‘When it suits you, yes, you can be. But you do like your own way, always have, ever since you were a young one. Still, I’d rather you were like that than some spineless, wishy-washy thing, jumping to everyone else’s tune or whatever that saying is.’ To Lainey’s relief the subject was changed. ‘Now, are you absolutely sure you don’t want your father and me to take you to the airport? He would make the effort for that, for once.’
‘I’m sure, really.’ She knew how difficult it was for her father to manoeuvre himself into a car seat. ‘Adam and I will drop by on the way, to say a final goodbye.’
‘And everything’s fine with Adam, is it? He really is okay about you going away?’
‘Things are perfect.’ She’d decided that was all her family needed to know.
‘Good. And you’re still coming for your farewell dinner next week? All the boys will be there. Rosie and the twins too.’
‘You’re sure you’re up to cooking for all of us? You look tired. This job won’t be too much for you, will it?’
‘Too much? The job will be a relief. At least it’s a break from sitting at home, coping with your father’s moods, trying to coax him to do this exercise, try this new vitamin, visit his physio.’
‘But he was up tonight. He seemed quite bright.’
‘Because Ken was coming over. Oh yes, he’ll make an effort for his friends. But not for me. Not for his family. We’ve just become his whipping boys. His nursing staff. Or his slaves, more like it.’
‘He can’t help it, you know that. You think he wants to be in pain all the time? That he’s glad that accident happened?’
Mrs Byrne looked steadily at Lainey. ‘Will I tell you something? When your father first had that accident, when they rang me at work and said there’d been an accident with the crane, that he’d been badly hurt and was being rushed to hospital, I remember driving from the library and praying, please God, let him live. I’ll look after him. It doesn’t matter how bad he is, just don’t let him die.’ She paused for a long moment. ‘And my prayers came true, Lainey. He did live. And I am looking after him. And the worst of it is, sometimes I wish I wasn’t. Sometimes I wish my prayers hadn’t come true.’ She sat back and looked at Lainey, her expression a mixture of defiance and misery.
‘You don’t mean that, do you?’
‘I do, Lainey. I don’t know this man. He’s not the one I married. Miserable most of the time, depressed, no energy, he won’t try and do anything for himself. It’s as if his life force was crushed that day, not those discs in his back. And I’m sick of it. Sick of his self-pity, sick of him moaning on about how terrible his lot is. Well, what about my lot? Doesn’t he think it’s hard for me? Does he think I wanted to spend my retirement nursing him, lying in bed day after day like a big, miserable baby?’ Her eyes filled with tears.
Her mother didn’t mean this, surely. She couldn’t. She was just tired. That was it, of course. ‘Maybe you just need some time away. It’s hard on him. He doesn’t like it either.’
‘Then why doesn’t he bloody well do something about it, then?’ Mrs Byrne’s voice was too loud. She coloured, embarrassed, and then lowered her voice again. ‘I’ve half a mind to leave him. Some days I’ve just wanted to open that front door and walk out and never come back.’
Lainey didn’t want to hear this. Her parents were a united front. She didn’t want to hear they were having problems. Young people had problems, not old people. And not parents. Her parents, especially. She tried to make a joke of it. ‘Well, just as well we live in Australia now, you can get divorced here. Though you can get divorced in Ireland these days, can’t you? You could go back, make a special trip of it.’
‘I’ve thought about it, believe me. I’ve thought about lots of things these past months. Is this it, Lainey? Is this what’s become of my life? I had a life once, you know, once upon a time. I was actually a person, before all of this, all of you took me over.’ She waved her hands as if to encompass not just her husband, Lainey and her brothers, but the whole shopping centre scene around them. ‘What happened to that person, Lainey? Where am I in all of this?’
Lainey didn’t want to hear any of this either. It didn’t feel like it was any of her business. It was far too private. And it definitely didn’t feel like something a daughter wanted to hear her mother say. ‘Ma, come on. It’s just a rough patch. And you’ll have money in a year, even sooner if the insurance comes through. Dad will be able to get all the proper treatment, you’ll be able to pay off all the bills, take that trip around Australia. It will be fine, you wait and see.’ She felt like she was a mother speaking to a child, cajoling, pleading, not the other way around.
