Where the Love Gets In

by Tara Heavey

  He sent them money from time to time, which suited her. But he never called. That suited her too.

  The reviews were gratifying. The play’s success led to further work and she was a player again. Except everything was different this time around. She had Maia now. And her child consumed her as her acting once had. Did every parent feel such passion? Would she feel such passion if Maia was ‘normal’? She had nothing with which to compare the feeling. Nor did she want for anything. She had no desire for another child, nor did she ever think she would have one. Maia was everything to her. She took up the whole of Sarah’s heart. She would stroke her daughter’s exquisite cheek while she slept.

  ‘We were meant for each other, you and I,’ she would whisper.

  But Maia never whispered back. Even when she got older and went to a special-needs pre-school. Then a special-needs school. The words just never came. And Sarah was left to fathom the mystery behind the eyes that would barely meet her own.

  So consumed was she with her daughter that she almost forgot herself. Her life was work and Maia, Maia and work, and nothing in between. She avoided relationships like the plague she believed them to be. And she maintained her physical appearance for professional reasons and for the modicum of pride she retained.

  Then one day she was in the shower. She lifted her arm to wash beneath it and felt something that hadn’t been there before. That was when her life changed all over again.

  Chapter 13

  It was later in the day in Sarah’s house and all was calm, on the outer level at least. She had given Maia her tea and Maia had responded normally. Sarah felt weak with relief that this particular cycle of tantrums had ended. Maia sat quietly in the doorway out to the hall, moving the door slowly back and forth, gazing in fascination at the mechanics of the hinges. The phone rang. Sarah put down the pot she’d been washing and dried her fingers on the tea-towel. It was probably her sister. She usually rang on Sunday evening.

  ‘Hello.’

  ‘Hi, Sarah. Fiona McDaid here.’

  There was a deadening sensation inside Sarah. As if a lift in her belly was rapidly descending to basement level. ‘Oh. Hi, Fiona.’

  ‘I hope I haven’t got you at a bad time.’

  ‘No. Not at all.’

  ‘That’s good. Listen, the reason I’m ringing is that there’s an art exhibition on tomorrow night in the village hall and I thought you might like to come with me.’

  ‘Um …’

  ‘It’s by a local artist. She’s terribly good. There’ll be wine, canapés, that sort of thing. I thought it would be a good opportunity for you to get to know people.’

  ‘It sounds lovely. But Maia …’

  ‘You don’t have to worry about Maia. Aidan can babysit.’

  The conversation was feeling more and more surreal. Sarah had difficulty getting the words out past her heart, which was resting now in her throat. ‘And he’s agreed to that?’

  ‘I haven’t asked him yet. But he won’t be doing anything on a Monday night. And it’s perfect because Maia knows him from your little boating trips. Either he can go to you or you can bring Maia to our house. Whichever suits you best.’

  ‘Well, here would be better.’

  ‘Your place it is, then. We’ll call for you at eight.’

  ‘Okay.’

  ‘ ’Bye.’

  Fiona put down the phone. Sarah slowly lowered hers to the counter. What had just happened? Had she actually agreed to that? Had she had a choice? Fiona was truly a force of nature when she set out to do something. A pocket rocket ready for blast-off. Sarah had believed herself to have become better at saying no, especially since the cancer. But it seemed as if she was still as pathetic as before when taken off guard. And the circumstances were exceptional. An unexpected invitation from the wife of her potential lover. Except today it had gone beyond mere potential.

  A horrible thought struck her, making her feel slightly ill. What if Fiona knew and was luring her into a trap? A twisted honey-trap. It seemed unlikely but she’d be on her guard, just in case.

  ‘You’re not doing anything tomorrow night, are you, Aidan?’

  ‘What’s tomorrow? Monday. No. Why?’

  ‘I told Sarah Dillon you’d babysit.’

  ‘You did what?’ Aidan was unable to keep the annoyance out of his voice. He turned to his wife. She was sitting at her dressing-table, rubbing cream into her face, in rapid concentric circles.

