The Girl on the Cliff (6 page)

‘Poor old Matty,’ Charley crooned, ‘you really are going through it just now. Promise it’ll get better, one way or the other. You know, we all have bad times like this … when it seems like the world has come to an end.’

‘Yup, I admit it – I’m in Self-Indulgent City,’ agreed Matt. ‘Sorry. I suggest you leave me be just now. I’m not great company, I know.’

‘That’s what friends are for, Matty, to be there when you need them. Changing the subject for a second, I came by to ask you a favour,’ said Charley.

‘What’s that?’ Matt, lost in his own misery, was hardly listening.

‘I have the decorators coming into my apartment in a couple of days’ time. They’re gonna be there for a month or so, and I was wondering if I could use your spare room while they are? I’d pay rent, of course,’ Charley added. ‘And you know me, I’m out most evenings and weekends.’

‘Hey, no need to pay me. As I said, I’m stacked with work and away more than I’m here, so feel free to move in whenever you want.’ Matt stood up, rummaged through his desk and produced a key, which he handed to her.

‘Thanks, hon.’

‘No problem. And to be honest, despite what I just said, I could probably use the company. You’d be doing me a favour.’

‘Well, if you’re sure, that would be great. I really appreciate this.’

Matt slapped her leg. ‘And I appreciate you being here for me.’

‘No problem, Matty,’ Charley smiled at him, ‘no problem at all.’

‘And where are you off to today?’ Kathleen eyed Grania as she buttoned up her coat. ‘Your hair is washed and you have make-up on.’

‘In answer to the your question, I’m going to see Aurora. Is it unusual for a woman to wash her hair and wear mascara around these parts?’ Grania answered defiantly.

‘You’re off up to Dunworley House, then?’

‘Yes.’

Kathleen folded her arms. ‘I have warned you, Grania, ’tis not a good idea to get involved in their goings-on.’

‘Mam, I’m helping amuse a lonely little girl, not moving in with them! What is the problem?’

‘I’ve said to you before and I’ll say it again: that family are trouble to this one. And I’d say you have enough problems of your own, without adding theirs to it.’

‘For pity’s sake, Mam! Aurora’s a motherless child who has just moved back here, and knows no one. She’s lonely!’ Grania said in exasperation. ‘I’ll see you later.’

The door slammed behind Grania and Kathleen sighed. ‘Yes,’ she whispered to herself, ‘and you’re a childless mother.’

Kathleen went about her morning chores with a heavy heart. She pondered whether to speak to John about Grania and her visits to Dunworley House. For the past
week, Grania had been going up there every day, and yesterday had not come home until after dark. The look in her daughter’s eyes was enough to tell her mother that something was drawing her there, just like it had drawn others before her …

‘Well, my girl,’ Kathleen said to herself as she made Shane’s bed, ‘the sooner you get yourself back to New York and your man, the better. For all of us.’

Grania knew now that somewhere along her walk up the cliffs towards the house, Aurora would appear and run down the hill to escort her back up to the gate. Grania loved watching her as she did so; she had never encountered such a graceful child. When Aurora walked, she floated, and when she ran, she danced. And here she was now, circling her like a will-o’-the-wisp, an ethereal creature straight out of the story books her mother had once read to her of the legends of old Ireland.

‘Hello, Grania.’ Aurora hugged her, then took her hand and led her up the hill. ‘I was watching for you to come from my bedroom window. I think Daddy has something to ask you.’

‘Does he?’ Grania had not seen Alexander at all in the past week. Aurora had said he’d been plagued by a bad migraine and was lying down in his room. When Grania had expressed concern as to his health, Aurora had shrugged nonchalantly.

‘He gets better quickly, as long as he’s left alone in peace and quiet.’

Even though she’d berated herself, thoughts of Aurora’s father had filled her head in the quiet
moments before she fell asleep. And the fact that Alexander was somewhere upstairs and might appear at any second, created a guilty sense of pleasure inside her. She didn’t understand the effect he’d had on her – all she knew was that she was spending less time thinking of Matt than she had previously. And that had to be positive.

‘Why does he want to see me?’ Grania couldn’t help herself asking.

Aurora giggled. ‘It’s a secret.’ She pirouetted towards the gate and had it open by the time Grania reached it.

‘Did you ever take dancing lessons in London, Aurora? I think you might be good at it.’

