David remembered how his mother had kissed his father and rested her head on his chest.
“It’s just that if anything should happen to you too…” Her eyes caught her son’s and had followed him as he left the room without a word.
David gave up on the television and turned it off. He threw the remote onto a chair. Then he retrieved it and put it on the coffee table to forestall a comment from his father about it getting lost down the side of the cushion. Restlessly he paced to the window and pulled the curtain aside. The weeping cherry was still visible in the dusk.
Before she had left for the hospital earlier, his mother did exactly as he knew she would. She found him in his room and suggested what he could have for supper. Then she had added, pretending it was an afterthought: “We’re very proud of you, David. You know that, don’t you?”
He dropped the curtain and turned back into the room with its mahogany bookshelves lining the walls and its air of deep, soft comfort. Despite this luxurious house, he was longing for a place of his own. He was ready for it, moulded by background and experience to a maturity beyond his years.
Manna was sound asleep on the rug. His nose twitched slightly and his paws trembled as he let out a little woof. Chasing the frisbee again in his doggy dreams. David stepped over him and sat down again. Something else was nipping at his consciousness. He pulled one ankle across his knee and put his head back, deep in thought.
He conjured up the sight of the student teacher (or was she qualified now? He wasn’t sure how the system worked) walking across the grass in the park. There was something wrong with her and he was curious to know what it was. He was still stinging from the end of their encounter. He closed his eyes. He was used to articulating his thoughts, but he could not get a grip on this. He could pray for her; he would pray for her. But he had discovered that prayers are flighty bubbles of air unless they are anchored in action.
Manna snored and, without looking, David gave him a gentle dig with his foot. A memory amused him. The dog might have had an excuse for colliding with her. But did she really think he would throw a frisbee that close to her without meaning to? The dog had only one eye, but there was nothing wrong with his own two.
His mobile sang briefly. It was a text message from Chloe; she was going away on holiday in two days. Could they meet up for a coffee before she went? He punched out “OK”, sent it and forgot it.
9
APASSENGER FERRY was slipping across the water. Robyn watched its progress, wishing she was on it.
She and Neil were sitting on a bench at Groomsport, where the coast formed the southern sweep of the mouth of Belfast Lough. To her left, the far side of the Lough was blurred by a slight haze. Looking ahead, out to sea, the green humps of the Copeland Islands jutted beyond the next headland. The tide was coming in, washing rhythmically over the rocks on the other side of the sea wall. A large gull eyed them lopsidedly from its perch on the top stones before heaving itself up into the light breeze. The air was flavoured with the tang of seaweed.
It was ten days since they had had their confrontation on the street. Business commitments and then a trip to a new and potentially important client in Dublin had kept Neil away. Besides, as he had just pointed out, he expected her back at her mother’s house any time. The fact that Robyn had snubbed him at the school and evaded all his attempts to contact her by phone, only annoyed him more.
Her eyes on the shrinking superstructure of the ferry, Robyn recalled his surprise when she had actually phoned him and asked to meet. The whole length of the bench was between them, their backs to a wooden picnic table.
“You’re not coming home this summer?” Neil’s hair blew across his eyes and he brushed it away angrily. “But you always spend the summer at home.”
She sighed. “Not this year. I’ve told you. Belfast is my home now.”
“Well, maybe in a way…” He kicked a pebble. “With everyone moving up here, Gemma already here…” A thought fed his indignation. “But I was counting on you to help me pack up and organise things for the move. There’s a lot to do and you’re a good organiser.” His tone was tinged with petulance. “I thought we were” – he mimed quotation marks – “friends.”
She looked at him in surprise. “You’re moving so soon?”
“I’m in from the first of August. I need to have all the preparation stuff done in the first two weeks and be back in business by the middle of the month.”
Robyn stood and went to the sea wall. She knew this was going to happen some time. How strongly she did not wish it to happen at all.
