‘It’s quite a tale, is it not?’ Sharif poured himself a glass of red wine and joined them in the lounge area.
‘It certainly is,’ Joe agreed. ‘What we have to decide now is what to do next.’ The words hung in the air, all the time they’d been talking they had both studiously avoided the question of a DNA test. From Carmel’s perspective, she wanted to know, but then she wondered if she might be better off not knowing? The idea that Joe was her father, now that she’d met him properly, was such a lovely one, and the alternative was horrible. Maybe if they never found out, they could just carry on and…she stopped herself from that crazy train of thought. Of course, he would want to know.
‘What do you want to do, Carmel?’ Joe asked gently.
‘I don’t know.’
He leaned over and held her hand. ‘Well, will I tell you what I think?’ She nodded, not trusting herself to speak.
‘I think you’re my daughter. Maybe I only think that because I want it to be the case, but I don’t know, I just think you are. You have my eyes. I’d love it if you were, and I know once I explain to Jennifer and Luke, they’ll welcome you with open arms. They’re great, and you’d love them. And if you want to do a test, I think they can do that now fairly easily, then that’s what we’ll do, but if you don’t, well that’s fine with me too.’
Carmel felt the reassuring weight of Sharif’s hand on her shoulder, and it calmed her.
Joe went on, and his words were a like soothing balm on a raw wound. ‘I want to be your Dad, it’s late in the day now, but even so. I can’t just walk out of here and say, well, best of luck with your life and leave it at that. It would drive me crazy. So, Carmel, the ball is in your court, as they say. I’m here, and I would love to call you my daughter and try to make up even in a small way for all the pain, but if you don’t want that, well then, I’ll be very sad, but I’ll accept it.’
He stood up to leave. ‘I don’t want an answer now, there’s no time limit on the offer. I know this must be so overwhelming. It is for me too. So, I’ll leave ye both to talk it over, and maybe we could meet up before I go home tomorrow night? Or if that’s too soon, here’s my number,’ he handed her a card, ‘ring anytime, or visit, whatever suits you, Carmel. No pressure.’
She stood and took a step towards him as if it was the most natural thing in the world. He wrapped his arms around her and she laid her head against his chest. The overwhelming feeling was one of safety and peace. He kissed the top of her head and was gone.
That night, she and Sharif talked about it in bed. A part of her wanted, needed, to know the truth and another part of her just wanted Joe to be her father and for her to be in his life. The idea that he would accept her as his, even without knowing the truth, was a testament to the kind of man he was. He was obviously worthy of the love Dolly had for him all those years ago.
After going around in conversational circles for hours, Sharif leaned up on his elbow and looked down into her face.
‘Carmel, I have an idea. Say if it’s a terrible one, but you’ve had such a harrowing few months. It must feel sometimes like you’re being dragged under a sea of emotions. I was thinking, why don’t we take a holiday? Take a little time out together? Just the two of us? It’s been so busy since you came over here, I’d love just to spend some time with you away from all the distractions. Just for a week maybe, somewhere sunny and calm, where we can just relax and get away from all of this. What do you think?’
She’d never had a holiday, even when she and Bill had gotten married, they drove home to Birr that evening and he was out milking within half an hour of arriving at the farm. The idea of a honeymoon was never suggested.
‘That would be absolutely amazing, even though our life here is a kind of endless holiday for me, you never take a rest. Your mother was only saying last week that it was ridiculous that you never take any time off. And I must say, the idea of having you all to myself for a whole week…well, it is just bliss.’
‘Hmmm…’ he kissed her neck, sending shivers of desire through her body. She had no idea that her body could react that way until he’d kissed her that very first time outside the pub in Dublin, the very first day they met. ‘Of course, I am all yours now…’
Chapter 14
Carmel was on a coffee break in the bright, sunny restaurant, sitting opposite Zane and Ivanka.
‘Ah, no, I mean thank you, it’s a lovely thought but I don’t think we…’ she fought back panic.
‘Ah, come on, the last big bash we had here was for your mum and it lifted everyone’s spirits. We are all so happy for you and Sharif, it’s like a fairytale, him finding you, and you falling in love…’ Zane was coming over all weepy.
