So I oblige and introduce her to Evie and Mae.
‘I don’t know how to play this game,’ she admits.
‘I’ll show you,’ Evie tells her and within a few minutes the two of them are giggling away like best friends.
Mae nudges me and I mouth, ‘I know!’ Seeing Evie so relaxed with someone new is something we’ve not seen for a long time. She looks happy.
Then Judith and Lorna join us too and it begins to feel like a party. The coals of the barbecue are still glowing and with the lanterns twinkling in the twilight, the campsite starts to grow on me.
‘So how long are you in Europe for?’ Mae asks.
‘About three months. But we’re flexible,’ Lorna says.
‘Wow. We thought eight weeks was a long trip!’ Mae says.
‘Well in total we’re on a year-long trip,’ Lorna replies. ‘We decided to quit the rat race and take a year’s sabbatical.’
‘Okay. Now you’ve got my attention!’ Mae replies. ‘What about school for Lulu? Sorry, I’m a teacher, just being nosey here.’
‘We’re home-schooling,’ Lorna says. ‘And Lulu is already months ahead of her curriculum, so it’s working out for us.’
‘That’s impressive,’ I say. ‘What made you decide to take off?’
‘For me I’d been feeling restless and frustrated for months. I felt dissatisfied with life, I suppose,’ Lorna says. ‘Like there had to be more to it than the humdrum days our life had become.’
‘It’s not that we weren’t okay at home,’ Judith jumps in. ‘Lulu was happy in school and we have a nice house at home. We both had jobs.’
‘Are you married to each other?’ Jamie squeaks, to which Evie gives him a box on his arm, saying, ‘Sshhh …’
But luckily they all laugh and Lorna says, ‘Yes, Judith is my wife.’
‘But you’re a woman. And so is she,’ Jamie says.
‘I am,’ she replies. She’s smiling and taking his questions in her stride.
‘So you have two mammies?’ Jamie asks Lulu.
‘Yep,’ Lulu answers and she looks a bit defensive. I’m about to intervene and tell Jamie to quit his questions, when he just says, ‘Cool,’ and continues drinking his juice.
‘Sorry about that. Seven-year-old inquisitive mind. Please go on,’ Mae says.
‘No apologies needed. Nice he shows an interest. Well, one day I was online and came across a blog about a Canadian family who were touring the world. I started to read about their experiences and the more I read, the more my heart hungered for a similar experience,’ Judith admits.
‘So she came home and said to Lulu and me that she wanted us to take a year out. We thought she’d lost it,’ Lorna laughs. ‘But then the more we talked about it, the more the idea appealed to us. I realised that I still have dreams that are not yet fulfilled. Maybe a year out can help me work out what I want to do.’
‘Wow,’ Mae says. ‘So what happened then?’
‘Well, I’m a freelance journalist, so I realised that I could still work, no matter where we lived. I write features about my travels,’ Judith says. ‘And last month, I started to work on a novel. I’ve always wanted to do that, but never seemed to find the time.’
‘That’s fantastic,’ Mae tells her. ‘You’ve worked out what you want to do already!’
We all clink our glasses to that.
‘And what about you, Judith? Are you more content now?’ I ask her.
‘Well, yes … and no. I’m happy, I love Lorna and Lulu and I’m getting great pleasure in the simple things. But I still haven’t worked out what I want to do when this year is up. I do know that I’ll never go back to working in an office again,’ Judith replies.
We’ve all stopped playing cards now, caught up in the magic of their story.
‘What do you do, Olly?’ Lorna asks.
‘I’m a stay-at-home dad,’ I reply. I knew she was going to ask me this and I hate how crap my answer makes me feel. I shouldn’t be ashamed. But I am.
‘Good for you,’ Lorna says.
‘It wasn’t by choice,’ I admit. ‘I’ve spent years working as an accountant, but was made redundant. So now I need to figure out what to do next. Like you, I know I don’t want to go back to that type of role again.’
‘I hear you,’ Judith says.
‘Must have been tough losing your job, though,’ Lorna sympathises.
‘Yeah, it was at the time. For all of us – Mae in particular. But I’ve enjoyed the past year all the same, spending time at home.’ And it’s only as I say this, I realise that I’ve not really acknowledged that before. I’ve spent the past year thinking only about how much my redundancy impacted me, but it wasn’t just me living through that. Mae was too.
