I’m not going to say all this to Danny, obviously. I’m just going to tell him that I’m moving home for a few weeks; to spend some time with my mum and figure out why there is such a big hold-up with the cottage sale. In this market, I don’t even know if we’ll get as much as we paid for it in the first place. So that can be another debt to add to my accumulating losses. And then there’s my divorce. I thought we’d be signed off ages ago, but the last bit of paperwork has yet to come through. At the moment, I just need some space, some time to regroup. I don’t have any money left, and moping around Tara’s is only making me feel more of a failure.
There are a thousand reasons for me to go home now, and only one to stay. Ruby has hit her stride, and now that she’s found her motivation she doesn’t really need me anymore. Her confidence has blossomed, through the success of the campaign she ran for us and all the new friends she’s made along the way. She’s set her sights on this art course she’s found and she spends every moment of her spare time adding to her portfolio. Ruby is a girl on a mission and even Moira knows better now than to stand in her way. So there’s only Danny. But I can’t stay here just for Danny. Especially when our future seems even more precarious than our present. And that’s saying something. I’ve been here before, building my whole life around one person, and to be perfectly honest, I’m too scared to do that again. Because I know it doesn’t work. I wish I could say that love is enough, but I know from my own experience that it’s not. Love battered by competing dreams and disappointments will only lead me to the same place I’ve just escaped from.
So with a trembling hand on a heavy heart, I’m here to tell Danny that I’m going home. That he’s free to pursue his next adventure without me, without Rosie’s and the shackles of our glorious failure. We tried. We failed. We’ll survive. Today I’m going to say goodbye and wish him well with a new start, a new beginning for both of us.
I see him on the other side of the street, waiting on the kerb so that he can cross. His phone is hooked into his neck and he is laughing and nodding as he weaves in and out of the stalled traffic. My throat tightens with tears. God, I’m going to miss him. Why did this have to happen to us? We were so close. He’s perfect for me, in every way except the way I need. The way that offers us a future together.
If he had the tests and found that he was at risk, that would be our future. I would stand by him all the way. We’d do it together. But to not find out? To just wake up every morning not knowing? Hoping that today isn’t the day that you fall to the floor clutching your chest?
I can’t do that. I can’t bear to.
I pinch the bridge of my nose to stem the tears. I try to shake the emotion from my mind. Rationally, I have no reason to be in Dublin any more. Rationally, I have a warm, comfortable bed waiting for me back in Ballybeg. I may even have a respectable and pensionable job at the school to return to if I make the right noises and pucker up to kiss O’Driscoll’s arse appropriately.
Danny spots me across the traffic and waves.
I raise my hand to wave back. It looks like I’m saying hello, but I know it’s goodbye.
All those months ago, when I first stepped into the marriage counsellor’s office, I believed that I was experiencing what it felt like to be racked with failure, to be heartbroken.
God, I was wrong. So damn wrong.
This is what real failure feels like. This is heartbreak.
I stand and smile with my arms now outstretched towards him. I’ve got be strong for both of us. I’m not going to break. I’ve packed my bag, I’ve made my decision, I’m going to deliver this message and get on the last train home today no matter what.
Danny’s future is too precious; my future is too precious to waste any more time chasing impossible dreams.
‘Hey, so good to see you.’ He wraps his arms around me and kisses me on the forehead.
I breathe him in. This isn’t going to be easy. Then he spots my bag.
‘Where are you off to?’ he asks. He probably thinks I’m on a quick visit home to see my mum.
‘Let’s go and sit down somewhere quiet where we can chat,’ I say as he takes the suitcase from me.
Hand in hand, we walk to a nearby café. We order our coffees and sit in the front window, in full view of the passing public outside. He takes both my hands in his across the table. The great big grin hasn’t left his face since I met him at the bridge.
‘What’s up?’ I ask. ‘You’re suspiciously smiley.’
