Monday 26th September – 10 a.m.
Nell had tried to temper Aoife’s excitement about the test results, with the context of the family fallout in the wake of the discovery of Siobhan’s body and manner of death. But she also knew Maeve should know straight away. The sooner she knew, the sooner the families could stop agonising about what today might bring.
And they had to do this in person. Although desperate to sleep, they’d grabbed a quick breakfast – and much-needed coffee – from a café on the way back, then headed straight to the farmhouse. Despite Maeve and Sean’s argument, Nell somehow felt most of their company would congregate there.
As Aoife dashed in ahead of them, Nell rushed to keep up.
The empty house was an unexpected shock. Then she saw James’s note.
‘How can I go?’ Aoife began to wail. ‘I’ve got nothing to wear.’
‘I might have something to lend you,’ Nell offered. ‘Come on.’ She had a couple of pairs of dark trousers and dark jumpers, and Rav changed into the suit he would have worn to Sylvia and Conor’s wedding.
As they hurried up the hill, away from the harbour and the village – where Nell recalled Maeve pointing on their horse ride – they saw their group ahead of them, and quickly caught up.
The chill morning air made everyone clutch their coats and jackets around them. The undulating emerald hills were as bright as ever, but the sombre mood was matched by the grey sky merging with the grey ocean.
Aoife looked like she was about to blurt out the news, but couldn’t quite find the words. Instead she asked, ‘Maeve, may I please join you? To pay my respects to the family.’
‘Of course. You’re very welcome.’ Maeve might have managed a smile under other circumstances. ‘It’s because of you that we found her, after all.’
The hint of warmth under Maeve’s steely tone, and the words, made tears shine in Aoife’s eyes. She dropped back and walked with Nell and Rav.
But Nell was staring at the house at the top of the hill. The neighbours were outside, chatting. One was practising on a violin.
They clustered around Maeve as she approached, offering condolences, promising to come by later, tugging her closer to share a story.
Nell heard an older woman saying, ‘D’you remember that time yous two bunked off school? Thought we teachers believed you both had a tummy bug? And all the time old Samson was phoning us up with updates on what you were up to in the next village! Turned out of the pub! Seasick on the boat! By the time you got home and put yourselves to bed to keep up the pretence to your mammie, you really did feel ill! I never did know if that was your idea or Siobhan’s.’
‘Siobhan.’ Maeve’s face flashed between laughter at the memory and deep grief. ‘It was always Siobhan.’ She couldn’t speak for a moment through trembling lips, but then she laughed. ‘Man, we really were ill on that boat. And Mammie never did believe us. No sympathy!’
Inside, the house was calm. Sean’s stew bubbled on the hob, and the violinist outside competed with the Nirvana track filtering down from an upstairs bedroom.
‘Since I can’t have her here in person, I’m playing her music,’ Mary Delaney said to Maeve. ‘Makes me feel like she’s getting ready to go out, and she might appear in a minute, all dressed up.’
Maeve’s father offered them drinks, his gaunt face quietly dignified, as he ushered them through to the front room. The house had a heavy scent of beeswax and lavender, like it had just been cleaned to within an inch of its life. The coffee-coloured carpets bore hoover tracks and fresh lilies were in a vase on a sideboard, sweetening the air.
‘Do you have all that you need, Mammie?’ Maeve’s eyes scanned the room, then rested on the table in the middle of the room, that was covered with framed photos of Siobhan. Awkward school photos, with braces, playing with friends, blowing out birthday candles, then moodier teenage ones, in army shirts, ripped jeans and DMs.
‘This is nice, Mammie.’ Maeve kissed her mother. ‘And I love that you used that dorky one with the braces. She always hid that when people came over. She kicked me in the shins when I put it back out again.’ Her last word was a sob. And then Maeve took the picture off the table and placed it face down in a drawer. Her mother smiled at her and Maeve shrugged. ‘I know. I’m an eejit. I’d rather she could still kick me.’
As Mrs Delaney took in the state of her daughter’s nose, then the bandaged faces of Brandon and Finn, she narrowed her eyes. ‘Emotions running high over there?’
