Minding Frankie - Maeve Binchy [159]
“You mean all these people know that our father is getting married?” she asked Pat.
“Aren’t they all so pleased for him?” Pat said. It was as simple as that.
And Moira prepared to sit through the whole ceremony, nuptial Mass and papal blessing knowing that she was the only person present who knew the whole story. When it came to the part where the priest asked was there any reason why these two persons should not marry, Moira sat dumb.
The presents were displayed in one of the reception rooms at the Stella Maris, and everyone seemed to think highly of the hand-painted tablecloth. Maureen Kennedy, now Maureen Tierney and her stepmother, drew Moira aside.
“That was really a most thoughtful gift, and I hope now that the situation has been regularized you will come sometime and stay under our roof and maybe we will eat dinner with this beautiful cloth on the table.”
“That would be lovely,” Moira breathed.
Faith had been away for three days, and when she came back she rushed in to pick up Frankie.
“Have I brought you the cutest little boots?” she said to the baby as she hugged her.
“The child has far too many clothes,” Noel said.
“Ah, Noel, they’re lovely little boots—look at them!”
“She’ll have grown out of them in a month,” he said.
The light had gone out of Faith’s face. “Sorry—is something annoying you?”
“Just the way everyone piles clothes on her. That’s all.”
“I’m not everyone and I’m not piling clothes on her. She needs shoes to go to the opening of the site for the new garden on Saturday.”
“Oh, God—I’d forgotten that.”
“Better not let your parents know you did. It’s the highlight of their year.”
“Will there be lots of people there?” he asked.
“Noel, are you all right? You look different somehow, as if something fell on you.”
“It did in a way,” Noel said.
“Are you going to tell me?”
“No, not at the moment. Is that all right? I’m sorry for being so rude—they’re adorable shoes; Frankie will be the last word on Saturday.”
“Of course she will—now will I get us some supper?”
“You’re a girl in a million, Faith.”
“Oh, much more than that—one in a billion, I’d say,” she said and went into the kitchen.
Noel forced himself into good humor. Frankie was unpacking the little pink boots from their box with huge concentration. Why couldn’t she be his child? He sat in the kitchen and watched Faith move deftly around, getting together a supper in minutes, something that would have taken him forever.
“You love Frankie as much as if she were yours, don’t you?” he said.
“Of course I do. Is this what’s worrying you? She is mine in a way, since I mostly live with her and I help to look after her.”
“But the fact that she’s not yours doesn’t make any difference?”
“What are you on about, Noel? I love the child. I’m mad about her—don’t you know that?”
“Yes, but you’ve always known she wasn’t yours,” he said sadly.
“Oh, I know what this is all about—it’s this ludicrous Moira who started this off in your head. It’s like a wasp in your mind, Noel, buzzing at you. Chase it away. You’re obviously her father; you’re a great father.”
“Suppose I had a DNA test and found she wasn’t—what then?”
“You’d insult that beautiful child by having a DNA test? Noel, you’re unhinged. And what would it matter what the test said, anyway?”
He could have told her there and then. Gone to the drawer and taken out the letter with the results. He could have said that he had done the test and the answer was that Frankie was not his. This was the only girl he had ever felt close enough to even consider marrying; should he share this huge secret with her?
Instead, he shrugged.
“You’re probably right—only a very suspicious, untrusting person would go for that test.”
“That’s more like it, Noel,” Faith said happily.
Noel sat for a long time at the table when Faith left. He had three envelopes in front of him: one contained the results of the DNA test, one had the letter that Stella had left for him before she died and one held the letter she had addressed to Frankie. Back in the frightening early