Secrets and Lies Read online

  Today Hope prided herself on being a trustworthy and dependable person, but sometimes she would recall glimpses of herself from her past as an addict and it frightened her to know how devious and manipulative she was capable of being. She'd buried that old part of herself deep beneath the surface, but it was still there, lurking somewhere inside.

  She quit her job at the nightclub as soon as she made the decision to become clean and she focused with renewed determination on her acting career. Her main goal was to get on television and she would do almost anything to achieve her aim. She bombarded the national television station, TV4, with phone calls, letters and show reels until they finally relented and gave her a chance at presenting on their early morning children's programme, The Playroom, from six to eight o' clock.

  It was literally six months to the day after she had stopped all the drink and drugs that she got her first television role. It was a small break, but just what she needed to get on her way and boost her self-confidence. She was very proud of herself for her achievement and knew that all the years she'd spent networking and being tenacious were finally paying off. The minute she stopped taking drugs, she needed something else to focus on and she knew that if she worked at something even half as much as she worked on scoring drugs, and she had spent a lot of time and effort trying to maintain that habit, that she would be very successful, and that is exactly what happened.

  Hope saw children's television presenting as the perfect medium to launch into the world of acting. She'd found herself additional work as a researcher and outside broadcaster for the channel's sister radio show, so her media presence was already growing exponentially. She was convinced that it was only a matter of time and continued perseverance before she would finally achieve her big acting break. Her job on the television show helped to increase her confidence in front of an audience and also allowed her to make mistakes and become more accustomed to a live camera.

  The Playroom was an ideal showcase for the innovative, open style of presenting that Hope naturally displayed. The show aired every Monday to Friday morning and its biggest appeal was that it offered viewer interaction, funny jokes, live music and crazy competitions. The show was an instant hit with teenagers who would watch it before school and by the time she left, two years later, she had an unprecedented huge fan following! It was an amazing achievement for a show that had started with a tight budget and a simple idea to simply amuse children for a few hours with slightly zany, off-the-wall entertainment. Many viewers raved about the show, calling it “a truly wonderful gem.” The Playroom became the talk of the school playground, where almost everyone loved it.

  Hope became an overnight sensation, finding a unique, enviable level of success that few other presenters achieved on the show since she left. Her bright, brisk and bouncy personality was perfectly suited to presenting shows like The Playroom and she wisely realised that she had found her niche in television presenting. One of her greatest assets was that she genuinely liked people and was interested in them which came across when she was interviewing. She wasn't afraid to pull faces and say silly things which people found disarming; it was obvious that she had a talent for putting others at ease.

  Her time presenting children's television and as a research assistant who sometimes did outside broadcasts helped to familiarise her with the technical side of television, as well as providing her with the opportunity to learn about dealing with the public. Most of her time on her outside broadcasts was spent roaming the streets with no audience in sight. The radio station asked her to talk to the public about topics as varied as conducting a survey on the latest political fiasco to opinions on the newest pop sensation. She had a natural flair and ability for television presenting and as much as she enjoyed it, acting was still her as yet unfulfilled dream. Her experiences developed within her an ability to adapt to most situations in or out of the studio, skills which would later prove invaluable in her personal life.

  Chapter 3

  Saoirse Darcy stood in the middle of the kitchen floor, glaring mutinously at her mother. She was wearing black leather trousers and a T-shirt that was ripped across her waist. She had just dyed her hair a very unflattering shade of neon pink and her naturally pretty face was plastered in thick white foundation. Her blue eyes were rimmed in heavy, black eye-liner and lashings of clumpy mascara. The whole effect was quite startling.

  Kerry stared in open-mouthed, abject horror at her younger daughter's shocking transformation and for once in her life she was at a complete loss for words. She couldn't believe the apparition that had manifested in front of her.

  I must be dreaming, she thought, blinking rapidly several times, as if trying to banish the scowling girl in front of her.

  Saoirse had celebrated her thirteenth birthday the previous week and she seemed to have had a personality transplant. Gone was the happy-go-lucky, cheerful, loving, chatty girl and in her place was a monosyllabic, moody young woman, who her mother hardly recognised.

  Kerry's friends complained at length about their teenage daughters' mood swings and stroppy ways, but she tended to think they were exaggerating for the most part. After all, Emer, Kerry's eldest daughter, had sailed through her teenage years. There'd been some mild moodiness which was only to be expected with all the hormones that were raging through her system, but nothing as dramatic as the sudden, unexpected change she'd seen in Saoirse.

  “You look like a Goth,” was all Kerry managed to say.

  “Good, that's exactly the look I wanted,” Saoirse glared defiantly at her mother, both hands on her hips.

  Kerry gaped at her in shock.

  “Where do you think you're going dressed like that?” she said evenly, forcing herself to remain calm. She could feel her blood beginning to boil at her daughter's insolent attitude.

  “School,” Saoirse replied, maintaining her challenging posture.

  “I can tell you right now, young lady, that you are not stepping outside the front door dressed in that ridiculous get-up.”

