The Woman at 72 Derry Lane

by Carmel Harrington

  Patong Beach, Thailand, 2004

  My legs felt like jelly. I used every ounce of my energy to force them to kick behind me as we started to swim for the shore. It was difficult because of the amount of debris we encountered, but the current had eased off a little. The hazards were what we couldn’t see, what we might crash into. We passed a lot of people clinging to trees, another car swept by us and knocked a man off his feet. Blood stained the muddy water as he disappeared from sight.

  We came to a building and heard a voice shout to us, beckoning us over. There were a couple of people on the roof, and they reached their hands out, to pull us up. But we didn’t get the chance to thank them because another wave of water engulfed us and gobbled us up. Once again, I was swept away from my heart, my family.

  Once, twice I went under and each time I tried to get to the surface I was pushed down again. I wondered what it would feel like to stop pushing against the monster who was trying to kill me. I was so tired. But I kept remembering Mam and Dad making me promise that I would never stop fighting. So I gritted my teeth and grabbed air when I could. Then suddenly, a jolt hit my side. An agony, unlike anything I’d ever experienced, winded me. I saw the water around me turn red and it took a moment for me to realise it was my blood staining it.

  The pain of it, the shock of the impact, was as good as a slap to the face of a hysterical person. I knew I had to gain control, to fight back, to not give in to the sea. So I kicked and kicked at the relentless pounding of the waves, trying not to panic as oxygen began to run out. And then I felt a hand grab my hair, pulling me by my scalp to the top of the water. I was on the surface again and I looked up to see a woman’s face, determination in every line, as she tried to heave me up onto a rock beside her.

  ‘You’re gonna have to help me here, kiddo. I haven’t the strength to haul you up on my own,’ she said.

  I nodded, unable to speak, but used every ounce of my strength to heave myself up. But it was so slippery, I found myself sliding back into the water again, scraping my hands and knees as I did. The woman grabbed my arm and let out a primal roar as she pulled me once more. I ignored the pain as sharp rock pierced my skin and I used my feet to push me forward, until at last I was on top.

  Breathless, I looked around me, taking in my new surroundings. I scanned the area; there were others in the water, alive, like us. Faces, nameless faces, all lost, scared, bereft, as I was, trying to find something to cling to. I couldn’t see my family amongst them.

  ‘Eli. Mam. Dad.’ I tried to speak, but no sound came out. It was time to swim towards the shore, as Dad had told me to do. I’d no doubt Eli was already there. He was quicker than the rest of us. But I couldn’t move, not right now. I was spent and knew that I needed to recharge. Plus the wound in my side ached like hell.

  I heard people screaming names out as they called for their loved ones. I realised that the water around me was now a macabre grave for goodness knows how many.

  I couldn’t allow myself time to think about that. If I did, I’d lose my mind and I knew that I needed all of my wits to get out of the water. I tried to ignore the pain in my side and the blood that was oozing from the wound.

  And then I saw Dad. It was his crazy shorts I noticed first of all. Bright turquoise blue with yellow starfish on them. He was pushing Mam up onto the roof of a building. I think it was the same one we tried to get on earlier. A couple were heaving Mam up and he was pushing from underneath.

  I felt purpose strengthen me. Now I knew where I needed to go. I needed to get to them both. But before the thought had a chance to take root, another wave pummelled into me.

  Chapter 26

  SKYE

  The water fought hard to dislodge me from that rock. My body slammed over and over into the hard surface, as I clung on, arms outstretched, clutching it for dear life. Any pain I felt I was grateful for, because it removed all thought from my head.

  I considered giving in to the waves again, letting go of the rock. I remembered something I’d read about how peaceful it can be to drown. But then again, how does anyone know that, because if you’re drowned, you can’t actually share that, can you? Mam always said I was a stubborn little fecker. And she was right, because I wouldn’t let go. I held on tighter.

  My mother’s words about fighting, about being brave, rattled around my brain on a loop, and I repeated them like a prayer. I pictured them doing the same. They’d be thinking of their children, Eli and me, fighting to hold on for us. I couldn’t let them down, I had to do the same. I dug deep inside of me, pulled up every ounce of strength I had.

