by Ber Carroll
‘Mum, can you help me open this?’
Rose pushed the stiff aluminium frame upwards and Katie leant out over the sill to look down at the murky green of the Liffey. She inhaled the mingled smell of the river and the brewery malt as if it was an exotic perfume.
‘Would you like a cup of tea?’ asked Rose.
‘Yes, please.’
It was just the two of them; Frankie had been despatched to the supermarket to buy some essentials. Frankie and grocery shopping were not on familiar terms and Katie didn’t expect him back for quite some time.
Rose went into the kitchen and soon Katie heard the hum of the kettle. Even that everyday sound made her happy.
Stale smells and boiling kettles – I’m easy to please these days.
It was only when Katie hopped across to the couch that she noticed her black hold-all on the floor. She manoeuvred herself onto the soft cushions and rested the crutches next to her. The bag was barely recognisable, its black leather torn and scuffed, the handle hanging off. Feeling as though she was prying through someone else’s belongings, she looked at its jumbled contents: scrunched receipts, various make-up items, purse, novel and the shattered remains of her mobile phone.
Rose came out with the tea.
‘How did my bag get back here?’ asked Katie.
‘A police officer gave it to Liz shortly after the accident. Is everything still there?’
‘Seems to be.’
They drank the tea in thoughtful silence.
‘You know, I didn’t miss it,’ said Katie after a while. ‘I didn’t wonder where it was, not once. Yet I couldn’t go anywhere without it before the accident. Strange, isn’t it?’
‘I guess that whatever you carried in that bag just wasn’t important when it came down to it . . .’
Rose was right. What had been important was the family and friends who had given her their support and companionship through the long difficult days.
‘Mum, I haven’t thanked you and Dad for coming here . . .’
‘Oh, stop it,’ said Rose dismissively. ‘You’re our daughter, what else would we do?’
‘But you’ve stayed on, you should have gone home long ago.’
‘That’s what families do.’ Rose shrugged. ‘They’re like glue. They stick around.’
She smiled at her little analogy and topped up their cups of tea. Katie smiled too. It felt nice to have Rose to herself and even nicer that all the old barriers had come down. Nothing was taboo now.
‘What’s it like with Liz and Carmel after all these years?’ Katie asked.
‘Wonderful,’ she replied. ‘I missed them terribly. There wasn’t a day that I didn’t think about them. Now it’s as if time has frozen – even though age has changed us on the outside, we still feel like teenagers when we talk.’
‘Watch out, London,’ Katie laughed. Liz, after having a wonderful time in Paris, had decided that London was her next stop. Rose was going too. ‘Somebody should warn them that there are three middle-aged teenagers about to hit the streets – one of them bearing a dangerous camera.’ Then, more solemnly, she asked, ‘How do you think you’ll feel when you see Carmel’s chair, Mum?’
‘It’ll be hard.’ Rose lost her smile. ‘Even harder knowing she went through all that and I wasn’t there for her. But she pulled through. She’s as strong as an ox, Carmel.’
‘Before my accident, she was talking about coming to Dublin with Lucy. It’ll be so much easier for her now that you’re going over there instead . . .’
‘She would have come,’ said Rose. ‘She wouldn’t have let the wheelchair get in the way. She’s very determined. Not like me.’
‘Oh, Mum! Don’t beat yourself up.’
‘It’s true.’ Rose’s voice hardened. ‘I talked myself out of writing or coming home so many times . . . Convinced myself that bygones should be bygones . . . I felt guilty – ashamed – but had I any backbone at all, I could have risen above those feelings.’
‘It’ll be so nice for the three of you sisters to be finally reunited. I’m kind of jealous!’
Katie wasn’t really jealous, she was only trying to make the conversation positive again.
‘You have a sister too, Katie,’ Rose pointed out with an odd look on her face.
Katie wasn’t likely to forget. She thought about Ellen all the time.
‘Yes,’ she sighed, ‘but it’s pretty obvious that Ellen doesn’t want to be part of our family, isn’t it? A whole month has passed by.’
