Ideal Girl (Irish Girl, Hospital Romance 1)

by Jenny O'Brien

  In that instant she realised with pure clarity of thought that she had a decision to make.

  On this day that felt like the first day of summer with the warm sun bearing down on her she knew she had to move on, but in which direction? She couldn’t bear this black endless nothingness any longer. Some part of her knew she was hurting those that loved her the most but, she had to find some way of coming to terms with the fact she no longer loved herself first. She had to move forward or come to a full stop. To end this misery and isolation was the easy option; it was trying to carry on she couldn’t cope with anymore. All she wanted, prayed for was an end to this suffering: a welcome embrace of longed for silence.

  She asked herself if she had the strength; the courage? It didn’t seem to matter who she was, or what she did it was only the way she looked that mattered to others and how they could manipulate this to their own ends.

  It felt as if someone had erased her, taken a rubber and obliterated the girl she’d once been. All her substance, all of her history were as nothing, all that was left was a smudged outline. A girl that, now when she looked in the mirror she didn’t even recognise. Only with Mitch had she felt safe, but that pure innocent love had withered and died with his last rejection. That love had turned to pain.

  He hadn’t been in touch. As the days dragged by into months with no word all the dreams she’d had of their beautiful blossoming relationship tumbled around her. Despite this, some small part of her still hoped unrealistically that he would at least phone. How could she have been so wrong in thinking what they had was special? This last vestige of hope was her way of protecting herself from the harsh truth that she was a failure in her relations with men; her dad first, then Donal and now Mitch.

  Her mother watched in silence from the corner of the meadow - she seemed to spend most of her time watching her fading into the distance. She didn’t know how to help her daughter. Liddy had lost her way, but it was only Liddy that could now take that step away from the precipice. However at the moment there didn’t appear to be any movement in that direction, only stillness – the stillness of apathy.

  She wouldn’t talk to her about what had happened. She wasn’t eating, she wasn’t sleeping and she wasn’t interested in anything. She was just a pale outline of her former self going through the motions, ignorant of all around her.

  Here in France away from everyone and everything she’d thought her beautiful daughter would find herself again in the peace and quiet that enveloped them. But looking across at her frail motionless form stretched out on the long blades of grass, she realised for the first time this had been the wrong decision. Her bruises had long since faded and now with her hair growing back, apart from a slight limp there was no visible signs she’d ever had a head injury - only the hidden injuries remained. She knew, as only a mother could know that Liddy was ill. It was happening all over again just like it had nearly happened all those years ago when her dad had moved out. Of course she never let on that she knew about her daughter’s obsession with weight. At the time she was ashamed to admit her relationship with her daughter was less than perfect. She couldn’t face being judged and found wanting as a mother. That’s why she’d got in touch with the school nurse behind Liddy’s back. That’s why she’d never made an issue about Liddy’s puppy fat. Although now that Liddy was finding size ten jeans too big, alarm bells were ringing.

  Emer suddenly felt a warm weathered arm thrown casually across her shoulders and she looked up into the careworn brown twinkling eyes of her lover, her husband and her friend.

  ‘Bonjour, ma petite, tu es bien?’ he said with the concerned look that never seemed to be far away from either of their faces over recent months.

  ‘Yes, I’m okay Jean Pierre.’ She replied, lifting her hand up to stroke the arm that held her so firmly within its grasp. As she laid her head back against his chest she thought how lucky she was to have found such a haven of peace. He was her rock and her shelter, trying to protect and guard her, but even he was at as much of a loss as to know how to help this lost child – a child whom he’d come to love as his own.

  ‘I had a phone call earlier when you were up in the field.’ She said.

  ‘Qui a appelé?’ He said quietly.

  ‘It was from Sorcha, Liddy’s friend. They’re in St Malo and they want to drive up to see her later on today.’ Her voice trailed off as she turned her attention back to Liddy, who was sitting up watching them under furrowed brows. Jean Pierre gave her a gentle hug of encouragement, but remained silent. She knew that he’d support her in whatever decision she made, but this was her daughter, her decision.

