Chapter Twenty-Nine
‘Who were you talking to?’
Enya rubbed her eyes; she hadn’t heard Aiden come down the stairs or into the garden, and the last thing she wanted to do was concern him or let him think that his pitifully small contingent at the wedding of the year, should it go ahead, was going to be even smaller.
He did, right now, have enough to contend with.
‘Only Auntie Angela.’
‘Is she okay?’ he asked, sweetly concerned.
‘Oh, she’s ace.’
‘Mum.’
‘Yes, love?’
He lifted the wooden bench and pulled the end around, so it was facing her, before sitting down. ‘I want to be honest with you.’
‘Well, that’s always very much appreciated!’
Instantly, she wondered what he had been less than honest about and also noted her rather jolly tone, trying to mask her fear. Was Angela right, did she laugh things off?
‘Christmas wasn’t the only thing that Iris and I argued about, although that was the final thing, for sure.’
‘What else did you argue about?’ Enya did her best to control the quake to her voice, as she had the distinct feeling that whatever he was about to impart was not necessarily something she wanted to hear.
‘Okay.’ He took his time, as if digging deep to find the courage. ‘This is going to sound nuts, or like I’m checking up on you, and I’m not, I’m really not!’ He opened his hands out, palms facing upwards, as if to demonstrate that he came in peace.
‘What? Just say it! You’re making me nervous!’
‘It’s just that, I’m not that observant, but Iris is.’ His mouth curved at no more than the thought of her, a good sign that this young love might not, after all, be dead in the water. ‘She’s pretty good at the detail and stuff.’
‘Right.’ She had no idea where this was heading.
‘That time when we called you from The Mount, do you remember? Last week, when Iris and Trish wanted to show you the ribbon colours for the cake and talk about chairs and the decorations and stuff, when they invited you over for the barbecue. We FaceTimed you.’
‘Erm...’ She wrinkled her nose, did she remember that call? ‘Yes, vaguely.’ She did her best to keep her somersaulting gut at bay, blowing upwards with her bottom lip protruding, knowing she could at least blame the beads of sweat on her top lip on the intense heat.
‘Okay, well, don’t get defensive or mad.’
‘Oh, my goodness! Don’t you start! I do not!’
There was an uncomfortable beat of hesitation after she raised her voice. Aiden stared at her. ‘Shall I come back later?’ He gestured towards the house.
‘No!’ she inadvertently barked, and again rubbed her eyes. ‘Just, just tell me what you wanted to say.’
‘You were at the kitchen table.’
‘I recall.’ Her mouth went dry. Dominic had been so certain he was out of shot, out of range, but what if... She felt a little light-headed, a little nauseous; just the thought of having to conjure a lie to cover their deceitful tracks was awful.
‘There was a bottle of wine on the kitchen table.’
‘Guilty as charged!’ She laughed, in the most natural fashion she could manage.
‘And there were two glasses, two wine glasses.’
‘No there weren’t.’ It felt easiest to say this, to deflect, to hold her gaze steady and not give in to the desire to scream that was building in her throat. Not that it felt comfortable or came easily to her, none of it.
‘There were, Mum. Iris took a still, a screenshot, a picture.’
‘She did?’ Her voice was thin with discovery and guilt, and more than a little irritation at Iris’s sleuthing. Her guilt made the whole topic most uncomfortable.
‘Yep, and she’s right, two wine glasses.’
‘I must have used one and grabbed another and, what can I say?’ Again, that laugh, she had no idea where it came from. ‘I do it with coffee mugs and teacups, often have a couple on the go.’ She sounded defensive and she knew it.
‘They were both full of wine. I mean, sure, if one was empty and you misplaced it and filled another, but are you telling me you were drinking from two glasses at the same time?’
‘No, Quincy, I’m not.’ She drew breath. ‘The truth is, it’s what I do, what I’ve always done, since losing your dad.
’ This she felt the easiest lie, because it was rooted in truth and was, in short, nearly as exposing as the fact that Iris’s dad had been hiding out of sight.
It was everything she had feared and suspected might happen, Aiden and Iris falling out over the glasses that she and Dominic were drinking from; she could only imagine how much more intense their row, how horrible the outcome if they knew the finer detail, how much it would undermine their trust in her and Dominic.
The irony wasn’t lost on her as she continued to lie to her son.
