‘Oh, darling heart,’ she said, pulling Clara even closer. ‘Yes. I do have to go on a plane to see a man about my book. He’s called Graham and he wants to help me get it made into a real book you can buy in a shop. But it’s only a meeting. I’ll be gone for maybe one or two sleeps. That’s all. I promise. And you will always, always have us. Mammy and Daddy and Noah and Libby and Auntie Mags and all our friends. And we have so much to look forward to. Like Daddy coming back, and Noah and Libby getting married. We’ve got to pick your flower-girl dress too!’
‘Libby says Buttercup can have her own fancy dress too,’ Clara said, her eyes wide with excitement, and that was all it took to make everything right in her world again.
If only the promise of a fancy dress was enough to make all right in Jo’s own world. Despite the excitement of the day, Ewan’s behaviour continued to nag at her.
* * *
Jo replied to Graham Westbury after she had tucked Clara up in bed. Before then, she didn’t feel able to reply without making herself sound like a fawning idiot. It was bad enough that she had zero chill, she didn’t want to advertise it in her first official communication with Graham.
She could hardly believe that she was having this email conversation, but she was determined to take her time and enjoy it.
Dear Graham,
Thank you so much for your email of this morning. I apologise for the time it has taken me to respond, but I was so blown away by your words that I wanted a little time to process everything you had written.
As it happened, I was also on a writing retreat of sorts with one of your authors – Ewan McLachlan, who has been researching his next novel here.
I am beyond happy that you read and enjoyed The Lies We Tell, and I am thrilled that you would like to discuss representing me. I would be more than happy to have a phone conversation with you to discuss this further, and to discuss your ideas on how to get the book ready to submit to publishers.
Please let me know when would suit you for a chat. I look forward to speaking with you.
Kindest regards,
Jo Campbell
She read the email at least seven times, and tweaked it before she pressed send. She realised that while she hadn’t exactly shown zero chill, she wasn’t far off. But this was a huge deal. This could bring her dream directly to her door. The thought made her feel giddy.
Jo was still feeling light and breezy when she got up the following morning and looked out at the bright spring morning. She was determined nothing was going to bring her down, not even the incredibly bizarre behaviour of Ewan the day before or whatever would happen when she met Lorcan for a coffee. He had sent a perfunctory message shortly after her return to Derry saying he would appreciate the chance to talk. Something that, probably because of Ewan’s sudden mood swing the day before, she felt more nervous about than she normally would. She wasn’t sure she could trust her feelings about new men in her life any more.
But first of all, she was going to take Clara to school and then she, and her battered laptop, were going to Once Upon A Book to try to pull together some of the ideas she had worked on with Ewan. She intended to write until it was time to see Lorcan, and then, when that was done and dusted, she planned to write some more.
‘You don’t look sad today, Jo,’ Clara said, as they walked hand in hand through the school gates, having sung most of the Frozen soundtrack on the way.
‘You know what? I don’t think I am sad today and I’m not even tired because I had cuddles with my best girl all night.’
A bright smile beaming across her face, Clara skipped into school and Jo turned and headed for the bookshop.
‘I’ve kept our next big famous author her favourite spot by the window,’ Libby crowed as Jo arrived. ‘And your first coffee and bun is on the house. As is the use of the writing nook. All I ask is that when you get your book made into a HUGE movie, you invite me to the Oscars with you so I can bag a celebrity husband.’
Jo laughed. ‘Won’t Noah have a problem with that?’
‘Not if I bring him back Charlize Theron. We have an agreement.’
‘I don’t think the Oscars are like Build-A-Bear. You don’t get to nab a celebrity of your own and bring them home with you,’ Jo smiled. ‘But I suppose it’s worth a try. Not that I think I’ll ever get to the Oscars…’
’Ssh!’ Libby said, raising her finger in front of her mouth. ‘Dream big and remember the universe is listening. Express your hopes and wishes out loud, keep your doubts bottled up.’