  ‘I said they’d be welcome and I’ve invited them to stay overnight, if that’s okay?’

  ‘Bien sûr, ma chère.’

  Chapter Thirty Four

  Not so many miles away Sorcha leaned back against the cool seat of their little red hire car and let her body mould into the contours of its pale check fibres. Turning her head away from Paul’s profile she stared at the beautiful French countryside rolling past her window. They had opted unanimously for the scenic B roads, but more for the fact this would ultimately delay their arrival at their destination as for the sightseeing.

  Outside the walled town of St Malo the small villages had grown progressively smaller, with their brightly coloured awnings pulled down over their chic window displays. There was a perfusion of colour everywhere - from the large mop head hydrangeas to the signature trailing geraniums hanging from window boxes wherever she looked. The roads started to get smaller too, and with only the odd car on the road to keep them company they felt completely alone, immersed in this rich green countryside with only the odd stone fronted farmhouse and the occasional field of rich brown horses to break their view.

  Sorcha looked down as Paul placed his hand on her knee, gently stroking the bare skin just visible below her pretty patterned dress.

  ‘Nearly there darling.’ He said simply, eyes pinned to the wrong side of the road as he cast a brief nod towards the Sat Nav.

  ‘I know, I know. I wonder what we’ll find!’

  Sorcha was nervous. She hadn’t seen Liddy since the end of April, but even then she’d been such a different girl to the one she’d gotten to know. Always quiet with that strange stubborn taste in clothing, but for wit there was none better - when on form her repartee was as sharp as a tack. But her last recollection was of how she’d appeared on the day that her mother had arrived to take her back to France - rightly or wrongly believing that her daughter needed a break from all the memories that Dublin held. It wasn’t the cropped head from the borehole surgery, which they’d had to resort to in order to drain the haematoma that had developed around her brain, but her lack of expression that’d worried Sorcha the most. There was no eye contact and when she did muster up the courage to look into Liddy’s eyes they were flat, almost one dimensional as if someone had photocopied them onto green paper. She had expected hurt, or perhaps anger but this lack of emotion scared her - there didn’t seem to be a way of breaking through the wall of protection Liddy had erected around herself. Even so, she felt that to take her away from all she had ever known was foolish. If she felt lost now how would she feel when she eventually woke up to the reality of living in rural France, with no one apart from her mother to talk to?

  ‘But Emer, how can she escape her memories, they live here.’ She said, tapping the side of her head.

  ‘I don’t care; she’s had no happiness since,’ her mum stalled. ‘Since her father ran off and then I had to up and leave her too.’ Her voice dissolving into tears.

  Sorcha went to this stranger who was her best friend’s mum and carefully laid a hand on her shoulder.

  ‘It’s okay, it’s okay, you weren’t to know - no one could have known what was going to happen. But it’s over now. They’ve caught him you know, he was only some drunken eejit intent on stealing her phone - the shock of her fall nearly killed him. I don’t think he’ll even be charged – he can’t even
fully remember what happened.’

  ‘Just as she can’t remember anything about the attack and that’s the way it should be.’ Emer wiped her face with her sleeve, leaving a thin trail of mascara across her cheeks.

  ‘But what about her friend, what about Mitch?’

  ‘Who? Oh that man who’s been trying to visit every day and has been phoning constantly. Well if she won’t even see him. Look,’ Emer opened up her handbag and pulled out a half crushed letter. ’She won’t even read his letter. I’m keeping it - it’s hers to do with as she wants, but for now she thinks it’s still in the bin where she threw it.’

  Sorcha was drawn back into the present by Paul’s voice.

  ‘Have you decided what you’re going to say when you see her?’

  ‘No not really, why? Have you had any further ideas?’ She said hopefully, throwing him a brief glance but his expression remained serious.

  Just like her he was at a loss. He’d suggested this trip in an effort to do something, anything to change the status quo that was upsetting the balance of so many lives. Mitch wasn’t talking, he had immersed himself in his work to the exclusion of all else. When he’d popped around last week he’d been shocked at the sight that greeted him: Grey skin stretched taut against sunken cheeks from too little sleep and too little food. The only spark came when Lucky jumped up to pummel his lap prior to finding the most comfortable spot.

