The Hollow Heart Part 25

"No, no way, not now." Marianne pushed her hair back from her face. "Perhaps that's why we're so wrapped up in Bridget; she's making up for something neither of us had," she said with forced lightness.

"Not having children isn't the issue," Miss MacReady said, "it's not having a family that's the sad thing. And families can be made up of anyone, anything. You just have to believe love will find a way, whatever happens, whatever life throws at you. And when you find it, bind your loved one to you with bonds of love, keep it together, that's the way." She was polis.h.i.+ng feverishly now.

The evocative aroma of incense filled the air. The Innishmahon combined Junior and Senior choirs, all ten of them, set the scene with an impressive descant rendition of Bone Jesu, and the Finnigan twins concluded the procession of the extended Quinn family, with a couple of bars of Riverdance.

Stillness descended as Father Gregory clattered onto the altar, his shooting boots protruding beneath his ca.s.sock. He stood in silence for a moment, taking in the church adorned with wreaths of poinsettia, cyclamen and glossy holly, and filled with bodies clad in tweed, satin and fur. The Quinn family glowed in the candlelight.

Wedding vows re-taken to sniffs and watery eyes, were swiftly followed with nods and smiles, as the priest, child and parents swished towards the fount. A door swung closed. A murmur started at the back of the church and fluttered along the pews. A shadow pa.s.sed beneath the Stations of the Cross, a figure in a dark coat. Father Gregory's voice boomed, bouncing off the marble.

"Do you, Bridget Marianne Quinn, renounce the Devil and all his works?"

Ryan slipped his hand into Marianne's. They clasped their fingers together, firmly.

"I do," they said, together.

Oonagh caught her breath. Bridget burped, and the whole place erupted in laughter.

It was a fantastic party in the grand tradition of Maguire's; singing, dancing, hearty food and generous drinks, hilarity, shenanigans and general unabated craic. The blessing of a new baby is a glorious occasion and, of one so hoped and longed for, a rare and wondrous event. That special night, everyone was everything to everybody. It was a time for a celebration of new life; a thanksgiving for so many gifts and favours; a time to forgive and forget; a time to love and be loved.

They were sitting in Weathervane's cosy sitting room. Marianne had decorated it in the colours of the island, teal, turquoise and emerald with splashes of ochre; pale lamplight cast a soft glow in pools around the room. She watched him as he sipped his tea. He look jaded; tiredness far beyond any jet lag. Monty sat at his feet, his chin on Ryan's knees, the huge brown eyes staring at him unblinkingly.

"Angelique's in the clinic again," he said to his cup, "I don't know for how long this time. I went to see her to talk about our son, but she wasn't making any sense. There was a young man with her, a musician or some such, he told me they're going away as soon as she's well enough to travel. They're in love, apparently. She said she's taking our son with her, she said after all I've put her through, I'll never see him again."

Marianne moved quietly from her chair to sit beside him on the sofa. She took the cup away and put it on the floor. She took his hands in hers, his head was bowed, shoulders hunched.

"It was over Marianne, long over, but we did that stupid thing people do, we slept together one last time, thinking it might work out but knowing it never would. And that one time she fell pregnant. Now the woman I don't want, could never live with, has the one thing I've wanted all my adult life. A child, a beautiful baby son, to love and care for, and oh I don't know, maybe make up for the son I was too young and foolish to appreciate all those years ago." His voice trailed off. She caught his pain and squeezed his fingers in hers. Two huge tears splashed onto her hand.

"Let's go to bed and sleep awhile and see what tomorrow brings." She took his face in her hands. "Things always look better in the morning, particularly here, you know that." She kissed the top of his head and he followed her slowly upstairs.

The sun was s.h.i.+ning through the gap in the curtains as she lay in his arms beneath the faded patchwork quilt which had adorned the bedroom in Weathervane for as long as anyone could remember. He absentmindedly spun the arrow on the trinket she wore at her throat, the gift before his last parting.

He had fallen asleep immediately his head hit the pillow, but not before they had kissed gently and he had told her how proud he was of her, and how pleased he was that they were now baby Bridget's official G.o.dparents. And how just knowing that, seemed to make them more of a couple. As the sun continued to rise, they held each other tightly for as long as Monty could keep his legs crossed, until finally he whined to be let out, and Marianne wriggled free of Ryan's arms.