The sea licked the bottom of the wall below her. She searched for the ferry but it was now just a grey square on the horizon. She didn’t have much of a life of her own, but any that she had was here, away from her family, away from anything to do with her past. The thought that her past could follow her wherever she went appalled her.
Neil came up beside her and put a hand on her shoulder. She pulled away, her hair tangling across her face. He thumped the wall.
“I don’t understand you. I have looked after you and your family ever since your brother left home and your father took ill. What more can I do? I’ve cared about you almost all of my life.” His voice became almost plaintive. “What more can I do, Rob?”
“You can’t do anything more,” she said impatiently. “I’ve told you before. I’m not good at… being with people.”
“But why? What’s wrong with me?”
“Neil, listen to me. Listen!” He stayed quiet, grumpy while she continued. “I wanted to see you today to make you understand.” His mouth opened again and she shouted, “Damn it, Neil, shut up!” He closed his mouth. She took a deep breath and went on. “You know how I was depressed? At school? I was in hospital?”
He waved a hand impatiently. “Of course I do! But you’re years beyond that now. It’s past.” He frowned, cross. “Time to realise that.”
She tried again. “But there was more. You don’t…”
“All sorts of things happen to us when we’re children! They don’t have anything to do with us now,” he snapped. “You can’t let some adolescent moodiness spoil the future! It’s in the past. Forget it!”
Adolescent moodiness?
With the old familiar feeling of going limp in the face of something she could not control, her shoulders sagged as she gave up. She stood still, thinking of fire and ice. Melting was impossible; much, much too painful. She would prefer to stay frozen for the rest of her life than touch the fire ever again.
It seemed to be the summer of decisions, choices. This one was made before they had met today. But he had just shot the bolt home more firmly. Deliberately, she searched for another personality within herself that could deal with the situation. She decided to become Miss Daniels, rookie teacher.
She returned to the bench and patted the seat beside her. “Come and sit down.” He allowed himself to sit. As he opened his mouth again, Robyn lifted a hand to stop him. “We won’t meet up for a while, even as friends.”
For a moment he said nothing, just looked amazed. “But I need you this summer. This summer of all summers. There’s so much happening. So much is coming together for me. How could you be so selfish?” He gave a little laugh. “Don’t be such an idiot. What would you do without me?”
“Maybe I’ll find out. And you’ll find out what life would be like without me. You must stop this obsession with me, Neil. You must. I’m not good for you. It’s you who needs to move on.”
He shot to his feet. “It’s that other teacher, isn’t it? The one who came up to us that night. Have you been seeing him?”
Bloody hell. “No, I haven’t seen him since that night.”
He didn’t seem to be listening. He grabbed her arm and pulled her to her feet. Angrily, she tore her arm out of his grasp. Some walkers passed them and their curious looks made him stop. The walkers moved on, heading towards the beach. A yellow Labrador trotted after them. Robyn checked its eyes. Two good ones. She
turned back to Neil.
“I know you’ve been a friend for a very long time. I really want you to be happy; you deserve…”
“That’s all I am to you, even yet. A friend.” He lunged at her, brought his lips down hard on hers. Her stomach heaved. She clenched her fingers into knuckles and hit his cheekbone with all her strength. He released her and she flung round to lean over the sea wall, lean into the seagulls squalling round the rocks near the beach.
Shit! Take deep breaths. Steady. It can’t happen here. It just can’t. For several moments she fought the panic spinning and whirling, attacking the inside of her head, punching her brain. When the storm began to recede she turned, cold as the ice inside her.
“I swear, Neil, if you ever do anything like that again, I’ll report you to the police. In fact maybe I should right now.”
He raised his hands quickly, palms out. “Sorry, sorry, Rob.” He seemed to calm himself. He even looked a little ashamed. He took a step towards her.
She backed away. “Where you want to go, I can’t go with you.”
“Can’t or won’t?”
She met his eyes. “Can’t and won’t.”
