The Woman at 72 Derry Lane

by Carmel Harrington

  ‘Lord above, Stella.’ Rea shuddered as Stella gently rubbed the side of her stomach. ‘What about friends? Surely there was someone you could have confided in?’

  ‘Not really. I don’t have many friends. It was a small wedding, with mainly Matt’s family there. Neither of us wanted a big affair. And I don’t know … well, since I got married, I have found myself becoming more and more isolated. The few friends I’d made since I came home from my travels couldn’t understand what was wrong with me. And we weren’t close enough for me to confide in them, or for them to notice anything amiss, I suppose. They began to distance themselves from me, gradually fading away, as if they were never there. I suppose I can’t blame them, because when you start refusing invitations and not returning calls, it’s easy to be forgotten.’

  ‘Oh, you poor girl,’ Rea said.

  ‘I’m damaged goods,’ Stella whispered. ‘The scars I have are so deep, they’ll never heal. I’m done with love. It hurts too much.’

  This statement made Rea both sad and angry. What had this poor girl been through that she could feel this way at such a young age?

  ‘You’re wrong,’ Rea said. ‘Love doesn’t hurt. Loving the wrong person does.’

  Chapter 18

  SKYE

  Patong Beach, Thailand, 2004

  ‘You’re wasting that figure of yours. Trust me when I say this. You’ll look back at this day in years to come and marvel that you were ever self-conscious about yourself. And wish that you had been more brave,’ Mam said.

  Since we got to Thailand, I’d been wearing a one-piece. Mam had been trying to talk me into this brightturquoise bikini she’d bought me in Penny’s. Thing is, I’ve never showed that much flesh before, so I was self-conscious. Each morning I’d stick it on, then take it off just as quick.

  ‘People wear half nothing on the beaches here. That bikini is more than most have on. Honest to goodness, darling,’ Mam said to me. ‘Be brave.’

  ‘Okay Mam.’

  Dad’s face when he saw me was a different matter altogether! He spluttered and coughed so much, Mam had to get him water. She thought he was going to pass out.

  ‘Ah here, Mary, isn’t she too young to be wearing a yoke like that?’

  ‘She’s seventeen, John.’

  ‘I know, but lads will be looking, you know what young fellas are like …’

  ‘Hate to burst your bubble, but lads have been looking at our girl for years now,’ Mam replied firmly. ‘Get with the times, old man. She’s growing up and all the girls her age wear stuff like this. She’s practically a woman now.’

  A woman. Me. When did that happen? I didn’t feel like a woman, nor any different than I had done last year or the year before.

  ‘I’ll go change,’ I mumbled. ‘I don’t mind.’

  Dad smiled, ‘good girl’.

  ‘The divil a bit you will. Skye, you look beautiful, don’t mind your dad. He’ll catch up with the times soon enough.’

  ‘You look great, sis,’ Eli said, ‘which is more than I can say for me and dad. Remind me again, Mam? Why we have to wear these matching shorts?’

  ‘You look so handsome. Humour me, okay? I want us to all wear turquoise today. Trust me, it will make a great family photograph. I’ve been looking at all the lovely pictures of families in magazines and they always wear matching clothes. It photographs much better. I might even get a canvas done up.’ Mam twirled around in her turquoise one-piece, with a sarong tied at her waist, and beamed at the lot of us.

  ‘Oh I’m a lucky man. You look gorgeous,’ Dad said to Mam. ‘If it makes you happy, love, I’ll wear the shorts. And so will Eli. Put up and shut up, son. Remember that when you meet a woman and you’ll do alright. Now, let’s go find somewhere to take that picture for your mother.’

  ‘Are we staying at the pool today, or going to the beach?’ I asked.

  ‘Let’s do both. The beach will be quiet now because it’s so early. We can go there first of all, then come back up here for lunch. I can’t fathom at all that it’s Stephens Day.’

  ‘I doubt there’ll be much about that in the hotel, love.’

  We strolled past cafés on the beach front, with brightly coloured parasols fluttering in the early sea breeze. We passed the beach huts, which, as yet, were quiet, with the residents inside fast asleep.

  ‘A few late nights had by some of the youngsters in those,’ Dad remarked, pointing at the beach huts.

