by Tara Heavey
When Aidan got back that evening, the cottage seemed unnaturally quiet. He searched from room to room. No Maia. How odd. He took the stairs two at a time. The door to Sarah’s room was ajar so he pushed it open. There was a human-shaped lump in the centre of the bed. ‘Sarah?’
He pulled back the covers. She was lying in a tightly locked foetal position. ‘Sarah.’
She was crying, her eyes screwed shut, tears leaking out of the corners. She was rocking herself rhythmically, as her daughter was inclined to do when she was scared.
‘What is it?’ He kicked off his shoes and climbed into the bed beside her, wrapping her body in his own. ‘Hey, what’s wrong?’
‘I’m dying.’
Oh.
He held her tighter, absorbing her grief the best he could as her body heaved.
‘I’m dying, Aidan. I’m dying.’
He stroked her hair, feeling the fragile shape of her skull through the wispy curls. She felt so small, so thin. If he squeezed too hard she might disappear like a puff of smoke and he’d be left with nothing. And he was suddenly very glad that he was there. The doubts that had plagued him fell away. It had all been worth it to be with her at this moment.
‘Promise me you won’t go,’ she said.
‘I promise.’
‘You’ll never leave me?’
‘I won’t leave you. Not ever.’ If only he could extract such a promise from her.
Sarah had stopped crying. She was still dying. It was just that she had no more tears left. For now. She sat cross-legged on the bed, sipping the mug of tea Aidan had brought up for her. She hadn’t wanted him to leave her, even to go down to the kitchen for five minutes. She felt so vulnerable without him. He was watching her now. Intently. Trying to analyse every nuance of feature and posture.
‘I think it’s time you told your family,’ he said.
She nodded, her resistance gone.
‘Will you ring your sister?’
‘I’ll call her tonight.’
‘Good. And your friends in Dublin. They’ll want to know. Want to help.’
‘I know.’
‘Don’t deny them, or yourself.’
‘I know, Aidan. You don’t have to keep going on.’
‘Sorry.’
‘That’s all right.’
They were quiet for a while. She put down her mug.
‘I’d better go and pick up Maia.’ Aidan started to get up.
‘No.’ Sarah grabbed him by the wrist and pulled him back down.
‘Do you want to go?’
She shook her head.
‘What, then?’
‘I was wondering …’
‘What?’
‘If you’d consider it ghoulish to have sexual relations with a dying woman.’
‘I’d consider it an honour.’
It was one hour later. Aidan had finally been allowed to leave the house but only to pick up Maia. He was under strict instructions to come straight back. He found himself on Bridget’s doorstep. The woman herself answered.
‘Bridget.’
‘Aidan.’
‘I’ve come to collect Maia.’
‘I know.’
She knew. Of course she knew. Everyone knew by now. He tried to gauge her reaction to him. It was measured. Polite. Neither one way nor the other. He couldn’t tell if she was indifferent to the relationship or if she was maintaining a professional reserve. Probably wanted to keep her job.
‘Look, Bridget, you may as well know that Sarah is very sick.’
‘You mean the cancer. She’s on the mend, isn’t she?’
‘The cancer’s back.’
‘Oh. Is it … serious?’
‘Yes.’
‘Is she –’
‘Yes.’
‘Oh, Jesus.’ Bridget blessed herself. The movement was involuntary.
‘So that’s why you had Maia for such a long time today. And it’s why her hours will probably become more erratic. Are you okay with that?’
‘Of course. I’ll help out any time I can.’
‘Thanks. I’ll make sure you’re compensated for any inconvenience.’
‘There’s no need.’
He’d been prepared to buy her loyalty. But judging by her stricken face, that wouldn’t be necessary.
A few days later they were having breakfast as usual. As usual – funny how quickly the unusual became usual. The three moved around each other with a fluidity that would once have seemed impossible. Aidan made the coffee while Sarah and Maia sat side by side at the kitchen table. Maia was having the exact breakfast she had every morning of her life: two Weetabix with warm milk. Aidan had learned the hard way to heat the milk first and fill the bowl to a certain level so that the Weetabix swelled to the correct size.
