by Caragh Bell
Tears flowing down her cheeks, she closed the door quietly. She closed the door on their life together and walked away, her heart breaking into pieces.
Luca woke up at eight o clock and reached instinctively for Lydia. He was surprised to find her side of the bed empty and cold. Yawning, he settled back into his pillow and thought no more of it. He drifted off to sleep for a while, but then woke again with a start. She still wasn’t back.
Jumping up, he pulled on his jocks and a blue T-shirt in case he met Mimi in the hall. The bathroom was empty and the kitchen was deserted, as was the sitting room.
‘Lyd?’ he called quietly, not to wake Mimi. ‘Lydia?’
No answer.
Scratching his head, he went back to the bedroom to find his phone. She could have gone out for a walk or something. Although that seemed highly unlikely. He knew she was nervous of walking alone in the city.
He saw the letter then, propped on her pillow, his name written in bold print on the envelope. His brain didn’t quite process what it was for a moment. Then his heart began to thump loudly.
He tore it open and pulled out the sheet of paper. With a frown he scanned its contents, stopping to curse and then reading it again.
No way.
With a howl, he grabbed his bedside lamp and threw it against the wall.
‘Are you fucking serious?’ he yelled. ‘How could she? How could she do this?’
He kicked the bedpost and started shouting expletives. Mimi appeared, pulling her silk bathrobe around her.
‘Luca? Luca, mon petit, what ees eet?’ She took in his wild state and the debris on the floor.
‘I can’t believe it!’ he shouted, kicking the dresser in rage.
‘Luca!’ She tried to calm him down by patting his back. ‘Please stop zees. Tell me!’
He fell to his knees and hung his head. ‘Meems, tell me I’m dreaming,’ he mumbled, his face in his hands. ‘Please tell me this isn’t real.’
‘What do you mean?’ she asked confused. ‘I don’t understand, Luca.’ She pulled him close and stroked his hair.
‘Elle est partie,’ he said bleakly and looked up at her shocked face. ‘Mimi, she’s gone.’
She had texted Colin, asking him to pick her up at the airport. He had agreed immediately, dying to ask why she was alone. Common sense prevailed, however, and he kept quiet. He could tell from her message that things were not good. He was waiting at the Arrivals Gate when she emerged. Wordlessly, he picked up her bag and led her to his car.
‘Val is cooking tonight,’ he said lamely, starting the engine.
She stared out of the window, as if in a trance.
They sped down the road, the radio blaring. Colin attempted to make small talk but it fell on deaf ears. He had never seen such misery.
‘Lydia!’ said Val warmly when they arrived back at the flat. ‘I made your favourite – pesto chicken!’
She walked straight past him to her bedroom and closed the door.
Colin was sure he heard sobbing throughout the night. He nudged Val in concern, but he just turned over and went back to sleep.
The next morning it was the same. She emerged from her room only to get some water. Then the door shut again.
‘Helen and Seán are back from holidays tomorrow,’ Colin announced to Val that evening. ‘I’d better ring them straight away. She’s like a zombie. I wonder did she witness something horrible like a shooting or something? Maybe she’s suffering from post-traumatic stress.’ He began to pace the room in distress.
Val gave him an arch look. ‘Hardly, Col. Just leave her be. She’ll tell us when she’s ready.’
‘Still and all, I’m going to ring Molly to come over. She’ll know what to do.’
‘Whatever you think.’
Molly arrived that evening, armed with a bottle of Rioja and the latest edition of Vogue.
‘So, where is she?’ she asked breezily, hanging her coat on the rack. ‘Talk about the shortest emigration story ever!’
Colin looked grave. ‘She’s in her room. She doesn’t say a word, Mol. It’s really strange. I make her all sorts of lovely food, but the plates come back untouched. She’s pining or something. We don’t know what’s happened.’
‘Colin,’ said Molly, looking at him as if he’d lost the plot, ‘it’s not rocket science. Think about it. She leaves Ireland hand in hand with a blond love-god, happy and hopeful. She returns, minus a blond love-god, depressed and upset. They obviously split up or something.’
‘I suppose.’ Colin didn’t look too sure.
‘Thank God this all happened while Mum was away. At least we can spare her the drama.’ She poured two hefty glasses of wine, put the Vogue under her chin and headed off in the direction of Lydia’s bedroom.
‘When’s Sam back?’ enquired Val, looking up from watching golf on Sky Sports. ‘It might be a good idea to keep this from her too.’
‘You’re so right,’ agreed Colin. ‘Isn’t she good friends with Charlotte? Good thinking, honey.’
Molly knocked tentatively on Lydia’s door with her foot. ‘Lyd?’ she called. ‘Can I come in?’
There wasn’t a sound. Molly frowned. Was she asleep? Putting the glasses and magazine on a nearby bookshelf, she twisted the door handle. She expected to find it locked but, to her surprise, it opened easily. Putting the Vogue under her chin once more, she picked up the glasses and entered the room.
The curtains were closed, creating a gloomy atmosphere. There was a lump under the blankets which Molly presumed was Lydia. Half-empty glasses of water were discarded around the dressing table and bedside locker, and clothes were thrown all over the floor.
