A Moment Like This

by Anita Notaro

  I had to sit down for a few minutes, to catch my breath. Never in my entire life had I confronted anyone, not like that. I’d never needed to. My hands were shaking, and my entire body trembled with fright. But I’d done it, I thought. I’d stood up to her. I wasn’t Miss Mouse any more.

  30

  THE FOLLOWING FRIDAY, I made my way in through the church doors and slowly up the steep steps to the choir again. I’d forgotten how high up it was, and by the time I reached the top step, I was out of breath.

  ‘You need to get more exercise.’ The voice behind me was warm, amused.

  ‘Billy!’ I turned around and gave him a bear hug. ‘Boy, am I glad to see you.’

  ‘Easy, girl! I’ll fall down the stairs,’ he joked. ‘And is it good to see you? That Mrs Ferguson, she has the ears—’

  ‘Burnt off you, I know. Betty told me.’ I smiled. ‘Thought you could do with a bit of help.’

  ‘Lord, we could. I prayed to the Blessed Virgin Mary, and she’s answered our prayers.’ He smiled. ‘C’mon, everyone else will be thrilled to see you,’ he said, bounding ahead of me through the door. ‘Everyone, look who’s here.’ He yelled so loudly my ears were ringing.

  I was nervous at first, taking a deep breath before I walked through the door. I needn’t have worried. There was a round of applause and I felt the colour rise to my cheeks. Billy gave a piercing whistle and everyone burst out laughing, and exclaimed at my new look. Then Eithne came forward and took my hands in hers. ‘Antonia, you did us proud, and we’re thrilled that you’re back, aren’t we, everyone?’ There was another round of applause, and loud whooping and cheering, all with the exception of Mrs Ferguson, who was sulking quietly in the corner. Poor woman, she loved doing the solos and I was just spoiling it for her, I knew.

  Eithne looked at her, then winked at me and mouthed, ‘Thank God you’re back.’

  I grinned. ‘It’s good to be back, Eithne. I thought you wouldn’t want me any more.’

  ‘Don’t be silly,’ Eithne said, ushering me to my place as if I’d been there only last Friday, and not ages ago.

  Only Bridget was frosty. ‘We thought you wouldn’t want to sing in our little choir any more, that you were too famous for us here in Glenvara altogether.’ She sounded upset, and I supposed I could hardly blame her. The choir was Bridget’s life, after all.

  ‘Bridget …’ Eithne shot her a warning look.

  ‘It’s OK, Eithne. Bridget, I’m sorry I wasn’t around for the last few weeks. It all got a bit crazy for a while, but if you’ll have me back, I’ll be here every Friday and Sunday from now on. Promise.’

  She gave me a stern look. ‘Well, I suppose—’

  Billy interrupted. ‘Oh, for God’s sake, Bridget, get off your high horse. We should be glad Antonia’s back, not giving the girl a hard time. I’m not sure what sin you think she’s committed, but I can tell you, she’s done wonders for this place. She’s really put Glenvara on the map, and we should be thanking her.’

  I felt like hugging Billy all over again.

  Bridget looked a bit emotional for a few moments, as if she was wrestling with her conscience. Then she came over to me and patted me on the arm. ‘Antonia, you’re welcome back.’

  I knew she wouldn’t say anything more, so I just smiled and said, ‘Thanks, Bridget. I appreciate that.’

  ‘Well, if the shoot-out at the OK Corral is over, perhaps we can do some singing,’ Eithne said dryly.

  ‘Hear, hear,’ Billy said, and as the choir shuffled into position, whispered to me, ‘That old bat, honest to goodness …’

  ‘She means well, Billy,’ I whispered back. And she did. I knew she’d given me all the support in the world, and I was grateful to her for it. And then I caught the expression on his face, one which didn’t match his disdainful comment. He likes her, I thought. Oh my God! I tried not to giggle.

  ‘Right, everyone, “Hail holy Queen”,’ Eithne said crisply, and the practice began.

  I managed to keep my promise to Bridget. The following Sunday, there I was at Mass, and Father O’Hanlon got so excited, he made everyone give me a standing ovation. I was mortified, of course. He insisted I sing ‘Bridge Over Troubled Water’. ‘As a special treat for us all. I’m sure God is looking down on you now and smiling upon this daughter of Glenvara, for did he not say, “a man’s gift will make a way for him”? Well, Antonia’s gift has made a great and distinctive way for her, and of this we are truly proud.’

