by Tara Heavey
He somehow found the energy to put the next part of his business plan into action: hiring wetsuits and offering people the chance to swim with her. Properly. Under water. In her element and not their own. He moved seamlessly between the two worlds, as he always had, and this at least gave him some semblance of calm. Not that he had the energy to be agitated. He’d never had such a sense of the life force being drained out of him. Never in his life had to drag himself out of bed, to force himself to do things that normally came naturally. Did anyone notice? Fiona, of course. He sensed her watching him all the time and tried to pull himself out of it for her sake. But, luckily, his teenage children were, by their very age and nature, far too self-centred and preoccupied with their own magnified problems to see the change in him. This sea-change.
Alannah was home for a couple of weeks, resting and regrouping between her end-of-term exams and an extended trip to London where she planned to work for the rest of the summer. Aidan felt absurdly proud of her as they walked arm in arm along the beach. She was such a complex blend of him and Fiona, with a large dollop of herself thrown into the mix. She was taller than her mother but, thankfully, not as tall as him. She had his family’s colouring – vibrant blue eyes, reddish-brown hair. She still retained a smattering of the freckles of her childhood, which nowadays she tended to cover with makeup. She was so like his own mother at times that it was uncanny. It reminded him that life was one continuous loop.
She was unusually quiet today. They walked silently to the sound of breaking waves and the cry of a lone gull. But he knew she was building up to something. Something large. He could almost see her mind working beneath her furrowed brow.
Finally: ‘Dad.’
‘Yes, love.’
‘How do you know when you’re in love?’
The question shocked him. Yet, on another level, it didn’t.
He squeezed her arm gently. ‘Is that what has you so quiet, Alannah?’ He liked to say her name, which was in itself a term of endearment. And for Aidan the very utterance of that name was an expression of love for her.
She looked up at him enquiringly. ‘How did you know you were in love with Mammy?’
Her face was open and not yet fully adult. She was half girl, half woman, but lately he’d noticed the balance tipping towards the latter. And now this.
‘What’s his name?’
Alannah’s cheeks grew pink and her eyes dropped to her bare feet, planting at regular intervals in the sand. ‘Ross.’
‘What class of a name is that?’
‘It’s a lovely name.’ Her head shot up again, her voice and eyes defensive.
He grinned at her and felt her relax. ‘Is he the reason you broke up with poor Jimmy?’
Ross wasn’t Alannah’s first boyfriend. Aidan was used to the concept. She’d been seeing Jimmy Kelly since she was fourteen. He’d been in her class at school and Aidan had known his parents since the year dot. Still, all childish things must come to an end.
‘Kind of.’
‘And I thought you and Jimmy were destined to be married.’
‘Dad!’
He’d embarrassed her again, reminding her of the time she had come to him, shortly after getting together with Jimmy, and announced that she was marrying him as soon as she turned eighteen. Well, eighteen had come and gone and she was still single, thank God. ‘I’m sorry. Go on. Tell me all about this Ross. Is he in your class?’
‘He’s in second year.’
Not too much older. That was good.
‘He’s tall, Dad, even taller than you.’ His daughter’s face glowed as she talked about the faceless youth.
‘Never mind that. Is he any use with a hurl?’
‘He played for the county youth team.’ Her pride was evident.
‘Did he now? And what county would that be?’
‘He’s from Cork.’
‘Oh, Christ, a Cork man. That’s all we need.’
‘Dad!’
‘Does he say “yarra” before every sentence?’
‘No. He does not. He’s lovely, Dad. You’d really like him.’
‘Hmm. Are you going to bring the lad home so we can have a look at him?’
‘God, no. It’s way too soon for that. I don’t want you lot frightening him off. We’ve only just got together.’
Aidan dreaded to think what ‘got together’ meant. He put it out of his head.
‘So. You didn’t answer my question.’
‘What question?’
‘How do you know when you’re really in love?’