‘No, Mummy wouldn’t let me. She always hated ballet.’ Aurora rubbed her nose as she closed the gate behind them. ‘I’d like to learn though, and I found some old books in the attic, full of pictures of beautiful ladies standing on their toes. If Mummy didn’t hate it so much, I think that’s what I’d like to be.’

Grania watched as Aurora skipped up the path in front of her, wanting to tell her that Lily was dead, and surely wouldn’t mind if she learned, but it was not her place to do so. So she followed Aurora silently into the kitchen.

‘Now,’ Aurora smiled up at her and put her hands on her hips, ‘what are we going to do today? What do you have hidden in your magic bag?’ she asked eagerly.

Grania duly produced a tin of watercolours and a small canvas. ‘I thought, as the weather’s fine today, we might go outside and paint the view. What do you think?’

Aurora nodded. ‘Don’t we need an easel?’

‘I’m sure we can make do, but if you find you like it, I might take you into Cork city to the art shop there and we could buy one.’

Aurora’s face lit up. ‘Would we go on a bus?’ she questioned. ‘I’ve always wanted to go on a bus.’

Grania raised an eyebrow. ‘Have you never been on a bus before?’

‘No, there aren’t many here, and when we lived in London, Daddy’s chauffeur took us everywhere. Perhaps you could ask Daddy if I might, when you see him?’

Grania nodded in agreement, and just as they were making their way into the drawing room to go out on to the terrace, Mrs Myther, the housekeeper, came down the stairs with a basket of laundry. Grania had met her before on a couple of occasions and she seemed a pleasant enough woman.

‘May I have a word, Grania?’ Mrs Myther asked her. ‘In private,’ she whispered.

‘Aurora, you go outside and try to find the best spot from which to paint the view. I’ll be there in two seconds.’

Aurora nodded and opened the French windows to move out on to the terrace.

‘Mr Devonshire wanted me to ask you if it was possible for you to join him for dinner either tonight or tomorrow? He would like to talk to you about Aurora.’

‘I see.’

Grania must have looked concerned, for Mrs Myther patted her arm and smiled. ‘It’s nothing to worry about. Mr Devonshire, and I for that matter, are very grateful for all the time you’ve been spending with Aurora. May I tell him whether tonight or tomorrow will be best for you?
He obviously doesn’t want Aurora to be involved in the conversation, you see.’

‘Tonight will be fine.’

‘Shall I tell him you’ll be here at about eight?’

‘Yes.’

‘Good. And may I say that you’re just what that child needs,’ added Mrs Myther. ‘She’s come alive since she met you.’

Grania wandered through the drawing room and out on to the terrace to join Aurora, doing her best not to second-guess what it was Alexander wanted to speak to her about. The two of them passed a pleasant morning in the weak sunshine, Grania teaching Aurora the basics of perspective. When it became chilly, they went back into the kitchen to paint the sketch. Aurora climbed on to Grania’s knee as she showed her how to mix a little red with blue to achieve the soft purple of the faraway cliffs at the end of the bay. When they’d finished and were surveying their handiwork, Aurora threw her arms around Grania’s neck and gave her a hug.

‘Thank you, Grania. It’s beautiful and I shall hang it in my bedroom wherever I live, so it will always remind me of home.’

Mrs Myther had appeared in the kitchen and was stirring soup over the range. Grania took her arrival as a cue to leave and stood up.

‘What shall we do tomorrow?’ asked Aurora eagerly. ‘Will you ask Daddy tonight if I can go on the bus to Cork city?’

Grania glanced down at Aurora in surprise. ‘How did you know I was coming tonight?’

‘I just did.’ Aurora tapped her nose. ‘You will ask him, won’t you?’

‘I promise,’ Grania nodded.

Grania had told her mother she would not be in for supper that evening. This had elicited a raised eyebrow but no comment.

‘I’m off,’ Grania said as she came down the stairs. ‘I’ll see you later.’

Kathleen eyed her. ‘I’d say you were dressed up for a gentleman. Are you, Grania?’

‘Oh, Mam, Aurora’s father simply wants to talk to me about her. I’ve only met him once; this isn’t a date or anything.’ Grania headed for the lobby as swiftly as she could, and grabbed a torch from the shelf.

‘And what am I to be telling your man where his woman is, if he calls?’

