Chapter 16
SIXTEEN
‘This feels familiar,’ he whispers, as we sneak into the inn.
The lights are off, and I flick on the small ones behind the bar.
I look around and see signs of a very good night – abandoned glasses, empty crisp packets, chairs and tables in disarray.
I’d told Dad I’d do the clear-up so he could go straight to bed, and he’s taken me at my word.
‘I know,’ I whisper back. ‘Except now, we’re being quiet because we’re nice humans who don’t want to wake anybody up, rather than being thieving little rats looking to score some illicit booze!’
‘Speak for yourself,’ he murmurs. ‘I’m still up for some illicit booze. I don’t get many nights away from the kids. My idea of fun in recent years has been lying awake anxious about Bella, and, if I’m really lucky, sanding a floor at Rosings. Everything is either work or worry.’
I feel a flash of sympathy for him. Being a working single parent is hard for anyone.
Running a business empire where, I now know from Cara, thousands of people are reliant on you for employment, is even heavier.
Add to that the grief for his wife, and I can’t imagine how hard things have been for him.
I lay a hand on his arm, and he smiles sadly and shakes his head.
‘It’s okay, I’m not going to be a morose drunk like my uncle Donal.’
‘The one who looked like a sad clown when he’d had a few, and always ended up listening to country music and crying?’
‘The very one. So, pour us a Guinness, will ya now, darlin’?’
He lays the Irish on thick, and I find two glasses. I show off my newfound bartending skills, and we settle in one of the corner booths with pints and some packets of dry roasted nuts. The very height of sophistication in our fancy clothes. He holds up his glass and says: ‘Slainte!’
I return the toast, and we spend the next few minutes eating, drinking and making childishly appreciative noises.
‘I have a cunning plan,’ he says, wiping creamy Guinness foam from his top lip.
‘Hit me with it, Dr Evil.’
‘It’s kind of stupid.’
‘I’d be disappointed if it wasn’t. As long as it doesn’t involve jumping off a cliff or riding a skateboard, I’m up for it.’
He grins at me over his Guinness, and my heart does a little skip.
I hate that it does that and feel horribly out of control for a moment.
Liam was my best friend for so many years.
He was my soul mate, my confidant, and also the first boy who kissed me so well I actually enjoyed it.
But he is no longer a boy; he has grown into a gorgeous man.
It is difficult to join the two parts, and it is confusing to be reacting to him like this.
‘Let’s go on a tour of our youthful haunts,’ he says. ‘For old times’ sake. I’d… well, I wouldn’t mind feeling young and irresponsible again, even if it’s just for a few hours.’
I chew my lip as I think it over. I should say no. I should finish this drink and send him home. I should get myself to bed and sleep off the booze. I should do all kinds of things.
‘Okay. I’ll get some supplies,’ I reply. ‘You get the booze.’
We both jump up, newly invigorated, and he holds out up his palm for a high five.
Then he disappears off behind the bar while I creep quietly upstairs.
I needn’t have bothered – my dad is still awake, in the kitchen making a camomile tea.
This in itself is disturbing, and I stare at it in disbelief.
‘I know, I know,’ he says, dunking his tea bag. ‘But I can’t do the traditional end of night routine with a brandy and a cigar anymore, so this will have to suffice. Anyway, what time do you call this, young lady?’
‘I call it “I’m a grown-up now, so it’s none of your business” time, Dad.’
He laughs and pats me on the shoulder. ‘Indeed. I don’t think I ever said that to you even when you were a child. I was a dreadful father. Nice evening?’
‘It was. And now Liam and I are going for a… uh, a walk. Down memory lane.’
‘I see. Memory Lane. Well, do be careful down there, darling. Take a torch and look out for trip hazards. I shall see you tomorrow.’
He kisses me on the cheek, and I gather up a few items before meeting Liam downstairs.
I pass him one of my dad’s thick fleeces, which he puts on over his suit, and a pair of his wellies.
I have an extra sweater for myself, and also a backpack containing a blanket and, yes, a torch.
I’ve also tucked in a small packet of my home-made macadamia nut cookies in case we are at starvation risk.
‘Wow,’ says Liam, adding in a bottle of wine. ‘Not bad. Definitely better prepared than we used to be. Why are there garbage bags in here?’
‘To sit on so our arses don’t get too wet. We’re old now. We need to be aware of the potential to break our hips and suchlike. Is that a screw-top bottle?’
