The Carmel Sheehan Story

by Jean Grainger

  ‘You are quite lovely yourself,’ he grinned as he pulled her down to sit with him, kissing her neck as she leaned back against him.

  She had taken the job gladly and tried to figure out what exactly an events coordinator did. Sharif said not to worry too much, that Maureen had left a filing cabinet full of contacts and a schedule of events on her desk in the office that Carmel now inherited. It all happened so quickly. She had been here only a few short days but it felt much longer.

  Eventually, she took a deep breath to steady herself, pushed the door of the Kaivalya and entered, trying to look approachable, friendly, and competent. The more mobile of the residents shuffled into the sunny dayroom, some were pushed on wheelchairs by staff and others were assisted by visiting relatives. Everyone settled in to hear her first address as coordinator. She was quaking but determined to do her best. Sharif offered to come but she said it might be best just to go it alone. He couldn’t hold her hand forever and she wanted people to see her as a member of the staff, not Sharif’s girlfriend.

  ‘G…good morning everyone and thanks for coming…’

  Oh, God, she sounded like a rubbish comedian.

  ‘I…I don’t mean thanks for coming here, obviously, you are here already, but for coming to listen to me, though this is where you all come every day…’

  She was babbling and she knew it, her nerves were getting the better of her. She stopped and took a deep breath.

  ‘I’m sorry, I’ll start again. I’m not used to speaking to people like this. I think I’ve met some of you already, but just to introduce myself, my name is Carmel, Carmel Mullane, and some of you may remember my mother Dolly.’

  There was excited nudging and whispering. She was still getting used to introducing herself as Carmel Mullane rather than Sheehan. Since she never felt like part of Bill’s family anyway, it seemed stupid to keep his name. This time, her name meant something to her; she was her mother’s daughter and she had the name she gave her.

  ‘So, it’s true, Dr Khan found you? You’re baby Carmel.’ A very elderly lady spoke up in a strong Cockney accent.

  ‘Yes, I suppose I am. Though that was forty years ago. I never knew she was looking for me; I wish I had, and maybe we would have found each other before it was too late.’ Carmel heard her voice crack with emotion.

  Seeing her vulnerability seemed to melt the crowd and, within moments, they had moved forward and were welcoming her warmly.

  ‘Well, we’re glad you’re here, Carmel, and I know it would have meant the world to Dolly, you were all she talked about,’ an old man spoke up from a motorized wheelchair. ‘Most of the people here will have heard of Dolly, even if they didn’t meet her. She was a good sort, old Dolly, always up to some kind of mischief.’ He chuckled.

  That comment seemed to bring general agreement from the gathered crowd of more than twenty-five people. Encouraged by their welcome, Carmel went on, ‘So, Dr Khan has asked me to take over for Maureen and I’m really happy to do it, but I must tell you that I’m new to all of this. I understand that I am responsible for organizing activities, speakers, trips out, classes, and so on, for anyone who is interested. I have the regular schedule, but if I miss out on anything, or there is something you’d like added, please let me know and I’ll try to organize it.’

  The rest of the morning flew by as she spoke to people individually, asking them what things they were interested in. Some people were too ill to even consider activities, but a surprising number of people were able and wanted something to fill the days. One lady called Claire confided in Carmel that she had no idea that she had any aptitude for landscape painting until she came to the hospice, ‘Imagine,’ she smiled, ‘I might have made a fortune had I known sooner.’

  Two old ladies called Sheila and Kate took her to the window to show her the bird feeders they had built for the garden, each one with different sized apertures to attract different birds. Sharif had explained when they spotted them sitting together in the garden on the day Carmel arrived that the women were gay and lifelong partners. When Sheila was diagnosed with stage three lung cancer, Kate cared for her at home until her needs became too complex. They visited Aashna House and decided it was the best place for her. It broke their hearts to be separated and, for the first few months, Kate would appear before breakfast and not leave until after Sheila had gone to bed. One night, the weather outside was treacherous, Sharif suggested a bed be put in Sheila’s room and Kate stay over. She stayed that night and every night since, nobody mentioned it and since everyone had a private room, many patients never even noticed. They were so happy to be reunited and their chat entertained the residents that had few visitors.