‘I think you might have been spending too much time with Mum and Auntie Mags,’ Jo laughed.
‘They have a point, you know,’ Libby said, as she walked towards the coffee bar to make a cappuccino for her friend. ‘I’ve been reading up on it. It’s called cosmic ordering or something. View the world and your goals as a great big Argos catalogue in the sky, then order what you want.’
‘Do they do next day delivery?’ Jo asked, amused at Libby but also thinking it would be wonderful if the concept were true.
‘If only,’ Libby said. ‘But look how far you’ve come. We’re so proud of you. All of us. And it makes me feel validated in opening this shop and creating these lovely spaces for people to work from.’
If Jo wasn’t mistaken, Libby had become misty-eyed, which in turn made Jo feel more than a little emotional.
‘God, look at us, like two big eejits!’ she said. ‘Let’s just say we’re both doing okay and be glad of it.’
‘Sounds like a plan,’ Libby said, as she lifted a caramel square and put it on a side plate. ‘Go get yourself settled in and I’ll bring this over. We want to get you writing this book and get us all closer to Hollywood.’
‘Yes, boss!’ Jo replied, and plugged her laptop in and switched it on. It would take at least five minutes to fully power up. If she did get a publishing deal, the first thing she would do is buy a new one. One that didn’t occasionally smell like burnt toast or need the charging cable to be wiggled in just the right manner to get it to work.
Once she set to work, she felt her fingers fly over the keys, as her characters came to life at her hands. Before she knew it, her coffee had gone cold and her caramel square remained untouched. But her word count had jumped up. She ordered a warm coffee and returned to her seat. She read over the notes Ewan had scribbled in the margins of her notebook. He had been so full of compliments, she felt a pang of regret at how things had gone between them the day before and decided she’d send him a quick message.
Jo took her phone from her bag and tapped in a message wishing him all the best for his meeting with his editor and agent, adding that she hoped he felt better. She couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed when her phone remained silent but did her best to push those feelings aside. Work, she discovered, was a great distraction.
By the time the bell above the door tinkled to announce Lorcan’s arrival, she had written almost two thousand words and she was happy with most of them. She’d also received an email from Graham Westbury to arrange a phone chat with her the following day.
She realised as soon as she saw Lorcan that she desperately wanted to tell him her news. She wanted things to be okay between them. It was, she realised, important to her, and not because she wanted to prove to him she was a good writer. She just wanted someone – and him in particular – to share in her happiness. Whatever was said between them as they sat together drinking coffee, she really hoped that they could get back to a place where they could share each other’s happiness.
Lorcan gave her an awkward smile, and pulled out a chair to sit down. ‘Thanks for agreeing to meet me,’ he said.
‘Thanks for asking,’ she replied. ‘First of all, I’m really sorry for how I spoke to you on Friday.’
He shook his head. ‘No need to apologise, Jo. I’m sorry for inserting myself in your business on Thursday evening and for all the things I said…’
There was a pause and they looked at each other and she felt the tension between t
hem melt away.
‘Now,’ he said. ‘Let me get you a coffee and let’s have a proper talk.’
Jo looked at the empty coffee cup on her desk. ‘Can you make it a decaf? That last one was a bit strong and I can feel my heart going nineteen to the dozen.’
‘Maybe that’s just the effect I have on people,’ Lorcan said with a cheeky smile before immediately apologising. ‘Sorry,’ he said. ‘It’s probably a bit too soon for cheesy flirty banter. I’m just nervous.’
‘Not as nervous as I am,’ Jo told him and as he walked to get their drinks, she realised she hadn’t been exaggerating. Spending time with Lorcan Gallagher unnerved her.
When he came back, he sat down and before she even had the chance to take her first drink of decaf he started to speak.
‘I think I’m just going to have to come out and say all this,’ he began. ‘Because, ever since Friday, I’ve been running this through my head on a loop and the only way to stop it is to just tell you the truth. I hate that you think badly of me…’
‘I don’t,’ she interrupted.
