At First Sight

by Hannah Sunderland

  You tell each other, while you’re in a relationship, that you’re best friends. That even if you should ever split up, you’ll still talk. But is that even possible when the ego is so easily bruised? It is funny how the smallest change in your relationship status can open doors to personality traits that you never knew existed within the person you thought you knew inside out. One moment, hating them seems about as likely as Dwayne Johnson becoming prima ballerina for The Royal Ballet and then suddenly, they’re talking differently, acting like someone you never thought they would be and the only cause for this is a case of injured pride.

  I heard the door to the house slam shut, the argument clearly over with now.

  ‘Nell? What’s wrong?’ I heard Charlie’s voice nearby and the bitter, empty feeling inside me eased a little. I withdrew my hands from my face, wiping tears away as I did, and found him crouching on the grass in front of me.

  ‘I spoke to Joel,’ I replied, my voice a little more fragile than I wished it was.

  ‘Was he a bastard?’

  ‘He was.’

  ‘What did he say?’ he asked, his eyes narrowing with an anger I hadn’t seen in him yet.

  ‘Oh, nothing much. Just that you’re going to get bored of me eventually and go back to the hot girls you’re accustomed to. That I’m basically nothing without him and won’t survive out here in the big world by myself.’

  ‘Fecker,’ he muttered under his breath. ‘D’ya want me to hit him? Because I will, if it’s what yer want. Or we could go together, each have a swing at him?’

  I smiled and sadly chuckled through my words. ‘No, I don’t want you to hit him.’ I quickly checked that there was no one around to see, raised my hand to his face and stroked my thumb gently over his cheek, which was still slightly red from his earlier assault by Kenna. ‘Thank you for the offer though.’

  His eyes softened as I dared to touch him for a moment longer before letting my hand drop back to my lap. He looked down and, with gentle fingers, lifted my hand back to his face. He leaned into my touch as sparks ricocheted around my chest. How was it that he had fixed my sadness so quickly?

  Was it because I knew that Joel was wrong and this wasn’t just a fleeting fancy? Was it because I knew that Charlie and me were so much more than that, much more than Joel and I had ever been?

  Oh God how I wanted to pull him to me, to kiss him and feel that closeness that I’d longed to feel with him. But this was neither the time nor the place and so, after a few moments longer, I withdrew my hand again and pushed myself up to standing. Charlie followed suit and we slowly began meandering back towards the house.

  ‘So, we heard how my argument went, how was yours?’ I asked, nodding in the direction of where he and Kenna had been shouting a few minutes ago.

  ‘Oh, fine. That’s how Kenna and I communicate. We love each other really though.’

  ‘It certainly looked like it,’ I said sarcastically.

  The back of Charlie’s hand brushed mine, accidentally on purpose. ‘She’s a right to be mad at me. After what I did.’

  ‘And what did you do?’ I asked, stopping and turning to him. He stopped too, turned to me and pressed his lips together.

  ‘I would tell yer, but it’s a long story and right now, I need to introduce yer to Steve.’

  More family, yay! I thought.

  ‘Who is Steve?’ I asked.

  ‘Steve and I go way back.’

  ‘Is he going to slap you too?’

  ‘I most certainly hope not. We met when I was sixteen and became best friends, although life moved on and we became estranged … until today that is.’ He turned with a sly smile on his lips and walked towards the drive. I followed on, jogging to keep up. ‘He was in a pretty terrible state when we met, but Dad helped me get him back on his feet,’ he said as we descended a small set of stone steps beside the house and reached the gravel drive. Charlie walked a little further on and disappeared inside the garage that Eoin had emerged from a few hours earlier. ‘Well, when I say feet, I mean tyres really.’

  He held his arms aloft and presented to me: Steve.

  ‘Steve’s a motorbike?’ I asked, somewhat relieved that I didn’t have to meet more people with bottled-up anger to throw Charlie’s way.

  ‘He’s not just a motorbike, Nell. He’s a Triumph TR6 Trophy, which I know is a hilariously problematic thing for an Irish person to say, but all great love affairs have obstacles.’

  ‘Why Steve?’ I asked.

  ‘This is the same model of bike used in the chase scenes in The Great Escape.’

