Upside Down Inside Out

by Monica McInerney

  He didn’t answer.

  “I’m so proud of you, Joseph, you know that. Of all your success, all you’ve done. But you seem so serious these days. Preoccupied. Working all the time. I’m worried about you.”

  “You’ve much better things to be worried about than me.”

  “Perhaps I have. But you’ll always be my favorite subject.” Kate’s voice was soft. “Do you want to go and see Lewis?”

  He felt the fight in him start to dissolve. “I don’t know.”

  “You wouldn’t even have to ring him beforehand, he said. He works from home, he’s there most of the time. You could just go there when it suited you. Stay as long or as short a time as you like.”

  He turned the photo over. There was an address written on the back: “Lewis Wheeler, Spring Farm Road, Sevenhill, Clare Valley, South Australia.”

  Another moment passed. She tried again. “South Australia isn’t that far from Sydney, is it?”

  “I don’t know. It’s a very big country.”

  “But they have planes, don’t they? Trains? Cars?”

  “I’ve only got ten days off after the conference.”

  “It would only take one day to meet him. An hour, even.”

  He smiled, despite himself. “You’ve an answer for everything, haven’t you?”

  “I had to have, bringing you up. Always so curious, about things, about people. ‘How do I do this?’ ‘What makes this happen?’ ‘How does this work?’”

  The tension between them eased a little.

  “I know I can’t make you go there, Joseph, but I really do think it’s important. Not just for you. For me. And for Lewis.”

  “I’ll think about it. I can’t say more than that yet.”

  She gave her sad smile again. “Then that will do for now.”

  CHAPTER 7

  Eva ran through Heathrow airport, cursing the weather for delaying her flight from Dublin, cursing the distance between the terminals. She wasn’t just late for her flight, she was very late.

  “Sorry,” she called over her shoulder as she narrowly missed running into a young couple. In her mind’s eye she was competing for Ireland in the Olympics. She pictured the crowds lining her route, cheering her on. She could almost hear their shouts: Hurry, Eva, hurry, you can make it.

  She finally saw the sign for the right terminal. At last. Now she just had to find the right check-in desk.

  Joseph stood in the queue, waiting to check in. He glanced around the terminal, hardly noticing the crowds and the bustle, still preoccupied by his conversation with his mother. The subject of Lewis had hung heavy in the car on the way to Heathrow. As Kate dropped him outside, leaning across to hug him good-bye and wish him well, the photo of his father seemed to be burning a hole in his pocket.

  At first he’d joined the business-class queue, out of habit. The desk clerk had politely pointed out the economy queue to him. “Unless you’d like to upgrade, sir?”

  Joseph had thought about it fleetingly, remembering all the horror stories about the twenty-two-hour flight. But he’d dismissed the idea. He needed to do this research. “No, thank you. Economy will be fine.”

  He finally reached the check-in desk and handed over his tickets, passport and backpack. The middle-aged clerk dealt charmlessly with them, hardly meeting his eye as she issued instructions. “London to Singapore, change planes at Singapore for Sydney.”

  Yes, ma’am, Joseph thought, fighting a temptation to click his heels. He turned away and headed past the long queue toward the departure gates.

  Eva stood in front of the banks of monitors, her heart skipping as she saw the boarding message flashing beside her flight. Oh God, which check-in desk was it? Number fifteen. Back the other way. She turned, bumping into a dark-haired man coming from that direction. “Oh sorry,” she called back over her shoulder, not daring to stop.

  Joseph looked back as the woman rushed past him, her long plait bouncing against her back. She seemed quite distressed. An anxious first-time traveler, perhaps. He hitched his daypack onto his back and kept walking.

  Eva counted at least ten people in the queue ahead of her. “Oh come on, come on, please,” she urged under her breath. She could feel her heart beating, her blood pressure rising. She tried to calm down. She was in the right terminal, at the right desk. Everything was fine now, surely.

  She mentally checked that she’d brought everything—tickets, passport, purse…She’d been doing nothing but run through lists in her mind for the past few days. She felt like entering herself in the Guinness Book of Records: “World’s Most Efficient Traveler—Eva Kennedy, age thirty-one of Dublin, Ireland. Booked and packed for a holiday to Australia in less than a week.”

