The Book of Love

by Fionnuala Kearney

  Erin xx

  28. Erin

  NOW – 14th June 2017

  From The Book of Love:

  ‘I love you because you get me, and you still

  persist in sticking around.’

  Christ, it’s quiet.

  Dom’s in the study and because I’m not at work, I’ve already unloaded and reloaded the dishwasher, put the washing on, done the ironing. I’ve mopped the bathroom floors. I’ve called and spoken with both the kids and I’m wondering what’s next, when the sound of the home phone makes me leap.

  I grab it just before the answerphone kicks in and I hear Fitz’s voice.

  ‘Dad, hi.’ I’m a little out of breath but he doesn’t seem to notice.

  ‘Hello, love, just calling to catch up. How’s things?’

  Fitz, I’ve come to realise doesn’t want to catch up on these bi-weekly calls. Not really. He’s my father. I love him but since he’s rediscovered sex in his late sixties, his finger’s not on the Erin pulse anymore.

  ‘I’m great,’ I say.

  ‘You back at work?’

  ‘Yes, yes, it’s busy. Usual stuff. Busy, busy.’ I feel my cheeks colour.

  ‘And the family?’

  ‘All well.’

  ‘You’re full of news then.’

  ‘Well, Dad, not a lot has happened since I got back, really. How’s Penny?’ I ask after his girlfriend, the woman I still blame for his move away.

  I sit on the last step of the stairs, know he’ll talk about what they’re up to, which motor-rally they’re off to this weekend, by which time, I should be able to politely escape.

  ‘Are you sure you’re alright, Erin?’ he asks me after I’ve made appropriate noises.

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘You’d tell me, if—’

  ‘Of course,’ I say again.

  He talks, and I listen for another few minutes and after I understand the real reason for his call, I stand up and ring the doorbell. ‘Dad, sorry, I’ve got to go. That’s a delivery I have to sign for. Talk soon? Love you!’

  As soon as I hang up and am staring at the phone, I can’t believe I haven’t told my father that his only grandson just got married. I can’t believe I haven’t told him that I’ve not gone back to work at all.

  But all I heard in the whole conversation was that Dad is selling the house; the house I grew up in, the house my mother died in.

  Later, I catch Dom peering at some shots I took of New York that hang framed in his study. His eyes are inches from the frames, and he holds a hand out to me. ‘Fish scales,’ he says, and I have no idea what he means. ‘Do you remember,’ he continues, ‘when I blew up this shot of yours, the top of the Chrysler Building flashing in the sun?’

  I remember. It’s one of my favourite photos taken with a camera Dom bought me years ago.

  ‘I wanted to emulate the idea of a roof with oval, fish-scale tiles. This photo was what inspired that house, remember the big one with the sea view down in Portsmouth? We had some small pointed, triangular windows in the loft space too.’

  I nod as he continues.

  ‘Sounds weird,’ he’s musing to himself now, stroking his chin with a thumb and forefinger. ‘But it worked,’ he says, then sits on his office chair, the one with swivel wheels. He pulls me onto his lap and we spin across the room.

  My grip on him loosens. ‘Dizzy,’ I whisper, standing up and steadying myself on the desk. All I can think of is Fitz asking me to meet an agent at his and Mum’s house. I need to get a copy of his key made and hand it over.

  ‘Erin, what’s up?’

  ‘Huh?’

  ‘You’re doing that thing with your hair, twirling it around your ears. You only ever do that when you’re nervous. Or lying,’ he adds, a hint of a smile forming.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘I mean you look just like you did, oh, back during the time when the financial world got fucked up the ass and our world went tits up again.’

  I’m muted, keep my hands still, know exactly what he’s talking about. ‘I never lied then.’

  ‘A lie of omission, my dear wife, but let’s pretend that you just forgot to tell me you were ill.’

  ‘There was too much other shit happening. I didn’t want to worry you and I told you when I had to.’

  ‘Yeah, so you’ve always said.’

  Out-loud words. More frightening to me than tiny handwritten ones in our book. And the health scares that I’ve had, have always, always, been discussed with him in whispers on my part. Those tiny treacherous skin cells that I had removed a few times. Subconsciously, I run my forefinger over the last one – a small, moon-shaped scar on my shoulder.

