Archive of Our Own

Tom was gone. The service was held on a bitterly cold November day in the packed church in the heart Manhatta. Tom was a popular guy, well liked, easy going, well loved by his family and friends. The crowds of black clad mourners filed out murmuring in hushed tones, passing on their last condolences to his wife who stood as pale and still as a mannequin on the church steps. Her parents and family members formed a buffer around her. She looked medicated to the gills. Her eyes were blank and glassy as she nodded and smiled mechanically accepting the softly spoken words directed to her. Tom’s two children stood with the relatives. The girl, old enough to know what was happening clung to her grandmothers hand and never took her eyes from her mother’s face. The boy was barely more than a toddler, the hushed atmosphere and crowds of strangers rendered him fractious and uncertain. He bawled and wriggled in the arms of one of Tom’s brothers.

Patty and I stood at the back of the church for the service and slipped away as soon as it was over. We were not welcome. Tom’s wife looked at Patty with unguarded malevolence, Patty stared back with an unreadable expression in her pale blue eyes. It was only when her gaze landed on Tom’s children that she averted it. Patty did not want to further upset the family by attending the wake so we walked a block or so and turned into a bar. We intended to toast his memory and return home. The bar was almost deserted in the middle of the day. Patty sat daintily on a stool and ordered two bourbons. I sat down next to her and we drank ourselves steadily into a stupor in almost complete silence save for the bartender clunking our glasses onto the bar and clearing them away again.
Two hours later her elbows rested on the bar top, her shoulders slumped with the burden of grief she carried. She turned to me with haunted eyes.

“I loved Tom, I loved him like a son and he's gone. Like so many others he's gone. He tried to break away but I made him weak. I ensured he was reliant on me. You should leave, leave and stay away, they've all gone now.”

I was so drunk by then I barely registered her words. All I wanted to do was put my head down on the wide polished mahogany surface of the bar and go to sleep. I rubbed the heels of my palms into my stinging eyes doubtless smearing the remains of my make up.

“It's not always about you.”

I muttered back unable to meet her eyes because that was another lie in the litany of lies and omissions we traded daily. Everything in Patty’s life was about her, everything and everyone. She could turn any situation to her advantage, she manipulated every person that crossed her path. She couldn't help herself, it was who she was.

“Why did you come back?” She asked between swallows.

“Because you wanted me to.”

I stared at her fixedly, the room was starting to go out of focus. I really should have stopped drinking then. She shot me one of her amused smiles accompanied by a raised eyebrow. Dopily I smiled back.

“Now I want you gone.”

She replied acidly with a dismissive look and tilt of her chin. That wiped the smile right off my face. I tossed back the remains of my drink and signalled for another.

“No you don't.”

She stared into her glass as if it contained all the answers, silent now, I noticed tears in her eyes. That wasn't unusual, Patty was an emotional woman, easily driven to tears and laughter, more so than I.
In unguarded moments all the guilt and fears she harboured were visible in those haunting blue eyes. Then she would blink and they were gone, replaced by the cold, calculating determination to retain her position and do anything, sacrifice anyone, to stay there.

I am Patty’s living ghost. I am David, Ray, uncle Pete and all the others crushed under the weight of her ambition. I am the physical embodiment of all that guilt and pain. I know it hurts her every time she looks at me. She deserves it, she deserves the reminder of what she tried to do to me. She deserves to look at me and wonder when the tables will turn.

Her charm can be devastating. At times she makes me feel like the most precious thing in her life. She cares for me, she chides me for my weight loss and once wrapped her scarf around my neck to shield me from the ravages of the city winter. She takes me to dinner at exorbitantly expensive restaurants and subjects me to quiet nights in her apartment where we drink, listen to her appalling musical tastes and enjoy each others company whilst we pretend we are working. On these nights I have to remind myself of what she is and what she has done. Sometimes I drink enough to forget and then I am angry at her for days. I'm angry at myself for wanting and basking in her attention and approval. Some days I would throw her to the wolves without hesitation. Some days I would take a bullet for her. I think it works both ways.

“I'm taking a break.”

She states out of nowhere, jolting me out of my maudlin reverie.

“The beach house?” I reply.

That's where she normally retires to lick her wounds and wallow in her self inflicted misery.

“No, a proper break. I haven't had one in years.”

I was alert now, she was running away, hiding from her ghosts, hiding from me.

“Where will you go?”

She shrugged as if she didn't know or care and then gave herself away.

“Ireland.”

I almost fell off my bar stool in shock and heard my own disbelieving bark of laughter.

“What's wrong with Ireland?”

She sounded so surprised and irritated I laughed again.

“Did you just decide on Ireland this second?”

“I have family there.”

That shut me up. I racked my bourbon hazed brain to try to recall any mention of Irish heritage and came up empty.

“My grandfather came over from Dublin in the forties when my father was a teenager. His other children were too young. I believe the plan was to send for them when they settled. It never happened. I have aunts, uncles and cousins running around all over Ireland.”

She waved a hand expansively, she was as drunk as I was.

“Are you in contact?” My voice rose in disbelief.

“On and off.” she said vaguely. “Why don't you come with me?”

I spluttered my bourbon back into the glass and wiped my mouth with the back of my hand.

“You're drunk” I slurred helplessly.

“I'll be sober in the morning and the invitation will stand. Why not? You're done at the DA’s office, you have nothing lined up yet. Come on, where's your sense of adventure?”

She taunted me lightly. Her eyes that were dull with tears and alcohol mere seconds ago now sparkled with eagerness and mischief. I never could resist that look. I never could resist rising to whatever bait she dangled in front of me.

“Alright I will.”

I swayed on my stool and proferred my glass, she hesitated a beat before nudging it with her own.

“Drink on it” I said brightly.

“Cheers” she replied.

“I'll call in a couple of days with the details. I'm leaving now, do you want me to drop you anywhere?”

I shook my head. There it was again, that charming, solicitous concern for my welfare that warmed me every time she turned it on.
She got down from her perch with more elegance than I would have thought possible after consuming a vat of bourbon. Her heels tapped out a steady rhythm on the wood flooring of the bar. My eyes followed her deliberate progress all the way to the door. She looked immaculate and harmless. Her thick black winter coat enveloping her small frame. The whiteness of her hair providing a stark contrast to the block colour of mourning. She didn't look back. I finished my drink and ordered another. It was early evening now, the place was filling up. I knew I should go home but I wanted to stay around people rather than face my empty apartment. I looked at my cell and apart from my mother, I could not think of a single person I could call. So I sat alone in a bar surrounded by strangers and drank until I was completely numb. I thought about Tom, about ambition and experience and how they could be blunted by obligation and reliance. I thought about the choices we make and the circumstances that demand them. I thought about revenge and forgiveness. About loss and the tragedies that shape our lives. I thought about Patty travelling three thousand miles to run away from the memories that would follow her everywhere and towards a past she had spent her life trying to escape. I wondered what possessed her to ask me to go and why I had so readily agreed, then I decided I didn't care and I cried. Hot silent tears coursed down my cheeks and I didn't know who or what I was crying for anymore. The bar tender handed me tissues instead of bourbon and called me a cab. I crawled into bed and oblivion.

I lost most of the following day to a hangover so severe I only ventured from my bed to the couch and back again. I called Patty on Sunday morning and invited her for brunch in the city. I stood to greet her when she entered the upscale cafe she favoured, her smile was genuine, she looked windswept and breathless as if she had hurried in between meetings. We sat down awkwardly and I ordered, glad of something to say to break the silence. She stirred her tea, I stared at my coffee as conversation and laughter swirled around us. It was as near to uncomfortable as I remember seeing her, she could barely meet my eye.

“Are you really going to Ireland?”

“Yes, for the Christmas holidays. I go on the twentieth, I've rented a cottage for ten days. I need to get away, the Tobin case, Tom, Michael. I've had enough. I won't hold you to our agreement. God I haven't been that wasted in years, I thought I was immune..”

She trailed off and the teaspoon was brought back into employment.

“I’d like to go, if the offers still open I mean. I’d like to come along. I can do my own thing if you don't want me hanging around while you meet your family.”

She rolled her eyes but her shoulders lost a little of the tension they had been holding and a smile hovered on her lips.

“It will be an interesting trip”

She looked enigmatic, slightly bashful and quietly pleased all at once.

It dawned on me then how alone we both were. How success brings isolation and how guilt sucks out your soul.

I know what Patty did to me after Ray Fisk decorated the walls of her office with his blood and brain matter. I know, but I can’t prove it. I can read the fear, shame and regret in her eyes. It took me some time to realise the power I wielded now. It was a necessity for her to keep me close.

The Tobin case threw us together after a period of abstinence and things had subtly changed. There was an agreement between us, silently brokered but recognised by us both. She would keep on giving as long as I continued to take. In accepting her gifts, her expertise, her thinly veiled hints of advancement, I was accepting her culpability. I was accepting her. It was up to me, I could refuse to be drawn back in. I could rebuff her advances, keep my head down at the DA’s office or anywhere and make it on my own. Or I could reap the benefits of her experience, connections and resources. I reasoned she deserved to pay, I would take what she offered until I was in a position to beat her at her own game.

The Tobin case shifted the ground between us once more. I not only supported her investigation with inside information from my position at the DA’s office, I believed in it. I stopped caring if she was using me, she was right. The DA simply wanted a conviction, Patty wanted justice for those swindled out of their life savings. Once they refused to cooperate with her investigation she went after them with everything. She was relentless. She hounded them into turning on each other until the family imploded. She was amazing in her tenacity under extreme pressure and adversity. It was a brilliantly conducted case that was enthralling to be part of.

Suddenly, I was back on side. My relationship with Patty was better than it had ever been and then Tom dropped the bombshell of his involvement. I was sidetracked into helping him, Patty believed we were conspiring against her and suddenly we were back to square one. Once Tom decided to go it alone, it all went to hell. He was killed by Joe Tobin. Another casualty, another good man lost, two children without a father. I could see no end to it. I could see my own life following Patty’s path and I didn’t know if I could do it anymore. I think that was part of the reason I agreed to go, I saw it as an opportunity to get closer. To work out if the vindication of victory really was worth the cost.

The brunch petered out pretty quickly. Patty was distracted. I was tired and felt out of sorts. We were both still suffering from the shock of losing Tom. I had I counted him as both a friend and an ally. He had worked for Patty for over twelve years. She shaped him, moulded him into what she wanted. Then she came to rely on his steady presence and dogged devotion. He was her sounding board, her greatest supporter and his loyalty was beyond question. I believed her when she said she loved him. She may have kept him at heel but her grief at his loss was genuine and heartfelt. Tom had dedicated his career to being Patty’s right hand, losing him was another heavy blow she was still reeling from.

Thanksgiving came and went. I travelled home to Jersey and it was awful. Since Carrie and I grew up and left home my parents marriage had become strained to breaking point. When we were children, my mother poured all her attention and energies into raising us, she was a stay at home mom and although my father could be overbearing and demanding, he worked hard. He saw it as his job to provide for his family and his right to rule the roost at home.

Once Carrie and I left and made our own way they found they had nothing in common anymore. Without her girls to fuss over and dote upon my mom felt unfulfilled and without purpose, she had no real interest outside of the family and found no support from dad. It was only when I returned home after moving away that I began to notice how poorly he treated her. He was never an abusive father, he was strict and particular about us taking responsibility and helping out at home. But he was proud of us, he revelled in our achievements and encouraged us to do well at school. As Carrie and I got older he got worse. As teenagers we would laugh about his controlling nature and cover for each other if we were staying out late or seeing a boyfriend he disapproved of.

Now I'm an adult it isn't funny anymore. He repeatedly belittled my mother in front of me. Talking over her, deriding her thoughts and opinions until she stopped having them. Thanksgiving was a nightmare. My mother was pretending everything was normal when she had obviously become afraid of his temper. Carrie was part of the pretence because she relied on them for support and childcare and I felt like a stranger in my childhood home. Mom was aghast to hear of my plans for Christmas and immediately looked to my father wary of his response.

“You're spending christmas with your boss instead of your family?”

