Upside Down Inside Out

by Monica McInerney

  “I know where I’m taking you. I don’t know where you’re going from there.”

  They drove down Camden Street into the city center, then turned left along the quays. Where was Joe waiting? In the Phoenix Park? At her house in Stoneybatter? Then she realized. “We’re going to Heuston station, aren’t we?”

  “That’s it.”

  “What do I do when I get there?”

  “It’s a railway station—perhaps you could catch a train somewhere.” He grinned at her.

  Eva felt the beginnings of excitement rise in her as the taxi pulled up at the station. She opened the door, getting a scent of malt from the Guinness brewery nearby.

  “Don’t worry about paying me, that’s all been looked after. And your ticket’s waiting at the booking office,” the driver said matter-of-factly. “Have a nice journey.”

  Journey to where? she wondered. She knew there was no point asking the driver. Everyone seemed to have signed a code of secrecy today.

  She went into the station and looked up at the destination board. Cork. Limerick. Ennis. Tralee. Waterford. Westport. Ballina. And Galway. She started to smile. She was right. Her ticket to Galway was waiting at the booking office. The train was leaving in fifteen minutes.

  She walked the length of the platform, then climbed into the first carriage and found a window seat. She was still clutching the box of food. As the seats around her slowly filled, she thought back to the last time she’d been on a train. With Joe. She’d been blocking all of those memories, becoming more and more sure that he wasn’t going to ring, that it was all over between them before it had properly begun. But now she allowed a glimmer of hope to rise inside her. Please come, he’d written.

  She leaned her head back and shut her eyes as the train slowly pulled out of the station. It was a three-hour trip, straight across the country. The noise of the wheels on the track brought back more memories. She thought of meeting him at the party. The conversation at the taxi rank. The penguins at Phillip Island. Dancing in the pub. Working together at Four Quarters. Meeting Lewis. The day in the hotel room.

  It had all happened so quickly between them. But holiday time wasn’t like normal time. It had a different quality to it. She gazed out the window as the houses gave way to green fields, interrupted occasionally by small towns, lakes, woods. The sky was heavy with clouds. She was looking out at Ireland but her thoughts were in Australia.

  She had a rush of panic as she thought of the whole Niamh pretense. How could she even think about the future when their entire past together, so brief but intense, was built on a foundation of lies? That was no way to start a relationship, was it? She wished she could put all her doubts at bay, have confidence, know for sure that everything would be all right. But she didn’t have that certainty.

  No one does. The voice again.

  Yes, they do. Most people know exactly what they’re doing. I’m one of the odd ones out.

  No, you’re not. Everyone feels uncertain. Some people are just better at hiding it than others. You just have to learn to trust your own instincts. Believe in yourself. And trust and believe in other people too.

  Eva thought about it. She hadn’t done much of that. She hadn’t trusted Ambrose’s belief in her when he had offered her the shop. But it looked like that might just work out. Of course, it was early days, there was still a lot that could go wrong. But there was also a lot that could go right.

  Exactly.

  She thought about Lainey. All those years she had misjudged her, thought that she had somehow spoiled things with Martin. And she’d thought Lainey was doing the same thing with Joe. She’d been wrong about that. Lainey was a good person, a great friend. Eva realized how glad she was to have her friendship. And how nearly she had lost it by not trusting her, by looking for the worst rather than the best.

  She thought about Dermot too. She’d known in her heart that he hadn’t been right for her. But she’d ignored her own instincts.

  And then she thought about Joe again. His clever, kind face. The warm, amused look he’d get in his eyes. His soft London accent. His curiosity. His gentleness. The way he kissed her…

  She started to worry again, thinking over what could happen next with him. Then she stopped herself. There was no point worrying, she just had to wait and see what happened.

  She was about to find out, in any case.

  A voice on the PA announced they were coming into Galway. Eva looked out the window at the crowded platform, trying to see him among the groups of people. She waited for the other carriages to clear first. Her heart had started beating faster again.