He takes a deep breath. ‘I’ve got some news, Evelyn. Big news. Big good news. I wanted to tell you first, see what you think.’
‘Right…’ I thought I was the one with news. Big bad news.
‘Supanova have asked me to be their guitarist. They want me as part of the band! Remember that agent that gave us his card on opening night. He brought the whole thing together. I showed him the rest of the stuff I’ve been writing, and he likes it. He says I’m the perfect fit. I can’t believe it.’ His eyes are wide, and he squeezes my clasped hands in his. ‘And that’s not all. They want to release the song I sang at Rosie’s and for me to co-write the material for the next album, and all being well, the album after that – and who knows? Superstardom!’
I lean across the table and kiss him full on the lips. I know I shouldn’t, that it’s only going to make things harder, but I can’t help it. At least something good has come of all this, and Danny has been recognised for the proper talent he is, as a musician and a songwriter. It’s given him his direction back; it’s given him an identity. No longer a lone Musketeer singing on the corner without any dream beyond getting through the day.
‘Danny, that is wonderful, WONDERFUL news!’ I mean every word. This is exactly what he’s always dreamed of: performing again, being part of something bigger, making music, being heard, being appreciated. ‘I’m so proud of you. Don’t forget all about us little guys when you hit the big time.’
He arches his eyebrow. ‘Forget? Evelyn, are you mad? I want you with me. I want to do this with you. Say you’ll come with me, we’ll do it together.’
‘Come with you? How on earth can I come with you?’
‘Well, now that Rosie’s is closed, you’re freed up. It might be a bit tough at first, but soon we’ll have the royalties coming in and then maybe we can work something out.’
I shake my head. This can’t work. I can’t follow the band from gig to gig like a spare wheel. Different city every night, rehearsals and after-parties, me hanging around but without a role or purpose beyond being Danny’s cling-on girlfriend. That’s not me. And it’s not what I want for myself, to be his tag-along. This is a time for Danny to try to make his name as the newest band member; he needs to give that everything. Not try to tend to me and our lives at the same time. It’ll never work. And although I really love his optimism, I know from my divorce that stronger relationships than ours have crumbled under this sort of pressure. Add a possible heart problem into the mix, and our future together becomes even more impossible.
‘Danny, I can’t. This is your dream and I want you to go for it full pelt. This is something you need to do by yourself.’
He takes his hands out of mine, slumps back in his chair and runs his fingers through his hair. ‘I’m not hearing this. This doesn’t add up. Evelyn, we know we want to be together, we know we can make this work. Look at the great job you did with Ruby; you could do more private tutoring. Or maybe even pick up some music teaching. Online tutoring. I’m not sure yet, but I know you’ll come up with something; you always do.’
He dips his gaze to try to meet my eyes. ‘I know it sounds like a big change, and if Rosie’s was still open, I’d stay with you there forever, I promise you that. I loved it just as much as you did and we were a team, a cracking team, you and me. But it’s gone now, and we can’t bring it back.’
I snap my hands away from the table.
‘Yes, Danny, I’m fully aware that it’s gone. And that’s why I wanted to tell you that I’m leaving. I
’m going home.’
‘For how long?’
‘I don’t know yet. Maybe for good.’
Now he’s shaking his head, baffled, and staring out the window. He looks at me sideways, opens his mouth to speak, but then turns to the window again, like he’s trying to process what I’m saying without any success.
‘There’s nothing here for me any more,’ I tell him, trying to swallow back the bubbling emotion from my voice.
‘Oh thanks a lot. I thought I actually meant something to you, Evelyn. I didn’t realise I was just a business partner with benefits.’
‘Don’t say that! Don’t you dare say that. You are more than that and you know it! But things can’t work this way. We both need to share the same vision; you can’t sustain working for another person’s dream. I don’t want to hold you back. You’ve got your dream, and you need to pursue it. Believe me, I know how this ends. You may think you can live with giving up what you really want, but trust me, as noble and generous as it sounds, it doesn’t work. It comes back to bite you – hard. I’ve been there and done that and I’ve not come all this way to do it to you. We need to call time on us.’