He sighed and his pace slowed. It was as if his feet had grown heavier. ‘I don’t know why you’re asking me, Alannah.’
‘Because you’re so old. You must have picked something up along the way.’
‘Cheeky article.’
They laughed. Then his face grew serious again. What to tell his daughter? This girl on the cusp of life who trusted him implicitly. He who deserved no trust placed in him. This girl, who adored him completely, saw him in such a simple, one-dimensional way. She wouldn’t adore him if she knew the truth of what he was, what he had done. The thought sickened him and, for the first time, he felt relieved that he was no longer with Sarah.
‘You know you’re in love when you can’t think of anything else but that person. When you eat, drink, sleep that person. When you feel as if you can’t exist for one single second without them.’
He glanced at her. She was wearing a dreamy expression. That wouldn’t do. ‘But that doesn’t mean it’s real.’ He saw her jolt out of it. ‘It could just be lust. Infatuation. Nature’s way of making us procreate. So I don’t want you doing any of that procreation. You have your whole future ahead of you.’
‘I won’t, Daddy.’
‘Good. Because you don’t really know if you’re in love until you’ve faced a few obstacles together. Time will tell you what you need to know.’
‘Is that the way it was with you and Mammy?’
His nod was barely perceptible. He looked out to sea. A few trawlers were coming in. ‘And you can tell that Ross fella that if he so much as harms a hair on your head, I’ll wrap that hurl around his neck so fast he won’t have time to say yarra.’
Chapter 20
Sarah had found a babysitter, now that she could no longer avail herself of Aidan’s services. She had been in the health-food shop one day, and Valerie’s chatter hadn’t been quite as aimless as usual. She had a sister – Bridget – a special-needs assistant, who was saving to buy a house, didn’t have a full-time job and was looking for some extra cash. Would Sarah be interested in her childminding services? Sarah uttered a silent hallelujah. Maia had taken to Bridget with an ease that had been absent with new faces in the past – all part of the great unfolding of Maia Mitchell. She came to the house three mornings a week, leaving Sarah free to do as she wished.
Those empty hours were a guilty pleasure for Sarah, who had never been in the habit of allowing herself the gift of time. But she was learning as her daughter was learning. The high drama of recent weeks had taken its toll on her already depleted reserves. She was emotionally spent and knew she had to do something to recover from this complete and utter exhaustion.
She found her cure in the water. She discovered a quiet time – an in-between time – when she had the cove to herself. In the morning the dolphin drew the children and the water was alive with their antics. Then, at about eleven every day, Star disappeared. To sleep? To hunt? Her mystery remained intact. And she didn’t appear again until early afternoon, when she entertained the tourists on Aidan’s boat. So Sarah felt as if she was alone in the water, which she knew to be an illusion. But if she thought of all the creatures with whom she was sharing it – from plankton to whale, from jellyfish to shark – she would have run out screaming. So she didn’t think. Not too much anyway. She just tried to empty her mind.
This was what found her, one glorious morning in July, swimming solo as usual, doing her best to abandon her thoughts. It w
as hard for a woman with a tendency to over-think everything, but she drew on what she could recall from yoga classes as she floated on her back. The sensation was delicious, her skin hot with the sun. She knew she should be more careful: since the chemo, she burned so easily. But she couldn’t bring herself to get out and put on more lotion. This must be what it was like in a flotation tank: this feeling of weightlessness, of total peace and calm. And all for free.
Then her eyes snapped open: she was no longer alone. She could scarcely take in what she was seeing. High above her head, a perfect glittering arc, as Star soared over her. Her body went rigid with shock and she sank beneath the surface. She came up coughing and spluttering, then looked all around her. Nothing now above her but the golden globe of sun; nothing below her but her feet treading water. All around was still. Silent and deserted.
And then a fin was slicing through the water, coming at her, swift as a silver arrow, now launching over her head again. Sarah didn’t know which emotion to feel. There were so many to choose from: fear, panic, elation. If the dolphin was to land on her … But she wouldn’t. Sarah trusted in Star’s agility, her aerodynamics, her perfect timing.
