Chapter 23
Chapter Twenty-Three
M y very slow, simple life suddenly became fast-paced. I’d sent a photo of the booked flights to Una and she’d screamed down the phone at me so loudly I could barely work out what she was saying. She sounded like she was hyperventilating and when she finally composed herself she started to cry.
She cancelled the rest of her week because she could (she worked for herself so could do as she pleased, as she’d often told me) but I think it was because she wanted to make sure I wouldn’t change my mind. She had offered to stay with me until I left but I’d turned her down, because there was no way I would get anything done with Una around. I needed to keep the house quiet and calm. I needed to keep myself quiet and calm.
Mrs O’Callaghan had been fine about me taking the time off and I’d felt bad because it meant she’d have to work more hours but she insisted she wanted to keep busy and that Niall would help her. Niall hadn’t said much about me going, apart from to tell me to look out for sand flies because they hurt when they bit. He’d been more quiet than usual, but I guessed that was understandable given Mr O’Callaghan had died.
I ordered my rucksack online. I’d chosen one with small side pockets to keep my hand sanitiser for easy access, and a front pocket for my dirty clothes – I couldn’t have them contaminating the rest of my stuff if I was living out of a bag for two weeks. Una assured me I’d be able to use the hostel laundry rooms to wash my clothes and I reasoned with myself that anything I felt had been ruined (i.e. totally sneezed on) I could just leave behind.
I’d taken three weeks off work because it would take a couple of days to actually get there and back, and I know two weeks on the other side of the world isn’t the norm (don’t people usually do two months?) – but it would be long enough for me.
I hadn’t really thought about how I would find Jack, or what I would do once I’d found him. Or what would happen if he wasn’t even there, or if he didn’t want me there. None of that had crossed my mind (well, it had, but I’d pushed it away) because I could only cope with what I was doing, not what might happen when I was doing it.
I was good at talking myself out of things. I’d done it since I was a little girl, although it was harder when I was younger because my parents would make me do things I couldn’t get out of. Like going to the village pantomime. For some reason, I was always the person picked out in the audience to come up on stage. Everyone would laugh while a trick was played and I hated it. I hated the eyes on me.
Christmas parties were the same. Ian would hold them in the pub and we’d all play pass the parcel, except he’d add in challenges as well as sweets and they’d always land on me. What was worse was I had to read them out loud and then act out the challenge, which usually involved hopping on one leg around the restaurant before the music stopped to the cheers of everyone.
I’d always hated anything to do with social gatherings, and nothing much had changed – unless I felt comfortable, like fish-and-chips Friday or quiz night. I didn’t have to actually participate, I let Una take the reins, but I enjoyed being there with her while she shouted out answers in a race against Carmel. The pair of them were in competition with each other. It wasn’t about Carmel, really, it was about Shaun did everything but, although Una hated it when I told her that.
Sometimes I wondered if Una hated Carmel as much as she made out that she did or whether it was actually Shaun did everything but that she still hated for breaking her heart.
* * *
Mairéad sat down opposite me in my front room and sipped her coffee. I couldn’t stand the smell of it as much as I couldn’t stand the taste. To me, coffee smells like a dirty ashtray. I'd brought Mairéad into my front room because I thought it would help me break the news if I had a change of scenery.
I didn’t know what Mairéad would think of my plans to go to New Zealand. I hadn’t told her over the phone. I thought I’d squeeze in one last session before I left, and she’d been happy to come over once I told her I had something important to share.
‘I’m going on holiday,’ I said when we’d got the small talk out of the way and I knew she was listening.
‘Wow, that’s great, Pearl!’ She beamed. ‘Where are you going? When? With Una?’
‘No, on my own.’
‘My goodness, that is progress!’
‘I’m going to New Zealand,’ I said, and I watched the colour literally drain from Mairéad’s face.
‘New Zealand?’
‘Yep. On Thursday.’
‘You’re going to New Zealand on Thursday?’ She repeated the question like she thought I’d lost the plot.
‘Uh-huh.’
‘On your own?’
‘Yip,’ I said with a New Zealand twang.
