A Place Called Here

by Cecelia Ahern

  Jack thought back to the last time he had spoken to Alan and felt guilty for putting him under such pressure to try to remember more. Alan had clearly already been squeezed for every last drop of detail of the night by the Gardaí. Jack had felt that in some way his brother going missing was his fault, that as an older brother there was something that he should have done, was supposed to do to make it right. His mother died feeling that same responsibility. Was there anyone that didn’t blame themselves? He recalled his conversation with Alan, how only a few days ago he had admitted the same.

  I hope you find him, Jack. I keep going back over that night again and again, wishing I’d left with him.

  On the counter, the creamy head of the Guinness began to separate from the dark body. It was still foggy but was becoming clearer.

  I keep going back over that night again and again, wishing I’d left with him.

  Jack’s heart caught in his throat. He fumbled through the pages to find Alan’s statement again.

  We made plans to go back to a party at Fiona’s house. I asked Donal if he was going to the party and he said yes and that was the last conversation we had that night. He didn’t tell me he was leaving the chipper.

  The barman topped off the pint by pushing the tap forward slightly, allowing the head to rise just above the rim.

  Jack sat up straight, focused his mind, didn’t lose his head. Thoughts began to rise to the top and he felt close to something. He kept reading and rereading the police report while simultaneously going over in his mind the conversation with Alan from only days ago.

  The stout didn’t overflow or run down the glass.

  Jack controlled his breathing and kept his fear contained.

  The barman delivered the pint to the snug and hesitated at the entrance, unsure of where to put the Guinness with the table a mess of papers.

  “Just put it down anywhere,” Jack said. The barman made a circular motion with the pint in the air, trying to decide where to plant it and finally brought it down to the table, rushing back to where the men where shouting at the television, urging their horse on. Jack’s eyes moved down the ruby-black belly of the body of the pint, right down to the base of the glass. The barman had placed it on Alan’s statement, next to the sentence he had read over and over again. Everything was drawing him back to that sentence.

  I asked Donal if he was going to the party and he said yes and that was the last conversation we had that night. He didn’t tell me he was leaving the chipper.

  Jack was trembling but he didn’t know why. Shaking, he raised the glass into the air and smiled wobbly at his brother’s photo. He put the glass to his lips and took a big slug of the thick liquid. At the same time the warm stout slid down his throat, the memory of Alan’s next sentence fired itself at him.

  I really thought he’d be OK getting a taxi down that way, you know?

  The Guinness caught in his throat and he began to cough, leaning away from the table to hack it up.

  “You OK?” the barman shouted over.

  “Yes! Go on, ya boya!” The two men in the bar celebrated the victory of their horse, clapping their hands and cheering, giving Jack a fright.

  Jack’s mind ran through a million excuses, defenses, mistakes, and whether he’d misheard. He thought of Sandy’s diary entry to visit written in red capital letters, he thought of the worried face of Mrs. O’Connor. You think he done something wrong? She knew. She had known all along. Chills ran through him. Anger fired through his veins. He slammed the pint down on the table, the white ring left on the inside of the glass. His legs went weak as rage and fear took over his body.

  He didn’t remember leaving the pub, he didn’t remember calling Alan, and he didn’t remember driving back to Limerick in record time to meet him. Looking back on those hours there was very little he knew about that night other than what people told him. The one thing he did recall was Alan’s forlorn voice now ringing constantly in his head: I keep going back over that night again and again, wishing I’d left with him. I really thought he’d be OK getting a taxi down that way, you know? The contradicting voice from his statement shouted even louder: I asked Donal if he was going to the party and he said yes and that was the last conversation we had that night.

  The last conversation we had.

  He had lied. And why would he do that?

  45

  I stood up from my chair and the eyes of thousands of people turned to look at me, study me, form opinions, judge, hang me, and burn me at the stake. I spotted Helena in the front row, clearly distressed by how this was all playing out. Her hands were clasped tightly to her chest as though in prayer and her eyes glistened with welling tears. I smiled at her, feeling sorry for her. For her. She nodded at me encouragingly. Joseph, on the stage, did the same. I wasn’t sure what to fear and I suppose that’s why I didn’t. I didn’t understand what was going on, why it mattered so hugely that something of mine had gone missing, why something that seemed so positive could be turned into something so negative. The one thing I did understand was that those who had been here longer than I was were fearful for me, and that was enough. Already over the last few days, life had been even more uncomfortable for me with people following me around, questioning as to whether I knew their families. I wasn’t keen on it getting any worse.

  The representative fixed her eyes on me. “Welcome, Sandy. I know it doesn’t seem fair to do this so publicly but you have witnessed the reason for having to do it this way.”

  I nodded.

  “I must ask you, this rumor of your belongings going missing.” She paused, clearly not wanting to ask the question for fear of the answer. “Could you please confirm how this isn’t true?”

  “You’re leading her!” one man shouted out, and others hushed him.

  “This is not a courtroom,” the rep said angrily. “Please allow Ms. Shortt to speak.”

