Chapter 14
Nursing a get-your-life-back-on-track latte from her favourite oversized mug that read: IF YOU CAN DREAM IT, YOU CAN DO IT , as Walt Disney said, Cassie was setting to the task of starting her career again from scratch, when she noticed a message from Mam on her phone.
Hope all’s well, and not having too much fun without me ? .
Bet she means it, Cassie thought. A part of her mum would love to be out clubbing with Ramona. She hit the call button and waited.
‘Hello, Iris’s phone, how can I help?’
Wow, they really were a couple if they were answering each other’s phones. After an initial flash of irritation, she noticed there was something about Eric’s voice that caused her shoulders to drop with relief. Perhaps he was exactly the person she needed to speak to right now.
‘Hi Eric, I don’t even know where to start .?.?.’ She poured out how overwhelmed she was feeling at the prospect of searching for a job, while trying not to sound like a needy child. ‘And the thing is, Eric, apart from acting, there really isn’t anything I’m qualified to do. I could kick myself for leaving myself in this situation.’
There was a pause at the end of the phone, which she had learned to interpret not as awkwardness but simply as Eric giving her his full attention.
‘You know, I think I know someone who just might be able to help you. He’s an old friend of mine, but don’t worry, he’s not nearly as old as me. But he’s a fabulous guy, I’ll give you his number.’
Cassie felt a glow of gratitude for his kindly manner that made everything feel manageable. Buoyed up by Eric’s optimism, she set to phoning the contact he’d given her, a Philip Ackerman, career consultant at the company Work-Shi. Now surely everything would fall into place.
‘Mr Ackerman is in a meeting. If you have an enquiry, I suggest you put it in writing with your curriculum vitae and he may get back to you.’
Cassie ended the call, feeling crushed – this chilly response from his PA was not what she’d expected, but what was she thinking? It was only realistic to have to write in and take your turn. She composed an email and hit send; Philip Ackerman suddenly felt a lot more important and less accessible than she’d been led to believe. Everything was harder in the doing than the thinking, whatever Walt Disney said.
Just then her phone buzzed.
‘Cassandra, is it? Phil Ackerman. Always a pleasure to hear from someone who knows my old friend Eric. If you’re free this afternoon after four, pop into the office and we can have a chat, you have the address.’
He sounded small and plump and twinkly – and .?.?. Phil, well, she could relate to someone called Phil.
*?*?*
Cassie jumped in the shower and as she stood under the jet of water, she let her mind wander. Did she secretly want to return to acting? It wasn’t that she didn’t want to, it was more that the stress of the auditioning process had played havoc with her state of mind over the years. I do love it, she mused, but I just want some stability in my life. The image of Ramona sitting hunched in the kitchen the night before haunted her for some reason. Perhaps every high had to be paid for by a low, and right now she had to get off the seesaw.
From her wardrobe she chose a pair of Calvin Klein jeans, a pale blue shirt and a light navy blazer. In fact, it was her costume from an ad she’d done the previous year as ‘working mum, mid-thirties’. She’d bought the clothes for a knock-down price at the end of the production. At last, she was getting into costume for her own life.
*?*?*
At the office of Work-Shi, Cassie found herself face to face with possibly the friendliest person she had ever met. Phil Ackerman, to her surprise, turned out to be not at all like his voice had led her to believe. He was tall and bookish-looking, and undeniably handsome in a priestly sort of way. He must have been in his early fifties, but he looked good for it, and had round glasses and a manner that made her feel instantly at ease, as though she’d done him the greatest possible honour by taking the trouble of coming in for a chat that was entirely for her own benefit.
He led her into his office, which had a panoramic view of the entire quays. Cassie tried to summarise in five minutes the many tentacles of her career, her recent return home and hopes of a new start.
‘By the way, I saw your ad.’ He smiled in a way that wasn’t in the least bit creepy, then straightened his face and continued, ‘I read your CV and it’s a little, shall we say, unconventional but that’s not a bad thing, not a bad thing at all.’