“She hasn't been my boss for nearly years dad.”

“So you’re friends now? Carrie said disbelievingly.

“She wants some company, I need a break. It suits both of us.”

Silence rang around the table, I didn't care. I certainly didn't need their permission or approval. I was relieved to come home. I wanted to help mom, I wanted to confront my dad but I was fearful he would turn on her when I left. I felt depressed and exhausted on the journey back to the city, I was lonely, angry and detached from my family. Patty once told me they would encourage my ambition until they grew to resent me for it. I understood that now. I had grown away from them, perhaps I had outgrown them. I loved them but I had seen things, done things and suffered more than they could ever know. Little Ellie, so eager to please them all had long gone.

As the long cold days of December dragged on I began to worry. I had barely spoken to Patty at all. I didn't know if she had she changed her plans, changed her mind or just dropped off the radar for a while.

In the meantime I went about my daily business. I shopped for Christmas gifts I planned to leave with mom before I went away. I networked furiously with ex colleagues and the well connected acquaintances I had made over my years spent in the city. Working for Patty Hewes closed as many doors as it opened. She was reviled by many who were either horrified by her methods or jealous of her success.

I had to get back to work, I was by no means destitute but I needed to get my career going again. I had dreams of my own firm one day but it was too early for me now. I needed more experience, more exposure and a higher profile to attract big cases. I had no intention of scrabbling around at the bottom of the pile.

Patty wasn't answering my calls or emails which was unusual, we generally kept in loose contact wether we were fighting or not. I was scanning the society pages one Sunday morning and there she was on the arm of a man I vaguely recognised as the CEO of a major stockbroking company. He was around her age, with short cropped grey hair, a trim figure and easy smile. He looked like a nice guy. He was a hell of an improvement on Phil who I never thought was remotely in her league. I used to cringe when I was in their company. He was overbearing and had an oily charm that set my teeth on edge. Patty looked back to her usual self, she looked happy and timelessly elegant wearing a gorgeous long black gown matched with a short bolero jacket. They were stood close together holding drinks before going into some fancy wall street dinner the previous evening. Well ’good for you’ I thought, it was about time she started seeing someone, about time she had a little fun. On impulse I tried her cell again and was surprised when she actually picked up. So surprised my next words fell out of my mouth before I had chance to censure them.

“Hey, did you take him home?” I asked as if we were both still in college. The silence on the other end was loaded and lengthy. I spluttered to fill it.

“I saw your photo on a website, did you have a nice evening?”

God, that sounded even worse, like I was stalking her or something. The silence carried on.

“Um. Patty?” I wondered if she had actually hung up.

“Are you done?” She asked archly. “Or would you like a detailed list of my engagements of the last few weeks.”

“Sorry, I didn't mean anything by it. I just saw the photo and realised I haven't heard from you in a while. I wanted to know if the trip was still on, you haven't been returning my calls.”

“I've been busy. The firm doesn't run itself and as I'm going to be away for the holidays I have a lot of things I need to tie up. I didn't realise I needed to constantly update you on my plans.”

I sighed and felt irritation well up inside me, why did she have to be so difficult? What was wrong with expecting to be kept in the loop, even if it was for a holiday rather than work related.

“So, everything's still set for the twentieth?” I prompted her.

“Yes, we fly out of La Guardia at ten am. I'll pick you up at seven thirty. We're staying outside Dublin, I've rented a cottage, I don't want to be holed up in a hotel for ten days. Is there anything else you need to know?”

“No”

I muttered feeling both chided and childish, but I couldn't stop the buzz of anticipation and elation that the thought of the trip caused in me. The devil on my shoulder perked up with the feeling.

“Patty? You should take a break from the black, perhaps a brightly coloured wrap would have worked better. Your hair looked great, I wasn't sure about the jewellery though...”

“Get off the phone and do something productive with your day. Do you have a job yet?” Her barb had no effect. I was on a roll.

“Am I keeping you from something? Are you going back to bed?”

I giggled and tossed my phone aside when I realised she had hung up.

I did some research about Dublin and noted some things I would like to see, architecture, heritage and history all stirred my imagination. I did some shopping to supplement my mainly work based wardrobe. Warm casual clothes, boots, some rainwear. With just a few days to go I was really looking forward to getting away.

Patty had contacted me once or twice. She sounded harried and complained about her employees, her workload and the intricacies of the system that tied her hands. She had managed to square everything away and clear her schedule for the break. The cases her firm were handling were largely run of the mill, she said she had neither the energy nor the staffing capability to take on anything major now Tom was gone.

I was up ridiculously early on the morning of the twentieth, no way was I going to start Patty off by being tardy. I had packed a small suitcase and had a large hold all as a carry on. As I suspected my cell rang practically on the dot of seven thirty as I was making my way downstairs. She sat regally in the back of a chauffeur driven town car tapping busily on her cell and barely glanced at me as I got in. Finally she put it aside and smiled my way. I smirked back giddily and she just about managed to restrain rolling her eyes. She must have been in an indulgent mood, I was almost bouncing in my seat like an overexcited toddler.

“All set?”

She looked amused, her eyes sparkled with the mischievous glint that normally spelled disaster for someone. I was too stoked to care. I launched into a lengthy monologue about the awful weather in the city and hoped we would not be delayed. I warned her I was a nervous flyer. She divided her time between glancing at her cell and staring out of the window until my anxiety fuelled babble petered out.

The airport was packed with families at the beginning of the Christmas holiday period. Patty navigated through the hoards to the check in. The security lines were a lot less of a hassle for the first class throng and in not much time at all we were sat with coffee and newspapers in the priority lounge. I slipped out for a little last minute shopping, I bought The trilogy of Stieg Larrson books in case things got desperate with Patty while we were away and a beautiful Marc Jacobs bag simply because it was there. By the time I got back we were ready to board. I had never flown first class before and the difference in space was remarkable. I tried to look cool and experienced but the gleam in Patty’s eyes was knowing. She took the window seat, buckled in and settled back while I struggled to put away my purchases and ransacked through my purse for my iPod and earbuds.

“Will you sit down.” she hissed in irritation.

My pre flight nerves were kicking in. I sat and started the deep breathing techniques that slowed my galloping pulse and usually staved off the cold sweaty panic that flying brought out in me. After what seemed like an eternity of waiting the plane began to taxi along the runway. The engines built up, gathering the power required to catapult tons of metal and over two hundred people into the air. As the rush of power took hold and we shot forwards, my hands clamped the seat rests, My eyes screwed shut and every muscle in my body tensed. As we rose into the air I felt Patty’s small hand close over mine.

“It's fine.” she said softly.

The plane climbed and then banked left in such a stomach churning way that a pathetic whimper escaped me.

“It doesn't affect you so much if you open your eyes. Look straight ahead.”

She patted my hand encouragingly as I prised my eyes open and followed her advice.

“I'm alright once we level off.” I said, mortified at my feebleness.

“Don't worry about it, we're all afraid if something.”

The aircraft bumped through some turbulence and my hand grabbed for hers, I even turned and buried my head into her shoulder at one point. She sat quietly and patiently while I probably cut off the circulation in her fingers and made a complete fool of myself. At least the extra space in first class spared me from further embarrassment. I think it was the kindest thing she had ever done for me.

True to my word once the worse of the ascent was over I returned to something approaching normal. I let go of her hand and she quickly withdrew it. I sat up straighter and whispered a thank you but she was already looking away. As the flight progressed I settled, I have never mastered my fear of flying but if the flight was serene enough I was able to manage it.

Patty was engrossed in the paper, I didn't dare read in case it brought on any nausea so I popped in my earbuds and tried to watch a movie, it passed a little time. The plane shuddered lightly through mild turbulence, one of the cabin crew who had a front row seat to my performance on take off stopped to reassure me and offer drinks. I declined, the woman was attractive, more mature than I was used to seeing on flights. She had a warm sympathetic smile and expressive dark eyes. I complimented her on her scent, I didn't recognise it but the aroma was spicy and exotic without being overpowering. She whispered what it was and we shared a laugh as she mentioned a teen idols branded fragrance. Patty barked out an order for bourbon and the woman sped off with polite alacrity. I raised my eyebrows at Patty, it was barely noon.

“What else is there to do up here?” she muttered in irritation.

Patty drank steadily for the remainder of the flight. We ate a light meal, much better fare than I was used to on an airline but as we began our descent my stomach rolled and lurched. There was obviously a high wind and the plane bumped and swooped at regular intervals. I checked my watch, there was still a good thirty minutes before we were due to land. I turned to Patty who was sat back serenely with her eyes closed.

“Tell me about your family in Ireland.”

She must have heard the desperation in my voice, she turned to me slowly and fixed me with her intense ice blue eyed stare. They held my attention easily.

“Alright” she drawled the word out. “My grandfather Michael Hewes took a ship out of Ireland with his eldest son, my father Lyle. As was normal then it was a large family. There were six children in all, my father had two elder sisters, Mary and Audrey, a younger brother, Francis and twin girls Catherine and Sarah. I understand they were virtually babies when my grandfather left. The family was impoverished, he could not find work to support them, they were almost destitute.
A distant relative had gone to America some years before, he sent over some money and encouraged Michael to make the trip with promises of work and lodgings when he got there. My grandfather worked in construction. He would be able to earn enough money to send home to his family until he was in a position to bring them over to join him.
I don't really know why he took Lyle. Perhaps he was daunted by the enormity of what he was doing, perhaps he thought it was a great opportunity for his son. My father was barely seventeen, young and strong, together they had a better chance of making enough money to support those left behind and build a future for all of them.

The conditions on the ships were awful back then. They travelled in steerage on the cheapest tickets sharing a cabin with four other men. My grandfather contracted some sort of virus, probably the flu, and became desperately sick, he barely made he crossing. They arrived at the boarding house but he was too sick to work. My father was still a boy, he did not have the necessary skills to be employed as anything more than a labourer. There was no money for a doctor, all they had was what they stood up in. With no jobs they couldn't pay board and they were turned out onto the streets. Michael died in a catholic mission less than a month after arriving in New York, he was forty one.”

Patty took a sip of her drink, her eyes blazed with the injustice and hardship encountered by her forebears. She savoured her drink and carried on reflectively.

“So, there was my father alone and adrift in New York city at seventeen. He sent letters home stating his plight, he was barely earning enough to eat, let alone support a family. After a short time he left the city lured upstate by the promise of farm work annd labouring. He found work on my maternal grandfathers farm upstate. The man quickly grew fond of him. His own son, my uncle Pete was estranged from the family. Pete was wayward, even then, always in trouble. But my mother, Elizabeth was the apple of his eye. When my father began courting her the old man was pleased. They married quickly and I was born within the year. When my grandfather died the farm passed to them not Pete.

Without his guidance my father struggled with the responsibility of a new family and running the farm. He began to drink. Some years later my mother contracted breast cancer, my father drank some more. The farm fell into disrepair, we were in danger of losing everything. That's when uncle Pete came back, he promised my mother he would look out for me and he did. She died when I was nine. Pete looked out for me for the rest of his life.”

Patty smiled ruefully, it seemed story time was over.

“What happened to the rest of the family?”

I pressed, my curiosity aroused. I had heard more about Patty’s past in the last five minutes than I had in five years.

“Once my father got his feet under the table at the farm, he conveniently forgot about his responsibilities back home. He wrote and sent a little money at the beginning but once he married and had a family of his own he decided his priority lay with them. They lost contact.

The women in the family stepped up. The eldest two travelled to London where there was factory work for the war effort, they helped support the others. They muddled through, they managed. It was my aunt Audrey who wanted to find out what happened to Lyle. One of her children, my cousin Irene, did some research on the Internet. He was easy enough to find, my father still owns the land. He ignored their efforts to contact him, so she traced me. I was curious I suppose. My father was never much one for talking about his past so I replied, we've emailed and spoke on the phone on occasion over the past few years.”

Patty lapsed into silence, the landing gear engaged with a thump and I concentrated my efforts into controlling myself as we landed on the runway and the engines throttled back. We taxied towards the gate, I peered past Patty and looked through the window it was nine pm local time and dark. A light rain was falling just as it was when we left New York.

