This evening, Ursula was in particularly poisonous form. Snipping at Emer every time she opened her mouth, watching her plate like a hawk to make sure she wasn’t overeating. They were having dinner in the large dining room at the front of the house. The room was far too big for three people, but Ursula insisted on eating every meal in here. Another of her affectations that Emer couldn’t stand. The kitchen, at the back of the house, had been extended last year to include a large dining area that, as far as Emer could tell, was for show only.
‘I hear Dr Kennedy is looking for a new receptionist,’ Ursula said, looking pointedly at Emer. ‘Is that something you might think about applying for?’
‘I hadn’t really thought about being a receptionist,’ Emer said. ‘The thing is, Ursula, I’d rather hoped with a history degree I might get something better than a job as a receptionist in a doctor’s surgery.’
It had been Ursula’s idea for Emer to call her by her name, instead of ‘Mum’. On the morning of Emer’s eighteen birthday, Ursula had sat her daughter down and told her she had something important to talk to her about.
‘Mum doesn’t feel right now you’re an adult. People are always telling me I look far too young to have an eighteen-year-old daughter. Think what fun it will be if you start calling me Ursula instead. People will think we’re sisters.’
All of this, Emer remembered sourly, delivered without a trace of irony.
‘The problem is,’ Ursula said. ‘You haven’t been very successful at finding anything better, have you?’
Emer didn’t say anything, because her mother was right. University had been a safe space for a few years. The first time in her life she’d lived away from home, out of her mother’s overbearing presence. When she’d finished her degree, she had already fallen in love with Galway and couldn’t bear the thought of leaving and starting again somewhere else. Instead of looking for jobs related to her degree, she’d worked in various bars around the city, telling herself she would get a ‘proper’ job eventually. Then she’d met Nikki, fallen head over heels in love and the idea of leaving Galway became harder than ever. Because how could she leave the only place she’d ever felt at home in? ‘You could consider it, at least,’ Ursula continued. ‘I’m sure Robert would be more than happy to put in a good word for you. In fact,’ Ursula looked across the table at her husband, ‘why don’t you call him after dinner? You know Emer won’t do anything unless we push her. And we both know she refuses to listen to a word I say. I’m only her mother, the woman who gave birth to her and devoted my life to taking care of her, but apparently that’s not enough for her.’
Emer rolled her eyes, but didn’t bother responding. This was a favourite tactic of Ursula’s – to speak about Emer as if she wasn’t in the room. It drove Emer mad, but she’d learned a long time ago that the best thing to do was ignore it completely.
‘It’s not a bad idea, Emer,’ Robert said. ‘Brian Kennedy’s a decent fella. And working in the surgery, you’d find out all sorts of stuff about people. Might be a bit of fun. You know, a lot of our apprenticeship girls did their work experience at the surgery. It helped quite a few of them to find permanent jobs later on.’
‘I haven’t heard back from the job in London,’ Emer said. ‘That might still happen.’
‘If they were going to offer you the job,’ Ursula said, ‘they’d have done so by now.’
‘Your mother’s worried about you,’ Robert said, before Emer had a chance to respond. ‘She just wants to see you happy and settled. It’s what we both want.’
‘It’s not just that,’ Ursula snapped. ‘We’ve got your reputation to think about as well, Robert. You’re a high-profile figure, possibly the future leader of this country. Your speech next week in the Dáil is focusing on job prospects for our young people. What’s it going to look like if your own stepdaughter can’t even find a job? You have your reputation to consider, and I will not let Emer’s laziness jeopardise that.’
And there you had it. The real reason her mother pretended to give a damn about Emer’s life. Because she was terrified Emer might do something to thwart her single-minded ambition to become lady of Steward’s Lodge, the official residence for Ireland’s Taoiseach. Ever since seeing a documentary on the house a few years ago, Ursula had become obsessed with living there one day. An obsession fuelled by her husband’s steady rise up the ranks of Fine Gael.
