Authors: Erin Kaye
She nodded and said pleasantly, ‘So, how’s Ireland? Must’ve been nice to visit home.’
He paused to consider this. He had not thought of it as home. It was nice to see fields greener than anywhere on earth, to sup a good pint of Guinness and load up on an Ulster Fry. And of course, there was Sarah. But home was where his boys were.
‘The Sarah you mentioned, she’s not
The
Sarah is she?’ He’d told Adele all about Sarah when they’d first met. He later wished he hadn’t. In the latter throes of their marriage, Adele had said it was like competing against a ghost.
He nodded. ‘The very same.’
Adele’s eyebrows rose a few centimetres on her forehead and she tapped the spoon on the side of the pot, then set it down. ‘Are you back together?’
‘Not exactly. We’re sort of seeing each other. But …’
‘But what?’
‘Oh, I don’t know. She says she never received any of my letters.’
‘That’s odd. You wrote loads, didn’t you?’
He nodded and Adele said slowly, ‘And you don’t believe her?’
‘It’s not that. I’ve just never quite forgiven her for putting her family before me. For not coming to Australia when I asked her. How do I know I can trust her?’
Adele frowned and folded her arms. ‘We’ve been separated for how long?’
‘Nearly five years.’
‘And in that time, how many women have you dated?’
‘Eh … I’ve had a few blind dates. And more than a few one-night stands.’
‘They don’t count,’ said Adele dismissively. ‘But you do know the reason for that, don’t you? Why you’ve not found a steady girlfriend?’
He shook his head stupidly. And she said, rather sadly, ‘You’ve never gotten over her, Cahal. She was … she is the love of your life, isn’t she?’
He bit his lip and she smiled. ‘Not many people get a second chance, Cahal. But it sounds as if you and Sarah have. Don’t mess it up. We all make mistakes, and she was only a girl twenty years ago.’
He smiled his thanks, the lump in his throat making it impossible to speak.
‘Is this for me, Dad?’ Jed called out, holding up the present Cahal had brought with him.
Cahal swallowed. ‘Yes, son. Happy Birthday. Go on, open it.’ As he watched the boy turn it over in his hands, his eyes filled inexplicably with tears. His marriage may have been a failure but his sons were the greatest achievement of his life.
And then, to his dismay, the patio doors burst open and Brady came lumbering in, spoiling the moment.
‘Hey, Cahal,’ he said genially, filling the room with his sheer size and testosterone.
The doors crashed shut behind him. A former rugby league player turned high school sports teacher, he was blond and tanned and stood at six-foot-six. He must’ve weighed eighteen stone of hard-packed muscle. Tugging at the top button of his shirt with his huge hand – he never looked entirely comfortable in anything other than sports clothing – he tossed his briefcase on a chair like an envelope. He shook Cahal’s hand vigorously, then looked at the parcel in Jed’s hand. ‘What’s this, then?’
Adele went over to Brady, placed a proprietorial hand on his chest and kissed him on the lips. ‘Cahal’s brought over Jed’s birthday present. How was work?’
‘Had to cancel the bloody after-school rugby fitness training again. Not enough turned up. Can’t understand kids these days, Cahal,’ said Brady with a heavy sigh, ripping off his tie.
Jed peeled the paper off the present and gasped.
‘When I was their age all I wanted to do was play sport,’ said Brady.
‘It’s an iPad!’ cried Jed incredulously, holding up a sleek slab of grey metal and black glass, as thin as a magazine. He grinned, touched a button and the screen flicked into life. ‘Oh, Dad, it’s brilliant. I can’t believe you got me an iPad.’
‘It’s the new one. Top of the range, son,’ beamed Cahal.
Brady whistled. ‘That’ll have cost you big bucks.’
Cahal said, ‘I thought you could use it for homework. You know, for browsing the web. As well as playing games, of course,’ he added, not wanting to sound like a killjoy.
Brady sniffed, threw himself into an armchair and turned his attention to Cahal. ‘Wanna sink some piss?’
Cahal bristled. He hated the crude way Brady spoke in front of his boys – his language belonged on the street, not in a family home. ‘No thanks.’
Unperturbed, Brady shrugged his huge shoulders. ‘Suit yourself. I’ll drink with the flies then.’
‘I’m driving,’ said Cahal, a feeble apology for his terseness. He reminded himself that it was in everyone’s interests, the boys’ especially, if they all got on.
Brady smacked his lips together. ‘Toss us a stubby, will ya, Adele? My throat’s as dry as a nun’s nasty.’
