Take a Look At Me Now

by Anita Notaro

  ‘Cup of tea.’

  It wasn’t a question. Beth, his wife, always had to work at being cheerful in the mornings, so she usually glided in, humming a tune, trying to pretend she was fully awake. Her dark hair was piled on top of her head in a knot and she was wearing pink fluffy pyjamas and a ridiculous pair of slippers with smiley faces – a Christmas present from the kids.

  ‘Very fetching hairstyle.’ He stretched out his arms.

  ‘Isn’t it?’ She winked. ‘Shame you’re rushing away.’

  Tea by the bed for him was part of the routine. William was in theatre today and as usual Beth had set her alarm to go off fifteen minutes earlier than his. Even though his work had been part of their lives from the start, William liked it that she still fussed over him. It meant she appreciated the weight he carried around with him on days when it really was a matter of life or death.

  He took the china mug without a word, handing Beth his phone in return. ‘Have a look at the latest offering from those conniving characters we call our children.’

  ‘What is it this time?’

  ‘More puppies. They never give up.’

  ‘Well, maybe we should—’ She stopped even before she saw the look on his face. ‘OK, OK, another time, don’t get stressed.’ She kissed him on the head. ‘I’ll just get breakfast organized.’

  ‘Thanks.’ He sipped the hot liquid then glanced at the time again. ‘Actually, I’d better jump in the shower or I’ll be running behind before I even start.’ He was out the door ahead of her, cup in hand. Without stopping in case she was tempted to climb back into bed, Beth pulled open the heavy curtains and yanked at the blind. It was almost morning. Quickly, she plumped the pillows and folded back the duvet, then opened the top of the big bay window to air the room. There was already another one open on Will’s side. He liked fresh air and she didn’t care, although sometimes, especially in winter, she longed for that peculiar warm human smell that had always been part of her room as a little girl.

  In the kitchen, porridge glugged away on the stove. Beth loved everything about this room – the warmth, the clutter and the feeling of freshly baked bread she always thought you got just from looking at an Aga. Come to think of it, she hadn’t baked in ages. She resolved to have a major baking day later in the week – breads with olive oil and rosemary; Madeira cake with coconut icing, the one that Harry loved. Oh, and she’d get in the mood by doing a big steak and kidney pie for William tonight, even though he was always watching his weight. She’d lie and tell him it was low-fat pastry. Looking around, Beth flicked an imaginary speck of dust and smiled to herself. She felt safe here.

  ‘Hi, Mum,’ a sleepy voice interrupted the early morning reverie.

  ‘Hi, love, what are you doing up? It’s still the middle of the night.’

  ‘Then why are you up?’ Harry Hammond dug his knuckle into his eye in an effort to wipe the sleep away.

  ‘Daddy’s in theatre today. You know I always make him breakfast before he operates.’ Beth crouched down to inspect her son. ‘Why don’t you go back to bed? You’ve another two hours, at least.’

  ‘I’m not tired any more.’

  ‘Well then, have a glass of juice,’ she handed him the one she’d just finished squeezing for Will, ‘and go inside to the playroom and watch some TV until Daddy’s had a chance to relax. Isn’t that programme on early in the morning – the one with the warriors?’

  ‘Dunno.’ He shrugged. ‘I’m hungry.’

  ‘Well, go check and I’ll bring you in pancakes and hot chocolate as a special treat as soon as Daddy’s gone.’ William didn’t approve of her constant spoiling of the kids. ‘How’s that, will your hunger wait for five minutes?’ she teased.

  ‘Thanks, Mum.’ He was an easy child. Early morning TV was a treat, and without his big sister Winnie owning the remote it was heaven.

  ‘Morning, Harry, what has you up?’ William appeared, fixing his tie and draping the jacket of his dark grey suit over a chair. He looked handsome and alive and definitely someone you’d notice.

  ‘Nothing,’ the little boy mumbled and wandered off, already in his own early morning, action-man world.

  Beth placed a fresh glass of juice in front of her husband and brought the teapot over to the table.

  ‘Actually I think I’ll switch to coffee, if there’s any going.’

  ‘Yep.’ His wife handed over the cafetière she’d just filled for herself. ‘What’s this about? You never drink coffee in the morning.’

