Things We Never Say (31 page)

Yet even though it was a long time since Ellen had chosen to go to Los Montesinos, and even though she knew that her mother would soon make her final profession, there was still a part of Abbey that expected her to throw it all in and turn up on her doorstep again. It was hard for her to believe that a woman who hadn’t been able to stay in one place for more than a couple of years would have so contentedly set down her roots on the border between California and Mexico. Abbey had never stopped imagining the day when Ellen would return to San Francisco, telling her that it had all been a terrible mistake.

Which made it all the more extraordinary that she’d gone to Ireland to see Fred and had then made the sudden decision to come to Girona after all. Her reasons were complex and not entirely clear even to herself. But of all the Fitzpatricks it was Suzanne who seemed to be the least hostile and the most sensible. And the one most likely to give her some good advice. I could be wrong about her, of course, thought Abbey. Just because she reminds me of Mom doesn’t mean she’s in any way like her.

They hadn’t travelled together. Suzanne’s flight was fully booked and so Abbey had to wait until a day later, which had allowed her time to meet with Alex before she left. Alex was surprised when she told him that she was going to Spain, and asked if Don and Gareth knew about her proposed trip.

‘I don’t know,’ replied Abbey, who went on to tell him about their visit to the hotel.

‘Fools,’ said Alex. ‘They shouldn’t harass you like that.’

‘Do you think I’d be better off not visiting Suzanne either?’ asked Abbey. ‘I guess they’ll freak out at that.’

‘I don’t imagine they’ll be very pleased. But it’s entirely up to you, Abbey. What’s not up to you, though, is that you absolutely have to inform your mother about this situation as soon as possible.’

‘I spoke to the prioress last night,’ said Abbey. ‘I’ll be able to see Mom as soon as I get home.’

‘Good.’ Alex was pleased. ‘Once I know how you’re both thinking, I can be fully prepared for every eventuality.’

‘Everyone’s so emotional about it,’ said Abbey. ‘It scares me sometimes.’

‘People can get extremely emotional about wills,’ said Alex. ‘You’d be surprised how often they fight about them. I’ve had to defend myself as an executor before, and the whole process can split families for good.’

Abbey looked at him curiously. ‘Do you think it’s right to get into a fight over it?’ she asked.

‘Fred Fitzpatrick was perfectly clear in what he wanted, and even though he drew up that will himself, he knew what he was doing,’ Alex told her. ‘You and your mother can, of course, renounce your inheritance, which would go back into the estate and be divided up among the children. But if either of you renounced your half solely, it would go to the other one of you. For instance, if you yourself decided you wanted to give up your share of the house, it would automatically go to your mother. Which would bring us back to square one as far as everyone else is concerned.’

Abbey groaned. ‘How much more tangled can this get?’

‘The big thing that I want you to think about,’ said Alex, ‘is what Mr Fitzpatrick wanted. The will represents his wishes. Not his family’s. He wanted you and your mum to have something. So even if both of you wanted to hand it back to the family – for whatever reason – I have to tell you that Mr Fitzpatrick would be very hurt by that.’

‘Mr Fitzpatrick is dead,’ said Abbey. ‘He can’t be hurt. But other people can.’

‘Nevertheless,’ said Alex. ‘It was what he wanted, so that he could rest in peace.’

Abbey was startled. She didn’t believe that Fred Fitzpatrick was watching over them, or that he would be unable to live some kind of eternal life unless his wishes were carried out.

‘Maybe it’ll be clearer after I talk to my mom.’ Perhaps Ellen agreed with Alex, although Abbey was sure that the monastery frowned on the idea of restless spirits wandering around in the afterlife.

‘Let me know as soon as you speak to her,’ said Alex as she got up to leave. ‘Meantime, I’m going to delay probate on the basis that there might be a challenge to the will from the rest of the family. Or from Donald and Gareth, at any rate.’

‘OK,’ said Abbey.

‘Enjoy your trip to Spain.’

‘Hopefully I will,’ she said, although a part of her was expecting some kind of onslaught from Suzanne too.

It was almost nine before she and Suzanne met for dinner, but it was still warm outside and the streets were thronged with people. Suzanne steered her towards a café-bar near the church of St Felix. Students were sitting on the church steps chattering into mobile phones while watching tourists kiss the replica of the nearby stone lion – a tradition to ensure they’d return, Suzanne said as she found them a table and then waved at a waiter.