He looked out to sea briefly and then his demeanour changed. He straightened his shoulders in a gesture that reminded Robyn of someone brushing off an unpleasant stain on their shirt. He was discarding this whole conversation, discarding it like crumpled rubbish.
“You’re overwrought. I’ll take you back now. Come on.” He turned to go back to the car. “How about dinner out somewhere tonight? We’ll make an evening of it, eh?”
With quick steps Robyn crossed the grass away from him and headed for the main street where surely some kind person in a shop would believe she didn’t have a mobile phone and would call a taxi for her.
She paid the driver and ran up the stairs, slammed the door of her flat behind her. By the sea she had successfully fought the panic, but little aftershocks began to shake her body. Keeping tight control of her movements, she went to the space between her chair and her bed and went down on her knees. Then she stretched full length on her stomach, arching her arms along the floor around her head. Gradually her eyes closed. She heard the ghost of a voice she knew breathe from the walls, sighing like a gentle memory:
“Shalom”.
Emotionally exhausted, she dozed where she lay, the shadow of a smile surprising her mouth.
At five to seven that evening, Neil strode down the street to Robyn’s door. Pink ribbons curled in his wake, streaming from the bow on the large bouquet of flowers that he carried.
He bounced up the steps and rang the doorbell for her flat. He would make up for another damn mistake this afternoon. Curse his clumsiness! Surely her face would brighten into a smile when she opened the door and saw what he had brought her. He straightened the bow; tweaked the cellophane; dusted his shoulders.
She can’t have heard the bell. He pressed it again. It was all a silly fuss over nothing. He would charm her tonight, make her laugh. It was all a silly misunderstanding. Well, with her history he should expect some tantrums. He’d help her deal with them in time.
He straightened his tie; nodded to a passing girl who cast an envious glance at the flowers. Oh no, these aren’t for you. These are for my girl.
Often when he called he would hear her footsteps on the stairs. He put his ear to the door. Not a sound. Frowning, he bent and peered through the letterbox. The hall was empty.
He pressed the bell again. Checked his watch. It was useless to go back onto the pavement and look up. Her flat was at the back. He hammered the door with the side of his fist. Still no sound of her feet on the stairs.
She can’t have meant it. She can’t. He hammered again. Then he jabbed the doorbell and held his finger on it for a full thirty seconds. Finally he dropped his hands to his sides, the top of the grand bouquet trailing the ground. He turned and leaned his back against the door. She can’t mean it. Maybe she has gone out somewhere and forgotten the time. Or she’s got held up somewhere. He checked up and down the street, willing her to appear.
But that wasn’t going to happen. In the pit of his stomach he knew it. For a moment he experimented with hating her. Tried to banish her coldly, to throw out the line, “Well, if that’s the way you want it.”
His knees buckled as he dropped the flowers and slid down until he was hunkered at the bottom of the door. He put his arms across his knees and buried his face, feeling the tender spot where three knuckle-shaped bruises straddled his left cheekbone. It was no use. He couldn’t hate her. He didn’t have that way out. She had always been by his side, part of his life, child and adult. She was an obsession. He knew that. Ambition, money, status, he was obsessive about them all. The excision of Robyn from that tight ball of desires would be a wound that would bleed. He clenched one hand, feeling the silk of her hair as if it bunched in his fingers.
Her mother; he would have to face her mother. Briefly he considered turning all this into a towering anger and taking it to the one place where he was able to indulge in madness and empty his rage into someone whose job it was not to complain, someone who took the monster in him and left him free until there was another dragon to slay. But this time the thought of the dark terrace, the upstairs landing with its brown doors closed on the duty of business inside, was repugnant.
He loved her hair. She should never cut it. A single tear ran down the side of his nose, hovered for a moment and then dropped to stain the step between his heels.
10
THE GUEST HOUSE wasn’t far away and Robyn walked back to her flat the next morning. It had been the only thing to do. Desperately she needed to follow, insist on, and reinforce her own choice. She had decided to remove herself from the situation. Carefully she rounded the corner and checked the street. Although even he wouldn’t have stayed there all night.
