Elle rubbed her hands together. “I thought you’d never ask.”
They drove down the street and Elle reported that Bella’s car was not in the driveway. They parked two doors down, at Dominic’s insistence, then Elle made her way to the door and he hid behind a tree in front of the house. Elle knocked and waited. After a minute or two she signalled to Dominic that all was clear. He emerged from behind the tree and fumbled for his house key. He breathed deeply and put it into the door, turned it and the door remained shut.
“Damn it,” he said.
“Relax,” Elle counselled. “Follow me.”
They walked around to the back and Elle picked up a rock, took off her jacket and wrapped the rock in it.
“The french doors are double-glazed,” Dominic said, still looking around.
“Yeah, but the window in the downstairs loo isn’t.”
“It’s too small.”
“Too small for you, fat boy.”
“I’m not fat.”
“Do you have an alarm?” Elle said.
“Yes.”
“Would she have changed the code?”
“I don’t even know if she’d know how.”
“If she has what would she change it to?”
“I don’t know – actually, I do know. She has a terrible memory so all her cards are the same number: double six double six.”
“Fine,” she said, and hit the glass with the rock encased in her jacket. It cracked. She hit it again. It smashed.
The alarm went off. She cleared all the jagged glass away by chipping at it with the rock. She only stopped when Dominic almost shrieked hello to his neighbour, Rachel Jameson. “Forgotten your key, Dominic?” she said.
“Oh, yes, can you believe it?” he said, and Elle thought he might have a heart attack there and then.
“Always the way,” she said.
Elle mouthed “always the way” and Dominic gave her a kick. When Rachel Jameson went indoors Elle took a leg up from Dominic and climbed in through the window. She ran to the alarm, keyed in 6666 and it stopped. “What a moron,” she said, as she opened the front door.
Dominic sprinted in and shut the door with a swing. “Take that, bitch!” he said, and giggled like a girl.
“We’re not there yet,” Elle warned. “Call a local twenty-four-hour window-repair company and tell them you’ll give them a tip of a hundred euro if they get here and fix the glass within thirty minutes. And do the same with a locksmith.”
Dominic did as he was told. Elle went upstairs, armed with a suitcase she’d found under the stairs, and started to clear Bella’s things. Once the calls were made, Dominic went around the house bagging everything and anything that was Bella’s. He kept checking his watch and was alarmed to discover he was sweating profusely. Elle was behaving as though she was accustomed to breaking and entering.
“Don’t be so dramatic, Dominic, this is your house,” she said, when he commented on her calm demeanour.
The window guy made it in fifteen minutes and had the job done in another ten. Dominic paid him in full and shut the door with another swing. The locksmith followed ten minutes later and he was gone within another thirty minutes. Dominic hopped, skipped and jumped up the stairs to where Elle was bagging the last of Bella’s clothes. “I think I love you,” he said.
“Yeah, well, hold your horses,” Elle said. “Next we need to send her packing.”
Dominic carried Bella’s cases down the stairs and parked them beside the front door. Elle checked the clock. It was just after nine.
“What now?” he said.
“Now we wait,” she replied.
They didn’t have to wait long because ten minutes later Bella’s car came into the driveway and she got out. Elle’s heart was racing and, despite outward appearances, it had been since she broke the window. Dominic gulped and braced himself. The key went into the lock and came out. It went in again and came out. Bella stepped back from the door and looked at the house as though it would provide some sort of answer. She went back to the door and tried her key again. She walked around to the back of the house and checked the french doors. She cupped her eyes and looked into the empty kitchen. Dominic and Elle waited with bated breath in the sitting room. Bella came around the front of the house once more, stepped over plants and looked through the sitting-room window. When she saw Dominic and Elle she banged on the glass and shouted.
Elle went over to the window and opened it slightly. “What can I do for you?” she said.
“You can let me into my house!” Bella roared.
“But this isn’t your house. This is Dominic’s house. I know this because I knew him when he bought it and my nephew has spent every weekend in it since he was four years old. You, on the other hand, have been here for five minutes. I trust in that time he didn’t sign over the deeds? No, I didn’t think so.”
“Who do you think you are?”
“Me? I’m someone who pays their own way. You want out of the marriage with Dominic and, to be fair, no one blames you for that but take what’s yours. This house is not yours.”
While Elle was talking Dominic was placing Bella’s bags outside the front door. He closed the door and gave Elle the thumbs-up. “Take care of yourself,” she said, and closed the window.
“We’ll see about that,” Bella said. She stamped through the plants and retrieved her cases, got into her car and drove away.
Dominic stood at the window agog. “I can’t believe we just did that.”
Elle danced around the sitting room. “It was fun.”
Dominic opened a bottle of wine to celebrate and insisted Elle join him. They clinked glasses, relived the break-in, laughed and drank. Just when the night couldn’t get any stranger Dominic told Elle she was amazing. Then he leaned in and kissed her, and she responded. Twenty minutes later Elle was sitting on top of Bella’s soon-to-be-ex-husband in Bella’s ex-bed.
