Chapter 1
The paranoia all started to kick in when my 'baby' sister Suzi came home
from Australia last December at the tender age of twenty-four, with the Golden Delicious rugby-playing Matt in tow. I thought things couldn't get any worse.
I was wrong.
"Suzi,
have you told Mum and Dad?" I asked as we were loading my Golf with the bags in the airport carpark. Matt had kindly
offered to get rid of the baggage trolley.
"About
what?" she asked quickly.
"About Matt," I replied. "Do they know he's come to live in Dublin?" She certainly hadn't told me and I'd got rather a shock when I'd seen the whole hunky six-foot-something of him coming through the arrivals gate with his arm draped over my sister's shoulders. Although I must admit that I'd thoroughly enjoyed the firm, muscular hug
his brown arms had generously given me.
"Not
exactly," she said nervously. "But they'll love him and there's loads of room in the house and . . . "
"The house," I interrupted, trying to keep my voice level.
"You and Matt are planning to live at home?"
"Well,
we want to save for a house and I'm sure Mum and Dad won't mind."
"Right,"
I muttered darkly. First me, now Suzi - it wasn't as if we were Italian. Surely we were supposed to have our own homes at our age.
"Do you think it'll be a problem?" Suzi bit her lip.
"No,"
I lied. "They're so excited about having you home, I'm sure they won't mind."
Suzi nudged me. Matt was smiling at her across the car's roof.
"Let's go," Suzi said.
"You're very quiet," I said to Suzi who was sitting in the back
as I drove down the motorway. Matt was looking anxiously out the back window at the driving rain and the dark grey sky.
She leaned forward and popped her head through the space between the two front seats.
"I'm a bit worried about Mum and Dad. You're right, I should have
told them. I just thought I'd surprise them, you know."
"I
shouldn't have said anything," I said. I felt bad - I
should have kept my mouth firmly shut. I was always putting
my Yeti-sized in it.
"Can we
go for a drink before going home?" Suzi asked. She
turned her head. "Matt, how are you feeling?"
"Fine,"
he stated. "Did you say drink?"
"Yes."
"Sounds
cool."
"How
about Johnnie Fox's?" I asked. "Show Matt a bit of
real Ireland."
"Tourist
Ireland, you mean," Suzi giggled. "Good idea."
As we drove
up the steep, almost vertical, road towards the pub, I
thought about the 'lovebirds' and where they would sleep.
Although neither of the parents are priests or vicars (unless
they secretly belong to some strange sect who only practise
early on Saturday and Sunday mornings when normal
mortals, myself included, are dead to the world), we live
beside the local church, which gives the term 'what will the
neighbours think?' new meaning. And directly opposite the
house lives Father Lucas. So you can see why Suzi and Studly
'living in sin' might not appeal to Mum and Dad.
When the
church sold off some of its land and buildings to pay for a
new roof, Dad and Mum bought a run-down, cut-stone Victorian
house, originally the rectory. It was described as being
'full of charm and old world character'. Bloody cold is what
it really was. There was no central heating, no hot water as
the immersion was on the blink, cold stone-tiled floors on
the ground floor and bare pitch-black floorboards in the
bedrooms and bathroom upstairs.
At the time
we didn't give a monkey's about 'the original Victorian iron
fireplaces', or 'the hand-glazed stained-glass window panels'
or 'the ancient white claw-footed bath with brass taps'. We
were freezing our tits off and destined to be woken every
Sunday morning in the wee small hours (well, ten o'clock is
very early if you've had one too many the night before) by
the deafening clanging peel of the 'original' Victorian
church bells!
Mum and Dad
had, to give them credit, turned the cold Psycho-house
on the hill into - as an estate agent would say - 'a
delightful residence full of original character and untouched
by the scourge of rabid modernisation'. But it had taken over
twelve years and a lot of trips to house auctions, antique
shops, not to mention rummages in skips and derelict houses.
Dad always claimed they were completely derelict but we often
wondered. Suzi and I had learnt to spot old pine, original
cast porcelain tiles, brass fenders and other weird and
wonderful Victorian 'housey bits' at a tender age.
Several years
ago Dad opted for early retirement from his job as an
architect with the Civil Service and set up The Architectural
Salvage Company. A few weeks into the work and he was as
happy as Larry and wondering why he hadn't packed in the
office job years ago. He was dead right, if you ask me.
