I met Gina for a drink. She’s at a loose end because a lot of her friends went to the States to work in New Jersey for the summer. I asked her why she didn’t go and she said she stayed to be with her boyfriend who then broke up with her when he got a chance to go to Germany with friends. I got a part-time job in Murray’s coffee shop so she comes in when it’s quiet and we catch up. She’s going to come out for a drink with Declan, Gar, Paul and me on Friday. I’m going to meet Ben afterwards because he’s working in the bowling alley late.
Speaking of Paul, we’re not seeing much of him. I went to his rugby game with the lads but his new girl wasn’t there and after the game he chatted for five minutes and said he’d catch up with us later but he disappeared. I did run into him yesterday and we had a quick coffee. He was quiet and I asked him if he was OK and he said he had a lot on his mind. I thought he was still worried about his exam results but he said he wasn’t and what will be will be. He’s resigned to repeating if he has to. He asked me about Ben and I told him I really like him and he was really pleased for me. I asked him not to say anything to Gar but he told me that Gar would be fine and I should do what I want to do. He’s right. I don’t know why I’m being such a sap about it. I asked him to come to Ben’s next gig and he said he’d try. So I hope he does. Before he left he told me out of nowhere that I was beautiful and I deserved to be with who I wanted to be with. I know it’s NUTS. I don’t know what he’d been smoking or taking but it was really nice and I was embarrassed so I just said thanks, you too.
Oh, did I tell you Clooney is going camping with some friends? I think it’s to get away from Bushy Head but guess where they’re going? Yeah, he’s going to be heading to your neck of the woods. Don’t know how big or small that town is but you might bump into him.
Right, I’m going. I bought a size-20 linen dress and I’m going to see what I can make out of it. I hope you’re still having a good time and Colm hasn’t tried anything yet because he will, I’d put money on it.
I’d love you to try to call me again this Friday at four. I promise I’ll be there. Ben’s working and I’m not meeting the lads until eight.
Miss you, love you,
Eve
PS My list isn’t exactly the opposite of yours which makes a nice change.
1. Adam (because he’s the coolest)
2. Bono (because he’s the singer)
3. Larry (because The Edge looks like someone’s dad)
4. The Edge (because who wants to be with someone’s dad?)
PPS I know all I did was talk about myself (what’s new?) but I just really needed to vent and I am looking forward to hearing your news.
And one last thing, I really am falling in love with Ben. TERRIFIED.
On day three, for the first time since the accident, Eve felt somewhat alert. The amount of morphine that was being pumped into her was being reduced, and although she was sore and uncomfortable she felt brighter. Her morning started with a bed-bath, which Lily gave her. She arrived with towels, fresh linen, toothbrush and paste, lotions and swabs, and placed them on the over-bed table. When she went off to fill a basin with warm water, Eve saw that Lindsay Harrington had been joined by a woman in her seventies.
‘Who’s that?’ the woman said.
‘I’ll be with you in a minute, Anne.’
‘Is that you, Abby?’
‘No, Anne, it’s Lily. Abby is off today. I’m just with another patient – I’ll be with you in a while.’
‘OK, chicken. Not to worry. Is that girl any better, chicken?’
‘Yes, Anne, she’s much better,’ Lily said, appearing by Eve’s side with the basin of water.
‘Oh, good, she was crying a lot last night. She’s a noisy thing.’
Lily smiled at Eve. ‘Yes, Anne, she is.’ She pulled the curtains around Eve’s bed.
Lindsay Harrington shouted at Anne, ‘She’s not the only noisy thing!’
‘Jump off a building!’ said Anne. ‘Do you remember what a roof is?’
‘Peasant,’ Lindsay Harrington mumbled, but loud enough for all to hear.
Lily raised her eyebrows and Eve grinned. She braced herself when Lily pressed the button to raise the bed.
‘It’s OK,’ Lily said, taking the side rail down. ‘I’ve got you.’ She put on her gloves and placed a towel on Eve’s chest.
She brushed Eve’s teeth, being careful to avoid the stitches in her mouth. The fluoride burned, and Eve sighed with relief when Lily offered her water to rinse with.
‘I’m going to take off that paper gown and place a bath blanket on you, OK?’
‘OK.’
Lily gently tore away the gown. Eve was covered from head to toe with yellow, blue and purple bruising. Her left leg and shoulder were brown with the iodine used to sterilize them for the operations. Caked blood spilled out over the bandages. Lily placed the blanket on Eve. ‘We’re going to take our time,’ she said.
As terrified as Eve was she couldn’t help but smile. ‘Who’s this we you’re talking about?’
‘Sorry, force of habit,’ Lily said, squeezing water from the facecloth before she gently washed Eve’s face, careful to remove all the blood without dragging on the stitches.
Eve flinched once or twice but, although her eye and lip were still very swollen, when her face was clean she looked more like herself.
‘Do you want to see?’ Lily said.
‘I don’t know. Do I?’
‘I promise it’ll get better,’ Lily said. She passed Eve a hand mirror.
Eve lifted it up and looked at her face. ‘Holy crap,’ she said.
‘It’s not that bad.’
