The nursing home was quiet and still, all the residents tucked up in bed for the night. In Evelyn’s room the blind was drawn and a single lamp burned on the bedside table casting a golden glow on the shrunken, motionless figure in the bed. Evelyn lay as if asleep, her mouth open, her head tilted back, her face grey as dust. Her breath was audible in the silence, raspy and laboured, every inhalation a gargantuan effort, every exhalation a relief to Ian who sat on a chair by her bed.
The get-well cards and the flowers were all gone from the room, the hope that she might recover from this last bout of pneumonia quietly surrendered weeks ago. There was no hope now, only the reality of the minutes ticking by, each one of which might take her. But she was a fighter. Every time she breathed in, he held his breath expecting it to be her last. But then the air would come out again and she lived a moment longer.
The door opened and Sarah slipped quietly into the room with a fearful glance at Evelyn. She went over and held Evelyn’s hand for a long time, then released it and sat down on a chair on the other side of the bed. ‘I just checked with Dad,’ she whispered, setting her bag on the floor. ‘The kids are fine. They can stay there as long as …’ Her gaze travelled to Evelyn’s ashen face. '… as it takes.’
He rubbed his eyes, dry and itchy from watching. Sarah said softly, ‘You haven’t eaten all day. Jolanta’s on duty tonight. She’ll make you a sandwich or something. Shall I go and ask?’
He shook his head. ‘Dr Glover said he thought it would be tonight. I can’t see her going on like this much longer, can you?’
He glanced at Sarah and her bottom lip wobbled and he could see from the way her jaw worked that it took every ounce of control to stop herself from breaking down in tears. ‘No, Ian, I can’t.’
He nodded and bit the inside of his cheek. Everything that needed to be done was done. The arrangements with the funeral directors were all made. It felt as if time itself had stopped, suspended like Evelyn, between life and death.
‘Oh, Jesus,’ he said and put his hands over his face. It was unbearable. Every rasping breath raked across his brain like chalk on a blackboard. Why wouldn’t God take her? ‘Why does she have to suffer so?’
‘I don’t think she feels any pain,’ said Sarah firmly. ‘Not with the morphine.’
Panic filled his chest, sending his heart racing, sweating his palms. ‘I’m afraid, Sarah.’
‘Don’t be. She needs you to be strong now.’
He felt so useless. He could not help his mother now. Evelyn breathed in and Ian closed his eyes and waited. One second. Two seconds. Three seconds. No sound, just silence pressing down like a dead weight. He opened his eyes, leapt out of the seat and leaned over his mother’s body, his heart pounding, his body bathed in sweat.
And then it came, the crackle of breath leaving her body once more.
Sarah, who had jumped to her feet at the same time as Ian, stared at him across the bed, her hand on her heart, her eyes wide. ‘Dr Glover said that the last thing to go is the hearing, Ian.’
‘Okay.’ Blood pumped round his veins too fast, making it hard to think clearly, to think at all. He felt a change in the room. Tension crackled like electricity. His chest felt like it was being flattened by an enormous weight, making it hard to breathe in the stuffy room. He took his mother’s limp hand in his. It felt like ice. ‘Her hand is so cold, Sarah.’
‘Shall I leave you?’ said Sarah, moving towards the door.
Without taking his eyes off Evelyn, he said, ‘No. Stay. Please.’
He leaned close and whispered in his mother’s ear. ‘It’s Ian here. I love you, Mum. I love you so much. You are the best mum in the world and I’m going to miss you very much.’
Sarah stifled a sob and Evelyn breathed in once more, but shallower than before. And then the agonising wait before the breath left her body once more, gurgling like water down a plughole.
She breathed in. Ian held his breath and steeled himself for the horrible rattling sound of her breath coming out. But this time, the long seconds ticked by. Her chest stilled and she breathed no more.
He breathed out slowly and the tension in the room dissipated, replaced by a calm sort of peace. The worst had finally happened. It was over. He stood for a long time, composed and grave, with her cold hand in his. When he was absolutely certain she was gone, he arranged her hand gently on the bedspread and looked at Sarah. ‘What am I going to do without her?’
