‘Cup of tea?’
Norman looked up from where he was lying on the ground on a black plastic bag. The sun was up above the wall now and shining in his face. He raised his hand over his eyes to see if the voice was talking to him, but before he could see properly or even say anything, it spoke again.
‘I’ve the kettle on. Will you have a cup of tea? It’s a cold morning to be out working.’
Norman put down the secateurs and smiled at the silhouette on the other side of the rosebed.
‘I’ve love a cup. I didn’t realise what time it was.’
‘Come on so. I’m Trish.’
‘I’m Norman. Or, Robert I mean. Robert.’
He stood up and grimaced slightly at the creak in his knee and the twinge that shot down to his ankle.
‘Are you sure now?’ she said smiling. She had a coat on and her arms folded tightly against the wind that was coming in off the sea. A few bits of hair were after coming loose from under her cap and she pulled them from her lips. Lovely lips they were too. He’d been admiring them from afar for about a week and now here they were, pointing at him and moving and nice words coming out of them.
‘Yeah. Robert. Well, my mates call me Norman. Long story.’
‘Come on in then. You’ll have to take those boots off, though, or the charge nurse will have you scrubbing the place with a bucket and mop. I saw her doing it once to the poor lad who delivers the vegetables.’
‘I’ll leave them in the porch here.’
He sat on the step and pulled his wellies off as she hung up her coat and waited just inside the door. Then he followed her into the dark corridor and past the huge statues of Our Lady on one side and St Francis of Assisi on the other. It was under the cold marble stares of that holy brace that Norman’s eyes adjusted to the murkiness and he found himself gazing, with frankly confused surprise given the time of the morning, at the perfect shape of the snow-white form that was leading him towards the warm lights of the kitchen up ahead. Not that it was a uniform designed to arouse a man. God no. The last thing the nursing home needed was for the male residents to be getting the horn and annoying everyone with their delusions of virility. Christ knows, some of them were bad enough as it was. The nurses wore a plain white uniform that was crisp, no-nonsense and subdued. Herself didn’t like any silliness under her roof and none of the girls felt inclined to test a ninety-kilo, sixty-year-old woman with the makings of a fairly respectable beard when the light caught her from the right angle.
But such qualities as no-nonsense and subdued are often in the eye of the beholder and Norman’s eyes were following the figure-of-eight sway of Nurse Trish’s hips as though tied to them by string. He’d never actually been this close to her before and none of the furtive glances of the past few days did her justice. The back of her dress was pinched very slightly half-way down to allow the merest suggestion of a tapering waist and then, below those hypnotic hips that dipped and rose in time with the tapping echoes of her shoes, there was nothing but falling fabric to the backs of her knees. But then, suddenly, like a bet you thought you’d lost, appeared her legs. Strong, firm almond-shaped calves that dived into neat white nylon ankles. By Christ, she was a fine woman. Norman picked up his pace.
There was no one else in the small kitchen.
‘They’re all coming down for their breakfast now,’ said Trish. ‘Everyone’s in the main canteen. I’m just coming off.’
‘You work nights? That’s tough.’
‘Well, we take turns. I’ve a few days off now and then I’ll be on the morning shift. Sugar?’
‘No. No thanks. I’m grand. This is lovely. Thanks very much.’
‘That’s all right. I could see you through the window when you went chasing that bag.’
Norman laughed.
‘The feckin’ wind took it before I could find a stone.’
‘Bikkie?’
‘Oh lovely. Hob Nobs. Mam doesn’t usually get the chocolate ones.’
Christ, will you shut your hole about Mam? Jesus …
‘Ah, sure one or two won’t kill you. So how are our roses doing? Will they survive the blizzard everyone’s talking about?’
‘They’ll be grand. I guarantee it now, come the summer they’ll be exploding into every gorgeous red and pink you’ve ever seen, so they will. People will be stopping on the street outside, watch.’
Trish laughed.
‘Herself upstairs will love that. They better not make a racket.’
Norman grinned back. Fuck sake, this was easy! Chatting away like old mates. He was on fire!
‘Eh … so … em …’
Fuck. Now his head was completely empty. That’s what he got for being cocky.
She looked at him for a minute.
‘Would you be able to help me with something, Norman?’ she said. ‘I don’t s’pose you know anything at all about cars?’
His heart took a little jump for itself. She was after calling him Norman and it felt brilliant.
‘I … I do a bit. What’s the problem?’
