by Andrea Mara
Seth and Jamie bounce off the couch, Scooby Doo utterly forgotten. They race out to the hallway to open the door, and Kate follows, smiling, caught up in their excitement. Sam’s tall frame fills the doorway and he stoops, arms out, to gather both boys in.
Laura comes downstairs and ushers them all into the kitchen, then sets about making tea.
Sam turns to Kate and grins.
“Nice to be home – kind of home,” he says, kissing her on the cheek.
“Good to see you,” she whispers, and she means it more than she’d thought she would.
Laura pours tea and asks Sam if he’s eaten – he says he has – and the boys start to search his bag for presents.
“Seth, Jamie, stop!” Kate tells them. “You know that’s rude – Dad didn’t have time to get presents. Now, I let you stay up till Dad arrived as long as you promised to go straight up then, so scoot and brush your teeth – Dad will be up to do stories tonight.” And Kate will have a very large glass of wine, she thinks, and a very long lie-in tomorrow morning.
As soon as Sam heads upstairs with the boys, Kate goes into the living room and flops full-length on the couch. It is blissfully quiet and she almost dozes off.
Eventually Laura joins her, bearing a bottle of wine and three glasses.
“You read my mind,” Kate says and gratefully accepts a glass.
“So, what have you got planned for tomorrow?” Laura asks, sitting down. “Will the four of you head into Galway maybe and get lunch?”
“Eh, no, I’ll head in on my own. It’s definitely me-time. I need shops and coffee and nobody needing me. Sam can do stuff with the boys – they’ll be delighted.”
“Aha! And does Sam know this?”
“Not yet, but he can’t complain, can he?” Kate says, taking a welcome sip.
“I suppose not. And sure you can do something tomorrow afternoon. What time will he be heading back on Sunday?”
“Don’t know, Mum. I haven’t really thought past tomorrow’s escape, to be honest. I’m mostly thinking about Brown Thomas and shoes and cappuccinos at this point.”
“Well, just be sure to let your husband know when he comes back down – he may not realise you have this escape plan.”
Laura picks up the remote control to put on the Nine O’Clock News. There’s a flicker of light at the centre of the screen of the tiny, box-shaped TV, and slowly, slowly, the picture emerges. The headlines have already started by the time sound joins picture.
“ . . . and the Central Bank says it will take the matter under advisement.
In other news, Gardaí investigating the fatal shooting at an apartment complex in Dublin 2 on June 19th last are renewing their appeal for witnesses, specifically anyone who saw a tall, dark-haired man in the vicinity, or a bike courier, at about ten o’clock in the morning. The shooting is believed to be drug-related, although the victim, Austin Granger, son of Independent TD Maureen Granger, worked as a stockbroker, and was not known to Gardaí.”
The door opens and Sam looks in. “Hey – does anyone need anything before I come in? Boys are down now.”
“We’re fine, come on in and sit down – you must be tired after the drive,” Laura says. “Glass of wine?”
“Yes, please, that’d be great.” Sam stands at the door looking unsure, then comes in and sits on the old red-velvet wing-tipped chair near the TV.
Kate smiles to herself. At home they sprawl on the same couch, but visiting the in-laws is still visiting the in-laws. Well, just one in-law really. A sudden pang hits her, as it occurs to her that her father has never met Sam. Where has that come from? He’s never met the boys either, and she’s thought about that on and off since they were born, but it hasn’t struck her before that he’s never met Sam. Well, it’s his own fault. Asshole. Looking over at her mother, she wonders if there has been any contact over the years – even through lawyers. Her mum never mentions him, and she never asks.
“How’s everything going with the house, Sam?” Laura asks as she hands him a glass of wine.
“Not bad, though there’s still loads to do. My cousin’s been giving me a dig-out with it, thank God.”
“Any more run-ins with your man across the road?” Kate asks.
“No, haven’t seen him since. What an idiot! You have to wonder what he has going on in his life that he was ready to call the Guards over a parking problem.”