‘I’m sorry, Ian.’ Tears streaked her face but she was calm. She came round to his side of the bed and held out her arms. He stepped into her embrace and her arms closed round him, like a soft and gentle blanket. He hugged her back, pressing his face into her fine, sweet-smelling hair. And then the sobs came, jerking his whole body, a release of the tension that had built up like a pressure cooker these past months. He cried for a long time and she simply held him, wordlessly, the two of them united at last, not in love but in grief.
Later, after the doctor had been and they were waiting for the funeral director, they sat in the empty day room, with a cold grey dawn cracking the edge of the world. Ian held a mug of untouched tea in his hand. ‘It’s strange,’ he said to Sarah, ‘I knew the moment she died. Not because she stopped breathing … it was more than that. She, her spirit I suppose I mean, was there one moment and the next it was gone. And the body lying on the bed … it wasn’t her.’
Sarah looked into her mug of tea. Her face was grey as the dawn, her lips pale. ‘I was there when Mum died and I felt it too. I remember I turned to Dad – and this sounds weird but it’s true – I was kind of elated. I said, She’s not here, Dad. She’s gone. I was glad because, after all the suffering, I knew her soul was free.’
Ian nodded. ‘I know what you mean. And I know Mum’s gone to a better place.’
Sarah smiled, though her eyes were wet with tears. ‘Yes, Ian, I’m quite certain of that.’ She looked at her watch. ‘Dad’ll be up by now. I’d better ring and let him and Aunt Vi know.’ She rummaged in her bag and pulled out a mobile, the little gold ring Cahal Mulvenna had given her glinting on her finger. ‘I’ll make the call outside.’
He thought back to the last proper conversation he’d had with Evelyn when he finally realised that Sarah was lost to him forever. ‘Sarah?’
She’d almost reached the door. She stopped and turned round. ‘Yes?’
‘Are you still seeing Cahal?’
She hesitated. He had never asked her about him, not since he’d come back from Australia. ‘Yes,’ she said cautiously. ‘Why?’
‘I just wondered. Doesn’t he go back to Australia soon?’
She looked at the floor. ‘Yes.’
‘And what are your … your plans after that?’
She shrugged and said tonelessly, ‘We’ll stay in touch. See each other during the holidays, I suppose. Wait till the kids grow up.’
‘And then?’
‘Then we’ll be together.’ Her eyes flashed. ‘The way we should have been from the very start.’
Ian flinched, steeled himself and said, ‘And he’ll wait for you?’
‘He says he will. I’ll definitely wait for him.’ She smiled through the tears streaming down her face. ‘But who knows what the future holds? You see, Cahal and I found out something that changes everything.’
‘I know. Your Dad told me. But I knew about the rape long before that.’
Sarah stared at him in astonishment. ‘How come?’
He scratched the back of his neck. ‘I overheard your dad and my dad speaking about it when you started dating Cahal Mulvenna at uni.’
Sarah put a hand to her heart. ‘You knew all these years and you never told me?’
He lifted his shoulders. He had felt guilty knowing when Sarah hadn’t, but he also admired and respected Vi for her stoicism. ‘It wasn’t my secret to tell, Sarah. If your aunt had wanted you to know, she would’ve told you, wouldn’t she?’
Sarah bowed her head. ‘Yes, I suppose so.’
‘You mustn’t blame her – or your Dad – for not telling you. Or for holding it against Cahal Mulvenna.’
‘I don’t blame them. And neither does Cahal, though it’s turned his whole world upside down. Even if he was willing to leave his kids for me – and I’d never ask him to do that – he can never settle here. Not after this. Aunt Vi can’t bear the sight of him. He reminds her too much of his father.’ She sniffed and wiped her nose on the back of her hand. ‘So you see, it’s really rather hopeless.’
*
Two weeks later, Sarah pulled up in front of Ian’s house and her anxiety for him went up another notch. The grass was six inches high and the borders were knee-deep in weeds. He had always been a house-proud man but, since Evelyn’s death two weeks ago, he’d completely lost interest in everything domestic.
