A Change of Heart (The Heartfelt Series) (15 page)

 Joey started that strange, intermittent whine he made whenever Angelique was stressing about something.

 “Okay, calm down, take it easy.” Ryan made soothing gestures with his hands, he reached towards her.

 “Don’t touch me, you bastard!” she snapped, eyes glittering with tears, and spinning on her heel, swept away.

 “Bloody hell,” Padar whistled softly, “what was that all about?”

 “About herself as usual,” Ryan replied, mouth set in a grim line. “Never about anything else except herself.”

 The door swung open and Ryan and Padar braced themselves for another tirade. The red had turned to blue, equally swirling, but satin not silk.

 “Ryan, there you are, excellent. Where’s Marianne?” Miss MacReady was in the middle of the room in an instant.

 “At home.” Ryan blinked, Miss MacReady always made an effort in the style department, but tonight was something else, she had pulled out all the stops. Was that glitter on her eyelashes?

 “Are you two free for dinner this evening?” Miss MacReady fluttered the scary eyelashes.

 “Er ...”

 “Well, it’s just that Larry is packing to go back to New York. He’s been away from the business far longer than he should have and well, what with it being his last night, I thought it would be lovely for us all to dine together,” she said.

 “Oh, where?” Ryan could almost feel her twisting his arm.

 “Why, here of course.” She turned to Padar, “What’s that you’re making Padar? It smells divine.”

 “Venison casserole, but ...”

 “Sounds perfect, we’ll have that then.” She smiled at Ryan. “I tried phoning Marianne but no reply, so guessed you were here, where is she?”

 “Probably having a lie-down, it’s all been a bit ...”

 “Indeed,” Miss MacReady interrupted, “this is just what she needs, an evening out, with close friends and family, here in the sanctity and safety of the friendliest pub in Ireland. Shall I go and fetch her?”

 “No, that’s okay, I’ll go, but we were planning a night in, what with Padar and Sinead babysitting and all.” Ryan gave her a cheeky wink.

 Miss MacReady waved her hand, “Ah sure you can do that anytime. No, you must come tonight, we must be here, all together, to say goodbye to Larry and assure him of a warm welcome when he returns. Now, where’s Sinead, I wonder if she’ll join us once she’s settled the children for the evening?”

 Ryan knew when he was beaten.

The children were asleep on the sofa with Monty in the middle, looking for all the world like a litter of puppies, arms and legs everywhere, out for the count. Sinead had been unable to stay, telling Padar, “Phileas was not the best” whatever that meant, and Padar had been too busy to enquire further, although he fleetingly thought she looked as if she had been crying again.

 Miss MacReady checked on them between courses and with Ryan busy making them all Irish coffees, she and Marianne took the opportunity to transfer them to the nursery created out of the boudoir Oonagh made for herself and Bridget when the Quinn’s precious little girl first arrived.

 “Funny, Sinead having to go, she adores minding those babies,” Miss MacReady commented, gently pulling on Joey’s sleep suit. “Mind you, he can be tricky that Phileas and not a bit sociable, while she’s so nice and personable.”

 “I don’t think all’s well there, do you?” Marianne asked her. “She comes into the pub most nights now and seems so sad too. She’s such a hard worker and takes her job very seriously. I wonder if there’s something else more than tiredness, what do you think?”

 Miss MacReady nodded. “The light’s gone out of her alright, such a shame. Maybe she and Phileas are going through a bad patch, it happens to everyone from time to time.”

 Marianne shrugged, standing at the door waiting for Monty to join them, before switching off the light. Monty snuffled the cots in parting and trotted to where his mistress stood. She closed the door and he sat down on the landing in front of it; he had developed the habit of sleeping outside the nursery whenever the children stayed there.

 “I don’t know Phileas at all,” Marianne said, as they went down the stairs.

 “Don’t think anyone does, not even Sinead, maybe that’s the problem,” Miss MacReady replied, sweeping into the bar to rejoin the jollity. As usual, Kathleen MacReady knew far more than she was letting on, thought Marianne, following her as Ryan, full Hollywood smile lighting up the place, handed them each a deliciously creamy Irish coffee.

 “Shame we had to put our plans on hold,” he smiled at her. “Good night though, I haven’t seen Larry this happy in ages.” He nodded at his friend, doing a plausible impersonation of a well-known popular singer on Maguire’s ancient upright.

Leading the applause, Miss MacReady joined him at the piano for an impromptu rendition of ‘The Moon and New York City’.
Larry, shirtsleeves rolled up, glasses on top of his head, was having the time of his life, eyes shining, the broadest grin stretched across his face as he tickled the ivories with surprising skill.

 “Larry, you look positively glowing, have you lost weight too?” Ryan asked, teasing his portly friend.

