Lily’s mother, May, wasn’t in the slightest bit maternal. She had never wanted children and Lily had been an unhappy mistake. May had been twenty-two and had had a good job in a bank in Dublin. She had loved it and was good at it, having been promoted twice since she’d started three years before. She’d gone on three sun holidays with bank friends before people from Ireland could afford to go to foreign destinations. She’d planned to make something of herself. She was a single, hardworking, fun-loving girl, who had met a Greek sailor in a bar in Dublin. He was on a month’s leave and they’d spent every evening and weekend together. She didn’t know she was pregnant until two months after he’d left. Although he’d promised to write he didn’t, and her only means of tracking him down was through his ship’s captain. She didn’t have the option to terminate the pregnancy and her uptight, upright Catholic family disowned her. The bank dismissed her. The sailor chose to ignore his duty, and although she ended up corresponding with his mother, who sent money now and again in exchange for photos and letters on Lily’s development, he never made any sincere effort to know his daughter. The exotic life Lily’s mother had lived was over, and she couldn’t look at her daughter’s pretty face and see past that fact.
Lily had tried to please her mother from the moment she could walk, but nothing did the trick. ‘Look, Mummy, look!’
‘Go away, I’m busy.’
‘But, Mummy!’
‘Don’t make me tell you twice.’
The first time Lily remembered her mother being happy or impressed was when she won an Irish-dancing contest. Then she had stood up and clapped, and afterwards Lily had heard her tell one of the other mothers that Lily was her daughter. Finally, after five years of trying, she had succeeded in pleasing her mother, and when that smile had lit her face, Lily was hooked. After that, failure was not an option, and because she was such a clever little thing good grades came easily, giving her the precious time she needed to notch up other achievements to please a woman who didn’t much care. Lily’s successes reminded her of the life she could have led instead of becoming a stigmatized low-paid single parent. She did try to be a good mother: Lily was always presented beautifully, ate well and, no matter how little money her mother had hidden in the shoebox in her wardrobe, always got to participate in everything she wanted to do. May wanted the world for her – she just couldn’t disguise her pain that she had lost her own. She never told Lily that she’d tried to throw herself down a flight of stairs when she was four months gone or that she’d drunk a bottle of brandy in a hot bath at six months. Every now and then she’d mutter that Lily was most definitely a fighter, that was for sure, and she’d often mention her regret that she hadn’t given Lily up for adoption.
‘Don’t think you wouldn’t have been better off because you would,’ she had said once, when she was drunk and distraught that yet another man had simply walked away from her. ‘One day when you were older you’d have walked up to my door and thanked me, and I’d have welcomed you and we’d have talked about our perfect lives before saying goodbye.’
Now Lily scrubbed the counter until it gleamed. Then she moved on to strip the beds. It was the day before she returned to work – she worked one week on and one week off – so it was one of her busiest days: she had to ensure that the house was spotless and all the following week’s dinners were made and frozen. Declan didn’t like to eat past seven thirty in the evening and she didn’t get in until just after eight. To be fair to him, she had always insisted on cooking from scratch and, depending on his taste that evening, he might have had to wait until ten for his dinner. That wouldn’t have worked. In her head she made a list of ingredients necessary to feed her family for the week ahead. As a nurse she worked days, seven thirty a.m. to seven thirty p.m., so it was important that her house ran with military precision. Over the years she had managed to make it all work beautifully. Of course it was hard, but Lily had learned at an early age that nothing worthwhile was easy.
In the past, when the kids were younger, she and Declan had often rowed over her job. When he had finally passed all his exams and gone into residency in the Regional Hospital in Cork, he had approached her to give up her job at the Bons Secours. She had been supporting the family up to that point. It hadn’t helped that Declan had hated Cork, and their time there was extended because he was forced to repeat two years of university. The first year he failed he blamed his young son’s incessant crying and Lily’s inability to soothe him. He was awake all night and studying all day and it was too much. She had tried her best to help, which had made him angrier.
