by Ber Carroll
She called his bluff. ‘Come on, now – I don’t think you came all the way here just to see me.’
His hand reached out and touched her face. ‘Not that I would ever admit it to my family, a big part of me did come here just to see you.’
She smiled at him. This thing with Jim wasn’t in her head. It was real. It was exciting to sit this close to him, to let his energy wash over her, to think that absolutely nothing was an obstacle, least of all jumping on a plane with no more than a few days’ planning.
The barman topped off the pints of Guinness and set them down carefully on the counter. Some of the smooth cream trickled down the sides of the glasses.
‘Cheers,’ said Katie.
‘Cheers,’ he echoed.
‘How long are you here for?’ she asked.
‘A week.’
Seven days, full of possibility, stretched out in front of them, and from the look in Jim’s eyes it seemed that he had the same hopes as she did.
Katie woke with a smile the next morning. She stretched out in bed and allowed herself the luxury of recalling every special detail of the day before.
Goodness knows how many glasses of Guinness she’d drunk. All she knew was that she and Jim stayed in the Gresham right into the evening. The bar got busier with the after-work crowd, but they were in their own private cocoon. They were laughing most of the time: at the prams of fruit in Moore Street, how normal it was to tell your life history to a total stranger, and the ‘heatwave’ on Katie’s arrival.
But at one point, Katie got serious.
‘I feel I know so little about you, Jim.’
‘What do you want to know?’
‘Lots of things.’
He grinned. ‘Okay. Let’s do Angela’s two truths and one lie game.’ His eyes twinkled at her. ‘I once broke my nose playing second-division rugby. I can play the guitar. And the place in the world I’d most like to visit is Cairo.’
‘Mmm . . . let’s see. You have the physique for rugby, and I already know that you’re a big fan of the sport, so I think it’s very possible that you’ve played at a senior level.’ She pretended to study his nose. ‘It does look a little crooked. Now, Cairo is a place I’d also like to see so I can understand the appeal . . . I think I’ll go for the guitar.’
He shook his head. ‘Wrong, Katie Horgan.’
‘Your nose?’ she tried next.
‘Nope.’
‘You mean you don’t want to go to Cairo?’
‘No, it’s just that I’ve already been there.’
‘That was a trick one, that’s not allowed!’
‘Says who?’
She pouted her lower lip in mock sulkiness. ‘Me.’
When they stopped laughing he said, ‘I’m sorry, Katie. I have to go soon – I need to catch up with the family.’
‘But I haven’t had my turn. I had a great lie, you would have never guessed it.’
‘Tomorrow.’ He smiled.
He walked her back to her apartment, pointing out the not-so-famous landmarks and giving her some trivia on the city that was her temporary home. It was still daylight; the long summer evening had not yet yielded to nightfall. Despite the fact that they strolled rather than walked, they still reached the apartment far sooner than Katie would have liked.
‘Thanks for a lovely afternoon,’ she said.
‘My pleasure.’
They both moved to close the distance between them. His hands gathered her hair and she instinctively tilted her head. His lips glanced tantalisingly against hers, once, twice, before fusing in a long and slow kiss. She was floating. Lost in his mouth. Lost in him. Was it chemistry or was it simply that she’d had too much to drink?
A passing car hooted teasingly and Jim pulled away, looking a little sheepish.
‘I’d better go,’ he said, his voice hoarse. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow.’
She nodded, her face flushed and her knees weak.
She didn’t go inside straightaway. She watched him walk back along the quays, his long legs making little of the distance. He stopped once and turned around. They waved at each other. Then he was off again, striding back towards his family and everything else that she didn’t yet know about him.
Now, Katie glanced across at her trustworthy alarm clock over on the windowsill: 8 am. It wasn’t too late to put a call through to Sydney.
‘Hi, Mum.’
‘Hello, stranger.’
‘Sorry,’ she was sheepish, ‘the time difference is so awkward. Whenever I remember to call, it’s usually too late or too early for you.’
