Chapter 4
FOUR
Still shocked by that photo, Marian swam to the raft in Claire’s wake while all kinds of thoughts whirled around in her mind.
Is that really him? Maybe it’s just someone who looks like him?
People have doubles sometimes. But that name – John Peters…
That would be his first names, Sean Pierre, translated to English.
But how could the man on the plane be an author whose books are so popular in Ireland?
‘Come on.’ Claire’s voice interrupted Marian’s thoughts as they reached the raft. ‘We haven’t got all day.’ She heaved herself up and sat on the raft, dangling her legs in the water. ‘You must still be tired,’ she said. ‘You usually beat me by several metres.’
‘Yes, I am a bit tired,’ Marian said, breathing hard as she got up on the raft.
‘Your swimming has improved too.’ She sat beside Claire and looked into the crystal-clear water where she could see fish flitting in and out among the rocks.
‘This is a wonderful place to swim. The water is so clean and fresh. Beats the swimming in Queensland, I have to say.’ She lifted her head and gazed across the bay, enjoying the feel of the sun on her skin and the salt-laden breeze, forgetting for a moment her confusion about the author and his photo.
‘This is such a peaceful place. I feel that I can relax and forget all my troubles even if it’s just for a little while. ’
She thought again about that author and what she might have said, but then pushed it all away.
He might not have listened that intently and had probably gone to sleep as she rambled on about the Fleurys and their manor house.
Marian decided not to worry about it and try to enjoy the next few weeks.
Claire’s wedding was looming and she was determined to do everything she could to make it a very special day.
Then there was Theo and what she had found that had made her feel their marriage was over.
But even that shouldn’t ruin her stay in this beautiful place, she decided.
So when Claire jumped into the water, Marian, feeling suddenly light-hearted, jumped in after her and swam with strong strokes faster than before, and managed to arrive at the jetty several lengths before her younger sister.
They ran up the path and into the manor, racing up the stairs, laughing like teenagers, and arrived on the top landing, breathless. Then they took turns to have a shower, dried their hair and quickly dressed before they descended the stairs again, this time more demurely.
Mass gave Marian a chance to sit down and relax as she half listened to the sermon.
She gazed at the beautiful stained-glass windows over the altar, the images of the stations of the cross on the walls that were not as garish as in some churches but depicted the path to the cross in a gentle, subtle way.
There was a statue of the Virgin Mary beside the altar that Claire later said was mediaeval and had been found in the ruins of a church nearby.
When mass was over, Marian walked out into the warm sunshine and was introduced to Father O’Malley, with whom she shook hands as he told her she was welcome in Dingle and asked if she could sing at all, as the choir needed more singers.
‘I’m afraid I can’t sing to save my life,’ Marian had to confess. ‘So I wouldn’t be a good addition to the choir. In any case, I’m not sure how long I’m going to stay.’
‘A very long time, I hope,’ Claire piped up beside Marian and then pulled at her arm and made her turn to come face to face with an older lady with white hair and beautiful brown eyes. ‘Marian, this is Sylvia Fleury.’
Marian felt her heart beat faster as she shook hands with the old woman who was tall and slim with a ramrod-straight back. ‘Hello,’ she mumbled nervously. ‘How nice to meet you, Mrs Fleury.’
‘We’re family, so please call me Sylvia,’ she said as she squeezed Marian’s hand in a tight grip.
‘I’m very happy to meet you, too, Marian.
Claire has been so excited about your arrival.
I hope you’re comfortable in that little flat?
A bit of a squeeze for two people, I imagine,’ she added with an amused smile.
‘Yes, but we’re so happy to be together,’ Claire said, smiling at Sylvia. ‘And after the wedding, Marian can have the flat for as long as she wants. I’ve checked with Rose and as I’ve paid the rent until the end of July, she said it was fine.’
‘That’s good,’ Sylvia said. Then she looked around. ‘Where’s Pierce? I thought he would be here with you today.’
‘Well, he’s not much of a church person,’ Claire said. ‘He’ll meet us at the café.’
‘I see,’ Sylvia said. ‘I suppose you can’t force anyone to go to mass.
I’m not going to the café, so I’ll see you both at lunch.
As it’s a lovely day, we will be eating on the terrace and have a barbecue.
I think the children will be happy about that.
And then they can run wild in the garden if they feel like it. ’
‘Great idea,’ Claire said. ‘We’ll see you later, so.’ Sylvia smiled at them both and moved away to greet another old lady who was just coming out of the church.
‘So now you’ve met our own grande dame,’ Claire said when Sylvia was out of earshot. ‘Magnificent, isn’t she?’
‘The epitome of elegance,’ Marian said. ‘Is that a real Chanel suit she’s wearing?’
‘Yes, but it’s many years old,’ Claire said. ‘She has the most amazing vintage wardrobe. I’d say she’ll change into something more casual for lunch. Casual for her, that is,’ she added with a grin.
‘She sounds like an interesting woman,’ Marian said. ‘Maybe she had a lot of adventures when she was young.’
‘Not as far as I know,’ Claire said. ‘She grew up in Kerry and was married quite young and then she’s lived here all of her adult life.’
‘Her husband was our grandfather’s first cousin, wasn’t he?’ Marian asked. ‘Liam Fleury, I mean.’
‘That’s right,’ Claire replied. ‘Sylvia often talks about how she and Liam met on a train and fell madly in love at first sight.’
‘A train going where?’ Marian asked, her interest in Sylvia increasing.
Until now she had just been a rather formidable old lady, the matriarch of the Kerry Fleurys.
But now that she had met Sylvia in real life, Marian realised that she must have been a stunning woman in her youth.
That tall figure, the lovely eyes and thick hair that would have been dark some years ago, all added to the image of someone who had both class and style.
Something that could not come from spending her entire life in Kerry.
‘I don’t know,’ Claire said, looking confused. ‘She never said where this train was going to. Just that it was a long journey and that they talked and talked late into the night, forgetting the time until they arrived at their destination.’
‘No train journey in Ireland is very long or late at night,’ Marian remarked. ‘So it must have been either in England or the continent.’
‘I never actually wondered about where they were at the time,’ Claire said. ‘I only thought that it was so romantic.’
‘Yes, that’s true,’ Marian said. ‘It sounds very romantic.’ She started to walk away from the forecourt of the church. ‘Anyway, we’ll forget about Sylvia and her interesting past for the moment. I want to go and meet your lovely future husband.’
But her thoughts were not on Claire’s fiancé, but on that train journey in the 1960s, where Sylvia had met her husband. She looked thoughtfully at Sylvia’s retreating figure as they walked away from the steps of the church.
A woman with an interesting past, Marian thought to herself. But maybe there is a reason she will never reveal where that train journey took place…