Jed sniggered and shared a secretive smile with Brady, sending a dart of jealousy straight through Cahal’s heart.
‘Brady!’ said Adele in a tone that managed to be both remonstrative and indulgent at the same time. She retreated to the kitchen and Tom, who was hanging over Jed’s shoulder staring at the iPad screen, looked up and said, ‘What’s a nun’s nasty?’
‘Nothing,’ said Cahal coldly. Thankfully, Tom’s attention was soon captured by the bright iPad screen once more.
‘How are you getting on at school, Harry?’ said Cahal, quickly changing subject.
‘Okay.’
‘Are you still in the top set for everything?’
Harry’s shoulders sank and he shot a quick glance at his father. ‘Everything but spelling. I’m in the second set now.’
Cahal frowned and Brady said, with a beaming smile, ‘Did Harry tell you that he made the school swim team?’
Immediately Harry’s body language changed. He sat up straight on the sofa with his hands sandwiched between his knees and smiled at Cahal.
‘Harry, that’s brilliant! Give me a high five.’ They slapped palms and Cahal resisted the urge to return to the worrying subject of Harry’s deteriorating spelling. ‘Tell me all about it.’
Harry filled him in on the details – it turned out that he was swimming in a gala the very next day. ‘I’ll make sure I don’t miss that,’ said Cahal.
‘When you come home, will you come and watch my basketball matches?’ said Jed.
‘Of course, son.’ Cahal bent his head and picked the discarded wrapping paper off the floor, rolling it into a ball as tight as his chest. His boys needed him so much. Their desire for his attention and approval was almost desperate.
Reality hit him square in the face. Even if things between him and Sarah worked out, how could they be together with families living on continents half a world apart? He looked at his children, his heart bursting with love for them, and knew he could never leave them. And how could he ask Sarah to come to Australia when it would mean taking her children away from everything they knew, and the father they adored? He tried to put himself in Ian’s shoes – he tried to imagine how he would feel if Adele announced that she’d met some guy and wanted to take the boys to live thousands of miles away. He’d never allow it.
Adele came back with a small bottle of beer. She handed it to Brady, he tossed half of it down his neck and said, with a keen eye on the iPad in Jed’s hands, ‘You can watch all the rugby league games on that, Jed. You can watch sport all day.’ He chuckled happily, like a big contented bear.
Tom came and sat on Cahal’s knee, his tanned, bony knees sticking out from grey shorts. Cahal put a hand on his back and felt the heat of him through the thin cotton shirt. This wasn’t how he’d wanted his life to turn out. It wasn’t what he wanted for his children. And inside him, something broke.
‘This feels very indulgent,’ said Becky, staring at the opulent, faintly decadent surroundings of the champagne lounge in the Merchant Hotel, located in Belfast’s Cathedral Quarter. Damask curtains framed the windows and light from the crystal chandelier bounced off the gilded mirrors onto the creamy-yellow walls. The carpet was black with a swirling gold pattern; the black velvet seats were low and wide.
Sarah sat opposite her sister in her best day dress. The square table between them was laid for afternoon tea with white china, a silver teapot, and napkins as stiff as the atmosphere between the two women.
‘It’s been a while since you and I spent time together. Properly. I’ve missed that,’ said Sarah.
‘Me too,’ said Becky, with a small smile. ‘I don’t like it when things between you and me aren’t right.’
‘Me neither.’
Becky stared at the three-tiered tea stand between them on the table, groaning with dainty sandwiches, fat scones, and bright pink Parisian macaroons. In honour of the occasion, she’d donned a black mini skirt and a purple silk shirt that clashed marvellously with her red hair. ‘You know, I don’t think I’ve ever been anywhere quite so grand.’
‘Well you deserve it!’ Sarah, determined to lighten the mood and restore harmony between them, lifted a glass of champagne and smiled. ‘Happy Birthday!’ she said, and felt their mother’s absence as sharply as a physical pain. She glanced at the ceiling, certain that she was watching over them like a kindly angel.
‘Thank you!’ Becky took a sip of the champagne, picked up one of the finger sandwiches and examined it. ‘So how are you and Cahal getting on?’
‘Slowly. I miss him.’
‘He’ll be back soon,’ said Becky, taking a bite of the sandwich. ‘Isn’t it nice that he and Tony know each other? We’ll have to organise a night out together.’
Sarah selected a white egg-and-cress sandwich from the display and set it on the dainty gold-rimmed plate in front of her. Changing the subject she said, ‘I just don’t know what to make of these letters. He says he sent them but I don’t know if I can believe him. What happened to them?’
