by Mary Malone
I didn’t get to say goodbye, he thought. Well, perhaps I can put some time and effort into tidying the place up instead – my way of showing a little gratitude at last. But first he’d like to thank whoever contacted his solicitor and show his appreciation to them too.
Glancing over the hedge and noticing a light in the kitchen next door, he decided it was probably the best place to start. Neighbours here, at least from what he remembered, had always watched out for each other. Going back inside, he made sure the back door was locked this time, checking it a few times before turning off the lights and leaving by the front door. The unmistakeable smell of salty sea air was a welcome familiarity. He stood staring at the sea for a few minutes before walking up to the front door of Number 4 and pressing on the brass bell-push. It would be nice to thank them for their concern and also let word filter through that somebody was watching out for it.
He waited with curiosity to see who answered the burgundy door. Even in the faded light from the street-lamp, the gloss paintwork gleamed brightly, a stark contrast to the faded varnish next door. The door opened a fraction and an attractive dark-haired girl peered out from behind a safety chain.
A moment passed as they eyed each other, a brief few seconds where they stared at each other in disbelief. And then, like fireworks exploding into the sky, both of their faces broke into shy smiles.
Kieran shook his head and wondered if he was dreaming – either that or he was having an Alice in Wonderland moment and slipping down a great ravine into the heady days of his teens. His face flushed. Jess! The effect her presence had on him hadn’t changed. His inner excitement had always heightened in her company, the world a brighter place when she was around. He couldn’t help staring, trying to figure out why she seemed different when her features were exactly the same as he remembered. What had changed exactly?
“Jess? It’s been a while!”
“Kieran Dulhooly?” She looked bewildered. “It is you! What a sight for sore eyes! I hadn’t heard you’d come home!” She opened her eyes wider and shook her head in disbelief.
He jerked his head towards the house next door. “I’m home over a week now, came back for Aunt Polly’s funeral.”
Jess released the catch on the door. “I’m so sorry about that, Kieran. I sympathised with your family at the removal but couldn’t make the burial unfortunately.” The words caught in her throat. What valid excuse could she offer for not attending her next-door neighbour’s burial? What would sound plausible? Anything but the cold candid truth that she’d been preoccupied with morbid thoughts of her own . . .
“The last I heard about you was that you’d landed in Tasmania,” she said instead, shaking off her dark thoughts and opening the door fully. “Step inside. That wind is biting.”
“Living here with your parents?” he enquired as he came in.
“Both gone,” she explained without elaborating.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” he sympathised. “I didn’t realise.”
She nodded. “Have you time for a cuppa?”
“Okay – thanks. Hey, I thought you’d be long gone from here, imagined you’d be wearing your archaeologist hat, digging up bones and making life awkward for anyone threatening to disturb the past.”
Following Jess inside, Kieran missed the wave of regret that registered on her face at the mention of the career she’d walked away from, a sacrifice she’d been forced to make in difficult circumstances.
“Speaking of careers,” she said, deftly changing the subject and leading him through to the kitchen, “whatever happened to your hard-earned degree?”
“Don’t mention the war,” he laughed. “That’s still a very thorny subject with my parents.” He looked around him. The house, a modernised version of Polly’s, seemed totally different. But his interest in the improved décor paled in comparison to his open appreciation of the new and improved Jess.
After the first few moments between Kieran and Jess, the awkwardness disappeared and, sitting at her kitchen table, they slipped into easy conversation.
Jess discreetly assessed her thirty-one-year-old guest. They had a lot in common, born in the same year – a few weeks between their birthdays – and sharing the Aries astrology sign. Listening to Kieran chat about Polly’s demise, she watched how his green eyes crinkled under the bright kitchen light. His complexion seemed darker, she thought, no doubt from numerous seasons living in the intense Australian heat. Taking his hand to sympathise about Polly, his skin had felt rough in her grasp. Worked outdoors, she presumed.
She was embarrassed when she realised it was her phone call to the solicitor that had brought Kieran rushing down to Schull and she apologised profusely. He waved her apologies away, explaining that he needed to come down to check out Polly’s house anyway.
Bestirring herself at last to make the tea, Jess threw a quick glance at her reflection in the mirror she’d strategically placed on the wall in an attempt to create an illusion of more space in the compact room. Spotting a smudge of mascara underneath her lashes, she licked the tip of her finger and, as discreetly as possible with a trembling hand, she wiped it clean.
Kieran watched her as she moved about the kitchen, admiring her petite figure as she stretched to an overhead press to get a tin of biscuits.
“I can’t believe you’re living here again,” he commented.
“Well, here I am,” she said, throwing him a grave glance that he couldn’t interpret.
