Where the Love Gets In

by Tara Heavey

  The grin broadened and she found herself gathered into a kind of bear-hug. She draped one wrist delicately around his neck. The other hand she rested on his triceps. She closed her eyes briefly, feeling herself smaller than usual – feeling herself tiny. He didn’t say anything, just continued to stare at her and grin. It was beginning to make her self-conscious. Should she kiss him to avoid the small-talk? She’d never kissed a man with a beard before. No, that was ridiculous.

  ‘Aren’t you hot?’ she asked.

  ‘Hot?’

  ‘In that jumper.’

  ‘I’m grand.’

  A culchie. Small wonder. ‘Where are you from?’

  ‘County Clare.’ He announced it proudly, as if he hailed from Buckingham Palace itself. ‘You?’

  ‘Stillorgan.’

  ‘What’s your name?’

  ‘Fiona.’

  ‘Fiona.’ He repeated it, savouring each syllable, as if it pleased him enormously.

  ‘And you?’

  ‘Aidan.’

  Not a terrible name – for a culchie.

  ‘And what do you do, Aidan?’

  She didn’t care what he did. She was only asking him so she could tell him she was a doctor.

  ‘I’m a fisherman.’

  ‘A what?’

  ‘A fisherman. You know. I catch fish.’

  ‘You’re kidding?’

  ‘No. I have a boat and nets and everything.’

  ‘Well, I didn’t think you used your hands.’

  He laughed gratifyingly at her lame little joke, and she felt something catch unexpectedly in her solar plexus. Over his shoulder she could see Cali and Ruth staring at her. She gave them a little smile and a wave and Cali did the same back. Ruth pointed at her watch and widened her eyes. Wondering, no doubt, what her friend was doing, moving in slow circles with this dancing bear of a man.

  ‘Why the surprise?’

  ‘At what?’

  ‘That I’m a fisherman.’

  She looked up at him again. The eyes were definitely blue. Maybe greeny-blue. Aquamarine, she decided. ‘It’s just the beard, the jumper. Everything. If someone was going to a fancy-dress party as a fisherman, they’d look like you.’

  He threw back his head and roared with laughter. A great sound. She grinned back at him. She was funny. He made her feel funny. And safe, in a weird way. He made her feel herself, but a new self. She loved the way he wasn’t insulted. She was so sensitive that the opposite in another person was appealing. She could enjoy this man, if only for a short while. He was so different from the men she knew. Especially David. Sweet, serious, earnest David, who was going to make such a great doctor. With his milky white skin. His lily white hands. His distinct lack of triceps.

  ‘And what do you do, Fiona?’ He swirled each syllable of her name around his tongue.

  ‘I’m a doctor.’ There it was. She looked at him archly, from underneath her lashes, to gauge his reaction.

  ‘Get away out of that.’ He was dismissive.

  ‘I am.’ She was indignant.

  ‘But you’re only a child.’

  ‘I am not.’

  ‘What are ye? Nineteen? Twenty?’

  ‘Twenty-four.’

  ‘Excuse me.’

  ‘How old are you? Forty?’

  He laughed again, as she’d hoped he would. ‘Twenty-eight.’

  ‘Well, you look twice that at least. You should shave off your beard.’

  ‘I’ve thought about it, but don’t you think it gives me a very manly, craggy look?’ He rubbed his chin and winked at her.

  She rolled her eyes and grinned at Cali and Ruth. They continued to stare. ‘What were you doing asking me to dance if you thought I was only nineteen? Are you some sort of perv?’

  ‘I liked the look of you.’

  His frankness disarmed her and she lowered her lashes. His shoulder seemed welcoming and she was tempted to rest her head there. But – not a good idea. It was a bit worrying, though. How were her future patients meant to take her seriously, feel safe in her hands, if she looked like a child?

  ‘Maybe you should grow a beard,’ he was saying.

  ‘What?’

  ‘It’d make you look older.’

  ‘Stop.’

  He gave her waist a friendly squeeze. She found she didn’t mind.

  ‘Do you have a boyfriend, Dr Fiona?’

  She amazed herself by being tempted to lie. ‘I do, yes.’

  ‘Pity. I’ll have to use the sack, then.’

  ‘The what?’

