Authors: Sheila O'Flanagan

Tags: #Fiction, #General

My Mother's Secret (47 page)

BOOK: My Mother's Secret

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‘Steffie will remember the good,’ Pascal said. ‘She will, really.’

‘I’d like to think so,’ said Jenny. ‘But whenever I think of my own mum, I remember her for the things she wouldn’t let me do rather than the things she did. And I’m afraid that Steffie will always remember me for the lies I told her.’

‘You did what you thought was right,’ said Pascal. ‘We both did. Hopefully she’ll see that.’

‘Hopefully,’ said Jenny.

But she wasn’t feeling all that hopeful at eleven thirty, by which time Davey and Camilla, as well as Roisin, Paul and their children, were seated around the kitchen table, eating buttery toast and looking at each other’s photos of the previous day. The ones in the castle were particularly striking, and the group photo outside in the snow was spectacular.

‘Totes brilliant,’ said Daisy.

‘Please, Daisy.’ Roisin looked at her daughter. ‘Use real words.’

‘English is an evolving language,’ said Daisy. ‘It totes is.’

Jenny hid a smile as Roisin put her head in her hands. And then all of them looked up as the doorbell rang.

‘Are you going to answer it?’ asked Roisin. ‘Or do you want me to go?’

‘No, I will.’

Jenny walked to the hallway and opened the door.

Steffie was standing alone on the step.

‘Hi,’ she said.

‘I’m so glad you came,’ said Jenny. ‘I really am. Is Liam not with you?’

‘Sunday lunch,’ said Steffie. ‘He has to work today.’

‘Of course.’ Jenny hesitated as she realised that Steffie hadn’t yet crossed the threshold. ‘Are you coming in?’

Steffie glanced back at the road. At her own request, Liam had dropped her outside the gate and she’d walked up the driveway alone. But he was waiting on the snow-covered road outside in case she changed her mind about brunch at Aranbeg. She raised her hand in a half-wave, then turned back to her mother.

‘Yes, I’m coming in,’ she said.

She stepped inside, and as Jenny closed the door, Steffie’s phone beeped. She took it out of her bag and looked at the message.

Good luck
, she read.
I love you
.

He’d said it last night too. And she’d told him that they hardly knew each other really, so maybe it was too soon to say things like that, and he’d said that they’d known each other since they were children, what more did she want? And she’d laughed and so had he, and he’d kissed her and she’d known that she was completely in love with him. And then he’d said it again and she’d cried and he’d said not to be an idiot as he kissed her tears away.

‘Everything all right?’ asked Jenny.

‘Yes,’ she said.

She followed her mother into the kitchen, where everyone was gathered around the table. They smiled at her as they greeted her.

‘Hungry?’ asked Pascal.

‘Starving,’ she said.

Liam had offered to make her pancakes for breakfast, but she’d declined. Partly because she was nervous about the prospect of brunch at Aranbeg. Partly so that she’d be hungry when she got there.

Pascal loaded a plate with sausage, bacon and tomatoes and handed it to her. ‘No egg,’ he said. ‘Right?’

‘Yes. Thanks.’ She took the plate and sat down.

Steffie sat beside Pascal and said nothing as everyone else took up the conversation, including her, as easily as they ever had before. She watched Paul grimace but say nothing as Roisin began to give Davey and Camilla advice on their wedding, even though it would be happening twelve hundred kilometres away. She saw Pascal slip an extra piece of toast to Dougie. She noticed her mother smooth Poppy’s hair. They’re all my family, she thought, as Davey pushed the cafetière of coffee towards her. They all matter to me. And I suppose I matter to them too. Slowly and tentatively she joined in the conversation. She laughed at one of Paul’s jokes. She told Davey that she couldn’t wait to visit Copenhagen. She took Daisy’s side in a dispute with Roisin over the best mascara in the world.

After a while, she excused herself from the table and went upstairs to her old bedroom. She leaned her head against the cold window pane and wondered if she’d forgiven her parents without realising it. And then she realised that she’d thought of them as her parents again. Not Jenny and Pascal. Not her mother and Pascal. But her parents. The people who’d always been there for her. And who still were, whether she wanted them to be or not.

There was a light rap at the door. She waited for it to open, but it remained shut.

‘Come in,’ she called.

Jenny walked into the room, her expression anxious.

‘Are you all right?’ she asked.

‘Yes. Just, you know, taking some time out.’

‘Thank you for coming today,’ said Jenny. ‘It means a lot.’

‘You always did a fantastic brunch,’ said Steffie.

‘I know.’

They stood in silence, neither knowing exactly what to say.

‘I hope one day you’ll forgive me.’ It was Jenny who spoke first.

Steffie had never heard such desperation in her mother’s voice before. In the past, she’d been the one asking for forgiveness. For wading into the river in her wellington boots. For using Jenny’s newest and best lipstick as a crayon on the kitchen wall. For staying out much later than she was supposed to one night so that Jenny hadn’t been able to sleep for worrying about her. She remembered those times of waiting anxiously for Jenny to say it was all right, that it didn’t matter. That she wasn’t to do it again. And then her mother would put her arms around her and hug her and tell her that it was OK.

‘What am I supposed to forgive you for?’ she asked. ‘The affair? Getting pregnant? Not telling my father about it? Not telling me?’