His eyes following her every move, he noticed she was much thinner than he remembered. Shapely in a very sexy way, he decided, feeling a sudden pang of guilt about the brisk way he’d abandoned Amy earlier. Poor Amy, he thought. Although he suspected she’d taken the same thing from their meeting as he had – good company and great no-strings-attached sex. No doubt, regardless of his decision on Number 5, their paths would cross again and whether they’d have another liaison or not would remain to be seen. He’d contact her, maybe even meet her and buy her lunch to apologise. She wasn’t the first girl he’d run out on in such a hasty fashion but she hadn’t deserved to be insulted either. He wasn’t proud of his behaviour but running into Jess – the new and improved Jess who was very different from the tomboy he remembered – had to be fate (or maybe Aunt Polly) intervening in his plans. “Meant to be,” she’d have said. A ghost of a smile flashed across Kieran’s face as he imagined her peering at him over the rims of her bifocals. Letting go the memory, he focused his attention on his hostess instead.
“Milk and sugar?” she asked.
“Just milk, please, and can you leave the teabag in the cup? I like it strong.”
Jess put two mugs of piping hot tea and a jug of milk on the table, then took a plate of hazelnut cookies and coconut mallows from the counter and placed them before him. She sat down opposite him at the table and nudged the milk towards him.
“But seriously, Kieran,” she insisted again, “I feel like such a fool now. That bloody banging scared the daylights out of me! And if I’m honest, now that your aunt has passed away, living next door to an empty house feels a bit creepy.”
“Nothing new there,” he said, a grin breaking across his face. “Being alone in the dark always freaked you out.”
Her face went bright red, vivid memories of her teenage years rushing to her mind. Mortified that he had such a clear memory of what seemed an age ago – and wasn’t afraid to tease her about it – she dropped her gaze and focused on her tea mug.
“Seriously, forcing me to Aunt Polly’s house has done me a great favour,” he said. “Have you seen the state of the outside? The garden is a dump! It’s no wonder you’re uncomfortable. I’ll get it cleared up. I’ll make it look lived-in again.”
“Oh, don’t worry,” she said hurriedly.
“Polly will come back from the dead if something’s not done about it right away. You know she loves her home . . . I mean she used to . . .”
Not for the first time in recent days, Kieran had halted mid-sentence. He found it difficul
t to believe that Polly was dead, the anchor she’d represented in his life something he’d never forget.
Dunking a biscuit in his tea, he watched Jess with interest. Her restlessness unsettled him. He hoped it wasn’t his presence that was making her jumpy. Their connection had always been special, mutual understanding getting them through the best and worst of moments. They’d known each other for years, albeit with a break of almost a decade apart from his occasional visit home, so why would she be uncomfortable around him? No doubt, if he was going to spend a bit of time tidying up next door, he’d find out soon enough.
“Enough about the mess next door. Tell me what you’ve been up to?” Jess asked, draining her tea and getting up for a refill.
“You mean this week since I’ve got back?”
“I mean your travels. How far did you get? What was it like? How many countries – continents even, did you visit?”
Kieran pondered on her questions a second, wondering how to concentrate the last ten years into a few brief answers. The person he’d been when he’d stood on the steps of the plane in Cork Airport as he departed for that very first trip bore no resemblance to the man he was now.
Reading his mind, she simplified things. “In general, I mean, what was it like to have so much freedom? How did you survive? Make ends meet?”
“I’m guessing similar to when you took off for Cambridge on your Indiana Jones escapade. Nobody to answer to, get to be your own boss, make decisions without worrying about anyone’s opinion, grabbing enough work wherever it was going . . .”
Kieran’s words washed over Jess, her mind drifting back. Cambridge had been nothing like the paradise he was describing. Apart from immersing herself into the “Indiana Jones escapade” as he’d teasingly referred to it, her expectations of college life had been swiftly dashed. Arriving on scholarship from an unknown Irish community school had set her apart from the outset, the majority of students hailing from private education and lavish wealthy backgrounds. “Swot,” the others in her year whispered as she filed into the study hall while they skipped lectures and scarpered to the nearest off-licence, sneering at her conscientious-study attitude. She’d worked hard right through term, often falling asleep at the little desk in her room. Failing and taking repeats wasn’t an option, at least not for Jess, who was dependent on retaining scholarship status.
“Earth calling Jess,” Kieran teased. “One mention of Cambridge and you go all doe-eyed! That good, eh?”
“College life is similar the world over I’m sure,” she responded lightly, “but hey, I was expected to turn up for class every day and I lived in supervised student quarters so I wouldn’t be too sure that our travels were that similar.”
“Ha! Supervised? I can just imagine. Ye probably gave those deans hell!”
“Whatever happened to George Roly?” she asked, changing the subject. “Didn’t you two leave the country together?” She’d got to know George when he’d stayed in Number 5 on occasion, hanging out with Kieran, her and the others, surfing and canoeing for hours on end, sitting around bonfires late into the night and early morning, sipping cans of beer and laughing and joking without a care in the world.