Even though she wasn’t the target of the scrutiny, Nell took a step back against the wall, seeking shelter with Rav, Sylvia and Shannon, feeling more than ever like an interloper.
But Conor didn’t hesitate to go to Maeve’s mother, kneeling so she could stay seated while he kissed her cheek and murmuring, ‘I’m sorry for your loss.’
Mary looked at him for a long while. ‘I had hopes for you, young Con.’ She nodded to herself, then stared at the hanky she gripped in her lap. ‘I had a lot of hopes.’
As she dabbed at her eyes, Conor stood, pausing to kiss her forehead, and Nell only just caught him saying, ‘So did I, Mrs Delaney.’
As he stood, she caught his hand, checked his knuckles, held his eye contact with a fierce gaze.
Once she released him, he moved away slowly, while Brandon, then Finn, paid their respects, but Mary clasped Sean’s hand when he joined her. ‘Thank you for making the stew. One of your best.’
Nell noticed Conor studying the photos. He drank them in like it was an oasis in a desert. A few made a smile flicker. But he avoided the gold, embossed wedding album.
Brandon’s dressing twitched, as if he’d curled his lip at the sight of it. Then he flicked the album open. Nell glimpsed a few pictures. Siobhan’s wedding dress against her violet-black hair was startlingly white. Her smile was tense, but Brandon made up for it. His beam was wide, and ever present above a wonky tie. He straightened the one he wore now, and slammed the heavy book shut.
But Aoife studied each picture, transfixed – holding each up as if trying to memorise every atom of her mother. Nell didn’t want to intrude on Aoife’s moment, but she sensed that Aoife couldn’t hold the news in any longer.
When Mr Delaney asked, ‘Are the Garda searching again today?’ and Maeve nodded, Aoife’s head jerked up.
‘They don’t need to search,’ Aoife blurted out, still holding a photo of Siobhan.
Mrs Delaney stared at her.
‘What did you say, Aoife?’ Maeve asked. ‘They’re not going to continue the search?’ She was already ripping her phone from her pocket. ‘I’ll call Baptiste right now. What’s he thinking? He promised.’
‘No, he hasn’t called it off. I have.’
‘You?’ Maeve blinked in confusion. ‘Why?’ Then her face cleared. ‘Oh. Worried about your habitat, are you? Or that we’ll disturb something archaeological? Well, let me—’
‘No, of course not!’ Aoife backed away from Maeve’s onslaught, holding out Siobhan’s picture like a shield. ‘It’s because I’m her daughter.’
Rav’s eyes darted around the family. Everyone had frozen. Except the violinist competing with Kurt Cobain, who was unfortunately singing, Here we are now, entertain us.
Brandon stared at her, taking a step closer. Finn and Sean were frowning, looking sceptical. Conor was gaping, as astonished as Rav had ever seen him.
But Maeve’s face flickered with confusion, then hope. ‘What did you say?’
‘I’m Siobhan’s daughter. And your niece, Maeve.’
Before Maeve could reply, Aoife went over to Mary who was gripping Declan’s hand. ‘And your granddaughter.’
‘Is this a trick?’ Brandon thundered. ‘Because this is cruel if it is.’
‘No. I’ve got proof.’
‘Show me,’ Maeve asked.
‘We’ve done a test,’ Aoife explained.
‘What?’ Finn frowned at Sean, who shrugged.
Brandon leaned in, as if asking for details but not wanting to voice his interest, as Conor’s quick, uneasy glance flicked from Aoife to Maeve.
‘A DNA test,’ Aoife clarified, looking at Nell for confirmation. Her face was rosy with exertion and excitement. Hopeful delight shone out of her, like this would be welcome news for everyone.
‘But … is it … Is it reliable? ’ Maeve was trembling, like she didn’t dare believe it.
Conor looked like he was holding back a tsunami of questions. Instead he touched Nell’s arm, pressing for the clarity Maeve needed. ‘I know I probably don’t need to ask you. But are you certain? Or is this a balance of probability thing?’
