Now and Then

by Mary O'Sullivan

  I nodded. Not that I knew too much about the job in the US, or anything about Hugh’s brother-in-law, but I did believe Ben was not ready for such a big challenge, and our family belonged here in Paircmoor for the time being.

  “Maybe that’s for the best, Ben. I was reading about the bureaucracy involved in getting a work visa, let alone residency. It’s mindboggling. And the business environment is so cutthroat.”

  He pulled his hand away from mine and glared at me. “You mean I wouldn’t be up to it. Isn’t that right? Just say it straight out, Leah. I’m better off hidden away in Cowshit Cottage.”

  I’m not sure which was most shattering – his sudden anger or the fact that he was calling our home Cowshit Cottage. I did see a funny side to it and had an urge to laugh. And laugh. But I knew that release would open the floodgates to all the mixed-up emotions churning around inside me.

  “You know that’s not true, Ben. I realise how good you are at your job. It’s just that it’s not the right time for our family to emigrate.”

  I stopped talking, trying to frame the right words, the right approach, the best way to tell him that our place, for now, was here in Paircmoor.

  “The children, Leah. I’ve let them down so badly. And you too. I’m sorry. So sorry.”

  He laid his head back on the pillow and closed his eyes. When I saw tears seep from underneath his eyelids, I leaned over him and kissed the tears away.

  “It’s okay, Ben. It will all be okay.”

  He opened his eyes and I had a glimpse into the torment in his soul. His eyes, his beautiful brown eyes, swam with tears and the deepest, darkest sadness.

  “I frightened Rob,” he said. “I shouted and terrified my son. I saw his face. How afraid he is of me now. He will always fear me. I will never forgive myself and he will never forgive me.”

  “Yes, he will! He has. He is asking for you all the time.”

  “That’s because he thinks it’s all his fault. I know.”

  As I was about to ask him what he meant by that, I heard the rattle of the tea trolley coming down the corridor. It stopped outside the door. Ben rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands and sat up straight in the bed. He smiled at the lady who brought in his tea. He looked happy. I wondered how many times over the years I had taken it for granted that happy face meant happy Ben. How wrong I had been, about so many things.

  The walls of the room, the sounds from the corridor, the smell of disinfectant, the sight of Ben, so vulnerable sitting in a hospital bed with his despair hidden behind a false smile, all crowded in on top of me. I needed fresh air. Bile burned my throat. I knew Ben had reached the limit of his revelations for today. I also knew I must get out of Room 5 or else I would be sick.

  “I’ll leave you to enjoy your tea, Ben. I’d better get back home. Your mother will be tired after taking our three ragamuffins out today.”

  I thought he looked relieved. I couldn’t blame him. So was I. Our conversation had been intense. Draining.

  “Just before I go, I promised the children you would write them a message. Or would you text or phone later before they go to bed?”

  “No, I can’t. I don’t feel up to contacting them. Just tell them I miss them and I’ll see them soon.”

  I nodded. It would have to do.

  “Thanks for bringing in my phone,” he said, “but I don’t want to make or take calls now. Take it home, please.”

  No, I could not. Let him keep his phone and read that message from Hugh over and over until he saw fit to tell me what it was about.

  “Keep it,” I said. “You might need it. See you tomorrow.”

  I blew him a kiss from the doorway. Just as I was about to close the door, he called me back.

  “I’ve bared my soul to you, Leah. How about you? Do you have secrets I should know about? Are you keeping something from me?”

  I stood there, stunned. He looked so vulnerable in the bed, his eyes so dark in his pale face. I felt like a traitor.

  “What makes you ask that, Ben?”

  “Just something Mum said. Well, do you have something to tell me?”

  So Della had poked in the medicine cabinet. I wondered how much she had told Ben. If I knew her, she would just have hinted. Anyway, she couldn’t know for sure nor could she admit to common snooping.

  “All I want to tell you is that I love you, Ben. Hope you’ll be home soon.”

