Madeleine's Long-Buried Secret in Inishbeg Cove

Chapter 1

Madeleine Brennan slammed her palm against her car’s horn and blared it angrily at the tractor that was swaying from side to side across the road in front of her.

The driver clearly didn’t hear her over the din of his engine, so she beeped again – just as a lump of mud flew off one of the tractor’s tyres and thwacked against her windscreen, infuriating her even more.

‘Damn stupid tractor!’ she cursed. Why was the farmer using the main road anyway? Didn’t he have a field to plough somewhere?

She had always hated this tedious journey from Dublin to Inishbeg Cove.

It was interminably slow, traversing narrow boreens that were only wide enough for one car, and where sheep were liable to wander out into the middle of the road.

When she had first come to the village almost forty years ago, it had felt like she was travelling to the other side of the earth.

She couldn’t believe that such a remote village existed, and it had blown her mind that people had actually chosen to live there.

She banged on the horn again. This time the driver heard her, and he turned around.

He wore a tweed flat cap and had a pipe wedged into the corner of his mouth.

She was furious when he had the audacity to grin at her.

Didn’t he know that she was in a rush? She checked the clock on the leather-trimmed dashboard of her Mercedes.

It had been almost five hours since her daughters had called her.

Probably six, if you counted all the missed calls she had ignored before she had finally answered.

As her phone had vibrated in the boardroom earlier, she had turned it face down on the mahogany table without checking who it was to concentrate on the meeting.

Her team were finalising the plans for Howard O’Brien’s book launch in three days’ time, and Madeleine’s company had been chosen to oversee the media and publicity for the event.

Howard O’Brien was an Irish institution.

The television presenter who presented his eponymous Saturday night chat show was a household name.

He was famous for grilling his guests and not shying away from difficult questions.

He was a roguish celebrity who had led a colourful life and had now written a tell-all book about it.

It was one of the biggest print runs the publishers had ever done and was hotly tipped to be a bestseller.

Her phone had buzzed on the table again, but she ignored it.

She would call whoever it was back after the meeting had ended.

It wasn’t until her assistant Linda had knocked on the door to interrupt the meeting – something Madeleine knew she would never dare to do unless it was urgent – that she realised something was wrong.

‘I have your daughter Lucy on the phone,’ Linda mouthed, entering the boardroom. Madeleine felt a flicker of irritation. Why on earth would Lucy call her on the office number?

Madeleine pursed her lips and smiled politely at the people around the table, before excusing herself to step outside to take the call.

‘Mum—’ Lucy said hurriedly as soon as she picked up the handset.

‘I’m in a meeting!’ Madeleine hissed, cutting her off. ‘Can’t it wait?’

‘No, Mum, it can’t.’ Lucy pressed on.

‘Well, what is it then?’ She raised a finger to her team, who were watching her through the glass wall of the boardroom, to signal that she would be back with them in one minute.

‘It’s Nanna…’ Lucy choked. ‘You need to come. She hasn’t got long left.’

‘Nanna? You mean Elizabeth?’ Elizabeth was her daughters’ paternal grandmother and they were extremely close to her. In fact, both of her daughters had chosen to move in with their grandmother to take care of her after her health had deteriorated in recent weeks.

‘Of course! Who else would I be talking about?’ Lucy snapped. ‘She’s taken a turn, and they’ve said she hasn’t got long left.’

‘A turn? What kind of turn?’

‘Her breathing isn’t good. The doctor has just been. It’s not looking good this time. I thought you’d want to know, but if you’re too busy…’ She left the words dangling in the air between them.

The truth was, she was too busy, but she also knew that her daughters would never forgive her if she didn’t travel down to Inishbeg Cove to be there for Elizabeth’s final moments.

‘Of course I’m not,’ she said, coming to, ‘but I have a big launch on Thursday for Howard O’Brien’s new autobiography. You’ve probably heard about it in the press… We’re expecting it go straight to number o—’

‘Mum, Nanna hasn’t got long left.’ Lucy cut across her, not seeming to care an iota about Howard O’Brien and his book, or the fact that her mother was so highly thought of in the industry that she had been chosen to do the publicity.

Madeleine groaned inwardly and ran through her mental to-do list. ‘I suppose I could try to make it down on Friday evening…’ she offered. This week was going to be hectic; the last thing she needed was to tack on a trip to Inishbeg Cove.

‘I don’t think she has that long left, Mum.’ Lucy’s voice wavered on a knife edge of tears.

‘Really?’ Madeleine pressed her hand to her forehead. She could feel a migraine coming on. The timing couldn’t be worse.

‘You need to come now,’ Lucy urged.

‘Okay, okay.’ Madeleine sighed. ‘I’ll do my best to get there.’

After she hung up, Madeleine took a second to compose herself.

What was she supposed to do? She knew her daughter was upset, that was obvious, but her girls could be dramatic.

She also knew from experience that when people neared the end of their lives, they could hang on for days, sometimes even weeks.

She had to finish this meeting, and then she had the final details of the book launch to think about.

But she knew her daughters needed her. Their relationship was already strained.

Although she had been trying to repair the fractures, they would never forgive her if she didn’t travel down to the west of Ireland to say goodbye to their grandmother.

In the end she decided to head down to Inishbeg Cove to visit for a few hours.

She planned to return to Dublin first thing in the morning.

It was an inconvenience, but she could direct her team over the phone while she was travelling.

She was hoping the girls were exaggerating about their grandmother’s condition.

Hopefully Elizabeth would hang around until after the book launch, she thought grimly.

Now, as the tractor ambled along in front of her, she could feel her blood pressure rise. This delay was costing her precious time. The road was too narrow for her to overtake, so she had no choice but to crawl along.