Rose’s reply was unexpected. ‘As a matter of fact, Ellen has been in touch – a number of times.’
Katie frowned. ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’
Rose looked apologetic. ‘It’s been hard keeping it from you – but Frank, Ellen and I agreed to take it slowly. We didn’t want to extend our relationship to our wider families until we were all ready.’
‘Does that mean I’m finally going to meet her?’ Katie tried not to sound hurt about being left in the dark.
‘She’s going to try to come up at the weekend.’
Katie frowned harder and her tone was sharp this time. ‘What do you mean, try? Is she coming or is she not?’
Rose gave her a stern look. ‘Everything in life isn’t black and white, Katie Horgan. Her husband is a doctor – sometimes his schedule changes at short notice. She can only come if Paul is available to look after the children.’
Suddenly Katie felt very apprehensive. What if she and Ellen didn’t get on? Even worse, what if Rose preferred Ellen to her?
Rose must have read her thoughts because she put down her cup of tea and leant over to take her hand. ‘Katie, you and Ellen may look alike, but I can see already that you have very different personalities. She’s cautious; you’re impetuous. She’s restful; you’re high energy. I shudder to think of the arguments had you grown up in the same house. But I know you’ll like each other, you just have to take it slow. Don’t force it.’
They met on a bleak wintery day. Pebble-sized hail came down in short angry showers, a steady rain falling in between. Frankie and Rose picked Ellen up from the train station and dropped her at Katie’s apartment. They didn’t come in.
Katie opened the door to the mirror image of her own face: pale, pierced by two startling blue eyes, topped with short dark hair that seemed to have the same untameable curl. They were of similar height and build – they could have shared clothes had they been like normal sisters.
Their greeting was wary and Katie, without the assistance of her crutches, led Ellen into the living room where she shrugged off her wet jacket.
‘Where can I put this?’ she asked.
‘Let me,’ said Katie and hung it on the back of a chair.
‘This is a great location.’ Ellen walked to the window to admire the rain-drenched view of the city. ‘So close to everything.’
‘Yes,’ Katie hobbled towards her, ‘before the accident I used to walk everywhere – I didn’t need any transport at all.’
Ellen’s eyes glanced down to Katie’s injured leg. ‘Rose says you’ve exceeded the expectations of the doctors a hundred-fold.’
Katie smiled conspiratorially. ‘I think she might be exaggerating just a little. A mother’s prerogative, I suppose.’
Ellen gave a fleeting smile in return and it was never more evident to Katie that she knew practically nothing about this woman, her sister. She didn’t know what made her laugh, or cry, or angry. She didn’t know how to read her moods, or thoughts, or feelings; or how to coax, tease or manipulate her. She knew a zillion things about being Stephen’s sister, and none at all about being Ellen’s. She certainly didn’t know what to talk to her about for the next hour until Frankie and Rose, their parents, came back.
‘Are you out of crutches now?’
‘I still need them when I go out.’
‘Is Rose staying here with you?’
‘No. I’d get too lazy. The more I do for myself, the stronger I get. I try to be as self-sufficient as I can, even thou
gh everything takes twice as long . . .’ Katie paused. ‘Can I get you a drink? Some tea?’
‘No, thanks.’
Silence followed. It was unbearably awkward and Katie scrambled for something to say.
‘Well, Katie,’ Ellen looked her in the eye, ‘what do you make of me, of this?’
Clearly the time for chitchat was over. It was a big, big question and not one that Katie could answer standing. She gripped the armrest of the couch and carefully lowered herself down.
‘It’s a bit surreal,’ she confessed. ‘But deep down it makes sense – it fits. It answers all the questions I’ve had over the years. I used to pester Mum about Ireland – her secrecy drove me crazy – then I’d go to Dad, and if he couldn’t distract me with something else, he would tell me only enough to keep me quiet. Then there were times I would catch Mum being sad for no reason . . . Once I found her holding a baby’s bonnet – I knew it wasn’t mine: she would have said if it was. I was too young to put two and two together, but still, part of me knew that she and Dad were hiding something.’
