The Things I Should Have Told You

by Carmel Harrington

  I start to laugh, because I reckon he’s pulling my leg. ‘For serious?’

  ‘For serious. Pay won’t change your life, but it’s a salary and you can work from home. Choose your own hours. You’d have to spend some time over here, but not anything that would interfere with home too much. Maybe Mae and the kids would like to come back with you the odd time, in school holidays,’ Andy continues.

  ‘You’ve taken me by surprise here.’ I take another sip of the coffee. But I feel excitement bubbling up inside of me.

  ‘You can make a difference,’ Andy says.

  I stop and look at him, taken aback. ‘That’s what Pops said.’

  ‘He was right. You can make a difference,’ Andy states again. ‘Help us make a few ripples over in Ireland.’

  ‘I need to talk to Mae,’ I say to him.

  ‘Of course. But are you interested?’ he asks again.

  I start to laugh again, ‘Hell, yes!’

  I head to the orphanage to see Mae and find myself running, so eager I am to get to her. She’s in the break room making a coffee when I go in.

  ‘I had such a breakthrough today!’ she exclaims. ‘Remember that kid I told you about, Magda, the five-year-old?’

  ‘The one that bites you every day?’ I say. Mae has managed to accumulate quite a few bruises courtesy of that little girl. But she’s not complained about it, even once.

  ‘Yep, well, she’s been a tough one to crack. Gloria says that no one has managed to get close to her. Every time I went near her this week, she lashed out at me. She’s got some kick on her! But today, just now, she smiled at me. A big, toothless, beautiful smile,’ Mae tells me.

  ‘That’s brilliant,’ I say to her. Mae is jubilant.

  ‘We have to come back here, Olly. Two weeks is not long enough. There is so much more I’d like to do with the school. It needs a library in the worse way. I know the very place we could put it. And we could get the older kids to run it, on a rota. Give them some responsibility. I’m sure I can get the books donated in Ireland, if I get on to some of the schools.’

  Mae is buzzing with ideas, her words tumbling out in a rush.

  ‘I could talk to the local libraries too! Bet they have some books spare they could donate.’

  ‘You could talk to the fundraising manager here about all those ideas. See if he can help you,’ I say to her.

  ‘Good idea. Who is that?’ she asks. ‘Have we met him?’

  ‘You happen to know him very well,’ I say and fill her in on Andy’s suggestion.

  ‘Did you say yes?’ she demands.

  ‘No, of course not. Not without speaking to you,’ I say. ‘But Mae, I want this so bad. I know it’s the right job for me, for us. It won’t interfere with home. I can still help out with the kids, I’m sure I can work my trips here around school holidays.’

  ‘What on earth are you doing standing here for? Get your ass back there right now and say yes. This is perfect for you. For us!’ she says, eyes alight with excitement.

  ‘You don’t mind if I have to travel a bit? Be away from home?’ I say.

  ‘That’s just details. We’ll work them out later. Together. Now go accept that offer!’

  Together. That word has never sounded so good. Every single misunderstanding, hurt feeling, lonely moment that led us to here, in this orphanage, has been worth it.

  ‘Together,’ I repeat.

  ‘Yes.’ She looks at me and smiles and I realise that the unanswered, unfathomable questions I’ve seen glisten in her eyes have disappeared.

  ‘I’d turn this down in a heartbeat, if I thought it would do anything to jeopardise us, the family,’ I say.

  ‘I know you would.’

  Everything seems clear to me now. All the bullshit has been stripped away and I know what’s important. ‘You and the children, our life together means more to me …’

  ‘Sssh,’ Mae stands up on her tippy-toes and kisses me. ‘Olly Guinness, listen to your wife. You’ve got this.’

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  EVIE

  It’s our last day here in the orphanage and I don’t know how I’m going to say goodbye to everyone. Not just the volunteers, but the children.

  Dad says we’ll be back next summer and that helps a bit, I suppose. He’s taken a job with the orphanage and I don’t think I’ve seen him this excited. Except maybe when Liverpool win a game. I look down at Stefan, sleeping in my arms and sing a lullaby to him.