Mrs Byrne looked exhausted. ‘I don’t know if I want to wait around any more, that’s the problem, Lainey. I don’t know if I can wait.’
CHAPTER SIX
AT HER OWN SUGGESTION, Lainey’s three farewell parties took place on the same night. She’d decided it was the most efficient way of doing it. Her work one was first, held in the Complete Event Management boardroom. She moved around the room, glass of champagne in hand, laughing off teasing remarks about making beds for the next year, answering all their questions. ‘Yes, it’s out in the country, that’s right, about an hour from Dublin… No, not isolated at all. It’s about halfway between two towns, Dunshaughlin and Navan. Yes, they have shopping centres and all… About four guest rooms, I think. No, people usually only stay a night or two… Full Irish breakfast? Well, the works – bacon, eggs, sausages, tomato, toast, black pudding. No, black pudding’s not a dessert and, believe me, you really wouldn’t want to know what it is.’
Gelda made a charming speech, which Lainey would have enjoyed more if Celia hadn’t been standing in the corner looking so smug she was about to explode. And if Gelda had restricted her comments to how much she was going to miss Lainey, rather than including a smiling reference to Celia, who she was sure would fill Lainey’s shoes very capably.
‘Absolutely, Gelda,’ Celia called out. ‘I’ll be there for you twenty-four-seven.’
Lainey hated that expression. Twenty-four hours, seven days a week. It was clearly nonsense. When was Celia going to sleep? And would she really be her bright, perky self if a client called at three a.m. on Sunday morning to discuss the launch of his new range of sliced peaches?
‘Good luck, Celia,’ she said through the biggest smile she could muster. ‘And Gelda has my contact details in Ireland if you need them.’
‘Oh, I won’t, Lainey, but thanks anyway.’
As she drove to her parents’ house for the family farewell dinner, she had to play KC and the Sunshine Band at maximum volume just to get Celia’s voice out of her mind and her temper down to manageable levels. Brendan and Rosie and the twins were there when she arrived. She leaned into the double stroller to say hello to her niece and nephew. As usual, Liam was crying, Sinead smiling. Lainey glanced over at her brother. ‘Did you ever think of calling them Chalk and Cheese?’ ‘Yes, Lainey, absolutely hilarious, as usual,’ Brendan said in a bored voice. ‘Your cat’s name is bad enough, God knows what you’d call your children.’
‘I’m thinking about Lucifer for a boy and Scurvy for a girl, actually, if I ever get around to having any.’
‘Well, you really would want to start thinking about it,’ Rosie said earnestly. ‘It’s supposed to get much harder the older you get. And you’re nearly thirty-three, aren’t you? A friend of mine…’
Declan arrived just in the nick of time. ‘I’ve come to pay homage to the champion of our family,’ he announced in a theatrical voice, waving two bottles of wine. ‘Keep that noble thought in mind during those long, dark, damp Irish days, will you, Lainey? While you’re over there cooking up a fry, trying to dry dozens of sheets, I will be back here doing my bit as the King of the Classroom, moulding the next generation, slowly but surely brainwashing them to my way of thinking…’
Brendan stood up suddenly. ‘Put a sock in it, Declan, would you? I’ve got a headache.’
>
‘I’m just joking, Brendan,’ Declan said, unabashed. ‘Remember jokes? Those things people say with something called humour in it? That you laugh at the end of? Remember laughing?’ Brendan just grunted and went back into the kitchen, nearly tripping over Rex as he walked by. Lainey was glad to see her cat was settling in so well.
‘What’s up with Bren tonight?’ she said in a low voice to Declan.
‘He’s always like that these days, haven’t you noticed?’ Declan answered at normal volume. ‘Wouldn’t you be, if you were married to the Queen of Rabbitsville?’
‘Dec, don’t be mean.’ Lainey glanced at Rosie on the other side of the room. Sitting primly on the sofa, nibbling at a biscuit with her unfortunately prominent front teeth, Rosie did have a certain rabbitty air about her. As they watched, she leaned across and settled Mr Byrne more comfortably, smiling patiently at him. Lainey and Declan felt guilty just watching her.
