At least it helped a little when she went back to work. When she was busy she didn’t have to think. In the evening she would cook dinner and silently place it before her husband. In silence Sean would eat it and then remove himself to the sitting-room to correct his copies. Suzy spent most of her time studying in her room and Claire found the evenings spent in the kitchen, long and lonely. She began to have panic attacks, gasping for breath as her heart palpitated furiously and her knees turned to jelly. The first time panic struck, she thought she was having a heart attack as her chest got tighter and tighter. She managed to call Suzy, who summoned an ambulance. Claire lay breathing erratically, as the ambulance sped to the Mater Hospital, hoping that she was having a heart attack and that it would kill her. She was kept in overnight for tests but they found no evidence of heart trouble and the young hospital doctor told her to go and see her GP about her panic attacks.
He prescribed tranquillizers and she swallowed them down gratefully. Anything to dampen her misery. But they only helped for a while and many were the nights she lay in her bed-chair in Suzy’s room listening to the soft even breathing of her sleeping daughter while her own heart pounded and terror filled her and her palms grew moist and sweaty and she thought she was going out of her mind.
Christmas came and went and that was another nightmare. Again, Claire and Suzy went to Knockross while Sean told her curtly that he was going to spend a few days with his unmarried sister in Drogheda. He could have gone to the moon as far as she was concerned.
At the end of January, Claire passed out at work one day while she was having a particularly heavy period. She telephoned Rosie to ask her if her friend could collect her and take her home. ‘Right! That’s it,’ scolded Rosie. ‘You’ve got to do something about yourself. Suzy is worried sick about you and it’s not fair on her. She has enough on her plate with David and with the way things are between you and Sean as well as having to worry about doing her exams. I’m going to make an appointment for you to see Emma Morris, the acupuncturist I’ve being telling you about. I know she’ll help you get through this, and she’ll be able to do something about your periods as well.’ She squeezed her friend’s hand. ‘Trust me! I’ll go with you the first time.’
Walking along the sea-front Claire smiled a little as she thought of Rosie, who never took no for an answer. She had even persuaded Ann, Emma’s receptionist, to give Claire an appointment immediately, no doubt by telling her just how desperate Claire was. With a sigh, Claire turned around and began to retrace her steps. She was dying for a cup of tea. She’d have a snack in Dun Laoghaire and get the DART back to town and meet her daughter after school. Then maybe Suzy would take a break from her studies and they could go to a picture or something. What would she do when Suzy was gone? It wouldn’t be long now. Her exams would be finished in June and she had confided to Claire that she was going back to France to work full-time and to perfect her language skills. ‘Nineteen-ninety-two is coming, Mam, and anybody with languages will have no problem getting a good job here,’ she declared confidently. Claire had recognized the wisdom of her daughter’s words and wouldn’t dream of not letting her go, no matter what Sean would have to say. And besides, anything had to be better for her daughter’s well-being than living in the hellish atmosphere of her home. But then there’d only be her and Sean and endless days and years of misery seemed to stretch out in front of her. As she walked along Martello Terrace, past where the Mirabeau Restaurant, the most talked-about restaurant in Ireland, had once been, past Teddy’s, that sold the creamiest icecream on the east coast and where there was always a queue, and on towards the People’s Park and the ferry terminal, Claire’s resolve grew. She wasn’t going to spend her life living as she was now. Anything had to be better than this. When Suzy went, her responsibilities as a mother would no longer restrict her. It would be time to make a decision as to what she was going to do with the rest of her life. She had three months to think about it and make her plans. Feeling hungry for the first time in a long while, after her lengthy walk and the bracing effects of the salty breeze, she turned left in the direction of the Marine Hotel. Whatever plans she was going to make for her future, lunch was the first thing on her agenda.