Bless him, thought Cassie, I’ve just found a career consultant who’d be played by Tom Hanks in the movie of my life.
‘Now, in terms of the “big five” .?.?.’ Here he raised a large, well-manicured hand in illustration. ‘Starting with openness to experience , I’m thinking of Slime Planet, so that would need to be around .?.?. ninety-eight per cent.’
‘More that I was desperate for a job,’ she said ruefully.
Phil waved this aside and went on. ‘ Conscientiousness , we’ll give it fifty-five per cent .?.?. extroversion , say sixty per cent. Sometimes I find actors like to appear more extroverted than they are inside. Neuroticism , well, now, that I wouldn’t know – you’d have to tell me that yourself.’
‘Well, I am a bit neurotic, but I can bounce back.’
‘And finally, agreeability. Well, that’s a no-brainer, if you’re a friend of Eric’s. I’ll give you a ninety-five per cent on that.’
This struck Cassie as a slightly unsystematic way of doing a personality test, based almost entirely on guesswork and goodwill, but was she complaining? Not on your life.
‘Now, I’m going to start with the bog obvious, if you’ll forgive the expression. Have you thought of children’s entertainer, clowning, that sort of thing?’
Cassie didn’t even have time to reply before he raised his hand in an almost biblical gesture. ‘No need to utter a word, your face says it all.’
‘Sorry, I .?.?.’ To her mortification, Cassie realised she was going to cry.
‘There, there,’ Phil soothed as he dug a tissue out from somewhere.
‘I’m so sorry,’ she wailed. ‘I’d no idea that was such a big deal for me.’
‘That’s all right, sometimes these things come at us from heaven knows where. Happens all the time.’
Cassie was sure it didn’t, but was grateful to him for saying it anyway. She struggled to compose herself but the last thing she wanted was to look unprofessional, or worse, unstable.
‘In my experience,’ he said, ‘we should all cry a bit more. The world would be a much better place. Now, I’m going to say something very obvious, but what about working in a school? Do you speak fluent Irish?’
She weighed it up for a moment then shook her head.
‘Pity. I’ve a well-paid job here in an Irish-speaking school if you could, but moving on .?.?.’
Damn, she thought, so much for teenage bullshit opinions about Irish being boring when you were trying to start a new career in your thirties.
‘Oh, we might have something,’ he exclaimed. ‘It’s a school, part-time.’
Cassie nodded enthusiastically; after all, she’d a score of ninety-five per cent agreeableness to live up to.
‘It’s a primary school, and it’s not a widely known fact, but you don’t need to be qualified to be a substitute teacher. Once you get in the door, you never know, you might get to enjoy it.’
‘Brilliant, Phil. Please put me forward for it.’
‘And .?.?. away it goes,’ he said with the air of a children’s magician.
She felt like hugging him.
Cassie skipped back along the quays, feeling a surge of enthusiasm she hadn’t felt for a long time.
She couldn’t wait to share the news with Finn.
*?*?*
‘Teaching? Are you sure that’s really you?’
Her heart sank like an undercooked sponge cake.
‘Well, it hasn’t been, up to now, but the idea of teaching actually appeals to me.’
He shrugged. ‘Then go ahead.’
‘Well, thanks.’ She paused. ‘I was just hoping for a bit more encouragement.’
‘Sorry, I’m not sure what else you want me to say.’
‘Well done, that’s great, good for you .?.?. Any of those to show you’re happy for me.’
He put his arm around her and kissed her cheek.
‘All I want is what’s best for you.’
Which did strike her as a notch down from out-and-out enthusiasm.
They started hiking up the narrow, heather-lined path up the Little Sugar Loaf mountain. It was Finn’s week on late shift, so they had time for a walk but also, she suspected, to avoid running into anyone who might recognise him, although she pushed away the thought. She gave him a sidelong glance but his face gave little away.
‘Phil said they’d be in touch within a week. Isn’t that good? I mean, at least it’s promising.’
‘Working in a school? That’s kind of ironic.’
‘Is it? How?’
He buried his hands in his pockets and squared his shoulders in a way that made him seem defensive.