Just then her phone rang once more. She pressed the answer button on her steering wheel and this time she heard her youngest daughter Faith’s voice over the speaker. ‘Mum, it’s me. Are you nearly here? I don’t think she has long left.’

‘Well, I’m just after passing Limerick. The traffic was horrendous leaving Dublin and it wasn’t much better in Limerick. I think there’s something on in Thomond Park.’

‘But that means you’re still at least two hours away?’ Faith cried, full of emotion. Her youngest daughter had always been melodramatic.

‘Yes, and that’s if I don’t meet any more traffic or blasted tractors.’ Madeleine groaned. ‘And I need to find somewhere to stop for petrol too…’

‘But she might not hold—’

‘Sorry?’ Madeleine asked. ‘I didn’t get that.’ The phone signal was patchy and her daughter’s voice was cutting in and out.

‘She might not last that long…’ Faith was almost shouting down the phone at her.

‘I’m going as fast as I can!’ Madeleine replied defensively.

‘But Lucy spoke to you just after eleven this morning – it doesn’t take that long to get here.’

‘Well, I couldn’t just drop everything and drive to Inishbeg Cove,’ she scoffed. ‘I was in the middle of a meeting. I had things to wrap up. We have a very important book launch on Thursday. It’s for Howard O’Brien.’

‘Story of your life,’ Faith quipped, an unmistakable acerbity to her tone.

Madeleine was sure she must have misheard her. It wasn’t like Faith to be snipy. She was always so mellow, so kind. She wasn’t like Lucy, who had no problem telling Madeleine exactly what she thought of her.

‘Faith?’ she called, but she had gone. Madeleine groaned. Her girls were always so sensitive, so protective of their grandmother. Their grandmother had indulged that side of their personalities – whereas, if Madeleine was being honest, she found it rather irritating and tiresome.

She finally managed to overtake the tractor and put her foot to the floor as she continued on her journey.

She came up the crest of a hill and felt her stomach drop as she descended the other side.

She knew she was going fast, but being stuck behind the tractor had cost her time.

Suddenly she saw blue lights flashing in the distance.

Shit, she thought. It was the Gardaí. She tried to slow down, but it was too late: the Garda jumped out of the car and moved into the centre of the road to flag her down.

She came to a stop and wound down the window.

‘Do you have any idea what speed you were doing?’ he began.

‘I wasn’t going that fast. Look, I’m sorry. It’s an emergency. I need to get to Inishbeg Cove.’

‘Well, you won’t be going anywhere now,’ he said contrarily.

‘Now, come on, I’m sorry but it’s urgent.’ She glanced at the clock on her car dashboard. ‘My daughters’ grandmother is on her deathbed and they will never speak to me again if I don’t get there in time.’

‘You should have thought about that before you drove like Michael Schumacher on these rural roads. You’re not on the M50 now.’ He took great satisfaction in telling her. ‘Can I see your licence, please?’

‘I-I don’t have it with me,’ she admitted, knowing she was walking into more trouble. ‘It’s at home.’

‘Are you aware that it is a legal requirement to be in possession of a valid driving licence at all times?’

‘Yes, but I forgot to bring it with me,’ she said slowly, as if she was talking to someone who had difficulty comprehending. ‘As I mentioned before, I had to leave in a hurry.’

‘You are breaking the law.’

‘I already told you it’s an emergency!’ she cried in exasperation.

‘As you’re travelling dangerously in excess of the speed limit and driving without a valid licence, I have no choice but to impound your car.’

‘What?’ she cried. ‘Y-you can’t do that!’ If he took her car, how would she get to Inishbeg Cove? There was no public transport in this neck of the woods.

‘I assure you that I can.’

‘But I need it to get to Inishbeg Cove. It’s an emergency. I told you my mother-in-law is on her deathbed!’

‘Well, you should have thought about that before you broke the law. Please step out of the vehicle.’

‘You c-can’t do this to me!’ she said, refusing to move. ‘I am the marketing director of Interstellar PR!’ If he took her car away, she wouldn’t be able to get back to Dublin again in the morning.

‘And I run the roads policing division for this jurisdiction.’ He offered her his hand.

‘Look,’ she tried again, ‘I have a big launch in three days’ time. I’m overseeing the publicity for Howard O’Brien’s new book.’

‘It that supposed to impress me?’ he asked.

‘No.’ She sighed, growing irritated by his sarcasm. She was long enough in the corporate world to know she needed to change tack. She was well used to negotiating with hardballers. Take a deep breath, she told herself. She needed a different approach here.

‘Okay,’ she began, ‘I understand you’re angry.’ She raised her palms towards him in mock defence. ‘But surely, we can come to some sort of…’ She raised her index fingers to make air quotes. ‘Arrangement,’ she tried, confidently. Money talked; it always did.

‘Are you trying to bribe me?’ he asked in disbelief. ‘Perverting the course of justice is a very serious offence.’

‘No, of course not,’ she said, defeated.

‘Please, step out of the car, madam.’

Her shoulders slumping, she did as he instructed and stepped out into the early evening darkness.

Drizzle was falling. As the Garda made some phone calls, she stood looking out at the bleak landscape as raindrops formed bubbles along her coat.

Soft rain, people would call it: the kind that fell gently but that would ruin her navy cashmere coat.

It always seemed to rain whenever she came here.

Eventually a tow truck arrived and she watched as her car was loaded onto it.

‘How am I s-supposed to get to Inishbeg Cove now?’ she stuttered as she watched the truck drive away with her car loaded on the back of it. Her hair stuck to her face in damp tendrils; the blow-dry she’d had done that morning was ruined.

‘Not my problem.’ He shrugged. ‘But I’m sure a woman of your importance will find a way.’ He winked.