The First Time I Said Goodbye

by Allan, Claire

  “I was once,” I said. “Really proud of it. Maybe I will be again, but it just doesn’t feel like mine any more. I’ve been trying to fool myself that I’m dying to get back behind that counter when the truth is it’s been a case of ‘fake it till you make it’. If I’m being honest, lots of what was home and what was my life doesn’t feel like my life any more. Not even my café, which was once everything to me.”

  “It’s hard when you don’t feel you fit in,” Sam said, “but you have to take it easy on yourself. You’ve been through a lot – the loss of a parent and now the break-up of your relationship. You need to give yourself time to heal.”

  “Do you know, Sam, I think I’m starting to heal,” I said, and I meant it. “More than that, I think I’m starting to remember who I was – or who I was meant to be. I think I’ve given up on me for much too long – forgot who I was – but I think I’m getting back there.”

  He smiled. “I’m happy to hear that, my gorgeous cousin. And if you are starting to feel a little more positive, maybe you could be persuaded to bake me some of those delicious cupcakes I have heard so much about?”

  I took a deep breath. The last time I had baked had been for my father – for the cupcake he couldn’t eat – but these were the cupcakes he loved so much. Maybe I could bake them again? It was, after all, the very least I could do for Sam even if I suspected he had some sort of ulterior motive for getting me back in the kitchen again.

  “Name your poison,” I said. “Vanilla, chocolate, red velvet?”

  “Is it too much to choose one of each?” He winked. “Although I am trying to watch my figure! Look, why don’t you go back to my place and get baking – not much of a holiday, I admit – and we can have our two mothers over for tea later? We can formulate a proper plan. I do love making plans!”

  “Okay,” I said. “If you can take me to the store to get ingredients I’ll see what I can put together. Although I warn you I might be a bit rusty.”

  “A master baker like you, no chance!”

  * * *

  Sam’s kitchen was remarkably well stocked with ingredients for a man who swore he never baked. He said he blamed his crush on Paul Hollywood from the Great British Bake Off for his collection of tins and bowls, and I made him Google the same to see what the attraction was. I had to admit he had a point.

  We had gone to the supermarket and stocked up as best we could with the remaining ingredients needed, and now I was standing in the kitchen, Sam having gone back to the shop, looking at what were the tools of my trade. I took a deep breath – tried to remember the good memories. Tried to remember when my father had eaten three cupcakes in a row and complained of a tummy ache – grabbing his stomach melodramatically and groaning while my mother and I had laughed and teased him for being such a Greedy Guts.

  He used to say he loved to watch me work – would come into the bakery sometimes just to sit and chat with me while I measured and mixed and beat eggs to within an inch of their lives. I could, if I closed my eyes, see his smile now and hear his gentle words of encouragement. I could almost hear him whisper that he was proud of me – and that I was never to settle for anything less than happiness.

  Instinctively I started to weigh and measure my ingredients. And I started to mix them together – moving around the kitchen as if it were my own, taking immense pleasure in the smoothness of the batter – the sweet smell of the cake mix. Enjoying the blast of heat from the oven when I opened the door and the warm, sweet aroma as the cakes baked. I opened the doors to the garden and walked outside, a glass of cool water in my hand and I looked at the sky. The air was thick and muggy – a threat of rain, and perhaps thunder hung around me. My daddy always said you could smell the rain in the air and despite the heat I knew it was almost time for the storm to break.

  I was reminded of his words as the first fat drops of rain started to fall. The storm would pass – the sun would shine. I stood there for a moment, revelling in the feel of the warm rain on my skin. The storm would pass. The storm was, I was sure, passing right then – for all of us.

  The buzz of the timer on the cooker distracted me from my reverie and I walked back into the kitchen, soaked by the shower, and lifted the cakes from the oven, and left them on the cooling rack before going and standing under a hot shower, changing into some comfortable clothes and setting about decorating the cakes in time for Sam’s return home from work.

  * * *

  “I may have gone overboard,” I said, as he walked back in to find thirty-six cupcakes baked, cooled and decorated, waiting in his kitchen. “But you have what you wanted – vanilla, chocolate and red velvet. The chocolate ones have a sticky chocolate filling as well. I’m not saying they will give you diabetes from one bite, but you might find them on the rich side.”

  “My lovely cousin, you are spoiling me!” Sam grinned, lifting one of the aforementioned chocolate cupcakes and taking a bite, his face contorting with pleasure. “You should never, ever stop baking,” he said when he had composed himself. “Oh my God, Annabel, these are divine. Can I take some into the shop tomorrow? Package them up, give them to my customers?”

  I nodded. I didn’t see us getting through them somehow.

  “These are amazing.”

  I couldn’t help but grin, delighted to see him enjoying them – proud for the first time in a long time of something I had done.

  “Right, missy,” he said, when he had washed the last crumbs of the cupcake down with a glass of milk. “I have a surprise for you. Wait you there!”

  He disappeared out to his car as I cleared away the remaining dishes into his dishwasher. He returned with a number of bags, each bearing the distinctive Second Hand Rose logo.

