The Girl on the Cliff (34 page)

As she took off her jacket and went over to her work bench, Grania mused on the fact that, recently, obtaining a creative thrill from her work had been rare. Creating sculptures of children and animals for the well-heeled of the East Coast had become her bread and butter. It had been a way of earning a living, and allowed her the head-space to pursue the ‘project’ closest to her heart; that of having a baby.

Grania studied the two sculptures that currently sat on her work bench. And felt a tinge of excitement run through her. Both of them were as yet unfinished and imperfect, but she was enough of a professional to know they had the makings of the best work she had ever produced. And the reason, she thought to herself, was simply because she had been inspired, not forced, to create them. The feeling she had as she sat down at the bench and concentrated on moulding the clay into a delicately arched foot was that which had taken her into sculpting in the first place. Creating an image, a likeness of something beautiful – holding on to the moment she’d seen it and transferring it into a material object which captured it forever – was invigorating.

She’d had the inspiration one afternoon as she and Aurora had walked up the cliff path with Lily the puppy. She’d watched as Aurora danced ahead of her, her effortless grace exquisite to behold. Grania had been beset then by a sudden urge to capture it. Whipping out her phone, she’d taken some fast photos of the child in various positions of physical exuberance. And, the next morning, had begun work on a series of sculptures.

Since then, she’d experienced a sense of peace – working in her wonderful studio all day, classical music on the sound system, the view in front of her a magnificent window to the subtlety of the changing season.

This afternoon, having asked permission from Miss Elva, Grania was going down to the studio to watch and take photos of Aurora dancing.

Having lost herself in her work all morning, Grania glanced at her watch and realised it was past three o’clock.
She would only just make it in time to collect Aurora from school and take her down to Clonakilty for her class.

The subject of her enthusiasm sat next to her happily as they drove into town, chattering about her new best friend at school, who was coming round for tea at the farm tomorrow to see the puppy. As she parked the car, Grania thought how the simple things many children took for granted were those that gave Aurora the most pleasure. She was living a normal life for the first time
in
her life.

Grania sat in a corner of the studio, having resorted to her sketchbook as a less intrusive means of capturing Aurora as she danced. Even in the past two months, Aurora had improved beyond all recognition. The natural ability she possessed was slowly being honed into the technical positions ballet required. And, Grania thought as Aurora executed a perfect pirouette, while her life at the farmhouse might verge on the normal, Aurora’s talent was extraordinary.

At the end of the class, Miss Elva shooed Aurora out of the studio and told her to change out of her leotard. She turned to Grania. ‘Well now, what do you think?’

‘She’s exquisite to watch.’

‘Yes, she is.’ Miss Elva spoke in reverential tones. ‘She’s by far the most talented pupil I’ve had the good fortune to teach. I was worried that her late start would cause a problem, and she’s still a way to go on her technique. But I think she has every chance of being accepted into the Royal Ballet School. Did you manage to speak to her father?’

‘He knows Aurora’s taking ballet lessons, but I haven’t
mentioned the idea of a full-time ballet school. And I’m not sure whether it would be right for her. She’s settled, for the first time in her life. When would she have to audition?’

‘At the latest, in eighteen months’ time. She should be training full time when she’s eleven.’

‘Right. Well, why don’t we see how she goes? And maybe next year we can think again.’ Grania handed over the money for the lesson, thanked Miss Elva and went to collect Aurora.

‘So,’ she said lightly to Aurora on the way home, ‘do you think that one day you’d like to go away to a ballet school and learn to dance full time?’

‘Well, I love ballet, you know that, Grania,’ Aurora confirmed. ‘But the problem is, who would look after Lily or help Shane milk the cows if I did?’

‘Good point,’ agreed Grania.

‘And I wouldn’t want to leave behind all my new friends from school,’ continued Aurora. ‘Perhaps when I’m older.’

‘Yes, perhaps when you’re older.’

Later that night, just as Grania was preparing to go upstairs to bed, her cell phone rang.

‘Hello?’

‘Is that Grania?’

‘Yes.’

‘It’s Alexander here.’

It was probably a bad line, but his voice sounded muffled and weak.

‘Hello, Alexander. How are you?’

‘I’m …’ there was a pause before Alexander said, ‘OK. How’s Aurora?’