‘I bet,’ Lorna says. ‘You’ve great kids.’
‘I’ll drink to that,’ I say, so we all clink our glasses together.
I can feel Mae’s eyes boring holes into me, but I am resolute in not meeting her eyes. I’ve just seen something clearly that’s been sitting right in front of me and I feel like a right eejit. How did I get so bloody self-centred that I made it all about me this past year?
‘Where have you been so far?’ Evie asks, saving me from my guilty conscience by changing the subject.
‘We started off in Denmark. Lulu wanted to go to Legoland,’ Judith says and we all laugh.
‘Can we go there?’ Jamie asks. ‘I want to go to Legoland.’
‘That’s up to Pops,’ I say, delighted to have absolution on this matter.
‘We’re heading to Italy next, via Slovenia,’ Judith says.
‘After Europe, we’re gonna backpack around South East Asia and India for three or four months,’ Lorna tells us.
‘That’s so cool,’ Jamie says. ‘I wish we could do that.’
‘Maybe one day,’ I say with a laugh.
We tell them about our own adventure courtesy of Pops.
‘That’s an awesome story. A mystery every week,’ Lulu says.
‘Lots of memories being created, for sure,’ Mae says.
‘We’ve found that we are making our best memories when we throw away the guidebook and just see where we end up,’ Lorna tells us.
‘Do you remember that village festival in Germany?’ Judith asks and she throws her head back in a loud guffaw. ‘We took a wrong turn and before we knew it, we were driving behind a parade with a marching band. We pulled up and had an awesome time,’ Judith says.
‘Mom won a prize in a raffle,’ Lulu says giggling. ‘It was a rabbit!’
‘A live rabbit?’ I ask.
‘No, a dead one! It was for us to eat that night,’ Judith replies. ‘I mean, I would have been happy with a bottle of wine or a box of chocolates, but a rabbit? No thanks!’
After a while the kids go inside Nomad to watch a DVD, bored with us adults now. We continue chatting, drinking wine and beer and swapping stories about our travels.
‘I hate to break up the party, but I need to get the kids to bed,’ Mae says. ‘Jamie must be about to drop.’
As they turn to leave, Judith says to us, ‘You know something, you guys have an awesome family. Thanks for letting us be a part of it tonight.’
‘They were nice,’ I say to Mae as we clear away the empty bottles and dishes.
‘Yeah, I liked them too.’
‘Don’t think I’ve ever been called awesome before,’ I joke.
‘Not often we get to see how others see us,’ Mae states. ‘I liked their spirit. In particular what they said about throwing away the guidebook. We could learn a lot from that, I think.’
‘How do you mean?’ I ask.
‘Maybe we all need to stop thinking about where we’re going and just see where we end up,’ Mae replies.
‘You, Mae Guinness, are fucking awesome,’ I say, truly astounded by her.
‘I know,’ she answers and I’ve never loved her more.
Chapter Thirty-Two
JAMIE
Mam and Dad want to have a ‘
talk’.
They look so serious. I bet they’ve found out that I broke Dad’s radio yesterday. I’ll be paying for that out of my pocket money for years.
‘I can explain everything,’ I start. ‘I was just jumping from my bed when …’
‘We want to talk to you about Judith and Lorna,’ Mam says at the same time, stopping me mid-flow.
Phew! It’s not about the radio.
‘What can you explain?’ Dad asks.
‘Nothing,’ I say, giving them my best ‘I didn’t do it’ smile.
They look at each other and decide to let it pass because Dad says, ‘There are all kinds of families in the world.’
‘Okay,’ I say. I’m not sure where they’re going with this.
‘Like, for example, there are families like us, with a mam and a dad,’ Mam tells me.
‘And then there are families with two mams and no dad. Like Judith, Lorna and Lulu. Or sometimes two dads and no mam,’ Dad continues.
They are both smiling at me in a really weird way. I figure I should smile back too.
‘And in some families, there is only a dad or a mam,’ Dad tells me.
‘Like Eric,’ I say. ‘My friend in school. He doesn’t have a dad. Or at least not any more. His dad lives with his Aunty Mary now.’
‘Yes. Like Eric,’ Mam says. She looks sad now.
