Page 1

Prologue

The young woman looked out across the sea from her room, high up above what passed for a main thoroughfare on the small island of Ithos. From her vantage point, she could see the bustle of the harbour but was spared the heat of the midday sun and the throng of holidaymakers who swarmed the narrow streets, here on trips from the larger islands of Crete and Rhodes.

The room was sparse, furnished in the traditional Greek way: terracotta tiles on the floor, a simple bed, a pine dresser, crisp white sheets, shutters on the window. A light breeze lifted the thin voile curtain, which swirled around her like a veil before hanging limp once more.

She drank in the sight below – fishermen hailing each other across the boats which lined the jetty, each man moving with a rhythm handed down from the generations before them. Mooring their boats, hauling the nets, passing their precious cargo of sardines and mackerel from ship to shore. Watching them, it seemed to her that nothing had changed here for centuries.

She turned away, tugging the rucksack zipper closed which was already carefully packed with everything she needed, and turned to survey the room one last time.

Catching sight of the postcard lying next to the bag, she picked it up and reread the words that were so familiar she could recite them by heart:

Always have hope. We have our dreams. Don’t wait for me …

She turned the postcard between her fingertips, looking again at the image on the reverse, the shot of Ithos, a Greek island idyll with its white beaches and sapphire sea, cobbled streets lined with traditional buildings, and behind them the craggy hills of the interior, always changing, always the same.

With a sigh she propped the postcard up on the dresser, no longer wishing to keep it. She didn’t need it now; the words were indelibly etched in her mind – she would never, could never forget them. Then she heard the clatter of footsteps on the stone staircase leading up to the room. A knock at the door. She took one last look at the postcard and turned to answer the door.

PART ONE

Chapter 1

Los Angeles, September 2000

Shauna Jackson adjusted her dark glasses, even though there was no need for them with the early morning light barely penetrating the windows of Los Angeles International Airport. She checked her watch, impatient to reclaim her luggage and board the limousine that would take her home. Home, she thought; what a mass of contradictions that threw up. She’d just stepped off a plane from Ireland, a place that hadn’t been home for years, but as the old adage said, you can take the girl out of Enniscrea …

There were times, and today was one of them, when she felt like an imposter in LA. As if Shauna Jackson, award-winning actress, widow of Dan Jackson, the directors’ director, was a fraud and at any moment she’d be stripped of her Golden Globes and Emmys and sent back to Enniscrea with her tail between her legs – an outcome which would undoubtedly please her mother.

She shivered, wondering if the drizzle and mist of the west coast of Ireland had got into her bones, or maybe there was still a little shard of ice left in her heart that even the rising heat of California couldn’t melt. If only her father were here to sprinkle some of his magical optimism over her. She could imagine him telling her, C’mon, Shauna, buck up – there’s joy and happiness underneath every paving stone if you’d only take a look. Instead she was alone, and though she had wealth and all the trappings of fame, it couldn’t shield her from the humiliation and anguish.

Oh Dan, why did you do it?

Shauna peered through her Chanel sunglasses, surveying the baggage claim area to see if anyone had recognized her. There had been a time when she would have smiled and been happy to sign autographs, but today she’d employed all the little tricks Hollywood’s finest used to go undetected: she’d made sure she was the last one off the plane, she’d kept her luggage to the minimum, her flame-red hair was concealed under a fedora and her green eyes were hidden behind dark glasses, and she’d travelled under her maiden name, Shauna O’Brien, in case anyone tipped the paparazzi off after seeing the flight manifest. She’d had enough of photographers to last a lifetime. In the aftermath of her husband’s shockingly sudden death they’d hounded her, driven into a feeding frenzy by the news that he’d been unfaithful and had fathered a son by another woman. As if the loss weren’t bad enough, she’d had to cope with Dan’s mistress selling her story, airing all the dirty secrets. Her life had turned into a never-ending nightmare.

And in Ireland things had gone from bad to worse …

When she recalled stepping off the plane at Shannon Airport, it felt as though time had stood still. No paparazzi lying in wait, no one giving her a second glance. The taxi driver who delivered Shauna to her parents’ trim white cottage chattered away oblivious to the fact he had a celebrity on board. It was as if she’d reverted to being Shauna O’Brien, as if she’d never left Enniscrea.

The blast of disapproval as she hauled her cases over the threshold was just like old times too. She’d known that the last thing her mother would want was her arriving unannounced, but it was the only way Shauna was going to catch her off-guard, get some answers.

‘Staying a while, are you?’

‘If it’s a problem, I can always go to a hotel, Mammy.’

‘I didn’t say it’s a problem,’ she sniffed. ‘I just wasn’t expecting you to visit.’

‘Your letter had me worried. I booked the first flight I could.’

‘Well, your da will be pleased to see you.’ Her tone implied that she didn’t much care either way.

‘What’s wrong with him, Mammy?’ She lowered her voice in case Da was somewhere within earshot, though if he had been, he’d surely have come to the door to greet her. ‘Reading between the lines, I got the impression it’s serious. I’ve been worried sick, not knowing what’s going on. Why must you always be so mysterious?’ Shauna knew why: it was a form of control, a way of keeping a tight rein on the flow of information between her daughter and her husband.

‘I reckoned you had enough on your plate, what with that scandal all over the news.’ Her mother’s lips pursed, prune-like wrinkles radiating out from her mouth. ‘I’m shocked that woman dared show her face, and at the wake, of all things. I can’t help thinking it’s a blessing the two you of never had children. The shame of it all … What must the priest have thought when he saw the papers? I hope you apologized to him. And to think your husband … I’ve barely been able to look Father Sean in the eye. This wouldn’t have happened if you’d stayed in Enniscrea.’

Shauna knew to argue was pointless. ‘Where’s Da?’

‘He’s having a lie-down. He’ll be awake shortly. I’ll put the kettle on while you go get yourself sorted?’

Shauna knew there’d be no answers from her mother until she was good and ready, so she bumped her suitcases up the narrow staircase to her old attic bedroom with its view of the sea in the distance. It wasn’t quite the panoramic view of Pacific sunrises and sunsets you got in California, but still the views in Enniscrea could take your breath away, with showers and sunshine combining to throw rainbows across the sky, two or three at a time. She’d never tired of gazing at them as child, shouting for her da to come see. She could picture him now, jiggling her on his knee and telling her stories of the leipreacháns, the mischievous little people who hid their pots of gold at the end of the rainbow where no one would ever find them.