‘You do a bit,’ he said, with a sad smile. ‘And I can understand that. You care about Grandad and I appreciate that more than you know. We all do, you know, his family. I respect that you are protective of him, but I really did have a valid reason for not coming over last summer.’
She twisted the napkin that had been on the table in front of her, feeling a little uneasy. ‘You don’t have to…’
‘I do,’ he replied, and cleared his throat. ‘Last summer. When Grandad took ill, I desperately wanted to come back and help Dad look after him. I even went as far as to book the ticket for my flight, but then…’ He glanced to the ground. ‘Sophie and I had been together a long time, as I told you. I suppose, well, last summer was when it all started to go wrong. Specifically, two days after Grandad took ill. Even more specifically, about six hours before I was due to board a flight to Belfast.’
He looked a little grey of face, and if Jo wasn’t mistaken, she could see the muscles in his forearm tense as he replayed the memory of whatever it was that happened in his head.
‘Sophie was pregnant,’ he blurted and Jo felt dizzy. Memories of her own short-lived pregnancy flooded her mind, and the pain that had accompanied it. Looking up, she was sure she saw that same pain in Lorcan’s eyes and everything started to make sense.
Jo wanted to speak. She wanted to stop him opening up about this pain, but she couldn’t find the words. But it was all so close to her own trauma that she was almost scared of hearing any more.
‘It was early days,’ he said. ‘And a complete bolt out of the blue. It wasn’t something we’d planned. I mean, we’d had the “maybe someday” conversation, but that’s all it had been. The thing is, when she told me she was pregnant, I actually felt, instinctively, it was right. I knew that we’d cope and we were old enough, stable enough. I mean, financially we had good jobs. Good benefits. I started to become quite excited about it, even in those early days. You know, making lists of names. Thinking about nursery decoration. Silly things.’
Jo shook her head. None of what he was saying felt like just ‘silly things’ to her. She remembered the strength of those feelings all too well. Even when her relationship was disintegrating around her ears, she’d felt that excitement pushing through. How she wished Colm had felt even a tenth of that excitement. Things could have been so different – but then again, maybe things would only have fallen apart later.
Lorcan took a deep breath, exhaled slowly, his breathing shaky. ‘That morning,’ he said. ‘The morning I was due to fly to Belfast. Sophie woke up in pain. Cramps, you know. She threw up, and we thought maybe it was just a stomach bug. But, of course, it was more than that. Worse than that.’
30
The Last Song
‘You don’t have to tell me this,’ Jo said, and she meant it. She knew what a trauma this would be for him because she had lived the same trauma.
‘I know I don’t have to,’ Lorcan replied. ‘But I want to. Not just because I want you to know I’m not the asshole you think I am…’
‘I know that. I shouldn’t have said anything,’ Jo interjected, feeling wretched for her judgement of him. She had completely underestimated almost everything about him.
‘Jo, I think I need to talk about it. I didn’t at the time. I didn’t tell anyone. Even now, Grandad doesn’t know. I don’t want to land it on your shoulders if you don’t have the headspace for it, but if you do? If you do, I think you would be a good person to tell.’
He had no idea just how much she understood what he had gone through, but even without knowing he trusted her enough to talk about something so deeply personal and painful. She nodded. ‘Okay,’ she said. ‘I’m here.’
He took another deep breath. He looked down at the table. ‘It was a miscarriage. Before it even really started. They said that at the hospital, you know. That we shouldn’t think of it as a baby. It wasn’t, but to us, it was. Or to me, anyway. Even though it hadn’t been planned, and I’d felt sick when she first told me. You see, that sick so quickly changed to excitement. And it was like I could see his face.’ Lorcan smiled sadly. ‘I felt that it was a boy, you know. Maybe that was wishful thinking on my part, although I’d have loved a little girl just as much. But it was like I could see our lives stretch out in front of me. Sophie and I, and our baby, and Scraps. I could see weekend kickabouts at the park, tiny football kits. Long walks on a Sunday and a pub lunch, the baby sleeping in the pram while Soph and I chatted. I saw first days at school, and teaching him to shave and all that stuff. The kind of stuff people don’t think men think about.’