So far, there was little evidence that Ursula’s ambition wouldn’t be fulfilled. Robert O’Brien was the party’s bright shining star. A successful businessman, he’d built a reputation as someone with integrity and empathy. In politics, he’d cleverly aligned himself with the emerging ideology of the new Ireland, becoming an outspoken supporter of causes such as gay marriage, divorce and the recent abortion referendum.
Robert’s political ambitions, coupled with his money, had been an attractive option for Ursula after her husband disappeared. Boring, respectable Robert had offered her all the security and financial comfort her first husband had failed to provide. There had been times, plenty of them, when Emer had wondered if her mother had had a hand in her father’s sudden disappearance. Because there was no doubt Ursula had benefitted hugely from being newly single and being able to choose a partner better suited to giving her the lifestyle she believed she deserved.
There were advantages to living with Robert, of course. He was kind and never seemed to lose his temper or get angry. The biggest change, however, was Ursula’s attitude to her remaining child. While she didn’t become kind or loving, her cruelty abated. She didn’t lose her temper the way she used to and, since she’d moved in with Robert, she had never once hurt Emer physically. Emer suspected her mother’s behaviour had improved for the benefit of her new husband, rather than Emer herself, but that hardly mattered. The important thing was that after they’d moved in with Robert, Emer was able to finally feel safe.
‘Would you like some more chicken?’ Robert’s voice dragged Emer back to the dining room, the sun streaming through the windows and the tiny portions of food on the plate in front of her.
‘She’s not even finished what’s on her plate,’ Ursula said, before Emer had a chance to answer.
Ursula’s obsession with portion control and calorie counting was another reason Emer hated living here. Ursula had been vigilant to the point of obsessive when Emer was younger, making sure her only remaining child didn’t become overweight. Almost, Emer used to think, as if being fat were a worse crime than being dead.
She knew the food on her plate wasn’t enough to fill her up, but she couldn’t face the sharp comments if she admitted that. Instead, she shook her head and told Robert she was fine.
‘You should start dating again,’ Ursula said. ‘Robert, who was the lovely woman you were talking to last week? The equal marriage campaigner. We should introduce her to Emer.’
‘I don’t want to start dating again,’ Emer said. ‘And if I did, the last thing I’d want is for my stepfather to set me up with someone.’
‘I just think you can do a lot better for yourself,’ Ursula said. ‘Nikki was a fly-by-night. I suppose she hasn’t bothered to stay in touch since she moved away?’
‘I got an email from her last week actually,’ Emer lied. ‘She’s loving her new job.’
The truth was, she hadn’t heard a word from Nikki since they’d broken up and Nikki had moved to London. Emer had called, sent text messages and continued to send emails. But, so far, Nikki hadn’t replied to anything she’d sent her.
‘She wasn’t right for you, Emer,’ Ursula said. ‘I knew it the first time I met her. Now she’s gone, hopefully you’ll find someone a bit steadier to settle down with. I’m still hoping to be mother of the bride one day, you know. I’ve got that dress I bought for your wedding. You haven’t seen it yet, have you? It’s really rather gorgeous. Pale blue with a striking hat. I could try it on for you later, if you’d like.’
‘She does look very lovely in it,’ Robert said.
Emer
didn’t doubt it. At sixty, her mother was still a strikingly beautiful woman. With sharp cheekbones, piercing blue eyes and the posture of a professional ballet dancer, it was no wonder she’d turned so many heads when she was younger. Emer knew her mother worked hard to maintain her good looks but, as Ursula herself had said on more than one occasion, she could only work with what she’d got. It was just that, in Ursula’s case, what she’d got was a lot more natural beauty than most women could ever dream of.
‘Can we not talk about it now?’ Emer said. ‘Please?’
‘I told you we couldn’t rely on her, Robert,’ Ursula said. ‘You’ll have to come up with some other ideas for getting the gay vote.’
‘Jesus…’ Emer put down her knife and fork. ‘Do you hear yourself? This is my life we’re talking about.’