Her heart ached with grief, not only for Evelyn, but for a future that had slipped through her grasp like sand. For tonight, in the early evening, Cahal would fly to London and, from there, on to Australia. She would not be there to see him off.
She bent over the steering wheel and a long, low wail of anguish escaped her. Fighting for breath with lungs that no longer had the will to work, she waited for her chest to implode with the unbearable pain. But it did not. Slowly, amazingly, the intense ache ebbed away, to be replaced with a dull, dead feeling between her breasts.
A single bronze leaf, crisp and dry, fell onto the windscreen of the car. It clung to the window wiper for a few moments, then blew away. Against the fence dividing Ian’s house from the neighbours, the roses were all blown, heads bent as if in shame, their pink and yellow petals scattered across the unkempt garden. All around her death was on the march.
She took a deep breath, dug her nails into the palm of her hand and told herself to buck up. Even though her heart felt like it might crack in two, she had to be strong. It might be many long, lonely years before she and Cahal could be together, but she must take comfort from knowing that he lived and he was hers. Theirs would not be a life lived together after all, but lived apart. The Claddagh ring glowed amber in the afternoon sunshine, a reminder not so much of a promise made but one thwarted.
Maybe happiness had never been her destiny. Her future, it seemed, would bear more resemblance to her aunt’s than she had ever dreamed possible. Her life would be one of duty, after all, a life where the happiness of others – her beloved children and Ian – would come before her own. And she must find a way to live that life with gratitude and serenity, taking joy where she could find it.
Pulling herself together, she got out of the car and retrieved a plastic bag from the boot. She let herself in the side gate and hooked the bag on the handle of the back door. She was just in the process of popping a note through the front door, when it opened, making her jump back in surprise.
‘Hello,’ said Ian, dressed in loose-fitting jeans and a grubby polo shirt.
‘Ian! Aren’t you working today?’ she said, feeling a little guilty for having timed her visit with the express intention of avoiding him. As for herself, she’d arranged to work from home today because she couldn’t bear being in the office knowing that Cahal was somewhere in the building clearing out his desk.
‘I didn’t feel like going in.’ His face was unshaven, his eyes bloodshot and swollen. If she didn’t know him better, she would’ve thought he’d been drinking. But then what must she look like? She’d hardly slept for weeks and spent most of today in tears.
‘I left Molly’s PE things on the back door,’ she said. ‘She forgot to pack them. She won’t be allowed to do the fun run at school tomorrow without them.’ It was because of the children she hauled herself out of bed every morning and carried on as if her world was not coming to an end.
‘Thanks.’
‘Molly has art after school and Lewis is going to Matt’s for a play. You’ve to pick them both up at five.’
‘Yeah, I haven’t forgotten. Have they been okay?’
‘Molly was crying again last night but she’s okay now. We had a long talk about Evelyn. I don’t think it’s affected Lewis as much.’ She regarded him thoughtfully, wondering if he was up to looking after the children. ‘I’m worried about you, Ian,’ she said gently. ‘Maybe you should try to get back to work. A bit of routine might help.’
He shrugged and shoved his hands in his jeans pockets. ‘Maybe in a day or two. I’ve been … I’ve had a lot to think about.’
‘Of course. Look, if you’re not up to it, I’m sure Dad and Aunt Vi would take the kids.’
‘No, I want to see them. It helps,’ he said simply.
There was an awkward silence and he said, ‘Won’t you come in?’
‘I can’t. I’m working from home and I really need to get on.’
‘Please. I have something for you.’
She glanced at the car, and then back at Ian’s wretched face. All she wanted to do was go home and curl up on the sofa and drink herself into oblivion. But she wasn’t the only one suffering.
The coffee table was hidden under old papers, half-drunk mugs of tea and smoky bacon crisp packets – Ian’s favourite snacks. The white marble mantelpiece and the gilt side table were littered with condolence cards. Sarah perched on the white sofa and placed her hands on her knees while Ian went off to make them both tea. She’d only been inside the house on a few occasions and she’d never felt comfortable. It was too perfect and too white. Now that Raquel was gone the décor felt too frivolous for a single man.