  ‘So, if you’re not lying now,’ Dom grins. ‘Why would you be nervous?’

  I am nervous. And I suppose I’m lying to myself because I haven’t been taking my anxiety meds. Usual reason. Everything seems fine, I don’t feel tense or anxious, so I think I don’t need them. I keep my fingers away from my ears and smile back.

  The man knows me so well.

  29. Dominic

  THEN – July 2009

  She had done this.

  Erin, his wife, who no matter what life threw at her picked herself up and ploughed straight ahead. She was the one who’d made all this happen; started the ball rolling after Maisie’s ninth anniversary in 2007, telling him it was about time they did something to raise funds for Sudden Infant Death Syndrome. And last year, just before their life imploded, she had organised this event and they had swum their first sponsored 10K relay. She had somehow found purpose in Maisie’s death and had helped others to too.

  This year, though all their training had happened at the pool in Nigel’s school, Dom was grateful the event itself was outdoors in a nearby lido.

  The day was bright, the sun high in a cloudless sky. Nerves jangled as Nigel play-punched him in the arm, teased him with typical ‘Let me know what it’s like coming in behind me’ remarks. He tried to focus, looked across at Hannah and Erin sitting calmly on striped deckchairs, their goggles around their necks. Hannah’s face was angled back to the sun, Erin was stretching her arms gently as she sat under a wide umbrella in the shade.

  ‘Try not to think about the number of lengths.’ Lydia handed him a small piece from a banana. ‘You guys have this sorted – five ten-length relays each. A doddle.’

  ‘Says the non-swimmer.’

  ‘Hey, I’m helping with the barbecue later! And I’m over there, all set up with the Bean Pod stall. My lovely staff, and your lovely kids, are handing out teas and coffees. I’m doing my bit. If God had meant us to swim he’d have given us gills.’ She winked and headed to the girls with her bananas.

  Dom raised his right leg behind him, pulling from the ankle, feeling the stretch on his thigh and repeated the same on the other side. Recognising Rachel’s laugh, his eyes were drawn to the Bean Pod stand, where she stood behind the table with Jude and some kid from school that they’d brought with them. He strained to hear but he could see – he could see her with her hand in her hair and the sound of that giggle. His eleven-year-old daughter was flirting with her brother’s friend. Heading to Erin, his hand was pointing at the scene when she started to laugh.

  ‘Don’t point! Leave her.’

  ‘She’s flicking her hair and giggling!’

  Hannah laughed out loud as she passed them both on her way to the blocks.

  ‘Yep.’ Erin nodded. ‘And your first ten is after Hannah, so keep stretching.’

  Dom frowned. ‘I know what I’m doing. Do we know what she’s doing?’ His head jerked towards their daughter.

  ‘Relax, Dom. It’s all harmless stuff. You’d be better off worrying about Jude. He looks more than a little pissed off.’

  Dom looked – she was right. Jude sat at the edge of the table, his arms folded, staring into the distance. ‘Shit.’

  The sound of the gong and a loud splash meant Hannah was in the water already.

  ‘Go and cheer her on,’ Erin
said. ‘I’ll make sure Jude’s alright.’

  As Dom and Nigel rooted for Hannah at each turn, he had one eye on Erin. Noticing she stood a few feet from Jude as she spoke, he thought, good, that’s good. Jude did not like public displays of affection either from one of his parents or between his parents. Whatever she’d said she’d managed to persuade him to follow her, handing him something on the way. As they neared he could see it was the stopwatch. She’d asked him to take the splits – the timing of each lap. Nigel had some way of telling who ‘won’ from the lap timings, which for some reason was important to him even in a charity swimathon that was all about finishing and not about winning.

  As Hannah touched the wall after ten laps he dived in – not coming up for almost half the length of the pool and immediately drawing air from his angled mouth. Dom had discovered in training for this event that he loved to swim. It was odd. Erin had been right, years ago, when she’d touched on his ‘mini obsessions’ – his need for a high. He’d never found one like the inside of a bookies gave, despite trying, but with swimming something different happened. He relaxed in water, without ever feeling the need for speed or a win. He found himself not caring for competition like Nigel urged him to do, just loving that slow slide through the pool, with nothing but his thoughts and his own heartbeat for company.

