The Moon Over Kilmore Quay: a heartwarming and emotional family drama perfect for summer 2021

by Carmel Harrington

  The doctor smiled as she nodded. ‘Yes. That’s right. I’m afraid yours is a four.’

  I heard a strangled sob and I wasn’t sure if it was me or Dan who had made it.

  I looked at Dan and he said, ‘You picked a fine time to become an over-achiever.’

  I tried to smile, which I knew was the right thing to do, but instead I felt tears sting my eyes. Leftover mascara from the day before leaked and stung.

  ‘The mass swelling is in the cerebral hemisphere of your brain. And between that and the fluid surrounding it, there’s been quite a lot of pressure. That’s why you’ve been experiencing some changes. Forgetfulness. Headaches. All common from GBM. As are neurocognitive issues. And in some cases, seizures, as you had yesterday.’

  ‘What are the options for treatment?’ I asked. Dan moved closer to me. One more inch and he’d be in bed with me. ‘Can you cut the tumour out?’

  My mind filled with terror at the thought of anyone putting a knife to my skull. They’d have to shave my head. Shelley’s Frankenstein popped into my head. When I was in kindergarten that had been one of my childhood Halloween costumes, complete with pencilled in staples on my forehead. I couldn’t speak again. I wasn’t sure if this was shock or another of my losing-speech episodes. One thing was for sure, my imagination was still firing on all cylinders.

  ‘Surgery is not an option for you in this case, Bea. Your GBM has finger-like tentacles and they’ve infiltrated your brain. And we simply can’t reach them.’

  ‘Chemo?’ Dan asked. ‘My mam had chemo, when she had breast cancer.’

  ‘That is one of the options that we need to explore to slow down the GBM’s growth. I know this is a lot for you to take in. Have you any questions for me?’

  ‘How long do I have?’

  ‘For fuck’s sake, Bea! That’s no question to ask.’ Dan jumped up and I thought he was going to punch the wall, he was so annoyed with me.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ I whispered. I wasn’t sure what I was apologizing for. Me being sick, or for asking a difficult question that he wasn’t ready to hear the answer to. But I needed to know.

  Dr Talis moved a step forward and we locked eyes.

  ‘I’d like to know. Please.’

  ‘It’s hard to say. We’ll do more tests, but in my best judgement, we’re looking at twelve months at most …’

  This couldn’t be it. I’d not really had a chance to live. There was so much I needed to still do. I looked at Dan. He stood in the corner of our room, a few feet from me. His face was distorted in pain, his two hands held to his face. I’d made my kind, loving, funny man a Munch painting and I felt a wave of unbelievable sadness overwhelm me.

  For Dan.

  For my family and friends.

  And me.

  46

  BEA

  December 2019

  Innisfree, Prospect Avenue, Brooklyn

  We left the hospital and went home to Innisfree. Dan held my hand the whole way and I watched tears run down his face. As fast as he brushed them away, more came. I couldn’t breathe, my whole body feeling pain at being the one to cause Dan so much heartache. Dad was at the library writing, and Mike was at work, so I settled into my studio without seeing anyone. And all the time I watched Dan, I knew what I had to do. It was crystal-clear to me.

  ‘I can’t bear it,’ Dan said for the third time.

  Another four words that cut me. ‘I know you can’t,’ I whispered. Dan was still broken from watching his mother die of cancer. How could he ever go through that all over again? I loved this man more than life itself. He was my everything. I’d thought he was going to be my future, but one that was very different to what had been given to me now.

  ‘Sit down, Dan. We need to talk.’

  47

  BEA

  February 2020

  Lenox Hill Hospital, New York

  My admission about the previous CT scan caused chaos. Katrina cursed. Dr Talis was paged and arrived clutching my files. A second scan was scheduled. Then, when the room cleared, Katrina said, ‘Tell me everything.’

  So I did. She moved closer to me. All the while I spoke, she remained silent. As still as a statue. All those small things that hadn’t added up – the headaches, the lost days, the forgetfulness, the tiredness, the speech issues – were all caused by a mass growing inside my head.

  ‘Sorry,’ I whispered. It seemed to be the done thing to do, to seek forgiveness for the illness.

