My Mother's Secret by Sheila O'Flanagan Read Free Book Online Page A

and Marshalls and Carmichaels too, all of whom had at various times stayed at Aranbeg. Nobody with even the slightest family link to Jenny and Pascal had been omitted from the guest list. Maybe it was for the best that Steve had bailed out. You didn’t bring people you weren’t fairly serious about to family occasions, and it was perfectly clear to her that even if she’d had notions about being serious with Steve, he currently didn’t feel the same way about her.
    Her best friend Brianna often told her that she went out with the wrong sort of men deliberately, that she always chose the ones who weren’t looking for commitment, and that Steve was a prime example of this. Whenever Brianna voiced her opinion, Steffie would retort that it was impossible to know at the start how committed anyone was going to be. And yet … She sighed. Was she simply fooling herself? Was Brianna right, and she was afraid to find someone to be totally serious about just in case, like Steve, he wasn’t equally serious in return?
    She slid further down into the bath. A girl could go mad guessing and second-guessing her own motivation, she thought as she captured some foam with her hands and sculpted rose-scented pyramids on her breasts. Maybe the reason I don’t want to get too serious is that I’m going to get that design contract and am therefore on the cusp of being the kind of ball-breaking woman who puts her career ahead of anything else in her life. And then dies alone and is eaten by her cats! She giggled to herself. Serious career women didn’t make conical bras from the foam in their baths, for heaven’s sake. She was an idiot. And she shouldn’t get annoyed, as she always did, about the remarks that would undoubtedly be made about her single state today. It was apparently an obligation at family events for every married member to ask the single women if they were thinking about giving up their freedom any day soon. Besides, she wouldn’t be the only one without a partner in tow. Her cousins Colette and Alivia, slightly older than her, were both single too. In fairness, Colette had actually been engaged three times but she’d broken it off long before actual wedding plans were made. In Alivia’s case, her career as a presenter on a popular afternoon TV show was on the up-and-up and she didn’t have time for serious relationships. The show had recently been commissioned for another series and Alivia was the anchor, so Steffie couldn’t see anyone telling her that she’d be better of being married with kids.
    It’s only the women on Mum’s side who stay single, Steffie mused as she closed her eyes again. On Dad’s side, they’re all married. But perhaps I was right when I told Roisin there was nothing else to do in the nineties. All the married women are hitting forty. All the single ladies are in their late twenties or early thirties. We’re a different generation. We have a different outlook. And that’s a good thing.
    A distant chime startled her and she sat up abruptly, sending a tidal wave over the side of the bath. She swore under her breath and for a brief moment wondered if it was Steve after all. Maybe he’d phoned her from his car on the way down to the house and had told her he wouldn’t be there so that she’d be pleasantly surprised when he did turn up. Highly unlikely, she admitted to herself as she got out of the bath and grabbed two towels, one for herself and one for the wet floor. It wasn’t his style. As she hastily wrapped the towel around her, it caught the edge of the stool and knocked her mobile to the floor, where it slid across the white tiles and slammed into the wall. Her heart sank as she picked it up. But although the screen was cracked for the third time in as many months, the phone itself was still working. She gave both it and herself a hasty wipe with the towel before pulling her dress on to her still damp body and then hurrying down the stairs in her bare feet, re-securing her hair