  ‘He’s going to miss you,’ Gloria says. ‘You’re a natural with the small ones.’

  ‘I’ll miss him,’ I say. ‘But I’ll come back again, Gloria. I promise.’

  I’m going to help Dad do some fundraising. I have an idea about a Guinness Book of Records attempt we could do to raise funds. A convoy of caravans and motorhomes across Ireland, or something like that. I emailed Luke, Ann and Lulu last night and they all said they’d help me.

  Martina and Deirdre pop into my head. I’m sure they’ll have loads to say about how lame that idea is. But I realise I don’t care what they think any more.

  ‘To hell with them,’ I whisper to Stefan. I’m one of the lucky ones. I’ve had a privileged childhood – more than all these kids in here.

  ‘I’m going to help you have a brighter future,’ I vow to Stefan.

  I spent so long at the beginning of this trip, counting down the days, wishing I could get home again. And now that we are down to our last two weeks, I want time to slow down. I can’t wait to see Ann. It’s weird, but I feel like we’ve been best friends our whole lives. And Luke has already planned an ice-cream date with me, when I get home. I know he’s been having a rubbish summer.

  ‘It’s time to say goodbye. We’ve got to go up to the site now.’ Dad pops his head into the baby room.

  I give Stefan one more kiss and place him in his crib. Gloria walks with me to the playroom, where Jamie is playing with all his friends.

  ‘He’s a real-life superhero,’ Gloria says to Mam and Dad, as Jamie swoops around the room like Spiderman. Mam is crying and I realise I’m only a nano-second from joining in too.

  ‘Did you say goodbye to Magda?’ I ask her. I know she must be finding that one the hardest. She’s spent so much time with her this week.

  ‘Yes,’ she replies. ‘She bit me again, as I hugged her. But then, when I walked away, she said my name and then ran over to me and hugged me one more time.’

  ‘You worked hard with her. And you’ve done a great job. I know it’s awful saying goodbye. But Magda will be fine, I promise you. We’ll keep working with her. And she’ll soon realise that she doesn’t need to attack everyone that comes near her,’ Gloria tells Mam.

  ‘We’ll be back next summer,’ Mae promises, hugging Gloria.

  ‘I know,’ Gloria says. ‘I always get a sense about the ones who’ll come back. Romania isn’t done with the Guinnesses yet.’

  We leave the orphanage holding hands and we walk up to the construction site. The first of the houses is ready and we get to see the new owners move in before we leave.

  It feels like Christmas Day. The air is heavy with excitement and anticipation of a sackful of great gifts about to arrive. Skippy has tied a big red ribbon around the front of the lodge, resplendent against the brown woody frame. The construction volunteers are all lined up on either side of the house and Dad joins them, with Jamie.

  They call me and Mam to join them too, because Skippy says we hammered a few nails in.

  ‘Even if they were crooked!’ he teases.

  Then a woman and two children arrive with Andy. They have a rucksack each on their backs.

  ‘At a guess, that’s all they own in the world,’ Dad says.

  ‘They have each other, they don’t need anything else,’ Mam replies and I nod. I get that now.

  As they get closer to the house, the woman starts to cry and the children follow soon with tears of their own. It must be overwhelming to walk up and see us all lined up, watching them. The woman keeps repeating
something over and over.

  Andy shakes her hand and hugs the children. ‘This is Liliana and her two children, Razvan and Nicole. And what she is saying is: You don’t live, but you don’t die either. Maybe now we can live.’

  You don’t live, but you don’t die, I repeat the words to myself over and over.

  I wonder what horrors they have all faced in their lives to warrant such a statement. And what strength they have to be here still. Fighting to live their lives.

  Flashes of the girls in school taunting me, making fun of me, bound around in my head. I repeat Liliana’s words again: You don’t live, but you don’t die either. Maybe now we can live.

  ‘I’m not going to let Martina or Deirdre get to me ever again,’ I say to Mam. ‘I’m going to live, stop being scared.’

