Look into the Eye

by Jennifer Barrett

  “It’s just that she double-booked some group seats for Saturday night’s symphony,” Grace was saying, “which wouldn’t have been a major problem except that one of the groups was the potential sponsor for the dance festival.”

  I groaned.

  “It gets worse, I’m afraid,” said Grace. “Unfortunately the other group was Queen Fenella, King William and their regular court of cronies. It was just a couple of minutes before the performance started, when they came in to take their seats, that the mix-up was discovered. Thankfully front-of-house handled it very well – they sorted it all out and gave Fenella’s crowd some of our house seats. The sponsor’s group were apparently quite good-natured about the whole thing. Fenella was raging though, and the whole thing delayed the performance’s start for about fifteen minutes. Shirley told Emma on front-of-house that you’d instructed her to give the dance-festival sponsor group Fenella’s seats.”

  “Oh she did, did she?” I closed my eyes and took a long deep breath. “I asked Shirley to ensure that the corporate group had the best seats,” I slowly opened my eyes again, “but I didn’t say which ones, and I most certainly did not ask her to put them sitting on our chairwoman’s lap!”

  I could feel the old familiar tension and strain returning by the second. Damn it, is it all over now? I wondered. The feel-good Norway buzz? Was that all just a dream? Is this crap my reality?

  “Yeah, I guessed what really happened,” Grace said.

  “We’re just so close to closing this sponsorship deal – it could be absolutely huge for The Mill.” I sighed. “I was hoping we’d get an answer from them this week, in fact. I’ll have to give them a call now to apologise, reassure them that that’s not how we do things here. Oh God, and Fenella? Of all people for it to happen to! Was Marcus there?”

  Grace nodded. “’Fraid so. Not happy either – though nothing new there, eh?”

  Great. It was just bloody marvellous. I couldn’t even take a few days off without all hell breaking loose. I took a deep breath and sat up straight to try to ease the pressure on my back a bit. “All right, thanks for letting me know, Grace.”

  But she wasn’t finished. She looked a little afraid to go on, but she did so regardless: “Sorry, Melanie, it’s just that there were a few typos in Saturday night’s programme too. Marcus was really unhappy about it – he was down here yesterday looking for you. Oh, and Father O’Mara was on – he asked if he could meet up with you when you have some time over the coming days?”

  I put my head down, closed my eyes and rubbed the back of my neck.

  “Are you okay, Melanie?”

  But before I could answer her my office phone rang.

  Grace, bless her, picked it up for me. “Melanie McQuaid’s office,” she said, then made a face and rested the phone on her shoulder. “It’s Shirley. She’s saying there’s a call on line two for you. A Robert Burke she thinks, but she says she’s not sure.”

  I looked at her. “Who’s Robert Burke?”

  Grace shrugged her shoulders. “Will I ask Shirley to find out what it’s about?”

  “No!” The less Shirley had to handle the better as far as I was concerned. “It’s all right, I’ll take it.” I put my hand out for the receiver and dialled 2.

  “Melanie McQuaid here.”

  “Miss McQuaid! Finally I’m through! Thank God! I thought I’d never get past that dozy mare – you really should consider sorting out your staffing situation.”

  It couldn’t be.

  “Richie?”

  I couldn’t believe it. I thought he was on a ship somewhere.

  “Are you back in Dublin?” I asked.

  “What? No, not yet. I’m phoning from somewhere in the South Pacific actually – the wonders of modern technology, eh? We’re about a day away from Auckland right now.”

  What? This was nuts!

  “Can you hold on a second, Richie?”

  I put my hand over the receiver and looked around at Grace. “I need to take this. Can you go ahead and set that meeting up with Father O’Mara – whenever, wherever suits him, you have my diary. I’ll have a think about the other situation and get on to Marcus shortly. And can you hold all other calls and visitors while I’m on this call, please?”

  “Of course,” she said, and slipped out.

  I took a deep breath, then took my hand away from the receiver.