  I closed the door and rushed down the corridor, used the stairs so that I didn’t have to wait for the lift, and fled as quickly as I could out into the fresh air. I kept walking, past my car, out of the hospital grounds, and into the town park. At that stage, the wooden seat underneath the bare branches of the oak tree represented the only peaceful spot in my turbulent life.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  While I was sitting under the oak tree in the litter-strewn park, the idea struck me that I should have a little plaque engraved and stuck onto my bench. Leah Parrish was ’ere kind of inscription. I smiled at the thought. Then I stood up and brushed myself down. I needed to get home as quickly as possible. Della was a healthy woman but minding three young children for longer than a few hours might be a bit much for her. She must be exhausted by now.

  Mags was not at home but I dropped the keys in through her letterbox with a note telling her about the stock I had ordered and the float I had left in the till.

  As I drove out the road towards Cowslip Cottage, an idea hatched in the town park would not leave me. It was what I needed to do to get another perspective on the events of Friday night. I pulled the car in to the side of the road just before the bendy bridge. I keyed in Della’s number. When she answered, I heard music and chatter in the background and the unmistakable sound of Anna’s laugh.

  “Hi, Della. Seems like you’re all having a good time.”

  “We are indeed. Are you back from the hospital already? I thought you would be later.”

  “Ben was tired. He needs lots of rest to get back his strength.”

  “Yes. That’s true. I’ve taken the children out for tea. Is that alright with you?”

  That was so Della. Leaving me with no choice. But it was good for the children to be out.

  “Of course. Thank you, Della. Actually, now that you’re still out, I need to see someone before I go home. I shouldn’t be long.”

  “Take your time. Bye.”

  Then she was gone, without giving me the opportunity to talk to the children. They were probably overexcited at this stage between the farm and tea out. I would see them soon and would have the job of calming them down for bedtime.

  I started the car again and went on my way. Past the bendy bridge, Cowslip Cottage, the treelined road where branches twined together overhead to form a tunnel. It had seemed threatening on Friday night as wind howled and rain lashed. It was less so now with flashes of fading daylight breaking through the overhead growth. Images and sounds played out in my head as I retraced my nightmare journey. The lights of the approaching ambulance, my car out of my control, screeching brakes, howling wind, and Ben, ashen-faced and frozen, barely breathing, strapped to a stretcher in the ambulance. I was shaking now, veering towards the ditch. There was no space for me to pull in safely so I breathed deeply, swallowed my fear and drove on.

  I smelled the sea in the air. I knew there should soon be a turn-off for the beach. To drive straight on would bring me to Pouldubh Head. I had only been there once, but the dizzying height of the cliff above, and the churning sea beneath had made me shiver. I veered left at the beach turn-off. There was a car park where the tarmacadam road ended and the grassy approach to the cliffs began. A silver saloon car was fitted snugly against the back wall, looking as if it grew there. Maybe someone fishing, though that was unlikely. I parked beside the silver car, conscious that the light was now very quickly fading. The cliff path was narrow, smoothed by centuries of people making their way down to the shore. Including Ben on Friday night. The tide was out. I could see the waves in the distance, restless, throw
ing off glints as the last of the day’s light shone on the western horizon. To my right, I saw lights being switched on in the house that clung to the cliff edge. I guessed that the other car in the park was probably belonging to the occupants, as it would be impossible to drive right up to the house. It had to be Cliff House, where the Sanquests lived. Vera and Walter. The people who had saved Ben’s life. The people I had come here to see.

  I walked the cliff path until it forked, one section heading straight for the strand, and the other right, towards Cliff House. I had wanted to follow exactly in Ben’s footsteps, to go on the strand, to find the cave that had almost become a tomb. But I was afraid I would fall in the dim light, hit my head on a rock, be knocked unconscious and then swept away by the tide when it discovered me lying prone, at the foot of the cliff. I quickly shook my head to rid myself of that thought and turned right towards the Sanquests’ house.