  Every now and then I’d catch sight of the woman who pulled me up by my hair and caught snippets of her own battle with the sea. Once, I thought I heard a voice whistling through the carnage, ‘Skye, Skye.’

  But I couldn’t see anyone. My hair whipped across my face. The voice had sounded like Dad. I felt a glimmer of hope that he was swimming out to get me, right this minute. All I wanted was to feel his strong arms around me. Daddy, my first hero.

  Just like the last time, he would pop up beside me and say, ‘You can’t get rid of me that easily.’

  More water pounded me and I held my breath until I broke the surface again. This time, when I opened my eyes, I screamed ‘Daddy’ loudly, fully expecting him to be right beside me, ready to bring me to my mother.

  But there was nobody. Just me and strangers, clinging onto grey rocks.

  I was disorientated and had no idea where I was in relation to the beach. I pushed myself back up to the highest point of a rock and I took stock of my surroundings. I saw the beach in the distance, or at least I think it was the beach. It was covered in brown, muddy water, with people wading through it, some falling to the ground like dominos. There was debris everywhere and bodies were floating face down … I looked away quickly. If my family were dead, if I saw them perished, I would be done.

  ‘Hello.’ Barely above a whisper, a voice spoke to me.

  I turned to my left and crouched, shivering, despite the heat. In a similar position to me was the woman who saved me earlier. She was naked, I realised, and I looked away, embarrassed. But then I looked down and realised that my bikini top was gone too. I reached to cover my breasts with one hand, clinging onto the rock with the other and heard her laugh. I realised how ridiculous it was that I would even care about something so stupid, so I laughed too.

  ‘I’m an eejit,’ I said.

  ‘Ah, you’re Irish,’ she replied. ‘I’m Scottish.’

  ‘Celtic neighbours.’

  ‘Aye.’

  ‘You saved me,’ I said.

  We locked eyes then and our stilted conversation stalled. She smiled for just a moment and nodded acknowledgement of my words. Silently, we stared, taking in each other’s faces. And as we sat there, on the sharp shards of rock, naked, it was as if an understanding passed unspoken between us. We might be the last person that either of us would ever see or would ever speak to again. It was important that we remembered each other, to tell each other’s family if …

  I stopped and decided not to go there, then realised that I had been there for some time already. This was not the moment to shy away from hard truths. I was in as dangerous a situation as I was ever likely to be in. And if I survived it would be a miracle.

  The woman had kind eyes. I knew I’d never forget them, whether I lived another five minutes or fifty years.

  ‘We came into the world naked. I suppose, it’s only fitting we go out of it the same way,’ she said.

  ‘I’m not going anywhere other than home!’ I said.

  ‘That’s the spirit.’ She approved.

  ‘My dad would have a freak right now if he saw me!’ I replied, pointing to my small breasts. We both giggled.

  ‘I think your dad would be just glad to see you alive,’ she said and I knew she was right.

  I tried to work out where I was, how far I’d been flung by the ocean. It felt like an impossible task, guessing where I last saw my parents
. They were gone, with only mayhem in their place on the beach. A pot pourri of carnage lying on the dirty sands.

  A red towel lay at the water’s edge, like spilled blood, and it made me shiver. Ominous.

  Waves crashed around me and I turned back to the Scottish woman, my new best friend. I was seventeen years old. This morning, my biggest worry was persuading my conservative dad that my bikini wasn’t too teeny for a Thai beach. And now, almost naked, I felt like I’d aged twenty years.

  Once again time stood still and I don’t know how long passed, but the water began to calm down. And with that calm came more horror as further bodies floated by face down amongst the broken debris. And no matter how many passed, the sight of those lifeless bodies, souls squeezed out by the ocean, terrorised me. And would do for the rest of my life.

  Eventually, as I scanned them, one by one, to see if any included my parents, or my brother, I felt an eerie calm come over me. I suppose all horror becomes normal after a while. When I saw a flash of turquoise coming towards me, I thought, Oh. Just that. Oh. I might as well have seen another fridge float by. I think my mind and my heart separated then. The only way I could get through this was to do so coldly, without any emotion. I calmly pondered whether it was Eli or Dad’s turquoise shorts coming towards me. And a thought, cruel and nasty, asked me a question. Whose body would be preferable?

