“Yes, it’s going great, actually, thanks, Father. I’m just back yesterday after my trip to Norway, so I’ve had a bit of catching up to do.”
“Ah yes, Grace told me you’d been to Norway – how wonderful. Did you have a good time?”
“Yes, yes, I did, Father – the time of my life in fact.” I felt the now familiar quiver of emotion in my voice.
Father O’Mara noticed it too. “That’s wonderful Melanie,” he said, squinting at me for a few seconds. “Tell me about it.”
So I regaled him all through lunch with my story of the fjords and the orcas of Norway. He listened intently, then shared stories from his own travels over the years, and lunch went by very quickly.
After dessert Father O’Mara patted his mouth with his napkin, then put it down decisively on the table. “Well, that was most pleasant, and I’m very glad to hear you’re enjoying life a little more these days, Melanie. But before I get altogether carried away by our conversation, I must admit that I had an ulterior motive in asking to meet you today.”
“Well, I suppose there’s no such thing as a free lunch?”
“No, indeed,” Father O’Mara said, just as the waiter arrived with my coffee.
“Your tea is on its way, Father,” he said.
“Thank you, Malcolm,” said Father O’Mara, then turned back to me. “Melanie, I’d like to tell you about a small project that I’ve been thinking about for some years now.”
I leaned in. “Oh yes?”
“For some time, I’ve been growing increasingly concerned about Ireland’s young people. They have so much to contend with these days. I see it all the time – they run into difficulties, perhaps just ordinary day-to-day things like exam stress, problems with their parents or families, the pressure to look a certain way or to be on top form on the sports field – and many other more serious problems.” He shook his head. “They just find it difficult to cope, and don’t know where to turn for help. As a result too many are instead turning to drugs, alcohol or in the saddest of cases, taking their own lives. Ah –”
Malcolm arrived with the tea and Father O’Mara leaned back to let him pour it out.
“Thank you, Malcolm,” he said as Malcolm withdrew, then he turned back to me. “I want to try to do something about this, Melanie, however small, so I had the idea of building a retreat centre for young people. Nothing too grand, just a place where young people could go to get away from it all. I’ve spoken to some of the members of my community, and we think the idea would get the financial support of the Order – but I think I’d like to keep the centre non-denominational if at all possible, open it up to as wide a group as possible. Which means I’ll have to work that little bit harder to get it off the ground.” He took a sip of his tea.
“It sounds very interesting, Father.”
“Yes, thank you, Melanie. It is all still just a concept at the moment, but recently I have been given a small amount of seed capital to get it off the ground, so I feel it’s a sign from Himself” – he looked up – “that it’s time to get going. The thing is, I’m going to need a little bit of help to get the momentum going. So I thought to myself, who’s the best person I know at building momentum?”
I smiled. As Father O’Mara was speaking I’d thought about my nieces and nephews. I’d have loved there to be a place like Father O’Mara described, where as teenagers they could go to get away from it all. After all, it was exactly what I needed myself recently – to get away from it all. I was able to go to Norway, but young people couldn’t get away so easily.
“That sounds like a really wonderful idea, Father. I’d like to help. What can I do?”
He reached out and put his hand over mine. “I was hoping you’d say that, Melanie. You’re such a marvellous organiser.” He withdrew his hand, and sat back in his chair. “But I’m very conscious of your current work load and I don’t want to overburden you. I know how hard Marcus works you all there at The Mill – he’s not necessarily the easiest person to work for?”
“It’s okay, Father, Marcus and I are good at the moment, and this is important. Some things we just have to make time for, don’t we?”
“Yes, indeed. Well, thank you, Melanie. It shouldn’t take too much time at the moment anyway, it’s very early days. The first thing I need to do is convene a meeting. I’m gathering a group of people to get the discussions started – some potential funders and supporters. I’d love you to come along.”
“Of course. When were you hoping to have it?”
Just then there was a loud crash.
“You bloody idiot!” a man’s voice shouted out behind me.
Father O’Mara peered around me to look, but I didn’t need to turn to see who it was – I’d have known that voice anywhere. How on earth hadn’t I spotted him before now?
Father O’Mara looked back to me. “Poor Malcolm, he’s a bit of a butterfingers at the best of times. He’s just dropped some vegetables over that couple’s table. The man is furious and Malcolm seems quite shaken. Justin, the maître d’, has had to step in.” He took a sip of tea. “Melanie, are you all right, my child? You’ve gone quite pale.”
“Sorry? Oh yes, Father, I’m fine. Go on anyway, you were about to tell me when the meeting was taking place.” I picked up my teacup but my hand was shaking so much I quickly put it back down without taking a sip.
Thankfully Father O’Mara didn’t seem to notice.
“Ah well, that’s just it,” he said. “I want to move on this sooner rather than later, but with Christmas around the corner, time is tight. I managed to reserve a room upstairs here for three thirty next Friday afternoon. Would you be free to come along then?”
I fished my diary out of my bag and checked the date. “Yes, I’m free,” I said, writing in the details with some difficulty given my shaking hand. “I’ll be here.”