After a breakfast of scrambled eggs and toasted soda bread slathered with yellow b.u.t.ter, they sat at the kitchen table drinking coffee, as he showed her pictures of his baby son Joey; a dark-eyed, olive-skinned boy with a shock of blue-black curls. A child the same age as Bridget, who despite his darkness, appeared more fragile when compared with the robust little girl, for all her translucent auburn-ness. Ryan explained that Angelique had been re-admitted to the clinic she regularly attended to help her deal with her 'habits'. He, trying to balance his work, and keep his promise to attend Bridget's christening, had left the child in the care of a professional Nanny.

The Nanny had called her media contacts as soon as he left. He started going over the story again, trying to fill in the gaps, hoping Marianne would understand how it had come to this. This tangled mess.

"When we first got together, I was as wild as she was. But I'm older than Angelique, and someone had to keep their feet on the ground. Although she was hugely successful, we lived way beyond our means and she was spending so much money on 'relaxation' as she called it, we were in serious debt. I didn't know the half of it until we started getting threats from all sorts of unsavoury characters for money she owed them."

Marianne was staring at a picture of Joey in Ryan's arms. She had never seen him look so happy. Her heart plummeted.

"I really believed I could make it work, help sort her out, but it was getting worse, so we parted, and that's when she told me she was pregnant, and that's when you first saw me again, lying in the water on the beach. I'd come here to think it through, sort my head out. Landing the biggest role in movie history was not part of the plan." He looked deep into her eyes. "Falling in love with you, wasn't either, but the unintentionals, you and Joey, have turned out to be the best bits."

Marianne turned away and opened the door to let Monty in, who immediately pushed his nose into Ryan's legs, in the hope he would feed him the crusts of toast he knew he always left, off his plate. He was not disappointed. Marianne stood at the little sink, looking out to the yard. The sun had disappeared behind a ma.s.s of grey clouds. It would be raining soon.

"Did you have to marry her, though? Aren't things complicated enough?" Her tone was even, she was not accusing him of anything other than making things worse, for all of them.

"I had no choice. I was away on location and Angelique was in full-on party mode. Larry tried to reason with her but he was getting nowhere. He took legal advice and told me I needed to marry her as quickly as possible. I'm not a US citizen and if I ever wanted custody of my son, or needed to take him out of the country, I would stand a better chance if I was married to his mother. It was the lesser of so many evils at the time, and Lena being Lena, made the most of it, because rightly or wrongly, she reasoned whatever legal battles lay ahead, a war chest of a few dollars would help. So she sorted out various deals with the magazines, very lucratively, as it turned out."

Marianne was folding and refolding the tea towel at the draining board.

"The magazine covers were a bit hard to take," she said.

"I know, but it just demonstrates what a dangerous myth all this fairytale stuff is. Straight after the ceremony, we took Angelique to hospital to have her stomach pumped. The new boyfriend, who she had spent the previous night with, had given her a pretty lethal c.o.c.ktail of 'relaxants' that morning."

"But the wedding, why did she go through with it, what was in it for her?"

"Money of course, money and publicity, simple as that. She hasn't been fit to work for some time. The cash from the wedding publicity meant she and lover boy could make a fresh start. Should have known, she'd go back on her word about the baby. The deal was, I would be granted custody. She changed her mind as soon as Joey was born." He started gathering up the photographs, putting them back in his wallet. "I was all over the place, Marie. I kept thinking you'd be better off without me coming and going, flying in and out of your life. But even with Joey, nothing changed. I just missed you more, not less, great job, c.r.a.p life. I seem to always end up doing the right thing for the wrong reasons or vice versa, I don't know."

Marianne cleared the cups away.

"A child is never a wrong reason. You can't be responsible for how Angelique lives her life. Couples are still individuals."

"All the stuff about you and I hasn't helped. Some of it such rubbish."

"It is what it is. It's the world that's wrong, not us, and let's not forget I'm the one who is single, and I'm the one who keeps being abandoned for your career, wife, child, your other life. I hurt too." Her voice was soft, even.

He nodded gravely and got up to stand at the window, staring down the lane towards the cove and the Atlantic.

"And would you come with me if I asked you to? If I said come now, pack up, let's be together, wherever I have to be." The gate at the end of the little lawn creaked as it blew shut.

"No. I belong here now. We belong here. This is where we can be us, as a couple."

He turned and smiled at her. "You've great faith," he said, gently.

"I've already lost one love, I'm not prepared to lose another just because he has a sick wife, a broken marriage, a film contract, an agent, another life...shall I go on?"

"A baby son?"

"He's the least of our worries; he's the one thing that could help make this work."

"Really?"

"You'll do what's best for him in the end. You're basically one of the good guys. I can't imagine 'Tinseltown' and a drug-dependent mother is the best grounding for a youngster in the twenty-first century. You had very little to do with your eldest son's upbringing. I can't see you letting that happen again."

