The ability to really listen is a much-underrated quality in a potential partner. In my experience, men are good at pretending to lend an ear, in a bid to ingratiate themselves with you, while their minds are elsewhere. Serial daters are the worst: the ones who ask questions, rather than yakking about themselves, purely for selfish reasons. It’s all a ruse to get you in the sack before moving on to the next target.
‘Ed’s fantastic,’ Angela had whispered to me before we left on our date, having spent a couple of hours in his company. ‘Definitely a keeper.’
This was great to hear, although it made me feel bad about my own feelings towards Melissa. I’d expected to love her, so I was shocked to find that I didn’t immediately take to her.
‘She seems a little cold and abrasive,’ I told Ed in confidence, chatting over a post-dessert coffee. ‘What did you think when you met her? Maybe it’s me. Perhaps she sees me as some kind of threat. Could that be it? Wow, you must think I’m a right cow.’
‘I don’t think anything of the sort. You’re not obliged to like her because your friend does. She has to earn that. I do have a theory why she might have been a bit cold with you, if you’d like to hear it.’
‘Sure.’
‘I think it’s to do with how incredibly gorgeous you are,’ he said with a wink and his trademark wonky grin. ‘Having someone as hot as you come to stay could easily make a person feel threatened, I reckon. It’s a lot to live up to.’
‘Behave yourself.’ I tried to keep a straight face. ‘Does that kind of corny line work for you in Ireland?’
‘Ouch. It might have done twenty years ago. I’m out of practice.’
‘I’d never have guessed,’ I said, with a wink of my own. ‘So what did you make of Melissa?’
‘Hard to say. She didn’t speak to me much – unlike Angela, who’s lovely. They’re definitely very different characters. But that can work in relationships. Opposites attract. My parents, for instance: they’re nothing like each other. My father’s quiet and loves sport; Mam’s an extrovert who’d go to the theatre over watching a match any day of the week. What about your folks?’
I’d avoided mentioning the fact I was an orphan to Ed so far, despite our extensive conversations en route to Christchurch, as I didn’t want his first impression of me to be coloured by pity. I suspect he’d noticed my evasiveness then and this was the reason he asked me such a direct question about my parents now. I could have avoided it again. I knew all the tricks. Instead, I told him.
‘My parents are both dead. It’s just been me for a long time – even before my mum died. They were both junkies. I spent a lot of my childhood in care.’
This was a test. I looked Ed in the eye as I spoke and held his gaze as he responded.
‘I’m so very sorry to hear that,’ he said in a calm, steady voice, his eyes not straying from mine for a second. ‘I can’t imagine what that must have been like for you, other than bloody awful. You must be one heck of a strong person not to have been broken by that. To have grown into the amazing woman you are today.’
He paused before adding: ‘I didn’t think I could like you any more than I already did, Cassie, but now here I am, admiring the hell out of you.’
We saw each other daily after that. Soon, Ed had delayed his onward flight and was staying with me at Angela and Melissa’s place while he and I made plans to travel around the South Island together.
It made sense for him to move in rather than wasting money on a hotel, particularly once we started spending our nights together. Angela suggested it and, after a little persuasion, Ed agreed, on the proviso that they at least accepted a contribution towards rent. Angela and Melissa lived in a smart three-bedroom town house in the Merivale area, just north of the city centre. It was owned by an old family friend of Melissa’s, who’d apparently given them a great deal.
I’d warmed to Melissa considerably by that point, putting her early standoffishness down to the fact she was an introvert compared to Angela. She took her time to open up. I’d also grown to realise she had a very dry sense of humour, so much of what I’d initially considered abrasive hadn’t been meant that way. I’d misinterpreted it.
I’d originally hoped that she and Angela might come travelling, but their primary focus was on finding long-term jobs and establishing their new life together. I accepted this and embraced my new travel partner instead, which wasn’t hard considering how well things were going between us.
My long-term plan at that point, beyond touring the South Island’s best bits, was non-existent. But as every day passed, with Ed and I spending increasing amounts of time together, I found myself liking him more and more.