He’d done the grocery shopping too. He’d gone to the next town in case he ran into anyone in Dunnes who wanted to take him on. He just wasn’t ready for one of Fiona’s elderly patients – and, God knew, some of them were devoted to her – to batter him over the head in the frozen-food aisle. He knew he’d forgotten half of what he was supposed to get and Sarah was too polite to say. Right now, she was spreading bright red strawberry jam on her wholemeal toast instead of the usual, and preferred, marmalade. Maia started to make little noises of protest.
‘What is it?’
She kept pushing Sarah’s plate further away from hers.
‘Would you stop, Maia? I’m trying to eat my breakfast.’
She did it again.
‘Stop!’ Sarah yelled at her.
Maia stared at her mother in open-mouthed fascination – as if she were a door hinge or a spinning top.
‘It must be the jam,’ said Aidan. ‘That’s my fault. Here. Give it to me and I’ll get rid of it.’
‘No. I’m having my breakfast and that’s that.’
Sarah recommenced eating her toast. Maia uttered more mewls of protest and began pushing at her mother’s plate again. It was apparently the last straw. ‘Jesus Christ.’ It was a scream. ‘Can I not just eat my fucking breakfast in peace?’ Sarah rose from her chair and flung her plate with great force across the room. It hit the wall and shattered. There were tiny bits of white ceramic everywhere. Then she picked up the jam-jar and hurled it to the floor. The glass smashed and everybody watched the red gel ooze out. The two adults stood like statues. The child did not. First, she covered her ears with her hands. Then she started to rock. Then the hand flapping.
‘Oh, Maia, I’m so sorry.’ Sarah bent down to her but Maia flapped her away.
‘Why don’t you go upstairs? I’ll deal with her,’ said Aidan. He was looking at her with … what? Pity?
‘Are you –’
‘Yes. Just go.’
Sarah left the room and the chaos behind. She ran up the stairs and, not giving herself time to think, put on yesterday’s clothes and grabbed her car keys. She went quickly back downstairs. Maia seemed a little calmer, although still a long way from neutral.
‘I’m going out.’
‘But I thought –’
‘See you later.’
She was on the street, walking. Walking so fast. It felt good. A relief. Just to get away. She walked faster. She couldn’t move fast enough to escape herself. To shed this body.
She got into her car. Faster. She’d barely driven it since she’d got there. Just left it parked around the corner. She drove it now. It was slow to start and juddery at first, then smooth. She drove out of town and away – away from Maia, from the house, even from Aidan. She turned on the radio, let the music blare and fill her ears, so loud she thought they would bleed. Then she screamed. With the windows shut and the volume turned up, she could barely hear herself. She pulled abruptly into a lay-by. She was at the cliffs.
She slammed the car door without locking it and headed up the path. No looking back. It was windy up there. She folded her arms across her chest and walked grimly, her head down. The gulls screeched above, wheeling around her. She was at the top
now. The wind whipped the breath from her mouth. She stood on the edge. The waves crashed ferociously against the rocks below. All was movement. All was energy. She wanted some. She lifted her arms to the sides as if appealing to the heavens. Then she raised her head upward and screamed until there was no sound left. And somewhere out in the ocean, a lone creature recognized her voice.
She arrived home two hours later. She let herself in, unseen and unheard. Voices were coming from the kitchen. She crept to the door and peered through the crack. Aidan and Maia were sitting at the table. Maia was drawing, with Aidan leaning over her. Sarah felt herself relax and almost smiled. Then she climbed the staircase as if it were her own private Everest. When she reached her bed, she pulled back the duvet and lowered herself onto the mattress. Then she pulled it over her head, drew herself up into a ball and lay there blinking in the half-light. She fell asleep, deeply and dreamlessly. And when she woke up her sister was lying in the bed beside her.