Life's short and if you're going to spend years of your life
working you may as well pick something you like. I should
have taken my own advice . . . Anyway, as I said, he loved
the work and soon filled the garage and back garden with his
'finds' much to Mum's disgust. Mum used to be an air hostess
for Aer Lingus, and she's still always perfectly coiffured
and immaculately dressed. She'd look glamorous in a polyester
housecoat! I don't know what happened to the rest of the
family. Neither does she for that matter.
Mum and Dad
make an interesting couple, chalk and cheese really. Dad is
never out of his jeans, which are usually covered in rust or
mud or paint, his hair is usually in need of a drastic cut
and he insists on wearing an old pair of black army boots,
although Mum bought him a trendy pair of beige Timberland
boots, which live in their box under the bed.
It's funny,
Dad stopped working on our own house as soon as he got into
the 'business'. I kind of miss helping him painting, giving
furniture the distressed look and painting terracotta pots
with yoghurt to make them 'mould' and look ancient more
quickly.
I got to help
my friend Jodie sometimes when she needed a hand. She's an
interior designer - the type who will come in and rip your
house apart before even starting! So I helped her some
weekends when I wasn't in the bookshop - The Wonderland
Children's Bookshop in Blackrock.
I really
wanted to be . . . it was kind of embarrassing really. I'd
never said it out loud to anyone and I knew it would never
happen . . . but I really wanted to present children's
programmes. On Den 2. The girls and guys they have on Den
2 looked like they were having so much fun. They got to
wear cool clothes in really bright colours and act like kids.
I uded to watch all the time - research, you understand - and
they were making little eggshell men, filling eggshells with
earth and putting mustard and cress seeds on top. And they
had one they'd made earlier - how I longed to say that -
'Here's one I made earlier boys and girls!' Anyway Damien,
the cute dark-haired one, watered his little eggshell man and
left him to grow in studio. And as I watched I just wanted to
be him. Imagine making eggshell men and introducing cartoons
every day - heaven!
"Me ears
are popping, mate," Matt exclaimed as we pulled into the
carpark.
Sally laughed
and nibbled one of his earlobes. I watched them in the
rear-view mirror, trying not to let the green-eyed monster
grip my heart and squeeze. Sally's legs were draped over
Matt's firm thighs. She curled his hair around her tanned
fingers and gazed at him longingly. A black Range Rover
blared its horn at my Volkswagen Golf which had wandered,
with my mind, onto the wrong side of the road. I waved,
mouthed a 'sorry' and pulled the car into an empty space
beside the pub's front door. Beside us was a large bus whose
signs proclaimed it to be the servant of the Clontarf Rugby
Club.
Matt's eyes
lit up as soon as he spotted the word 'rugby'. His generous
mouth broke into a wide smile, showing two gleaming layers of
perfect teeth, honed from years of carnivorous tearing of
meat in a rugged, manly way no doubt. Attractive crinkles
formed at the sides of his eyes and I gazed, smitten - he was
only gorgeous. Suzi glared at me dangerously.
"Amy,"
she hissed, "stop staring."
"Sorry,"
I mumbled. But Matt hadn't noticed - his head was full of
hookers, oddly shaped balls and tries. I'd always thought
rugby was a bizarre sport.
We got out of
the car and Matt threw his manly arm around Suzi's petite
frame and propelled her through the door. She's
five-foot-nothing, with a mane of long silky blonde hair,
bright blue eyes and clear peachy skin - your average
nightmare! It wouldn't take much to propel her anywhere as
she's so tiny. And of course she wears the obligatory 'cute
girl' clothes to boot - well, wouldn't you? Belly tops,
skin-tight trousers or short leather skirts. I feel like a
heffalump beside her. I'm an average sort of size twelve to
fourteen, depending on the day and the label. With shortish
blonde hair that has to be helped quite considerably to stay
blonde, depending on the time of the year. But beside Suzi
everyone looks huge. The worst thing is that she eats like a
horse, honestly. And I just have to think about chocolate and
I put on pounds - it's so unfair!
As we walked
through the door our eyes adjusted to the darkened room. Loud
cheers were coming from the back, where a group of larger
than average men had gathered. Matt gazed over longingly. He
loped over to the bar to fetch the drinks while Suzi and I
flopped onto the huge sofa beside the open fire.
"Bliss,"
Suzi said as she flipped off her navy Converse sandals and
curled her dainty feet under her. Although it was December,
her legs and feet were bare.
"Are you
not cold?" I asked. She was wearing a purple cotton
dress which just skimmed her knees and a white hooded fleece.
