by Tara Heavey
‘Come on,’ he said. ‘Let’s get in and see what happens.’ He fought the urge to take her hand as they waded, side by side, into the water.
The cove was small and sheltered, surrounded on either side by an intimidating wall of sheer black rock. Maia walked a few steps ahead. She seemed fascinated by the texture of the water. Aidan was continually amazed at how the littlest thing could frighten her at times while other scenarios didn’t bother her at all. Such as this. She was reaching her arms now, high above her head, and gazing up into the perfect blueness, as if drawing it down on top of her.
The relative quiet was invaded by the squeals of the assembled children.
‘She’s here!’
Star came slicing through the water in her seemingly never-ending quest for human company. Aidan had never seen her interact so closely with children before. The water bubbled with their mutual delight, Star swooping and swerving, the children splashing and screaming. She seemed undeterred by their high-pitched noise and undisturbed by their quick movements. More than once, a child lunged at her, attempting to hug her. She’d slide from an embrace like quicksilver, yet still go back for more.
Maia was in her mother’s arms, having taken fright at the dolphin’s sudden appearance. Sarah stood up to her hips in the sea, Maia’s legs wrapped tightly around her waist, the child’s eyes fixed on Star’s undulating form. It was impossible not to smile at the dolphin’s meanderings, the children’s joy. Impossible for everyone, it seemed, except Maia. Star was coming closer to them now, customary as it was for her to investigate all who shared the water with her. Maia’s gaze became more intense, the closer the dolphin got. She was circling them now, looking up at them, recognizing them.
‘Oh, my God,’ Aidan heard Sarah say. He looked at her and grinned, knowing his expression was childlike and uncontained. It was impossible to be any other way in the presence of this creature. He also knew what a very different experience it was to be in the water with her instead of being in a boat. They were more vulnerable, and it was scarier.
She was inches away now and swimming right in front of them. Without warning Sarah swooped Maia down, right above the surface, and the little girl held out her hand and ran it along the dolphin’s back. Aidan and Sarah laughed and cheered. Maia looked as if she’d just woken from a deep sleep and didn’t know where she was. Star swam away then, to play with the other children.
‘I think I’ll take her out,’ said Sarah. ‘I don’t want her getting cold.’
‘Okay.’
They set off to wade back to the shore, Maia still in her mother’s arms. She began to struggle and look behind her.
‘What is it, Maia?’
The child wriggled around, clearly agitated, then pointed out to sea. ‘In.’
Sarah peered into her daughter’s face. ‘What did you say?’
‘In. In. In.’
The word and the intention were unmistakable. The laughter bubbled out of Sarah as she spun Maia around in her arms. Then she squeezed her child until she squealed. Maia wriggled out of her mother’s embrace into the water and the mêlée of children, dolphin and surf. The water was alive with flailing limbs, bubbles and fins. And Maia was in the centre. Not on the edge. Sarah stood close by and watched, alternately crying and laughing. Aidan waded over to her.
‘She’s in there,’ she said, not bothering to wipe away her tears. ‘I always knew she was in there somewhere, my little girl.’
Aidan hugged her to him, not caring if anyone saw them.
Enough people did.
That night Aidan told Fiona about Maia and the dolphin. At last he had an explanation for his elation. Fiona listened intently, perched on the edge of her seat, head inclined, as was her habit, looking vaguely birdlike. He came to the end of his story and waited for her reaction. ‘Isn’t that incredible?’ he said, peeling off his jumper.
‘It is, I suppose.’
‘You suppose?’
‘Well, obviously I’m delighted Maia spoke and that she seems to be making such good progress.’
‘But?’
‘But there’s absolutely no proof that it had anything to do with the dolphin. Maia’s been getting speech therapy for years, hasn’t she?’
‘Yes, but it’s never worked.’
‘These things can take a long time. It could be that something’s just clicked into place for her.’
‘So you think it was just a coincidence that Star happened to be there when she said her first word?’
‘Absolutely. It was coincidental.’