  “So tell me now, Mister Blake – to what do I owe the honour of this high-tech phone call?”

  “I got your email,” he said. “I was going to write back, but then I thought what the heck? Give the girl a call. Make her day.”

  I laughed. “You are too kind, Mister Blake. Always thinking of others.”

  “So true, so true,” he said.

  I smiled.

  “Seriously, though, Mel, thanks for the mail. It was great to hear from you – really great, in fact.” His tone changed slightly then. “It . . . well . . . let’s just say it came at a good time.”

  He sounded different, a little less cocky than normal.

  “That’s good, Richie.” I waited to see if he’d go on, but when he didn’t, I filled the gap: “I couldn’t believe it when I saw you on the news, and with the whales. It was such a coincidence I had to write.”

  “I’m glad you did. And hey, what’s all this about you looking into the eye of a whale as well? Are you trying to steal my thunder?”

  I laughed. “Sorry about that! It was amazing, though, wasn’t it?”

  “Y’know, Mel, it was great. And I think it did have an effect on me. I’m trying to work it all out at the moment – tell me, what was it about the whole thing that made such an impact on you?”

  I thought about it for a few seconds. “I’m not sure, to be honest. Perhaps it was that the whales and that setting were just so beautiful, that being there in that moment I wasn’t thinking about anything else. It seemed to almost lift me out of my own life, my own world. I’d just been so focused on the future for so long – on this bloomin’ five-year plan – that I don’t think I was really enjoying the present any more. Do you remember when we first met all those months ago, Richie?

  “How could I forget? It was the bright spot of an otherwise . . . shall we say . . . stressful day.”

  I smiled. “You said to me then that I didn’t seem to be enjoying life. Well, you were right, and at the time I naïvely thought that rolling down a hill would prove you wrong. Maybe for a short time that day it did. But after that, life pretty much went back to normal.”

  “Yeah, that night when I met you in Dublin, you seemed pretty confused about what you wanted, about who you are,” Richie said. “I am really sorry though, I was quite hard on you, it wasn’t fair of me.”

  “It’s all right, Richie, you were right.” I took a deep breath. “I guess since Norway, since seeing those whales, I’ve realised that I need to do a lot more than roll down a hill to get back to the person I really am, or at least the person I could be. I have some changes to make now.”

  “I see . . .” He sounded thoughtful and went quiet for a few seconds. “Good for you, Mel. I wish you well,” he said eventually.

  “Thanks Richie. And how about you? Have you felt any different since you looked into the eye of that whale?”

  “Honestly, Mel? I’m not sure. I mean, it was a great experience, and it did take me out of myself for a brief time like you say. But it hasn’t really changed anything. In fact it’s just made me realise more, just how much of a mess I’ve made of . . .”

  His voice seemed to fade away. I wasn’t sure if it was the line or something else.

  “Are you still there?” I asked.

  “Sorry, yes, I’m here.”

  “Richie, are you okay?”

  “Not really.” He sighed. “Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all, Mel. I shouldn’t be bothering you. You hardly know me.”

  “It’s all right – you can talk to me, Richie. What is it?”

  He said nothing.

  So I w
aited, and finally he spoke again.

  “It . . . it’s my mother. She died a couple of days ago while I was out here at sea.” His voice cracked as he said the last few words.

  “Oh Richie, that’s terrible, and here’s me going on about myself and the whales. I’m so sorry. What happened? Do you want to talk about it?”

  And so I listened as he told me about his mother’s sudden death from a heart attack, about the awkward phone call with his brother, and about the marked absence of his friends throughout the whole thing. My heart really did go out to him – he seemed to be in a bad way.

  “It’s strange actually,” he was saying, “but being out here at sea, it’s almost as if it’s not real – like my mother’s not dead at all. I just can’t quite process it – things were quite tense between us at the best of times so I’m struggling to feel the grief within me that everyone presumes I must be feeling.”

