The Boatman's Wife(75)

‘It doesn’t matter. As captain of the boat, my dad was responsible, and if he made a negligent decision than he’s to blame.’

Lily couldn’t help thinking about her parents back home. She missed them so much.

She had drunk too much wine to drive back to Seaview. Besides, Rosemary insisted she stay overnight. After giving the B&B a quick call to let Noreen know she’d be back in the morning to check out, and managing to avoid her curious questions, Lily returned to Rosemary in the kitchen.

‘I think we need to eat some food to soak up all the alcohol,’ Rosemary said to Lily, waving a leek in her hand.

‘Good idea, can I help?’

‘Sure.’

Rosemary sat Lily at the table with a chopping board and a pile of vegetables. Lily didn’t have the heart to tell Rosemary she wasn’t a fan of eggplant or zucchini. She’d just not have to be so picky and eat it to be polite. Rosemary told her she’d been a lifelong vegetarian, was indeed a vegan now. This fact surprised Lily, because Connor’s speciality had been cooking fish.

‘He did always love the sea,’ Rosemary said. ‘What a great surfer he was! We have the best waves here in Mullaghmore, and Connor used to hang out with the surfing crowd. They were a little free-spirited, but no harm in them.’ Rosemary paused, and Lily looked up from her chopping board to see the older woman’s face cloud over. ‘But then he started going out with the pig farmer’s daughter,’ she said with disdain. ‘She changed Connor. That girl was his ruination.’

‘What was Eve Malone like?’ Lily couldn’t stop herself from asking.

‘A selfish little madam.’ Rosemary’s voice had hardened. ‘She led Connor astray. He was so kind-hearted, and Eve took advantage of him.’ Rosemary sniffed. ‘Still, one shouldn’t speak ill of the dead.’

They continued to chop vegetables in silence for a few minutes. Lily was desperate to ask more about Connor’s mother.

‘Can I ask too, what was Niamh like?’ Lily ventured, unable to hold back any longer.

Rosemary stopped chopping garlic, her whole body still. ‘My daughter’s story is tragic and complicated, Lily,’ Rosemary told her.

Lily looked up at Connor’s grandmother. What she read in her expression was deep regret, a look just like Lily’s father’s when last she’d seen him.





Chapter Twenty-Two





Mullaghmore, 13th May 1994





Her mam was awake when she got home. Sitting up at the kitchen table, baby Connor cradled in her arms, asleep.

‘Where were you?’ her mam whispered.

Niamh turned her back to her, pulled off her muddy boots, and kicked them over to the back door. She was annoyed that her mam was spying on her. ‘I couldn’t sleep. Went for a walk,’ she lied.

‘I heard you come back in the car.’

‘Yeah,’ she said. ‘I drove to somewhere to go for a walk.’

‘You can’t just go off in the middle of night, Niamh.’ Her mam’s voice was low, warning. ‘What about Connor?’

‘Well, you’re here!’ Niamh snapped. She was so tired now, and her mam was making her feel guilty. Why couldn’t she have been asleep in bed when Niamh returned, like all the times before?

‘He’s your child,’ her mam said, standing up and passing the sleeping bundle over to Niamh. ‘You know I adore him, but it’s you he wants when he wakes up.’

Niamh took Connor and saw his eyelids flutter as she held him tight to her chest, feeling the rise and fall of his chest against her body. She loved her son, of course she did. But sometimes she felt so trapped, like a cornered animal. It made her angry, and defensive. Short-tempered with her mam, who had been so brilliant ever since the day she’d told her she was pregnant.

One clear positive consequence of Niamh having Connor was his effect on her mam. A year had passed since he was born, during which Rosemary had not had one low period, not one day missed from her work because she couldn’t get out of bed. Niamh saw the joy on her mam’s face when she held her grandchild. She had been obsessed with him from the moment he’d been born.

It had been different for Niamh. She’d struggled for weeks. Her bonding with her baby son hadn’t been as immediate as it had been for her mam. In her darkest moments, when Connor was crying from colic, Niamh hadn’t slept all night, and Brendan was ringing her with instructions, Niamh wondered what would have happened if she had gone through with the abortion. Or even, if she had chased Jesse out to America, not waiting for a phone call.

She had never told Jesse. She’d meant to go down to Joseph O’Reilly and ask him if he had the contact details for his old apprentice so she could write to him. But during her pregnancy she hadn’t wanted to force Jesse to be with her, and any kind of decision-making had felt overwhelming, especially at the end.

Once Connor had arrived, she should have written to Jesse with a picture of their baby but she still didn’t have his address. Now she was too embarrassed to ask Joseph because so much time had passed. As weeks had turned to months it had got harder. And she’d never heard from Jesse, not once. That was her excuse. He hadn’t wanted her. So why would he want their son?

It was Brendan who had supported her and Connor. Although this was a fact her mam didn’t know: oblivious it was Brendan who had bought the car seat, the baby carrier and the cot. Believing Niamh’s lies that it was old friends from school, who’d clubbed together and bought her some things. On the odd occasion she answered the phone to Brendan, her mam would narrow her eyes and purse her lips. Afterwards, she would tell Niamh yet again that she didn’t like her hanging around with Brendan and Tadhg.