‘I place two mugs next to the kettle and I ask him if he wants toast to go with his coffee in the morning. I put two mugs down and ask him if he wants a biscuit with his afternoon tea. And I fill two wine glasses and for the seconds it takes me to pour, I imagine him sitting opposite me at the table or next to me on the sofa, and in that brief time, everything is restored.’
‘That’s really . . .’
‘Really what?’
‘Sad, Mum. It’s really sad.’
The thickening in her throat confirmed that it was. Worse was her son’s kindness, his empathy when she didn’t deserve it, not when she wasn’t telling him the whole truth. That and the fact that they were talking about the day Jonathan had disappeared and she missed him, missed him so much!
‘I guess it is. I’ve never mentioned it because I don’t want you to worry.
Because despite everything, I’m doing fine.
I really am. In fact, I’ve decided to do better – I’m okay!
I never want you to hold back on living your life because you’re worried about me.
That would be the worst thing. But yes, you got me! Two wine glasses.’
Enya pushed her feet on to the patio, trying to stay grounded, trying to calm her flustered pulse. She braced herself for any questions.
‘Well, that explains it.’
‘Yes, it does.’ She reached for her book, hoping that might be the end of the conversation.
‘Can I ask you a question?’
‘Of course.’ She rested the book on her chest.
‘Are you lonely?’ His expression was almost tortured, and it made her heart swell, his love, his concern. It was true what she had said to Trish, he was a lovely human. The loveliest. And he deserved nothing but an honest response.
‘Yes, I am. Not all the time. I’m not cloaked in it, or preoccupied with it, but when it strikes, I feel it acutely.
Particularly recently, when I’m not only still grieving for your dad, but I’ve lost Jenny and Phil, Holly too in some ways.
Maeve ignores me. You are understandably preoccupied, and I tend to spend most of my time trying to justify the actions of others.
My job ends soon and the plan to go into business with Jen is now dust. So yes, I get lonely, and it’s not a nice feeling. ’
‘When does it strike, of an evening when you’re by yourself? Because I can make sure that I’m here more—’
‘No, no love,’ she cut him short, ‘but thank you for saying that, for offering. That’s exactly what I’m talking about when I say I don’t want you to hold back in living your life.
You don’t want to have to come and babysit me of an evening when you should be out having fun.
You’re not responsible for me and I don’t want you to feel that you are.
And actually,’ she paused, ‘that’s not when I’m loneliest. It’s more when I’m in a crowd and your dad’s not there.
When I go supermarket shopping and realise I don’t have to consider what I’m going to make for him or buy enough for two, or a million other little things that remind me he’s gone. ’
‘God, that’s really—’
‘Please don’t remind me how sad it is, I know it’s sad! Death is supposed to be sad, isn’t it? I think you’d be more worried if I were doing star jumps!’
She felt the desire to cry, not only in recognition of how sad she was at times, but because somewhere, deep down, she felt that Dominic, the Handsome Car Klutz himself, might just be the answer to her sadness, her loneliness, and yet it was not to be, could not be.
The novel fell open at a random page and she studied it intently.
‘I just want to say three things,’ her son began.
‘Goodness me, Aiden, can’t a woman read in peace?’ She smiled; it was easy, she realised, to mask in this way.
‘Apparently not.’ He stared at her. ‘The first thing I want to say to you, Mum, is that you have a lot of life ahead of you, and if you did want to see someone or date someone or even make a new friend, that would be fine, more than fine, it would be good. It’s been three years and,’ he swallowed, ‘Dad would want you to be happy. I know he would.’
‘Thank you.’ She felt her throat tightening with barely disguised emotion; this permission, almost a suggestion, was generous and mature.
‘The second thing is that you’re holding your book upside down.’
She quickly turned it the right way and felt the burn of embarrassment on her cheeks, smiling at her lovely son. ‘And the third thing?’ she asked curtly to try and deflect, as was fast becoming her MO.
‘Who’s Quincy?’ he asked, with a look of utter confusion.
Enya climbed from the tepid bath and slipped into her pyjamas. It wasn’t late but clothes felt like too much effort on this sultry night. Her cotton PJs and light dressing gown were just the ticket.
She stopped halfway down the stairs at the sound of voices floating along the hallway, Aiden’s for sure, and a female voice.
Iris, of course. She smiled; it sounded a lot like the choice between cerise and tangerine was back on.
She’d leave Angela to calm down a bit and then text her good night with a smiley emoji. That should do the trick.