  “I’d imagine it must be very difficult being out there with nobody close to you around. I’m not surprised it doesn’t seem real.”

  I thought for a moment before going on: “I wonder, Richie, if rather than focusing on what you think you should or shouldn’t be feeling, what if you were to try to focus on just remembering the good times you had with your mother? Might that help?”

  “I don’t know really . . . Maybe. I guess I could try it anyway.”

  “Grief can be a strange thing,” I went on. “People process it in different ways. Give yourself time.”

  “Thanks, Mel, I’ll try. When did you get to be so wise about all of this?”

  I took a deep breath, remembering the most difficult time our family had been through.

  “My sister Nichola’s husband died in a car crash three years ago,” I told him. “I’ve been helping her and the kids get through it ever since.”

  “Ah, I’m really sorry to hear that,” he said.

  “Thanks, Richie. They still have good days and bad days, but mostly good of late thankfully.”

  “Your family is obviously important to you?”

  “They’re the most important thing in the world to me,” I smiled to myself as I thought about our lot. “And I’m sure yours are to you too, Richie – that’s probably why you’re so confused about your mother’s death, and still upset about falling out with your brother.”

  “Yes, I guess you’re right. I’m really dreading the funeral, not to mention meeting Ed beforehand.”

  “I’m sure it will be fine,” I said. “I remember how upset he was when you were being taken away in the ambulance that day – no doubt he’ll be very nervous about meeting you too, Richie.”

  “Maybe he will, but I’ll be honest, Mel – I’ve absolutely no clue how to sort things out with him. No doubt he hates me these days.”

  “I’m sure he doesn’t hate you. How could anyone hate you, Mister Blake?”

  I heard a faint laugh.

  At least he was laughing again.

  “I’d say the most important thing will be to show him you’re genuinely sorry,” I said. “Explanations and excuses are one thing, but those two words ‘I’m sorry’ said with genuine feeling can be very powerful. Whatever you’ve done, you’re still brothers, and whether you realise it or not I suspect you both need each other at the moment.”

  “Yeah, might stop me calling up virtual strangers for free counselling sessions, eh?”

  “Pfff! Strangers?” I said. “Who’re you calling strangers? Surely a roll down the hill together, our first late-night squabble, and now a ship-to-shore phone call – all puts us firmly into the friend category?”

  “Yes, it probably does that,” said Richie. “Once you don’t pretend to pick me up every time I meet you, Miss.”

  The ol’ cheeky tone had returned.

  “Don’t, Richie!” I covered my eyes with my free hand. “I’m still embarrassed about that. For the record though, I did not attempt to pick you up, I attempted to chat you up – different thing entirely.”

  He laughed. “Whatever you say, Miss McQuaid.”

  “Anyway, now that we’re officially friends, I solemnly swear never to chat you up again.”

  “Eh . . . riiiight . . . not sure that was quite the result I was hoping for.”

  I laughed.

  “But I’ll take all the friends I can get at the moment,” he said, sounding quite sad again.

  “Ah Richie, your other friends will come round. If they’re true friends they’ll be there for you no matter what’s gone on. Hang in there. Life may seem a bit bleak at the moment, but if you look at it another way you have a golden opportunity now to start putting things right, to get your life back on track.”

  “True,” he said. “From the sound of things we both do – you mentioned you have some changes to make too? I’ll give it a go if you will.”

  I nodded to myself, and sighed at the thought of what was ahead of me. “I will try, Richie, but it’s not going to be easy. I just got back into work this morning – to the usual litany of problems. Let’s just say the post-Norway glow is wearing off very fast.”

  “If I’m not mistaken I don’t think there could be too many people who could get the better of you at the moment, Mel. Hang on to that post-Norway glow for as long as you can. Just get out there and kick some ass, girl!”

  “Y’know what, Richie?” I sat up straighter. “You’re absolutely right.”

  “Always, Miss McQuaid, Always.”

  I rolled my eyes and smiled.

