Chapter 43
Chapter Forty-Three
I texted Una first to let her know what I’d done, and she replied with a row of ninja emoji’s followed by a GIF of a cat smoking a cigar.
I HOPE YOU’RE GOING TO STAY OUT THERE?
NO.
Then I took out the map that Emily had given me – even that was drawn to perfection – and was about to make my way to Papamoa Beach, when Bunty’s face popped into my mind. What was that place she told me about? The one she camped at for a month in a car park? Omao Beach? Oman Beach? Omanu! Yes that was it, Omanu Beach . I was sure she’d said it wasn’t far from Te Puke.
I grabbed my phone and typed it in. It was only twelve miles away, I could walk that, it would take a few hours, but I could do it, or – I glanced over at the bus stop a few feet in front of me – I could get the bus?
The bus. I could get the bus, like a normal person. I could get on the bus to Omanu Beach; I’d got a lift here after all. To Te Puke, to see a man that had no intention of ever seeing me again. A man who had a fiancée all along – was it obvious? Had I just been stupid? Could everyone else see it? Surely they’d have said if that was the case. Or maybe they just really wanted me to go – to get me out of Drangan – because I never would have left had it not been for Jack. I’d have stayed there in my little world, in my little life, like a little weirdo, forever.
If I went to Omanu Beach, at least it would be for me, not anyone else. I could see the car park where Bunty had lived, walk along the sand in my mustard dress and bare feet, maybe even see some dolphins.
I’d do anything to stop thinking of Jack, and if that meant getting on a bus then so be it. Because even though I knew the truth, a messed-up part of me still wanted him. Still wanted him to want me. Because feelings don’t just disappear, do they? Not straight away. They stay for a little while, sometimes even longer, like Una and Shaun did everything . She didn’t really want him, not really, but she held onto the pain because I suppose letting go of it meant letting go of what she never had with him, all her plans for the future, all the things she thought she wanted with him but didn’t really want. Even she knew that. She’d told me herself shortly after they’d broken up that she couldn’t really see herself with him. It was more about how he’d made her feel. Humiliated, used, disregarded. And now I understood that more than anything else.
I wondered how long my pain would stay. Not long, surely? It was just a weekend and a picnic that never saw the light of day. How long does that take to get over?
A ding of my phone brought me out of my slump and an alert popped up on the screen.
SESSION WITH MARIéAD!
Shit, our session. I’d forgotten all about it with everything that had gone on. Seconds later, Mairéad’s face was on my screen and the moment I saw her kind eyes, I started to cry.
‘Oh, Pearl, what’s wrong, what’s happened? Are you OK?’
‘Not really,’ I sniffed through my tears. ‘Jack doesn’t have a sister called Emily. He has a fiancée called Emily.’
‘Oh, Pearl,’ she said again. ‘I’m so sorry.’ Mairéad’s kind eyes penetrated through my phone. ‘That’s awful. How do you feel?’
It was a typical Mairéad question but I knew she was coming from a good place.
‘Like a twat.’
‘ You’re not a twat, Pearl.’
‘Well, I am because I flew to the other side of the world to see one. And it takes one to know one, doesn’t it?’
‘No, you’re brave, inspiring and beautiful.’
‘Emily is beautiful.’
‘Emily is stuck with a man who cheats.’
‘Maybe not anymore.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I left a photo of Jack kissing me on their doorstep.’
Mairéad didn’t say anything for a moment. And there was a second where I thought she might slip out of professional mode to congratulate me. Then she said gently. ‘You know that won’t achieve anything really.’
‘It’ll achieve making me feel better.’
‘It’s a quick fix but it won’t take away how you feel, you know that. So, tell me again, how do you feel ?’
I took a deep breath.
‘I feel fucking pissed off is how I feel, Mairéad.’
‘Why?’
‘Because I’ve given myself a heart attack with the stress of it all, for a bloke that has a fiancée – who’s feckin’ stunning by the way – and now I’m stuck out here like an eejit, wondering how the hell I am going to get myself home. That is how I feel.’