‘Right.’ Aidan’s tone was resigned as he sat on the bed to pull off his trousers.
‘Oh, come on, Aidan. She’s an animal, not a therapist.’
He couldn’t be bothered trying to convince her. Didn’t want another fight. And if he was completely honest with himself, he was glad she was taking her usual sceptical approach. It strengthened the argument in his head that he was with the wrong woman, that it was Sarah he belonged to.
‘Anyway, forget the dolphin.’ Fiona was beside him now. It had been weeks since she’d watched her husband undress. His tendency of late had been to slip into bed hours after her. She didn’t know what he was up to. Probably pacing the beach like a madman.
‘I haven’t seen these thighs in a long time.’ She laid her hand on the one closest to her, her fingers reaching down to the inner curve. Aidan froze for a second, then resumed folding his T-shirt. Undeterred, Fiona kissed the ear-lobe closest to her and nuzzled his neck. Aidan shot to his feet, spilling his clothes on the floor.
‘What’s wrong?’
‘Nothing’s wrong.’
‘But you’ve been acting so strangely.’
‘I’m sorry, Fiona. I don’t mean to.’
‘Don’t apologize. Look, I think I know what’s been bothering you.’
‘What?’ He turned to her.
‘Come and sit down.’ She patted the bed beside her.
Aidan looked uncertain. Wary.
‘Oh, for God’s sake, I’m not going to try and jump you.’
He sat down.
‘That’s better. Now. It’s very common for men of your age to go through this sort of thing.’
‘What sort of thing?’
Aidan dropped his forehead into his hand and rubbed it harshly. He looked to Fiona as if he’d rather be anywhere than with her at that moment. She persevered: ‘Aidan. There’s nothing shameful about erectile dysfunction.’
‘Fi …’
‘Many men your age have difficulty getting an erection. It’s incredibly common. Nothing to be embarrassed about.’
‘Fiona …’
‘We see it all the time at the surgery. You should come in and get a few tests. It’s important because it could be a sign of blocked arteries. You don’t have to see me if you don’t want to. Pop in to Chris. He’ll sort you out. You can mention my name if you like. He might do you a good deal.’ She threw in this little joke at the end, nudging her husband and grinning at him.
Aidan was silent. He had seen a way out, a temporary reprieve.
‘That’s it, isn’t it? I’m right, aren’t I?’ She peered into his face.
He hesitated a few seconds before he nodded.
Fiona smiled and exhaled. ‘So you’ll go and see him, then?’
‘Okay. Well, I might go to the doctor in Lahinch instead.’
‘Whatever. As long as you get it seen to.’ She kissed him once on the cheek and patted him twice on the thigh. This time her touch was companionable rather than seductive. She was up now and halfway to the door. ‘I fancy a cocoa. You want one?’
‘No, thanks.’
‘All right so.’
He watched her bounce out of the room, delighted and confident that she’d got to the root of his problem and weeded it out.
If only it were that simple.
He needed a pint. He put his clothes back on and headed downstairs. ‘I’m going to McSwigans.’
‘At this time of night?’
‘I should make last orders.’
‘I thought you were going to bed.’
‘Change of plan.’
‘See you later so.’
He’d known she wouldn’t mind: she’d be in such a good mood following her successful diagnosis she’d be agreeable to anything.
It felt good to be out of the house. He found it nigh on impossible to breathe the same air as Fiona, these days, her very existence a constant reminder of his own deceit.
Noel Higgins was in the pub, holed up in their habitual snug.
‘How are you going?’ Aidan placed a fresh pint of stout in front of the other man and brought his own to his lips. He took a long draught, then wiped the foam off his moustache with his bottom lip before setting the glass on the table. He sighed. ‘That’s better.’
‘Always is.’
He’d known Noel Higgins since school. They’d suffered under the tyranny of the same Christian Brothers. ‘Were you out this week?’
‘I was.’
‘Good catch?’
‘Good enough, thank God.’
