Coming Home to Seashell Cottage

by Jessica Redland

  Five weeks after the accident, she was ready to put weight on the ankle. Her first steps were very tentative. Physically, I could see she was exhausted, as she clung onto the railing in the physio room. Emotionally, I could see that it was worse. I recalled the footage of her dancing and was pretty certain she was petrified she’d never be able to dance again. I didn’t know how to broach the subject so I took Dr Kaur aside and asked her outright.

  ‘The fact that she’s a dancer will make her rehabilitation easier,’ she assured me. ‘Her legs will be used to hard work. Because of the accident the muscles have forgotten what that feels like and they’re objecting to it. If she’s determined – and I can see that she’s that kind of woman – there’s no reason why she won’t fully recover and dance again to the same standard. The broken ankle has healed nicely because she’s had complete bed rest and she didn’t damage her legs in the accident. She just hasn’t used them for a while.’

  Shannon cried after that first intense physio session. She’d been strong in front of us but, when she was alone on the ward, the tears fell. I only knew because I realised I’d left Luke’s teddy on her bed so returned to get it. She wasn’t quick enough to wipe the tears away.

  ‘I know it hurt today, but it will get better,’ I said, passing her a tissue.

  ‘And you’d know because you were in a coma and woke up to discover that your legs had forgotten how to work?’ she snapped.

  ‘No.’

  ‘You’re a doctor then, are you?’

  I gazed at her and saw so much of me in her, desperate to strike out at anyone, in order to keep the pain at bay. ‘You’ll dance again,’ I said. ‘I know it.’

  Another tear slipped down her cheek. She didn’t need a pep talk from me. She needed her alone time to think.

  ‘I’ll see you tomorrow, Shannon. Don’t give up. And don’t forget that stuff about God making the valley of trouble a door of hope.’ Without waiting for her reaction, I left the ward. Callum was adamant that her faith was strong. Maybe that was what she needed to get her through this. It wasn’t my thing but if it worked for her, so be it.

  The next day, she seemed a lot more positive and apologised for snapping. It was her first apology to me so things were looking up.

  A week of physio did wonders for her. By the end of the second week, Callum was up and about again, encouraging and supporting her, and the improvements were incredible.

  I visited Whitsborough Bay hospital twice during that fortnight. The first time was an evening so I texted Sarah a couple of days before, knowing the shop would be closed. I got another garbled message back about meetings and stocktakes and Christ knows what. I didn’t bother contacting her the following week. I couldn’t face a third rejection. While I was there, I drove round the Old Town and parked near Seashell Cottage. There was a ‘for sale’ board outside but thankfully no ‘sold’ sign on it. I was so tempted to knock on the door and tell Kay I wanted to buy it, but I needed to know where Shannon and Callum were going to settle before I could make any major life decisions like that.

  Melody was doing really well, putting on weight and sleeping less. Sarah still hadn’t visited and I could see how hurt Elise was about that. She’d sent several texts, each with a different excuse: she had a cold and didn’t want to pass it on to Melody; she had a stomach bug and couldn’t risk passing that on either; Nick had picked up the bug and she was worried about still being contagious. And so it went on. She’d posted a new baby card through their letterbox one evening but hadn’t knocked. Stevie had actually been in and his car was on the drive, so he’d felt pretty miffed that she didn’t seem to have five minutes to say hello and ask after Melody. Elise, who always tried to see the good in everyone and every circumstance, suggested that it might not have been Sarah who’d dropped off the card, but her words lacked conviction and I could tell she felt totally let down by Sarah’s absence.

  Shannon and Callum made a decision that it wasn’t fair on Luke to spend so many hours cooped up in hospital, especially as that had been the reason why Callum had asked me to look after him in the first place. We therefore settled into a fresh routine of visits – one full day there without me, the next evening with me, a morning without me, another evening with me, then back to the start again. I liked the new arrangement. It was far better for Luke to get out in the fresh air, and it was good for Shannon and Callum to get quality time alone with him. It also helped my relationship with Shannon. I could tell her about the places Luke and I had been and she lapped up all the minute details like the colours of the leaves on the trees, the feel of the breeze on our cheeks, the cries of other children in the park and so on. I think she liked to imagine she was the one pushing the pram and behaving like a ‘normal’ mum.