  “Now, it’s only an idea,” he said, reaching into the first of the bags. “And you don’t have to say yes just because I think it is the most beautiful dress in the world ever – but if you would like to I really think this Dior dress could be the perfect thing for you to wear. Now it’s not the one that I showed you before, but one I ordered a few weeks ago and it arrived today. And as happy coincidence would have it, it is from the 1950s. Not 1959, unfortunately – that would be too perfect – but near enough. What do you think? I think I could trust you to return it to me in one piece?” He raised his eyebrow and pulled the dress from the bag fully, unwrapping it from its covering of tissue paper.

  It was, simply, stunning. A soft pink, it had a graceful elegance. It had a skirt which I imagined would fall to just below the knee and a wrapover at the bust. At the (tiny, I panicked) waist, several fabric flowers added the only detailing to it. I could, if I wanted, imagine my mother wearing such a garment in her heyday if only money had been no object. It looked like it had arrived straight from a movie set – and just as Sam’s face had contorted with pleasure on eating my cupcakes, I’m pretty sure my own face contorted just a little with pleasure at the sight of this beautiful dress in front of me.

  “Annabel,” he said, with a flourish, “you shall go to the ball!”

  I nodded, blinking back tears. I could barely believe this man, who I had met just over a week ago, was being so kind to me. I crossed the room to hug him, throwing myself at him like a woman demented who hadn’t been hugged in ever such a long time.

  “I make a good Fairy Godmother, don’t I?” he whispered in my ear.

  “The very best.”

  Chapter 33

  Stella felt nervous – completely unsure of herself. Dolores had almost had to drag her out of the house that morning. It had been forty-eight years since they had last lived under the one roof but Dolores still had the power to get her sister to do just what she wanted.

  “Sam is waiting for us, and your daughter too and sure it would do us both a bit of good to get pampered. Especially if we have a big night ahead of us! Can you imagine – how long has it been? Too long!” Dolores pulled a brush through her hair. “And to be honest, Stella dear, I don’t know what you are worried about. At least you still have the figure you ha
d all those years ago. I only wish I did.” She rubbed her hand over her rotund stomach. “I suppose six kids will do that to you – that and a lifetime of turnovers and other treats from the bakery! Tell me this – how did you manage to stay so trim with your daughter running a bakery of her own? I’d have ended up the size of two houses – not just the one I am now!”

  Stella smiled weakly. She appreciated Dolores’ banter but her nerves were jangling. It was starting to feel real. Even though she had been here a week, even though she had shared the intricacies and intimacies of her relationship with Annabel, and even though Dolores had assured her time and time again that she was among friends and would be most welcome at the reunion, her heart still felt a little heavy.

  “I’ll be with you soon,” she said, shooing Dolores out of the room they had shared when they were younger. “Just give me a few moments.”

  When Dolores left, Stella sat on the bed and took a deep breath, trying to settle herself. She had been surprised at Annabel’s reaction. She had expected the earlier outbursts of emotion – fully expected her daughter to feel a loyalty to Bob. She hadn’t quite expected her daughter to come round – and to set about trying to give her a make-over for the big event. A part of her, she realised, had hoped that Annabel would dig her heels clean in and tell her she was a disgrace to want to go to the reunion. Then, although she dearly wanted some form of closure, she would have a legitimate reason for walking away. She didn’t want to, of course, not really, but as the moment drew closer she felt herself falter. She had come this far – but she wasn’t sure she could go any further.

  She remembered all too well the walk back to the bus station that day – how with each step her legs felt heavier and her heart felt as though it was crumbling. It was all her own fault, of course, she told herself. She should have been honest with him – but it had seemed so much like an all or nothing situation. She knew now, looking back, she had been lost in a haze of grief and she had felt she had no choice. Just because she had pined for him every day, she could not have expected him to pine for her back. She had stopped beside the bus depot and called into a small diner where she had ordered a cup of coffee, which she stared at, the hard lump in her throat stopping her from swallowing.

  “You look like you have the weight of the world on your shoulders,” the waitress had said.

  Stella had shrugged her shoulders. “Something like that,” she said. “How do you pick yourself back up when you’ve lost everything and start all over again?”

  “You just do, doll,” the waitress had drawled. “And let me let you into a little secret. Even when you think everything is lost, you always have something. You might not see it today, but you will.”

  Stella had nodded tearfully, thanked the waitress, left a large tip, climbed back onto the bus and travelled back into the city.

  With the benefit of years of hindsight, she realised the waitress was right. She still had her job, her family back home and a visa to work in America. She would stay there until she met Bob and they would have many happy years together. She smiled as she thought of him now – how he would tell her to stop being silly and to get on with life.

  “I’ve had a good run,” he told her on one of the few occasions they had talked about his mortality. “I couldn’t have asked for more in my life – you, a woman who loved me, and our daughter. I’m leaving this world happy with what I have, even if I wish I could have it for a bit longer. But we don’t get to make those choices, do we, love?”

  Stella had lain down beside him in their bed and put her head on his chest.

