The warm spring had given way to a hot and sunny June. Aunt Vi had decided to throw an impromptu barbecue and everyone converged in the back garden on Sunday under a clear blue sky. Tomorrow, Cahal would return from Australia.
Sarah, in a printed cotton dress, was alone on the patio, the children and Becky were playing pig in the middle on the grass with a yellow tennis ball and Tony was over by the barbecue trading cooking tips with Dad.
Since she’d got to know Tony better, Sarah had come to the conclusion that he was a decent man. If she could just talk to him alone, if she could make him understand the terrible consequences of spilling the beans and make him promise to keep quiet, then maybe that was the best she could hope for. After some thought, she had decided that there was no reason to think he might tell Becky – or Cahal – but she had to be sure. Surely he would see that it was in everyone’s interests to keep the past where it belonged?
Aunt Vi, in a long-sleeved shirt dress of white linen buttoned up to the neck, came outside carrying a wooden tray laden with condiments. She set the tray on the patio table and picked up a bottle of ketchup. ‘So,’ she said casually, though she was watching Sarah keenly out of the corner of her eye, ‘are you still seeing Cahal Mulvenna?’
Sarah rolled a knife and fork up tightly in a white paper napkin. ‘I see him from time to time, yes.’
There was a long, pregnant pause while Aunt Vi arranged ketchup on the table, along with onion relish, mustard and barbecue sauce. Then she held the empty tray across her chest and stood and stared at Sarah.
‘What?’ said Sarah, irritably.
‘It’s just … well.’ Aunt Vi looked at the sensible walking sandals on her feet. ‘You do know how your father and I feel about him?’
‘I think I’ve got the message.’
‘And you … you won’t change your mind? About seeing him.’
Sarah sighed and looked out across the garden at Becky and the kids, red-faced and laughing. ‘I really don’t understand why you and Dad dislike him so much. I wish I’d followed my heart all those years ago instead of listening to you two.’
Without replying, Aunt Vi went inside to the kitchen and Sarah followed her. Gently, she closed the door on the shrieks of laughter outside and the two of them were alone. Aunt Vi glanced at Sarah, then lifted a packet of cheese out of the fridge.
Sweat pricked the back of Sarah’s neck but her bare arms were cold all of a sudden and she had a bad taste in her mouth.
‘Pass me a chopping board, will you?’ said Aunt Vi, pulling a sharp knife out of the block by the cooker. Sarah turned around, retrieved a white plastic board from behind the bread bin and handed it to her aunt, who sat down at the table.
It was now or never.
Sarah took a step forward – and a deep breath. ‘Cahal told me something very interesting.’
‘Really,’ said Aunt Vi. With a shaking hand, she cut an uneven slice of cheese off the orange block.
Sarah’s mouth dried up with nerves. ‘He said that when he went to Australia, he wrote many letters to me, none of which arrived.’
‘Oh.’ Aunt Vi placed the slice of cheese carefully on a small plate. ‘Where did he send them?’
‘Here, to this house.’
Her aunt paused momentarily with the knife hovering in the air over the cheese. Then she applied the knife to the cheese, her hand steady now, pressed down and another slice fell onto the board. ‘And you believe him?’
‘Yes.’
Aunt Vi snorted. ‘Well, I think you’re a fool. He’ll tell you anything he wants you to hear. If he sent you all these letters, where did they go?’
‘That’s what I want to find out.’
‘Well, I hope you’re not suggesting that I had anything to do with it.’
Sarah cocked her head and stared hard into her aunt’s clear, unblinking eyes.
Aunt Vi set the knife down on the table and shook her head, a look of incredulity on her face. She sighed loudly. ‘Listen, Sarah. I can’t believe that you’re taking what this fella says at face value. Can’t you see that he’s ashamed of making promises he didn’t keep and, now that his marriage’s broken up, he thinks he can waltz back into your life and take up where he left off? With no regard, I might add, to where this situation is leading. Is he going to clear off back to Australia in a few months’ time and leave you broken-hearted all over again?’
Sarah bit her lip and looked out the window. She could just glimpse Becky and the kids at the end of the long, thin garden, poking the compost heat with a stick. Smoke drifted across the grass. Hearing her aunt articulate her deepest fear made it even more real. Anxiety soared in her breast.
‘This is how I see it, Sarah. If he has to tell a few porkies so he can have his fun while he’s here, well clearly he’s not above telling them.’
