He was there, sitting on the bench by the river in front of The Big Fish, when Sarah arrived with her sandwich in one hand and a confusion of emotions in her heart. If he had not been here she would’ve been disappointed. But the fact that he was filled her with nervous apprehension. Evelyn had only been a slip of a girl when she’d risked everything she knew for an uncertain future. Was she brave enough to take a chance with Cahal, to risk being hurt a second time?
When she got close she saw that he had a phone pressed to his ear and she said, ‘Sorry, am I disturbing you?’
He shook his head, removed the phone from his ear and smiled. ‘Just listening to some voicemails the boys left me.’ He pressed a button on the phone and the smile fell from his lips. ‘Harry, the littlest, was crying.’
She sat down beside him on the bench. ‘Oh, how awful. What was wrong with him?’
‘I couldn’t make out what he was saying. Something about a boy at school.’ He pressed the phone to his chest and stared out across the river, the colour of sheet-metal under a blank grey sky. The sound of traffic and gulls calling filled the air. His throat moved. ‘You know, I don’t know what I’m doing here, Sarah. I hate being away from them. I can’t even speak to Harry until late tonight by which time it’ll be morning in Melbourne. I feel like I’ve let them down.’ He paused and shook his head.
‘I’m sure they understand that you had no choice.’ She stared at the back of his hand where it lay on his lap, recognising the lump where a hurling stick had fractured it in the Ryan Cup finals at uni. She’d kissed his bandaged hand with such tenderness, feeling his pain as if she herself had been wounded.
He hung his head. ‘I wanted to put as much distance as possible between myself and Adele and Brady.’
‘Brady?’
He looked up. ‘Adele’s new husband. He’s moved into our old house. It’s one of the reasons I came here. I couldn’t deal with it. Not because I still love Adele,’ he added hastily. ‘No, I’m pleased to see her happy. It’s Brady.’ He paused and stared hard out across the river before bringing his gaze back to Sarah. ‘His favourite things in the world are beer and sport and he’s more easy-going than me. I haven’t told anyone this before, but … well … I’m worried that the boys’ll like him more than me.’
‘That will only happen if you let it, Cahal. You’ll always be their Dad. And it’s only six months.’ Six short months and then he would be gone again. ‘Maybe with a stepfather as well as a father, they get the best of both worlds.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Just because Brady’s different from you, it doesn’t make him a bad influence. Maybe the boys will benefit from having two male role models in their lives.’
‘I hadn’t thought of it like that,’ he said, frowning. He looked at her, a look of fierce determination on his face. ‘I’ll never leave them again like this. It was a mistake to come here.’
Her heart sank. She’d thought he still cared. Had she misread the signals?
‘Except for meeting you again, of course,’ he said, his voice soft.
She looked into his eyes. ‘You mean that?’
His black pupils contracted. His hair, longer now than when he’d arrived, brushed the collar of his jacket. ‘Yes.’
She swallowed. And could not look away. ‘I know we said that we wouldn’t talk about the past, Cahal. But there’s something that I must ask you.’
‘There’s something I want to ask you too.’
She looked at him sideways and he said, ‘You go first.’
‘Okay.’ She took a deep breath. Her heart pounded. Whatever he told her, she hoped she could forgive him for it. ‘Why did you not write to me?’
He put a hand on his thigh, his elbow sticking out, and said crossly, ‘What are you talking about? I wrote dozens of letters.’
She turned away from him then, sorry that she’d asked. She felt so disappointed. An honest admission would’ve been so much more honourable than a blatant denial.
‘Don’t say that, Cahal,’ she said quietly, looking at her hands. ‘There were no letters.’
‘Look at me.’ Reluctantly she brought her gaze up to meet his. His eyes were grave and his chest rose and fell rapidly. ‘I wrote to you, daily to start with, begging you to join me in Australia. But you never answered a single letter. That’s what I wanted to ask you. Why you never wrote to me. I waited months and nothing came.’
She opened her mouth but no sound came out. What he said made no sense. She stared into his unblinking sea-green eyes and a creeping numbness spread through her body, like standing still in the freezing cold on a winter’s day. She so wanted to believe him.