  ‘Ah, Steve McQueen. Gotcha.’

  ‘Very good.’ He grinned. I didn’t know if it was just wishful thinking, but I felt like I could see a change in him already. It was slight, but noticeable. Coming back here, where Abi and he fell in love, must have been terrifyingly daunting. But being here and seeing that not everyone had let their lives fall apart due to their grief seemed to be reassuring him that life could get better.

  ‘So, the ferry to Clare leaves at three thirty. I wondered if you’d like to travel on Steve with me?’ he asked with a boyish grin.

  ‘Clare? Ferry? Huh?’ I asked, completely confused. ‘Just so I’m clear, is Clare a person or another form of transport?’

  ‘Neither. Clare’s an island. It’s not far, only about three miles off the coast. We’re staying with one of Carrick’s friends there. So, you happy to travel by bike? Carrick’ll take the bags.’

  ‘Seems safer than travelling with Carrick.’ I shrugged, Charlie meeting my words with a chuckle.

  ‘So, why are we staying on an island and not here? Isn’t Carrick’s place nearby?’ I asked as Charlie took two helmets from the wall and dusted off a decade of cobwebs.

  ‘Carrick thought it would be a good idea. Abi never went over to the island and so he thought it might be a trigger-free atmosphere to keep fragile little Charlie in while we wait for the memorial.’

  ‘That was thoughtful of him.’

  ‘Don’t go thinking too highly of him,’ Charlie said, placing both of the helmets on the shining leather seat. ‘It’s just an excuse to go and see Orlagh – she owns the hotel on the island.’

  I raised my eyebrows.

  He nodded. ‘It’s a long story.’

  I looked at him as if to say, I’ve got all day, and he began telling me the tale.

  ‘So, when we drove into town, did yer see the convenience store called Cornerstone?’

  I shook my head. ‘No, I was too busy looking at the boobs-in-a-bath hills,’ I replied.

  ‘Understandable. Well, my family owns that shop and a few more across the county. Carrick began taking the business over from my grandparents and the first summer he worked there, he met Orlagh McCarthy who’d just got a job to save up some money before she went to college. He was, what, twenty-eight at this point, making me about sixteen. I remember takin’ the piss outta him relentlessly about how she was ten years younger and he was a cradle snatcher and all. But they loved each other, no denyin’ that. They had three months together, before it ended.’

  ‘What happened?’ I asked, yet again pulled into one of the romantic sagas of the Stone men.

  ‘She went off to uni and he stayed here. Cut to three years later and Orlagh comes back home with a degree and no idea what to do with it. Carrick gave her job back to her while she sorted things out and within six months they were engaged and married.’

  ‘Carrick’s married?’ I blurted, shocked that he’d managed to find someone to put up with him.

  ‘Was married. Past tense. Orlagh wanted children and Carrick didn’t. So, in the end, even though they really did love each other, they got divorced. Ironic really.’

  ‘Why is that ironic?’

  ‘Ah, yer a bright girl, Nelly. I’m sure you’ll understand when we get there. She married again about ten years ago. He’s nice. Thick, but nice.’

  ‘But that’s so sad,’ I protested. ‘They love each other still?’

  ‘A
h, that they do.’

  ‘Don’t you lot have any stories that end happily?’

  ‘I’ll let you know when I get to the end of this one,’ he said, looking up at me with eyes that made my chest tighten. ‘We’d better get to goin’ if we’re gonna make the ferry on time. Do you think we can just run away or should we go back and say goodbye?’ he asked.

  ‘I think that it’ll be safer for you to say goodbye, if the slapping is anything to go by.’

  He nodded reluctantly and we made our way back inside.

  The wind whipped my hair against my face, my arms wrapped around Charlie’s torso, as we travelled through the Irish countryside. Hills and trees and expanses of water lay all around us as we zoomed towards where a ferry waited to take us to Clare Island. But no matter how far we travelled, the spectral ghost of Croagh Patrick loomed over us. It was beautiful here, what I’d always expected Ireland to look like, but I could never have imagined the circumstances that would lead me here.

  I pulled my arms a little tighter around him and felt the vibration of a contented laugh reverberate through his chest.