Ian came in carrying a mug in each hand. He kicked the door closed with his foot and handed her a mug. ‘She didn’t even send a sympathy card.’
Sarah stared at him uncomprehending and he said, ‘Raquel.’
She hadn’t come to the funeral either. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said, thinking that her dislike of Raquel had been well-founded after all. No matter what had gone on between her and Ian, she should’ve been there.
He sat down opposite her on a matching armchair and set his mug on a glass side table. ‘Cahal’s due to go back to Australia soon, isn’t he?’
She eyed him warily. Oh God. Surely he wasn’t thinking that with Cahal off the scene, there was hope of a reconciliation between them? She looked into the mug. Her hands were shaking, sending little ripples across the surface of the tea.
Last night she’d lain awake in Cahal’s bed, his arm wrapped tightly round her waist, listening to the sound of his breathing and the creaks of the house. All night her emotions lurched from rage to despair and, when she finally fell into a doze around 6 in the morning, she awoke an hour later, consumed by sadness and the awful knowledge that no matter how she raged against the injustice of their circumstances, she and Cahal were powerless to change it.
In the morning, she sat across the kitchen table, and watched him butter toast, resentful of everyone who had played a part in this sorry tale – his father, Dad, Aunt Vi, Becky. Her eyes were dry and sore from lack of sleep. ‘How can you leave me and go back to Melbourne?’
He paused with the knife in his hand. ‘Oh, sweetheart, how can I not?’ He set the knife down, leaned across the table and squeezed her hand so tight it hurt. ‘We’ve been through this a hundred times. And I wish to God I could change things, but I can’t.’
‘Stay.’
He bowed his head and when he looked up his eyes were wet with tears. ‘I can’t, darling. The boys are expecting me. I can’t let them down.’
She’d folded her arms stubbornly and sulked. ‘So the boys are more important than me?’
He raised his eyebrows and his expression hardened a little. ‘That’s not fair, Sarah. And you know it. They’re as important to me as your children are to you.’
She looked away and scowled. Frustration made her unreasonable and bad-tempered. And though she did not want to spoil their last moments together, she could not stop herself.
‘I won’t let you fall out with me,’ he said, tilting her chin up with his forefinger.
She yanked her head away and glared at him. ‘I don’t understand how you can just accept it. Where’s your fight?’
‘Tell me what to do then, Sarah!’ he shouted, bringing his closed fist down on the table between them. ‘Tell me how to change the past and by God, I’ll do it!’
Her entire body shook. ‘I just don’t think you love me as much as I love you,’ she blurted out.
‘I do, Sarah.’ His eyes bulged and the tendons on his neck stood out. ‘But if I can’t make you believe it, what chance do we have?’
‘Sarah?’ said Ian’s voice, bringing her back to the present.
She coughed and took a sip of tea to steady her nerves. She’d thought her relationship with Cahal strong enough to survive the separation but now she wasn’t so sure. If this morning was anything to go by, it didn’t bode well for the future. They’d kissed and made up, sort of, but the argument had left a sour, unfinished note between them. ‘He flies home tonight. London first, then on to Melbourne tomorrow.’
‘I see.’ He rubbed his chin.
There was a long silence. Ian said, ‘Tell me something, Sarah. Would you go to Australia if you could?’
‘In a heartbeat.’ She smiled sadly and added hastily, ‘But I would never do that to you, Ian. I would never take the kids away from you.’
‘You would leave your job and Becky and your Dad and Vi?’
She nodded. ‘Yes.’
He stared at her for a long time with his hand over his mouth and then at last he stood up and said, ‘Evelyn left you something in her will.’
‘Oh.’
‘She left some things for the kids, some jewellery, and investments too,’ he went on, rummaging in a lacquered jewellery box she recognised as Evelyn’s, his big, broad back silhouetted in the light from the window. ‘But I’ll tell you all about that later.’
He closed the lid and came and knelt in front of Sarah. ‘I’ll never forget what you did for my mother, Sarah. Not just at the end but over the years, even after we’d split up. I’ll never forget your kindness to her. She loved you.’
Sarah, all choked up, nodded.
