A Taste for It

by Monica McInerney

  When sleep came, it was troubled and full of turmoil. She imagined noises in the corridor, footsteps running up and down outside her room, loud voices and sudden snatches of conversations.

  She slept finally, just as the dawn was breaking.

  Chapter Thirty-one

  Bernadette was alone in the kitchen when Maura finally came down the next morning. It was past noon. Bernadette took one look at her drawn face and pulled her into a hug.

  “Do you want to talk about it?” she said softly. “Do you want to tell me what’s going on?”

  Maura started to speak, looking anxiously at the door. Bernadette guessed her thoughts.

  “They’re not here. Carla was taken away in an ambulance last night. Dominic is with her.”

  Maura laughed a strange, bitter laugh. “More food poisoning?” she asked. “God, she doesn’t give up, does she?”

  Bernadette shook her head. She was completely confused herself. “She took an overdose of something, we don’t know what it was. It happened after everyone had gone to bed, we think.”

  Maura looked up at her. “She looked all right when I saw her, perfectly happy,” she managed to say, before the image of Dominic leaning over Carla hit her again. Her voice broke.

  As Bernadette enveloped her in her arms again, Maura told her everything. “I thought there was really something between us,” she whispered. “I feel so stupid, how could I have been so stupid?”

  Bernadette hushed her. “Ssh, love, you haven’t been stupid at all. There’s more to this than either of us know yet. I’ve seen Dominic look at you, seen the way he watches you all the time. I don’t think this is the end of it.”

  “I heard him talking to her, I heard what he said,” Maura said, the anger giving her spirit again. She looked up at Bernadette, the tears dried now. “He’ll never leave her, I know that now. I was just a silly one-night stand.”

  “Not so silly, by the sound of things,” Bernadette said quietly.

  A flash of their night together took Maura unawares. Trust me, she remembered him saying. Like a fool she had.

  “Yes, silly,” she said, biting her lip to stop the tears again. She took a deep breath and looked up at Bernadette. “I was stupid. Never again. I’ve learnt my lesson now.”

  Bernadette just shook her head. “There are always two sides to a story,” she said.

  “Oh, yes,” Maura laughed a mocking laugh. “And here’s what they are. Dominic is at dear Carla’s hospital bedside, her little stunt having worked a treat. I am here, embarrassed and shamed. In three days’ time I go back to Australia. We all live happily ever after. The End. That’s both sides of the story.” She heard the bitterness in her own voice but didn’t care.

  Maura didn’t want to talk about it again that morning. She felt bad about rejecting Bernadette’s repeated attempts to give Dominic the benefit of the doubt, finally asking her to stop mentioning his name. The house seemed very quiet. A weak winter sun was shining, and she took her coffee out into the garden. She looked around, trying to memorise it but knowing she didn’t really need to. Every image of the last month was imprinted deep in her mind. Her discoveries about Catherine. The visits to the wine-sellers. The talk in Ennis. The cooking schools. And Dominic. Her mind kept returning to him.

  Rita phoned a little later, to congratulate Maura on the success of the trip and to report on the increase in Lorikeet Hill sales around the country. The whole exchange had been very worthwhile for all the Australian winemakers, it seemed.

  “We’ll have to do it again soon,” Rita said enthusiastically, before saying goodbye. Maura was grateful for all she had done. Perhaps one day she would come back to Ireland. But it would never again be the place she had imagined.

  Bernadette guessed her mood and ignoring her protests bundled her into the car for a day of touring.

  “You’ll just mope all day if you’re stuck inside. Come on, girl, you’ve three days left in the wonderful west of Ireland, let’s at least have a look at some of it.”

  Maura reluctantly agreed. Bernadette was right, she felt like moping. In fact, she felt like hurling herself on the bed and howling. She felt embarrassed for being taken in by Dominic, furious at Carla for her part in it. And she felt sad – that was the worse feeling of all. As though a wonderful dream had ended suddenly.