“Wonderful” Patty stated drily. “I feel right at home.”

I stood and began gathering my belongings, the flight attendant came over and asked how I was feeling. We shared a joke and a few words as the crew waited for the airbridge to connect. Patty was in a hurry to be on the move after over six hours sat virtually motionless and she huffed in impatience. A few moments later we were off the plane and soon cleared passport control.

Patty located the car rental desk. She had booked a vehicle online and got directions to the lot. I trailed in her wake feeling grubby and tired. I marvelled at her energy. My admiration quickly turned to annoyance once we approached the car and she tossed me the keys.

“You are going to have to drive, I've been drinking.”

She stood by the passenger door as I fumbled with the remote fob. She made herself comfortable while I stowed the luggage in the trunk and muttered under my breath.

“Don't forget they drive on the left here.”

She stated airily as I familiarised myself with the controls. It was a manual drive, it had been years since I had driven one. Patty sensibly remained silent while I started the car. She peered at the gps system and entered our destination as I lurched us forward across the parking lot. I had stalled the car once and crunched the gears repeatedly on the access road away from the airport. I could feel the tension building across my shoulders as I struggled to get to grips with the unfamiliar vehicle in a foreign country, in the dark.

“Don't worry about the gearbox, we can pick it up on the way back.” she said sarcastically.

“Don't give me any reason to leave you at the side of the road.” I shot right back.

“Charming.” She glared. I glared harder.

Patty switched on the radio and closed her eyes. I followed the directions coming from the gps that took us away from the road signs for Dublin.

“I thought your family are in Dublin?”

“They are, I've rented a place outside the city, a small village in Wicklow. We may detest each other on sight, I wanted to be a safe distance away.”

I snorted out a laugh, happier now we had reached cruising speed and gear changes were minimal. It was eleven by now as we travelled further in very light late night traffic. My nerves began to increase. We had turned off the main road fifteen minutes ago and had only seen a couple of other vehicles since. Street lights had disappeared and it was dark in a way I had not experienced since camping trips when I was young.

The headlamps struggled to displace the gloom as, following the directions, we turned again. We appeared to be on what was little more than a woodland track. The car bounced and jostled on the pot holed road and Patty looked at me in annoyance.

“Are you sure you entered the information correctly?”

I said as we turned off again down a track so dark even the main beam of the lights seemed to reflect back on the low mist towards us rather than illuminating the way. I crawled forwards slowly hoping we weren't going to end up driving off a cliff or something. Patty checked the gps again as I concentrated on the road.

“It says the cottage is down this track, it's about two hundred metres on your right.”

The road curved round and opened up into a small clearing, on the right was a tiny stone building reminiscent of a dolls house.

“You have reached your destination.” the metallic voice from the machine rang out in the silent car.

“You're kidding right? That would fit in my purse.”

Patty sounded as shocked as I felt. The building was whitewashed and single storied with four small windows on the front.

“You rented it, did you see a brochure?”

I said accusingly, wondering if one of Patty’s underlings had been assigned the task and this was their revenge for years of mistreatment.

“It looked bigger on the website.”

s
She sighed in resignation and opened the car door. It had stopped raining but the air was cold and damp.

“Come on” she chided “we can't do anything about it now. If it’s awful I can arrange something else tomorrow, it's almost midnight here, we're in the middle of nowhere, it will do for tonight.”

I got out of the car and peered around, all I could see was the outline of trees and blackness. I left the headlights on while we unloaded the car and Patty located the key from underneath a plant pot of all things.

“Well that's secure, I hope the local psychopathic axe murderer didn't think to look under there.”

“Are you coming in or not?” Patty marched towards the house without a backward glance.

I was already regretting watching all those ’cabin in the woods’ type movies when I was younger. All I could hear was Patty’s footsteps crunching on the gravel path and my heartbeat pounding in my ears. I was cold, tired and hungry. She was right, it was no use complaining now. I followed her inside.

We entered into a small foyer that opened out into one large living space. The exterior was completely deceptive, either that or it was secretly a Tardis. Patty turned to me with a self satisfied smirk. She must have seen interior pictures on the website and I could see the place would have appealed to her. She flicked on a switch, the flagstone hallway gave way to beautiful oak flooring with a couple of rugs to add warmth and colour. A kitchen lined one side of the room with all the necessary appliances and a counter to separate it from the sitting area. The sofas were modern and comfortable looking either side of a long coffee table. Two upright armchairs were turned towards an open fireplace. A couple of lamps were situated on a side table and a bookcase, there were spotlights under the kitchen cabinets and the whole effect was an elegant and relaxing space. I trailed after Patty down a short corridor. There were two bedrooms each with its own bathroom on either side. They were simply but obviously expensively furnished with large beds and good quality linens. Heavy drapes covered floor to ceiling windows. I pulled one back but could see nothing beyond the darkness.

“What do you think?”

“It's amazing.” I said honestly.

She nodded. We made our way back to the living room. It the pwas chilly but there was an envelope on the mantle over the fire. I scanned it, pressed a button hidden at the side of the grate and realistic looking flames sprang to life. Heading to the kitchen I found the controls for the heating and fired up the boiler.

There was a small pack of essential groceries on the counter, and milk, water and dairy products in the fridge. It was late, too late for a meal so I made tea and we ate toasted bread in front of the dancing flames. Patty looked tired, she had gone quiet. She kicked off her shoes and curled her legs underneath her stifling a yawn. She gazed into the flames and sipped her tea lost in her thoughts. I left her to them.

I thought about how much we had lost, both of us. Patty’s rampant ambition ate up everything in its path. I asked her more than once if it was all worth it. Did she feel vindicated, sat alone in her empty apartment, without her husband or son. Was it worth it now, sat in a cottage three thousand miles from home without a friend to call on. What did she consider me, I wondered. I looked across at her and she was staring right at me, I could read nothing in her eyes, she could see everything in my unguarded expression.

“I'm going to bed.” she said stiffly.

She got up, and with her back ramrod straight she walked down the hallway, entered the bedroom and shut the door behind her. I did not linger in the room, suddenly without another's presence I could hear every creak and groan of the cottage Strange nocturnal noises that disappear with the daylight. I checked the doors and windows were secure before walking to the bedroom.

I slept surprisingly soundly and woke with a jolt the following morning as weak sunlight lightened the room through the drapes. I got up eager to glimpse my surroundings in the light of day. I moved the heavy fabric aside and gasped. There were sliding glass doors that led out onto a large decked area overlooking a lake surrounded by woodland with mountains in the distance. I checked my watch, it was already eight thirty. The sky was clear, it looked cold and crisp outside after the rain of the previous evening. I took a quick shower and dressed warmly and casually in jeans layered tops and boots before venturing into the living area. There was neither sight nor sound of Patty. Briefly I wondered if she was still in bed, but the kettle was warm, I made a cup of coffee and looked around. There was a door to the side of the kitchen I hadn't noticed last night. It was ajar and cold air poured into the room. I walked towards it clutching my coffee and moved outside. I walked along the side of the house which I could now see was extended hugely out the back. I followed the gravel path around until I reached the decked area. Patty was sat out on patio furniture a heater warmed the space. She was drinking coffee in the company of a casually dressed middle aged man with a weathered face and an easy smile. They were chatting away like old friends.

“There you are, Ellen this is Joe Farrell, he owns the property, he called to check on us.”

“Good morning, it's a beautiful place.” I smiled.

“So it is, I don't get many takers at this time of year. I called over to make sure you've worked the heating out and let you know a little about the area. There isn't much out here but there's a couple of shops selling essentials in the village about five miles back and two pubs that serve decent meals. Other than that you have to drive along to Bray. You can reach Dublin in short of an hour as long as the weather holds. We don't get an awful lot of snow but when we do everything grinds to a halt. I live here in the village. It's a beautiful area, very scenic, lots of walks around the loughs. There’s some information about the area on the bookcase but if you need anything, anything at all just give me a call, I’ll do my best to help. My niece Megan will call every other day while you're here to change the linens and such. She's a bright girl, just ask if you need any laundry taking care of or things like that. Now I'll be on my way. It was very nice to meet you Patricia, if you feel like dropping by the Stag on Saturday night my nephew has a band playing, it's a lively night, perhaps I'll see you there.”

“Perhaps.”

Patty gave him a genuine smile as he stood to leave. He extended his hand and she shook it warmly before he walked away around the side of the house to his car.

“Well the natives are friendly enough. Did you sleep alright?”

Patty sounded bright and looked well rested.

“Yes. Has he been here long? It's a bit early for visiting.”

“He telephoned at eight to say he was passing. He brought bread and scones as a welcome gift. The scones are fabulous. He’s lived here all his life, converted this place himself five years ago. He’s been very informative.”

“Wow, what shoe size does he take?” I looked at her in surprise, she wasn't usually so effusive.

“What's wrong with you?” her eyebrows rose challengingly.

“Nothing.” I said quickly, realising I sounded like a sulky child.

“He just caught me unawares”

I murmured before deciding on a little light teasing.

“So we've been here five minutes and you've already got a date for Saturday night.”

Patty fixed me with that unwavering stare, she did not look amused. She shivered in the frigid morning air, picked up her mug and walked inside. After a beat I followed her in and helped myself to one of the ’fabulous’ scones and another cup of coffee. They were really good, obviously homemade. I added some strawberry preserve and munched happily.

“Have you got a plan for today? When do you meet up with your family?”

“I just want to relax and get my bearings today. You're welcome to take the car if you want to go anywhere. You don't have to babysit me.”

She sounded huffy and irritated which in turn made me feel the same. Where was I supposed to go on my own, what was I even doing here in the first place? We lapsed into an uncomfortable silence. She had neglected to mention her plans to meet with her estranged family again. The more I thought about it the stranger her evasiveness seemed, wasn't that the whole point of the trip? I walked over to the bookcase and picked up the leaflets with tourist information on, suddenly a bit of fresh air and scenery felt like a good idea.

“There's a waterfall close by, I think I'll drive around the area and take a look. Do you want to come? We could check out the pub for lunch on the way back.”

I looked at her hopefully, I wanted to make amends for my childish behaviour. I wanted to spend some time with her, not working, not fighting, just doing something normal like going for a walk and admiring the scenery. Surely she wanted us to get along during the trip, otherwise what was the point? She mulled it over for a moment and then agreed. I smiled encouragingly, we could do this.

An hour or so later we set off. Patty was bundled up like we were about to scale Everest but I refrained to comment. We were going to have a pleasant morning, I was determined. I set the directions into the gps and we set off. It really was beautiful out here, the route had us climbing up a narrow deserted road, we caught glimpses of the lough the house was nestled on the shore of as I followed the curling road. It was cold and crisp, the low sun shone through the trees. Patty sat quietly, perhaps as determined as I was not to spoil the mood. She merely rolled her eyes at my clunky gear changes and took in the scenery. The gps took us into a parking area. There were picnic tables around, a cafe and a visitor centre, but they were closed at this time of year and apart from one other car the area was deserted.

We got out and I spotted a sign for the falls that directed us onto a well worn track. We began to walk, I wished I had thought to put gloves on as my hands were freezing. I jammed them into my pockets and carried on. The incline was fairly steep in places and I began to enjoy the exertion and being out in the country. We were getting close to the sight, I could see a clearing ahead and another sign for a viewing area. We cut through the trees and had to negotiate some large boulders as stepping stones to a ridge that looked out over the falls.

Patty was doing fine, she wasn't even a little out of breath. Her cheeks were pink, her breath came out as vapour in the frigid air, her eyes sparkled in the sunlight. I turned as I stood on a rock and extended my hand to help her step across.
She took it and I pulled her gently up beside me.

“Almost there, are you doing ok?”

“Fine, I hope it's worth the climb.”

I could hear the rush of water now and was anxious to get a look at the falls. We walked forward and around the next curve and it came into view. The waterfall was not huge or particularly steep, but it was dramatic. Water cascaded between crags and over boulders before becoming freer and more powerful as it cleared the obstacles and poured down into the river below. I inched forward onto a slab of stone nearer the edge and Patty reached for my hand.

