OLLY
The room is quiet as we all take in Pops’ words, digesting this latest missive.
‘If you thought my German was pants, wait till you hear my Austrian,’ I say.
‘German is the official language there,’ Mae says, smiling at me. ‘We might even get fluent yet.’
‘We need to get some basic phrases learnt,’ I say. ‘I mean, we can’t be fluent, but I think it’s only good manners that we at least try to have some stock sentences ready that we can use.’
‘Good thinking,’ Mae says.
‘Fancy doing that for us?’ I nudge Evie. ‘Just prepare a list of phrases that we might use every day and teach us lot as we drive along?’
I’m half expecting her to give me a dirty look, shake her head vehemently and stick it back into the goddamn iPod. But I’ve noticed that Evie is unsure of herself. And she never used to be like that. She was always fearless, but those stupid girls have knocked her confidence. She just needs to start trusting herself and her abilities. Maybe giving her a few jobs, some responsibility, might help build her up.
‘That’s a great idea,’ Mae says.
Finally, Evie looks up and says one word. ‘Okay.’
‘That’s my girl.’
‘I’m not doing any dancing,’ Jamie declares. ‘Superheroes don’t do twirling.’
‘How do you know?’ Mae asks. ‘Remember what Pops said, grab every opportunity.’
‘I had to go horseriding, so you have to dance, dude,’ I say.
I wait for his retort, but he surprises with, ‘When is Pops coming back, do you think?’ I think I’ve misheard him.
‘What do you mean?’ I ask.
‘Pops, when does he come back again? He said that he’d always find a way to come back. I just wish he’d do it soon.’ The whole time he speaks, he keeps playing with his toy on the table in front of him. ‘I miss him.’
And then he starts to cry. Silent tears at first, spilling in big fat splashes onto the Formica table. Then, as if a dam has burst inside of him, he starts to sob loudly, his skinny little frame shuddering.
I thought he was doing okay. More than okay, as he seemed to be more interested in playing than talking about Pops and his death.
Mae has scooped him into her arms and is gently rocking him.
‘I miss him,’ Evie says.
‘I’m sad too, guys. We all are,’ Mae says.
I search through the briefcase and pull out the bundle of letters, untying them. I flick through them, till I locate the first letter. I want to find the exact words, here it is!
But grief is inevitable. So I’ll not tell you to stop crying.
‘It’s okay to cry. It’s okay to mourn his absence,’ I say, pointing to his words.
‘Remember, Pops is here, in our hearts,’ Mae says. ‘I am in awe at how much he loved all of us. That’s what keeps me going.’
I grab some kitchen roll and pass it to Mae, to help mop up Jamie’s face. That’s the thing about grief and loss. You think you are doing okay, then suddenly you are on your knees, hobbled by it.
‘Just think of how much work he put into this trip. How thoughtful he’s been,’ Mae continues and we all nod.
‘Do you think he’s going to come back?’ Jamie asks.
‘I think he’ll find a way to let us know he’s thinking of us. He always does. I speak to him a lot. In my head, I tell him stuff and sometimes I can hear him, see him,’ I say and this seems to mollify him. His breathing regularises and his tears stop.
‘Go to Daddy,’ Mae says, passing him over to me for a cuddle.
‘You okay?’ She turns to Evie.
Evie shrugs.
Mae picks up the letter and passes it to Evie. ‘I think your first translation should be finding the word for lederhosen!’
‘I’m not wearing any lederhosen,’ I say. ‘Don’t be getting any ideas.’
‘And don’t even think of making dresses out of curtains for me,’ Evie says, a smile beginning to come onto her face.
‘Oh, you’ll all be singing the hills are alive by the time that tour is over. I know you lot,’ Mae says.
I pull out the battered atlas and open up Austria. And the four of us huddle over it, heads touching, as we look over our route for the next week. Germany has been a mixed bag for me. Parts of it were incredible, others not so good.
We leave Germany with the anticipation of a new week in a new country at an all-time high. For me, Austria feels like we are venturing into unknown territory. I notice the changing landscape around me and slow Nomad down.
‘Kids. Take a look at that,’ I say to them and am gratified to hear suitable oohs and aahs from them in response. We are looking at snow-covered mountain tops, with waterfalls and glaciers on either side of us.
The road is quite good, but even so, I drive carefully. Soon, the peaks of the Otzal Alps stand proud and tall in front of us.
‘What’s that?’ Jamie asks as I drive right into the heart of the Tyrolean Arctic.
‘It’s a glacier region. No wonder it’s called the most beautiful spot in Austria,’ Mae answers.