  She spoke to Oscar about the yoga classes he held every day at ten-thirty and four-thirty and was amazed at how many residents attended, even though many were very ill indeed. She had to concentrate hard to understand, he had a very strong Scottish accent.

  ‘Sometimes, it might be as simple as facing the wheel chair to the sun and the person raising their arms or even just their hands in a sun salute, while others who are able, do stretches and poses. Yoga isn’t about how much you can do, how far you can stretch, and it’s certainly not a competition, but everyone that does it benefits from it, I really believe that. On sunny days, we try to do it outside, it can take some organizing with mats and chairs and all of that but it’s lovely to hear the birds.’ Carmel instantly warmed to the man, he was wiry and thin with a long grey ponytail and rimless glasses. He smelled of sandalwood and wore loose fitting clothes. She judged him to be in his fifties but his face was unlined and he looked so fit and flexible it was hard to be sure.

  ‘How long have you been teaching yoga?’ she asked.

  ‘Oh, not that long, I’m a late bloomer. I started doing it to de-stress, that’s where I met Sharif, actually. He’s been practicing for years, but we got talking one day. I used to be an investment banker, then a deal I arranged went sour, a lot of people lost a lot of money. I had a nervous breakdown from the stress of it all and ended up in a psychiatric unit after I went crazy and broke up the house. My wife at the time had to call the police; I was out of control. I spent a full year in therapy and part of that was practicing yoga every day, that was nine years ago.’ He smiled, clearly at peace with his past. ‘You should come along to a class, you’d be more than welcome.’

  Carmel longed to try yoga, there had been an ad up in the shop for classes starting in the community centre in Birr a year or so ago, but when she mentioned it to Bill, he said they were probably all drug taking hippies and she’d be better not to be seen mixing with them. She wished now she could have stood up to him but she hadn’t.

  ‘Well, I’m actually supposed to be working, so I don’t know…’ she began.

  ‘Oh, don’t worry about that, a lot of the staff join in, it’s something we encourage for everyone, often Sharif joins us or his mum Nadia, have you met her yet?’

  ‘Er…no, she’s away, visiting some relatives in Pakistan.’ Carmel tried to hide the trepidation in her voice. She was dreading meeting Nadia; she would most likely be horrified that her eligible, successful son had hooked up with someone like her.

  ‘Oh, that’s right, she’ll be back soon though, you’ll like her, she’s great. Anyway, I best crack on, we are going to try downward dog today with a man who has had extensive surgery, but he’s determined to try. See you around and welcome to the team, Carmel.’

  Everyone was so nice. When she’d finished meeting the patients, Ivy told her over a cup of tea some more stories of Dolly. Like the time she arranged a kissogram for the birthday of an old retired school teacher who was very uptight and straight-laced, but when the kissogram turned up, it was one of the young teachers on the staff of his former school making a few extra pounds at the weekends. Both of them were horrified but locked in a code of silence. Nobody in the staff knew the elderly man was sick and he certainly didn’t want it known, so they both had to keep schtum. Ivy’s laughter at the antics of Dolly
caused her to go into a coughing fit.

  Chapter 5

  The weeks flew by and she really got into the swing of the job. London blew her away. It was so gorgeous, the architecture and the history just astounded her. She loved the anonymity, people just accepting all the diversity of mankind and getting on with their own lives. Sharif really enjoyed showing his city to her; he loved London and he knew so much about it. In Brick Lane, they ate curries so hot they blew the top of your head off, and one Saturday morning they took a walking tour to see the street art of the city. She saw paintings by the famous but enigmatic Banksy and was mesmerized by the skill of these graffiti artists.

  Carmel couldn’t believe she was actually there, in places she’d only seen on TV, and here she was looking up at St Paul’s, crossing over Tower Bridge, seeing the changing of the guard at Buckingham Palace. One time, she and Sharif were sitting outside a café at Piccadilly Circus and Prince Charles and Camilla passed by in their car. Carmel nearly squealed with excitement. Slowly, London was feeling like home and she just loved it. Bill and Julia and Birr felt like a lifetime ago.