‘My ex is a teacher.’
‘Well .?.?. OK, but plenty of people are teachers. I haven’t stood inside a school since my Leaving Cert. I don’t know how I’ll be able to handle being on the staff. I still feel like a teenager.’
She became aware of Finn’s distance. ‘Look, I realise this must feel like déjà vu for you, with your ex. But for me it just feels like something solid and grown-up at last.’
Finn gave a rueful laugh.
‘Tell me about it.’
‘I’m not going to change – I’m still me – but I have to live, dammit, and I can’t do that on what I earn walking those little feckers every day, cute as they are.’ A light breeze carried with it the feeling of spring.
‘Race you to the top.’ She took off up the hill, her legs carrying her effortlessly forward. Well, at least walking the pups had left her fitter, if not richer. She could hear Finn gaining on her and accelerated until she gasped to a halt.
‘It’s not fair, you have longer legs.’
He caught up with her and grabbed her around the waist, pulling her to him and kissing her. In that moment the gorse-covered landscape, the bright blue arch of sky, the breeze that ruffled their hair – everything vanished and all she could feel was his arms holding her, his mouth gently searching for hers, her body moulding into his. Even then, there was still something unreadable about Finn. Perhaps it was only in those moments of silent intimacy that she could come closest to glimpsing the person he truly was.
They strolled to the summit and gazed out to sea.
‘D’you think in time we could be just a normal couple that people don’t look at as questionable? I know we’re not technically doing anything wrong but it’s all about perception. You know what people are like.’
Finn thought for a moment.
‘I think some people will never change their perception.’
‘In that case, feck them.’
‘And some people will just take time to adjust.’
‘Fair enough .?.?. And then there’s my family and friends, who’ll have no agenda at all. So, which side would your parents be on?’
Finn shrugged.
‘That bad?’
‘My family don’t really like change. Unless it’s their own decision.’
A bulbous grey cloud was nudging towards them, casting a shadow on the landscape below.
‘From where I’m sitting, change keeps happening, whether you like it or not.’
Suddenly, she’d a flashback of the text Gav had sent her that morning in London. She’d just finished cleaning the house, ready for him to come home from tour. The flat felt fresh and scrubbed, and she’d bought a new string of fairy lights and tacked them round the big mirror to make the place look fun and welcoming. She was happy.
Then a ping from her phone. The memory of it as vivid as a red beach-ball on blazing white sand.
Crashing with a mate for now. B in touch to explain.
And that was all. The text had been so innocuous on the surface, so indirect, it’d taken her a few minutes for the implication to sink in. He wasn’t coming back. She’d been dumped.
‘Cassie?’
There was something comforting about the view of the sea and the fields stretched out in front of them, largely unchanged for a hundred years at least.
‘We used to come up here when we were kids, myself and Maxine, with our dad. I used to love looking down and allowing myself to feel dizzy, and just hang on to the rocks to feel safe. I still do.’
She felt the rough granite under her hands as they sat side-by-side on a massive boulder. He leaned into his backpack, took out a bar of chocolate and broke it in half.
‘There’s no such thing as a view without chocolate.’
‘I bet you’re a lovely dad.’
He gave a wry smile. ‘I’m not sure everyone would agree.’
‘Finn, do you think your kids would like me?’
She knew she was fishing, but the little girl in her wanted reassurance.
‘Of course, they would. Who wouldn’t love you?’
Well, maybe kids who wouldn’t see her as just Cassie. She felt a sudden desire to be part of his world, to be accepted in it, but she heard Josie’s insistent voice in her head. Don’t fall over yourself to be accepted. You’re worth more than that.
Josie, her rock, who was now rushing to join the world of parents, where Cassie could be a tourist at best, an intruder at worst, but never a native.
‘It’s time for me to head off.’ Finn sighed.
‘Already?’
‘I’ll make it up to you, I promise. Come over Thursday after six, I’ll cook dinner.’
That felt better.
‘Done.’ She smiled.
