Family Affairs Read online

  Slowly, so as not to draw attention to herself, she turned her head to the side to see if anyone had in fact noticed. There, to the right, stretched out on another chair, was the glow of Flynn’s occasional cigar. She knew it was Flynn, though he’d stayed silent during the flowing “discussions”. He always exuded a certain quality – a mixture between alert and relaxed in one fell swoop. She wasn’t sure if he was watching them, but she wouldn’t bet the farm he didn’t know exactly what his brother was up to.

  She turned her head a bit more and as someone walked by with a lit hurricane lamp, she spotted Mary Louanne looking in her direction. Surely it was a trick of the light? But it looked like she was staring – straight at Frankie.

  Uncertain, Frankie gave a little nod of acknowledgement and, to her surprise, Mary Louanne gave her a thumbs up and a big exaggerated wink! Shit! she could see what Dev was doing. With Mary Louanne’s big southern personality, it would be all over Clifden tomorrow that Dev was sleeping with his sister!

  Frankie wasn’t an award-winning actress for nothing. Yawning rather loudly, she began making a show of stretching and twisting as if just waking from a doze – see, Mary Louanne, I didn’t even notice my leg was being rubbed – I slept through the whole thing.

  Leaning forwards, she patted Dev on the shoulder. “Hey there, move yourself, mister – I’m for bed.” She stood up without giving him much time to shift over, but he got the message loud and clear. “Goodnight, everyone,” she called softly. “It’s been a long day and I don’t know about you youngsters,” she laughed over at the elder Fitzgeralds, “but I need my beauty sleep.”

  “We should turn in too, darling.” Jo untangled herself from Patrick’s arm about her shoulder and stood up. “No, no,” she protested as other neighbours began to stir. “Stay as long as you like – there’s coffee still brewing inside and plenty more desserts and wine, so don’t feel you have to move.” She edged towards the light in the kitchen, dragging her husband behind, calling her goodnights to the remaining guests.

  Frankie took the opportunity of the diversion to slip into the house before they got there and headed upstairs as speedily as possible.

  With Caro, Ali and the others all staying over for a few days, she was now sharing a room. Though she didn’t normally mind a bit – enjoyed it even, with those lovely whispered chats and childish giggles that still occurred when they all got together – tonight she wished for privacy to mull over all the thoughts that had been swimming in her head since Jason had arrived so unexpectedly.

  “What’s going on?” Flynn’s voice was his usual quiet, measured tone.

  Irritated, Dev shot him a scowl. “Nothing. What do you mean? Going on where?”

  “Dev.” The measured voice brooked no nonsense.

  “Shit, I don’t know.” Dev shoved his hand through his already tousled hair and drank from the tumbler of water he’d just filled from the kitchen sink. It was early, barely 8 a.m., and the party had only wound down a few hours previously. Neither brother, it seemed, could stay in bed. They were restless and edgy, though for different reasons.

  Flynn had to head back to Dublin for a case he was working and had had the sense to get to bed about two thirty. Dev, typically, had stayed on till almost four, making sure all the guests were gone. The impromptu sing-song had finally lulled them into a sense of sleepiness and he’d wandered about the garden in the pre-dawn, snuffing out candles and bringing in any perishable leftover food. It had been oddly peaceful, tidying by himself, his thoughts put at bay by the tasks at hand. But, lying on his bed later, images of Frankie swamped his mind. Again.

  Where did Jason fit in to her life? He seemed to hold a lot of power over her business-wise and since reading her writing pieces, Dev was fully on board that she should follow that path. He mentally slapped himself, remembering that day on Errisbeg when he’d blithely informed her she could continue her modelling! What an idiot. Anyone could see the woman had brains and talent to burn, but not him. Oh no, he had to knock her and belittle her, and he was the one who prided himself on being her go-to person. Well, he’d failed miserably. Even Flynn was doing a better job of caring for Frankie than he was.

  “I genuinely don’t know what’s going on. I wish I did,” he said to his brother as he watched Flynn boil a kettle and start the makings of coffee.

  “She belongs to us all, Dev, so be careful with her.”

