“I printed off a few more sheets for you – we can do them afterwards if you’d like?” Greg said after they had said goodbye to Michelle.
“I can’t tonight, Greg, sorry.”
After she had asked him for help, Greg had gone home and looked up the topic of adult literacy on the Internet. He had found a website for a support group and learnt all that he could about how to be a tutor. He had printed off worksheets and taught her how to sound the words and blend them together and every day, after they closed the café for the day, they sat down and worked on them for an hour. It was a buzz when the words began to come to her. She realised that she was starting to read and she wanted to do more. So Greg found more challenging books and sheets and they started working on them. Time flew past in his company – one hour would roll into two and two to three and then they both would be hungry so he’d cook them something to eat. She liked it when they sat close together, poring over the pages he had printed out for her. It never seemed like work – they had too much fun for it to feel like that. They would stay late into the evening and then he would walk her home afterwards.
She had also started to wear her glasses again, now that she no longer needed the excuse of not being able to see. Isla found herself looking up at a street signs and sounding out the place name or in the supermarket she would try to read the signs that hung above the aisles like ‘Pasta’. Words she had spent so much time running away from, now she would try and give them a go. She might not always get them right but sometimes she would.
She thought about how good it had felt waking up beside him the previous weekend. The closeness, the knowledge that there was someone there for you at the end of the day, waiting to take you into their arms. She thought about how he smiled with his eyes and how he always sang along with the wrong words to the songs on the radio that played in the café. She thought about the lesson they had done the last day and how, as she sat there moving her finger along underneath the words, she had found herself reaching out with her other hand and taking his. He had looked up at her and she had looked into his eyes, and she knew that something had changed between them.
“Is everything okay, Isla?” Greg asked now.
“No, Greg, no, it’s not.” Suddenly her voice broke and the tears came streaming down her face.
“Hey, what’s happened?” he said, leaving down his brush and rushing over to her.
He put his arms around her. It was the first time that they had ever done anything like that in work and it felt daring, dangerous even, but she liked the security of his arms around her. She wished she could stay there forever.
“Families, who’d have them, eh?” Isla said, biting down on her lip with a sad smile.
“Does this have something to do with your sister coming in earlier?”
Isla nodded. “Sorry about that, Greg.”
“Don’t be – you wouldn’t be normal if you didn’t have a few whacky relys. I could tell you a few stories about some of mine! Do you want to talk about it?”
“It’s all just such a mess. I wish I never asked her for the embryo.” Isla sighed heavily. “And she definitely won’t give it to me now. Réiltín found out that Jo used my eggs to conceive her.”
“Oh, Isla, I’m sorry. How did that happen?”
“She overheard them arguing about it and she demanded to know what was going on so Ryan told her.”
“Oh God! How’s she taking it?”
“Not good, not good at all. She’s so angry that she’s moved in with me. Jo is devastated and I’m stuck in the middle between the two of them. It’s all such a mess!” Her voice broke into tears.
“Why don’t I walk you home? I can mop the floor when I get in tomorrow morning.”
“You don’t have to.”
“I know I don’t but I’d like to.”
They went outside and he locked the door. It was a warm evening and the streets were full of al fresco diners and people crowding merrily into beer-gardens.
They walked until they reached the door to Isla’s flat.
“Do you want to come up for tea?”
“What about Réiltín?”
“She’s at rehearsals for her play so she won’t be home for a while yet.”
She put the key in the lock and he followed her up the stairs. She flicked on the lights and he sat down on the settee. She went into the kitchenette and made two mugs of tea and then sank down beside him.
“So how long more do you think she’s going to stay?”
“I’ve no idea,” Isla sighed. “I actually like having her here, she’s no trouble at all, but for Jo’s sake I wish she’d go home. Jo blames me. She’s so mad with me – she thinks it’s all my fault because I brought up the subject of the embryo again after all these years. God, it’s such a mess . . .” She rubbed her hands down over her face.
“Well, maybe she should have just given it to you in the first place without any drama and then perhaps Réiltín would never have found out in the way that she did.”
Isla shrugged her shoulders. “Well, it’s too late now. I feel so awful about it all. I wish I had never asked her for it.”
“Everything happens for a reason, Isla – maybe it’s a good thing that Réiltín found out now instead of down the line.”
“Maybe, but Jo doesn’t see it like that. I’m worried that I’ve just lost the only family I have.” Her voice trembled.
“She’ll calm down. I know she’s angry right now but these things take time. You’re sisters – you’ll work it out, I’m sure of it.”
“I hope so, Greg, I really do.”
They heard footsteps making their way up the stairs, then the door opened and Réiltín came in.
“Hiya, Réilt,” Isla said, blushing a little. “You know Greg, don’t you?”
“Hi, Greg,” she said with a smile on her face.
“Hi, Réiltín.” He stood up off the sofa and drank the end of his tea. “I’d better head on.”
“Don’t go just yet,” Isla said.