The more practical Ivanka chimed in, ‘Why not? It’s just a party to celebrate your engagement, a few drinks, some nice food, a band maybe? What’s so terrifying about it? All your friends around you, the patients who are able, and Nadia, it will be fun, not scary at all.’
Carmel was desperately trying to find a way out, ‘I don’t think it would be Sharif’s thing, honestly…’ she protested but Zane interrupted her.
‘He’s fine with it, we asked him already because we knew you’d say that. He said he’s happy to have it but it’s up to you. So, if you don’t say yes, you’ll be letting him down too.’ Zane winked cheekily.
‘Ignore him, he’s just looking for an occasion to strut about like a pigeon.’
Zane hooted at Ivanka’s word confusion.
‘It’s a peacock struts not a pigeon, don’t you have peacocks in Siberia?’ he nudged her playfully, the banter between them was relentless.
‘How many more times? I am from Ukraine, not Siberia, and, yes, we do have every kind of bird there, but sometimes I get confused with this English, okay? At least I am bilingual not like you only speaking peacock English…’ she winked at Carmel.
‘It’s pigeon…Ahh…I see what you did there, very clever…for a Ruskie, I suppose,’ he grumbled good naturedly. ‘Anyway, back to the party, it’s going to be great, pleeeeeeeeease, Carmel, pleeeeeeease?’ He was on his knees in the middle of the Aashna restaurant making a total show of himself, and them. The patients dotted around smiled; they were used to Zane and his antics, he was like a ray of sunshine around the hospice.
‘I hate being the centre of attention, guys, really I do, and all those posh doctor friends sniggering at how Sharif fell for an Irish nobody with only one name…’ Carmel was failing miserably to quell their enthusiasm.
‘What do you mean? Only one name?’ Ivanka was curious.
‘Oh, you know, they all seem to be Belinda Parker-Willington and Montgomery Clifton-Barrett. I’ve been to two doctor social things and the only one I could talk to was the waitress. We’d have to have all of them and it would be dreadful…’ she begged them to understand.
‘No, we don’t! It’s your party; you invite who you like. Sharif isn’t really like that at all anyway, you know that he has to go to those events sometimes but he wouldn’t choose the Humpty Bumpingsworth-Bladderfuls of this world and you know it.’
They both giggled at Zane; he really was hilarious.
‘Okay, so, are you saying we can do it if we only have Aashna House staff and patients, and Nadia?’ Ivanka moved in for the kill.
Carmel knew when she was beaten, ‘Okay, I suppose so. But low-key, and not too expensive, I don’t want flash, okay?’ Zane smirked at Ivanka.
‘Zane, I mean it, nothing flamboyant or over the top, just a few friends for a get-together, okay? Promise?’
‘Promise, promise, it will be just a stale, curled up fish paste sandwich and a cup of lukewarm tap water.’
‘I mean it, Zane.’ She swatted him on the arm with a grin. ‘Please, low-key, right?’
The other two clapped and high fived each other. The Good-cop/Bad-cop routine had obviously worked.
As she walked across the lawn on her way to the recreation room after lunch, she was going over all the things she needed to do. The costum
es for the Wizard of Oz were coming on wonderfully and the kids were coming for a preliminary fitting this afternoon. The Men’s Shed group was getting stuck in with set building as well, and Carmel and Sharif were thrilled how getting involved in the production was really giving a powerfully positive energy to the place. There were more supplies to buy, but she’d wait until she spoke to Daf. They’d ended up taking over the entire costuming and she was giving lessons on needlework to anyone who was interested. She had organized some snacks for the kids the last time they came to rehearse, and they loved visiting. They stayed for ages, talking to the patients and showing them things on the internet while munching crisps and buns.
She took advantage of the calm before the storm and sat on a bench in the garden, kicking off her sandals and resting her eyes. She was trying to practice her mindfulness and being present in order to extract the maximum from her day. Sharif was always trying to get the staff to take time for themselves during the working day, he really believed it led to a more productive, positive atmosphere for everyone if stress could be avoided.