  ‘And now we know for sure that you’ve been writing the messages on your letters yourself.’

  ‘Looks that way.’ It hurt to admit this out loud. ‘There was no chicken pecking after all.’

  Katrina winced. ‘Dan knows about this and that’s why you are not together.’

  I nodded.

  ‘You broke it off with him, trying to be a martyr.’

  ‘I had no choice. His mother died of cancer and he couldn’t …’

  She cut me off. ‘You always have choice.’

  ‘You’re cross with me. That’s not allowed – I’m dying.’ I chanced a joke.

  ‘Too soon, Bea.’

  ‘What? Me dying, or me playing the dying card?’

  A tear escaped and I watched it fall down my best friend’s cheek.

  ‘Dan told me to watch you,’ Katrina said. ‘He rang me at Christmas and we went for a drink. He never broke your confidence, but he told me that you were hiding something. And that I had to be extra vigilant.’

  So many of us keeping secrets. Look what I’d started.

  ‘He messages me every single day for an update on how you are.’

  ‘Has he messaged you today yet?’ I asked.

  ‘Yes. He’s on his way here now. I care not one fucking jot what you think about that, Bea O’Connor.’

  And as she said the words, Dan walked in. Unshaven, tired, desperate. It was evident that me pushing him away had not given him the peace that I hoped it would.

  ‘Hey blue-eyes.’

  ‘Hey,’ I whispered.

  ‘It is time to put an end to this idea you have that you have to face this on your own. I am here and I am going nowhere,’ Dan said. ‘I love you, Bea. You know that. And it’s cruel, pushing me away as you have done.’

  ‘I didn’t know what else to do.’

  He moved closer. ‘Of course you didn’t. You’d just received the shock of your life. But that’s not good enough any more. We’ve wasted months with this staying apart nonsense.’

  ‘Be careful, she will use the dying card on you,’ Katrina said. She reached over and brushed a lock of my hair from my forehead in a gesture that was so gentle, it made us both sob.

  I held my hands out to both of them. ‘I need you both. And Dad, Stephanie, Lucy and Mark too. I know that now.’

  ‘Who’s Mark? Dan asked, panic flashing across his face.

  ‘My brother. There’s a lot I’ve got to fill you in on,’ I said. ‘But first, I need to do this.’ I pulled him towards me and I kissed him. Katrina let go of my hand and I heard the door close softly behind her as she left us alone.

  ‘I missed you. I’m not very good on my own without you,’ Dan said.

  ‘Me either,’ I admitted. ‘Give me my purse; I want to show you something.’ I opened it up and pulled out my wallet, where a small photograph sat behind a plastic window. It was a snap of my grandparents on their wedding day. Gran wore a long, fitted lace dress, with a tiara nestled into her bright red curls. Her blue eyes crinkled and she was smiling that big beautiful smile of hers that was evident in every photograph I have of her. Standing beside her was my grandad, in a sharp grey suit with black shiny shoes. But Grandad wasn’t looking at the camera; he was looking at his bride.

  ‘They were a good-looking couple,’ he said. ‘I wish I could have known them.’

  ‘Me too. You know, Gran always said to me that I needed to find someone to love me who looked at me the way grandad looked at her in this photo. You look at me like that. I thought I could save you from pain
by pushing you away. But that was wrong, because this is it for us both, isn’t it? Tumour or no tumour, it’s got to be us, together.’

  ‘Yes. There is no other way.’

  ‘It’s going to be hard.’

  ‘I’ve no doubt that it will break us both many times.’

  ‘Are you sure, Dan? Things might get a little crazy with me. In fact, things have been pretty whack for the past month. There are some things I need to tell you.’

  ‘All the best people are crazy,’ he countered.

  And it was in that moment that I accepted that I didn’t have to face this on my own. The relief was staggering. ‘Will you stay with me while I tell everyone else?’

  ‘Of course. You can count on it – I’m not leaving your side again,’ Dan promised, and my big giant of a man climbed in beside me in the small hospital bed.

  48

  BEA

  March 2020

  Innisfree, Prospect Avenue, Brooklyn

  The garden in Innisfree looked beautiful. Bunting in every colour of the rainbow hung on the wooden panels of the fence. Paper lanterns hung from the trees and the small courtyard had a large table running from one end to the other, borrowed from Farrell’s.