"If only it were that easy."

"I understand about the film contract, you're a professional doing a job, you must finish the job. But the rest of your life? Making the decision to change things, that's the hard part."

The cloud had thinned a little. Faint rays of light haloed her hair as she stood before him, her eyes filled with all the love and pain in her heart.

"I think I'll walk a while." He could barely look at her.

"Take Monty, he's a great listener." Marianne took herself back to bed, waiting, wide-eyed, the couple of hours he and Monty were away.

She feigned sleep when he returned and, as he held her, he spun the weathervane at her throat, before kissing her cheek softly, wrapping the duvet round her as he rose. She heard him shower, clean his teeth and leave. The time for talking had pa.s.sed. It was December the ninth, the last time she had seen him was the end of October. Who knows when she would see him again; if she would ever see him again. She had given her ultimatum, gently, but it was there nonetheless, this is the last time he leaves, next time he returns, if there is a next time, he stays for good. She would not cry out, beg him to stay or plead with him to take her with him, say she had changed her mind, and that she would go. No, deep in her heart, she knew she was right. Weathervane was their safe harbour, their haven. She had to stay anch.o.r.ed there, no matter how hard the winds of change blew and, for his part, Ryan had to come back to her on his own terms, in his own time, with no regrets. She hoped he would not leave it too long. She had waited for someone to be true to their word before.

Chapter Twenty Five .

Close As Sisters

As the twinkling warmth of the Christmas festival faded, the weather took a severe turn, and a bitter wind driving straight off the Atlantic, brought the New Year in with an icy bite. With work on the bridge suspended until the climate improved, and with Ryan filming in deepest Africa, Marianne kept herself busy refurbis.h.i.+ng Weathervane, now she had resolved to make the island her home.

Oonagh and Miss MacReady called regularly to check on progress, vehemently disagreeing, as they examined wallpaper samples, colour swatches and cuttings from magazines. Marianne would smile and hand them either tea or whiskey, depending on the hour of the day, always bearing in mind that if it was Monday, Miss MacReady insisted on c.o.c.ktails, whatever the hour.

Ryan had been in regular contact since his departure in December, always from a payphone landline to foil the hackers, and although Marianne knew he was desperately maintaining a balancing act between filming and child care, Lena had managed to keep the real story of his and Angelique's estrangement under wraps. So for now, reports stuck to the press release. Ryan the actor, working hard on location, while his wife and child lived quietly in suburban Los Angeles, awaiting his return.

Since Ryan's surprise appearance at baby Bridget's christening, Marianne had laid down some new rules, particularly regarding her friends' opinions of their relations.h.i.+p. While she was happy to let them know what Ryan was up to career-wise, details beyond these were taboo. She explained on more than one occasion, rumours and t.i.ttle-tattle reported in magazines and online, were precisely that, and bore no relation to what was actually happening in Ryan's life or, indeed, any other 'A-lister' for that matter.

Miss MacReady seemed happy enough with this arrangement and, a romantic at heart, firmly believed the star-crossed lovers would be together eventually, no matter what the tabloids said.

Oonagh, on the other hand, remained unconvinced, fearing Angelique's hold over the child, as his mother, would keep Ryan dancing to her tune for many years to come. With this scenario in mind, she had taken to matchmaking, recommending unsuspecting bachelors and, not too decrepit, widowers as possible love interests for her friend at every opportunity. When these suggestions, combined with Oonagh's blunt-edged opinions, were aired once too often for Marianne's strained sensibility, Marianne had to ban Oonagh from the cottage completely. It was the nearest the friends had ever come to a real argument.

Miss MacReady finally stepped in, and a compromise was reached, with the ruling of no gossip or comments about Ryan, Angelique or the baby, at least not in earshot, and absolutely no matchmaking, even if the possible candidate did have all his own hair and a small fis.h.i.+ng boat, paid for!

Monty lodged with Miss MacReady during major works at the cottage, the perfect excuse for the postmistress to don full dog walking ensemble, complete with whistle. She had taken to trudging Monty up and down the main street in a creaky old-fas.h.i.+oned pram, stating that while in her care, he was regularly shampooed and conditioned, so walking was strictly limited to clean floors and carpeted areas.

Monty, who had been a.s.sured this was a temporary arrangement, fixed Marianne with a baleful eye whenever Miss MacReady announced she would have to leave soon, as it was Monty's bath night. Marianne had to promise his sojourn at the Post Office would last only a few more days, after he finally leapt from the pram into her arms during tea with Oonagh and the baby at Maguire's.

