Alison sat in the hotel car park above Dun Laoghaire pier. It was almost 11 p.m. Not much hope of finding a bed anywhere at this hour, she thought, locking the jeep and walking towards the water. The air hummed with the chat and laughter of the crowds gathered around tables outside the hotels and bars. Hard to believe that less than two weeks ago William and herself had been just like them – carefree and happy, relaxed in the buzz and seduction of midsummer. How had he hidden it so well? She turned off the main street towards the harbour. A wolf whistle followed her from three men at the corner. Ignoring their beer-fuelled courage, Alison carried on, head bent, towards the pier.
She climbed over the storm wall and down onto the rocks. The incoming tide whispered its welcome, its hypnotic pull and fall drawing her like a magnet. She unknotted the cardigan from her waist and, pulling it tight over her shoulders, huddled down into the darkness.
She wondered if he were sleeping now, pictured him alone in his bed under the window. He had looked so out of place, so totally alone when she’d looked back down the ward as she was leaving. He didn’t belong there. The image of him swimming naked in the cove at Tra na Leon returned to her. He had seemed such a natural part of the place, the water and the sun caressing him, making him their own. There had been an energy about him that morning, an air of celebration, a total abandonment to life that had triggered something forgotten in her.
She lit a cigarette and, inhaling deeply, tried to concentrate on the hiss and lick of the tide in an effort to calm and untangle the questions that circled endlessly in her head. Would it have been better for both of them if she had left things as they were, accepted their parting and not gone in search of him? Could she cope with another death, with reliving her mother’s last weeks, Sean’s disappearance? Had she the strength, the courage to stay? To walk away? Would she have come if she’d known what she was going to find? Honestly?
The following morning, after a quick wash in the hotel foyer bathroom, Alison sat down to a light breakfast in the dining room. Despite just a few hours’ sleep reclined on the passenger seat of the jeep, she felt strangely energised. She secured a room at the hotel for the next two nights and took a brisk walk along the pier before driving straight on to the hospital.
William was sleeping. Alison moved to the window as the sound of an aeroplane taking off from nearby Dublin Airport shattered the silence. She tried to imagine what it must be like for William, lying here day in day out, watching those planes, filled with expectant holidaymakers, crossing his patch of blue. Did he wonder about the journey that he was embarking on: where he was going, what, if anything, awaited him? A shiver of cold fear rippled right through her at the thought of entering the absolute unknown. Alone. With no map, no language, nothing to . . .
‘Good morning, dear. William? William, you have a visitor.’ The nurse’s chirpy call broke into Alison’s thoughts and she turned from the window as William stirred, his eyes and his smile fixing on her.
‘Look at that day,’ she smiled, moving to his side. ‘Do you think you could come out for a couple of hours?’ Her eyes entreated the nurse, who was still hovering.
‘What are the chances, Mary?’ William winked at the nurse and she caught a glint in his eye that hadn’t been there before.
‘I don’t know, William. Are you seeing Mr Fogarty this morning?’
‘Don’t think so.’
‘I don’t see any reason . . . I’ll just have to check with his team. Leave it with me a moment.’ She returned William’s wink and soft-stepped back to the nurses’ station.
‘What do you fancy doing, if you can come?’ Alison sat on the bed beside him.
‘Okay, William, three hours max,’ the nurse smiled, checking the watch at her breast. ‘It’s almost twelve now, so we’ll expect you back by three.’ She disconnected the drip and secured the cannula in his arm with a plaster. ‘Lunch before you go?’
‘No, thank you, Mary. I’m sure she’ll feed me.’
‘I’ll leave you to get dressed.’ Alison moved away from the bed as the nurse drew round the curtain. ‘I’ll just pop downstairs for a moment, I want to make a phone call.’
Alison stepped out of the lift and crossed the foyer to the main door, searching her mobile from her bag.
‘Hi, Kathleen?’
‘Alison, how’s it goin’?’
‘Good, are the dogs all right?’
‘I had them out for a run this morning and I’ll tell you, a bit more of that and I’ll be fitting into that dress in no time! How’s your aunt?’
‘Good, thanks. Listen, Kathleen, I’m going to be another day or two, do you mind watching them for me?’
‘No problem.’ Alison’s voice seemed heavy, forced. ‘Is everything all right?’ Kathleen asked, concerned.