  ‘The sack. First I put it over your head. Then I sling you over my shoulder, bundle you into the back of the van and drive like hell back to Clare.’

  She giggled. It was sort of a compliment, she supposed.

  ‘Oh, I’m not joking.’

  Their faces were almost touching and he had stopped smiling. He was going to kiss her. And she – was she really? – was going to let him. Their lips connected. A warm fuzzy softness, with an undercurrent of something dark and exciting. Beneath her closed lids, Fiona could feel Cali’s and Ruth’s eyes expanding into saucers.

  Chapter 7

  Fiona had pulled out all the stops. The best china, the linen tablecloth. She’d even spent a fortune on fresh flowers, daffodils at first. Then, with last-minute horror, she remembered their association with cancer and swapped to tulips. What was she thinking? About the flowers and about everything? After the initial excitement had worn off – having a ‘star’ over for dinner – the panic had set in. It dawned on Fiona that Sarah must be accustomed to eating in the very best restaurants, and in the homes of other famous people who had housekeepers and chefs and the like. Fiona did have a cleaner, a silent, resentful local woman, but she’d always done her own cooking. Of course she had. And that was another thing. She hadn’t asked Sarah if she had any dietary requirements. Not to mention the child. They could be vegetarian for all she knew. Although surely Sarah would have said. Sweet Jesus, Aidan was right. She was an eejit.

  That afternoon she worked herself into a frenzy, yelling at Tommy when he tried to make a sandwich as she was preparing the veg. She spent almost as long deciding what to wear as she did what to cook. Monkfish, as it happened. And a simple shift dress. Blue. Her colour.

  Aidan avoided her as much as possible, hating it when she was in this mood, eye-rolling the height of his communication. He turned up for dinner, just – five minutes before mother and child were due to arrive. ‘You look nice.’ He approached his wife with caution.

  ‘Could you open that bottle of wine over there? Let it breathe for a while. They’ll be here any time now.’

  She scurried past him to the other side of the kitchen. He knew better than to offer to help with the food. Such approaches were invariably misconstrued and led to trouble.

  She glanced at him. ‘You look nice too. An actual shirt – we’re honoured. It only took you four months to put it on.’

  She’d bought it for him at Christmas in her annual attempt to smarten him up and, as she’d once put it after a few glasses of wine, ‘showcase his fantastic physique’. He’d teased her about it mercilessly – he was just her bit of arm candy, he said – but he tried to make the effort when he knew it mattered to her. Tonight, however, he wasn’t sure whom he was making the effort for.

  He uncorked the bottle and strolled into the dining room. The table was spectacular – they could have entertained royalty. No wonder Fiona was so wound up.

  ‘I could use some help in here.’ Disembodied voice from the kitchen. Testy. He hastened back inside. ‘What can I do?’

  The doorbell rang.

  ‘Oh, Jesus.’ She ushered him out again. ‘They’re here.’

  ‘That’s what happens when you invite people over for dinner.’

  ‘Oh, stop being such a smartarse and open the door. Why couldn’t they be late?’

  ‘It’s ten past already.’

  ‘Aidan!’

  ‘I’m going, I’m going.’


  Seeing Sarah standing in his doorway, smiling at him like that, completely threw Aidan.

  ‘Are you going to let me in, then?’

  ‘Sorry, yes.’

  He opened the door fully and stepped aside. She walked into the hallway, Maia so close to her that she might have been surgically attached to her mother’s leg. The little girl’s eyes darted towards Aidan’s, then away again, and he saw that he had been recognized.

  ‘Can I take your coat?’

  Sarah shook off a cape-like garment and handed it to him. Then she removed the anorak from her daughter’s rigid form.

  ‘Go on in.’ He couldn’t hang the coats up quickly enough.

  ‘Oh, wow!’

  He loved to witness people’s reactions as they walked into the dining room for the first time. It was a glorified viewing point, glorying in its panoramic view of sea and sand.

  ‘It’s breathtaking,’ she said. ‘You’re so lucky to live here. The sea literally is your back garden.’ She turned to him and smiled. ‘You have a dolphin in your back garden.’ She scanned the walls and zoned in on a group of black-and-white photos.

  ‘Did you take these?’

  Aidan nodded.