 “Bound to have,” Larry said. “I’ve walked miles round this island, pushing that buggy-thing whenever Kathleen’s been on babysitting duty. I ain’t never worked so hard.”

Marianne and Ryan exchanged a look.

 “Now, now you two,” Miss MacReady smiled, reapplying a flash of fuchsia pink to her lips, “your love story is quite enough to be going on with, Larry and I are just good friends.” And they all laughed, even Larry, whose blush added to his glow.

 Despite all the gaiety at their table, it had not gone unnoticed that Angelique was entertaining Dermot in the snug. Padar was ferrying food and drinks backwards and forwards at an alarming rate, and although Angelique ordered everything on the menu, she seemed to eat nothing. Her sassy laugh and Dermot’s deep guffaws gave the impression they were enjoying an evening of unbridled ribaldry until they heard an almighty crash. Angelique jumped up, pushed her chair back so violently it toppled over as she launched herself at Dermot.

 “How dare you suggest I’ve had too much to drink,” she snarled. “Who the hell do you think you are? What am I even doing having dinner with you? You’re nothing but a peasant, get out of my sight!” She covered her eyes.

 Dermot looked across at the others. Ryan turned his hands upwards. Dermot threw his napkin on the table and left.

 “Ryan,” Angelique wailed.

 “Here we go,” Larry said.

 “You won’t believe what the brute said to me.” She staggered to where they sat, wild-eyed and trembling.

 Miss MacReady looked at Marianne and put a finger to her lips.

 “Hey, Angelique, easy now, you’re tired, jet lag,” Larry tried.

 “I am
not
tired or jet-lagged,” she screeched. The whole pub fell silent.

 “We better deal with this,” Ryan whispered to Marianne, “okay?”

She had never seen Larry move so fast. In less than a minute they had scooped the actress up and deposited her in her rooms.

 “You’ve obviously had that little task to perform on more than one occasion,” Marianne said, as the gentlemen rejoined them.

 “Too often,” growled Ryan, then raising his glass, “but she’s not going to spoil our evening, oh no, those days are long over.”

 “Too right,” agreed Larry, and they all chinked glasses.

Chapter Sixteen
Engaging The Enemy

With Padar’s culinary efforts declared a resounding success and plans for a Halloween Hooley well underway, the two couples were saying their goodbyes as the clock struck midnight. Marianne was just about to go and check upstairs before they left, when Ryan stopped her.

 “Finish your coffee, I’ll see they’re okay,” he said.

Music drifted down from the nursery. He stopped. He could hear something else, a high-pitched whining: the noise Joey made when he was with Angelique. Ryan flew up the stairs and burst through the door.

The picture that greeted him would have been one of serene beauty had it not been for the strange sound underpinning the music: Angelique in a nightgown, hair about her shoulders, her child in her arms as they nestled together on a chaise longue; they looked so peaceful sleeping there. But on closer inspection the woman was grey and the child snow-white. Joey’s eyes were closed, lips parted, and from deep within his chest the ear-piercing whining noise. Ryan lunged across the room and grabbed Joey. He was cold as ice.

 He called his name, shaking him; the little boy’s eyes flickered and closed.
He He

He placed his hand on the woman’s forehead, burning up beneath a film of grey sweat.

“Angelique, wake up,” he shouted, taking her by the shoulders. “What have you done? What have you given him?”

Panic rising, Ryan heard footsteps. Marianne and Miss MacReady ran into the room.

 “Oh God,” Marianne gasped, taking in the scene.

 “Phileas, get Phileas, stomach pump, hurry.” Ryan tried to shout, his voice strangled in his throat. Miss MacReady kicked off her shoes and fled. Ryan laid Joey on the bed, quickly loosening his clothes. Marianne was examining him for needle marks, bruising, anything. Ryan spotted the plastic beaker and, pulling the top off, smelled it.

 “She must have given him this, what is it?” he pushed it at Marianne. Joey had stopped making the noise, his eyes were rolling in his head, spit trickled from the side of his mouth. Marianne pulled him upright.

 “Salt water. Now,” she barked. Ryan did not want to leave him. “Go!” she shouted. He reappeared in minutes with Larry.

Larry went straight to Angelique. “She’s out of it, what the hell happened?” he hauled her to her feet: her knees buckled, head flopped on her chest. “She needs a pump.”

“We’re here.” Sinead arrived with Phileas. Miss MacReady behind them. Phileas checked Joey, then Angelique. He nodded at Sinead.

“Okay, we need him to vomit,” she told Marianne. “Get that salt water down him, then make him sick.”

“Let’s get her in the bathroom and pump her out.” Phileas was unpacking his kit as Larry dragged Angelique into the other room.

“And turn that music off,” Sinead ordered. Miss MacReady switched off the CD player. At the same time Padar said, “Where’s Bridget?”