If what he said was true, he had not abandoned her. If she’d received those letters, they would’ve given her the courage to follow him. An alternative life played out before her in snapshots. She would’ve married him, she would’ve had his children and her life would’ve been so different, so happy, because he was all she had ever wanted. It was only after he’d emigrated that she’d realised that she would never be happy without him, but by then it was too late. She looked back at the wasted years and felt a terrible sense of injustice – and confusion. ‘But I don’t understand. How come I didn’t receive the letters?’
A silence followed. Cahal screwed up his face in puzzlement. She said, ‘Maybe you got the address wrong or put on the wrong postage or something?’
He shook his head firmly. ‘I could see one or two going astray, maybe, but not every single letter. I wrote over twenty, Sarah. No, someone must have taken them.’
Immediately she was transported back to that long, miserable holiday. Dad was working day and night. Becky spent most of her time inside, unwilling to leave Sarah’s side. Sarah lay in bed, physically sick with illnesses the doctor could not diagnose, and Aunt Vi was a constant presence, rarely going out, as if afraid to leave Sarah alone …
‘Someone picked them up,’ he said.
Aunt Vi! And though she said nothing, she slapped her hand over her mouth.
‘And there’s something else. I called your house and left a message with the man who answered the phone. He didn’t say much, but I can only imagine it was your father.’
A chill ran down Sarah’s spine. ‘I never got any message.’
‘But he told me that he would pass on the message that I had called – and give you my number in Australia.’
Sarah gasped. She didn’t know what to think. She couldn’t believe that her father had deliberately withheld this information.
‘When you hadn’t called back a week later,’ he went on, ‘I phoned again. But this time the phone was dead.’
Her mind raced. And then, like a light switched on in a dusty loft, illuminating all the things forgotten, she recalled a tiny detail. ‘Dad had to change the number,’ she said, becoming animated the more she remembered. ‘We were getting nuisance calls. I remember thinking that was odd because our number was ex-directory – because of Dad being in the RUC, you see. I stayed in my room most of that summer.’ She bowed her head, the misery of that time painful to recall.
Cahal blinked rapidly, colour rising to his tanned cheeks, and he said bluntly, ‘Nuisance calls weren’t the reason the number was changed. I was. Your dad changed the number because he didn’t want you to speak to me.’
‘No,’ said Sarah with a firm shake of her head. ‘He wouldn’t do that without … he just wouldn’t …’ Her voice trailed away.
‘And the letters?’ he said.
She shook her head. She had never believed her aunt capable of such deception, but it seemed the only logical conclusion in the face of the facts. How could she do such a cruel thing? ‘If only we’d had mobile phones and Twitter and Facebook back then. None of this would’ve happened.’
‘If only.’ He rubbed his chin and stared at her. ‘What would you have done if you’d got my letters, Sarah?’
She pushed aside the nagging doubts that nibbled at her consciousness. ‘If I’d received even one letter from you I believe it would’ve changed everything. I would’ve followed you to Australia.’
‘It … makes me so bitter to hear that.’
She said, ‘I sent you a letter shortly after you left. Did you ever get it?’ She told him about slipping it through his parents’ door. ‘I assumed they forwarded it to you.’
He snorted derisively. ‘They wouldn’t have bothered going to the post office and buying a stamp. It would’ve gone straight in the bin.’
She swallowed, forcing down the lump lodged in her throat. ‘I don’t know what happened to your letters, Cahal, but I thought that you’d abandoned me,’ she whispered. ‘I thought that you didn’t care.’
‘That’s what I thought too.’ He paused, his eyes filling up, and said angrily, ‘Our lives would’ve turned out so differently if we’d stayed together. And now we both have families and baggage and …’
His voice trailed off and she finished the sentence for him. ‘It’s so complicated, isn’t it? Before, in a way, it was so very simple.’ Previously, it had been a straightforward choice between Cahal and her family. But now there were children and ex-spouses and thousands of miles to consider too.
There was a long silence. Against the grey, sunless sky, a lone gull swooped and dived. And the river, the tide about to turn, was still as glass. The unfairness of it all pressed in on her and she sniffed back tears. ‘I thought of you every day for the last twenty years, Cahal.’
‘Oh, Sarah.’ His hand closed over hers. ‘Is it too late for us? Or do you think we could start over?’
He was the only man she had ever wanted. But could she trust him? ‘Maybe.’