Nothing new there, thought Molly.
She placed the wineglasses and magazine on the bedside locker.
‘Lydia, sweetie, wake up. Your sister’s here.’
No answer.
She shook her gently. ‘Wake up, silly billy.’
‘Stop talking to me like I’m Baby Seán, Mol.’
A response!
Encouraged, Molly shook her again. ‘Sit up, Lyd. We need to talk. Colin has white hair out there with worry.’
The lump slowly moved and the blanket fell away to reveal a tear-stained, bedraggled Lydia, still dressed in the same clothes she was wearing on the plane home.
Molly gasped. She looked terrible.
‘What the hell happened?’ Her blue eyes were serious.
‘Charlotte is pregnant.’
They heard a squawk from outside the room.
‘It’s only me!’ called Colin, waving a duster. ‘Just doing a bit of cleaning!’
They ignored him and Lydia continued. ‘We went over there and told everyone, which was just awful. Then things started to settle and I was so happy and …’ Her voice broke. ‘Charlotte called over and told me that she was having a baby and that I had to leave … he doesn’t know.’
Molly rubbed her back. ‘Why?’
‘She found out and had planned on telling him after Sam’s wedding. Then he took off and she didn’t get a chance.’ Lydia wiped away her tears with her sleeve. ‘I saw the test. It’s true.’
Molly kept rubbing her back.
‘Then she said she didn’t want Luca to stay with her only because of the baby. She said I should make him believe I didn’t love him and it was all a mistake and that way he would go back to her of his own accord.’
Molly bit her lip. ‘I can see her point. I mean, he may not have picked the baby over you. She knows that and so had to get you out of the picture. So what did you do?’
‘I wrote him a Dear John letter. It was so horrible. I told him it was all a huge mistake and that I was messed up and that it meant nothing. I told him never to contact me again.’
‘Oh, Lyd!’ Molly looked at her pityingly. ‘Do you think he believed it?’
‘He did. He sent me a message. Oh Mol, it was just awful.’
‘Go on.’
‘He hates me.’ She started to cry again. ‘The reality
is he’s going to be a dad. I had to do it.’
‘You did,’ agreed Molly. ‘He’s hurt now but once he finds out about the baby, all that will be forgotten.’
‘That’s what breaks my heart,’ sniffed Lydia. ‘I don’t want him to forget me. I love him, Molly. I love him so much.’
Molly held her as she cried. Colin, who had been listening outside the door, looked in. He opened his mouth to speak, but Molly waved him away.
After a while, the sobs subsided. Molly forced Lydia to look at her.
‘Now, Lyd. Mum and Dad are back tomorrow. You need to get it together. Mum will flip out if she hears about this. She hates Luca.’
Lydia nodded dolefully.
‘Adam will give you your job back, I’m sure of it. It’s only been a week – he’s hardly replaced you yet.’
‘No! He’s been looking but he’s been unsuccessful,’ chimed in Colin from the background.
‘Then you have to get on with your life.’ Molly looked stern. ‘You and Luca were never meant to be. You have to accept it.’
Lydia nodded again, wiping her nose with her sleeve.
‘Now, get up and have a shower. Up you get!’
Lydia forced herself to move. ‘Thanks, Mol,’ she said sadly. ‘Thank you for being there for me.’
‘Hey! I was there for you too!’ said Colin from the door, affronted, his hands on his hips.
As soon as she had helped Lydia to the shower, Molly rushed to the kitchen to find Colin in an apron, making enchiladas. She grabbed his sleeve.
‘Hey!’ he complained. ‘I’m trying to make a sauce here.’
‘Listen,’ she said urgently ‘Did you hear what Lydia said?’
Colin shrugged. ‘Sort of. Not that I was eavesdropping or anything.’
‘Oh save it,’ she said rolling her eyes. ‘You were, of course.’
‘I didn’t tell Val or anything,’ he continued. ‘Cross my heart.’
‘Liar,’ said Val from the couch.
Molly pulled Colin into the sitting room. Val paused the football match he was watching. Molly gathered the three of them into a huddle by the mantelpiece.
‘Look, all that aside, this sounds very dodgy,’ whispered Molly. ‘Pregnant? I doubt it.’
Val held up his hands. ‘Hey, now. We don’t know that. Be careful of what you say.’
Colin’s eyes widened. ‘What do you mean, dodgy?’
‘Oh, come on,’ Molly scoffed. ‘It’s all a bit convenient, isn’t it? Luca dumps her and suddenly she’s up the duff.’
Val shook his head. ‘You don’t know that. This is none of our business. Stay out of it.’
Colin gasped. ‘She’d never be that sneaky, would she? I mean, Lydia saw a test, didn’t she?’
Molly shrugged. ‘Desperate people do desperate things.’
‘Should we tell Lydia?’ said Colin in excitement.
‘No!’ roared Val.
Molly put her hand over his mouth in a panic and pushed him back onto the couch. ‘Keep your voice down, for God’s sake,’ she implored. ‘She’ll hear us.’
