No Ordinary Love

by Anita Notaro

  ‘Of course not. I’ll tell you what, why don’t I take it with me and try it from the office – that way I can at least establish if the number still exists even?’

  ‘Right so, here it is.’ He handed it over. ‘You’ll mind it though, won’t you? It’s the only thing I have . . .’ He sounded agitated, which was not like him at all.

  ‘Why don’t I just make a note of it, that way you can keep it safely here?’ I sensed it was important.

  ‘Great stuff, thank you, Lulu, that’s very nice of you, very nice indeed.’

  ‘So, tell me what you know?’ I asked him as I jotted down the name of a Father Vincent and a number that looked as if it hadn’t enough digits.

  ‘Well, he’s a priest and he knew my . . . friend, that’s all I know really.’

  ‘Do you know what order he belonged to?’

  ‘An Italian order, as far as I remember. The Sons of Divine Providence, I think they were called.’

  ‘Great, that should help. And tell me the name of your friends?’ I asked as I copied the details into my Filofax.

  ‘Eh, Joan Lehane and . . . er . . . her daughter Catherine.’

  ‘OK, well I’ll make a few enquiries.’ I saw his face. ‘But don’t worry, I won’t mention your name until you decide what you want to do,’ I assured him.

  ‘Grand so.’ He was easily satisfied. ‘That’s mighty. It’s been a long time, you see, and it’s, eh, a bit complicated, I suppose.’

  ‘OK, why don’t I ring you if I have any news?’

  ‘Sure won’t you be back next week to see Bartholomew?’ he asked, surprised.

  ‘Oh, yes, if you want me?’

  ‘Of course I do. Won’t I be practising night and day on him? And I wouldn’t know where to go next if you don’t come back.’

  ‘You could come to me?’ I was always conscious of money with older people, and my charges were higher if I had to travel. ‘It would be less expensive,’ I said gently, not wanting to embarrass him.

  ‘Haven’t I plenty of money and no one to spend it on,’ he cackled. ‘Money’s not my problem, Lulu. It’s time that’s my concern.’

  15

  I WAS LOOKING FORWARD TO SEEING LOUIS AGAIN THAT AFTERNOON, even though I couldn’t get Denis Cassidy out of my mind as I drove back to Dublin. He was a dying breed in modern Ireland, and I was determined to encourage him. Besides, I reckoned he needed friends, so I’d have to get on the case of the missing priest as well as send him his first email. Today I’d sensed a vulnerability about him, and I wondered if it really was just loneliness. Christ, half the world seemed to be looking for someone to love them. As soon as I had that thought, I realized that, for the first time in my own life, I wasn’t looking for anything, really. I was content and enjoying where I was at. It gave me a surge of wellbeing.

  That surge went ‘puff’ in an instant when Mary showed in my first client that afternoon.

  ‘Louis.’ I saved the document I was working on and looked up as I heard the door open. ‘How are you do—’

  ‘It’s me,’ Mike said, totally unnecessarily.

  ‘Oh, right, it’s just, eh, Mary mentioned that Louis wanted to come on his own, so I wasn’t expecting you. Hello, Pedro.’ I turned my attention to the dog in an effort to buy some time.

  ‘Actually, I lied.’ He grinned. ‘I pretended to be Louis. For two reasons. One, I was afraid you wouldn’t see me and, two, Louis is doing my head in so I needed your advice when he wasn’t around.’

  ‘Of course I’d see you – whatever gave you that idea? There’s absolutely no—’

  ‘Oh, I dunno, the fact that you haven’t looked me in the eye since that night maybe.’ He raised his eyebrows at me. ‘We sort of got off to a rather eh . . . unusual start, didn’t we?’

  ‘I suppose so.’ There was nothing for it but to face up to it, I knew. ‘Actually’ – I took a deep breath – ‘I really want to apologize. I’ve sort of, changed my life, you see, and I’m always so cautious and in control – normally, that is – that I went a bit mad.’ My face was prickly hot, as if I’d just come in from a winter walk.

  ‘You were a hoot – did you manage to find the contents of your bag? I’d have looked for them for you, only it was pitch black and I’d no idea what I was searching for.’