Sunday 30 December 1990
It was just the day to stay in bed, Claire decided. It was cold and blustery and she had no desire to get out of her cosy bed and go down to mass and listen to Christmas carols being sung. They always brought a lump to her throat anyway, and she didn’t want to get sad and lonely. Old habits die hard though and she felt a twinge of guilt at the thought of deliberately missing mass. It would be the first time in her life that she had not fulfilled her religious duties. Still, God would understand, she assured herself, as she snuggled down, listening to the rain against the window pane. Across the room the fire still glowed from the night before. That was one thing about the new smokeless coal: it was great for keeping an overnight fire. But it was terrible for spitting hot lumps. Several times she had been toasting her toes in the evenings after work and they had nearly been burnt off her by a shower of hot bits of coal. In a minute, she’d get up and put on another shovelful of coal and a couple of logs and that would keep the fire in for ages.
To think she had been living in the Drumcondra bedsit for six months. It was hard to believe, and hard to believe how much her life had changed since she had left Sean. It was a truly liberating, if sometimes frightening, feeling, to be in control of your own life. Especially after years of domination, first by her father and then by her husband, she mused ruefully. The decision to leave Sean had been the most terrifying Claire had ever made because it meant leaving her home and husband and standing on her own two feet and becoming responsible for herself. But Suzy and Rosie and Emma had all been there rooting for her, encouraging her to take those shaky first steps. And gradually she had lost her fear and, to her surprise, started to enjoy her independence. When she was living at home there was no chance that she would ever have got the opportunity of having a lie-in on a Sunday morning, or even considered not going to mass.
Every Sunday, week after week, year after year, she and Sean had gone to eleven-thirty mass and then she would go home and continue with her preparations for Sunday lunch. After lunch Sean would listen to the GAA match on the radio, if there was a match, and then they might go for a spin out to the back of the airport to watch the planes landing and taking off, and then it was back home for tea and a read of the papers before going to bed. As long as they had been living in Dublin the pattern of their Sundays had never changed.
Thinking of Sean, Claire sighed deeply. Now, over a year after David’s death, she could pity her husband a little. The awful bitterness and hatred she had harboured towards him had gone, partly because she was no longer living with him and partly as a result of her continuing sessions with Emma at the clinic in Sandycove. ‘Whatsoever a man soweth that shall he also reap.’ Emma had quoted scripture to her one day as they talked about the feelings of hate and resentment that she felt towards Sean and her father and that had filled her to overflowing after David’s death. ‘If man gives hate, he will receive hate; if he gives love he will receive love; if he gives criticism, he will receive criticism; if he lies he will be lied to; if he cheats, he will be cheated. That’s what that means, Claire, and if you can get rid of all those negative damaging feelings and think and act in a positive way towards people, even those you feel hatred for, you will feel so much better and your life will be enriched many times over.’ Thus Emma had counselled her. It was a thought-provoking session – such a simple philosophy but so difficult to live by. But she tried hard, knowing that hatred was poisoning her, and as the months went by, Claire managed to find a serenity of sorts as she strove to change her life by thinking and acting as positively as she could.
Sean was deeply shocked when she told him of her decision to leave him. She had been thinking about it all the time in the months coming up to Suzy’s exams. When she asked Emma about it, the other woman ha
d told her calmly that the decision must be hers, but if Claire felt that by leaving her husband her life, and possibly his also, would be the better for it, she should think seriously about it. Rosie, loyal as always and unable to bite her tongue, had said briskly that she would have been gone long ago and that if Claire didn’t do it now, she’d never do it.
Suzy, who was leaving for France immediately her exams were over, urged her mother to go and make a new life for herself.
‘Do it, Mum! You’re still young and anything has to be better than this,’ she said one night as they chatted quietly in the bedroom after turning out the lights. In the room next door, they could hear Sean’s snores. ‘When I’m gone there’ll be just the two of you, and what kind of an existence will you have? You’ve got a job, you can support yourself, you’ve got Rosie and Emma. You won’t be any lonelier than you are now, and you’ll be able to come over to me on holidays. And I’ll be able to come and stay with you when I come home.’ Suzy sounded positively enthusiastic about the idea.