‘You two are so good together,’ Angela said to me one night when the two of us were alone in the lounge, putting the world to rights over a bottle of vodka.
‘I agree. It feels so natural and yet, if I think too hard about things, it’s totally weird. We’re so comfortable together, but we’ve only just met. And get this: it’s not all about me any more. I often find myself pondering things in the plural – as a we. Where the hell did that come from? I barely knew I had it in me.’ Lowering my voice to a whisper, I added: ‘Don’t tell anyone else I said this, especially not Ed, but I can’t imagine my future without him in it. How nuts is that? Am I losing it?’
Angela threw her head back and laughed, the sound loud enough for me to get up and close the lounge door, worried about the possibility of waking Melissa or Ed, who’d both turned in for the night.
‘Chill out,’ she said. ‘No one’s listening.’
‘They will be if you have anything to do with it, what with your belly laughs. I suppose that means you do think I’m losing it.’
‘No, don’t be silly. A year ago, okay, I might have thought you were getting a bit ahead of yourself. But how could I think that now after everything I’ve experienced with Melissa? I left a decent job and all my family and friends behind to fly the best part of twelve thousand miles to a country I’ve never visited before. Why? Because I was following my heart. I don’t regret it for one second, and neither should you. Go with it. Enjoy yourself. When you know, you know. Does that make sense to you now?’
‘I suppose it does. Oh, it’s so good to be here with you. Once again, you’ve led me to where I need to be at just the right moment. My guardian Angela strikes again.’
‘I prefer to think of myself as your fabulous fairy godmother,’ Angela replied with a cackle that sparked both of us into a giggling fit.
A few days later, Ed and I hit the road in a rental campervan, which seemed like the perfect way to tour the island together. Angela and Melissa waved us off, expecting to see us again after our road trip, when we’d pledged to return to Christchurch for another visit.
We spent the next three weeks in stunning surroundings: beautiful beaches, staggering national parks and so many lovely small towns. The air was so fresh and every time I breathed in I felt so alive. It was heaven, perfect. We may as well have been on honeymoon. I can’t think of a time when I’ve been happier. I was madly, hopelessly in love. I hadn’t told Ed yet, although I doubted I could hold it in for much longer. And I had a feeling he felt the same.
Then everything changed.
I knew it had the moment I spotted Ed walking out of the small Internet café where he’d gone to check his email. He was ashen-faced as he approached the campervan, where I was waiting. As he got inside, both of his hands were shaking.
‘Whatever’s the matter, Ed?’ I said after he silently sat down beside me. ‘What on earth’s happened?’
‘There was … an email,’ he said.
‘Right.’ I realised this wasn’t the moment to make a sarcastic comment. ‘Who was it from? What did it say?’
‘It was from Maria’s email account,’ he said slowly and quietly.
‘Your wife Maria?’
He nodded. ‘But it wasn’t her who’d written the message. It was from her boyfriend, Ronan. He was writing to let me know
what had happened. To her. There was an accident. She was, um … She was killed.’
CHAPTER 28
I gasped. ‘No! You can’t be serious. And the children?’
‘They’re fine, thank goodness,’ Ed said. ‘They weren’t with her. Maria was hit by a car while she was out jogging alone. Ronan said she died at the scene.’
‘That’s awful.’ I squeezed his hand in mine and kissed him hard on the cheek. ‘I’m so sorry. When did it happen?’
‘A couple of days ago, I think. His email was from yesterday. He asked me to come back straight away. I need to be there for my children. I don’t know what … How … I can’t wrap my head around any of it. I can’t believe she’s really gone. What do I—’
He started to hyperventilate.
‘It’s okay,’ I told him. ‘You’re in shock. You need to calm down, yeah? I’m here for you. I’ll help you. We’ll get through this together. Breathe nice and slowly, in time with me. Can you do that?’
He nodded almost imperceptibly, but it was enough to know he could still hear me.
