The Things I Should Have Told You

by Carmel Harrington

  ‘Hell, yes.’

  And then we smile at each other and at that moment, a ray of light hits her brown eyes and they change colour. They look like spun gold and her skin translucent in the beam.

  ‘I love you so much,’ I whisper.

  ‘I know,’ she whispers back. ‘I love you too.’

  ‘If this were Hollywood, I’d stop and pull you into my arms right now.’

  ‘Why don’t you?’ Mae asks.

  ‘Because, if I do, Nomad might just roll back down this hill!’ I say.

  ‘I keep forgetting we’re basically driving a house,’ Mae laughs. ‘Drive on.’

  We stop for lunch in the Tyrolean city of Lienz, which lies at the junction of three valleys. Another afternoon wandering the cobblestoned streets of Lienz helps to walk off our big lunch.

  It starts to get dark early and once we get to our campsite on the outskirts of Salzburg, it’s quite late. The amazing panoramic views make us gasp and excited to explore the following day.

  ‘I’ve not seen you this excited about anything in years!’ I say to Mae. She’s trying on her third outfit, trying to work out what to wear for our tour.

  ‘I’ve loved this musical ever since I was a little girl,’ she says, breathless as she pulls a dress over her head.

  ‘Pretty,’ I tell her.

  ‘I just can’t believe that I’ll be following in Julie Andrews’ footsteps today!’ she tells me. ‘The Sound of Music is one of the most iconic love stories of all time. The steely-eyed Captain von Trapp falling for singing nun Maria. Who can resist that?’

  ‘Nobody,’ I agree, joyful to see Mae so happy.

  ‘I used to wish she would come be my governess when I was a little girl. I dreamed of her making me an outfit from my nana’s living-room curtains.’

  Mae then twirls out of the room, launching into song as she goes, ‘I simply remember my favourite things, And then I don’t feel … so bad!’

  ‘You’re going to sing all day today, aren’t you?’ I ask.

  ‘Yes!’ Mae sings back to me.

  I check my watch. It’s time to go grab our taxi into Salzburg.

  Maybe it’s Mae’s enthusiasm, but we all get swept up in musical mania. We find ourselves singing along with the rest of the nut-job fans that are on the Sound of Music bus tour. Some of them are wearing lederhosen. And there are several nuns and one Captain von Trapp.

  When we find ourselves in a flowery meadow at the foot of the alpine peaks and lakes, it takes no encouragement from our tour guide to make us all spin around with arms outstretched. Soon there are a dozen mismatched voices all belting out ‘The hills are alive, with the sound of music!’

  Then we stop at the Benedictine convent on Nonnberg and everyone has a go at solving the problem of Maria. In song. And the tour guide insists we all line up in rows to sing ‘Do-Re-Mi’ in front of the Mirabell Gardens and Palace. One or two of the tourists take it too far, in my opinion, when they start jumping up and down on the railings.

  There’s great excitement when we arrive at The Sound of Music pavilion, which is at Hellbrunn Palace. Mae and I both torture poor Evie by singing to her ‘I am sixteen going on seventeen’. Then the rest of the bus starts to join in too. She may never forgive us for that one.

  When we reach Leopoldskron Palace, the ladies on the bus all get particularly excited.

  ‘It’s the famed balcony where the captain and Maria first dance!’ the tour guide shouts, creating even more hysteria.

  I take a look at Mae’s face and decide, feck it. I grab her and spin her around in a clumsy attempt at a waltz. My moment of romantic spontaneity gets a round of applause from everyone and I get a kiss from Mae. Result!

  I will admit to feeling a bit emotional now that we are at the Felsenreitschule. It’s where the Von Trapp family performed their farewell song and Captain von Trapp sang ‘Edelweiss’. I can’t imagine living in a time where the safety of your family and country was so perilous.

  The day flies by in a musical flash and, by the end of it, we all have our hallmark cheesy grins back.

  We feast on wiener schnitzel, dumplings and apple strudel, washed down with cold frothy beer and homemade lemonade, declaring the day a triumph. Jamie falls asleep in the taxi on the way back to our campsite, so we decide to have an early night once again.

  Mae and Evie can’t help themselves, they start to sing ‘The sun has gone to bed and so must I,’ as they climb into their beds. They think they’re hilarious. And they’re right. I don’t think I’ve laughed so much, continuously, in years.