  ‘It’s always the families with young kids who are up first,’ Mam remarked as she pointed out some kids playing in the surf as the waves crashed into the sand. There was a gang of guys playing frisbee near the water’s edge. Mam asked if they could take a photograph for us. One guy, a tall blonde with the brownest body I’d ever seen, walked over to us and smiled at me. Me! I blushed beetroot red when he said, ‘Cute bikini.’

  Dad took a step closer and stood between me and the guy.

  ‘Oh, for goodness sake,’ Mam groaned, but she winked at me.

  ‘Why not stand in the water, it will be nice photo,’ the guy said, still looking at me. He was from one of the Nordic countries, I couldn’t work out which. Sweden maybe.

  ‘Don’t drop that camera, young fella,’ Dad warned him and Eli sniggered.

  ‘It’s waterproof,’ Mam said. ‘Would you just relax?’

  We stood, side by side, in our matching turquoise swimwear, ankle deep in the warm, calm water, with hallmark smiles as our photograph was taken.

  ‘That’s a nice shot. I took a good few, so you can pick the best one.’ The guy was still watching me and suddenly I was glad I wore the bikini. I might never take it off. I wondered what his name was.

  ‘If you want to join us for a game, that would be good,’ he said to Eli and me.

  ‘Super!’ I replied and then died a death inside as I realised how lame that sounded. ‘Maybe later.’ I decided to try to regain some dignity by not appearing too eager. I followed my family into the water.

  Dad was lying on his back, arms outstretched, floating in the warm sea. Mam and Eli lay by his side. So I joined them and let myself fall back into the water too. For an idyllic moment, my family and I bobbed along in the warm Andaman Sea, the tips of our hands touching as we lazily kicked our legs.

  I’ll never forget the sounds that tinkled in the air around me: happy, carefree people chatting, laughing, splashing around us, making a joyful buzz on that tranquil beach.

  Sometimes I remember that moment and I get angry at how stupid we all were. All unaware that racing towards us at breakneck speed was death and destruction. Other times, I’m grateful for that moment. It anchors me and keeps me breathing. We were happy.

  ‘It was worth all the sacrifices we made to have this holiday,’ Mam said. Her face held an expression of pure joy. A smile that wouldn’t give up, teeth looking whiter than I’d ever seen them before, against her now-brown skin. Oh Mam. I felt a rush of love for her and I whooped my agreement.

  Dad said, ‘Avert the eyes, kids, I’m going in.’ He broke hands with me. Both Eli and I pretended to groan as he kissed Mam. His silly surfing shorts looked so funny on him, plastered against two white legs that refused to go brown. They stuck out like matchsticks. Eli and I were already tanned, Mam too. Poor Dad had a fair complexion and was lathered in factor fifty, destined to remain white.

  I caught Eli eyeing up a group of girls who were lined up side by side on a surfing board, their bums up over the water, and their legs kicking out behind them.

  ‘Put your tongue back in,’ I said and he splashed water at me, not in the least bit put out by my teasing. He was well used to it.

  And then, in a moment, our lives changed forever. The tide went out. Water that had been up to our chests raced back out towards the horizon, leaving us standing in the sand, with coral peeping up amongst our legs. It was as if the water had been sucked away by a giant hoover. Fish were jumping up and down on the sand beds, searching for water.

  ‘The ocean has disappeared,’ Dad said,
frowning.

  ‘What on earth is going on?’ Mam replied and we all looked out to sea, more curious than anything. I mean, we were in Thailand and it was an exotic world to us, full of new sights and sounds. This was just another strange phenomenon that we had yet to encounter, I figured.

  ‘Wasn’t that bizarre?’ Dad said. ‘It was as if the sea just got sucked away, into nothing.’

  I was vaguely aware of shouts from the beach and I thought I could hear a whistle. But we were frozen to the spot, gobsmacked by what had just happened, as was everyone around us.

  Blissfully unaware that in moments, most of us would be dead.

  ‘What’s that on the horizon?’ I pointed behind us and the atmosphere changed once more. The ground beneath our feet vibrated, hinting at a sinister predator’s approach.