‘Well, I’ve a lend of my Dad’s and it was acting up last night. It might be just the cold weather, but if it won’t start you wouldn’t be able to have a look at it or give me a little push, would you?’
‘Of course I will. Come on and we’ll have a look at it.’
‘No, no. Finish your tea.’
‘I’m done sure, look. Thanks, that was lovely.’
‘Are you sure now? I don’t want to keep you from your work.’
‘Two minutes, sure. Come on. No problem at all.’
She led him out to the car park and up to the car. It was a big old Sierra. A bit of a banger of a yoke. She got in and tried to start it. It lurched forward suddenly and then stopped dead.
‘Jesus,’ said Norman. He’d had to jump back out of the way. ‘That didn’t look good. Was it doing that this morning when you came in?’
She nodded back at him through the windscreen.
‘Lift up the bonnet there,’ he said.
She released the catch and Norman bent over and stuck his head in over the engine, biting his lip.
‘See anything?’ she said.
‘Hang on a sec,’ said Norman, rubbing the stubble on his chin. He knew fuck all about cars, but that was okay because he wasn’t planning on fixing it anyway. He just needed to give himself time to think. He might never get another chance at her. ‘Hang on. I’ll just try and give the … eh … spark plugs a quick wipe. Sometimes they can get dirty. Wait now. So anyway … you’re not working tonight …’
‘No. I’m off now till Monday. I was going to drive home this afternoon.’
‘Where’s home? That’s a Kerry accent.’
She laughed.
‘God, my friends say I’m getting a Dublin one.’
‘You are not, don’t mind them.’
‘I’m from Sneem. You know Sneem?’
‘I do of course. God, Sneem’s a beautiful part of the world.’
‘It’s a bloody freezing part of the world too, at the moment. I’ll be in front of the fire all weekend.’
‘Sure won’t we all. Try it now.’
He stepped back as the car lurched again and died.
‘Yeah. The spark plugs are manky. I’m going to have to clean them all.’
He hoped she stayed in the car because all he was doing was taking some dirt from the underside of the bonnet and rubbing a bit on his face. He wouldn’t know a spark plug if he sat on the pointy end of one.
‘So you won’t be around tonight?’ he said. ‘Ah well …’
‘What?’
‘Well, I was going to say … ah, sure, if you’re not here …’
‘Yeah?’
‘I was going to say … like … would you like to go out for a drink later?’
He was glad she couldn’t see him. He knew he looked petrified. He heard her laugh and felt like a total dickhead. Fuck. He was going down again. ‘Kamikaze’ was what Aesop used to call him at school discos. But then …
‘I’d love to Norman. But I usually like to be able to see a fella when he’s asking me out, and not be talking to the bonnet of me car, like.’
He grimaced and stood up to go around to the open door on the driver’s side.
‘Sorry.’ He was purple now and smiling like a dope. ‘Would you be on for a drink tonight? Maybe you could drive home to Kerry tomorrow morning? Only if it suited you, like. If you have something on at home, of course …’
‘I’d love a drink.’ She was smiling at him. Something a bit cheeky in her eyes. ‘That’d be great.’
He smiled back, a big huge one. He felt sixteen feet tall and about six and a half stone in weight, instead of the other way around.
‘Yeah? Brilliant!’
Then he looked around at the open bonnet of the car and decided he better get back under it while the going was good and before he said something that would fuck everything up.
‘How is it now?’ he called.
Back in the car, she pulled it out of gear and into neutral, laughing to herself. That had been a doddle. The engine roared into life.
‘Norman, you’re a genius!’
‘Ah stop. It probably just needed a few goes with the cold this morning.’
He was chuffed with himself. He hadn’t done anything and now she thought he was the dog’s bollocks. He came back to her and leaned down on the window.
‘I’ll give you a call later this afternoon?’
‘Yeah. Wait till about two, will you? I’ll be asleep.’
‘Course.’
She scribbled her number on a piece of paper from the glove compartment and handed it to him with a grin.
‘Thanks for fixing the car.’
He shook his head.
‘Thanks for the tea.’
She grinned and reached out through the window to wipe at his cheek. She showed him her fingers.
‘From the spark plugs …’
‘Oh right, thanks.’
He took out his hanky and wiped his face.
‘Talk to you later so.’
‘Grand.’
The car took off down the driveway and Norman watched it for a bit. Then he trudged back to the rosebed, a big happy head on him. He didn’t even notice the four nurses in the main front window laughing and pushing each other. It was the first time he’d asked a girl out in six months.