  Me? Well, I’m just grateful for the magic of Austria, because it’s putting smiles on both of my girls. And that’s priceless.

  Our early night pays dividends and we all arise early so we can do some last-minute sightseeing in Salzburg. We fulfill Mae’s ambition to follow the Von Trapp family’s final path to freedom by huffing and puffing our way up the towering Untersberg peak.

  ‘Climb every mountain, Forge every stream, Follow every rainbow, Till you find your dream,’ Mae belts out, insisting that we all hold hands as we get to the top to recreate the movie’s final scene.

  ‘Happy now?’ I ask her.

  ‘Delirious,’ she replies. ‘Pops has just succeeded in ticking off one of my life-long ambitions.’

  We opt for the route nicknamed the ‘Austrian Romantic Road’ when we head to Vienna. As we follow the River Danube I wonder how we will ever go back to our lives in Ireland. Less than three weeks on the road and I can see how addictive this nomadic life must be for many. I allow myself to daydream about not going back. Ever. I wonder what they would all think if I suggested that we stayed in Europe, following the road wherever it takes us. Mae and I are happy. There would be no bullying for Evie. And Jamie, sure, he’s happy no matter where he is.

  I say all this to Mae. And she looks at me like I’ve just suggested we fly to the moon.

  ‘What about work? How would we finance it all?’

  And just like that, the big fat elephant is back in the room, pissing us all off and stomping all over our lovely, happy day.

  But before I have the chance to fester about work, or lack thereof, I have to concentrate on the road. The Danube valley we are now in has small roads that are not unlike the ones back home in rural Ireland. I’m surprised to feel nostalgic at this comparison. We pass through villages crammed with historical old churches, ancient houses and cobblestone streets.

  ‘This part of Europe is fierce fond of their cobblestones,’ I say to Mae, determined to break the uneasy silence that’s descended between us. Please Mae, let it drop. Don’t let’s fight.

  And she must be getting better at reading my mind, because she replies,

  ‘Well, I can’t say I love them!’ she says. ‘I keep twisting my ankle!’

  ‘How much further?’ Jamie asks. ‘I’m bored.’

  ‘Stick on a DVD for Jamie, will ya?’ I ask Evie. ‘We’ve about another hour to go.’

  ‘I’m glad Pops sent us to Austria,’ Mae says.

  ‘And it’s a gift doing the journey this way. I hate to think of all we’d have missed out on by just flying into an airport,’ I reply.

  ‘Yep. Nomad has a knack of making you see places that are off the beaten track alright. Tonight we’re in a campsite right on the outskirts of the city centre,’ Mae says. ‘There’s a bus and train we can get to bring us into Vienna.’

  ‘That’s handy,’ I say. We’ve realised, very quickly into this adventure, that campsites close to public transport are the way to go.

  ‘And the city’s biggest shopping mall is close by too!’ Mae throws in. ‘We packed so light, I’m getting a bit bored of wearing the same clothes every day.’

  ‘Is that your way at hinting for a shopping trip?’ I laugh.

  ‘I thought that you could drop me in the centre on the way to the park. I could get a taxi, then, to you guys later on, in time to cook the barbecue. I wouldn’t mind some time to myself, if I’m honest,’ Mae says.


  ‘Why? What’s wrong?’ I ask.

  ‘Nothing at all,’ Mae says. ‘It’s just we’re in each other’s pockets constantly. I would like a few hours to myself. Wouldn’t you?’

  ‘I hadn’t really thought about it,’ I say. I feel peeved. Slighted. And petty all at once. I know it’s a perfectly reasonable request, her wanting some time out. But I don’t like it.

  ‘Is this because of the comment about not wanting to go back to Ireland and me finding a job?’ I say and the look on her face immediately tells me that it’s not.

  ‘For goodness sake, Olly. If it’s that big of a deal, we can all go shopping. Happy now?’ Mae says.

  ‘No. It’s fine,’ I say and even though I try to disguise it, I know that my voice is curt.

  I don’t even need to look to know that she’s frowning and I know that I’ve killed our mood with my irrational response. We drive in silence for the next thirty minutes and I try to work out why I got so freaked about Mae wandering off on her own.

  ‘We need to take the next exit,’ Mae says, breaking the silence.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ I say. ‘I can’t work out what the hell is wrong with me. I just kind of panicked when you said you wanted to go on your own.’