  Everyone burst into applause, and I was so embarrassed – it was worse than any talent show, I realized, standing up to sing in front of all my friends. I made sure that my performance equalled that of That’s Talent!, the choir swelling behind me, even managing to drown out Mrs Ferguson, and when I’d finished, there was another round of applause, whooping and cheering. Please God, make it end, I thought to myself, delighted and mortified at the same time. After everything that had happened over the last few weeks, I was home at last. Really and truly.

  Of course I just couldn’t forget about Niall. With every day that passed, I thought about him more. About how he made me laugh, about the tuft of hair that stood up on top of his head when he hadn’t had a haircut, about how he loved soccer and hated rugby, about how chicken korma was his favourite Indian dish. I wondered what he was doing and how busy he was at work. Several times I found my hand reaching for my mobile, but at the last minute, I’d always decide that no, he wouldn’t want to talk to me. And so the weeks passed and I didn’t ring, and I kept telling myself that, sure, neither had he, so what did that tell me? I’d just have to try harder to forget him. It’d be better that way.

  One thing that was working was my singing. True to his word, Maurice set up a couple of meetings for me with songwriters he liked, and I began to work with them and, for the first time, to really enjoy the business. It felt liberating, as if, at long last, I was truly myself as a singer. I’d enjoyed working with Eithne and rearranging classics to suit my voice, but working on original material, I knew I’d finally come home.

  One of the first people Maurice arranged a meeting with was Damien. I hadn’t given him much thought since London, but there he was, in Maurice’s café, as cheerful and bouncy as ever, like the puppy he was. He stood up as I came towards him, throwing his arms around me and giving me a bear hug. ‘Hiya, kiddo,’ he said cheerily, for all the world as if we were the best of friends.

  ‘Hi, Damien,’ I said cautiously, trying to extract myself from his embrace.

  He let me go, grinning. ‘It’s OK, I’m not going to try to steal you from your boyfriend again. Maurice warned me,’ he said.

  ‘Too late,’ I said dryly.

  ‘You mean there’s still a chance for you and me?’ he said cheekily, sitting back down and stirring his cappuccino.

  ‘Shut up and don’t push your luck,’ I replied tartly, pulling out a seat for myself and smiling at the owner, Anto. I didn’t talk to anyone else in this way, but there was something of the annoying little brother about Damien. It made me want to smack him and hug him at the same time. If only Niall knew, I thought, that he had absolutely nothing to worry about on that score.

  He had the grace to laugh. ‘Look, Maurice suggested we meet up, see if there’s still some of that “chemistry” there. We might even do something together … you know, make sweet music?’ And he winked.

  ‘For God’s sake, Damien, if you keep this up, I won’t talk to you ever again,’ I said, exasperated.

  I made to get up out of my seat and walk out the door, and he burst out laughing, holding his hands up in a gesture of surrender. ‘OK, OK, I promise. Seriously, Toni, I think we’d make a good team. That duet we did, well, it was pretty good, and I think we can do better. Let’s give it a shot. It can’t do any harm.’

  ‘Less of the puppy-dog eyes,’ I said sharply.

  ‘Aww … please.’ He looked at me mournfully.

  ‘You are a complete chancer,’ I said, managing a smile.

  ‘I know.’ He grinne
d cheekily.

  ‘I’m willing to give the partnership thing a go, and that’s it,’ I said crisply. ‘So no messing, OK?’

  ‘You love me really.’ He grinned.

  I rolled my eyes to heaven.

  But we did make a good team. Even though I wanted to kill him, we clicked creatively, Damien and I, and true to his promise, he didn’t say another word about ‘us’. We just spent the next few weeks at a little recording studio on the quays in Dublin, working on our songwriting. It was funny: even though Damien was officially the most irritating person in the world, I found myself really opening up as a singer with him, trying out things I’d never thought I would, stretching my voice and taking a few risks. After a few weeks, I found myself almost becoming fond of him. He was really quite nice, once he stopped all the messing.

  ‘Do you know, I’m grateful to you, Damo,’ I said one night. It was late and everyone in the studio had gone home, except Dave, the sound engineer, who’d wandered off to make coffee.