Bridget Quinn was quickly growing into the most beautiful baby in the west of Ireland. A giggler and a flirt like her mother, busy and thoughtful like her father. And yet there were moments when her huge eyes clouded over and she seemed to be somewhere else entirely, wearing a mystical and very un-childlike look entirely her own. Marianne, Monty and, indeed, most of Innishmahon, were entirely besotted. Father Gregory, joining them in the bar after spending a happy hour in her company, allowed himself to wish she would hurry and grow up a bit.

"Whatever for, Father?" Oonagh was shocked.

"So you can claim another soul for Rome?" sneered Sean Grogan, over his pint.

"Not at all," snapped the Priest. "So I can take her hunting. I have my eye on the loveliest little mare for her."

"Oh, I don't know about that." Oonagh was cautious.

"We'll let her make her own mind up, about everything!" Father Gregory replied, seeing Sean off with a scowl.

Marianne was planning a trip to Galway when Oonagh announced she would go with her to help shop for the refurbished cottage, possibly slipping into a couple of antique dealers on the way back. Marianne was delighted to have her friend as company but, as she drove off the ferry onto the mainland, she noticed Oonagh was far from relaxed.

"Okay?"

"Fine, not a bother."

"You seem a bit quiet?"

"No, no, grand altogether."

"Anything you want to talk about?"

"No, not specially."

"You haven't been reading more gossip about Ryan and Angelique, have you? Seriously, Oonagh, everything will be okay, honest it will."

"No, nothing like that, but I was wondering, will all your time be taken up with shopping and such?"

"Not necessarily, is there something you particularly want to do while we're there?"

"Only if we have time."

Marianne wondered what unlikely gem Oonagh, the queen of the internet, had unearthed to visit in Galway, one of the busiest cities in the West. A fas.h.i.+on show, a beauty spa or s...o...b..z soiree?

"Sure we'll have time, what is it?"

"I need to see a specialist. Some tests have to be done. Since the baby, you know."

It was Marianne's turn to be quiet. She tried to remember Oonagh before Bridget. Admittedly, Oonagh had always been on the plump side but her figure had not returned, despite countless diets and intermittent, yet gruelling, fitness regimes. Her personality had changed too, she was more edgy and impatient, and had lost some of her bounce. But surely that was just depleted energy levels, the result of being an older first time mother?

"What do they think is wrong?" Marianne asked gently, once they were well on the road.

"They don't know yet, but I think it's serious or they wouldn't be sending me for these scans."

"We'll go straight there then and get that out of the way first. Sure we can't enjoy ourselves with that hanging over us. It'll be fine, you see."

"Thanks, Marie, that's great."

"Did you not want Padar with you?"

Oonagh did not reply.

Marianne put a little more pressure on the accelerator.

A fortnight later, the world looked a very different and uncertain place. Oonagh was in hospital in Galway, and Padar was staying at a friend's pub close by, just until she was over the operation. The Quinn clan had been called upon to take over the pub, with Marianne in charge of her G.o.ddaughter. If circ.u.mstances were different, she would be thoroughly enjoying her new role, but the pleasure was tinged with worry.

Researching ovarian cancer on the internet did little to rea.s.sure Marianne. The research stated, although rare in females under the age of fifty, only forty per cent of women diagnosed with the disease survived beyond five years. Marianne pondered the statistics. Padar and Oonagh had found it difficult to conceive. When Oonagh did fall pregnant, she had never been able to take a baby to full term, until Bridget.

With Oonagh currently in hospital undergoing surgery, it was surely no coincidence she should be one of the small percentage of younger women to succ.u.mb to such a serious illness. Marianne felt sure Oonagh's illness had some bearing on the problems she had experienced trying to conceive, it seemed perfectly logical to her that it was connected. How long had her beloved friend been harbouring this insidious disease?

Marianne grew increasingly frustrated because no matter how many times she typed 'cure' into the computer, she could not find a definitive answer. She sat staring at the screen for some time. Everything she had read just made Bridget more special, even more of a miracle. She sighed heavily, turning the machine off. It would all be alright. Oonagh would recover fully and, appreciate more than ever, the blessing that was her precious little family.

Marianne could hear noises coming from the next room. She closed the laptop and crept across the landing to find Bridget in her cot, gurgling in animated conversation with Monty, who, with his paws on the rails, was making a soft gravelly noise back at her. Marianne stood in the doorway, marvelling. Two completely different species communicating contentedly with each other in a language they both fully understood; a pair of precious souls sharing a moment of communion in their own private corner of a very crowded planet. She had never felt the weight of responsibility so acutely.