  ‘Why on earth?’ she asks.

  ‘I don’t know. I genuinely don’t,’ I say. ‘I just feel scared.’

  ‘You’ve never been clingy before,’ she says.

  ‘It’s not that. I promise you, I’m not being clingy. A fecking eejit, maybe, but not clingy,’ I say.

  ‘I won’t argue with that,’ she says.

  ‘It’s just we’re in a strange city we’ve never been in before. What if something happened to you?’ I say.

  ‘Oh, Olly. I’m a big girl. I’m able to take care of myself,’ she replies.

  ‘I know. I told you. I’m an eejit. I think I’m still a bit jittery after Jamie getting lost the other day. It shook me,’ I say.

  She doesn’t look convinced and I don’t blame her. ‘And we couldn’t cope without you. Me and the kids. If something were to happen to you, we’d not cope.’

  I keep my eyes fixed on the road ahead all the time. I think if I turn around to look at my wife, I might cry.

  I reckon I’ve cried more than the kids on this trip. That’s not good. One thing being a sensitive guy; another being a total sap.

  ‘What’s the name of that mall? I just saw a sign for one there,’ I ask.

  ‘Shopping City Süd,’ Mae replies.

  ‘Right, there it is, just over there. I’ll drop you off and you call me if you have any problems getting a taxi back to the campsite. I’ll come get you, no problem at all,’ I say.

  ‘I’ve a compromise,’ Mae replies. ‘Why don’t we all go in, but you take the kids off for a drink and snack. Give me an hour to do some shopping by myself and then we’ll head back to the campsite together.’

  ‘You don’t mind?’ I ask.

  ‘It’s the perfect solution. Knowing my luck, had I ordered a taxi myself, I would have ended back in Salzburg!’ I know she’s letting me off the hook, but I’m relieved she does.

  When I see that the mall has 250 shops in it, I realise that one hour isn’t going to cut it. ‘Let’s make it two hours to meet back here,’ I say.

  I look at the Obi-Wan figurine on the dash, when Mae jumps out and practically runs from Nomad. I need some help here, Pops. I’m screwing things up again by acting like a total dickhead. What will I buy her? Some flowers? No, that’s stupid. A vase would only fall in transit.

  And then a couple walk by pushing a heavily loaded IKEA cart in front of them. Pops, you genius. I know exactly what to do. I turn to the kids and point to the couple, ‘Look, I have a plan!’

  Chapter Thirty-One

  OLLY

  ‘I cannot wait to see Mam’s face when she gets back,’ Jamie says to me.

  ‘If we’re quick, we can have it in place and made before then,’ I say. ‘Hold on tight to the front, kids.’

  Between us we are managing to balance a new memory-foam mattress on our large IKEA trolley. Mae has tossed and turned for almost three weeks now, complaining about the crappy mattress on our double bed. I’d been kicking myself that I’d not changed it before we left Ireland.

  ‘What are you going to do with the old mattress, Dad?’ Evie asks.

  ‘I’ll have to put it in the garage,’ I say. ‘Till we find a place to dump it.’

  ‘We can sunbathe on it!’ Evie says.

  ‘Can I get a new mattress too?’ Jamie asks.

  ‘You never miss a trick, do you, kid?’ I say with a laugh. ‘Not today, but another day, maybe.’

  We get a few surprised looks from passersby, but that only makes us giggle more. With a little help from the kids, I heave the new mattress onto Nomad. I pull out the old one and stash it in the kitchen.

  ‘Help me take off the plastic cover,’ I say to the kids. It fits as if it was made for our bed frame and we all flop back on top of it to try it out.

  A communal groan from us all fills the small room as we sink into it.

  ‘What’s going on? Why is there a mattress in the kitchen?’ Mae asks and we all jump at her voice.

  ‘Ah, damn it, I wanted to have it made before you got back,’ I say. ‘Get up!’ I tell the kids.

  Mae walks in and I point to the new mattress saying, ‘Ta da!’

  She’s stunned into silence and I lead her over to the bed so she can sit down on it.

  ‘You bought a mattress?’ she says. ‘I was only gone for a few hours.’

  ‘I did. You’ve had to put up with that crappy one for long enough. What with your back and all. This is a memory-foam one,’ I say, delighted with myself.

  ‘Olly Guinness, that is the most romantic thing you’ve ever done for me in my whole life,’ Mae says and pulls me into her for a hug.