  On the Sunday, two weeks after Shannon had started her intensive physio, I was scheduled for an evening visit. A mild mid-March day had dawned, with blue skies and a warm sun.

  ‘It’s gorgeous out there,’ Ben said, as he washed up after breakfast and I dried the dishes. ‘Do you fancy making the most of a full day with Luke and taking a run through to Whitsborough Bay?

  ‘To see Elise?’ I asked. I clocked his frown and quickly added, ‘Or Sarah?’

  He reached for the tea towel and dried his hands, then leaned against the sink. ‘You can tell me to mind my own business, but she’s my sister so I have to ask. What made you say “Elise” first? You hardly ever mention Sarah these days.’

  ‘I can’t work out what’s going on in Sarah World at the moment. I’ve tried to spend time with her but she seems to be avoiding me. She’s avoiding Elise too. Don’t think she wants to be our friend anymore.’ I flinched. Even to my own ears, the reference to ‘Sarah World’ sounded extremely bitchy and the rest of the statement sounded downright childish. Clearly, Ben thought so too.

  ‘Have you tried to find out what’s going on in “Sarah World”, as you so beautifully put it?’

  I snatched the tea towel back off him and picked up a mug to dry. ‘Don’t get stroppy with me, Ben. It was just a flippant comment.’

  He folded his arms and shook his head. ‘I don’t know what’s going on between the three of you, and I don’t really want to get involved, but I also don’t want to hear any talk about you not being friends anymore. If you think my sister hasn’t been there for you, it might be because she has things going on herself, and she could easily say that you haven’t been there for her either.’

  ‘Don’t be cryptic, Ben.’

  ‘I’m not being cryptic. I’m just making a point. I know you have lots on at the moment, and so does Elise, but perhaps Sarah does too.’

  I put the mug and tea towel down and folded my arms as well. ‘Is she sick? Is that what you’re trying to tell me? I mean, properly sick, rather than just a cold?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Problems with the shop?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Problems with Nick?’

  ‘No. It’s not that either.’

  ‘Then what is it?’

  ‘It’s… Sorry, Irish. I can’t tell you. It’s not up to me to say anything. But I really think you should—’

  But at that moment, Luke woke up and screamed. The unfinished conversation hung in the air while I brought Luke downstairs, doing my best to avoid eye contact with Ben as I prepared the bottle. Eventually, Ben left the room, muttering something about taking a shower, and my shoulders relaxed. Well, that had gone well!

  In true Saint Ben style, he came back downstairs fifteen minutes later, apologised for interfering and for lecturing me, and insisted that we still go to Whitsborough Bay and forget the conversation had ever happened.

  ‘So, how’s Lebony?’ I asked, as I pushed the pram along the promenade at North Bay after a walk around Hearnshaw Park followed by a late lunch outside a beachside café. The sun had brought everyone out. Cyclists, dog-walkers and families jostled for space along the wide pathway, and the beach was as packed as on a summer’s day. Many of the brightly coloured beac
h huts had their doors wide open, with children dashing in and out brandishing buckets and spades or body boards, and parents or grandparents making lunch or lounging on deckchairs with a book, e-reader or the Sunday papers. I smiled as I took in the scene, thinking how much Shannon and Callum would love living in Whitsborough Bay. It was so perfect for families.

  ‘She’s good,’ Ben said, bending to chuck a rogue Frisbee back to a couple of teenagers on the beach. ‘She’s in France at the moment.’

  ‘France? That’s a little normal for her, isn’t it? I thought she wasn’t interested in anywhere that wasn’t famine- or disease-stricken.’

  ‘The charity she currently works for is French so she’s doing some training with them.’

