Beneath an Irish Sky (Choc Lit) Page 8

  ‘So there’s no one special in your life?’

  ‘No, it wasn’t exactly easy. No Traveller girls around my age where we lived. And settled people weren’t acceptable.’ He didn’t mention that he would never have wanted to take a girl home in case she witnessed his uncles being abusive.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ said Emer, with a smile. ‘The girls in England love an Irish accent, and eyelashes like yours will have them queuing up.’

  He grinned. ‘Sounds like I’ll need my own confessional.’

  She smiled back, and Luke wished she could be there, in England. She made him feel special. ‘Will you see me off tomorrow, Emer?’

  ‘You bet,’ she replied, and he felt the unfamiliar glow of an inner satisfaction. The list of people he trusted was very short. It would be good to add another name to it.

  ‘Your drink, sir.’ The waiter in the hotel restaurant served a glass of twenty-one-year-old single malt, which was Jack’s reward to himself for a day spent battling bureaucracy. The paperwork required to transport a body from one country to another was unbelievable. Taking Annie back to Ennis would have been much simpler.

  ‘Would you like to order, sir?’

  ‘Not yet. I’ll wait for my guest.’

  Jack had gone all out to impress Emer, like he’d resolved to do during last night’s post-nightmare drinking session. He’d taken the time today to buy a charcoal-grey Armani suit and some silver and onyx cufflinks. He’d given the maître d’ a hefty tip to get a window table at such short notice. The view of Dublin by night was breathtaking.

  A vaulted ceiling rose above him, and a live quartet playing Mozart added to the genteel ambience. This was Jack’s turf. He felt comfortable surrounded by the luxury and good taste money could buy. In his experience, women usually appreciated men who could provide them with the finer things in life. That certainly seemed to be the case with the blonde at a nearby table who’d been coyly making eye contact with him since he sat down.

  ‘I think she’s spoken for. That man at the bar is looking daggers at you.’

  Emer slipped into the seat opposite and Jack almost spilled his drink. She’d caught him making eyes at another woman … a great start to the evening. He’d have to be extra attentive to atone.

  And being attentive wasn’t a problem because Emer looked stunning. Her silver and black dress showed an enticing amount of cleavage, but the pièce de résistance was her auburn curls caught up in a number of diamanté combs. Some tendrils had escaped – any second now, he’d have to reach out and twine them back in.

  ‘Are you thinking that I clean up nicely?’ she asked.

  He’d been staring too much, but her tone was playful. ‘It’s certainly a change from jeans,’ Jack said, pouring her a glass of water.

  ‘It is that. Hospitals and high heels just don’t go together, but I enjoy dressing up when I can. Thanks for inviting me. It’s the first time I’ve been in here.’

  ‘No, thank you, Emer. I don’t know how I’d have got through this week without you.’ He basked in the glow of her smile. ‘You’ve been so supportive – a dinner doesn’t really seem to cover it.’

  ‘It’s more than enough, believe me, especially given these prices. I’d have been happy with a pub meal.’

  It felt like she’d thrown his wealth back in his face. ‘Well, there’s still time,’ he said, an edge to his voice. ‘We could change back into our jeans and go to the pub on the corner.’

  ‘What are you talking about?’ Emer was clearly startled. ‘I’m staying right here. I might never get this chance again.’

  Jack had overreacted and she didn’t deserve his heavy sarcasm. ‘Sorry – it’s just I wanted this evening to be special.’

  ‘It is special,’ she said, her eyes kind. ‘And I love all this. I’m not used to it, that’s all. Sorry if I put my foot in it.’

  Jack shook his head. ‘You didn’t. It’s my fault. I was oversensitive. If you have a bit of money, you’re often criticised, whatever you do with it. My family’s company provides jobs and donates a lot to charity but some people just can’t forgive a nice car or an overseas vacation or a meal in a good restaurant.’

  Emer was listening but she stayed quiet. He was just making things worse. ‘I’m coming across as a privileged whiner,’ he said. ‘I need to shut up, don’t I?’

  She smiled. ‘Jack, I don’t judge people by their money or lack of it. Money can do a lot of good in this world, but I’m more interested in who a person is and what they believe in, rather than what they have.’

