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Aisling was sitting in the back of the taxi, Una in the front. She glanced at her profile. The hood of her rain jacket was bunched around her shoulders. Her gaze was fixed straight ahead, and her mouth set in a firm line. She looked away to stare out the window, rivulets of water were running down. It was bucketing down; they were getting a taste of the winter to come today for sure.
Their driver, she’d seen when he strode cheerily into O’Mara’s announcing his arrival, had a bulbous red nose. He also had the telltale broken capillaries of a man who was partial to a glass or two—they formed a network to rival the London Underground across both his cheeks.
Now he began intrepidly trying to engage his two passengers in cheerful patter about the gloomy day and where they might be off to on a wet Sunday morning. Neither Una nor Aisling replied with more than the bare minimum of conversation necessary so as not to appear rude. They were both worn out from the talking they’d done through the night and were content to sit in silence, lost in their own thoughts.
The driver heaved a sigh and gave up as he drove them over the Liffey. All they could hear as they reached the red brick suburb in which Aideen lived was the ticking over of the meter, the sluicing tyres as they rolled through the puddles, and an annoying jaw-clicking sound the driver was making. It was painful to listen to.
‘It’s just up there, if you pull over beside the park that will do nicely, thank you.’ Una gestured to the wedge of dull green grass up ahead on the left.
‘Are you sure? You’ll get soaked so you will. Can I drop you to the door of wherever it is you’re going?’
‘Thank you, no. We’ll be fine.’ Una was curt, her voice tense. ‘What do I owe you?’
Aisling opened her purse, but Una was insistent she pay as the driver idled the car. There was no point arguing and, getting out of the car, she popped her umbrella. The street was quiet with a row of cars parked along one side nose to nose. There were no signs of human life, but she wasn’t surprised; they weren’t a country of early risers. Her eyes flitted over the deserted park. The play area stood in the middle, empty and forlorn. She saw a tree, its branches drooping under the rain, a bench seat beneath it, and surmised that was where Una had been whiling away her days since she’d been in Dublin. The sight of it saddened her.
Aideen’s house was one of the houses in the row of smart terraces across the road. How would they be received? Aisling hoped the sight of her sister standing on her doorstep after all these years didn’t prove too much of a shock for Aideen. She wasn’t well after all. Aisling was nearly as anxious as Una who appeared beside her a beat later. Her face was pale and apprehensive as she peered out from under her rain jacket’s hood. Aisling held her umbrella up over both of them while they waited for the taxi to drive away. Then she linked her arm through Una’s—to offer reassurance and to make sure she didn’t try to change her mind as they crossed the road.
The house Una halted outside was opposite the park.
‘This is Aideen’s, number eighteen.’
Aisling opened the gate and keeping a firm grip on Una walked up the front path. Despite the time of year, the garden was neatly kept, the foliage trimmed back for winter, and the path led them to a cheery red door. It had the shiniest brass knocker she’d ever seen. Aideen was obviously house proud and before Una could protest, Aisling lifted it and rapped three times. Aisling could feel Una’s body ramrod and rigid next to her as they waited. The seconds stretched long.
‘She’s not home, we’ll come another time.’
‘Una, she’ll have barely had time to get out of her chair. Give it a minute.’
Aisling crossed her fingers that Aideen was home. She didn’t fancy her chances of getting Una back here again. Her gut told her if the sisters didn’t reconnect today it wouldn’t happen. Una would get back on the train and chug away for good.
They should have gotten the driver to wait even if that jaw clicking thing was annoying. It was not the day to be standing on the side of the road waiting for taxis. She picked up the knocker and rapped it twice more, willing Aideen to open the door. She’d count to twenty really slowly and if no one had answered by then they’d have to go. They couldn’t loiter on her front doorstep all day, the neighbours would get suspicious and they’d wind up with pneumonia.
‘I really think we should leave.’ Una shifted impatiently.
Aisling had counted to fifteen. She sighed, maybe Una was right. Hang on, she could hear movement. She squeezed Una’s arm in nervous anticipation.
‘Someone’s coming.’
She heard the sharp intake of breath next to her as the door opened.