*
‘Ah … well, fuck it anyway!’ shouted Jimmy at himself in the kitchen that night. He put the tin down on the counter and hung his head in disgust.
He had a deadly recipe for smoked salmon fillets with a cream pasta sauce and he was just after making a balls of it. He got the wrong salmon. It wasn’t the smoked stuff at all, it was just regular tinned fucking salmon chunks that would taste of nothing by the time he’d fried up the onions and garlic and added the few chopped chives he had in the fridge.
He cooked it all up anyway rather than waste the food and sat watching the telly as he ate, still pissed off with himself. The cordless handset of his phone was sitting on the arm of the couch across the room from him and every few minutes he found himself looking away from the news to make sure it was still there. When he was finished eating, he went over to pick it up and click it on and off to make sure it wasn’t out of battery or something. It hadn’t rung in ages. But it was fine.
He put the plate into the sink and checked the clock in the kitchen. He put the kettle on and sat looking at it for a minute as it started to hiss.
They hadn’t spoken in about three weeks. Not even an email. Jimmy remembered meeting her in Thailand the previous summer. That week often played itself out like a movie in his mind afterwards. He’d been through a fairly dry patch before that and she was just so fucking beautiful and so cool. But then when he got back to Dublin he’d had all this crap in his old IT job, and then he’d quit that, sort of, as The Grove had started to take off in a big way and he suddenly found his face on the front of magazines and his voice coming out of the radio in his car. He just didn’t have the time for a long distance girlfriend. Any girlfriend in fact. Certainly not one that deserved all the attention that he couldn’t give Susan. She was cool and relaxed but she wasn’t a sap. Someone else would edge his way sooner or later into the gap Jimmy had left and then she really would be gone. Maybe it had already happened. Maybe that’s why she hadn’t called him
But it wasn’t right. If it was going to be over, if he was going to let Susan go and get on with her life, he should do it properly. But he didn’t want to. He didn’t want it to be over and he didn’t want to let her get on with her life. He wanted to come off the stage and see her there waiting for him, to have her share the insanity with him and then to grab his hand so that they could run off and hide from it all together when it got too mental. Six months. If he just had six months to wrap everything up, the album, the tour, and get the whole thing moving. Twelve months tops. In a year he’d be able to give her so much more than he could now. But, Jesus, was she going to wait around for a year for him to get his shit together? What if … if …
Bollocks to this. He had to call her.
‘Hello?’
‘Susan?’
‘Jimmy?!’
‘Yeah. How’s it …’
‘Hang on a second, Jimmy. Just … hang on, give me a second.’
He could hear her hushing someone in the background, her hand on the mouthpiece making everything muffled. Who was there? Some bloke probably. A bottle of wine in one hand and a tin of smoked fucking salmon chunks in the other, the bastard.
‘Jimmy?’
‘Yeah. Still here.’
‘Sorry, it’s a bit loud here.’
‘Entertaining?’
‘Kind of. Amanda is heading off tomorrow. There’s a few people over.’
Amanda had been out in Thailand with Susan on holidays when they’d met. Aesop had … well, he’d made sure that Jimmy had plenty of time alone with Susan.
‘Where’s she going?’
‘She’s just going off travelling she says. Doesn’t even know where. Said she’ll head to Paris first and see what happens. She hasn’t really had a great time of it recently, poor thing. They let her go in work, well she kind of quit, and she … she hasn’t really been herself for a while now. But I told you all that, didn’t I?’
Jimmy didn’t remember.
‘Yeah, yeah,’ he said. ‘That’s tough.’
‘But anyway, how are things with you? It’s been a while.’
Her voice was bringing it all back now. Thailand, Dublin, her laugh, the feel of her skin.
‘Three weeks and three days,’ said Jimmy.
‘Wow. You’re counting. I didn’t think …’
‘Susan, why didn’t you call?’
Fuck it, this was hard enough without dancing around.
‘Jimmy, it’s … I’m … God, I wasn’t expecting you to call tonight. Jimmy, I’m … I …’ Big sigh. ‘I’m not enjoying this. Us. It’s too hard. We’re not even really a couple, are we? It’s not one thing, it’s not the other thing. I don’t want to get … to be the one who … it’s just hard Jimmy. And you never call. I know, I know, you’re busy. You’ve got so much you need to do. I know that. I mean, it’s great. It really is.’
Jimmy was sitting right on the edge of one of the hard kitchen chairs; elbows on knees, hand on forehead and the phone jammed up against his face. He was rocking back and forth a little.