Jane had taken it upon herself to move Leslie to her nursing-home. Twelve days after the operation she gently guided her friend to her car and helped her sit in. She was in a quandary as to whether or not Leslie should wear the seatbelt but Leslie insisted it would be fine as she could hold it away from herself.
Leslie was quiet in the car and Jane understood that she didn’t want to chat. Instead she put on the radio and they listened to a morning talk show. When they were close to the place Jane rang ahead so that a nurse with a wheelchair met them at the door. The nurse wheeled Leslie inside and Jane followed with her bags. She was brought to a private room and the nurse helped her into bed and explained how to work the remote control, informed her of mealtimes and said that someone would be around with pain medication in three hours. Leslie grunted and nodded, and the nurse left.
“Well,” Jane said, “that all sounds good.”
“Does it?”
“What can I do?”
“Nothing,” Leslie said. “Nobody can do anything.”
“Elle’s been Googling this – it’s normal to feel depressed.”
“I know. She told me.”
“I wish I could help.”
“Me too.”
“Jim will be here later.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Leslie said, thinking Jane was hinting at romance the way Elle often did.
“It means that Jim will be here later.”
“Oh.”
“Would you like me to help you wash?” Jane said.
“You want to see how I’ve been butchered?”
Jane was horrified that she would think that. “No. God – absolutely no, no, no!” She was so horrified and so embarrassed and so red that it actually made Leslie smile.
“I’m sorry,” she said.
“God almighty, Leslie,” Jane said, sitting down, “my life is hard enough without you …” She trailed off. “Life is hard enough.”
After that Leslie did ask for her help. She hadn’t had her bandages changed in five days and she wanted to do it herself but she needed help.
“Are you sure?” asked Jane.
“Yes. Are you sure?”
“I offered, didn’t I?” Jane said.
She helped Leslie into the bathroom and sat her on the toilet. She filled the sink with warm soapy water and then she helped her take off her pyjama top. The bandages were wrapped tight around her and Jane found the fastenings quickly. She moved slowly and gently and began to unravel them. Leslie held on to the front of them, her hand protecting and concealing the area as it was exposed.
When the final bandage fell off, Leslie dropped her hand and revealed the indents and angry slashes where her breasts used to be. There were holes from the drains and one was slightly infected. Her eyes filled, her nose ran and her lips pursed. “Seeing is believing,” she said, as she wiped her eyes. “It’s bad, isn’t it?”
“It’s still healing.”
“It’s still horrible.”
“Look, it is awful but, then, I’ve an arse that looks like it’s made out of cheese.”
“At least you’re honest,” said Leslie.
“Well, I’m a pretty bad liar and you’re not the kind of person who’s easily patronized.”
“Do you think I should get implants?”
“That’s your decision.”
“Would you?”
“Yes,” Jane said. “I probably would.”
“It’s not an easy decision.”
“Neither is opting to have a double mastectomy and a hysterectomy.”
Leslie sighed. “With or without breasts I’ll never be whole now.”
“Wombs are overrated. They can get you into all kinds of trouble.”
Leslie laughed. “I’ll think about it.”
“Good.” Jane squeezed the sponge and gently cleaned around the wounds as Leslie took in her new shape in the mirror.
Tom was sitting on her steps when Jane returned from the nursing-home. She got out of the car and he took the bag of Leslie’s washing from her. “I’ve got some news,” he said, “about Alexandra.”
Jane stopped in her tracks. “What?”
“They found her wedding ring.”
“Where?”
“In a market in Wexford.”
“What does it mean?”
“I don’t know.”
“But it’s something,” she said.
“Yeah,” he smiled, “it’s something.”
She hugged him and he dropped the bags to hug her back.
From her window Rose watched them hold one another tightly. Even from a distance she recognized the look in her daughter’s eyes. “Oh, Janey, another unobtainable man! At least you’re focking consistent.”
Chapter 12
Open Your Borders
A heart starts growing cold if you remain alone.
You gotta take a chance,
You gotta get up and dance,
You know the song.
Jack L, Broken Songs
August 2008
Jane missed Kurt more than she could ever have predicted. Every few days she’d find herself standing in his room, looking around but afraid to touch anything in case he noticed and freaked out on his return. One day she lay on his bed and, staring up at the ceiling, she thought about where he was and what he was doing and what kind of time he was having. Is every day a new adventure? Will he be sorry to come home? Will he come home? Oh, Jesus, he’ll definitely come home, won’t he? Calm down, Jane. He’s on holiday, he hasn’t emigrated. Jesus Christ, what if he emigrates?
She had felt a great emptiness in her house and heart since his departure. She missed Irene, too, because even though she’d been part of their household for a short time she had made her mark. Jane understood that Kurt’s extended holiday was merely preparing her for the day he’d leave home for good. She prayed he would get medicine in Dublin because he had applied to Cork, Galway and Belfast as back-ups. If he didn’t get to Dublin he’d be gone from home sooner rather than later, and the permanent loss of her son was too great to contemplate.
