A Change of Heart (The Heartfelt Series) (26 page)

Marianne thoroughly enjoyed her morning back in the media mix: setting up shots outside the post office; reminding Father Gregory to go back and fetch his dog collar, he looked far too cavalier, with a view of the sea behind him, in a navy Arran sweater, turquoise eyes glinting in the sunlight.

“Good grief, they’ll think there’s only drop-dead hunks here and the ferry will be loaded with lovelorn fans desperate for a glimpse of yourself and Ryan.” She pushed him across the road playfully. Dermot hoved into view. Not another one, she thought, painting on a smile, as the big man strode up the main street. Dermot made her uncomfortable, especially since his shenanigans in Maguire’s kitchen on Halloween. He had really caught her off-guard and she had no desire to encourage him, yet she liked him, despite herself.

“All the TV stuff finished?” he asked.

“Not quite, just a quick interview with Gregory, but I sent him back because he’d no dog collar and I thought the piece needed gravitas. You know, the village priest putting things into perspective, rounding the report off by saying how such activity is a rare occurrence on Innishmahon, and how it’s a fine island community with lots for tourists to enjoy, that sort of thing.”

Dermot agreed, “Will they bugger off then? Last thing we want is the place swarming with media.”

“I think the freelance journo over there,” she nodded at the young man working for the broadsheet and the tabloid, “wants a chat with a few locals, get their take on it. Wouldn’t be surprised if he did a follow-up on Angelique too, the story of how the jewellery collection was amassed. It would make a great feature for one of the Sunday supplements.”

“Thought you’d retired?” he remarked.

“Not necessarily, just changed direction. Bowed out of the rat race, you know how it is?” she looked down at her clipboard.

“Guess so,” Dermot said, desperately trying to catch her eye.

Miss MacReady reappeared as the camera crew were wrapping up. She fed them coffee and brack, chatting easily with them. She was wearing a green chiffon tea dress, reminiscent of
The Great Gatsby,
complemented with a huge straw hat, fastened under her chin with a silk polka dot scarf. The wind had got up and her jade and turquoise earrings jangled about her bare shoulders. Marianne was relieved her mother was back on form. It may have been an unusual ensemble for late autumn, but it really suited her. Waving the crew farewell, she joined Marianne as they walked down Main Street, Dermot and Gregory bringing up the rear.

“Dying to see what we all look like on the telly, aren’t you Marianne? We haven’t had this much drama since the storm.” Miss MacReady was as excited as a puppy.

“I think everyone gave a good account of the incident, some more colourful than others,” she gave Miss MacReady a look, “but I hope they don’t edit it too much.”

“Shame you missed it, Dermot,” Miss MacReady called back to the big man.

“Ah, there was enough of you telling the tale. I like to keep myself to myself.”

“And no Sinead either. Sure we’d have been lost without her, she certainly has a gift where anything medical is concerned,” Miss MacReady told them. “Anyone seen her at all today?”

“Did she not stay with you?” Dermot asked.

“No, went home to her own bed when she knew those two fecking eejits were being kept in the cells overnight. Good riddance if they throw away the key, that’s what I say.” Miss MacReady stopped. “Someone ought to check on her, see if she’s alright.”

Marianne turned to go back.

“I’ll go,” Father Gregory said, “see if she wants to come down to Maguire’s for an hour, watch us all making headlines. No point in sitting up there worrying.”

Marianne touched his arm. “Go easy Gregory, I’m sure she’s totally mortified Phileas was involved. Assure her the reporters are only saying two men have been arrested in connection with the robbery. Let her know that much.”

Father Gregory nodded as he left. Miss MacReady pulled her purple shawl tighter against the breeze.

“Sure the reporters don’t have to name names in this place. It’ll be all around the island in a flash.”

“Well, I haven’t said anything about who was involved,” Dermot remarked.

“Nor I,” said Marianne. “Only a straightforward news report, no names given,” She lifted her chin at Miss MacReady.

Miss MacReady’s hand flew to her mouth. “Damn, I rang Joyce and told her it was Pat and Phileas. She’s my sister, I tell her everything.” 

Marianne and Dermot declined to comment.

By Sunday lunchtime it was the talk of the island, as Maguire’s regulars were joined by other villagers, astonished to learn the flashing blue lights and sirens of the night before were not the Gardaí on an impromptu test-run, but an attempted robbery at the post office. They crowded in front of the large television screen to watch news reports of a major incident which had taken place only a few hundred yards away.

Once inside the packed pub, Miss MacReady was feted as a heroine, and after kisses and congratulations, took herself off to the snug with a trendy fruit cider and the journalist, who was indeed planning a series of articles about the jewellery collection, featuring the provenance of the rarer pieces.

Ryan waved over at Marianne, passing her a glass of wine through the crowd. Padar was wearing his ‘isn’t this great for business’ smile and Erin was busy helping him pull pints. She was wearing Oonagh’s bandana again Marianne noticed. Another one getting her feet under the table, she thought, uncharitably, then looking up, saw Ryan standing beside her. He bent and kissed her nose.

“How’s my award-winning, stunningly gorgeous journalist then, happy with your morning’s work? Did I look good on camera?” he turned to give her a view of his profile.

She sipped her wine.

“Yes, I am as it happens. Has there been a bulletin yet?” she stood on tiptoe trying to see the screen.

“No just a trailer saying they were bringing the latest on an attempted robbery at the
top of the hour
,” he said.

She looked at her watch, half an hour to go till noon. “The children?”

“At kindergarten. Dermot got them ready and down there in time for the morning session. Joan said Sinead had not shown though, and she was supposed to be on duty, probably overslept,” Ryan told her.

“Can’t say I blame her,” Marianne replied. “You and Dermot couldn’t have got much sleep either?”