  ‘I know. But I’m tired today. Don’t have the energy, for some reason.’

  ‘Well, you look rested and ready to take on the world.’ She always envied him his get-up-and-go attitude. She’d struggled with mornings all her life and Harry was the same, much to William’s irritation. ‘Did you sleep?’ she asked her husband.

  ‘Yes, I did actually. Soon as my head hit the pillow. But you know how it is. I never really relax the night before a big one.’

  ‘Will it be a long day?’ Beth set the porridge down beside him and checked again that he had everything he needed. She moved the milk jug and honey closer to his hand.

  ‘Shouldn’t be too bad. If there are no complications I’ll be home for dinner.’

  Beth knew he probably wouldn’t be. Her husband was the most committed surgeon she’d ever met, and she had got to know quite a few over the years. He wouldn’t leave tonight till he was 100 per cent happy with everything and everybody. She knew that the operation was the removal of a tumour from a thirty-two-year-old man who had been diagnosed with cancer despite being super healthy and very fit. It was the position of the tumour, close to a major artery, that was the main concern. William told her all about his patients. They were his other family and she took an interest in their lives too. Matt Jennings was an engineer, she knew. Very successful, according to William. His wife was expecting their second child. Beth always said a prayer for the family on the day of an operation. It was very hard on them as well.

  ‘Where’s Harry gone? Back to bed?’

  ‘No, he couldn’t sleep. He’s watching TV.’ She put the wholewheat toast down and picked up William’s porridge bowl. As before, she moved the necessary accompaniments closer and took the milk and honey to her side of the table.

  ‘He watches too much TV.’

  ‘He’ll be fine,’ Beth soothed. ‘He’s like me. Needs to come round slowly.’

  ‘I can’t understand that. I think he’s not getting enough rest, he plays those computer games all evening.’

  ‘He doesn’t. I monitor him carefully, you know that. Anyway, he has rugby after school. No shortage of fresh air today.’

  ‘How’s he doing at it?’

  ‘Fine. The coach says he’s keen.’ She realized William hadn’t seen him play in ages. ‘You should try and get to his match on Saturday. He’d love it.’

  ‘Well, I’ll see what I can do, but last time I saw him play soccer he spent most of the match shouting at his mates on the sidelines. If I’d been the referee I’d have sent him off.’

  ‘He was probably bored,’ Beth said, laughing. That was Harry, always teasing someone, always up for a laugh. She heard the newspaper arrive and went to fetch it to distract her husband from the ‘when I was a child’ lecture.

  ‘Stop worrying.’ She kissed his head and handed him the paper. ‘Harry is a well-adjusted little boy. Just like you were,’ she teased.

  He grinned at her and said nothing. Beth knew him so well. He liked that.

  ‘More coffee?’

  ‘Eh, no, thanks. Can’t afford to be jittery.’

  She poured herself a first cup and came to stand beside him to check what had made the front page today. Nothing major, she suspected, having heard the early morning radio bulletin while her husband showered.

  It was all about the Middle East and the war on terror. Definitely nothing new there. She sat down again and munched on her wholegrain toast, spooning honey on after one bite in an effort to liven it up.


  BOY RESCUED FROM SEA BUT WOMAN DROWNS. William glanced at the small insert in the bottom right-hand corner of the front page.

  ‘Anything interesting?’ Beth asked.

  ‘No. Some woman drowned on Sandymount Strand last evening. A child was rescued, seemingly.’

  ‘That’s awful. Who was she?’

  ‘No name given. Details are sketchy. An air-sea rescue unit tried to save her.’ William sipped his coffee. ‘Oh and house prices rose again last month.’ He was reading the index.

  ‘What’s new? We’re so lucky, you know.’

  ‘What, the house?’ He glanced around.

  ‘The house, our holiday home. Two healthy kids, no money worries, everything.’ Beth sighed. ‘Some poor family without a mother or daughter this morning.’ She shook her head to rid herself of morbid thoughts and stood up just as her husband did.