‘Yeah, yeah, I just want to spend a little more time. Will you tell Maryanne I’ll be back by the weekend? Thanks, Kathleen, I’ll talk to you tomorrow.’
And just like that she was gone. Kathleen tossed the phone in her hand. Typical Alison, she sighed, rushing up there at the first call. Didn’t she have enough on her plate already with Maryanne? Surely there must be some other relative closer who could be called on. The only aunt Kathleen ever remembered Alison mentioning was that half-cracked spinster in Terenure – and she hadn’t been running down here when Alison was in trouble.
She had been so disappointed when Alison had cancelled their plans to go and look around the house on Tuesday evening. Work, she’d said, but surely she could have taken a break for an hour? While Alison did congratulate her on the house and seemed genuinely pleased for her, Kathleen remembered having felt at the time that Alison showed no great excitement about it, no real interest. And why should she, she asked herself now, filling another pint glass with hot water and a slice of lemon. She couldn’t expect others, not even her best friend, to be as over the moon as she was. This was her stuff, her life, the whole rest of the world wasn’t bursting with celebration just because she was. And she had to start being mindful of that. Her world had changed, had been transformed, but Alison’s hadn’t and maybe she was shoving that fact in Alison’s face by constantly talking of the wedding and the honeymoon and the house. But it was hard not to, there was so much going on inside her and it just kept bursting out, she couldn’t contain it! And she didn’t want to. This was once-in-a-lifetime stuff and these would be the memories she would look back on in years to come. But she would be more mindful, she promised, of Alison and of her world.
Alison was missing that guy William more than she was letting on; Kathleen knew by the way she always changed the subject – quite snappily at times – whenever Kathleen brought up his name. Right from the start she had copped that Alison fancied him but just wasn’t giving in to it – just as well, Kathleen supposed now, the way he’d just upped and left like that. Maybe the break away from the place would do her good, could be exactly what she needed. She tipped back her head, emptied the glass and stood it on the sink. Only six more to go to reach the day’s quota.
* * *
Approaching Killiney, William rolled down the window and took a deep breath through his nose. ‘Now, that’s what I call medicine,’ he smiled, the salt air filling his lungs. Parking close to the beach, Alison busied herself taking a fold-up chair from the boot while he eased himself slowly from his seat. Already the crowds were about, the afternoon sun peacocking in a cloudless sky. They found a quiet spot over to the right of the walkway. Alison kicked off her shoes and unfolded the chair for William. She bent down and slipped off his sandals, the hot sand hugging his feet.
‘Fancy a paddle?’ They ambled to the water’s edge and stood a while in silence, the sea licking their feet and ankles.
‘I thought I’d never see you again.’ Her hand stole into his as they walked slowly along the shoreline, the sun warm on their backs. ‘When you hadn’t come back at the weekend, it was like Sean all over again – the angry parting, the not knowing.’
‘I’m sorry.’ He gripped her hand tightly. ‘I never meant to put you through that. I should have been honest with you, but I thought I was protecting you,’ he sighed. ‘And if I’m honest, I suppose I was protecting myself too. From seeing the pain in your eyes, knowing I caused it.’ His arm encircled her waist and he drew her close. ‘Months ago, I thought I had this all figured out. Thought I was ready for it, you know, resigned to it. But this last while with you has given me a new love for life, for this world. And I don’t want to go, Alison.’ His voice had dropped to a whisper. ‘I was running from that as well.’
Three little girls in bright bathing suits ran giggling past them into the water. They both watched them a moment, smiling.
‘What happens next?’ Alison ventured as they turned to walk back up the beach. ‘Is there more treatment?’
‘Palliative care,’ William sighed with a mock grin. ‘Whatever that means! They’ll move me to the hospice in Raheny in the next day or two, as soon as a bed comes up.’
‘What’s it like, the hospice?’ She sat on the hot sand at his feet.
‘I haven’t a clue. Quiet and peaceful, I suppose. A prelude of what’s to come. They’re specially trained to make you comfortable, to help you die – as if anyone could . . . ’ His voice trailed away with his gaze, off up over the cliff tops.
‘Are you frightened?’ She looked up, waited for his eyes to meet hers.
‘I feel . . . ’ He swallowed back, looked again towards the children playing at the water’s edge. ‘I feel like a child, without a mother’s hand to hold, crossing the street.’ His smile was stitched with pain. ‘If that makes any sense.’ Alison could almost feel her heart physically tearing. Unable to bear the lonely resignation in his eyes, she bent her head slowly to the sand.