His smile travelled all the way up to his eyes.
She so wanted to believe in him. She so wanted to believe that they had a future. What had Evelyn said? The future has a funny way of taking care of itself. She tried to cling to these wise words but they gave little comfort. For she could not honestly see how the obstacles that lay before her and Cahal could be overcome. And yet, she wasn’t ready to give up hope altogether.
‘But let’s not rush things,’ she said. ‘Let’s take it one step at a time.’
Sarah looked at the enormous bunch of flowers in her aunt’s arms with dismay.
‘Oh! They’re absolutely gorgeous,’ gushed Aunt Vi, her face partially obscured by lilac tulips, white germini and cream spray roses. ‘How did you know it was my birthday, Tony?’
He winked at Becky, standing beside him in the small hall in her father’s house. ‘A little bird told me.’
Becky grabbed hold of his arm and grinned delightedly.
Tony handed Dad a bottle of wine and he said, ‘Very nice.’
Sarah dusted her hands on her apron. ‘Hi everyone. I’d better just see to the dinner,’ she said, scuttling back into the kitchen.
Alone with her thoughts in the overheated room, she put on oven gloves, yanked the roast chicken out of the oven and set it on top of the cooker. Then she stabbed the thighs viciously with a metal skewer. Tony shouldn’t be here. It was a family celebration. But Aunt Vi had insisted. Every moment in Tony’s company was an agony for her, waiting for the awful moment she knew would one day come and ruin everything.
‘How’s it going?’ said Becky coming into the room and filling a glass with water at the sink. ‘Do you need a hand?’
‘No thanks. I think it’s all under control.’
There was a pause. ‘Sarah?’
‘Yes?’ she said, ripping off a sheet of foil and placing it over the chicken before returning it to the oven.
‘Is everything all right?’
‘Of course.’ Sarah smiled stiffly. ‘Why wouldn’t it be?’
Becky took a sip of water and frowned. ‘Have I done something to annoy you?’
‘Don’t be silly. What makes you think that?’
‘It’s just … well, you do like Tony, don’t you?’
Sarah swallowed. ‘Yes, of course. It’s just … well, things seem to be moving rather fast, that’s all. You’ve only known him for a short while and here he is at Aunt Vi’s birthday lunch.’
‘Oh,’ said a dismayed Becky. ‘But Aunt Vi invited him.’ She set down the glass of water and regarded Sarah coldly for some long moments. ‘I expected more from you, Sarah. If Aunt Vi and Dad can welcome Tony into the family, why can’t you? What’s wrong with you?’
‘There’s nothing wrong with me. All I’m saying is –’
‘Spare me the explanation,’ said Becky and she walked out of the room slamming the door shut behind her.
Sarah ran her hand through her hair. Tony was coming between them and she didn’t know what to do about it. She was on edge now in Becky’s company in a way she had never been before, constantly worried that she would let slip her secret.
She tried to put Becky out of her mind and focused on Cahal and the conundrum of the missing letters instead. She wanted so much to believe he had sent them and made the phone call. It meant he had not abandoned her. But could he really be trusted after all that had been said and done? If he had sent the letters, what had happened to them? It was still inconceivable to her that her aunt and father who had done so much for her, had kept both letters and phone calls from her. The simplest thing was to ask them, of course, but she could not bring herself to do so. If they denied all knowledge, where did that leave her and Cahal? Was it better not to know, to take a risk in trusting Cahal, like Evelyn had done the night she eloped with Harry? Was it a risk she was willing to take?
Aunt Vi bustled into the kitchen with the flowers, laid them on the table and got out a vase. ‘How’s the chicken?’
‘Nearly done.’ Sarah took a tray of roast potatoes out of the oven. She glanced sideways at her aunt. Was this woman really capable of the deception Cahal would lay at her door?
Sarah took off the oven gloves and Aunt Vi peered at the potatoes doubtfully. ‘Are you sure I can’t do anything to help?’
‘Absolutely not,’ said Sarah, turning the potatoes with a pair of tongs. ‘Just you relax and enjoy someone else cooking for you for a change.’
‘Thanks, love. Aren’t these just gorgeous?’ swooned Aunt Vi, turning her attention back to the flowers.
‘Mmm,’ said Sarah, slipping her hands back into the oven gloves.