  “Right, I’d better push off if I’m to sort out this sorry life of mine,” said Richie. “Good luck on your side, Mel, and hey, thanks, girl. Really – thank you. This has been just what I needed.”

  “Me too, Richie. Thanks, my friend.”

  We promised to try to meet up in the near future and hung up.

  I put down the phone, took a long deep breath and smiled to myself. Then I got up and popped my head around my office door.

  “Grace, could you call Marcus and try to schedule a meeting for later this morning. And could you hand me in the most recent box-office report, the dance-festival sponsor file and Shirley’s employment contract, please?”

  “I’m on it!” said Grace.

  “Great thanks. Any word on Father O’Mara?”

  “Yes, I just called him and he said he’s actually in town tomorrow – he wondered how you would be fixed for lunch? I mentioned that you were just back from a few days off so would probably need to work through lunches for a few days – maybe a short meeting later in the week here at The Mill might be better?”

  I smiled. “No, lunch with Father O’Mara tomorrow would be an absolute pleasure. I’ll meet him wherever is handiest for him.”

  “Oh.” Grace looked surprised. “Right then. I’ll call him back and arrange it.” She kept looking at me for a few seconds. “Melanie . . . I hope you don’t mind me saying, but you seem different somehow? I can’t quite put my finger on it.”

  “Thanks, Grace, I’m feeling good.” I smiled to myself. “Oh and could you get me those potential sponsors on the phone? The company CEO, please.”

  Chapter 20

  MELANIE

  Marcus’s office was the most impressive room in The Mill. Located on the top floor, at the front of the building, it was bright and spacious with a simple black-and-white decor. Abstract charcoal drawings depicting the various art forms of dance, drama and music adorned the walls, whilst framed posters of his previous productions left visitors in little doubt as to Marcus’s artistic achievements.

  He was sitting with his back to the door and his desk when I came in that afternoon. It was a bright winter’s morning and he was looking out the window over the city’s quays down onto the River Liffey while talking on the phone. He turned to look over his shoulder when he heard me come in but carried on speaking and just gestured for me to sit in the chair in front of his desk.

  I was all revved up and ready for what lay ahead, but the phone conversation seemed to go on forever.

  I stared at
his back. Please, God, don’t let me lose my nerve.

  Finally Marcus hung up. He swivelled around in his chair and eyeballed me.

  “I assume you’ve heard of the debacle by now?” he asked. “I can’t begin to tell you how humiliating it was, Melanie. And for it all to happen in front of the chairwoman! What were you thinking, giving her seats away to a corporate group?”

  I had to make sure to stay calm.

  “I didn’t give them away, Marcus,” I said slowly. “I asked Shirley to organise our best tickets for the potential sponsors but –”

  He held his hand up to stop me speaking. “If you don’t mind? I haven’t finished.”

  I drew a long, silent breath, and let him go on.

  He rustled through some papers on his desk, pulled out a concert programme and threw it across the table at me. “There were serious print errors in the programme too. Fenella herself pointed them out to me during the interval. I’m sure I don’t need to tell you how deeply embarrassing that was – on top of everything else.”

  I scanned the blocks of red-circled text, and then I really don’t know what came over me, but I burst out laughing.

  “You think it’s funny?” Marcus looked furious.

  I tried to contain myself. “I’m sorry, Marcus, but come on. It’s not really the end of the world is it? A few typos in a programme? Sure how do we know that Mozart didn’t prefer to spell his name ‘Mozarz’ anyway?”

  Marcus squinted and leaned over the desk towards me. “The Millennium Centre has standards of excellence to maintain, Melanie. I have never before experienced such a sloppy approach from the marketing-and-development department. I think you might need to consider substantially upping your game, don’t you? Just try to improve performance in future, and close the door on your way out, thank you.” He picked up a memo from his desk and turned around in his chair to face the window again.

  I stopped smiling and closed my eyes as I remembered my conversation with Richie.