‘One more favour?’ William asked as they drove out of the village.
‘Sure.’
‘Could we take a little detour? I’d love to take a spin by my old home, see how it looks.’
‘Just show me the way.’ To hell with the hospital’s three-hour deadline, she thought, she’d make some excuse about traffic or losing her way. She knew all too well the importance of saying goodbye.
‘Turn left at the top of this street, then straight on through the lights.’ William shifted in his seat and stretched out his leg to ease the fire in his hip. ‘Just down the end of this street, then right.’ They had been driving for about twenty minutes when they turned into the narrow, tree-lined street. ‘That’s it!’ He pointed to a small terraced house on the right. ‘The cream one. Can you pull over for a minute?’
The garden of the neat two-storey house was newly mown, a row of red rose bushes lining each side of the narrow pathway to the blue front door. A little girl sat on a tartan blanket under the window, her dolls and tea set spread out before her. She looked up from the doll on her lap and lowered the tiny teacup from her mouth. Tight blonde curls framed her face. William rolled down the window and smiled at her. She returned a slow, shy smile before turning her attention back to her charges.
‘Has it changed much?’
‘The door and the windows are new.’ He stared at the house, as if looking in through it. ‘The roses, they were my mother’s. Her pride and joy. I can see her now, pruning and weeding.’
‘What was she like?’ Alison prompted.
‘Quiet. I remember her always as being quiet, thoughtful. And fiercely independent. She ran a dressmaker’s from the front room there.’ He pointed to the window where the child sat. ‘When I’d come home from school, I’d always find her in there surrounded by materials for wedding dresses, jackets, trousers for alterations. She’d work away into the night. That little room was her whole world.’
‘Did she like it?’
‘I don’t think it was a case of liking it or not. It was what got us by. We never went without, she made sure of that. And she never asked anyone for help, always drumming into me the importance of being able to get by on your own.’ He smiled. ‘I can hear her now: Love many, trust few, always paddle your own canoe. That was her mantra.’
‘And your father?’
‘He was a medical student, American. He went home for a holiday shortly after she became pregnant and he never came back. That’s all she ever told me about him.’
‘And she never met anyone else?’
‘No one was going to hurt her again.’ He shook his head slowly. ‘She never really got involved in anything outside of the house. Except for those roses, she minded them like they were children.’
‘It must have been lonely for her after you left?’ Alison realised how little she knew of him.
‘She pushed me, you know, to grow up, to live on my own. To leave and not feel the pull to come running back.’
‘She obviously loved you very much,’ Alison sighed, knowing how hard it had been to let Hannah go just for the few months of summer.
‘Yeah, I’m only understanding that now.’ He wound up the window. ‘Suppose we’d better head back.’ He looked ahead as if to turn and look at the place once more would break him.
Back on the ward William silenced the nurse’s recriminations by placing a swift kiss on each of her cheeks and telling her that that was the perfect end to a perfect day.
‘Well, you’ll have to speak to staff nurse in the morning.’ Her young face burned with embarrassment.
‘Leave her to me,’ William smiled, sinking back onto the bed.
Alison placed the menu back on the table. She had neither the appetite for food nor for the raucous laughter from the table to her left. She slipped from the dining room and called the lift. She needed space, quiet. Back in her room she showered, changed into a T-shirt and shorts, and ordered a salad and a bottle of wine from reception.
Glass in hand, she sat out on her room balcony. She could see the pier below and the Sea Cat making its way out into the darkening night. She lit a cigarette, put her feet up on the chair opposite.
William had been exhausted by the time they got back to the hospital and she had watched the light and life drain from him as he lay down on his bed. She tried to picture him as a boy in that little house in Drimnagh, growing up alone with a mother who did her best to rear him so that he would never experience the kind of hurt that had been hers. It hadn’t worked. Funny, the similarity she could see between this woman she had never known of until today and the person she herself had been when William first met her. Was it just a coincidence that William had come into her life at the start of summer? Perhaps. But inside she felt there was something much bigger at play.
She sipped her wine, her mind wandering back over their time together. It was hard to believe he had only been in her life such a short time. With his gentle persistence, William had helped her give voice to the thoughts and feelings that had screamed silently inside her for years. He had encouraged her to examine them and to let them go. She had let Sean go. Along with the guilt, and all the questions that she had finally accepted had no answers. And to fill their place she had released the passion buried behind them. Being with William had helped her to recognise all the strength and energy she had wasted on the past, on nursing her hurt and battling things she could never change. It wasn’t anything in particular that he had said or done. It was just something, everything about him.