Before she came here, she spent most of the day on Facebook, chatting in groups who were interested in all aspects of spirituality. She would have loved to meet those online friends in person and even once considered asking Bill for the money to do a meditation weekend at a gorgeous Buddhist Retreat Centre in West Cork but she baulked at the last minute. He’d have refused anyway, she reasoned with herself; he probably thought anything to do with mind, body, spirit was a load of old codswallop.
As the sun streamed down on her face, she was transported back to Birr, another lifetime ago. She used to try to dismiss Bill and her old life from her thoughts but one of Deepak Chopra’s guided meditations said that it caused stress to try to constantly police your thoughts; instead, he advised just to let them flow into your mind and out again.
She smiled at the thought of explaining meditation to Bill. He knew she was interested in it because he must have seen her books and CDs of Deepak Chopra, Sharon Salzburg, The Dalai Lama, and, of course, her favourite, Dr Dyer, around the house, but he never said a word about them. For him, spirituality was strictly Catholic. They went to Mass at 10.30 every Sunday without fail, Bill, Julia, and herself, rain hail or shine and Carmel tried to find meaning in the words the priest would say, but she failed. She had been brought up in that tradition, daily Mass, weekly confession, the sacraments, but for most of her adult life, it was entirely without meaning for her. Probably because there was never a discussion, never a chance to question or explore the faith, it was just presented as a fait accompli; there it was, ready to go, just take it on and off you go. Do what you’re told and it will all be fine but if you dare to stray, by word, deed, or thought, then it’s ‘straight down to the hot fella’ as Sister Catherine, her junior infant teacher would say, describing the eternal fires of hell to five-year-olds with what she now realised was inappropriate enthusiasm.
Carmel could recite the prayers of the Mass by heart and say the rosary in her sleep, but it didn’t touch the core of her. She would look around at people, some truly connected to the experience but most were like her, she imagined, going because it was what you did in an Irish town. Since the scandals of child abuse in recent years, the numbers attending were dwindling but the Mass was still well attended. The new Irish, those who had moved to Ireland in the last decade from Poland, Lithuania, Latvia, and Nigeria, were making their mark on the liturgy as well, so churches were being revitalized by the waves of immigration. She would have loved not to go, to stay at home and meditate or go for a walk and connect with God that way, but Julia would have had a stroke and Bill would probably have an even more advanced version of the ‘I’m really disappointed how my life turned out’ face he always wore.
At least Julia didn’t sit with them at Mass, she was in the choir. Her screechy, reed thin voice was unmistakable, deliberately trying to drown everyone else out, Carmel was convinced. She would hold the note at the end slightly too long, so for a few seconds, she was doing a solo. Her sister-in-law thought she was a great singer but honestly, and Carmel tried to steer away from negative thoughts, she was like a crow. Even Bill squirmed a little when the whole congregation was treated to her squawky version of ‘Nearer my God to Thee’ with the rest of the choir doing their best to negate it. For most of the choir, and indeed the congregation, she was Miss Sheehan, principal of the primary school, who terrorized their childhoods, so they were powerless against her.
Outside Mass one Sunday, a new curate suggested to Julia having a children’s choir as well as the adult one at Sunday Mass, but she vetoed that immediately, ‘Father Creedon, with respect, I know the children of this parish and the houses they come out of in a manner that you simply cannot. I can tell you with one hundred percent certainty that there are no children in this parish who possess the musicality or temperament to be successful in a church choir. I have dedicated my life to the education of the children of Birr, many of whom are no better than they should be considering where, and more importantly who, they came from, and one of my God given talents, my singing voice, has been sorely tested, I can assure you, trying to teach them even the most basic melody.’
Carmel remembered the red spots of indignation on her sister-in-law’s gaunt face as she seemed almost to grow taller in her righteous indignation. Her terrifying stare, the severe bun which dragged her sparse hair back over her skull, and the light blue eyes that bore down on him did not put the young priest off, however.
‘Ah, now, Miss Sheehan, you can’t surely be telling me that out of two hundred or so youngsters in the school, not one of them can carry a tune? That seems unbelievable to me.’ His smile was gentle but there was steely determination behind the words. The parish priest, Fr Hourihan had made himself scarce, deciding, quite sensibly, to leave the formidable Miss Sheehan to the young curate.