Sarah leaned on the table, her fingers splayed wide, the red polish on her nails like fresh blood. ‘Someone’s telling lies all right.’
Aunt Vi spoke quietly and calmly, without breaking eye contact for a second. ‘You’d better be careful what you’re saying, girl. Because you’re very close to accusing me, or someone else in this house, of theft.’
Sarah stood up straight. ‘That’s right.’
Aunt Vi pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose and this time her voice was far from calm and her hands on the table clenched into fists. ‘I live by the Lord’s word and I have never broken the law nor told anything other than white lies to protect the feelings of others.’ The grey bun on the back of her head quivered. ‘And if you think me capable of stealing letters, then quite frankly I’m disgusted with you.’
Sarah stared at her aunt, shocked, her heart pounding in her chest and her cheeks flaming with colour. She stepped away from the table and placed a hand on her throat. It wasn’t the fact of her aunt’s denial that came as a surprise – she could have rationalised the hiding of letters as an act of kindness to ‘save’ Sarah from the clutches of a terrible Mulvenna – it was the vehemence and utter conviction with which she defended herself that surprised Sarah. And left her feeling hurt and confused.
‘There was a phone call too,’ said Sarah. ‘Cahal rang here and a man answered the phone. He said he would pass on the message that he had called and his number. Of course, whoever it was never did pass on the message to me and the rest is history.’
‘And I suppose you’re accusing your father?’
Sarah looked at the floor.
The back door opened. Dad came in, opened the fridge and peered inside. ‘Seems I’m a little redundant. Tony’s got the barbecue well in hand.’
‘Sarah’s got something to ask you, David,’ said Aunt Vi, folding her arms.
He closed the fridge door. ‘Oh, what’s that?’
Sarah took a deep breath. ‘Did you take any letters Cahal sent me from Australia?’
‘There weren’t any letters, love,’ he said gently.
Sarah held on to the back of a chair. ‘Can you answer the question please?’
He glanced at Aunt Vi, frowned and shook his head. ‘No, I never took any letters.’
‘And did you take a phone message for me from Cahal shortly after he went to Australia?’
He shook his head, glanced at Aunt Vi and sighed sadly. ‘I always told you that fella was no good. I know you want to believe in him.’ He placed a hand, solid and sure, on her shoulder. ‘But don’t you know a lie when you hear it?’
The door burst open and Lewis came running in all red-faced, his just-clean-on clothes covered in grass stains. ‘Tony says he’s ready for the cheese now, Aunt Vi.’ Dad’s hand slipped from Sarah’s shoulder, though she felt the weight of it still, pressing down like a vice.
Aunt Vi smiled at Lewis. ‘Just coming, darling.’ She picked up the knife, expertly shaved off a few more slices of cheese and transferred them to the plate.
Molly appeared in the open doorway, wearing pale blue shorts and a multicoloured strappy top. ‘Tony says can you bring plates out please?’
‘Sure thing,’ said Dad, handing the cheese to Lewis. ‘There you go, son.’ Then he lifted a stack of blue plastic plates off the counter and walked outside without so much as a glance in Sarah’s direction.
Later, when everyone had eaten and the sun had moved round, casting a chilly shadow on the patio, Dad stood up and called to Molly and Lewis who were both lying on the grass in the sun, squinting at the sky. ‘Who fancies an ice cream from the corner shop?’
Lewis jumped up immediately. ‘Me!’ he cried and ran over to his grandfather’s side.
Molly hauled herself to her feet and brushed grass off her long, slim legs. She sauntered over to the patio and slipped her feet into a pair of turquoise flip-flops. ‘Okay.’
‘Becky,’ said Aunt Vi, ‘why don’t you help me clear up?’
‘Sure,’ said Becky, standing up and stacking plates.
Sarah picked up a dirty glass but Aunt Vi said, coldly, ‘It’s okay, Becky and I can manage.’ Becky frowned quizzically at Sarah and Tony said, rolling his sleeves up, ‘I’ll wash up.’
‘No you will not,’ said Aunt Vi, all sweetness and light again. ‘You were slaving over that barbecue for ages. Anyway, more than two people in that kitchen and you can’t turn around. Why don’t you go and explore the garden properly? There’s a pretty little wild area down there on the right full of primroses.’ In order to make the garden look less like a tunnel, Dad had planted hedges and bushes at various points across the lawn, creating the illusion of width – and several secluded spots such as the wild flower garden.