  She looked deep into his eyes and her expression showed him this was her truth. She’d accept his financial generosity but not compromise herself for it. The difference between Emer and Sarah was startling. Sarah knew the price of everything and had to have the very best that money could buy. Annie had been the opposite – nervous around too much wealth. Emer, though, could dine in a fancy restaurant or share a sandwich on a rooftop, and she’d be okay with both.

  The waiter suddenly swooped over, notebook in hand. ‘Are you ready to order?’

  ‘Have you got any humble pie?’ asked Jack.

  ‘Er …’

  Emer’s laughter was a welcome sound. The evening was back on track.

  ‘I think I’ve just died and gone to heaven,’ said Emer, after savouring the last mouthful of her white and dark chocolate raspberry tart. ‘A-ma-zing.’

  Jack was grinning. He’d finished his lemon tart first so had watched as she communed with her dessert. ‘And I thought that was a myth,’ he said. ‘About women and chocolate.’

  ‘No myth. Women and chocolate are the best of pals. Mr Cadbury has never let me down yet.’

  ‘Perhaps I should have had this gift-wrapped in chocolate.’ Jack took something out of his pocket and set it down on the table near Emer’s glass.

  It was a Tiffany blue box tied up with a white ribbon. Something she’d only seen before in movies. Her heart skipped a beat.

  ‘Open it,’ encouraged Jack. ‘It’s the second part of my thank you.’

  Speechless, she did as he asked, gently pulling at the ribbon and lifting the lid of the box. Inside was an amber drop pendant – an exact match for the earrings she’d been wearing the other day. This was a man who paid attention to details. Her fingers gently stroked the smooth gem. ‘Oh, Jack … it’s beautiful. Thank you so much.’

  His smile of pleasure was genuine, not smug. ‘Amber’s called the lucky stone, you know.’ He cleared his throat. ‘I’d really like to see you again, Emer … I mean, after I’m back in England … Is that something you’d want, too?’

  It was the hesitation and uncertainty in his voice more than the expensive gift that decided Emer. ‘When the funeral’s over and Luke’s feeling stronger, I’d like to see you again. Very much.’

  Lord knows how they’d manage to get a relationship going when they lived on different islands. Maeve would be pleased, though. No doubt she’d put the success of the evening down to her words of wisdom and choice of dress.

  So it seemed a new chapter had started in Emer’s life. And that was a good thing. Except the desire to celebrate couldn’t quite overcome her heart’s reluctance to expose itself to hurt again.

  Thursday lunchtime. Rain again. Luke stood propped against the window of his room, watching people getting drenched. At least they could run. He’d never take that for granted again. He’d been here a week, although it seemed much longer, but finally this morning the doctor told him he could leave. Luke had asked a nurse to call Jack and let him know. He couldn’t face having to ask a favour from a man he’d grown up despising.

  ‘Luke?’

  God, here he was now. Jack Stewart, hair plastered to his head and looking a right eejit. All that money and he couldn’t fork out for an umbrella.

  ‘I heard the good news,’
said Jack. ‘They’re doing the paperwork now.’

  Maybe Luke could still change his mind. Go to Wales. Hole up in a bed-and-breakfast somewhere for a few weeks till he was fit again. It’d be bleak but at least he’d be his own man.

  Jack dumped some bags on the bed. ‘Got you some clothes. I’m sure you don’t want to arrive in England wearing a hospital-issue tracksuit.’

  ‘I don’t want charity.’ Jack looked pissed off, but Luke had lived off handouts most of his life, and the last thing he wanted was to feel obliged to a Stewart.

  ‘You can pay me back later, then. But I know you’ve got no clothes. They had to cut off the ones you were wearing when you were brought in. And there were none in your suitcase.’

  Luke’s heart jumped. ‘How do you know that? Why were you goin’ through my things?’

  ‘I never touched your things. The medical staff did when they needed to identify you. I hope these’ll fit you.’ Jack laid out the clothes on the bed: an Ireland rugby shirt, jeans, tracksuit bottoms, T-shirts, a roll-neck sweater, socks, underwear and a pair of trainers. There was also a simple, but stylish, black leather jacket.