  There was a low wall around the garden. The gate was closed but not locked. I opened it and walked in. The lights were coming from the front of the house, so I followed the path to the front door. Before I knocked, I stood spellbound, watching the last rays of light bleed from the horizon into the sea. I imagined the Sanquests must spend a lot of their time mesmerised by the power and beauty of their view. And then I noticed how near their front-garden wall was to the cliff edge. No more, I estimated, than fifty metres. How terrifying it must be to stand here when the sea lashed giant waves against the ever-eroding cliff face. Just as it had done last Friday night. I wondered, as they must do, how long it would be before Cliff House was claimed by the sea.

  I turned and was about to knock when a dog started barking. Furiously. I took a few steps back from the door. I liked dogs, but I was wary of them. Particularly ones with terrifying, savage barks. I jumped when the door suddenly opened. A woman stood there, a tiny little dog in her arms.

  “Quiet, Pilot. No more barking.”

  And with that gently spoken command, the threatening barking stopped, and Pilot became a cute little dog with a ribbon in his hair.

  “Don’t be afraid,” the woman said. “As you can see, he’s all bark. How can I help you?”

  “Mrs Sanquest?”

  She nodded.

  “I’m Leah Parrish. You helped my husband on Friday night last. I wanted to thank you and your husband.”

  She stooped down and put the dog on the floor, then reached out her hand to me.

  “Mrs Parrish, come in, please. Don’t worry about Pilot. He won’t touch you.”

  She led me along a passageway and took me into a room that was combined kitchen and living area. A log- burning stove threw out heat and light and gave the room a cosy glow. So cosy that the elderly man sitting in an armchair in front of the stove had fallen asleep, a newspaper on his lap and glasses halfway down his nose.

  “Walter! Wake up!” Mrs Sanquest said, a lot more stridently than she had spoken to the dog.

  I was just about to tell her not disturb him on my behalf when Walter opened his eyes. He had a very direct, but kind, gaze.

  “Would I be right in thinking you’re Ben Parrish’s wife?” he asked.

  “Leah Parrish,” I said, walking towards him and offering him my hand.

  He took it in a warm grip.

  Everything about Vera and Walter and their home was warm and welcoming.

  I opened my mouth to say my words of thanks, but nothing came out except a sort of strangled gulp.

  Vera pulled another armchair in front of the stove.

  “Sit yourself down, Mrs Parrish. Tea or coffee?”

  I sat, feeling the heat from the blazing logs warm me, even through to the coldness that had lodged itself in my body on Friday night and had not shifted since.

  “Coffee, please,” I muttered, still trying to find my voice.

  “How is your husband doing now?” Walter asked. “I assume he is still in hospital.”

  “He’s improving. He had hypothermia. But you must know that because . . .”

  I struggled to voice the thanks I owed these two people. I must find something to say so that they knew how very grateful I was, but yet I could not find words to adequately thank them for what they had done.

  “They told me,” I said. “The ambulance people. They said that you risked your own lives to save Ben’s. I-I-don’t know how to thank you. I –”

  They both spoke together. As one.

  “No need for thanks. We were glad to help.”

  They glanced at each other. I had never been a sentimental person, but what I saw Vera and Walter exchange was a look of pure love. They smiled at each other, obviously amused, but not surprised, by the fact that they had uttered exactly the same words, at the same instant. It was as if they had genuinely become one through sharing a lifetime of experiences. That was what I had hoped for Ben and me. An easing into old age together, bonded by a lifetime of memories.

  “Do you have children?” I asked.

  “A son and a daughter,” Vera answered. “Our son is in Australia and our daughter in Brussels. Sad to have them so far away but they get home whenever they can. And more importantly, they’re happy where they are.”

  As she was talking, she was putting a side table beside my chair and placing a mug of coffee and a plate of cake on it.

  “Drink up,” she said. “And have a slice of carrot cake. I always say it’s one of my healthy five a day! Tell me, how many children do you and Ben have?”