  Her first month’s salary seemed a gigantic amount of money, but Sharif assured her it was the same salary as Maureen had been on before she left. She had never earned any money before and was totally ill-equipped to deal with spending it. The day Sharif took her to open a bank account, he waited outside while she went in and she didn’t want to seem like a total eejit, having never had a bank account before. She refused all cards, remembering how Bill always said, ‘cash is king,’ and plastic cards were the slippery slope to ruination. When Sharif heard that, he gently sent her back into the branch to ask for a debit card. They’d thought it odd that she didn’t want one in the first place, and assured her it would be in the post in a few days. Her heart almost burst with pride when they asked her for her address. To have an apartment number, one of her very own, and a place to call hers meant so much to her, in a way that nobody could understand.

  The one hundred and eight euro meant for the coal back in Birr lasted her the entire month. Sharif offered, on more than one occasion, to give her an advance, but she refused. Once she got paid, she went into the bank and changed that exact amount from Sterling to Euros and posted it back to Bill. She considered writing a note, or a card or something, but there was nothing to say, so she just posted the cash.

  She did a bit of shopping for the apartment and purchased two blouses for work, she wore black trousers every day that she washed and dried each night on the radiators. There was a tumble dryer, but she didn’t want to run up the bill. The nuns had instilled a terrible fear in her of the electricity bill, so Trinity House was always chilly and damp with wet clothes hung all over the place, and Bill Sheehan would have had a stroke if she suggested getting a dryer when there was a perfectly good line in the garden. Sharif, in desperation one evening, cleared the radiators of clothes, stuffed everything in the dryer, telling her she was making her asthma worse by having excessive moisture in the air and explaining that he didn’t give a monkey’s about the electricity bill.

  One evening, as they sat cuddled up on the sofa watching Planet Earth 2 by David Attenborough on the huge flat screen TV, Sharif casually mentioned that his mother was coming back in two days’ time. Carmel sat up straight, releasing herself from the comfort of his arms.

  ‘Why didn’t you say?’ she asked.

  ‘I’m saying it now. What’s the problem? She’s looking forward to meeting you.’ He tried to draw her back into his embrace.

  ‘But you probably haven’t told her the full story, that I have a husband back in Ireland that I deserted, that I was in care all my life, that I haven’t a bean to my name, and that I’m living here free gratis and for nothing, and that I’m the wrong side of forty…’ Carmel was really getting worked up. Everyone said how close Nadia and Sharif were and she was sure the older woman would have wanted better for her only boy.

  Sharif zapped the TV with the remote and the room went quiet. He sat up and faced Carmel.

  ‘What are you freaking out for? Seriously? Why? She is my mother, I love her and she loves me. All we want for each other is happiness. When my father died, I thought she would fall apart. She might have if it hadn’t been for Dolly. She came to our house every day, made my mother get up, wash, dress, do her hair and makeup, and they walked. Miles and miles and miles every day, sometimes they talked about him, sometimes it was general chat, other times total silence. Dolly knew what she needed. She made her eat, even poured a glass or two of wine down her neck, despite my mother being a teetotaller. At least she was then, now she loves a social drink. Seeing how Dolly managed her life alone made my mother realize she could do it too. It broke Ammi’s heart when Dolly died. As bad, if not worse than the loss of my father, and she wanted her to find you. Over the years, my parents threw a lot of resources into tracking you down, by then they were wealthy, but with no success. She knew I was going to Dublin to meet you, but she had to leave for Pakistan to attend my cousin’s wedding in Karachi. Otherwise, she would have gone to Dublin with me. Her sister’s only daughter was the bride, so she felt she had to go, but she wished me well and demanded daily updates. The idea that we might feel something for each other never occurred to me, and I hate talking on the phone, that’s a conversation for when I see her face to face. But she will be happy; I know she will. She will see that I love you and that you love me and that will be all that she will need.’