‘So very thoughtful of him.’
Sarah shook the tray of roast potatoes so vigorously, fat splattered all over the place, narrowly missing the bare skin on her arms. ‘Don’t you think that he’s a bit old for Becky though?’
‘Oh, I don’t think it matters too much,’ said Aunt Vi, rummaging in a drawer for a pair of scissors. ‘It’s only twelve years, isn’t it?’
Sarah closed the oven door with a bang. ‘She told me he’s been married before. Twice.’
‘Well, a man in his forties is bound to have some baggage, isn’t he?’ said Aunt Vi, filling the vase up with water. She glanced at the door to the hall, went over and closed it. ‘I’d be more worried if he hadn’t.’
‘But he’s had four kids by two different women,’ persisted Sarah, pulling off the oven gloves and throwing them on top of the counter.
Aunt Vi glanced sharply at Sarah, snipped the end of a germini, and placed the flower in the vase of water. ‘I know he’s not perfect, Sarah. But we have to take a pragmatic view of things.’ She picked up a spray of cream roses and stripped it bare of leaves. ‘He’s the first man she’s brought home that I actually like and he does seem very fond of Becky. And let’s face it, she’s not getting any younger. If she wants a husband and a family, well, this might be her last chance.’
Sarah swallowed. She felt like a juggernaut was racing towards her and she was powerless to stop it. The doorbell went. Sarah said, grabbing a spoon, ‘That’ll be Ian with the kids.’ It was their weekend with him but he’d agreed to drop them over so they could celebrate their great-aunt’s birthday with her.
Aunt Vi opened the door to the hall and called out, ‘Sarah’ll get the door. It’s the kids.’ Then she picked up the scissors and a tulip and said to Sarah, ‘Go on then.’
‘I can’t. You go. I’m watching the dinner.’ To prove her point, she stirred the sweetcorn with the spoon.
‘Here, I can do that,’ said Aunt Vi irritably and she held out her hand for the wooden spoon.
‘No,’ said Sarah, standing her ground. ‘You go.’
Aunt Vi bumped her hip against Sarah’s. ‘Don’t be ridiculous. They’re your kids.’
‘Mum?’ came Molly’s voice and the sound of feet in the hall.
‘You can’t leave the man standing there on the doorstep,’ snapped Aunt Vi.
Sarah sighed, defeated. She wiped her hands down the front of the apron. ‘Okay then.’
Aunt Vi grabbed the spoon out of Sarah’s hand like a prize trophy and smiled triumphantly.
Ian, standing on the doorstep, looked a little dishevelled as he handed over Lewis’ coat. He had bags under his eyes and what was left of his hair was sticking up all over the place. She was tempted to ask if he felt all right but stopped herself for fear of giving him further encouragement. ‘Thanks for letting them come over for Vi’s birthday dinner.’
‘That’s no problem, Sarah. Of course they couldn’t miss it.’
‘I’ll drop them back before nine. Bye.’ She started to close the door.
‘Sarah?’
‘Yes?’
He smiled. ‘I haven’t forgotten about the tap.’
‘Er … thanks.’
She narrowed the gap in the door even more.
‘Sarah?’
‘What?’
‘Never mind. It’ll keep.’
She closed the door, leaned against it and let out a long, loud sigh.
After dinner, with everyone sitting round the table in the cramped dining room, Aunt Vi asked, ‘Didn’t Ian want to come in?’
‘I didn’t ask him,’ said Sarah sullenly and she looked around the table, avoiding eye contact with Tony. ‘He was only dropping the kids off. He wasn’t invited for lunch.’
‘He’s a good man,’ said Dad, with a quick glance at Molly and Lewis’ grave faces. ‘You should be more civil to him, Sarah.’
Sarah opened her mouth to protest but shut it again. Being civil to Ian was what had gotten her into this mess. After giving her a lift home from Isabelle’s party she couldn’t get rid of him. She’d only agreed to let him come and fix the dripping tap in order to get him to leave. Since then she’d managed to avoid him, finding excuses to dash off when she dropped the kids or he appeared at Evelyn’s bedside.
‘Stop doing that,’ hissed Molly at Lewis and then, addressing anyone who would listen, she said, ‘He’s kicking me under the table.’