‘I’m no gardener but I’ll happily take a look,’ said Tony and he wandered off. Aunt Vi took the glasses inside and Becky hissed at Sarah, ‘What did you say to upset her?’
‘I’ll tell you later.’
Sarah was none the wiser about the letters but watching Tony disappear behind a laurel fence, she decided she might salvage something from today.
In the kitchen she grabbed the white plastic container – a two-litre milk carton with the lid cut off – filled with apple peelings, two egg shells and some wet teabags. ‘I’ll just put this on the compost heap.’
‘But I emptied it only this morning,’ protested Aunt Vi.
‘It needs doing again. It’ll go all smelly in this heat,’ said Sarah and went outside, before her aunt could pass further comment.
She found Tony crouched in front of a white cabbage butterfly that had settled on a flower. He stood up when he felt her presence and the butterfly flew off over Mrs Riley’s fence, zig-zagging like a drunk.
‘Sarah,’ said Tony and he shoved his hands in the pockets of his chinos and looked at the toes of his scuffed suede loafers.
Sarah looked nervously towards the house, over the hedge. She could see only the upper windows of the house, which meant that they could not be seen from either the patio or the kitchen. But she only had a few minutes. Dad and the kids would be back soon. And Becky or Aunt Vi could appear at any moment.
‘We need to talk,’ she said briskly. ‘I’m sorry to be so abrupt, Tony, but we don’t have much time.’ She glanced at the house. ‘I’m really worried that Becky will find out about … you know. I got a terrible shock when you walked into that party.’
‘You’re telling me. Becky told me she had a sister called Sarah but how was I to make the connection? I never knew you were from Ballyfergus. You shouldn’t have pretended not to know me when we met at that party.’
‘I know. I saw straight away that it was the wrong thing to do. Why didn’t you say something?’
‘Well, excuse me for trying to save you embarrassment. Perhaps I should’ve blurted the whole story out.’
She took a step towards him and placed a hand on his chest. ‘Oh no, you mustn’t ever do that, Tony. We can’t undo what’s done.’ They both looked at her hand at the same time and she snatched it away. ‘But you must never tell Becky. She would be so hurt.’
He looked away and pulled a grim face, fair curly hair falling in front of his eyes. ‘I love her, you know.’
‘I know you do. And she loves you, Tony. You do understand that she can never find out, don’t you?’
He stared at her for a few long moments, then nodded slowly. ‘Yes.’
‘Swear that you will never tell anyone. And we’ll never talk about this again.’
‘Okay. I swear.’
She let out a long loud sigh and placed a hand on his arm. ‘Thank you. Thank you. You don’t know what it means to hear you say that.’
‘I think I do.’ He smiled. ‘You’re a great sister, Sarah.’
Sarah’s face coloured once more. He thought her motive a selfless one but it wasn’t. She glanced at the container in her hand. ‘I’d better go before someone comes looking for me,’ she said and slouched off.
Cahal answered the door of his temporary home in Grace Avenue, wearing jeans and a red checked lumberjack shirt. Sarah smiled, her stomach full of butterflies. ‘How was Australia?’
‘Oh, Sarah, I missed you.’ He hugged her there, on the doorstep, and she closed her eyes. A small tear trickled out the corner of her right eye. Why did she feel as if she had to choose between him and her family? Why couldn’t she have both?
‘How were the boys?’ she said, pulling away and discreetly flicking the tear away.
‘Great. But it was hard leaving them.’ His brow furrowed. ‘I tried really hard with Brady but …’ He let out a long sigh. ‘Let’s put it this way, I don’t think we’ll ever see eye to eye. We’re just too different.’
He closed the door and led her into a lounge with red flock wallpaper on the walls and a swirly green carpet. She said, ‘Did Adele like the picture?’
‘She loved it. Really. Anyway, how have you been?’
She smiled weakly, sat down beside him on the green velvet sofa and stared into his eyes. His countenance was so open, his eyes so clear and unblinking. Was it really possible that he had lied to her? ‘I asked my aunt about the letters. She said she never took them.’
‘I see. Well, she’s hardly going to admit to it, is she?’ he said, without breaking eye contact.
Sarah was first to look away. ‘I asked my dad too. And he said he never took them either.’
‘And the phone call?’
‘He denied that too.’