It took a while, but I eventually brought him back from the edge. Still shocked, naturally, but in control with some level of composure.
That’s how I ended up going to Ireland with him. It was totally unexpected, but it never even occurred to me to do anything else. I felt he needed me at his side to get through the inevitably tough road ahead; I wanted to be there for him.
And yes, I went into it with my eyes open. I knew exactly what that meant – an end to my travelling, for one thing, and with it my independence. I realised there were four young children, who’d lost their mother, waiting for Ed to come home. But I didn’t hesitate, even when he gave me an out.
‘Are you absolutely sure you want to do this?’ he asked me the evening before our flight, when we were back at Angela and Melissa’s house in Christchurch for one final night. ‘I want you to come, don’t get me wrong. I absolutely want that. But I need you to know that I don’t expect it. We have something amazing together, but it’s still early days. I’m not the same prospect I was when you first met me. My life in Ireland is going to be very different with four children fully reliant on me. What I’m saying is, you don’t owe me this. I’d totally understand if you wanted to walk away, even though I’d miss you terribly.’
‘And you couldn’t think to say this before I booked my flight?’ I asked with a straight face, sitting next to him on the bed. ‘Do you know if it’s refundable?’
He looked worried for a split second before I grinned at him and stuck my tongue out. ‘Got you! You’re so gullible sometimes. I’m coming with you. I’m in, whatever that entails. I couldn’t stay behind even if I wanted to. I’m totally in love with you.’
‘Thank God for that,’ he said, exhaling noisily. ‘The truth is I don’t think I could do this without you. I love you so much, Cassie. I feel bad saying this in the circumstances, but I have to, because it’s the truth: I never felt anything approaching what I do for you with Maria, despite all the time we were together. It sounds soppy, but I think meeting you was the whole reason I came to New Zealand, like I was guided here, because it was meant to be. We were meant to be. Do you know what I’m saying?’
There were tears in my eyes as I replied. ‘I do.’
That all happened around fourteen years ago. Ed and I got married a couple of years later, once things had settled down. Our first dance at the wedding reception – and this is a really bizarre coincidence – was to a song you know rather well, ‘Can’t Take My Eyes off You’. In our case, it was Andy Williams’s version. However, true story, I was actually arguing for the Lauryn Hill cover you love. Ed’s just not quite as hip as I am.
We’re still very happy today. When I say we, by the way, I’m talking about all six of us. Rory and Niall are now twenty years old, while Niamh and Shauna are seventeen. They all know I’m not their birth mother. We’ve always been very open about that, especially with the girls, whose memories of her are sketchy because they were so young when she died.
Ronan disappeared from their lives more or less as soon as Ed and I returned, certainly once the funeral had taken place. Showing his true colours, he made it quite clear that the four children had no biological ties to him and, with their mother gone, they were not his responsibility.
Luckily, they were all too young at the time to take this to heart, just as they were able to adapt fairly quickly to the new status quo, living with me and Ed. Which isn’t to say they escaped the trauma of losing their mother in such a shocking way unscathed. How could they have? There were an awful lot of tears and tantrums, especially at the start, and I’d be lying if I said I found it remotely easy to transition into being a mother figure. I’ve formally adopted the four children, but it took a good while for us all to get to the stage we’re at today.
Now, I love my family setup. I wouldn’t change it for the world. It’s my life; our house is my home. I still enjoy travelling, but I’m happy to do it in the form of taking holidays. Funnily enough, our last two summer vacations were to places you mentioned visiting as well: Gran Canaria and Mallorca.
Did I ever question the choice to give up my freedom: to reverse my earlier decision not to have a family so dramatically, by returning to Ireland with Ed and taking on his? Absolutely, lots of times, particularly in the first few years. But my love for him, and his for me, always managed to see us through any tight spots. He’s an amazing father and husband, with such incredible patience and good humour. He’s virtually unflappable.
