by Ber Carroll
‘What I’d give for a week in Fiji . . .’
‘Annie, it’s bedtime. You have to go, remember?’
Liz was the next person Katie asked for advice. They met for lunch in a small café off Grafton Street, and Katie dutifully admired the stacks of photographs from Paris and London. God only knew how many hapless people Liz had pestered with instructions on how to operate her dysfunctional camera.
‘The organisers of the conference in Fiji are pushing me for a commitment,’ said Katie when Liz had finished talking about her travels. She’d received a message from Angela that morning asking if she had any special needs for her accommodation at the resort. ‘I just don’t know –’
‘You want to turn down a free trip to paradise?’ Liz interrupted in disbelief. ‘Are you sure you didn’t suffer some brain damage as a result of the accident?’
‘Maybe I did.’ Katie couldn’t help giggling.
‘So, let me get this straight.’ Liz searched her memory for everything she knew about the trip to Fiji. ‘You’ll spend a week on an island, in a beach-front bure, with activities like snorkelling and sailing. What exactly is it that you don’t know about? Are you afraid that the hammock outside your bure will be too saggy?’
Katie giggled again. ‘No. The problem isn’t with the hammock –’
‘Ah, so it’s a man,’ Liz concluded quite correctly.
There were actually two men posing a problem, but Katie didn’t want to talk about Jim.
‘My boss,’ she said. ‘Neil.’
‘Are you having an affair with him?’ asked Liz.
‘God, no!’ Katie shuddered at the thought. ‘It’s just that I really dislike him. I didn’t realise how much until I came here and didn’t have to work for him any more. The thought of going back, having him watch my every single move again, listening to his snide little remarks . . .’
Liz didn’t say anything for a few minutes – in fact she seemed to be more interested in eating than offering an opinion. Eventually, she put down her fork and said, ‘I can tell by your body language that this man really repulses you.’
‘Yes.’ Katie nodded. ‘ “Repulse” is exactly the right word to describe how I feel.’
‘Has he ever . . .’ Liz paused, her mouth pursing with distaste, ‘has he ever made a move on you?’
‘No,’ said Katie. Then she shuddered again. ‘Maybe I’m wrong, but I feel that he’s biding his time.’
It was the first time she had ever admitted that to anyone, even herself.
‘Is there someone you can report him to?’ asked Liz worriedly.
Katie shook her head. ‘He’s not just my boss, he’s head of the whole firm now. Besides which, he hasn’t actually done anything. I can’t report him just because of the way he makes me feel.’
Liz looked so troubled that Katie started to feel bad.
She was full of the joys of her travels at the start of the lunch and now I’ve ruined it for her.
‘Don’t worry, Liz,’ she said brightly. ‘I’ll just keep out of his way. Let’s order some tea and I’ll take another look at those photos. There were so many of them that I didn’t take it all in the first time.’
Liz didn’t need to be asked twice. Katie found a photo of the three sisters that she really liked. With Liz and Rose on either side of Carmel’s chair, they beamed at the camera, oblivious to the obstruction they were creating for Oxford Street’s other pedestrians. Katie asked Liz if she could get a copy of it.
While uncertainty about her career goals and aversion to being back under Neil’s thumb were significant enough deterrents in their own right, the thought of seeing Jim overshadowed them. When he was far away she could deny her feelings, but as soon as they were face to face she knew it would be much, much harder. There was no way she could avoid him: there were only four people left on the programme. The group would have classes, team activities and meals together. Jim would see her ungainly limp, and there would be pity in his eyes as they had a belated discussion about the accident. Then there was Carole; Katie simply couldn’t bear to see him with someone else.
It was Mags who saw through all her humming and hawing.
‘It’s because you and Jim have fallen out,’ she stated out of the blue. They were watching TV together – they hadn’t even been discussing Fiji.
The suddenness of her accusation put Katie off balance.
‘Excuse me?’
‘You and Jim had a fight – that’s the real reason you don’t want to go.’