They scanned the room, no sign. With the music off they could hear whimpering; it sounded like a child, or an animal. They turned to where it came from - the airing cupboard on the landing. Padar flung the door open, Monty growled and Bridget screamed. Padar fell to his knees, taking the terrified little girl in his arms. Monty limped out, tail barely wagging, searching the room for Marianne; there was a large, bloody swelling above his eye. Ryan was holding Joey upright as Sinead continued to force feed him salt water from a baby’s bottle; he was gagging and fighting her off, growing more and more upset. Ryan looked desperately at Marianne as she held Joey’s hands away from the bottle. She was trying not to cry, trying not to beg Sinead to stop and leave the little boy alone.

“Come on Joey, drink up, that’s the way, you can have something lovely to eat once you’ve had your medicine,” Sinead was saying. Joey’s body went into spasm. Sinead dropped the bottle, grabbed the boy and turned him over. He made a squawking sound and vomited, and vomited and vomited. All was quiet, and then he started to cry - loudly. Sinead checked all his airways were clear and handed him back to Ryan, smiling grimly.

“He might be sick again but not much. When he’s settled we’ll give him some sweet tea. We don’t want him to fall asleep for a good while.” She headed off to the bathroom.

The little boy started to sob softly. Ryan looked at Marianne, relief flooded his face. Marianne was holding an antiseptic wipe against the cut over Monty’s eye. He nodded at Monty.

“He’s fine, must have got in the way of someone’s boot - only doing his job.” She cuddled the dog briefly. Monty’s tail wagged.

There was a loud moan from the bathroom, a scuffle and a thud. Phileas reappeared.

“She’s coming round. She’ll need coffee, lots of it. It’s a bit of a mess in there, best if we keep her awake for as long as possible. I’m really not sure what we’re dealing with.” He went over and took Joey’s temperature. “Nearly normal,” he said.

“Thank God,” Miss MacReady said, handing Phileas the beaker. “What did she give him?”

Phileas smelled the creamy liquid. He raised his eyebrows, tasted it.

“That’s just milk, what does she be on?” he asked Ryan.

“Lots of things,” Ryan replied flatly.

“Prescription? Non-prescription?”

Ryan shrugged, “A bit of both, mainly prescription these days, though, I think.” Phileas scowled, he took the beaker and the thermometer over to the basin and washed them.

“I’ll have to make out a report,” Phileas said.

“You will indeed,” said Miss MacReady. “A big fat report, and I’ll make sure everyone sees it, and copies go to the right authorities. That woman is dangerous - she could have killed them all.”

“And herself,” Padar said, bitterly.

“She’s tried that more times than I care to remember,” Ryan said, “but I never thought she’d hurt Joey. I never thought she would do anything to her own son. I feel such an idiot. How could I have been so naive?”

Marianne squeezed his knee.

“Hey now, enough of that, he’s going to be okay, we all are.”

“And it’s going to be a long night, I’ll get the coffee on the go,” Miss MacReady said, relieved she could finally be of use.

Phileas put his kit away. “It could have been a lot worse,” he said grimly, “I reckon we were only minutes away from them both needing hospitalisation. And how would we have got them there? That’s what people don’t appreciate. The sooner they get that bridge built, the better.”

Larry emerged from the bathroom, dishevelled and sodden. He glanced at Ryan. It was obvious they had been through this before.

“She’s gonna be okay, this time. She wants to go home as soon as possible, says she can’t remember a thing,” he shrugged.

“Really? How convenient,” said Marianne going to where Padar held a white-faced, red-eyed Bridget in his arms. “I think we’ve all had enough excitement for one night. We can keep an eye on Joey at home and Monty needs his own basket, is that okay with you?” 

Ryan stood up too. The further Joey was away from Angelique the better.

“I’m so sorry,” he said quietly to no-one in particular as they left.

Back at Weathervane Ryan and Marianne switched to autopilot. Joey was washed and changed. Marianne turned back the eiderdown on the big bed, placing Monty’s blanket at the foot and Joey’s teddy on the pillow. Ryan went through every room, drawing curtains and locking doors. It was a bleak, black night; he needed to keep the blackness out there.

Still silent, they climbed into bed, Monty on lookout in his old position, Joey lying between Marianne and Ryan. Ryan was keeping him awake with a brightly coloured storybook. Marianne entwined her feet in Ryan’s legs, resting one hand on Joey’s head and the other on her stomach, willing the swirling anxiety inside to stop. Her eyelids grew heavy, Joey gurgled as she drifted off to sleep. It sounded like sweet music.

* * *

Marianne heard a noise and was awake in an instant. It was daylight. Monty stirred. She looked at Ryan with Joey asleep on his shoulder - they looked peaceful, normal. She let a breath out and, grabbing a fleece, flew downstairs. She looked out of the window – no-one there. The door rattled again: she opened it a fraction. Miss MacReady stood in the porch, still in last night’s ensemble: her only concession to the new day, a headscarf over the curlers pushed hastily into her hair.

