Now and Then

by Mary O'Sullivan

  The chorus of yays from the back was the answer I had wanted to hear.

  When I pulled in at the salon I was surprised to see the parking space in front of the building full. Admittedly that was just four spaces but if it meant four customers, that was good. I parked on the roadside and herded the children into the salon. They had rarely been in there before so they were curious. The boys stood quietly beside me but Anna took off, scampering around inspecting everything from clients to hair rollers, to containers of product. I waved at Mags and Tina. They both smiled and greeted me, but I could see they were busy, Tina shampooing and Mags setting up a perm for Mrs Gillis. The old lady caught my arm as I passed her.

  “I’m so sorry about your husband, Leah. I hope he’ll be better soon.”

  Aware that the boys were listening, I quickly thanked her and walked into the kitchenette. Everything was in order there. In fact the whole salon had an air of friendly efficiency. So much so that I wondered for a moment if I had even been missed. Just as quickly I realised that I was being silly when I should have been grateful. Mags appeared at the door.

  “I think your daughter is going to follow in your footsteps,” she said. “Anna is very interested in what we’re doing.”

  It was on the tip of my tongue to say no! I want Anna to be educated, go to university, have a proper profession. I stopped myself just in time from demeaning my own career, insulting Mags and deciding Anna’s future for her.

  “I’ll take her out of your way now, Mags. I just called to say thank you. I’m so grateful to you and Tina.”

  “Don’t worry about us or the salon, Leah. We’re doing fine. How is Ben today?”

  “I’m not seeing him until this evening. His brother is here so he’s in with him now. Hopefully he’ll be home soon.”

  She walked over to the press under the sink, took out her handbag and handed me an envelope. My heart sank. She couldn’t be giving me her notice. Not now. She mustn’t.

  And, of course, she wasn’t, because what I held in my hand was an envelope of cash.

  “The takings,” she said.

  I started to hand it back to her. I wanted her to know I trusted her to pay herself and Tina a fair wage and to pass on what was left to me. If any. She had other ideas.

  “I don’t like the responsibility of holding cash,” she said. “Please take this and pop in with our wages whenever you can.”

  “If you’re sure. Where’s the laundry bag? There must be a lot of towels to be washed at this stage.”

  “You’ve enough to do besides washing. I’ve looked after it. Don’t worry about it. You’re looking very tired and skinny. When can I cook dinner for you?”

  I smiled at her, took the envelope, and hugged her.

  “Soon, I hope, Mags. What would I do without you?”

  And that reminded me of Mags’ daughter and her dependence on her mother.

  “How is Claire?” I asked.

  “Not a bother on her.”

  Anna came running into the kitchenette, waving a five-euro note. I flushed with embarrassment, not sure whether my daughter had stolen it, or begged for it.

  “The lady give it to me!” she said. “I fix her hair.”

  I realised then it had not been a good idea to bring the children in. I mouthed an apology to Mags and took Anna by the hand. A new customer, not someone I had seen before, was sitting on a chair inside the door, waiting her turn. She had a roller stuck on the side of her head. Just at Anna height. I had found the donor of the five euro. As I opened my mouth to thank her and return the money, the woman smiled at me.

  “Your little girl has brightened up my day. She’s going to buy herself and her two brothers a treat from the money I gave her. With your permission, of course. I hope you don’t mind.”

  Before I could answer Anna had stood on tiptoe and given the woman a hug and the two boys thanked her politely. I was proud of them. They deserved their treat. I thanked the woman and shepherded my little brood out of the salon.

  Later, in the woods, as I watched the three of them skip along the path in their wellingtons and raincoats, I smiled. They were munching the sweets I had allowed them buy in the shop, splashing in puddles, finding treasures of special stones and sticks, laughing, being carefree little children.

  I looked up through the bare branches, into the greyness of the November sky, and I saw the tiniest of opening in the clouds, a hint of light in the gloom, the minutest spark of hope. Ben was alive, even if he had a way to go to wellness. The children were happy and healthy. The salon was surviving.