‘Easy for you to say,’ Eve said, dropping the mirror. ‘You still look like that beautiful teenager I used to know.’
It was the first time either of them had acknowledged that they had not been friends in a very long time.
Lily took the mirror from her. ‘Trust me, she’s long gone,’ she said.
‘Nah,’ Eve said. ‘She’s still in there somewhere.’
‘What about you, Eve? Are you still that girl?’ She hadn’t been able to disguise the edge in her voice.
‘No, not exactly, you’ll be happy to hear, but no one really changes that much – we are what we are.’
Lily agreed. ‘So, sleeping with a married man?’ she said.
Eve laughed a little. ‘Not my best self …’
‘I read that you had a life in America.’
Ah, she has Googled me. ‘I did. It consisted of work and nothing else. I got tired.’
‘And Ben Logan?’ Lily asked.
Eve’s eyes filled and Lily was sorry she’d brought the subject up.
‘I tried to go back in time. It didn’t work.’ That ended the conversation.
Eve’s shoulder was the biggest problem. She cried as Lily cleaned it because, no matter how gentle she was, the slightest touch felt like a knife going into it. When Eve was finally clean and lying naked under the bath blanket, Lily placed the bags of stuff she’d bought in the shopping centre on the chair. She pulled out three nightdresses, two soft woollen shawls and some cotton underwear.
‘You shouldn’t have,’ Eve said.
‘I’m not going to leave you dressed in paper. Danny would kill me,’ Lily said, as though she was doing it for him rather than the woman in front of her.
‘Thank you,’ Eve said. She was battling the urge to cry again.
Eve’s left arm was pretty much immovable so Lily had bought nightdresses three sizes too big. She cut the narrow straps of one so that she could slip it over Eve without moving her shoulder or arm. She pulled it up under Eve’s frozen arm and tied the straps at the back of her neck.
‘Ingenious,’ Eve said.
‘Ah, wait, there’s more,’ Lily said, and took out two nappy pins. ‘It’ll look so much better when it’s fitted.’ She gathered the extra material and pinned it at both sides. She stood back and surveyed her handiwork. ‘Lovely,’ she said. ‘Would you like a wrap?�
� She held up a nice one in charcoal.
Eve nodded and Lily placed it around her shoulders.
‘I’m really grateful,’ Eve said, as Lily spritzed her with perfume.
‘Glad to do it,’ she said, and opened the curtains just as Clooney entered the ward.
‘Clooney!’ Eve said, clearly shocked, and it was clear to Lily from the look on Clooney’s face that he was experiencing the same emotion.
‘Eve, what happened to you?’
‘What are you doing here?’ she said, and she was crying again, not because she was in pain this time but because she was so happy to see her brother.
He bent to kiss her forehead, then pulled up a chair and sat down. ‘As if I wouldn’t come,’ he said.
‘I must be dying!’ she joked.
‘Well, if you are, it looks painful.’
Eve looked at Lily. ‘You shouldn’t have but thank you,’ she said.
Clooney turned to Lily and smiled a wide smile. She smiled back, then left them alone.
Clooney turned back to his sister. ‘Of course she should have. She’s your old friend and I’m your brother,’ he said.
Eve gazed into his haunted eyes and was glad he was out of Afghanistan even if it had taken her near-death to get him home.
Clooney had picked up Lily’s message the previous evening. He had been in meetings all day and his phone had been on silent. His driver was talking about a bombing that had taken place earlier that day. A woman had approached some American soldiers and blown herself up. Clearly the intention had been to take out the soldiers but for some reason the bomb hadn’t ignited properly, and while she’d managed to rip herself apart they were simply thrown clear. They were lucky, she was not. She didn’t die on impact, instead she bled out slowly on the street. The soldiers and passers-by kept clear in case of a secondary detonation so, rumour ran, her only company on her journey towards Paradise had been a stray dog that licked up the blood before cocking his leg. Inured to such stories, Clooney was tired from a day of endless frustrating meetings so he wasn’t particularly focused on what his driver was saying.
Clooney had been feeling restless for a while. Like Eve, his childhood in Ireland had instilled in him the need for change, but unlike his sister he was familiar with that sensation: he never stayed in one place or did one job for too long. He had been in Afghanistan for two years and was sick of security checks, minders, restrictions, dust and death. He dreamed of an exotic climate, lush trees, white sands, blue sky and sea. He dreamed of rest and silence. He was tired of arguing about funding and distribution channels. It was incredibly hard on the soul to watch war destroy lives and livelihoods, reducing good people to beggars and thieves. Before his father died he had witnessed two American contractors being kidnapped. Their car had been turned over by a roadside bomb, men had appeared from thin air and the scrambling security team had been shot on sight. Clooney’s car was three behind the targeted vehicle. As his driver manoeuvred to get them out of the area Clooney had turned to look out of the back window and had seen the injured men being dragged into a waiting van. It sped off, the dust rose and the men were gone. Clooney had known he had been in no danger but the incident had had a huge impact on him, especially when one of the men was later beheaded. Over the years he had become accustomed to being cautious but he had never before experienced real fear, no matter how hairy the situation he had found himself in. That event had acted like an injection of poison that was slowly spreading through his system. It stole his sleep, which was ageing him. I don’t want to be here any more.