‘She’s very happy and settled here with us at the farm. School seems to be going really well and she’s made lots of new friends. And I was speaking to her ballet teacher today and –’

‘Grania,’ Alexander halted her, ‘I need to see you. Urgently,’ he added.

‘Right, when will you be home?’

‘
That
is the problem. I’m afraid that I can’t come home just now. I have to ask you to come here to me.’

‘And where would that be?’ Having not heard from him for over a month, Grania had no idea where he was.

‘Switzerland. I’m in Switzerland.’

‘I see. Well, if it’s urgent, then …’

‘It is,’ Alexander underlined. ‘Forgive me for asking you to make the journey, Grania, but really, I have little choice.’

‘OK. Well now, it’s Wednesday today … we’ve got the sheep-shearing on the farm this weekend, so how about next Tuesday?’

‘Grania, I need you to come tomorrow.’

‘Tomorrow!’

‘Yes. I’ve already booked you a flight. You leave Cork airport at two forty-five, land in London at four, then take the British Airways flight to Geneva, which leaves at six. My driver will collect you from the airport and bring you here to me.’

‘Right,’ Grania said uncertainly. ‘Do you want me to bring Aurora?’

‘No. Definitely not …’ Alexander’s voice trailed off. ‘Oh, and remember to bring your birth certificate. Swiss
passport control can be notoriously difficult, and it’s best to be prepared.’

‘Right.’

‘I’ll see you tomorrow evening. And Grania?’

‘Yes?’

‘Thank you.’

Grania pressed the button to end the call and sat at the kitchen table, dazed. She wondered what Alexander would have said if she’d refused to go. As far as she could see, it had been a done deal before he’d even picked up the receiver to call her.

‘What is it that you’re thinking, Grania?’

Her mother’s voice broke into her thoughts. She was standing by the door, staring at her daughter.

‘I … I just had a very strange call from Alexander,’ Grania said slowly. ‘He wants me to fly to Switzerland to see him tomorrow. He’s already booked the flight for me to go.’

‘Really?’ Kathleen folded her arms and raised an eyebrow. ‘And are you?’

‘I don’t feel as though I have any choice.’

‘Well now, you could always say “no”.’

‘Yes, I could, Mam, but there was just something in his voice that –’ Grania shrugged – ‘something’s not right. I know it isn’t.’

‘I’d say that if Himself has got a problem, it would be up to him to come back here and tell you about it. Not have you chasing across the world to see him.’

‘I agree, but there’s not a lot I can do about it, is there? He’s also asked me to take my birth certificate, says the authorities can be difficult. Could you dig it out for me, Mam?’

‘I could, yes, but something doesn’t smell right to me.’

‘To me neither,’ Grania said. ‘But the best thing to do is to go and see what he wants.’

‘Grania,’ Kathleen walked towards her, ‘please understand that I don’t want to interfere, but is there … has there been anything between you and Alexander?’

‘I just don’t know.’ Grania’s need to open up to
someone
overrode her normal reticence to divulge information to her mother. ‘I really don’t know.’

‘Has he …’ Kathleen cleared her throat, ‘when you were up there … ?’

‘We’ve kissed, Mam,’ she confessed, ‘and yes, if truth be told, I do feel something for him. But then –’ Grania shook her head in confusion – ‘he said – well, he said he couldn’t take the relationship any further.’

‘Did he tell you why?’

‘No. Perhaps he’s still in love with Lily, perhaps there’s someone else … who knows? One thing’s for sure, I certainly don’t,’ Grania sighed.

‘Well, for what it’s worth, I watched Himself that night when Aurora had taken it in her head to run away. I watched him watching
you
. Whether the fondness that was there in his eyes as he looked at you was because of the love you’ve shown his daughter, or whether it’s more than that, I wouldn’t be knowing. Either way, Grania, you mean something to him. The question is: does he mean anything to you?’

‘Yes, Mam, he does. But how, or why, or where it’s going, I can’t say. Besides, I …’

‘Yes?’

‘I’m not over Matt,’ she admitted.

‘I know you’re not, pet. And maybe you never will be. But you’ve made it mighty clear to me that’s all in the past,’ said Kathleen. ‘Just don’t rush into a future now, will you?’

‘No.’ Grania stood up. ‘I’d better be off to bed if I’m to travel to Switzerland tomorrow.’ She walked over to her mother and gave her a hug. ‘Thanks, Mam. As you always say, it’ll probably all come out in the wash.’

‘Let’s hope so. Goodnight.’