“And has Miller left you in peace?” Kate asks, glancing at her mum.
Sam shifts in the seat. “Actually, he did call in one evening. I meant to tell you. I thought he’d forgotten you were here, but he said he knew that, and was calling to see me.”
“Oh God, will he ever get the message?”
“Kate,” Laura says, “that’s not fair.”
“Mum, come on! What is he doing calling in annoying Sam when we’re not even there?” She turns back to Sam. “What did he even talk about?”
“Well, nothing, to be honest. I made tea and we sat at the kitchen table, and he said nothing. I asked him about his flat and his flatmate and his, um, novel, but he didn’t really reply.”
“And did he stay long?”
“Around forty-five minutes.”
“Oh Sam, that’s ridiculous – it’s okay to tell him you have things to do or to not answer the door when he calls.”
“Ah no, I’d feel bad doing that – it’s no hassle,” Sam says.
Laura turns to Kate, frowning. “Come on, that’s really not nice. Your brother needs family support, and you’re all he’s got in Dublin.”
“Fine, Mum, but it’s not fair for Sam to have to deal with him when I’m not there.”
“Well, what if I invite him to stay down here for a few weeks, while you’re here?”
“No!” Kate sits up straight. “Mum, don’t. Leave him where he is. I don’t want him around the boys too much.”
Laura’s cheeks go red and when she answers her voice is low and tight. “Kate. I won’t have you saying things like that. He’s my son, and he’s your brother. He’s had his problems, but he deserves our love and support – that’s what families do.”
“Fine, Mum, but just don’t go out of your way to invite him down, okay?” Kate turns to Sam. “Anyway, Sam, were the boys happy enough going to sleep?”
Sam’s engrossed in a message on his phone, and doesn’t hear her.
“Sam? Did the boys settle down all right?”
“Sorry.” He puts down his phone and takes a sip of wine. “All good. I read them a couple of stories and then they were out like lights.”
“That was close earlier – when they were searching your bag – did you get to hide it away?”
“Hide what away?”
“Seth’s present.”
“Oh shit!”
“Sam! Please say you didn’t forget to pick it up?”
“I did pick it up, I just forgot to pack it – it’s still at home. But sure I’ll be down for his birthday anyway – I’ll bring it then.”
“I know, but I wanted to wrap it up with the other bits I’ve picked up – that was the only thing I asked you to bring. How could you forget?”
“Oh, come on, it’s not a big deal, Kate. I’ve a lot going on – it just slipped my mind.”
“Your own son’s birthday slipped your mind?”
Laura excuses herself, saying something about setting the table for breakfast.
“That’s not fair – you know what I mean,” Sam says. “I came straight from work, so I packed in a hurry this morning – I just didn’t think to pack the Scalextric. Sorry. But look, I’m after driving all the way down here and now you’re giving out to me – can we not do this?”
Kate stares straight ahead as she picks up her wine again.
“What, so you’re going to ignore me now?” Sam asks.
“What do you want me to say? That you deserve a medal for coming to see your wife and kids a whole week later than planned?”
“Jesus, Kate, I wish I hadn’t bothered at all. I�
��m going to bed.” Sam downs his wine in two gulps and walks out of the room.
He leaves the door open. So much more annoying than a satisfying slam, Kate thinks, as she gets up to close it.
Laura comes back in, wiping her hands in a tea towel.
“Were you a bit hard on him there, love?”
“Mum, he’s just not even meeting me halfway any more when it comes to the kids. I have to do everything – order everything, organise everything – if it wasn’t for me, nothing would happen at all. I’m just fed up. He thinks because he has a job and I don’t, that lets him off the hook.”
“Then talk to him. Don’t sulk – talk.”
“I’m not sulking, but I’m not in the mood for talking either. Let’s just put something on TV.”
Upstairs, they can hear Sam moving around, then silence. He’s really gone to bed. This isn’t the visit Kate had imagined. Tomorrow will be better.
