by Anita Notaro
I promised to call her as soon as I knew more, then I felt I simply had to go and see Connie, even though I was dreading it. Naturally, Clodagh wanted to come as well, so we headed off in her car.
Maddy’s mum lived in an ordinary housing estate on the North-side of Dublin in a four-bed semi with a neat garden and snow-white net curtains. A couple of photographers kept a discreet distance, and across the road a TV crew was setting up. It made the whole thing seem absurdly real.
Once inside, I was struck by the silence. Maddy’s family was like an unsophisticated version of the Waltons, she always said, and in the early days I kept asking – ‘How can anyone call the Waltons sophisticated?’ – to which she always replied, ‘You haven’t seen my lot around the dinner table.’ As I got to know them over the years, I understood what she meant. Well, today, the big, noisy, unruly bunch was so quiet you’d think all of them had been silenced by a hit-and-run driver as well. When Connie saw me she just held out her arms, and I fell into them. ‘Ah, Lulu, love, how am I ever going to get through this? What’ll we all do without her, eh?’ The rest of my tears came then, they gushed out of me as if someone had just severed a pipe, and eventually I had to pull back and allow Clodagh some time. What made it all the more surreal was that I hadn’t seen Connie for a while but at the launch the previous night I’d sat with her for half an hour while she told me how proud they all were of Maddy. One by one the members of her family came to hug me, cry with me and tell me how much she’d loved me. ‘It was the last thing she yelled at me last night,’ I told Carla, her younger sister, through my tears. There were seven children in all, and Connie had been a widow for years. They were a typical working-class family made good. Connie’s husband had scrimped and saved and bought this house shortly after their marriage. When he died he left her a decent pension and she’d gone out to work at night in order to educate the children. Even though she’d only two left at home, she still ruled the family like a mafia boss. Maddy and I had shared many a joke about her family over the years, and I’d attended nearly all of their celebrations – weddings, anniversaries and christenings. They were remarkably close, lived in each other’s ears, welcomed every friend they met and, many times down through the years when I’d been lonely within my own family, they’d made me part of theirs. Hardly any meeting would occur where Connie wouldn’t remind me, ‘Don’t be a stranger, treat this as your second home, darlin’.’ I knew I might need that comfort now.
‘Lulu, I was just wondering, is there anyone else we need to tell?’ Sonia, Maddy’s eldest sister, asked. ‘The TV people are all in total shock, they’ve been on a couple of times. A few of the executives have asked if they can call over, but I’ve told them Mum’s not up to it at the moment.’
‘I think you’re right to protect her,’ I told Sonia. ‘There’s going to be a lot of interest in you as a family for the next while, so you need to be careful.’
‘Actually, I wanted to ask you, would you handle the media? It’s just that we’ve no idea, really, and you’re used to dealing with all sorts of situations.’
‘Yes, of course, I’ll do anything to help, you know that. I suggest you just stop answering the phone for the moment, unless you know who it is. And maybe I should put a message on the answering machine asking callers who are not family or personal friends to call my number? Would that be a good idea, do you think?’
‘Oh yes, that would be brilliant. I think there are already several requests for one of us to make a statement.’ She sighed. ‘You’re so good, thank you.’ She hugged me, and I was just about to go to work on it when I remembered Ronan.
‘Oh my God, you know Maddy was seeing someone?’ I asked Sonia. ‘Has anyone spoken to him? Does he know about this?’
‘No, he never entered my head, to be honest. We all only met him for the first time last night. What’ll we do?’ She looked terrified.
‘I need to speak to him.’ All I could think of was that he’d already lost one woman he cared about. I’d no idea how he’d deal with this.
‘Clodagh, I need to ring Ronan O’Meara.’ I cornered her as she walked past with yet another tray of tea. ‘I don’t know if he knows.’
‘Oh my God, I’d forgotten all about him, should one of us go to see him?’ She was thinking aloud.
‘Yes, you’re right. But he may already know.’ I took a deep breath and dialled his number.