“Careful, I'm not fishing you out of there.”

“It's solid, it's probably been here for centuries, come and look, you get a real sense of the power here.”

I stepped to the side to make room for her and she stood beside me. I found my phone and snapped a couple of photos, regretting the fact I did not possess a camera. Maybe I would invest in one while I was here. After a few minutes gazing we stepped back and walked around the area. There were spectacular views of the surrounding countryside all around us, birds swooped and called, the river wound through the fields lit by hazy sunshine. Cottages and farms dotted the landscape, the feeling of space and tranquility calmed me.

“I haven't done anything like this for years, I rarely leave the city these days. Thank you, for asking me to come, I never said thank you.”

I ducked my head and looked away to the distance.

“You're welcome.”

She almost whispered, it sent a shiver through me. I felt the sting of tears and blamed it on the wind that was stronger up here in the open. I wiped at my eyes and said we should start making our way down. She nodded, gave me a long look and headed back the way we came. It was quicker and easier to get down. We were soon back in the car, I put the radio on, Christmas tunes filled the car, I had almost forgotten how close it was to the holiday. We drove passed the track that turned off for the cottage and headed towards the village. It was tiny, a post office, a general store and a couple of other small shops. A church and two pubs completed the tour. It was gone midday, I turned into the car park for the Stag and we walked into a small, dingy bar area with curved seats along the wall and small tables with low stools in front of them. A small gathering of elderly gentleman occupied the bench seat of one wall, they stared at us with naked curiosity. As I approached the bar I was relieved to see the dining area at the other side of it looked a lot nicer. Only a couple of tables were occupied and I guessed they must struggle for business once the tourist season was over. I ordered a beer for myself and a glass of red for Patty. My accent caused the eyebrows of the barman to raise in what I thought was surprise.

“you're the ladies staying at the Farrell place.”

He stated with a lilting brogue that was thankfully easy to decipher.

“Ellen right?” he smiled at my surprised expression.

“Uncle joe called in earlier, he said you may be dropping by. So you must be Patricia.”

He smiled at Patty who did not smile back.

“I'm Stuart, his nephew. Good to meet you.”

“You too. Can we get a menu?”

I asked politely not used to the over familiarity and wanting to sit down.

“Sure, go on through to the dining room, I'll bring one over.”

I turned to Patty who rolled her eyes at his easy charm and we walked around the bar and sat at a plain pine table in the window overlooking the street. I sipped my beer and Patty grimaced when she took a drink of the wine. The menu arrived and Stuart resisted the urge to linger due to Patty’a rather curt thank you. We both ordered shepherds pie which came with a mound of pickled red cabbage. That was new to me and a little bizarre but I made a game attempt at it and Patty polished off the whole serving but barely touched the wine.

The street was largely deserted save for the stray pedestrian going about their daily routine. Mainly older women, huddled in sensible clothing, their faces pinched against the cold. I wondered what it would be like to be born into this environment, where everyone knew your name and your business. I decided I preferred the anonymity of the city where you barely knew your neighbours and the streets were a mass of faces you would never see again.

“Are you missing home?” she asked me sipping at a cup of tea she had ordered.

“No, Just thinking how different things are here.”

“Good or bad different?”

“I don't know, I like the serenity, I like the feeling of space and the open air but I couldn't live out here, I'd miss the city too much, the pulse, the noise, the shopping..”

I laughed, she smiled back at me.

“Do you feel any connection to it, to being here?”

I tried to lead the conversation gently back towards the purpose of the visit.
“Nothing.”

She answered shortly.

“No romantic feeling of coming home, no sense of belonging. It's a pretty place, but New York is home, it always will be.”

“Are you nervous about meeting them?”

I was nervous asking the question but something was off and she may as well tell me what it was, there was no one else to confide in. She looked at me carefully, as if weighing up how much, if anything, to reveal. She took in a breath and let it out in a long sigh before she started talking.

“I hate my father. Until my relations got in touch I didn't even know if he was alive or dead, nor did I care. He was a mean drunk who beat my mother badly on a regular basis. He used to beat me if he could catch me. I spent my childhood in fear of him, he would whip me with a leather belt, I can still feel it, I can still smell it even now. He felt trapped by us, without the old man to guide him he was too weak and stupid to make it on his own. So like the bully he was he took it out on his wife and child. It was our fault we had no money. Our fault when the farm failed. Our fault he had to drink to make it through the day. When my mother died the look on her face was one of relief. She was glad to be out of it, death was her escape from that man. Then Uncle Pete arrived and he never touched me again. I worked hard in school and left for college at eighteen. I have never spoke or set eyes on him since. God help him if I did.”

I was shocked, I knew she was estranged from her father. She had spoke of him as a bully, as a weak man with no ambition. She had never expanded on that. I struggled for something to say, she stirred her tea.

“I have no idea what to say to them. The boy they remember never existed to me. I may not meet them, they don't even know I'm here. I haven't decided yet.”

“So why did you keep in contact?”

“Curiosity mainly. I named my son Michael for no other reason than I liked the name. I had no idea what my grandfather was called. It was a coincidence, it’s a popular name. Audrey was so desperate to hear about her younger brother. He was the only one who had strayed away from the family. The others had overcome their troubles and made decent lives for themselves. They all married, there have scores of children between them. They have scattered now but many are still in Dublin or close by. I don’t want a family, I don't feel connected to them, but I'm getting older, they're getting older. Tom’s death, Michael running off to god knows where.. I don't know, it felt like the right time to come. It was now or never but now I'm here, I'm not sure it’s a good idea.”

“What do you have to lose? What harm can meeting them do? They get to hear about their brother. They get to meet you and all that uncertainty, all those questions go away. Then you go back to New York and carry on with your life. It's a good thing to do.”

She finished her tea and stared out of the window. Despite what she said I believed she was looking for something for herself here. Was her personality a product of her upbringing or did it go deeper than that. Was there a history of strong, ambitious women. A streak of ruthlessness that she had inherited. Could she look at her roots and learn she was merely following her destiny rather than carving her own path. Patty dealt in facts, she was not a fanciful woman. She did not look back, she always had her eyes on the horizon of the future. I wondered if that future looked bleak as she was growing older. I wondered if it looked lonely. I decided to give her a push, I think she wanted one.

“It's not like you to shy away from something. Make the call, like I said, where's the harm.”

She gave me another appraising look.
“Let's go.”

The drive back only took ten minutes. I was finally getting used to the car and the roads. We went back inside and straight away she pulled out her cell and looked up a number before she could change her mind again. She wandered across to the kitchen as she waited for it to be answered.

“Irene, it's Patty Hewes. I've come over for the holidays. Yes I'm staying in Wicklow... Yes it's very pleasant. I would like to meet you, anytime is good for me.”

There was largely silence from Patty interspersed with the odd yes and hum of agreement as I presumed her cousin was making plans.

“Give me the address.”

Patty rummaged around in her purse for a pen and paper and scribbled down directions. There was another lengthy pause as she listened to a stream of excited chatter on the other end. She was smiling at least.

“Alright, I'll see you on Saturday around eleven. Don't go to any trouble... I look forward to it. Goodbye Irene.”

Patty hung up and looked at me with a grim, determined smile.

“All done. She's gathering the clans for Saturday morning. Will you come?”

“Yes, I'd love to. How many?”

“God knows, half of Ireland by the sound of things. We're meeting at Audrey's house on the outskirts of Dublin. We could go into the city afterwards and have a look around, satisfy your shopping gene.”

She sounded uncertain and unsure of herself, the first time I have ever seen her like that. I gave her a reassuring smile, she disappeared into her bedroom. We spent the rest of the day in quiet harmony. Patty had changed and settled by the fire with a book and a glass of whiskey. I stretched out on the couch and within minutes had dozed off. I slept for an hour or so, I guess the travelling and fresh air had caught up with me. I’m not a great one for reading, all the stuff I have to plough through at work sort of puts me off the written word for pleasure. I flicked on the tv and channel surfed for a few minutes until Patty barked at me, so I put it down.

“Are you bored already?”

“No, I'm just not used to having nothing to do. Talk to me about work, what have you got lined up?”

“I've come here to get away from work.” Patty turned a page without looking up.

“What are you reading?”

“A book.”

I huffed noisily, she looked at me over her glasses and set her book down.

“Are you hungry yet, I could make us something.”

“No, I'll have some cheese and crackers later.” she settled into her chair as I pottered in the kitchen. I wasn't really hungry either. It was only six but it would have given me something to do. I returned to the other chair and tried to get comfortable.

I looked over at Patty was was engrossed in her book, I peeked at the title, curious to discover what was holding her interest but it didn't ring any bells. I picked up a magazine and leafed through it for an impressive five minutes.

“Patty?”

“Hmm” she didn't look at me.

“What do you want to do tomorrow?”

She slapped her book down on the side table and yanked her glasses off her face finally turning her attention towards me.

“Are you five years old? Do you require constant entertaining? For heavens sake you have the attention span of a gnat. Find something to occupy yourself and leave me alone.”

The words were delivered quietly with a hint of wry amusement, but I was perilously close to seriously getting on her nerves.

“I think I'll take a bath.”

“Good. Make it a long one.”

I flounced out like the child I was apparently regressing to. When I returned to living area after a long satisfying soak in scented oils she had set out a selection of cheeses, some fruit and a few crackers on the kitchen counter, I poured a glass of wine, sat on a stool and helped myself. I had put on pyjamas and a thin robe, I had gathered my now frizzy hair in an untidy pony tail and I completed the look with fluffy socks. Patty walked over and refilled her glass, she glanced over my outfit and smiled.

“Now you look about twelve, here, take a look at this. It may hold your interest for a while. It's not exactly a family tree but it will give us a vague idea of who belongs to who on Saturday.”

She unfolded a sheet of A4 which held a neatly set out break down of her fathers siblings and their spouses their children, their grandchildren and in some cases great grandchildren. There were a lot of names.

“My god, you weren't kidding. They won't all be there on Saturday will they?”

“I sincerely hope not. Irene sent me a copy of this when she first got in contact. The eldest sister, see here Mary, she died some years ago, she stayed on in London after the war, she married and raised her family there. That branch at least will be missing. Audrey came back, married and had three children. Irene, who I’m in contact with is around my age, Joseph, and John. We worked our way across and down the names. Patty’s sole uncle, Francis, had a granddaughter also named Patricia.

“So, there's more than one Patty Hewes in the family..”

“Well this one is all of twenty four, I'm sure you'll be able to tell us apart.”

The youngest of Lyle’s siblings the twin girls were now seventy and had only produced one child between them, a son Richard.

Patty didn't have much knowledge about the family members beyond their names. Saturday was going to be quite an education.

Before we turned in for the night I got Patty to agree to visiting Dublin for sight seeing tomorrow. On Saturday it would be late afternoon by the time we left Audrey's, then I reminded her she had a loose date with Joe Farrell on Saturday night so we would have barely any free time in the city. She agreed easily enough, I don't think she could take the thought of a whole day of being cooped up in the cottage with me. I turned in not long after leaving Patty in peace with her book and her whiskey.

We set off early into the capital. When I went to bed last night I spent almost an hour planning our day. Sightseeing in the morning, shopping in the afternoon. I have to be honest, we had a great time. I had needlessly worried about Patty being bored or difficult. She was engaged and interested from the get go. I clutched my guide book as we walked or took a bus from one stop to another. It was busy without being uncomfortable. Most people's thoughts were on the upcoming holidays so although the shopping areas were busy the tourist trail was reasonably uncluttered. Coming from New York, I thought we may have been underwhelmed with Dublin but we both loved it. The bridges over the river, the architecture, the galleries. She lingered a long time in the history of Dublin museum which had lots of photographs and articles from the mid thirties to the late forties when her ancestors made the trip to America.

Black and white pictures contrasting the city to the more impoverished rural outskirts her family hailed from

“No wonder so many took their chances elsewhere.”

She mused sadly. We had lunch in a upmarket restaurant out of the crowds and lingered over excellent coffee.