It was after nine-thirty and the dental surgery was open. In the hallway Robyn called hello to the receptionist who was almost hidden behind a huge vase of flowers.
Robyn exclaimed. “Is it your birthday?”
The girl peered through the confection. “No. These were on the footpath outside when we opened up this morning. Imagine! Not the kind of thing you’d just drop and not notice.” She arched an eyebrow. “Nothing to do with you?”
Robyn made her laugh light. “I should be so lucky!”
Her telephone was ringing as she put her key in the door. It was Gemma, in explosive mood.
“Where the hell have you been, Rob? I’ve been trying to get you for hours.”
The answer phone wasn’t blinking. “You didn’t leave a message.”
“No, I didn’t. I didn’t want to say this to a bloody machine. Neil’s at my house. He had an accident last night on the way home. Went off the motorway into the embankment.”
“My God! Is he hurt?”
“Cuts and bruises and badly shocked. He spent the night in A and E and they X-rayed just about every bone in his body, patched him up and let him go as long as he stayed with me.”
“Has he said how it happened?”
Robyn could hear Gemma’s intake of breath. “He’s told me about yesterday. He was really upset. He wasn’t thinking straight.” Her voice was sharp with stress. “Come over here and see him, Rob. He’s in a state and he wants to see you. I know he can be a pain, but did you have to be so blunt with him?”
It was one of those typical summer days: a pot-pourri of sunshine, clouds and rain. There had been an early shower and the streets were dotted with puddles, their edges retreating now in the sporadic sunshine. In the Botanic Gardens, Robyn walked restlessly past the white plinth of the statue of Kelvin at the gate and rapidly covered a circuit of the front of the park. She was wearing a light hooded showerproof and had intended to walk through the park and out the back gate to Gemma’s. When she reached the fork in the path, she turned away, unable to go on.
Overwhelming relief that Neil was not badly hurt was mixed up with huge self-reproach. She had been too hars
h. What if he had been killed? How could she have lived with that?
She was passing under the trees again. The benches were filling with people, not so many today because of the showers. Her emotions had been shocked into a somersault. Go round the path again. You haven’t even decided what you’re going to say. Should I give in? Just give up? Why not? It would please so many people. I have been horrible. I’m a bad person.
The frightened, damaged little girl was fighting her way up again, throttling everything that she had begun to hope to become. Then the whispers started, like worms in her head.
Daddy’s little girl. But this is our secret. Just between the two of us. She put her hands over her ears. If you tell anyone, everybody will know what a bad girl you are. Bad girl you are. Bad girl. Bad girl.
She came down the hill towards the statue again, her footsteps tapping the refrain faster and faster. Inside the main gate she stopped suddenly and a middle-aged man almost collided with her. She took several deep breaths, hands tight over her ears, eyes squeezed shut, willing the whispers to go away. She straightened and started along the path again. Bad girl. This time she would go through the back gate and walk the half-mile to Gemma’s.
Something nudged her leg. It was a one-eyed yellow Labrador, wagging his tail, offering her a frisbee and managing to pant loudly, all at the same time. She bent to take the frisbee and slowly raised her eyes. He was sitting under the trees. His back was into the corner of the bench seat, one ankle pulled across his knee and his hands clasped behind his head. He was watching her.
He must have seen her little fight with herself. He must. She stalled by making a fuss of the dog, keeping her face turned away from the level gaze. It was only a few days since she had snapped at him. Bad girl. Bad girl. What did she say now? She had to go past him. Finally she met his eyes. After a moment, he gave the slightest of nods. She might have imagined it. Then he clicked his fingers and Manna trotted back to him, leaving her holding the frisbee.
“You can’t have been there long,” she said lightly as she walked towards him. Manna took the frisbee from her hand and lay down to chew it.
Healer of My Heart Page 7
