Early the next morning, I rang Michael’s phone. I hadn’t slept well and had laid in bed wondering and worrying, thinking of my past and Rosie’s present and our future, wondering what it looked like. Michael needed to know what was going on in Rosie’s life and the fact that she very well might not be sitting her Leaving Cert this year and the sooner I told him and prepared him for disappointment the better. He was in Brussels as far as I knew.
‘Tabitha?’ He sounded half-asleep. It was eight a.m., surely, there was some kind of high-powered breakfast meeting he should be at?
‘Hi Michael,’ I said. ‘How’s it going?’
‘Pretty good,’ he said. ‘Just checking something. This thing is saying I slept for nine and half hours. No, sorry, nine and three-quarters. I could sleep longer. Getting ready for my big presentation tomorrow. And then there’s the vote at the end of the week. I’m not so much up to my eyes but am submerged.’ He paused. ‘So why are you ringing? Is there something wrong? A fuse gone? Your mother arrested?’ He laughed at his own joke.
‘Michael, this is actually pretty serious.’
‘What? She has been arrested. Listen, I can’t pull any strings. It would be against SIPL. If she is in some cell somewhere justice will have to be seen to be done.’
‘It’s Rosie,’ I said, ‘it’s about her exams.’
‘Tabitha,’ he said. ‘Anyone would think she was the only person who’d ever done an exam. It’s you, it is. Fussing. Just let her get on with it. She does so much better when you are not hovering around looking worried.’
‘Michael!’
‘Well, sometimes it has to be said. I’m not being personal, it’s just mothers. They’re rather suffocating at times. I mean, look at mine.’
‘It’s Rosie,’ I said, keeping my voice calm. ‘Just to let you know that she’s not going to be doing her exams. Not this year anyway. I’ve been thinking and thinking and maybe she can start again next year, this time with different expectations and goals.’
There was a noise that sounded like Michael falling off the bed. ‘What?’ He was muffled, and then clearer as he wrested back control of his phone. ‘Of course she’s going to do her exams! How can she not do them? It’s what you do. It’s what we all did.’ You could practically hear the whirring of his brain, as he tried to assimilate this new information. ‘You are born, you go to school, you learn how to read and write and then you do your exams. It’s how it’s been done for millennia. Unless you are mentally incapacitated or the academically disinclined and, as far as I am aware, our daughter is neither.’
No one witnessed my eye-roll. Michael was on another planet entirely.
‘She hasn’t been working,’ I said. ‘She’s been far too anxious.’
‘Anxious? It’s called the Leaving Cert. It’s supposed to make you anxious. It’s no walk in the park, you know. It’s not like Who Wants Be A Millionaire. Nice easy questions and phone a friend!’
‘She’s been having panic attacks,’ I pressed on. ‘Remember at your mother’s party?’
‘That was nothing. The room was too hot and she was being forced to talk to Imelda Goggins. That would induce panic in any right-minded person. I’ve spent my life perfecting disinterested interest and a healthy internal world when talking to people like her. Rosie just needs a bit more practice.’
‘Michael, listen to me.’ I could feel myself getting annoyed. ‘Rosie hasn’t actually done any work.’
‘But every time I ask, you say she’s up in her bedroom. Working.’
‘I was wrong.’
‘Wrong? I leave my daughter in your care and this happens!’ He blustered. ‘I am off trying to make Europe a better place for our citizens. And upholding standards in public life. And supporting the dairy farmers of Ireland and you take your eye off the ball…’
‘Michael. Just stop this. Okay? It’s no one’s fault. We’ve just got to look after Rosie…’ But then I heard his voice break. A wobble? Michael never wobbled. He was Teflon.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said, dropping his voice so low I had to strain my ears. ‘I’m under a great deal of pressure, that’s all,’ he whispered into the phone. ‘This couldn’t have come at a worse time for me.’
‘What do you mean? It’s not about you. I think, Michael, that it might be a good idea if you…’
‘It’s just… I’ll talk to you later. Okay?’
‘Are you going to call Rosie, tell her that it’s okay, that you understand and that you love her despite her not going to college? Well, not this year anyway.’
‘She knows that anyway. She knows that I support her whatever she does. Even if she doesn’t…’ He stopped, as if the enormity of what he was contemplating was hitting him for the first time, his voice cracking at the horror and enormity, ‘even if she doesn’t go to Trinity.’
‘It’s disappointing, I know,’ I said.
‘I won’t be able to go back to sleep now,’ he said. ‘I may as well get up…’
‘And phone your daughter!’
*
After I’d put down the phone, I heard Rosie come downstairs. ‘Morning, sweetheart,’ I said. ‘I’m making pancakes.’
‘Oh God.’ She began to cry. ‘You’re trying to be some mum in an American sitcom.’
‘Oh Rosie…’ I went over and gave her a hug.
‘But no one made you pancakes when you had your… your miscarriage. I’ve been thinking about you. That was horrible. You were so young. I can’t believe you were so young.’