 “No, I met Dermot on the beach and went back to the boat for a coffee - been a long night,” he said.

“Dermot was on the beach at that hour?”

“Yeah, he was ...” Ryan stopped himself.

“Was what?” Marianne asked.

“Do you know what, I think I’ll go and help Padar, give Erin a break. It was a long night for her too.”

Marianne looked up into his eyes.

“Dermot was doing what?” she asked.

“What? Oh, walking on the beach, taking a breath of air, like I said …”

“I know, it had been a long night,” she finished his sentence.

“Some of it was fantastic too,” he smiled, twinkling down at her.

“Ouch! Ryan O’Gorman, did you just
pinch
my arse?” she demanded, as he weaved through the crowd to the bar to relieve Erin as he promised.

Marianne found herself standing next to Erin as the news came on. Erin was in sweatbands and tracksuit but these were
not
Oonagh’s. Erin was much slimmer than her sister; this looked like serious training kit. Marianne wondered if Erin was the jogger she noticed from time to time on her morning walk.

Erin was staring at the screen. Marianne felt immediately guilty she had not included her in the report.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t send word to you when the TV crew showed up,” she said to the other woman.

“No bother,” said Erin, staring at the screen. “Ryan called in on his way and asked me to come along. But I said I rather not, if it was all the same.”

“Oh,” was all Marianne could muster, annoyed with Ryan for including Erin and annoyed with herself for not. The newsreader broke the awkward silence.

“... it is believed the attempt was to steal the actress’ fabulous jewellery collection which was in the post office safe following her recent visit to the island. Our reporter was on Innishmahon earlier today to speak to Kathleen MacReady, the postmistress, who was brutally attacked during the raid. A number of locals were instrumental in foiling the attempted heist, including the actor Ryan O’Gorman, the late actress’ ex-husband ...”

The camera panned to the island’s magnificent coastline, a shot of the post office sign and then Miss MacReady’s beautifully made-up face filled the screen. She answered the journalist’s questions quite succinctly, then going into grisly detail about her attackers and their methods of restraint, giving a blow-by-blow account and showing the marks on her wrists to the camera. Marianne would have preferred that bit to have been edited out, but none of it was untrue.

The reporter introduced Ryan, who skilfully avoided any questions about his ex-wife and the jewellery collection, saying simply that it was in the safest place on the island and the foiled burglary confirmed that. The jewels would be returned to Angelique’s family to be disposed of, along with the rest of her estate at the appropriate time. Marianne nodded. She had briefed him on that bit.
Good work, Ryan,
she thought.

Father Gregory was spot-on with his summing up, mentioning Dermot, Erin and Sinead and saying this was typical of what a tight-knit community like theirs was capable of and why tourists and visitors would always be welcome and safe on the island.

“We all agree with you there, Father.” Padar told the television screen.

“And finally, Miss MacReady, how safe are the Innishmahon jewels at this point?”
asked the reporter.

Miss MacReady glared into the lens.

“Totally and utterly safe, as is anything else left in my care. Let me tell you something, the Innishmahon post office and indeed the postmistress herself are no pushover for any old bowzies who think it’s worth giving it a go.”
Miss MacReady blinked, pushing her sleeves up at the elbows and adopting a prize fighter’s stance at the camera.

The whole pub burst into loud cheering and rapturous applause, as Miss MacReady took her bow.

“The two men involved were arrested and taken by the police to the mainland where they are being held in custody. It is likely they will be charged with aggravated burglary tomorrow,”
the newsreader concluded. “
And now the weather ...”

More cheers and applause as Padar, totally overwhelmed by the occasion, produced an ice bucket and champagne, filling the glass Miss MacReady held aloft with aplomb. Relieved it had gone well, Marianne left her to bask in glory and slipped out of Maguire’s and across to Weathervane where Monty was waiting for her. She bent to give him a huge cuddle and was nearly knocked flying as Ryan opened the door behind her. Apologising, he picked them both up, kissing her mouth and rubbing his chin on Monty’s head.

“Not in the mood to celebrate?” he asked her.

She shrugged. “I understand why everyone else is, but it’s a happy and sad occasion really. Sad someone thought Miss MacReady and the post office were fair game and sad it was Pat and Phileas.”

He put Monty down, and looking into her eyes, he drew him to her.

“Don’t be too hard on them. They’re only human, we all are.”

He gave her a hug.

She ferreted around in her pocket to put her keys back on the hook, when a flash of gold flew past them and landed with a gentle ping on the table. It was the brass ring from the barn brack. He looked at her.

“It was in the cake. It’s supposed to mean there’ll be a wedding before a year’s out,” she told him.

“Really?” Sometimes the island’s legends and superstitions left him bemused.

“This marriage stuff won’t leave me alone at the moment.” She pulled a face at herself in the mirror.

“What marriage stuff won’t leave you alone?” he took her by the shoulders and sat her down.

Marianne put her head in her hands as Monty snuffled at her knees. She patted him absent-mindedly.

“I know about Angelique’s proposal. The ‘no marriage’ clause, the bit that said she would only agree to you having custody of Joey if you never married again.” She picked up the brass ring and spun it on the table.

 “Well, that’s academic at this stage, given everything that’s happened. But how do you know about that? I deliberately never told you, thought you had enough on your plate, what with her just showing up and everything.”

Marianne had the good grace to look shamefaced.

“I read the papers. Well, I didn’t read the papers, someone else did and told me what was in them.”

There was a silence; the clock chimed the hour.

“You shouldn’t have done that. I’d have told you what you needed to know in the fullness of time, those papers were private,” he said coolly.

“But we were worried, we wanted to help,” she offered.

“We? You and Kathleen I suppose. The investigative journalist and her busybody mother, nice one.” He turned to look out of the window. It was still a gloriously bright day, his mood suddenly black.