  Most of Luke’s gear had been second-hand from charities like St Vincent de Paul. Or Dunnes if he was lucky. This was like several Christmases and birthdays all rolled into one. Judging from the labels, Jack had spent a small fortune. But then, he could afford it. Probably spent nearly as much in a posh restaurant. This was just guilt money. Or maybe he didn’t want to be embarrassed by his gypo son. ‘It’ll take me forever to pay you back,’ Luke mumbled, ignoring that small nagging voice which told him he was being unreasonable.

  ‘Take as long as you like. Just don’t make an issue out of it. You needed clothes, I bought them.’

  ‘What time’s our flight?’ Luke asked, relieved to be changing the subject. He could give as good as he got in an argument, but right now he was tired and anxious. There would be plenty of time later to tell Jack what he could do with his money.

  ‘Our flight’s tomorrow,’ answered Jack. ‘It’s the earliest one that could accommodate a … a coffin. We’ll go back to my hotel for the night.’

  More delays. And even worse, stuck in a hotel room with Father of the Year.

  ‘There’s TV and a computer there … you won’t be bored. Luke – is something wrong?’

  ‘What could be wrong? My mother’s dead, I can’t walk without crutches, and I’m leavin’ my country to stay with strangers. Can’t wait.’

  Jack stared at him. Luke jutted out his chin, ready for the inevitable angry response. It never came. ‘You get ready, Luke. I’m just going to make a few business calls.’

  That look in Jack’s eyes. Luke had seen it before from social workers, teachers, doctors. Pity, that’s what it was. Usually it made him angry. Now he just felt small and insignificant, and he didn’t want to go to England, where he knew no one and would stick out like a sore thumb.

  Jack and Luke were seated side by side in the hospital cafeteria, not talking or looking at each other. Emer watched them for a moment, father and son embarking on a journey far greater than the one across the Irish Sea. Physically, they looked nothing alike. Jack was taller and more muscular, and Luke was dark while his father was fair. Jack’s confident manner and his impeccable clothes also contrasted sharply with his son’s bewildered look and the leather jacket that seemed a size too big for him. Emer’s heart went out to Luke. He had so much to offer, and she hoped Jack and his family would help him realise his potential.

  She’d never felt so emotionally involved with a patient – or a relative. She’d spent a lot of last night reliving her dinner date with Jack. The gorgeous restaurant, the delicious food – and their goodnight kiss outside the hotel. Soft and gentle at first, tipping over into passionate, until they’d pulled away from each other as though both sensing a line neither was yet prepared to cross.

  And perhaps for Emer that line had something to do with Luke. How would he feel about her getting involved with his father? He assumed she was on his side against the Stewarts – the only ally he felt he had. There was no point in depriving him of that illusion when he had the nightmare of his mother’s funeral to get through. That would be cruel. Plus it was important to see how Jack dealt with his new son. Of course he was upset about Annie, but the kind of man Emer wanted to be with needed to have a big heart and to put family first.

  Jack spotted her in the doorway and smiled. Emer moved forward. It was time to say goodbye.

  As he stepped through the entrance of the Beaumont Hotel, Luke wanted to turn around and walk back out again. This wasn’t a hotel, it was a palace. Marble columns, a huge staircase and a bloody chandelier. How the other half lived. Jack’s suite was the same. Plush carpet, tapestries on the walls, marble everywhere. Luke wasn’t impressed. ‘The starvin’ millions would love this.’

  ‘Meaning?’ asked Jack.

  ‘Well there’s only you in it. Do you spend money just for the sake of it?’

  ‘Maybe I should have checked into the YMCA and made a donation to Oxfam.’

  Jack’s sarcasm was irritating. The man didn’t have a clue how insensitive it was to flaunt his wealth. To show Luke what he’d been missing. ‘Why not?’ he countered.

  ‘Luke, I’ve got money!’ Jack snapped. ‘Just deal with it – okay?’

  How could his mother ever have loved this insufferable bastard? While he was living the high life, Annie would think she was well off when her jam jar was full of small coins. ‘Did you ever give a thought to how we struggled?’

  Jack threw up his hands and moved forward. ‘For God’s sake … I never knew about you. How many more times?’

  Luke stumbled back, waiting for the blow. He hit the corner of the table and a sharp pain in his chest made him cry out. Then Jack was there, helping him into an armchair, ignoring the weakened attempt to shrug him aside.