She pictured him again in his hospital bed, the loneliness in his eyes when he spoke of the hospice where he would wait for death. A shiver raced down her spine. How could she leave him tomorrow? Even the next day? How could she return to a world that he had brought back to life for her while he lay dying among strangers?
Her first instinct had been right. The moment she stepped onto that ward yesterday she knew immediately what lay ahead and though she didn’t honestly believe she had the strength to endure it, she knew even then what she would do. With the memory of her mother’s dying so fresh again in her mind, she had been afraid, terrified, and had buried the whole question until she was alone on the pier last night. Hours she had sat, trying to think it out, but it was all too much, too raw, too immediate. She needed time. Time to think it through honestly, coldly. To let it sit. But in that one crystal moment, outside William’s old house, she knew for certain that her gut, as usual, had been right. ‘Without a mother’s hand to hold . . . ’ Alison felt as if William’s mother had spoken to her then, had given her the permission and the strength to go with what the deepest part of her had already decided.
Above all, William had taught her to love again. She could love and let go – and this time, she believed, without losing herself in the parting. She opened the patio doors and stepped back into the warmth of her room. Tomorrow could not come quick enough. Tomorrow she would ask him to return with her to Carniskey.
* * *
It was only when you gave yourself time to look back on these things, Maryanne thought, only when you were separated from them by the grace of years, that you could start to make sense of it all.
She would never forget Alison’s face that morning when she’d arrived at the door, shivering in that thin coat, the hair wild around her head and that poor bit of a child clinging to her hand, shaking, the priest, white-faced, behind them.
‘He’s gone,’ she’d whispered through her sobs as Maryanne steered them towards the kitchen, grabbed some warm towels from over the range.
‘Hush now, girl, come on, warm yourself,’ she’d soothed. ‘Give me that child.’ She had released the child from Alison’s death grip, folded her in her lap, her blood fired with temper, but not with surprise. No, Maryanne had seen this coming a long time and she knew the madam that was behind it too. Nothing went unnoticed in these small places.
‘I begged him not to go . . . ’
‘Easy, Alison, easy pet.’ The girl was hysterical, her tears putting the fear of God into the shivering child.
‘He could see the weather, he knew that boat . . . ’
‘Boat?’ Maryanne’s heart had stopped.
It was then that the neighbours began to arrive, with their heads bowed, their sidelong glances of sympathy; their hurried whispers about rescue teams, forecasts, searches that had come good after days. It wasn’t too late yet, one echoed the other, frantically stamping down the truth that shone from their eyes.
Someone had called the doctor. Maryanne brushed aside his concerns for her, instead leading him, straight-backed, to the bedroom where Alison was settling Hannah, away from the roars of Joe O’Sullivan in the kitchen, away from his stuttering insistence that he had seen Sean crossing the fields at Mount Airy in the darkness.
She had put it down to shock in the first few days, that numb, calm feeling, that quietness inside her. Had put it down to knowing that it would spell the end for her if she gave the reality of his being gone even one moment’s acknowledgement.
Days turned into weeks, and still no body. By day, Maryanne busied herself with the child, poor mite, her mother now all but lost to her too. Nights she lay in her bed, searching within herself for the first hint of a mother’s knowing, a mother’s grief. She found neither.
Months crawled by and Maryanne watched on from somewhere outside herself. Watched her heart harden towards Alison, envying, almost despising the raw grief that drained and closed her face, that caused her young body to bend in upon itself as if to protect itself from crumbling. She listened to herself whip the girl with her anger, urging her to call off the searches, forbidding the raising of the boat, everything inside her screaming, straining to feel something, something.
‘Maryanne, sweetheart, what’s the matter?’ The nurse’s hand was cool on her forehead, the tissue soft on her wet cheeks.
‘Are you coming back to us, pet?’
* * *
‘What was all that about?’ William asked as Alison sat on the bed and planted a good morning kiss full on his lips. He had been watching her talking to the staff nurse just outside the ward, noticed the body language, the heightened expressions.
‘She thinks she owns you,’ Alison began, her colour heightened. She had already spent an hour with the oncologist, at least he’d had the humanity to hear her out, to see reason.