‘How can you help?’ he’d roared one night, when he was studying for his first-year finals. Scott was only six weeks old and suffering from colic. She’d tried everything to soothe him but he’d just cried and cried. Declan was so exhausted and incapable of thinking straight that she’d tried to talk him into moving out of their little one-bedroom flat for the duration of the exams.
‘Where the hell do you want me to go?’ he shouted.
‘Anywhere,’ she said quietly.
‘Are you trying to chase me out of my own home?’
‘No,’ she said, ‘of course not. I just want you to be able to study. Couldn’t you stay with one of the lads in your lectures?’
He was unreasonable and paranoid.
‘So the baby’s in and I’m out, is that it?’ he’d said, gritting his teeth.
She decided to change tack. ‘I’ll do questions with you,’ she offered, in a bid to curb his paranoia before it manifested itself as unbridled rage.
‘Great,’ he said. ‘If there’s a question on how to make beds I’ll let you know.’
‘I read a lot of the books on your course last summer,’ she said, knowing it would piss him off, but after his comments belittling her nursing training she didn’t much care. He had talked her out of medicine and into nursing for the sake of their family life. Arsehole. The baby had started to cry again just as he’d turned to say something else that would have been mean and vicious. He’d stopped in his tracks and listened with his hand to his ear.
‘Why don’t you focus on settling that child? Maybe you could read some books on that because, let’s face it, motherhood certainly isn’t coming naturally, is it?’ he said.
‘Nice! You’re a prick, you know that?’ she said. In her head she warned herself not to cry.
‘I’ve got exams in a week, Lil! I can’t remember my own name, never mind what the hell the parietal pleura is!’ he yelled, throwing his book at the wall.
‘Any chance you’d forget where we lived for a few days?’ she’d said.
That was the first time he’d grabbed her by the hair and pushed her against the wall. He held her there tightly for a minute or two while he breathed in and out, perhaps attempting to calm himself. When he let her go she turned slowly to face him, terrified of what would come next, but he just looked at her strangely.
‘You’re destroying me,’ he said, and walked out of the door.
Declan Donovan had always had a dramatic side to his personality. He probably would have made a good actor; he could certainly have played a convincing villain. Lily let the baby cry, poured a cup of coffee and sat at the kitchen table, afraid to pick up the cup because her hands were trembling. Her heart tightened in her chest and her eyes threatened to burn holes into her face. After a few minutes, she clasped her hands together and said to the wall, ‘The parietal pleura is the name given to the cavity that surrounds the lungs, Dicknose.’ It took a while for her heart-rate to settle and the trembling to stop but she didn’t cry. Instead she smiled: 1. She knew what the parietal pleura was, and 2. Her only real friend, Eve, had nicknamed Declan ‘Dicknose Donovan’ the first time they’d met him. Now, for the first time, Lily had realized that her ex-best friend had been right. You do have a dick of a nose.
He passed the second year, and failed the third. He didn’t have a crying baby to blame so instead he blamed his responsibilities as a young father and husband. Lily
didn’t pander to him that time. Having lived with him for three years, she had learned to pick her battles. She was working her nursing shifts and bringing up a two-year-old so she didn’t have time for his bullshit. Instead she let him roar and scream and act the fool and when he later apologized and tried to make it up to her with dinner and flowers she accepted with good grace – what else could she do? Declan wouldn’t accept her help, and he wasn’t a good student, but when the drudgery of book-learning was behind him, he was quite brilliant from the practical point of view. After that third year he sailed through. His anger and frustration dissipated and life got better, although with every success he made Lily feel smaller.
‘What the hell do you need to stay nursing for?’
‘Because I like it and I’m good at it.’
‘Oh, for God’s sake, Lily, it’s embarrassing.’
‘Embarrassing?’
‘You know what I mean,’ he said.
‘No, Declan, I really don’t.’
‘I’m a heart surgeon, for God’s sake.’
‘Congratulations.’
‘Don’t try to be smart, Lily, you know it’s a turn-off.’