  She stepped off the train, waiting to hear her name being called or to see him.

  The platform gradually cleared until she was the only person left. She just stood there, still clasping the picnic box, not daring to think that it all stopped here. That it was some joke. That it had all gone wrong.

  “Miss Kennedy?”

  A voice behind her. She turned around. It was a woman wearing a blue shirt with a Galway Taxis logo.

  “Sorry I’m a bit late, you can never be too sure what time that train will get in. Are you ready to go?”

  She felt the relief. “Yes. Yes, I am.” She followed the woman, who was striding quickly back along the platform. “Would you be able to tell me exactly where it is I’m going?”

  The woman spoke over her shoulder. “I don’t know the exact name of it, but it’s not far. If you’d like to come this way, the car’s just here.”

  Eva stepped out of the station and glanced around. They were just on the edge of Eyre Square. She looked up. The light was bright, reflecting off the sea close by.

  The taxi driver didn’t speak as she drove through the system of one-way roads. They were soon clear of the city, driving on the coast road past Salthill. On their left was the sea, the Aran Islands easily visible in the clear light, the sea a shifting pattern of blues and grays. The sky was filled with clouds buffeting through the air, revealing quick glimpses of blue.

  Fifteen minutes later, the car pulled off the main road and drove down a narrower, bumpier road. Eva looked ahead. The road led to a small field which ran right down to the sea. There was a figure standing on the rocks by the shore, looking out over the water. A tall, dark-haired man, dressed in a black coat. Joe.

  The driver smiled over her shoulder. “Here you are, Miss.”

  “Thank you.” Eva climbed out. The ground was springy beneath her feet, the air damp with sea spray. She stood there for a moment, waiting as the taxi turned and drove away. Then she pulled her coat in around her body and started walking, still carrying the cardboard box.

  As she came closer, he stepped over the rocks, until he was just a short distance away. She searched his face, overwhelmed by how good it was to see him. He was looking at her just as intently. Part of her just wanted to go to him, to hold him close, kiss him. But she held back, still uncertain.

  “Hello,” she said.

  “Hello.”

  “I brought your lunch.” She held it out.

  He smiled then. “Thank you. It’s very good to see you.”

  “It’s very good to see you too.”

  She felt like she was in an English-language training video. She waited, not sure what was going to happen next. What was this mood between them? Wary? Careful?

  “Did you have a good trip?”

  “I did, yes.” She’d turned into Miss Manners. “Thank you for bringing me here. You’ve gone to a lot of trouble.”

  “I thought it was safer than calling you. You and I don’t seem to have a lot of luck with telephones.”

  “No, we don’t.” She smiled briefly, then looked around. The taxi had gone from sight. It was just the two of them now, alone by the sea. The only sound was the waves hitting against the stony beach, the occasional birdcall.

  “We need to talk,” he said.

  She nodded. She had so many questions. But there was something important to say to him first. Right now.
<
br />   “Joe, I know you’ve heard it all from Lainey already, but I want you to hear it again from me. I want to tell you myself. I’m not a sculptor. I don’t live in Galway, I live in Dublin. I work in a delicatessen. I’m about to open a cafe. I’ve just started singing in a band again, but not with Enya.”

  “Yes, I know. You have a beautiful singing voice.”

  “You know? How do you know?”

  “I was there last night.”

  The beautiful voice turned into a high-pitched shriek. “In the pub? In Dublin?”

  He nodded. “I flew in from London last night. Lainey told me where you were singing. So I went to see your band, then I drove across here afterward.”

  Eva blinked. She wanted to hear more about that. But not just yet. “Joe, I really need you to explain something to me. I saw your website, I read all about you. Your company. Your life. You’re a success, why didn’t you just stick to the truth? Why did you have to pretend to be someone else?”

