A Change of Heart (The Heartfelt Series) (35 page)

Sinead and Marianne were bathing the children, Marianne put a towel on her knees and lifted Joey onto it, he was giggling back at Bridget, who was flicking water up at him, when Padar appeared in the doorway.

 “My turn to put these guys to bed,” he smiled at the children. “You’ve told her then?” he said to Sinead.

 “Told me what?” Marianne asked.

 “No, you better had but it’s best if Marianne hears first, being Bridget’s godmother and all,” Sinead said. “I’ll put these two to bed.”

 “Okay,” Padar said and touched Marianne on the shoulder. “Let’s go down and have a drink, we haven’t had a drink together in a long time.”

 
Now what?
Marianne thought, barely able to swallow, her mouth was so dry.

“This is hopeless, I can barely make ends meet. I haven’t a clue what I’m doing where Bridget is concerned, and I’m lonely as hell. Now the funding for the bridge has run out, what hope do we have? Nothing’s ever going to be the same again.” Padar was near to tears, as he picked at the corner of a beer mat on the table.

 “When did you hear about the bridge?” Marianne asked. They had all heard rumours the funding was going to be cut.

 “On the news, they just announced it,” he told her.

 “That is bad news,” Marianne confirmed. “But nothing’s ever going to be the same anyway, Padar, with or without the bridge,” she told him.

 “I know,” he sniffed a bit, “but this was once what I loved - my home, my business, my life and it’s gone, all gone. I’ve grown to dread every night turning into a new day, dreading what that day will bring. I’m sorry, Marianne, I used to love the place but all the good memories have been washed away. I want a fresh start, a new life for me and Bridget. You have to see that’s for the best.”

 Marianne nodded, her heart breaking for the crumpled heap of a man before her.

 “I know it’s hard, Padar, but you can’t give in, you have to go on.” She took a sip of whiskey.

 Padar lifted his chin and looked her in the eye.

 “I’m
not
giving in. I’m going on, but somewhere else, with someone else.”

 Marianne looked up, “Really?”

 Padar nodded solemnly, “With Sinead, the baby’s mine, we’re going away together to make a fresh start. It’s only fair we told you first.”

 “Oh,” Marianne said in a very small voice, “I see.”

It was not until the
For Sale
sign went up over Maguire’s that Marianne accepted Padar, Bridget and Sinead were really leaving. She ran to Weathervane to tell Ryan.

 “The sign, it’s up, they’re leaving, they’re really leaving,” she called up the stairs. He poked his head out of the door, he had been painting, despite the sling.

 “You knew that, love,” he gave her a sad smile. She flew up the stairs and threw her arms around him.

 “I didn’t want to believe it. How can we survive without Maguire’s? And Erin, she’s off too. They’ll all go together. You’ll be away filming before we know it, there’ll be no-one left, it will be awful. Poor Joey,” she looked at the little boy playing on the rug with Monty, “he loves Bridget, she’s like a sister to him.”

 “I know,” Ryan said, “but I also know why they’re leaving. I understand, don’t you?”

 “I do,” she said quietly, “but that doesn’t make it any easier.”

 By supper time her mood had really darkened. She spent the afternoon going over the plans and projections for the holiday home project. Without the bridge bringing tourists and trade to the island it was not stacking up, the ferry could not cope at the height of the summer as it is, potential visitors would just go elsewhere. Innishmahon might as well drop off the map.

 She had her head in her hands at her desk when Ryan arrived with Joey and Bridget. It was to be their last supper together.  Ryan wanted to make it a bit of a party. Marianne just wanted to go to her room and cry.

 “Thought you were going to tidy up a bit, you know, put up a few balloons and stuff?” he said. “They’ll be here soon.”

 “Who?” she said putting her files away.

 “All of them. I asked them round for a bit of farewell bash, are you okay with that?”  he looked into her eyes.

 “Ah, Ryan, I’m in bad form,” she said moodily.

 “I know, that’s why I asked them, to get you out of yourself,” he gave her his best Hollywood smile. She pretended to swoon and they laughed.

Before she knew it, the tiny cottage was full. Sinead and Padar were in the sitting room with Miss MacReady and Brian, the children with them. Dermot, on a walking stick, was in the kitchen helping Ryan - left-arm still in a sling - with supper. Marianne and Erin were chatting, as they laid the table in the conservatory. Father Gregory brought peat in for the fire.