‘Oh, yesterday? Don’t sweat, Fogarty’ll be around in a while, he’ll put her right.’
‘What time’s he due in?’ Alison was bent by the bed, rummaging in the locker. ‘God, you travel light.’
‘I won’t be needing much,’ he smiled. ‘He should be up before ten, why?’
‘I’d like to meet him before I head home.’
‘You’re going today? Oh, right.’ The disappointment in his voice, the way he tried to mask it. Alison turned her head to hide her smile.
‘Good morning, William, Alison.’ Joseph Fogarty smiled, took her hand. William looked from one to the other. How did he know her name?
‘So, how are you today, William?’
‘Good, thanks. Yesterday did wonders for me.’
‘Yes, I heard you were on the missing list for a while.’ He shook his head in mock disapproval. ‘Please, take a seat,’ Fogarty motioned Alison to the chair as he pulled the curtain around the bed. Alison bit down on her lip.
‘So, Alison here tells me you’re considering homecare?’
A confused William glanced from the doctor to Alison and back again. She took his hand. ‘Yes,’ she jumped in, ‘we’ve talked it through and William feels he’d be more comfortable at home with me. I’ve discussed it with the GP and he can arrange all the help we need from our local Hospice Homecare Team.’
‘Good. Well, it seems both of you have worked this through and William, well, you are the boss here. I’ll get the GP’s details from you, Alison, and send him on all the information he’ll need.’ He turned again to William. ‘I won’t say goodbye just yet, William – we’ll have a chat after lunch before you leave.’ He patted a silent William on the arm and rose to draw back the curtain.
‘Alison, if you’d like to come with me I’ll get that information from you.’
She stood to follow and winked at a stunned William, a huge smile lighting her whole face.
Alison returned twenty minutes later to find William sitting on the side of the bed, deep in thought.
‘Ali, I can’t let you . . . ’
‘Please, William, don’t.’ She sat on the bed and took both his hands in hers. ‘I’m not rushing into this with my eyes closed. I know what’s ahead – for both of us. I’ve thought really hard about it and it’s what I want. Not just for you, for me too. For both of us.’ She smiled through her tears. ‘Please, say you’ll come.’
His eyes, brimming with tears, fixed on hers, his mouth clamped tight to steady the shake in his chin. He shook his head, nodded slowly and they wrapped their arms around each other in silence.
‘I’m going to head back to the hotel.’ Alison drew away after a long moment and wiped her palms across her wet cheeks. ‘I need to collect my stuff, make a few calls.’ She stood to leave, her hands finding his again. ‘And Fogarty wants to have a chat with you, go over your meds and stuff. I’ll collect you, say, about four?’
William nodded, his hands squeezing hers, words still deserting him.
I hope I can count on Dr Clarke, Alison prayed, as she swung out the hospital gate. She hadn’t spoken to the GP yet and she knew nothing of the hospice service in Waterford. What she did know was that her doctor wouldn’t let her down. She would ring him first, she decided, before Fogarty had a chance to get in touch. She’d liked him, Fogarty. He understood William, the spirit of him, knew that a hospital or hospice wasn’t the place for him to end his days. She’d felt bad telling those white lies about her training in cancer care. But they weren’t really lies. Her last few months with her mother had taught her more about cancer in a real and raw way than any course could match. She had better give Kathleen a ring too, she nodded, she was going to need the support of a true and strong friend.
* * *
‘It’s not that ye’re not welcome here.’ Tom tried again, explaining to Sean, ‘It’s just, well, the house is small, and me and Ella, we need our space. Things haven’t been good with us lately and ye being here, well . . . ’ Ella had taken the boy to a concert in the local hall and Tom had seized the opportunity to talk to Sean about his leaving. He had hoped it wouldn’t come to this. Despite everything, he liked Sean, felt responsible for him in a way. He should never have shown him that advert in the paper, he knew that now. But at the time he had thought that maybe, in some way, it might help to ease the man’s torment. But it had only worked to deepen his pain, and Tom cursed his own well-intentioned yet ill-guided interference.
‘I know how you’re fixed, Tom, and I know I’ve stayed longer than I should.’ Sean could see how awkward Tom felt, having to bring up the subject. He knew Ella was behind it. He had heard them arguing, noticed how their conversations would dry up when he’d come in the back door unexpectedly. Through her silence Ella had made no secret of her wanting Sean gone from the house and he couldn’t blame her after what he’d put her through that night young Daniel had gone missing. ‘I’ll be gone out from under ye before the week is out,’ he continued, ‘and I’ll never forget all that you’ve done for me, Tom.’