Kieran nodded, remembering his buddy from school and what a disaster their initial adventure turned out to be. “Wise old saying – if you want to know me come live with me. Suffice to say, we weren’t compatible, not by a long shot!”
“Lovers’ tiff then,” she laughed, her face reddening as the words left her lips, her embarrassment forgotten when Greg arrived into the kitchen, rubbing his eyes and looking very hard in Kieran’s direction.
“Sweetheart, you should be fast asleep!” said Jess.
The little boy came and climbed on her lap, his eyes never leaving Kieran’s face.
“Who’s that man, Mum? Why is he here?” He pointed at their guest.
“Greg, don’t be rude!” Jess looked apologetically at Kieran, noticing the look of bemusement on his face and realising that she hadn’t mentioned her son to him. No need to explain now. Greg had taken that decision out of her hands.
Kieran was indeed bemused. He had somehow assumed, because she hadn’t said otherwise, that there wasn’t a man in her life. Apparently there was – and not just this little one on her lap.
“Er . . . sorry . . . I thought you were still . . . unattached,” he said, trying to be delicate but needing to know.
“I am,” she said, giving him a level look.
He waited for her to go on.
“Gregory,” she said instead, giving the little boy his full title, “this is Kieran Dulhooly, my friend from years ago. We’ve known each other from when we were only a little bit older than you are now. You remember Polly from next door?”
Greg nodded enthusiastically, his lower lip protruding. “She always gave me jellies. She’s in Heaven now.”
Jess smiled at his innocent acceptance of the next world, wishing she shared his pragmatism. “Every time she saw you, no matter what time of the day or evening! Well, Polly was Kieran’s aunty and every school holiday he came to stay with her.”
Kieran put his hand out, pulling it back again when Greg ignored it and pushed his head into his mother’s chest. He hadn’t had much experience with young children but he could remember what it was like to be a young boy and feel threatened.
“Hi, Greg,” he said. “Bet your mum never told you about the time we borrowed a rowing boat at midnight –”
Jess was quick to interrupt. “I don’t think he needs to hear about that particular adventure!”
Kieran laughed, winking at the young boy. “Maybe another time then. I see you’re a United supporter?”
Greg nodded vigorously, his eyes widening. He sat up straighter in his mother’s lap, took a cookie from the plate and began to nibble all around the edge.
“And wrestling, what about that? You watch the WWF?”
Greg was genuinely impressed that this man, whoever he was, seemed to know so much about him. It went over his head that his themed pyjamas and slippers were a giveaway.
Jess watched the interaction between them, relieved that her son had taken to her old friend.
“Mum doesn’t like me watching it. Says they’re stupid.” He turned his head and met his mother’s eye. “You do, Mum!”
Jess didn’t deny her abhorrence of her son’s favourite programmes. “I keep telling you, Greg. They’re only acting.”
“They’re not, shur they’re not?” This time he turned his attention to Kieran.
“Of course not! But women don’t understand wrestling, not like us guys.” He stood to leave. “I’d better be going now before I get myself in trouble,” he laughed.
“Are you going to be calling again?” Greg asked.
“That depends on whether your mum invites me again,” Kieran said, directing his response more at Jess than the little boy. “Maybe we could watch WWF?”
“If you’re planning on sticking around a while I don’t see why not,” Jess laughed. “Come on, Greg, let’s see our guest out.” She put her son on the floor and got to her feet. They followed Kieran to the front door, Greg eager for him to call again and Jess equally anticipating his company and choosing to ignore the warning bells ringing in her ears.
“Well, actually,” Kieran said, turning to her as they reached the door, “I’m trying to come to terms with the idea of moving back here.”
“Moving back?” What did he mean exactly?
“Polly left me the house,” he explained.
“Oh! Wow! That’s big.”
“I’ll probably stay with my parents a few more nights until I get it cleaned up a bit. And the idea of living in one spot hasn’t quite taken hold as yet. I have a lot to think about.”
“Even so, it’d be nice to freshen the place up while you’re mulling over your decision and I’m sure the cleaning required is nothing hot water and detergent won’t fix. Give me a shout if you need a hand.”
“I might hold you to that,” he l
aughed.
“She obviously thought very highly of you,” Jess said. “What a great gift all the same!”
He shrugged indifferently, hiding the pride he felt inside. “Hmm, if I want to put down roots, I suppose.”
“But you could come and go?”
“No. I have to live here for a year before I get rightful ownership.”
Jess glanced at Kieran before asking her next question, unable to suppress momentary delight at the thought of having him living next door, their old friendship rekindled, and someone she knew and trusted on the other side of the hedge instead of him being an absentee landlord. But her delight was quickly replaced by a cloud of doubt. Would Kieran living next door complicate her life even further?
“So you may be back for good?” she asked. “To settle down like a proper grown-up?”