  There was a long pause before he answered. “It wasn’t a deliberate thing. It just started to happen. People made assumptions, assumed I was just an ordinary traveler having an ordinary holiday. And I began to realize I actually preferred it like that. That I wanted a life like that, a simpler life. I met you, then I met Lewis. And I knew it for sure then, that I wanted to change the way I lived. I’d known for a long time that something had to change, I just hadn’t realized it would have to be me.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me all of that?”

  “I wanted to. I wanted to tell you everything. But there didn’t ever seem to be the right time.”

  “It was like that for me too, Joe. I wanted to tell you the truth a hundred times.”

  “So why didn’t you?”

  She forced herself to look right at him as she spoke.

  “Because I was too worried that you wouldn’t like me if you knew how ordinary I really was, if I was being the real me. And it was very important to me that you liked me.”

  “You don’t think I met the real you?”

  “No.”

  “Lainey said as much. That you were worried about telling me the truth because you thought the real you wasn’t good enough. That’s why I wanted to talk to you here. Not in Dublin. Not in London. Tell me, is this where you imagined that caravan to be?”

  She looked around. The field was green, as she had described. The hills of Connemara were visible. There were long beaches stretching out either way, littered with shells and pieces of wood, bleached white by the salty water. She nodded.

  “You’re here now, not in Australia. But what’s different about you? The way you feel? The way you look?”

  She paused. “No.”

  “The things you notice?”

  “No.”

  “Your sense of humor?”

  “No.”

  “Your stories about your childhood? The books you’ve read? The films you’ve seen? The music you listen to? That was all true, wasn’t it? That was all you?”

  She nodded.

  “I thought so,” he said. He pointed a few meters away. His backpack was lying on the ground. “And if I was wearing that now, would that change the person I am?”

  She didn’t have to answer.

  “It wouldn’t. I’m just the same person, whatever I’m wearing. You see, I think I did meet the real you in Australia. And I know that you met the real me, even if we were upside down at the bottom of the world. What we were on the outside didn’t count. I think we got to know each other from the inside out. The real us.”

  She took a step toward him. “I should have told you, Joe. Should have told you I wasn’t a sculptor—”

  “It doesn’t matter to me what you do for a living. Where you live. None of that changes you. And I’ve realized the same thing about myself. What I am is not what I do for a living or where my house is, it’s the way I think, the way I feel.”

  “But your company?”

  “I don’t have a company any more. It’s a long story—you know some of it, I think, but that part of my life is over. I’ve closed the company down.”

  “But what are you—?”

  “Going to do now?” He smiled. “I’ve you to thank for the inspiration, actually. That pendant of yours sparked something in me.”

  She felt for the pendant around her neck and took it in her hand. It felt warm from her skin.

  “I’m going to art school. To study jewelry design.”

  “To art school? Where?”

  “Dublin.”

  “You’re coming to live in Dublin?”

  “For three very good reasons. Would you like to hear them?”

  She nodded slowly.

  “The art school there is very good, I believe.”

  “Yes, it is,” she said.

  From the look he gave her she knew that Lainey had told him about all of that too. And it didn’t matter that he knew about it, she realized. It wasn’t important any more.

  “And I don’t know yet for sure, but I might be needing some part-time work. Apparently there are lots of cafes in Dublin. You don’t happen to know anyone that might be looking for a part-time kitchen hand, do you?”

  She tried not to smile. “Oh, I might.”

  “I can give you some good references.” Then he thought about it. “Actually, no, I probably can’t.”

  She saw the laughter in his eyes. “I don’t think I’ll need any references.”

  “No?”

  “No, I think I trust you.”

  There was a long moment while they looked into each other’s eyes. Eva felt as though the wind that was sweeping around them was taking her last worries and carrying them out to sea.

  As he moved closer to her, she surprised him by putting a finger on his lips. “You haven’t told me the third reason you’re moving to Dublin.”

  “You haven’t guessed?”

  She shook her head.