  Carmel paled. Sharif said he loved her. He’d never said that to her before and she had never said it to him. Actually, she had never said those words to anyone.

  He blushed slightly and gave a small lopsided smile. ‘You do love me? Don’t you?’ When her eyes filled with tears, he was instantly apologetic. ‘I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have rushed you, it’s only been a few weeks and it’s been such an upheaval for you; I’m sorry, Carmel. Forget I said anything…’

  She shook her head, not trusting herself to speak.

  ‘What? No, you don’t? No, you do?’ Sharif was confused.

  ‘I do…love you, I mean. I just never heard those words before, never, from anyone. I’ve never heard them nor have I ever said them. I…’ she was too choked up to speak.

  Sharif gathered her to his chest and held her tightly. ‘My darling girl, it’s all over now, I swear to you. The misery is over, it’s all good from here on. You have my word. I love you so much, and I will take care of you, we’ll take care of each other, and this is your happy ever after.’

  Two days later, after spending a huge amount of money in the local Waitrose, Carmel was cooking a welcome dinner for Nadia in her very own kitchen. She decided to cook something Irish, mainly because she had no clue what went into Pakistani dishes. The food tasted delicious whenever Sharif took her out to dinner, but it was so exotic she was sure she’d mess it up. She checked and double checked that Nadia wasn’t allergic to anything and she made home-made vegetable soup from scratch with a freshly baked loaf of soda bread to start, followed by roast lamb with all the trimmings, stuffing, gravy, mashed and roast spuds, carrots and parsnips creamed together, and steamed broccoli. For dessert, she was just putting the finishing touches on an apple sponge cake that she was going to serve with custard. Sharif mentioned that his mother enjoyed a glass of white wine, so she bought an expensive bottle; she had no idea what it would taste like, she’d only ever had wine herself a few times with Sharif. Bill used to go down to Seano’s pub for a pint three nights a week, but he never invited her, and she never went to social occasions where the possibility of having a drink would present itself.

  She got the meat from the Halal butcher on the high street, even though Sharif assured her that neither he nor his mother was a strict Muslim. He teased her gently about the elaborate preparations but admitted he was touched she was going to so much trouble and, before going off on his rounds, assured her that his mother was as nervous as she was. She was due to arrive at six and Carmel wanted the place spotless and everythin
g ready by then. Luckily, she had spent her entire life catering for people, so it didn’t faze her and she was confident it would taste nice. She had bought some lilies for the hall table, and they were filling the apartment with their lovely fragrance as she set the table. It gave her a thrill of sheer unadulterated glee to prepare her little home for her first guest.

  It was ten to six. Sharif had assured her he’d be back in time, but she knew how he got waylaid frequently by patients or their families, so was praying he’d make it. She desperately wanted him there when Nadia arrived.

  At three minutes past six, with still no sign of Sharif, the doorbell rang. Carmel quickly untied her apron and hung it behind the broom closet door. She wanted everything looking perfect. She smoothed down her hair and checked her reflection in the big mirror, a bit hot and bothered looking, but there was nothing she could do about that.

  She opened the door to a small, female version of Sharif. The same dark, dark eyes, the same caramel-coloured skin, black hair cut in an elegant style that just stopped short of her shoulders. She had a smooth unlined face, and though she knew she must be at least seventy, she certainly didn’t look it. She was so polished and glamorous looking, Carmel felt dowdy and thrown together by comparison.

  ‘Oh, my word. I can’t believe it. You are the image of your mother, the absolute image.’ She beamed with delight as she entered the apartment, all the time gazing at Carmel. ‘I’m sorry for staring, you must think me so rude but honestly, the resemblance, it’s quite remarkable. It’s as if Dolly is standing in front of me again, all these years later. Oh, how she would have loved to have been reunited with you.’

  Carmel was a little taken aback by the effusive nature of the greeting, but at least Nadia seemed pleased to meet her.

  ‘Thank you, it’s lovely to meet you, Mrs Khan, Sharif has told me a lot about you,’ Carmel managed.