Chapter 32
Aidan was fascinated by Sarah’s sister, Helen. He couldn’t get over how different they were from one another. Right now he was mesmerized by her arms – plump and freckly: they reminded him somehow of currant buns. But that could have been because she was making a cake, stirring the mixture capably and methodically. Maia looked on solemnly, licking a spoon. Aidan wanted to ask her what had possessed her to make a cake in the circumstances. He was trying to figure out a polite way to frame the question. Eventually he just said, ‘What are you making?’
‘A cake.’
‘I know, I –’
‘A Victoria sponge. Sarah’s favourite.’
‘Oh.’
There was a pause. Helen looked up at him and smiled. ‘It relaxes me,’ she said.
‘Oh, right. I just thought, you know, you only just got here. You must be jet-lagged. I would have thought cooking was the last thing on your mind.’
‘It’s not cooking, it’s baking – there’s a difference.’ She shrugged. ‘It’ll be a nice treat for Sarah to wake up to. The smell, if nothing else. And, besides, it keeps Missy here entertained.’ She inclined her head towards Maia, who was continuing to lick every last morsel off the spoon. She smiled at her niece.
Aidan thought he saw tears welling in her eyes. The house would be flooded at this rate.
‘I’ve never seen anything like the change in this girl. It does the heart good to see it.’ She continued to stir.
‘You have kids, don’t you?’ he said.
‘Three boys. Ten, eight and six. Each bolder than the next. You?’
Aidan shifted uncomfortably in his seat. ‘A girl and a boy. Nineteen and seventeen.’
‘What do they think of you leaving their mother for another woman?’
The question blind-sided Aidan. There was more to Helen, with her mild manner and sensible haircut, than met the eye. ‘They’re upset.’
‘I bet they are.’
The truth was, he didn’t know what Alannah thought about him leaving Fiona. He’d left several messages on her phone but she hadn’t got back to him. It was more than a week now since that morning with Tommy on the beach. He’d never gone so long without seeing or speaking to his kids and it was killing him. Tommy wouldn’t respond to his messages either.
‘You know,’ said Helen, ‘they’re at a very difficult age for you to do something like this to them. They’ll probably be quite badly affected.’
‘You don’t have to tell me that.’ He was losing the warm feelings he’d had for the woman. He sat in silence for a while, trying to damp down his anger while Helen and Maia transferred the sponge mix into the baking tins. ‘So, how long do you think you’ll be able to stay?’ he said, after a while.
Helen threw back her head and laughed, both hands on her ample hips. ‘You mean, how soon will you be able to get rid of me?’
‘That’s not –’
It was.
‘Ten days. That’s how long I’ve been given away from my life. The boys. My job. And, of course, I’ll come back before …’
Aidan nodded. The mood was suddenly sombre again. He never seemed to move far away from sombre, these days. Helen was busying herself with the tidying up. Aidan lifted himself out of the chair. ‘I’d better be off,’ he said. ‘The people will be waiting.’ It wasn’t strictly true. He didn’t have to go for a while yet. He just wanted to get out of the house.
‘Look, Aidan.’ Helen walked rapidly from behind the counter and stood directly in front of him, blocking his exit. ‘I’m not your enemy. I don’t condone what you did to your wife and kids. If my own husband did that to me I’d be destroyed.’
Aidan flinched. Was the woman trying to make amends or what?
‘However, what you’ve done – what you’re doing – for my sister, it’s pretty incredible.’ She shook her head. ‘I can’t work out whether you’re an arsehole or a saint.’
Aidan laughed, her words taking him by surprise. ‘I’d say one part saint and three parts arsehole.’
‘That sounds about right.’
They grinned at one another, both feeling now that they might just make an accommodation.
‘Aidan.’ She became serious. ‘You and I are going to have to get on here. This is about Sarah. Not about us.’
‘I agree.’