‘It happened. It was really sad. It changed my life, yes. But I’ve no regrets. People have miscarriages and I do think of the baby and wonder about it, but it wasn’t meant to be. You were meant to be. And everyone needs someone to make them pancakes.’ I placed one in front of her, not wanting her to realise that I had thought about the baby I lost every single day since. ‘There we go. So tell me, how was your night? Did you sleep?’
If she had, then she was the only one of us who had slept that night. I had lain awake thinking about her, about what had happened and why, how much of it was my fault (pretty much all of it) and where we would go from here.
‘Not really,’ she admitted. ‘But I feel a bit better. Like the alien is shrinking. Just a bit.’
I smiled. ‘Glad to hear it. You know why?’
‘Why?’
‘Because you’ve started talking about it. You’re not alone with what you might think of as your shame. Once you start telling people, the shame – or the alien – is exposed. It has no power.’ I took a deep breath. ‘This is where it ends right now, okay? This is where this stops. We have to work out what kind of help and support you need…’
‘But I don’t want to leave the house. Not ever. It scares me to think about going to the shop. What was I thinking that I would be able to go to college? Or inter-railing. Or anywhere. I am seventeen years old and I just want to stay with my mum. Isn’t that crazy. I’d die if anyone found out. Every time you left the house lately I’d be scared that you wouldn’t come back, but if I just stayed in my room, doing nothing, it was as though I could control that tiny part of my life.’
‘I always came back though, didn’t I?’
She nodded.
‘And I always will. Sweetheart, you don’t need to leave the house. Not until you’re ready.’
‘Okay.’
‘But we do need to get some help, okay? I’m going to call the school in the morning and tell them what’s been going on and talk about a few options. I think you need to talk to someone…’
‘It was as though I was the only person in the world,’ she said, tears forming in her eyes. ‘Every time I went out, I could just see faces, you know, people everywhere all doing things, being functional and normal and happy. And there was I, all weird and strange and not normal. I thought something might happen, like another panic attack, or worse, that I might die, you know, from not breathing. Staying inside was safest…’
‘I wished you’d told me.’
‘I couldn’t… I was just trying to manage it. Anyway, I didn’t want to let you down…’ She almost smiled. ‘I made everything worse, didn’t I?’
‘No.’ I took her hand again and I kissed it. ‘No you didn’t.’
‘I just want to be normal, Mum? Everyone else I know is normal, they are all working so hard. What is wrong with me? Why can’t I do this? Every time I tried, every time I sat down at my desk, I could just feel this horrible feeling inside me, rising up, like some kind of wave that I could actually taste. It was disgusting. And it was like that was who I was, who I am, this horrible disgusting person who can’t be…’ she began to sob once more… ‘who can’t be normal.’
‘You are normal…’ I was crying too now. ‘You are normal. This is normal. What’s happened is normal. Panicking, feeling scared, things going wrong are normal. What’s not normal is the way other people present themselves to the world as if there’s nothing wrong. Everyone is scared, everyone makes mistakes and no one is perfect. But life is not crap forever. It’s not ongoingly crap or awful. But without crappiness, you don’t get the happiness.’
‘Oh my God, did you just make that up?’
‘Yes! It just came out. Genius? No?’
‘No.’ But she smiled at me.
*
I had no choice but to leave her when I went to school and that morning, the first face I saw was Christy, sitting in one of those large picnic chairs, a mug of tea in the cup holder, notebook on his lap. When he saw me, he signalled to Leaf to give him a hand up and she hoisted him to his feet. ‘Tabitha!’ He hobbled over to me wearing a t-shirt which had a vaguely recognisable face on the front and the words Leonard Cohen is how the light gets in.
‘Beautiful day,’ he said, when I’d rolled down my window. ‘The kind of day that makes you feel like you don’t ever want the day to end.’
I nodded, I supposed it was. ‘Nice t-shirt, Christy,’ I said, getting out of the car to talk to him properly.
‘Red bought it for me,’ he said, ‘from California. He knows I am a disciple of the great man.’
‘And what would Leonard Cohen have made of Nora’s Last Stand?’
‘My poem or the point of principle?’
‘Both.’
‘He would have been impressed by the latter and I would say encouraging about the former. He might give me a few tips, though, on how to write a great poem. It’s a very creatively inspiring space, Tabitha, I have to say.’
‘Really?’ Was heating Heinz tomato soup really so inspiring? Forming a human blockade, pitching mother against daughter, really so exciting. I was feeling decidedly weary regarding the whole thing. ‘That’s nice for you. It’s great, Christy, it really is that so many people are having the time of their lives while making mine really difficult.’ I thought of Rosie at home. She’d cried that morning when I said I had to leave, making me promise that I would be home at lunchtime to check on her.
Christy nodded. ‘You’re right, Tabitha,’ he said, gently. ‘It seems very unfair, doesn’t it?’