It was partly true. But guilt also made it hard to pick up the phone.
‘You can call any time, love,’ said Rose quietly. ‘I don’t mind being woken up.’
‘Did you get the photo from the Herald?’
‘Yes, you looked very well.’
‘And my postcard?’
‘Yes.’
An awkward pause followed.
‘It’s a lovely place, Portmarnock,’ Katie said carefully. ‘Was the golf course there in your time?’
‘Yes.’ Rose sounded rather tired, as if she was weary of battling the inevitable. ‘Golf was always a big thing – your grandfather was a handy player.’
Katie didn’t stop to analyse the first voluntary piece of information that Rose had ever offered on her family.
‘And the beach, it’s so impressive . . .’
‘Do the kids still play aeroplane pilots?’ asked Rose.
‘I didn’t notice. Why?’
‘The beach has a long aviation history,’ Rose told her. ‘Kingsford-Smith did the last leg of his round-the-world trip from the Velvet Strand. In the early thirties lots of pioneer aviators arrived or took off from there. It all caused great excitement and our parents told us about it so many times it was as if we were there ourselves. Carmel, Liz and I never tired of playing pilot – we’d be out there till nine o’clock on the summer nights.’
Her words conjured up a vivid picture of three fair-haired little girls racing up the beach, arms spread, their imaginations soaring them across the Atlantic.
However, it seemed Rose had finished with her reminiscing, as her next question was about the weather. They then lapsed into their routine conversation about work and Stephen’s elusive girlfriend. They hung up without any mention of the unused tickets to Ireland. Katie was pleased, though.
She’s starting to soften and there’s still enough time left for her to change her mind.
Katie yawned and wondered when Jim would ring. Through the parting in the curtains she saw a slice of dull grey sky. There seemed to be no reason to hurry out of bed and she closed her eyes. It was midday when she opened them again. She knew she would have heard her mobile ring had he called, but she still checked to see if there were any missed calls. The screen on her phone was disappointingly clear.
She had her breakfast, checked her emails and read two chapters of her book. Three in the afternoon and still no call. She vacuumed the apartment, cleaned the bathrooms and put on a wash. Six o’clock and it looked as though she would be having dinner alone.
At 10 pm, when she was on the last chapter of her book, the door buzzer sounded. She knew it was him. She was hurt to be an afterthought to his day. And she was angry with herself for being hurt, for being vulnerable, for not being tougher. She put down the novel.
‘Yes?’ she spoke into the intercom.
‘Katie! It’s me.’
‘It’s too late, Jim. I waited all day.’
She walked away from the intercom. The buzzer went off again. She ignored it. She finished reading the novel and went to bed.
The next morning she was woken by a beep from her phone. Groggy, she reached over to the bedside unit. She squinted at the screen: there was a message.
I’m downstairs. Please let me explain.
She got out of bed and tried to sort out her muddled head with a shower. She raised her face to the hot water while her mind battled with itself.
>
He stood me up, said the unforgiving side.
No, he didn’t, answered the voice of reason. He never said what time he’d see you. And he did turn up – eventually.
She shook her head under the gushing water. If he had any respect for me, he wouldn’t put me after everyone else.
But there was a ready reply of, He’s only home for a week – he must have lots of people to catch up with.
She brushed her teeth and dressed in a pair of combat pants with a tight-fitting khaki T-shirt. Twenty minutes had passed since his message. Was he still downstairs?
OK, she texted him back.
The buzzer sounded just a few moments after she pressed the SEND button.
‘Second floor, number 22,’ she said and let him into the building.
She checked her reflection while she waited for him to come up. Her dark curls were damp and her cheeks had a pinch of pink. She was putting on some lip gloss when he knocked.
She opened the door and was met head on by his steel-grey eyes. They exchanged a wary greeting before he followed her inside.
‘Sit down,’ she told him; the living room was suffocating with him standing in the centre of it.