  He put a hand to his heart. ‘See? I knew you’d thank me one of these days.’

  ‘I mean it. Without you, I wouldn’t have tried half the things I’ve tried recently. You’ve given me a new lease of life.’ I smiled. And it was true. After Marc Davidson, I didn’t think I’d be able to open my mouth and sing a single note, and now, here I was, writing my own material, albeit with help.

  He looked at me for a long time. ‘Thanks, kiddo. You know, I should be thanking you, too.’

  ‘Oh, really? Why?’

  ‘Look, we both know that you should have won That’s Talent! I’m just a club singer. I know that. But you, on the other hand …’

  I shook my head. ‘No, that’s not true, Damo. You won fair and square. You’ve a great voice and lots of … stage presence—’ I began.

  He burst out laughing. ‘Thanks, love, but I know what I am. And I don’t mind, honest. But working with you, well, it’s shown me that I can do something else really well. Write songs. Thanks to you, I have a whole new career.’

  ‘Oh. Well, you’re welcome, I suppose.’

  There was a long silence then, as we both sat side by side on the sofa. The room was quiet, and all I could hear was the tick, tick of the clock on the studio wall. Neither of us moved for what seemed like the longest time, and then Damien leaned towards me, cradling my head in his hand, and kissed me. And I kissed him back. It was nice, nicer than I’d thought it would be. His lips were warm, and his breath smelled of peppermints. But all I could think was that he wasn’t Niall. It just wasn’t the same.

  I pulled away. ‘Damien, I—’

  ‘Don’t say it.’ He smiled, pulling his guitar on to his knee and strumming. ‘It’s that other guy, isn’t it? That uptight doctor with the killer punch.’

  I nodded. ‘Yes. Sorry.’

  For a moment, I thought I saw a flicker of real pain cross his face, but then the boyish grin was back. ‘Oh, well. A man can dream …’ he said, and then he broke into song. ‘Oh, Toni, baby, you broke my heart, right from the start,’ he sang, in a falsetto warble.

  ‘You are a complete pain, do you know that?’ I laughed. And we were back on steady ground again. I was more relieved than I’d thought possible. Because Damien was actually a nice guy, and it would have been perfect really, to fall for him, but I just didn’t feel that way about him. What his kiss had made me realize was that I missed Niall more than ever. Now I had actually to do something about it.

  31

  I REMEMBER I used to laugh at mum, sitting in her comfy chair, watching When Harry Met Sally, or Maid in Manhattan, and sniffling into her hankie at the mushy bits. She was a great believer in romance, Mum. It was the only thing we ever argued about. I’d say, ‘It’s just nonsense, Mum. Things like that don’t happen in real life.’ Of course, there was no way I could possibly know, but perhaps that was why I was so adamant, because I’d never experienced it.

  Mum would be quite sharp with me. ‘You know, they do, Antonia, and if you dismiss it all as nonsense, you’ll never get the chance to experience real love. It can pass you by if you’re just too cynical to be open to it.’ Mum was usually so gentle that it always came as a shock to me that she would get so agitated about romance. Of course, I knew how much she’d been in love with Dad, because she’d often told me stories about how they’d met, and the sweet things he’d done for her, but crying over movie stars struck me as ridiculous.

  ‘Just you wait,’ she’d say smartly, pulling her cardigan around her shoulders.

  And she was right, of course. That night with Niall after the finals was the most magical of my life. And of course, I’d made a mess of it. I’d let other things get in the way, things that I realized now just weren’t important. Because, when it came down to it, love was all that really mattered. I could see that now. But I had no idea how I was going to sort it all out.

  And then, as in all the best romantic movies, fate intervened, in the last week of January. Mum would have been delighted, but I couldn’t help wondering afterwards if she’d had a hand in the whole thing. It sounds silly, and I don’t believe in ghosts, but there was something so … unexpected about it that there had to be some kind of magic at work.

  I was leaving the newsagents’ after Mass, and the sun was low in the sky, blinding me for a second as I stepped on to the pavement. And then I bumped into Niall. Literally, slap, bang, so hard that I fell backwards on the pavement. I lay there for a few moments, until I found him leaning over me. ‘Are you going to stay there, or can I help you up?’

