‘I’m afraid this is a very heavily subscribed course. I’m sorry, but what you are asking is impossible for this year. I mean we don’t even have an application form or any paperwork as yet. We would require evidence of education to date and so on.’
‘I know,’ said Laoise, ‘but if you give him this chance we will arrive with all the forms sorted and everything. It will be like, perfect I swear.’
‘Does this young man actually live here? It’s not just a simple matter of enrolling in a course you know. He would have to sort out his visa, and have someone here who would vouch for him…’
‘Totally!’ interrupted Laoise. ‘My Mam and Dad are going to sign for him or whatever.’
‘And their names are?’ asked the voice in a weary tone. When Laoise told the woman who her father was, suddenly everything changed. The interview was arranged for that afternoon and all they had to do was download the forms and fill them in.
‘You are totally awesome. Thank you, thank you, thank you…’ Laoise said, and she hung up.
‘OK sunshine,’ she announced ‘Let’s rock. We have to be in Cork by one,’ she said, pulling a car key out of her pocket. ‘My Mam will murder me if I take the car but needs must, this is like totally an emergency.’
‘Are you serious? Oh my God! You are amazing. Do you think this might actually work? The fees though Laoise, they’re six thousand dollars or euros or whatever. I don’t have that kind of money.’
Laoise smiled. ‘Look don’t worry about that yet. Parents always say they’re broke but they come up with it in the end. I’m sure you can convince your Mam as soon as she sees how much it means to you.’
Dylan fixed his new friend with a wistful look. ‘You don’t know my mother. She doesn’t give a rat’s ass what happens to me just so long as she hooks a new, rich husband. She never has. My Grandma is the only one who ever cared about me. Maybe she’d help me out with the cash to do this course if I explain to her how much it means to me. I know she’d try anyway.’
‘Well,’ said Laoise, ‘it looks like you are about to become the first Goth uilleann piper in Ireland. Deadly!’
Chapter 16
Dorothy Crane knocked sharply on Juliet’s door. As she looked through the spy hole fitted in the centre of the door, Juliet sighed deeply. She supposed it would have been too good to be true to enjoy a whole day without Dorothy. Reluctantly, she opened the door.
‘Oh hi Dorothy, how is your suite?’ she asked in as breezy a tone as she could muster.
‘Adequate, considering the country we’re in,’ Dorothy replied ‘though how these European hoteliers have the audacity to call these tiny spaces suites, I’ll never know. I’m sure the company wanted the best for me but the Managing Director will be hearing from me the minute I get back, and when he does I don’t imagine this hotel will be on their itinerary in the future.’
Juliet winced as Dorothy marched into the room, leaving the door wide open behind her. ‘Now Juliet, I’ve decided that today we should take a long walk around the National Park. I took some fruit and yoghurt from the breakfast bar. I assume you did the same, and I got a free map in the lobby showing an extensive walking route through the park and into some bogland. I’ve been looking for samples to put into my fungi collection but have not had the opportunity until now.’
She looked critically at Juliet’s outfit and continued, as if at a five year old, ‘those sneakers won’t do at all. And that top is entirely unsuitable, so change into the boots I helped you buy before we left. And get your GORE-TEX jacket. The forecasters said it might rain.’
Juliet felt the familiar lump rise in her throat, but she forced herself to speak.
‘Actually Dorothy, if you don’t mind, I was hoping to do a little shopping today. I would like to buy a few gifts and…’ Juliet’s hesitant excuses were met by Dorothy barking.
‘Oh for goodness sake Juliet! Who do you have to buy gifts for? It’s not like you have children or anything. Don’t be ridiculous. Get your things and let’s go before the first shower comes. There’s a sign in Reception saying there’ll be complimentary finger food in the bar this evening. There’s some kind of sports event on, so I want to be back in time for that.’
Something snapped inside Juliet. Perhaps it was the callous way in which Dorothy had referred to her childlessness, the only tragedy in her long marriage to Larry, or possibly it was the way that she constantly spoke down to her. Whatever the trigger, it had the effect of rendering Juliet uncharacteristically articulate all of a sudden.
