The Hollow Heart (The Heartfelt Series) (33 page)

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 mass 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 cocktail 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, crap 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 passed. 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 anchored 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.

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 refurbishing 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 cocktails, 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 relationship. 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 tittle-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 fishing 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-fashioned 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 assured 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 fashion show, a beauty spa or showbiz 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 goddaughter. If circumstances 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
reassure 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.