  I hurried to catch up with the children. To skip along the path with them, to join in the fun. To share these few magic hours in the winter-ravaged woods with my children. All four of them.

  Hugh arrived back from the hospital as I was serving up dinner. He sat at the place I had set for him. The children greeted him as if he were a long-lost friend. In a way he was. Or more correctly, a new-found friend.

  “How is Ben?” I asked.

  He glanced at the children before answering, so I knew his reply would be censored for their protection.

  “He’s good. Getting better and looking forward to coming home. Mum rang. She’s on her way back from Dublin.”

  We exchanged looks, both wondering if Ben was now in the process of becoming the owner of an imposing house in Howth. My appetite suddenly left me. I pushed the food around my plate as the children told Hugh all about our walk in the woods and trip to the shop. I had the idea that Della was about to spirit my husband away to live in her ivory tower in Dublin. Just as she had hidden him in the Booly Clinic all those years ago. That I might never see him again.

  “Are you alright, Leah?” Hugh asked. “Don’t know why you’re not eating. This lasagne is delicious.”

  I smiled at him, appreciating his concern. I excused myself from the table and put on coffee for Hugh and me. Josh was rubbing his eyes. A sure sign he was exhausted. Anna was still talking, this time in deep conversation with her new toy donkey. For reasons best known to herself she had christened it Jenny. It looked like Jenny was set to become her new best friend.

  “Jenny is tired now,” I told her as soon as I had finished my coffee. “How about we get her ready for bed. You and Josh say goodnight to Uncle Hugh. And don’t forget to thank him.”

  The twins hugged Hugh then sped off towards the bathroom. I was thankful that the walk in the woods had tired them enough to make this bedtime routine painless and mercifully quick. They were both asleep before I had reached the end of their bedtime story. I kissed them on their foreheads, smiling as I saw Jenny clutched tightly in Anna’s arms. I made up the camp bed for Rob, who had voluntarily offered his bedroom for Hugh’s stay.

  When I got back to the kitchen, the table had been cleared after dinner.

  “Hugh, there was no need for you to do that. Thank you.”

  “We had to,” Rob said. “Uncle Hugh is going to show me how to print out the photos from my camera with Dad’s printer. Won’t that be cool, Mom?”

  “That will be great, Rob! I’m going to the hospital to see Dad. Go to bed when Uncle Hugh says so. Okay?”

  He nodded his agreement and then immediately turned his attention back to his camera.

  I gave Rob a hug before I left. Hugh and I exchanged looks, made a slight move towards each other, then stopped, neither wanting our new sense of camaraderie to be interpreted as anything else but friendship.

  I smiled, waved goodbye, and tried to ignore the niggling disappointment at not enjoying the comfort of Hugh’s hug.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  The instant I saw Ben lying in the bed, blankets up to his chin, I knew he was in a grumpy mood. His defiant look threw out a challenge. My first thought was that he was behaving like a spoiled brat, my second was that I was hard-hearted. I kissed him on the forehead, then organised the clean pyjamas and clothes I had brought him and sat down on the bedside chair.

  “How are you?” I asked.

 
“How do you think? I told you this morning I needed to talk to you urgently. I’ve been waiting for you all day.”

  “I got here as soon as I could. What’s this mad idea your mother has of signing her home over to you?”

  He sat up in the bed, no longer sulky, but downright furious.

  “Don’t, Leah! Don’t start slagging my mother off. I won’t have it anymore. Can’t you, for once, appreciate what she has done for us?”

  Needing to put distance between me and his rage, I sat back in my chair. The awful truth was that I was afraid of Ben at that moment. And in a blinding flash of honesty I admitted to other terrifying moments. Too many. I took a calming breath and tried to look him in the eye. I dropped my gaze when I saw anger spark there.