“Are you sure you want to come shopping? We could go back now, it's been a full on morning. The shops are likely to be crowded.”

“No, I need to pick up one or two things. We can't show up tomorrow empty handed a couple of days before Christmas. I'm getting my second wind.”

I smiled as I sat facing her. The restaurant was on the top floor of a classy hotel with wonderful views over the city but she held my attention easily. Patty strode around the city as if she owned it. She was charming and courteous to everyone we came into contact with. Influence radiated off Patty’s petite frame. She was immaculately and expensively dressed and people automatically treated her with deference and respect. Our accents attracted knowing smiles. Lots of Americans visited to trace their ancestry and we were warmly greeted everywhere.

We gathered our energy and headed for the stores on Grafton street. It was bustling, but not as busy as I first feared, I guess most people had done the bulk of their shopping by now. Patty corralled us into an upscale department store and purchased thirty of a hundred euro gift cards. Well over three thousand dollars and we had just stepped over the threshold.
A floor manager appeared like a genie from a bottle to fawn over Patty and make himself available should she require any further assistance.

I wandered off to the jewellery section leaving the manager rubbing his hands gleefully as Patty enquired about premium whiskeys. As I gazed at the display cases looking for something suitable for Patty, I stopped short at a long wishbone pendant set with emeralds in white gold. It was modern and tasteful. It was expensive but not exorbitant. I bought it before I could think too much about it. I had never bought Patty anything more than a bouquet of flowers or a bottle of bourbon before. But I owed her for this trip and the emeralds were symbolic of Ireland. I thought it would be a pleasant reminder of her time here meeting her family.

Patty was still where I left her. She was now on first name terms with the manager who had the air of a man with a hefty commission coming. They chatted like old friends while a fraught member of staff ran backwards and forwards with a selection of crystal decanters and glasses, highballs, tumblers, and wine glasses were all set out on a large counter that was Patty’s personal viewing area. I expressed a preference for the fifties retro range with a platinum band and Patty nodded her approval. She placed an order for an eye watering amount of money and arranged to have them shipped home. The manager bid us farewell and only just restrained himself from kissing her hand as we left.

I made a couple of other small purchases in another store and I bought my two year old niece a plush stuffed leprechaun before we mutually agreed we had done for the day. It was gone five when we set off for the cottage. The weather had turned bitingly cold with a frigid wind that made us wince as we headed back to the car park. The traffic was horrendous coming out of the city, we sat in a long lane on tail lights, I cranked up the heater and shivered violently.

We spent a quiet night in. I followed Patty’s lead and began the first of the books I bought at the airport. We sat by the fire, sipped at a beautiful smooth, smoky whiskey Patty purchased at the store and had an early night.

I woke with a start at four am, something had disturbed me. I could hear someone moving around in the cottage and I fervently hoped it was Patty. I heard another thumping noise and decided to investigate. As I came out of my room I could see the soft glow of a lamp coming from the sitting area. I moved down the hall and called out her name. When I entered the room, Patty was sweeping up the remains of a shattered tea cup.

“Are you alright?” I asked her blearily.

I had not caught sight of her in nightwear before and the navy silk pyjamas were a stark contrast to my comfortable long flannel pants and tank. Goosebumps erupted along my bare arms in the cold of the room.

“I couldn't sleep, I thought I'd have a warm drink and I knocked the cup off the counter. Sorry I woke you. How do you turn the damn fire on, it's freezing in here.”

“The button is low down to the right.” I depressed it and the flames sprung to life.

“Thanks, go back to bed, get some sleep.”

“Sure you're alright? I could keep you company for a while.”

“I'm fine, I'm just going to have a cup of tea.”

“Ok, see you in a couple of hours then.”

She gave me a half smile and I wandered back to the bedroom. Patty looked haunted around the eyes and seemed weighed down for the first time since we came away. I wondered what was on her mind. Meeting her relatives may have stirred up unwelcome ghosts and memories. Perhaps she was thinking of Tom’s children facing Christmas without a father for the first time. I know Patty harboured regrets for her actions in the past. The secrets she kept locked in her personal vault would give anyone sleepless nights.

I suddenly realised I had not harboured a bad thought about Patty since we met at the airport. I had enjoyed her company and her undivided attention. We were easy around each other with no hidden agendas to be suspicious of. Of course everyone has a work persona and a private one, to a certain extent that was true of Patty. She was less intimidating outside of work but there was not much evidence of a sweet and fluffy side. In the office she kept everyone constantly on the hop with her unpredictable nature. One day she would laugh off an insult or sniping comment. The next she would fly into a frothing rage over the most trivial thing. She could be encouraging of new ideas and strategies one minute or see them as a direct challenge to her authority the next. Maybe it was related to the cycle of the moon. That was just it with Patty, you never could tell. So far her her equilibrium had been safely balanced but the look in her eye just now gave me cause for concern. Memories were stirring and the past was liable to rear its ugly head at some point.

I could tell Patty was on edge the next day. Her movements were agitated and her tone was sharp and brittle. I did not let it affect me, I didn't even mention it. I asked her if she would prefer to go alone and her eyes sharpened and narrowed.

“Do as you wish.”

She said dismissively over breakfast of fruit and yoghurt.

“Then I'd like to come along. I'm looking forward to it.”

I replied with more certainty than I felt. It was burning curiosity that made me want to go rather than any noble desire to support my ex employer. She disappeared to shower and change and after a few minutes I did the same. I chose a simple black wrap dress I brightened up with a warm plaid shawl purchased the day before. The berry colours of the shawl matched my plum coloured suede pumps and bag. I made an effort with my hair and make up too, that little part of me that wanted to please her still existed somewhere. Patty swept into the room in a cloud of scent and I felt my eyes widen. She was in full battle dress of power suit and skyscraper heels. She looked immaculate, She looked like she was about to rip someone to pieces in court. I gaped long enough for her to notice.

“What?” she said irritably.

“Are you going to meet them or scare the hell out of them?”

“This is who I am.” her jaw was set stubbornly.

“It's not exactly subtle is it?”

“You think I should go and change?”

She said it with that sarcastic sweetness that made my stomach squirm. I threw my hands up in the air and and turned to collect my things.

“You look festive enough for both of us.” she drawled nastily.

I refused to rise to the bait and gave her the benefit of the doubt. She was anxious and over compensating. If sniping at me made her feel more in control of the situation so be it.

“Do you want to drive?” I asked.

“No. Be careful on these back roads, there was a frost last night.”

She added the ’piece de resistance’ an almost floor length luxurious winter white coat. It was a beautiful thing, designer made, custom fitted, it probably cost more than my first car. A lot more.

I plastered a smile on my face and we headed out. She surprised me by taking my arm as a sheen of frost was still visible on the ground. How my own four inch heels were meant to provide any traction I had no idea but the gesture made me feel both protective and courtly as I guided her to the car.

Conversation was none existent as I made my way down the road that was fast becoming familiar to me. I followed the gps and in less than an hour we pulled up in front of a large detached house in a suburb of the city. I found a parking spot a little way down the road and we walked towards the smart looking property. I swung open low iron gates and we walked up the drive which contained three cars. I guessed some of the vehicles on the street were owned by family members too. I could feel the tension in Patty’s body, she held herself stiffly and although her face was a mask of serenity I knew her well enough not to be taken in.

“Smile Patty for gods sake, it's not a firing squad.”

I rapped smartly on the door before she could react and took a step back leaving Patty in the forefront. The door swung open immediately. I had no idea what I was expecting but the almost Amazonian figure of the woman in the doorway was not it.

“Patricia, come on in, welcome. Welcome home.”

She took a step back allowing Patty to step over the threshold only to envelop her in a full on hug and kiss to the cheek. Patty stood like a board, at a complete loss of how to respond. I followed her in and extended my hand.

“Hallo, it's lovely to meet you, thank you for inviting us.”

“Nonsense” she said briskly.

Sorry you have no idea who I am. I'm Irene, we've spoken on the phone.”

The woman addressed the words to Patty who still held a stunned expression and had yet to speak. It was bizarre to see her floundering.

“Let's go through to the kitchen, most of the family are here. Mother is delighted of course, we all are. Would you like some tea?”

Patty looked at me helplessly. On impulse I put my hand on the small of her back to guide her down the hallway. There was a buzz of lively conversation audible through the open door of the long family room to our left. We headed into a large, warm bright kitchen. The room held a large dining table groaning with food, and a smaller round breakfast table where we were directed to sit. Tea was placed in front of us in delicate china cups.

“I'm sorry I can't stop staring, I'm looking for family resemblance, you're so fair.”

“I take after my mother’s side, she had Scandinavian blood.”

My heart sunk, way to go Patty. The first words out of her mouth and she had all but disowned her relatives. I gave her a nudge with my foot under the table and her head snapped round to glare at me. Irene was unconcerned, she smiled widely and said.

“You may be surprised. We are so pleased you're here, we always felt like part of the family was missing.”

Just then an elderly gentleman entered the kitchen. He was perhaps in his mid seventies, short and portly, his lined faced crinkled with a wide smile.

“By god, Lyle’s daughter without a doubt, you're like one of my own. It's wonderful you're here. Wonderful.”

I looked at Patty who’s demeanour had stiffened even more. This must be uncle Francis, and judging by the fleeting expression of horror on Patty’s face he must strongly resemble her father. She gathered herself after a moment and seemed to find her centre at long last. She rose to her feet and stretched out her hand, no doubt trying to ward off another over effusive greeting. The old man took it in both of his and leaned in and kissed her anyway.

“Uncle Francis, I'm pleased to meet you.” she said politely.

More people wandered into the kitchen. Two ladies of advanced years and poorly dyed hair advanced on Patty in a two pronged attack. Her twin aunts Catherine and Sarah were barely six years older than Patty. They talked a mile a minute barely stopping for breath, touching Patty repeatedly, stroking her cheek, holding her hand and admiring her coat. Patty looked at me for help, I was holding back a smirk and shrugged back at her.

A blond woman entered the fray and my mouth dropped open. She looked so like Patty they could pass for sisters. Perhaps this woman was a little younger but the shape of the face, the colouring, the confident air were all familiar. Then she turned to me to introduce herself and I found myself staring into a very familiar pair of sparkling blue eyes.

“I'm Francis’ daughter Maureen.”

Even the tone of voice was similar, it was quite unnerving. Patty was still being accosted by her aunts so I made eye contact and inclined my head to bring her over. She extricated herself from their clutches and made her way to my side.

“Patty this your cousin Maureen.”

The women took each other in and Maureen began to laugh.

“Thank god you’re fair. I always wondered if I was adopted. I suppose I can stop that now.”

Patty merely smiled in reply. I looked around the room, there were perhaps twenty or so people milling around and half a dozen children. So far only Patty and Maureen were blond and pale skinned.

“Let me take your beautiful coat.”

Irene uttered as she reappeared at our side.

“Patricia come and meet my mother, she’s in the lounge, she’s not very mobile and the crowd in here is a little much for her.”

Patty glanced over at me as if she needed my permission, I gave her an encouraging nod and Irene led her through the throng and towards a small sitting room off the hallway. Maureen had commandeered me and took it upon herself to steer me into the large lounge area we passed on the way in, making swift introductions along the way. By now I had lost track of who belonged to who and my head was reeling with names. Most of the crowd had gravitated towards the kitchen now and were tucking into the food and helping themselves to drinks. Maureen had got us both a large glass of red and handed one over to me motioning towards an armchair by the French doors. She perched herself on the arm and pointed out her brothers grandchildren. The eldest who was Patty’s namesake and a small knot of four younger ones in their mid to late teens who were huddled over cell phones looking bored and detached.

“I told Irene not to bombard her with everyone at once, but as it may be the only opportunity to meet her, we all wanted to drop by. It's a bit overwhelming for anyone.”

“It's lovely to meet everybody.” I kept my response short and vague.

“Irene tells me Patricia is a lawyer in New York and you work together?”

“Patty has had her own law firm for over fifteen years, she’s very successful.”

“And you're her protégée?”