‘No. You’re wrong. You are so, so wrong, Evelyn.’
I need to swallow hard. There’s so much I want to say to him about my feelings for him, but none of that is going to bring me any closer to getting on that train.
‘Danny, I can’t commit to someone who can’t commit to me.’
‘What are you talking about? I’m asking you to be with me! Isn’t that commitment? What do you want me to do, ask you to marry you? Is that commitment?’
‘No!’ I snap back. ‘That’s not it. How can I stay with you and love you and follow you around the world knowing that I could lose you at any time? How can you ask me to hand my future over to you without any certainty that you will even be around to share it with me? I thought we both wanted the forever family, Danny. It’s what I want more than anything. And I can’t let my chance slip away. You’ve told me you don’t want kids, but I do. There’s no real compromise there.’
He looks at me, stunned, then nods slowly. Neither of us is in the wrong. But we’re definitely coming at things from opposite sides.
‘And what if I get the test and they tell me, yep, I have an identical problem to Rory?’
‘Then we’d work through it. We’d find a way. Forewarned is forearmed. We’d get through it. Together.’
‘I’m sorry, Evelyn, but I can’t do that.’
I nod my head. ‘I’m sorry too.’
He opens his mouth again, ready to fight me, ready to try and convince me. ‘I’ll do anything. I want you. I want us to be together. There’s so much ahead of us, if you’ll just listen and give us a chance.’
‘I’ve loved being with you, Danny.’ The tears are gathering in my throat. ‘But I need someone I can build a future with, someone to make plans with, someone who wants a home and a family just as much as I do. I need someone who is looking beyond tomorrow. I understand your reasons. I know why you don’t want to do that. And that’s why we need to let each other go.’
I stand up and put my coat on.
‘This can’t be happening. This is a mistake. A huge, huge mistake.’ He bites down on his thumb and squeezes his eyes shut.
‘Goodbye, Danny.’
I pick up my suitcase, trying not to breathe, not to falter, willing myself not to cry until I’m on the train and safely alone, far enough down the track that I can’t turn around and change my mind.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Hours later, I step down from the train in Ballybeg. I’ve tried texting and calling Mum countless times to tell her I’m on my way home with all my stuff and that I’ll need a lift. But there’s been no answer, which is completely unlike her.
I sit on the bench at the front of the station and hope that a taxi might pull up, or at least someone I know who can give me a lift. I pick up the local newspaper as I wait and flick through; most of it is made up of births, marriages and deaths, and I know people in every section. I see a huge photo of my ex-colleague Fionnuala in her wedding dress – all by herself. She’s so bridezilla, she cut out the groom. I laugh to myself. Nothing changes, until everything does.
I look up at the clock. It’s 7 p.m., so there are no more trains in or out for the rest of the evening. I haul my suitcase by the strap and make my way along the potholed road towards town. There’s no way I’m going to get home like this – with this bag or in these shoes. I’m hungry. And I’m tired. And I must be run down or getting my period, because my back hurts, my nipples sting and I just feel like I want to sob my heart out. All the time.
I walk to the junction at the top of the road. It is getting dark now, so I decide to continue straight into town, where at least I can call a cab from the pub and rest up for a bit.
I pass the church just as the congregation starts to trickle out. A hand shoots in the air and I hear my name called. It’s my mother’s hairdresser, Esther.
‘How are you, Evelyn! Aren’t you looking mighty? Down from Dublin, is it? Very good, very good. And tell me, how is your mother getting on in Rome? She promised to bring me back some holy water. She’s a great woman, your mother, I know she’ll not let me down.’
Rome… ROME! Of course, Mum has gone to visit the Pope!
SHIT!