‘Do it, Mum!’ were the last words her daughter had whispered as they held each other at Dublin Airport, prior to Suzy’s departure for her new life in France. Watching her walk through the boarding gates, Claire’s heart ached with pride and love for her beautiful, independent daughter. Well, if Suzy could make a new life for herself before she was even out of her teens, so could she, Claire decided. The next evening, after work, she bought an evening paper and set out on the trail of a flat. As soon as she found one and everything was settled she would tell Sean of her decision. He was furious that Suzy had upped and left, not even waiting for her exam results, and he blamed Claire for influencing her and encouraging her. The atmosphere in the house was poisonous and as Claire waited patiently with an assortment of other hopefuls to view the first flat on her list, she reflected that Suzy was right. Anything had to be better than the life she was living. But after she had seen five or six grotty flats that the landlords were charging an arm and a leg for, she wondered . . . Some landlords had such a cheek! Some of the places she had looked at weren’t even clean. Of course, with the accommodation shortage and the new university, landlords were rubbing their hands with delight. Nowadays people had to take what they could get, and since she couldn’t pay a huge rent for an apartment, she’d just have to put up with one of these flats.
As she walked down the old Finglas Road towards Glasnevin on her way to see a flat on Botanic Avenue, she decided that she didn’t care what it was like – she was going to take it. It had been a week of flat-hunting with no success, Rosie had even driven her around on two evenings and when she saw what was on offer she had been disgusted and told Claire to come and stay with her for a while. But Claire was determined. She wanted a place of her own and she wanted her daughter to be proud of her.
She glanced at her watch as she passed the Met station, it was early yet, but then it was Friday, the most popular day for flat-hunting, and there’d be plenty of others waiting, no doubt. Passing the well-kept grounds of a small luxurious apartment complex, Claire sighed. What a beautiful place that would be to live if only she had the money. She decided to while away a few minutes having a look around. There were beautiful wrought-iron entrance gates, which were obviously electronically controlled, and she watched a metallic-grey BMW glide through them and thought, how posh! Walking through the small pedestrian archway, Claire gazed around with delight. Bathed in the afternoon sunshine of a scorching July day, Mountain View Apartments seemed to belong to another world. Paved walkways wended their way through lush emerald lawns that were surrounded by a profusion of flowering shrubs and bedding plants. The trees that had been on the site had been left there by the builders and although it was only a relatively new development, five or six years old at the most – she could remember the derelict site that had been there – it now gave the impression of having been there for ever. The pale yellow-bricked apartments with their huge flower-filled balconies looked serene and mellow. Claire rested for a little while in the shade of a huge oak tree that grew in the middle of the lawns and thought it was the most beautiful place that she had ever seen. Sitting on a carved wooden bench, listening to the birds singing and the soothing sound of water cascading over rocks in an ornamental pool, she breathed deeply for a little while and made herself relax.
On a balcony on the top floor of the centre block she could see a dark-haired young woman painting at an easel. The life of the idle rich, Claire thought in envy. Well maybe some day in her successful future, she might be able to afford to live in a place like this. Especially if the business venture that she was thinking of starting up took off.
She and Rosie had been discussing a business idea that had come to mind one evening when she had been styling her friend’s hair. Rosie had broken two bones in her foot when a heavy cast-iron urn had fallen on it while she was gardening. Housebound for a while, which was not her style at all, she invited Claire and Suzy over for dinner one evening shortly before Suzy was to go to France. Rosie’s husband was flying to New York and her children were on holidays in Knockross with their grandmother and Rosie was feeling quite sorry for herself.
‘Come on!’ Claire offered. ‘I’ll do your hair for you. I brought my gear with me in case you wanted me to do a job on you.’
Rosie’s face lit up. ‘You’re a pet! There’s nothing like getting your hair done to make you feel human again.’
‘Yeah, it’s amazing the difference it makes,’ Claire responded as she began to snip. ‘It’s all psychological of course. I’ve had customers in who’ve cut their own hair in desperation when they couldn’t get down to us for a while.’