‘Susan, I’m … sorry.’
‘The last time I called you, you were in such a hurry to get off the phone. I felt like I was just in the way.’
‘It wasn’t like that Susan. I had a film crew costing a thousand quid an hour waiting to roll. There was a cranky make-up lady tapping her watch at me, and Aesop running around the TV studio in a towel and a Cradle of Filth t-shirt trying to find his lucky underpants. It was just bad timing.’
‘I know, Jimmy. You told me. But you never called me back.’
‘Well, you sounded pissed off. I thought I’d give you a bit of time to, y’know …’
‘How much time did you think I needed?’
‘I …’
‘Jimmy, I’m not sixteen any more, y’know? Going out with the lead singer in the band was all well and good when he was just on the posters on your bedroom wall and it wasn’t real. But this is different. Even when I was in Dublin, the way people kept coming up to you in the street, I felt like I was getting in the way. Like I was taking up time you should have been spending with them. I’d just kind of stand to one side and try not to look too much like some groupie you’d just picked up.’
‘Ah Jesus, Susan, it’s not like that. And it’s all new to me too, believe me. I still get surprised when it happens and then I don’t know what to say to them. I mean, this is Dublin, right? Half the time they just come up and go, “hey you, singer bloke, you think you’re fuckin’ great, don’t ye?” and then walk off.’
She laughed. It was the sweetest sound he’d heard in weeks.
‘Susan …’
‘Jimmy listen to me. I told you before that not a lot of people can do what you can do. You have so much talent, God. I don’t want to be the one who stops you showing it off. You deserve everything you have now. You should enjoy it.’
‘But I’m not. It’s not like it was meant to be. There’s something … fucked up about it all. Something’s missing or something.’
‘What could be missing?’
‘I … I’m not sure.’
Don’t fucking say it, Jimmy. It’s not fair. Don’t mess with her head like that. You’re either in or you’re fucking out. Where’s your balls? There was another pause. Then …
‘I saw the “Strut” video yesterday.’
‘Oh, did you? So, what did you think?’
‘It’s so weird to see you on the TV like that! You wouldn’t believe it. But, no, it’s really great! It’s a good change after “Caillte”. Shows that you’re versatile. Aesop smiles a lot when he’s playing the drums, doesn’t he?’
‘Depends on the song. You should have seen the head on him this morning when we played my latest masterpiece in the studio.’
‘You both looked great. Very sexy. I didn’t see the Japanese guy you were talking about though. Is he not coming back to play with you?’
‘Probably not. Maybe. He doesn’t know yet. It’d be great though, he’s a great bloke.’
‘Who were the girls?’
‘Who?’
‘The girls in the video.’
‘Oh, just some dancers. We hired them for the shoot. Probably another reason Aesop was smiling like that.’
‘And you?’
‘Nah. Not my scene.’
‘Jimmy?’
‘Yeah?’
‘It’s … I guess it’s kind of hard to sit all the way over here and wonder. I mean, I know what Aesop’s like. Amanda sent him a few emails, but I don’t think he replied. I can only imagine what you guys are getting up to, the things that are happening around you now.’
‘Susan, it’s not like that. I swear to God.’
‘Isn’t it?’
‘No! Well, maybe a little bit. I mean it’s there all right. Aesop is certainly enjoying himself. But I’ve known him since school and, believe me, he’s been living this life since he was about thirteen. The only difference is that he doesn’t have to borrow money off me all the time now. He’s the rockstar. I’m just a musician, same as I always was. And I don’t get caught up in all that shite. It’s a bit distracting to be honest. I’m too busy. And anyway it’s embarrassing.’
‘Jimmy, be a rockstar.’
‘What?’
‘Go and be a rockstar. Please. It’d make me happy to know that everything you’ve worked for all these years is paying off. Live the life and see what you think. You’ll only get one chance to do it, right?’
‘Susan, I don’t want that.’
‘Well … what do you want?’
Fuck it, he was walking straight into these.
‘I … just want it to really get going so I can … y’know …’
He heard her sigh.
‘Jimmy, Amanda’s heading off tomorrow. I don’t know when she’ll be back and I need to spend a bit of time with her before she goes. She really hasn’t been herself. I should go.’
‘Susan … can I call you?’
‘Of course. Hey, you owe me a song, remember?’
‘I do remember.’
‘Any progress?’
‘Well …’
‘Too busy I guess, right?’