She smiled, a smile eerily similar to the one Patty used when she was wheedling for information.

“I don't work for Patty anymore, we stay in contact and our paths cross professionally. We lost a mutual friend recently, that's what brought on the need for a break.”

“That's tragic news. I have barely had a chance to talk to her, she has just the one child?”

“Yes, she has a son Michael, he's nineteen.”

“Has he stayed at home with his father?”

“Look”

I said levelly softening my words with a light laugh.

“If you want to know anything about Patty’s personal life you're going to have to ask her yourself.”

“I didn't mean to pry.”

She absolutely did but I held onto my smile grimly.

“It's natural to be curious, no harm done.”

Patty saved me from any further grilling by appearing in the doorway with Irene and heading straight for me. I rose straight away almost tipping Maureen to the floor.

“Do you want to get something to eat?”

I checked my watch surprised to find we had been there almost two hours already. We walked back to the kitchen, I fetched drinks while Patty filled a large plate for us to share. She seemed to have settled down and happily answered questions about her work and life in the city. No one asked about her father, I presume Irene had warned them all off the subject, but Patty showed photographs of Michael that were passed around and exclaimed over. She vaguely mentioned he was away at school.

There was another knock at the door and the twins hurried to open it saying that must be Richard. The noise level seemed to increase as the rest of the family greeted the late comer. There was bursts of laughter and excited chatter as he made his way into the kitchen. I got a look at him and smiled. He had expensively coiffed hair and designer clad feet. He was obviously a live wire. He had a high lilting voice and permanent smile. His gaze scanned the room and everyone seemed to be watching as his merry eyes fastened on Patty.

“Oh my lord”

He trilled dancing over to grasp her proffered hand and sweep a head to toe appraisal of her outfit.

“It's Hilary Clinton.”

There was shocked gasp and collective intake of breath, but Patty threw her head back and laughed, that deep throaty chuckle you don't get to hear too often. The room relaxed and conversation resumed around us.

“Richard, Catherine has told me all about you.”

“Ah yes, the rainbow sheep of the family. And who is this?

He asked turning his gaze my way and waggling his eyebrows.

“Your security detail? The Kevin Costner to your Whitney?”

I extended my hand.

“Hardly, Patty can look after herself. I'm Ellen, we work together.”

“The Andrea to her Miranda then. That's better, I love your shawl dear, you look like a Christmas parcel all ready to unwrap.”

I blinked in discomfort at his suggestive comment. Patty took a step forward and lowered her voice.

“One more crack like that and we're leaving. Do we understand each other Richard?”

Patty’s smile would have frozen an ocean. Richard looked remarkably unaffected, his own smile never faltered.

“I think we understand each other perfectly dear, the little lamb is off limits. Now what are you drinking, I bet you're a whiskey girl.”

“You bet correctly, make it a large one.”

He strode off towards the counter immediately engulfed by his adoring family.

“Don't let him get under your skin. He's a showboater, he just likes an audience.”

Richard made his way back clutching drinks for all of us.

“With my apologies ladies, I tend to get a little over excited in crowds. No offence was intended.”

“None was taken.” I replied accepting the glass of whiskey.

Richard reined himself in after that and for the next thirty minutes he kept us well entertained with stories and barbed comments about the family. He had been given his limits and he never ventured towards the cruel or the crude, he was both charming and amusing but exhausting all the same.

We finished our drinks and Patty sought out Irene to inform her we were leaving. Thanks were given and lingering farewells were made. It took another thirty minutes to actually get to the front door. I was laden down with boxed up leftovers Patty was free to be hugged and kissed effusively. She promised to telephone Irene over the holidays, however she stopped short of committing to another visit. We walked down the path with their goodbyes ringing in our ears until we got in the car and Patty sighed heavily.

“Are you alright to drive? You were drinking...”

“I'm fine, two half glasses. Ready to go back?”

“Yes please. No wonder I have no truck with family, they are absolutely exhausting.”

Patty snapped on her seatbelt and sat back in her seat.

“How did it go with the old lady, aunt Audrey?”

“Aunt Audrey is almost ninety and could run rings round the rest of them. She was blunt to the point of rudeness. She told me they were all thrilled when grandpa and Lyle left for America, apparently like father like son. Michael was also a drunken bully, without him the family thrived. The women took over, kept everyone in food and clothing and made sure they stayed in school. The next generation did much better, a smattering of professionals and good marriages. They now have doctors, teachers and engineers. Richard is a research chemist, god help us all.
She was thrilled to get a lawyer.”

“That makes a change.”

“Aren't your parents proud of your career choice?”

“They’re proud of me I guess, they like telling the neighbours I'm a lawyer but they don't understand what it really takes. Mom would be happier if I was married with a couple of babies by now.”

“And you. Would you be happier?”

“Who says I'm not happy?”

“You're avoiding the question.”

“I'm not, I don't like to think of what might have been, it's pointless. If David and I had married I would have continued my career.”

A heavy silence fell in the car, one neither of us broke until we got back to the cottage. Megan had called in our absence. A Christmas tree and a festive ornaments decorated the living space. The aroma of pine needles and scented candles filled the room. Patty rolled her eyes and headed straight for the wine on the counter. She had been drinking steadily since midday, it was almost five now. I kicked off my shoes and made coffee.

“Do you want to go out tonight?” she asked out of nowhere.

“I don't know, I don't want to be your third wheel.” I teased her.

She smiled and sipped her wine.

“I was thinking more along the lines of a chaperone. Come on, I feel like going out. It could be fun.”

“Fun.” I repeated deadpan.

“Yes. You remember fun don't you?” she sauntered off towards her room leaving me opened mouthed in the kitchen.

Three hours later we were in a cab heading for the Stag. I had changed and freshened up preferring trousers to a dress in a village pub. Patty had changed out of her power suit into some soft charcoal coloured pants, a grey cashmere sweater and a long black jacket. She looked great, I smiled at her appreciatively.

“Are you dressing to impress Mr Farrell?”

“Don't be ridiculous, leave the hall light on, I don't want to break my neck in the dark when we get back.”

“Maybe you'll get lucky and spend the night elsewhere..”

“The cabs outside, let's go.”

I don't know what I expected from the Stag. Perhaps a few more people than the other day when we called in for lunch. I was surprised to find it was standing room only. The dining room had been converted to a temporary concert area, with a small stage. The tables had been moved to the outskirts of the room leaving the area in the middle as a impromptu dance floor. The band was just taking the stage. I elbowed my way to the bar as Patty managed to snag a table. I bought myself a beer, Patty a whiskey and perched on a low stool. It was bustling and noisy, I have no idea where all these people had come from. The band must be worth seeing but I wished I had stayed at the cottage tucked in front of the fire with my book.

Joe Farrell appeared and squeezed into the seat next to Patty, he was practically in her lap. She crossed her legs, tossed back her hair and smiled at him like an alligator who had just spotted an easy lunch.

“Glad you decided to come along ladies, let me arrange for a bottle at the table, you don't want to be fighting your way to the bar every five minutes.”

“Thank you Joe, and thank you for organising the Christmas decorations, they're delightful, aren't they Ellen?”

“It was very thoughtful.” I smiled politely.

He didn't take his eyes off Patty. We drank and chatted and I definitely felt like a third wheel as Patty flirted and shared jokes with Joe. I excused myself to the ladies room glad of the relative quiet.

I wandered back over to the bar to watch the band for a while. They were good and popular with the crowd. They played a mix of old rock songs with a few folk tunes that went down just as well. People were dancing in groups. It was raucous and messy, drinks sloshed to the floor and voices screamed out the choruses. Another night I would probably have enjoyed it.

The queue for drinks was just a haphazard press of bodies with shouts and catcalls in loud voices. Suddenly there was some shouting and jostling. Drinks crashed to the floor and insults were traded. I turned around to see a punch thrown. It was a catalyst for a free for all. I was trying to back away when the guy in front of me drew his arm back to launch his fists and his elbow caught me flush in the face.

I saw stars and landed heavily on my ass. My hands covered my face as blood poured from my nose. I was stepped on and knocked around in the crush of bodies as I desperately tried to get back on my feet. I felt two strong arms grab me and hoist me upright. Joe Farrell shouted at me above the din.

“Come with me.”

He pressed a stinking bar towel over my face to stem the blood.
Joe had one arm around Patty who looked panicked and shocked. He held my waist with the other and pushed his way to the exit. There were cabs pulling up. Joe yanked a car door open and hustled us inside.

“Pete will take you back to the cottage. Are you alright Ellen? I’m awful sorry you got hurt. I’ll go back in and help the lads restore some order.”

The car door slammed and the cab drove away.

“We should get you to a hospital, your nose may be broken. Tip your head back, you’re bleeding all over the seat.”

“It doesn't feel broken. The bleeding is slowing down. Are you ok?”

“Yes, Joe noticed things kicking off and headed straight for you. Are you sure it’s not broken?”

I ran my fingers down it gently. I didn’t hear any crunching but I bet I was going to have an impressive shiner in the morning.

“I wonder if anyone called the police?” I asked.

The cab driver spoke up for the first time.

“They don't normally bother, by the time the law arrives everyone has scattered and no one remembers what they saw. Never fear ladies the boys at the Stag will sort it out between themselves.”

We pulled up outside the cottage. Patty paid the cabbie, refusing his offer to help me inside. She guided me along the drive and we entered. She sat me on a stool at the kitchen counter and flicked on the lights. I shut my eyes against the glare, as she filled a bowl with cold water and got some clean towels.

“Let me take a proper look at that.”

She gently removed the bar towel with a distasteful grimace and dropped it in the trash.

“I'm just going to wash the blood away, it's more or less stopped from what I can see. I'll try not to hurt you.”

I flinched as she mopped at my face with a towel soaked in cold water. She cleaned off the dried blood with gentle strokes and soaked another towel.

“Hold this against it, it may ease the swelling. I'll get an ice pack. Your eye is bruising already. Maybe we should call the police, have him done for assault.”

“I didn't even get a look at the guy that hit me. I just want to forget about it and go to bed.

“Don't lay down to sleep, prop yourself up on some pillows. Are you sure you don't want to see a doctor?”

“I'm alright really. I'll take some painkillers. You go on to bed.”

“I'm sorry you got hurt, I'm sorry I dragged you out here on this stupid crusade. I don't even know what I'm doing here. Jesus what a day.”

I realised then how much Patty had been drinking. Her eyes looked glassy with tears, she swayed with fatigue now the adrenaline rush had worn off and it was two in the morning. I reached out for her and grasped her arm lightly.

“Don't say that, I'm not sorry. I'm having a great time. I’m glad I came with you.”

“You consider this as a great time? Nursing a smashed nose and a black eye in the early hours of the morning. You need to reevaluate your ideas. Don't stay up much longer, get some rest. Call out if you need anything.”

She cleared up the kitchen and wiped everywhere down while I swallowed two painkillers.

“I'll sit here for a bit while the tablets kick in. Goodnight Patty.”

“Goodnight.”

I took her advice and dozed fitfully through the rest of the night propped up in bed. I gave up at around seven and got up to make coffee and get something to eat. I checked myself in the bathroom mirror and was not surprised to see swelling under both eyes as well as my nose. My right eye was heavily bruised, the left wasn't so bad. I dabbed at my face with a wet towel, I could still smell the stench of stale grease and beer from the bar towel Joe used on my face. I headed for the kitchen. Patty was already there, sat at the counter in her pyjamas with her glasses on reading the Sunday papers.

“Morning” I greeted her blearily.

“Morning” she looked up from her paper.

“How’s your...oh my god.”

She jumped up from her stool and came over guiding me under the lights from a better view.

“Jesus you look like you've done ten rounds. I'm so sorry Ellen.”

“You've nothing to be sorry for, it looks worse than it is.”

“Of course there is. We should have stayed here, I don't know what possessed me to go to a local bar on a Saturday night. Are you in pain? Let me take you to the hospital, get it x-rayed...”

“No. Stop fussing, the swelling will go down in a couple of days. It's alright, really. It doesn't hurt too badly.”