  ‘So I see you managed to get rid of your cat allergy then? You could have knocked me down with a bus when I saw him.’

  Mitch had the grace to look abashed. ’Well it’s amazing what anti histamines can do and I’m not as allergic as I thought, I just get the cleaner to hoover a bit more.’

  ‘I saw Ma and Da at the weekend; they said you haven’t been in touch for ages - Mam’s worried about you.’

  ‘Okay, Okay, I’ve been busy alright!’

  ‘Yeah, too busy to unpack properly - have you still got half your stuff in boxes?’ He watched him shake his head. ‘I thought so.’

  Paul pushed himself up from the kitchen table and strolled over to look out at the window, staring sightlessly at the rose bushes, just coming into bud against the moss covered stone wall. His eyes fixed on a red admiral fluttering around and he wondered how he could feel so nervous? As brothers growing up in Rathgar they’d always been close despite the ten year age gap. Mitch had always been there for him, had always included him and had always been the voice of reason when inevitably, as the boisterous younger son he’d gotten himself into trouble – now it was payback time, With a little breath for courage he launched into why he’d come.

  ‘Er, I’m going to Paris next week with Sorcha.’ He watched him closely for some sign he’d even been listening - but there was nothing apart from a slight whitening of his knuckles curled around his cup.

  ‘We thought we’d pop in and see how Liddy’s doing. What do you think?’

  After a silence that seemed to stretch for ever he finally lifted his head - his eyes looked haunted, as if they hadn’t closed in weeks.

  ‘I don’t know what you expect me to say?’ He said flatly, lifting both his hands off the table.

  ‘I don’t care, just say something, anything.’ Paul shouted back, trying to get him out of his ennui. ‘You love her, I know you do - and she’s the best thing that’s ever happened to you. You must feel something, you have to do something.’

  Mitch continued his blank eyed stare before suddenly slamming both hands on the table making Lucky jump off his lap in a huff, his tail swishing from side to side as he strolled haughtily out of the room.

  ‘Don’t you think I’ve tried?’ His voice cracked.’ She wouldn’t speak to me, she wouldn’t even see me. I wrote her a letter.’ He paused, ‘but nothing, and then one single message from her mother.’

  ‘I’m taking Liddy away to a new life, for her sake please leave her alone to forget.’

  He repeated, quoting word for word. He ran his hands through his unruly hair. ’What more can I do? She doesn’t want me.’

  Paul looked at him, for once at a loss for words. How would he feel if this was Sorcha they were talking about? How would he cope if he hadn’t been able to see her for six months? How would he be if she sent him away? He coughed to clear the sudden blockage that had taken up residence in the back of his throat – he’d be exactly like the man sitting opposite him.

  ‘What if we can persuade her to come back with us? It’s their graduation in a couple of weeks, so at least we’ll have an excuse.’ As he looked across, he noticed the first sign of animation since he’d arrived.

  ‘Paul, if you can get her back here I’ll’….’ He paused, ’I’ll pay for your honeymoon when you eventually decide to make an honest woman of Sorcha,’ the ghost of a wicked smile playing on his lips. It was Paul’s turn to be at a loss for words. Blushing scarlet to the roots of his hair he stammered out a reply.

  ‘I’ll keep you….to….to that.’

  He started to laugh, as he cast a brief glance at the beautiful girl sitting beside him.

  ‘What’s wrong, what are you laughing for?’

  ‘Nothing! Just thinking about stuff.’ He said, negotiating a sharp turning into a narrow driveway, before pulling to an abrupt halt in front of the fairy tale cottage in front of them.