‘Stay turned off for both our sakes.’
When she was pregnant with Daisy he was outraged that she wouldn’t consider giving up her job following maternity leave.
‘Look how easy it is for you to take care of the family when you’re out of work,’ he’d pointed out.
‘If I’d wanted an easy life I’d have never married you, my darling,’ she’d joked, in an attempt to get him off her back.
‘You’ve always thought you were funnier than you actually are.’
‘Why are you such an arsehole, Declan?’
‘Don’t push me, Lily.’
‘Or what?’
Declan had never shoved her into a wall since that day when Scott was only six weeks old, but every now and then he was slightly rougher than he should have been. He’d push her out of his way instead of asking her to move. He’d hold her arm and squeeze it so tightly she thought it might snap. He once pulled her back into a room by her hair but he had instantly apologized. Lily wasn’t a domestic-abuse victim: she just lived with a man who teetered on the edge of controlling a temper that rarely showed its face, but when it did it was safer to evacuate so that was what she did. After more than twenty years with him, she knew which buttons to press and which were off limits. Lily walked the line diligently.
She ripped the sheets off their bed and threw them into the laundry hamper. Using a stool, she pulled out the clean bedding from the top of the hot press. She started to cover the duvet but her shoulder hurt so she decided a hot bath might ease the pain. She ran it and lay there, disappearing under the bubbles and enjoying the water jets. There were still beds to be made, shopping to be got and an entire week’s menu to be cooked but she didn’t care. She was enjoying half an hour off before she got back to work and her kids began making demands. Lily was looking forward to going back to work because a week at home was too long. She preferred her time on the ward where she was truly needed, people were grateful and time passed in the blink of an eye. She loved helping people, no matter who was put in front of her or what was wrong with them. Lily was capable, understanding and fun, and she never failed to make someone feel better, happier and more hopeful, no matter how scared or traumatized they were.
Lily Donovan was an excellent nurse. Her dream of becoming a doctor had changed as soon as she’d said yes to marrying Declan. Even though she could have got through the course in her sleep, Lily had realized early on that nursing was a calling and it suited her caring, outgoing, perfectionist, kind, giving personality perfectly. It occurred to her that the only reason she was doing medicine was to be with Declan and because kids with her outstanding grades were encouraged in that direction. Before she’d got straight As in her Intercert exams, at fourteen, she’d wanted to be a beautician – and, if she was honest, it was still something she was interested in. She was a slave to beauty magazines, loved hair and makeup, and if she’d had her time again that was what she would have gone into – beauty for fashion shoots. She had never wanted to be a surgeon and was happy to leave the cutting to her husband: he had a way with a knife but the bedside manner of a brick. He might save a life but her care would make the early days after an operation worth living, and she was proud of that. Besides, her mother had warned her from an early age that as soon as she turned eighteen she was on her own. University cost money and medicine was a long course. If she became a nurse her salary would kick in quicker and, anyway, children were her real dream: doing medicine would mean she’d have to wait longer for them than she cared to. It made perfect sense.
Lily had always yearned to be part of a family. When she was five she asked her mother if she would think about giving her a brother or sister.
‘I’d rather be hit by a bus,’ her mother said, and that was the end of the conversation.
Lily had met her father a few times. He had visited her twice in Ireland, and she had spent a month in Greece the summer she was sixteen, staying with her grandmother, who had very little English, her father’s wife and their three children. He had left the navy and was a fisherman. He disappeared for days on end, and when he returned they spoke very little. It was a long month and at the end she was happy to leave and never return. She used to envy Eve, with a mother and father who loved each other and, most importantly, had wanted and loved Eve. She envied her having a brother as lovely, sweet, funny and cool as Clooney. She felt bad when Eve’s mother became ill: perhaps she had caused it with her jealousy. How come Eve gets a mum and dad who love her and a brilliant brother? Why not me? Envy was a mortal sin and she prayed that God would save Mrs Hayes and not send Lily herself to Hell.