I thank Esther for her good wishes and wonder what to do next. I can’t believe I forgot about her trip, but I’ve been so busy refurbishing the pub – and then closing down the pub – that I’ve lost track of what’s happening at home. I can’t believe that the day I decide to move back, she’s not even here. I suppose I could stay in the guest house in town. At least that’s close by, and I could have a big dinner and a soak in the bath before crawling under the covers. But that would get back to her and she’d be annoyed. It might even spark a rumour that we’d fallen out, or worse still, that she’d sloped off to Rome without care or consideration for her daughters. That’s the kind of thing that would get my mother’s knickers in a twist.
Great. What now?
‘Evelyn?’
I turn almost as a reflex. At first I don’t recognise him. After all, the last time I saw him we were barely on speaking terms and trying to process that our relationship was truly, legally over. Granted, I’ve seen a few sneaky pics on Facebook, but I didn’t expect a transformation this radical.
James is wearing a crisp white shirt with fitted dark jeans. His hair is neatly trimmed, and he’s clean-shaven. And tanned. And healthy and toned and bright-eyed.
‘Wow,’ I say. ‘You look great.’
We do an awkward dance where we move towards each other for a kiss on the cheek, but then I pull away, and he pulls away, and we both search the other’s face with a mixture of fascination and disbelief.
‘You’re not looking too bad yourself.’
He offers up that half-smile I know so well, the smile that probably made me agree to date him in the first place. For an instant I am seventeen years old again and the world has stopped because the boy I assumed was out of my league is standing in front of me, speaking to me, looking into my eyes.
I look away. Don’t go there, I tell myself. What’s past is past. James and I had our chance a lifetime ago.
‘What happened?’ I ask, noticing the cast on his arm. It seems crazy that I didn’t know he’d hurt himself. Somehow I’ve been so wrapped up in the changes in my own life that it’s easy to imagine he has just stood still, frozen in time. But I can see that he’s changed as a result of our split almost as much as I feel I have.
‘Nothing, just a motorcycle accident.’
‘Oh James!’ It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell him off. To tell him that bikes are not safe, that he could kill himself, all the old lines flooding back into my mind, all the warnings I spoke a hundred times when I was his wife. When taking care of him was my job.
He bends down and picks up my suitcase.
‘I’ve got the car here, let me take this
for you. Can I give you a lift home?’
‘Thanks, James, perfect timing.’
‘We can swing by the cottage if you like. I’ve done a bit of work on it – at long last, right?’
The cottage, of course. Lying empty as though waiting for me to pick up my life where I left off.
James holds the door open for me as I step into the cottage he once carried me into after our wedding. I walk over to the little window and pull back the dainty lace curtains I hung with such pride, such optimism, the day we moved in. The views of the sea are stunning, the position perfect. I fell in love with the place then, and to be honest, I’m still in love with it. To wake up each morning to a vast view of sea and sky is a gift. I often imagined our children traipsing up and down the wooden steps to the beach, wrapped in towels, with tousled sea-salt waves in their hair.
I wince. All those dreams have disappeared with the tide, never to return; the punch of disappointment still hollows my stomach. We could have had it all, James and I – we came so close. Above me, the sky is full of deep grey clouds, rolling east in the wind, and I stand here now on the other side of those dreams. I’ve learnt to let them go, to accept what’s gone and to embrace what is. Real life doesn’t co-operate with dreams, with fantasies. No matter how much you want them or what sacrifices you make.
The beach below is empty, and I watch the glowing halo circling the lighthouse. Somewhere in the distance, a dog barks a warning to a real or imagined intruder.
‘How’s Dublin treating you?’ James calls out to me from the kitchen.
I’m not quite sure what to tell him at first. Busy, interesting, different, life-changing… I don’t want to get into what happened with Rosie Munroe’s. He’ll not understand and I will sound silly, like I had no clue about business or contracts or taking on a massive financial risk. And I don’t want to talk about Danny, of course. I’ll sound silly again, on the rebound, naive, taking on a massive emotional risk. So I just tell him that it’s been good, a nice change.
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