  “I agree with you, Ben, of course. She’s an extremely generous woman. And, yes, we are in her debt. But I worry about her making decisions for our family. That’s our responsibility.”

  “Look what happens when the decisions are left up to us. We end up in Paircmoor. Jesus Christ! You call that good decision-making? You think we are responsible parents?”

  I flinched. That was a question I often asked myself. One that only time would answer in full.

  “I do think we’re good parents, Ben. Look how the children are thriving in the clean air, how they love nature, how Rob is benefitting from the small numbers in his class. The twins will too.”

  “For heaven’s sake, Leah, we don’t belong there. It’s a place with a past and no future.”

  “Why are you arguing about Paircmoor when we should be talking about the house in Howth? Hugh told me your mother is signing it over to you on condition you move up there immediately. Is this true?”

  He sighed and leaned back into his pillows. Anger must have been puffing him up, because now that it seemed to have left him, he looked gaunt.

  I was the angry one now. Even before he answered, I knew that Della had somehow pulled a masterstroke. She could have him back under her roof again, while at the same time covering up his need for . . . for what? Psychiatric care? Medication? Counselling? All of them.

  He nodded. “Yes. Mom has decided that the house is too much for her now. She needs the convenience of city-centre living. Hugh said he doesn’t want it. His home is in San Francisco and he won’t live in Ireland anymore. Since she doesn’t want to either sell or let it, she wants us to live there.”

  I did not know what to say to this boy-man who seemed to need his childhood home and his mother’s approval far more than he needed his wife and family. I wanted to tell him grow up. Take responsibility for himself and his family. To stop feeling so sorry for himself and realise he was only one of tens of thousands of unemployed people struggling to survive day to day. To tell him I loved him and so did the children and ask him was that not enough. Instead I just sat there by his bed, watching his expression change from conciliatory to exasperated.

  “Are you going to say anything, Leah? What do you think?”

  “Now you ask me. Anyway, I can’t say until I know the details. I understand from Hugh that Della has already started the legal process of transferring ownership to you. Is this true?”

  “Well, she’s been to see her solicitor today, yes. But I’ve not agreed anything with her, if that’s what you’re being so bitchy about. She just asked me to think about me and the children moving back to Howth.”

  “You and the children! What about me?”

  “You as well, of course. God! You just can’t accept that Mum has our best interests at heart, can you?”

  He was right there. I wanted to believe that Della wished the best for our family when she made the very generous gesture. But if so, why had she not spoken to me? Why was she already taking legal advice as if it was a done deal? It was clear to me that Ben wanted to accept his mother’s offer. And maybe, just maybe, it would be the right move for him. Under different circumstances.

  I braced myself before talking again, not sure if I should say anything, but at the same time needing to bring it out in the open.

  “Ben, the prescription Dr Kelly wrote for you. The anti-depressants you did not want to take.”

  “Yes. What about them?”

  “Why did you lie about filling the prescription? I found the three pill bottles in your desk drawer.”

  He sat bolt upright in the bed. What colour he had in his face drained from it.

  “That drawer was locked,” he said so softly I had to strain to hear him.

  “Yes, it was. I apologise for invading your private space, Ben, but can’t you see I’m worried about you? Particularly in view of your past history.”

  He threw back his blankets and leapt out of the bed, so furious that specks of spittle flew from his mouth when he spoke.

  “I confide in you and then you throw it back in my face! I was only in my teens when I took those pills before. That doesn’t give you the right to go poking in my desk. Everything in there is private. That’s why it’s locked. Jesus! Have you any respect for me at all?”

  Everything in there? I didn’t know what he was talking about. All I had found were the three bottles of pills. I stood and took a few steps back, afraid even though the bed was between us. The fact that the door was just a few feet behind my back gave me the confidence to stand my ground. To make an attempt to reach the man I used to know before this volatile person in front of me took over.

  “Of course I respect you, Ben. I love you, for heaven’s sake! That’s why I want you to be well again. There’s no shame in needing help. If I was depressed, you would want me to get treatment, wouldn’t you?”