Whenever I was finding it hard – flirting with thoughts of quitting and running away – I used to remind myself of my own troubled childhood. Knowing it could have been so different, had just one of my parents made better choices, motivated me to stand firm and do the right thing. That and the burden I’d carried with me for so long: from the time I’ve yet to speak of, right before I first left the UK to go travelling, when I’d made questionable choices of my own. Choices I was ashamed of, which had never stopped haunting me, despite my best efforts to bury them and pretend they weren’t real. Guilt can be a powerful motivator, believe me.
But before we get to that, as we must, allow me to tie up a few loose ends.
Angela and Melissa are still together. They continue to live in New Zealand, but on the North Island now, not far from Wellington. Thankfully, they’d already left Christchurch well before it was hit by major earthquakes in September 2010 and February 2011. It made me so sad to see the devastation wrought on the city where I’d shared so many firsts with my great love. I imagine it’s changed almost beyond recognition now. Ed and I will always have a special place in our hearts for Christchurch, and New Zealand in general. One day we hope to return to see for ourselves how it’s changed and been rebuilt, but goodness knows when that will be.
Angela and Melissa have a young daughter now, Amelia, who’s five, I think. Maybe six. I’d love to meet her in person one day. I still consider Angela a dear friend. I always will. Sometimes I wish we kept in more regular contact than we do, but it’s hard living so far away from each other. Life moves on.
She and Melissa did come to visit us once in Ireland, following a trip to see Angela’s family in Solihull, but that was nearly a decade ago now. How time flies. Last I heard, the two of them were in the process of setting up their own company, offering bespoke tours of lesser-known and off-the-beaten-track spots, aimed at the more intrepid traveller. I’m sure it’s succeeding. Angela’s not the kind of person to fail at anything she puts her mind to.
As for us, Ed is still at the university, where he’s a well-respected professor. After spending a lot of time at home with the children – something the younger me never thought I’d hear myself say – I’m now working in education too. I’m putting my skill for languages to good use, teaching English to non-native speakers in Dublin. I’ve not been doing it for long, but I find it incredibly enjoyable and rewarding.
Anyway, that pretty much brings us up to now. All tha
t’s left really is the bit I’ve been dreading. The reason why I’m here today, back in Lancashire after so many years. You’ve probably already guessed that it’s linked to this burden I mentioned. The one I’ve been carrying for most of my adult life.
Do you recall I spoke of someone special who I met at the wrong moment, when I was finally on the cusp of escaping my miserable youth and following my dreams? I skipped over it, promising to return to the subject later on. Now here we are.
Probably a good moment to top up our wine glasses.
Max was lovely, he really was, and I fell for him, head over heels.
I was nineteen when we met. He was older – a twenty-one-year-old graduate. I’d had a couple of boyfriends before, but nothing serious. Then he came along and blew my mind. Gave me my first experience of falling in love, and led me to re-evaluate almost everything about myself and my life.
He was from a well-to-do background with loving parents. He was fiercely intelligent, funny, kind, successful. And there was me: the orphan child of junkie parents, working low pay, low skill jobs, trying to scrape together enough cash to be able to run off and travel the world on a shoestring budget.
But something clicked between us. There was this instant chemistry, which made us crazily passionate for each other. And yet that was only part of it. Yes, I couldn’t keep my hands off him, but I couldn’t stop chatting to him either. The long, deep conversations we had, about all sorts – life, death and everything in between – used to electrify me. It’s not that we agreed about everything. There was plenty we used to debate in those heady early days of our relationship, but it was always in an enjoyable, stimulating way.
The connection we had wasn’t dissimilar from how Ed and I were when we first met. I’m very fortunate to have had that twice. Some people never experience it.
So why didn’t we stay together? Timing, mainly. As much as I was in love with Max – and trust me, I really was in love – I equally wasn’t ready to settle down. I had to get the travelling out of my system; escape the country in which I’d felt trapped and helpless for so long. I think I needed to be selfish for a while in order to discover a part of me that was capable of settling down and wanting to become a wife, a mother. To learn to trust myself not to repeat the mistakes of my parents.
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