‘Ah Susan, it’s not like that … I just have all this …’
‘I’m only joking Jimmy. Look, I need to go.’
‘I’ll call you. Soon.’
‘Do if you like.’
‘I will.’
‘I mean it Jimmy. Call me because you want to. Not because you think you should. Okay?’
‘Yeah. Sure. But of course I want to. I want to talk to you properly. Not like this. I need … I mean I want to …’
Susan laughed again.
‘Jimmy, I don’t think you know what you want right now.’
‘Susan …’
‘Seeya Jimmy. Take care of yourself. And, hey, give me a wave from your next video. That’d be cool.’
She hung up.
He sat up straight and felt the sweat trickle down his back. His hands and the phone were slimey and hot. Susan was nobody’s fucking idiot. She was afraid of the very same thing that Jimmy was. That he’d drift away from her, that he’d let the circus he was part of now pack up and leave her behind. He wanted so much to promise her that it wouldn’t happen. But how the fuck could he do that? It was getting so big now that he felt like he was just one of the clowns.
*
Norman met Trish out in The Yacht in Clontarf. A few pints, a bit of dinner and a couple of pints, and then a few quick pints before they walked back along the coast as far as Fairview, where he stopped a taxi for her and held her hand as she sat into it. His heart was going nineteen to the dozen as she sat there looking up at him. He had no clue what she wanted to happen next, but he wasn’t about to risk making a balls of the whole thing by opening his gob and so he just smiled at her and then cleared his throat.
‘So … would it be okay if I called you again, Trish? I had a great night tonight.’
‘Will you not be out in Baldoyle?’
‘Ah, I’m pretty much done out there. I will be anyway by the time you get back next week.’
‘Ah, that’s a shame. What about our poor roses?’
‘Sure, it was only a small job. They’ll be grand for another while. So …’
‘Give me a call next week. I’ll be working but I should be able to get off again on Friday night. They’re usually cool with the country girls getting home for the weekend if they can.’
‘So you’ll be going back to Kerry?’
She grinned up at him from the back of the taxi.
‘Well … that might be up to you.’
His belly did a flip and then they heard another voice muttering.
‘Fuck sake …’
It was the taxi man.
‘Maybe you want to turn on your radio there?’ said Norman, leaning down.
‘It’s broke. Go on. Pretend I’m not here. I’ve heard worse in annyway. I’ll start whistling if it gets too painful.’
Norman turned back to Trish.
‘So, maybe we can go for a meal next Friday? A proper one.’
‘I’d love to.’
Norman suddenly put his hands on his face.
‘Oh no! Fuck!’
‘Jesus. What? What is it?’
‘Oh God, sorry Trish. I just remembered I’m going to a gig next Friday. Feck it anyway. Unless … do you like music? Would that be okay instead?’
‘Is that all? Christ, I didn’t know what was wrong with you.’
‘I just remembered. But what do you think? Would you be on for a bit of live music?’
‘Of course I would. Who is it?’
‘The Grove. You know them?’
‘Of course, yeah. But are they not over in England or something? Didn’t I read that?’
‘Not for a while yet. They’re playing in Vicar Street next week. Will you go with me?’
‘Do you have a spare ticket?’
‘I … eh … I know a fella can get me one.’
The taxi man stopped whistling.
‘Can he get me one?’
‘What?’
‘Can he get me one? My mot is mad into that shower. That Irish song they do, y’know? She’s always singing along to it on the radio. She was trying to get tickets to that gig but they were all gone. You should’ve seen the pus on her. It used to be Robbie this and Robbie that, but now she never shuts up about yer man Aesop. Some shaper, that bloke.’
‘Eh …’
‘I’ll bring you and your bird home for no fare. Where are yiz going?’
‘I … what? She’s not my …’
‘Can you get two tickets?’
‘I don’t know if I …’
‘Look, sit in there in annyway. I’ll give you me phone number and if you can do anything you give me a call. If you can’t, then no sweat. Right? Now where am I going?’
Norman didn’t know what to say, but Trish moved along the seat, laughing. He sighed and got in.
‘That’s it, you do what your bird says,’ said the taxi man.
‘She’s not my … bird,’ said Norman.
The taxi man looked in his rearview mirror at Trish and then turned around to Norman again.
‘Well you better get your fuckin’ skates on pal, before she’s someone else’s bird.’
Trish looked up at Norman with a big grin and put one hand on his leg. Norman caught a wink in the mirror from his new ally and just closed his eyes, his face burning in the dark.