‘Well it just so happens that your life, and the choices you make, affect all of us,’ Ursula said. ‘Take this business in London, for example. You’re still obsessing over it, aren’t you? That’s the real reason you’re spending your days lying around in bed instead of getting out there looking for work, or trying to get your girlfriend back. Because you’ve convinced yourself that the woman you saw was Kitty.’
‘I didn’t think she was Kitty,’ Emer said. ‘She was Kitty.’
‘No.’ Ursula shook her head. ‘The only reason you keep insisting your sister is still alive is because you can’t cope with the guilt of knowing she might still be here if it wasn’t for you.’
‘That’s not true,’ Emer said, but even to her own ears, the assertion sounded weak.
‘Can we talk about something else?’ Robert said. ‘This endless raking up the past isn’t helping either of you. Whatever happened that day on the beach, there’s nothing either of you can do to change it now.’
‘This isn’t about me,’ Ursula said. ‘Can’t you see that, Robert? If she goes around the place telling people her dead sister is still alive, the press will start digging into our personal lives and that’s not good news for any of us.’ She turned her attention back to Emer. ‘This nonsense has got to stop, once and for all. I will not have you ruining things for Robert, after all he’s done for you. He doesn’t deserve that.’
‘We both know this has nothing to do with Robert,’ Emer said, ‘and everything to do with your own greed. You’d rather be the Taoiseach’s wife than learn the truth about your daughter. I know what I saw that day, and I’m not going to pretend it didn’t happen.’
‘Like the last time?’ Ursula said. ‘Or the time before that? Or one of the many other times you thought you’d seen her?’
‘This is different,’ Emer said.
‘How?’
‘It just is. I know what I saw. Do you remember Dad’s brother, Frank? His daughter’s an investigative journalist. I bet she’d be interested in something like this.’
‘No!’ Ursula pushed her chair back and stood up. ‘Don’t you dare! Your sister drowned that day in Lahinch. I wish to God it wasn’t true. I’d give anything – anything in the world – for her to still be alive. But she isn’t. She’s dead, and the sooner you accept that the better for all of us. As for contacting any member of Frank’s family, I forbid it. Absolutely.’
‘How do you plan to do that, exactly?’ Emer said. ‘In case you hadn’t noticed, I’m an adult. You can’t stop me doing anything.’
But Ursula wasn’t listening. She’d already left the room, slamming the door so hard that Emer felt the vibrations where she sat.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said, a moment later. ‘I didn’t mean to upset her.’
‘You sure about that?’
‘I think so.’ Emer blinked hard to get rid of the tears threatening to spill out of her eyes and roll down her face. ‘Do you think she’s right, Robert?’
‘About what?’
‘That what happened to Kitty was my fault.’
‘Emer, love. How can I say whose fault it was? I wasn’t there that day. I didn’t see how Kitty ended up in the water. You’re the only one who knows the truth about that day.’
‘The problem is, I can’t really remember,’ she said. ‘I don’t remember having a row with Kitty. But Ursula is convinced that’s what happened.’
‘If that’s what she thinks,’ Robert said, ‘she must have a reason for it, don’t you think?’
‘I guess.’
Robert was silent for a moment, as if he was trying to think of what to say next.
‘Well whatever your mother thinks,’ he said eventually. ‘I’m always here for you, Emer. I hope you know that. Tell me a bit more about this cousin. How do you know about her?’
‘I knew Uncle Frank had a daughter,’ Emer said. ‘She contacted us after he died, and again after her mother died. Do you remember that?’
‘I do,’ Robert said. ‘I also remember your mother wasn’t very keen on the idea of keeping in touch with her. There was an awful lot of bad blood between those brothers, you know. She felt it was better not to get involved with any of that.’
‘I’ve googled her a few times,’ Emer said. ‘She’s a really good journalist. I was thinking, because she lives in England, I could contact her and ask her if she’d look into it for me.’
‘Let’s talk about it in a bit,’ Robert said. ‘I’d better find Ursula first and check she’s okay. Can I leave the tidying up to you?’