  She looks surprised at me bringing this up. But she turns to me and says, ‘You already are living. You’re stronger than you can ever know. The way you’ve handled yourself this summer, but these two weeks in particular, is incredible. I am so proud of you, but you should be proud of yourself. You can do anything.’

  ‘Like go back to school, to hell with the lot of them?’ I say.

  ‘Yes, exactly. Why should you leave when you’ve done nothing wrong? Because it’s their bad. The best way to defeat a bully? Ignore them. And live your best life,’ Mam tells me.

  Dad picks up Jamie in his arms and Mam puts her arms around me and we all watch Liliana cut the ribbon to her new life. The children run and open the door.

  ‘Mult¸umesc mult¸umesc!’ Liliana sobs when she walks through the door. We don’t need a translation for those words. Thank you, thank you, she is saying.

  As I look around at everyone clapping and cheering, some wiping away tears, I know that right now, in this moment, I’m changed.

  Chapter Forty

  JAMIE

  Maybe I’ll be a superhero builder when I get bigger, instead of a superhero robot.

  Kind of like Bob the Builder only with superhero powers.

  And a cape.

  Chapter Forty-One

  Dear Olly and Mae

  My head is full of you all. What it’s been like these past few weeks? Would you believe I’ve just put down the phone to Andy? More than any other part of this trip, I’m most excited about this one. I’ve told him all about you all. He’s a good guy, but you know that by now.

  From what he’s shared with me, there’s magic in Ripples. I hope you all got to experience that.

  While I don’t know what has happened these past two weeks, I’m so proud right now. Because I know that you will have all been amazing, in whatever role you played out there.

  I’ve been thinking about us, Olly. A lot. Dangerous thing to do, I know. Many men go through life feeling regret for the relationship or lack of relationship they have with their sons. It can be a precarious, complex dynamic. I’ve listened to colleagues over the years confess that they don’t know who their sons are. That they don’t understand them and have such different interests that the gulf between them feels as big as the Grand Canyon. But that’s not how it is with us two. Maybe it’s because of Beth’s death, but I don’t think we could be any closer. It’s always been us two against the world.

  There’s not a single person I like more than you, Olly. My son.

  And I say the word ‘like’ on purpose. I know that most parents automatically love their children. But here’s the thing. A lot don’t like them.

  And that goes for you too, Mae. People give lip service to the phrase that you gain a daughter when your son marries. But that’s exactly what happened to me. I know how lucky I am that I have you, Mae. Thank you for letting me be such an integral part of your family. A lot wouldn’t have put up with the intrusion.

  So, I reckon you’ll be tired though now. Fancy a little treat? Your penultimate week involves a drive through Serbia to Croatia. I’ve booked you into a five-star hotel in Belgrade for two nights. What do you think about that? I hear the spa is pretty good there, so that might help revive you all! Park up Nomad for a couple of days and have some much-deserved luxury.

  Then, when you leave Belgrade, you are to make your way to the coast in Croatia. I’ve found a gem of a campsite right on the beach.

  My challenge for this week is that you learn how to snorkel. I’ve always wanted to do that, but never got a chance. Be my eyes. Do it for me, will you?

  Olly, you remarked to me earlier today that I’m looking better. And I am feeling better. And I think I know why. Doing this for you all. For my family that I love with all my heart.

  I know I keep saying this, but I wish I could be there with you. But know this, I’m watching this adventure, every second of it.

  Much love

  Pops x

  Chapter Forty-Two

  MAE

  ‘Oh. My. God, Wi-Fi again!’ Evie shrieks with delight, eyes glued to her phone.

  ‘Oh. My. God, never mind Wi-Fi, look at the size of this bathroom!’ I respond with an even bigger shriek.

  I start to run the bath immediately, looking in the basket of toiletries for some bubble bath. It’s hard to believe that we are in Serbia. Just thinking about our journey, where we’ve been, is a mind-trip. The past two weeks in Romania are already beginning to feel like a dream now.

  I can’t get Liliana’s words from my head. You don’t live, but you don’t die either. And I feel humbled that something we had a small part in changed that outlook for her. I hope she is living now. She deserves that chance.