Cahal bit his bottom lip and waited. She sniffed and wiped her nose with the back of her hand. ‘I believe they’re telling the truth.’
There was a long silence. ‘And I’m not?’ he said.
‘I didn’t say that,’ she said quickly. ‘It’s possible something else happened to the letters, isn’t it?’
‘Like what? And who else could’ve taken the phone call?’
‘I don’t know,’ she said glumly, and looked at the palms of her hands.
‘Are you forgetting just how much your father hated me back then, Sarah? And probably still does. Even decent, moral men can be corrupted by hate.’
Her stomach was a ball of nerves, like tangled Christmas tree lights. ‘I don’t believe my father is one of those men. I don’t believe he would lie to me.’
‘I feel as if you’re choosing them over me. Again.’
‘That’s not true!’ she cried and her bottom lip quivered. ‘I’m here now, seeing you, aren’t I, against their wishes? Do you have any idea how hard that is for me?’ She took a deep breath and said sadly, ‘I don’t have the answers, Cahal. All I know is that they’re telling the truth. Please don’t be angry with me.’
‘I’m not angry with you, darling. I’m angry with them. For breaking us up in the first place.’
‘But they didn’t, Cahal, did they?’ A single tear slid down her right cheek. ‘I did that all by myself.’
‘Don’t cry, Sarah,’ he whispered, wiping the tear away with his forefinger. He pulled her to him and held her tight. ‘You were only a girl. It was expecting too much asking you to stand up to them.’
‘But it was my fault, Cahal,’ she said into his chest. ‘It was my fault I lost you.’
It was June 1992. Sarah sat on the bus headed for Ballyfergus with her head full of the promises she’d made to Cahal – and her heart full of fear. She’d persuaded him that breaking the news of the engagement to her family before the exams was a bad idea. The ensuing uproar would be too much of a distraction.
‘I’ll tell them as soon as the exams are over. I promise,’ she’d said, clinging to him in the darkness of the night. In her heart she knew she could put it off no longer. She knew he was hurt and his rising resentment was pushing them apart, a dark cloud over their happiness.
And now the exams were finished and she had no more excuses. Only the dread that grew with every mile the bus travelled, bringing her closer to Ballyfergus. She stared out the window and tried to calm her frazzled nerves. It had rained on and off all day but now the clouds had broken up and late afternoon sun bathed the lush green fields and the white-washed cottages, lending everything a golden hue.
Cahal had offered to come with her but, in anticipation of her father’s reaction, and her aunt’s, she turned him down. This was something she must do alone. Cahal made telling them sound so simple but she knew it would change her relationship with them forever.
She’d tried to tell them before, but this time it was different. The Claddagh ring she’d worn constantly on her ring finger for the past six weeks filled her with courage and reminded her that she was an adult now, free to make her own choices in life. So why, by the time the bus pulled into town on Friday teatime, did she feel so nervous she thought she might vomit?
Aunt Vi had gone to a lot of trouble. ‘I’ve made your favourite, Sarah,’ she said, wiping her hands on her apron. ‘Homemade chicken and leek pie.’
They all sat round the small square table, Dad and Aunt Vi facing each other, Sarah facing Becky. Sarah feigned relish as she forced down the food, each mouthful tasting like mud, her right temple pulsing with pain. She asked Becky about her week at school and enquired after Mrs Riley and smiled tolerantly when Aunt Vi complained about a new recruit to the choir who couldn’t sing. No one listening would’ve known that her heart beat so fast her ears were ringing with it. Or that her stomach felt like it had been turned inside out. When they were all finished eating and the plates had been scraped clean, Sarah knew this was the moment. She opened her mouth to speak but the muscles in her jaw refused to co-operate.
‘Can I go and watch Brookside?’ said Becky.
Sarah grabbed a glass and took a long drink.
Aunt Vi, sitting on Sarah’s left, tutted. ‘You know we don’t like you watching that rubbish, Becky. It’s not suitable for a girl your age.’
‘Maybe we can find something suitable for everyone to watch,’ suggested Dad. He put his hands on the table and started to ease himself out of the chair.
‘I’ve made apple crumble for afters,’ said Aunt Vi.
‘Oh, thanks Aunt Vi! Can we have it in front of the TV?’ said Becky hopefully.
‘You know we eat at the table, love, not in front of the TV,’ said Aunt Vi, not unkindly.