  Uncle Mike and Dad set up a beer keg in the corner. Katrina and Stephanie clocked up their ten thousand steps by bringing out platters of food. Earlier today, the three of us made scones together, something we’d done a few times since that day in Kilmore Quay. I heard Mario’s voice, shouting orders to everyone in the kitchen, with the exception of my cousin, Nancy, who took orders from nobody. Mario was in charge of catering and his meatloaf and mashed potato was on the menu, for dad and me. Mark and Lucy’s week-long vacation had been extended to a month as a result of the fallout of my illness coming to light. In two days’ time, they would leave. None of us were ready to say goodbye, but life moves on and responsibilities must be met.

  The past few weeks had been both the hardest and best of my life. As I struggled to come to terms with my new normal, so did my loved ones. So many changes in such a short space of time, it demanded payback. Every now and then one of us would pull too tight and snap. Yesterday it had been Dad’s turn, when he had a massive meltdown over a lukewarm review in a regional newspaper, something that normally would just bounce off him. He’d been incredible since that day of reckoning in hospital. He’d arrived with Lucy and Mark, who stood outside for a moment, unsure of their place in our family. I called them in and found out that they’d been on the Staten Island Ferry, taking snaps in front of the Statue of Liberty, when Katrina called to say I was in hospital. Mark told me afterwards that Dad had freaked out and wanted to jump into the water to swim back to shore. Uncle Mike and Stephanie came moments later and I was grateful for their timing, because that way I got to break all of their hearts in one swoop, rather than in instalments, which would have been too hard.

  Their shock was hard to witness. And more than once my voice faltered and Dan had to take over. He took control and calmly answered everyone’s questions to the best of his knowledge. Any doubts I had disappeared. I needed him, but he needed me too, and if that meant dealing with my tumour, so be it.

  Stephanie and Katrina became my guardian angels. I touched the necklace that Katrina had given me earlier this year. I’d added Stephanie’s initials to Katrina and mine, my two BFF’s. They were with me every day, in some way. Their daily WhatsApp videos, along with visits to hospital, gave me life.

  At first, there was a lot of doing. Tests. Treatment plans. Drugs. Oh, the drugs. Handing my open missing person cases to Katrina. Moving Lucy and Mark from their hotel to our spare rooms in Innisfree. More tests. After all the doing, there was then time to digest and think. Thinking led to worry. Worry led to stress and breaking points, like the one Dad had yesterday.

  I’d experienced a few breakdown moments myself too. As news spread to our wider circle of friends and family, cards and flowers began to arrive. At one point, Innisfree began to look like a Hallmark shop. And reading the notes became its own kind of torture. Some were hopeful, sending me good karma vibes. Others were fatalistic and spoke of the sad, grave situation. Most asked what they could do to help. And that was the hardest part. Because there was nothing anyone could do. I remembered bumping into a school friend a few years back. She was pregnant and her bump was a sight to behold. She’d told me something that resonated with me now: ‘As soon as I told everyone I was pregnant, it was as if my body let loose and my belly exploded!’ The same happened for me. Once my diagnosis was out in the open, my symptoms got worse. The speech apraxia continued in spurts. I slurred words – I’m sure everyone thought I was having sneaky drinks. And my vision deteriorated. And then my legs gave up working, which in turn meant my independence went too. I now am the proud owner of a wheelchair. Top of the range and motorized, because Dad insisted he spend every cent of a recent royalty cheque on me. Little things have become big things for me. Even having a shower needs forethought. Physically, I am no longer the Bea O’Connor I used to be. But inside, I’m still me.

  Dr Talis had explained that, while rare, some brain tumours present themselves through neurobehavioral or psychiatric symptoms. I accepted that I had never smoked. My younger self had not written notes to me via my time-capsule letter. All of it had been done by me. But I would always be grateful for those ‘magical’ messages. Because, like Katrina’s grandmother’s chicken when it found her husband’s pipe, my letter had uncovered so many hidden truths.

  Ultimately it had led me to Lucy and Mark.

  The letter had one last beautifully penned note for me though that I found a week ago.