‘Hi there.’ I knew as soon as he spoke that he didn’t know. ‘I’d say you three have a hangover.’
‘Ronan, I need to talk to you. Are you in Dalkey?’ I was trying not to give too much away, but hearing him sounding so normal made me want to bawl again.
‘No, I’m driving back from a meeting in Howth. Is something wrong?’
‘Are you still on the Northside or have you crossed the toll bridge?’
‘Just at Clontarf, why?’
‘I’m actually on the Northside myself – will you park in that car park beside the toilets and opposite that coffee shop near the church? I’ll be there in less than five minutes.’
‘OK, sure. I’m stopped at traffic lights about three or four minutes away, if it’s the one I think it is.’ He sounded wary. ‘Lulu, is something up? You sound strange.’
‘I’ll tell you when I see you’ was all I could think of. I had no idea how I was going to break the news. He’d had enough tragedy with women he cared about.
I jumped into Clodagh’s car and headed off. She wanted to come with me, but she didn’t really know him and I felt he’d need a bit of breathing space. My heart was hammering as I pulled up. I saw him immediately but he didn’t recognize me in a strange car. He was on his mobile, chatting away, unconcerned. I said a quick prayer and walked towards him.
‘Hi.’ He leaned across and opened the car door for me. ‘What’s up?’
‘Ronan, it’s Maddy.’ I’d no idea where to start.
‘What’s happened this time?’ He was smiling. Everyone knew that Maddy always had some drama going on. ‘I left her a message earlier but haven’t heard back.’
‘There’s been an . . . accident. Last night, on the way home. Ronan, I’m so sorry, but it’s not good news.’
‘Is she OK? Where is she?’ He still didn’t look as if he was prepared for what I had to say, but then is anyone, ever?
‘No . . .’ I couldn’t say it.
‘Jesus Christ, Lulu, what happened?’
‘She left me and took a cab home. As she crossed the road to her house a car came speeding around the corner and hit her head on.’
‘Is she OK? Is she alive?’ He spoke so quietly I almost didn’t hear it, but I knew I had to find the words.
‘Ronan, I’m so sorry.’ I hesitated but he needed to hear it. ‘She didn’t make it.’
‘No.’ He stared at me. ‘No,’ he repeated, then shook his head. ‘Not Maddy, she had too much life in her.’
I started crying again then and we sat, our heads close together, and I knew he was crying too.
‘Come back to her mum’s house with me,’ I suggested, hoping it would bring him some comfort, being with those who loved her most.
‘I don’t think I can,’ he said. ‘It’s odd, because I didn’t know her as well as any of her friends, really. But we’d talked a lot these last few days, and we even had a weekend away planned and now . . . all this is just such a shock. I can’t quite believe what you’re telling me.’ He put his head in his hands.
‘I know, it’s hard to imagine. I don’t think it’s quite sunk in with me yet. Every so often it hits me and it’s as if someone’s just kicked me in the stomach I get such a jolt.’ I knew I couldn’t leave him like this. ‘Please come back to the house for a little while. Connie, her mum, would love to see you,’ I tried again.
‘OK so.’ He was in shock.
‘Swap places, I’ll drive.’ I got out, and so did he. I locked Clodagh’s car, and we made the short journey in silence. When I pulled up outside the house, he was taken aback by the media presenc
e.
‘Sorry, I should have warned you.’ I could have kicked myself. ‘It was always going to be a news story, but with the show and the launch last night it’s taken on even more significance. Are you OK?’
He nodded, and we went inside. Photographers snapped, but I suspected they were simply taking shots of everyone.
Inside, Connie got upset again when she saw Ronan, and he looked a bit bemused to be surrounded by Maddy’s entire family, some of whom he hadn’t met before. A garda who’d arrived just as we’d pulled up followed us inside to let us know there was going to be a report on the lunchtime news on television, in case there was anyone else we needed to inform. I double-checked with Sonia, and she confirmed that all their relations had been told and the production company were taking care of her colleagues and friends, including those from Southside Girls, her last project. My phone rang. It was Mike.