Sarah dug her nails into her palms and almost shouted, ‘Actually, I’ve something to tell you all.’
‘Oh?’ said Dad and he eased himself back into the chair. Aunt Vi pushed her plate away.
Sarah glanced at Becky for support but, bored already, she was idly kicking the table leg with the toe of her plimsoll. She was only a kid.
Sarah tried to recall the preamble she had so carefully prepared on the bus journey home. But staring into her father’s calm blue eyes, her mind went blank. Time passed and she felt Aunt Vi tense. She always anticipated bad news, and this time she would not be disappointed. ‘What is it, love?’
Sarah turned to look at her aunt’s grey eyes, magnified behind the wire-framed glasses perched on her nose. Then she looked back at her father and remembered what Cahal had said to her boarding the bus. ‘Remember how much I love you, Sarah. And no matter what anyone thinks or says, we are meant to be together. Don’t ever forget that.’
Her heartbeat slowed and she felt a growing warmth in her stomach. ‘I’m engaged to Cahal Mulvenna.’
Becky’s eyes opened wide and she clapped her hands and cried out, ‘Oh, Sarah’s going to get married. And I’m going to be a bridesmaid!’
Sarah smiled thinly. But the silence that followed this outburst was the most deafening she had ever heard. Aunt Vi clasped her hands together on the table and bent her head. Her knuckles went white. Dad stared at his sister, then touched his right eyebrow with his index finger, the muscles on his face all working at once. Becky, sensing the awful atmosphere, stared at the table and bit her bottom lip.
The warmth in Sarah’s stomach turned to ice. She tried to recall Cahal’s image and feel his touch, knowing that it would give her strength. But she could not bring to mind his face and all she felt was fear.
Dad spoke first. ‘Becky, go and watch the TV.’
She slid off the chair. ‘Don’t I have to help clear up the dishes first?’
‘Not tonight,’ he snapped, without looking at her. She gave Sarah a woeful glance and slipped quietly from the room. Sarah’s heart sank as the door closed behind her little sister. With her only ally gone, she felt like a lamb to the slaughter.
‘How long have you been engaged?’ said Dad, his head quivering as if he had a touch of Parkinsons.
She lifted her chin. ‘Six weeks.’
‘Where’s the ring, then?’ said Dad scornfully, with a sharp glance at Sarah’s left hand.
‘In the pocket of my jacket.’ She’d slipped it off before the bus reached Ballyfergus. That had been a mistake. It made her look like a coward and undermined her credibility.
Aunt Vi blew air out of her nose, lifted her head and gave Sarah a filthy look. ‘I can’t believe you’ve done this. And without even telling us, David. What kind of man would enter into an engagement without asking for your father’s permission first?’
Sarah steeled herself. ‘Why do you think he didn’t ask? We knew you’d never agree to it.’
Aunt Vi went on, addressing Dad, ‘He hasn’t even got the decency to come here and face us himself.’
‘He wanted to come but I told him not to. Do you think I’d ask him to sit here and listen to you two denigrate him and his family, just because they’re working-class Catholics?’
‘Sarah, please,’ said Aunt Vi, softening. ‘You’re too young to understand.’ She glanced at Dad. He lowered his eyes and Aunt Vi said, ‘If you marry him, it will be a disaster for you and your family.’
‘No it won’t. I love him and he loves me. And it’ll only be disaster for you and Dad if you refuse to accept him.’
‘Sarah,’ said Aunt Vi sadly, ‘we can never accept him into our family.’
Sarah fought back the tears. ‘Yes, you can. Just give him a chance. I promise you, if you get to know him, you’ll like him. No one could help but like him. Cahal’s parents have met me. Why can’t you meet him?’
Aunt Vi’s face went red and Sarah said, ‘Dad?’
‘Ian Aitken doesn’t like him,’ he said, sitting upright in his chair, his rigid physical posture akin to his moral one.
‘What’s this got to do with Ian?’
Dad inclined his head a little. ‘He’s a trusted family friend, Sarah. He’s simply trying to look out for you. And I consider his judgement very sound.’
‘He’s trying to break me and Cahal up,’ said Sarah angrily. ‘Not because he’s concerned about me, but because he wants us to get back together.’
‘You could do a lot worse,’ said Aunt Vi.