  Bea, you should throw a party and celebrate you, me, us! x

  I loved that idea. As soon as I broached the idea to my family, they grabbed it with both hands. It was time to come out in the sunshine and party. So here we were, in Innisfree’s beautiful courtyard, for one last blowout.

  ‘I’ll get it,’ Dan called out as he went to answer the door. Nikki followed him back into the garden, along with two men who looked familiar. It took me a second to work out who they were. The bartenders from Cassidy’s bar! They were carrying the karaoke machine that we’d belted out numbers on for years.

  ‘The takings in the pub have been down by about 50 per cent since you stopped coming every Friday night, Bea,’ one of them joked. ‘Not to mention the fact that we’ve missed your singing skills!’

  I laughed out loud in delight. ‘If I’d known that all I had to do to get your karaoke machine in my back garden was get sick …’ It was good to see them.

  A rush of friends arrived at once. The Gallahues, Kehoes, Howlins, Murphys and Longs, followed by a group of women my own age who carried boxes of beer and wine with them. To my horror, I couldn’t remember their names. I could see they knew me, but I couldn’t remember how. It was only when Stephanie ran over squealing and hugging them all, saving me by saying their names loudly that I realized they were my old school friends. The tumour was beginning to win more battles. But I had a secret weapon – good friends who always had my back, ready to step in and help me when I had a forgetful moment like now.

  ‘Nice wheels,’ Tiffany said.

  I touched the controls to make my wheelchair spin – a trick I’d been working on for days – and was gratified by their reaction. I had a few battles left in me, I decided.

  ‘You look good,’ Tiffany said, and I took the compliment, because I felt good. Katrina and Stephanie had given me a full pamper session before the party, followed by a makeover. Katrina had wielded her tweezers with no mercy, plucking stray hairs from my upper lip and eyebrows. I made her promise that if the time came that I was no longer with it, she’d always take care of my errant hairs. As she’d promised, both my friends wept. While they were strong most of the time, they had moments where it became too hard. But still they remained by my side. My constants.

  Olive and her son Teddy arrived next. She had a large lasagne in her arms. ‘I wasn’t sure if you need
ed food. It’s just out of the oven. And Teddy has a tray of cannelloni.’

  ‘Hey, Uncle Mike, look what Olive has made. It’s his favourite, he’ll inhale that in seconds!’

  He walked over and leaned down to breathe in the creamy tomato aroma. ‘That smells wonderful, Olive.’ Then he looked her in the eyes, in a way that made her blush. I wonder, could the two of them be right for each other? Now wouldn’t that be something?

  Corinne came shortly afterwards. She’d been to see me several times over the past few weeks. Her gentle support became a godsend as I dealt with my new normal. And any awkwardness from seeing Dad again had already been dealt with. She looked good and moved easily from group to group in the garden, mingling with grace. And when she and Lucy started to chat, they hit it off immediately.

  ‘Regrets?’ I asked Dad as he watched them together.

  ‘A lifetime’s worth. Two good women there. It takes a special kind of eejit to blow it with both.’

  ‘Do you still love her?’

  ‘Who do you mean?’ he asked, the hint of a smile dancing on his lips.

  ‘Either. Both. I’m not sure who I mean really.’

  ‘I will always care for Corinne. We’d some great times together. But our time has gone. If Lucy would have me, that would be a different conversation. She was the great love of my life.’

  ‘There’s something I’ve been curious about. But with everything going on, I’ve not had a chance to ask you this. When I was a kid, you’d talk about your great love story with Mom. But you were talking about you and Lucy, weren’t you?’

  ‘I’m sorry.’ His apology was an admission of truth.

  ‘It hurts, Dad. The lies you told me. And it makes me so sad that Mom lost her sister, because of that one night of infidelity. But I reckon you’ve paid a high price for that. For what it’s worth, I think you should tell Lucy that you still love her.’

  ‘I should never have slept with your mom. It was an unforgivable thing to do. A one-off that we both regretted instantly. But at the same, had I not done that, I wouldn’t have you. And the single best thing I’ve ever accomplished in this life is you. And, because of you, I now have Mark too. Had you not gone on your journey to Ireland, I wouldn’t even know he existed.’