  ‘Yes.’ I squirmed. ‘And I am so sorry for what I . . . how I behaved. You didn’t leave your em . . . bill, by the way.’ I decided to get it all over with at once.

  ‘I was just teasing you, it was fine. The taxi driver did open all the windows on the way home, but other than that . . .’

  ‘Oh God, I’m mortified.’ I couldn’t look at him all over again. ‘I have never done anything like that before, I swear.’

  ‘Well, I won’t be inviting you out for a drink any time soon, that’s for sure.’ He winked. ‘So now, pay me back by helping me sort out this mutt before he – and Louis – drive me to drink.’

  ‘Of course. Sure. Anything.’ I was so relieved I could have kissed him – on second thoughts, maybe not a good idea after the last time. ‘What’s going on exactly? Tell me everything.’ I opened my notebook and resolved to start again with him.

  ‘Well, I’m really not sure who’s at the root of the problem, the dog or Louis. But I suspect it’s the latter. He treats Pedro like a human, and the mutt is becoming more and more demanding by the hour. All he’s short of is making me sleep on the dog bed while he snores and farts on the goose-feather duvet that Louis bought me last week.’ He laughed. ‘I only got it ’cause Louis claimed my €30 polyester one was lowering the tone of the place. Anyway, the upshot is that he sulks, growls, scratches the doors, destroys the couch – you name it – to get what he wants. Pedro that is, not Louis.’ He tried not to grin. ‘Although Louis has his moments. And frankly, I’ve had it with both of them; I’m actually beginning to dread going home.’

  ‘OK, let’s start at the beginning. How has it changed recently – from what you told me when you first came?’

  ‘It’s a thousand times worse; do you honestly think I’m the kind of guy who’d be consulting a pet shrink otherwise?’

  ‘Right.’ My hand was sore from scribbling. ‘This could be difficult. The thing is—’

  ‘The only reason I haven’t legged it myself is because it’s a great place to live – huge – in a brilliant location, and Louis is the ideal flatmate most of the time. Sorry, I know I’m ranting.’ He scratched his head. ‘Anyway, I wouldn’t give the bastard the satisfaction of going, because if I wasn’t around I swear he’d be sharing Louis’s Gucci cologne and eating venison sausages.’

  We looked at each other for a second and then we both burst out laughing.

  ‘Jesus, what am I like? You see how bad it’s become? I’m even beginning to think of him as human, a rival in every sense of the word. In fact, if he could pay half the rent I’d say I wouldn’t be there.’

  ‘You need a coffee.’ I picked up the phone.

  ‘Make it an Irish. With a double shot of whiskey.’

  ‘Sorry, only the animals get treats in here.’ I smiled back at him. ‘Nescafé Gold Blend is as good as it gets for the humans.’

  We chatted about the problem until Mary arrived with a tray.

  ‘So, if you had to sum it up in one, what’s at the root of all this?’ I asked as I nibbled on a chocolate digestive.

  Mike thought for a moment. ‘I guess, since Emerson – Louis’s partner – died, he’s been finding it really tough. They were together a long time. He went wild for a bit – headed for a different gay bar every night, came home pissed.’ He lowered his eyes. ‘So you see I’ve had plenty of practice with drunks before I met you.’

  ‘Please, don’t remind me. In fact, the only condition I’m attaching to all this is that you never bring up that night again. OK?’

  ‘Deal.’ He grinned. ‘It’s just you’re such an easy target. I’ve never seen anyone blush so easily. Chill, would you? It happens to all of us, it’s not a big deal.’

&n
bsp; ‘Not to me it doesn’t.’ I was tempted to tell him just how uptight I usually was, but I’d been wasting my patients’ time waffling on a bit recently so I cut it right there. ‘So, never again?’

  ‘Pity, you’re an easy target,’ he coughed as he saw my frown. ‘OK, then, back to business. Louis’s had a rotten time of it, I know that. I think Pedro is all that’s keeping him going at the moment. It’s as if the dog’s attention convinces him that he’s worthwhile.’

  ‘Well, you know what they say: Don’t accept your dog’s adoration as conclusive proof that you’re wonderful.’ I tried to think this through logically. ‘The thing is, we can sort it out, and I can help. But I don’t see any way of doing it without getting Louis on board.’

  Mike sighed. ‘It’s not going to happen. And I’m not going to be able to stand it much longer.’