‘Oh, don’t be sad for him, Mam. I think he likes his Aunty Mary,’ I tell her. ‘She buys him chocolate a lot.’
‘I’m not so sure his mam is so fond of Mary. But that’s another story,’ Mam says, making Dad laugh.
She then grabs one of my hands and asks me, ‘What do you think makes a family?’
‘Hmm,’ I think about that for a minute.
Then I picture our own family. ‘Easy! Love makes a family.’
Mam gets all weird when I say this. She starts to cry. Dad starts ruffling my hair and coughing and fidgeting. They are so weird.
‘Where’s Evie, anyhow? How comes she doesn’t have to answer these questions? Is it like a quiz? Do I get a prize?’
Now they are both laughing. Told you, weird.
I wonder, does Spiderman have two mams? Or maybe he has two dads. Yes, I bet he does. Maybe Superman and Iron Man are his dads. That’s why he’s so strong. Or maybe they are superheroes in hiding that we’ve not even heard of yet. They must have to wear a different-colour costume to Spiderman’s.
‘Does Spiderman have two dads?’ I ask them.
They think this is funny and both start to laugh again. At least Mam isn’t crying any more.
‘I feel sorry for Lulu,’ I tell them.
This makes them stop laughing.
‘Why?’ Mam asks.
‘Well, I’d say it’s a right pain every Mother’s Day. I never know what to buy you, Mam. Imagine having to buy two presents every year?’ I tell them, shaking my head.
Oh good, they’re laughing again.
‘Can I have something to eat?’
‘We know! You’re starving!’ they both say together. Weird.
Chapter Thirty-Three
EVIE
Even though I have no idea what they are singing, I get it. I can feel the love and despair transcend through the music and drama. My first opera. I didn’t think I would like it, but I was wrong. As the last note rings out in the theatre, I am captivated and cannot take my eyes off the stage.
‘Thank goodness Judith and Lorna told us about this place,’ Mam is breathless and her eyes all shiny.
‘My ears hurt,’ Jamie complains, pulling a face. ‘She sure took a long time to die.’
I can’t help myself, I giggle. I mean, she did drag that bit out, in fairness. Ten minutes on the ground, singing that last death song.
‘Can we go now? I’m hungry,’ Jamie is pulling at Mam and Dad’s arms, dragging them towards the exit.
‘I take back all my moaning about queuing for tickets. It was worth the wait. Pretty incredible, in fact. And Jamie, well done, buddy, on keeping quiet,’ Dad says.
‘Where else can you watch a world-class opera for less that ten euros?’ Mam remarks. ‘The hairs were standing on the back of my neck, it was so electrifying!’
‘It was kinda cool to watch it from the back. Didn’t feel like the cheap seats at all,’ I add.
‘Can I have a treat because I was so quiet?’ Jamie asks, never missing a trick.
‘How about we find a café and some Viennese cake to put a smile back on your face?’ Dad says to him.
We find one opposite the theatre and get a table within minutes. ‘I just want to check in with Ann and Luke, okay?’ I say, hooking up to the free Wi-Fi in the café. I peek through my fringe to see if Mam and Dad are making faces at each other. Yep, there they go again, throwing their eyes up to the heavens.
I wouldn’t mind, but I’m hardly ever getting to chat to Ann or Luke any more. I haven’t had a chance yet all day because we’ve done so much sightseeing. I’m banjoed with all the walking. Wrecked. We walked the major tourist attractions along the outer ring road. It’s all right for Jamie, he gets to go on Dad’s shoulders when he gets tired.
I take a picture of the sweet pastries and cakes that arrive to the table. They look amazing and I ping the picture over to Ann.
AnnMurphy: You’ve been so quiet!
EvieGuinness: Soz. Been crazy busy, no Wi-Fi!
AnnMurphy: Where are you now? I can’t keep up any more.
EvieGuinness: In Vienna. Went to the opera. Pretty cool. Any news?
AnnMurphy: Dropped Mam’s phone and it managed to break into a million pieces. She went crae crae. Awkward! And speaking of crae crae, did you see Deirdre’s Facebook post?
EvieGuinness: No? I’m not friends any more, remember?
AnnMurphy: She’s off her head, that one. I only stay as friends for the comedy element. She posted – wait for it – ‘all I want this summer is to find a Romeo and Juliet relationship. Is that too much to ask for? #Sigh.’
