‘I don’t have one… I mean, I did. But I don’t now. Anyway, how do you know that I had a boyfriend.’
‘Someone mentioned it.’
‘Who?’
‘Betty. She took great pains to tell me that you were not available. But you never mentioned him. And I couldn’t work out what was going on.’
‘Well, nothing’s going on. There is no boyfriend,’ I said. ‘There was, but the aforementioned boyfriend no longer exists.’
‘You killed him?’
I laughed. ‘No, he’s very much alive. Probably clay-pigeon shooting. I didn’t quite fit in. And he slept with his ex-girlfriend.’
He rolled his eyes, shaking his head. ‘Why are people such idiots?’
‘We all are at various points,’ I said. ‘It’s just some people are more idiotic more often.’
‘My ex-wife had an affair with a friend of mine…’
‘No!’
He nodded. ‘It was a bit of a shock, but once I’d got over that, I was able to move on and realise that she and him weren’t the kind of people I wanted in my life.’
‘What happened?’
‘Married after eight months, both of us aged twenty-four. She was a doctor – is a doctor – and we met volunteering in Yemen. She’s Irish, from Kerry. And that’s what brought us together. Two Irish people abroad. But when she got a job in New York, it just seemed easier to get married, and then we could go together. We were in love – or so I thought – and I wanted to do it properly. My parents’ marriage wasn’t exactly textbook, but I wanted mine to be. So, we get to New York, rent a pretty horrible apartment – cockroaches, bedbugs and these ants that used to fly around.’ He shuddered. ‘She’s working at the hospital. So am I. But I joined this photography club, as you know, and it was nice, just a break from work. I’m not a big drinker…’ He smiled at me and for a moment I found myself bathing, basking in, delighting in, loving, adoring, ecstatically enjoying his beautiful smile. I could love this person, I thought. I could actually love him. ‘Anyway, so I was out of the flat a lot – and so was she. Both working long hours and I got friendly with one of the other doctors on my team. He was this super-cool guy… Zachary. Hair like a 1970s woodsman, hand-knitted jumpers… from – get this – Donegal…’
‘Oh my God.’
‘I know.’
‘I hate him.’
He smiled. ‘The jumpers did irritate me. A bit of a try-hard. But at the time, I liked him, and so I invited him over for dinner with me and Liza.’
‘He didn’t…’
‘He did. And she did.’ He rolled his eyes. ‘They were sleeping together for nine whole months. Who’s the idiot now?’
‘I’m sorry.’
‘I’m well over it,’ he said, ‘and I wish her well.’
‘Probably wearing a shawl and playing the mandolin somewhere.’
He laughed. ‘Probably. But it was all a such a mess. I moved out to an even worse apartment – bigger cockroaches, bigger bedbugs and even bigger flying things.’
‘And rats,’ I said. ‘I bet there were rats.’
He laughed again. ‘So, Liza and Zach were together, and she would ring me up and cry and say that things weren’t working out or that they’d had a huge argument. And then I wouldn’t hear anything and then she’d call again. And this went on for a year. And I was like… enough. I need peace. I’m going home.’
I nodded. ‘I can see why you would need that,’ I said.
‘Obviously, I had to work out what I could do back home. I had to apply to get onto the Medical Council here and then there was other paperwork such as bringing this little fella home.’ He gave Pablo a little scratch on the head. ‘But we did it… and meanwhile Dermot and Catherine found the old pharmacy for me and I had to get that certified and, by the time I was on the flight home, I was ready to hit the auld sod running.’ He smiled. ‘I have a confession.’
‘What is it?’
‘Adele got me through.’
‘Adele the singer Adele?’
He nodded. ‘I have never told a single person this, but her songs were a deeply cathartic wallowing place… She got me through the end of my marriage and the omnishambles of my life in New York. It was quite remarkable. I played the album one day, listened to it from beginning to end, put it on repeat and it was hugely therapeutic. Every time I needed a wallow, I would listen to the album. It was like she was able to get into my mind while my subconscious sorted out my thoughts.’