“Wonderful,” said Father O’Mara, but I wasn’t entirely sure whether he was referring to me being able to attend the meeting or to the tempting petits fours that Malcolm had just placed down on the table in front of us, his hand almost as shaky as mine.
I stood up. “Father O’Mara, would you mind if we finish up now? I need to get back to the office.” It wasn’t entirely true, but I needed to get away from that voice as quick as my legs would carry me.
“Oh yes, of course, my dear,” said Father O’Mara, nodding to Malcolm for the bill.
As I waited for Father O’Mara to get the coats I finally started to breathe properly again.
“Are you sure you’re all right, Melanie?” asked Father O’Mara, handing me my coat and scarf.
I paused for a moment, then turned to him. “Actually, Father, yes, I’m fine, but there’s something I really need to do. Would you mind if I leave you here? I’ll see you next week.” I gave him a quick hug and a peck on the cheek. “Thank you so much for lunch, and for asking me to get involved in the project – I’m looking forward to it.”
“Not at all, thank you for –” Father O’Mara started to say, but I’d already started to walk back towards the dining room. I was afraid if I stopped for even a second I might lose my nerve.
Once inside the door I scanned the room and, sure enough, there he was.
I should really have known he would be there. Ian loved the Club – when we were together I rarely got him to eat out anywhere else. He hadn’t changed much in four years, still the same Ian – tall and still strikingly good-looking. I couldn’t help but feel pleased to see that his once full head of black hair was disappearing fast though – he already had a big bald patch at the back of his head. He was sitting with a stunning blonde woman, but they weren’t speaking at all – in fact, she looked pretty miserable.
I remembered that feeling.
Malcolm came over. “Is everything okay, Miss?”
“Sorry? Oh yes, thank you, Malcolm, this won’t take long. Would you mind holding these for a minute though?” I handed him my coat, scarf and bag and walked straight over to Ian’s table.
/> He saw me as I approached. Clearly he hadn’t noticed me earlier either – he looked like he was about to choke on his Brussels sprouts.
“Hello there, stranger, how’s your lunch?” I asked, leaning my hand on the back of his chair.
“Melanie, eh, how have you been?” he asked, looking nervous.
“Absolutely wonderful! Thanks so much for asking, Ian.” I turned to his dinner guest. At least she wasn’t wearing my ring – hers was a lot bigger than mine had been. I held out my hand. “And this must be your fiancée, or is it wife now?”
“Fiancée,” she said, giving me a limp handshake. “And you are?”
“Oh pardon me, where are my manners? I’m Melanie, Ian’s last fiancée. You know – he must have told you about me: I’m the one he attempted to shake half to death, and then, when that didn’t work, tossed across the kitchen like yesterday’s rubbish.” I turned around to face him, and smiled. “Good work, by the way, there, Ian – you’ll be pleased to know you inflicted some nice long-term damage.”
“Shut up, Melanie.” His face had turned the familiar shade of red, his nostrils began to flare at the sides like they always did when he was angry. “Who the hell do you think you are, coming in here and ruining my lunch by throwing your vicious lies around?”
“Lies? Lies, is it?” I couldn’t believe the nerve of him. I struggled hard to keep my voice low so as not to disturb the other diners. “I’ve had four years of recurring back pain, have been in and out of more physiotherapists and osteopaths than I can remember – but you know what?” I leaned right in to his face. “I’d go through it all ten times over rather than still be suffering in a relationship with you.”
I stood back up straight and turned to the fiancée.
“My deepest sympathies. I know what you must be going through.”
She just looked down into her plate.
“If you’d prefer Ian, we can continue this discussion outside? No need to drag your fiancée into it.” I turned to her. “I really am sorry. I don’t mean to ruin your lunch. It’s just that we haven’t spoken in almost four years – there are some things that just need to be said, y’know?”
She raised her eyebrows and looked at Ian.
“Whatever you have to say, you can say in front of Carla,” he said. “Then just go get lost, Melanie.”
I looked from my ex to my replacement. They each looked as miserable as the other.
And then, I surprised myself by what I said: “You know, Ian, I was going to give you a piece of my mind. Maybe give you a sense of just how miserable I was with you for those three years, how devastated I was by the way you treated me at the end. But, to be honest,” I stood up straighter, “I can’t actually be bothered now.” I laughed as the realisation hit me. “I just don’t care any more.”
I’d swear I saw Carla smile a little.
Ian just rolled his eyes and shook his head slowly – he always was an arrogant sod. “Right, well, if you’re quite finished making a fool of yourself, Melanie, perhaps you could trot along now and leave us to our lunch.”
I nodded. “I will indeed. But just one thing, Ian. I think you owe Malcolm, your waiter, an apology for shouting at him earlier. This is a gentlemen’s club after all – isn’t it high time you started behaving like one?” I looked behind me and beckoned to Malcolm who started to walk over with my coat and bag. I turned back to Ian. “There’s no time like the present.”