And here she was again, quicker this time, right over her head.
She was playing with her. Star was playing with her. Sarah laughed like a child.
The dolphin jumped again.
And again.
And again.
Sarah chose her emotion. The emotion she chose was joy.
Chapter 21
Fiona was going out on a date with her husband. She examined herself in the full-length mirror. She’d bought a brand new little black dress for the occasion. She turned and looked over her shoulder, checking her rear view. Arse not too big. Just right. There was no point in asking Aidan what he thought. He’d only lie or grunt.
Their marriage had been undergoing something of a renaissance of late. She didn’t know what had changed but something had. It was as if Aidan had come back into himself, dragged himself out of the strange funk he’d been in for such a long time. She’d stopped analysing it and decided to be grateful. She took the stairs cautiously in her new three-inch heels. The occasion required some elevation.
‘Ready.’ She stepped into the hall, smiling broadly.
He turned to her. His shoulders were slightly hunched and his hands were in his pockets. But he attempted a smile. ‘You look nice. New dress?’
‘Thanks. Yes. I got it today.’ She gave him a twirl. Then a beam. ‘And I love that shirt on you.’ She came up to him and adjusted the collar. ‘I haven’t seen you wear it since the night Sarah Dillon came to dinner.’ Her face clouded. ‘She never did invite us back.’
‘Let’s go.’ He pulled away and opened the door.
‘I haven’t seen her lately. Have you?’
‘No.’ He was walking rapidly down the driveway, several steps ahead of her.
‘I wonder what she’s up to, these days. She wouldn’t have gone back to Dublin without saying goodbye, would she?’
‘I don’t know.’
Fiona half hoped Sarah had gone away so she could put the memory of her embarrassing revelations about her marriage behind her. She regretted unburdening herself to the other woman, who hadn’t seemed all that interested in pursuing a friendship. Yet again she had misjudged. Thankfully, things were getting back on track with Aidan, so she had decided to give Sarah no more thought. The great confession was a moment of weakness, best forgotten.
He clicked the car open and held the door for her.
‘Oh,’ she said, irrationally pleased. ‘Thank you very much.’
She settled her bum into her seat, her mood lifting all the time. Aidan got in beside her. As he turned on the ignition, his Leonard Cohen CD blasted its lyrics into the car. Fiona turned it off instantly. ‘I’m not listening to that miserable shite again. Let’s just talk, shall we?’
Aidan nodded as he pulled out of the driveway.
It was a beautiful evening. Fiona chatted about this and that but after a time, weary of Aidan’s lack of response, she stopped talking and took in the scenery instead. A warm breeze rippled through the open window and ruffled her curls. She was used to Aidan being subdued and it didn’t bother her. It was impossible to feel anything less than upbeat on such a night.
They were going to a new restaurant in Spanish Point. There was an unspoken agreement between them that they needed to try somewhere different – something different – away from their home town and the people they knew. Somewhere new and fresh and neutral. Their new start demanded nothing less.
The waiter pulled out Fiona’s chair and placed the napkin on her lap. It was that kind of place. She could see that Aidan was uncomfortable already.
‘A bit much, isn’t it?’ he said, when the waiter had gone.
‘Well, I like it,’ she said, determinedly bright. She examined his face. ‘You trimmed your beard.’
He brought his hand instinctively to his chin. ‘Well, you know – didn’t want to let the side down.’
‘You could never do that, Aidan.’ She reached out and clasped his hand across the table, so happy to have him there. Really there. ‘It’s been too long since we did something like this,’ she said. ‘I can’t remember the last time we ate out together, just the two of us. Can you?’
‘That place in Doolin.’
‘You’re right. That was before Christmas. Last November. Let’s not leave it so long again.’