Mrs Byrne came into the room carrying a tray of glasses. ‘Lainey, Hugh’s just rung to say sorry but he won’t be able to make it tonight after all. He’s finishing some video editing or something. To be honest, I couldn’t really work out what he was talking about.’
‘Who’s his victim this week?’ Lainey asked. Hugh had been studying video production as part of his media studies course, and in the past year the whole family had been involved in his mini documentaries as subjects, voluntarily and involuntarily. Lainey had only learned about it when she’d gone out jogging one morning, getting the fright of her life when Hugh leapt out at her with his camera. He’d been exploring paparazzi techniques, he’d tried to explain, while she tried to beat him around the head with her rainjacket.
‘Some poor soul, I suppose, but as long as it’s not your father or me any more, I don’t care really. I hate seeing myself on the TV, it’s scarier than a mirror. He said to tell you he’s going to try and see you before you leave on Sunday. He’s got something for you.’
‘What would that be, do you think, Lainey?’ Declan asked. ‘A business proposition perhaps? A bit of dope smuggling? Whatever he gives you, just run it through an X-ray before you go to the airport, won’t you?’
Mrs Byrne sighed. ‘Declan Byrne, could you minimise the chin music for one minute? I swear there is no one in the world who talks as much nonsense as you. Now, come on, all of you, and sit down before your dinner goes cold.’
‘It’s already cold,’ Declan said. ‘It’s seafood and salad. Do you mean, sit down before it gets hot?’
‘Shut up, Declan.’
By eleven o’clock that night Lainey was with Adam and a group of friends in the lounge bar around the corner from her apartment in Richmond. Adam had taken half a night off and met her in the bar, where her friends had taken over the whole back section, furnished with old sofas, orange lamps and other seventies decorative touches. The background music was from the same era. Her friend Christine beckoned her over, patting the seat beside her. ‘Come here, you. My friend Lainey the housemaid. You of all people swapping your stellar career for a seachange life in rural Ireland.’
‘I’m Irish, remember – it’s a homecoming, not a seachange.’
‘You’re not Irish, not any more. You’re one of us now. I still can’t picture it, Lainey, the idea of you lazing about in a guesthouse. Not Action Girl herself. The shock will kill you.’
‘You’re just jealous. You’ll be juggling memos and fighting with IT people while I’m wafting about with a teapot, classical music playing in the background, smiling sweetly at all my guests…’
‘You’ll have to send us video evidence of it. What’s the B&B like anyway? An old castle or one of those suburban houses where you get to sleep in the kids’ room, the sheets still warm from them?’
‘Oh, no, far more charming. Two storey, with a rambly garden around it. It’s down the end of a laneway a few hundred metres from the Hill of Tara itself.’
‘Is that named after that film, what is it, Gone with the Wind? That Tara?’
Lainey tried not to smile. ‘Other way round, actually. It’s the ancient capital of Ireland, the home of the High Kings of Ireland. A very important historic site, I’ll have you know.’
‘Like Stonehenge? Brilliant. So you’ll have all these old hippies and new-agers coming to stay with you, getting upset about you serving bacon and sausages and insisting on hand-blended muesli.’
‘I hope I do get vegetarians. A few less things to cook.’
‘I’d hate to be one of your guests,’ Christine laughed. ‘You’d have them up out of bed by eight a.m. “Go on, get out there and go for a run before breakfast. What do you mean you want bacon and eggs? Far too unhealthy. Here, have some wholegrain toast instead. Now, go on, out the door with you. Here’s your sightseeing itinerary. Come on, hop to it.”’
‘I’m not that bad, am I?’ Lainey said.
‘You’re worse.’
Another woman, Kim, joined their table then. A friend of Lainey’s since college – though they rarely saw each other these days – Kim had also studied event management before going on to set up her own wine-marketing company. Small, dark-haired and pretty, Kim also specialised in wearing very low-cut tops. Tonight was no exception, Lainey noticed. Her brothers had always been keen supporters of Kim’s visits to the Byrne house.
Christine stood up as Kim sat down. ‘Another drink, Lain?’