Kathleen watched her daughter as she left the kitchen then put the kettle on the range to boil. The sixth sense her children and husband teased her about, yet trusted when it suited them to do so, was on red alert.

‘That family,’ she muttered as she pulled her cardigan tighter around her and paced up and down the kitchen, waiting for the kettle to boil. She sat down with a mug of hot cocoa, trying to rationalise why something inside her was telling her that Grania needed to know the rest of the story now … 
now
, before she left the safety of this house for Switzerland tomorrow.

‘I’m after being a silly old woman, why should Grania need to know any more of the past?’ she muttered to herself. Having drunk her cocoa, she sighed heavily. ‘I surrender,’ she said to the heavens, then stood up from the table. She climbed the stairs wearily and knocked on Grania’s bedroom door. ‘’Tis me, Mam,’ she whispered. ‘Can I come in?’

‘Of course, Mam,’ said Grania, who was sitting cross-legged on her bed, a half-packed suitcase in front of her. ‘I’m not sleepy either. I’m wondering what on earth I’m going to face tomorrow.’ She raised an eyebrow.

‘Yes, well,’ Kathleen sat down on the bed, ‘that’s why
I’ve come to see you. That voice in my head, well now, that voice is telling me I need to tell you the rest of the story before you go. About Lily.’ Kathleen reached for her daughter’s hand and squeezed it. ‘It’s quite a story, and it’ll be some time in the telling, so it might be a late night for both of us.’

‘I don’t mind, Mam,’ Grania encouraged, ‘I can do with something to take my mind off tomorrow. I’m all ears.’

‘Right, so.’ Kathleen swallowed hard. ‘’Tis not a story I’ve ever told before on my own tongue. And I might shed a few tears in the telling of it, too.’

‘Oh, Mam.’ Grania held her mother’s hand tightly. ‘You take your time. We’ve got all night, there’s no rush.’

‘Right.’ Kathleen steeled herself to begin. ‘This part of the story starts when I was sixteen years old and Lily Lisle was fifteen.’

‘Were you friends, Mam?’ Grania was surprised.

‘Yes, we were,’ Kathleen nodded. ‘You have to remember, Lily spent so much time down here at the farmhouse that I regarded her like my little sister. And my big brother –’

‘Your
brother
?!’ Grania stared at her mother in surprise. ‘I didn’t know you had a brother, Mam. You’ve never spoken about him.’

‘No …’ Kathleen shook her head slowly. ‘Now then, where shall I begin … ?’

Sixteen-year-old Kathleen Ryan woke up and jumped out of bed to pull the curtains back and see what the weather was doing today. If it was fair, she, Joe and Lily were taking a picnic down on to the sands of Dunworley beach. If it was raining – which it often did, even in high summer in these parts – it was another dull day inside playing cards or board games. Lily would want to make up a play, in which she would have the leading part. She had her mother’s trunk of old evening clothes up at the big house and liked nothing better than preening in dresses that were too big for her in front of the mirror.

‘When I’m properly grown up, I’ll be beautiful and a handsome prince will carry me away from here,’ she would say as she struck a pose.

There was no doubt that Lily
would
be beautiful – she was already a stunner at fifteen. ‘There’ll be boys knocking down her door to take her out, that’s for certain,’ Kathleen’s mother had once said to Seamus, her husband.

Kathleen had miserably regarded her own solid body in the mirror – her mouse-coloured hair and her pale face with its annoying sprinkling of freckles across the bridge of her nose.

‘It takes more than beauty to win a man, sweetheart,
and they’ll love you for your other qualities,’ her mammy had comforted her when she’d complained. Kathleen wasn’t sure what these other ‘qualities’ were exactly, but she didn’t really mind being the plain one. Or that Lily seemed to simply demand being the centre of attention wherever she went.

Or that Joe, her brother, worshipped the ground Lily walked on. Kathleen understood that Lily, with her exotic looks, her glamorous mother and her rich daddy up at the Big House, was an entity she could never begin to compete with.

And she didn’t envy her; in fact, she felt sorry for her. Aunt Anna, Lily’s mother – who was a famous ballerina – was rarely at home. Sebastian Lisle, her daddy, was a distant, elderly figure whom Kathleen rarely saw. And from the sound of things, neither did Lily. She was left in the care of a succession of governesses, who she spent her life trying to evade, and usually succeeding.