Chapter 16
Nineteen Years Ago
Their mother was dying. Blythe realised it long before anyone else seemed to notice. Rae was oblivious, drifting from Blythe, drifting from everything. She was too young to fully grasp exactly what was going on and their grandfather was in denial. Who could blame him, he’d lost so much already.
Blythe had taken over.
It wasn’t that she’d meant to, but she was the oldest, and it was in her nature.
She got up each morning an hour before everyone else, put on a saucepan of porridge, made sure that the fridge was stocked for whatever was needed for the dinner later.
She trundled up and down to the clothesline in the garden, and made sure that their lives were as straightened out as she left the kitchen each night before she went to bed.
First thing in the mornings, she brought a cup of tea to her mother; she sat there while it was drunk and then tried to cajole her into some breakfast. Mostly, they would chat, other times, she would sit by the window and watch the sun come up and trace across the fields.
She loved those moments, sitting there in the silence, just the two of them.
Even before she realised her mother was slipping away, she knew it was precious, more so now, because it was confirmed in her mind, those mornings were in short supply.
For what felt like a long time, Blythe just kept on going, putting one foot in front of the other, keeping all the plates balanced, she was a Scott, and that meant something.
It was a funny thing, because for all she did, she had a feeling that the only person who really saw her was Kip Carney and even he wasn’t around all that much most of the time.
Certainly, every time he came back to the island, he made his way up to Still Water House or tracked her down in the hotel.
She wasn’t sure if she was his girlfriend exactly, but when they were together, she felt somehow as if some vital part of her had slipped into place.
Then, of course, he left again and she was never courageous enough to ask him straight out, if there were other girls, or if they were, God, she hated even saying, but exclusive.
He could have other girls, she wouldn’t be surprised if he did, she wasn’t even sure she’d blame him. They never slept together, oh, they came close, now and then, but Kip was always the one to pull back, as if in the crossing of some invisible line, he might crack something valuable between them.
But he was devoted to her. She knew this, underneath it all, she knew it.
Her mother and Rae both adored him. Pappy?
She wasn’t sure why, he hadn’t said anything exactly, but it was there on the atmosphere between them, like a note, hanging on the end of a bar – slightly out of tune, out of place, as if it was something that would have to be sorted out at some point, but Pappy did not have the will to do it just yet.
Kip was still the closest thing to a celebrity in the village.
But, you’d never think it, because there was no big ego there with Kip.
He might well be one of the best rugby players from west of the Shannon ever, but he didn’t lose sight of who he truly was beyond the playing field.
Their start in life was so different, she in this huge house, bought with her grandmother’s fortune, and the lingering distrust of the locals for German money they still felt did not belong on the island.
He, on the other hand, was reared in a tiny council house, his mother beloved by the islanders, even if that love was tinged with pity.
It made his success even more amazing, really, having been called up to the panel to play for the national rugby team.
In off-season, it seemed as if everywhere Blythe went, he popped up before her.
He’d even been on the television after he scored a try that didn’t quite save the day, but might have if only it wasn’t against the All-Blacks.
Blythe almost didn’t realise it until the end of the previous summer.
She had fallen in love with Kip Carney, it came as a surprise as much as an awareness.
This was not the way she had felt when she was a kid, when every girl in school had lusted after him.
This was different. She’d come to admire, not just his good looks, although, it didn’t hurt that he was a bloody good-looking man; but more than that, she loved the way he made her mother howl with laughter.
It seemed to Blythe, there was nothing he could not do.
He’d turned the garden round completely, with hard work and a vision that was unexpected.
Even inside their home, he’d tackled jobs that had been on her father’s to-do list for years.
Little things at first, like patching wallpaper and filling cracks around the window frames to keep the draughts at bay.
The strangest thing about him was he had no idea how accomplished he really was and that only made him more attractive in Blythe’s eyes.
And Kip was decent – for all the adulation, it never went to his head. He made time for everyone. It didn’t matter if you were the Archbishop of Ireland or a dog in the street – he’d stop and say hello and the word was, he’d be the first to hand you a fiver if you needed it.
Sometimes, she wondered if he knew she was head over heels in love with him.
In the back of her mind, she sensed his reluctance to take things further or make their relationship somehow more official had more to do with the age difference between them, than it had her grandfather’s disapproval.
At least Rae had settled down, even if, Blythe worried constantly that she’d go off the rails again.
She was Rae after all, far too trusting for her own good.
You never knew if she’d arrive home with a cat or a dog or some no-good boyfriend who’d never done a hand’s turn and saw the Scott girls as a ticket to a free lunch.
The notion that the hotel was the most stable thing she could count on, occurred to her when she was in that drowsy state between slumber and awareness.
It was almost dawn, and she was waiting for Rae to return from some date she’d breezed out the door to earlier.
Blythe had woken at two o’clock, checked Rae’s room to find she had not yet returned and immediately her mind raced to the worst scenarios possible.
At every turn, she imagined her sister being set upon by some masked stranger.
In her gut, she felt that familiar crazed fear well up in her.
Since that day in the flat when those intruders had assailed her, her thoughts had raced in all the worst directions when she became stressed.
God, she scrunched her eyes closed remembering it again.
She’d been sure she would be murdered there or die of complete and utter terror that she couldn’t get away.
She sat now at the kitchen table, trying to steady her nerves, trying not to think of the worst thing that could have happened to her sister, but every second felt like an eternity.
Sometimes, she thought she might go mad, worrying about Rae and their mother and Pappy; honestly, if it wasn’t for the hotel.
At least she had the hotel, she knew where she was with the hotel.
It felt like a calling, as if she was doing what she was always meant to do, and even if life beyond it was skimming past her in some ways, at least she had the satisfaction of that.
*
It was pneumonia in the end.
One long weekend where her mother wheezed and hacked and slept fitfully through it. The night before she died, she called Blythe to her room.
‘Promise me.’ She breathed and her voice was so low, Blythe had to lean across her just to hear.
‘Anything, just ask,’ Blythe said because she adored her mother.
‘Promise me you’ll take care of Rae and this place, when I’m…’
‘Of course I’ll take care of everything, Mum, of course, you don’t need to worry about anything…’
‘You’re such a good girl. I can see it. You’ve got a good heart and I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, that I’m…’ She began to cry, and Blythe thought that the tears would split her in two because she could hardly breathe as it was.
‘Please Mum, don’t be upset, really, we’re going to be fine.
You need to rest, everything will be fine and by Monday, the antibiotics will have kicked in and this summer, we’ll get you outside in the garden again and…
’ It was a lie. Maybe they both knew it, but her mother smiled, that serene smile that made Blythe feel as if it could be true and everything just might turn out okay in the end.
‘Of course, everything will be fine. I can depend on you. But I’m asking so much of you …’
‘You have never asked for too much.’ Blythe breathed and she kissed her mother on her forehead and was glad to see the worried creases disappear from her mother’s mouth with that. She fell asleep then for a few hours and Blythe hoped that maybe that was the worst of it over.
In some ways, it was; her mother passed away peacefully in her sleep a few hours later.
This time round, Blythe knew, the funeral was in her hands. Her grandfather was slowing down, to the point that these days, he walked with a stick that he joked made him look distinguished.
She planned it with great care – her mother had been a woman of taste, but valued simplicity.
There would be a church service, with flowers and hymns and a funeral lunch afterwards in the hotel.
She couldn’t face a long three-day event in their home as was the custom on the island.
Let them talk, she thought to herself, let them talk.