Jessie would never use caterers. Cooking is her thing.
Up and down the table, the mood was of scandalized commotion.
‘How much have you had to drink?’ Ed asked Cara.
‘Nothing,’ she said. ‘Because I had that bang –’
‘– on the head!’ Ed finished her sentence and his relief was audible. ‘She got a bang on the head earlier. A sign fell off a shop and hit her –’
‘That’s not what happened –’
‘We thought she was okay –’
‘You wanted me to be okay,’ Cara said. ‘I knew I wasn’t.’
‘You should go to A and E!’ Jessie was struggling to recalibrate to her default personality of Nurturing and Bossy. ‘You’re obviously concussed. Go this very moment, why are you even here?’
‘Because Ed needs Johnny to loan him the money,’ Cara said.
Right on cue, Jessie asked, ‘What money?’
‘From the other bank account,’ Cara said. Then, ‘Oh, God. I wasn’t meant to say that.’
‘What bank account?’ Jessie asked. ‘What loan?’
‘Cara, the hospital, right now.’ Ed stood up.
‘Johnny?’ Jessie locked eyes with him.
He knew the drill: she’d say no more here, but there would be hell to pay later. However, he still had something in his arsenal. ‘Jessie? What caterers?’
Unexpectedly, Ferdia glared at Johnny. Angrily he said, ‘You’re really doing this to her?’
‘I’m entitled to know.’
Ferdia paused. His tone towards his stepfather had many layers. ‘You? You’re entitled to nothing.’
In Johnny’s stomach, dread slithered, like eels.
Everyone else was still watching Jessie: did Superwoman really use caterers?
‘We shouldn’t be exposed to this,’ Bridey said, in an undertone. ‘We’re children. It’s inappropriate.’
Pinned by the collective gaze, Jessie’s eyes flicked back and forth. She looked panicked. ‘Yes, okay, yes!’ She sounded exasperated. ‘Sometimes. So what?’
‘And that was the day my childhood ended,’ Bridey murmured.
‘How did you know?’ Liam asked Cara.
‘I used to do Jessie’s accounts,’ Cara said. ‘A hefty payment to the Cookbook Café popped up each time we had another of these endless dinners. You don’t need to be a rocket scientist –’
‘I have five children, between eight and twenty-two!’ Jessie cried. ‘I run a business, there are only so many hours in the day and, Johnny, you’re never here and –’
Cara stood up. ‘I’d better go to the hospital,’ she said. ‘Before I fall out with every one of you. Come on, Ed.’
‘Hey, Cara, do you really like my new hair?’ eighteen-year-old Saoirse, interrupted.
‘Oh, sweetie, don’t!’ Cara said. ‘You know I love you.’
‘That means it’s bad?’
‘That fringe makes your face look like the moon.’
It did make her face look like the moon! Cara was spot-on. All the same, you can’t say that to a teenage girl.
At Saoirse’s devastated expression, Cara looked sick with remorse. ‘I’m so sorry, Saoirse. But it’ll grow back. Come on, Ed.’
‘Before you go?’ Liam’s eyes were narrowed. ‘Did you really think that massage I gave you was … What was the word you used?’
‘“Dreamy”? No. I hated it. Forget being a masseur. You are terrible.’
‘Hey!’ Nell jumped in to defend her husband. ‘He’s doing his best.’
‘Why are you bigging him up?’ Cara asked.
Suddenly, Liam was energized. He smelt blood. ‘Why wouldn’t she back me up? Tell us, Cara, come on, tell us.’
‘No, Cara.’ Nell’s voice was sharp.
‘Tell me,’ Liam ordered.
‘Don’t!’ Nell said. ‘Cara, it’ll come back on you too.’
‘Tell me.’ Liam’s tone was urgent.
Then, because Cara was concussed, confused and long past caring, she told them everything.
SIX MONTHS EARLIER
* * *
APRIL
Easter in Kerry
ONE
Just after 7 a.m., Cara’s internal line rang.
Oleksandr, the doorman, spoke. ‘The eejit has landed. ETA three minutes.’
Cara turned to her trainee. ‘Vihaan. Showtime.’ She tugged at her skirt once more and ran a hand over her chignon. ‘Remember –’
‘Shadow you. Keep smiling. Say nothing.’
‘Don’t show any shock, no matter what he comes out with.’
‘I’m way excited for this. I hope he’s heinous.’
‘Stop.’ First Oleksandr being irreverent, now Vihaan. In this job, you shouldn’t even think these things.
Flanked by Vihaan, Cara took her position, facing the front door, in the flower-filled lobby. She summoned her warmest smile and stepped forward. ‘Welcome back to the Ardglass, Mr Fay.’ Her welcome was sincere: she loved the hotel. ‘I’m Cara Casey, and this is my assistant Vihaan –’
‘I don’t care what you’re called, just take me to my room.’
‘Certainly, sir.’
‘Get my bags up to me. Now. Not in fifteen minutes. I mean now.’
Cara made urgent eye-contact with Anto the bellboy. Go, go, go. ‘The elevator is this way, Mr Fay.’