‘Here, take this.’ He held her hand in his and pressed something into her palm. It was a gold chain with an emerald pendant on it. ‘This meant a lot to her. Dad gave it to her on –’
‘Their first wedding anniversary,’ said Sarah, setting the mug down and fingering the pendant. How kind of Evelyn to give her in death something that had meant so much to her in life. ‘She told me. She wore it in that picture of her and Harry all dressed up in their finery.’
Quickly, Ian wiped away tears. ‘That’s right. She wanted you to have it.’
‘Thank you. It’s lovely. And I shall treasure it always.’ She closed her fingers on it and fought back the tears. ‘I should go now. Thank you for this. And if you ever need a friend to talk to, you know where I am.’ She stood up and took an uncertain step towards the door, her heart as heavy as lead, her legs like wood.
‘Wait. There’s something else I have to tell you.’
She turned and waited.
He rubbed his face with his hands. ‘Mum said something to me before she died. It was the last completely coherent conversation I had with her, in fact. And it was about you.’
‘Oh,’ Sarah’s interest quickened and she sank onto the arm of the nearby chair.
‘She knew that I loved you.’ He paused and gave her a small, quick smile before looking away and addressing his hands. ‘Love you. I didn’t have to tell her. She just knew.’
Sarah pressed her lips together and closed her eyes. Why did he persist in talking like this when she’d made her feelings perfectly clear? It was torture for both of them. She opened her eyes. ‘Ian …’ she said, a gentle admonishment, and left the sentence unfinished.
He went on, ‘She said: “Take joy in her happiness, even if it comes at the price of your own”. I know what she meant of course. That I should be glad for you and Cahal even though you being with him means that I will never be happy.’
‘Oh, don’t say that, Ian,’ she said softly. ‘There’s someone out there for you. You just haven’t found her yet.’
‘Maybe, maybe not.’ He looked at the palms of his hands. ‘But I’ve thought about what Mum said over the past fortnight. I’ve thought of little else in fact. And I’ve come to a decision.’
Sarah’s heartbeat quickened. What could he possibly mean?
He cleared his throat. ‘There’s nothing for me here in Ballyfergus anymore, not with Mum gone.’ He paused and swallowed. ‘And if I’m the only reason you can’t go to Melbourne, well what would you say if that impediment was removed?’
‘How?’ she said fearfully. Was he offering his assent for her to take the children to Melbourne? Even if he did, the children would never be happy without their father. They would blame her for taking them away from him. And in her heart, though she loved Cahal with all her being, she would not take them away from the father they adored. And then another, awful thought occurred to her. Surely he wasn’t talking about taking his own life? Her heart pounding, she put her hands to her face.
He fixed her with his steady blue gaze. ‘What would you say to me emigrating to Australia too?’
‘To Melbourne?’ The blood drained from her face. ‘You can’t possibly be serious, Ian.’
He held out his big hands, palms upwards, and looked about the room. ‘What is there for me here, Sarah? Raquel’s gone, Mum’s gone, I hate this house and I’m bored in my job. It would be a fresh start for me. For all of us.’
‘All of us?’ she said, a horrible sinking feeling in her stomach.
‘Not together, obviously.’ He gave a nervous little laugh. ‘I’d get a place somewhere within driving distance of you so that I could see the kids easily. I wouldn’t be riding on your coat tails, Sarah. I’d make my own life out there.’
She stared at him in puzzlement, barely able to take in what he was saying. ‘You’ve spoken to the kids?’
‘No, not yet. But I think they’ll be fine so long as you and I are both there for them. They’ll miss Becky and their grandad and Vi, but they can come out for holidays, can’t they?’
All of a sudden happiness exploded in her heart, pushing aside the pain, like a flood bursting a dam. Her head felt light and fluffy inside like cotton wool, her thoughts jumbled and confused, joy and guilt and terror all competing for a place in her heart. She stood up abruptly, then sat down again, and covered her face with her hands. Tears came easily but this time they were tears of relief.
And then, just as quickly, her euphoria died away. She wiped her cheeks and stared at Ian. ‘It’s sweet of you to make the offer, but you’ve only just lost your mother. You aren’t thinking straight.’
