Lessons in Heartbreak

by Cathy Kelly

  The ten-minute meditation session at the end of the class was better than any antidepressant, she’d decided. It had been a good day for her in particular, and for lots of Tamarin women in general, when Jodi’s mother had decided to stay on in the town for the birth of her grandchild. Now that Jodi’s baby had been born, a fluffy-headed little tyke named Kyle, who looked the image of his dad, Karen had started murmuring about staying here permanently.

  After yoga, the ten women from the class always headed down to the town for tea and buns in Dorota’s. Today, Anneliese and Karen walked together, Anneliese feeling that glorious sense of well-being that came from warmed, stretched muscles and a mind that had managed to still for at least ten minutes.

  ‘Are you all set for tomorrow?’ Karen asked.

  ‘Pretty much,’ Anneliese replied. ‘I’m glad we’re having lunch afterwards in the Harbour Hotel. It would be too uncomfortable to have it in my house, for all that things are good between Edward and me. A christening should be about creating new memories, not being flattened by the weight of old, bad ones, so a neutral venue is best.’

  ‘You seem happy about it all,’ Karen commented.

  Anneliese grinned. Karen had become one of her closest friends over the past few months. What made it different was the fact that they were friends by choice, and not by the fact that they lived near each other or had kids in the same class at school. They’d simply bonded, although as Karen once remarked, ‘It helps that you’ve split up with your husband too.’ Anneliese knew what she meant. There were definite cabals within the groups of women in the town. Widows fitted into one category because they’d had their men taken from them. Divorced or separated women made up the other group. And happily – or even unhappily – married women, were in a different group altogether.

  It was more challenging being friends with them, Anneliese had found. Intuitive married friends worried that talking about their state of blissful coupledom might upset Anneliese, while the less perceptive blithely discussed their husband, his shortcomings and how they’d love to kill him, without for a moment thinking of how this sounded to a woman on her own.

  With Karen, none of this mattered.

  ‘I’m happy about it. As happy as I can be,’ Anneliese replied now. ‘It makes me sound like a bitch to say so, but it is easier since Edward moved out of Nell’s house. For all that I don’t want him back, I feel a certain smidgen of relief that Nell wasn’t any better for him than I was, that she failed too. Does that make me sound like a total cow?’

  ‘Yes,’ deadpanned Karen. ‘The mayor is putting a statue of you up in Harbour Square as we speak, immortalised in marble as a big cow. No,’ she insisted. ‘It makes you sound normal. However happy you are now, it would still hurt to see Edward and Nell acting like love’s young bloody dream all around town. I think you’ve been brilliant about it all. If it had been me, I think I’d have walloped Nell every time I saw her. Or,’ Karen added thoughtfully, ‘put her phone number and the words Madame Whiplash on all the call boxes in County Waterford.’

  Anneliese burst out laughing.

  ‘The thought did cross my mind,’ she joked. ‘Seriously, though, what would be the point? If someone wants to leave you, they will. It’s taken me a while, but I’ve realised that there’s no point taking it out on the person they happen to leave you for. That’s sort of missing the point.’

  ‘But she was your friend,’ said Karen.

  ‘True. That did hurt. If he’d left me for someone I didn’t know, it wouldn’t have been so bad. But leaving me for Nell was hard. You wouldn’t believe how I tortured myself thinking about every occasion the three of us had been together, trying to work out when they were together, and if they’d been secretly discussing me behind my back. Anneliese is down today, isn’t she. That type of thing.’ She shuddered. ‘Still, it’s over now. I feel sorry for Edward.’

  ‘I take it back,’ Karen said. ‘The mayor’s not putting up a cow statue – it’s going to be you as a saint. Saint Anneliese.’

  ‘No, honestly,’ Anneliese said. ‘I’m being serious. Women are better at being on their own. Nell’s been on her own for years and I actually enjoy it. But Edward – he’s going to be lost.’

  It was Yvonne who’d told her. Yvonne had heard it from Carina who’d heard it from Calum, the postman.

  ‘Edward’s living in Freddie Pollock’s spare room. He’s been there for a week. Nell told Calum that she wasn’t taking Edward’s post any more,’ Yvonne had said.

  Anneliese had been silent for a beat. ‘Well,’ she said finally, ‘I guess I’m not surprised. I never saw them as a natural couple.’ But then, perhaps lots of people hadn’t seen her and Edward as a natural couple either.