Aidan nodded, and the two men lapsed into silence.
‘Look, Aidan, we go back a long way.’
‘We do, Noel.’
‘And you know me. And you know I’m not one to be listening to idle gossip.’
‘I do.’ Aidan took another gulp of his pint.
‘Well, I’ve heard something and I think you should know about it.’
‘Go on.’
‘That actress one you’ve been taking out in the boat.’ Noel looked across at Aidan, who was staring at his pint. ‘Well, there’s been talk.’
‘What kind of talk?’
‘Ah, you know what kind of talk. You don’t need me spelling it out for you. That you’ve been carrying on together.’
Aidan cupped his chin in his hand and pulled at his beard. ‘What are they saying exactly?’
‘They say you were seen cosying up to her this very morning down at the cove.’
‘Oh, that.’ Aidan almost laughed with relief. ‘I just gave the woman a hug. Her daughter had spoken for the first time and she was a bit emotional.’
‘Is that the feeble-minded young one?’
‘She’s autistic.’ Aidan felt an irrational surge of anger towards the man he’d known almost his whole life, towards his ignorance, as if he’d been insulted personally.
‘Autistic. That’s it.’
‘Do you really think that if I was carrying on with the woman I’d be canoodling with her in broad daylight in front of a bunch of kids and their parents?’
‘Aidan, I don’t think anything at all, but you know how people talk around here.’
‘I do. They’ve little else to be doing in this godforsaken shithole.’ Aidan drained his pint in one angry gulp – as if he’d been wrongly accused. They’d leave this place, the three of them, start a new life in Dublin. Or somewhere else entirely different, away from prying eyes. His own kids didn’t need him any more. They were grown-up now anyway. He looked at Noel. His friend was regarding him strangely. Curiously. With a monumental effort, Aidan composed himself. He put down his glass, sat back in his seat and folded his arms. ‘Thanks for telling me, Noel.’
‘Not a bother. I was afraid you might shoot the messenger.’
‘Not at all. Why should I? Sure, you’re only looking out for me.’
‘That’s right. Giving you a chance to nip it in the bud. The rumour, I mean.’
‘Exactly. It’s fucking ridiculous.’
‘That’s what I said. Sure, what would a looker like that be doing with a big yoke like you?’
‘You said it, Noel.’
‘The likes of her could have her pick of the crop. Still …’ He took a thoughtful sip.
‘What?’
‘You should probably steer clear for a while.’
‘You think?’
‘Ah, yes. Give the rumours a chance to simmer down. The last thing you want is Fiona getting wind of them.’
‘You’re right.’ He had no intention of steering clear. He couldn’t have done, even if he’d wanted to.
Chapter 15
They were out picking bluebells, Sarah and Maia, the last of the season. In fact, this little enclave had no real business being there this time of the year. Many were shrivelled now, shrunken and indigo. Sarah had to climb ever higher into the hedges to find the choice ones – the plump, the luscious, the life-filled ones. Their little blue heads, the way they nestled into the palms of her hands, bowing low, as if expressing sorrow that their springtime had come to an end.
She tugged at the stems with vigour and enthusiasm, handing them back to her silent daughter. The bluebells were shallow and yielding. It was a challenge not to pull them up by the base of their stalks, which were white and sap-filled, dripping with the lifeblood of the plant. Sarah squeezed some of the sticky substance onto her hand and rubbed it in. Then she shivered as she was gripped by a premonition, awful in its vividness, that she’d never pick bluebells again. It was as absolute and vague as that. She didn’t know where it had come from – maybe the smell of the rotten undergrowth reminded her of decay. She climbed down the bank and gathered up her daughter, trying to calm herself.
The terror didn’t subside until she was back at the cottage. Even then, remnants remained, clinging to her entrails. It was this sensation that was to make up her mind for her, once and for all. She picked up the phone.
‘Sarah rang while you were out. She wants to know if you’ll babysit again.’
‘Oh?’