  ‘We got some sun loungers too,’ Evie adds.

  ‘And a hammock for me!’ Jamie says.

  ‘My, you’ve been busy!’ Mae laughs. ‘Well, we better get to the campsite so, to try them all out!’

  ‘Did you get a dress?’ I ask.

  ‘I got something for everyone,’ she says. ‘But they are a surprise. I’ll give them to you later.’

  She lies back on the bed again and sighs. ‘I also dropped into the supermarket and picked up some stuff for a barbecue. We should come back here again. There’s a cinema too!’

  And just like that, things seem to be back on track again. The campsite turns out to be only a few minutes’ drive away. No matter which way we try to dress it up, it’s the most basic and unappealing of all the campsites we’ve stayed in.

  ‘At least it’s got electricity and water, which is the main thing,’ Mae says.

  ‘We’ve just gotten spoiled by the other sites,’ I say to the kids, who are not happy.

  ‘I bet there’s no Wi-Fi,’ Evie grumbles, walking around in circles, trying to find a signal.

  ‘There’s no pool or playground,’ Jamie chimes in.

  ‘First-world problems, kids,’ Mae says. ‘Evie, you had Wi-Fi earlier in the shopping centre, don’t pretend you weren’t FaceTiming Luke then, whilst simultaneously messaging Ann! You can last till tomorrow, when I daresay we’ll come across a signal at some point. Jamie, there will be pools again in a few days. You’ll cope,’ Mae says.

  Jamie and I lay out our groundsheet and then I add our new sun loungers onto it, followed by the table and chairs.

  We pull down the awning and stick up Mae’s lanterns and, between them and the sun-lounger cushions, it looks bright and colourful.

  ‘Sweet,’ a voice says and we look up to see two middle-aged women and a teenage girl staring at us. ‘Nice set-up.’

  ‘Oh thanks,’ I say. ‘We just arrived.’

  ‘We got here yesterday,’ she replies. ‘Watch out for the laundry. The machines eat tokens.’

  ‘Thanks for the warning,’ I say.

  ‘There’s a nicer site a few miles out. But thi
s is much more convenient for the city,’ she says.

  ‘Ah, we’ve already had complaints from the management about the lack of Wi-Fi,’ I joke, pointing to the kids.

  ‘Don’t get me started!’ she laughs. ‘I’m Judith, by the way.’ She points to the other lady and says, ‘This is Lorna. And this here is our daughter, Lulu.’

  I walk over and shake all their hands, introducing each of us.

  ‘That an Irish accent?’ Judith asks.

  ‘Guilty as charged,’ I say. ‘From Wexford. We’re on a tour of Europe. What part of America are you from?’ There’s no mistaking their accents.

  ‘Down south, Kentucky,’ she answers. ‘That’s us over there.’ She points to the motor home to our right. ‘Nice talking to you.’

  We get the barbecue lighted and then, whilst the coals heat up, I open a bottle of beer from the fridge and lie back on the sun lounger. It feels like a slice of heaven.

  ‘Don’t drink too many of them tonight,’ Mae whispers in my ear, waking me up from my almost-snooze. ‘We’ve got a new bed to christen.’

  ‘Knew that bed was a good decision,’ I say with a grin.

  ‘Go back to sleep,’ Mae tells me and starts cooking the barbecue whilst Evie lays the table.

  ‘I’ll never smell charcoal again without thinking about this trip,’ Mae murmurs.

  ‘We don’t barbecue enough at home,’ I say. ‘Why is that?’

  ‘No idea. Seems like too much effort or something, maybe. But it’s not, when you think about it. Or at least no more than cooking a meal, anyhow,’ Mae says.

  And when she puts that first piece of pork onto the hot flames and the fat and meat mix with the sweet aromatic barbecue sauce, the aroma makes my stomach groan in anticipation.

  Evie and Jamie are sitting at the table playing cards together.

  ‘Amazing what no Wi-Fi can do!’ Mae mouths to me. ‘Alleluia!’

  After a meal that tastes even nicer than it smelled, we get coerced into a game of gin rummy by Jamie. Drinking beer, playing cards as the sun goes down is up there now as one of my favourite things to do.

  ‘Hello.’ We look up and Lulu is standing a few feet from us. She looks expectantly at us and I cotton on after a moment that she is waiting for an invite to come over.