“Do you want breakfast? I was going to make bacon and eggs.”

“Maybe just scrambled eggs. I think chewing is out for today. I could use some coffee though.”

She busied herself at the counter but she was unable to take her eyes off my face.

“Stop staring. Do you have anything you want to do today?”

“You're not going anywhere. Go and put your feet up, I'll bring your breakfast over.”

I shuffled off to the couch, surprisingly touched by her care and concern. My head throbbed, my face was sore and I felt thoroughly miserable. She handed me two more painkillers with a glass of water and wandered back to the kitchen. We were quiet all morning, she plied me with hot drinks and fetched a blanket to drape over my legs. I fell asleep on the couch and woke when I heard someone knocking at the door.

I wasn't surprised when Joe Farrell came in holding my missing purse. Patty looked at him coolly but offered him a coffee and he took a seat on the opposite couch. Patty sat down close to my side.

“That's quite a shiner Ellen, how are you feeling?”

“Like someone elbowed me in the face.” I replied tartly.

“You can be sure the matter will be dealt with in-house as it were. We don't hold with this sort of thing around here. I'm genuinely sorry you were hurt.”

“Thanks for returning my bag and getting us out of there.”

“No trouble at all. I’ll see myself out. Take care ladies and Happy Christmas to you both.”

I returned the greeting as Patty walked him to the door. I had forgotten today was Christmas Eve.

“I’ve booked a Christmas lunch in Dublin tomorrow but if you don’t feel like going out I can cancel.”

“No, we should go out. I'm sure I’ll feel better tomorrow. I feel brighter already after some rest. How about a walk around the Lough? I feel like some fresh air.”

“Alright, go and wrap up. I'll put the casserole in the oven.”

The frigid air whistled up my sore nasal passages and I winced as my eyes began to water with the sensation.

“This was a bad idea, let's go back.”

“No, it's just the shock of being outside, I'll be fine in a minute, come on, let's walk.”

We set off side by side walking the gravel path that bordered the lough. We had been lucky with the weather, it had been cold but bright, no sign of snow and not much rain while we had been here.

I took her arm as we walked fairly slowly around the path. There wasn't another soul in sight and the majestic beauty of the surroundings calmed me. I cursed my lack of gloves again. I slid my hand down her arm into her coat pocket and she grasped my fingers in her gloved hand and kneaded them, warming them with her own.

Patty looked straight ahead and carried on walking, I did the same. It was so quiet out here, no road noise, no background hum of the city. Just our footsteps crunching on the path and the light wind rustling the bare trees around us. Our breath made trails of vapour in the late morning air. My mind was empty of everything except the feel of her smaller hand wrapped around mine.

With no case to consume me, no meetings to attend or deposition to prepare for I felt slightly untethered and aimless. It had been so long since I switched off I didn't really know how to do it anymore.

Work was the only thing I had in my life now and I hadn't even noticed when that happened. After David was killed I found it too difficult to be around our mutual friends. They tried to bring me out of myself but I kept on turning down their invitations and eventually they stopped asking. I keep in lose contact with Katie but she has her own life now. We were never that close but she was my link to David and the golden future that was snatched away.

The intensity of my work does not lend itself to close friendships. I don't have the time or the inclination to invest that much effort into building relationships. Men drift in and out of my life, I've never had a steady boyfriend since David. Any guy I have dated seldom lasted more than a few weeks. When I'm working I don't miss dating or a social life but over the last two months without work to consume me I realised how isolated I've become. How far I've drifted from my family. I was three thousand miles from home, stood by a lake in freezing temperatures with a black eye, a sore nose and holding the hand of a woman who tried to have me killed three years ago. I’ve enjoyed myself more the past few days than I have in years. Thats how fucked up my life has become.

Patty asked me about my plans for work once we got home and I was purposefully vague. I had the feeling she was going to ask me to go back to the firm but that was the last thing I wanted, especially now, now that we had discovered that being around each other did not automatically entail being on a battle field. We could get along, we could laugh, eat, read and relax. We could talk about work and family without accusations flying and tempers fraying.

I found her to be unfailingly polite and engaging with strangers. She was interested in history and her surroundings. She liked to be outdoors, she devoured books, disliked green vegetables and did not watch television other than news broadcasts. She was unsure of herself when she visited her family, unsure what they wanted from her, their easy affection and inclination to hug and kiss made her uncomfortable. She could not believe they were simply happy to see her and curious about her life. Most startling of all, she was caring in a nurturing sort of way. “

“Wrap up warm, be careful driving, watch your step, take your medicine.”

Patty cared for me. As we stood there I recalled how proprietary it felt when she held my arm. The sting of jealousy when Joe Farrell was around. Apparently I cared for her too.

I was glad to blame my watering eyes on the pain in my face. I squeezed her hand and she turned to face me.

“Patty, I don't want to talk about when we get back. Let's stay in the here and now. It's Christmas eve, we’re in a beautiful place, let's just enjoy it.”

When Patty looks right at you, it's impossible to tear your gaze away. I could see her considering my words, her intense blue eyes scanned my face, she seemed to be looking for something.

“Alright.” she said quietly and waited a beat. “Let's go back. The winds getting up, it's turning colder.”

We walked back, I made coffee and we ate some of yesterday's leftovers for lunch. We settled in the lounge in front of the fire. I reclined on the sofa, Patty read her book. In the morning she had put together a casserole. It had been in the oven for hours and it smelled delicious. We opened some wine and ate it as a late dinner before we ventured out onto the patio. Hundreds of blue solar powered fairy lights lined the fences and traced the outline of the rear of the cottage. I lit the huge paraffin heater, we bundled up and took a bottle of whiskey outside. It was a crystal clear night, stars blanketed the sky, a heavy frost was already settling onto the surrounding fields.

We sat on the patio furniture and just took it all in. We didn't talk much, we looked at the stars, the eerily moonlit landscape around us and each other. We stayed outside about an hour before the worsening cold drove us indoors. Her cheeks were flushed pink, her eyes were bright and lively, she wore a rakish brown trilby hat over her hair. She looked beautiful.

“Tell me about what you normally do for Christmas.”

I asked her once we settled by the fire.

“No, it's late, you've been drinking on top of painkillers and you should get some sleep.”

“Come on” I wheedled. “I'll tell you mine if you tell me yours.”

“Ellen. Go to bed.”

She sighed and looked at the flames dancing softly in the muted lights of the room. I should have paid attention to her tone which had suddenly become dull and flat. I should have looked at her eyes that had gone distant and cold. As she said, I should not have mixed pain meds and whiskey. The warm buzz of the alcohol, her easy company and the majesty of the surroundings had blurred my senses and rendered me incapable of reading the sudden shift in her mood.

“I don't want to go to bed. It's Christmas eve, we have to stay up past midnight, listen to Carols, tell stories and exchange gifts.”

She looked at me steadily for five seconds or so. My insides began to squirm. it felt like forever. I felt like a six year old rooted to the spot by my teacher for talking out of turn. I tried to unscramble my brain back into coherent thought but it refused to cooperate.

“What?” I mumbled, my discomfort making me testy.

“I am not here to entertain you. Perhaps I would rather spend the last hour of the night with a drink quietly toasting those who are no longer able to spend Christmas with their loved ones. A few minutes of contemplation, of thanks and of regret. I don't think that's much to ask.”

That self righteous tirade sobered me up faster than a slap to the face. I sat up from my reclining position and leant towards her.

“Don't talk to me about regret. You are the cause of almost all of mine.”

Her face turned to stone in front of me. All the closeness of the past few days fell away. My temper was blazing so badly it was almost a tangible thing, she was vibrating with suppressed rage, she looked ready to eviscerate me. She stood up so suddenly the chair shot backwards with a loud scrape of wood on wood. She walked down the short hallway and into her bedroom closing the door with an almighty bang that echoed around the cottage to accompany all the memories and ghosts stirred up by our short spat.

I sat there for the final hour of Christmas eve and cried like a baby. The tears fell freely, it hurt to cry. My face was sore enough without blocking my nasal passages and I desperately tried to stem the flow. Everything was fresh and raw again.

Memories of David and the holidays we spent together, splitting our time off between our families, precious hours spent huddled under the covers in our first rundown apartment. Inexpensive gifts and hours spent dreaming how our lives would be when we both qualified and began our careers. All gone. Gone in a night of violence and the madness of it all still reverberated around my soul. I don't know how long I sat there drinking and staring into the flames. My head too fuzzy and my brain too numbed by alcohol to think about anything anymore. I didn’t hear her return to the room, I barely registered her presence when she leant over and switched the fire off. She crouched in front of me and took my hands.

“Look at me.”

She commanded, although the words were softly spoken.

She tugged me into a sitting position and squeezed my hands until I managed to focus on her face. She didn't look angry or upset, just tired, resigned and so very sad.

“I'm sorry. I don't want to fight with you anymore, I'm sorry.”

She shook my hands when I dropped my gaze to return my attention to her face. The words registered in my foggy brain. She had never once apologised to me for anything. I wondered what she was sorry for and why it hurt me so much to see look so bereft.

“Come to bed.”

She tugged at me and I kept hold of my hand as she walked me down the hallway to my room. I sat down heavily on the bed and removed my clothes. My movements slow and clumsy. She tossed me pyjamas which I pulled on before visiting the bathroom. I brushed my teeth and pressed a cold washcloth to my face before drinking a glass of water.

“Are you alright in there?”

“Fine.”

I muttered as I trudged back towards the bed. I slid under the cover as she hovered in the doorway.

“I know you’re sorry. I’m sorry too. Stay if you want.”

I mumbled sleepily. I felt the bed dip and the cover settle over both of us. I curled my body around her and was asleep in seconds.

I woke up a few hours later it was still dark. Night dark with no promise of morning. I checked my cell it was a little after four in the morning. My head felt heavy and I groaned and stretched. My movement disturbed Patty whose arm encircled my waist. She muttered and tightened her grip before suddenly waking up and letting go. She moved to get up.

“What are you doing? it’s four in the morning.”

“Going to bed.” She mumbled blearily.

“You’re in bed. Stay here I’m freezing, go back to sleep.”

She lay back down and I scooted back into the warmth of her body. Her arm returned across my waist.

The next time I woke it was seven thirty. I turned over to see Patty lay on her back staring at the ceiling. She felt me stirring and flicked on the lamp.

“Hey, Happy Christmas.”

I greeted her softly. I did not want any awkwardness between us after last nights harsh words, or any embarrassment after waking up in bed together. I need not have worried, her smile was warm, her eyes held a gentle look of affection. The woman whose company I had enjoyed so much over the past few days was back and I was happy to see her.

“Morning, happy Christmas. How are you feeling, let me look at your face.”

“Don’t I must look terrible.”

She propped herself up on one elbow and gently tilted my face towards her.

“No, you look beautiful. I’ve always thought so.”

Our eyes met and I raised my head just as she lowered hers and we kissed softly. A light brushing experimental kiss. She drew away. Her face coloured but she stayed where she was, looking down at me intently, searching my face for a reaction.

I realised we had been inching towards this since I set foot on the plane with her. Perhaps since I set foot in her office five years ago. Her scrutiny was unnerving and I was suddenly conscious of what must have been awful morning breath. I had drunk heavily the night before. My mouth was dry and my throat felt thick with alcohol.

“I really need a shower.”

I mumbled and hauled myself out of bed.

Patty got up and headed for her own room. My mind went into overdrive as I showered and got ready for the day. I had no idea where we went from here. My stomach squirmed with nerves as I applied some make up trying cover the worst of the damage. The swelling had receded but my right eye was surrounded by deep purple bruising. I dried off my hair and realised I was stalling. I could hear Patty rattling around in the kitchen. It was Christmas morning, I retrieved her gift from the bedside drawer, gathered my courage and made my way down the hall.

Patty was stood in the doorway her hands wrapped around a mug of coffee. She gazed over the frost laden fields to the still waters of the lough. She must have heard my footsteps but she did not turn to face me. I could see the tension in her stance.
I walked right up behind her wrapping my arm around her waist and pulling her close. Boldly I kissed her neck, I could taste her scent. She shivered, perhaps with the cold, perhaps not. She continued to gaze over the horizon.