Lily’s mother spent a lot of time talking about Hell. Everything she did, whether it was wash dishes or stub her toe, she offered up as penance for her sins. Lily had grown up in a very holy house. Her mother had fallen from grace by having her and she spent Lily’s childhood trying to make up for her sin. She often told Lily that she had gone to three priests before she could find one who would baptize the baby. Lily never did find out if her mother was lying to make her feel bad: no one else seemed to have any difficulty in baptizing their illegitimate children.
‘But I persisted to save your soul and what thanks do I get for it?’ her mother would ask.
Lily didn’t know what she wanted her to say.
She wasn’t sure that her mother was a satisfactory example of a good person, but she loved her despite her failings. May wasn’t all bad: she just didn’t know how to be a mother. She wanted the best for Lily and didn’t want her making the same mistakes as she had. She tried to be a good Catholic but she was good at bending the rules to suit her own needs. When Lily turned fifteen, she used her daughter’s painful periods as an excuse to talk the local GP into putting her on the pill. She warned Lily against having sex, telling her it was a sin from which her soul might never recover, even though she knew that if Lily did engage in it she would do so to the detriment of her afterlife rather than her earthly future. She was proud, too, and occasionally, when Lily said something funny that made her laugh, she’d hug her tight. ‘Thank you, sunshine,’ she’d say. Lily might not have had a father who loved her, a mother who was grateful for her or a brother to play with but she had that. Thank you, sunshine.
Lily lost track of time and it was nearly ten thirty when she scrambled out of the bath. She tied up her hair, put on a pair of old leggings, a threadbare Ally McBeal T-shirt, an old housecoat and some fluffy slippers. She made up her marital bed, then went down the corridor to see whose bed she could strip. Scott was passed out cold so she made her way into Daisy’s room. By the time she had finished, Scott was up and about. She got through his room quickly, without looking around too much for fear she’d find something she didn’t like. Once the beds were done, she ran around vacuuming with the skill, speed and dexterity of an Olympian. Then she dusted and d
id the toilets. At one o’clock she fed the kids. Scott’s friend Josh had arrived while she was dusting the banisters. She kept lunch simple, making ham and cheese paninis, with a little homemade coleslaw and relish. Daisy was still practising and wanted hers by the piano. Scott and Josh were in the sitting room on the PlayStation, which suited Lily fine.
‘Thanks, Lily,’ Josh said, grinning.
Lily was sorry she hadn’t been stricter about her children’s friends calling her Mrs Donovan when they were younger.
‘You’re welcome, Josh,’ she said.
She started making a list and checked the store cupboard. Josh’s grin had reminded her that she needed basil since Scott had eaten the entire plant for a bet when he and Josh had been out of their minds on weed although they had vehemently denied it.
‘Crack is whack, Lily,’ Josh had said.
‘We’re not talking about crack, though, are we, Josh? We’re talking about weed.’
‘Weed is …’ He’d looked at her son, who was sitting on the kitchen counter munching basil.
‘Free –’ Scott said.
‘– dom!’ Josh finished, and they’d burst out laughing.
She’d sent them to Scott’s room and turned to her husband, who shrugged his shoulders. ‘They’re just letting off steam,’ he said. ‘We all did it.’
‘Yes, Declan, but we had the decency to do it behind our parents’ backs. We can’t be seen to support this type of behaviour and, besides, I don’t support it and neither should you. There are plenty of studies that suggest cannabis isn’t as benign as we’d like to think.’
Declan had laughed. ‘Look at the nurse who knows everything!’ And on that note the conversation was over.
Later she’d gone up to Scott’s room to discuss the implications of smoking weed under his parents’ roof, but before she could launch into her prepared speech Josh told her she was a prize-winning MILF and her son feigned puking. Then Josh hugged her and sniffed her hair. She’d left them, confused. Later she’d discovered that MILF meant Mum I’d Like to Fuck. Since then she had found it hard to look Josh, whose nappy she’d changed on more than one occasion, straight in the face.
The Space Between Us Page 5