  And the water was, he’d found, a place where his thoughts lined up automatically in order of importance. It was as if that with every few strokes, with each breath he’d take, first left-hand side and then right, he found his worries lessen as the rhythmic breathing became the only thing he ‘needed’ to do. Everything else seemed to matter less.

  As he swam, he thought of his mother, Sophie, as a young woman and her likeness to Rachel. Work followed; the latest building, the newest contractor, a jovial guy called Tim Chimes, who made the job feel fun and easy. And Erin … As he felt his arms stretch into the turn underwater, Erin’s body flashed in his mind. Still images from his memory bank; her lying on her side the first time they’d made love in her tiny room in Lydia’s flat, her long hair spilling over her; her wandering through their own flat naked in the early days. Her wandering through Valentine’s this morning naked, oblivious to those tiny tell-tale scars where basal cells had been removed. One tiny carcinoma on her left shoulder and another, even smaller, on her right thigh. Gone. She hadn’t even told him about that first one last year, claiming the tiny mark left by the scalpel was a rogue horsefly bite. None of that mattered now. Clear scans had confirmed it was gone. Now you think you see it, now you think you don’t … Gone, gone, gone. And Maisie – Maisie was allowed in his stream of consciousness today. When all was said and done, this fundraiser was about her. And breathe … By the time he’d swam his first ten lengths and Erin had already dived in just above him, he caught sight of Jude bending over with the stopwatch and didn’t even glance across at his teasing daughter.

  Valentine’s garden had become the natural hosting ground for the post-swim barbecue with guests bringing a variety of salads and Dom and Erin barbecuing burgers and sausages until late. After he’d showered and changed, Dom was rushing downstairs to help when he found Hannah sitting at the top of the stairs, rubbing her hair with a hand towel.

  ‘I wanted to thank you,’ she looked up.

  ‘You don’t need to. Are you alright?’ Hannah had pulled out of the last ten laps, meaning each of the others had to do a couple more with Dom swimming the last six.

  Hannah rubbed her stomach. ‘Just a twinge, I didn’t feel I should keep going, sorry.’

  Dom edged by her so that he was a few steps lower on his way down. ‘You sure you’re alright?’

  She looked over the curled staircase as if checking for other people. ‘No,’ she replied.

  He sat on the step beneath her. ‘What’s up?’

  ‘I’m forty next week,’ she whispered.

  He laughed. ‘I was forty last week.’

  ‘Walt and I are finished.’

  ‘Aah …’ Dom said, and, without realising it, tugged on his leather band. ‘I did wonder why he wasn’t around this morning.’ Walt had only ever been a part-time member of their gang, there by invite of Hannah, and not every time they met. Everyone knew – no one really “got” it, but everyone knew what it was. In Dom’s eyes, it had had the scent of doom attached to it from the very beginning. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said, because he was. He was sorry for Hannah. He stood and tried to squeeze in beside her on the top step.

  ‘You need a hug.’ He put an arm around her and she laid her head on his chest.

  ‘It’s sad. I’m sad, he’s sad.’

  ‘Why is it over? Why now?’ Dom asked.

  ‘Because I’m having a baby.’

  ‘Jesus.’

  ‘No, it’s Walt’s.’ Hannah gave a weak smile. ‘I’ve been trying to convince him for the last two years. I told him I wanted a child – he told me he didn’t.’

  ‘Please tell me you didn’t do this deliberately without him knowing.’ Dom moved to a standing position, leaned against the wall.

  Hannah’s hand went to her throat. ‘I can’t tell you that because I did. And before you yell at me, I truly, truly believed that he’d come around if it was real.’

  ‘Oh, Hannah.’ Dom looked straight at her.

  ‘And now it’s real and not only has he not come around, but he hates me. Dom, this is my only chance at having a child. And though I’m not proud of doing things this way, I tried so hard to leave Walt for the last few years because I knew,’ she rubbed her stomach, ‘I knew this was something I wanted, and he was the one who would never let me go.’