One side of his mouth turned up in a cynical smile. ‘You always did try to tell me what to think, Sarah. But you’re wrong. I’ve never before had such clarity of thought. I love you, Sarah, and I know that I can’t make you happy. But Cahal can. Why should we both be miserable?’
She went over and sat on the coffee table in front of him with her hands between her knees. ‘You’d do this for me?’
‘For no one else.’
‘But you hate Cahal.’
He shook his head. ‘No, you’re wrong. I only ever hated him because you loved him.’
Her heart filled up with guilty gratitude. ‘Oh, Ian. You have no idea what this means to me.’
‘I think I do.’
‘I can never repay you.’
He nodded and, though his eyes were full of tears, he smiled. She jumped up and planted a kiss on the top of his balding head. ‘You are a good, kind man, Ian Aitken. The very best. And someone will love you for it one day.’
‘Yes, well. Hadn’t you better go and tell Cahal?’ he said, without looking up.
‘Yes, I must, right away.’ Her heart skipped a beat. ‘We argued this morning. I said some stupid things.’ She glanced at her watch. ‘Oh my God, his flight leaves in three and a half hours!’
She ran to the door, paused and looked back at Ian. His head was still bowed, as if he did not wish her to see his face. ‘I’ll never forget this, Ian,’ she said, then slipped quietly from the room.
Once in the car, she grabbed the mobile she’d left lying on the passenger seat. She called Cahal but there was no answer. Throwing the phone to one side, she fired up the engine and drove off, tyres screeching on the tarmac.
The house at Grace Avenue was locked up. She ran around the building, stopping to peer in every window. The bed was stripped and all his things were gone. She dashed back to the front of the house, pulled the phone out of her pocket and tried a different number.
‘Jessica,’ she said breathlessly, running back to the car, ‘has Cahal left for the airport?’
‘I saw him get into a taxi just now. Why? What’s up?’
‘I’ll explain later.’
She hung up. They were flying out of Belfast International. The airport was just outside Templepatrick and roughly equidistant from Belfast city centre and Ballyfergus. If she put her foot down, she might just make it in time … On the main road, she put her foot down. Sweat pooled in the middle of her back as she struggled to resist the urge to overtake where it was not safe. The road was choked with elderly drivers going too slow. A stream of lorries, just off the ferry, chugged and wheezed up the slow incline out of the town. Occasional tractors trundled onto the road without a care in the world. And all the time she had one eye on the clock.
At last, after an agonising journey that felt as if it had lasted for hours, though it was only forty minutes, she pulled into the airport car park. Ditching the car in the first space she could find, she sprinted across to the check-in lounge, hair flying out wildly behind her, blood rushing in her ears.
Inside, she paused to catch her breath and looked around. She searched desperately for Cahal’s face amongst the crowds of business people, families, and a hen party checking in for Larnaca, all dressed in pink T-shirts and wearing sparkly silver cowboy hats. But he was not in any of the queues. She peered at the exit that led into departures and caught a glimpse of a man, the same height and build of Cahal, just disappearing round the corner. She bolted across the hall, rounded the corner and almost bumped into a female official at a desk.
‘Boarding pass, please,’ said the woman.
‘I … don’t … I just need to speak to that man.’ She pointed at his rapidly disappearing back.
‘I’m sorry, madam, but you need a boarding pass to enter this area.’
‘Cahal,’ she cried out. ‘I’m here.’ He ignored her and she took a couple of steps past the official’s desk and screamed again, this time so loudly everyone in the building must’ve heard. ‘Cahal. Over here!’ The man turned his head, but it was not Cahal, just another businessman in a suit. Her heart sank.
‘Madam, you are not allowed beyond this point without a boarding pass,’ said the official and before she knew what was happening two strong arms had grabbed hers behind her back.
‘Let’s just calm down, darling,’ said a voice in her ear and she cringed with embarrassment.
‘Sorry. I thought he was someone else.’
The arms released her and she turned to find herself face to face with a security guard who, though big and burly with a florid face, had kind eyes. She looked down at her grubby sweatpants and trainers – he must think her some sort of chav. ‘I thought he was my boyfriend,’ she said lamely.