*?*?*
Back at her car, the sun had gone in and she felt the harsh March wind whipping her cheeks. There was something about separating from Finn and seeing him switch off as soon as they kissed goodbye that left her with a pang of loneliness. She just needed to grow up, she mused, while negotiating the traffic along the N11; she needed to allow him his space without feeling abandoned. Despite that, she found herself veering off at the next set of lights and heading up towards Mam’s. She didn’t have the energy to be cool and self-reliant; she felt like sitting beside a fire in the familiar surroundings and letting the hectic world go by for a little while.
‘A school?’ enthused Mam. ‘Now, that’d be lovely. I always said you’d make a super little teacher. But of course, you had to go off and do the risky thing.’
Mam rolled her eyes towards the ceiling and made them do a little shimmy of exasperation. Cassie picked up a slice of lemon drizzle cake and sank her teeth into its spongy comfort.
‘Still,’ she went on, ‘I’m delighted you met that nice fellow, Phil. Terribly sad.’
She allowed the dramatic pause to hang between them.
‘What’s sad?’
Mam inhaled. ‘Well, all right. He married quite late. But men often do. Anyhow, it was all working out brilliantly. She was a district nurse and apparently everyone loved her and was very happy for them. They had a house in a lovely spot in Crossmolina, Co. Mayo, and the next thing, wasn’t she expecting? And it’s twins.’
This was clearly one of Mam’s stories where everything was going enviably well for people, heralding the fact that it was all about to go to shite.
‘Now, she was a few months off her due date and they had the whole house set up for the twins, and of course there was great excitement. But then .?.?. didn’t she go into labour, just one night, no reason in the wide world – they couldn’t believe what was happening. So, what could they do but pile into the car and start heading for Castlebar Hospital. But of course, it’s a very long drive and the roads are very bad. She’s in the back, in agony, and poor Phil is nearly beside himself. Should he stop and see to her, or should he just keep going, poor fellow, what could he do?’
‘God, Mam, that’s ghastly.’
‘They got to the hospital, but didn’t it turn out to be placenta previa. They did everything but, in the end, all three of them passed away.’
The thought of something this awful happening to lovely, kind, positive Phil was heartbreaking. He’d reached out to her as a friend, even though she’d only met him once.
Mam continued, ‘So, in the end he sold up the lovely house and moved back to Dublin, and what could he do but try to pick up his life as best he could. And that’s the story. Some people make the choice to bounce back, some can’t.’
What had hers been? If she were honest, it had been to run away. Just then her phone pinged. She rummaged round in the tote bag with the princess cats on it.
‘Oh my God, it’s Phil. That’s serendipity.’
Cassie read aloud: ‘ Please present at Oakdale national school, eleven a.m. on Thursday morning. Shit. That’s only two days away.’
‘They’re desperate, that’s what it is. Sure, the dogs in the street know that the poor teachers are priced out of the housing market. Anyway, that’s great.’
Cassie felt a combination of excitement and panic.
‘How do you prepare for a temporary teacher post? Do you think I need to look up some extra online training?’
‘Not a bit of it. Look, you can knit, crochet, sing, play guitar, use glue and scissors—’
‘Mam, I think that’s more the pupils than the teachers.’
As usual, Mam was wildly, unrealistically optimistic. But maybe that was for the best. She needed a cheerleader, not a heckler. She’d borrow Mam’s confidence to get started, and after that, life could take care of itself.
‘So, what’re you going to wear for your interview?’
‘Same as for Phil’s, I was thinking.’
‘Oh God, no. Not jeans. Not to an interview. That’d suggest you were unreliable.’
‘But lots of teachers wear jeans.’
‘Look, when you’re made permanent, you can wear an Elvis costume to work if you want, but in the meantime look respectable. I’m telling you, head teachers can be sticklers, that’s why they’re in the job. So, trust me, go for plain boring black trousers.’
‘Do you really think so?’
‘Err on the side of caution.’
What would the world be like if humanity had always erred on the side of caution? We’d never have migrated out of Africa, never have set sail towards a distant horizon. Still, she did need a new pair of black trousers.