‘Can’t you just forget about them,’ shrugged Becky, ‘and start with a clean slate?’
‘No, I can’t. I have to know what happened to them. And I have to know if he made that phone call.’ Sarah folded her hands on her lap. Becky lowered her eyes and mumbled, ‘So what will you do?’
‘I’ll ask Dad and Aunt Vi when the moment’s right. But I’m dreading it. What if they deny everything? Where does that leave me and Cahal?’
‘I really don’t know,’ said Becky.
There was a long glum silence broken at last by Becky. She pointed at the untouched sandwich on Sarah’s plate. ‘Are you going to eat that, or admire it?’
Sarah laughed, picked up the sandwich and took a bite.
‘I feel quite sorry for Ian,’ said Becky, selecting a fruit scone and cutting it in half with a knife. ‘He must’ve thought he was in with a chance and then along comes Cahal and blows all his hopes out of the water. Have you seen him since the night he told you Raquel had walked out?’
Sarah swallowed. ‘Just to drop the kids off. But last night I saw Paula Dobbin in the supermarket and she heard, from her sister who works out at Carnfunock Golf Club, that Raquel’s shacked up with Jim Proudfoot, the secretary there.’
‘Oh my God!’
Sarah nodded grimly. ‘Apparently they’d been having an affair for six months and, according to Paula, Ian didn’t know a thing about it.’
‘That’s awful,’ said Becky and she put a hand to her heart and said again, ‘Poor Ian.’
‘I know.’ Sarah took a sip of champagne. ‘Despite what Ian thinks, I never would’ve have got back with him. But I do feel sorry for him. He’s having a crap time of it. His marriage is in tatters and his Mum’s in a bad way.’ Sarah set the cup down on the saucer and shook her head.
Becky frowned. ‘How is she?’
‘She’s … she’s dying, Becky.’ Tears pricked her eyes. ‘Her body’s just slowly giving up. The doctors have done everything they can to make her comfortable but the children can’t visit her anymore. It’d be too upsetting for them. And for her. She doesn’t want them to see her like that.’
‘Oh, Sarah. I’m sorry. Poor Evelyn.’ Becky had known her as a kind family friend long before Sarah had married Ian.
‘And poor Ian,’ said Sarah. ‘When she goes, he’s going to be very much alone.’
Sarah finished off the sandwich, and they talked of happier subjects. ‘Talking of birthdays, when’s Tony’s?’
‘December. He’ll be forty-three.’
Sarah dabbed the corners of her mouth with the napkin. ‘There’s quite an age difference between you then.’
Becky shrugged. ‘So?’
‘Well, it’s just if you wanted to have a family, I mean, if you were thinking of having a baby in the next few years, he’d be quite an old dad.’
Becky looked in astonishment at her sister and laughed out loud. ‘We’re a long way from thinking about making babies, Sarah. Anyway, he’s not old. And if I did have his child it wouldn’t matter to me what age he was.’
Sarah smiled thinly and resolved to give it one last go with the most damning piece of evidence at her disposal. She leaned forward, rested her elbows on the table, and clasped her hands under her chin. ‘I haven’t wanted to say anything against him before, Becky, but Cahal told me he was a bit of a ladies’ man at uni.’
Becky lifted her chin. Her eyelids flickered. ‘What does that mean?’
‘He’s a womaniser. He hasn’t exactly got a good track record when it comes to relationships, does he?’
Becky’s eyes filled up and Sarah had to look away, feeling smaller than she’d ever felt in her entire life. She could have kept that nasty little piece of gossip to herself but she would do whatever she had to in order to protect Becky. Even if it meant hurting her.
Becky looked away and said thickly, ‘That’s a bit rich coming from a divorcee.’
‘All I’m saying is tread carefully.’
Becky tossed her head and said defiantly, ‘Tony’s not going to hurt me. I trust him.’
Sarah smiled thinly. She was glad Becky had fallen in love. But why, oh why, did it have to be with Tony McLoughlin? ‘I’m sorry I told you that.’
‘Why did you then?’ said Becky, touching the corner of her eye.
‘I thought you should know, that’s all. Look, let’s not spoil our day together.’
‘Let’s not,’ said Becky.
Sarah glanced at her watch. ‘Why don’t we finish off these goodies and then we’ll hit the shops?’
‘If you like,’ said Becky without much enthusiasm. The day was tarnished and they both knew it.
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.