We take our time and whenever I find a spot to park up safely, I do, and we take dozens of photographs. I’ve always felt that Ireland is one of the most beautiful countries in the world, with amazing diverse landscapes. But this here, well, it’s competition for my home country.
We find a village that looks like it’s straight out of a folk story and eat ice-cream. I think back to our first few days of the trip, licking ice-creams on the beach in Normandy and can hardly credit that we are now here.
It’s slightly surreal looking at snow-capped mountains in the sunshine and I promise Jamie that I’ll bring him back one day to ski.
After the drama of Jamie going missing, we stick closer together. Evie, to my surprise, is going for several hours at a time without pining for Wi-Fi. When we find our campsite in Otz, a pretty town that lies on a sunny slope at the foot of the Alps, she doesn’t even mention it once. We’ve begun to find our rhythm as a family again. It’s as if we suddenly have lost our two left feet and are no longer tripping each other up.
The drive towards Salzburg is another lazy, enjoyable day, enjoying the landscape and beauty around us. There’s a quiet beauty to Austria. Mae said last night that she feels like it’s almost magical. And while I normally don’t go for that kind of stuff, I can see where she’s coming from.
We have some fun teasing Evie while she tries to teach us some basic phrases in German. She’s taken to my task with surprising vigour and, in fairness, takes our messing on the chin. And despite our proclamations of never wanting to see another castle again, we all vote to go check out a palace en route, the Schloss Ambras. We stop to light a candle in a beautiful church called the Wiltener Basilica, and I feel a serenity that I’ve not experienced in a long time. The frantic, at times manic and fast pace, of the previous few weeks, has been replaced by this gentler transition.
And when we spend our second night in Austria in the most basic campsite we’ve come across so far, everyone seems to find it hilarious. A few short weeks back, this would have sent us into complete panic. With no electricity, we just light candles and a barbecue, chatting about our favourite moments of the trip so far.
‘Are you tired from all the driving?’ Mae asks me as we set off towards Salzburg early the next morning.
‘Best vantage from the driving seat,’ I answer. ‘It’s more fun than I thought it would be. The odd time I’m wrecked from it, but in the main, it’s grand. Honest.’
Once I mastered Nomad’s little quirks, I’ve started to enjoy myself.
‘The difference in you, this week, is quite remarkable,’ Mae says.
‘How so?’
‘Well, look at you now, drinking coffee as you drive. You wouldn’t even let me drink a coffee in the first week!’ Mae laughs.
I suppose I’m no longer terrified any more. ‘I thought I’d never get it up that ramp going into the ferry in Rosslare. Look at this now.’ I wave at the steep incline we’re slowly making our way up.
‘I always had faith in you,’ Mae says and I feel like a boss.
‘And you? Are you won over by Nomad’s charms yet?’ I ask.
‘Evie and I were only talking about that very same subject. There are moments that I miss our home. But I’m finding that I’m missing the things I thought I would the most, the least.’
‘Like what?’
‘Shoes, handbags, stuff. All the gadgets in the kitchen. A hair dryer. When I think of the hours every week I spend blow-drying my hair!’
‘And you’ve never looked better,’ I say.
‘Charmer.’
‘I tell it like it is. But are you glad this charmer talked you into this?’ I ask this quietly, holding my breath.
‘Hell, yes.’
And then we smile at each other and at that moment, a ray of light hits her brown eyes and they change colour. They look like spun gold and her skin translucent in the beam.
‘I love you so much,’ I whisper.
‘I know,’ she whispers back. ‘I love you too.’
‘If this were Hollywood, I’d stop and pull you into my arms right now.’
‘Why don’t you?’ Mae asks.
‘Because, if I do, Nomad might just roll back down this hill!’ I say.
‘I keep forgetting we’re basically driving a house,’ Mae laughs. ‘Drive on.’
We stop for lunch in the Tyrolean city of Lienz, which lies at the junction of three valleys. Another afternoon wandering the cobblestoned streets of Lienz helps to walk off our big lunch.
It starts to get dark early and once we get to our campsite on the outskirts of Salzburg, it’s quite late. The amazing panoramic views make us gasp and excited to explore the following day.
‘I’ve not seen you this excited about anything in years!’ I say to Mae. She’s trying on her third outfit, trying to work out what to wear for our tour.
‘I’ve loved this musical ever since I was a little girl,’ she says, breathless as she pulls a dress over her head.
‘Pretty,’ I tell her.
‘I just can’t believe that I’ll be following in Julie Andrews’ footsteps today!’ she tells me. ‘The Sound of Music is one of the most iconic love stories of all time. The steely-eyed Captain von Trapp falling for singing nun Maria. Who can resist that?’
