Secrets of the Lighthouse (43 page)

‘I’ll stay the night, at least,’ she replied. Then, turning to her daughter, who still stood in the middle of the room with Oswald, she added, ‘If that’s OK with
you, Ellen?’

Ellen nodded. ‘As long as you want. You’ve got years to catch up on.’

‘Then that’s settled,’ said Peg. ‘At least we’ll have you for another night, Ellen.’ Ellen noticed her smile bravely at Oswald. She couldn’t remain in
that kitchen a moment longer, knowing that soon she was going to be leaving it, so she left them around the table and fled upstairs. She hoped that Conor might call, but when she switched on the
telephone he had given her, she found he hadn’t; nor had he texted. She threw herself onto her bed and lay staring miserably up at the ceiling.

She considered texting him, apologizing again, begging him to reconsider. But then the memory of his cold, uncaring face rose to remind her of his fury and she put the telephone down, knowing
better than to anger him further. They had all warned her. They had all told her he was bad news. But every fibre of her body longed for him and she turned onto her side and hugged her pillow
mournfully.

She must have drifted off to sleep, for when she opened her eyes her mother was sitting on the end of her bed. ‘I didn’t mean to wake you,’ she said softly.

‘It’s OK,’ Ellen replied, pushing herself up.

‘I’m sure Conor will come round. You don’t break up with someone for something so trivial.’

‘You don’t know Conor, Mum.’

‘I’ve heard all about him.’

‘Nothing good, then.’

‘Actually, Dylan had nothing
but
good things to say. Darling, if he loves you, he’ll come back.’

‘I’m not sure he loves me enough. We haven’t had time for that.’

Madeline smiled knowingly. ‘Love doesn’t need time, Ellen.’

‘So, is it weird seeing Dylan again?’ Ellen asked, changing the subject.

Madeline sighed. ‘He hasn’t changed at all. He’s still the Dylan I knew and cared for.’

‘We’ve been playing the guitar and singing together. He’s incredibly talented.’

‘Oh, I know.’ She gazed at her daughter thoughtfully. ‘You’re so like him. Seeing you two together makes the resemblance all the more obvious.’

‘Did Dad ever meet Dylan?’

‘Yes, he did, but I don’t think he’d remember. It was so long ago.’

‘I’m going to tell him.’

Madeline’s face hardened. ‘You don’t have to do that, Ellen.’

‘I think we’ve all lied enough,’ Ellen replied firmly.

‘What’s the point of making him unhappy?’

‘I can promise you that by the time we leave Ballymaldoon, everyone will know that I’m Dylan’s daughter. Have you forgotten what they’re all like? Say, somehow, the
gossip gets back to Dad? No, Mum. He has to hear it from you or me. And I think it’s going to be me.’

‘Don’t rush into anything. Think very hard before you broach the subject. It all happened a long time ago.’

‘It’s still happening now, Mum. I’m proof of that. You can’t bury
me
in the past.’

‘Of course not, Ellen, but before you let the past poison the present, think about what it will do to him. Think about that. This isn’t just about you, me and Dylan. Your father
loves you.’

‘And he deserves to know the truth,’ Ellen added. Her mother’s lips tightened and she lifted her chin. Ellen had seen a glimpse of the old Maddie Byrne, but Lady Anthony
Trawton had been around for much longer. She was too old and set in her ways to become a girl again.

‘I’ll be very disappointed in you if you tell him,’ she said, and her voice had found its hard outer casing again. ‘Punish me for lying to you, for not telling you about
Dylan and for giving you a life of privilege that you would never have had back here, but don’t punish Anthony. He has only ever been a good father to you and a good husband to me. Now,
we’re going to have lunch in the pub. Craic wants to show it to me and I think I’d better meet the rest of my family. It will do you good to come with us. You can’t lie around
here all day, moping. That’s not going to bring Conor back, is it?’

As much as Ellen didn’t feel like seeing anyone, she had to admit that she found comfort in the family lunch at the Pot of Gold. Even Peg, who never set foot in the pub, was persuaded by
Oswald to join them. Ellen was happy to see her aunt drop her shoulders in defeat at last, and take Oswald’s arm. If she was worried about gossip she must have known that in her
sister’s company no one would notice
her
.