  ‘Oh.’ I wasn’t really interested in hearing more about Lebony. I’d heard enough about her from Sarah over the years. Sarah didn’t like her because she never seemed to have time for Ben, even when she was in the UK. Visiting him was like an afterthought. Sarah said she was too nice, too perfect and too passionate about changing the world, without being aware of the impact she had on those she left at home. I was inclined to agree and found myself disliking her too. And then I’d feel like a right bitch for thinking that, because we needed people like Lebony. So much was wrong with the world and I was full of admiration for anyone who felt compelled to do something about it – something more than making the occasional charitable donation. I guess, in that way, she was a lot like Daran. I just wished she’d either end it with Ben or spend a little more time with him. He always made out that he didn’t mind and their long-distance relationship worked for both of them, but he got a sad, faraway look in his eyes when her name came up.

  A couple moved away from a bench beside us and I indicated to Ben that we should sit down. I lifted Luke out of his buggy.

  ‘You’re imagining living here, aren’t you?’ Ben said after a few minutes’ silence.

  I smiled. ‘Is it that obvious?’

  ‘I see the way your eyes are darting about everywhere, as if you’re seeing the place for the first time and sussing it out.’

  ‘I laughed when Sarah moved back here. I couldn’t understand why someone who’d lived in Manchester, then London, could possibly want to move back to a small town by the sea. When I first visited, I was pleasantly surprised. It was very Sarah, but it wasn’t me. I still wanted my bright lights, big city. I couldn’t imagine settling down somewhere like this.’

  ‘And you can now?’

  ‘Very much so. I thought I liked being surrounded by designer clothes shops, nice restaurants and trendy bars, but it turns out I prefer a night out at your local Indian, or a night in with a takeaway and a film. My expensive wardrobe suddenly seems impractical and uncomfortable, and I’d rather go shopping for clothes for Luke than anything for me. I think this young man might have completely changed me, in more ways than my wardrobe choices.’ I pointed to my outfit – charcoal leggings, grey Uggs, a burgundy tunic top, nipped in at the waist, and a sparkly, silver scarf.

  ‘I like the outfit, by the way,’ Ben said. ‘I like this new style a lot. I think it’s more the real you, not that you didn’t look amazing in your old outfit choices.’

  ‘It feels more like the real me. I used to dress like this when I was younger, before I was kicked out. I consciously changed my clothes and cut my hair to separate myself from the past. I guess the real me couldn’t really disappear.’

  ‘And the real you is a small-town girl at heart? I actually think you started to change last year, before you knew about Shannon or Luke. When you lived with me first time round, I’d suggest going out to bars and restaurants but you were always keener to stay in or go local.’

  I thought for a moment. ‘You could be right. I hadn’t—’

  My phone began ringing, cutting me off. I pulled it out of my jacket pocket. ‘It’s Aisling. Do you mind…?’

  ‘Be my guest.’ Ben reached for Luke as I connected the call.

  ‘Hi, Aisling, how’s it going?’

  ‘Not good. I’m sorry to do this over the phone, but Da’s had a heart attack. A serious one.’

  The squeals of children and the squawks of seagulls, which had been so loud moments ago, seemed to mute. The scene before me on the promenade and the beach paled and blurred as I fought to form any words.

  ‘It’s not looking good,’ she continued. ‘He’s asking for you. I know you owe him nothing but…’

  I took a deep breath. ‘I’m in Whitsborough Bay at the moment so I doubt I’ll be able to catch a flight tonight. Plus, I need to make arrangements for Luke. But I’ll get there as soon as I can. Do you think he’ll…?’

  ‘I don’t know. He’s really sick.’

  36

  Rushing through arrivals the following morning, clutching a carry-on case, I kicked myself for not packing better. I didn’t want to be in Ireland and I didn’t want time away from Shannon, Callum and Luke, but more clothes would have been a good plan, in case I couldn’t get away as quickly as I’d like.

  I was already missing Luke and had hated saying goodbye to him at Jimmy’s last night. Callum had finally been given the all-clear to stop using his crutches and was well enough to have moved back into a visitor’s room. Ben had offered to request emergency leave to look after Luke but Callum had insisted he’d be able to manage now. Much as it hurt me to admit it, it would do them some good to be together as a three without me being around. Valuable family bonding time. After all, they hadn’t exactly had a conventional start to family life.