  ‘He might want to come back,’ Yvonne said hopefully.

  In spite of the emotions whirling round inside her, Anneliese smiled. Yvonne was so innocent. In her mind, it was simple: Nell had stood in the way of Anneliese and Edward being together, and now that Nell was out of the picture everything could go – almost – back to the way it had been before.

  ‘I doubt it, Yvonne,’ she said. ‘I don’t actually want him back.’

  ‘Oh.’ Yvonne sounded shocked.

  ‘I like my life the way it is now,’ Anneliese explained truthfully. ‘There isn’t any room for Edward in it. I’ve let him and the past go.’

  ‘It’s Mac, isn’t it?’ Yvonne said.

  Mac was indeed a part of Anneliese’s new life, but only as a friend. She cared for him deeply but their relationship would never be anything more. She was a long way from being ready for another love in her life. But to people looking in, it might easily appear as if Mac was next in line for a romantic entanglement.

  ‘It’s not Mac,’ she told Yvonne firmly, wanting to nip this idea in the bud. ‘He’s a friend, nothing more. If I fall in love, Yvonne, I promise I’ll tell you, but I don’t see it happening any time soon.’

  ‘You must be lonely, Anneliese,’ Yvonne said. ‘I worry about you, being there all alone with only that daft dog for company.’

  ‘That daft dog is all I need,’ Anneliese said warmly. ‘I’m happy, truly I am.’

  ‘At least you don’t have to worry about inviting Nell to the christening,’ Karen said. They’d reached Dorota’s and, although it wasn’t a cold March morning, the group elected to sit inside.

  ‘Beth was the one who was worried about that,’ Anneliese whispered as they stood in line to order. ‘When I mentioned it to her, she shrieked down the phone at me. In the end, I told her I didn’t have a problem with it. Besides, the world doesn’t revolve around me, I told her. So she relented, but now, it’s not an issue. Poor Nell. She’s cut off from everyone. Yvonne and Corinne barely talk to her, and she doesn’t have Edward either.’

  ‘I’m a bit rusty on the whole religion thing, so help me out here. What’s next up from sainthood?’ Karen asked. “Cos you’re definitely in line for it.’

  ‘Oh stop it,’ chided Anneliese. ‘You’ve got to be positive.’ She gazed at the edible goodies under the glass cabinet in Dorota’s. A succulent cream cake topped with almonds drew her eye. ‘I’ll have that evil-looking million-calorie thing, and hope all the positivity burns the fat off!’

  Beth and Jodi walked in companionable silence along the harbour wall, pushing their babies in front of them and luxuriating in the silence from both little people. Mitzi, at nearly five months, was growing into a curious little girl who stared up at people with huge greeny-blue eyes and smiled the most adorable smile that showed off dimples in both cheeks. She wasn’t all fair-weather, though, and Beth was used to the bouts of inconsolable crying that she’d finally worked out were colic. She was getting the hang of this motherhood thing, she decided, which is why it was nice to walk with Jodi and baby Kyle.

  Kyle was only ten days old and looked so small in comparison. Jodi was slowly getting over her fear of dropping him. She was still slightly shocked that she’d been allowed to bring him home from the hospital. />
  ‘How do they know I’ll know what to do?’ she’d asked Dan tearfully, two days after the birth when they brought Kyle home.

  “Cos they can tell you’re a great mum,’ said Dan confidently. He’d been well primed by his mother-in-law, who’d explained that post-pregnancy blues were way worse than anything the pre-menstrual hormones could throw at a man.

  Today, Jodi had felt a little tearful too, but when Beth had rolled up for their walk, she’d felt her spirits lift.

  ‘It does you good to get out of the house when they’re little,’ her mum had said, before suggesting she go for a walk with Beth, who was in town for Mitzi’s christening. The previous day, the two mothers had walked a circuit from one side of Tamarin to the other and had enjoyed it so much that they’d arranged to do it again, and were now at the harbour, planning to stop off for coffee if both babies remained asleep.

  They’d talked about sleep, feeding and colic.

  ‘It sounds awful,’ Jodi had groaned when Beth told her about it.

  ‘Don’t get me started,’ Beth sighed. ‘I thought I must be doing something wrong. For the past three weeks, every evening at five, she starts to cry.’