Val pulled her hand away and sat up straight. ‘Whether Charlotte is or she isn’t, this is not something we should get involved in.’
‘But, Val –’ interrupted Colin.
‘No.’ He stood firm. ‘We’d be doing more harm than good if we put such an idea into Lydia’s head. I don’t think she could handle it. The stress would kill her. And what would you expect her to do? Rush back to accuse Charlotte? Think of the risk when the chances are that she is telling the truth.’
‘I suppose.’ Colin looked unsure.
‘Lydia saw a positive test, right?’
Molly nodded.
‘Then that’s the end of it. It wasn’t meant to be.’ Val pressed ‘play’ and the match resumed on the screen.
Colin fanned his face with his hands. ‘Drama, drama, drama!’ he said breathlessly. ‘It’s like a movie!’
‘She’d better be telling the truth,’ said Molly, looking fierce. ‘No one messes with my sister.’
Chapter 47
Tara stroked his cheek gently. He didn’t move; instead, he stared into space, his blue eyes fixed on a Little League trophy on the dresser. It had been three days. Three days since Mimi called, telling her that Luca had locked himself away in his room. After many unsuccessful attempts to gain entry, the door had finally been unlocked today. The room was dark and stuffy. The first thing she did was open a window.
‘Luca,’ she whispered. ‘Honey, you must talk to me.’
No response.
‘Luca, we have to talk about this.’
He shook his head. ‘Just back off.’
‘Baby, we need to talk about Charlotte. Nobody knows what to do.’
His head swung around. ‘To do about what exactly?’
Tara took a deep breath. ‘Everything is in limbo. There’s so much to cancel, so much to do … I guess we wanted to be sure that you were serious first …’
He stared ahead stonily.
‘Darling, the girl is in a state. Everyone knows you love her. She adores you. Now that Lydia is gone, well, we can’t see why you can’t go back to the way it was. You were happy – you can’t deny that.’
She sat down beside him and rubbed his arm.
‘There is a room dedicated to this wedding at Victoria’s place,’ she pressed on. ‘I called over yesterday. It is filled with gifts, table arrangements, table plans … There is a file full of acceptance lists, details about the car, the flowers, the string quartet, the soprano…The vows you chose are typed out, ready for the church. All the favours are printed with ‘Luca and Charlotte’ in gold. Mimi’s family have booked their flights from France, they’re non-refundable …’
Luca’s eyes flickered at the mention of Mimi’s name.
‘Up to a few weeks ago, all of this was fine. You were looking forward to it. Remember your bachelor party? You were so excited. I honestly believe that all of this can go back to way it was. I think you should meet Charlotte and sort things out. Maybe go away for a few days.’
He sighed.
‘Luca, you have to man up here. You have to do the right thing. This whole crisis can be averted if you do the right thing.’ Tara kissed his cheek and patted his back. ‘I’ll call you later, honey.’
He didn’t respond, so she picked up her bag.
‘Mimi is in the kitchen and she’s worried about you. Please talk to her.’
He nodded curtly and turned away.
‘Luca, please,’ she pleaded. ‘Do it for me. Chin up and I’ll call you later.’
She left the room and closed the door.
He stared out the window, watching the tops of the trees blowing in the wind. He loved Central Park; up to now, he had enjoyed the view from his room. Now it reminded him of her; now he couldn’t face being there any longer. The pillows on his bed smelled of her perfume.
She had left a book behind; it was a worn version of The English Patient. She had written notes in the margin and underlined quotes. She was all about the quotes.
He picked up the book, raised his arm and took aim at the wastepaper basket. Just as he was about to throw it, something stopped him. It was all he had left of her; it was obviously something she loved, judging by its worn exterior. If he threw it away, it would be wrong; he could feel it. Instead, he placed it in a drawer, under his sweaters. No one needed to know it was there.
He flopped on the bed and thought of Charlotte. It was just so easy with her; so safe. She never made him feel bad; she was gentle and refined and loving. Sure, she didn’t like his beer-drinking habits, but that was a small thing. She’d never hurt him or walked away. She was constant. His mom was right. His name was joined with hers in gold on all of the wedding paraphernalia.
Reaching into a drawer, he pulled out the letter. Unfolding the sheet of paper, he read it again.
Dear Luca,
I have to leave. I can’t be here anymore.
I thought I loved
you – I really did. It’s just you’re too intense. It reminds me of Dominic. I feel suffocated.
I’m too young, Luca. I need my freedom. You want too much from me.
I can see now that I came here to prove a point. I know that’s selfish but it’s true. It has shown me that I don’t want to be with you.
My life is in Ireland, not here. It will never be here.
Don’t ever contact me again. This is the end.
Stay away from me. I mean it. I’m bad for you.
I’m sorry,
Lydia.
He crumpled it in his fist and flung it into the bin. How could she do it? How could she treat him like that? His expression hardened. His mother was right-he needed to man up. She was gone. All he had left was a tatty book and a trace of her perfume on his pillow.
Joe hugged her immediately.
‘Lyd! Thank Christ you’re back. I’ve missed you, girl.’
She smiled wanly. ‘New glasses?’ she enquired, hanging her coat on the rack.