  ‘I didn’t think you’d mind. It’s only for a couple of hours. It’s for Noreen Dwyer’s exhibition. I’ve asked her to come with me.’

  ‘And she’s agreed?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘I mean to me minding Maia.’

  ‘Why wouldn’t she?’

  ‘You know why, Fiona. Maia’s not exactly your average child.’

  ‘But she knows you better than anyone else in the town, apart from her mother. And you wouldn’t deny Sarah the chance of a rare night out, would you? She’s barely been out since she got here.’

  ‘She didn’t come to socialize.’

  ‘I know she didn’t. But everyone needs a bit of fun once in a while.’

  Fiona’s tone was wheedling now, which was even more irritating to Aidan than her former strident one. To avoid blowing his top, he had to remind himself that he was in the wrong, not his wife.

  ‘I’m just surprised she’s agreed to it, that’s all.’

  ‘Well, she did,’ said Fiona, not a little defensively, making Aidan suspect that she had railroaded the other woman into it. The other woman.

  ‘So you’ll do it, then?’

  ‘I’ll do it.’

  ‘Excellent.’

  It meant he’d get to see her again.

  Now that the truth was out, there was no taking it back. A blessed peace descended on Aidan and he felt sure he’d done the right thing. The sea seemed to confirm this to him, echoing his inner calm. He’d gone out by himself that morning, right after he’d left Sarah. He killed the engine as soon as he could and lay down flat in the boat. He stared up into the blue stillness and absorbed the sensation of floating weightlessness. No sound. Peace, inner and outer, at last.

  Why should this be so when he’d gone one more step towards complete unfaithfulness to his wife? Surely he should be suffused with panic. But the opposite seemed to be the case. He thought he knew why. If it was just sex he wanted from her, it would have felt sordid. He would have felt sordid. But there was more to it than that. Although, God knew, he longed to taste her.

  The connection he felt to Sarah was like nothing he’d ever experienced. Or if he had felt it before, he certainly couldn’t remember it. Yet he knew that in their early years he and Fiona couldn’t get enough of each other. He had to be honest with himself about that. Yet he couldn’t remember it being as strong as this. Which left him free to delude himself, perhaps. But Aidan didn’t care if this was a delusion. He was sure he’d never felt so alive in all his life.

  Sarah headed them off at the front door before they had a chance to ring the doorbell. ‘I’ve just got her off to sleep,’ she whispered, by way of explanation.

  Fiona nodded and entered the house, her movements typically quickfire. Aidan strolled in casually behind her. He nodded at Sarah too, before switching his eyes to his wife. He watched the back of her head as it moved swiftly from side to side, absorbing every detail of Sarah’s home. He hadn’t told her he’d been here before.

  ‘What a lovely place,’ she was saying, from a few feet ahead of him.

  Aidan followed them into the sitting room, where Sarah was already putting on her coat. She turned to Aidan, her expression anxious, which might have been for any number of reasons. ‘She shouldn’t wake,’ she said, ‘but if she does, call me straight away.’ She handed him a piece of paper with a number written on it. He took it from her, careful not to let their fingers touch.

  ‘We won’t be long anyhow …’ Her voice trailed away and, to Aidan, she looked thoroughly miserable.


  ‘No, not at all,’ agreed Fiona. ‘Two hours tops.’ She was smiling broadly and seemed, thank goodness, completely oblivious to the strained atmosphere.

  ‘Help yourself to anything you like. A snack. Cup of tea …’ Sarah’s voice trailed away again. Doubtless she was remembering that he already knew where the kettle was.

  ‘Let’s go,’ said the innocent railroader.

  With one last look at Aidan, Sarah pulled the door closed gently behind her.

  He watched their forms morph through the mottled glass, heard their voices fade, leaving him in a silence that seemed immeasurable.

  He began to move slowly through the rooms, not to nose but to familiarize himself with Sarah’s space. This was where she sat to sip her morning brew. This was the window she looked out of. Every mundane thing seemed sacred, infused as it was with her presence. Aidan sat on the couch she curled up in at night. He sighed as he let himself sink into it as deeply as he could and ran his hands over the material.