  “Jesus, do you think I don’t know that?” Dev practically snarled. “Of course I’ll be careful, damn it. I’m the last person to hurt her.” He looked his brother in the eye. “It’s just . . . I don’t know, just . . . it’s always, always been her,” he whispered.

  “I know.”

  “What?”

  “I am a detective, Devlin. I do notice things. It’s my job.” He brewed the aromatic beans and leaned back against the counter, arms folded across his chest, one leg casually crossing the other. The epitome of cool. “You’ve had it bad since that play she was in in transition year. What was it called?” he mused. “Oh yeah, The Mikado, wasn’t it? And she was dressed in a kimono – pretty sweet, if I remember correctly.”

  “You’re wrong. Oh, not about the play, that was great. It was definitely during that one year she lived with us almost the whole time – and went to the local school – still can’t remember why. But it’s been her since the previous Valentine’s Day, do you remember? She got about four cards and was embarrassed by it rather than enchanted. She didn’t lord it over Caro, who got none that year, and she came to me and asked if I could quickly make one for Caro and pretend it was dropped in her school bag.

  “I remember thinking how kind that was and thought it pretty unusual among teenage girls. And I . . . don’t laugh, but I got goose bumps when she gave me a big hug to thank me for the card I was supposed to make for my sister. I didn’t make it. I tried to tell Frankie it would be cruel rather than kind and we ended up having a real fight over it. One of our many bouts.

  “And I also remember the feeling of such intense jealousy of the lads who had the nerve to send her cards. I wondered if she fancied any of them and if she did, would she actually date them. My final understanding that day came from the severe pain I had in my stomach at the thought of her kissing another guy. Holding his hand. Smiling at him. Talking to him the way she talked to me. And I just knew.” He paused. “She was, still is, the love of my life.”

  Dev walked away from the sink and pulled out a chair. He accepted the mug of steaming coffee from a quiet Flynn.

  “Ever since then I’ve become quite adept at hiding my feelings. I knew she didn’t think of me that way – I was her brother. Believe me, I didn’t want to feel that way. Always knowing she’d leave and the world would be hers for the taking. Never really minded until Stephen. I kind of thought maybe somewhere down the line we’d hook up and I’d get her out of my system once and for all.”

  He took a grateful sip before continuing. “But she got engaged to Stephen and that changed things for me. I went on one hell of a bender that weekend. Jesus! I can barely remember three whole days. I was a mess. And then I let work take over for a while and was actually in New York when we heard about the shooting. I was the worst kind of bastard, because a part of me was glad he was dead.”

  Dev put down the mug on the table and rubbed his hands over his face. He’d never admitted to another soul his feelings for Frankie, let alone the guilt he felt about his feelings for the dead fiancé.

  “And now?” Flynn was leaning against the counter, listening and waiting, a very Flynn thing to do.

  Dev laughed ruefully. “And now? Hell if I know. We’ve had a few moments this summer, I’ll grant you that. My feelings haven’t changed and for the first time I thought she was maybe seeing me in a different light. But I keep screwing it up – I practically attack her every time she’s upset and that’s not what I want. I don’t want to be only a shoulder for her to cry on and yet I certainly don’t want to take advantage of her while she’s in all this sta
lker mess, but I can’t seem to leave her alone. I know she loves me. Hell, she loves the whole damn family, but you haven’t been locking lips with her and staying awake half the bloody night wishing she was entangled with you right there . . .”

  “Okay, I get the picture. And no, I can’t imagine her or you or the two of you together in any kind of position in your bed, thanks, and nor do I want to. That said, I love her too, but not the way you do. I don’t think you’re without hope, though, Bro. I’ve definitely seen her studying you this summer – she never did that before.” He re-crossed his long legs. “She fought and laughed with you but never just watched you, especially when she thinks no one else is watching her. I bet she isn’t even aware of it. But the fact that your relationship has, shall we say, evolved, means she’s finally physically aware of you. Like I said, she belongs to us all, but she’s always been yours.”