Steffie could almost see Jenny gather her thoughts before she spoke.

‘Your father – Pascal – has forgiven me for the affair and for getting pregnant,’ she said. ‘He’s the only person who needs to forgive me for that. As for Gregory … perhaps I should have told him and perhaps one day you’ll try to find him and he’ll need to forgive me. I don’t know. What I’m asking your forgiveness for is hiding it from you. At first it was for the best of reasons. But it was still wrong. And I’m sorry.’

‘It’s not just keeping it a secret,’ said Steffie. ‘It’s letting me think I was the same as Davey and Roisin.’

‘You
are
the same,’ said Jenny.

‘I’m not.’ Steffie shook her head. ‘And you know what, I’ve always felt a bit different. I thought it was because of the age gap, but maybe it’s because of …’

‘I wish you didn’t feel like that,’ said Jenny. ‘Pascal and I wanted you to be as much a part of the family as the others. Well, to us you absolutely are. From the moment you came home with us, you were our cherished daughter. That has never changed. It never will.’

The thing was, Steffie thought, she knew that already. She knew they’d never treated her differently. She knew how much Pascal loved her. She knew Jenny loved her too.

‘I’ve talked to your dad a lot about this, and if you want to search for Gregory, we’ll help you,’ continued Jenny. ‘We totally understand that you might want to do that and we won’t stand in your way.’

But I don’t want to find him, thought Steffie. He isn’t important to me and I don’t need to meet him. I already know who I am. Who I’m supposed to be. Besides, what right would I have to turn up in his life now, when he’s probably forgotten all about Mum and their summer of love. Or lust. Or whatever.

Mistakes, she thought. Everyone makes them. Even the people you think never do. And everyone needs forgiveness. Everyone has the power to forgive.

‘I’m sorry too.’ She looked at Jenny. ‘I was shocked and I was hurt and I’ve taken it out on you ever since. But you and Dad have been nothing but great parents to me. So I should be able to forgive you. It’s just that sometimes it’s easier to allow yourself to stay angry.’

‘I understand, I really do. And I truly wish that I’d handled it better. I was thinking of me, not you, when I told you everything at the party.’

‘Oh, you couldn’t have kept quiet, not after saying you weren’t married,’ Steffie said. ‘If you’d left it a few weeks to tell me, I would’ve been even madder.’

‘I’m sorry for yesterday, too.’ Jenny winced. ‘It was lunatic to think you might have been kidnapped. I don’t know what was going through my head. I think I panicked.’

‘
You
panicked?’ Steffie raised an eyebrow. ‘When you and the girls barged into Liam’s office, it was me who was panicking.’

The two of them shared a smile.

‘D’you think you need counselling or anything?’ asked Jenny ‘Roisin was showing me a site where—’

‘I might have guessed Roisin would come up with a plan to sort me out.’

‘Roisin always has a plan,’ Jenny said.

‘Yes, she does.’ Steffie nodded. ‘Davey actually asked me about counselling too. But I’m fine, Mum. Really.’

And she was, she realised. Not perfect. Not entirely at ease with everything. But getting there. And she knew she’d be all right. She had her parents behind her, after all. The rest of her family too. And, of course, she had Liam.

The funny thing was – the thought flitted through her mind fully formed – that if it hadn’t been for Jenny’s confessions, she wouldn’t have fled from the house and she wouldn’t have driven through the storm and she wouldn’t have ended up soaked and bedraggled at Liam’s restaurant. Which meant he wouldn’t have kissed her and she wouldn’t have stayed the night, and if she hadn’t stayed the night, she wouldn’t have fallen in love with him. And he wouldn’t have fallen in love with her.

So because of Jenny, she’d met the man she loved.

And what more could she ask from her mother than that?

By late afternoon, everyone had finally left Aranbeg.

Jenny and Pascal flopped on to the sofa in front of the TV.

‘I never thought,’ said Jenny, ‘that we’d have a day like today. Or yesterday either, come to think of it.’

‘Which was better?’ asked Pascal.

Jenny thought about it. ‘I’m glad Steffie is starting to be OK with everything,’ she said. ‘I’m glad we had today to sort it out. I hope we would’ve done it eventually. But yesterday was our day. The one where I told you I loved you and I meant it. And so, in all the days we’ve spent together, Pascal Sheehan, I think that was the very best.’

‘Come on.’ He pressed the remote and turned off the TV.

‘What?’

‘Bed,’ he said.

‘But it’s only five o’clock.’

‘Did that ever stop us before?’

She laughed and followed him up the stairs and into the bedroom. And stopped in amazement, because the duvet was strewn with silk rose petals.

‘Pascal Sheehan!’ she exclaimed. ‘When did you do this? How come I didn’t know?’

‘I have my moments,’ he told her as he pulled her on to the bed.

Jenny kissed him. Then they moved together with the easy familiarity of forty years. The familiarity of knowing that they loved each other. And of knowing that somehow, maybe even despite their best efforts, they’d managed to get it right.

Table of Contents

Title Page

About the Book

About Sheila O’Flanagan

Also by Sheila O’Flanagan

Praise for Sheila O’Flanagan

Dedication

Acknowledgements

The Party