“Well, I need to grab a few bits in the shop before it closes.”
“Alright, I’ll walk you down so.”
She followed him down the stairs and he stepped outside onto the footpath. She longed to invite him to stay, she longed to lie in his arms and to feel his skin against hers and to wake up to his smile in the morning with the birds chattering outside her window – but she couldn’t with Réiltín staying there.
“Will you be okay?” he asked.
“Of course I will.”
“Maybe we could go for a bite to eat at the weekend?” he asked hopefully.
“Yeah, you know what, that sounds good. Réiltín mentioned something about going to the movies with her friends – a six o’clock showing – so maybe we could get an early bird? I don’t want to leave her on her own at night-time – I know Jo wouldn’t be happy and besides she’s a bit vulnerable at the moment. How about that new tapas place on George’s Street?”
“I’ve been dying to try it – good choice.”
“Greg?”
“Yes?”
“Thank you for everything. You’ve been a rock for me over the last while, you know, with the reading and everything . . .” She still felt embarrassed about it. “I don’t know how I’d cope without you.”
“Don’t mention it,” he said, his cheeks reddening. He leaned in and kissed her on the lips and then he walked on down the street. She stood in the doorway for a moment, watching him as he walked away. She climbed the stairs with a smile on her face.
“What’s got into you?” Réiltín asked, looking up from her iPad as soon as Isla came back into the living room.
“Oh, nothing – can’t a person smile without having a reason?” Isla flopped down onto the sofa beside her.
“You’re so strange sometimes,” Réiltín said with a grin.
“Eh, watch it, lady,” Isla said, laughing with her.
Réiltín turned back to the music video on her iPad.
“Your mum called into the café earlier,” Isla continued.
“Again? You should consider taking out a barring order.” She didn’t lift her eyes from the screen.
“Now, now, Réiltín, you should see how upset she is – how upset they both are. Why won’t you just hear them out at least? If you don’t like what they say then you can still stay here with me but at least give them a chance to explain.”
“No way, Isla – there is nothing they can say to me that will change anything. They have kept this huge secret from me my whole life and I will never forgive them for that.”
“They want to come to your play next week.”
“Well, I don’t want them there.”
“Réiltín, come on,” Isla pleaded.
“Well, I don’t.”
“You’re very stubborn.”
She shrugged her shoulders. “I guess I get that from you.”
Chapter 33
What If?
It had become their routine that Isla would wake Réiltín for school in the morning, they’d both grab some toast, then Isla would walk to work in the café and Réiltín would walk in the opposite direction to school. Isla had got a key cut for her so, if she was home before her, she could let herself in. Réiltín would make a start on her homework and then when Isla came home in the evenings she would perch herself on the end of the counter and chat to her about her day while Isla chopped vegetables for dinner. After dinner they would do the dishes together – Réiltín would wash and Isla would dry. Then they’d watch some TV. Sometimes, as they sat together on the sofa, Isla would catch Réiltín staring at her hands. She would be moving hers alongside Isla’s and Isla knew that she was trying to size them up. Isla would then move hers away and distract her by stroking her hair. Then they would go to bed around eleven and then the next day would start all over again. Of course she would never dare to say it to Jo but the longer Réiltín was staying with her, the more Isla was amazed and partly frightened by how easily they had both seemed to settle into normalcy.
She knew that Jo was still distraught and Ryan too. He had called into the coffee shop one day and begged Isla to let him come over that evening to see Réiltín. Instead of his usual well-kept appearance, Isla noticed that he looked scraggly. He had let his facial hair grow and she observed that he had started to grey more. Previously he had only had a few grey hairs peppered through his black hair but now they were clustering at the temples. But it went beyond his appearance: his eyes looked listless, the sparkle was gone.
“I have to see her, Isla – it’s too awful – I miss her desperately –”
She could see tears in his eyes. “Hey, I’m not stopping anyone from seeing her but she warned me that if I bring you or Jo over, she’s going to walk out of my place and God knows where she’ll end up then.”
“Please, Isla, this is killing me.”
“Look, Ryan, I’ll try and talk to her again to see if she’ll see you but don’t get your hopes up. She’s still very angry.”
He nodded. “Thanks, Isla – I’d really appreciate that.”
But Réiltín had stubbornly refused to see him so instead he made a habit of calling into the coffee shop to see Isla just for an update on how Réiltín was doing. He would give Isla money to buy stuff. She would tell him it was fine, that she had it covered, but he would insist that she take it. Isla knew that he felt it was the only way he could help out in the situation. She felt sorry for him. She felt sorry for all of them. The guilt for her role in all of it was getting worse for every day that Réiltín was away from home.
