by Faith Hogan
‘Absolutely not. It was the most stupid thing I’ve ever done.’ When Evie thought about that night, it frightened her. What had she been thinking? And then she realized she hadn’t been in control of herself that night, and who was to say that couldn’t happen again? She’d made great progress, that was true, and she wouldn’t admit it to anyone else, but she worried that maybe, if she felt that same desolation once, it could happen again, couldn’t it? The fact that she had actually tried to do it once – well… ‘At least, that’s how I feel about it at the moment. It was a terrible thing to do. I can see that. But—’ The neutral expression she was working hard to keep in place was beginning to feel very wobbly now. ‘But, although I feel I’d never do anything so stupid again…’
‘You’re not sure?’
‘I wasn’t myself. It was as if I was lost and part of me thought it would be a good idea at the time. I was desperate, but that doesn’t mean…’ She could feel Grace watching her, imagined the crushing concern haunting her eyes.
‘I see.’ Dr. Rouse flicked the pages of his notes once more, stopping eventually and murmuring to himself. ‘They haven’t written you up for any long-term medication.’ He was talking to himself. ‘Perhaps…’ He cast his glance across Evie, considered her for a moment before returning his gaze to the file before him.
‘I’d prefer not to take any more pills.’ She kept her voice even.
‘There’s no harm if you need them, Evie…’ Grace nearly said something more, but then she seemed to catch herself.
‘There are lots of ways to come out of this. You seem like a sensible woman. No need for me to tell you that a bit of exercise every day will do you good. You need to make sure that you’re involved in things – any clubs, hobbies? Golf?’ He wrinkled his nose. ‘Social dancing – it seems to be the thing these days?’
‘No. I’ve never been much of a person for joining things,’ Evie said quietly. Paul admired that about her, the fact that she seemed so contained. ‘But,’ she knew it was her best bet, ‘there’s an over 55s club locally. I could join that. They’re always asking me. It’s not really my cup of tea, but…’
‘Well, that’s going to have to change or else you’ll have to find something that is. I’d rather see you off the medication, but I’m writing you up for something very light. They’re to be taken if you feel you need them.’ Next he turned his attention to Grace, as though he didn’t trust Evie to know her own mind or mood. ‘You need to keep an eye on her. She might not be aware that she’s beginning to slip back down again.’ He eyed Evie again from above his glasses. ‘People do get better, Mrs Starr. It’s hard to see it sometimes, particularly when you’re in the middle of it, but trust me.’ He murmured back at the younger doctor flanking him. ‘Especially here, it often seems as though people are never going to pull out of things, but they do. You have to go out and chase your health, even when you don’t feel up to it. Maybe especially when you don’t feel like it.’ He smiled. ‘You are a good candidate for recovery, but you need to get yourself connected, interested in life.’ He closed the file. ‘Do you think you can do that?’
‘I’ve every intention of trying,’ Evie said and she truly meant it.
*
Annalise dropped by with Jerome and Dylan after they got back to Carlinville. The wind and rain threatened on the weather forecast had made its way back across the Irish Sea during the afternoon. A mulched smell of damp lingered at the door and Evie was glad of the comforting fire Kasia had set earlier in the drawing room.
‘Purpose, that’s it really, Evie. You need a purpose, something to get up for,’ Annalise said as they waited for the kettle to boil.
‘I really don’t fancy the idea of the Active Retirement Group.’ Evie smiled, but she knew that they were her best bet. Perhaps it was the pity, the meaningful glances from all the other widows, glad in some macabre way to have her in their number. ‘But, I suppose…’
‘Did you ever have a hobby you loved?’ Annalise said as she stretched her hands in front of her. ‘Mind you, I don’t think knitting or sewing or anything solitary counts for as much as something more…sociable?’ Annalise inclined her head. ‘What about a new skill? What about learning something different, something to take you out of yourself?’
‘Maybe.’ Evie knew she sounded apathetic, but anything had to be better than slow motion aqua aerobics with a bunch of pensioners with weak bladders.
