Into the Night Sky

by Caroline Finnerty

  “He does. Of course I tried asking him about her but he said they were only friends. I don’t believe him though.”

  “Well, I’m glad, good for him. At least someone’s relationship is going well.”

  “Are things okay with yourself and Dan?”

  “Well, he’s still very angry with me – and I understand that. He’s working all hours of the day at the minute – I think he’s trying to avoid me to be honest.”

  “Well, it’s important that he knows how you’re feeling. You need to tell him how difficult you’re finding it at the moment.”

  “That’s difficult when he isn’t even talking to me.”

  “He’s a good man, Ella, but this has been a big shock to him. He’ll come round, just give him time.”

  Chapter 17

  “Woah, woah, woooooaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah . . .”

  Conor hears the crash against his shop front. He runs out to see what the commotion is. He sees the three boys are busy pushing each other up and down the street in an abandoned shopping trolley from Rafferty’s supermarket. One gets inside it, then the other two run with it down the street for a bit before letting it go and watch it careering down the path in front of them.

  He goes back inside and shuts the door on them. Soon after the door opens again and Conor’s heart jumps, but when he looks up it is Jack.

  The boy walks over and puts the umbrella on the counter in front of Conor. “I just wanted to give you your brolly back, mister.”

  “You could have held on to it,” he says, putting it behind the till. “I’ve loads of them.”

  “Me ma always says that if you borrow something you have to give it back.”

  “That’s good advice. Speaking of your ma – where is she?”

  “At home in bed.”

  “I see. So she doesn’t know you’re out roaming the streets then?”

  “I’m not!” He is defensive. “I only came here to see you.”

  He is wearing the same tracksuit bottoms that he’d been wearing before and a black T-shirt with the fluorescent green face of an alien on it. It’s four degrees outside.

  “I guess I should feel honoured so. Should you not be at home doing your homework or something?”

  “I do it after me dinner. We usedta always go to the homework club. Ma was like a teacher but she wasn’t really – she just made sure everyone was doing their sums or she would sometimes have to help them with their reading. She never gave out or anything but now she’s too tired to do it any more so we just go straight home. Wanna hear a joke?”

  “Okay.”

  “Why does Ireland keep getting bigger?”

  “I don’t know – why does Ireland keep getting bigger?”

  “Because it keeps dublin’ and dublin’. Do you get it? Dublin and doublin’?”

  “That’s a good one, Jack.”

  “Want to hear it again?

  “I think you really nailed it that time.”

  “Can I look at the books?”

  “Go on,” he sighs heavily.

  He bends his head to start typing up an email. He looks up now and again to check that the boy isn’t causing trouble or fleecing him. But he’s sitting down on the floor with a book on his knees and his back resting against the shelves, reading. Conor can’t see the cover from here but the boy seems to be engrossed in whatever it is so he leaves him alone and gets on with his work.

  A customer comes into the shop and goes over to the travel section. “I’m looking for a book on Egypt. I’m going there on my holidays in a few weeks.”

  Conor comes out from behind the till and goes over to help her.

  She looks at the boy and smiles. “Must be a good book,” she says to Conor.

  “Must be.”

  She takes a book down from the shelf and leafs through it before selecting another one and doing the same. Eventually she settles on one. “This one seems to be good,” she says. “I’ll take it.”

  They walk over to the till and Conor rings up her purchase and puts it in a paper bag. “It’s a cold one out there today, isn’t it?”

  “It is. That wind would cut you in two! Thanks a million.”

  The customer goes on her way again and finally Jack gets up and comes back over to him.

  “What are you reading?” Conor asks.

  “It’s about a boy who is sent to live with his aunt because his brother is sick and he might catch the disease and he’s so bored there cos there are no other children so he goes exploring in the garden at night.”

  “Show me.” Conor looks at the cover. “Ah, Tom’s Midnight Garden! I loved that as a boy.”

  “You read it too?”

  “A long time ago now.”

  “What, like fifty years or something?”

  “Eh no, probably more like thirty.”

  “Oh,” Jack says, sounding disappointed.

  Conor goes back to the counter and Jack follows him.

  “Who’s that?” He nods at the photo frame beside the till.

  “That’s my girlfriend Leni.”

  “Leni – that’s a weird name for a girl!”

  “She’s German.” He still can’t bring himself to talk about her in the past tense.

  “Why is she wearing those funny red trousers?”

  “They’re not funny trousers – we were in Thailand – they’re called fisherman pants. Everybody wears them over there.”

  “Well, they look funny to me! Where’s Thailand anyway?”

