads better these days; you’re on the
mend, make no mistake about that. You’re just a bit too attached to this
fecking wig!”

Oonagh lunged at her to grab it back and, laughing, they
hugged each other, a long rocking-together hug, high on the cliff, with the
Atlantic swirling below and the gulls chorusing their tuneless, summer song
above them.

Ryan was speaking from his hotel room
in Mayfair.

“I was going to organise this as a surprise for you, but
what about bringing Oonagh along for the ride?” Filming had finally finished
and the round of publicity interviews was about to begin. After interviews in
London and Belfast, next stop Dublin and a late night chat show
.

“Organise what?” Marianne was intrigued.

“I’m sending a helicopter so you can come to the press
reception and the TV show if you’d like?”

“What do you mean, if I’d like? Try and stop me! A
helicopter, wow, I’ve never ridden in a helicopter. Are you serious?”

“Well, your fella is a famous movie star, what’s a trapping
or two for my gorgeous girl and our lovely friend. So, what do you say?”

Marianne whooped.

 “Wait till I tell Oonagh, she’ll freak. Your biggest fan,
going to a real celebrity bash. Ryan, you’re an angel. She’s going to just love
it, we both will; it will be a real tonic, honest it will!”

“Great that’s all set, I’ll send the chopper on Friday
morning. The press reception is that evening. We record the TV show live after
that. You and Oonagh can enjoy Grafton Street together before I head to the airport
for Paris and you go back to Innishmahon.”

“Paris? You’re not coming back with us?”

“Not this time, love. Coming to the end though, it won’t be
too long now.”

Marianne let it go. The excitement of the news of the
helicopter trip would not be spoiled with a row.

“I can’t wait to tell Oonagh, and I can’t wait to see you.
Are we incognito or what?”

“No way, come as yourself. I’ve fulfilled my part of the
contract, the movie’s finished and I’m promoting it. After Paris I’m done, it’s
time to get my life back!”

“It’s a three-film deal, don’t forget?” Marianne reminded
him, and herself.

“I haven’t forgotten. Now go and tell the Queen of my
Innishmahon fan club she can go to the ball, and I’ll see you the day after
tomorrow.” They were just about to say their goodbyes when a small voice
interrupted.

“Sorry Marie, Ryan, apologies for the intrusion, but I
couldn’t help overhearing…”

There were gasps and muffled laughter down the line.“Ahem,
what couldn’t you help, Miss MacReady?” You could hear the smile in Ryan’s
voice.

“The helicopter trip; the jaunt to Dublin for the press
party; the TV show and all?”

“And?”

“Well, I was only thinking, if you and Marie are together,
Oonagh might be left on her own, and she’s a lot better, but she’s not
altogether well, and it’s years since I was in Dublin’s fair city. Sure I may
never get the opportunity to go again.”

Silence. The line crackled.

“I’ve never been in a helicopter either.”