  “You know, we are lucky,” he said. “We get to say our goodbyes. People don’t always get that chance. And I know it’s hard – and I’d rather we didn’t have to – but you know we can part ways knowing we’ve said it all. Stella Hegarty,” he said, smiling at his use of her maiden name, “I thank God every night that I met you and that we have had a life together. I know when you came here it wasn’t with the intention of living the life you have – but I’m glad life brought you to me.”

  She had nodded through her tears. “Me too. I could not have asked for better. Please don’t ever think I spent a life longing for someone else. He was my first love, but you are my love forever.”

  Bob had stroked her hair and kissed her head and they had lain together until the sun rose the following morning.

  It was only after he died that she found the letter from him – in amongst a file of paperwork he had said she would need to look through once he was gone. All his arrangements were made, he said. He was leaving her nothing to worry about. One of the other benefits of being able to say goodbye, he said, was that he could be organised – he could dull the pain of leaving her by taking care of the practicalities. She found it hard to tell him the pain was far from dull. Still, the morning of the funeral as she went over his paperwork – making sure everything was just as he wanted for the service and the wake – she found a letter from him. It spoke of love, of friendship, of shared experiences and it gave her strength to get through the day that lay ahead. But as she read she saw that he had left her a little challenge.

  I know I’m an old stick in the mud, Stella. How you put up with me all these years, I’ll never know. I know I tried to be good to you but I know I frustrated the life out of you at times. I know you have said I made you happy – but would you have travelled more, lived more if it had not been for me holding you back?

  I should have gone back to Ireland with you. It was, believe it or not, my plan to take you home sometime in the coming year, before this illness got in the blasted way. But I want you to go now – without me. When you are ready – the money is there. Of course, more than that is there. I’ve taken out a few extra insurance policies over the years. You know me, sensible to the last. You and Annabel will be well looked after, I promise. But I have one condition, please, if you would indulge me, for your return trip home. Please take her with you. She’s not happy. I know that. And I know this won’t be easy on her – she always was a daddy’s girl. Didn’t you always say it? Like two peas in a pod. Get her to live a little – don’t let her get stuck into the same ruts I have fallen into. I’m not saying I’ve been unhappy, Stella. You and she have made me the happiest and proudest man on earth – but I know a rut when I see one. Only when you run out of chances do you realise all the chances you would have liked to take but never quite got the chance to.

  Force her if you have to – use every trick in your armoury – but get her to see even a little of the world.

  And my darling – I know you loved me. I have never and will never doubt it. Not even when I am long gone. But be happy. Forgive yourself for things which happened in the past – things which you had little control over and things which brought you to me. Find him, Stella. Find him and explain, and if that brings you peace, or happiness, find that and grab onto it.

  She read over that letter again now in Dolores’ bedroom and closed her eyes and tried to think of everything and everyone who had brought her to this point. She thought of her mother, urging her to follow her heart, her father’s quiet approval of Ray, Bob’s smile, Annabel’s determination and there, in the bedroom where she had grown up she took a deep breath.

  “Time to put on my big girl pants and get on with the day,” she whispered, slipping her feet in her shoes and going downstairs to where Dolores, already with her coat on, was waiting.

  * * *

  Sam’s shop was, simply, delightful. Stella was entranced as soon as she walked with Dolores through the doors into the little treasure trove that greeted them. It was hard to think that such shops existed in Derry – but then again she had to remind herself this was a city transformed and this, the Cathedral Quarter, was a hive of boutiques and craft shops showcasing the quirky side of the city. It was all so close to where she had grown up that she could, if she closed her eyes, almost picture the streets as she remembered them – and picture walking along them arm in arm with her friends. She could almost smell t
he smoke curl from the chimneys – the smog that hung in the air – and yet here she was walking into her nephew’s shop, packed with designer clothes and vintage pieces that made her feel young again.

  As she walked through the door she noticed Annabel in deep conversation with a customer just outside the changing room, her head thrown back with laughter. Her daughter looked at her and smiled, acknowledging her presence, before turning her attention back to her customer. The customer was smiling, twirling around in a soft cream knitted dress she must have been interested in buying.

  “You should treat yourself, Anne,” Annabel said. “It’s beautiful on you. Very elegant. Just the thing to wear to the theatre. I’ve always wanted to go to a Broadway show, or the West End.”

  “Then you should,” the woman, who Stella placed in her late fifties or early sixties, smiled. “Life is too short not to be happy. I’ve learned that over the years. All that matters is family and happiness.”

  “Very true, Anne. You know, maybe I should treat my mother as well. We’ve had a tough few months.”

  “Life has a way of testing us all,” Stella heard Anne say, “but as long as you remember what is really important, then you won’t go far wrong. I have four children myself – they’ve kept me right. And in return, well, I’d do anything for them.”

  “You’re very lucky,” Annabel said, lifting a soft lilac scarf and handing it to Anne to accessorise her dress with.

  “You make the most of what life gives you,” she replied and Stella stood there for a moment listening to the wisdom of the woman she had never met telling her what she knew in her heart.

  And she stood there watching her daughter smile – in her element – and she knew that Bob had been right all along and that Annabel had needed to find something that made her happy again.