‘Oh, for heaven’s sake,’ snapped Sarah. ‘Why are we talking about Ian?’ Taking a moment to compose herself, she ran a hand through her hair. The anger made her both brave and surprisingly calm, in spite of the way her left leg jiggled under the table and a muscle in her cheek twitched uncontrollably. ‘You’ve both made your feelings perfectly clear. I’m sorry that you can’t be happy for me. But we’re going to get married this summer and there’s nothing you can do to stop us.’
She stood up. Her legs felt like jelly and, though the room was only a few paces wide, the kitchen door seemed like a long way away. She started to move towards it, praying she would make it to her room without collapsing. She was shaken but she’d stood her ground. Cahal would be proud of her. The sooner she and Cahal were married the better. ‘Sarah,’ said her father’s voice, freezing her to the spot.
She turned and stared at him. She should’ve known he would not let it go at that. ‘Come and sit down.’ His voice was quiet and, unnervingly, utterly devoid of emotion.
She obeyed, as her heart sank into the boots she’d travelled home in and still not taken off.
Once she was seated at the table again, he stared straight ahead. ‘I’m not going to discuss this with you, Sarah.’
‘There’s nothing to discuss. I’ve made my mind up.’
He dismissed her comment with a blink of his eyelids and carried on as if she had not spoken. He still treated her like a child and, infuriatingly she still acted like one sometimes. ‘As long as I’m paying for your education and you’re living under this roof, you’ll do as I say. You are to break off this engagement and promise never to see Cahal Mulvenna again.’
She opened her mouth in astonishment. How could he do that to his own daughter? He couldn’t possibly be serious. ‘You can’t do that.’
‘Don’t think for a minute that I don’t mean it. If you don’t do as I ask, I’ll throw you and all your possessions out of this house and we’ll see how long you last on your own.’
She felt empty inside as if her guts had been hollowed out. Her own father would do this to her? She stared at his square jaw and rigid back and realised that he meant every word. But she would not let him blackmail her. She thought of the long hours Cahal spent working in The Anchor bar, the awful digs he lived in, how he had to be so careful with money. But if he could do it, so could she. Her cheeks burned with indignation. ‘I’ll get a job to supplement my grant. Lots of people do it. I don’t need your money.’
He stared at her coldly. ‘Do this, and I will make sure you never see your sister again.’
Appalled by this, she hesitated, glanced at her aunt’s unreadable face and said, ‘You can’t stop me seeing her.’
‘So long as she’s a minor, I can stop her doing anything I want.’
Sarah gasped. Becky, whom she loved as much as Cahal, was just twelve years old. How could she bear not seeing her for years to come? She stared at the door through which Becky had just exited, but it wasn’t Becky she saw in her mind’s eye. It was her mother in that hospital ward and the words of her promise rang inside her head. Much as she loved her father, he had never been a hands-on Dad and he left the raising of his children to Aunt Vi. She did her best, but she was too strict and old-fashioned and she got more and more paranoid with each passing year. Without Sarah to moderate her aunt’s controlling tendencies, Becky’s life would be hell.
Hot tears sprang to her eyes and curses sprang to her bloodless lips. ‘You evil bastard,’ she cried. Aunt Vi put her hands to her mouth and Sarah stood up knocking her chair over in the process.
‘Don’t you dare use that –’ began Aunt Vi but Dad shook his head, and that was enough to silence her.
She stared at her father’s immovable face, her legs almost buckling beneath her, and waited. But he just sat there implacable as a cow chewing the cud and said nothing more. Sarah’s gut felt like it was spilled. Her dreams fell about her in tatters, all her brave words and heroic plans crushed to smithereens under the boot of his ultimate authority. Her situation was impossible.
Three weeks later she stood on the Nun’s Walk, a dramatic cliff path on the southern edge of Portstewart Bay. Cahal put his arms around her shoulders and pulled her close, but his embrace gave her no comfort, no respite from the torment that was tearing her apart. She shivered involuntarily though she wore a jacket and the June evening was warm and pleasant.
Far below the safety railing the sea crashed against the rocks throwing up furls of white froth and a light breeze blew in from the west. Behind them the white walls of the Dominican convent rose straight into the sky, as forbidding as any fortress.
‘I love you, Sarah,’ he said into her hair, as the setting sun, orange as a glowing ember, touched the edge of the horizon.
‘I love you too,’ she said but her voice sounded disconnected, unreal, and her heart was numb.