  I wonder, does she know that she has changed us too? I’m going to write to her when we get home. Tell her that. Because I feel like we’re living our best lives now. We’re finally becoming the very best version of our family that we can be. The time spent at Ripples was so good for us, working apart, working together for a common goal. I could imagine how we’ll be when we get home. I can go back to work and we can co-parent the children together. Because they need both of us. It doesn’t matter who makes the dinner, just that it’s made.

  We don’t stray far from the hotel much over the next few days. We all need some downtime to do nothing but eat lots of food, lie by the hotel pool and sleep. Pops booked us a suite, with three bedrooms. It’s nearly the size of our house at home! And despite the fact that we’ve all been bemoaning the lack of space we have in Nomad, we find ourselves all congregating in one of the rooms, staying close to each other.

  Our few excursions to the city are uninspiring, if I’m honest. The wars of the 1990s have stained the pedestrianised streets, colouring the landscape.

  It’s funny, but at first I feel guilty using the spa at the hotel. It’s as if I’m cheating my friends back at Ripples. It takes me twenty-four hours to switch off, relax and accept that it’s okay to have a treat. By the time we leave, to start our four-hour drive to the campsite in Porec, I feel rejuvenated.

  I find myself thinking about how different our lives are to those of the children and their absent parents in Ripples. Olly says that we shouldn’t forget. We need to remember how lucky we are, how privileged our lives are. And he’s right, of course. Pops told us right at the start that he wanted the children to see that there was a much bigger world out there than at home. I wonder, did he have any idea of the impact this journey would have on Olly and I? Because we are all changed. With every mile we’ve driven, we’ve taken another step towards each other.

  Our campsite in Croatia is pretty impressive. We’re on a pitch right next to the beach, and the water changes from green to blue depending on the time of the day.

  It has multiple swimming pools and lots of games and activities, so Jamie is really happy with that. We divide our time between the beach and the pool.

  Jamie has, of course, already made several new friends in the kids’ mini club. Evie acclimatises to having Wi-Fi in her life again and is back chatting to Luke and Ann daily. But we don’t mind. She’s smiling and does join in on some of the tournaments the campsite runs for volleyball and table tennis. And she
turns out to be quite good at table tennis, winning several games in a row. I’m going to look into a local club in Wexford when we get home. It might give her a new avenue for meeting like-minded friends.

  We have a glorious day learning to snorkel along the Croatian coast. Because it’s rocky, our instructor tells us it makes this kind of seabed perfect for snorkelling, with excellent underwater visibility.

  Then our guide throws in that in the Adriatic Sea we won’t find dangerous sea creatures like sharks or barracudas. I hadn’t even thought of that until he said the word ‘shark’, but now that’s all I can think of. The water is crystal-clear and warm. At first I just can’t find the nerve to place my head under water. Even though I have my little tank and snorkel and am completely safe, I don’t trust I will be able to breathe. Olly is so patient with me. While the children take to it like ducks to water, he stays by my side, urging me to give it a go. And once I manage to try it and find out that I can breathe under water, I’m hooked. There’s a whole new world underneath the crystal-blue seas.

  At our orientation, we were all told about some shipwrecks. Of course Jamie is hell-bent on finding buried treasure. I can see him swimming around in circles looking for a splash of gold, with Olly chasing after him, keeping him close.

  I am spellbound by the colours I see underwater. The reef is coated with green, brown and red algae. Yellow coral dazzles me, like buttercups in an aqua-blue meadow. I see lots of small fish darting in and out of the rocks, as if playing hide and seek with me. Then a bright-red sea urchin, its spikes ready to pierce a stray foot, illuminates the rocky floor.

  Then I feel a hand on my arm and swim around to face Olly. He holds his hand out to me and I take it and we swim together, kicking our flipper feet hard towards Evie and Jamie, who are swimming side by side. He beckons them and points to the far right. He wants us to follow him. So we all swim side by side, eyes wide as we look around us. We circle around a large reef and he points to the rocky seabed. We all see it at the same time and are overjoyed for Jamie, as he reaches down. A small gold pot, about four inches in size, lies on its coral bed.