He squinted at her and said, ‘Are you flying today?’
She shook her head.
‘Then I’ll have to ask you to leave the building. Come on, darling, this way.’ And though he took her by the arm, his grasp was gentle.
He escorted her through the check-in lounge. Everyone turned to look at the source of the commotion and Sarah wished the ground would swallow her up. And then she heard a female voice call out her name.
‘Sarah?’
She glanced up to find Jody towering over her on legs like stilts, her big teeth exposed in a grin. Inside, she groaned and then brightened. Where Cahal went Jody usually wasn’t far behind. She craned to see past her but there was no sign of Cahal.
Jody walked over, touched her perfect jaw with the tips of her perfectly manicured fingers, and said, ‘What are you doing here?’
The security man stopped dead. Jody had that kind of voice. Commanding.
‘I … eh … I was looking for Cahal,’ she said.
‘Oh, he’s right here,’ she said and stepped to the side. He appeared from nowhere, staring at her in bewilderment and looking incredibly handsome in a navy suit and blue shirt, briefcase in one hand, coat in the other. Promptly she burst into tears.
‘So this is the boyfriend, love?’ said the security guard.
She nodded and he let go of her arm. And then suddenly she felt Cahal’s arms around her. She pressed her face into his neck, her salty tears running down the collar of his shirt. He smelt of spice and soap and his hands on her back were firm and strong. He held on to her for a long time and, when she’d composed herself, they pulled apart. Cahal’s briefcase and coat lay at his feet and his face was stricken. ‘What’s wrong, Sarah? Has something happened?’
The security guard said, ‘Guess I’d better leave you to it. But no more of yer carry on, do you hear me? Next time, you’ll get arrested.’
‘Okay,’ she said sheepishly and, when the guard walked off, she smiled at Cahal. ‘I couldn’t let you go without saying a proper goodbye, could I?’
He touched her hair. ‘I’m sorry we quarrelled this morning.’
‘Me too. Oh, but never mind that now.’ She placed a hand on his chest. ‘Cahal, I have the most wonderful news.’
‘Jody! Cahal!’ someone called from the front of the queue. ‘Time to check in.’
Cahal grabbed her hands. ‘What news, Sarah?’
‘You’ll never believe it. Ian’s going to move to Melbourne.’
‘Who’s Ian?’ said Jody.
He thrust his head forward, his eyes wide and startled. ‘You mean emigrate?’
Sarah nodded her head, unable to keep the big, foolish grin off her face. ‘Yes. He says that there’s nothing for him here now that Evelyn’s gone. And he knows the only reason I won’t take the kids to Australia is because of him.’
A slow, incredulous smile started at his mouth and spread upwards until the corners of his eyes were all crinkled up and his lips stretched in a wide grin. He had never looked so gorgeous. ‘Does this mean that you’ll move to Melbourne?’
Giddiness fizzed up inside her like the bubbles in a washing-up bowl. ‘Yes!’ she squealed, clapping her hands to her face and jumping up and down on the spot. ‘Yes!’
‘Oh sweetheart, that’s the best news I’ve ever heard.’ He hugged her tightly and when they parted said, ‘But why would he do that?’
‘He says he can’t make me happy but he knows you can.’
Cahal brushed a strand of hair off her forehead and smiled sadly. ‘Poor Ian. He must love you very much, Sarah. Possibly as much as I do. You always said he was a good guy, well, I don’t know many men who would do this.’
‘Cahal,’ said Jody, coldly. ‘Check-in’s closing. We’re going to miss our flight.’
‘You go, Jody,’ he said, without taking his eyes off Sarah. ‘I’m staying.’
Jody stomped off with a flick of her blonde hair, her pert bottom wiggling in a tight skirt, the wheels of her trolley bag clicking on the tiled floor.
‘Somebody’s not happy,’ said Sarah and giggled.
Cahal glanced at Jody and rolled his eyes.
She said, ‘But what about your boys?’
‘One more day won’t make any difference, will it?’ he said, nuzzling her neck. ‘You and I have a lot to talk about. We’ve got a future to plan.’