I cast a final, lingering glance at the envelope. If it weren’t for the detour I’d taken, I wouldn’t be here right now. Ash and I would have been viewing the flat across town, the call from Big Sean would have gone unanswered, and I definitely would have missed out on meeting James and whatever may come of it.
But here I am, with the opportunity to uncover the truth about my mother, and even inherit enough to help me out a little financially. Taking a bit of the pressure off living pay check to pay check would be a relief. Amajorrelief.
I find myself bouncing in my seat with excitement, licking the creamy head of my Guinness from my lip. My imagination is running wild with visions of luscious green hills and open blue skies during the day, and cosy drawing nooks by crackling fireplaces come nightfall. I’m going to Ireland. For real.
For the first time in my life, Monday can’t come soon enough.
CHAPTER 10
THE BOX
I slide the rusty key into the chunky old lock, the sound echoing through the hall. As I push my front door open, the familiar musty smell welcomes me in as the hustle and clamour of outside life fades away. The flat in the converted warehouse I call home is old, tired and overpriced, with exposed brickwork and water damage, constant creaking and clanging, but I jumped at it on the first viewing for two reasons.
The central location.
The super-hot, criminally flirty rental agent who showed me around the flat. And then showed me around the area. And then showed me around the bars and restaurants, and the next thing I knew, his toothbrush had moved in and I was in a proper adult relationship with Ash Saunders.
And I’m fairly settled here now, have added homely touches here and there – a colourful throw blanket draped over the sofa, my favourite paintings lining the walls, a few plants perched on windowsills giving life to a lifeless space.
I let out a deep sigh of relief, my shoulders falling slightly with the release of tension that comes from being in my own one-bed oasis. In one swift movement, I kick off my shoes and slip out of my bra, allowing my poor trapped boobs to breathe freelyagain. I shake out my hair and gather it into a messy topknot on my head before settling down on the couch.
Alone at last. Peace at last—
Until my phone vibrates beside me – a voice note from Ash.
‘Bloody agent completely blew me off – raised the asking price when he saw the line of people waiting outside… Absolute tosser. Waste of time – again. To be honest, place smelled like feet and the Wi-Fi was crap, but still, it would have been a start. I’m on my way over. Already eaten. Get wine.’
I can hear the frustration in his voice. What a day.
I send him a message back.
‘Ah, sweetheart, so annoying! Never mind, could be for the best, I’ve got some news I think will cheer you up… See you later, opening wine now! Dx.’
With a bottle of red in hand, I make my way to the small kitchenette, unscrew the top and pour myself a glass, savouring the rich flavour, feeling the warmth of the alcohol spreading through my body. My thoughts keep returning to the shock news about my unexpected inheritance and the snap decision I’d made to travel to Innisfree. In a mere seventy-two hours, I’ll be on a plane alone, destination Ireland. Sean’s regret that he couldn’t come with me runs through my mind. It would be better if I had someone with me, to not face this challenge solo. This trip may get emotional. Ash can’t drop everything at work for a month to join me in Ireland, but Kayla could.
I pick up my phone and dial my best friend’s number, but all I get is her voicemail – ‘Kayla at Social Media Solutions here; I’m busy doing you-know-what until God-knows-when. So, you know the drill. BEEP.’
Where is she right now? Most likely on the Tube, where her phone doesn’t have any reception.
‘Kayla, no joke, call me as soon as you get this.’ I articulate each syllable carefully into my phone so that she understands every word. ‘I’ve inherited a house from someone I’ve never heard of… well, Mum inherited it and now it’s been passed to me… I’ll explain later. Anyway, long story short, I’m going to Ireland to sign it all off ASAP… Come with me. Please.’
I’m hoping Kayla says yes as this inheritance news is a double-edged sword. Yay! I’ve got a house! And eugh! I’ve got to face the truth that there are loads of great big gaping plot holes in my story and I don’t know who I am, or what makes me ‘me’. I don’t know where I come from, or who my father is – if he knows whether I even exist. Without any reference points in my life, anything could be true and that’s a terrifying thought. I could be anything or anyone; I have no bonds, no context, no quality stamp. And that’s scary.
But Kayla understands‘the fear’. I remember only too well when her past caught up with her. After years of nothing, suddenly family started coming out of the woodwork – wanting to meet up, make amends, start anew – and at first, it was great, but soon she realised she’d just opened herself up to pain, hurt and heartache all over again. She thought she’d broken the chain of deceit and desertion – but nope. Her family story wasn’t the fairy-tale ending she’d longed for; instead they disappointed her yet again with empty promises, false hope, wild tales and hidden secrets. It took her a long time to come back from it, but we got there. Kayla made a conscious decision not to let their betrayals define her. She picked up the broken pieces of her heart and resolved to build something new out of them. We both understood that life hadn’t been especially kind to either of us, but we were determined to rise above it. From there, we forged an unbreakable bond, becoming each other’s family.We’re stronger together – always have been, always will be. I’m aware that the same thing might be awaiting me in Innisfree, but forewarned is forearmed.
As I think back on my childhood, I want to believe that it was all a fairy tale, but I know the truth is far more complex. My mother had been pregnant and alone in a foreign city, and it was a mystery who my father was and why he was never in the picture, never even mentioned… The care system I found myself in after Mum’s death certainly wasn’t the loving extended family I’d dreamed of, but nobody else stepped up. I was unclaimed. Big Sean tried his hardest to take me in, but he failed the criteria: single man, pub landlord, a few run-ins with the law.
I tried to make the best of my lot, not dwell on all I’d lost, all I didn’t know, but there were questions – there are still so many questions. I can’t help but wonder why certain secrets were kept from me. My mother must have had good reason to withhold so much – a perfectly logical and well-intentioned explanation, right? And maybe that’s what’s at the heart of this. And that’s what makes me nervous. Maybe it was all for my own protection? Maybe I wasn’t told because the truth is an ugly story full of heartbreak and lies and loss and fear. A sad and sorry story no one could bear to retell.
After all, I saw it with my own eyes – every time someone in the pub inquired about my mother’s hometown and acquaintances, she’d cast her eyes downwards and shake her head, change the subject, busy herself with distractions. Was everyone trying to hide something truly awful?