Chapter 21
Kate – Saturday, July 16th
Snoring. She’d forgotten all about Sam’s snoring in just two short weeks, and somehow it’s even louder in her mother’s house. She pushes him over onto his side and tries to go back to sleep but it’s no use. Early-morning sun is creeping in under the slatted blinds, and suddenly the appeal of a quiet run on the beach is far greater than any futile attempt at sleep. She puts on her running gear and, leaving a note for Sam, creeps out of the house.
The run is everything she’s missed for the last two weeks: the early sun on her face, the salty air, and the empty beach stretching out for miles. When it’s enough, she slows to a walk, and heads towards Jan’s Café at the edge of the village. There are no other customers at this early hour, and she takes her cappuccino outside to sit in the small outdoor terrace. Instinctively she reaches for her phone, but decides to leave it face down on the table. Ten minutes with sun and coffee and nothing else would be better than anything else she could do right now. She closes her eyes.
A chair dragging against the paving stones startles her, and she opens her eyes again. An elderly woman makes a slow but steady descent onto a chair at a nearby table, and nods at Kate. A man – presumably the woman’s son – joins her, carrying a tray with tea and scones. They begin a conversation about the weather and move on to a rundown of what a seemingly huge number of children are doing now – possibly the man’s family. He pauses and seems to be about to say something, but doesn’t. The woman carries on asking about the children. It sounds as though she’s mixing up their names – even Kate can remember that Isaac is twelve and Amy is ten – it’s not the other way around. If he’s impatient, the man hides it well.
Jan comes to ask if Kate would like another coffee, but she decides against it. Five more minutes, then she’ll head for home.
The man and his mother are still chatting – she’s just visiting for the weekend and will go home tomorrow morning. Kate can see the son is holding a brochure under the table – she can’t make out what’s on it, but he seems unsure about showing it to his mother. What could it be, Kate wonders. A holiday he’s planned? But why the hesitation? More like a care home, she speculates. Now the woman is talking quite loudly about her cat and how much she misses him this weekend – she says she should never have left the cat with her neighbour and won’t do it again. The man nods, and quietly crumples the brochure into his pocket.
With her peace well and truly broken, Kate takes out her phone and clicks into Facebook. But scrolling through pictures of everyone she knows on beaches all around the world having the best time ever, does not, it turns out, make her feel amazing, so she closes Facebook and tries Twitter.
Something makes her look up, and she finds the elderly lady staring at her. She stares back for a beat, then turns to her phone again.
“I know you,” says the lady.
Oh great. A little old lady striking up a random conversation – she’s really not in the humour for this. The son will surely jump in to stop her – Kate keeps looking at her phone.
“Excuse me, but aren’t you Kate Jordan? Laura Jordan’s daughter?”
Her stomach does a somersault. Nobody has called her Kate Jordan for thirty years. She looks up, smiles, and shakes her head.
“You are – it is you! Look, Bernard, don’t you remember Kate who lived next door? You were only about ten years old at the time, Kate, but I remember you – you look exactly like your mother did then. Is she still alive?”
Oh dear God. Mrs Daly from next door in Carnross. Kate feels suddenly sick. Bernard, who Kate remembers as a troublemaking little brat, is smiling over at her now too. Her throat feels blocked – they’re waiting for her to answer but no words are coming out. She stares helplessly at Mrs Daly.
“Have you been back at all, Kate – to Carnross? Do you see your father much?”
“I have to go,” she manages finally, pushing out her chair, and knocking the cappuccino cup onto the ground.
She tries to pick up the pieces, and Bernard comes over to help. Jan comes out with a dustpan and brush and tells all of them she’ll take care of it. Grateful for the distraction, Kate picks up her phone and turns to leave.
“We didn’t all blame your family, you know, Kate,” says Mrs Daly softly.
Kate stops for a moment and then keeps going, back towards the beach and the B&B, wishing she’d stayed in bed.