‘Dorothy, listen to me carefully, as I’m only going to say this once. You are a mean, miserly old harridan and I cannot stand you. I never wanted to take this trip, but I am actually enjoying it – in spite of you, not because of you I hasten to add.’
Juliet gulped and then continued: ‘I may not be as well educated as you, or as well travelled as you, but I have great friends and a great life. I miss Larry desperately, but when I get sad, I think how much worse it would have been never to have known love like that. Much better that I had him all those years and lost him than to have lived a life like yours – without love or friendship. I don’t know what makes you happy Dorothy. I doubt that anything does. But you will not bring me down with you for one more second. You are a cantankerous old woman and I have never met anyone who liked you. You bully me and harass me and put me down constantly. So, from now on, count me out of any plans you might have. From now on, I don’t want to have anything to do with you. Now, if you will excuse me, I am going shopping to buy gifts for my real friends, something you wouldn’t know anything about!’
As Juliet swept past Dorothy and walked out the door into the corridor, she practically collided with Conor as he emerged from his room. He had heard most of the exchange. He grabbed her hand and drew her into the safety of his room and out of the path of Dorothy who was storming down the corridor.
‘Did I just do that?’ she asked shakily,
‘She had it coming. Don’t worry, she just needs to cool down,’ he said, putting a big arm around the trembling Juliet.
Anna returned to her room after breakfast. Elliot was standing at the end of the bed. A surge of joy rushed through her. He must have come to his senses, she thought, finally realised just how horrible he had been, wanted to sort it all out. He turned to face her as she entered. It was only then she noticed he was filling his suitcase, which lay open on the bed.
‘Elliot! What...what are you doing?’ she stammered. ‘What does it look like? I’m packing,’ he answered coldly, as he carefully folded his hand-made silk shirts and Armani trousers into the case.
‘But I thought…’ Anna began.
‘More thinking Anna? Just like when you thought you’d trick me into marrying you, you thought you’d con me into having a baby with you, thought you’d get me to move back to Hicksville to live with your moronic family? Well guess what? You thought wrong. I don’t know why the hell I’ve been wasting my time with someone like you. You’re pathetic,’ he spat as he headed to the bathroom to retrieve his Louis Vuitton grooming kit.
Heart pounding in her ears, she finally saw Elliot not as she wanted him to be, but as he actually was. A horrible, spoilt, vindictive man. He cared nothing for people, only for possessions. He loved his clothes and shoes more than he loved her, or anyone. Years of hurt and sadness bubbled to the surface. Strangely, she didn’t feel the need to weep, rather the need to lash out, to hurt him like he had hurt her. She spotted the bottle of merlot on the table. She had bought it to bring to Patrick’s next cocktail hour. She grabbed it and was relieved to see it had a screw cap. Miraculously, it opened quickly and she took great delight in watching Elliot’s horrified expression as he emerged from the bathroom to find her pouring the entire contents of the bottle all over his carefully folded clothes.
‘What are you doing you crazy bitch?’ he screamed. ‘Those garments are worth thousands! What the fuck …’
‘I thought you loved me. I thought I meant something to
you other than just an unpaid PA! Elliot, you are an asshole of such proportions it’s hard to articulate. My parents hate you, my sisters hate you, my friends hate you, hell, your friends hate you! Do you know that Elliot? Everyone who has the misfortune to meet you hates you! And do you know why? I’ll tell you why, because you are a miserable, bitter, boring, money-grabbing little dwarf!’
All colour drained from Elliot’s face,
‘I’m not staying here to listen to this. You’re crazy, you know that? No one will ever hire you in New York again. I’ll make sure of it. You were a nobody with crooked teeth and a fat ass when I took you on, but I fixed you. I made you fit into civilised society and this is how you repay me?’
‘Oh no Elliot, it’s you who’ll be paying me! I’m carrying your baby, though considering the size of that dwarf dick of yours it’s amazing you were ever able to father a child at all! So yes, you will be hearing from me. My baby is going to have the best of everything and you will pay. I just thought you should know that! Now get out before I throw you out. Which I could, easily!’