‘Will ye go back on the boats?’
‘Where else,’ Sean sighed. ‘There’s no other place for me. Not the place I want anyway.’ He held his head in his hands, bent it low to the table.
‘Come on,’ Tom urged, taking his coat from the hook behind the door. ‘I’m goin’ down to Richie’s for a pint, ye’ll join me?’ He could sense Sean wanted to talk about Alison, could feel it coming. And he wanted no more of it: going over all the same old ground again, Sean trying to find something in what Tom had said that would give him some hope of her wanting him back.
‘I won’t, Tom, thanks all the same.’
‘I’ll leave ye then, if ye’re sure.’ Tom pulled the back door behind him and breathed out his heaviness into the night air.
* * *
Kathleen had changed the beds, walked the dogs and washed the floors, and although the evening wasn’t cold she had lit a small fire in the sitting room. It would make the place nice and welcoming for them.
Alison hadn’t told her much on the phone. Just that William would be returning with her and staying at her place for a few weeks. Something in the rush of her voice had told Kathleen there was a lot more to the story.
There was no sick aunt, Kathleen was sure of it. The two of them had had some falling out and that’s why he had left so suddenly. That would explain Alison’s bad form before she went. Think of her, the sly little minx, going after him like that and not a word, Kathleen smiled. Well, they’d obviously made up – more than made up, if he was coming back to this house. Kathleen clasped her hands together, smiling. She hoped she was right, hoped Alison had at last found someone to share her life with. If anyone deserved a bit of happiness, it was Alison, she thought, unable to ignore the little voice that reminded her that it would help ease the weight of her own guilt too.
She sighed as she turned on the tap to rinse her hands, remembering how she had watched Alison turn from a vibrant, young bride into a tense and anxious mother and wife. If only Alison had known what Sean was really like – what her so-called friend Kathleen was really like. All these years Alison had spent in love with his ghost. With this person that death had elevated to near sainthood. Sean Delaney was no saint. He was a selfish fucker, if ever there was one, who put himself and his boat above everything and everyone else. Even at the end, who else was he thinking of but himself? Well, good riddance! The world was a better place without him. There was no point in trying to tell Alison that, though. And she never had. What would be the point? It would only make her suffer more and cost her the only friend she knew. But this William fellow, maybe he had opened her eyes, had helped her to see the real—
The ring of the telephone interrupted her thoughts. She dried her hands on the tea towel and picked up the receiver. ‘Hello?’
‘Alison?’
‘I’m sorry, Alison is away at the moment.’
‘She’s away? Away where?’
‘She’s in Dublin, visiting an aunt. Can I take a message?’
There was silence on the other end.
‘Can I say who’s calling?’
But the caller had already put down the phone. As she allowed the full realisation of what had just passed to dawn on her, Kathleen slowly lowered her trembling body onto the kitchen chair, the receiver still in her hand.
‘Sean Delaney? Jesus, no,’ she whispered, her heart almost jumping out of her chest. ‘Jesus, Mary and Joseph, no.’
* * *
Sean stood for a moment, staring at the telephone. He could nearly swear that was Kathleen on the other end – who else would Alison have in the house when she was away? Shit! What if she had recognised his voice? No, she couldn’t have, he reassured himself, he had hardly spoken two words. It would be typical of her to mess the whole thing up on him again. No, put her out of your mind, he instructed, keep your focus. Time enough to deal with Kathleen, with that whole side of things. For now, he had to concentrate on getting to Alison, and things, it seemed, were beginning to line up in his favour. It would be much easier to meet Alison in Dublin without the eyes of Carniskey looking on, to get her on her own. They could sort everything out between them up there and he would have her well on his side before they went back down home. If he could manage that much, then the rest would be easy sailing.
He climbed the stairs to his bedroom, his heart rising with every step. Lying back on the bed, he lit a cigarette and began picturing their meeting: what he would say to her, how she would look, the feel of her in his arms again. He didn’t get into bed but lay fully clothed on the quilt, waiting for morning and the early bus that would bring him to her.
