In the day room, two nurses were sharing a joke in the kitchen area. The sound of their laughter reached the room of Edward Foley. His eyelids flickered and his breathing became uneven. Inside his chest his heart fluttered and then, just as he thought to himself, this is it, it’s over, it was.
AFTER
The tide was full and the sky was perfectly blue. Elizabeth could hardly believe how different it all seemed. As they drove across the causeway, the water sparkled in the sunshine, and she knew this had been the right thing to do. ‘Nearly there now,’ she called to the boys in the back. Her boys. That’s what she called them. Zach was sitting with his son who was strapped into a car seat that neither he nor Elizabeth were convinced had been installed properly.
It hadn’t been easy but in the little more than two years since her last visit to Muirinish, life had changed a great deal. After Michelle’s death, Elizabeth had such a strong, unshakable belief in what she should do. She talked to Zach and he was enthusiastic about the plan. Michelle’s parents took a little more convincing but, conceding that they were too old to start caring for a baby, they agreed that it made sense for their grandson to at least be close to his father, while being cared for by a responsible adult. Elliot thought she was crazy, but then, he hadn’t even managed to care for a puppy. Will and the Weimaraner had moved out.
At first, things had been difficult. Convincing Zach to stay in school and arranging a leave of absence for herself from Hunter had been a struggle, but she had muddled through. She had graded papers from home and, although still unsold, she had managed to rent out Convent Hill. Then there was an unexpected but extremely welcome change in her circumstances. The Giardino family had reached a sizeable out-of-court settlement with the medical centre following the badly performed epidural, and they had decided to put half in trust for their grandson and give the rest to Elizabeth, to help her raise the child. The money was a godsend. She was able to return to teaching part-time at Hunter and her little family decamped to a modest duplex apartment on the top two floors of one of the few un-gentrified brownstones in Williamsburg.
Elizabeth loved being a mother again. It was so much easier the second time around, and, she reminded herself, that wasn’t just because there was no Elliot this time. Of course, there were nights when she couldn’t sleep, or her grandson refused to sleep, when she sat in the dark holding the baby and thought about Michelle. Poor woman. Elizabeth didn’t rewrite history, she never pretended that she had been fond of the woman, but it did break her heart that Michelle had been robbed of time with her son. He was a magical little boy. Elizabeth thought of her own mother too. She had wondered if looking after another woman’s baby might give her some insight into the mind of Patricia Keane, but, if anything, she felt she understood her less. Elizabeth was impatient to tell her grandson about his mother, show him pictures, allow him to ask questions. Had her mother never felt compelled to tell her the truth? Times were different then, she supposed, but it still bothered her. Surely the truth had always had a value? Or maybe back then other things were more important? They must have been or why else would secrets have been a way of life?
Castle House had found a buyer and the new owner was waiting for them as their car bumped and bounced its way down the lane. Hair slicked back, and wearing a freshly ironed shirt, Brian gave them a wave. The purchase had been purely practical. He wanted a yard adjacent to the land and it was a reasonable price. He still hadn’t decided what to do with the house, probably just wait till it had joined the castle as a ruin. Elizabeth hadn’t known he was the buyer until he had texted her to inform her about her father’s death. There had been nothing left to bequeath in the will, the land had been sold to Brian years earlier, and Elizabeth already had the house, but there was the question of Edward’s remains. The solicitor who had power of attorney had contacted Brian to see if he had a number for the previous owner of Castle House, and indeed he did. Elizabeth hadn’t been sure what to do. Being so far away, she didn’t know if she could arrange a funeral, or where Mary was buried, so she had just asked for a small private service at the crematorium in Cork. Today was to be about the ashes.
Elizabeth got out of the car and gave Brian a peck on the cheek.
‘Great to see you.’
‘You too. You’ve picked a great day for it.’
‘Yes.’
They both looked around at the ruins, the blue sky peeping through the narrow misshapen windows. A banging sound brought them back to the car.