‘I’m not trying to usurp your role. She’ll need us both.’
‘I know.’
‘Right then.’ She stuck out her hand. ‘Friends?’
He smiled and took it. ‘Friends.’
She called out to him as he was walking out of the door: ‘I’m sorry to be so direct, Aidan.’ She came right up to him and lowered her voice, mindful of her sister upstairs. ‘It’s just that there isn’t time to be anything else.’
Aidan stepped out into the sunshine. He felt a degree of freedom he hadn’t experienced in a while. He knew it was because of Helen – someone else to share the load for the next ten days. He was glad to have her as an ally because he wouldn’t want her as an enemy. Although he thought a lot of it was front. She was just trying to suss him out and to protect Sarah. That was understandable. He sensed a core of sweetness inside her. Sarah had the same, except hers was more exposed. He could have thought about it all day – talked about it, basked in it. As far as he could see, from the few hours he had spent with her, Helen masked her soft side with a sensible, practical persona. But he liked her, he decided. And it was just as well. Although he had been cut to the quick by her comments about his children. How could he make them see that it wasn’t them he’d left?
He thought about them whenever he wasn’t thinking about Sarah. He tried to project himself into their future lives. When Tommy was a fully grown man. If he was married. If he then met a woman like Sarah and felt that way about her. That passion. Such overwhelming, all-consuming love. Such a feeling of having to be with that woman at all costs. Would he want his son to leave his marriage for such a woman, such a love? The answer was yes. He would.
But, on the other hand, if someone did to Alannah what he had done to Fiona, he’d kill him. Squeeze the life out of him with his bare hands. It was all so confused in his head. His parents-in-law must hate him. He imagined their conversations about him now, feeling justified in their initial suspicions of him, that they’d been correct all along in their conviction that he wasn’t good enough for their daughter. And perhaps they had been right all those years ago. And now in their hatred of him. His mind boggled. The number of people who must hate him now. Aidan Ryan: destroyer of lives.
He walked towards the town, imagining everyone he passed holding a new opinion of him – an opinion he could do nothing to control. The die was cast. He’d been avoiding people he knew, of course, sticking to the beaches and to his boat where it was mostly tourists he met. But now, coming up the street in the other direction, was his old drinking buddy Noel Higgins and he wasn’t going to be able to avoid him: they were practically on top of each other. The two men slowed, trepidation on their faces. On Aidan’s, because he d
idn’t know what to say – talk about being caught out in a lie – and he didn’t know what he’d do if Noel walked by him.
But Noel wasn’t going to do that. ‘Aidan.’
‘Noel.’
They looked one another in the eye for several seconds.
‘Well,’ said the other man, ‘you’ve really gone and fucked it up this time.’
‘I have, Noel, I have.’
They laughed.
‘Come on,’ said Noel, ‘you dirty-looking eejit. I’ll buy you a pint.’
McSwigans was blessedly empty. They sat in the snug anyway, just in case someone came in. Aidan didn’t approach the bar. He went straight to his seat while Noel got the drinks in. Then they looked at each other and Noel shook his head. ‘What were you thinking?’
‘It was just something I had to do.’
‘As in a man’s got to do what a man’s got to do?’ He shook his head again.
Aidan kept his peace.
‘Poor Fiona couldn’t even bear to stick around.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘She’s gone to Dublin. Did you not know?’
‘No, I didn’t. Sure, none of my family will speak to me.’
‘Are you surprised?’
‘No.’
‘Nor should you be. The missus called up to the house a couple of days ago and only the young lad was there.’
‘Tommy’s there on his own?’
‘He is.’
It wasn’t like Fiona to leave Tommy unsupervised.
‘And Alannah’s gone back.’
‘Alannah was here?’
‘She came home to be with her mother for a few days.’
Aidan felt as if he’d been delivered a blow to his gut. His girl had been home and she hadn’t even contacted him. Things were even worse than he’d thought. He leaned forward in his seat and sighed.