  ‘It might. Why don’t I ring Louis and try and see him alone, just to tease it out a bit more. Can I tell him you were in?’

  ‘No, he already thinks I’m a dog-hater, he doesn’t need any more ammunition. I probably should just get the hell outta there, but he’s been very good to me and I really like sharing with him. For all his madness he’s funny and decent and we sort of work as mates. And he’s a great cook, which helps. You’ve no idea how many silver trays I’ve consigned to landfill in my time.’

  ‘Trust me, I do. It’s one of the reasons I changed my life.’ I started to tell him, then stopped. There was something about him, it made me want to confide everything. He had such an easy way with him. I shook my brain clear. ‘Anyway, I’m glad you’re sticking around. I suspect he needs you right now.’

  Mike nodded. ‘Yeah, probably, although all he does is bitch at me.’

  ‘Well, I’ll speak with him. How about if I just say I rang you as well? Then I’ll ask him to come in on his own – as the principal carer – or should I say the pack leader?’ I grinned.

  ‘Well, I know where I come in the hierarchy, that’s for sure.’ Mike shrugged. ‘Bottom of the food chain, that’s me.’

  ‘Cheer up, we’ll sort it.’ I gave him a few websites to look at, which he took reluctantly. ‘I’m not really into all this dog-psychology shite,’ he told me as he got ready to leave. ‘A walk, a feed and a kick up the arse if you got too big for your boots. That’s how our dogs were raised – and the kids too, come to think of it.’

  ‘Yes, well times have changed, mister. You’d be prosecuted today.’ I promised to call him by the end of the week, and he seemed happier as he and Pedro ambled off, unlikely allies, but then dogs don’t judge, thankfully.

  I had a new client that afternoon. Well, a new old client. A year or two back, I’d treated Doug Stewart for a sexual-addiction problem. He was a quiet, shy man, early forties, no friends, English but had lived in Ireland for the guts of ten years.

  ‘Hello, come in.’ I shook hands and led him inside. He was a gentle giant of a man and I’d always liked him. Life had dealt him a rough hand. His mother died when he was three and his father went off for a long weekend with his girlfriend and left him home alone. A neighbour rang the gardai after she’d heard him crying all night and he was taken into care. That was the end of his father and the end of life as little Dougie knew it. He was in and out of care homes for most of his life and had always found people difficult to communicate with. Once again, I knew I’d felt drawn to him because of his difficult childhood, which brought my own into sharp focus.

  As part of my final year training as a psychologist, I’d been asked to spend a few hours each week seeing patients as part of a public-health scheme. They were people who were receiving welfare payments and had medical cards and were therefore in the system, but some of them needed emotional support, and the waiting lists at the time were up to a year. So I’d met Doug and given him as much help as I could and he still sent me the odd card at Christmas or Easter, although not since I’d moved.

  ‘Are you keeping well?’ I greeted him warmly now, wondering what he was doing with himself. ‘How did you find me?’

  ‘That nice Mrs O’Hara at the Family Support Centre gave me your number.’ He looked older; his black hair had streaks of grey through it, but his eyes were still warm and chocolatey and he looked well cared for. ‘I hope you don’t mind?’

  ‘No, of course not.’ He had a little dog with him, a mongrel type that was probably a Spaniel cross, I guessed, another one with a tail that would take your eye out. ‘Who’s this then?’

  ‘He doesn’t really have a name, just Growler I call him the odd time.’

  ‘Sit down, please,’ I offered. ‘And tell me how you’ve been?’

  He’d been doing well, it transpired. He had a part-time job working in a large motor dealership. He ran errands and helped out generally and, although it was only three mornings a week, it gave him something to look forward to. He was entitled to rent allowance and had a small bed-sit in the centre of Dublin so he seemed content.

  ‘So have you a problem with your dog?’ I asked him after a while.

  ‘I just want to know how to get rid of him really.’ Doug shrugged. ‘I’ve been leaving him in the park, but he keeps on coming back. In fact, he’s home before I am mostly.’

  ‘But why do you want to get rid of him?’ I tried not to sound as if I was judging him, something I was always careful of. ‘He seems devoted to you.’ I smiled, looking down at the dog stretched across his shoes and gazing up at him.