  Bernadette drove at a furious pace, determined to show Maura as much as possible. They travelled across the Burren to the Cliffs of Moher, then stopped at a whitewashed pub in the seaside village of Ballyvaughan. As they settled by an open fire, with glasses of Guinness and big bowls of steaming chowder in front of them, Maura felt some tension slide from her body. Bernadette noticed it and gave her a big smile.

  “That’s my girl, you have to keep your spirits up at times like this. I’m sorry to sound like a broken record, but a story’s not a story till you’ve reached the end. And I don’t think we’ve heard the last of this one.”

  Maura laughed despite herself. “Bernadette, you sound like some mysterious sorcerer. What next, a spell on all of us? Look, I’m overreacting. It was a holiday romance that ended badly, that’s all. If I can tell myself that, you can too. It’s all over, I was stupid, I’ll never see Dominic or Carla again, and that’s that.”

  Maura knew immediately her brave words weren’t fooling Bernadette.

  “Don’t do what I did, and live to regret it,” the older woman said.

  “What did you do? One night of passion and your life changed in an instant?” Even as she spoke Maura knew she’d hit on a nerve.

  Bernadette smiled ruefully. “Bull’s-eye. Twenty years ago and I still remember it.”

  Maura felt contrite for her lightheartedness. “Oh, Bernadette, I’m sorry, tell me, what happened?”

  “It was quite a different story to yours, but I know how you’re feeling now. We were like you and Dominic are together – always conscious of each other. There was a real attraction but neither of us would admit it.”

  Maura blinked. Had she and Dominic been like that? As obvious as that?

  Bernadette continued. “I was thirty, very stubborn. I had my chance but I was too proud to do anything about it. He finally gave up trying to convince me. It was on his wedding day that I realised how wrong I had been.”

  “And you kept your heart for him for the rest of your life?” Maura breathed.

  Bernadette threw back her head and laughed. “Oh, God no! There’s been a few since then. But I think I let the best one get away from me.” She put on a mock deep voice. “Don’t make the same mistake I did, my girl.”

  Maura felt a little better and smiled up at her. “Too late for this one, but if it happens again, I won’t, I promise.”

  “Good girl yourself,” Bernadette encouraged her. “I tell you, things will turn out for the best. They usually do.”

  As they drove back, Maura felt an echo of her old spirit come back. She tried to think of the bright side. The export trip had been a success. In just a few days she’d be home in Clare, meeting little Quinn and enjoying sitting down with Nick and Fran, telling them all the good news about the response in Ireland to Lorikeet Hill wine.

  Bernadette and Maura drove up the long avenue to Ardmahon House. They were going to pack up their belongings from there this afternoon, and spend the last two nights at Bernadette’s house, where the repairs were all but finished.

  “Just in time, we’re about to be overrun by builders again here,” Bernadette explained. “Dominic said . . .”

  Maura shot her a look. They had agreed not to talk about Dominic or Carla any more.

  “I can tell you this,” Bernadette protested. “They’re having more renovations done, though God knows what there is left to do.”

  They let themselves in through the front door. The answering machine by the telephone was flicking at them, the number display showing they had missed five calls. Bernadette pressed it absentmindedly as she passed by.

  “More desperate diners, insisting we open up for one mo
re night probably,” she said, walking past.

  The first two messages were hang-ups and then her brother Nick’s voice suddenly filled the hallway. Maura hardly recognised it.

  “Maura, it’s me, can you ring me on this number? It’s urgent.” He had left two other messages, less than half an hour apart, his voice becoming increasingly more anxious as he repeated the international number for Maura to call.

  Maura looked at Bernadette, worry freezing her blood. She didn’t recognise the number in South Australia, only realising from the area code that it was in the Adelaide area.

  After a frustrating ten-minute delay, while a soft-toned operator explained that the lines were temporarily congested, she finally got through. A brisk voice answered. Maura didn’t catch what she said.

  “Is Nick Carmody there? It’s his sister, calling from Ireland,” she asked urgently. Bernadette stood by, concerned and watchful.

  “Just one moment, I’ll put you through,” the voice said.