‘Nobody,’ I agree, joyful to see Mae so happy.
‘I used to wish she would come be my governess when I was a little girl. I dreamed of her making me an outfit from my nana’s living-room curtains.’
Mae then twirls out of the room, launching into song as she goes, ‘I simply remember my favourite things, And then I don’t feel … so bad!’
‘You’re going to sing all day today, aren’t you?’ I ask.
‘Yes!’ Mae sings back to me.
I check my watch. It’s time to go grab our taxi into Salzburg.
Maybe it’s Mae’s enthusiasm, but we all get swept up in musical mania. We find ourselves singing along with the rest of the nut-job fans that are on the Sound of Music bus tour. Some of them are wearing lederhosen. And there are several nuns and one Captain von Trapp.
When we find ourselves in a flowery meadow at the foot of the alpine peaks and lakes, it takes no encouragement from our tour guide to make us all spin around with arms outstretched. Soon there are a dozen mismatched voices all belting out ‘The hills are alive, with the sound of music!’
Then we stop at the Benedictine convent on Nonnberg and everyone has a go at solving the problem of Maria. In song. And the tour guide insists we all line up in rows to sing ‘Do-Re-Mi’ in front of the Mirabell Gardens and Palace. One or two of the tourists take it too far, in my opinion, when they start jumping up and down on the railings.
There’s great excitement when we arrive at The Sound of Music pavilion, which is at Hellbrunn Palace. Mae and I both torture poor Evie by singing to her ‘I am sixteen going on seventeen’. Then the rest of the bus starts to join in too. She may never forgive us for that one.
When we reach Leopoldskron Palace, the ladies on the bus all get particularly excited.
‘It’s the famed balcony where the captain and Maria first dance!’ the tour guide shouts, creating even more hysteria.
I take a look at Mae’s face and decide, feck it. I grab her and spin her around in a clumsy attempt at a waltz. My moment of romantic spontaneity gets a round of applause from everyone and I get a kiss from Mae. Result!
I will admit to feeling a bit emotional now that we are at the Felsenreitschule. It’s where the Von Trapp family performed their farewell song and Captain von Trapp sang ‘Edelweiss’. I can’t imagine living in a time where the safety of your family and country was so perilous.
The day flies by in a musical flash and, by the end of it, we all have our hallmark cheesy grins back.
We feast on wiener schnitzel, dumplings and apple strudel, washed down with cold frothy beer and homemade lemonade, declaring the day a triumph. Jamie falls asleep in the taxi on the way back to our campsite, so we decide to have an early night once again.
Mae and Evie can’t help themselves, they start to sing ‘The sun has gone to bed and so must I,’ as they climb into their beds. They think they’re hilarious. And they’re right. I don’t think I’ve laughed so much, continuously, in years.
Me? Well, I’m just grateful for the magic of Austria, because it’s putting smiles on both of my girls. And that’s priceless.
Our early night pays dividends and we all arise early so we can do some last-minute sightseeing in Salzburg. We fulfill Mae’s ambition to follow the Von Trapp family’s final path to freedom by huffing and puffing our way up the towering Untersberg peak.
‘Climb every mountain, Forge every stream, Follow every rainbow, Till you find your dream,’ Mae belts out, insisting that we all hold hands as we get to the top to recreate the movie’s final scene.
‘Happy now?’ I ask her.
‘Delirious,’ she replies. ‘Pops has just succeeded in ticking off one of my life-long ambitions.’
We opt for the route nicknamed the ‘Austrian Romantic Road’ when we head to Vienna. As we follow the River Danube I wonder how we will ever go back to our lives in Ireland. Less than three weeks on the road and I can see how addictive this nomadic life must be for many. I allow myself to daydream about not going back. Ever. I wonder what they would all think if I suggested that we stayed in Europe, following the road wherever it takes us. Mae and I are happy. There would be no bullying for Evie. And Jamie, sure, he’s happy no matter where he is.
I say all this to Mae. And she looks at me like I’ve just suggested we fly to the moon.
‘What about work? How would we finance it all?’
And just like that, the big fat elephant is back in the room, pissing us all off and stomping all over our lovely, happy day.
But before I have the chance to fester about work, or lack thereof, I have to concentrate on the road. The Danube valley we are now in has small roads that are not unlike the ones back home in rural Ireland. I’m surprised to feel nostalgic at this comparison. We pass through villages crammed with historical old churches, ancient houses and cobblestone streets.
‘This part of Europe is fierce fond of their cobblestones,’ I say to Mae, determined to break the uneasy silence that’s descended between us. Please Mae, let it drop. Don’t let’s fight.