Clooney had been establishing an exit plan since he’d returned after his father’s funeral, and part of that plan was to say goodbye to Stephanie, an American journalist who lived in the same hotel. Her room was down the corridor from his. They had been seeing one another on and off for more than a year. It was casual – she would disappear for days and weeks with George, her ever-ready cameraman, chasing stories. When she was away for more than a month, he’d thought she might have gone home, but it turned out she’d followed a story into Pakistan. He liked her a lot – she was ballsy and fun – but, as a woman, she had no business being there. Then again, the same could be said for him and every other expat in the building. Stephanie came from a large family of boys and a military background – generations of her family had fought in wars around the world. She had been born to be one of the guys and seemed comfortable in chaos, far more so than Clooney, who’d started off his career replacing shacks with houses by day, then getting drunk and jumping into swimming pools at night.
One evening he’d got back to his room and was having supper there alone when Stephanie knocked on the door. She’d been Missing In Action for over a week. He let her in and she kissed him.
‘How did it go?’ he asked.
‘A bust.’
‘Sorry.’
She hunched her shoulders. ‘Shit happens.’
She kissed him again and he pushed her gently away.
‘Exhausted?’ she said. His red-rimmed, steel-blue eyes were watering.
‘I feel like I’ve been hit by a car,’ he said.
‘Me too. Why don’t I run us a bath and we can lie down in it for a while before we hit the hay and lie down some more?’
‘Sounds good.’
Stephanie went into the bathroom and turned on the tap. At first it spluttered and Clooney heard the pipes groaning. Then, as if someone had given the system a good kick, it powered up and the hot water flowed freely. The tiles around the bath were cracked and broken. It was still an almost pretty room even though its best years were behind it. The bath was discoloured, yellow in some places and black in others. The mirror over the washbasin was cracked from corner to corner and held together only by its thick golden frame. The hotel had once been one of the most beautiful in Kabul but, as with everything else, its splendour had been eroded by war. When it was filled, Clooney slipped in and she sat between his legs, leaning back on him. The bath was deep and long enough for both of them so they often unwound in it, usually with a gin and tonic but not that night. Clooney wrapped his arms around her and held her tight.
‘Anything happen out there?’ he asked her, as he always did.
‘Nope. All fine,’ she said, as she always did.
Clooney never knew whether or not to believe her because she was a risk-taker, arrogant and dangerous, and if he’d allowed himself to care for her he would have gone insane worrying about the endless horrible things that might happen to her. Please don’t die here, Steph. ‘There’s more to life than war,’ he said.
‘This again?’
‘I’m going soon.’
‘You’ve been saying that for a while.’
‘Just finishing this project and going,’ he said. ‘You should think about getting out too.’
‘Nah. This is where I should be.’
‘Don’t you want something else for yourself?’
‘What, like a marriage, house and kids? Is that what you want?’
‘Hell, no,’ he said. ‘I was thinking more of a hammock, a cold beer and a blow-job.’
She laughed. ‘That’s a pervert’s holiday, not a life.’
‘It’s better than this.’
She turned and looked at his tired face. ‘I don’t know,’ she said, ‘this is pretty nice.’ She kissed him and slid further down into the warm water.
He stroked her arm. ‘There’s less than two weeks left.’
‘And you’re sure?’
‘Yeah.’
‘Where will you go?’
‘I was thinking about the Galapagos Islands, maybe hang out in a beach hut for a while, then head into South America and take it from there.’
‘Will you look for work?’
‘No,’ he said. ‘No work.’
‘All play. Good for you.’
Clooney never lined anything up when he finished a contract but there was always something when he wanted it, usually a major catastrophe. He worked best as an emergency-respo
nse co-ordinator. He had led many teams into disaster areas and in some cases they were the first international responders so Clooney had witnessed the worst destruction and devastation that nature was capable of. He had also seen at first hand the strength of the human spirit, the best as well as the worst in people, and had experienced the best and worst of times. He celebrated the incredible highs when a life was saved in extraordinary circumstances or because of extraordinary risks taken. He wallowed in the lows when a three-year-old girl starved to death because a food and medicine truck had broken down only a few miles away. He remembered every name and face of those he’d helped to save and those for whom his help had come too late. In the early days he’d work a six-month or yearly contract, then take a month or six off. During that time he’d stay on a beach in a place where he could live like a king on a tiny budget. Of course, Clooney’s idea of living like a king was different from that of most others. All he needed was sand under his toes, the sun in the sky, blue sea stretching out in front of him, a beer and some food. It had occurred to him recently that, although he had been moving around, he had been working constantly since 2004. He had landed in Indonesia two days after the 2004 tsunami. In 2005 he had left the country to lead a team in New Orleans following Hurricane Katrina. In 2006 he returned to Indonesia and was based in Java following a powerful earthquake. He’d stayed there until 2008 when he’d been approached to carry out a food programme in Afghanistan.
The Space Between Us Page 13