‘Oh Evie!’ Annalise threw her hands up to her mouth and for a moment, Evie thought something was wrong. ‘I have the perfect thing…’ And she tossed her hair back and began to laugh heartily. ‘You could join the local rally club.’
Evie felt as if someone had thrown her a lifeline.
16
Kasia Petrescu
At work, Kasia snagged as many early shifts as she could. She didn’t want to be leaving the hospital after dark alone. She dreaded what lurked in the darker corners. She assumed that once she left the hospital grounds, she was safe. It was a year since a student doctor was attacked somewhere in the grounds, dragged into undergrowth and silenced with a heavy hand. Later, it turned out she knew her attacker. Kasia felt sick when she heard. She worried less on Friday nights. It was the one night Vasile was almost sure to be at work. ‘Never a great night for tips,’ he’d complain, ‘just the local office workers, bankers, lawyers, too tight to tip.’ Their women, tipsy and easy, held no interest for Vasile.
Kasia left through the back entrance of the hospital, remembering when Paul took her home. She loved the journey home with him, gliding through the wet Dublin night, their conversation light. There was never any tension, no pressure.
She was too lost in thought to notice that she was not alone. It was seven o’clock, a bright evening. Traffic whizzed by her. A sturdy wall bordered the hospital perimeter. She glanced behind her once. Across the road there were only shut shops and cheap rented accommodation. No one was about at this hour. For a while she kept up her pace, but the baby and the ten-hour shift soon took their toll. She felt her breath become ragged. Instinctively, she pulled her jacket closer. At the lights, she spun around, and there he was. His black look told her it was too late to fake a smile. Vasile was beside her in an instant and before she smelled his strong aftershave, his anger pulled the breath from her lungs.
‘I have been waiting for you, Kasia,’ he said. She reached behind herself but there was nothing for support. Her blood pressure suddenly plunged from the roots of her hair right through her limbs and into the path beneath her. ‘You must have known I’d come back for you.’ His voice was thick and the words came fast. She knew the sound well. She knew he was getting ready to throttle her.
‘I have nothing to say to you,’ she managed to get the words out, hoped he couldn’t hear the fear. Part of her wanted him to hit her, to get it over with – anywhere but her stomach.
‘Well, I have plenty to say to you.’ He reached out to grab her but let her go again when he saw two agency nurses make their way towards them. ‘Don’t say a word.’ He waited until they passed, greeting Kasia with a nod as they did so. She wanted to scream at them, to reach out and drag them back to her, but fear kept her rigid. The canteen uniform has an uncanny ability to make you invisible, but also oddly recognizable. Vasile tightened his grip on her arm.
‘Let me go, Vasile,’ she spat at him.
‘Oh, we are getting brave, are we?’ He sneered at her. ‘Little Kasia is growing up, huh?’
‘Let me go, Vasile.’ She pulled her arm free, spat the words at him. ‘I am not going back with you, do you hear? It is over with us.’ Somewhere, deep down, she managed to find some strength. Maybe it was the baby, and maybe it was Grace, or Evie or Annalise?
‘What is so funny?’ Vasile demanded. ‘You think you can laugh at me?’
Kasia stood back, studied long and hard this man who for so long had held her in fear’s grip. ‘I am not afraid of you anymore, Vasile. I am not afraid of you. I have a new life. I am free, and even if you kill
me here on this street… you will not win.’ She pointed upwards to the traffic cameras. Like a benevolent big brother, Dublin was taking care of her. ‘It is not like before. People will want to know what happened to me. You cannot make me disappear now. I have people who care about me.’
‘You? Nobody cares about you! I have told you this many times, Kasia. I am the only one you need. I took care of you in Bucharest; I took care of you here. Even if you forget it, I…’ He made to grab her once more, but she sidestepped him.
‘If you hurt me, I will report it to the guards. If you take me away, and try to keep me with you, they will come looking for me.’ She nodded again towards the camera. ‘You cannot hurt me anymore and if you do, it will be worse for you.’ He hadn’t noticed the baby, so she pulled her bag in front of her. He would not hurt her child.