  Meg had followed her around like a puppy, more excited than Eva herself. “I just think it’s deadly! Off to Australia to recover from a broken heart. And I get your whole house to myself.”

  “Meg, I don’t have a broken heart.” She didn’t. She had an annoyed heart, not a broken one.

  “Oh, you know what I mean. Do you think you’ll have a holiday romance? To help you get over Dermot?”

  “Not unless Lainey has a few spare men tucked away in her flat for me, no, I don’t think so.”

  Lainey had rung daily with travel tips. “Drink plenty of water during the flight so you don’t dehydrate, that causes jetlag,” she’d advised. “Move your legs a lot, you don’t want to get a blood clot. Bring your own blow-up neck pillow, the ones the airlines supply are like after-dinner mints. Be sure to eat a banana just before you land.”

  Lainey hadn’t actually explained what good the banana might do. In any case, Eva had barely been able to fit in what she did want to bring without worrying about a bunch of bananas.

  Ambrose had given her a big hug and wished her well. “With your holiday and your decision-making,” he’d said quietly.

  She reached the top of the queue at last, and handed her travel documents over with relief. “I’m sorry, I know I’m late, my flight from Dublin was delayed. Honestly I thought I wouldn’t make it, I can’t tell you how glad I am to see you.”

  Behind the counter, the woman was ignoring her, tapping away at the keyboard, her long fingernails making rhythmic clicks against the plastic. “I’m sorry, madam, but that flight is fully booked.”

  Eva felt a cold rush down her spine. “I beg your pardon?”

  “There isn’t actually a seat available on that flight at the moment.”

  “Oh please, there must be. It wasn’t my fault the plane from Dublin was delayed. My ticket has been confirmed, there must be room for me.”

  Another clickety-click of fingertips on the keyboard. “I can get you from Singapore to Melbourne, it’s the London to Singapore leg that seems to be oversubscribed. You’re on a waiting list, there’s every chance you’ll get on.”

  Waiting list? Every chance? This was some start to her big adventure. She couldn’t even get out of Heathrow. Eva started to blame herself, thinking she should have got an earlier flight from Dublin. She shouldn’t have run with this crackpot idea in the first place. She should have stayed put in Ireland for her holidays. Kilkenny was supposed to be nice this time of year—

  No, don’t think like that. Stand up for yourself. This problem with the seat isn’t your fault. You’ve paid for your ticket. Surely they can find room for you?

  Exactly. Eva had worked in the delicatessen long enough to know that politeness would get her much further than aggression. “I really do need to be on that plane to Australia tonight. And my luggage is already on its way through to Melbourne. Surely it would be far too inconvenient to unload it at this stage?”

  The woman sighed, looked at the queue stretching behind Eva and called over to a young man in a suit passing behind the counter. “Ray, can you deal with this? A seat allocation situation.”

  Eva flashed the young man the biggest smile she could muster, praying that her dimple had chosen this moment to appear. She needed all the help she could get. She’
d even waggle her lovely eyebrows at him if she had to.

  The young man looked solemnly at her, then at her ticket and passport. “Miss Eva Kennedy, traveling from Dublin, is that right?” He had an American accent. She nodded.

  “I’ll take over here, Janice.” He moved to the neighboring computer terminal, unattended at that moment. “Now, Miss Kennedy, let’s see what we can do here. I’m actually hoping to get over to Ireland for a long holiday next month, when my placement here finishes. My grandmother was from Tipperary and my great-grandfather on the other side was from Offaly, he came out to the States in the 1840s…”

  Oh holy God, Eva thought, fighting a growing feeling of panic. Was this really the time to hear about his family tree? She smiled fixedly as he told her about his great-aunt Tilly who had traced all his ancestors several years ago. He was certainly very well informed. “It’s a Long Way to Tipperary” started playing in her head.