“Come inside, it’s freezing.”

I poured myself coffee, lit the fire and flicked the switch that illuminated the tree. I sat on the rug staring into the flames until I heard the door close. Patty entered the room and sat on the armchair behind me. I turned to face her holding out the festively wrapped parcel.

“Happy Christmas, I hope you like it.”

She retrieved a large gift bag hidden at the side of her chair.

“Happy Christmas to you too.”

She smiled at me but looked away quickly to open her gift.

I stood to open my own parcel which contained beautiful, brown Burberry leather boots and a classic fawn trench coat. In the pockets of the trench were a pair of warm, fur lined leather gloves. I smiled in delight.

“I love them all. Thank you so much.”

I was slightly embarrassed by the scale and thoughtfulness of her gifts compared to mine but when she opened the box and saw the pendant, I knew I had chosen well.

“It’s perfect.”

She smiled at me softly but I couldn’t read the expression that flitted across her face.Patty got up and clasped my arm gently on the way back into the kitchen. Whatever passed between us in the bedroom this morning seemed to have vanished like the morning mist.

Patty wandered in the kitchen and told me she had booked lunch in the city for one thirty and asked what time we should set off. She carried on, wondering if she should call in on her aunt again before we returned home. It was vaguely domestic babble. It was so unlike her, I felt a smile hovering on my lips. This was a million miles away from the Patty I was used to. She brought me a plate of sliced fruit with some plain yoghurt I sat at the counter to eat watching her warily.

“Have you called your family?”

“Not yet, it's two in the morning there.”

“Of course.”

She rolled her eyes at her own forgetfulness and washed cups at the sink. I got up and wandered round the counter. I slid my plate into the water and hovered uselessly behind her. I wanted the awkwardness and tense atmosphere to dissipate. I didn't know whether addressing what happened this morning would make things better or worse. She finished the dishes and dried her hands looking around the kitchen for something else to occupy herself with. I dithered some more and took a deep breath.

“You know, it's alright to care about me...I mean, I care about you.”

I could hear my voice wavering uncertainly. She gave me a very level stare that I matched with some difficulty and I willed myself not to fidget.

“You care about me, I care about you. I'm glad we've got that straightened out.”

She uttered sardonically and turned away dismissively. I wasn't having that.

“You kissed me this morning, now you can barely look at me.”

“Don't be ridiculous.”

“You don't want to talk about it?”

“There's nothing to talk about.”

“It was a nice kiss.”

Patty rolled her eyes and looked completely exasperated, annoyed and uncomfortable at the same time. She leant back against the counter and affected indifference. She wasn't fooling either of us. She went on the attack.

“Is this line of questioning heading anywhere?”

“We’re not in court Patty.”

“It's beginning to feel that way.”

“No, you're deflecting and trying to avoid discussing this.”

”Discussing what exactly?”

“That we find each other attractive. That, maybe we could have something that’s worth pursuing.”

There it was out. The words seemed to take on a life of their own. They gathered together and hovered over the kitchen like a cloud.

Patty threw her head back and laughed. My face flamed and I walked out of the kitchen without a word. I hauled on my boots, shrugged on my coat and went outside. I looked at the car. I was so angry I knew if I got in it I would head straight for a hotel and be on a plane the next day. In my haste to put some distance between us I hadn't picked up the keys anyway. So I turned the other way and set off walking blindly. I had to walk it off, I was furious and I didn't want the sound of her scornful laughter to be my final memory of this trip.

It was barely nine o clock, I headed down the track that would take me on the road to the village. I rubbed salty tears from my face and quickened my step thankful for flat heeled boots and my heavy coat. I jammed my hands into the pockets as I had neglected to pick up my new gloves. It took me almost half an hour to reach the village which was completely devoid of life on Christmas morning. None of the business’s were open, it was way too early for The Stag to open its doors.

A child emerged wheeling a bicycle, obviously a brand new gift. She was perhaps ten years old, her smile was as bright as the morning. Her father came out behind her no doubt to watch her progress. They both wished me a happy Christmas, I dutifully returned the greeting and walked on not wanting to intrude on their happiness.

The church loomed in front of me, an ancient stone built structure surrounded by a graveyard in a well tended garden. On impulse and through want of somewhere to get out of the cold I wandered up the path and slipped inside. There was a semi circular entryway that led onto the aisle. It was packed inside. I hovered uncertainly as the service was in full flow. I slipped into a pew right in the back and sat down. I listened to the remains of the service and then the choir began carols. It was beautiful and emotional. It was a mistake to go in there. It took me straight back to the last time I set foot in a church which was for Tom’s funeral. Memories of the day came flooding back, his bereft family, the hushed voices, the abject sense of loss and misery. Patty at my side reviled and ignored by almost everyone present.

It struck me then how alone she was. I was the only one there for her that day. I was the one she turned to for company on her current odyssey. Is that all I was to her? Someone to turn to because there was no none else. Of all people I should be the last one she should call. I should hate her, I have every reason to but I can't. I have tried and failed. Just as I had tried to stay away and failed at that too. I thought about her through every minute of that service until people began to file out. I saw Joe and Stuart Farrell and before I could make myself scarce they were right in front of me, I joined them in the cold church yard.

“Ellen, how are you feeling? That eye looks awful sore.”

Joe was his usual avuncular self.

“Better, it doesn't too hurt much, it just looks terrible.”

“Well we all felt terrible about it. Where is Patricia?”

“She isn't much one for church. She stayed at the cottage.”

I lied smoothly.

“Do you have plans for Christmas lunch? Because...”

“Yes we do” I cut him off and began walking. “I better get going actually, I’m not in the car and it's a fair walk back.”

“I'll give you a lift. Uncle Joe is needed at home to peel potatoes, in fact my Ma is heading over here now. Please get me out of it, you'll be doing me the favour.”

Stuart smiled disarmingly so I agreed. I had to get back sooner or later and the long walk didn't seem so appealing now.

“Alright, if you're sure it's no trouble.”

“No trouble at all. See you later uncle Joe.”

Joe looked at us sourly and waved us off. We walked down the road a little and got in his beat up old Volvo.

“Don't worry, it'll see you home.”

We set off and he chatted the whole journey asking questions about my life in New York and talking about his. He was a nice guy, easy to talk to and quietly charming. After a few minutes we turned onto the track that approached the cottage.

“I'm sorry about uncle Joe, he's an old fashioned man. He's lonely too since my aunt passed and he’s taken with Patricia. He doesn't realise you're erm.. together.”

My smile felt strained.

“No need to apologise.”

I said tightly because neither Patty or I had worked it out yet either, and we weren't likely to anytime soon. I thanked him for the lift and got out of the car. I looked at the tiny frontage of the cottage and sighed heavily. If things were awkward before they weren't likely to have improved in the meantime. I steeled myself and walked in.

The flames were flickering in the fireplace and Patty was sat curled into the wingback chair with a book in one hand and a glass of whiskey in the other. She raised her eyes to look at me.

“Thank god you're back I'm starving.”

I bit back several retorts because really, what was the point? Her laughter still echoed in my mind, it had hurt, it still did.

“Sure. I'll go and get ready.”

Thirty minutes later we were ready to set off. Her dress was a modest length but fitted beautifully. It was a deep plum colour and she had teamed it with a charcoal wool coat, the outfit was brought together by a purple scarf shot through with strands of silver. We were quiet in the car. I put on the radio and tried to change stations when choral voices filled the car with Christmas carols. I had already heard enough for one day.

The roads were almost totally devoid of traffic. It was an upscale boutique hotel. quite small and obviously select. We were warmly greeted. We handed our coats to one of the staff and I noticed the emerald pendant sparkling against the pale skin of her neck. I said nothing.

We were presented with drinks and escorted to our table in a secluded alcove by a bay window overlooking the grounds. Everything was the epitome of understated elegance, from the roaring fire and wood paneling to the heavyweight cutlery and fine china laid out on snowy white tablecloths. I just wasn't in the mood to appreciate it. We ordered and sat in slightly uncomfortable silence until the first course arrived. At least then we had something to occupy ourselves with. Once we got to the main course Patty decided she had had enough of the atmosphere.

“Ellen” she sighed softly. “What do you want me to say?”

“Nothing. My turkey is a little dry, what's the lamb like?”

She gave me a blistering look that I returned with some interest and cutlery clattered to the table.

“I'm sorry. Alright? I'm sorry you’re angry or upset or whatever it is you’re feeling. I'm sorry you saw fit to walk out this morning rather than stay and have an adult conversation about what's bothering you.”

“Bothering me?” I squeaked.

“I tried to have an adult conversation and you just laughed at me. Look, forget it, I don't want to spoil the rest of the day. Let's just pretend nothing happened. That's what you want isn't it? That's what you do.”

Temper made my tongue loose and my brain cloud. Spoiling the rest of the day had just been accomplished. Patty’s eyes went wide before her whole expression frosted over and she pushed her plate away.

“I want to leave.” she sat back in her chair and stared at me.

I moved my own plate away and we stood to exit the hotel barely exchanging a word. I headed for the doors and looked around to see her hovering in the small deserted bar.

“You could stay here and arrange an earlier flight home if that's what you want.”

It was uncanny how she knew that was exactly what I was thinking earlier in the day.

“Is that what you want me to do?”

The past will always be there. Whatever I say, whatever you believe makes no difference. I thought we could spend time together without it coming between us, I was foolish and wrong. Perhaps it’s time to let go. You get on with your life and I'll get on with mine.”

“I can live with it..”

I began, I didn't want this to be the end. If I walked away now I sensed it would be for the last time.

“Maybe I can't, not anymore. Do whatever you have to do, I won't fight you. The clock has been ticking ever since that day, perhaps my time is up.”

“I would never have betrayed you. Not then and not now. All I ever wanted was to matter to you, for you to see me, and just when I thought at last you had, you laughed in my face.”

“What did you expect me to do? What could we ever have?”

She sounded desolate rather than angry.

“I always saw you Ellen, I always will. Go back inside. I'll send your things over tomorrow.”

“Don't do this.”

“Do what? This is what you’ve wanted for a long time. Revenge, retribution for David, for everything you lost. Take it, perhaps you'll find some peace.”

“I've made my peace with it and with you.”

“Every time we argue it will always be there.”

“Then lets stop arguing. Let's just have a drink and talk. I don't want to leave things like this. I can't stand the thought of not having you in my life.”

“You'll get used to it.”

She walked through the doors and out towards the car. I followed her to the exit and watched. She didn't look back. I felt like a child abandoned on the steps. Her words echoed in my mind. Was this what I wanted? A virtual admission of guilt, an invitation to investigate her. The opportunity to hold her accountable for her actions?

I stared at the slight figure walking away from me. The regal bearing, the sure footsteps. The weight of the secrets she carried would have crippled most people but Patty kept on walking.

I looked back into the warmth of the hotel and forwards once more to the woman I would never understand. The one who had tormented me for years. I made my choice. I realised I was the one who had always ran after her. Yes she made overtures, she sent gifts and maintained contact but the choice had always been mine and I had always made the same one.

“Patty wait.”

She stood by the car watching as I made my way across the parking area, treading carefully on frosty ground in high heels. As I approached she smiled, a smile tinged with sadness and regret but a genuine smile none the less.

“There's no going back Ellen.”

She spoke quietly, warningly. I nodded and kept walking until I was close enough to touch. I reached out and traced the chain of the pendant on her neck before kissing her gently on the cheek, she shivered.

“Then let’s go forward. Together.”

We stood staring at each other for what felt like an age. Patty broke the silence.

“Get in the car, there’s cheese, crackers and wine in the fridge.”

“Kiss me and I’ll get in.”

She sighed mightily.

“You’re going to be difficult aren’t you?”

I smiled stupidly feeling a surge of happiness.

“Yes, I’m sure you will be too. Kiss me anyway.”

To my surprise she did. She wrapped her arms around my waist and kissed me in the parking lot of a small hotel in Dublin on Christmas Day. It was the season of miracles after all.