  “The rumor,” I said, looking around to the thousands of faces, some of which were listening to the translation of my words in their headphones, “is most definitely not true.” There was a babble of voices again so I raised my voice. “Though I do understand where it has come from. I was waving to somebody and my watch flew from my wrist and landed in the nearby field. I enlisted some people to help me find it. It’s really not a big deal.”

  “And they found it,” said Grace Burns, unable to hide the relief from her voice.

  “Yes,” I lied.

  “Show it to us!” one man shouted out, and a few hundred more agreed.

  Grace sighed. “Are you wearing this watch now?”

  I froze and looked down at my bare wrist. “Em…no, because the clasp broke as it fell to the ground and it hasn’t been fixed yet.”

  “Bring the watch!” a woman shouted.

  “No!” I shouted back, and everyone quieted. I felt Bobby look at me in surprise. “With respect to you all, I feel that this whole thing is no more than a ludicrous witch hunt. I have given you my word that my watch has not gone missing and I refuse to continue with this charade by bringing it here to masquerade around the hall. I haven’t been here long enough to understand why it is exactly you are all behaving this way but if you all wish to welcome me here, as you should, then please allow my word to be enough.”

  That didn’t go down well.

  “Please, Ms. Shortt,” Grace said worriedly. “I suggest the best thing for you to do is to leave the hall and retrieve the watch. Jason will accompany you.” A man dressed in a black suit, lean and slenderly built, with a posture so perfect it could only have come from the army, arrived at the end of my row. He held his arm out toward the door.

  “I don’t know this man.” I grasped at straws. “I’m not going with him.”

  Grace looked confused first, and then wary. “Well, you have to bring the watch to us whether you like it or not, so who would be the best person to accompany you?”

  I thought quickly. “The man beside me.”

  Bobby jumped to attention.

  Grace
strained her eyes to see, there was a flash of recognition, and she nodded. “Very well, they will both go with you. We will move on with the session while you’re gone.”

  The Dutch representative took to the stage to talk about the plans for more mills, but nobody took any notice of him. All eyes were on us as we walked down the long aisle of the hall. People who stood at the back parted for us and we were swallowed up through the huge doors. Once outside, Bobby gave me big eyes, not wanting to speak in front of our companion.

  “We have to collect my watch from Bobby’s shop,” I explained calmly to Jason. “He was supposed to fix the clasp for me.”

  Bobby nodded, finally understanding.

  We arrived outside the door of the Lost and Found shop, the brightly colored odd socks decorating the front. It was dark outside now, the village like a ghost town with everybody in the Community Hall waiting for me, waiting for news of whether it was possible to leave Here or not.

  “I’d like to wait here for Bobby.” I stopped walking and stayed on the veranda looking out to the black forest. Jason didn’t say anything, but stood back with his hands joined before him and waited with me.

  “What are you, secret service?” I teased, looking him up and down. He didn’t smile, just looked away. “Matrix bad guy? Man in black? Johnny Cash uber-fan?” He didn’t answer. I sighed. “Are you here to make sure I don’t run away?” I asked him.

  He didn’t answer.

  “Would you shoot at me if I did?” I said smartly. “Asking you to accompany me,” I tutted. “What do they think I am, a criminal?” I turned to him. “Just for the record, I don’t appreciate you being here.”

  He stared straight ahead.

  Bobby interrupted the uncomfortable silence, banging the door behind him. “Right, got it.”

  I took it from his hand and examined it.

  “Is that yours?” Jason spoke for the first time, studying my face.

  It was silver with a mother-of-pearl face but that’s where the similarities ended. Instead of a linked bracelet it was chunky, instead of a rectangular face, this was round.

  “Yep,” I said confidently. “That’s my watch, all right.”

  Jason took it in his hands and wrapped it around my wrist. It was hugely oversized even for my wrist. “Bobby,” Jason said, rubbing his eyes wearily, “get her another watch. One that fits, this time.”

  We both looked at him in surprise.

  “That’s what I’m here for,” he said smartly, returning to his spot on the veranda.

  Bobby quickly headed back to the shop and Jason called after him, “Oh, and make sure the clasp is broken. You said you weren’t wearing it because it was broken, right?”

  I nodded, still silent.

  “Well, that shut you up,” he said, looking back out to the forest.

  Jason, Bobby, and I walked back quickly to the Community Hall in silence, me holding the watch tightly in my hands. Just before Jason pulled open the door, I stopped him.

  “What happens now?” I asked, anxiety building up inside me.

  “Well, I assume you go in there and…” He thought aloud about it and finally shrugged his shoulders. “And lie.” He pulled the door open and thousands of faces turned to look at us.

  The Dutch representative’s speech immediately went quiet and Grace Burns moved forward to the microphone. Anxiety was written all over her face. Bobby and Jason stayed at the door, Bobby nodded encouragingly and I began to walk forward up the long aisle to the stage at the top. If I hadn’t been so uneasy I would have laughed at the irony of it. Gregory would have done anything to get me up the aisle, and his gift of the watch had finally succeeded.