  Flynn finished his coffee and grabbed his keys from the table. “Got to go. Kiss the parents for me. Don’t kiss Frankie. Let it all rest a bit. Focus on your exhibition and stay away from trouble. See you at the opening if not before.” He gave his brother a quick hug and headed out to his car.

  Exhausted, Dev followed him out to the garden and plonked himself on a bench as he watched the car disappear down the drive. A sudden honking of the horn alerted Dev to the fact that someone was walking up the drive. It was Frankie.

  “Your brother really pisses me off!” Frankie announced.

  “Which one?” Caro smirked.

  “You know! As if Flynn could piss anyone off!” Frankie paused. “Well, actually, he could in fact get on one’s nerves as he is so damn, what’s the word I’m looking for . . .?” she asked her friend.

  “Reliable? Dependable? Intense? Responsible?”

  “Yeah, yeah, all those things. All the things your other brother isn’t! But you know, if I wasn’t so, you know, picky, myself, Flynn’s damn near perfectness would piss me off,” she mused as she took a bite from a delicious red apple.

  Caro snorted. “Flynn isn’t perfect! Far from it! But he can come across that way in a crisis. He really is made to do the job he does. He’s one of those people who are their job, I think.” She snatched an apple from the bowl on the garden table, as watching Frankie eat hers reminded her she needed more fruit in her lamentable diet.

  The women were lounging around at the back of the house, enjoying some mid-morning peace and quiet. Patrick had gone fishing with Toby, Jo was in Clifden at Mass and Dev had disappeared rather abruptly as soon as he’d seen Frankie coming up the drive earlier that morning after her walk. Molly and Ali were still asleep, as far as anyone knew, so the household was relatively calm after the night before.

  Jo had been delighted there’d been so little cleaning to do and made use of the time to head off by herself. Caro and Frankie had already done a clear-up in the kitchen and run the dishwasher twice and were sipping coffees on the patio.

  “So, why does Dev ‘piss you off’?” Caro returned to the earlier comment Frankie had made.

  Frankie huffed at the reminder. “He’s so bloody difficult! He says one thing and does another. All the time! I used to know where I stood with him but lately, well, lately I’m lost.”

  She tossed the apple core in the direction of the sea and stuck out her tongue at Caro’s raised eyebrow. “Something will eat it,” she muttered and reached for her mug.

  “I’ll need more than difficult, my pet,” Caro prompted. “Dev’s always been difficult, as you put it. What has he done specifically?”

  “He keeps, sort of, kissing me,” Frankie mumbled.

  “Well, if it’s only sort of I can see why you’re pissed at him!” Caro agreed mildly.

  “What? You’re not even surprised?” Frankie gaped. “I thought you’d be shocked! Horrified even. Maybe a little disgusted,” she added in a quiet voice, looking at Caro from beneath her lashes.

  Caro hooted with laughter. “You’re kidding, right? Anyone with eyes in their head can see you two have the hots for each other!”

  “No way!” Frankie wailed in dismay, dropping her head into her hands. “Oh, God, how absolutely mortifying.”

  “Why? You don’t fancy my brother?”

  “No! I mean no, I mean . . . I never did before. It’s just he keeps sneaking up on me with his goofy smile and his caring and his minding and he doesn’t, you know, just sort of kiss – he’s damn good at it!”

  Caro refilled Frankie’s mug with hot coffee and settled back in her chair. “I think it’s time you told me just what you’ve been up to with my brother, young lady,” she said in her best schoolmarm voice. “And don’t leave anything out!”

  The Fitzgeralds had decided to stay on till the Tuesday of the holiday weekend and the few days after the party were full of normal family activities. Bank holiday Monday was glorious and they took a drive out in two cars along the bog road and looped back into Roundstone for lunch having done the walk on Inishnee Island to whet the appetite.

  Dev took Toby in his jeep with Moll and Ali while Caro and Frankie went with the parents. Toby turned out to be an excellent hare-spotter and was also very good at identifying birds. Dev let him use a camera and gave him some tips and advice. They all chatted together and Frankie wondered if she was the only one who felt as if Dev had grown a wall around himself. He was pleasant and included her but he never once met her gaze the whole time they were out rambling.