‘Is everything OK?’ he asked as soon as I answered. ‘There’s a rumour doing the rounds that Maddy was in some sort of accident on her way home. I just heard it and I couldn’t find out anything else so I decided to check in with you.’
‘Oh Mike, it’s awful, the worst possible thing to have happened.’ I started crying again and I wanted him near me all of a sudden.
‘Tell me,’ he said very quietly. ‘Is she OK?’
‘She’s dead’ was all I could manage.
‘Jesus Christ’ was all I heard and for a second neither of us spoke. He must have sensed something of my need, because all he said was, ‘Where are you? I’ll come.’
I gave him Maddy’s address, and he said simply, ‘It’ll be OK, I’m on the way. Call if you need me to do anything else.’ Then he hung up, and the idea of him being there for me made me cry even more.
36
I HADN’T FULLY REALIZED HOW MUCH I NEEDED HIM UNTIL I SAW him. Up until now, it had always been Maddy who’d been there for me, and the idea of him dropping everything and getting to me as fast as he could gave me the only minuscule bit of comfort I’d had since I’d heard the awful news. The other thing about him was that he had ‘got’ Maddy – as soon as I’d introduced them I could see that – and to me that meant he understood my loss.
‘Come ’ere to me’ was all Mike said as he came through the door. Then he held me so tight that for the first time I felt there was a possibility that somehow I’d survive.
‘You’ll be OK,’ he just kept repeating as he rubbed my back and when eventually he saw Clodagh and went to her, I felt cold without him.
He sat with Maddy’s mum for ages, and when I brought them tea he was holding her hand and listening intently.
‘Thanks, love, what would I do without you?’ She looked so old suddenly that it shocked me. I thought of all the times Maddy had laughingly told me that everyone in the family was terrified of Connie – well, today I was terrified for her. ‘Are you OK?’ she asked me. ‘She’s always looking after other people, never herself,’ she told Mike. ‘Maddy always said so.’
Mike stood up and put his arms around me again. ‘I’ll mind you,’ he told me as he kissed my head, and I wanted to tell him that he made me feel safe but I hadn’t the courage to say it.
I had to go outside then and make a statement on behalf of the family to the assembled media. It was one of the hardest jobs I’d ever had to do, so I kept picturing how Maddy would have laughed if she’d heard I was going to be on the six o’clock news. I kept it brief, simply said how shocked and devastated the family were and asked for privacy. The gardai had also asked me to appeal for any witnesses to come forward, which was the main purpose of doing it.
Later, Connie decided she wanted to watch the news to see what they said. They showed a clip of Maddy in the new series, which I wasn’t prepared for, even though we’d been warned to expect it. I managed to bite my lip, but when they showed some footage of the press launch the previous night and a shot appeared of the two of us laughing with our arms around each other, it sent me over the top again. I was ashamed of myself, crying in front of her family, who were all trying to hold it together. Mike appeared behind me suddenly and rubbed my back again. ‘Remember her like that,’ he whispered into my hair. ‘That’s what she would have wanted.’ I nodded, and when I looked at Connie the tears were streaming down her face too.
Ronan O’Meara left shortly afterwards. He wasn’t quite sure how to handle all this, I suspected. He’d been close to Maddy, but they’d barely started out as a couple and now he had been thrust into the role of grieving boyfriend. I’d been keeping an eye on him, and I encouraged him to head off, sensing he needed the head space.
‘I’m not sure what my role is in all of this,’ he told me, confirming my earlier suspicion. ‘I want to do whatever she would have wanted.’
‘Well, how about you and I stay together during the funeral, that way we can be as close as the family need us to be without overshadowing them?’ I suggested. ‘I’m not sure what to do either.’ And in a way that was true. Maddy had been closer to me than any member of my family, and right now I felt as if I’d lost a sister, mother and best friend all at once, yet we weren’t related so I had no real idea what my role was either.
‘That would be great, thanks. I’ll stay in touch, if that’s OK?’ He looked far away. ‘Just in case there’s anything that needs doing, relatives collected, messages picked up, that sort of thing. I’ve been there, so I know how addled you can get, forgetting the most basic stuff.’