  Nick must have snatched up the phone as soon as it rang.

  “Maura, thank God you got the message,” she heard him whisper. “We’re at the children’s hospital in Adelaide. It’s Quinn.”

  Chapter Thirty-two

  Maura’s heart nearly stopped. “Nick, what is it?” she whispered.

  Nick’s voice was shaking. “He nearly died, Maura. Fran got to him just in time. She went to check on him in the middle of the night and he wasn’t breathing.”

  Maura could feel Nick’s anguish down the phone, as he tried to tell her what had happened.

  “She gave him mouth to mouth and revived him and he was rushed to hospital. We don’t know if he’ll live.”

  12,000 miles away, Maura felt a rush of clarity.

  “I’m leaving now, Nick,” she said, suddenly calm. “I’ll be home as soon as I can.” She barely said goodbye to him.

  Bernadette had heard the conversation and took her cue from Maura. While Maura ran upstairs to pack, Bernadette rang nearby Shannon Airport. There was a flight leaving in an hour that would get her to London. From there she’d try for the next available flight to Adelaide.

  They drove to Shannon in near silence. At the departure gate Maura hugged Bernadette close, hoping the touch would convey all that she wished she could say.

  “Will you call me when you get the chance?” Bernadette asked, nearly in tears herself.

  Maura nodded.

  “God love you all,” Bernadette said, giving her a final hug.

  The flight to London passed quickly. At the international desk Maura urgently explained what had happened, willing the man to help her. She smiled gratefully as he managed to find her a seat on a flight to Australia leaving in the next couple of hours.

  The journey was like a long, drawn-out nightmare. All she wanted was to be home, not sitting close to two strangers who kept giving her curious glances. She had put on her headphones within seconds of settling into her seat and sat with her eyes shut, pointedly ignoring any attempts at conversation. She had nothing to say. She wanted to see Nick and Fran and Quinn. Nobody and nothing else.

  Her thoughts were troubled, the snatched sleep unsatisfying. Only a month before she had travelled the same route in reverse, filled with excitement and anticipation. Now Ireland, Catherine, and Dominic hardly featured in her thoughts. The worry of Quinn’s illness took everything else away.

  She had insisted neither Nick or Fran meet her at the airport. As she gathered her bags, for a second she longed for the homecoming they had originally planned. Nick and Fran and little Quinn were to have been waiting there at the arrivals gate. Right now she should have been holding Quinn for the first time.

  Catching sight of herself in one of the mirrors on the airport pillars, she realised and didn’t care that she looked a mess in the now crumpled dress she’d been wearing on her day-trip with Bernadette.

  Squinting her eyes against the bright Adelaide morning sunshine, Maura made her way alone to the taxi rank and directed the driver to the children’s hospital.

  She saw Nick and Fran before they saw her. They were pressed close to a tiny cot at the end of a ward. She stood back for a moment, as she took in the scene. Quinn was motionless, with tubes coming from his nose and his tiny arms. Fran was gently stroking his little face.

  Maura must have made a noise, for they both turned around slowly. Their faces were drawn, and they were barely able to raise a smile as she came toward them. “How is he, how are you all?” she whispered, as she looked down at her little nephew.

  His tiny chest was barely rising up and down, and his pale skin was marked with bruises from where the doctors had taken blood samples. An oxygen-measuring device clipped to one of his fingers looked enormous beside his little hand.

  He had a thatch of pitch-black hair, and she could see a likeness to Nick in his little nose and the shape of his chin.

  Fran didn’t answer, not looking up from her little son. Maura realised she was still in terrible shock. Nick gave Maura a wan smile.

  “He’s alive,” he whispered back. “That’ll do us for now.”

  With a tired nod of agreement from Fran, Maura and Nick went out into the foyer, where a couple of couches were set up next to a coin-operated coffee machine.

  “Coffee?” she asked Nick, who replied with a weary nod.

  Maura got two cups of lukewarm coffee that smelled more of antiseptic than caffeine, and sat close to her brother on one of the sofas.