  I reached the top and handed the watch to Grace. She studied it, but I questioned how on earth she was to know whether it was my watch or not. It all seemed so ridiculous. It was all an act. To make those who were unsettled here feel more secure so they wouldn’t rise up and demand to find a way out.

  “How do we know it’s her watch?” one person shouted out, and I rolled my eyes.

  “Her name is engraved on the back!” someone shouted, and my blood turned cold. There were only a few people who knew that. I looked immediately to Joseph, but from the look on his face I knew it wasn’t him. He was looking angrily at Helena, who was looking even more angrily to…Joan. Joan sat in the front row with a red face, beside the man who had shouted out. She must have overheard. She looked apologetically to Helena and me. I looked away, not knowing how to feel, not truly knowing what any possible outcome could be.

  “Is this true?” the representative looked at me.

  “I assure you it’s true,” the man shouted out again.

  My face said it all, I’m sure.

  She turned the watch over to look for my name at the back. She seemed pleased. “SANDY SHORTT is engraved on the back.”

  There was a loud sigh and more talk within the audience.

  “Sandy, thank you for cooperating. You may leave now and enjoy your life here with us. I hope people will be more welcoming toward you from now on.” She smiled warmly.

  Stunned, I took the watch, unable to believe that Bobby had managed to engrave my name in such a short space of time. I quickly walked back down the aisle while people clapped and smiled at me, some apologizing, others still not convinced and probably never would be. I grabbed Bobby by the hand and led him out of the hall.

  “Bobby!” I laughed once we were a safe distance away from the Community Hall. “How the hell did you manage that?”

  Bobby looked horrified. “Manage what?”

  “To engrave my name so quickly!”

  “I didn’t,” he said in shock.

  “What?” I turned the watch over. A clear metallic back stared back at me.

  “Come on, let’s get inside,” Bobby said, unlocking the door to the shop while looking around him uncertainly.

  In the shadows there was a noise and Jason stepped out.

  I jumped.

  “Sorry to startle you,” he said in his robotlike tone. “Sandy.” Emotion slipped into his voice and his body loosened as he stepped into the light of the porch. “I just wondered if you knew my wife, Alison?” he asked awkwardly. “Alison Rice? We’re from Galway. Spiddal.” He swallowed hard, his aggressive appearance softened and vulnerable, concern written all over his face.

  Still taken by surprise at his sudden appearance, I ran the name through my mind a few times. Not familiar with it, I shook my head slowly. “Sorry.”

  “OK.” He cleared his throat and straightened up, the hardness returning as though the question had never passed his lips. “Grace Burns wanted me to tell you that she requests a meeting with you in her office first thing in the morning.” And he disappeared back into the darkness.

  46

  Jack felt the anger pumping through his veins. The muscles in his face twitched as they jumped around under his skin, psyching themselves up for the big fight. He tried to control his breathing, control his temper. His back teeth felt like they’d been ground to the bone on the drive there. His cheeks were hot, and throbbed along with the rest of his body. He clenched and unclenched his fists while walking through the crowded Limerick city pub.

  He spotted Alan sitting alone at a small table with a pint before him, a stool sat in front of him waiting for Jack. Alan looked up and waved, a smile stretched across his face, and in that face Jack could see the ten-year-old who used to drop by to their house every day. He prepared to fire himself at Alan but stopped. Instead he diverted to the toilet, where he stood at the sink, splashing water on his face, panting as though he’d run a marathon. It was all he could do to stop himself reaching out and wanting to kill Alan himself.

  What had he done? What on earth had Alan done?

  47

  The week that Jenny-May Butler went missing, the Gardaí came to Leitrim National School. We were all especially excited because it was rare that our principal graced our humble selves with his presence, particularly in our classrooms. As soo
n as we caught sight of his stern, accusing face, butterflies fluttered in everyone’s stomachs, each of us instantly hoping we weren’t in trouble even though we knew we’d done nothing wrong. But such was his power. Our main reason for excitement was due to him disrupting our religion lesson to whisper loudly into Ms. Sullivan’s ear. Loud whispering in the classroom by teachers always meant something important was happening. We were allowed to abandon our studies that morning and told to line up in a single file at the door with our fingers on our lips. For teachers, our placing our fingers on our lips didn’t usually have the desired effect, the finger not being a suitable silencer as it was indeed a finger, not a zipper, and it was, more important, our own finger, which we had the ability to remove at any stage. But that day when we entered the school hall, none of us said a word, because at the top of the very unusually silent room were two members of the Gardaí Síochana. One woman and one man, dressed head to toe in navy blue.

  We sat on the floor in the middle of the hall with the other fourth classers. Up at the front were junior and senior infants. The older you were, the further back you were allowed be. The sixth always coolly took their places in the back row. Very quickly the hall was filled. The teachers lined up against the walls on the outside aisles like prison wardens, and every now and then clicked their fingers with an angry face at someone who was whispering or who was trying to make themselves more comfortable on the cold and slightly dirty gym floor, but who was seen to be fidgeting too much.