I hugged him, and he held on for a long time. I wondered again whether it would have worked between them. In many ways, he still wasn’t ready, and the fact that he hadn’t shared a lot with her spoke volumes.
About an hour later, Mike insisted on dropping Clodagh and I back to collect her car. We’d decided that I’d stay at her place so that we’d be nearer the family in case they needed us, and Mary had taken over Pete’s care so I was free. She’d been another of my rocks; she’d phoned all my clients to explain what had happened then gone out to Bray to get clothes and all the bits I needed.
Mike dropped us off, then insisted on collecting food, so we lit the fire and curled up and when he got back the three of us ate pizza that no one really wanted while Clodagh and I reminisced about our friend.
He left shortly afterwards and told me to call him any time. He had to go to London the following morning on business but he’d cancelled as many of the meetings as he could and was planning to return the following evening.
The next day was even harder, mainly because neither Clodagh nor I had slept much and, also, reality had finally sunk in. That had happened for me as soon as I saw the newspapers. The story was front-page news everywhere, and most of the tabloids had shots of Maddy at the launch, looking alive and happy and carefree. My stomach heaved as I began to read, and eventually Clodagh suggested that maybe it was a bit too much for us at this time and so we agreed to put them away until we felt more able to cope.
Mike kept in touch, as did Ronan, and I got the nicest messages from my clients, delivered by Mary, who bought me a magnificent specimen plant with a card that said I should grow it near my kitchen window so that I’d always remember her. Emily left a hamper of home-baked goodies in the office for the family, Louis arrived with an armful of white, scented flowers and cried with me because he’d cared for Maddy too, and even Denis Cassidy had delivered a beautiful letter with a single rose to Connie’s house for me. Each message reduced me to tears, and the ease with which they flowed told me that I was mourning for all that Maddy had represented in my life but which I hadn’t realized until I’d lost her.
The gathering for the removal to the church was a bigger shock for Connie than the rest of us, I think, mainly because she’d been so isolated and protected over the few days. The short evening ceremony ended up taking almost two hours, as queues of people lined up to shake hands and offer support, including some well-known faces Maddy had worked with in television.
No one got much sleep after that, I suspected. When Clodagh arrived in the kit
chen shortly after me the following morning, it was barely six o’clock and the sky was still sooty-black. I was sitting at her table going through the few words that Connie had asked me to say at the end of the mass, and I wondered aloud if I’d manage to hold it all together.
‘You will,’ Clodagh assured me. ‘You’re one of the strongest people I know.’ She took away my mug and made a fresh pot of tea and a plate of toast, then we sat and reminisced again, which was all we seemed to do now.
* * *
When we arrived at the church, Mike was there, looking very different in a beautifully cut dark suit and white shirt, his tie lending the only splash of colour to an otherwise grey crowd.
‘All I could see was black until I spotted you,’ I told him. ‘I’m glad you wore that tie – Maddy would have approved.’
‘Like everything else that screams “Notice me” in my life, it was chosen by Louis.’ He grinned. ‘He’s around here somewhere and, if you think I’m garish, wait until you see his jacket. It’s not for the faint-hearted.’
I smiled, glad of the diversion his words brought to my grief-soaked brain, which was his intention, I suspected. ‘I think I spotted him as we drove in.’ I smiled. ‘It’s loud all right.’
‘Well, he claims he met Maddy in town on the day he bought it – just before your Christmas party – and she loved it. He was saving it for a special occasion, and he’s been so out of sorts since he heard the news that when he announced this morning that she would have wanted him to wear it I didn’t have the heart to tell him it sucked.’
‘Is he OK?’ I asked. ‘I’d forgotten that all this will bring back a lot of memories of when Emerson died, and it hasn’t really been that long.’
‘Yeah,’ Mike said softly. ‘I think he’s finding it tough. He really liked Maddy too. She had this ability to cut through all the bullshit so you sort of felt you knew her well, when in fact neither of us knew her at all, really.’