  He gently tucked a piece of hair behind her ear, caressing the side of her face. “I’m in love with a woman who lives there.”

  The touch of his hand was beautiful. “Really? What’s her name?”

  He smiled. “It took me a while to find out, actually.” Then he leaned down and whispered, his lips close against her ear. “Her name is Eva Mary Kennedy.”

  EPILOGUE

  Three months later

  Now, Mrs. Lacey, let me just read that order back so I’m sure I’ve got it right. You’d like the Ambrosia Platter with extra smoked cheese, and your friend would like the Asian noodle salad, is that right?”

  Mrs. Lacey nodded vigorously on behalf of herself and her friend.

  “With the caramel pancakes to follow for the both of you? That’s grand.” Eva smiled. “It won’t be long.”

  “Thank you, Eva,” Mrs. Lacey said graciously. She wriggled comfortably into her chair and leaned across the table. “It really is excellent service here. And the food is something special, Dorothy. You’re in for a treat.”

  Dorothy looked around appreciatively. “It’s certainly a lovely room, isn’t it? So bright and welcoming.” The late July sunshine was streaming through a high window on the back wall, illuminating the original artworks dotted along it.

  Mrs. Lacey nodded. “Yes, it’s quite the hottest spot on Camden Street these days. I’ve been a loyal customer of the Kennedys’ delicatessen for years, of course. So they always make sure there’s a table free for me.”

  Heads would roll otherwise, Dorothy thought, wisely saying nothing. Instead she leaned over and whispered. “And that lovely young woman with the plait who served us? Who is she?”

  Mrs. Lacey lowered her voice. “That’s Eva Kennedy. The manager here. She set up this whole cafe herself, took over when her uncle Ambrose retired. He’s on holiday in Spain at the moment, I believe.”

  “And is she the chef as well? It’s a wonderful menu, isn’t it? I had great difficulty choosing, there were so many things I’d like to try.”

  Mrs. Lacey was thoroughly enjoying
being the font of all knowledge. “No, the chef is Eva’s cousin. See, that little one in the kitchen there, you can just see her through the door. She’s a marvelous young lady. Very enthusiastic.”

  Just then the front door of the cafe opened. A tall, dark-haired man came in, casually dressed in jeans and a T-shirt.

  Mrs. Lacey whispered across the table again to her friend. “Do you see that man? That’s Eva’s boyfriend, or partner or whatever word they use these days. His name’s Joseph. He’s from London but she met him in Australia, of all places.”

  “Really? How romantic.”

  They watched as Eva caught sight of him. Her face lit up. They had a quick conversation, then she laughed and reached up to kiss him. As he took a seat at the counter by the front window, he was smiling too.

  Mrs. Lacey leaned forward again. “He’s studying to be a jewelry designer, I believe,” she whispered.

  Was there anything Mrs. Lacey didn’t know? Dorothy wondered. “Really? How fascinating.”

  Then their conversation was interrupted by Eva’s arrival with their lunch.

  Six months later…

  Lainey lay on the sofa watching the late-night music videos on television. Rex was fast asleep, a heavy weight on her lap.

  A tall blond man came out of the kitchen carrying a newly opened bottle of shiraz. “More wine, Lainey?” He read the label. “Lorikeet Hill, from the Clare Valley.”

  “Oh yes please, Adam.” She held out her glass and smiled. Who’d have thought her downstairs neighbor would turn out to be such a lovely man? She looked at him fondly, remembering the conversation she and Eva had had, all those months ago. What was it she’d said to Eva? Something about waiting for the man who would make her weak at the knees, make her heart skip and her stomach swirl. Could Adam be Mr. Cholera himself? He certainly gave her some of the symptoms. He was Mr. Flu, perhaps. Lainey gave Rex an extra-special pat. It was all his doing, after all.

  She had just wriggled along the sofa to let Adam in beside her again when the phone started ringing. Adam looked at his watch. “It’s after one. Who on earth would be ringing at this hour?”