She really was something else, Carmel mused, so glad to be in Aashna and not back there. The months since she left Ireland had given her some perspective, and each time she told Sharif a story about her ex-sister-in-law, he was incredulous that she could be so manipulative and bossy, and even more disbelieving that the Carmel he had come to know just accepted it.
She tried to explain to him how when you’re brought up in care, being told what to do and being expected to obey without question was so deeply ingrained she never really thought about it. She didn’t like Julia, certainly, but the idea of standing up to her was alien. At least it used to be. She had recently been to see a solicitor who had begun the divorce proceedings but she had yet to hear anything back, either from him or from Bill. Thoughts of confrontation caused her to worry but she tried to face the anxiety and tell herself that she would deal with it when she had to, and on top of that, it would be with Sharif and now Joe on her side.
Her reverie was interrupted by her phone beeping. A text from Joe. ‘Hi, C, how’s things today? Had a dream about you last night, where you were singing on stage in a pub in Wicklow?! Mad, eh? Going to Jennifer’s for dinner tonight, so am going to tell her about you. Is that okay? x’
She had met him for lunch the day after the big chat and it had been easy and fun. She told him that her head was in a spin and asked if he’d mind just getting to know her and she him before making any big decisions. He was happy to do it and they ended up drinking a bottle of wine and having a really good laugh. He was charming and funny and she liked him a lot. Since he went back, he’d been texting and she texted back, chatty newsy texts.
‘Sure, if you like. I’d like to meet her sometime, she sounds lovely.’ She paused and thought for a second, before adding an x and a . Sharif was gently teasing her about it being like a romance, texting and getting to know each other, but in some ways, he was right. She was nervous of what she said in texts even though she talked so easily to him when they were together. She had never put a kiss on a text to Joe before, though, much to Sharif’s amusement, her texts to him were littered with emoticons.
The
more time went on, the more she felt like Joe was her real dad. He certainly behaved as if he were, telling her to be careful walking at night, or telling her to ask Sharif to examine her when she had a cough. She was fine, but it felt so strange, in a nice way, to have someone care so much. One night, he rang and she noticed he sounded breathless.
‘Are you okay? You sound a bit wheezy?’
‘Ah, yeah, I’ve a touch of asthma, I’ve had it all my life. I’ll take a puff of the inhaler now in a second and I’ll be grand again.’
She didn’t tell him that she had asthma as well. Sharif said Dolly didn’t, so she wondered if she got it from him.
She put her phone back in her pocket and realized she should be getting going. She and Sharif were leaving for the South of France tomorrow for a whole week and she couldn’t wait for the holiday. They’d chosen accommodations together off the internet, and Carmel nearly had a fit when she realized the price of the villa with private pool, but Sharif insisted.
‘Carmel, okay, I see this is a conversation we need to have.’ He looked so serious. ‘We are going to get married, yes?’
‘Yes, I really hope so, unless you come to your senses,’ she tried to joke.
‘Firstly, stop that talk, I don’t want to hear it anymore, about how you are getting such a catch in me and I’m somehow slumming it, that is ridiculous and not true. We love each other and that’s all there is to it. And, on that note, we are an equal team, from now on, we share everything, emotionally, practically, and financially.’
She was about to interrupt when he held up his hand, pleading for her silence.
‘So, you should know this. I have worked very hard for almost twenty years to build this place up. I didn’t take holidays and every spare penny was ploughed back in here, but now, and for the past few years, that hasn’t been necessary. Therefore, I have a lot of money; I can show you the bank statements if you want to know specifics, so please, let’s just spend it. That is what it’s for. I didn’t over the years, not because I was saving or anything, but because I was so busy I never had time. But now, I have you and I can’t tell you how happy that makes me. We are equal. We share everything because I can’t be in a relationship with someone who thinks they are inferior to me in any way. Is that okay?’ He put his head to one side and looked deeply into her eyes. His silver hair was swept back from his forehead and his liquid, almost black eyes searched hers, and she knew he was being totally honest.
The Carmel Sheehan Story Page 17