‘Remarkable,’ I said. ‘I also have someone. Kylie. She’s my happy place. She’s got me through some of the bad times and also given me some of the best. My friend Roberto and I were in the front row last time she played Wembley. She just makes you feel amazing. Even when you don’t.’
He lifted up his glass and clinked mine. ‘Here’s to pop music. Better than antidepressants.’
‘Here’s to Kylie and Adele,’ I said. ‘For the healing powers of their music.’
He laughed again, as though he was really enjoying himself. Nearly as much as I was. We looked at each other, both smiling.
‘You know,’ he said, ‘with you, it was intrigue at first sight.’
‘Intrigue?’ I laughed, loving this compliment. ‘No one has ever called me intriguing before. I didn’t even know I possessed such powers.’
‘Well,’ he said, ‘take it from me, you do. Special powers… the kind that make someone… me, for example… think about you and wonder about you.’
My throat was dry. ‘I… well… I…’
He shrugged. ‘You exude a rather fascinating aura… you’re fun and thoughtful and kind and intelligent and you want the very best for people. More than you want it for yourself.’
I swallowed. ‘Sometimes,’ I said. ‘It feels greedy to want it for yourself.’
‘I think that you can want it for yourself and others. And know that sometimes it’s their turn and then sometimes it’s yours.’
I nodded, getting it. ‘Everyone is telling me to wear my crown.’
‘Maybe it’s your turn now?’ he said. ‘Take it from me, believe in yourself. Like truly believe in yourself.’ He smiled. ‘It took me a bit of time to realise that if I wasn’t going to believe in myself, then no one else would. And that if no one else did, at least I still had me.’
I nodded. ‘It’s hard to believe in yourself sometimes, though.’ I thought of the business and that run of bad luck I had. And now, I realised, what I should have done was not panic, but taken time to think and recalibrate.
My phone buzzed. Text from Mum. ‘Jennifer-Louise and the baby are absolutely fine,’ I read out loud. ‘Thank God for that.’
Will nodded. ‘She didn’t look like she had breathed in anything or done any damage, but it’s good to know. What about some dinner?’ he said. ‘The Sea Shack? I pass it every day after my swim, and I’ve been studying the menu. Lobster and chips. Followed by a banana split. I’ve become slightly obsessed by the thought of it.’
‘A banana split?’
He nodded. ‘I last had one when I was eleven. It was practically one of the only times we ever went out to eat and I’ve been haunted by banana splits ever since.’ He paused. ‘In a good way.’
‘Well, then,’ I said, ‘we’d better go and get one.’
We were given a small table at the back of the restaurant, a tea light flickered between us, and we ate lobster and licked our fingers and dipped chips into mayonnaise… and talked incessantly. Pablo looked in, enviously, from his place on the bench outside. The owner laid down a rug for him and sent out some lemon sole goujons that were left over.
‘Ready for the banana split?’ I asked Will.
He nodded. ‘As ready as I’ll ever be.’
‘I hope there are sparklers in it,’ I said. ‘We should say it’s your eleventh birthday.’
When it arrived – with two spoons – he said it was better than he remembered. ‘What do you think?’
‘I think it’s literally the best thing I’ve eve
r eaten,’ I said. ‘From now on, I am only eating banana splits. Three times a day.’
Afterwards, we began walking back to the village, the sky pink and gold, the world bathing in this magical glow. Will took my hand. ‘It’s nearly midsummer,’ he said.
‘You’re going to have to dress Pablo in girls’ clothes or the fairies will steal him.’
He laughed. ‘What?’
‘Folklore,’ I explained. ‘That’s what people did in the old days. It was the night that the fairies would come out and steal little boys. So, they used to dress little boys in girls’ clothing so they wouldn’t be stolen. You’ll have to be careful.’
‘I will.’ He was still laughing. ‘So, how’s the festival going?’
‘Fine,’ I said. ‘All sorted. I’ll close the shop early on Saturday and help with all the setting up. We have these bonfire people coming, they are called the Firestarters…’ I told him what else we had planned.
‘And then you’re going back to London?’ he asked.
I was just going to answer when my phone rang. ‘It’s Jessica…’ I said, puzzled. ‘I hope she’s…’ I answered the call. ‘Jessica?’