  ‘Bastard!’ hissed Luke, when he’d caught his breath.

  Jack was watching him, frowning. ‘You thought I was going to hit you, didn’t you?’

  Luke didn’t answer but held Jack’s gaze.

  ‘I would never do that!’ Jack said, shaking his head.

  ‘Course not,’ said Luke. Jack was probably no different to Joe. Just wore better clothes.

  Jack sat down on the end of the bed and stared at his hands as he spoke. ‘Luke, you make me angry and frustrated – but I would never hit you.’ He looked up. ‘Who gave you those bruises? The ones on your face, your arms – all over your body.’

  ‘I was in a car crash!’ snapped Luke. ‘Did you miss that bit?’

  ‘No, you got those bruises before. Someone beat you up.’

  ‘What do you care?’ He was not about to spill out his life story to Jack Stewart. Sitting there so self-righteous, like all the problems hadn’t been caused by him. His thoughts were interrupted by a knock at the door. ‘Who’s that?’ he whispered. Who knew they were here? Would the hospital have told anyone?

  ‘Room service, probably,’ said Jack. He had the door open before Luke could hide in the other room. A waiter walked in with a trolley of covered dishes and bottled drinks. Jack tipped him and then they were alone again. ‘I thought it best to eat here.’

  ‘Are you ashamed of me?’ demanded Luke. ‘I can use a knife and fork.’

  Jack leaned forward and, with an exaggerated gesture, flicked at Luke’s shoulder. ‘That chip is getting tiresome. Lose it. I just thought it better for you to rest your leg instead of struggling down to the restaurant.’

  ‘Why don’t you let me make my own decisions?’ Luke saw the corners of Jack’s mouth twitching. The scumbag was laughing at him. ‘What’s so funny?’

  ‘I thought you were only your mother’s son,’ said Jack, ‘but I was wrong. You’re stubborn and you’re bolshie. You could be more like me than I thought.’
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br />   ‘Great,’ muttered Luke. Just what he needed.

  ‘Anything else I should know, Mr Stewart?’

  Jack sipped at his coffee. Freshly ground Colombian beans. Nothing better to start the day. He spoke into the phone. ‘Yes. Watch out for the Kiernans, especially Joe. He’s a hard bastard. Quick with his fists.’

  ‘Don’t worry, I can handle myself.’ And the man probably could. Doyle, ex-Guard turned private detective. Recommended by Flynn. ‘How should I contact you?’

  ‘Call this number – my mobile,’ Jack told him. ‘Don’t ever ring my office. And put nothing on paper.’

  ‘Understood. I’ll get to Ennis on Monday. Then give me a while to nose around, see what I can find.’

  Replacing the receiver, Jack felt a twinge of guilt. Should he be prying into Luke’s life? But surely he had a right – and a responsibility – to know what he was taking on. There were those bruises for a start. And the police at the hospital had mentioned some trouble. Luke had been acting very suspiciously about his suitcase. There was Matt’s safety to think about. And Maggie’s. Luke, of course, must never find out that a detective had been hired.

  Jack buttered a croissant and glanced at the flight details. This was it. Back to Baronsmere with Luke, and Annie’s body. The shit would really hit the fan then. A few weeks of hell ahead. And this week had been bloody torture, too. Well, apart from Emer. She’d been the one highlight.

  He couldn’t believe he hadn’t asked her to spend the night with him, but something had held him back, maybe fear of rejection. She wasn’t like the usual women he met, who often fell at his feet. Would she just forget him now? Out of sight, out of mind? There was one way to fix that. He picked up the phone and called the front desk. ‘I’d like to send thirty long-stemmed red roses to Emer Sullivan at St Aidan’s Hospital …’

  ‘Would you like more orange juice, sir?’

  Luke had never been called ‘sir’ so much in his life. He politely refused and the flight attendant moved away. Jack had his head stuck in the Financial Times. They’d hardly spoken at all, which suited Luke just fine. He wanted to be left alone. Watching them load Annie’s coffin into the hold had drained any fighting spirit, and right now he didn’t feel he’d ever get it back. Why hadn’t they let him die at the roadside, along with his mother? How very different it could have been if they’d been on that road just a few minutes later, or earlier – they’d be in Wales now, starting a new life.