Emer knew if she said anything she’d start to cry. So she nodded her head, willing him to leave quickly so she could be by herself.
In her bedroom, she opened her laptop and checked her emails, like she’d done every day since Nikki left. And, as on all of those other days, there was still no email. She shouldn’t write again. She knew it was a bad idea; but knowing something and doing it were two different things.
Hey Nikki
Hope you’re settling into London life and the new job is everything you could wish for. Life here is pretty much the same as ever. Except now everyone is convinced I’m a certified loony after seeing that girl in London. I’m sure you think that too, and I’m wondering if that’s why you haven’t replied to me. Sorry. I probably shouldn’t have said anything. It’s just difficult, because I’m used to telling you everything.
I’m sorry (see? You said I never apologise and now I’ve just done it twice in one email!). I know I messed up, Nikki. And I’ll do whatever it takes to make things better. I promise. Can we talk sometime? Please?
Love you,
Emer x
She sent the email, then regretted it as soon she had. But it was too late to do anything about that now. She spent the next twenty minutes scrolling through Nikki’s social media accounts. Lots of photos of Nikki with her new flatmates, her new work colleagues, living her shiny new London life that didn’t include Emer. When she couldn’t bear it any longer, Emer shut down the laptop and started to get ready for bed. It was still early but she couldn’t face going back downstairs for another – inevitable – confrontation with her mother.
She was in bed, reading a book, when Robert knocked on her door.
‘You got a few minutes?’ he asked.
‘Sure.’
‘I’m sorry about earlier,’ he said. ‘I know your mother can be difficult sometimes.’
An understatement if ever she’d heard one, Emer thought.
‘She means well, though,’ Robert said. ‘Surely you can see that, Emer?’
‘We’ve had this conversation so many times,’ Emer said. ‘Do we really have to do it again now?’
The truth was, it didn’t matter how her mother behaved. Robert would adore her no matter what she did. He never tired of telling people how he’d known, from the first moment he ever set eyes on her when she came to his office for a job interview, that she was the only woman for him. Except back then, Ursula was married to Emer’s father. Robert had had to wait another eight years before finally getting what he wanted.
‘Let’s agree to disagree then,’ Robert said. ‘Besides, your mother wasn’t the reason I wanted a chat. When you
came back from London, the first time you told us about seeing the woman on the Underground, you said it wasn’t like the other times. Can you explain why not?’
‘I know it sounds crazy,’ Emer said. ‘And I can understand why you’re finding it hard to believe me. But those other times, when I thought I’d seen her, it was only for a moment.’
‘Not always,’ Robert said. ‘What about that girl you saw in Dublin a couple of years back?’
‘Aoife O’Malley,’ Emer said, remembering the woman she’d seen on Grafton Street one afternoon. She’d been so sure the woman was Kitty that she’d confronted her on the spot. ‘But the moment I spoke to her, I knew I’d made a mistake. This just feels different, Robert. For one thing, if the woman in London wasn’t Kitty, why did she run away when I tried to speak to her?’
‘Maybe she didn’t hear you?’
‘No.’ Emer shook her head, remembering the way the woman had speeded up when she’d called out her name. ‘She heard me, all right.’
‘Well in that case,’ Robert said, ‘I’d like to help.’
‘What do you mean?’
He was carrying a mug, which he held out for her to take.
‘Cocoa. Do you remember how you used to love it?’
Emer took the mug, breathing in the rich, familiar smell.
‘Thank you.’
‘So what do you think?’ Robert said.
‘Do you believe me?’
‘I believe you think you saw Kitty,’ Robert said. ‘And I believe it’s possible – although, I’ll admit, not very likely – that maybe your sister didn’t drown that day. I’ve been having a think about the night she drowned. That story you’ve stuck by all these years about seeing her in the hotel that night?
‘It’s not a story,’ Emer said. ‘It’s what happened.’
Before You Were Gone Page 5