  None. I can’t live without either. Don’t make me choose!

  But then I spied long dreadlocks in corn yellow and knew it wasn’t my family. I felt joy unlike any I’ve ever felt before flood me. Followed quickly by shame, because my celebration meant someone else’s heartbreak. Dreadlocks guy was someone’s dad or son, husband or friend.

  ‘If we stay here, we’ll die here,’ the woman shouted over to me. ‘It’s not over. They’ll be more waves. I don’t think I have the strength to survive another round of battering.’

  ‘Maybe, but I can’t go back in there.’ I looked down at my body which was battered and bloodied. I’d never felt so tired in my life. But the woman’s words had truth running through them. Like her, I wouldn’t survive another wave either.

  ‘I have to look for my husband. I’m going to swim to the shore. You should come too. Please. Don’t just sit here waiting to die. Come on, Irish. Remember that fighting spirit.’ And just like that, before I could respond, she dropped back into the water with a tiny splash and started to swim away from the rocks.

  I missed her presence immediately and loneliness made me shiver. What if I ended up here, just me on this rock? Waiting to be rescued or waiting to die. What did the fates have in store for me?

  I didn’t know what to do. I looked back at the horizon and thought maybe she was wrong. The ocean was calm once more. Maybe the most sensible thing to do was to wait for someone to rescue me here. I wished Eli were with me. He would have the right answer, he always did. I pictured him, somewhere, making a raft out of twigs or something, proper Robinson Crusoe he’d be. And somehow, thinking of him spurred me on to make a decision. I couldn’t give up.

  I had to fight and if the waves got me the next time, at least it would be on my terms, fighting to live.

  Chapter 27

  REA

  72 Derry Lane, Dublin, 2014

  ‘Hello, Luca,’ Rea said. She felt her legs buckle and she thought she might faint. She clasped the back of the sofa to support herself. Was today a dream? From waking up feeling desolate with loneliness, to surprise pamper sessions, to this, seeing her first-born standing in front of her.

  ‘You look … ‘ he paused, taking her in, ‘well, you look good.’ He didn’t move from the doorway and Rea didn’t move a step closer towards him either.

  ‘What are you doing here?’ Rea finally asked.

  ‘I came to see you.’ Their eyes never left each other.

  ‘I hear nothing from you for nearly a year and then suddenly you feel the need to see me?’

  ‘Something like that,’ he answered, his tone clipped. ‘And last I heard, phone lines work in two directions, Mam.’

  Stella moved forward to touch Rea’s arm, ‘we are going to leave. Let you two catch up in private.’

  ‘That would be great,’ the man said.

  ‘No!’ Rea turned to her. ‘You’ve prepared a beautiful meal for us all and we’re going to eat it. Together.’

  ‘If you’re sure? We don’t want to intrude,’ Stella whispered. ‘Honestly, I think we should leave.’

  ‘I’m quite sure. Let’s sit.’

  But nobody moved and silence once more claimed the room. ‘It’s like an episode of Eastenders. So much drama!’ Charlie declared loudly. He walked over to Rea’s son and said, ‘I’m Charlie, the hairdresser.’

  ‘I’m Luca, the wayward son.’ They shook each other’s hands, smiling wryly. ‘Nice work, by the way.’ Luca gestured towards his mother’s hair.

  ‘You should have seen the state of it …’ he trailed off, ‘sorry, Rea.’

  Stella took the muffeletta sandwiches from the oven, where they had been warming. She placed a quarter on each plate, then spooned some of her slaw and green salad beside it.

  The pink lemonade was already on the table with pretty glasses.

  Stella felt eyes on her, knowing she should say hello to Rea’s son, but his presence threw her. Her loyalty was to Rea and until she worked out whether he was good or bad she was going to remain neutral.

  ‘My name is Luca.’ He was beside her, taking a couple of plates from the counter and helping to bring them to the table.

  Then suddenly Charlie started to sing, ‘I live on the second floor. I live upstairs from you …’

  When they all turned to look at him, he said, ‘Ah I’m sorry. Couldn’t help it. Just there’s a song called My name is Luca.’