For a few moments Katie teetered on the brink of a lie. All of her self-protective instincts wanted to deny it and keep her feelings inside in the hope that they would eventually fizzle away. As soon as she gave them a voice they would be tangible and so much harder to ignore.
Still, she acknowledged that she needed to make a decision about the conference. Angela was waiting for an answer about the accommodation. Besides, if she and Mags were to have a meaningful friendship, they had to get through the impasse and talk about Jim, and Laura, openly.
‘Yes.’ Her voice came out sounding squeaky and unnatural.
Mags’s head nodded with the satisfaction of being right. ‘So was the argument before or after your accident?’
‘Before,’ said Katie and then added, ‘He doesn’t know about the accident – Neil didn’t pass on your message.’
‘If Neil didn’t tell him, then why didn’t you?’
It was a very valid question and Katie had two equally valid reasons.
‘Because it’s over between us, and I’m pretty sure that he’s seeing another woman on the programme.’
Mags looked shocked. ‘I’m sorry, Katie. I had no idea.’
Katie shrugged and dropped her eyes.
‘I’m sorry.’ Mags reached across to hug her. ‘Really, I am.’
‘It’s not your fault . . .’ Suddenly, before she could control it, tears filled Katie’s eyes.
‘Oh, Katie!’
‘I can’t believe this . . . I’m giving you the waterworks.’
But Mags was crying too.
‘I thought that you and Jim made a nice couple, really I did . . . I just couldn’t stop thinking about Laura. When Jim went away, there was no closure . . . When he came back, I had to learn to let go of that part of her . . . I found it really hard . . .’
‘I know you did. And I understand.’ Katie wiped her tears with the back of her hands. ‘This is one good reason not to go to Fiji – I’d probably burst into tears as soon as I saw him.’
‘I don’t agree,’ said Mags, her expression becoming earnest. ‘The fact is that you’re going to have to face Jim at some point. It can either be on a tropical island or back in Sydney. It can be in front of a handful of people or the entire office. I know what I’d choose if it was me.’
‘Have you got your passport?’ asked Rose for the umpteenth time.
‘Yes, Mum.’
‘And you’re sure that you don’t have any sharp objects in your luggage?’
‘This is a replay of when I left Sydney,’ Katie whispered to Mags. ‘Fuss, fuss, fuss.’
‘Flight EI168 to London Heathrow is now boarding.’
They all started when they heard the announcement.
‘Well, that’s me!’ Katie felt very emotional all of a sudden. She hugged Mags. ‘Take care of yourself. And thanks for showing me Dublin’s pubs and clubs . . . for teaching me the ropes of pro bono work . . . for everything . . .’
‘I’ll miss you,’ said Mags, her voice wobbling.
‘Well, you’ll see me in March, won’t you?’
Mags had booked a holiday ‘Down Under’, as she repeatedly called it, and was looking forward to it immensely.
‘Good luck with Jim, Katie.’
Katie appreciated how hard it was for her friend to say that. She hugged her again.
‘Bye, Mags.’
Then she turned to Rose. She was staying on in Ireland for a few extra weeks to spend time with James and Ciara. She was cr
ying.
‘I wish you had your crutches.’
‘They would only be a nuisance . . .’
‘Don’t forget to ring when you get there.’
‘Come on, Mum, don’t cry. I’ll see you at Christmas.’
But even as she was telling Rose not to cry, Katie felt tears trickle down her own face.
‘Take care, Katie.’
They hugged and kissed.
‘Bye, Mum.’
Katie walked towards the security gate. There was a small queue. She turned around one last time.
‘Goodbye,’ she whispered, but it was not just to Rose and Mags. It was to Liz, Ellen, Sarah, Ted, Amy, Jerry, Father Flanagan, Maura the nurse, Jane the physio and the old man on the Portmarnock bus. She’d walked into this airport, now she was limping out. She’d come with big plans, and lost them all in transit. Black had seeped into white, creating a haze of grey where nothing was certain any more. She’d learnt so, so much in this city, from these people.