‘It must be awful for people who can’t get to a salon because they’re disabled or housebound or something,’ Rosie reflected as she sipped her Martini, her leg resting on a foot stool, as Claire worked away. ‘Aren’t I lucky I’ve got you.’
‘Oh there’s a need for a mobile hairdresser and that’s a fact,’ Claire replied as she ran her fingers through Rosie’s hair to test the balance. ‘I visit a few old ladies not far from work, in their own houses and flats. Believe me, I could spend all day going around with the number of enquiries I’ve had. But I only do my few regulars, I’d be wrecked otherwise, although I might start taking on a few more. If I leave home, it would help pay the rent.’
‘When you leave home!’ interjected Suzy from the sofa, where she was flicking through a pile of Cosmopolitans.
‘When I leave home,’ Claire amended.
‘You could start up your own business, do a hairdresser on wheels thing or something. There’s a very good article here about starting up your own business,’ Suzy exclaimed, sitting up straight and staring at her mother.
‘Would you go away out of that!’ laughed Claire. ‘What would I know about setting up my own business and what money would I have in any case?’
‘Borrow from the bank,’ Suzy said firmly.
‘Sure I can’t even drive! How could I be mobile.’
‘Learn to drive,’ her daughter challenged her.
Rosie smiled at her friend. ‘Suzy’s right and, if you don’t mind my saying so, I think it’s a brilliant idea. If you can’t get enough from the bank, maybe you would take me on as a partner and we could work something out. I’ve been getting bored lately. The business is practically running itself and I need something new. I’m itching to get my teeth into something else! Suzy, you’re a perfect genius!’ she beamed at her godchild.
‘I know that!’ came the smug rejoinder.
Sitting in Mountain View, enjoying the shade, Claire smiled to herself. What a pair! Suzy and Rosie. And yet it was a good idea and Rosie was a very astute business woman. She was working on the plan right now, doing market research, contacting residential homes and old people’s flat complexes to see what the demand would be like. As a birthday present Rosie had given Claire a present of a course of lessons with a driving school. ‘Don’t think you’ll be getting the car!’ Sean had warned her coldly after her f
irst lesson. Claire had ignored him. She knew better than to think she’d be allowed to drive around in his pride and joy.
With a sigh, she got up from the wooden bench and left the apartment complex to resume her journey to Botanic Avenue. Passing the red-bricked apartments of River Gardens she saw a bikini-clad woman soaking up the sun on her balcony. They were lovely apartments too. It was funny, all the times she had driven past these places with Sean without giving them a thought and now that she was looking for a place to live, she’d love to be able to live in one of them. The woman oiled herself, toasting already tanned limbs. It had been a scorcher of a summer, the best since 1976. How lovely it would be to come home from work and sit on your balcony, relaxing in the evening sun. If she got into a bikini and lay out on the lawn Sean would have a fit. And she could quite easily get into a bikini now, she thought proudly as she passed the Pyramid church and turned left towards Botanic Avenue. She had stuck pretty well to the eating pattern that Emma had set out for her, and after the first few weeks of adjustment, it was amazing how her figure had begun to change and how her energy levels had risen. All the bloating had gone and all the fluid retention, and she was able to fit into clothes that she hadn’t been able to fit into for years. The acupuncture was making an enormous difference to her physical well-being. Sometimes, despite David’s horrific death and her troubled marriage, she actually felt quite optimistic because of this new sense of good health.
Walking briskly towards the address of the flat, her hand clutching the evening paper, Claire hoped against hope that the place would be in a reasonable condition and that no-one would be there before her. She was in luck. There wasn’t another soul waiting and the landlord was actually there on time. He showed her into the bedsit, and her heart sank. Olive green! A drabber colour could not be imagined. But it was clean and the room was big, with an open fire, which was an added bonus. A fridge, cooker, table and stools and a sofa and bed filled the room. The man showed her the built-in presses. There was plenty of storage space, much more than in some of the grotty kips she had seen, and it was near enough to work. She could get the 19 or the 34 bus over by the Botanics. The rent wasn’t the worst she had heard either.
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