  Chapter Thirty Five

  They both sat in silence taking in the chocolate box cover. The plain granite fronted house had ornate balconies with pretty faded blue shutters surrounded by masses of red and pink geraniums hanging from window boxes in gentle drifts. Delicate vines weaved and twisted their way through the wrought iron balcony that pierced the centre of the building. It even had the regulatory large tabby staring out of the window with large watchful eyes. On the steps leading up to the front door there were huge earthenware pots filled with lavender, not quite in flower surrounded by lush green ivy rambling over the rim.

  The complete silence was only broken by a large Dalmatian running round the corner to greet them with a slobbery grin and wagging tail, closely followed by Liddy’s mum.

  Sorcha had been nervous about meeting her again, but Emer was more than welcoming with a kiss on each cheek for both of them.

  ‘I’m so pleased that you’ve come.’ She said, looking Sorcha squarely in the eye. ‘She’s no better. I’m beginning to think I was wrong to take her away from everything.’ Her voice broke off.

  Sorcha stepped forward and took this frail woman in her arms.

  ‘It’s alright Emer. You did what you thought was right. We’re all in the dark with this. How are any of us to know what to do, or how to help her?’

  She cast a quick look at Paul and received a little smile of encouragement.

  ‘We’d like to try and take her back with us if she’ll come. It’s our graduation in a few days and she should be there, she’s earned it.’

  Emer just nodded. ‘Liddy’s around the back. Why don’t you pop round to see her? I haven’t told her, I didn’t know what to say, or how she’d respond.’ Emer let her hands fall loosely to her side. ‘Snoopy will show you the way.’ She bent down to pat the dog sitting patiently by her feet. ‘Go to Liddy, Snoop.’

  With her heart thumping in her chest Sorcha blindly grabbed at Paul’s hand before following the dog. She was terrified of what she’d find around that corner. Another three steps to go, walking on the noisy gravel that was sure to alert Liddy of their arrival: Two steps, one step, no steps as they rounded the corner to find her sitting there – silent and alone.

  Why was I so scared? It’s only Liddy after all, Okay a bit thinner and with the cutest hairstyle imaginable, but Liddy all the same.

  Just because she’d had a rough deal couldn’t take away their shared history. She would always remember how Liddy had comforted her after she’d flooded Matron’s sitting room by leaving the bath running, or the time she’d taken the blame for the fire alarms going off when she’d burnt the patients toast on two consecutive occasions. This was Liddy, this was her best friend a
nd right now she didn’t want to be anywhere else.

  ‘Hello girl, what’s happening?’

  Liddy started, before turning around with an anxious look.

  ‘It’s okay, Lid’s.’ said Sorcha, putting her arms around her friend.

  Liddy flinched, but Sorcha had wrapped her tightly, so tightly she knew she couldn’t run away; she could never escape the love of her friend. She turned towards her and, with tears running down her face, started to hug her back.

  It was time to make that decision. But with the feel of a warm breeze against her bare neck, mingled with the tears of her friend as they dripped down her back the decision was made for her.

  After what seemed like a lifetime Paul interrupted.

  ‘Come on Sorch. It’s my turn.’ He approached carefully with his hands held out palms up and waited.

  ‘How’s my favourite nurse?’

  ‘Hey, I thought I was your favourite nurse.’ Said an indignant Sorcha.

  ‘You, my sweet are the roughest most uncaring nurse it’s ever been my misfortune to meet.’ He quipped, before turning to Liddy. ‘You should have seen her last week trying to get a splinter out of my thumb; she should have trained as a torturer!’

  She managed a ghost of a smile through her tears as she stood up and slowly walked into his arms: So like his elder brother it nearly tore her heart in two.

  ‘Hi guys, what drags you to these parts?’ She asked, instinctively reaching up to run a hand over her short hair.

  She caught the brief look that passed between them and felt something akin to contentment for the first time since she’d danced with Mitch at the party all those months ago. It wasn’t happiness, even though she was happy for them both - she still felt as if that emotion was lost to her for the time being. With her heart thawing though, she was able to realise how life had moved on. Even in her grief she knew Sorcha had finally met a man that would live up to all of her dreams. It would probably be a bumpy ride, as she was no certainly no push over, but with lots of laughter to balance out the bad bits.