I nodded. ‘Yes it does. And how am I meant to make a rational decision in either direction under these circumstances?’
‘I don’t know. But you will.’
‘What?’
‘Make the right decision – whatever it is. If it’s to sell the land, then I know it is the right decision.’
‘Why?’ I said suspiciously. ‘What do you mean?’
‘I’ve always admired you, young Tabitha,’ he said. ‘You are one of those people who aren’t afraid of anything.’
‘Thank you, Christy.’ If only he knew. I had lived my life based on fear.
‘As Leonard would say,’ he went on, ‘poetry is just the evidence of life if your life is burning well, poetry is just the ash.’
Did he expect me to start writing poetry now? Just being me was struggle enough. ‘I think I’ll leave the composing and the musing to you, Christy,’ I said. ‘And I’ll…’ I’ll what? Carry on being the bad guy? The one on the wrong side every time?
But he chuckled. ‘You’ll do the right thing,’ he said. ‘Whatever it is, you’ll do the right thing. You know it’s much easier to be us,’ he said, pointing to the protestors. ‘We’re just speaking out. We don’t have anything else to do. You are the one with the weight of decision on your shoulders. You are the one with the weight of responsibility.’
I shrugged noncommittally.
‘This situation…’ He gestured to the protestors. ‘And all you can do is find a place of peace.’
‘Peace?’ I said, sulkily, but realising how much I loved Christy. He was right. Fighting never got anyone anywhere. This was democracy and however much I would have like to live in a totalitarian state, we didn’t and I would have to suck it up. Also, the energy I had for the sale of the land and all the improvements was waning. Our pupils, were, on the whole happy. If I didn’t make any more speeches which would make them cry, then we weren’t doing too badly. Rosie was alone and upset. All anyone needed was love. Soppy but true.
‘Have you written any more about the protest?’
‘I have a few,’ he admitted. ‘Well, more than a few. Seeing these people, never giving up, standing up for what they believe in… it’s been quite the inspiration.’
‘Really?’
‘Really,’ he said. ‘And that’s what I want to talk to you about. You see, my book is going to be published and I wanted to know if I had your permission.’
‘For what?’
‘To publish it. Nora’s Last Stand could be out by Christmas. I’m finishing a few poems off and I have one more to write. But it won’t happen unless…’
‘Unless what?’
‘Unless Nora’s Last Stand has your blessing. I won’t publish it if it makes you unhappy or uneasy or uncomfortable.’
‘Congratulations,’ I said. ‘That’s great news.’
‘And your blessing?’
‘Why not?’ I couldn’t think of any reason why I wouldn’t give it. It was slightly irksome but if something good, such as Christy getting a book published could come out of this, then who was I to prevent it?
*
‘I have something to ask you,’ Mary said, standing at the door of my office. ‘I need to go away. I know it’s short notice but…’ She looked at me pleadingly.
‘Come in,’ I said. ‘Come and sit down.’ We were two weeks to the end of term. Something must be wrong. ‘Are you all right?’
‘I am so sorry, Tabitha,’ she said, sitting down in the chair in front of my desk, her hands twisting in her lap. ‘But I have to go. I don’t have a choice.’
‘Okay…’
‘But,’ she said quickly, ‘everything’s in order. I thought that I might have to go and so I’ve been getting everything ready just in case. Just in case. The school reports are ready to send out, all the notices for next term, the filing… everything’s done. I stayed late, all night, actually, yesterday. It’s all done.’ She looked at me. ‘Please?’
‘Of course,’ I said. ‘If you have to. But what is it? Where are you going? Are you ill?’
She shook her head. ‘No, not ill. I’m fine but I can’t tell you, Tabitha, but I will, as soon as I’m home again I will. I just can’t. It’s too important and…’ There were tears in her eyes. I’d never seen Mary well up before. ‘I can’t tell anyone anything. Just in case…’
‘Just in case what?’
‘Just in case I jinx it.’
Maybe it was financial trouble? She wasn’t about to join the Sisters of Charity? Never to be seen again without a wimple.
‘It’s all I’ve ever wanted,’ she said. ‘I can’t tell you what it is because you’ll tell me not to do it or that it’s too risky and I’ll only get hurt like the last time…’
‘If there’s anything I can do to help you… anything at all… Please call me. Money… whatever you need.’
‘Tabitha, you make it sound like I’m dying.’
‘You’re not are you?’
‘My time will come but, as far as I’m aware, it won’t be anytime soon.’
‘You will look after yourself, won’t you? And call me, any time. Please?’
She nodded. ‘I’ve never been so nervous in my entire life,’ she said, standing up. ‘Wish me luck, Tabitha. Wish me luck.’
‘Good luck Mary.’ It was like she was off to war. Oh Jesus. She wasn’t heading off to fight terrorists, was she? I went over to her and we grabbed each other’s hands and hugged tightly, her tiny body shaking like a leaf.