Incensed, he stormed out, slamming the hotel door and leaving his sodden suitcase on the bed. Anna immediately stuffed the rest of his belongings into it and zipped it shut. She then dragged it over to the window, which was directly above the entrance to the hotel. As Elliot emerged, she heaved the suitcase out the window. Knocked to the ground by the weight of the direct hit, he lay winded and speechless on the gravel. Gazing up in shock at the source of the missile, he heard Anna roar,
‘Maybe Snow White can get the red wine stains out when she’s doing the laundry for the other six dwarves!’
For the next half hour she lay on the bed staring at the ceiling. She couldn’t believe what she had done. She had never in her whole life spoken to anyone like that. It felt good though, she chuckled to herself. Thank God it happened here and not at home. She was glad it had only been witnessed by strangers. She would have to explain to the hotel about the wine stains on the bed and pay for the damage but it was worth it.
Anna had always imagined herself as a career-driven person and working for Elliot had not left her time for much else. Plus, she had never factored a baby into her plans. She supposed she believed that she would have a family someday but it was in a vague, abstract kind of way. She admitted to herself that she had never raised the topic with Elliot because deep down she knew what his reaction was likely to be. The longer she was apart from him, the clearer she could picture her husband. He wasn’t damaged or just overworked, or any of the other excuses she had made for him. He was a selfish, spoiled man who cared for no one but himself. He had no real friends of his own, and none of her friends had ever been enthusiastic about him. It’s amazing really what you can kid yourself into believing even when the truth is staring you in the face. She spoke to her baby aloud,
‘Well little one,’ she sighed ‘I’ve really done it now. Your father hates me and unless he undergoes a major change of heart, he probably hates you too. That’s not a bad thing though because you really are better off without him. If Ellen’s dad could take care of a baby in a strange country with no money and no contacts, I’m sure I can look after you. We are going to be just fine, you and me. Maybe we will go back to Kansas. You have a grandma and a grandpa there and lots of cousins and aunts and uncles who’ll be delighted to meet you.’
As the sun shone through the open window, Anna fell into a peaceful sleep for the first time in days.
Chapter 17
Patrick felt nervous as the Bus Éireann coach drove along the River Lee in the direction of the station in Parnell Place. He was trying to work out a conversation in his head that would not make him sound crazy or like a stalker.
‘Jesus,’ he thought to himself, ‘you’re not fifteen. What’s the matter with you?’
He admitted to himself that the reason he felt such anxiety was because no woman he had ever met before had had such an impact on him. If he had met Cynthia back home, maybe they would have gone out a few times, have seen how things went, taken it easy. But the fact that he only had a few more days left in Ireland meant he would have to act fast. Not, he thought ruefully, his strongest suit.
‘Why can’t you be like the McLoughlin boys down the street?’ he heard his mother’s voice echo down through the years. ‘They joined the force same time as you, and Jimmy is a sergeant already. It’s so embarrassing when I meet Maureen at mass, everyone asking what you are doing now. Still a beat cop after all these years. I don’t know Patrick, really I don’t. Are you trying not to get promoted?’
Patrick knew his shortcomings only too well. In the force nowadays they wanted guys who had done computer courses, fellas who were pushy and would step on their buddies to get ahead. Patrick wished sometimes he could be like them, as he watched guys much, much younger than him become his superiors. But the ambition for a big desk job just wasn’t in him. The Boston Police Department didn’t think knowing the name of every old lady and teenager on your beat was important in modern policing. That didn’t deter Patrick, who walked his beat anyway, always had a word for the shopkeepers and kept some candy for certain kids in his pockets, even though that wasn’t actually allowed anymore. Plus the kids these days were scared of everyone and no one. The Boston he knew was disappearing day by day.
He thought about the Chief’s words again. Maybe he should take the early retirement package they were offering him. ‘Go now and take the cash or be pushed anyway’ was how the thirty-six-year-old station chief officer had put it. Harsh maybe, but true. Patrick had rejected the offer without even considering it. What would he do? He was a cop, nothing more, nothing less. He didn’t have kids, his buddies were in the force, and his social life revolved around the Boston Police Social Club. His job was more than a job, it was his life.