‘You will never be free,’ Vasile shouted as she walked away. She could hear in his voice the belief that he would win had abandoned him like a wind that suddenly changed direction. He stood there, anchorless, abruptly powerless. ‘You will come running back to me, Kasia. I am the best thing that ever happened to you.’ But he did not follow her.
*
The city glinted rose gold as she travelled home by bus. If she’d felt cocooned in Paul’s car, this was even better. She didn’t need anyone to protect her anymore. She skipped through Howth and the little village basked in the evening sun. She looked at each building, right up to the chimney pots, loved this city even more. A small bakery on the corner released the fragrant flavours of tomorrow’s bread. The smell filled Kasia with even more optimism. She stood outside the door and closed her eyes, enjoying the heat and wafting aromas. When she opened them again, the first thing that caught her attention was the card, lodged by the owner in the window. ‘Staff wanted. Apply within.’ There was no time to think. She knocked loudly at the door. A tubby, smiling man appeared in a flour-sprinkled violet apron from far back in the shop. He shook his head but answered the door.
‘Hi,’ her voice lifted with a new optimism, a sunny orange layer cake sound that made them both smile. ‘I want to be a baker.’ She pointed towards the card that sat securely in the window. ‘I’d like to work in your shop and learn to bake beautiful cakes.’
*
‘We have lots to celebrate!’ Evie was delighted that Kasia had found work in the bakery. ‘He’s lucky to get you.’
‘Oh, I don’t know.’ Kasia was elated, as much from having walked away from Vasile as she was about getting the job. The baby had started to move more now and it only added to her happiness. Sometimes she imagined it twirling about inside her – a magic feeling, like nothing she had ever experienced before.
‘Of course he is. I really admire you, Kasia, going out and finding something that you really want to do.’
‘You never got the chance?’
‘No. There was no real expectation. My parents thought I’d marry well, as they put it. What they meant, of course, was that I would marry money – protestant money, if possible. When that didn’t happen quickly, they assumed I’d just take care of them and then amble into old age myself. I looked after both my parents until they died. That was as much as they wanted for me.’
She flicked on the kettle. It had become a little ritual now. They sat and shared their stories. Kasia looked forward to this part of the day most.
‘It’s as if you’ve taken Paul’s place sometimes,’ Evie said once. ‘We would do this most days. Perhaps it was part of the reason I got stuck here. I was always waiting for him to return.’ She shook her head. ‘Of course, he always did.’
‘And maybe that was the other half of the problem?’
‘Maybe. I spent the first half of my life waiting to meet him; the second part I wasted waiting for him to come back to me. It’s ironic when I think of it like that.’
‘It was different between us.’ Kasia scalded the teapot, flicked the boiling water into the sink.
‘How do you mean?’
‘Well, he never asked me about my day and I never asked about his.’ She set the table. Evie took out brown bread and placed it before her. ‘We talked about everything but the hospital. Sometimes we’d talk about Romania, or my mother or what might happen in the future. I think he knew that things were not good with Vasile.’ She rubbed her hand along long-faded bruising. Maybe some marks never left you. ‘It all adds up, I suppose. A black eye, a bruise, a limp, or maybe something in the way I held myself together.’
‘He would have tried to help, you know?’ Evie said gently.
‘He stopped me in the corridor, had noticed me immediately.’ Kasia smiled. ‘People don’t do that in Romania, it’s not like here. I was so young, not much older than Delilah, but not nearly so sophisticated.’ Kasia remembered that day so clearly, it might have been yesterday. ‘In many ways it was the start of my new life. He said he’d know me anywhere out of my mother. He seemed to know far more about me before we even spoke than I ever knew about him.’
‘He had a way with him all right.’ Evie looked sad now.
‘I was bowled over by him, he was so… different to everyone else I knew. He asked if I would move to Dublin. There were opportunities here; he would look out for me. And he did, he got jobs for Vasile and me in the hospital, we started out as cleaners at first. Then Vasile moved onto the club. I think Paul was relieved to see him go. We would have coffee together on my break, and for the late shifts he would drive me home and soon he drove me almost every night. I looked forward to it. Sometimes we hardly spoke, but it felt good. Mostly he’d drop me off at the flat, but once or twice, we drove around the city, stopped and watched the world go by.’