“I think we’re finished here,’” Ian said, ignoring Malcolm and turning back to what I sincerely hoped was his cold lunch.
“Your things, Miss,” said Malcolm, helping me on with my coat and scarf, then handing me my bag. “And you forgot these earlier.” He handed me a small box. “Your petits fours,” he said with a wink.
I smiled. “Why thank you, Malcolm. You’re an absolute gentleman.” I emphasised the last word as I caught Ian’s eye. Then I marched out of the dining room, walking just that little bit taller with each step away from my miserable past.
Chapter 23
RICHARD
All of my connections went as planned and by eleven o’clock on Thursday morning I was standing in the arrivals hall at Heathrow Airport. I was completely exhausted, but for once I didn’t mind the luggage delays – anything that put off the moment when I would have to face Ed was okay by me. After almost thirty minutes staring at a stationary carousel, it started to move. My holdall was one of the first to come out – I watched it travel up the conveyor belt towards me and then go past. I let it go around twice more before finally picking it up and heading towards the exit.
I couldn’t see him at first in the crowd of waiting drivers, tour guides and expectant families and friends at Arrivals, then I spotted him at the back. He was wearing his old duffle coat and Ashvale scarf.
Still the same old Ed then.
He saw me, nodded and started to walk slowly over.
“Good flight?” he asked when he got to me. He reached out to take my bag, barely looking at me.
“Wait,” I said, keeping hold of the bag. “Ed, man?”
He looked up.
“I’m sorry, Ed. I’m really sorry.”
He looked surprised, which made sense, I guess – I think it was the first time I’d ever said those words to him.
“Eh, okay. Thanks.” He went to take the bag again.
“No, wait, Ed.” I couldn’t let the moment pass. I didn’t want to pretend nothing had happened, to carry on through the rest of our lives never acknowledging, or even mentioning the pain I’d caused. Hard and all as it was, I knew that if I didn’t do it right away, I might never get another chance.
“I messed up. I really messed up, Ed. I hurt you, and Lucy, and I let down both of our families.” My voice started to crack, but I couldn’t stop. “You didn’t deserve it, man. I have no excuse – what I did was stupid and pathetic, and I have to live with that every day of my life. But I didn’t mean it – I never meant to cause all that pain.” I took a deep breath. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what else to say, Ed, I’m just so damned sorry.”
Ed continued to look at me without flinching, and then his whole body seemed to unstiffen. His face broke into a smile, and he grabbed me into a hug.
Finally – after six long months – I had a brother again. The relief was unbelievable. I started to well up, and before I knew what was happening I was crying like a baby.
I patted his back and Ed pulled back, which was when I noticed that he was crying as well.
“What are we like?” I laughed and wiped my face.
But Ed looked serious. “I’m sorry too Rich – for hitting you like that, and then for leaving the house without telling you. I needed to do it, though, y’know? Needed to get away.”
But I didn’t need to hear any more. It was all over as far as I was concerned. “Yeah, I know, man. I’d have done the same.” I put my arm around his shoulder and handed him my laptop bag. “Here, as you insist. I take it you’ve got a car?”
“When did you last talk to her?” I asked Ed as he drove us out of the airport in the hire car.
He pulled into the slow lane, and drove at twenty miles under the speed limit. I didn’t even comment.
“Mum? I came over to see her about a month ago.”
“Really? She never mentioned that to me. I saw her the night before I flew to Japan, a couple of weeks ago.”
Ed just nodded.
“How did she seem to you when you saw her?” I asked.
“Okay. Probably a bit on edge, But no more than usual.” He glanced at me. “She asked me about you.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. I told her I hadn’t seen you though. We had a nice couple of days together actually.”
I nodded. “Well that’s good. So how have you been keeping yourself? Where have you been living?”
Ed shifted in the driving seat, eyes straight ahead on the road.
“Don’t worry – you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,” I said.
And he went on and on . . .
I’d rarely seen my brother so animated on a topic. It was good to see. But living at Ashvale? I needed to make sure he wasn’t hiding out there, wasn’t avoiding the real world.
“So are you still there now then?” I asked, interrupting his step-by-step guide on how to construct a school timetable. “Are you still living at Ashvale?”
“Hmm?” He looked at me, then turned back to the road. “Oh yes, sorry, didn’t I say? I’m going to be living there for the next school year. They’ve taken me on as one of the night housemasters while I finish my final year in teacher-training college. I have quarters in one of the dormitories and I’m housemaster for fifth years. I’m actually living in St Francis Dormitory now.”
“No way! ‘Frankie’s’?” I had some great memories of my year in that dorm. “Still as cold and damp as ever, I suppose?”
Ed shook his head. “Not any more – they did it up last year and it’s practically palatial now. Those kids don’t know how good they have it.” He smiled. “Ah, they’re great lads though.”
I took a good look at my brother. He seemed happy, but I had to be sure. “Ed . . . is this my fault? Did you end up having to stay at Ashvale because you had nowhere else to go? Did I push you into it . . . because of what happened with Sonya?”
Look into the Eye Page 20