* * *
Alison opened the door and flicked on the hall lights before helping William from the jeep. It was well after ten and the journey had absolutely exhausted him. They’d had to stop several times along the way so that he could get out and stretch his legs and his back. What planet was she on? The pain that such a long journey would put him through had never even crossed her mind. She had thought they’d never reach home, had prayed that William couldn’t see through the veneer of her forced humour to the doubts, the trepidation that haunted her.
More than once since leaving the hospital she’d had to ask herself if it really was William’s best interests she’d had at heart when she’d made her decision. Yes, her decision, because she had ploughed right in without really allowing William any say in the matter. But only because she knew he’d refuse, that he would put her feelings before his own and try – again – to protect her. But she didn’t need protecting, she reassured herself now, as, with William settled in bed, she sat to eat the supper that Kathleen had left prepared. She had thought this through and she wouldn’t have offered if she didn’t believe she had the strength and courage to see it through.
It felt good to be back in the comfort of her own surroundings, sitting in front of the fire, the dogs sleeping at her feet. She felt her confidence returning. Dr Clarke had been so supportive on the phone and she had an appointment to see him tomorrow to get everything moving. And Kathleen. She knew without asking that she could count on Kathleen one hundred per cent. But she wasn’t fooling herself that this was going to be easy – the journey alone had brought that home to her. It was probably going to be harder than she could ever imagine. And it would test her, test every last raw nerve in her body, she knew that too. But she would do it. They would do it, her and William, together.
* * *
Kathleen tiptoed from the bedroom. It wasn’t fair, she was keeping Rob awake and he had an early start in the morning. She crossed the landing to the bathroom and sat on the side of the bath in the darkness. Maybe she had just imagined it. It could have been anybody. Maybe, because she had been thinking about him just as the phone rang . . . But then why hadn’t he given a name or left a message? She had grown up with Sean Delaney, she knew him more than most. And God knew she had heard him say the name ‘Alison’ enough times to recognise the mouth it came from, the slight mispronunciation: ‘Aluson’. In her heart of hearts she knew it was him and there was no point in trying to deny it. She lay a hand over her thumping heart. Was it really possible that he could have been out there somewhere all this time? That he was thinking about making his way back? Why now? Why just when Alison had finally begun to accept that he was gone and had started to find some happiness? Why, just when Kathleen herself had found someone who truly loved her, loved Jamie? She ran her tongue over her parched lips. Oh sweet Jesus, help me, she prayed. How would she tell Rob, poor Jamie, Alison? But she would have to: what other choice had she? She gripped the sides of the bath, her stomach heaving.
When she had told Sean she was pregnant, he had stormed from her bed and ended their passionate three-month affair with a callousness that had numbed her throughout the pregnancy. When the child was born and she wheeled him to the house one evening to visit, Sean had barely glanced in the pram in his hurry to bundle Hannah in his arms and whisk her outdoors. What a strength Alison had been to her then. Over the following few years Kathleen had hardened her heart to Sean Delaney and found a true friend in the woman she had once so envied and deceived. But as Jamie grew, Kathleen’s sense of shame and injustice had grown with him until she was prepared to sacrifice even that friendship if it meant that the child could grow up knowing his father. She had no interest in Sean any more, had seen him for the selfish coward that he was, but she was damned if he was going to walk past his own child in the street without as much as a glance in his direction. And so she had told him that if he wasn’t prepared to come clean with Alison, to play a part in Jamie’s life, then she would tell Alison herself.
When the news broke that Sean’s boat had gone down, Kathleen had been consumed with a confusing cocktail of loss and guilt and relief. In a blind effort at coping she had buried all memories of Sean Delaney, locking them down with a driving determination to be both mother and father to Jamie and to support Alison and Hannah in every way she could. For three years she listened to Alison’s pain, all the time trying to ignore the echo of what Sean had inflicted on her. Their friendship deepened through those years, Kathleen secure in the knowledge that her secret was safe, buried in the depths of the sea.
No, he couldn’t come back now. Look at all the lives he would tear apart. No, please God, no, hadn’t he done enough of that already? She closed her eyes, took a deep breath. She could just ignore it, just put it out of her head, pretend it had never happened. She had learned to be good at that too, thanks to Sean. But what if he turned up? What if he rang Alison again tonight, tomorrow? And Rob – how could she go ahead with the wedding, while keeping a whole part of herself hidden from him? Hot bile burned her throat and she lurched for the toilet bowl.
‘Kath, you all right?’ Rob switched on the overhead light.