  ‘I’ve heard that once or twice before,’ Luca replied.

  Charlie continued to sing, ‘if you hear something late at night, some kind of trouble, some kind of fight …’

  Stella placed a plate loudly in front of Charlie, stopping him mid-note, ‘That song gives me the creeps.’

  ‘Less singing, more eating,’ Rea turned to Stella, ‘sit down, pet. This sandwich smells divine and the colours … it’s like a symphony of rainbows inside the bread. What is it?’

  ‘A muffeletta,’ Luca butted in. ‘If I’m not mistaken?’

  ‘Yes. That’s right,’ Stella answered, then turned to Rea, saying, ‘I hope you like it.’

  ‘Damn girl, this is some serious eats right here!’ Charlie said, mid-mouthful.

  ‘The best thing I’ve ever eaten between two slices of bread,’ Rea agreed. ‘The flavours are wonderful together. You both have me spoiled today.’

  Luca was silent as he eyed up the scene at the table. Stella couldn’t work out what he was thinking, his face was unreadable. He had yet to eat anything, he just watched them all silently.

  Then he spoke. ‘How do you know my mother?’

  ‘I live next door,’ Stella answered, thumbing the wall that divided their houses. She looked at Rea and Luca noted something pass unspoken between them.

  ‘Stella kindly visits me every now and then and today she surprised me with this firecracker Charlie. If you had arrived two hours ago, you would have seen a different version of me. Or at least a greyer one.’

  ‘That was kind of you,’ Luca said.

  ‘Your mother has been good to me. It was nothing.’ She turned her attention back to her sandwich. Stella wasn’t sure how Luca’s arrival would affect her plans. Would that be the end of her time here? What if he told Matt? She picked up her phone quickly to check there were no missed calls.

  ‘How long are you home for?’ Charlie asked and Rea thanked the heavens for him. His chatter filled the awkward silences that kept filling the room.

  ‘I’m not sure. That depends.’ He turned to look at Rea. She looked away.

  ‘Eat,’ she commanded him, so he picked up the sandwich and took a bite.

  ‘One of the best sandwiches I’ve eve
r eaten,’ Luca said.

  Once they’d finished eating, Stella cleared the plates and brought the lemon drizzle cake over to them. She’d added her raspberries and a quenelle of crème fraíche to the side.

  ‘How pretty!’ Rea said.

  ‘Eating with the eyes, that’s what you used to call it, Mam.’ Luca murmured. ‘Apt, for all of this, Stella. Looks every bit as good as it tastes.’

  ‘What he said,’ Charlie added, digging into the cake.

  ‘You have a talent,’ Rea said. ‘You could do this professionally, you know.’

  Stella was so chuffed at their praise. She had worried that she’d gone overboard, that she should have kept it simpler. But now she was delighted.

  ‘I picked a good day to come home,’ Luca said softly and then the doorbell rang. ‘Shall I answer that?’ Luca asked.

  ‘No, it’s okay. I’ve been managing on my own for long enough now. I don’t need you to suddenly jump in.’

  ‘Ouch,’ Charlie whispered.

  Rea opened the door to Louis, who marched down the hall shouting over his shoulder, ‘You know what, Rea? Those wheelie bins of yours get out more than you do!’

  His face formed a perfect O of surprise when he walked into the kitchen and saw three faces staring at him.

  ‘Is it halloween or something?’ he said to Rea, nodding at Charlie.

  ‘Less of your cheek.’ Rea replied, giving him a small dig.

  He shrugged and said, ‘Just saying. Hey, what kind of cake is that?’

  ‘Lemon drizzle,’ Rea answered, enjoying the looks on everyone’s faces.

  ‘Ah here, I hate lemons. Can I have a Twix?’

  ‘Help yourself,’ Rea said and he walked over to the treat tin, pulled it down and opened a bar in under three seconds.

  ‘I see there’s been quite a few changes since I left,’ Luca said. ‘Who are you?’

  ‘Oh, I take out the trash. Who are you?’

  ‘I’m Rea’s son.’

  Louis walked over to him and said, ‘I never knew she had one. Don’t think just because you’re back I’m out of a job. I have rights, you know.’