Grania did not grace this comment with a reply, simply slammed the door behind her and marched off in the direction of the house. There was absolutely no reason for her to feel guilty, and no reason for her mother to question her motives either. And Matt no longer had a right to tell her who she should see or what she should do. It was
he
that had destroyed their relationship. The fact her mother had always had a soft spot for Matt couldn’t be helped. And after nearly three weeks at home every evening, it would do her no harm to get out.

Armed with defiant thoughts, Grania switched on the torch and marched off up the lane.

When she arrived at the back door of Dunworley House, she knocked to no answer. Not knowing what
else to do, she let herself in and stood uncertainly in the empty kitchen. Eventually, she opened the kitchen door tentatively and walked into the hall. ‘Hello?’ she called, again receiving no answer. ‘Hello?’ She walked across it and knocked on the drawing-room door. Pushing it open, she saw Alexander sitting in a chair by the fire, reading a document. He started as he saw Grania and stood up, embarrassed.

‘My apologies, I’m afraid I didn’t hear you arrive.’

‘No problem,’ said Grania uncomfortably, again feeling tongue-tied in his presence.

‘Please, let me take your coat and come and sit down by the fire. I find it so cold in this house,’ he commented as he helped her remove her coat. ‘Can I get you a glass of wine? Or a gin and tonic perhaps?’

‘Wine would be lovely.’

‘Make yourself comfortable, and I’ll be back shortly.’

Grania did not head for the chair on the opposite side of the fireplace – the heat in the room was oppressive. Instead, she sat down on an elegant but uncomfortable damask-covered sofa and thought how cosy this room was at night.

Alexander arrived back with a bottle of wine and two glasses.

‘Thank you for coming, Grania,’ he said as he handed her the wine and returned to his chair by the fire. ‘Amongst other things, I wanted the chance to tell you how grateful I am to you for keeping Aurora amused for the past week.’

‘Really, it’s been my pleasure. I’ve enjoyed it as much as she has.’

‘Nevertheless, it really has been most kind of you. Aurora tells me you’re a sculptor. Do you practise your trade professionally?’

‘Yes. I have a studio in New York.’

‘How wonderful to use one’s talent to earn oneself a living,’ Alexander sighed.

‘I think so,’ Grania ventured. ‘On the other hand, I’ve never had the ability to do anything else.’

‘Well, far better to excel in one thing alone, than to be average at many. That’s me to a tee,’ he stated.

‘If you don’t mind me asking, what exactly is it that you do?’

‘I shovel money around the world; other people’s money, that is. And from making them rich, I make myself rich too. You could say I’m a vulture. What I do gives me no pleasure whatsoever. It’s totally meaningless,’ Alexander added morosely.

‘I think that’s being hard on yourself,’ commented Grania. ‘After all, it’s a skill. I wouldn’t know where to start.’

‘Thank you for your kindness, but I create nothing, whereas you create something material which brings pleasure to the beholder.’ Alexander took a sip of his wine. ‘I’ve always admired people with artistic talent, having absolutely none whatsoever myself. I’d love to see your work. Do you hold exhibitions?’

‘Yes, occasionally, although these days most of the sculptures I do are private commissions.’

He looked at her. ‘So, I could commission you?’

‘Yes,’ Grania shrugged. ‘I suppose you could.’

‘Well then, I just might.’ He smiled tightly. ‘Are you ready for supper?’

‘Yes, whenever you are,’ Grania replied faintly.

Alexander stood up. ‘I’ll go and tell Mrs Myther we’re ready.’

Grania watched him leave the room, puzzled as to how a man such as he could seem so ill at ease. In her experience, rich, successful men who looked like Alexander had an arrogance and a natural confidence that came with being universally admired.

‘Everything’s ready,’ Alexander said as he put his head round the door. ‘We’re in the dining room, I find it far warmer than the kitchen.’

Grania followed Alexander across the hall and into a room on the other side of it. The highly polished, long mahogany table was set at one end for two. Another large fire was burning in the grate and Grania headed for the chair furthest away.

Alexander sat down at the head of the table next to her, and Mrs Myther entered the room carrying two plates which she set down in front of them. ‘Thank you,’ he nodded as the housekeeper left the room. He glanced at Grania and gave a wry smile. ‘I apologise for the basic qualities of the dish in front of you, but fancy cooking is not her strong point.’

‘As a matter of fact, ham, colcannon and gravy is one of my favourites,’ Grania reassured him.

‘Well, when in Rome … and this is one dish I can always rely on for Mrs Myther to cook adequately. Please,’ he indicated, ‘start.’