Ellen left the window and came to sit down next to her. Her back ramrod straight, she sat as if she might need to jump up at a moment’s notice.
Her expression was inscrutable as she asked, ‘What was it like growing up in Australia?’
Katie supposed it was a reasonable question. If Ellen hadn’t been left behind, she would have grown up there too.
‘Our street was very close-knit,’ Katie told her. ‘Greeks, Italians, Irish, English, a few Aussies for good measure – we all had the same struggles. Summers were the best, running under the hose in the garden, eating outside, the beach only a short bus ride away. Even though we didn’t have a lot, we had the sun and the sea – they were free and we took every advantage of them.’
Ellen’s smooth brow knitted into a frown. ‘I grew up on a farm. It was isolated . . . lonely. We went to the beach once a year – in the summer. It rained more often than not.’
It sounded as though she thought she had got the short straw.
‘I’m sorry,’ said Katie. ‘I was under the impression that you had a happy childhood.’
‘I did,’ Ellen insisted. ‘My parents doted on me – I was all they had. But our neighbours were a good mile away and their children were much older than me, so it was lonely. Just hearing you describe your childhood made me a little jealous, that’s all.’
‘Belated sibling rivalry,’ Katie commented.
Ellen laughed and Katie felt the tension between them ease a little.
‘What’s Stephen like?’
‘Stephen’s Stephen,’ Katie smiled. ‘He’s unique. He’s big and loud and smart and funny.’
‘You sound like you’re very close.’
‘We are.’
Ellen’s expression was wistful, and Katie was surprised that she could read it. Ellen wanted to be one of three. She wanted to be Stephen and Katie’s sister.
‘He can also be annoying and a bit of a know-it-all,’ Katie added, just in case Ellen thought it was all a bed of roses. ‘And don’t ever tell him he’s funny because he’d never get over himself!’
The rest of the hour sped past as Katie and Ellen swapped stories. At the end of it they weren’t like strangers, but they weren’t like sisters either. That would take time, but Katie knew they would get there.
Frankie dropped Katie outside the clinic’s new premises, a few doors down from the old place. She was very impressed when she saw that the inside boasted a waiting room and four consultation rooms. It seemed that Just Ask had taken off beyond all their expectations.
‘Hello,’ she called out and a woman turned around from the photocopier. Katie was stunned to see it was Amy.
‘Oh, hello, Katie.’ She smiled brightly. ‘Look at you – a dab hand with the crutches – it’s great to see you back on your feet.’
Katie returned her smile. ‘I didn’t know you were working here!’
‘Barry lost the hearing last week,’ she explained with a nonchalant shrug that was very unlike the Amy that Katie knew. ‘He was so mad that he fired me – there and then – right in the middle of the courtroom. So now he’s up for another hearing – unfair dismissal. In the meantime, Mags said she needed some help here.’
Amy’s new job had given her self-confidence a much-needed boost. Her face was happier, less haggard.
‘How’s your dad?’ asked Katie, her voice softening at the thought of Jerry.
‘Still bingeing and off his face for half the time,’ she said, matter-of-fact, ‘but I got him a place and at least he’s clean and warm and out of harm’s way.’
Katie nodded and left it at that because nothing, least of all talking about it, would cure Jerry of his addiction.
‘Both Mags and Sarah have somebody with them,’ said Amy. ‘They shouldn’t be long.’
Katie sat down in the waiting area and killed some time with a magazine. Sarah was the first to come out. Wearing a grey suit that looked new, she seemed so much more mature than the graduate who had started a few months earlier.
‘Well, what do you think of our fancy new premises?’ she asked proudly.
‘Fabulous,’ Katie replied. ‘Can I see your office?’
Sarah was only too happy to show her around.
‘All the rooms have a computer, printer and fax,’ she said when Katie was surprised to see all the latest technology. ‘We have a state-of-the-art security system.’ She crouched down and showed Katie a red button on the underside of the desk. ‘See, a hidden panic button. Security can be here in less than five minutes.’