 “Are you okay?” Erin asked, counting the places.

 “No, my heart is breaking, losing all of you at once, but I’ll cope, I’ll have to,” Marianne told her.

“Give it time, might not be as bad as you think,” Erin said kindly as Ryan announced supper was ready.

 They all piled in. It was still light enough to see across the garden, to the road and the ocean beyond. It was warm with them all in there. Ryan folded back the doors, opening the room to the outside. The sea air came rushing in mixed with the aroma of a good old-fashioned Irish stew. It all smelled delicious.

 They sat down. Padar between Erin and Sinead, Marianne between Ryan and Dermot, Miss MacReady and Brian each at the head of the table, with Father Gregory perched on a stool at the end.

 Marianne looked around the table at the faces, trying to memorise each and every last detail, searing the memory on her brain, trying to hold them all together for as long as possible. She was reminded of Oonagh’s fateful last supper on the yacht. In some ways this was similar, and just as sad. All she loved brought together to say goodbye: her mismatched family, some leaving the island, some staying behind, bereft. She tried to smile, join in the banter, but she could not, her heart was too full with love and pain to speak.

Ryan squeezed her hand, proposing a toast - bon voyage to their guests. Miss MacReady, who had clearly had a cocktail or two, kept interrupting.

 “Brian, tell them, tell them,” she was saying.

 “You had better tell us,” Marianne forced a laugh.

 “Very well,” said Brian, grinning broadly at all those gathered, who were grinning broadly back. Marianne could not help feeling she was the only one who did not know what the news was.

 “My fiancée and I ...”

 Everyone made woo-woo noises and banged the table.

Brian tapped a wine glass with a spoon. Silence descended.

 “My fiancée and I have noticed a fine property for sale in the parish, and as I’ve experience of such an establishment, we consider it wholly viable to make purchase of said property,” Brian said in his most pompous voice.

 There was much hooraying and laughter.

 “What is he on about?” Marianne asked her mother.

 “Maguire’s,” grinned Miss MacReady, “we’re going to buy the pub.”

 “Really?” squeaked Marianne, jumping up to hug her father, delighted.

 “Yes and no need to change the sign either,” laughed Padar, thrilled he had found a purchaser so easily.

 “More news, more news,” said Erin, getting to her feet. “I’ve been offered a most fantastic opportunity, with no choice but to take the position up with immediate effect.”

 “Oh,” Marianne said, deflated.

 “Yep, I’m the new manageress of Maguire’s!” Erin exclaimed to more woo-woos and table banging.

 “What? I’m delighted, I really am, that’s great news.” Marianne poked Ryan in the ribs. “Did you know any of this?”

 “Kind of,” he laughed.

 “I’ve told you about keeping things from me,” she pulled a face at him.

 “Yeah, yeah,” he kissed her on the nose.

 Marianne could hear Monty ferreting in his basket, Ryan had given him one of the lamb chops out of the stew, but since his near-death experience his sight and sense of smell had not fully returned, he lost things and grumbled for Marianne to come and help him find whatever he was looking for. She excused herself and left the table.

 Erin followed her out in search of more wine. “Not too bad then?” she said, smiling at her hostess.

 “Well, you’re a dark horse, I thought you hated the island, you have a good job, places to go, people to see.”

 “Made redundant,” Erin told her.

 “No way!” Marianne exclaimed.

 “Yep, a couple of irregularities regarding my last case helped them make the decision, but I got a good payout. It was time for a change, and the scenery around here has improved a bit, anyway,” and she left with the wine.

 Monty was scuffling in his basket.

 “Have you lost your bone again, monster?” Marianne said, pulling out his blankets, arranging his toys by his bowl. She noticed something glitter in the bottom, it was the brass ring from the brack. She smiled. So the prediction was correct, there was going to be a wedding before the year was out - her own mother and father. She pocketed the ring. There was still something shining in the corner. Thinking it might be glass or a paperclip, she picked at the wicker it was twisted through and pulled it out. Monty yapped at her. There it was, his shiny worm, he thought he lost it, not seen it for ages.

 “Wow!” Marianne let out a low whistle, turning the sparkling necklace in her fingers, holding it up to the light. She went back to the doorway.

 “Erin, give us a hand in here will you?”

 Erin came through. She could tell by Marianne’s expression something had happened.

