The Girl on the Cliff (9 page)

Kathleen laid her head against her husband’s broad
chest. ‘I know, John, I know. But what
they
did to our family …’ She shook her head. ‘They almost destroyed us, John, you know they did.’ She looked up with fear in her eyes. ‘And I’ve seen Grania’s face when she talks of Aurora’s father. Two generations ruined because of that family, and now I’m seeing it happen again in front of my very own eyes.’

‘Come now, pet, our Grania is made of stronger stuff,’ John comforted. ‘You’ll be knowing as well as I there’s no persuading our daughter of something she doesn’t want.’

‘But what if she wants
him
?’

‘Then there’ll be little you can do about it. Grania is a grown woman, not a child, Kathleen. But, surely, you’re fearing the worst? He’s not even in the house with them, she’s only minding his daughter while he’s away, there’s nothing to suggest that –’

Kathleen pulled away from John, and wrung her hands in despair. ‘No! You’re wrong! I’ve seen that look, John, and it’s there in her eyes for him. What about Matt? Perhaps I should call him, tell him to come … she doesn’t know, doesn’t understand.’

‘Kathleen, calm yourself.’ John sighed. ‘You can’t be going around interfering in our daughter’s affairs. There’s something she isn’t saying about Matt, and it’s not our business to know until she does. But perhaps it would make you feel better to tell her of the past. It can do no harm and Grania might understand why you’ve taken it so hard she’s up there.’

Kathleen raised her eyes to him. ‘You think so?’

‘Yes. Then she can make her own decisions. Now, my
decision is that it’s high time we were away to our bed. And as long as I’m her father, I swear to you I’ll let no harm come to our daughter.’

Calmer now, Kathleen smiled weakly at her husband.

‘Thank you, pet. I know you won’t.’

Grania was awoken by a loud bang. Sitting up and reaching for the light switch, she wondered whether the noise had been part of a dream. She checked the time on the clock by her bed, and saw that it was a few minutes past three. There was total silence now, so she turned off the light and settled back down to try and sleep.

The faint sound of floorboards creaking on the landing beyond her bedroom made her sit up again. She listened, and heard the sound of footsteps, then a door being opened somewhere along the corridor. Climbing out of bed, Grania tentatively opened the door to her bedroom and peered out. A door at the end of the landing was ajar, letting a faint chink of light through. Grania walked towards it, hearing the floorboards creak under her own footsteps. Reaching the door, she pushed it open and saw that the bedroom was bathed in moonlight, coming from a set of French windows that led on to the small balustraded balcony beyond. The room was freezing cold and Grania noticed the French windows were ajar. Walking nervously towards them, her heart now beating fast against her chest, she stepped through the doors and on to the balcony.

And there was Aurora, a ghost-like figure in the moonlight, arms outstretched towards the sea, just as Grania had first seen her. ‘Aurora,’ Grania whispered,
her senses alert to the fact that the balustrade separating the child from a drop to the ground of at least twenty feet only rose to her thighs. ‘Aurora,’ she called gently, again to no reaction. Instinctively, she reached out and grabbed her by the arm, but still she did not respond. ‘Come in now, darling, please. You’ll catch your death out here.’ She could feel the iciness of Aurora’s body beneath her thin nightdress.

Suddenly, Aurora pointed her hand towards the sea. ‘She’s there, just there … can you see her?’

Grania followed Aurora’s fingers to the edge of the cliffs and caught her breath. A shadowy figure, silhouetted against the moonlight, standing just where she had first seen Aurora … Grania swallowed hard, closed her eyes and reopened them. She looked again and saw nothing. Panic seizing her, she tugged at Aurora’s arm.

‘Aurora! Come in, now!’

In response, Aurora turned, her face as white as the moonlight. She smiled up at Grania wordlessly and let her lead her inside, through the bedroom and along the landing to her own room. As Grania tucked her in, adding an extra blanket from the end of the bed to try and warm her, the child said nothing, merely rolled over and closed her eyes. Grania sat with her until she heard her breathing was steady and she knew Aurora was asleep. Then, shaking with cold and fear herself, she tiptoed out and went back to her own bedroom.

As she lay there, the silhouetted figure on the cliffs was clear in her memory.

Surely … surely, she’d imagined it? She’d never been one prone to fear of the unknown; she’d always laughed
at her mother when she talked of the spirit world she believed in, putting it down to an overactive imagination.

But tonight … tonight … out there on the cliffs …

Grania sighed. She was being ridiculous.