  ‘It’s like a ridge or something in the distance, isn’t it?’ Dad said, holding his hand up over his eyes, trying to get a better look. ‘Remember that advert – what’s the one on TV, the one with the surfing? And the big dramatic music. The horses coming out of the waves.’

  ‘Oh yeah, I know the one. That’s one of the Guinness ads,’ Mam said.

  ‘This isn’t a surfing beach.’ I was puzzled and looked down as the vibrations underfoot grew.

  Then we heard the noise, an almighty thundering sound, moving at speed towards us. The air shimmered in protest at the unwelcome intrusion. I looked up and saw birds fly away, their squawks ringing out.

  ‘Was that an aeroplane?’ Dad asked. ‘It sounds like a small aeroplane.’

  ‘Oh sweet Jesus, John, was it a bomb?’ Mam replied.

  ‘I don’t like this … Mam, Dad, I’m scared,’ I said and I felt Mam’s arms go around me.

  ‘It’s fine, don’t worry,’ Mam said. But her face made a liar of her. She looked as terrified as I was.

  Eli had been silent throughout our exchange, then suddenly he screamed, getting it first, as he always did, ‘Wave! It’s a fucking wave coming towards us. A tsunami wave! There must have been an earthquake. We need to get out of the water. Now! Get out of the fucking water and climb to the highest point you can! Run, NOW!’

  As he shouted, he pushed us towards the shore. And I struggled to make sense of what he was saying. An earthquake? Here?

  And then, just as fast as the water receded, it swept back in and I scrambled frantically for the base of the seabed with my legs, panic making me fall. I hit the water face down, feeling stupid, but still Eli’s words didn’t make sense. Tsunami. We’d studied those in school. Memories of facts niggled at my brain and then I felt Eli pull me up. His tanned face was white with fear and he said, ‘It’s okay, sis, I’ve got you. But you’ve got to listen to me. You must run like you’ve never run before. We have to get up high. And if the waves get you, grab hold of something. Anything and don’t let go.’

  I nodded and I ran, side by side with my family. The once-joyous sounds of people holidaying now gone in an instant, to screams of sheer panic as realisation hit them that we were in a lot of trouble. My mind struggled to take it in and our progress slowed down.

  ‘Don’t lose that camera,’ Mam said to Dad. I’ll never forget that. She had been taking photographs non-stop and even in this moment she was making sure Dad didn’t drop their new camera. She had no idea of the horror that was upon us.

  Dad ignored her and grabbed my arm and Mam’s too, pulling us on either side of him, saying, ‘don’t look back, just keep on running, come on, girls, come on.’

  A child fell to the left of us and screamed. Where were his parents? Eli stopped, pulling the little fella up, screaming at us. ‘Go on.’

  Dad nodded, still holding onto our arms with a vice-like grip. He pulled us towards the shore.

  Then the wave smashed into us.

  Just a few days after we’d found it, paradise was lost.

  Chapter 19

  STELLA

  72 Derry Lane, Dublin, 2014

  ‘I come armed with treats, if you fancy a cuppa?’ Stella stood on Rea’s doorway, holding a plate of homemade biscuits out in front of her.

  ‘Do you need to use my computer?’ Rea asked.

  Stella’s face fell. She must have misread Rea’s kindness and sympathy for friendship. She stammered, ‘Er … no … I just thought, well, I’m over there, you’re over here, maybe we could have a chat … but I didn’t mean to intrude.’

  Rea held her hand up, ‘Oh, would you stop? You’ll give yourself a headache, all that worry over nothing. Why do you always assume you are in the wrong?’ She shook her head then and continued, ‘you don’t need to answer that. I’ll say this only one more time, so remember it. You are never intruding here. You don’t need an invitation, honestly. Come on in.’

  Rea led her towards the kitchen, then put the kettle on. ‘I didn’t mean to infer that you were only coming to see me for the computer. The chat and biscuits is a bonus.’

  ‘Note to self. Cop the hell on,’ Stella joked.

  Rea laughed, ‘Now you’re talking. What have you made there?’

  ‘Lemon poppy seed biscotti. I’m a bit of a lemon fanatic. I stick it in everything.’

  ‘They look delicious. What’s in them? And if you say lemons and poppy seed, I’ll send you packing!’