‘How would you feel if you didn’t come home?’
‘I don’t know because I am coming home.’
‘Can I ask you a question, Pearl?’ Which meant she was going to ask me one whether I liked it or not. ‘Would you feel differently if Jack had never been in the picture, if you’d gone out there for a holiday – would you be coming home early then?’
‘No, of course not, but I wouldn’t have come out here for a holiday and I did come to see Jack.’
‘But you could turn it into a holiday, a holiday for yourself. You could visit some of The Lord of The Rings locations?’
‘I don’t think I can do any more on my own,’ I said defeated. I should be with Jack now, having a BBQ on the beach.’
‘You’re already doing it on your own, Pearl.’
‘What if something bad happens?’
‘What if it doesn’t?’
‘But what if it does?’
‘But what if it doesn’t?’
‘Bloody hell, Mairéad.’
‘Bloody hell, Pearl.’
‘Ugh. I can’t do it. I just need to come home.’ I huffed like the child that I felt I still was.
‘OK, let me put this to you,’ Mairéad said cautiously. ‘If you come home early you will never know how things might have been, but if you stay you will. I could set you some challenges, like we do in our sessions. It’ll be a change of scenery from leaving your house to the shop, the salon and the supermarket. Are you up for it?’
‘No.’
‘Pearl, if you’re not going to try to make some changes then what is the point of all of this? What is the point of our sessions? Someone else who is desperate for therapy could have your sessions.’ I wasn’t sure if it was reverse psychology or if Mairéad really meant that she would give my sessions to someone else.
‘Being out there could actually really benefit you,’ she continued before I could work it out. ‘And all this stuff with Jack, as awful as it might feel now, could actually help you. You could turn it all around, Pearl. Not Jack, not me, you.’
‘I can’t make you any promises,’ I whispered.
‘I never ask for promises. Let me put something together and I’ll text it over straight away, OK?’
‘OK,’ I agreed before I could change my mind. What the hell was I doing? This wasn’t the plan. This wasn’t how it was meant to be.
‘Pearl?’
‘Yes.’
‘Well done.’ Mairéad smiled.
And her kind eyes lit up in a way I’d never seen before.
* * *
As promised Mairéad’s challenges came through shortly after our call and my eyes almost fell out of my head. There was just no way. But then a rush of relief followed as I read her side note that said, just do your best, your best is good enoug h.
Catch a bus – sit next to someone even if there are spaces!!
Go to the cinema and use the toilet – sit on the seat!
Have a meal out and don’t wipe the cutlery.
Don’t sanitise after you’ve bought something.
Don’t have a shower if someone sneezes.
If you have an intrusive thought while climbing stairs, keep climbing them – DO NOT START AGAIN.
Only check locks, doors and windows ONCE.
NO I LOVE YOUS.
Go out, get drunk, have some fun!!
A taxi happened to pull up opposite me and in a flash moment I made the decision I was going to get in it over catching the bus. I might as well spend my money on being driven around, Mairéad would never know, and anyway, I’d start her challenges in the morning (and do my best) once I’d cleared my head (if that would ever be possible). I jumped in the taxi. I say jumped . I didn’t jump in at all, and I think you probably know that. It was more of a slow, long, step sideways, carefully manoeuvring myself inside so as not to touch the door or the frame of the car with my head, which was surprisingly difficult. Not because I have a big head, by the way, but because of my position.
‘You all right, love?’ the taxi driver asked me in an English accent. ‘Do you need a hand?’
He must have thought I had some sort of injury the way I was slowly climbing in, all twisted and distorted.
‘I’m fine, thanks,’ I said as breezily as I could. ‘Can I go to Omanu Beach, please?’
‘You’re Irish?’ he said as if I hadn’t just asked him a question. ‘My ex was Irish,’ he added, and I spent the next twenty minutes looking out of the window, while Mitch (that was his name) told me all about Bloody Nora and how she’d broken his heart. Twice.