  All of a sudden, he no longer felt alone. Not knowing why, he turned and looked behind him. Standing at the top of the stairs that opened out into the sitting room was Maia.

  Sarah doubted she’d ever felt more like a turd in her entire life, even at the height – or depth – of chemotherapy, her body annihilated by nausea. At least she hadn’t made herself feel sick. But to sit in a car beside this pleasant, well-meaning woman who wanted nothing more than to be friends with her was pure torture. And she deserved to feel tortured, to have Fiona unknowingly rub her nose in her own guilt, every time she mentioned her husband’s name. Even though she and Aidan hadn’t done anything, they might as well have. Their intentions were bad and that was what mattered.

  Sarah had never had an affair in all her romantic life. There had been directors and leading men. There had been those who had accused her of sleeping her way to the top, mainly less successful actors who were jealous of her. But it had never been the case. And neither, to her knowledge, had any of her men been involved with other women. She was just drawn to men who shared her passion at any given time. And she had been fickle. She could admit to that.

  They were at the place now. She felt like fleeing. Someone offered to take her coat and she handed it to them. She looked down at herself, at the red top she was wearing. She’d had to wait for Maia to fall asleep before she could put it on. Scarlet. How fitting. Someone handed her a glass of wine. That was red too.

  Shit. What if she freaked out on him? Aidan continued to stare at Maia, as she continued to stare into the middle distance. She started to descend, one step at a time. Bump. Bump. She looked for all the world like a little ghost in her long white nightdress, her eyes vacant and saucer-like. Aidan felt afraid of this little scrap of humanity who barely came up to his thigh. How ridiculous. She was tiptoeing over to him now, in that peculiar way she had. The first time he’d seen it, he’d thought it was charming. As if she was practising to be a ballerina. But now he knew it to be a feature of her autism and it merely added to her strangeness. The eeriness. If only she would speak, like a normal child.

  She was beside him now, continuing not to look at him. She held out her hand. Her fist was closed and Aidan could tell that there was something in it. He held out his own. She dropped something into it, then tiptoed away again. Aidan looked down. Nestling in his palm was a tiny blue ceramic dolphin.

  The women were voracious in their desire to get a piece of her. That was how it felt to Sarah anyhow, but she might have been more sensitive than usual. Fiona introduced her all around, charming and gracious, making sure that she was never alone. Ironically, all Sarah wanted was to be alone. But she didn’t want to insult these people and their genuine interest in her, so she chattered aimlessly and answered their questions. She didn’t want to insult Fiona either – she seemed so pleased and proud to be the one introducing her. And Sarah owed her. You should be flattered, she told herself. Flattered and grateful.

  They were all expecting her to buy a painting – she had known they would before she arrived. Because she was on the telly, people expected her to be rich. It was funny, really: she, a single parent who hadn’t worked in a year due to her illness; she, who was financially crippled, paying for Maia’s therapies and her own medical bills, and had to depend on hand-outs from her errant ex. He was the only reason she could afford the rent on the cottage. She was afraid she was going to have to disappoint them. She looked down at her phone for the thousandth time, keeping it as she was in her hand. No messages. Thank goodness for small mercies. Maia must still be asleep.

  Aidan watched the child, fascinated. She was sitting in the corner now, surrounded by spinning tops. She had five on the go. Whenever one slowed, she would start it up again, her whole world a continuous spin. She was mesmerized and so was Aidan. By the tops and by her. What secrets were locked inside that little brain? Then, abruptly, she stopped. As if the tops no longer existed for her. She got up and headed towards Aidan again. He felt his body stiffen, forced himself to relax. He remained motionless, in the position he’d been in while he was watching her: sitting forward on the couch, his elbows resting on his knees. She was beside him now, looking up. Not into his eyes but into his face. He froze as her tiny white fingers touched his beard. She was stroking it now, feeling it. But she wasn’t feeling him. It was as if he wasn’t there. She was interested in his beard, not him. This went on for several minutes, then stopped as abruptly as it had begun. Maia tiptoed away from him, across the room, up the stairs and out of sight. Aidan stayed sitting for five minutes or so, then followed her up, trying, but failing, to minimize the creaks.