  “I am not, do you hear me, not fucking mad! My problem is that I’m too sane.”

  “Your problem, Ben, is that your mother was too controlling and selfish to allow you have treatment when you needed it. And she’s making the same mistake now. You’re obviously grossly unhappy. I don’t believe you anymore when you say that going to the flooded beach on Friday night was an accident. It was another botched suicide attempt. You need help. Running away is not going to solve any of your problems. And your mother is only making things worse for you. You call that caring?”

  Ben was so still I regretted my rant. Yes, it was important to get the truth out in the open but I should have been more circumspect. He was silent, staring over my shoulder.

  I turned to follow his gaze.

  Della Parrish, mother, grandmother, mother-in-law, was standing in the doorway. She brushed past me, went to her son and put her arms around him. Words of apology formed in my head but I knew they would only add to the damage already done. I gathered my coat, bag, what remained of my composure, and gently closed the door of Room 5 as I left.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  I don’t remember travelling home that evening. All I was aware of was that I had driven yet another wedge between myself and Ben. I should never have called his mother controlling or selfish. Certainly not within her hearing. And Ben should have warned me when he saw her. It was as if he wanted to let Della hear exactly what I thought of her. To let her see for herself what a shrew I was. He had made his point without having to say a word himself.

  Hugh was sitting at the kitchen table when I went in home, his laptop open in front of him.

  “Any trouble getting Rob to bed?” I asked.

  “No. He’s a good kid. His photos are excellent. He’s obviously inherited the artistic gene from you and Ben.”

  “Ben maybe. Not me.”

  “Why not? Hairdressing is a very creative profession.”

  I smiled at him as I thought of the conservative cuts and colours I did on a daily basis. Hardly an outlet for creativity.

  “How is Ben?” he asked.

  What was I to say? That I feared my husband was having a nervous breakdown. That I had wrecked whatever chance I might have had of a good relationship with Della. That I did not know where our lives were headed from now on.

  “Your mother is back from Dublin,” I said, as if that answered his question
about Ben.

  Then much to my embarrassment, I felt tears fill my eyes. I walked towards the sink, needing to busy myself.

  “Tea or coffee?” I asked, horrified to hear my voice quavering.

  Hugh stood up, walked over to me and took my arm.

  “Sit down,” he said. “I’ll get this.”

  I did as I was told. Took my place at the table and tried to control the vast wave of emotion threatening to engulf me. I was aware of Hugh opening cupboards, of the glow from the log stove, yet my mind was back in Room 5 in the hospital. I closed my eyes and replayed the scene over and over, trying to read Ben’s expression as he stared towards his mother. Had he been shocked or glad to see her there? Satisfied that his mother could hear for herself what a bitch I was?

  A gentle thud brought me back to the kitchen. Hugh had placed a mug of hot milk in front of me.

  “How did you know about my comfort drink?” I asked.

  “I remember from the time I stayed here. Just after you had moved down from Dublin. You never drank coffee at night. Neither do I.”

  My clearest memory of that time is of list after list of things to do. The logistics of shifting a family, plus furniture and all the necessary bric-a-brac of daily living, across the country were overwhelming. And then Hugh and Della had shown up in the cottage while we were knee-deep in unopened cases and boxes.

  I smiled at him. “You got more than you had bargained for then, didn’t you? Hours and hours of unpacking and finding places for things.”

  “I was glad to help. Do you mind me asking if you miss the city? Dublin and Paircmoor are chalk and cheese.”

  I didn’t have to think long about that one. No, I did not miss the Dublin I left two years ago. Or the friends who had faded away when we hit a bad patch. Or in my case, the childhood friends who drifted away when I moved to the other side of the city. Their choice, not mine, but I’m sure they blamed me for it. In fact, I know they did, as I overheard one of them say I was so ‘up myself’ since I had met Ben.