  “Asia.”

  “Where’s A-sha?”

  “A-she- a. Hang on a sec.” He goes over to the shelves and takes down a children’s atlas. He opens it up on the world. “Here’s Ireland, here’s England – we’re in Europe – and all the way over here, this is Thailand – and all this landmass here,” he circles the page with his finger, “is called Asia.”

  “What were you doing there?”

  “We were travelling around. We went through all these countries. India, Burma or some people call it Myanmar – Cambodia, Laos, Vietnam.” He points out their coloured shapes to Jack.

  “But where did you live?”

  “We stayed in hostels and hotels and even in a tent at times.”

  “Cool! How did you go there?”

  “Well, we went by plane.”

  “I’ve never been on a plane,” Jack says wistfully.

  “You’re still young, you’ve lots of time yet.”

  “Seán Brady went on a plane one time and he did a wee and it went all the way down the toilet and onto the people below but they thought it was rain – they didn’t know it was his wee!”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah, it was gross. Maybe I’ll ask Ma if I can go on a plane when I go home. I better go – she might be awake and she’ll be looking for me.”

  “Yeah, you probably should go then.”

  “See ya, mister, thanks for letting me read your book.”

  “No worries – oh, and Jack?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Call me Conor, will you?”

  Chapter 18

  Rachel is in Marcus’s place. They have just finished the meal that he has cooked for her and are relaxing over a bottle of wine on the sofa. He has lowered the lights and candles flicker softly around the room. She has finally decided to address the issue with him once and for all. After talking it through with Shirley she knows that she can’t keep putting off the inevitable. It isn’t fair to either of them. They both know that they are at a watershed in their relationship, they have been for a while now, and Rachel needs to make the choice about whether a life with Marcus but without children is a possibility for her . . . or else, a life without Marcus.

  “You know what I want to talk to you about, don’t you?” she says eventually after taking an age to work up the courage to say the words.

  He nods. “I feel like I’m eating my last meal on death row.” He smiles a sad smile.

  “I always thought you’d come round, y’know? People mak
e those kinds of grand statements all the time and they change their mind. When I first met Shirley, for example, she swore that she was going to be a career woman, that kids would hinder that, but then after being married for all of three months she announces she is pregnant and casts aside all of her previously held ideals.”

  He sighs. “I know some people probably think I’m being too stubborn on this issue and that I should just do whatever it takes to make you happy – sure there are men fathering children every day of the week and they’re not even aware of it! But I don’t think it would be fair to bring a child into the world if I don’t want it. Would you like to be conceived because your father was just doing it to hold onto the woman he loved? It’s not the right reason to have a baby with you and that’s why I can’t do it. I wish I could, darling.”

  “Damn you and your morals!” She smiles bitter-sweetly at him. “I can’t even argue back with you because you’re right – that’s the bloody frustrating part of it all.”

  “The last thing I want is for you to wake up one day and resent me and we’re sitting across the kitchen table from each other eating our cornflakes and you’re seething because you’re thinking about everything that I took from you. That would be awful, and then we’d just be miserable. I love you and I want you to be happy, that’s why I don’t want to deny you the opportunity of experiencing what I have with Eli and Alex.”

  “You’re perfect – we’re perfect together – but I’ve always wanted children and I can’t see myself without them. I’m sorry, Marcus, but it’s all I’ve been thinking about lately and I don’t think I can accept that part of you. I really wish I could.”

  It is a tiresome battle of wills and they never seem to be able to get past it and she knows that they never will get past it.

  “So what are we going to do now?” he asks.

  “The only thing we can do.”

  They both fall silent, knowing that the inevitable has now come upon them. There can be no more ignoring the huge divide between them; the time has come to go their separate ways.

  “Just lie here with me, please, just for tonight,” he whispers to her, stroking her face delicately. “Let’s face it in the morning.”

  Chapter 19

  “I’m making myself a sandwich – do you want one?”

  Jack nods eagerly. “I’m starving.”

  “You’re always starving!”

  Conor goes out the back and takes down the bread and starts making two of his usual ham-and-cheese sandwiches and brings them out the front.

  “Thanks, mister,” Jack says as he takes his one and starts to devour it. He moves across the edge of the white bread in half-moon-shaped bites.

  “I keep telling you to call me Conor – ‘mister’ makes me feel like I’m ancient.” He takes a bite of his own sandwich.

  “You are ancient.”

  “I’m only thirty-five.”

  “Ma is only thirty-two and she’s old so you’re really ancient!”