‘Oh, Kasia, don’t you think he wanted more?’
‘No. It was different with Paul. I can’t explain it, but…’ Kasia smiled a gentle movement that brightened her dusky eyes more than her mouth.
‘And the baby?’
‘The baby is mine; it would always have been that way, even if...’ Kasia wanted to tell her that Paul and she would never have ended up together, but something stopped her. Their relationship had been different to that; he took care of her, looked out for her, he was her friend. Romance had never been on the agenda; it just wasn’t like that. There was never any attraction between them, Kasia was sure of that.
‘I wonder how well you knew him, Kasia?’ Evie shook her head. ‘You know, when I met Paul, in many ways he saved me. I think it was the same for Annalise, maybe for Grace too, even if she doesn’t realize it. I loved him very much, I loved him enough to let him go – or so I thought at the time – but looking back, I wonder. He was a good man, but he was vain too. He wanted to help people, to save them, maybe even more than he wanted to love them. In his own way, I think he tried to save us all, but maybe now we’re learning what you proved tonight: the only one who can save us is ourselves.’
‘Evie, sometimes you are far wiser than you think.’ Kasia raised her cup. ‘A toast to saving ourselves from now on.’
‘Cheers,’ Evie said.
*
Death by Chocolate: a macabre name, but Kasia had to admit, it was very apt. Martin tipped almost a litre of cream to the muddy mixture.
‘I have never tasted anything like it,’ Martin enthused. She’d baked it from scratch, under Martin’s watchful eye, explaining it was to be a gift. Martin was delighted. He told her she had the ‘hands of a fairy and the smile of an angel’. Kasia loved working in the bakery. Her wages were lower, but she knew money couldn’t buy her happiness. And she was learning so much from Martin Locke. He was a master baker, if a somewhat unenthusiastic businessman. It was early mornings, but they’d generally sold out by two, so the day was hers to do with as she wished from then on. It suited Evie too.
They signed Evie up for a week’s activities. A festival of meditation and toddler sports for seniors, but she said she’d go and Kasia couldn’t ask her to do more than that. The cake was for Grace. Tomorrow they would go for lunch and Delilah had warned them it would be
a basic affair, with frozen vegetables and M&S pre-prepared roast. The food didn’t particularly matter to Kasia. She was really looking forward to it. She suspected Evie was too.
*
‘We’ve had a clean out,’ Delilah whispered to Kasia as they sat in the formal, if somewhat bohemian, front room. ‘Mum has gone mad with Indian throws and paintings she picked up at Patrick’s gallery. Neither of us really liked the same kind of stuff as Dad anyway. It was all a bit old fashioned.’
‘How is she?’ Kasia asked while Grace panicked about the roast, refusing offers of help from Kasia or Evie.
‘She’s better than I thought; I think you and Evie have done her good. But…’
‘What is it, Delilah?’
‘She was unhappy for a long time before he died.’ She lowered her voice. ‘Annalise and the boys had Dad. Well, he came here too, but he wasn’t here really.’
‘He never let her move on?’
‘No. He was always popping in to fix this or sort out that. I didn’t help either.’ Delilah let her hair fall across her face.
‘I bet you did everything you could.’ Kasia put her arm around Delilah; they were close enough in age to be sisters, but with her own baby on the way, she felt more like an aunt of sorts. ‘It’s never easy when your parents separate.’
‘No, I blamed her. I completely blamed her for him leaving us. I was such a brat!’ Delilah smiled, but still, she looked as though she regretted what had gone before.
‘It’s natural, isn’t it, to try to blame someone – you don’t blame her anymore?’
‘No, I can see that it wasn’t her fault. He would have left us anyway. But I felt I was being fenced in here, never allowed to meet Annalise or her children. Even before I met them, I felt as if we were connected – doesn’t that sound a bit mad?’
