This thought now reminded Holly of the orchid in her house. She rushed inside and filled a jug with water and poured it over the extremely thirsty-looking plant. It didn’t look very healthy at all and she promised herself not to let it die under her care. She threw a chicken curry into the microwave and sat down to wait at the kitchen table. Outside on the road she could still hear the kids playing happily. She always used to love when the bright evenings came; Mum and Dad would let them all play outside longer, which meant she wouldn’t have to go to bed till later than usual, and that had always been a treat for them all. Holly thought back over her day and decided it had been a good one, apart from one isolated incident . . .
She looked down at the rings on her wedding finger and she immediately felt guilty. When that man had walked away from her, Holly had felt so awful. He had given her that look as if she were about to initiate an affair when that was the last thing in the world she would ever do. She felt guilty for even considering accepting his invitation to go for a coffee.
If Holly had left her husband because she absolutely couldn’t stand him anymore, she could understand being able to eventually become attracted to someone else. But her husband had died when they were both still very much in love, and she couldn’t just fall out of love all of a sudden solely because he wasn’t around anymore. She still felt married, and going for a coffee would have seemed like she was betraying her husband. The very thought disgusted her. Her heart, soul and mind still belonged with Gerry.
Holly continued to twist her rings around on her finger. At what point should she take her wedding ring off? Gerry was gone almost five months now, so when was the appropriate time to remove her ring and tell herself she wasn’t married anymore? Where was the rulebook for widows that explained when exactly the ring should be taken off? And when it finally did come off, where would she put it, where should she put it? In the bin? Beside her bed so she could be reminded of him every single day? She plagued herself with question after question. No, she wasn’t quite ready to give up her Gerry yet; as far as she was concerned, he was still living.
The microwave beeped as her dinner was ready. She took the dish out and threw it straight into the bin. She had lost her appetite.
Later that night Denise rang her in a tizzy. “Switch Dublin FM on quick!” Holly raced to the radio and flicked the switch. “I’m Tom O’Connor and you’re listening to Dublin FM. If you’ve just joined us, we are talking about bouncers. In light of the amount of persuasion it took the ‘Girls and the City’ girls to blag their way in to the club Boudoir, we wanna know what your thoughts on bouncers are. Do you like them? Do you not? Do you agree or understand why they are the way they are? Or are they too strict? The number to call is . . .”
Holly picked the phone back up, forgetting Denise had still been on the other end.
“Well?” Denise said, giggling.
“What the hell have we started, Denise?”
“Oh I know,” she giggled again. It was obvious she was loving every minute of it. “Did you see the papers today?”
“Yeah, it’s all a bit silly, really. I agree it was a good documentary, but the stuff they were writing was just stupid,” Holly said.
“Oh honey, I love it! And I love it even more because I’m in it!” she laughed.
“I bet you do,” Holly responded.
They both remained quiet while they listened to the radio. Some guy was giving out about bouncers and Tom was trying to calm him down.
“Oh, listen to my baby,” Denise said. “Doesn’t he sound so sexy?”
“Em . . . yeah,” Holly mumbled. “I take it you two are still together?”
“Of course.” Denise sounded insulted by the question. “Why wouldn’t we be?”
“Well, it’s been a while now, Denise, that’s all.” Holly quickly tried to explain so she wouldn’t hurt her friend’s feelings. “And you always said you couldn’t be with a man for over a week! You always talk about how much you hate being tied down to one person.”
“Yes, well, I said I couldn’t be with a man for over a period of a week, but I never said I wouldn’t. Tom is different, Holly,” Denise said breathily.
Holly was surprised to hear this coming from Denise, the girl who wanted to remain single for the rest of her life. “Oh, so what’s so different with Tom then?” Holly rested the phone between her ear and her shoulder and settled down in the chair to examine her nails.
“Oh, there’s just this connection between us. It’s like he’s my soul mate. He’s so thoughtful, always surprising me with little gifts and taking me out for dinner and spoiling me. He makes me laugh all the time, and I just love being with him. I haven’t gotten sick of him like all the other guys. Plus he’s good-looking.”