  “You really know how to make a man feel good, don’t you?”

  “Yep,” he says, biting off a bit of the crust. “It’s my birthday next week.”

  “Wow – so you’ll be the big eight then?”

  “Yep. Ma says I was meant to be born in January but she was waiting and waiting for me to come outta her tummy. And then on the very first day of February I was born. Ma said I was hanging on because it wouldn’t have suited me to be born in January – it’s too cold and dreary for me because I’m so sunny and bright.”

  “That’s one way of describing you! So what are you going to get for your birthday?”

  “I really want to get the new Real Madrid jersey with Ronaldo 7 on the back but Ma says they change jerseys more often than she changes her knickerses and they cost a lot of money so she mightn’t have enough to buy me it.”

  “Yeah, well, she’s right – it’s probably best not to get your hopes up.”

  “Okay. So what are we going to do today?”

  “Well, I’m not sure about you but I’ve got work to do.”

  “Well, you don’t look that busy to me.” He looks around the shop which is empty as usual. Conor hasn’t had a customer in almost two hours.

  “I have paperwork to do.”

  “Well, can I read more of Tom’s Midnight Garden while you’re doing your paperwork?”

  “Go on then.”

  He goes to his usual spot, slumped on the floor, and reads.

  A man comes in with a little girl and approaches Conor.

  “I bought the Steve Jobs one you recommended before and I really liked it so I was hoping you could recommend something else for me?”

  “Sure.”

  “This is a really good book, mister,” Jack says.

  The man and girl hadn’t noticed him sitting on the floor and look down at him and smile.

  “It’s about a boy who has to go and live with his aunt and uncle in a really boring old house and he has no one to play with and when everyone goes to sleep a garden appears when he goes through the back door but it’s not there in the daytime – it only comes when everyone else is in bed.”

  “What is it called?”

  “Tom’s Midnight Garden.”

  “You might like that one, Tess – what do you reckon? Want to give it a try?”

  She nods shyly.

  “We’ll take that anyway,” the man says to Conor. “That’s a great salesperson you’ve got there!”

  Conor nods and smiles.

  “So what do you recommend for me?” the customer asks.

  “How about sports autobiogs? This Andre Agassi one is great even for non-sports fans.”

  “Sure I’ll give it a try so.”

  Conor rings up the purchases and the father and daughter leave the shop with their books, hand in hand.

  “I’ll have to give you a job in here soon!” Conor says to Jack.

  “Really? I could be your helper. I could read all the books and then tell everyone to buy them!”

  “Simple really, isn’t it?”

  Jack nods at him eagerly and Conor reaches out to rub his hair.

  “Did you get much homework?” She looks into her rear-view mirror at the girls in the back seat.

  “It’s Friday, Mum – Mrs Johnson never gives us homework on a Friday.”

  “Sorry, I forgot. That’s good though. What about you, Dot?”

  “Flashcards.”

  “What time will Dad be home?” Celeste asks.

  “I’m not sure.”

  “I haven’t seen him since Sunday.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Well, he’s been working really hard at the moment. They have a lot of clients booked in.”

  “He used to say the same thing to me about you.”

  “He did?”

  “Yeah, you were always at the station, remember?”

  “I know, love, but I’m here now. Hey – why don’t we go and get something to eat in the café, huh? As a Friday treat?”

  They park at the harbour and she takes in the panorama of pretty fishing boats, white yachts contrasted against the buildings painted in pastel colours.

  They go in and grab seats. The girls have what they always have – chocolate cake for Celeste and herself with ice cream on the side and the cheese board for Dot.

  “You’re going to turn into a block of cheese if you eat any more of it, Dot Devlin!” Ella says.

  Dot giggles and swings her legs, crossed at the ankles, underneath her chair.

  Maisie is drinking her bottle in her buggy so at least she is quiet. They sit back and wait for their food. It’s nice, Ella thinks. The kids are in good form and for once Maisie isn’t crying.

  An older lady is looking over at her. It makes her feel uneasy. She turns back to the girls.

  “I can’t believe my baby is almost eight.”

  “Stop, Mum, I’m not your baby!”

  “Oh, you know what I mean – you will always be my baby
.”

  “Do you want to have a party?”

  “No.”

  “Oh, why not?”

  “Well, no one will come.”

  “Of course they will – we’ll invite the class like last time.”

  “I’m telling you they won’t come. There’s no point. Everyone hates me.”

  “Celeste, why would you say that?”

  “They do – no one wants to play with me.”

  “But what about Gilly?”

  “Her mum told her not to play with me any more.”