He released her and took a step back. ‘Don’t do this, Sarah. Don’t hold back on me.’
He was wearing his waiter’s uniform of black trousers and white shirt, his leather jacket on top. Now that his exams were over, he’d started a second job waiting tables in the Strand Hotel and worked fifteen hours a day. He said he could go without sleep, so long as he had her.
‘We’ve been over this a hundred times,’ he said, his tone somewhere between irritation and despair. ‘You can’t let him blackmail you. Even if he means it now – and I’m betting it’s just a bluff – he’ll mellow once we’re married and he realises there’s nothing he can do about it.’
‘You don’t know my father.’ She had never seen him back down, or change his mind even in the face of evidence that he was wrong.
He sighed. ‘It’s nearly the end of June. Your lease on the flat runs out next week.’
‘I know,’ she said quietly, thinking of Becky’s pale, round face at the window as she’d walked away from the house the morning after the row, bag slung over her shoulder.
‘Look.’ He grabbed her hand. ‘Let’s just do it and then nobody and nothing in the world can ever keep us apart. You can move in with me straight away. I know my lodging’s not up to much but we’ll find something better.’
Her whole body shook. Slowly, she slipped her hand from his grasp and stared down at the rocks below. The sheer drop was terrifying – and inviting. For the past weeks she’d barely slept, and every waking minute her thoughts went round and round in circles, ending up exactly where she had started. Her father was immovable. If she stood on the other side of the railings and let go, all this would be over …
‘What do you say, Sarah?’
‘I can’t. Not yet. I have to sort this out first.’
‘But how?’ exclaimed Cahal. ‘He won’t speak to you – or me.’
‘What?’ Her head snapped up.
He looked a little sheepish. ‘Last weekend when I said my Ma was ill and I had to go and see her, well, she wasn’t ill. I went to see your father.’
‘And?’
‘He told me that if he ever saw me on his doorstep again, he’d call the police. Then he slammed the door in my face.’
Sarah clawed at her cheek with bitten fingernails. She was proud of him for braving her father, but she could’ve told him it would be utterly pointless. Once David Walker had made up his mind, he was like a runaway train going downhill. ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’
He shrugged. ‘Didn’t seem like much point. I didn’t want to upset you.’
But to Sarah it was a defining moment. Her father would never budge, not while he was in this mindset, not while he felt like his back was up against a wall. But maybe there was another way.
‘I have to do what my father says. I have to finish with you.’
‘What?’ he cried and his eyes blazed with fury.
‘For now. Let’s have the summer apart and I can use the time to persuade him to change his mind.’ Her father was pig-headed and stubborn, but so was she. There must be some way to get through to him. Maybe she could work on Aunt Vi first. She’d never married, but surely she must’ve loved? If she could win her over to her cause, maybe they could both change Dad’s mind. But even as she internalised these thoughts, the task seemed unreachable, like scoring a hundred per cent in an exam – possible in theory only.
His nostrils flared and his chest rose and fell like a bellow. ‘No Sarah, you finish with me now and it’s over.’
He turned abruptly and stormed off in the direction of Portstewart and she called out, ‘Please, Cahal, just give me more time. I’m sure I can win him round …’
He stopped.
‘Somehow …’ she added, pathetically.
He turned to face her and took a few steps. His fists were clenched into tight, white balls. ‘You’re nineteen years old, Sarah. Do you have the courage to face up to your father, once and for all?’
She looked at the ground. She had faced up. And she had lost. He didn’t understand. She was the linchpin of her little family, holding it all together. What he was asking was impossible. She could not leave Becky. For she could never be happy knowing that she had.
‘I thought not.’ There were dark rings under his eyes. Black stubble shadowed cheeks that had grown thin. ‘I thought you loved me,’ he said in a broken voice.
Her eyes stung but no tears came. There were none left. ‘I do love you.’
His eyes burned. ‘Then marry me.’
She stared into his eyes – and she blinked first. ‘I just need more time, Cahal.’
The fire went out of his eyes, and his face hardened. He looked at her with a mixture of disgust and rage. Then he turned and started to walk away.
Her heart beat so hard it hurt. ‘Please, Cahal. Give me more time,’ she screamed. But he put his hands to his ears and simply carried on walking.
She watched his back, shoulders squared with resentment, disappear round a bend in the path. And on the horizon, the sun, now burning red like hell itself, slipped below the horizon and the light was gone.