  She glanced at a young couple sitting across from them. Both man and woman were racked with grief, the tears pouring down their cheeks. Maura couldn’t begin to imagine what terrible news they had just had. She turned her attention back to Nick.

  At her glance he tried to pull himself together. “Thanks for getting here so quickly, how was your flight? How was everything?”

  Maura shrugged the questions away. “Forget all that for now. Tell me everything,” she said gently.

  Nick started to shudder, and she watched helplessly as tears started pouring down his face. “We thought he was gone,” he managed to say. “He was turning blue, Maura. We thought we’d lost him.”

  “What happened?” she asked softly.

  “He’d been a bit snuffly during the day, but we just thought he had a slight cold. We all went to bed early, and then Fran suddenly woke in the middle of the night, she doesn’t know why, and went to his cot. That’s when she realised he wasn’t breathing. Thank God she knew what to do. What if it had been me who had woken up, I wouldn’t have known what to do, he would have died . . .” The words were lost in Nick’s sobs.

  As he calmed, he continued the story. Fran had run into their bedroom with Quinn in her arms and started giving him mouth to mouth resuscitation.

  “I called for an ambulance straight away. It seemed like hours before they arrived, but thank God it was only minutes. It’s a terrible thing to say, but we were lucky, there’d been a car accident on the main road and the helicopter had been called to bring the injured man to hospital. They were able to take Quinn as well.”

  Nick answered her unspoken question.

  “There was only room for Fran. I followed them in the car. It was the worst drive I’ve ever had. I just prayed and prayed that they would get there in time. The hospital was alerted that he was on his way and they put him on a ventilator as soon as he arrived.

  “The doctors are still doing tests to find out what happened. All I keep thinking is that it was an absolute miracle that Fran went in when she did, and that she knew what to do. If it had been me . . .” he shuddered again.

  Maura held him close.

  “We couldn’t bear to lose him, Maura,” Nick looked up at her, his eyes glazed. “We love him so much. We’ve only had him a month, surely he couldn’t be taken from us so soon?”

  Maura held her brother close. “He’ll be okay, won’t he?”

  Nick shook, trying to nod. “We don’t know. We don’t know. He’s had three scares even since we’ve been in hospital. H
e’s just suddenly stopped breathing. They’ve got him lying on a monitor, and they’ve checked for infections and run blood tests. But they still won’t say for sure what’s wrong.”

  Maura held him close. “He’ll be okay, Nick. You’re in the right place, he’ll be okay.”

  She shut her eyes, fighting back her own panic and anguish.

  Chapter Thirty-three

  “It could be a few more days before I get up there – are you sure you’re right to hang on?”

  On the phone in the hospital foyer, Maura listened with relief as Gemma insisted that she was perfectly capable of looking after both the café and the winery.

  “I owe you one, Gemma, thanks so much,” Maura said wearily. Saying goodbye, she hung up the handset of the public phone and leant her forehead against the cool plastic. She read the obscene graffiti scratched into the wall, but it didn’t register. In the three days she’d been back, the turmoil of her life hadn’t calmed.

  She worked out the time difference and quickly rang Bernadette. By the noise in the background, she had the builders in again.

  Bernadette was very relieved to hear that Quinn was gradually improving.

  “And how are you feeling, love? You mustn’t know what side of the world you’re on at all?”

  “That’s about it,” Maura admitted. “I’m just tired, I guess, and I feel like I haven’t really had a chance yet to think about everything that’s happened.”

  There was a pause, then Bernadette spoke again, quickly.

  “Dominic called by, very anxious for news of you . . .”

  Maura interrupted her there. “Bernadette, I’m sorry, please don’t talk to me about him, or to him about me, not just yet. I’ll be ready to laugh it all off in a few months – just now I can’t really handle it.” Maura knew she was lying to herself. She was anxious for details of Dominic but the last thing she wanted was for Bernadette to know the extent of her heartache.

  Bernadette wasn’t that easily put off, though, and tried to mention Dominic again.