‘We won’t.’ He was inspecting the menu. ‘Sea bass in Guinness batter with hand-cut fries and pea compôte,’ he read out. ‘That’s just fish and chips and mushy peas. Why can’t they say so?’
‘It’s called presentation, Aidan.’
‘It’s called trying to justify their prices.’
She willed him not to spoil things for her, but when the waiter came back to take their order he was politeness personified, and she knew she could relax. Her husband might look out of his element in a smart restaurant, but he was far from being a Philistine. And he was so secure in himself – she didn’t think she’d ever seen him adopt a macho position in his life. He just didn’t feel the need to prove anything. Aidan was kind and sensitive and decent. She sighed without realizing it. Now, if only he’d look at her the way he used to …
The starters had arrived, but when she’d finished hers he still hadn’t touched his. ‘What is it? Don’t you like it?’
‘No, it’s fine. I just wanted to say something.’
‘What?’ She was on the edge of her seat. The edge of her breath.
‘The trip.’
‘What trip?’
‘You know, when Tommy’s gone off to college.’
‘Oh. What about it?’
‘We should start making plans for it.’
‘I thought you weren’t interested any more.’
‘Well, I am.’
‘Okay, then. I’ll go to the travel agent tomorrow. Get some more brochures. And I’ll look on-line too.’ She took a sip of wine and grinned. ‘I fancy the Far East. How about you?’
‘Wherever you like. And another thing, Fi.’
‘Yes?’
His face grew serious. ‘I wanted to say sorry.’
‘For what?’
‘For everything. For the way I’ve been lately. I know I haven’t been easy to live with.’ He looked at her for confirmation.
Fiona shrugged.
‘And I wanted to let you know that from here on in – from this night on – everything’s going to change. You don’t deserve the way I’ve been treating you, Fiona, and I’m so sorry.’
She didn’t say anything for a few moments. Then she raised her glass. ‘To a new start.’
He touched his to hers. ‘A new start.’
They both drank and she smiled at him. ‘You know I’d forgive you anything, don’t you?’
He doubted it.
Chapter 22
Market day had come around again. Sarah and Maia were wandering through it having spent
an uneventful morning splashing around in the cove. Uneventful in that Star, although present, had decided to keep her dolphin self to herself. Sometimes she did that, chose not to interact, and Sarah kind of liked it. It meant that when she did come to them, she did so of her own free will. She was her own dolphin. Her own special creation.
The dichotomy between the calm of their morning and the chaos of the market couldn’t have been greater. Sarah questioned the wisdom of bringing her daughter with her but to hell with it. She was in serious need of a treat. And in spite of the improvements Maia had been making, restaurants were still not a good idea. They were fraught with opportunities for tantrums and other antisocial behaviour. The market was the lesser of two evils.
Sarah was starving after the morning’s exertions. She longed for the soft, warm comfort of fresh bread, the succulence of ripe fruit, pastry so newly baked that it dissolved in her mouth. She longed for closeness with other human beings as well. The loneliness was getting to her, the novelty of her own company wearing thin. She missed Aidan with a terrible ache and wanted to be crushed up against other people, to hear human voices, busy and urgent. The sights, sounds and smells of the market – she needed them to fill her emptiness. That day, she was willing to take the risk of sensory overload to her child.
She was trying to negotiate her way to the bread stall, with Maia clinging ferociously to her leg, holding her back. She realized the problem: to get to the bread, they had to pass the fruit stall – a stunning display vibrant with colour and life. The trouble was the pyramid of tomatoes stacked high at the far corner. Maia wouldn’t pass them so Sarah brought her around the back instead. That worked. She was just congratulating herself on her ingenuity when someone said hello to her. She was in dire need of a friendly voice, a friendly face, and this face was so friendly. But it was the wrong face.
‘Fiona.’
‘Sarah. Long time no see. It must be over a month. We were beginning to think you’d left town.’
‘Oh, no. Still around. Just living the quiet life. You know how it is.’
‘How’s Maia?’