‘Did you have a good day?’ she asked when they’d ordered food and drink (tuna for Abbey, prawns for Suzanne and a glass of Viña Esmeralda each).

Abbey gave her a detailed account of her tour of the city and Suzanne looked impressed, although she remarked that Abbey must be exhausted.

‘To be honest, it’s such a long time since I was anywhere new, I couldn’t help myself,’ Abbey told her.

‘What about Dublin?’

‘I was too busy in Dublin for sightseeing.’

‘Of course you were. Busy trying to save Dad’s life and then busy talking to the hunky solicitor,’ said Suzanne.

Abbey hadn’t got used to the fact that lawyers and attorneys seemed to be called solicitors in Ireland. To her, it sounded like a form of prostitution. Although Pete had once remarked that being a lawyer kinda was.

‘I think he’s ticked off at me for not telling him about Mom.’

‘It was a big omission,’ said Suzanne.

‘I know. But there was a part of me that didn’t quite believe his story and I didn’t want anyone trying to hassle her.’

‘You’re very protective of her,’ said Suzanne. ‘But she’s a grown woman, she can look after herself, and I bet they all flock around each other in that convent anyway.’

‘It’s a monastery,’ Abbey corrected her. ‘And yes, it’s a big support for her. Sometimes I think that’s why she joined in the first place.’

‘Oh?’ Suzanne was interested. ‘What makes you think she needed that kind of support?’

Abbey hesitated before speaking. ‘It seemed to me that as she didn’t have to look after me any more, and after the death of her parents, she needed something else.’

‘Could be.’ Suzanne sounded doubtful. ‘Or it could be that she’s just a religious woman.’

‘She’s certainly a very caring woman,’ said Abbey. ‘And she’s had a lot to deal with.’ She told Suzanne about her own father’s death. ‘So I guess I can’t complain that she found God. It’s not how I deal with stuff, but each to her own.’

‘And how do you deal with stuff, Abbey Andersen?’ asked Suzanne.

‘Oh, I don’t have anything much to deal with right now.’ Even as she spoke, Abbey realised that she hadn’t thought about Cobey Missen and his treatment of her for ages. What a way to mend a broken heart, she thought. She couldn’t help thinking too that her wallet would also be mended if everything went her way.

‘Are you a career girl? How’s the nail business?’

‘It’s not exactly a major career, but it’s good,’ said Abbey.

‘Those pictures you showed me were amazing,’ Suzanne said. ‘I can hardly slap on a coat of varnish without making a mess of it. It must be very difficult.’

‘I guess it’s a skill like any other,’ said Abbey. ‘I’ve always been good at it.’

‘Can you teach it?’ asked Suzanne. ‘I mean you personally, can you teach people how to do it?’

Abbey looked at her curiously. ‘I’ve never tried.’

Suzanne told her about her idea to have a pretty nail bar at the Mirador, offering manicures and holiday designs to the guests.

‘You haven’t got the hotel yet,’ Abbey reminded her.

‘True.’ A worried expression flitted across Suzanne’s face. ‘But I’m a determined person. I’m doing my damnedest.’

‘You’re like my mom, how she used to be,’ said Abbey. ‘When we travelled around together. She was very determined then. Religious life has softened her.’

‘How did you really feel when she said she was joining the nuns?’ asked Suzanne.

‘Shocked,’ confessed Abbey. ‘Especially because of the life they live. If she’d said she was becoming a nun and going to work with the disadvantaged in the city, I could have understood it more. But locking herself away …’

‘I can’t believe anyone would cut themselves off from the world any more,’ said Suzanne.

Abbey explained about the website and the social media, which made Suzanne laugh.

‘Religion in the digital age. I must check out the site.’ She sat back and looked at Abbey. ‘So on the basis that she’s not locked away in a dungeon somewhere praying her socks off, why didn’t you email or call your mother the minute you heard about Dad?’

‘Because I don’t know if she knows about being adopted or not. I realise she should be able to fall back on God and her faith and all that sort of stuff, but it wouldn’t have been right to spring it on her like that. In any event, she was leading a retreat at the time, which meant it wasn’t possible to get in touch with her.’

‘How often do you two talk?’

‘I email her occasionally and we meet up once or twice a year, but … I’m not a major part of her life any more, to be honest, and I’m never sure what to say to her.’

‘You’ve had more contact with her than I had with my mum after I left Ireland,’ remarked Suzanne.