‘Come and sit next to me,’ he said from the couch.
She was about to refuse when he added, ‘Please.’
So, against her better judgement, she sat next to him.
‘I did the wrong thing on Friday,’ he began. ‘It was incredibly selfish of me to spend the entire afternoon with you when there are people I haven’t seen for the past two years – people I left in the lurch when I ran off to Australia.’
He paused. He seemed to be struggling to find the right words. Katie waited, her face impassive.
‘Has anyone in the Dublin office mentioned Laura to you?’ he asked, rather abruptly.
She shook her head. She was good with names; she would have remembered.
He frowned, as if he found that unbelievable. ‘Nobody mentioned the girl who died? Who ran her car into a tree?’
He seemed so disturbed that she reached out to reassure him. ‘Yes, Mags mentioned her. She didn’t tell me her name, though.’
He sighed raggedly. ‘God – for a minute there I thought they had forgotten her.’
‘Was she your girlfriend?’ asked Katie with trepidation.
‘Yes.’ His voice was very low. ‘We were living together. The night of the accident was like any other. At eight o’clock she called by my office and said she was heading home. I told her I’d be another hour or so, and not to wait up for me . . .’
Even though Katie didn’t know Laura, she still felt the devastating sadness at the waste of a young life.
A few seconds passed before Jim continued. ‘She’d worked a thirteen-hour day before she lost control of the car, and the coroner concluded that the accident was caused by overtiredness. He recommended that her employers take a serious look at their part in the terrible tragedy.’
Katie tried to offer him some consolation. ‘They did take a serious look at themselves, Jim. Nobody works crazy hours any more, and they do an enormous amount of pro bono . . .’
His mouth twisted into a cynical line. ‘And all it took was Laura’s life.’
A sad silence followed. Katie didn’t move a muscle, her hand still on his arm. It ached from the awkwardness of the angle but she didn’t dare move it.
‘I’m sorry. I had no idea that you left Dublin under such terrible circumstances.’
‘Australia was my haven – nobody there knew anything about Laura. I implied early on that I had a girlfriend back home, and everybody accepted it at face value. It enabled me to heal at my own pace, without the pressure to date.’
Katie nodded. It explained why Isabelle thought he was attached.
He released her hand from his arm and clasped it in his. ‘I was with Laura’s family yesterday,’ he said. ‘It wasn’t a visit I could cut short – I had to stay until their grief ran its course. And I could hardly tell them that I had to leave to meet another woman, especially one I like so much.’
Chapter 19
Mags had some of her old sparkle back when Katie saw her the next day.
‘Good weekend?’ she enquired as Mags unlocked the door to the clinic.
‘As good as can be expected,’ was her airy response.
Katie followed her into the room.
Mags hung her jacket on the back of her chair. ‘How about you?’
‘Yeah, good,’ Katie replied and added casually, ‘Jim Donnelly is back in town.’
Mags turned around, her eyes wide with shock. ‘Have you seen him?’
‘Yes.’
Katie thought it best not to mention that she had seen him more than once. She didn’t know what kind of reaction she would get. After all, Mags had been very close to Laura.
‘Well, is he going to call in to see us?’ asked Mags impatiently.
‘He mentioned something about lunch today.’
The first visitor of the morning was Mary from the main reception.
‘I meant to catch you on the way in,’ she said, her face flustered. ‘There was an attempted break-in last night. They broke the lock on the outer door. The alarm went off, of course, and from what I can see they didn’t take anything. Is everything all right down here?’
‘Seems to be,’ Katie answered. ‘The door was still locked this morning – nobody’s been in here.’
‘Disgraceful, it is!’ Mary was clearly upset. ‘How can they rob the very people who are trying to help them?’
Mags crossed the room and put her arm around the older woman’s slim shoulders. ‘Logic doesn’t come into it, not if they’re out of their heads on drink or drugs.’
‘I know.’ Mary had tears in her eyes. ‘I know all that. But I feel let down all the same.’