  The young man finally finished the story of his family tree, clicked away at the keyboard then beamed at Eva. “Now, ma’am, you’ll need to be quick. Take this card and run as quickly as you can to that counter down there. Ignore any queues. Just give them this and tell them Ray said they should look after you.”

  She smiled in huge relief. “Thanks, Ray. And I hope you enjoy Ireland when you get there.”

  The other counter was halfway to the end of the departure hall. She was breathless by the time she got there. “Ray said…”

  The middle-aged woman listened to her explanation, took the card and tapped at a keyboard. “Yes, Miss Kennedy, we have managed to find you a seat. An upgrade. I’m sure you won’t mind. You’ll be traveling to Singapore business class this evening. Boarding through gate thirty-one at this moment. Have a good journey.”

  There must have been a terrible mistake, Joseph thought. They must have accidentally put him in the children’s seats. Surely they didn’t think an adult could sit in this position for more than twenty hours? He’d come out atrophied, like one of the Pompeii earthquake victims, frozen solid in a bent position for the rest of his life. He moved around again, trying to stretch his legs. He could hardly feel his feet and his neck was aching. And they hadn’t even taken off yet.

  At least he had the window seat, through some minor miracle. And the two seats beside him were free. He might manage to contort his body in such a way that he could half lie down.

  A loud racket at the front of the plane broke into his thoughts. Over the headrests in front of him he watched as two twenty-something males weaved their way down the aisle. One was dressed in a Manchester United jersey, the other in a dirty yellow T-shirt bearing the slogan “I went to London and all I could afford was this bloody T-shirt.” Joseph ducked as one of them threw something in his direction. The object bounced into the empty seats beside him. It was an oval-shaped red leather ball.

  One of the pair scooped it up in big, shovel-sized hands. “Sorry about that, mate,” he said in a broad Australian accent. Joseph was about to say something in return but he was already being ignored. He watched as the young man held the ball aloft while his friend took a series of photos with a battered-looking camera.

  “This footy’s been right round Europe with us,” one of the pair explained to a harassed flight attendant.

  “How lovely,” she said in a distracted voice. “Please take your seats, gentlemen. We’re about to commence takeoff.”

  “Gentlemen? Us?” The pair fell about laughing at the idea as they threw their duty-free bags with a clank into the overhead locker, then settled into the seats beside Joseph.

  The blond-haired one leaned across. “Gidday, mate. Better introduce ourselves, seeing as we’ll be sitting next to each other on this flight, eh? I’m Doug from Melbourne and this is my mate Shorts. Cos he’s so tall, geddit?”

  In the business-class section fifteen rows from Joseph’s seat, Eva stretched luxuriously. What next, a long bath in asses’ milk? A flight attendant feeding her peeled grapes? She felt like the Queen of Sheba. A supermodel and royal princess rolled into one.

  Not that she had much to compare it to—a few three-hour flights to Mediterranean holiday resorts with some school friends had been the extent of her long-haul traveling. But she’d heard plenty of horror stories from customers when she told them she was flying to Australia.

  “You’ll need a week to get over the flight,” one had prophesied. “It’s endless,” another had added. “Apparently all you do is eat plastic food and sleep with your head in your neighbor’s armpit.” “It’ll be horrific,” they’d said as one.

  Oh no it wasn’t, Eva thought, smiling serenely as the flight attendant offered her a choice of champagne or orange juice.

  “Champagne would be just perfect,” she said graciously.

  Joseph now knew he was in Dante’s inferno. His hopes that the flight would be a time of quiet contemplation about his father, the Canadian offer and the seat designs had dissolved hours ago. It was just as well he’d finished writing his conference speech the night before, rather than write it on the plane, too. The two Australians beside him were now into their fifth round of a drinking competition. Their seat trays were overflowing with beer cans and miniature whiskey bottles. Shorts was virtually unconscious, his mouth open, his loud snores punctuated by burps.

  The two were on their way home after twelve months backpacking around Europe, Shorts had explained to Joseph just before they’d begun their drinking spree. “These are our last hours of freedom, Joe, so we’re making the most of it. Doug’s off to medical school, I’m studying to be a vet. We turn back into grown-ups the moment we get off this plane.”