Holly stifled a yawn, Denise tended to say this after the first week of going out with all her new boyfriends and then she would quickly change her mind. But then again, perhaps Denise meant what she said this time; after all, they had been together for over several weeks now. “I’m very happy for you,” Holly added genuinely.
The two girls began listening to a bouncer speaking on the radio with Tom.
“Well, first of all I just want to tell you that for the past few nights we have had I don’t know how many princesses and ladies queuing up at our door. Since that bloody program was aired people seem to think we’re going to let them in if they’re royalty! And I just want to say, girls, it’s not going to work again, so don’t bother!”
Tom kept laughing and tried to hold himself together. Holly flicked the switch off on the radio.
“Denise,” Holly said seriously, “the world is going mad.”
The next day Holly dragged herself out of bed to go for a stroll in the park. She needed to start doing some exercise before she turned into a complete slob, and she also needed to start thinking about job-hunting. Everywhere she went she tried to picture herself working in that environment. She had definitely ruled out clothes stores (the possibility of having a boss like Denise had talked her out of that one), restaurants, hotels and pubs, and she certainly didn’t want another nine-to-five office job, which left . . . nothing. Holly decided she wanted to be like the woman in the film she saw the night before; she wanted to work in the FBI so she could run around solving crimes and interrogating people and then eventually fall in love with her partner, whom she had hated when they first met. However, seeing as though she neither lived in America nor had any police training, the chances of that happening didn’t seem too hopeful. Maybe there was a circus she could join somewhere . . .
She sat down on a park bench opposite the playground and listened to the children’s screams of delight. She wished she could go in and play on the slide and be pushed on the swings instead of sitting here and watching. Why did people have to grow up? Holly realized she had been dreaming of going back to her youth all weekend.
She wanted to be irresponsible, she wanted to be looked after, to be told that she didn’t have to worry about a thing and that someone else would take care of everything. How easy life would be without having grown-up problems to worry about. And then she could grow up all over again and meet Gerry all over again and force him to go to the doctor months earlier and then she would be sitting beside Gerry here on the bench watching their children playing. What if, what if, what if . . .
She thought about the stinging remark Richard had made about never having to bother with all that children nonsense. It angered her just thinking about it. She wished so much that she could be worrying about all that children nonsense right now. She wished she could have a little Gerry running around the playground while she shouted at him to be careful and do other mummy things like spit on a tissue and wipe his pudgy little dirty face.
Holly and Gerry had just started talking about having children a few months before he was diagnosed. They had been so excited about it and used to lie in bed for hours trying to decide names and create scenarios in their heads of what it would be like to be parents. Holly smiled at the thought of Gerry being a father; he would have been terrific. She could imagine him being incredibly patient while helping them with their homework at the kitchen table. She could imagine him being overprotective if his daughter ever brought a boy home. Imagine if, imagine if, imagine if . . . Holly needed to stop living her life in her head, remembering old memories and dreaming impossible dreams. It would never get her anywhere.
Well, think of the devil, Holly thought to herself, seeing Richard leaving the playground with Emily and Timmy. He looked so relaxed, she thought, watching him in surprise as he chased the children around the park. They looked like they were having fun, not a very familiar sight. She sat up on the bench and zipped up her extra layer of thick skin in preparation for their conversation.
“Hello, Holly!” Richard said happily, spotting her and walking across the grass to her.
“Hello!” Holly said, greeting the kids as they ran over to her and gave her a big hug. It made a nice change. “You’re far from home,” she said to Richard. “What brings you all the way over here?”
“I brought the children to see Grandma and Granddad, didn’t I?” he said, ruffling Timmy’s head.
“And we had McDonald’s,” Timmy said excitedly and Emily cheered.
“Oh yummy!” Holly said, licking her lips. “You lucky things. Isn’t your daddy the best?” she said, laughing. Richard looked pleased.
“Junk food?” Holly questioned her brother.
“Ah.” He waved his hand dismissively and sat down beside her. “Everything in moderation, isn’t that right, Emily?”
Five-year-old Emily nodded her head as though she had completely understood her father. Her big green eyes were wide and innocent and her nodding head was sending her strawberry blond ringlets bouncing. She was eerily like her mother and Holly had to look away. Then she felt guilty and looked back and smiled . . . then had to look away again. There was something about those eyes and that hair that scared her.