She closed her eyes and tried to sleep.

Grania woke to find a weak sun lighting her windows. She stretched, rolled over and saw that it was past eight o’clock. Normally, at home, she’d be woken by the sound of her father and her brother leaving at dawn for the milking sheds. She lay back on her pillows and remembered the strangeness of last night with a shudder. Surely it had simply been her imagination? And, in the brightness of the morning as she climbed out of bed and got dressed, it was easy to believe it must have been.

Aurora was already in the kitchen, eating a bowl of cereal. Her face dropped as she saw Grania. ‘I was going to bring you breakfast in bed,’ she pouted.

‘That’s very sweet of you, but I’m happy to make it myself.’ Grania filled the kettle and put it on the range. ‘How did you sleep last night?’ she asked carefully.

‘Very well indeed, thank you,’ Aurora answered. ‘And you?’

‘Yes, fine,’ she lied. ‘Would you like some tea?’

‘No, thank you. I only drink milk.’ Aurora paused, with a cereal-laden spoon between her mouth and the bowl. ‘Sometimes, Grania, I have very strange dreams.’

‘Do you?’

‘Yes –’ the spoon was still hovering – ‘sometimes I dream I see my mother, standing out there on the cliffs.’

Grania said nothing, but continued to make her tea and
watch the cereal spoon enter Aurora’s mouth. As Grania sat down, Aurora chewed thoughtfully. She looked up at Grania.

‘But it’s only a dream, isn’t it? Mummy’s dead, she can’t come back because she’s in heaven. That’s what Daddy says, anyway.’

‘Yes.’ Grania put a comforting hand on Aurora’s thin shoulder. ‘Daddy’s right. People who go to heaven can’t come back, however much you want them to …’

It was Grania’s turn to feel the sudden pain of loss. Her precious, tiny baby had never had a chance to experience any form of life, had died inside her before taking its first natural breath. But that didn’t mean to say she hadn’t imagined who her baby would become … the life he or she would live. Tears came to her eyes and she did her best to blink them away.

‘But sometimes I feel she’s here,’ Aurora continued, ‘and I’m sure I see her. But when I tell Daddy, he gets cross and sends me to a doctor, so I don’t tell him any more,’ she added sadly.

‘Come here.’ Grania reached out her arms and pulled Aurora on to her knee. ‘I think, Aurora, that your mummy obviously loved you very much, and you loved her too. Even if Daddy’s right and people can’t come back from heaven, you can still feel as if they are with you, looking after you and loving you.’

‘And you don’t think that’s wrong?’ Aurora looked at her earnestly for reassurance. ‘You don’t think I’m mad?’

‘No, I don’t think you’re mad.’ Grania stroked the red-gold ringlets and twisted a coil around her finger. ‘Now,’
she kissed Aurora on the forehead, ‘I was thinking that this morning we’d do some schoolwork to please Daddy, and I can take sketches of you for the sculpture I’m going to make for him. And then this afternoon is ours to do what we want. Any ideas?’

‘No,’ Aurora shrugged. ‘You?’

‘Well, I thought we might pop into Clonakilty for a sandwich, and then go to the beach.’

Aurora clapped her hands together in delight. ‘Oh! Yes, please. I love the beach!’

‘That’s settled then.’

Aurora sat at the table, diligently doing sums, then working through a geography question sheet. Grania sketched her swiftly from different angles until she had a feel for Aurora’s bone structure. Halfway through the morning, as Grania was making herself some coffee, she realised what was missing. ‘Aurora, do you have a radio or a CD player in this house anywhere?’ she asked. ‘When I’m in my studio, I love to listen to music.’

‘Mummy didn’t like music,’ she stated without looking up.

Grania raised an eyebrow, but did not pursue it. ‘What about television?’

‘We had one in our house in London. I used to like watching it.’

‘Well, Daddy’s left me some money, so how about we go and buy one? Would you like that?’

Aurora’s face lit up. ‘I’d love it, Grania.’

‘You don’t think Daddy will mind?’

‘Oh no, he used to watch it in London too.’

‘Well then, we’ll get one in town before we head to the
beach. And I’ll ask my brother, Shane, to come and set it up for us later. He’s good at things like that.’

‘And can we have ice cream at the beach?’

‘Yes,’ Grania smiled, ‘we can have ice cream.’