Chapter 37
The boat sliced through the crystal water and left a trail of rich white froth in its wake. Katie held on to the railing at the bow where the salt water sprayed high into the air and fell to glisten on her face. Every now and then an island would erupt from the otherwise flat Pacific Ocean. Some of the islands were established holiday resorts, others nothing more than uninhabited outcrops of rock.
About ten minutes into the journey, two of the deckhands started to strum their guitars and sing.
‘I love Fijian music,’ said a middle-aged woman with a lowcut top. ‘I feel it right here.’ She slapped her deeply tanned bosom to indicate the location of her heart. ‘Which island are you going to?’
‘Treasure,’ Katie replied.
The woman bobbed her head with approval. ‘Are you on honeymoon?’
‘No.’ Katie smiled wryly. ‘I’m going to a conference.’
Just saying it out loud brought back the nervousness that had temporarily abated with the beautiful scenery and harmonious music. In a few hours, maybe even sooner, she would be face to face with Jim. In her mind she replayed their last kiss, in the car outside her apartment. She saw his face as he promised that soon they’d be together in the same city. Neither of them knew then that, thanks to a petty argument, an unfortunate accident, poor communication and terrible timing, it would be almost four months before they set eyes on each other.
There had been moments over the last few days when Katie had acknowledged that she’d assumed a whole relationship from the fact that Carole had answered Jim’s phone; moments when she’d critically questioned if the Jim she knew would have moved on so quickly to the next woman. She’d been so sure of her facts. But once the decision to go to Fiji had been made, the facts didn’t seem quite so clear-cut. Doubt had crept in. Hope had fostered from the doubt. Hope which she wasn’t always strong enough to suppress. Making everything harder than it already was.
The boat, after making a few stops at some of the other islands, eventually pulled up alongside Treasure’s jetty.
‘Don’t work too hard!’ the woman called after Katie as she alighted.
A tall barefooted man with tight curly hair hoisted her luggage onto his wide shoulders and carried it away. Katie and the honeymooning couples were treated to a warm musical Fijian welcome before commencing the short walk to the resort.
While she waited to check in, Katie glanced around the reception area with its large tropical plants and fat-cushioned cane lounges. There was nobody around from the programme. She breathed a sigh of relief. She wasn’t ready to face them yet.
Katie filled in the paperwork at the desk and followed the directions to her bure. The pathway led to a forest of lush vegetation and palm trees. Parrots squawked overhead and geckos darted in front of her toes. The paving gave way to gravel, and then to sand.
Katie’s luggage was waiting inside the traditional thatched bure. A king-sized bed dominated the bedroom, its covers turned down, an exotic red flower on one of the pillows. Over on the table there was a basket of fruit along with a bottle of champagne and a welcoming note. It seemed that everyone was treated as a honeymooner on Treasure Island.
White sand, flecked with coral, came right up to the shuttered doors. Katie accepted its silent invitation, slipped off her shoes and followed it down to the water. There, she lifted her skirt and waded in until the clear green-blue sea was up to her knees. Tiny fish in an array of stunning colours darted around her legs as the dropping sun smeared orange across the horizon.
Liz had been dead right when she had said that this was a free trip to paradise.
Pre-dinner drinks were scheduled for seven. Katie resisted the urge to climb into the beautifully turned-down bed and started to get ready. The journey was by far the most ambitious thing she’d attempted since the accident. On the plane she had to forsake sleep for regular walks up and down the aisle.
‘Don’t sit still for longer than thirty minutes,’ Jane had warned her. ‘Otherwise you’ll cramp up badly.’
The wait in LA was long and the seats in the transfer lounge scarce. Now, Katie’s leg was sending sharp stabs of pain up through her body, telling her it couldn’t take much more.
She slipped on her dress, black with a deep V-neck and a wide sweep of material at her feet. Mags had been with her in Brown Thomas when she’d forked out an insane amount of money for it.
‘Walk towards me again,’ Mags had said and then, with brutal honesty, remarked, ‘All that extra material at the end definitely makes your limp less obvious.’