And she must be getting better at reading my mind, because she replies,
‘Well, I can’t say I love them!’ she says. ‘I keep twisting my ankle!’
‘How much further?’ Jamie asks. ‘I’m bored.’
‘Stick on a DVD for Jamie, will ya?’ I ask Evie. ‘We’ve about another hour to go.’
‘I’m glad Pops sent us to Austria,’ Mae says.
‘And it’s a gift doing the journey this way. I hate to think of all we’d have missed out on by just flying into an airport,’ I reply.
‘Yep. Nomad has a knack of making you see places that are off the beaten track alright. Tonight we’re in a campsite right on the outskirts of the city centre,’ Mae says. ‘There’s a bus and train we can get to bring us into Vienna.’
‘That’s handy,’ I say. We’ve realised, very quickly into this adventure, that campsites close to public transport are the way to go.
‘And the city’s biggest shopping mall is close by too!’ Mae throws in. ‘We packed so light, I’m getting a bit bored of wearing the same clothes every day.’
‘Is that your way at hinting for a shopping trip?’ I laugh.
‘I thought that you could drop me in the centre on the way to the park. I could get a taxi, then, to you guys later on, in time to cook the barbecue. I wouldn’t mind some time to myself, if I’m honest,’ Mae says.
‘Why? What’s wrong?’ I ask.
‘Nothing at all,’ Mae says. ‘It’s just we’re in each other’s pockets constantly. I would like a few hours to myself. Wouldn’t you?’
‘I hadn’t really thought about it,’ I say. I feel peeved. Slighted. And petty all at once. I know it’s a perfectly reasonable request, her wanting some time out. But I don’t like it.
‘Is this because of the comment about not wanting to go back to Ireland and me finding a job?’ I say and the look on her face immediately tells me that it’s not.
‘For goodness sake, Olly. If it’s that big of a deal, we can all go shopping. Happy now?’ Mae says.
‘No. It’s fine,’ I say and even though I try to disguise it, I know that my voice is curt.
I don’t even need to look to know that she’s frowning and I know that I’ve killed our mood with my irrational response. We drive in silence for the next thirty minutes and I try to work out why I got so freaked about Mae wandering off on her own.
‘We need to take the next exit,’ Mae says, breaking the silence.
‘I’m sorry,’ I say. ‘I can’t work out what the hell is wrong with me. I just kind of panicked when you said you wanted to go on your own.’
‘Why on earth?’ she asks.
‘I don’t know. I genuinely don’t,’ I say. ‘I just feel scared.’
‘You’ve never been clingy before,’ she says.
‘It’s not that. I promise you, I’m not being clingy. A fecking eejit, maybe, but not clingy,’ I say.
‘I won’t argue with that,’ she says.
‘It’s just we’re in a strange city we’ve never been in before. What if something happened to you?’ I say.
‘Oh, Olly. I’m a big girl. I’m able to take care of myself,’ she replies.
‘I know. I told you. I’m an eejit. I think I’m still a bit jittery after Jamie getting lost the other day. It shook me,’ I say.
She doesn’t look convinced and I don’t blame her. ‘And we couldn’t cope without you. Me and the kids. If something were to happen to you, we’d not cope.’
I keep my eyes fixed on the road ahead all the time. I think if I turn around to look at my wife, I might cry.
I reckon I’ve cried more than the kids on this trip. That’s not good. One thing being a sensitive guy; another being a total sap.
‘What’s the name of that mall? I just saw a sign for one there,’ I ask.
‘Shopping City Süd,’ Mae replies.
‘Right, there it is, just over there. I’ll drop you off and you call me if you have any problems getting a taxi back to the campsite. I’ll come get you, no problem at all,’ I say.
‘I’ve a compromise,’ Mae replies. ‘Why don’t we all go in, but you take the kids off for a drink and snack. Give me an hour to do some shopping by myself and then we’ll head back to the campsite together.’
‘You don’t mind?’ I ask.
‘It’s the perfect solution. Knowing my luck, had I ordered a taxi myself, I would have ended back in Salzburg!’ I know she’s letting me off the hook, but I’m relieved she does.
When I see that the mall has 250 shops in it, I realise that one hour isn’t going to cut it. ‘Let’s make it two hours to meet back here,’ I say.
I look at the Obi-Wan figurine on the dash, when Mae jumps out and practically runs from Nomad. I need some help here, Pops. I’m screwing things up again by acting like a total dickhead. What will I buy her? Some flowers? No, that’s stupid. A vase would only fall in transit.
And then a couple walk by pushing a heavily loaded IKEA cart in front of them. Pops, you genius. I know exactly what to do. I turn to the kids and point to the couple, ‘Look, I have a plan!’