  “Suits me. I don't particularly want to go to school anyway. I think it's a complete waste of time and energy. I'd rather learn from the university of life than sit in a classroom all day being lectured. It's like being in prison.”

  It was the most that Saoirse had spoken in a week and it was all Kerry could do to stifle the laugh that threatened to erupt at any minute. Saoirse sounded like a wizened old woman of the world.

  “Why aren't you wearing your school uniform anyway?” Kerry asked, choosing to ignore her daughter's last statement and remain focused on practical matters. She only just managed to restrain herself from dragging her daughter up the stairs and dressing her herself.

  “It's Friday, mom, dress-down day. The one day in the week when we get to express ourselves as individuals and wear whatever we choose. Honestly, the older I get the more I feel like I'm living in a dictatorship, not a democracy, so much for freedom of speech and freedom of expression.”

  “Well, you can find some other way to express yourself young lady. You look like you've been dragged through a hedge backwards. What on earth have you done to your hair? Please tell me it's a wig!”

  “No, it's not a wig, mother,” Saoirse answered in her most disparaging tone. “I dyed it; the shade is mulberry pink if you must know.”

  “Right, that's it! I've had just about enough of your cheek for one morning. Get upstairs NOW and put some respectable clothes on. Wash that mud off your face. I'll deal with your hair this afternoon. Hurry up! You're already running late, the school bus will be outside in ten minutes.”

  “I don't want to change and anyway, I like my new look. All my friends dress like this now, it's the new trend,” Saoirse weakly tried to defend herself. She felt a little scared, in spite of her bravado. She'd never seen her mother so angry.

  “I'm not even going to begin to discuss this with you right now,” Kerry continued. “If I have to drag you upstairs and dress you myself I will. Is that what you want?” She glared at her da
ughter.

  “No,” Saoirse mumbled, her defiance starting to wane in the heat of her mother's rising temper. She accepted defeat, turned her back on her mother and stomped out of the kitchen and upstairs to change.

  Kerry sighed and poured herself a strong coffee. She suddenly felt very old. “It's going to be one of those days,” she groaned in resignation, as she stirred sugar and milk into her cup. She sat on a stool at the breakfast bar and thought back to her own teenage years. Reluctantly, she remembered the teenage angst that had plagued her and how important it had been to fit in with her friends. She couldn't help smiling at her daughter's transformation. Dressing up like a Goth or punk had been all the rage back in her school days too. “Like mother, like daughter,” she sighed, resigning herself to the situation.

  Kerry vaguely recalled her Aunt Aisling's horror at her newly spiked hair and sudden fetish to dressing in head-to-toe black. She was surprised that the punk style was back in fashion as for a long time it had been considered wild, weird and antisocial and the people who liked it weren't considered to be much better.

  It certainly wasn't a style that she would have associated with the exclusive Saint Mary's of the Isle, all-girls Catholic secondary school which Saoirse attended and where her sister, Emer, had been head girl the previous year. It was the most exclusive school in Cork and Kerry had had to put her daughters’ names on the waiting list when they were tiny babies, even then they hadn't been guaranteed a place! There was a very intensive entrance examination to pass and of course an eye-watering fee to be paid every year.

  Kerry had chosen the school carefully because not only was it academically very high-achieving but it also focused on extra-curricular activities like debating, sports and drama which she believed were essential to her daughters being good all-rounders. It could be quite a pressurised environment in which to be educated, but Kerry firmly believed that it was important to instill ambition and discipline in her girls.

  Saint Mary's of the Isle was situated on a ten acre site with its own playing fields and drama theatre. The school was conveniently placed just a five minute walk from the local bus and train stations. Many additions had been made to the original Victorian building including a gymnasium, a pottery room, computer suites and a language laboratory. Five hundred girls attended the school, from the ages of twelve to eighteen.

  Saint Mary's of the Isle was built in 1865 and was originally a boarding school for boys. It was set near the banks of the River Lee on the outskirts of Cork City and became an independent day school for girls in 1905. The school had an outstanding reputation as a place of learning and most students were almost guaranteed their place at university. It cost ten thousand euro per term to attend and boasted many distinguished former pupils. Kerry was happy that she and Conor were able to afford to send their beloved daughters to Saint Mary's, knowing that the school would provide them with an invaluable academic foundation and hopefully a network of loyal friends for the rest of their lives.

  Emer had been an absolute credit to her parents and Saint Mary's. She had been an outstanding scholar and had won a scholarship to the prestigious Trinity College in Dublin where she was studying to be a vet. Kerry fervently hoped and prayed that her younger daughter would emulate her sister's achievements.

  “Saoirse must be looking for attention,” Kerry frowned.

  Saoirse had started at Saint Mary's only three weeks previously and Kerry had already noticed a marked change in her daughter's behaviour. She had smiled lovingly at her daughter as she waved her off on the bus on her first day at secondary school. Saoirse had insisted on ditching her old, primary school bag and instead brought one of her father's battered leather briefcases which pulled out like a doctor's case. She was wearing a little A-line skirt, a pristine white blouse and white socks pulled up to her knees on that first day of term. Her hair was styled into an immaculate bob and Kerry thought her daughter looked the picture of perfection as she headed off to school on her first day.