‘I am not,’ said Lewis. ‘You just keep putting your leg where I want to put mine.’
‘Ahem,’ said Becky. She touched Tony on the arm and grinned. ‘We’ve got some news.’ Sarah’s heart jumped. There was a pause. Becky glanced sourly at Sarah, then delivered the hammer-blow. ‘Tony’s going to move in with me.’
So much for the relationship petering out, thought Sarah glumly. It appeared to be going from strength to strength. Something would have to be done.
‘Oh,’ said Aunt Vi and dabbed her mouth with her napkin.
‘Ahem …’ said Dad and started to cough.
‘Now, before you say anything,’ said Tony, addressing Aunt Vi and Dad. ‘I know you don’t approve but this way we’ll be able to save up to buy somewhere together. And we’re fed up being apart, aren’t we, darling?’ He placed a gentle kiss on Becky’s nose and Sarah looked away. Her heart sank. Could things get any worse?
‘But you really should be married,’ said Aunt Vi. ‘Or engaged at least.’
‘Are you getting married, Auntie Becky?’ said Molly, her face alight with anticipation.
Sarah swallowed, the idea filling her with horror.
‘No, sweetheart,’ said Becky.
‘Oh,’ said Molly. Her face fell and then she growled, ‘Will you stop doing that, Lewis?’
Tony pushed his chair back. ‘Tell you what, Lewis, why don’t you and I go and play a bit of football? Did I tell you I played one season as centre half for Linfield?’
‘Did you ever?’ said Lewis, his eyes as big as plates, squeezing out of his chair and heading for the door. Molly went off to watch TV and, as soon as she was gone, Dad turned to Becky and said, ‘Your aunt’s right. You shouldn’t be moving in together without a ring on your finger.’
But before Becky could say a thing, Aunt Vi rose to her defence. ‘Your father’s right, dear. But on the other hand, David, all the young ones live together nowadays.’
Sarah looked at her aunt in surprise and Dad said, ‘You’re very liberal all of a sudden.’
‘We all have to move with the times, eventually,’ said Aunt Vi, smiling at Becky. ‘And Tony seems like such a nice man.’
‘Yes, yes, he does,’ said Dad thoughtfully, staring out at the garden where Tony and Lewis were kicking a ball about in the May sunshine.
‘But what if things don’t work out?’ chipped in Sarah, clutching at straws.
Becky stared at her, stony-faced. ‘I thought you’d be pleased for me, Sarah.’
Sarah cleared her throat and felt her face redden. ‘I am pleased for you. I just don’t want to see you get hurt. Or used.’
‘Tony isn’t using me,’ said Becky icily. ‘Any more than Cahal Mulvenna’s using you.’
‘What?’ said Dad and Aunt Vi at the same time. Both their horrified gazes fell on Sarah.
‘It’s no big secret,’ said Sarah, giving Becky the daggers. ‘I met him for lunch a few times. As a friend.’
Aunt Vi put her hands to her face and whispered, ‘No, Sarah.’
Dad flashed Aunt Vi a warning glance and said to Sarah, ‘But I thought you were done with him? He’s not a man to be trusted.’
Sarah rearranged the napkin on her lap. ‘I’ll be the judge of that.’
‘You’d be a fool to give him a second chance, Sarah,’ said Aunt Vi, fiddling with a dessert spoon. ‘After what he did.’
‘I agree,’ said Becky folding her arms.
Sarah felt her face burn red. ‘Well, that’s my decision, isn’t it?’ She started collecting the dirty plates and forced a smile. ‘Now, why don’t we clear the table and have some birthday cake?’
Later, when she got to Ian’s, dusk was falling and only his car was in the driveway. Sarah intended dropping the kids without getting out of the car but the front door opened and Ian came out, looking as unkempt as he had done earlier. His face broke into a grin when he saw the kids jump out of the car, leaving both passenger doors open. He kissed Molly on the head then lifted Lewis off the ground and turned him upside down before setting him back on his feet again. Lewis squealed with delight and cried, ‘Again!’
Ian rubbed the small of his back, laughing, and embraced Lewis. ‘Maybe later, son. You’re getting too heavy for your old man.’
The children went indoors and Sarah got out of the car to shut the back doors.
‘How was the party?’ he said, coming up to the car.