All I could hear was her sobbing and gasping for breath.
‘Jessica? Where are you?’
‘Home.’ Her voice was barely audible.
‘Are you okay? What’s happened?’
‘I can’t take it any more,’ she stammered. ‘I’ve had enough… the kids… Mam’s in Galway… I don’t know who to ask. No one knows… just you… please!’
‘Jess, don’t worry,’ I said. ‘I’m coming now.’ I ended the call, barely breathing. I tried to remember where she lived… what was the address again? And then I remembered, the cul-de-sac on Seapoint Crescent.
Will was staring at me. ‘What’s wrong?’
‘It’s Jessica… it’s her husband, she’s… he’s… she needs to get out of there with the kids…’
‘My car is at the back of the surgery,’ he said, as we began to run.
29
‘Damien is incredibly charming,’ I told Will as we drove along by the harbour into Church Street and out of the village.
Will pulled a face. ‘I’ve seen this so many times. In New York, you would see women covered with bruises, not able to see out their eyes, broken bones and still they would go back.’
‘She was always saying how amazing he was, but there was something strange about it, like she was overcompensating. And then last week, I saw a bruise on her arm and then on her neck… and… well, she couldn’t hide it any more. The poor thing.’
Will just shook his head silently as pulled into Jessica’s cul-de-sac. The whole road was some kind of suburban dream, the waft of barbecue, children riding their bikes, someone clipping their hedge and the ubiquitous female power-walking duo.
‘Number twenty-five…’ I peered out, looking for Damien’s blacked-out Range Rover.
And there it was, parked on the driveway of a double-fronted newish-build. It looked like the perfect house, mown lawn, cobble-lock driveway. But there was something eerie about it because, even though it was still bright out, every single window was lit up, no curtains or blinds were drawn. We stared at the house.
‘What do you think is happening?’ I asked.
‘I don’t know,’ said Will. ‘Can you hear anything?’
‘No,’ I said, getting out. ‘You stay here, and I’ll knock on the door.’
‘No, I’m coming,’ he said. ‘I’ll stay behind their car.’
I nodded, reminding myself to breathe as I walked up the path. What must have happened for Jessica to phone me? She must have been desperate. At the front door, I put my finger on the doorbell as the noise reverberated into the evening sky, disturbing the whole street. My heart thumped in my chest.
From behind the car, Will nodded encouragingly as I turned to stare through the opaque glass of the front door. Just as I was about to ring the bell again, a man’s shape appeared on the other side. Big shoulders, tight black T-shirt stretched across the chest while I focused on arranging my face into something neutral. What was I going to say? That I needed Jessica earlier in the morning and I couldn’t get through on my phone? That there had been a break-in at the shop, and she was the only one with the codes? Or that…?
I should have thought of this before. All I knew was that I had to get her and the children out.
The door opened. ‘Hello, Damien!’ I smiled.
‘Olivia…?’ His eyes were glittering and spaced. Drunk, I realised, but he had smoothly moved from surprise to smile; charming men can reconfigure in nanoseconds. ‘Everything all right?’ I hadn’t noticed his tiny mouth before, disproportionate to his huge jaw.
‘Yes, fine,’ I said. ‘I mean, well, not really. There’s been a fire in the shop and I need Jessica because she knows the combination to the safe…’
‘A fire?’ He shook his head as though it didn’t make sense, deliberating, like he was playing a game. ‘Shouldn’t you…?’
‘Could she come to the door?’ I asked. ‘May I speak to her?’
He hesitated and then, without saying anything, left me standing there and, beyond, I heard the sound of voices and then Jessica came to the door, Ellie-Mae and Frankie clinging to her legs, both in their pyjamas. All three had been crying.
Jessica locked eyes with me and almost imperceptibly shook her head. Did she mean me to go?
‘Olivia,’ she said, trying to sound surprised, ‘what brings you here?’
‘There’s been a fire,’ I said, ‘in the shop. Could you come and open the safe? I am so sorry it’s late…’ I kept my eyes on hers, trying to work out what she wanted from me. But she looked apologetic, as though she regretted making that phone call.