‘You can verify it if you want,’ Nell said. ‘I’m not a specialist in this area. But the result looked conclusive to me.’
Maeve’s body convulsed with sobs while she tried to smile, pulling Aoife to her in a tightly wrapped hug. Then she pushed her away, clasping her face between her hands and really looked at her. ‘Ah, you poor thing. Now I’m looking at you, I can see you’ve got the Delaney nose! And you can see the lengths I’ve gone to, to improve mine!’
Mary Delaney swatted Maeve, tugging Aoife towards her. ‘I can’t … I can’t believe it. I couldn’t bear the thought of that precious bundle dead in the cold ground. And here you are.’ She bit back another sob and half laughed, then her face crumpled. ‘But you’re all grown. We’ve missed so much.’
‘But it’s just momentous! ’ Sean reached out to clasp Aoife’s arm and smile at her. ‘It’s just so wonderful to see that you’ve … and now … and you’re not …’ His face roller-coastered through the emotions and finally he said, ‘We should have a celebration. Welcome you back to the family properly.’
It was Finn who doused the moment. ‘Shouldn’t we check? Do some due diligence? Can’t you fake these tests? Sorry to be blunt, but it does happen. Especially when there’s an inheritance at stake. You don’t want an interloper in your family, do you, Maeve?’
‘Interloper?’ Aoife looked outraged. ‘Nell will confirm you can’t fake them. Or at least, we haven’t.’
With an apprehensive glance, Maeve hesitated, then almost forced herself to ask, ‘Did you have any keepsakes from her? From Siobhan?’ Her expression was almost pleading.
Aoife nodded, and undid her necklace kept safely under her rows of beads, passing it to Maeve who turned the locket over and gave a short laugh at the Delaney Ds. She reached up and undid the chain around her own neck, pulling the pendant out from inside her crisp white shirt. On the back was a symbol. The same one as Aoife’s, inside the outline of Innisdoone.
‘She’s a Delaney alright.’ Maeve opened Aoife’s locket with care – like she expected something to spill out – and saw the flower. She frowned. ‘I was half expecting the barley grains.’ She glanced at her father. ‘They’re handed on to the inheritor of the distillery. Mine are still in their little velvet bag. But, of course, Siobhan had hers long before I had mine. So what’s this flower all about?’
Aoife shook her head. ‘Wish I knew. It’s pipewort, apparently.’
Maeve shrugged. ‘No idea what the significance of that is. We use it in our gin, of course, along with several other flowers. Is it symbolic?’ She half turned to Nell.
She also shrugged. ‘Not as far as I know.’
‘So that’s a mystery, then,’ Aoife said.
‘Has anyone let Sergeant Baptiste know?’ James asked. ‘He can stand down the ground imaging work.’
Nell nodded. ‘Rav looked up his number and texted as we were driving back.’
‘But … I’ve got so many questions, I don’t know where to start.’ Mrs Delaney commanded the conversation from her chair. ‘My granddaughter.’ She stared at Aoife in wonder, her eyes shining with tears. ‘Where were you found, my dear?’
Aoife relayed being abandoned as a three-month-old baby at the convent. ‘They don’t have any record of who left me there at St Melangell, on the 11th or 12th of June. Twenty years ago.’
The date sent a shiver around the brothers and the parents. Conor’s sharp glare flicked from Brandon to Maeve. She met his gaze with a grim nod.
Brandon was staring at the table of photos, head low. He looked like he was in pain.
‘Where’s that?’ Finn asked. ‘St Melangell?’
‘On the east coast, isn’t it?’ Mr Delaney stated from the doorway. He was staring at Aoife like he wanted to hug her, but didn’t dare, like he was afraid she’d vaporise. ‘Why didn’t the Garda find out you’d been left there?’
Aoife shrugged. ‘The distance, I guess. And there were some complications with a local family near the convent. The nuns looked after me until Social Welfare matched me with my adoptive family. Who have always been wonderful. But I’ve just always wanted to know … you know … where I came from. And … well, why.’