It wasn’t long before word got around that Maddie Byrne had returned, and the place heaved with locals wanting to get a good look at the girl who had scandalized Ballymaldoon all those
years ago when she had run off with her English aristocrat. It was the return of the Prodigal Daughter and she was treated like royalty, by family, friends and strangers who had only ever heard the
story.

Madeline clearly relished the attention. As she drank wine and sank deeper into the bosom of her family, she seemed to soften a little. Her hair had grown tousled in the damp air. Her cheeks
were flushed with emotion. Her smile was wide, and her body had lost its stiffness. Her laugh, usually so measured, was now husky and unrestrained. She looked younger. Ellen glimpsed Maddie Byrne
before it all went wrong and life’s disappointment hardened her. But she knew it would be short-lived. She wondered whether Dylan knew, too. The years in London had been too long and too
determined to melt away so easily.

Ellen felt numb inside. The more she watched her family, Oswald and Dylan, the more it pained her to think of leaving them. But she found herself searching the faces for Conor, and every time
the door opened her heart stopped for a brief, agonizing moment while she prayed it would be him stepping in with the wind. Of course, it never was. There was a strong chance it never would be. She
knew then that she couldn’t live like this. At least in London she wouldn’t expect to see him around every corner. In London she had a better chance of forgetting. After all, her mother
had managed it, hadn’t she?

Conor’s misery is a sign of my success. I should be triumphant. But I am not. Something about his misery makes me uneasy; it is a different kind of unhappiness to the one
that dogged him after my death. There was something dark and surly about him then, as if he was a man guilty of hiding a dreadful secret. There is nothing dark and secretive about him now. He is
simply devastated and bewildered by his loss. He gave Ellen his love but more significantly, he gave her his trust, and she betrayed him. He is sick with grief. Before, I was jealous of his
happiness; now I am jealous of his pain.

When Ellen leaves the castle, he watches her car until it has disappeared under the burr oaks. He remains standing there for a long while, as if he is expecting it to turn around and come back.
But it doesn’t. Ellen is gone and I hope she will now return to London and stay there. Time will heal his broken heart and he will come to realize that the love he feels for me is deeper than
the superficial love he felt for Ellen. Women will come and go in his life like pretty lilies on a pond, but I am the current beneath, which is always constant.

He puts his hands on his hips and for a moment his face folds into a frown, as if he has suddenly thought of something which makes him furious. He turns and strides purposefully back to the
castle door. Once inside, he stares up again at my portrait. I gaze down at him from the eyes in the paint and it is as if we are looking at each other as we once did in the flesh. I am sure he can
see me. My heart jumps with excitement, for surely he would not be gazing at me like this if he could not intuit what is beyond the paint? His frown grows deeper, as if he is considering an
impossible thing. But I am not impossible, my love. I am here in spirit, more real than I was in life. He shakes his head and contemplates my beautiful face. He gazes on my splendour and I know he
is tormented by my death. But death is an illusion, Conor. I am here. If you close your eyes and trust your senses, you will feel me.

‘Oh, Caitlin,’ he groans. ‘What have you done?’ I am not sure what he means by this. I would like to believe that he is regretting our row at the lighthouse and my
impulsive dash up the stairs and to my death. But there is something in his expression which tells me otherwise. He is angry with me. He is staring at me with eyes full of loathing. I am stunned
and find myself reeling back out of the painting, into a darker limbo than the one I was in before. He shakes his head and smiles cynically. ‘You are responsible for this,’ he accuses,
and I see his face grow hard with resentment. ‘I should have known. You were jealous of me in life and now you’re jealous of me in death. You have to let me go, Caitlin.’ He
pushes a hand through his hair and chuckles bitterly, dropping his gaze to the flagstones. He is aware that he is talking to himself and how crazy he must sound. But he doesn’t sound crazy to
me.

His words are like daggers that stab me in the heart and kill me all over again. Doesn’t he know that everything I did was for love? If only I could explain that it was
he
who
drove me to do what I did – that if I had been secure in his love I would not have pushed him so far and I would not have let him down. I would still be alive today and none of this would
have happened.