  Upstairs was even pokier than it was down. Aidan felt huge and ungainly. There were three doors ahead of him, all ajar. He tried the first. A bathroom. Small and blue and white and functional. He closed the door silently. The next, straight ahead of him, he pushed open. There she was, tucked up in her bed, her back towards him. Now it was his turn to tiptoe until he was standing over her, looking down. She was asleep all right, her eyes tightly shut, her breathing deep and regular. As if the last half-hour had never happened. Aidan backed out of the room and closed the door, feeling as if he’d succeeded in his babysitting duties, even if that success had been down to chance.

  There was one more door. He couldn’t resist. He pushed it open. Sarah’s room was dominated by a small double bed, covered with a pretty bedspread. Everything in the room was pretty. Feminine. There was no room in here for a man. Aidan sat on the edge of the bed and looked around him. It felt forbidden. He felt himself to be an intruder. Although something inside told him Sarah wouldn’t mind. His eyes rested on a chest of drawers. He was ashamed of the impulse to open it. How crass that would be, to rummage around in her underwear. His eyes travelled around the rest of the room and landed on a chair. Several of Sarah’s garments were draped across the back of it. He got up and picked up the item on top. He recognized it as the blouse she’d been wearing yesterday. He pressed it into his chest, then buried his nose in the folds of fabric. He inhaled her and a slight moan escaped his lips. Oh, God, he was in serious trouble.

  They were back home now. Sarah couldn’t get the front door open quickly enough. She all but ran into the sitting room, half expecting carnage. But everything was calm. Nothing but big, comfortable Aidan sitting on her couch, as if he’d always been there, waiting for her.

  ‘How was she?’

  ‘She was fine.’

  ‘She didn’t wake, then?’

  ‘She did.’

  The two women listened as Aidan recounted the events of the evening, Fiona, calm and detached, perched on the arm of the chair, Sarah, coiled and tense, sitting unconsciously close to Aidan, caring only about what he had to say of Maia. She shook her head in wonderment. ‘I can’t believe it,’ she said. ‘She’s been so difficult lately. I thought she’d have a fit if she woke up to find me gone.’ Her body relaxed a little. ‘Maybe I’m not as essential as I like to think I am.’ She smiled tightly and got up. ‘Coffee, an
yone?’

  ‘No, thanks.’

  ‘Yes, please.’

  Aidan and Fiona spoke at the same time.

  Coffee it was. Sarah went out to the kitchen.

  ‘How was it?’ Aidan addressed his wife.

  ‘Great.’ She was glowing, clearly delighted with how the outing had gone.

  Aidan just wanted to get out of there. Or, rather, he corrected himself, he wanted Fiona to get out of there so he could be alone with Sarah. He chastised himself for the thought and spent the rest of the time avoiding looking at her. He barely trusted himself to speak to her. Luckily Fiona talked enough for the three of them combined. The other two heard barely a word she said.

  Chapter 14

  Star was spreading her wings. Or, at least, extending her flippers to the cove where people swam and it was calm, right up to the shallows where the children played. Where Maia could go.

  It was a bright morning in early June when Aidan broke the news. He thought Sarah ridiculously excited but said nothing. He loved seeing her like that. He loved seeing her any way. Their sojourns in the dinghy had proved fruitless. Star showed up all right. She would swim alongside the boat and execute her little dolphin flips and turns, but Maia would seldom engage. She was aware of the dolphin, that was clear, but after that all was blank.

  He provided wetsuits for mother and child – an old one that had belonged to the kids – and they embarked on the next stage of their animal odyssey. Maia entered the water cautiously. Some other children were in there already. A little girl ran splashingly over to her. ‘Are you here to see the dolphin?’

  Maia stared straight ahead and swirled the water with her hands.

  ‘She was here earlier on.’

  The little girl spent a few seconds peering curiously into Maia’s face, before splashing off again whence she’d come, back to her friends. Aidan glanced across at Sarah. He could have sworn he’d just heard her heart break.