  Stella giggled and replied, ‘Flour, sugar, ground almonds, baking powder and lemons, poppy seeds, oh and, of course, eggs! They are a doddle to make, honestly. Took me less than twenty minutes start to finish.’

  ‘Well, I’m glad you thought of me. We’ll have a pot of coffee to go with them, I think. Tell me, how is O.L.D going?’

  ‘O.L.D?’

  ‘Operation Leave Dickhead,’ Rea grinned, delighted with her acronym.

  ‘O.L.D it is! Well, I think the universe is telling me in no uncertain terms that it’s time for me to walk. Do you ever watch that programme, Elaine, on TV3?’

  ‘I do. Most days. Why?’

  ‘I had it on in the background as I was making the biscotti yesterday, but I stopped to listen properly when I heard Elaine Crowley say that the next topic was about controlling relationships.’

  Rea replied, ‘I saw it! Thought of you, as it happens.’

  ‘It was the strangest thing listening to the panelists share their experiences. I mean, I know that Matt is controlling, but hearing others describe similar episodes to those I’ve gone through was disconcerting.’

  ‘Why?’ Rea asked. ‘Explain.’

  ‘Well, when the expert came in, the lady from Women’s Aid, who gave examples of controlling behaviour illustrating who holds the power in the relationship, it shocked me.’

  Rea interrupted, ‘Stuff like who has control of the television remote?’

  ‘Yes, or who drives your car on trips taken together, who planned your wedding, if your kettle breaks who buys the new one, who controls the budget, who makes all the big decisions, who chooses your home decor, oh and when you are apart, how often does your spouse call you to check up on you? All of that. And the more examples she listed out, the more crap I felt. Not just some of them apply to me Rea. All of them do.’

  They sat in silence for a moment, digesting this.

  ‘Even the things that I thought were normal aren’t,’ Stella said. ’It’s like I’m looking at everything with fresh eyes. And realising that things are much worse than I thought.’

  Rea didn’t know what to say in response. But it was clear that Stella expected an answer.

  ‘Isn’t it good that you are seeing things clearly again. That’s the main thing.’

  ‘Maybe. I’m just so pissed off with myself that I let it get to this stage. I bet George didn’t do any of this?’

  ‘No. George was nothing like Matt. We used to split everything fifty-fifty. All decisions, the housework, the money. Everything. But he did most of the driving. He was a divil for insisting on that. But you have to give them the odd win, don’t you?’ Rea said.

  ‘You do, but the problem for me is that it’s not the odd win for Matt, it’s e
verything.’

  ‘But not for much longer. You’re getting out. That’s all that matters,’ Rea said, patting her hand. ‘And that woman, the expert, she was fierce informative. I thought she gave lots of usable advice.’

  Stella nodded, stirring her coffee thoughtfully.

  Rea asked, ‘You know how she said that while you think you have no choices, this is simply not true. That you must convince our controlling spouses that you are not doormats. You need to convince your partners that a healthy relationship includes mutually acceptable decisions.’

  ‘That sounds reasonable, if only I wasn’t married to a psychopath!’ Stella replied.

  ‘Quite,’ Rea said. ‘But, have you tried talking and reasoning with him?’

  ‘I suggested counselling. He wouldn’t hear of it. I tried fighting back. Pleading with him. Charming him. No matter the tack I took, it all ended up the same way in the end.’ Stella shook her head sadly.

  ‘I thought as much,’ Rea said.

  ‘It’s like the universe is making sure I stick to my plan. Everywhere I turn there’s another reminder that I need to leave Matt.’

  ‘Quite right. It’s about time you kicked your skinny arse out of doormatsville.’

  ‘It’s an awful dump, in fairness,’ Stella said.

  ‘Wall to wall with dickheads,’ Rea agreed and they both laughed for a moment.

  ‘It’s all so overwhelming. Knowing something to be true and doing something to change it are two different things. I’m frightened.’

  ‘Fear I understand.’ Rea grabbed Stella’s hands. ‘I know that I should walk out that door right now and do something about the monstrosity that is my garden. I should walk to the park and feel the warm breeze on my face, get some exercise, feel the blood pumping through my veins. But wanting to do something and doing it are two different things.’