He leaves me in the castle, but I am not alone. I turn and see the grey, unhappy creatures who were gazing down at me from the upstairs windows – and I realize that I am as grey and
unhappy as they are. It dawns on me then that the universe really is made up of vibration: the faster the vibration, the lighter the entity. These poor souls are slow and heavy, as I am. I think of
Ciara and her bright energy and wonder what I have to do to speed up my vibration so that I can reach her happy level of existence. I do not know. Perhaps I am destined to lurk at this level for
all eternity. And I wonder what have I sacrificed heaven for? A husband who does not love me and children who barely know that I am here. I look around and sink still further at the thought of
spending eternity with this sorry band of ghosts.

Conor returns to Reedmace House in a foul mood and snaps at Finbar when the boy asks him to play chess. ‘We’re leaving,’ he growls, then shouts for his mother. Daphne is
bewildered when she hears her son’s unfamiliar tone, but she knows him as only a mother can. His face is grim, his eyes are raw and his heart is bleeding. She does not ask him what has
happened because Conor will tell her when he feels ready and not a moment before. But she knows it is Ellen and her heart bleeds, too, because Ellen carried all her hopes and now she is gone.

They leave for Dublin by helicopter and I am so stunned and hurt by Conor’s rejection that I remain in Connemara. I want to move on now. I want to leave my murky limbo, but it is too late.
The light has gone and I am plunged into darkness. It is as if a heavy fog hangs over the land. I can barely see through it. I feel a yearning to be down on the beach.

Mustering up the little energy I have, I transport myself there. The atmosphere I generate makes it too dark to see the lighthouse, but I know it is there. I haunt this small slice of coast,
floating up and down it like a leaf on the wind, sick in my soul. It seems as if everything is lost and I am in hell. Somehow I know that it is of my making, but I don’t know how, and I
don’t have the tools to reverse it. I just know that my longing for light is stronger now than my longing for Conor and my children. I feel a terrible, searing homesickness in the heart of my
soul: I want to go home.

And then I see two people walking along the beach. I don’t know whether it is day or night because I am now in constant darkness. As they get closer I see that it is Peg and Madeline. What
a strange pair they make. Peg is short and round, like a cabbage, and Madeline is tall and thin like a stick of celery. I am drawn out of myself and my misery as I watch them walk closer. They are
talking, hands in the pockets of their coats, hats pulled low over their foreheads. They reach the waves and stop. There is silence but for the mournful cry of a gull wheeling overhead. They remain
a moment, gazing out to sea. Then Peg sighs and slips her hand through her sister’s arm. Madeline puts her hand over it and gives it a reassuring pat.

‘It’s OK, Peg,’ she says gently. ‘She’s with the Lord.’

Peg’s eyes fill with tears. ‘I know, but I miss her.’

‘Of course you do.’

‘There’s a hole in my heart that is never filled and a cold wind blows through it constantly.’

‘Oh, Peg, to think I had no idea how you were suffering. We were always so close.’

‘And I had no idea how
you
were suffering, Maddie. I thought you had everything you wanted. We should have kept in touch. We should have been there for one another.’

‘We’ll keep in touch now, though, won’t we?’

‘Aye, we will. I’m glad you came back.’

Madeline smiles sadly. ‘Me too,’ she replies.

‘What about Dylan?’ Peg asks.

‘Dylan and I both know that what we shared belongs to a chapter that closed many years ago. We can’t open the book and expect to take up from where we left off. Life doesn’t
work like that; there have been many pages since and we have both changed. But I’m glad we had the chance to talk. I love him, but I think I love the memory of him more.’

‘And Dylan? How does he feel?’

‘He’s found a daughter, Peg,’ she says solemnly.

‘Ellen will come back, don’t you think?’ Peg is anxious now at the thought of losing her niece.

‘I don’t know. This Conor has hurt her badly and it’s all my fault. I should have spoken to her in private. But I was so angry. I didn’t think. I saw him and knew who he
was and wanted him to go away and for things to return to the way they were.’

‘She’s a lovely girl, Maddie.’

‘I know she is. But she’s always been a difficult child.’

‘Just like you.’

‘I wasn’t difficult!’ Madeline protests, but she smiles because she knows that Peg is right.

‘Oh, you were! Mam . . .’ Peg hesitates, then she looks at her sister thoughtfully. ‘Maddie, don’t you think you should visit Mam’s grave and pay your
respects?’