  ‘Does anyone else know?’

  Hannah shook her head. ‘I wanted to tell you and Erin today.’

  ‘Do you need to see a doctor? You pulled out today.’

  ‘It was just a twinge, I’m fine now – just did it to be safe.’

  Dom wondered what Erin would say if she were here and found himself speaking the words she might have.

  ‘Is he really not going to want to be involved?’

  ‘I’ve had to accept that, because I’ve been number two since we met, he has,’ Hannah paused, ‘responsibilities. He’s made it clear he wants nothing to do with this, with us.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Dom repeated. ‘How many weeks are you?’

  ‘Thirteen. I’ve just had my first scan.’

  ‘Alone?’

  ‘Yes, but he and I are going to be alone, aren’t we?’

  ‘You know it’s a boy already?’ Dom asked.

  ‘It’s too soon to tell for sure but I think it is. Look, just so we’re clear. I’m doing this alone. I’m financially able to do it alone. I’ve told Walt he can be involved or not in the child’s life. He’s decided “not” so I have to respect that. And I do. I really do.’

  The sudden sound of bottles clinking and Lydia’s laughter coming from the kitchen made Hannah jolt and both of their eyes meet. Dom sighed and bit on his lower lip. After years of trying for a much-wanted child, this would devastate his sister and her husband.

  ‘I know,’ Hannah shook her head and lowered it to her hands. ‘Christ, I know …’

  The next day Dom was in the back garden scrubbing the barbecue clean when Nigel poked his head around the kitchen door. ‘Oh,’ Dom said. ‘When did you get here?’

  ‘I’m supposed to get you to the park in the next ten minutes.’

  ‘For what?’

  ‘So, leave that, move, come on.’

  Dom dropped what he was doing, wiped his hands on a sheet from a roll of paper towels and allowed himself to be led through the house, out the front door, and into Nigel’s car.

  ‘Where is everyone?’ He looked back at the house that fifteen minutes earlier had his wife and children in it.

  ‘At the park.’

  Dom nodded slowly, taking in Nigel’s mood.

  ‘Lydia?’ he asked.

  ‘Not at the park,’ Nigel said.

  Dom felt his stomach sink. When he ha
d suggested to Hannah the night before, not to let time pass and just to tell Nigel and Lydia outright, he hadn’t meant for her to do it quite so quickly.

  ‘You speak to Hannah?’

  ‘She’s not at the park either.’

  ‘Right.’ Dom rubbed the fingers on his left hand. ‘Nigel …’

  ‘Don’t speak. Don’t look at me. Let me just get you to where Erin and the kids have a present for you. She ordered it to arrive at our house for your birthday last week but it only came yesterday. Look, mate, I’ll stand there and clap my hands like I should do and then we’ll all go about our business for the rest of the day.’

  ‘Can I say something?’

  ‘No.’

  For the rest of the five-minute journey, Dom remained silent. When Nigel stopped the car, Dom noticed his white knuckles still gripped the steering wheel.

  ‘We said all the right things to her; “delighted for you, blah, blah, blah”. But please, Dom, just for today, let Lydia and I be alone with this? Let us be that couple who, though we’re pleased for a friend, we have to grieve all over again.’

  Dom nodded, suddenly aware that his next words were on a loop in his mouth. ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘I know, now move or Erin will kill me for you being late.’

  Dom could see his family in the distance. ‘Why don’t you go home? Whatever is happening here now, Erin will understand. Neither of us need you to bloody stand and clap. Please. Go home to your wife, Nige. Please, and remember we love you both.’

  Dom shut the door, saluted him through the window and walked off, the sound of Nigel’s car driving away behind him.

  Jude and Rachel ran towards him.

  ‘Daddy!’ Jude yelled. ‘Wait until you see!’ They grabbed his hands and ran towards Erin where she stood beside something large and colourful on the ground.

  ‘It’s an eagle, Daddy!’

  For a second, he was confused as he looked at the six-foot-wide something that was obviously upside down and then he saw the string and paddle in Erin’s hand.

  ‘Happy birthday! What do you get the man who already has everything?’ She handed him the kite controls.