‘Fine,’ she said, slamming a door shut. ‘Listen, I’m going to be a bit late home from work on Wednesday. Is there any way you could pick the kids up from after school club this week? I’d be back by six.’
‘Sure.’
‘Okay, thanks.’ She got back in the driver’s seat, one foot on the tarmac.
‘Sarah. Please come in for a minute.’
She froze and cursed under her breath. He’d come round the side of the car and was standing close, looking down at her.
‘I haven’t really got time tonight,’ she said, looking straight ahead. ‘I’ve an early start in the morning. And the kids really ought to be getting to bed.’
‘I want to talk to you about something important.’
She glanced at the clock on the dash. The last thing she wanted to do was talk to Ian. But he had said it was important. It was probably about Evelyn. Or perhaps about the kids. Either way, she couldn’t really say no. In turning down his suggestion of a monthly dinner date, she’d promised she would make herself available anytime to talk about the kids. And something about Ian’s tone of his voice and his uncharacteristically scruffy appearance worried her. ‘Okay.’
She knew something was wrong as soon as she stepped into the house. Unopened mail was stacked untidily on the half-moon hall table. And the carpet was stained with mud as if he’d let the kids walk in wearing their shoes. Raquel would have a fit when she came home and found grubby footprints on her pristine cream carpet.
He led the way through to the kitchen, and then sat down with his hands clasped together on the kitchen table, as if in prayer. Last night’s dishes lay unwashed on the kitchen counter. The bin was overflowing. Something wasn’t right. Concern for him began to grow. ‘Where’s Raquel?’
‘Er, away … but let’s not talk about her.’
She slipped into a chair opposite Ian, fiddled with the car keys under the table, and waited.
‘I was thinking of popping round this week to fix the tap. And I noticed last time I was round that the curtain pole above the kitchen window’s coming off the wall. I’ll fix that too. When would suit?’
She squirmed in the seat. ‘Ian,’ she said carefully, ‘I don’t want to sound ungrateful but I’ve been thinking about the tap and I really think it would be best if I got someone in to fix it.’
He laughed. ‘You don’t need to get someone in. You have me.’
‘Still,’ she said, meeting his sharp gaze.
The smile fell from his face. Her palms sweated. ‘Well, if that’s all you wanted to talk to me about, I’d really better be going.’ She stood up.
‘Don’t go. Please,’ he said.
He looked so miserable she sat down again and rested her hands on the table. ‘What’s wrong, Ian?’
He put his head in his hands. ‘Raquel’s left me.’
‘What?’
He looked up and said flatly, ‘She’s moved out. Taken all her clothes and personal belongings. She says she’ll be back for the furniture she paid for.’ Sarah noticed a hole in the wall by the door and scuff marks on the otherwise spotless skirting board. Evidence of a fight?
‘She can have it all, for all I care,’ went on Ian, standing up and pacing up and down the room.
She put a hand on her stomach, tied up in knots. This was bad news on so many levels. ‘Oh, Ian. I’m so sorry. What happened?’
But instead of answering her, he sat down abruptly and said, ‘You and I should never have divorced, Sarah.’ His eyes were watery, and there was a kind of jumpy energy about him that unnerved her. He ran a hand through his thin ginger hair. ‘I don’t know what I was thinking. We should’ve had more counselling. Or something.’
‘We went to counselling for nine months, Ian, but it just wasn’t to be.’
He smiled at her. ‘The thing is, I still love you, Sarah. I want us to get back together.’
Sarah opened her mouth and stared at him in horror. Taking a deep breath, she tried to be kind. ‘I care that you are happy, Ian. I couldn’t be divorced from a better person. You’re a wonderful father and a good son to Evelyn. I’ve always admired your integrity and your decency. But I don’t love you.’
‘Don’t say that, Sarah. You loved me once.’ He reached a hand across the table and she snatched hers away. He frowned. ‘Surely you can learn to love me again? The way I love you.’
How could she tell him the truth? Ian’s good qualities, and he had many, had never been enough to make her love him, not the way she had loved Cahal. Nothing before or since had ever come close to that. And she knew that nothing less could make her happy now.
‘No, Ian.’
His face crumpled. ‘Don’t say that, Sarah. You have to give me … us … a chance.’
‘I can’t.’