His reverie was interrupted by the swearing of the bus driver. Someone had abandoned their car right in the middle of the bus loading bay in front of the station. Muttering expletives, the driver opened the door through which Patrick could hear a familiar voice ringing out ‘Oh hello, my dear, so sorry, no parking in this dratted city anymore…I know it’s dreadful isn’t it? I am going to write a strongly worded letter I can tell you…pardon me…oh righty-ho, you want to park here? Oh certainly, jolly good spot too…happy to hand it over in just a mo…I’m actually looking for a friend of mine, Patrick, an American chap… have you seen him?’
The driver couldn’t get a word in as Cynthia continued prattling away, while simultaneously scouring the area in front of the bus station for a sign of her American chap. As Patrick descended the steps of the bus, she swivelled back to the driver and trilled ‘Oh not to worry, my dear. No need to look any further! I’ve found my friend. Patrick! Woo-hoo’ she screeched loudly, even though Patrick stood less than four feet away from her.
‘Right Missus,’ said the driver with an exasperated sigh, ‘now do you think you could move that…eh car… from the forecourt of the bus station?’
‘Of course, of course’ Cynthia yelled, ‘no harm done eh?
Patrick! How simply champion to see you again.’
As Cynthia ground the gears and jerked the vehicle out into the traffic, Patrick guffawed ‘Jeez, pull a stunt like that in Boston and you’d get arrested.’
Cynthia smiled but looked puzzled ‘A stunt like what my dear?’
They were sitting at a table in the courtyard of Fota House Cafe when a man came to take their order.
‘Cynthia!’ he exclaimed ‘Why didn’t you tell us you were coming up to town? Roger will be devastated to have missed you. He’s in Ballydehob having his aura cleansed.’ The man’s expression clearly showed just how ridiculous such an outing was in his opinion.
‘Now Charlie dear, don’t be ghastly,’ Cynthia chided. ‘Roge probably just needed some “down time”, as the
Americans say. Speaking of which, I would like you to meet a friend of mine. Charlie, this is Patrick O’Neill, from Boston. Patrick, this is my cousin and dear friend Cha
rlie Langtree.’
Patrick stood up and shook the man’s hand. ‘Nice to meet you,’ Patrick smiled. At last he was getting to meet real Irish people.
‘Roger and I went to the Pride Parade in New York a few years ago,’ Charlie volunteered. ‘What a city! I think we got about five hours’ sleep the whole time we were there. It was amazing! I had to take poor old Roge home after four days. I mean, honestly, he would have gained fifty pounds if I’d let him stay!’
Patrick didn’t know how to respond. He never imagined there were gays in Ireland. This trip was getting weirder by the day. He debated raising the contentious court case where in the 1990s South Boston became the focus of a Supreme Court case on the right of gay and lesbian groups to participate in the St Patrick’s Day festivities. The case was decided in favour of the parade’s sponsors, with the United States Supreme Court supporting the South Boston Allied War Veterans’ right to determine who could participate in the St Patrick’s Day parade. Patrick had, at the time, been against letting the gays march, but something told him that such opinions wouldn’t go down too well in this company. Cynthia was watching Patrick carefully, checking out his reaction to Charlie. He could feel it.
‘I don’t get to the Big Apple that often but I know you’re right. It’s not called the city that never sleeps for nothing, that’s for sure,’ Patrick said.
Cynthia smiled. Patrick had passed the test. ‘So my dear, what do you fancy?’
They ordered seafood chowder and roast beef sandwiches and sat in easy companionship in the afternoon sun. Charlie brought out the most wonderful soup Patrick had ever tasted and, as they ate and chatted, it emerged that Cynthia was not nearly as crazy as she appeared. She actually had quite a good business going, breeding horses.
‘So my dear,’ Cynthia enquired, ‘What does one do in Boston when one is not fighting crime?’
‘Well,’ replied Patrick ‘not much to be honest. I’m just a cop. I guess I should have progressed through the ranks by now, my mother certainly thought so, but I suppose I’m not that smart, and the job I was trained for doesn’t seem to exist anymore.’
The Tour Page 12