Back at the B&B, everyone is up and sitting around the kitchen table eating breakfast. Conversations are flying over and back between the boys and Sam and Laura, and nobody notices that Kate is quieter than usual. She could tell her mum later about Mrs Daly. Or maybe not at all.
The boys want to know what the plan is, and Sam suggests a family day at the beach.
Kate ignores the pointed look from her mother. “Actually, I was going to head into town myself – I’ve a few things to get. I thought you could take the boys out?” She focusses intently on buttering her toast.
Sam doesn’t answer, and she glances up at him. He’s annoyed.
She puts down her knife and sighs. “Sam, I’ve had them for two weeks – I just need a morning to myself. We can meet later and do something, right?”
“Fine. I thought we’d do something as a family. But no worries – you do your thing and we’ll do ours. Won’t we, boys?”
She’s not taking the bait. She’s got her morning to herself and that’s all that matters. She quickly finishes her breakfast. “Boys, give me a kiss in case you’re gone when I get out of the shower,” she says, grabbing Seth and Jamie for quick hugs before heading up the stairs.
In her bedroom, Sam’s phone is buzzing in the middle of the bed. She reaches over to pick it up but it’s stopped. “Missed call, N” pops up on screen. Who is N – why just an initial? She brings the phone back downstairs and hands it to Sam, telling him she didn’t catch it in time. He looks at the screen.
“Work,” he says, pocketing the phone. “So annoying on a Saturday. Well, they can wait. I’m on my holidays, right, boys?” He picks Jamie up and tickles him.
Kate goes back upstairs. She smiles. It’s only for a few hours, but she’s free.
Her phone beeps – Sam wants to know where she is. They’re back at the B&B already. Crap. She checks the time – how is it quarter past two? It feels like she’s only been here five minutes. Putting down her shopping bags, she replies to say she’ll be home by three. No response. He’s annoyed. She probably shouldn’t have got her nails done – that took up too much time. Then again, they’re very pretty, she thinks, admiring them in the light. Right, two more shops, then back to the car. Well, maybe one more takeaway coffee too, and she’d take a cake home to the rest of them – that would clear the air.
In the end, it’s almost four o’clock when she pulls into the driveway. She leaves the bags in the boot for now and lets herself in. The boys are playing with a Frisbee in the garden, and Sam is leaning against the counter in the kitchen, looking at his phone.
“What took you?” he asks, looking up.
“Sorry, tr
affic was horrendous on the way back out of town.”
“But even at that I thought you’d be home much sooner – what about the plan to do something?”
“Well, why don’t we all go out for dinner? The boys would love it, and we could treat Mum if she doesn’t need to be here for guests tonight.”
“You know what, Kate, I’m not in the mood to play happy families tonight. Your mum said she has a stew on – that’ll do. And anyway, I’ve to head back early in the morning. Pity we’ve hardly had two minutes together since I got here.”
He puts his phone in his pocket and walks upstairs, leaving Kate speechless in the kitchen. This isn’t the Sam she knows. Fuck. She pushed it too far. But he’s overreacting too. And what’s with heading back early in the morning? Sure he was hardly here at all. What was the point in even coming? She turns to follow him upstairs, ready to tell him exactly that, but thinks better of it and stays put.
Laura comes in from the garden with a basket of washing. She gives Kate a look but says nothing.
“Mum, remember Mrs Daly who used to live next door to us?”
Laura stops and puts the basket down on the floor. “Yes – why?”
“What was she like?”
“Oh, she was as nosy! Always asking questions when she’d see me. ‘How’s your husband, Mrs Jordan – he must be doing well for himself now he’s taken over the practice?’ – that kind of thing. Forever looking at the car, or asking me where my coat was from. And once she said she’d seen Father Burke come out of Richard’s office and then she stopped and waited as if I was going to fill her in on the parish legal affairs! Not that I’d know anyway – your dad was nothing if not ethical when it came to work.”