‘I can’t,’ she said, quickly shaking her head, ‘not now, I’ll do it in the morning.’
‘Jessica,’ I said. ‘I need your help.’
Damien stepped into the frame beside her, his bulbous muscles like a terrible tropical disease, his tiny mouth like a whelk’s.
‘What are you doing here, Olivia?’ he said, sharply. ‘What do you want?’
‘I just want to…’ I looked at Jessica. ‘I want to see if Jessica is all right.’
‘Of course she’s all right,’ said Damien, a puzzled smile on his face. ‘Why wouldn’t she be?’
‘Are you?’ I said to her. ‘It’s just that I…’
‘Just that you are a nosy bitch, getting involved in other people’s business? Yeah?’ He stared at me.
‘No, I just…’ I said. ‘I heard some arguing.’
Pablo must have managed to get out of the car window because suddenly he was beside me and began yapping loudly at Damien.
‘Shut that mutt up!’ shouted Damien. ‘Shut him up or I will drop kick him over the fucking estate!’
Pablo kept barking and growling and I quickly grabbed him and held him tight. ‘Shush, Pablo,’ I begged. The poor little dote was like a tiny lion, and I felt so touched that he was trying to protect me. I kissed his head. ‘Don’t worry, Pablo,’ I whispered.
Damien had turned to Jessica. ‘Did you call her? Did you? Because you tell her everything is all right, okay? Because it is, isn’t it, Jess?’ He stared at me, his eyes on fire.
Jessica shook her head at me, the two children clinging like limpets, as though terrified they were about to be pulled off their mother.
‘Tell her, Jess,’ Damien commanded.
‘Everything’s fine,’ said Jessica. ‘Thank you for coming, but everything’s fine.’
Sneering, Damien began to close the door, but at the last moment I put my foot in it. I thought of my conversation with Bronagh. Jessica deserved better. She needed to wear her crown too.
‘Jessica,’ I shouted. ‘Jessica, you deserve better than this, you deserve more. You and the children…’
Damien, the bodybuilder, pushed the door closed, trapping my arm against the door frame, my scream alerting the neighbours who had not already gathe
red. It’s going to be severed off, I thought. I will be leaving this place armless. But suddenly Will was beside me pushing on the door, Pablo growling furiously, and I managed to wriggle my arm free and the door was slammed in our faces.
And that was it, we had lost. Jessica was stuck with this monster for the rest of her life. I thought of every brilliant woman I knew – all of them, every single one of them, even my grandmother hidden in my locket around my neck
‘Believe in yourself, Jessica,’ I suddenly shouted. And then, rather desperately, ‘Wear your crown! Put it on!’
Neighbours were standing on the street open-mouthed, curtains twitching, and Jessica, who had suddenly pulled the door as hard as she could, launched herself at the outside world, the two children still attached, and we all began running for the front lawn, just as a Garda car pulled up and Jessica fell to her knees, hugging her children, the three of them sobbing.
Damien came out and walked over to us, like a man walking along a beach on holiday, relaxed and casual.
‘There’s nothing wrong, Garda,’ he said. ‘Nothing at all. We were just watching television. Jess?’
She looked up.
‘Come over here, Jess,’ he said, his voice like a drink of hot whiskey. ‘Come on, love. What’s got into you? Tell them there’s nothing wrong.’
Will and I looked at each other, wondering what Jessica would do.
‘Jess?’ Damien was still smiling at her. ‘Are you all right? Are you feeling okay? Listen, everyone understands what you’re going through.’ He looked at the police officers. ‘Postnatal depression,’ he said. ‘Terrible thing. She had it with Ellie-Mae and with Frankie… it’s still going on.’ He turned back to Jessica, calling over to her, ‘Jess, please. Just tell them you’re fine, and we’ll get you back in the house. I’ll get the kids to bed and you could have a nice bath, or something, whatever you girls like to do? Yes? A bit of pampering?’ He turned back to the male police officer. ‘We were only in Barcelona a week ago,’ he said. ‘That was to cheer her up. No expense spared, nothing but the best for my girl.’
The officer gazed at him, expressionless.
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