Having bought a television, the two of them had lunch in Clonakilty, then Grania drove them to the nearby magnificent Inchydoney beach, for which the town was famous. She watched as Aurora twirled and danced along the deserted expanse of clean white sand, beset by an urge to capture the sheer grace of the child’s movement. For a young girl who professed never to have had a dancing lesson in her life, her natural ability was breathtaking. Her arms moved about her, forming beautiful shapes and exquisite lines as her legs lifted her effortlessly from the ground in a perfectly formed jeté. Aurora arrived next to Grania and flung herself down on to a sand dune, a healthy pink flush colouring her cheeks.

‘You love dancing, don’t you?’ Grania commented.

‘Yes.’ Aurora put her hands behind her head and looked up at the clouds skulling across the sky. ‘I don’t really know how to do it, but I …’ she paused.

‘Yes?’ Grania prompted.

‘It’s as if my body knows what to do. When I’m dancing, I can forget everything and I’m happy.’ A sudden shadow passed over Aurora’s face and she sighed. ‘I wish every moment could be like this.’

‘Do you think you would like to learn to dance? Properly, I mean, at a ballet class?’

‘Oh, I would love it. But Daddy once suggested it to Mummy, and she said no. I don’t know why.’ Aurora wrinkled her tiny, upturned nose.

‘Well,’ said Grania carefully, ‘perhaps it was because she thought you were too young. I’m sure she wouldn’t mind if you tried it now, aren’t you?’

Grania knew it was vital this was Aurora’s decision, not hers.

‘Maybe … but where could I go to learn?’ Aurora asked doubtfully.

‘There’s a ballet class in Clonakilty, every Wednesday afternoon. I know because I used to go to it.’

‘Then the teacher must be very old.’

‘Not
that
old, young lady.’ Grania giggled at her cheek. ‘And nor am I. Well? Should we give it a try tomorrow?’

‘Won’t I need some ballet shoes, and one of those things that dancers wear?’ Aurora enquired.

‘You mean a leotard?’ Grania thought about this. ‘Well, I think that we try it tomorrow, and if you think you’re going to like it and want to carry on, we could go to Cork city again and find you the things you need.’

‘Won’t the other girls laugh at me if I’m in my normal clothes?’

It was the textbook response of a shy eight-year-old. ‘I think that once they see you dance, they won’t even notice what you’re wearing.’

‘OK then,’ Aurora replied uncertainly. ‘But if I don’t like it, I never have to go again, do I?’

‘Of course you don’t, sweetheart.’

Later that evening, Shane came to set up the television in the drawing room. Aurora bounced around him excitedly, and listened as he patiently explained to her how to access the various channels through the remote control. With
Aurora settled in front of it, brother and sister went into the kitchen.

‘Drink?’ asked Grania. ‘I treated myself to a bottle of wine when I was in town,’ she added, opening it.

‘I’d say I’d have a small glass, but you know I’m not really one for the wine,’ said Shane as he sat down. He looked around him. ‘This house could do with a lick of paint, couldn’t it so?’

‘It could, but then it’s been empty for the past four years. Maybe if they stay here, Alexander will decide to renovate it.’

‘Godforsaken place, though.’ Shane drank his wine in two gulps, the way he would his pint of Murphy’s. ‘I’d say you were brave staying up here by yourself with just the small one for company. It’d not be for me, that’s for sure. And Mam’s not happy about it either.’

‘She’s made that very plain.’ Grania poured some more wine into his glass. ‘Mam was never one for hiding her true feelings, was she? Have you any idea why she’s so set against this house and the family?’

‘Not a clue.’ Shane repeated the gulping exercise with his wine. ‘But sure, it’ll be something to do with the deep and distant past. Don’t you be worrying, Grania, we all suffer from it. Last year, I took up for a while with a girl whose mother had once been in her class at school. Mam had never liked her, and she made my life hell, so she did.’ Shane smiled. ‘Good job she wasn’t the
one
, but Mam’s heart’s in the right place, Grania, you know that.’

‘Yes,’ Grania sighed, ‘I do. Sometimes, though, it’s difficult to know if there’s any real reason behind what she feels.’

‘Well, I know she was talking to Dad last night about you, so you might get a visit tomorrow. Now then, I’d better be off; tea’ll be on the table and she doesn’t like us to be late.’ Shane stood up. ‘And that pet in there –’ Shane indicated Aurora – ‘is a sweet little thing that needs a mammy and some love, I’d reckon. If you need anything while you’re up here, Grania, give me a buzz on my mobile, there’s no need for Mam even to know I’ve been. One thing’s for sure,’ he added as he pecked Grania on the cheek, ‘she’s never going to change. I’ll be seeing you.’