  ‘I know we’re lucky.’ He kissed her cheek. ‘And you keep us all on the straight and narrow.’ It was true. Beth was a wonderful wife and mother. He patted her backside. ‘See you later. And don’t go out with that hairstyle. You’ll frighten the birds.’

  ‘Very funny.’ She walked him to the door. ‘Mind yourself driving home tonight. You’ll be tired.’

  ‘I’ll call you before I leave.’

  ‘Hope it all goes well.’ She never quite knew what to say when he would be working to save someone’s life.

  ‘Yeah,’ he sighed. ‘Me too.’

  He did look tired, she noticed, which wasn’t like him at all. That was her territory. Normally he was a powerball of energy.

  Beth closed the door and went to switch on the TV in the kitchen while she made hot chocolate and pancakes for herself and Harry. She wanted to hear if there was any more news on that poor woman who’d drowned.

  3

  RICHARD AND DAISY

  RICHARD KEARNEY WAS ALLERGIC to early mornings, which was unfortunate because his livelihood depended on them just now. He didn’t have to face one today, however, because it had long since disappeared. Opening his eyes gingerly, he glanced at the clock, then blinked, because he knew he was reading it upside down or something. Also, the face looked funny, sort of wavy. Before he could work it out his phone rang. By the time he realized it was ringing it wasn’t.

  ‘OK, concentrate,’ he mumbled, trying to work out what day it was and where he was supposed to be. He had a dull but definite ache at the back of his head and someone had packed his mouth with cotton wool like they did at the dentist. Yawning, he shook his head, trying to clear the debris. His tongue felt like a rice cake. He got out of bed slowly and glanced at the clock again. Now that he was upright he realized why it looked odd. It was immersed in a pint glass of water. He was sure that had been hilarious at three o’clock this morning.

  ‘Hi, babe.’ He wasn’t surprised to hear the strange female voice mutter from under the duvet, because he definitely remembered the great shag he’d been having just before he realized he couldn’t perform, and passed out.

  ‘What day is it?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Today, what day is it?’ He was already looking for his clothes.

  ‘Thursday, why?’

  ‘Fuck, are you sure?’

  ‘Sure I’m sure, and do you know why?’ A tousled blonde head peeked out at him.

  ‘No idea.’ He grabbed his boxers.

  ‘ ’Cause yesterday was Wednesday.’ The pretty blonde girl giggled. ‘Come back to bed, pleeeeease?’

  ‘Can’t, Viv, sorry. I’m already in big trouble.’ He was out the door and halfway to the shower before she could work out her next move, which was normally to pull back the duvet and show her man exactly what sort of incentive she was offering.

  Richard hit number three on his speed dial with his face screwed up, as if in real pain. ‘Hello, Maggie?’ he said tentatively, taking it as a good sign that she’d actually answered when she’d seen his name come up on her mobile. ‘Look, don’t ball me out, I swear I’m on the way,’ he told his manageress, the only woman in the world he was afraid of, even though he was the boss. Maggie ran the café with a rod of iron and he’d never admit it but it was exactly what he needed. He was turning on the shower, grabbing towels and trying to clean his teeth while making the call.

  ‘Hello, Mags.’ He glanced at the screen, cursed and dialled again.

  ‘Maggie, look, just hear me out . . . Hello, hello? Fuck!’ he roared and flung the phone down. Luckily the rug broke its fall. In the shower he tried to think logically. He was supposed to open up this morning. God, she was going to kill him. There wasn’t an excuse on the planet that would win her round today.

  Ten minutes later he’d sort of dried himself and dressed in the only clean shirt he could find.

  ‘Viv, honey, I’m sorry but I’ve got to go.’ She was fast asleep. He didn’t have time for this shite, so he shook her awake.

  ‘What time is it? Richard, stop, you’re hurting me.’ She sat up quickly.

  ‘Listen, gotta go. Here’s some money for a taxi. Take your time, have coffee, whatever. I’ll ring you.’ He thought about kissing her but realized he couldn’t be bothered. ‘Pull the door after you,’ he shouted as he picked up his keys and wallet and checked he had his phone.

  On the way in he thought about the night before. It had been fun. His best mate, Tom Dalton, was the latest big thing on radio and got invited to everything, and invariably Richard tagged along.

