Chapter Twenty-Nine
The performers bowed out one at a time, finally leaving the man in the pork-pie hat playing his trumpet alone.
Erin could remember a time when the band would play into the early hours, Lulu singing one track, then someone else taking over as she danced with Nuala and Erin’s parents.
Joe would play his double bass, breaking now and again to twirl Erin around the patterned carpet.
Contemplating the same room, with its ancient flock wallpaper and carpet worn out by decades of dancing feet, the exhilaration of being allowed to stay up in adult company and feeling grown up and mature was still easy to recall.
How she’d longed to be a real adult. Little did she know how hard being a grown-up with real responsibilities truly was.
She caught sight of a photograph on the mantlepiece above Joe’s ancient gas fire.
In it, her parents and Joe and Nuala were sitting around a table at The Bookmark.
Erin had taken that picture on the day the café opened.
They’d all been so proud of Mary. She’d always worked in hospitality and dreamed of opening her own place.
They’d remortgaged the house next door to furnish the room and buy the equipment, much of which Erin still used today.
Tears filled her eyes when she thought of what her mother achieved, and how desperate she now was to keep it going.
She felt a hand on her shoulder and turned to see Joe, his eyes on the same photograph. ‘Seems like yesterday,’ he said.
‘It does.’ Erin leaned her head against Joe’s. Didn’t he used to be much taller than her? Now their heads rested together perfectly. ‘I wish—’ Erin was interrupted by Lulu, now wearing a huge fur coat over her sequined dress.
‘I’m off,’ she said, kissing Joe on the cheek and leaving a smudge of bright red lipstick. ‘If I don’t make it to next year, I’ll see you on the other side.’
‘Don’t say that,’ said Joe.
‘Gotta face the facts, old man, the Grim Reaper’s coming for all of us.’ She cackled. ‘See ya, pal. It’s been a blast.’ They hugged for a long minute, then she stalked off, singing ‘Ev’ry Time We Say Goodbye’ by Cole Porter, as she made her exit.
Erin swallowed, finding it hard not to cry. How could Lulu be so sanguine? Joe turned to her and pinched her cheek. ‘Cheer up, kid. She’s going out singing.’
‘But I don’t want her to go out at all,’ said Erin, sounding pathetic.
‘It’s the way of the world,’ he said. ‘It’s sad, but when you get to our age, and you’ve lost as many people as we have, you make peace with the inevitability of it.
At least, you do if you try to stay positive.
Reality would become unbearable otherwise.
I make a conscious choice not to dwell on what’s coming my way.
I didn’t count the people who weren’t here this evening, even though they meant the whole world to me.
’ His eyes trailed back to the photograph.
‘I counted the ones who were.’ He glanced across at Adam, who was standing with the other members of book group.
‘And there’s always one or two new faces to bring up the numbers, like your man over there.
’ He took her elbow. ‘Come on, let’s not be maudlin. It’s a celebration.’
The group opened up to allow them in. Erin found herself next to Adam again.
He was wearing the smart T-shirt with the zip he’d worn when they went for their truncated walk.
She noted that this was what he wore for an occasion, concluding he’d given his outfit as much thought as she had that day, then got annoyed with herself for thinking about it.
It wasn’t relevant because she was not going to start a relationship of any form with him.
His arm brushed hers and the urge to move closer was almost overwhelming.
Instead, and with more effort than it should take, she moved her weight onto her other hip, so she didn’t feel the repeated electricity of his touch.
‘Hafsa and I were talking about our pages,’ she said, when there was a break in conversation. ‘Would it be okay to give ours in in a couple of weeks?’
‘It’s not homework,’ said Susan, brusquely.
It bloody well felt like it. ‘No, I know, but we wanted to check you lot were all right with it, rather than not … handing it in.’ She stared at Hafsa, willing her to add something, but she looked down at her glass. ‘Didn’t we, Hafsa?’
‘Yes,’ she said, raising her eyes briefly. ‘A bit more time would help, I mean, if it’s okay with you?’
‘I don’t see why we need a time limit on getting them done. We haven’t decided what we’re going to do with them when we’ve finished,’ said Joe. ‘Any ideas?’
‘I think we should read them out,’ said Riley.
‘Spoken like a true performer,’ said Mercy. ‘I’m happier writing than I am speaking to a group.’
‘It’s only us, though,’ said Riley. ‘And there’s something really special about sharing your words with people you trust.’ She bounced her knees. ‘Oh, go on. I really think you’ll get a lot from it.’ She pouted. ‘And I’m sad, so you have to do what I say.’
Erin laughed. ‘You’re not above a bit of emotional blackmail, then?’
‘Not even slightly. Seriously, though, when I’ve done poetry workshops, the most moving times are when people make themselves vulnerable by sharing their work. It connects you in a way you don’t expect. Trust me.’
‘I only heard the word vulnerable in that sentence and I’m telling you now, that is not my most favourite feeling.’ Erin meant every word. Feeling vulnerable was one of the things she actively expended energy avoiding.
‘I get what you’re saying,’ said Adam. Erin turned to him, grateful for the support, but his eyes were on Riley. ‘There is something special about reading your work out to a group. I’ve done it a few times at writing retreats, and it can be pretty emotional.’ He glanced at Erin. ‘In a good way.’
‘Writing retreats?’ said Riley. ‘Say more.’
‘Oh, there’s not much to tell. I thought I had a novel in me once upon a time, like every journalist, I imagine, so I went away with a few other writers to try to tease it out.
’ He shoved the hand not holding his drink deep into his pocket.
‘It refused to be shaped into anything but garbage, so I gave up.’
Riley frowned. ‘You don’t look like a quitter to me, Adam Darling.’
‘Looks can be deceptive,’ he said. ‘Anyway, the point is, I’m happy to read my pages out when I’ve written them … which I haven’t yet … so yes to an extension on the time frame too, please and thank you.’ He put his beer bottle to his lips and drank, as if needing to plug his mouth.
‘So, that’s decided,’ said Riley. ‘We bring our pages along whenever they’re ready and share them with the group.’ She lifted her glass, and Erin felt obliged to hold up hers and clink it against everyone else’s. At least the time frame was vague. That was something.