Katie gathered her hair in a loose bunch of curls and, on impulse, she took the red flower from the pillow and pinned it behind her ear. She was as ready as she would ever be. She was intentionally early, because the last thing she needed was a hobbled grand entrance.
She asked one of the staff at the main bar where she should go.
‘Ah,’ his teeth were startling white in his dark face, ‘drinks for the MFJ party are somewhere special tonight.’
He led her across the outdoor restaurant and along a short boardwalk that ended in a balcony suspended over the beach. Lanterns hung from the canopied roof. The breaking waves were like background music.
‘Can I get madam a cocktail, perhaps?’ the barman asked.
‘Yes, please.’
‘A menu –’ he began.
‘No,’ she looked up to smile, ‘I’ll have whatever you recommend.’
He beamed his white teeth at her before heading back to the main bar.
Katie leant over the railing and looked down on the water as it lapped gently against the ghostly sand. In a few more minutes she would see Jim. Her apprehensiveness had reached fever pitch, making her feel hot all over. She hoped that the barman wouldn’t take too long with the cocktail.
‘Katie!’
Katie looked up to see Angela puffing down the boardwalk in a splendid but predictably red dress.
‘It’s so good to see you!’ She squeezed her plump arms around Katie in a very surprising hug. ‘I was so worried when Neil told me about the accident. How was the journey?’
‘Hard.’ Katie’s hand unconsciously touched her aching leg. ‘I’m feeling the strain of it now.’
Angela looked concerned. ‘Shall I ask for a seat?’
Katie shook her head. ‘This setting isn’t made for sitting down . . .’
She trailed off as she saw the others crossing the restaurant. Carole wore an elegant white dress and a sleek hairdo. And there was Jim, head and shoulders over Oliver and Neil, his profile forbidding even in the distance. They came down the boardwalk in pairs, with Neil and Oliver leading the way.
‘Katie!’ Oliver kissed her cheek. ‘Hello, stranger – like the flower – very Fijian!’
‘I stole it from the bed,’ she admitted.
She felt Neil’s eyes assessing her.
‘Hello, Neil.’
‘Katie.’
He hitched his glasses higher up his nose and the familiar gesture made Katie e
ven more tense.
After a quick no-love-lost hello to Carole, there was only Jim left to greet. He looked very handsome in a dark dinner suit and stark white shirt; but when she looked into his eyes they showed nothing: no sign of the intimacy they had shared in Dublin, the short-lived long-distance relationship that had followed, or the way it had all ended.
Even his voice sounded devoid of emotion.
‘Hello, Katie.’
‘Hi.’
‘How are you?’
Somehow or other she summoned up a half-witty response. ‘As they say in Dublin, I’m grand.’
It was the barman who saved her from the excruciatingly awkward silence that followed.
‘Your cocktail, madam.’
Katie gave him a relieved smile of thanks as she took the flamboyant concoction from his tray. It caught the interest of the others and the barman left with an order for cocktails all round.
When everyone was armed with a drink, Neil gave them a pep talk about the week ahead.
‘The first few days of the conference will be a refresher on the Partnership Act, and we will look at some of the practicalities of running a partnership. An area close to my heart, so I will personally deliver the training.’ He stopped to adjust his glasses. ‘We will finish at noon on Wednesday, and there will be a team sailing activity in the afternoon. On Thursday, Angela will go back to the core leadership qualities and help you examine your progress since last May. On Friday you will be free to do as you wish.’
‘When do we find out about the partnership?’ asked Oliver, his expression keen.
‘The selection committee will meet next week,’ Neil replied. ‘Leadership qualities, communication skills, client development and billable hours will be the criteria used to make a recommendation to the board. Anything else you want to ask?’
He seemed taken aback when he got a second question.
‘Who is on the selection committee?’
Neil was curt. ‘I’m afraid that’s confidential.’
Oliver didn’t take the hint. ‘Will the decision process be documented?’
‘Yes,’ Neil barely contained a sigh of annoyance, ‘but, again, any documentation will remain confidential and the partners’ decision will be final.’