The Beach Book Bundle: 3 Novels for Summer Reading: Breathing Lessons, The Alphabet Sisters, Firefly Summer (159 page)

It was to that smile that she would have to tell her tale.

   “Give me a large brandy will you, John.”

“Things must be bad over there if you’re at the large brandies before lunch,” John Ryan said mildly, putting the glass in front of Brian Doyle.

“I’ll be hiding it in a tea flask, I tell you.”

“Any one thing, or things in general?”

“Who knows? Nothing would please him. He went off to meet your one up in Coyne’s wood as if they were a pair of kids. That didn’t last long, he’s back inside there now with a face on him that would stop a clock.”

“It can’t have gone well, the outing,” John agreed. “Did Rachel come back with him or what?”

“Did she come back with him? Indeed she did not. Those two are like the things you see—you know, kind of statues of a man and a woman. When one comes out the other goes in, one means sun, one means rain. I saw them once somewhere. Blackpool I think it was.”

John laughed. “Are they as bad as that?”

“Oh, God, John, the older people are the worse it hits them, this love carry-on. I think I’m too old for it myself and I’m years younger than O’Neill.”

“You’d better hurry up and marry that girl of yours in the town before someone else does,” John advised him.

“I don’t want to be tied down. Men are miserable when they’re tied down; they’re meant to roam free, wild like nature intended.”

“It’s easy known Mary Donnelly’s over in the post office today,” John said.

“She is too, I went in to send off some forms for O’Neill that had been lying on his desk for a month and he wouldn’t look at, but today he took the face off me about them, and there was the hatchet face standing behind the grille, snapping and barking at poor Fergus Slattery because there was too much sealing wax or something on his parcels. God, wouldn’t a man want to be free, not tied to a woman who’d yap the arse off him.”

John was mild. “I don’t know, look at the people around here who are not tied to women—Jack Coyne, Fergus Slattery, Papers Flynn, O’Neill himself … You can’t say that makes a flight of free birds, now can you?”

“Go on out of that. You’ve one of the few happy marriages around, and look at the thanks you got for that. I’ll have the other half of that brandy now, if you don’t mind.”

“It’s just as well you weren’t laying into the booze like this when the structure was going up,” John commented. “Nobody would dare go into the place at all for fear of it coming down on top of them.”

   “You could do yourself a favor, Eddie,” Jack Coyne said.

“What’s that, Mr. Coyne?” Eddie was suspicious now. He saw in his mind the shadow of Sergeant Sheehan at every turn.

“You know where they’re digging out the road for the new entrance up on the road beyond. Where all the vehicles are parked?”

“Yes, I know it.”

“I was just thinking that if someone was to let the brakes off a couple of those vehicles, well there’d be an unholy mess when they started to move them again in the morning, there’d be people skating into each other and falling over … It would be great sport altogether.”

Eddie looked at Jack Coyne and remembered what his father had said about him. “There’s been enough accidents up in that place,” he said in a voice more courageous than he felt.

This was unanswerable. Jack was taken aback, but he rallied.

“It wouldn’t have anything to do with anything like that, and wouldn’t that make you of all people anxious to make sure that O’Neill doesn’t get away with everything and ride roughshod over the whole place?”

“I’m out of it now, Mr. Coyne.”

Eddie spoke in a cloak and dagger voice.

“You are like hell,” Jack said. “Wait till I tell your father, not to mention Sergeant Sheehan, what you’ve been up to with cans of distemper.”

“They’d want to know who gave us the distemper, Mr. Coyne.”

“I suppose O’Neill’s paying you more than I am. That’s what it always is in the end.”

“You never paid us anything, Mr. Coyne.” Eddie was stung.

“So you’re looking for something now, you mean little jerk.”

Eddie walked away in what he was sure was exactly the way the good sheriff would turn his back on the bad guys in town.

   “Don’t turn on the light.”

Rachel turned on the light and saw him lounging in her chair.

“Why did you do that?” Kerry asked. “I wanted us to sit and have another nice talk in the dark summer evening. Maybe you could have another drink and become amorous again. Hey, that would be good.”

“If you don’t leave I will,” she said.

“You’re not surprised to see me.”

“I got your message. I knew you’d be here sooner or later.”