 “What’s up?”

 Marianne held the necklace out to her.

 “Where was that?” Erin asked.

 “In Monty’s basket, he must have pinched it at some point. What do you think, is it the real deal?”

 Erin took the necklace and looked at it closely. She checked the back, the clasp, held it up to the light. “It’s the real deal alright. Jeez Marianne, it could be worth millions.”

 Marianne snatched it back.

 “God, Erin, what am I going to do with it? I suppose I’ll have to declare it, give it back?”

 “Who to? Rossini has the insurance money. Anything turning up now would only complicate things. Forget it, keep it,” Erin said.

 “I can’t keep a million dollar necklace, what would I want with it?” Marianne gasped.

 Erin shrugged, “Not many occasions to wear it round here I grant you, wouldn’t half help towards the funding for that fecking bridge though!”

 Marianne felt the ground move. She gripped the worktop.

 “Erin, you’re a genius!” she exclaimed, kissing her.

 “Amn’t I?” said Erin, finding the bone and handing it to Monty. “Good work boy,” she told him.

 They returned to find Miss MacReady on her feet, glass aloft, tears in her eyes.

 “Before it gets too late and I may have had a little drink too many, I’m going to give you all an Irish blessing whether you want one or not.”

They quietened to listen...

“May the road rise up to meet you, may the wind be always at your back, may the sun shine warm upon your face, may the rain fall soft upon your field, and until we meet again, may God hold you in the palm of his hand.”

 “Amen to that,” said Father Gregory as they raised their glasses.

 Marianne lifted hers and glanced around the table before she drank, taking it all in, this happy sad scene, full of family, full of love and, although in some ways tonight was an ending, it felt like a beginning too. Ryan caught her eye.

 “Happy ever after,” he smiled.

 “I’ll drink to that,” she said.

THE END

To Hold a Heart
the final book in The Heartfelt Series,
will be available Autumn 2014.

Acknowledgements

There is no
‘I’
in team, as my team of readers, writers, colleagues, family and friends has clearly demonstrated. Your encouragement and support has moved me to tears at times, I cannot
thank
you all enough, really, I can’t.

If there’s one very special thing this writing lark has done, it’s forged new friendships and rekindled old ones.  Sincere thanks to the teams at The Bell,
Burton Overy
; The Cock Inn, Peatling Magna; The Falcon Hotel, Uppingham and The Octagon, Leicester for book launches. To
Deirdre Cotter Daly
and Barbara Nolan, for hosting my first-ever book club appearances in Dublin, and The Belmont Hotel in Leicester, who took the chance on a literary lunch and it worked!  And further afield, thanks to my ‘pushers-on’
Joan Cringle
and Val Stowe in Lanzarote, and Rita Swan in Boston.

I am indebted to
June Tate
, my mentor and earth-angel, and
Lizzie Lamb
, my dear and formidable friend. For research and soundings, thanks go to Richard Bell, our vet; Frank J. Edwards, stateside; Darina and Rachel Allen, for helping to inspire menus; Rosin Meaney and
Micheal Meaney
for the Irish and Luisa Travers and
Nadia DiNiro
for the Italian. Lorraine Kelly for encouragement and
Sir Terry Wogan
, a very special valentine. Not forgetting Nick

from the Island Cruising Club, Salcombe who taught me to handle a powerboat like a Bond girl!

Thanks also, to writing chums the
New Romantics 4
, June Kearns and Mags Cullingford, and colleagues in the Romantic Novelists’ Association, always there, rooting for me.

A big ‘Yo!’ to my ‘homies’
Natalie Thew
,
David Burton
, Michelle Tayton and Madeline Poole, your faith and support is priceless; my family, the Wrafters,
Marion
– the best PR girl on the planet –
Harry
,
Reta
and my new brother-in-law
John Reddy
; the
Vaughans
, for unerring support; the
aunts
, uncles and cousins, thanks to my huge
Irish
family, all right behind me, sláinte.

And most importantly of all, thanks to my love story, my husband,
Jonathan
, who constantly supports and inspires. His belief in me is truly amazing.

I cannot let this book be published without acknowledging the passing of three people who have each touched my life in a very positive way. The vibrant and talented
Suzie Milton
; the quintessential newshound
Roger Bushby
and the indomitable matriarch
Ethel Hall
...
the stars will remember.