Maeve blinked. ‘But … what does that mean? Did Siobhan leave, and – what? – left you behind? Or did whoever killed her—’
Her parents winced, and Rav was grateful for Sean’s timing, bringing in the tea and passing cups to Maeve’s folks.
Sean gave Maeve her drink, saying, ‘It would be harder to leave and fend for herself with a newborn,’ he said. ‘But I know it would have broken her heart to do that. Though I don’t know why she wouldn’t have left you with your dad.’
‘Huh. Don’t you?’ Maeve said. She clamped her mouth shut, as if making the effort to not defame Brandon to his daughter.
Brandon looked like he had burning questions, but was too defeated to ask.
Maeve shook her head. ‘I know Siobhan would never have left you. The only way you could possibly have been left at the convent, would be if someone knew Siobhan wasn’t around anymore. So, who left you there, Aoife? There must be something. The make of car, a description of the person, even if not a name.’
Everyone held their breath. But Aoife shrugged. ‘I’ve gone back there, with my parents – my adoptive parents, who have been lovely about everything – to ask. I even met the nun who found me. And she was very sweet. But she couldn’t tell me anything. I was just left on the doorstep. There was no handy security camera to catch whoever put me there. So I’ve no idea.’
Finn’s eyes widened at the words while Sean tutted, Conor stared at Aoife and Brandon sank his head into his hands.
As the conversation rose again, a knocking at the door marked the arrival of an older couple, who looked suspiciously familiar.
Maeve was the first to notice. ‘Mr and Mrs Kennedy, thank you for coming!’
‘Sorry for your loss, child,’ Mrs Kennedy said. Then her eyes slid past Maeve to her four sons, taking in the downcast expressions and bandages. She swung round to Conor, grabbing his fist, seeing the split knuckles. ‘What have you done to your brothers this time?’ she demanded.
Rav met Sylvia’s eyes, seeing her instant appraisal of Conor’s life, of him always being in the wrong.
Conor met her stare. ‘Ask them. But not now, eh? There’s a photo of Siobhan there that you might remember.’
‘Oh, that’s you all over, Conor. Always something else for me to be doing. Anything but keeping you on the straight and narrow.’
‘Well, we’ve had a blessing this morning, of all mornings,’ Maeve’s mother said, trying to prevent more arguments. ‘About our,’ she emphasised the word so the Kennedys would understand they were included, ‘granddaughter.’
Conor’s mother’s head snapped round. ‘What?’
Her disbelief dissolved into delight as Aoife was introduced. The grandparents quickly commandeered the delighted young woman, asking her questions and telling her about Siobhan.
Using the distraction, Maeve turned back to Brandon, her voice low. ‘If anyone else had harmed Siobhan, they would have just left Ciara … Aoife with you. The only one who would have gone to the trouble of giving the child away would have been you. Maybe you didn’t want to raise her alone. Or you didn’t want the reminder of Siobhan – and what you’d done to her – around. But it only makes sense if it’s you.’ She shook her head, the fire fizzling from her voice as she whispered, ‘Abandoning your own daughter.’
Rav saw that Aoife had heard. She was ignoring the questions being fired at her and instead she was staring at Brandon, naked heartbreak on her face.
Brandon made no defence.
‘For God’s sake!’ Maeve’s pitch rose with exasperation. ‘Even now, can’t you explain? Can’t you put us out of our misery? And just tell us the truth? ’
‘Oh, sure.’ Brandon stepped forward, looming over Maeve. ‘You won’t want to hear it, but here’s the truth. You all know Siobhan was flighty. The bold one. Wanting to grow up too fast but not wanting any adult responsibilities. You’ve all downplayed that as the years have gone by. And, at the same time, you’ve all hated me more, blaming me for her leaving and, now, for her death. But no one knew her shortcomings better than me.’
He pointed at Aoife. ‘You may well be Siobhan’s daughter. But it doesn’t mean you’re mine.’
Turning back to Maeve, he snarled into the shocked silence of the room. ‘Now are you happy? Now do you get it?’