“It’s sooner because there was some little misunderstanding about that check you gave me.”

“I changed my mind. I cancelled it.”

“That was a very foolish thing to do.”

“Are you going?” she asked him.

“No, and neither are you. This is Mountfern, Rachel; this is not an apartment; it’s a couple of rooms over a downtown store. It’s where you have to stay because you aren’t good enough to stay in the Grange, and because you’ll never stay in Fernscourt.”

She moved toward the door.

“Wait,” he ordered. “Just see how hopeless it is for you, Rachel. Write this check out again, with a note saying that it was all a mistake.
Do it
. Tell them that you apologize for the embarrassment caused to Mr. McCann.”

“
Mr
. McCann.” Rachel gave a great shout of mirthless laughter. “That guy’s never been called Mr. in his life, and never will be. You don’t frighten me, Kerry. I’m going for Patrick.”

“You’re going for my father.”

“Of course I am. If his son is behaving like this and harassing me then he will want to be told.”

“Rachel, Rachel.” Kerry was languid. “You live in a world of romantic movies and women’s magazines. You see yourself as the lady who has been slighted and insulted. Grow up. Look at the reality. You’re a has-been, you’re a passed-over, middle-aged woman …”

“You’re not hurting me.”

“I’m glad, because that’s not my intention. I just want you to see how ridiculous you are. Once people can see how absurd they are, they are better off for it.”

He walked over to her, a notepad and a pen in his hands. “Write it Rachel. It makes sense.”

“Like hell will I write it.”

“I’ll tell my father what fun and games we had.”

“You can, I’ve already told him.”

Kerry’s face didn’t change. Not a muscle moved.

“He knows nothing happened between us.”

“Does he?”

Kerry looked down at the check. He looked back at Rachel.

Something about his smile alarmed her.

“So could
you
explain why you wrote the check in the first place?” he asked.

He knew by her face that he had hit home. That was the one bit of her unsatisfactory conversation with Patrick in Coyne’s wood that had been worse than all the rest put together. He had listened impassively from his seat on the fallen tree. The drink, the dizziness, the passing out, the tears, the hangover, the arrogant behavior of Kerry going down to the shop in the morning … all those things were capable of some kind of explanation. But why had she given in so readily to the demand for money? Unless she had hoped somehow to pay him off.

   It had seemed a long day to Dara since she set out that morning all dressed up and had the upsetting meeting with Jack Coyne.

People were behaving strangely in Mountfern today. Jacinta said that there was some terrible row between Mrs. Fine, who was Mr. O’Neill’s mistress and Mr. O’Neill, and he had ordered her back to America because of something unmentionable she had done.

Dara asked what it had been but Jacinta said her lips were sealed.

Liam White said he thought Mrs. Fine had gotten drunk and made a pass at Kerry.

Tommy Leonard said there was some scandal about Kerry, he had had breakfast in the wrong place. But he, Tommy, knew nothing about it and wasn’t going to start speculating.

Mary Donnelly admired Dara’s dress and said that now that she was so grown up why didn’t she find herself some nice new friends instead of just staying all the time in the same little circle.

“It isn’t a circle, it’s just whoever is here,” Dara cried out in confusion.

Nobody had ever talked about circles before in Mountfern.

She came home confused and somehow let down. She sat with her mother for a little. Even Mam looked odd, she thought.

Kate looked with love at her beautiful daughter. Please may something happen that would take this dangerous Kerry O’Neill away from their place.

His deliberate cruelty to Rachel, his blackmail, the cynical way he treated everyone around him made Kate shiver.

“Are you all right, Mam?” Dara had noticed the way her body had trembled suddenly all over.

“I’m fine. Can you pass me that light wool stole … the new one Rachel brought me?” Kate settled it around her shoulders.

Dara had a look as if she were going to say something and had thought better of it.

“What is it?”

“Well, I don’t suppose it’s possible that Mrs. Fine could fancy Kerry. I know it sounds ridiculous, but do you think it could by any chance be true?”

When Dara saw the look of shock and embarrassment followed by anger come to her mother’s face, she knew that there must indeed be something in what awful horrible Jack Coyne had said. She wished with all her heart that she had never asked.