  Right now, there was no Joel, no Abi, no sadness. There was just me and him, zooming through the landscape on a motorbike called Steve.

  Chapter Twenty

  ‘It’s a lighthouse,’ I said my mouth curled into an excited grin. ‘An actual lighthouse, on a cliff, on an island.’

  ‘That it is,’ Carrick replied as we stood next to the taxi out front. ‘And if yer think the hotel’s beautiful, wait until you see the owner.’ Carrick hadn’t been able to bring his orange death mobile over on the ferry. We’d been able to bring Steve however, but only because Carrick used to go to school with the ferry owner.

  I pulled my bag from the boot of the cab and felt a hand on my lower back as Charlie returned from making sure that Steve was safe beneath an awning.

  ‘You ready to spot the irony?’ Charlie whispered into my ear as Carrick made his way towards the door and rang the bell.

  ‘I’ll keep my eyes peeled,’ I whispered back.

  ‘Oh, there’ll be no need for that.’

  We followed Carrick and arrived at the door just in time for it to open and an elfin-faced woman with golden blonde hair, pinned back to reveal sharp cheekbones, popped her face through the gap.

  ‘Carrick!’ Her mouth drew wide and her palest grey eyes lit up as she threw her slender arms around his neck and pulled him towards her.

  ‘Orlagh.’ He sighed her name into her neck.

  I felt a little awkward standing there in this intimate moment that wasn’t mine.

  ‘It’s been too long,’ she said, her eyes closed, her fingers gripping the back of his jacket as if she was afraid this was a dream and at any moment he might slip away.

  Charlie and I stood, awkwardly, while the hug lasted far longer than was socially acceptable and I took great interest in a small rock several inches from the toe of my shoe.

  Eventually, they parted and the woman turned to us.

  ‘Orlagh, this is Nell, Charlie’s … friend.’ Carrick motioned to me and then to Charlie. ‘And yer already know this eejit.’

  ‘Nice to see you again, Charlie, and welcome, Nell. I’ve put you up in the room with the best view. Don’t want to waste it on these cretins.’ She wrinkled her nose as she smiled, took my bag from my hand and walked into the hallway.

  ‘Oh, I can carry that,’ I said, not wanting to make a fuss as I followed her inside to a wide, airy hallway.

  ‘Ah, it’s no bother,’ she said, waving a hand over her shoulder. ‘I’m stronger than I look.’

  Good, I thought, because her thin, wiry limbs made her look as if a strong breeze might knock her down.

  We walked through a sitting room. The warm yellow light coming from the tall standard lamps filled the room with a happy glow that made me feel instantly at home.

  ‘The other room is taken by guests, so just be aware that they’ll be around,’ she said, speaking mostly to Carrick.

  There came a scuffling sound from nearby and, seemingly from nowhere, a swift shadow moved from one of the sofas, a book slipping from the cushion in its wake and toppling onto the maroon high-pile rug. A moment later, I felt a rush of stirring air against my shins as something zoomed past and crashed into Carrick’s legs. He made a loud, feigned sound of agony and whisked the shadow up into his arms. Now that he was still, and not moving at a thousand miles an hour, it was clear to see that the shadow was a small boy. Only six or seven.

  ‘Who is this?’ Carrick asked, holding the child aloft and looking over every inch of him.

  ‘It’s me, Uncle Rick.’ The little boy tittered.

  ‘No, it can’t possibly be you, you’re far too big.’

  ‘Mammy makes me kale for dinner sometimes. Says it’ll make me strong like Popeye.’

  ‘Kale? Well, firstly, yer mammy needs to get her references right because that would be spinach, not kale. And secondly, let me just get child services on the phone right now, because that is nothin’ but child abuse.’ He pulled the child back into his arms and gave him a firm, affection-filled squeeze.

  ‘Nope, I agree,’ Charlie said, coming to Carrick’s side and ruffling the child’s golden hair. ‘Can’t possibly be young Darlow.’

  ‘It’s me, Charlie.’ The little boy giggled again and I found myself smiling with him.

  Charlie glanced my way and there was something in his eyes that suggested that I should have noticed something, although I didn’t know what.

  Carrick placed the little boy down and took him by the shoulders, turning him around to face me. ‘Darlow, this is Nell. Say hello.’