  Aisling was waiting for me in the arrivals lounge and looked exhausted. ‘Am I pleased to see you,’ she said, holding me tightly. ‘Ma’s driving me crazy. If she doesn’t calm down, she’ll take a heart attack herself, so she will.’

  I followed her out to her car. ‘So, what happened?’ I asked, as we pulled out of the car park.

  ‘It’s been building up for ages. The man’s a bloody eejit. He’s been in a right state since your trip home, spouting on about sinners and repentance. I subjected the kids to a visit the weekend after you were here and Da commented on how much Briyana had grown since Christmas. She responded by asking him if he thought she’d grow up to be as tall and beautiful as her Auntie Clare.’

  ‘Shite. I bet he hit the roof.’

  ‘Ma spilled her cup of tea all over the carpet. Da turned purple and suggested we’d probably been there long enough. The poor kids could hear the yelling as we got back into the car and hadn’t a clue what was happening. I visited again a couple of weeks ago without the kids and told them we’d seen you over the school holidays. I thought they’d better hear it from me rather than Torin or Briyana.’

  ‘Did you tell them about Shannon and Luke?’

  ‘No. I only told him we’d visited.’

  ‘Did he turn purple again?’

  She concentrated on the traffic for a moment as she guided the car out of the airport car park and towards Cork. ‘I actually thought he was going to keel over clutching his heart at any moment. His mouth kept opening and closing, and no words came out. Ma called me a few choice words and threw me out. I haven’t seen or spoken to them since.’

  ‘Jesus Christ! I’m so sorry, Aisling. That sounds hideous.’

  ‘It wasn’t the best craic I’ve had, but it was inevitable at some point.’

  ‘If that was two weeks ago, what happened to bring on the heart attack? Or was it just a build-up of rage?’

  ‘It was a steady build-up but Keenan going round on Saturday night and announcing that he’s getting divorced didn’t help.’

  ‘No! I thought you said he was a strict Catholic like Da.’

  ‘I thought he was but I’ve spent so little time in his company since the kids were born that I had no idea how much he’d changed. He took Éamonn with him for support, which makes me think he must have changed too.’

  ‘So I’m not the only sinner in the family, then?’

  Aisling shook her head. ‘Nope. Five kids, two divorcees, and one supporting
one of those. Mind you, you still hold the crown for being a wicked harlot. Keenan and I are sadly no contest for you there.’

  I laughed. ‘I’m very proud of that. Will I have that carved on my gravestone? “Here lies Clare O’Connell. Wicked harlot. And proud!”’

  Aisling laughed loudly. ‘I’ll have to outlive you now, just to be able to see that.’ She shrugged her shoulders and rolled her head as if letting the tension ease away. ‘You’re a tonic, little sister. An absolute tonic.’

  We drove in silence for a while until I realised she hadn’t finished the story. ‘You said you didn’t think that Keenan’s news had helped. Does that mean something else happened to bring on the attack?’

  She nodded. ‘So, we have him angry with you since, well, since forever. We have him furious with me for spending time with you. We have him livid with the twins, and then the straw that broke the camel’s back was that he visited Father Doherty after Mass yesterday. I hadn’t told him about you seeing the Father and him handing over the letters. He hardly ever visits Father Doherty so I didn’t expect him to find out but I’m assuming he wanted his guidance on the divorce situation, so he pays him a visit, no doubt expecting support and understanding. Instead he gets a sermon on how wonderful you are and how he should seek forgiveness. He storms out, drives home and collapses an hour later.’

  ‘Christ!’

  ‘I know!’

  We pulled into the visitors’ car park of Cork University Hospital and walked towards the entrance. ‘Why do you think he’s asked for me?’ I said.

  ‘To clear his conscience.’

  ‘Do you really believe that?’

  She hesitated and lightly touched my arm. ‘I want to. I really do.’

  My stomach churned. She clearly thought exactly the same as me – he wanted to say his piece before he met his maker, and his piece wasn’t going to be about making peace. It was going to be about him getting the last word in. Would I let him, or would I finally tell him exactly what I thought of him, knowing that it could finish him off?