“Well, one McDonald’s meal isn’t going to kill them,” Holly agreed with her brother.
Timmy grabbed at his throat and pretended to choke. His face went red as he made gagging noises and he collapsed on the grass and lay very still. Richard and Holly laughed. Emily looked like she was going to cry.
“Oh dear,” Richard joked. “Looks like we were wrong, Holly, the McDonald’s did kill Timmy.”
Holly looked at her brother in shock for calling his son Timmy but she decided not to mention it, it was obviously just a slip of the tongue. Richard got up and threw Timmy over his shoulder. “Well, we better go bury him now and have a funeral.” Timmy giggled as he dangled upside down on his father’s shoulder.
“Oh, he’s alive!” Richard laughed.
“No, I’m not,” giggled Timmy.
Holly watched in amusement at the family scene before her. It had been a while since she had witnessed anything like this. None of her friends had any children and Holly was very rarely around them. There was obviously something seriously wrong with her if she was doting on Richard’s children. And it wasn’t the wisest decision to become broody when there was no man in your life.
“OK, we best be off,” laughed Richard. “Bye, Holly.”
“Bye, Holly,” the children cheered, and Holly watched Richard walk off with Timmy slung over his right shoulder as little Emily skipped and danced along beside her father while gripping his hand.
Holly stared in amusement at the stranger walking off with two children. Who was this man who claimed to be her brother? Holly certainly had never met that man before.
Twenty-three
BARBARA FINISHED SERVING HER CUSTOMERS, and as soon as they left the building she ran into the staff room and lit up a cigarette. The travel agent’s had been so busy all day that she had had to work through her lunch break. Melissa, her work mate, had called in sick that morning, although Barbara knew very well she had partied too hard the night before and any sickness she might have had was only self-inflicted. So she was stuck in this boring job all by herself today. And of course it was the busiest day they’d had in ages. As soon as November came with those horrible depressing dark nights and dark mornings and piercing winds and sheets of rain, everyone came running in the door booking holidays to beautiful hot sunny countries. Barbara shuddered as she heard the wind rattle the windows and made a note to herself to check for any special holiday deals.
With her boss finally out to run some errands, Barbara was really looking forward to her cigarette break. Of course, just her luck, the bell over the door sounded just then and Barbara cursed the customer entering the shop for disturbing her precious break. She puffed on the cigarette furiously, almost making herself dizzy, reapplied her glossy red lipstick and sprayed perfume all around the room so her boss wouldn’t notice the smoke. She left the staff room expecting to see a customer sitting behind the counter, but instead the old man was still slowly making his way to the counter. Barbara tried not to stare and began pressing random buttons on the keypad.
“Excuse me?” she heard the man’s weak voice call to her.
“Hello sir, how can I help you?” she said for the hundredth time that day. She didn’t mean to be rude by staring at him, but she was surprised at how young the man actually was. From far away his slumped figure looked elderly. His body was hunched and the walking stick in his hand seemed to be the only thing preventing him from collapsing on the floor in front of her. His skin was very white and pasty, as though he hadn’t seen the sun for years, but he had big brown puppy eyes that seemed to smile at her. She couldn’t help but smile back at him.
“I was hoping to book a holiday,” he said quietly, “but I was wondering if you could help me choose a place.”
Usually Barbara would have silently screamed at the customer for making her do this unbelievably impossible task. Most of her customers were so fussy that she could be sitting there for hours with them flicking through brochures and trying to persuade them where to go when the truth was she really couldn’t give a toss where they went. But this man seemed pleasant, so she was glad to help. She surprised herself.
“No problem, sir, why don’t you take a seat there and we’ll search through the brochures.” She pointed to the chair in front of her and looked away again so she didn’t have to watch his struggle to sit down.
“Now,” she said, full of smiles, “is there any country in particular that you would like to go to?”
“Em . . . Spain . . . Lanzarote, I think.”
Barbara was glad; this was going to be a lot easier than she thought.
“And is it a summer holiday you’re looking for?”
He nodded slowly.
They worked their way through the brochures and finally the man found a place that he liked. Barbara was happy that he took her advice into account, unlike some of her other customers, who just ignored every single bit of her knowledge. She should know what was best for them, it being her job and all.