  Their favourite pub in Roundstone was busy and they had to wait in the line outside for a table – the Dublin crowd, along with the usual tourists, seemed to be taking over the village and Jo and Patrick were lamenting the use of the August traffic lights. Caro argued in their favour, as she’d been stuck in many a jam over the years, especially at this time of year; Ali and Moll simply rolled their eyes at the ongoing debate.

  Dev sat on the wall across from them, his back to the Bens, fiddling with a camera lens. He was intensely aware of Frankie, standing in the queue opposite, her arm draped around Toby’s shoulders, as she and Caro laughed together over some tourists walking by. How the hell was he supposed to keep his distance? He had to get back to Dublin. And soon.

  He would talk to the Gardaí in Clifden when they got back to make sure they were all still alert and then he was out of here. He couldn’t take any more of being this close, knowing what it was like to be actually close and yet restricted by his own bloody stupid code of honour, not to tell her how he felt. Yeah, there was relief too, in knowing that the time of reckoning would be postponed for a while. But what he did know was that before she went back to the States, he was going to tell her the truth and damn the consequences. God knows he was adept at avoiding her when he had to – just look at the last ten years and how well he’d made sure never to be too close.

  But now that he was decided that she had to know, he was both simultaneously terrified and filled with hope that he could a) lose her forever, or b) maybe get her to give them a chance. He knew how slim option b was, he wasn’t completely in fantasy land, but she did respond to his kisses and that had to be a good thing. Surely?

  They were called to their table and Dev made sure to manoeuvre himself next to his mum and Ali so he wouldn’t have to sit next to her – it was bad enough that she looked amazing in her grey baggy cargo shorts, hiking boots and slim-fitting rose-coloured T-shirt, but she smelled amazing too – like lilies after the rain.

  Dev looked up from his menu and caught Caro’s eye. She gave him a big wink and promptly turned to Molly. Now, what the hell was that all about? Bloody women.

  While the hungry crew was appreciating the clam chowder and brown bread, they managed to discuss the arrangements for the next few weeks leading up to everyone being in Dublin for Dev’s grand opening. Patrick, Jo and the younger girls would leave on the Tuesday morning, Dev by the afternoon, and Caro and Toby on the Thursday. Frankie was insistent that she’d stay another week or so on her own with, as she put it, the entire Clifden Gardaí watching out for her.

  She
promised to be back in Dalkey a few days before the show and do some shopping with Caro. She had her own work to do, she said, and Dev knew she was writing a new piece – on Connemara – for a travel magazine based in the US. Since she was actually in the locality she would be mad not to take it. She intended to do a fair bit of driving, restaurant-sampling and sightseeing while basing herself at the lodge. It was a project that was exciting and challenging and, most importantly, one that would keep her mind occupied and ergo, not fearful. Dev had to be satisfied with that.

  A week after the annual bash and the lodge was quiet. Frankie was readjusting to being alone and though she sorely missed them all, there was a calmness settling on her that was most welcome. Dev had hugged her hard just before he left – he’d been sitting in the front seat, engine revving, when he suddenly jumped out and marched straight over to where she was standing at the doorway.

  She could still feel his arms banded around her as he just held her. He’d finally pushed himself back and with his hands clutching her shoulders, had looked her straight in the eyes, the glorious blue deepened with some kind of emotion Frankie wasn’t willing to analyse. And then, touching his forehead to hers, he said, “Trust your gut,” and had walked back to his jeep and roared off up the drive. Trust your gut? What was that about?Did he mean with regard to the stalker? Did he mean regarding him? God, he was a bloody ass. And she was no nearer understanding as she pored over Google Maps on her laptop deciding on the next day’s route.

  She printed off the page she needed and sat back in the study chair. It felt like another lifetime since she’d sat here reading that email that had got everyone up in arms and finally got the entire family involved. It was a good thing, not having secrets. But some secrets were made to be kept close to the heart. Some secrets caused the kind of pain that reminded Frankie of the muscle aches she used to get as a teenager when she hadn’t exercised in ages and then did a few hours straight – welcome pain – needed pain – deserved pain.