"I am a
bit," she admitted. "I hope Matt's OK. He's not
used to the cold."
"It's
not that cold today," I warned. "You're
lucky."
"Thanks
for collecting us." Suzi smiled and placed her hand on
my knee. "It was really good of you."
"Not at
all," I replied. "It was nice to get out of the
house for a while."
Suzi looked
at me carefully. "Are you all right? I was sorry to hear
about . . . you know."
"About
Jack," I stated firmly. "It's OK, Suzi. I don't
mind talking about it."
"It was
just so sudden," Suzi continued. "We all thought
you two were perfect together. What happened?"
I smiled.
Suzi had a habit of coming straight to the point. But it was
refreshing in a way. Everyone had spent the last few weeks
pussyfooting around me and avoiding asking any direct
questions. I guess they all thought that Jack had instigated
the 'broken engagement' .
Jack and I
had been living together for three years and had begun
skirting around the whole marriage thing. Jack seemed to
think it was the way forward but I wasn't so sure. Things
hadn't been right for ages. I knew I couldn't marry him in
the forseeable future - it just wouldn't be right if I wasn't
100% sure.
"I don't
know where to start, Suze. There was this work party and . .
. " I began.
"Here
you are, girls," Matt interrupted, plonking the glasses
of Guinness down on the table in front of us. "Met a guy
from Clontarf Rugby Club. Plays wing like me. OK if I join
him for a scoop, love?" he asked Suzi.
"No
worries," she replied.
"Great,"
he grinned. "See you Shielas later." In a matter of
seconds Matt was demonstrating the Hakka with a rapt audience
of adoring Irish and American men and women.
"That's
my man," Suzi proclaimed proudly as she watched him
waggle his tongue around and slap his thighs.
"I
thought it was New Zealand players who did the Hakka? And I
thought Australians hated New Zealanders?" I asked, a
little confused.
"It
is," Suzi confirmed. "And they do normally. But
Matt's special, I guess." She smiled widely.
"No-one could dislike him. He played for a club in
Auckland for a while - that's where he learnt it. Matt's
really good, played for his country on the Under-21 reserve
team."
"Of
course he did," I muttered darkly. "Friend of
Jonah's, is he?" He probably had a bloody doctorate in
aeronautics too! A right Mr Perfect.
"Sorry?"
Suzi asked.
"Nothing.
Don't mind me."
Suzi smiled.
"Tell me about Jack. What were you saying?"
I took a sip
of my drink and stared into the fire. My cheeks were
beginning to glow in the warmth and I cast my mind back to
that evening, only weeks before.
"I guess
the doubts began to set in when Jack's architectural firm had
a work party for some of their big clients. They wanted to
show how they could use modern technology - Auto Cad - stuff
like that. Anyway before the party each of the established
architects was given a 'team' and each team had to produce a
design using computer technology. Jack's lot had to design a
church using natural materials." I paused and looked at
my sister. "Are you sure you want to hear all
this?"
Suzi smiled
kindly. "Yes. I really do. Go on."
"OK.
Jack had been working really hard on this design. I barely
saw him at all. When he wasn't in the office he was working
on the computer at home."
"That
was hard on you," Suzi said.
"That
didn't bother me at all, to tell the truth," I said.
"I liked it in a way - seeing him so involved in work
and so into something. He'd been moaning about being
under-utilised and this gave him a chance to show what he
could do." I took another sip of my Guinness. It was so
good to have Suzi back. I needed to talk to someone about
Jack. Beth was busy with Tony, and Jodie . . . I loved her
dearly but she wasn't the most sympathetic of people at the
best of times.
"The
night before the presentation he was up to ninety, the design
was nearly finished and his team had gone home. He rang me
from the office to tell me he'd be late as he was going to
try to finish it by himself." I stared at the fire
again, watching the flames lick around the red-hot coals.
"I heard Jack's car roar into the drive hours later. I
was asleep at the time and I remember thinking it was strange
as he was usually so careful not to wake me up. He slammed
the car door and he made loads of noise stomping up the
stairs and fell in the bedroom door." I looked at Suzi
and sighed. "He'd been drinking, Suze, I could smell it
off his breath. He sat down on the bed and began to talk to
me. Asking why I hadn't waited up and ranting about how I
never supported him and his work."
"Why?"
Suzi asked. "I don't understand. What was wrong?"
"After a
while he told me that something had happened to the computer
system and he hadn't saved his work properly. Jack went and
lost the whole file, Suze. The design his team had been
working on so hard for that presentation."