  “We have a five-year-old son and twins aged two and a half. And . . . we have a baby due next summer.”

  I stopped, shocked that I had told strangers what I had been unable to tell my husband. Or anybody. Maybe it was because they were strangers. But how could that be true? They had saved Ben’s life. That connection made them closer to me than people I had known all my life.

  Vera was smiling at me.

  “Twins! How lovely. Boys? Girls? One of each?

  “A boy and girl. Rob is their big brother. He has started school.”

  “You’ll have your hands full so when the new baby arrives.”

  I could have just nodded and agreed but I felt I owed them the truth.

  “Actually, Ben is the carer. He was, is, an architect but he was made redundant. You know what the building industry is like at the moment. Not much chance for him to get a job now.”

  “Not in Paircmoor anyway,” Walter said.

  I nodded, though the fact was, at that stage in Ireland’s economic history, the building industry was in a total state of collapse. There was as little chance of employment for Ben in the capital as there was in Paircmoor.

  “That must be very difficult for him,” Vera said. “I don’t mean minding his children. I know modern men are far more involved in the caring than they used to be. More ‘hands on’, isn’t that the saying? But it takes a long time to train to be an architect. He must miss that creative outlet.”

  Of course she was right. Ben had loved his work and the lifestyle it provided for the family. I missed my old way of life too but I didn’t go racing down cliff paths in storms. It was time now for me to put the questions I had come here to ask.

  “Did either of you get a chance to talk to Ben on Friday night? Did he say anything?”

  “We both did,” Walter said. “I saw him on the road when I was driving into Paircmoor. It was, as you know, a bad night. He was running but I thought he looked under pressure. I stopped to ask if he was okay. He said he was and ran off towards here. I did wonder though about anyone out running in the atrocious conditions of Friday night.”

  It figured that Ben was uncomfortable running a distance. He was not as fit as he used to be. No more expensive gym. Paircmoor did not have a gym anyway.

  “I took Pilot for a walk while Walter was in Paircmoor,” Vera said.

  When the dog heard the word ‘walk’ he began barking and running around in circles. I had to wait until Vera had calmed him down again to hear the rest of what she had to say.

  “Sorry about that,
” she said, as soon as Pilot had been appeased with a handful of treats.

  “When I met Ben, I thought he was on his way down towards the cliffs. I asked if he was alright and invited him to come and have a cup of tea. He said no, he was fine and turned back towards the Paircmoor road. I felt a bit uneasy about him and when I got back inside the house I kept a lookout. Sure enough, I saw him come back and head down the cliff path that leads to the strand. That worried me as the tide was almost full in and it was very angry. I waited and waited but there was no sign of him coming back up.”

  “Deadly that strand is in a storm,” Walter said. “Especially for people not familiar with it. I think you know the rest of the story, Mrs Parrish.”

  “Leah, please.”

  “Leah. When I came back, we went down and found Ben in the cave and alerted the emergency services. I believe you met the ambulance on the road and accompanied Ben to hospital.”

  I shivered. That pale, deathly cold person in the ambulance had been Ben, but at the same time, he had not been. He was just the framework within which the real Ben had lived. The one I obviously had not known at all.

  “Was he conscious when you found him?”

  “No. He was barely alive,” Walter said. “We did our best to warm him until the paramedics arrived.”

  Vera Sanquest, wise woman that she was, zoned in on the fact that I had come here for answers. She pulled a chair next to mine and looked directly at me.

  “I understand that you need to know why your husband took such a terrible risk. Only Ben can answer that. Only he knows.”

  I nodded. Of course. It was not fair of me to make these two wonderful people uncomfortable.

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “I came to thank you both and to let you know how very grateful I am. The children and Ben’s mother and brother also. We will never able to thank you enough.”

  “The only thanks we need,” Vera said, “is for you and Ben to live long, healthy, happy lives. And, just so you know, we found Ben in the cave. Towards the back of it. We don’t know why he went on the strand, but it would appear he went into the cave to escape the rising tide.”