Chapter 16
Chapter Sixteen
T here is a crow that comes to see me every morning. It sits in my hedge and stares at me, and I am convinced it is my grandmother. She used to say she’d come back as a big fat crow just to annoy Peggy Carey.
Peggy hated crows – she had a fear of them because one pecked her once when she was little, and my grandmother would throw big wedges of bread into her garden just so the crows would come and scare her (remember the crows that turned up every morning without being fed? Yep, that was my grandmother feeding them).
As I watched my grandmother watching me, I wondered if she knew what I’d done. That I’d had oral sex with a man I didn’t know in her kitchen.
My grandmother was a devout catholic for most of her life and used to tell me that anyone who had sex before marriage would go to hell – even bits and bobs in between as she’d put it, and I’d believed her, right up until she stopped believing it herself. I think as she deteriorated, so did her beliefs and in the end, just before she died, she told me to make sure I did everything I wanted to do and not to leave a thing unturned, including any man I wanted.
Jack appeared behind me the same time the crow flew off and I wondered if that was another sign from my grandmother, although I wasn’t sure it was a good one – wouldn’t she have stuck around and pecked on the window with a forget-me-not in her beak or something? He squeezed my waist and nuzzled my neck like they did in the movies, and I leant back into him the way I had always wanted to.
‘Time to get going,’ he said and I stayed in the moment for a little longer before I pictured him driving off to Dublin and then flying back to New Zealand where I would never see him again.
‘I’ll miss you,’ he added and it felt genuine, it didn’t feel like he said it to fill a silence.
‘I’ll miss you too,’ I said back. And I meant it. I meant it so much my chest ached. This was the way I always wanted to feel about someone: excited, suffocated by my own emotions. But I wanted it to be the beginning not the end.
‘You should come out and see me,’ Jack said as if he could read my mind. ‘I’d show you the sights, give you the full Te Puke tour. Did I mention we even have a giant kiwi fruit in the town?’
‘A real one?’ I asked.
‘Nah.’ He laughed. ‘It’s a sign but it’s huge, you have to see it to believe it.’
‘I’d love to,’ I said without thinking. And it was true.
‘Barbecues on the beach, the whole shebang.’
‘Dolphin watching?’
‘I’m sure we could spot some dolphins.’ He grinned.
‘I’d love that.’ My heart was singing then, and I wanted to burst out into song with it.
‘You’d love New Zealand.’
Like I could love you. I thought. And I know that sounds crazy because I hardly knew the bloke but it’s not totally crazy, is it? I mean people fall in love at first sight all the time, don’t they? Why couldn’t I? Why couldn’t I fall madly in love with someone based on a chance encounter and a weekend together? It was possible, at least it would be if he didn’t live on the other side of the world and I didn’t live like a monk.
He reached out and pulled me into his chest and I would have cried but I held it together because I didn’t want him to think I was a crazy person and then regret what he’d said. And who cried over someone they’d just met?
We walked up the New Line together, which was the lane from my house into Drangan. It was covered in potholes when I was growing up and I used to count them all the way home, much to my mum’s annoyance. When they tarmacked it, my mum renamed it The New Line because she wanted me to see it differently.
But all it did was replace one OCD with another and I’d try and hold my breath the entire way home. It was an impossible task because The New Line was actually quite long. So I just went back to breathing and counting invisible potholes out loud instead. Again, much to my mum’s annoyance (the pothole counting, not the breathing).
Jack and I didn’t say much. I suppose there wasn’t much to say? It wasn’t like we were a couple trying to make it work. How could we sustain a relationship from the other side of the world? Still, I wasn’t going to allow myself to think about that. If I did, I knew how depressed I’d feel that it was our final goodbye. And I hated goodbyes. I always felt left behind. I’m not sure why – maybe because it was always me left behind?
We shared an awkward hug outside the shop, but it was only awkward because I could feel Niall’s eyes on me from Mr O’Callaghan’s lounge window above the shop. I held on to Jack a little longer than I was probably meant to, but I didn’t care, I was happy to pretend he was my boyfriend in that moment, if only for my growing audience – I could see Una’s silhouette had appeared pressed against the salon window from over his shoulder.
‘You take care of yourself.’ Jack put both his hands on my shoulders then and I felt like a little girl. ‘And thanks again for…’ He paused with a smirk. ‘For letting me stay at yours. It was fun.’
‘You’re welcome,’ I said with a forced smile. ‘Anytime.’
Although I had no idea when that time would be.
‘Make sure you come to New Zealand for a holiday,’ he said, and my heart skipped again.
‘Definitely,’ I said back, a little too enthusiastically.
I don’t know why I said that. It made me feel worse. I knew I would never go to New Zealand. I knew I would never see Jack again. How could I go to New Zealand when I couldn’t even leave the village to go to the shops without having a therapy session about it?
‘Thanks again,’ he said and I could tell he wanted me to go into the shop so he could leave but I stood there like some love-struck teenager unable to move. ‘OK,’ he stepped away and waved. ‘I’ll text you as soon as I land.’
I watched Jack walk towards Mr Dutson's garage. Una had disappeared out of sight, but I knew she was still there. She’d call me the moment he was gone and that would be that, only I didn’t want ‘that to be that’ because being with Jack for that short amount of time had made me realise just how boring my life was.
When Jack was gone, Una made her way towards me like her arse was on fire; she couldn’t get to me quick enough.
‘Have you heard?’ she said when she reached me out of breath.
I looked at her and frowned.
‘Heard what?’
‘Mr O’Callaghan.’ She composed herself. ‘He’s dead.’
* * *
When someone died in Drangan, everything shut except for The Tally Inn. It was basically an excuse to have a big party. Ian didn’t call last orders. People filtered in and out when they wanted. Normal life stopped for a day and then it carried on again.
And so when I saw Jack’s silhouette as he walked back around the corner, I knew before he had reached me what that meant. That he couldn’t go anywhere while the garage was shut. That he had to stay.
He strode towards me with a grin on his face and a glint in his eye, but all I could think about was whether or not Mr O’Callaghan’s penis was hard when he died, because surely it would stiffen up too?