Declaration
Declaration
HE’D CUT HIS HAIR: NOW IT SKIMMED HIS shoulders. His jacket was new.
‘Not new,’ he told her when she admired it. ‘Got it in the Dandelion Market, a huge warehouse full of hippies off Stephen’s Green. Clothes, antiques, record players, paintings, furniture, you name it. And buskers.’
‘Sounds great.’
It was after Easter, and they were back in the college bar, their first Wednesday night since his return from Dublin. No Fergus or James this evening, so it was just her and Danny.
‘How was the job?’
‘Great. They’ve offered me full-time work if I get the exam results.’
‘Danny, that’s wonderful. Will you go for it?’
‘I sure will. They’re one of the top computer companies in the world.’
‘Funny that you chose that degree. I mean, I know you’re the expert, but computers seem so complicated, and so huge. What exactly is the attraction?’
He laughed. ‘They’re the future, Ellen. They might be big and awkward now, but they’re getting smaller and smarter all the time, and it’s so exciting to be involved at the start like this. Everyone will have a computer soon – wait and see.’
‘You mean every workplace?’
‘I mean everywhere. They’ll be in every home. They’ll change the world.’
She doubted this, but said nothing. There had been a photo in the paper not so long ago of one in California, completely dwarfing the men in white coats who stood before it. They’d want to get a hell of a lot smaller.
‘So what did you bring me from Dublin?’
‘Nearly forgot.’ He reached into a pocket and drew out something wrapped in tissue paper. ‘For you,’ he said, ‘from the market.’
‘Oh God – I was joking! You didn’t have to bring me anything!’
‘But I did. Open it.’
It was a cameo brooch, peach on cream. ‘That’s really sweet. Thanks so much.’ She pinned it to her shirt. ‘You shouldn’t have.’ She told him about the woolly hat she’d won and earmarked for him that she’d forgotten to bring along.
‘Ellen,’ he said then, and the way he said it told her what was coming. She’d known it was coming, hadn’t she, ever since the barely-there kiss before Christmas? And then the phone call to her home, and the few calls since then from Dublin to Frances’ house. She’d known, from the things he almost said, that he was waiting to return to Galway so he could say them face to face.
And maybe, if there was no Ben, she would have been glad to hear them.
‘Danny—’
‘Hang on,’ he said, ‘just let me say this,’ so she listened as he spoke of feelings that had developed since they’d met up again, feelings he’d only realised were there in December. ‘I mean, we got on so well, it was like we picked up where we’d left off, and I just thought it was great to have my old friend back – but I know now it’s more than that. For me, anyway. It’s more than friendship, Ellen.’
She had to stop him. She put a hand on his. ‘Danny,’ she said again, and he must have heard something in her voice, because he stopped.
She searched for the kindest words. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘I’m really sorry. You mean the world to me, I love that you came back into my life, and I hope I’ll never lose you as a friend again, but . . . I just think we might ruin what we have if we try to make it something more and it doesn’t work out.’
It was lame, she could hear how lame it sounded, but it was the best she could do.
She couldn’t mention Ben, not with nothing declared between them. She hadn’t told anyone, even Claire, of her growing feelings for him, in case they weren’t returned. ‘I’m sorry,’ she repeated, and he shook his head and said no, don’t be, he was glad of her honesty. He looked anything but glad.
They limped along for another while, as she prattled about the storytimes in the bookshop, and Joan’s exams before Easter, and the basil in Frances’ garden that the slugs had eaten, and he threw in a few comments along the way, but she could see how she’d dampened his spirits, and it was awful to see.
Afterwards he walked her back to the roundabout and hugged her as usual. ‘Same time next week?’ she asked, and he said sure, but she knew it wouldn’t be the same between them after this, and there was nothing at all she could do about it.