  Unfortunately, she didn't look the same when she returned later. Saoirse's face was tear-stained and she'd unceremoniously flung her briefcase in the bin as soon as she’d gotten home.

  “Everyone laughed at me,” she'd said, bursting into tears as she poured her heart out to her mother about her dreadful first day. “You never get a second chance to make a first impression,” she'd wept miserably. “Everyone hates me and from now on I'll be branded the school nerd.”

  “Don't be so dramatic, darling,” Kerry couldn't help smiling. “Why would anyone hate you?”

  “Everyone else was dressed in trendy jeans and tops and then I turned up like little Miss Prim and Proper in my skirt and blouse. Nobody told me that we didn't have to wear our uniform until tomorrow! I'll never live down the embarrassment.”

  “You've just had a momentary wardrobe malfunction which we'll soon rectify.”

  Mother and daughter went shopping for new clothes that same afternoon, but it seemed to Kerry that only a few short weeks later and her daughter had decided to abandon her brand new, trendy wardrobe for an altogether more unsavoury fashion statement.

  “What next?” Kerry groaned, rubbing her temples, where she could feel the beginning of a migraine. I wish Conor was here. He's always so patient with the girls.

  She picked up her mobile phone and sent her husband a quick text message.

  “Call me when you get a chance, darling. The terrible teens have begun. I love you and miss you very much.”

  She sighed. Conor was away on yet another business trip overseeing the opening of a new hotel in Germany and he wouldn't be back for a few days. It looks like I'll have to deal with this crisis on my own, as usual, she thought bitterly, unable to prevent the brief feeling of resentment towards Conor which crept into her heart.

  “Saoirse, you have three minutes!” Kerry called upstairs, in a bid to hurry her daughter along.

  “Coming,” Saoirse stomped back downstairs again and brushed past her mother.

  Kerry followed her into the kitchen. “You look much better, darling,” she said as she took in her daughter's black jeans, black T-shirt and black hoodie. She'd pulled the hood up over her head and it was now covering most of her face. She'd washed the makeup off and covered her pink hair with a black bandana.

  “I don't feel much better,” Saoirse replied dejectedly. “I feel like an idiot and I look like one too.”

  Kerry suppressed another groan. She really wasn't in the mood for her daughter’s teenage melodramatics.The bus beeping at the gate stopped any further conversation between them and Kerry just about managed to prevent herself from sighing with relief.

  “Have a good day, sweetie,” she kissed her daughter's sullen face goodbye.

  “Bye,” Saoirse mumbled as she grabbed her bag and slouched out the door.

  “Damn!” Kerry cried, noticing that Saoirse had forgotten to take her lunch with her. She was worried that her daughter's appetite had decreased dramatically since she'd started secondary school and she vaguely wondered if she was on some sort of a silly diet. Saoirse had always liked her food, but she was naturally slim and certainly didn't need to be dieting.

  “Something else to worry about,” Kerry said aloud. She glanced around the room at the many photographs that filled the walls. Every photo told a story. Kerry had been resolute about keeping a record of her daughters' lives from the moment they were born, maybe a little too resolute she would reluctantly admit, as there wasn't a centimetre of spare space available on the walls of the kitchen or living room. Kerry lovingly studied the photographs which told the happy story of their family life so far.

  There had been very few photos of Kerry and her sister, Maura, when they were growing up. Aunt Aisling had had enough on her mind to be unexpectedly raising two little girls without obsessing about recording every moment on film, but Kerry often wished that she had photos of herself as a toddler, a child and a teenager. It would have been so interesting to compare her own children now with how she had be
en back then. Aunt Aisling had of course taken the odd photo at special occasions like the girls' First Holy Communion , Confirmation and graduation but there were very few real records of their childhood.

  Kerry was determined that it would be different for her own family. She promised herself that she would keep a record of everything about their lives together; from their arrival at Ballycotton House, to their first Christmas, first birthday and all the years of their childhood.

  She had taken many photos of Ballycotton House too. She’d wanted to keep a record of how the house had been and how it had developed and changed over the years, hoping that it would be of great interest to her daughters when they were older. It was important to her to instill a sense of appreciation in them that life had not always been as easy as it was now and that she and their father had had to work hard to give them the lifestyle that they took for granted.

  Kerry had photographs of that very first day, more than twenty years ago, when Conor had introduced her to the old, rambling house. She'd always had an obsession for photography, ever since she was a little girl, and was never without her camera. Something deep within her had told her to snap that perfect moment in time and it was now one of her most treasured possessions.

  She would never forget for as long as she lived, the overwhelming love and sense of protectiveness that she’d felt for her daughters when she’d first laid eyes on their innocent faces. Emer Mary Darcy weighed six pounds eight ounces when she was born and was utterly adorable. Kerry fell in love with her instantly as she gazed into her precious daughter's trusting eyes. Emer had been a happy, bonny, bouncy baby who smiled at everyone she’d met.