  She examined them in silence. ‘They’re stunning,’ she said quietly.

  He beamed. Felt himself ridiculous.

  ‘He’s sold a few, you know.’ Fiona came in and the two women kissed on either cheek, like a couple of Dublin luvvies.

  ‘Fiona, your home is beautiful.’

  ‘Thank you. Aidan, will you pour Sarah a glass of wine? And what about Maia? Will she have some juice?’

  ‘I have her drink with me, thanks. This table is magnificent! Where on earth did you get it?’

  Aidan watched his wife glow as she absorbed Sarah’s flow of compliments. Neither woman noticed when he left the room to get the wine.

  Tommy was at the kitchen table, his arms crossed, a sullen expression on his face as he tilted his chair precariously on its two back legs. ‘I’m supposed to be at Kevin’s gig.’

  ‘I know. You can go along afterwards. Just keep your mother sweet. It’s easier in the long run.’

  Tommy scowled, his whole body tense with impatience and frustration. Aidan could almost hear him thinking: Next year.

  Fiona bustled back into the room, multitasking as she went. She righted Tommy’s chair onto its four legs as she passed. ‘Aidan, would you ever bring the woman in her wine? And entertain her for a few minutes. Dinner will be in five. You, too, Tom.’

  They knew better than to argue. Much better just to get out of the way.

  Aidan, bottle in hand, led the way into the dining room, Tommy trailing unenthusiastically in his wake. Sarah seemed tiny, seated at the top end of the massive oak table. She was hunched over, talking earnestly to Maia. She pulled herself upright as they came in.

  ‘Sarah. This is my son, Tommy.’

  Tommy stepped forward and Sarah held out her hand for him to shake, guessing correctly that he wasn’t a kisser. Tommy wiped his hand self-consciously on the thigh of his jeans before placing it in hers. Then his demeanour changed. ‘Hey, you’re famous. You used to be Tabitha.’

  Sarah’s and Aidan’s eyes met and they laughed. Aidan was relieved – Tommy’s behaviour had been so unpredictable of late, vacillating wildly between adult maturity, adolescent obnoxiousness and childlike enthusiasm. The latter seemed to be at the fore right now – Tabitha was a character from his favourite children’s programme – and that suited Aidan just fine. He watched them as Tommy chattered and Sarah listened graciously, her head inclined, a smile playing on her lips. She must get this all the time.

  ‘And what about that eejit who played the dodgy wizard? Was he that bad in real life?’

  ‘No, not at all. He was lovely. He is lovely. A really intelligent guy, in fact.’

  Aidan stood beside her and poured a little wine into her glass. ‘Would you like to try it, madam?’

  Sarah giggled. ‘I’m sure it’s fine. You can pour away.’

  Tommy continued to talk as if his father wasn’t there.

  Fiona entered, carrying Sarah’s and Maia’s plates. She laid Sarah’s monkfish before her with reverence – whether for the food or the woman wasn’t clear – but there was definitely a sense that they had an honoured guest in their midst. Then she put down Maia’s tomato soup with toast soldiers. The little girl shifted backwards in her chair and shoved the bowl as far from her as it would go.

  ‘Oh, God, I’m sorry.’ Sarah was on her feet.

  The Ryan family watched open-mouthed as Maia commenced blocking her ears and screaming.

  ‘It’s the soup,’ said Sarah. ‘She’s afraid of anything bright red. Ridiculous, I know, but it’s one of her things. I’m really sorry. I should have said.’

  She handed Fiona the offending plate. Fiona carried it back into the kitchen. Aidan caught a pink spot on each of his wife’s cheeks.

  ‘It’s all right. It’s gone now. It’s gone.’ Sarah coaxed her daughter’s hands back down. Then she sat heavily beside her and hid her eyes with a hand. ‘Oh, Lord. Poor Fiona.’

  ‘Don’t worry about it. It’s not important.’

  ‘But her dinner party, all the trouble she’s gone to. It was stupid not to tell her. I never thought.’

  Fiona came back into the room, her smile strained. ‘What would Maia like to eat?’

  ‘Don’t worry about it. I’ve got plenty of snacks with me. I’ve learned to come prepared.’

  ‘I could make her a sandwich.’

  ‘There’s no need. She’ll be grand.’

  ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘Quite sure.’

  Fiona looked relieved. Panic over.

  Once the dinner had begun, there was no danger of a lull in conversation. Tommy saw to that, particularly after the small glass of beer he was permitted, which seemed to travel directly to his vocal cords. Fiona deemed it necessary to cut in, when Sarah seemed about to be overwhelmed by his constant deluge.

  ‘So, what brought you to our little one-horse town anyway, Sarah?’

  ‘Oh – this is delicious, by the way. You’re not doing your home town justice, Fiona. You possibly don’t see it as I do because you’ve lived here for so long. But it’s a stunning location. Do you hear me? Location. What a twat. You’d swear I was shooting a film here. Although why somebody hasn’t done that already, I really don’t know. But no. The real reason I came here was Star.’

  Fiona’s face remained blank. The only thing that sprang to her mind was the Star newspaper. Was Sarah being hounded by the tabloids?

  ‘She means the dolphin, Mam,’ said Tommy.

  ‘Oh.’ Fiona lowered her eyes and took a sip of her wine. ‘You like animals, then.’

  ‘Well, yes, I do. But that’s not it. It’s for Maia, really.’

  ‘Maia’s the animal lover?’

  ‘No. Well, yes. It’s – you’re a doctor. Maybe you’ve heard of dolphin-assisted therapy?’

  Aidan looked out of the window. The moon was rising. It was as if it was floating on the water. He didn’t like the way this conversation was going. Sarah had told him this and it had sounded perfectly reasonable in the boat. But now, well, he already knew what Fiona would make of it and he felt embarrassed for their guest.

  ‘I’ve heard of it, yes.’

  ‘Do you know much about it?’

  ‘Not really, no.’

  ‘Well, it’s quite a new thing. It’s really only been practised in America so far.’

  ‘America. I see.’

  ‘They think that interaction between dolphins and children like Maia can really help the children. There’ve been cases of some kids speaking for the first time.’

  The words came out in a rush and Aidan felt her awkwardness. He had personal experience of how even the greatest enthusiasm could flounder when it encountered the steel wall of his wife’s scepticism. He examined Fiona closely as she played with the stem of her glass. He knew her casual demeanour was il
lusory. She suddenly looked up sharply, in the way she did when she was dealing with a patient. Enter Dr Fiona.

  ‘Would you not be better off seeking professional help?’

  ‘I’ve been seeking professional help ever since Maia was diagnosed, and she still can’t talk.’

  ‘All I’m saying is that there are plenty of charlatans out there, dying to exploit desperate people.’

  Aidan cringed. He knew his wife’s intentions were good, but she sounded so patronizing at times.

  Sarah straightened her back, perhaps trying to recover her dignity. ‘I can assure you that I’m not the slightest bit desperate, Fiona. On the contrary, I have a lot of hope. And so far Star hasn’t charged us a single cent for her services.’

  ‘Dessert,’ said Aidan, his voice over-loud and abrupt. ‘What’s for dessert?’

  ‘It’s cheesecake,’ said Fiona. ‘I’ll go and get it.’

  ‘More wine, Sarah?’

  ‘Please.’

  ‘Can I have another beer, Dad?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘But you always let me have –’

  ‘Not in front of your mother.’

  ‘But –’

  ‘No.’

  The remainder of the evening passed without incident. Nobody brought up the dolphin again, and if Sarah had taken umbrage, she hid it well. The post-mortem took place later, in the bedroom. Fiona kicked off her high heels with obvious relief and lay on the bed, legs crossed at the ankles, hands clasped behind her head. She looked content. Satisfied. Smug, even. ‘Well, I think that went really well, don’t you?’

  ‘I do.’

  ‘She’s an interesting woman, isn’t she? A little airy-fairy, perhaps.’

  Aidan could see where this was going and didn’t like it. ‘Hmm.’

  ‘What do you think of her?’

  ‘She’s nice. Yeah. Seems like a nice woman.’

  ‘Nice. Is that the best you can come up with?’

  ‘Oh, for fuck’s sake, Fiona. Would you ever give it a rest? You’re so …’ He trailed off, instantly regretting his outburst.

  Fiona raised herself up on her elbows and glared at him. ‘So what?’