The mood was sober after she left. Even more sober when the first client came in, a homeless young woman with a red-cheeked baby.
‘I get nothing from him,’ she stated bitterly. ‘He drives around in his brand-new Renault while we’re on the streets. All his money is off the books, no trace can be put on it. But I need to get some – I can’t have the baby growing up in shelters.’
Mags went into action. She admired the baby, sympathised with the mother and then, when she had her trust, she asked the detailed questions.
‘You’ll get your maintenance,’ she promised at the end. ‘We’ll get a hearing –’
‘He won’t go to no court,’ the young woman interrupted.
Mags gave her a quietly confident smile. ‘Oh yes he will. He might do a no-show the first time but I can guarantee you that I will get him there and he will pay you maintenance.’
She was so convincing that even Katie believed her.
Katie kept a keen eye on the clock as the morning passed by. It had just edged past twelve-thirty when Jim arrived.
Mags jumped up from her seat and ran around the desk. ‘Jim Donnelly!’
He caught her in a bear hug. ‘How the hell are you, Mags Kiely?’
She grinned. ‘Life is mostly good. And you?’
His expression conveyed that the last two years had been difficult for him and not easy to summarise. He settled for ‘I’m good, too,’ and then looked over at Katie who was still sitting at the desk. ‘Come on, Katie Horgan, woman about town – take me to one of your haunts!’
They went to Fitzsimon’s in Temple Bar. The restaurant was full and they were lucky that a window seat was vacated just as they walked in.
Mags ordered a bottle of wine and the waiter poured it into three long-stemmed glasses.
Jim raised his glass. ‘To old friends!’
‘And those who are no longer with us,’ returned Mags.
Katie clinked her glass along with theirs, but she felt suddenly like an outsider.
The food was superb but the conversation painfully awkward. Jim and Mags skirted around the subject of Laura, and it soon became evident that they needed time alone to talk freely about her.<
br />
‘Coffee?’ asked the waiter as he cleared the plates.
Katie had been waiting for the opportunity to excuse herself. When the other two nodded at the waiter, she said, ‘Not for me, thanks.’ She stood up and smiled at her companions. ‘I think you two need some time alone.’
She walked back towards the office, her thoughts very much on Laura. What kind of young woman had she been? How would she feel about Katie sitting between Jim and Mags and being part of their lives? Would she be jealous? Katie could understand perfectly if she was. It would have to be the worst thing about dying: relinquishing your rights on the people you loved and watching someone else sit where you should be.
The first drops of rain started to fall as Katie reached Cope Street. She ran the rest of the way, past an unkempt figure who stood aimlessly on the footpath. His face was hardly visible behind the drooping hood of his anorak, but she caught a fleeting glimpse of a dirty grey beard. Was it Jerry?
She was soon distracted by Mary, who had come running in the opposite direction.
‘Fine summer this is,’ the older woman muttered as she stuck the key in the lock.
Later that night, while Katie was watching TV, the phone rang. She muted the volume before taking the call.
‘Katie, this is Father Dermot Flanagan.’
She had almost forgotten about the priest, what with everything that was happening with Jim.
‘Hello, Father Flanagan.’
‘I’ve been making enquiries on your behalf,’ he began, sounding very formal.
Katie was glad that she had met him in person because it would have been easy to be put off by the stiffness of his phone manner.
‘It seems that your mother’s sisters have been gone from Port-marnock a long time.’
‘Oh.’
‘Carmel went nursing in England and Liz moved down to Cork. This was thirty or so years ago, before their parents died. They came back for the funerals, but haven’t been seen or heard of since. I’m sorry I can’t be of more help . . .’
Katie felt defeated. ‘How about the Horgans?’ she asked, but knew the response would be no better.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said again. ‘Even though we have a number of Horgans in the parish, I haven’t been able to find any trace of your father’s family. I’ll pray for you all – God takes special care of families.’