Aidan’s insides churned. It was surreal. A man in his forties being asked to babysit by the woman he was in love with. The wife innocently taking the call and encouraging him to accept. In normal times the call would be for Alannah – to mind the children of local families for extra pocket money. Or, more accurately these days, drinking money.
‘What’s the occasion?’
‘She didn’t say. Just that something unexpected had come up. You’ll do it, won’t you?’
‘I will, of course.’
‘I’ll ring her back and tell her.’
Aidan went out to the deck while she made the call. He tried to gather his thoughts but they scattered to the four winds.
He arrived at Sarah’s alone this time, looking presentable but not too obvious, he hoped. To either woman. He’d never been a man concerned with his appearance – until now. He’d showered and his clothes were clean. He’d trimmed his beard and had even toyed with the idea of aftershave – a last-minute Father’s Day present from one of the children a couple of years ago. It had caused much hilarity at the time. It had probably gone off. He didn’t think he’d be able to tell the difference and it would be a dead giveaway anyhow.
His heart was palpitating as he stood on the doorstep. He was way too old for this. She opened the door, a vision in white, dressed up to go out. He wanted to tell her how lovely she looked but the words wouldn’t come. He stepped inside and fought the jealousy. Was she going out with a man? The thought hadn’t occurred to him until now. He felt almost sickened.
‘Thank you for coming at such short notice.’ She led him inside.
‘Not at all. I know it’s not easy, getting someone to mind Maia.’
She smiled. ‘Maia’s asleep.’
‘That’s what we thought last time.’
She laughed. ‘Yes, we did.’
He stood there awkwardly, not knowing what to do with his hands, his eyes, his words. He, Aidan Ryan, who had always been so comfortable in his own skin.
‘Won’t you sit?’ she said. ‘Have a glass of wine with me.’
‘Don’t you have to get going?’
‘Not right away.’
‘Okay. Just the one, then. I don’t want to be drunk and disorderly in charge of a child.’ He felt pleased. More confident. She wanted to spend time with him.
He sat where he had before, in the centre of the couch, taking up half the space with his large frame. Sarah h
anded him a glass of wine and settled in the arm-chair opposite. He was a beer man, really, but he’d drink methylated spirits if it meant spending time with her. He watched her knock back half her glass. ‘Don’t you have to drive?’
‘No.’
‘Taxi?’
‘No.’
He looked searchingly at her. ‘Someone picking you up?’
She shook her head.
‘Then …’ He looked blankly at her. Not daring to believe …
‘I thought I’d stay at home instead. Have dinner. Would you like to join me?’
Many quickened heartbeats passed.
‘Yes, I would.’
And suddenly Aidan’s crush was no longer a crush. It was reciprocated. A two-way thing. It had life outside his own interior. It was real.
‘Shall we?’ Sarah got up and led him to the kitchen.
The table, normally so humble and rustic, had been carefully set. The room glowed with candlelight. She indicated where he should sit and he followed her instruction, as if in a dream.
‘I made fish pie,’ she said, filling the silence. ‘I couldn’t figure out if being a fisherman all these years would mean that you’d love fish or couldn’t stand the sight of it.’
‘It’s my favourite food.’
‘You’re only saying that.’
‘Would I lie to you?’
Each fell silent, prey to the same thought: they were lying to his wife.
Sarah busied herself with the pie. Aidan drank more wine. He’d have eaten curried fish guts if Sarah was serving them up to him. The food was irrelevant.
He could tell she was nervous, and the knowledge gave him hope. Made him stronger. He took charge of the conversation. ‘You look lovely tonight.’ He could say it now.
‘Oh.’ She rolled her eyes and grinned. ‘This old thing.’
‘Is it new?’
‘Bought it today.’
They both laughed, delighted to be sharing a joke, the tension between them dissipating.
‘There you are. Get that down you.’ Sarah placed a heaped and steaming plate in front of him.
‘My God, woman. It’s only me you’re feeding, not the five thousand.’
‘I might have gone a bit overboard.’