He was speaking all the words that had run through her mind when she had come home from Spain, cowed by her experience. Words that she has never allowed herself to say out loud, afraid it would break her entirely if she did.
‘I’m so sorry,’ Jo stuttered, her voice thick with emotion.
Lorcan shrugged his shoulders. ‘It wasn’t anyone’s fault. I never understand why we tell people we’re sorry. As if we did something wrong…’ He paused for a moment.
‘It was awful,’ Jo said, and it wasn’t a question but a statement of understanding.
‘It was. For Sophie more than me – well, physically at least for her. It was early enough on so we were sent home to wait it out. It had been too early to see a heartbeat or to have any confirmation this had been real, apart from one of those pregnancy-testing sticks. Sophie was in pain, you know. I felt useless, because I was. I couldn’t take it away from her. I brought her painkillers and a hot-water bottle, but that just made her cry more. Because I’d do that when she got her period and this wasn’t a period.’
Jo realised that tears had started to slide down her cheeks. For Sophie, who she didn’t know. For Lorcan, who had tried his best. For Colm, who didn’t know what it was like to love a little person who had never had the chance to feel their own heartbeat. And for herself. She had felt the pain Sophie had. That physical ache and sense of helplessness, and she’d have done anything she could to have someone like Lorcan by her side at the time. Someone who tried to make it less horrific for her.
She just shook her head, not trusting herself to speak.
‘So I couldn’t come over,’ Lorcan said. ‘I had to be there for her, because I was the only person who knew. This was our loss – even if Sophie felt it was hers alone. I did feel it too. I really did.’ His voice wavered and Jo reached across the table and stroked his arm.
‘I know,’ she said, as her own voice cracked.
‘That was the beginning of the end for us,’ he said. ‘I came out of the situation knowing that I wanted a child. Sooner rather than later. I know I’m not thirty yet, that I have loads of time. But Sophie and I had been together a long time, it felt like it was the right time to move things up a level. And once the notion of a baby had been planted in my head, I couldn’t shake it. But Sophie… it had the opposite effect on her.’
‘She wanted
to wait?’ Jo asked.
‘She wanted to remain child-free. She said she’d had some thoughts about it all before, but this had solidified it in her head. She didn’t want children, not then and not ever. We tried to work through it. At first, I thought she was just trying to protect herself from getting hurt again, you know. Putting a wall up. I thought I’d give her time to process our loss, but she seemed okay about it. In fact, she seemed relieved. That’s what I couldn’t get my head around,’ he said, shaking his head as if he was still completely thrown by it.
‘So I asked her and she told me, told me that she’d hated being pregnant. Even for that short a time. It felt wrong. She’d felt panicked. Trapped. She knew then it was something she’d never want to do again.’
Jo didn’t know what to say. Like Lorcan, her loss had made her know for definite that one day she wanted to be a parent again. That she couldn’t imagine her life without her own child in it.
Lorcan blew out a long slow breath. ‘I tried to convince myself it wouldn’t matter to me and I could learn to live with it because she was Sophie, you know. My Sophie. She was the prize, and that prize should’ve been enough, I told myself. I loved her. So much. But that’s when I learned that all those shitty songs and poems and stuff are right. Sometimes love isn’t enough. Not for me and not for her.’
Jo wiped the tears from her eyes. He was absolutely right. Love wasn’t always enough, and love didn’t always last. Not healthy love. Love that nourishes and cherishes.
‘We will probably always love each other in one way or another,’ Lorcan said. ‘But we can’t be together. We want things that are so vastly different out of life. I just can’t believe it took us so long to work it out.’
Jo realised she’d been lucky in many ways. That her relationship with Colm had been relatively short-lived.
In Pursuit Of Happiness Page 20