Katie was impressed; it looked as though the security system alone cost a few thousand euros, not to mention the premises.
‘Did Ted pay for all this?’ she asked.
Her back was to the door and she didn’t see Mags come in.
‘Actually, it was Laura’s parents.’
Katie turned around. Mags stood in the doorway, her eyes bright, a catch in her voice.
‘They wanted to do something meaningful with her life-insurance money. She loved the law and loved helping people, so investing in the Just Ask clinic seemed like the perfect memorial. I know I should have told you this before now . . .’
She didn’t finish the sentence; she could hardly admit that she still saw Katie as Laura’s rival.
Katie opened her mouth to tell her she was no threat, that it was all off with Jim.
But Sarah got in first. ‘Come on, we’d better get going.’
They ate in Temple Bar for old times’ sake.
Chapter 36
Katie had serious doubts about going to the conference in Fiji. Of course, facing Jim topped the list. Being back in Neil’s controlling vice-grip was a close second. And the fact that she no longer knew if she wanted to be a partner made a very creditable third reason not to go.
As the time came closer, and it looked as though she would be fit to travel, Katie sought advice from her immediate support circle.
‘I’m not sure I should go to Fiji,’ she commented to Sarah one evening when they were having a drink, ‘because I’m not sure I want to be a partner. It seems that all my ambition just dwindled out of me while I was in hospital.’
‘What do you mean?’ asked Sarah and swigged from her bottle of Budweiser.
‘Before I could see myself as a partner, building business, managing a team, making a difference. But now when I try to imagine it I see nothing – a big, blank nothing . . .’
‘You’ve been out of work for three months,’ Sarah pointed out. ‘Once you’re back in the thick of it, you’ll feel different. Your old zest and ambition will return, no doubt about it.’
Her voice had all the certainty and confidence of a young lawyer who, other than a few boyfriend problems, had not yet experienced any of life’s serious blows.
I was once just like you, Katie wanted to tell her. Ambition was the air in my lungs, I didn’t understand people who didn’t have goals. But the problem is that all my old
goals seem to be totally unimportant in the face of what I’ve gone through these last few months.
However, Sarah was entitled to her confident outlook on life, and Katie didn’t want to sound like a crusty old woman.
‘Let me get another round,’ she said and shuffled to her feet.
‘Why don’t I –’ Sarah began.
‘No, I can manage it – really.’
When she came back they talked about Frankie’s imminent departure for Sydney.
‘He’s dying to get back to the business,’ said Katie. ‘He’s not been away from work this long in his entire life.’
‘How about your mum?’
‘She’s staying on. In fact, something tells me that I’ll be leaving here before her. She really wants to get to know her grandchildren.’
The conversation drifted onto Sarah’s new boyfriend and Fiji wasn’t mentioned again.
Annie was of a similar view to Sarah.
‘I know it will be hard to go back, but you’ll be glad you did,’ she stated. ‘Take me, for example.’
Annie had got herself a part-time job. Two days a week she had to dress in a business suit and commute on a train.
‘It’s the best! I don’t have to worry about baby vomit or prams. I can read a book on the train, eat my lunch in peace and have civilised two-way conversations.’
‘I couldn’t believe how big Zack was in the photographs,’ said Katie. ‘And how much hair he’s grown. He looks like a real little boy . . . How’s he getting on in child care?’
‘Apparently he’s an absolute angel for them.’
‘That’s great.’
‘He’s still a devil at home, though . . . Listen, I’d better go. It’s bedtime – the craziest time of the day.’
‘Okay. Bye, Annie. And thanks for the advice.’
‘I know how you feel. I’ve been there. It’s easy to forget who you are when you don’t have a job to define you.’
‘Thanks, Annie. Bye.’
‘I can’t wait for you to come back to Sydney. I’ve really missed my best friend.’
‘I’ve missed you too. Bye, Annie.’