‘I have absolutely no idea. I wish I had, believe me. All I know is that my mother’s favourite possession was an old postcard with a picture of Innisfree’s rolling hills, a stone house and two swans gliding across a lake. It was the first thing she grabbed whenever we had to move, so I knew that Innisfree meant something special to her, but I could never quite figure out what. And, sadly, that’s pretty much all I can tell you.’
I take a hearty gulp of my drink. ‘So, what’s next? I guess the next in line will get the inheritance and we can wrap this up?’
James narrows his eyes at me. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Well, my mum can’t take the inheritance because she’s not here anymore, so there must be a second in line – maybe Mick had siblings or friends or something?’
James leans back into his seat. ‘I’m afraid I haven’t been clear. I promise you I’m usually a lot more professional, but this instance is a little different, I suppose, as I was very close to Mick. I might even go as far to say he saved my life, more than once…’
He shifts the papers and folders away and creates an empty space on the table. ‘Daisy Clarke, as next of kin to Rose Clarke, you become the sole beneficiary of The Lake House in Innisfree, according to Mick Kennedy’s last will and testament. In a nutshell, it all belongs to you now. All you have to do is come over to Ireland, sign on the dotted line and the keys are yours.’
I open my mouth to speak, but no words come out. Me? The beneficiary to a complete stranger, in a place I’ve never even been? Part of me is over the moon – I mean, who wouldn’t be excited about inheriting a charming lake house in the Irishcountryside? But there’s also a gnawing feeling of apprehension clawing at my insides. Did James say ‘go’ to Ireland… like, physically go there? His face swims in front of me before his voice grows distant.
‘It’s yours to do as you wish,’ he confirms with a nod. ‘Sell it and reap the monetary benefit, ormaybe, you’ll decide not to sell and you can live there yourself– it could provide you with a new place to live and work.’
I laugh at that idea.
James raises an eyebrow. And I immediately feel like a city snob.
‘I’m sorry – I meant that it’s unlikely because I live and work here, my boyfriend, my friends – everything is here. London’s all I know, so it’s just unlikely that I’d ever move, to be honest. Never crossed my mind before.’
But maybe that’s not such a crazy idea? Just in the short term? I can do my job anywhere, and we’re already thinking of moving. I could save on some rent here in London and get a much-needed change of scene – space, quiet, fresh air… This inheritance could be the answer to my prayers: a way to break free from my financial worries and get a chance to work onForest Fablesin the beautiful Irish countryside. I take another big gulp of my drink, glad that I ordered a large measure.
A house key, as well as an opportunity to try to reconnect with my mother and her roots. I’ve always wanted to see where she came from, to get a sense of the place that shaped her into the woman she was.
I remember how often I asked her to tell me all about Innisfree. I’d pester her for stories about her own childhood – what games did she play? What was her school like? Who were her friends? And then, as I got older, bigger questions like why hadn’t I ever met my grandparents? Why couldn’t we go to Ireland? Who was my father? Why wasn’t he in my life?
She’d take my hands in hers and promise that ‘one day, when the time is right’ she’d tell me the whole story – once I was ready to understand. She never got to tell me, but is it possible I may be able to find out? This could be my only chance to finally uncover truths about myself and where Mum came from.
Big Sean saunters over to us with two fresh pints of Guinness.
‘Have you ever come across Mick Kennedy?’ I ask him.
He takes a place opposite me, his eyes deep and pensive. He hesitates before speaking, gathering a large breath as if uncertain whether to continue. ‘A man by the name of Mick Kennedy came looking for your mother some time ago, when she was expecting you. He had an immense affection for her and left a message that she should come back home. Apparently, he’d heard she was in London and he’d set off to look for her to make sure she was safe.’ Big Sean turns away, then carries on in an undertone. ‘I ran out back to tell your mother, but she just shook her head, saying it was better to have loved and lost than never loved at all. She asked me to act as if I didn’t know her and send him away.’ He stops again, trying hard to keep his composure.
The sudden news hits me with a force that steals my breath away; surprise, shock and confusion swirl around in an overwhelming whirlpool inside me. I nervously pick at the beermat. Why has it taken so long for me to find out about this?
I turn back to Big Sean. ‘Why did Mum ask you to send Mick Kennedy away? What could she possibly have against him, to not even want to hear what he had to say after travelling all the way here?’
He sighs, scratching his big curly mop of hair. ‘Daisy, I don’t know the whole story, but I know this: she wanted to live her life, her way. Your mother made up her mindto keep herself hidden away from Mick and everyone else back in Ireland. Knowing your mother, she’d have her reasons, so I left it at that.’
Big Sean looks to James. ‘You’re from Innisfree?’
‘Born and bred,’ he answers.
‘And what do you believe to be the truth of it all?’
James blows out his cheeks and strokes his chin. ‘Well, I’m here with two hats on. Primarily, as a lawyer. And, in my professional capacity, I don’t tend to believe that we ever get the truth. Especially anything involving more than one person – too many mitigating factors, too much subjectivity, far too much emotion.’ He then looks to me. ‘But, equally, I’m here as a friend of Mick’s. And, with that in mind, I will absolutely help you in any way I can to find the answers you’re looking for, wherever they may lead.’
That’s one of my concerns – it’s one thing asking questions; it’s a whole other thing being prepared for the answers. I could be kicking a hornet’s nest here. I consider his words carefully and then take a deep breath before deciding my next move.
‘Okay. If the truth is probably out of reach and asking questions might just lead to dredging up the past for no positive reason, should I just sign for the house but leave all the whys and what ifs alone?’
Big Sean grows silent, and for what seems like an eternity, the only sounds filling our corner of the pub are the clinking glasses and murmurs of other patrons. When he speaks again, his voice is low and resolute. ‘Well, that’s the real question, all right.’
I want to know more, but I’m a little fearful of the answers that may come. James gives me a look, and I can tell he understands what’s at risk if I open this potential Pandora’s box – especially since my mother chose to hide it away so long.
‘The past is hard to grasp. People change and memories fade,’ Sean says.