As the days passed into weeks Jane also experienced a creeping uneasiness. All the thoughts of fleeing home that she had long ago put to the back of her mind began pushing themselves forward. If he goes I could go. If he’s starting his new life I could start mine. I could sell this house. I could put Rose into a home where she wouldn’t be allowed to drink herself to death and set Elle up in a cottage in a pretty place somewhere inspirational, somewhere other than down the end of her sister’s garden. I could take my life back.
As much as these thoughts excited her, she didn’t dwell on them long because to take her life back would be to put everyone else’s in a spin, and poor old Janey wasn’t capable of deliberately upsetting her nearest and dearest. Besides, they needed her. It was unspoken but accepted in the family that Rose would be dead and Elle would be in some sort of state-run facility – most likely a prison – without Jane’s presence, patience and care.
In the early days of Kurt’s life Jane had remained at home because she had no money and nowhere else to go and, although her mother did not provide any kind of assistance when it came to caring for the baby, she did feed Jane and her child. Those first few years of Kurt’s life had been the hardest and most miserable of Jane’s, but they had ensured that she and Kurt became the centre of each other’s universe.
When Elle’s talent was becoming recognized, Jane made a decision to learn the business. This was because, according to Rose, a number of people had queued up “to take advantage of Elle”, and after Rose had driven them away, Elle was left unrepresented. Jane combed the streets of Dublin looking for a gallery owner to take her on four mornings a week. When she had walked into a small one near Clan-william Street, a man in his sixties had greeted her with a warm smile and she knew even before they spoke that she had a job. Initially he told her he had no work but she pressed him and told him that as long as he was prepared to teach her everything he knew she would work for him for free for a year. He had laughed, believing she was joking, but she was deadly serious so, as long as he didn’t mind that she left by midday, he had himself some free labour.
Albert had liked Jane from the first moment he saw her and, being a man who spent a great deal of his time alone since his beloved wife had died, he was only too thrilled by the notion of company. He was also happy to pass on his knowledge. Luckily for Jane he was a teacher capable of making learning fascinating. Jane had been working with Albert for a month before she brought him Elle’s paintings. He was blown away, and after Jane had read a book on PR they had a showing, which, thanks to a few tips from the book and Elle having a genuinely interesting angle to encourage media interest, was packed and a huge success. Jane had been working with Albert for four months when she received her first pay packet. They continued to work together for a further five years and were as close as father and daughter when Albert passed away one cold autumn evening. Albert and his lovely wife had never had any children and he was the youngest of his generation, all his family and pals having gone before him, so he had left his business and home to the girl who had brought light and challenges into his final years.
As it turned out Albert’s gift of a home and business couldn’t have come at a better time because Rose had refinanced the house, hadn’t paid the mortgage in a year and the bank was set to take their home from them. Because Rose liked to stick her head in the sand and because she was arrogant enough to think that the bank would wait for her to decide when she was good and ready to get the job that would be necessary for her to make repayments, Jane took over.
She sold Albert’s house and used the money to buy her mother’s home from her. At first Rose screamed and roared at Jane for trying to steal her house, but when Jane’s solicitor explained to Rose in no uncertain terms that if Jane didn’t take over the mortgage Rose would be homeless and that in buying her out Jane would be paying her more than a hundred thousand euro in cash, she became far more amenable. There was enough money left to fix up the basement flat, which Rose had let go to rac
k and ruin, and when the contracts were signed and the money changed hands, Jane became the owner of a large Georgian property, complete with garden cottage, at the age of twenty-seven. By the time she was thirty she had sold the small gallery that Albert had left her, moved into bigger premises and named it after him. Since then Jane had run a successful business – and some would have said that if it hadn’t been for her Elle might not have done half as well.
But now, despite owning her own home and running a successful business, Jane wondered whether or not there was something more to life. She thought about all the things she had wanted to do, medicine being one thing, travelling another. She’d never been out of the country longer than two weeks and never further than a beach resort complete with a kiddies’ club in Europe. As a girl she had dreamed of adventure: trekking in Brazilian rainforests, surfing off the coast of Mexico or going on safari in Kenya. And although her desire to get into medicine when she was a teenager had been tempered by her desire to get into Dominic’s pants, over the years she had grieved over her lost opportunity. She knew that she would have made a good doctor and, God knew, she had the patience. Maybe I could still do it? Don’t be a dick, Jane, you’re ancient.
Jane’s intermittent thoughts of escape were always interrupted, whether it was by Rose or Elle. That day Rose was still suffering with stomach problems but, of course, she wouldn’t admit it because to do so would be to accept that she had to lay off the booze and she had no intention of ever doing that. “We all have our crutches, Jane,” she said.
“Yeah, but most people’s crutches don’t cripple them.”
“I disagree.”
Every now and then Rose would clutch her stomach and breathe deeply.
“What can I do?” Jane asked.
“You can distract me.”
Jane stood up and broke into an Irish dance.
“Yes, very funny, Janey, you should really have your own sitcom.”
Jane sat down.
“Why don’t you tell me about Tom?” Rose said.
“What about him?”
The One I Love Page 20