  ‘Hey, bud, what time is it?’ his mate greeted him. He’d dialled the number at the first red light he’d encountered, and hoped there were no cops lurking because his hands-free kit was busted.

  ‘It’s half nine and you, ye bollocks, don’t have to be anywhere till tonight, I’d say.’ Richard laughed and his tension eased as the slagging started. He enjoyed it and could give as good as he got any day.

  ‘Yeah, I just left her, actually,’ he admitted in response to a question about Viv and what they’d been up to. ‘How about you?’

  Tom had been just as successful, it transpired, and they complimented each other on their pulling power – as you do – although Richard didn’t mention his inability to do anything about it once he’d gotten Viv into the sack.

  ‘Gotta go, I’m there and I’m in for a shitload of grovelling,’ he sighed.

  ‘Maggie?’ Tom laughed.

  ‘Don’t mention the war. She’ll bleedin’ lynch me.’

  ‘You’re the boss, remember?’ They all knew Maggie. Tom was terrified of her too. ‘Why do you keep her?’ he asked Richard. ‘She’d do your head in.’ It wasn’t the first time they’d had this conversation.

  ‘I need her. She saves me a fortune and besides, she’s the most efficient woman I’ve ever met in my life.’ Richard’s head was throbbing again. ‘Anyway, talk to you later.’ He parked on a double yellow and tried to stroll nonchalantly towards the coffee shop. He pushed against the door but it wasn’t going anywhere. It was only then that he noticed there were no lights on.

  ‘Richard, over here.’ He looked across the green and saw Hazel, his chef, and Lucy, his zany waitress, smoking and drinking coffee without a care in the world. Tommo, their kitchen porter – dogsbody really – sat on a bench nearby, texting. His girlfriend, Richard suspected. It was what he did most of the time at work anyway. Richard ran over to them, without stopping to admire the pretty enclosed park that they were lucky enough to have opposite the café. In summer, this hidden gem made Ringsend a haven for students, local office workers and hassled mothers trying to keep kids busy. Its proximity to the sea added an extra air of languidness, Richard always thought, and meant they did a great business in takeaways – an unexpected bonus that he’d fully exploited, laying on a ‘picnic in the park’ menu whenever the sun appeared.

  ‘What’s going on, where’s Maggie? What are you doing sitting here, handing business to that dump across the road?’

  Richard kicked at the empty cup Hazel had just set down in order to answer her mobile. He needed a caffeine hit badly hims
elf at this stage. That and a Solpadeine sandwich – definitely not recommended by the manufacturers though.

  ‘Maggie couldn’t come in,’ Lucy said nonchalantly.

  ‘What?’ He heard but didn’t understand.

  ‘We rang her, but she said she was busy.’

  ‘So who opened up?’

  ‘No one.’ Tommo had stopped texting long enough to stretch out and enjoy the still-warm autumn sun.

  Richard was getting angry now. Leaning in closer, he asked in a quiet voice, ‘So why the hell didn’t someone ring me?’

  ‘We did, loads of times.’ Hazel gave him a reproachful look.

  ‘No answer.’ Lucy shrugged and blew a dirty grey bubble in his direction. He wanted to burst it straight into her smug mug.

  ‘You mean the fucking place has been closed all morning?’ he asked incredulously, knowing there was no point getting annoyed. It rolled off them anyway.

  ‘It’s not even ten o’clock.’ Tommo had on his usual dazed and confused look.

  ‘Right.’ Richard changed tack. ‘I’m here now, so inside and get cracking.’ He lunged towards the door and practically flung them in ahead of him once he’d opened up. ‘Hazel, get the ovens on. Lucy, lights and music. Tommo, put that fucking phone away and clean up those tables. You’re supposed to do them before you go home in the evening anyway. How many times do I have to fucking tell you?’

  ‘I was late last night and Maggie told me to leave them.’ The young man had a sullen look on his face and Richard wanted to chuck him out there and then, but Maggie would skin him alive. She really liked the little wanker.

  ‘Well, I make the rules around here and no one goes home until the tables are cleared and the floor is washed, OK?’

  ‘Yes, boss. I’ll help.’ Lucy smiled, the peacemaker as usual.