It was about the most revolting thing she had ever heard in her life, and the worst thing was that her mother had known about it already.

   “What are you going to wear?” Fergus asked Kate.

“To the hotel opening?”

“No, Kate, to your court case.”

“I thought you said it would be settled before we
got
to court.”

“I did, and that’s what Kevin thinks too, but we have to be prepared to go into court. All of us.”

“I didn’t think about it.”

“Well
do
think about it.”

“Do you want me to paint my cheeks white and draw circles under my eyes?”

“No, but I don’t want you dripping in all Rachel Fine’s silks and scarves and jewelry, either.”

“Fergus, I’m weary of this. It’s a sum. It’s a sum no matter what I wear. It’s going to be ten thousand pounds at most and two thousand pounds at least. Isn’t that what we all agreed?”

“That’s what you and John and I and Kevin Kennedy and about three others agreed. It’s not what those hotshots across the river and their big faceless insurance companies agreed. It’s not what a jury of pudding-faced farmers and shopkeepers agreed. Not yet.”

“What do you want me to wear? I’ll wear it.” She sounded tired.

“It will be over soon.” Fergus sounded tired too.

   Dara’s bedroom door was open, she was standing by a picture of Our Lady Queen of the May.

“What are you thinking about?” Michael asked.

“Should we pray for a lot of money next week or would that be wrong?” Dara asked.

“I don’t know.”

“I was just wondering what you thought. You say so little these days, I thought you might have
some
opinion.” Dara was annoyed.

Michael was even more annoyed. “I say very little, I have no opinions,
you
are the one who says nothing, you’ve this awful shrug, this awful way of just putting anyone down.”

“Ha ha.” Dara was bitter. “I’ve often heard of people accusing others of the very fault they have themselves.
You
haven’t a word to throw to a dog these days, yes even Leopold doesn’t bother to come and snuffle at you anymore, you might as well snuffle at a block of wood.”

“I only have to come into a room for you to leave it,” Michael cried. “Look at you now, standing up already, off again. I don’t care. I don’t care one tuppenny damn, just don’t go around saying that it’s
me
that’s being difficult, you’re the one like a bag of weasels.”

“I’m standing because I haven’t sat down yet, you great clown. I only asked you a civil question, a reasonable question, like should we be saying the thirty days prayer or not. It’s the kind of thing we used to talk about once. When you talked, that was.”

Dara’s lip was trembling a little. Michael saw it.

“I don’t think prayers work,” he said. “I’m not sure but I don’t think they do.”

“I’m not sure either, but suppose they did, would it be wrong?” She looked very near tears.

“Why the sudden interest in money?” Michael asked. “We never needed it before.”

“I know, I just thought it might help to make things better, stop everyone from being so worried. Stop all the terrible things happening.”

Awkwardly he put his arm around her shoulder. “It’s not as bad as that.”

“Sometimes it is.”

“I know, for me too.”

“Oh you! Everything’s fine for you.” She sounded envious.

“Not all the time. I’ll tell you sometime.”

“We never talk these days,” she said.

“Remember when we got into such tempers because we couldn’t sleep in the same room anymore!” Michael said.

“I still think you got the better room.”

“Yeah, but I got Eddie and Declan.”

She smiled at him. This was better, more like old times.

“Let’s go out,” she said. “It’s the last day of freedom. We’ll go to the tunnel.”

“It’s such a sunny day …” Michael began.

“Oh come on, it was always a sunny day when we went to the tunnel.” She looked eager.

With great misgivings Michael agreed. They walked along River Road past Loretto Quinn’s at the very moment that Rachel came out, in her cream linen suit with its cream and brown blouse.

She stopped when she saw them. Uneasily.

Dara stopped too.

Rachel spoke first.

“Can I give you a ride?” she asked.

“No thanks, we’re just going for a walk,” Michael answered.

Dara said nothing.

“Well, if you’re sure …?”

Michael looked at Dara, waiting for her to answer. There were no words so he had to speak again.

“Honestly, thanks. It’s our last day of the holidays.”

“Yes, the last day of the holidays,” Rachel repeated. “You will never forget this holiday …” Her eyes went toward the big bridge. “Nobody knew it was going to turn out like this.”