‘But these last few months we’ve been getting on so well. I thought –’
She stood up. ‘If I’ve done or said anything to encourage you in thinking I wanted us to get back together, then I’m truly sorry.’
His face hardened and he stared at her, his blue eyes cold and accusing. ‘It’s because of Cahal Mulvenna, isn’t it?’
Of course Vi must’ve told him that Cahal was back. The two of them were thick as thieves, always had been. ‘How I feel about you has got nothing to do with him.’
His Adam’s apple moved in his throat. ‘I really care about you, Sarah. You know that, don’t you?’
Reluctantly, she nodded.
‘And I don’t want to see you getting hurt. Or going against your family’s wishes.’ He paused and looked pointedly at her.
She bit her lip, counted to ten and squeezed the keys in her hand so hard one dug painfully into the palm. ‘My family’s affairs are nothing to do with you Ian. Not anymore.’
He sat back in the chair and regarded her for some time with a closed fist over his mouth, as if deciding something. At last he removed the fist and said, ‘Do you know that Malachy Mulvenna, Cahal’s father, has been in prison?’
She shrugged her shoulders dismissively. ‘So what? Anyone can make a mistake, can’t they? Everyone does things they regret. He was probably just young and foolish.’
Ian snorted, and shook his head in that knowing way of his that had always infuriated her. ‘He was convicted of serious crimes, Sarah. Not petty ones. He served a long prison sentence.’
Sarah sat down again, trying not to show her surprise. Cahal had been vague about his father’s criminal past but she was certain he’d told her the offences were minor, even though he didn’t know what they were. Serious could mean any number of things. Drugs. Violent assault or burglary. Terrorist activities. Murder even. She shuddered involuntarily and said, ‘Like what?’
Ian broke eye contact and looked to the left. ‘I don’t know the specifics.’
‘And how do you know this?’
He stared at her, his eyes narrowed slightly, and she couldn’t help but feel he was taking vindictive pleasure in telling her, ‘I overheard my dad talking to yours once.’
‘Well, maybe you … you misheard. Maybe he was talking about someone else.’
‘I know what I heard.’
Sarah looked away. That might explain why Dad and Vi disliked Cahal so much. Dad had no time for anyone caught on the wrong side of the law and he had little faith in the redemptive power of the penal system. Once a criminal, always a criminal. A funny attitude for an ex-police detective, when you thought about it.
‘It was years ago,’ went on Ian, ‘round about the time your dad found out about your fling with Cahal.’
She glared at him, hating the way he tried to belittle what she and Cahal had shared. ‘Well, the father’s sins aren’t the son’s. Cahal can’t be blamed for what his father did.’
He sighed. ‘You don’t know what you’re getting into, Sarah. You don’t know the damage and the hurt you will cause your family if you persist in seeing this man.’
Sarah laughed. The situation was so ridiculous – her ex-husband telling her who she could and could not date. ‘Well I’ve news for you, Ian. I’m a big girl and I think I’m old enough to make up my own mind.’
‘You should make sure you’re in possession of the full facts first.’
Anger rose inside Sarah. She’d let other people come between her and Cahal once before – she would not let it happen a second time. ‘Look, the facts are these. Dad and Aunt Vi don’t like Cahal because he’s working class and he’s a Catholic. If me seeing Cahal hurts them, it’s because of their own snobbery and prejudice.’
‘Please, Sarah,’ he said, his voice catching in his throat. ‘I’m asking you one last time. Please forget about Cahal Mulvenna and give us a chance.’
‘No. Don’t you understand, Ian? There is no us. You and me are over. Finished.’
A look of bewilderment crossed his face and then his features seemed to crumple in on themselves. She could not bear to look at him any longer. She stood up, took a step towards the door but was stopped in her tracks by a stifled sob. She turned. Ian’s head was bent over the table, one hand over his face.
Filled with compassion, she went over, stood behind him and laid her hand softly on his broad shoulder. ‘I’m sorry.’ She stood like that for some long seconds until he composed himself.
‘I think you’d better go, Sarah.’
‘Do you want me to take the children?’
‘No,’ he sniffed. He shook off her hand and stood up. And looking at a space to the right of her he said, ‘I’ll be all right. Go, Sarah. Please. Just go, would you?’