  I let out a quiet gasp, unnoticed, at least I hoped so, by the rest of them as I stared into his eyes.

  The little boy turned to me with a bashful smile. ‘Hello, Nell,’ he said in a high, bashful voice.

  ‘Good lad.’ Carrick patted him on the shoulder.

  ‘Nice to meet you, Darlow,’ I said, holding out my hand. Darlow looked at my extended fingers, blushed beetroot red and then turned his face into Carrick’s leg, his chubby arms wrapping around Carrick’s skinny thigh.

  ‘Yer so predictable. Clammin’ up the second yer see a pretty girl,’ Carrick jested and scooped the boy up into the air, tossing him over his shoulder in a fit of giggles. ‘Yer can’t disrespect a lady by not shakin’ her hand. Orlagh, would yer get the door please? We’ll have t’toss him in the sea.’

  Darlow began squealing and laughing, his legs kicking as Carrick held him in a fireman’s lift. ‘Sorry, lad, there’s nothin’ else for it.’

  As the three of them played in a din of pure happiness, I wandered over to Charlie’s side and whispered, ‘I see what you mean about irony.’

  Carrick and Orlagh had divorced because Carrick hadn’t wanted children and Orlagh had. She’d married again, this time with a man who wanted the same things as she did and she’d given birth to a child. I looked again at the little boy, now back down on the floor and running around with wide, happy eyes. Blue eyes. Stone eyes.

  The steel grey sky seemed to stretch out for eternity as I sat on a patch of dry grass, looking out at the ocean, which seemed as endless as the sky. Charlie sat beside me, his legs outstretched, his arms propping him up against the relentless wind that made my skin feel beaten and tired.

  A couple of thousand miles away, in a straight line across that vast, endless sea, was Canada, the States, South America. Places I had always wanted to go, but hadn’t yet. The good thing about having my semi-hermit lifestyle with Ned was that it didn’t cost much and so I had the money to go and do things like that. But who would I go with? Ned would come with me, but he’d already done it all before. I’d always felt that there’s something sad about doing things with people who’ve already seen it all. A sense of irrational FOMO that leaves you feeling sadder and more left out than anything else.

  Joel had never wanted to leave the sofa that had moulded around his backside, Mum was always too busy to go an
y further than a short trip and I wasn’t confident enough to go on my own. I’d be a quivering wreck by the time I found myself in a bustling metropolis like New York City. I wasn’t exactly a yokel but I feared that suburban Birmingham hadn’t quite given me the street smarts I needed to not end up meeting a sticky end in some downtown alley.

  I turned from the view to Charlie, who was staring out to sea with a stern sense of worry that I hadn’t seen in him before. I wondered if Charlie had done any of the things that I wanted to do. Scuba diving in crystal oceans, hiking through national parks, seeing landmarks only ever viewed on TV and which I had never quite accepted as real, simply because I had never seen them through anything other than a screen. Would he be my partner on these adventures, or would they just be replays of ones he’d already had with her?

  I pulled my phone from my pocket and checked the time. We had an hour before we said we’d be back to help with dinner, but tearing myself away from this view was going to be hard. We’d taken Steve for a drive, taking in the island on a whistle-stop tour and coming to rest at what had once been a Napoleonic signal tower on the cliffs, where we had sat and failed to move from since. The tower was now nothing more than a historic pile of stones, holding its structure for only a number of feet before crumbling to a jagged top edge.

  ‘Where’s her husband?’ I said, loudly enough to be heard over the wind.

  Charlie turned away from the view, his eyes a little vacant. ‘Donal works in Dublin so he’s not here for big chunks of time.’

  ‘Does he know, that Darlow is Carrick’s?’

  ‘He’s never said so to anyone. It’s hard to not know when the proof is literally staring right at yer.’ He sighed. ‘Add to that the fact that the name Darlow literally means “secret love” and it’s pretty much the most obvious secret in the world.’

  ‘Why doesn’t she leave him and go back to Carrick?’ I asked.

  ‘Because she’d lose the lighthouse if she did and because Carrick is a difficult person to love and Donal isn’t.’

  ‘Is Donal nice at least?’ I asked.