Lainey held up her half-full glass of champagne. ‘Thanks, Chris, but no, I’m fine.’
As Christine walked away, Kim lifted her glass up to Lainey in a toast. They clinked glasses. ‘To you and your big year, Lain. You’re all set to go, I guess?’
‘Practically. All I need to do is appoint someone to organise a minute’s silence in my memory once a week, so none of you forget me. Can I interest you in the job?’
Kim just smiled. ‘So when do you actually fly out?’
‘Tomorrow afternoon. That’s why I’m lashing back the champagne. This is my last night of freedom.’
‘And everything’s okay with Adam? He’s all right about you going?’
Lainey looked over at her boyfriend. He was talking to a friend of hers, a plumpish blond-haired man called Greg Gilroy who owned several cafés and bars around Melbourne. ‘He’ll be fine,’ she said shortly, the conversation they still had to have looming nearer every minute.
‘Will you miss him?’
Yes, very much, she thought, surprising herself. She batted the question away, laughing casually. ‘Of course, why wouldn’t I miss him?’
Kim shifted in her chair. ‘I don’t know, I’ve never been too sure how serious you are about him. You seem to talk about your work as much as him.’ She gave an odd giggle.
Lainey knew from experience that giggle meant Kim was either drunk or nervous about something. ‘Well, work’s important to both of us.’
Kim glanced over at Adam again, then back at Lainey. ‘But you still have to be careful you don’t take people for granted, don’t you think? Let them know you appreciate them.’
What exactly was Kim getting at here? ‘I know that. And I have appreciated Adam. It’s just the two of us are so busy.’ Lainey realised she was sounding very defensive. Perhaps Kim was joking? No, she looked deadly serious. ‘Have you been saving this up especially for my farewell party? It’s not very nice timing.’
Kim had two spots of colour high on her cheeks. ‘Please don’t get cross. I suppose I’m just saying that there might be other people more interested in Adam than you seem to be. People prepared to put him first, not work.’
‘People? You? Is that what you mean? Kim Deakin, if I didn’t know better I’d think you were interested in him yourself.’ Lainey spoke in a mock-stern voice, trying to lighten the conversation.
‘I’m just speaking hypothetically.’ But Kim wouldn’t meet her eyes again. She stood up. ‘My turn to go to the bar. Can I get you anything?’
Speechless for once, Lainey just shook her head and watched as her friend walked away.
It was afte
r one o’clock as she walked up the street arm in arm with Adam, a little unsteady from all the champagne she’d drunk and still thrown by her conversation with Kim. Moments after Kim had walked away, Christine had called for everyone to be quiet. She’d made a funny speech, then handed Lainey a large box marked ‘The B&B survival pack’, filled with presents from them all. She’d unwrapped their gifts one by one – an eggslice engraved with her name, a copy of Mrs Beeton’s Book of Household Management, binoculars to spy on suspicious guests. The final gift had been a polaroid photo of all of them taken that night, minutes before she had arrived. They were holding up letters that spelt out ‘Hurry Home’. All of them except Kim, Lainey had noticed. Perhaps she’d been at the bar.
Was Kim right? Lainey wondered as they walked. Had she taken Adam for granted? A series of memories flashed into her mind. Adam ringing to invite her somewhere, her having to say no because she had a client dinner or other work to do. Or waking up beside him on weekend mornings and having to turn down his suggestion they stay in bed all day, because she had to go over to her parents’ and give her mother a break…
Through the sudden clarity gained by drinking champagne all night, she realised Kim was right. She had taken Adam for granted. She’d never put him first. The revelation made it even more clear that she couldn’t expect him to wait around for her while she was away for a year. Her stomach lurched at the idea, but she knew it had to be done. She had to break up with him this evening. This couldn’t wait any longer. But how to start a conversation like that?
She squeezed his arm. ‘Ad, can you sit here with me for a minute?’ She pulled him down onto a low wall beside them. ‘I know we’ve talked about this, but how do you really feel about me going away?’
He smiled at her. ‘The same way I felt when you first asked me. And when you asked me a week ago. And yesterday. I’m going to miss you very much but I know it’s something you have to do. We don’t have a choice.’
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