  He’d never really had those carefree days himself, Joseph thought now. Never had a year off to do what he liked, travel around, take it easy. He’d gone straight from school to university to starting his own company. And the success of his very first design, the ergonomic office chair, had meant he’d been pushed into the world of business straight away, dealing with manufacturers keen to buy his designs, managing projects, hiring staff. At the start it had just been him in a small office. Now he had a PA, a financial consultant and a team of designers working for him.

  He felt exhausted again just thinking about them all. Covering his head with the complimentary paper-thin blanket, he shut his eyes and tried, once more, to sleep.

  “That’s wonderful, thank you,” Eva said as the flight attendant helped her convert her comfortable seat into a completely flat bed.

  “You’re welcome, madam. Pleasant dreams.”

  Eva settled herself under the blanket. She felt a little bit odd, all tucked up, with the other business-class travelers lying around her. It was like being in a midair boarding school dormitory.

  She couldn’t wait to tell Lainey about it. Mind you, Lainey probably wouldn’t be surprised. She’d no doubt talked her way into upgrades plenty of times. Lainey was very good at things like that. Taking control. Getting things done. She always had been, even when they were children, growing up in the same street in Dunshaughlin. Lainey had been the one in charge from the beginning, inventing games, making the decisions, never short of ideas. They’d be world-famous child pop stars, she’d decided at the age of ten. An Irish version of The Osmonds or the Jacksons. Unfortunately Lainey was tone deaf and couldn’t play an instrument. But Eva loved to sing, and the teacher at school had once publicly praised her singing voice.

  “I’ll be the brains behind it instead,” Lainey had said confidently. “I’ll write the lyrics and be the manager and you write the music and sing.” Their first joint effort was “You Threw Me Away (Like a Tissue),” performed to an audience of their parents. Lainey had been disgusted at their reaction. “You’d think they could have at least pretended to like it, wouldn’t you?” she’d said to Eva. “Your mother was nearly crying laughing.”

  Too bad, Lainey had declared then. We’ll be writers instead. The new Jane Austen and Emily Brontë. They got to chapter three of Love Is Leaping. Then the Olympics had sparked an inte
rest in gymnastics. Which led to ballet. Which led to fashion design. Which led to painting. They’d both been taken aback to discover that Eva had real artistic talent. Lainey had noticed it first.

  “Yours really does look like the landscape,” she’d said with surprise after they’d spent the day painting at the Hill of Tara. “Mine just looks like the bottom of a pond.”

  Eva had shyly agreed. It wasn’t often that she was better than Lainey at something. But her painting did look good, the different shades of green and brown and light blue and muddy white nearly mirroring the panoramic view in front of them.

  They had to exploit this newfound talent, Lainey decided. Eva could paint a Hill of Tara series. They could sell them to the tourists at weekends and during the summer holidays. “We can set up a little stall, dress up in Irish dancing costumes so we look like the real thing, sell the lot and make an absolute fortune. What do you think?”

  But then Lainey’s parents had dropped the bombshell. The family was emigrating to Australia. Her father had decided that his building skills would be much better appreciated in Melbourne than they were in Ireland. Despite huge opposition from Mr. Byrne’s much older sister, who said he was a traitor for abandoning Ireland, the decision was made. The whole family was going: Mr. and Mrs. Byrne, fifteen-year-old Lainey and her three little brothers. They were leaving in a month’s time.

  It hadn’t been the end of their friendship. They’d written letters, made phone calls and then, more recently, sent e-mails. Lainey had been back to Ireland twice, once with her family at the age of eighteen, then again on her own when she was twenty-three. Eva thought about that trip again now, the last time she’d seen Lainey. Eight years ago. It had nearly been the end of their friendship…

  She stopped her train of thought right there. There was no point dwelling in the past. That was all behind them now. It would be completely different this time. They were both older, for a start. More settled. It would be just great, she decided. Two weeks of fun and laughs. She was really looking forward to seeing how Lainey lived and hearing all about her job with the event management company. Seeing her family again. Asking her advice about Ambrose’s offer.