  ‘He’s costing me a bomb, and he’s a lot of trouble, really. Always wants to come with me and follows me everywhere I go, even though my flat’s only one room with a kitchenette and toilet.’

  ‘So what have you done? Have you put an ad up in the local shops or anything?’ I was trying to think of ways that wouldn’t cost money.

  ‘No, I just keep leaving him in the park, hoping he’ll go off with someone.’

  ‘But Doug, you can’t just—’ I’d been about to say ‘abandon an animal’ but then I realized that someone had done far worse to him as a child and could have kicked myself. ‘What I mean is, there are other ways to find a home for him.’ I paused.

  ‘Well, that’s how I came across him. He was wandering around the streets, upending any bins he could, scavenging for food.’

  ‘How long ago was that?’ My heart went out to him.

  ‘Three years ago, not long after I last saw you.’ He smiled. ‘You must have turned me into a softie.’

  ‘I suspect you were always that,’ I told him, wondering how I could help. ‘Tell you what. Why don’t I ask around, see if anyone wants a dog? And, meanwhile, if I type up a notice for you now, would you ask your local shop to put it in on their noticeboard?’

  ‘Would they charge?’

  ‘No, I don’t think they would. It’s usually a service they provide. Can’t hurt to ask.’ I tried to encourage him. ‘Will I do up the notice anyway? We can word it together.’

  ‘Yes please.’ He seemed happier and, within a few minutes, I’d printed off a couple of copies.

  ‘Just in case you find more than one shop willing to put it up.’ I stuck the stuff in an envelope. ‘Is it OK if I keep one here, as well? And I have your number now, so if I ask around and anyone sounds interested, I’ll call you.’

  ‘Great, thanks.’ He stood up. ‘How much do I owe you?’

  ‘Nothing.’ I smiled. ‘You didn’t really need my services at all.’

  ‘But I took up your time.’ He pulled a worn old wallet out of his pocket. ‘I do have the money, I’ve been putting a bit away each week for emergencies . . .’

  ‘Doug, you’ll offend me, put it away.’ I gave him one of my ‘I’m the boss’ looks, and he nodded.

  ‘Thank you, you were always very kind to me when I was . . . in trouble.’ He avoided my eyes. ‘I’m OK now though, getting on fine.’ I sensed he was still a bit ashamed.

  ‘That’s really good news.’ I deliberately hadn’t gone into his past, in an effort to avoid yet another human dumping on me. ‘I promise I’ll c
all you if there’s any interest this end.’

  I gave the dog one of my special bones but even then he still looked to his master before he took it.

  ‘Go on then,’ Doug told him, and he made a lunge for the smelly treat and went off with it firmly between his teeth, tail wagging furiously. I found myself wishing the dog could stay with Doug. I sensed they were good for each other.

  16

  PAPERWORK HAD NEVER BEEN MY STRONG POINT, BUT I KNEW I HAD a build-up of admin jobs, so I got stuck in next morning. Then I needed to make contact with Ronan. And Louis, as I’d promised Mike. And Emily, who hadn’t kept in touch, despite her promise. Normally, I would wait for the client to contact me, but she’d been so vulnerable that I was a bit concerned. And finally, there was the priest for Denis, so I sighed, made coffee, surfed the net and sent texts until I couldn’t avoid work any longer.

  The priest sounded like the least hassle, so I started there. The number Dinny had given me didn’t exist, so I rang the first number I could see for his order in the phone directory. They didn’t know the man I was looking for, but after being passed around and explaining my problem several times, they gave me a number for a priest in London who’d been there for twenty-five years. He knew immediately who I wanted and gave me a contact. I rang just to check that he was, in fact, working there, and ended up speaking to the man himself. I had to be careful, because I’d promised Dinny I wouldn’t say too much without his permission.

  ‘Sorry to trouble you, Father.’ Damn, I thought, I hadn’t anticipated having to explain. ‘I’m really just making an enquiry on behalf of . . . a client of mine who’s trying to get in touch with some old friends.’ I knew I sounded vague, but he must have heard it all before, because he was sanguine enough about it.

  ‘No bother at all, always a pleasure to hear from someone in Ireland. How’s the old place anyway?’ he asked, in an accent that was more Washington than Wicklow.