‘OK.’ She paused. ‘And how did this come about?’
‘I want to see Jack again.’
‘Right, and does he know you’re coming?’
It was as if she already knew he didn’t.
‘I’m surprising him.’
‘Don’t you think it’s best he knows beforehand so he can prepare?’
Yes, I did, but I couldn’t tell Mairéad that because I didn’t want her to talk me out of it.
‘I think he’ll like the surprise. He wants to see me again and said he can’t wait. He said he’s all mine .’
‘He said that?’
‘In a note.’ I grinned. ‘He left it on my bed. And he texted me the other day saying I should come out.’
‘OK,’ she said again but I could tell that it wasn’t. ‘What about your OCD?’ she asked.
‘It’s coming with me.’
‘Very funny, Pearl, but how are you going to cope with it out there? The airport, the plane, the people?’
‘Rafts and rivers,’ I said breezily.
‘You’ll need more than that.’
‘And trees.’
‘I’m serious.’
‘You were the one who wanted me to do things cold turkey.’
Mairead’s eyes fixed on mine as she put on her therapist’s voice. ‘I just think perhaps this is a bit too cold turkey. It’s not that I don’t think you can do it, I think you can, it’s just that you’ve not been very far for so long, and you’re going on your own. What about people sneezing or coughing on the plane, how will you deal with it?’
‘I’m going to bring wipes in my hand luggage and can shower when I get there.’
‘And the toilet?’
‘I’ll go at the airport.’
‘Isn’t it something like a twelve-hour flight?’
‘Fourteen for the first flight and I can hold it in.’
‘And if you can’t?’
‘I will.’
Mairéad was the sort of person who instantly made me feel safe. She spoke with a soft, slow voice, and I could tell she chose her words carefully, making sure they matched my every need. Although, I wasn’t sure how she did that given she didn’t really understand my needs, not completely anyway.
Her raven hair bobbed around her face and her eyes were creased with concerned lines. She paused for a moment, like her thoughts were catching up with what I had told her. Then she looked at me and I thought she was going to cry.
‘You’re serious, aren’t you?’
I nodded.
‘Take it all one day at a time.’ She smiled. ‘Be kind to yourself, be patient, and take the pressure off that you’ve got to conquer it all. You don’t have to conquer it all, Pearl.’
I wanted to grab my notebook and write it all down so that I could remind myself of what Mairéad had said when I was in New Zealand. I’d always written stuff down, diary entries, things I saw that I liked, things that gave me inspiration.
I wrote in the evenings, just for an hour when the house was quiet and still between my checks and impulsive thoughts. My dream was to become an author, best-selling, published around the world. I told Una my books would be turned into films and she’d told me that I’d have to travel around the world with them to sign the copies.
I’d pushed that thought from my head. I would remain anonymous, like JK Rowling, who I idolised for being so mysterious (and brilliant) all mixed into one. Part of the appeal would be that no one could interview me.
‘Try and read when you’re on the plane.’ Mairead fanned her finger across my books that were displayed neatly along my windowsill.
I had them in order of height, not author, because it made me feel better to see them neat and tidy. I knew books were supposed to be worn and thumbed and creased and torn, but for some reason I got a kick from seeing them still and quiet and undisturbed. I didn’t know why.
‘I actually haven’t read most of them,’ I confessed, and Mairéad looked surprised.
The truth is I hadn’t read a book in years. I just found it hard to sit down and switch off long enough to do it. I loved to look at my books and imagine I knew them inside out, only I didn’t. I just knew them out.
‘Reading can be great escapism.’ Mairéad smiled. ‘Just ten minutes in the evenings, when you’re in bed, you’ll soon get through a book doing that. If you want to be a writer, you should read more.’
I knew she was right, so I made a promise to myself to read at least two books while I was away.
‘I’m proud of you, Pearl,’ Mairéad said.
Then she got up and gave me a hug. Mairéad had never hugged me before. It was warm and comforting and I didn’t want her to let go.
‘One last challenge before you go,’ she whispered into my ear.
‘What’s that?’ I said into her shoulder.
‘Don’t have a shower after this hug.’