Isla didn’t see much of Jo. Jo couldn’t call over to the flat and Isla didn’t want to leave Réiltín on her own by calling over there. And anyway she wasn’t even sure what she could possibly say to Jo. Whenever Jo saw her, she wanted reassurance that Réiltín was calming down. She wanted to hear that she would be home soon. Isla could hear the eager bating of breath for good news whenever she was at the other end of the phone. She wanted Isla to say that Réiltín was missing her and that she felt that she would be ready to see her soon. Jo wanted hope but Isla couldn’t give her that.
It was only now that the consequences of what they had done all those years ago were starting to hit her. Although she’d had counselling when she donated her eggs to Jo, at the time she had never given it a second thought. It hadn’t really given her cause for consideration over the years. At the time, she hadn’t looked upon her eggs as being anything special. She’d had no emotional attachment to them. To her it was like when you donated blood to the blood bank – yes, it was yours originally but you forgot about it soon afterwards and you didn’t obsess about it all the time, wondering about the person who got your blood and how they’re doing and what your blood was doing now inside them. Isla had donated her eggs and had pretty much forgotten about them afterwards. Yes, there had been a certain part of her that was curious when Réiltín was born to see if she had inherited any of her features but it was in the same way that you would look at any niece to see if they had inherited characteristics from your side of the family, like your mum’s nose or an aunt’s high cheekbones. Jo had needed eggs and Isla offered them like she would have if she had needed a kidney but it was only now that she was beginning to realise that it wasn’t like donating a kidney, that there was so much more to it than that. Isla now found herself wondering what it would have been like if Réiltín had been born to her. If she had carried her, nourished her and given birth to her. If she had been the one to bathe her for the first time and buy her tiny clothes. If she had dithered over choosing which school she should attend or put a plaster on a grazed knee. Isla started to imagine that scenario. She would indulge herself in the quieter moments in the café and let it all play out in her head. Instead of just being aunt and niece, if Réiltín were her daughter what would it be like? She wasn’t sure if it was because she was already longing for a child that this was now impinging on how she was feeling or if she would have felt like that anyway? Was she secretly enjoying all of it? Then she would feel nauseatingly guilty afterwards like she had done something horribly wrong and she would try to bring it up with Réiltín again that she should really think about meeting up with her mother for a talk. Was she doing enough to talk Réiltín around into going home to her parents? She needed to remember that she was her aunt at the end of the day. What would happen when it was time for Réiltín to go home? Isla knew that realistically there would probably come a point when that would happen. She couldn’t stay with her forever but Isla had grown to like having her there. She enjoyed her company and she knew that Réiltín liked hers too. And she had to wonder if their bond was closer than it would be to that of a ‘normal’ niece. Because they shared fifty per cent of their genes, did it link them not just biologically but also deeper than that? Nevis had told her once that some people believed that we were attracted to people with the same blood types as our own and Isla couldn’t help thinking of that now. She wondered if it extended to genes? Her head was spinning in confusion and part disgust at her own feelings. She felt she was doing something awful to Jo by even letting the thoughts grow wild and untamed in her head.
Then she would think about the embryo, the baby that could be just like Réiltín. The embryo that could be her child, if Jo would only sign the consent forms. Would having her own baby banish those thoughts? She had certainly never meant for the whole drama to happen but she never could have imagined that her feelings would have been so complicated either. Isla knew that Réiltín wasn’t her child, deep down she knew that. She belonged to Jo and Ryan but a dark place deep within Isla kept whispering what if?
Chapter 34
Spite
It was the evening of Réiltín’s school play. They were performing a modern adaptation of Romeo and Juliet. Jo had phoned Isla in the café at lunchtime to ask her whether she had made any progress with Réiltín and Isla had to relay it back to Jo that she was still insisting that she didn’t want to see them. Jo had said defiantly that she w
as going anyway and what kind of mother would she look like if she weren’t there in the audience to support her daughter? It was clear that she had already made up her mind about it so Isla decided not to say anything to Réiltín and see how it went that night.
Isla arrived at the school that evening and followed the signs to the hall. She had to search the rows of seating in the room for Jo and Ryan and when she saw them she made her way over and slotted in beside them.
“Hi, Isla,” Ryan said.
Jo’s greeting was a curter “Hi”.
Ryan handed Isla his programme to look at. Jo shot him a look. They sat in awkward silence and Isla was glad when the lighting dimmed, the curtain parted and the play commenced with Sampson and Gregory strolling through the aged streets of Verona.
While Jo watched Réiltín deliver her lines as she played the part of Juliet’s mother, Lady Capulet, she felt the most acute longing to be with her. She felt a force pulling her off her seat to go and reach out to her. She wanted to climb onto that stage and wrap her daughter inside her arms but instead she stayed sitting on that hard plastic seat. She couldn’t help thinking back to the time in her own school hall when she had been on the stage. She could still recall the musty smell of the red-velvet curtains. It was her first memory of excruciating embarrassment. She could still remember that knot of anxiety and the fear that she was going to be in trouble. She looked over at Isla’s face, which was fixed on the stage. She wondered if Isla ever thought about it since? If she even remembered it now?
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