  In her pushchair, Mitzi started to grizzle.

  The two women looked at each other.

  ‘Let’s get coffee now before she wakes up?’

  ‘Deal.’

  ‘Has Izzie recovered from her jet-lag?’ Jodi asked as they walked quickly to the coffee shop.

  ‘Izzie’s a trouper, she never gets jet-lag,’ Beth says. ‘I’m going to ask her to babysit Mitzi tonight.’

  ‘I might drop by later, then,’ Jodi said. ‘I’ve never shown her the stuff I’ve written up on Rathnaree. I meant to email it, but it was so untidy, and I wanted it to be perfect before I sent it.’

  ‘I’d forgotten you were doing that,’ Beth said. ‘Mum told me. Did you uncover any family skeletons?’

  Jodi smiled ruefully. The letters and documents Vivi Whelan’s daughter had given her had proved to be only mildly useful. There had only been a few letters from Lily to her friend, and the ink had been so faded, it was hard to read them.

  The diary was different. Jodi was sure it told the whole story.

  She’d found it the month before she’d given birth to Kyle, when she and Anneliese had gone to Lily’s house to find some treasures from Lily’s to decorate her bedroom at Laurel Gardens.

  Anneliese had tidied up a little, doing her best to hide her tears as she plumped cushions on Lily’s couch, clearly thinking that Lily might never be home again to sit on them.

  Jodi had tried to distract her by chatting about how much weight she’d put on.

  ‘Eleven kilos,’ she moaned to Anneliese. ‘I’ve put on eleven kilos. Can you believe it?’

  ‘You’ll soon lose it,’ Anneliese had said kindly, and then sighed heavily. ‘I think of Izzie coming home and seeing Lily’s newspaper still open at the crossword page beside her chair, and the cups on the draining board…’ she said. ‘It would be so sad, like Lily had only stepped out of her life for a moment.’

  Anneliese headed towards the stairs to get some nightclothes for Lily.

  Jodi sat down on a big comfortable armchair and wriggled to get comfortable. If she moved the chair, she could put her feet up on a little stool. The chair bumped into a cardboard box that had been carefully placed on a pile of old newspapers, and the box tipped over. The untaped top opened and the contents spilled out: yellowing bits of paper, sepia-tinted photographs and a small, hard-backed notebook with marbled edges.

  Embarrassed at her clumsiness, Jodi hurriedly got to her feet to shove the contents back in the box.

  ‘What’s this?’ asked Anneliese, appearing from upstairs.

  ‘I knocked it over trying to get comfortable,’ Jodi said. ‘Sorry.’

  They both looked at the notebook. Anneliese bent and picked it up and opened it to reveal filmy pages covered with Lily’s handwriting.

  ‘Her diary,’ breathed Jodi.

  ‘Jesus,’ said Anneliese. ‘I never knew Lily had kept a diary.’

  She ran her fingers over a line of the writing, as if she could touch Lily through the pages, then snapped it shut again.

  ‘I don’t want to read it,’ she said. ‘It’s still Lily’s and she’s not gone yet. If anyone should have it, it should be Izzie.’

  Jodi’s fingers traced the cover longingly. She wanted to read it, wanted to know Lily’s story.

  ‘Izzie should have it,’ Anneliese said again.

  ‘Of course,’ said Jodi, the historian in her bowing down to her sense of friendship. ‘Izzie’s the right person to have it.’

  Anneliese patted her hand.

  Jodi and Beth had reached Dorota’s. The babies were still blissfully asleep.

  ‘No,’ she said firmly, although she didn’t really know one way or the other, ‘no family skeletons.’ If there were, it was up to Izzie to lay them to rest.

  Izzie had unpacked her suitcase and hung up her dress for the christening. Tomorrow would be packed with activity, Izzie knew, although she was looking forward to it now. Holding Mitzi had been incredible: she’d half thought she’d only get a little cuddle with the baby and had been surprised the evening before when she’d gone to visit Anneliese and Beth had simply handed Mitzi to her, then vanished out of the room for twenty minutes.

  ‘What do I…?’ began Izzie, left with a just-waking-up baby and a soft bit of rag that Beth had hurriedly draped over her shoulder. But she was alone.