He nods, looking amused, and we set off into the chill air of the night.
The snow has settled over the land like a wedding dress, and the stars are bright in the inky black sky.
Without either of us saying a word, we both head towards the village.
First stop, the oak tree in the middle of the green.
The scene of many a before-times triumph – ball games when we were little, endless hours of tag with our friends and, later, picnics that involved hip flasks and cans of lager.
‘Remember that time Lewis Jones threw a cricket ball at my face?’ he asks, as we spread the garbage bag out and sit on it. The branches of the tree are above us, lit with Christmas lights that give a merry glow to our faces.
‘I do,’ I reply, accepting the wine and taking a swig. ‘He really hated you, didn’t he? I seem to recall him regretting it later…’
‘When you marched over and kicked him between the legs, Ellie? Yeah, I think he regretted it! He should have learned really. You were always like my avenging angel. You were always fighting for me.’
I shrug and pass the bottle back. ‘You were my friend. Plus he was a bully, and I just don’t like bullies. Your brothers stuck up for you too, when they were around. I always envied that.’
‘Really? You never seemed like you needed anyone to stick up for you – you were always ready to rumble!’
I cast my mind back, and nod. He’s right.
I was confident, I was fearless, I was capable of taking on the world for those I loved.
Right up until everything fell apart. My father’s perceived rejection, Liam’s reaction to my clumsy advances, the trauma of being forced to move to the other side of the world…
I haven’t been that girl for a very long time.
My marriage imploding hardly helped build me back up either.
‘I know,’ I say quietly. ‘I was, wasn’t I? I lost that, somewhere along the way, Liam. I was never quite the same after we left. Some of the fight drained out of me.’
‘I’m sorry,’ he says gently, his eyes meeting mine. ‘And I promise you, I will return the favour. I will always fight for you, too. Just point me in the right direction, and I’ll kick life in the balls for you. I’m a lot bigger than I used to be.’
In every possible way, I think. Not just physically, but in terms of experience. He has felt the joys of love, the sting of loss. He is a father to three. He is amazing, really.
‘Thank you,’ I say simply. ‘Now, where’s next on our reunion tour?’
He stands up, holds out his hands to haul me to my feet. ‘It’s got to be the bus stop, don’t you think?’
Of course it has to be. We cross over the green, leaving boot prints in the virgin snow as evidence, and find our old hangout. I smooth the garbage bag down on the bench.
‘That,’ he says, pointing at the plastic, ‘was a tremendous idea. Did we not mind our arses getting wet back then?’
‘We didn’t mind anything back then. We were untouchable. Even when you broke bones, you came back after as though nothing had happened. I saw Bella here, my first night back. She gave me the finger and looked very upset when I laughed at her.’
‘I can imagine,’ he replies, shaking his head. ‘Little did she know she was messing with the master. I’ll… I’ll have a word with her though. I don’t like the idea of her being rude to people.’
‘Yeah, maybe so – Doris might catch her out!’
I shiver at the memory, and also because it’s cold.
That’s another thing we never noticed back then I suppose.
We often didn’t even bother with coats on these grand adventures.
We’d roll up at Bernadette’s after hours roaming around and she’d take one look, then shoo us into the tiny living room, covering us up in one of her woollen knits and bringing us hot chocolate.
Very few things in life cannot be cured by those two things.
Except, I think, glancing up at Liam, the pain that this man and his family have endured. He drinks down some of the wine and passes it to me. We’ve barely made a dent in the bottle, which is definitely progress – we’d have necked the lot by now when we were sixteen.
‘I didn’t come back for years,’ he says, breaking our comfortable silence.
‘Australia was a long way, and I was busy, and then I met Anna. I think I needed to really strike out on my own for a while, you know? I love my family, but we all had to fight for space, to be heard. For our own corner of the world. I found mine on the other side of the earth. I came back with Anna before we got married, and she loved it here. She’d have loved you, too. I’m sad you didn’t get to meet her.’
‘Me too,’ I say, leaning into him. ‘Imagine how much fun we’d have had ganging up on you? I’d have told her all your horrible teenage boy secrets…’
‘Yeah. That sounds very plausible. She’d have enjoyed that. There’s so much she missed out on… but it’s been four years. I keep being told that I need to move on.’
He passes me the wine. ‘Who tells you that?’ I ask, horrified.