‘It’s all a question of perspective, I guess,’ said Abbey. ‘I think she probably gets on better with people she doesn’t know personally.’

‘Do they do a lot of praying?’ asked Suzanne.

One of the reasons Abbey rarely talked about her mother was because she got tired of replying to a barrage of questions similar to the ones Suzanne was posing now. But talking to Suzanne was different. Talking to Suzanne was like talking to an old friend. She explained that the nuns’ days were crafted around prayer and meditation, although every nun had her own particular work to do within the monastery too.

‘It wouldn’t be my thing,’ said Suzanne.

‘Mine neither,’ agreed Abbey. ‘But it seems to suit Mom, and the nuns are lovely people, even if they’re bit too good sometimes. It can be exhausting.’

Suzanne looked pensive. ‘There’s probably all sorts of petty rivalries and intrigue under the surface. It’s a gang of women living together, after all. A potent mix.’

‘Possibly,’ said Abbey. ‘But they present a very calm exterior.’

‘What do you think your mum’s reaction to her inheritance will be?’

‘A normal person would be shocked, but nothing seems to shock her.’

‘You know my brothers are convinced you and your mum already have a strategy worked out, don’t you?’

‘They think you have one too.’ Abbey recounted their visit to Suzanne, who pursed her lips.

‘They’re so fecking self-centred,’ she said. ‘And they don’t give a toss about anyone other than themselves. Maybe that’s why Dad decided to leave the house to someone else entirely.’

Abbey looked surprised. ‘He didn’t know us.’

‘But he knows Gar and Don,’ said Suzanne. ‘Only too well. I’m surprised at Gar, though. He’s normally the more sensitive of the two.’

Abbey told her about Gareth’s plummeting property portfolio and Suzanne’s eyes widened.

‘What an eejit,’ she said. ‘He hasn’t a commercial bone in his body. No wonder it all went pear-shaped.’

Abbey said nothing, but busied herself with her food. She was thinking that perhaps Suzanne really was the one with the strategy, or that her brothers had secretly charged her with the task of sussing Abbey out, softening her up even. But if that wasn’t the case, and the family was split about it, Suzanne clearly had her own agenda too. Perhaps suggesting that Abbey train her as yet non-existent staff in nail art was part of a plan to butter her up, get her to trust her.

Money was such a game-changer, whether you had it or you didn’t, she thought. Ellen had always said that the pursuit of money was a soul-destroying exercise. Pete believed that with money came choices. Abbey supposed that they were both right to some degree but that neither had the right answer.

‘You OK?’ asked Suzanne after Abbey hadn’t spoken for a few minutes.

‘Oh, sure. Thinking about stuff.’

‘Lots to think about,’ agreed Suzanne. ‘Listen, I’m going out to the hotel I’m trying to buy tomorrow. Want to come with me? See what sort of place it is – advise me on a good spot for the nail bar?’ Her eyes twinkled and Abbey couldn’t help smiling, even though Pete’s advice about keeping your enemies close was still fresh in her mind.

She told Suzanne she’d be delighted to come along, and then spent the rest of the evening listening to her mother’s half-sister talk about growing up in Dublin and leaving home. She couldn’t help thinking that Suzanne was very much like Ellen had been when she was younger – full of brightness and enthusiasm and a belief that you could do anything you wanted. Which, as it turned out, Ellen had.

The next morning, Suzanne drove down the coast to the Mirador Hotel, stopping at the offices of the estate agency to pick up the keys from Jaime.

‘There are other people interested,’ he told her as he handed them to her. ‘If you want to buy this property, you will need to make a move.’

‘Has anyone else put in an offer yet?’ she asked.

He hesitated, then shrugged. ‘Not a serious one.’

‘Tell me if they do.’

He winked at her, and she hurried out of the office and back into the car. She hoped he was just trying to scare her. She didn’t want to think that this thing could get competitive.

When they drew up in front of the hotel, Abbey exclaimed with pleasure, both at the building and at the views across the Mediterranean.

‘Nearly as nice as Big Sur,’ she said. ‘Maybe even a little better because there’s no mist. It’s superb.’

‘It’s better still from the top floor,’ said Suzanne. ‘C’mon. Follow me.’

She unlocked the building, and once again Abbey exclaimed in delight, this time over the old-fashioned lift that had so charmed Suzanne herself.

‘You’re right about the views,’ she said when they were standing on a tiny balcony leading off one of the rooms. ‘It’s stunning. Are you really hoping to buy this place?’