  ‘Just you and me, babe,’ she said to Mitzi, who crinkled sleepy and unfocused eyes at her. ‘Don’t cry.’

  Mitzi’s gaze began to focus. She realised that she was no longer in the comforting arms of her mother. Who was this woman?

  ‘Oh Jesus,’ said Izzie as Mitzi let out a roar that belied her tiny size. How could something that small make so much noise? The roar was followed by a squelching noise and a feeling of heavy warmth in Izzie’s arms, and then a very bad smell took over the room. How could something so small make such a bad smell, either?

  It took ten minutes for Mitzi to calm down, by which time Izzie had gone through her entire repertoire of nursery rhymes twice. She was reduced to murmuring ‘Bootylicious’ in a sing-song voice when Mitzi finally stopped crying and smiled.

  ‘Oh, you’re lovely,’ sighed Izzie with relief. ‘Will we change that nasty old nappy?’ Mitzi gurgled up at her.

  ‘We will, won’t we?’

  One messy nappy and at least a quarter of a pack of baby wipes later, Izzie felt as if her baby learner plates could be taken off.

  ‘How was she?’ asked Beth, breezing back in.

  Izzie grinned. ‘Great. Tiring, though.’

  ‘You don’t know the half of it,’ Beth sighed, grabbing her baby and hugging her.

  Six weeks before, Izzie would have wanted to kill Beth for being so blithe about her baby, but now, she was able to nod in agreement. ‘Worth it, though,’ she said with feeling.

  ‘For sure,’ said Beth.

  She went off to give the baby her bath and Anneliese breezed into the cottage, red-faced after a brisk walk on the beach with Silkie.

  ‘Hello, darling,’ Izzie cuddled the dog happily. ‘She’s adorable, Anneliese. Any chance I could steal her?’

  Her aunt laughed. ‘She keeps me sane, so the answer is no. I’m only kidding,’ she added, seeing the anxious look in Izzie’s eyes. ‘I don’t need anyone keeping me sane, Izzie. I’m doing fine.’

  ‘I can see that. Dad told me you were.’

  ‘The family grapevine still working, I see.’

  Izzie smiled. ‘In the nicest possible way,’ she said. ‘You really seem happy, Anneliese.’

  ‘So do you,’ Anneliese replied. ‘You weren’t when you were here last year.’

  Izzie shuddered. ‘That was a bad time in my life,’ she said, ‘apart from what was happening to Gran.’

  They were both silent for a moment and the only noise in the room was the
sound of Silkie panting happily on the rug. Anneliese rubbed her dog’s ears absently.

  ‘Lily’s slipping away, you know.’

  Izzie bit her lip. ‘I know,’ she said. ‘Dad told me that, too. I’m going in tomorrow morning.’

  ‘Just…’ Anneliese halted. ‘I want you to be prepared, Izzie.’

  ‘I am.’

  ‘No, really prepared. It’s time to let her go, Izzie. I have this feeling that she’s been hanging on, waiting for you to come back.’

  Izzie could only nod because she was crying.

  ‘Jodi never did find out who Jamie was…’ Anneliese went on talking so Izzie could cry in peace. ‘She found some letters from Lily to her friend, Vivi – she’s kept them for you – but they stop before the end of the war. She must have come back to Tamarin.’

  ‘I’d like to read them,’ Izzie managed to say.

  ‘But Jodi and I did find something else,’ Anneliese went on. ‘A box with some bits in, including a notebook. We think maybe it’s a diary. Lily’s diary. I haven’t read it. I just felt Lily didn’t want me to read it. Or perhaps she didn’t want anyone to read it but…’ Anneliese’s voice trailed off. She’d thought long and hard about this. The box had been carefully taken out from some hiding place and she had a sense that Lily had done it for a reason, to show to someone. That someone could only be Izzie.

  ‘The box is upstairs,’ she added. ‘I’ll give it to you when you’re leaving, OK?’

  ‘OK,’ said Izzie. She was kneeling on the floor, cuddling Silkie to hide the tears in her eyes.

  Anneliese gently held out her hand to help Izzie up. ‘It’s cold but it’s still a nice evening: come sit on the porch with me and Silkie and look out at the bay. It’s calming. Reminds you that we’re only specks on this planet and that we all have to leave one day.’

  By the time Anneliese and Izzie came inside, night had fallen.