  I’d actually prefer to lie here until you’re gone, I thought to myself, looking up at him. He was dressed in a suit, which I’d never seen him in, a smart blue charcoal with a bright-blue shirt which brought out the colour of his eyes. My stomach flipped, and I felt myself begin to shake with nerves.

  Silently, I extended a hand and allowed him to pull me up, brushing the dust and dirt off my clothes. I thanked God and Mum that I looked all right anyway, having just been to Mass. I was wearing a new winter coat, a smart black one that Karen had helped me to buy in London, and my severe pixie crop had grown out a bit, so it looked softer now.

  ‘I hardly recognized you,’ Niall began. ‘You look … different.’

  ‘I might say the same about you.’ I nodded at his suit.

  ‘Yes … well, it’s Gerry and Sally’s wedding anniversary, and we’re going to lunch in Wicklow. Ten years.’

  ‘Wow, ten years.’ I couldn’t imagine what that would feel like. Niall and I had lasted just over two months, and it had ended badly. ‘Well, please tell them I said congratulations.’

  ‘Sure,’ he ran a hand through his hair in that way he loved, and I suddenly felt that I wanted to reach out and kiss him. ‘Listen,’ he said. ‘Why don’t you come up to the house with me and say hello? I’m going now – I just came down to get the paper.’

  ‘Oh no, no, I don’t want to intrude. But thanks for the offer …’ There was a long, awkward pause while both of us wondered what to say. Eventually, we both spoke at the same time.

  ‘Well, it was good seeing you …’

  ‘Yes, you too …’

  I wanted to say, ‘This is silly, Niall. Can’t we talk?’ but the words just wouldn’t come out of my mouth and so I didn’t.

  Like a fool, I let him say, ‘Well, goodbye, then,’ and walk off up the main street towards Gerry and Sally’s. As I looked at his retreating back, I thought my heart would break.

  I spent the rest of the afternoon feeling sorry for myself, watching an old movie on television, curled up on the sofa in my pyjamas. It was called The Philadelphia Story, and was about a woman whose ex-husband comes back to woo her. Mum loved Cary Grant, which is really why I started watching it, and it was so funny and smart. And yet for some reason, I found myself weeping as Cary Grant and Katharine Hepburn exchanged wisecracks. I’ve missed my chance, I kept telling myself. And I won’t get a better one. And then at the end of the film, the two warring partners got together, and I cri
ed even more.

  I didn’t hear the knocking at the door at first, until it was quite loud. Must be Betty, I thought, shuffling into the hall, not even bothering to check myself in the mirror. Betty wouldn’t mind, I told myself. She was used to seeing me like this.

  I opened the door, ‘Betty—’ I began. Then, ‘Oh.’ Because it wasn’t Betty.

  ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you were … resting,’ Niall said politely. He scratched his head and shuffled from foot to foot. I noticed that he’d changed out of the suit and was wearing his old hiking boots, jeans, and a thick fleece which had seen better days.

  At the word ‘resting’, I found the giggles bubbling up inside me, until they came out in a burst of laughter. ‘Thank you for being so polite,’ I managed. ‘I look a total disaster.’ I looked down at my pyjamas and blushed to the roots of my hair.

  ‘No you don’t. You look perfect, as usual.’

  ‘Thanks,’ I looked up at him and he was smiling at me, that smile that I couldn’t resist. And I thought of all the smart things that I could say in reply, just like Katharine Hepburn in the movie, but instead I just said, ‘I really missed you.’

  ‘Oh, I missed you too.’ And then he was over the threshold and pulling me towards him, nuzzling my hair and kissing the top of my head. ‘You’re smelly, but I love you.’

  ‘I love you too,’ I found myself replying. ‘And I’m sorry that I’m smelly.’

  He laughed and took my hands in his. ‘Look, before we go any further, I want to apologize to you, Antonia. I’ve spent the last few months thinking of every single way I could say sorry and none of them seemed to be good enough. I’ve never hit anyone before in my entire life, and to embarrass you in public like that … well.’ He put his hands in his pockets. ‘I’m truly sorry, and it’ll never happen again, I promise.’

  I shook my head. ‘I know. I can’t say you didn’t frighten me, Niall, but instead of talking to you about it, I just bolted. Karen said … well, that I should just focus on my singing, and it seemed easier that way. At least I kept telling myself it was.’