"Jesus!"
Suzi said. "Poor man. But why was he annoyed with you?
It was hardly your fault."
"Because
I was there. Because he was annoyed at himself, I guess. And
maybe I wasn't as sympathetic as I could have been. I think I
told him that it was only work and not to overreact.
Something like that anyway." I wondered what exactly I had
said. I couldn't really remember - I'd been half-asleep
at the time and not exactly delighted to be woken up in the
middle of the night.
"Did he
calm down?" Suzi asked with concern.
"Eventually.
And the following day one of the women in the office managed
to retrive the file from the hard drive so it was OK in the
end. And to be honest it wasn't even his behaviour that got
me thinking."
"What
was it?" Suzi asked.
"At the
presentation the next evening I was sitting with a group of
his colleagues and I just didn't want to be there. The people
were nice but I felt so tired and fed up. And as I sat there
watching the presentation and listening to Jack's speech and
I realised I didn't want to be with him anymore. The strange
thing is that I couldn't quite put my finger on why - the
whole relationship simply felt wrong. It's hard to
explain." I stared into space.
"Go
on," Suzi urged.
"That's
pretty much it, really," I sighed. "The next day I
got up early and packed some stuff while he was still asleep.
He woke up halfway through."
"What
did he say?" Suzi asked.
"He
asked me what I was doing," I explained in hushed tones.
"I told him I didn't want to be with him anymore and
that I was really unhappy and that I was moving back
home."
"Just
like that?" Suzi asked, her eyes wide open in
astonishment.
"Yes,"
I replied. "I knew, given a few days, he'd talk me out
of it. You know how strongly he can put things."
Suzi murmured
assent. She remembered Jack's 'strong words' at many a family
dinner. His was usually the only raised voice at the table as
the O'Sullivan family weren't one for arguments.
"That
was the strange thing," I said. "He just sat there
and looked at me for ages. I started crying and I think I
said I was sorry." I started to cry. Suzi put her arms
around me. She silently stroked the back of my head.
I took a big
gulp of air. "Then he said that I was right, that he'd
felt the same way for ages. I couldn't believe it! He didn't
want me anymore!"
"But,
Amy," Suzi said quietly, "you were leaving him. Did
you not stop to think that he was only protecting himself?
You know what male egos are like. And anyway, why did you
care? You were about to walk out on him!"
"I don't
know," I said truthfully. "I suppose I wanted him
to be still in love with me. For some reason that would have
made it easier."
"In the
short term, maybe," Suzi said thoughtfully. "But
you did the right thing. I know it must have been difficult.
Have you spoken to him since?"
"A few
times," I grimaced. "To organise picking up my
things and to cancel our joint account - that kind of
thing."
"But
you've never talked your feelings," she asked,
"like how you've both coped with the split?"
"No,"
I whispered. "Jack did suggest meeting up but I didn't
feel strong enough. I knew I'd just cry in front of him and
make myself miserable."
"I'm
sure Jack has seen you cry before," Suzi smiled gently.
"Um,"
I murmured. Jack had asked to see me several times in fact
but I'd stubbornly refused. I sighed. "I don't know. I'm
beginning to think I was a little hasty. Maybe I should give
it another chance. Sometimes I think I'm being unrealistic,
expecting things to be perfect. Maybe I should have married
him and be done with it."
"What
are you talking about?"
"Oh, I
don't know. I'm a bit down at the moment, I suppose. I'm
feeling my age - I'll be thirty in a few months and it's
getting to me."
Suzi snorted.
"Jeeze, girl, would you get a grip! Thirty is hardly the
end of the world."
"I know,
I know. But I thought I'd be, well . . . married at this
stage. With two children and a nice house and a
husband."
"I think
you need one of those to be married all right!" Suzi
laughed.
I smiled.
"I'm serious. I had it all planned. Married at
twenty-six, a baby girl at twenty-seven and a baby boy at
twenty-nine. And what do I have - nothing!"
Suzi laughed.
"Amy, I think you're blowing things well out of
proportion. Hitting thirty is no reason to get married.
Especially to someone you're not in love with."
"Who
says I'm not in love with Jack?" I asked quietly.
Suzi looked
at me carefully.
"That's
the problem," I continued, tears welling up in my eyes.
"I do love him. I just can't stand being with him."
Suzi gave me
a hug. "Oh, Amy. I'm sorry, don't cry, it'll be OK.
You'll feel better soon, I promise. You did the right
thing."
