One hard finger stabbed into her chest, shoving her off balance and then he stalked off. Toni put a hand on the bonnet of her car and the other onto the sore place on her breastbone where he’d jabbed his finger. It was painful. Lanigan was strong. He could have done anything to her, and she’d provoked him. She hadn’t used her damn brain when faced with an enraged man.
Anything could have happened. She willed herself to breathe deeply, her entire body numb. All it had taken was two minutes to completely destroy her career. He had a recording of her words and, no matter what he’d said or done, there was no evidence of that. It would be his words against hers.
She’d just committed career suicide and a man who hated her had it on tape.
The car tyres scattered gravel as Toni drove in the gates of Mermaid Cottage two hours later. Usually, the sense of peace of coming close to Whitehaven began to sink into Toni’s bones as soon as she crossed the border into County Cork. Tonight, she felt no welcoming joy. Just a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach.
She had bought the cottage as a bolthole years before: a run-down hovel with a lean-to for a toilet, bushes growing on the inside and most of the blue roof slates scattered on the ground where wild goats grazed.
‘You’ll need a magic wand or lots of money,’ Lillian had commented when she’d seen it.
‘It has such a lovely spirit about it,’ had been Lou’s verdict. ‘An oak tree and a monkey puzzle in the garden. A huge rosemary bush and look ...’ Lou had stood outside what was the existing kitchen window – if only its pane of glass was not smashed – and pointed at the view in front of them. ‘You can see why it’s called Mermaid Cottage. You can see the headland from here.’
‘Pots of money,’ Lillian had said again, waving a negligent hand. ‘It should be called Derelict Cottage. Why not buy something nicer in town? I’m sure you can afford it. My friends could stay when they come and they won’t need cars if they’re in town itself.’
She’d glanced sideways at her daughter, which Toni noticed but did not acknowledge.
‘This is on the outskirts of the town, and I like that,’ Toni had said with studied calm. When people wanted things from you, things you were disinclined to give them, it was easier to pretend you hadn’t noticed them asking. Then they had to repeat the request and you could look at them quizzically and say, ‘I must have misheard ...’
Worked a treat every time.
Lou, lovely human being that she was, had never learned how to do it with anyone. Lou gave everything she had to everyone, especially their mother.
That day, Lou had grabbed her companionably as they’d stood in the damp kitchen. ‘I’ll help.’
Now, with its whitewashed walls, front door and windowsills painted Farrow & Ball’s Setting Plaster pink, all set off with two olive trees in cream wooden tubs outside the door, Mermaid Cottage was, much money later, the stuff of idyllic rural fantasy. Although so much of Toni’s professional life was up for grabs, she’d never allowed anyone to photograph her Whitehaven refuge, insisting that all ‘at home’ photos of her and Oliver took place in their modern Dublin city house.
People seeing the ceiling-to-floor windows, poured concrete floors and vast canvases on the walls of their home overlooking Dublin Bay could not have imagined the coolly professional Toni Cooper being happy in a house with gingham curtains and a herb garden. But the separation of both lives was part of the firmly controlling hand Toni kept on her life. There was work Toni and there was Whitehaven Toni and ne’er the twain should meet.
Toni dumped her bags on the cream couch beside the curved window in the small living room. There was a low ceiling, a stone fireplace with logs stacked underneath the stove, and walls covered with seascapes of the area. Unlike the Dublin house with its specially made couches, the cottage was a haven of comfort with tapestry cushions, an old ottoman on which books and candles sat in pride of place in the centre of the room, and a small round table stacked with novels. The lamps were all old with warm-hued silk shades and Lou had found a big kilim rug online as a present for Toni and Oliver.
Toni longed to light the stove, sit down and stare into its depths for the evening but she couldn’t. She’d grab a quick cup of tea before going out, she thought, and went into the kitchen, where a vase of wild flowers sat on the scrubbed wooden kitchen table. There was milk in the fridge, too. Lou must have been in during the week, Toni thought, near tears for the first time that whole day.
Staying in control mattered to her. She’d lost it earlier today and she felt herself shaking at the stress of the incident in the TV car park. Her life was spiralling out of control and it was terrifying.
Toni put the cheery yellow kettle on to boil, found her favourite pottery cup and made tea. Then she took a deep, calming breath: it was Lou’s party and she wasn’t going to desert her sister. Her own disastrous life could wait. She would sort it out. That’s what she did. Toni Cooper never waited for anyone to save her. She saved herself.
Chapter Seven
Whitehaven was out in force on Friday night, and as the sun set over Mermaid Peak, a steady stream of cars and taxis were making their way to the Haven Barn. Once a simple haybarn, now a rustic setting for big parties, the Haven Barn looked particularly beautiful that night, covered inside and out with twinkling fairy lights, floral bunting made from old saris and silk and paper flowers in giant colourful garlands. Inside, the sanded-down wooden tables and benches were accessorised with bright tablecloths and old-fashioned oil lamps, and the waiters and waitresses were all dressed in jeans and plaid shirts as if about to run out and bring in the hay in between taking your order for sweet potato fries.
It had been Emily who had suggested the barn.
‘It’s fun and casual, Mum,’ she’d said. ‘Not stuffy. Everyone likes this place.’
Lou agreed. There was a lovely informality to a barn, and it had been so cleverly transformed so that it was warm even in March and if people wanted to sit outside and smoke, IKEA fleece blankets were there for the most ardent puffers.
On the dot of nine, a buffet would be whisked out and the partygoers would have their choice of the Barn specialities like pulled pork buns, chipotle sausages, sweet potato fries and their famous butternut squash, pomegranate seed and feta salad. There were slices of roast beef served with carrots, mash and Yorkshire puddings for those who liked plainer food, and roasted edamame beans, mushroom stroganoff and a whole menu of vegan delights for the vegans and the vegetarians.
Even though the barn had been booked out for Lou’s party, its smaller sister, the Mini Barn was still open and it was as thronged with locals as Whitehaven itself on a Paddy’s Day weekend. The Cooper party was providing satisfying food for conversation as they watched the guests arrive.
Jess the baker, a Whitehaven stalwart, and the nosier members of her bridge club had decided to have a quiet drink in the annexe to admire the party guests. They weren’t invited but they weren’t going to miss Lillian’s big party ... Of course, the Grey-Haired Women Against the Patriarchy could be there.
Tired after a busy morning cleaning out the Gin Palace, Alice and Vera, who ran Whitehaven’s busiest cleaning business, poked their noses into the barn.
‘It’s very full,’ said Vera nervously, looking at all the dressed-up people, particularly the women with leather handbags worth twice what the pair of them earned in a month. ‘I think we should go, Alice.’
She and Alice had been brought up to know their place and to believe that only certain types of people fitted naturally into the world of big parties. Alice and Vera would clean any party premises, no problem. But walking into a party as a guest was another matter.