“Is everything okay, how’s Joey, Monty? Where’s Ryan? I couldn’t sleep a wink, did you get any sleep at all?” she looked anxiously into her daughter’s face.

Marianne beckoned her in, indicating with a finger at her lips to be quiet. They went into the kitchen, Marianne flicked on the kettle. She assured Miss MacReady everyone was fine.

“And you?” she asked the older woman. There was mascara on her face; she had been crying.

“Fine love, fine. It was all such a shock. There we were having a great night, enjoying the craic and there she was...well, doing I don’t know what, but nearly killing Joey and herself.” She stifled a sob. Marianne gave her a mug of tea. She caught sight of their reflection in the mirror; she could see the resemblance in their strained features. Miss MacReady drank the tea gratefully.

“What happened afterwards?” Marianne asked.

Miss MacReady sniffed. “Padar helped Larry get your woman sobered up and into her rooms. She was making an awful fuss by the time I left, saying she had been drugged and so had Joey, blaming you, Ryan and everyone else she could think of, saying we all wanted them dead and she was going to the police. She’d have won an Oscar for that performance, let me tell you!”

 “What do you think happened?” Marianne asked pouring more tea. There was no denying her mother was sharp; she knew stuff.

“Accidental I think, anyone who wanted her dead would have taken a gun and shot her years ago. Should have been drowned at birth that one.” Miss MacReady finished her tea and thought for a minute. “Not altogether sure though, Marianne,” she said, softly. “I’m sworn to secrecy, but she was in a spot of bother before she turned up here, absconded from a secure unit where she was being detained. She was under investigation.”

“No way, what for?” Marianne was shocked.

“Only embezzlement! You know the famous jewellery collection, well it belongs to Rossini, to the franchise and she’s been siphoning it off, selling diamonds to dodgy dealers, having them replaced with fake ones and pocketing the cash. Oh, she’s a model mother alright. A judge will be rushing to stamp her custody order, I don’t think so.” Miss MacReady was coming round, she started to take her curlers out.

“Bloody hell!” Marianne sat down.

“This custody thing is a load of shite, bluster. She’s using it as a threat to get a more lucrative deal out of Ryan. That’s all she’s interested in.” Now she had spilled the beans, Miss MacReady decided to embellish the story with her take on things. “In my opinion, her career is more or less over. She’s been rumbled as a common thief, and I think last night was either an accident or someone else is trying to get her out of the picture.”

“Wow.” Marianne pushed her hair behind her ears. She really ought to be taking notes. “How do you know all this stuff?”

Miss MacReady shrugged, fluffing her hair out as she walked to the dresser and lifted the whiskey decanter. She looked at Marianne.

“Sure, help yourself,” Marianne said. Miss MacReady poured a couple of stiff ones.

“You could do with one too,” she said, pushing the glass in front of her daughter. Simultaneously, they lifted the drink to their lips, but Marianne put her glass back down, untouched.

“Does Ryan know any of this?” Marianne watched Miss MacReady carefully.

“Not at all, sure Ryan’s head’s all over the place, God love him. He wouldn’t be aware of anything. I’m led to believe this whole thing is very hush-hush, it’s not even hit the news, at least not yet,” Miss MacReady assured her.

Marianne thought for a while. It seemed to make sense. Miss MacReady tapped the table with a fingernail.

“Have you actually read the documents detailing what the Angelique-one wants?” she asked.

“No,” Marianne replied.

“Why not?” Miss MacReady was incensed.

“Haven’t got round to it yet, there’s been a bit going on!” Marianne went back at her.

“Bullshit, Ryan hasn’t shown them to you.” Miss MacReady needed a cigarette, giving up did not suit her one bit. “Why didn’t you just read them anyway? It affects your man, your life.”

Marianne shrugged. “It’s still his business.”

“But you’re an investigative journalist!” the other woman insisted.

Marianne looked her mother in the eye.

“Yes, and I’ve always played by the rules, fair and square. No bribes, no hacking, no cheating - call me old-fashioned.”

“Where are the papers?” Miss MacReady demanded, exasperated. Marianne’s eyes flicked over to the drawer where she had seen Ryan place the envelope. Miss MacReady was there in a flash.

“Mother, that is not addressed to you,” she hissed.

“Marianne, I am the postmistress, the head of communications on this island, it’s my job to handle and monitor
all
correspondence.” Miss MacReady unfolded the document, holding it far enough away to read. “Pretty much as I thought, she wants a lump sum payoff, more or less to go away and not cause any trouble, then a monthly allowance paid directly into her bank account as maintenance. It increases substantially if Joey is with her at any point, and she wants the majority of Ryan’s estate when he dies.”