EvieGuinness: Not sure she has seen that movie! Who wants to be Juliet? Sure she’s dead by the end of it!
AnnMurphy: With a dead boyfriend. Nevermind #sigh, #gobshite more like!
EvieGuinness: For sure! Soz, I’ve gotta go. Mam is giving me the evils. Will try chat later.
AnnMurphy: Hugz
EvieGuinness: Hugz
‘What are you smiling about?’ Mam asks.
‘Ann,’ I say.
‘What did she say?’
‘Nothing.’
‘Well, I’m glad that nothing makes you so happy. Eat up while you do that, though,’ Mam nags.
I take a big bite just to keep her quiet. It’s gorgeous, so I stuff the lot into my mouth quickly so I can get back to writing a message to Luke. He’s not online, but there’s a message from him earlier.
LukeKavanagh: I’ve been looking at Google maps, trying to follow your journey through Austria. Looks really cool. Wish I was there with you. Still crap here. I’m going to stay with Mam for a few days, she’s settled into her new house now. Dad is still moping. He’s not shaved for nearly two weeks and is beginning to look like Colm McGregor’s dad. Are you having fun? I miss you.
I can’t imagine what it’s like for him. He’s being passed back and forwards between his parents every couple of days. It’s not fair. It’s also my worst nightmare. I look up at my parents, who are at this moment feeding bits of their cake to each other. And while it’s gross to look at, I can’t stop smiling. They’ve not had a row for ages. No more whisper-fighting.
EvieGuinness: I miss you Luke. So much. But I can’t believe I’m saying this, yes, I am having a great time. I hate Nomad and I love Nomad all at once, which I know sounds bonkers. Miss having my own room so bad. Jamie is driving me nuts. But earlier today we saw this guy stop in the middle of the street, open up his suitcase and strip down to his boxers, then change his clothes in front of the world. Not a bother on him. So funny, Dad kept shouting at us to look away and Jamie was shouting that he could see yer man’s willy. W
e’re going dancing now. Shoot me now!
‘Say goodbye,’ Mam says. ‘Time to get to Pallavicini Palace for our dance class.’
As we walk along, I keep checking my phone to see if he’s back online, but there’s no sign of him. I daydream about him surprising me and turning up at the palace and dancing with me, like we’re a real prince and princess. And even though I know it’s not going to happen, I still feel a little bit disappointed not to see him sitting on the steps when we arrive.
Dad turns to me with a big serious head on him. What have I done now? I stuff my phone in my jeans pocket quickly, before he starts lecturing me.
‘Don’t take this for granted, Evie. You’re about to have a Viennese waltz lesson, in Vienna, in an actual palace. Do you have any idea how lucky we are?’
‘I know, Dad,’ I say and he looks like he’s about to say something else. But Mam gives him one of her looks and he shuts up. Jeez, relax already. He’s so uptight sometimes.
When we enter the lobby, Mam opens her backpack and pulls out two folded shirts, giving them to Dad. ‘I bought these for you and Jamie. We are in a palace, after all! See you back here in ten minutes. Come on, Evie, time to beautify ourselves.’
Then she grabs me by my hand and pulls me into the ladies. She’s off her head if she thinks I’m taking off my jeans and Converse trainers.
‘I don’t do dresses, Mam, you know that,’ I say, when she hands me a bag.
‘You don’t have to do dresses every day. But sometimes you have to dress for an occasion. And this is one of them. Remember for one moment what it felt like when you were a little girl, reading your Disney princess books. You wished you could be Cinderella and go to the ball,’ Mam is insistent.
I shrug. I suppose she’s right. The odd time I did wish I was Cinderella.
‘Well, today, we get the chance to learn something new. In a palace. Just like Cinders. So whether you like it or not, we’re wearing a dress. And Evie, honest to goodness, would you just enjoy the moment? You might surprise yourself and have a good time.’
‘Okay already.’ I take the bag and go into one of the cubicles. I’m nearly afraid to look at the monstrosity she’s bought me. If it’s a pink dress, I’ll scream. But it’s actually nice – pale blue with tiny grey and white butterflies all over it. I shrug off my jeans and t-shirt and pull it on.
The Things I Should Have Told You Page 25
