Page 79 of Back in the Saddle

She was right.

“Go home. Talk to him. I’ll handle anything that pops up here.”

“Thanks, Mum.”

She gave me another hug. “Ciaron loves you. He will step up. If he doesn’t, he’ll have me to answer to. And then we can both divorce his arse.”

I took a deep breath and nodded.

When I got home, I went in via the sliding door in our room, hoping Ciaron would be there, and we could talk. My shoulders slumped when I didn’t find him. It looked like I’d have to drag him away from Mary.

Her loud voice carried easily down the hallway. “Garinion”—grandchildren, she was talking to Isabelle and Callum—“your mum can’t help it. Work has always been more important to her than you.”

I clenched my fists. It was bad enough she was trying to turn Ciaron against me, but bringing my children into it was low.

“It’s not like that Mamo,” Callum said. “She works hard, so we have a future.”

“Nonsense. She couldn’t even buy Isabelle a new dress.”

I stormed down the hallway. Ciaron wasn’t there. It was Isabelle, Callum and Mary. “Go to your room,” I said to the kids.

Isabelle and Callum hurried out.

I spun on Mary, who merely smiled at me.

Bitch.

31

Ciaron

Ipaused my hammering and grabbed my next piece of scrap wood for the frame I was making for Isabelle. In the quiet I could hear horses in the paddock beside the shed whinnying and snorting. I never missed the sounds of the city with the constant traffic or the loud voices or the fighting. Whenever we went into the city now, I couldn’t wait to leave.

Callum came running into the shed. “Dad, hurry.”

My head jerked up. “What’s wrong?”

He grabbed my arm and pulled me towards the house. “Mamo was talking shit about Mum.”

“What?” My feet moved faster.

“Mamo was bagging Mum out. Mum heard. She’s angry.”

I broke into a run and charged into the house. Neither of them noticed me.

Taylor was yelling. “I’ve had enough of you. It’s one thing turning Ciaron against me, but my children?”

Mam shrugged one shoulder. “It’s working.”

What the fuck?

“Why would you want to do that to me? To him? To your own grandchildren? Why would you want them to think they are unloved?”

“Not unloved,” Mam said, smiling. “Just unloved by you.”

Taylor stumbled backwards.

“Dad, do something,” Isabelle begged.

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