Chapter 6
Excluding the pubs and the man who drives around local events serving tea, coffee, and the occasional questionable sandwich out of his van, there are three places to eat dinner in Clonard that are open all year round.
One is a small greasy takeaway that used to be the ultimate treat as a child.
The second is the local Chinese restaurant that caused great excitement when it opened twenty years ago, and the third is a midpriced Italian place called Roman’s, which used to be a shoe shop.
It’s the fanciest of the options as it has tablecloths and corked wine and this is where I now sit with Louise and Tomasz on what is clearly supposed to be their date night.
This is not a guess. About five minutes after I finished the call with my parents, I heard them talking about me in the kitchen from where I hovered in the hallway, like a child eavesdropping.
Tomasz insisted on inviting me so I wouldn’t be alone.
Louise, as expected, wanted the opposite.
I should have walked out of the house and pretended I was going somewhere.
I should have announced breezily that I was fine and settled in for a night in front of the television. But I didn’t.
Because the thing is, I’m not fine. I don’t think I’ve ever been less fine.
I’ve never spent so much time by myself before. So much time with nothing to do. So when Louise knocked on my bedroom door ten minutes later and asked if I wanted to come I immediately said yes and chose to ignore the resigned look on her face.
I got dressed up, if not a little too dressed up, and now here I am, wedged between them, looking at six different kinds of pasta.
“The early bird is really good,” Louise says as if challenging me to say otherwise.
Across the room, a young child starts to wail.
“What’s the one I like?” Tomasz asks absently. “With the things?”
“The mushroom fettuccini,” Louise says, her eyes on the mother opposite as she tries to calm the toddler.
“I don’t think that’s it.”
“It is.”
I glance around the small restaurant. “I wish we had something like this growing up. Can you imagine? Actual pizza instead of frozen ones?”
“A few more places would be good,” she says. “We need some new businesses in this village that aren’t just open six months of the year.”
“What do you guys think of the new café?”
“Coffee?” Louise’s voice takes on an odd tone while Tomasz sighs.
“ I think it’s nice,” he says.
“What’s wrong with it?” I ask. With all the organic compostable talk, I thought it would be right up her street.
“There’s nothing wrong with it.”
“Then why do you sound like that?”
“Honestly?” She shrugs. “It’s expensive.”
“Three-fifty for a croissant,” Tomasz says gravely. “A plain one.”
“Eilish does lovely coffees at the pub,” Louise continues, looking back to the menu. “And soon you’ll have all the pop-up places when the summer starts. I don’t think it’s going to last.”
“Their hot chocolate is nice though,” Tomasz adds at the look on my face. “They give you free marshmallows.”
“Beth only opened it a few months ago,” I say, feeling oddly defensive. “Give her a chance.”
Louise turns to me. “When did you meet Beth?”
“The other day. She wanted me to help her out with some marketing.”
“You’re not in marketing.”
“I know but she—”
“Did you say yes?”
“No,” I say stiffening at the interrogation. “Like you said, I don’t do marketing.”
The one server appears with a basket of breadsticks and we all smile pleasantly until he leaves.
“Did you ask Abby about the stall?” Tomasz asks, reaching for a handful. “For the Easter Fun Day?”
I have to smile. “They still do that?”
“Andrew insists on it every year,” she says, and I picture the unofficial but very dedicated village mayor.
“Last year they had the weather lady as the guest of honor,” Tomasz says. “The six o’clock one.”
“We rent a stall for the charity,” Louise continues. “If you’re still around, I could use your help signing people up.”
“I’ll be here,” I say. “I used to love Easter Fun Day.”
“When is your flight anyway?”
I pause, annoyed by this perfect opening to tell her. We’re in public too, so it’s not like it can go that badly. But she’s not in a good mood. If anything, I feel like she’s waiting for me to give the wrong answer so she can find a reason to be angry with me.
“I haven’t booked it yet,” I say with what I hope is a convincing smile. “I might wait until after the Easter break for the prices to go down.”
She accepts this as reasonable excuse and returns to her menu while across the room a tired-looking man now tries to distract the toddler with a video of Peppa Pig.
“Will you remind me to give those hedge clippers back to Luke?” Louise says, reaching for her water. “I think he borrowed them off Sean.”
Tomasz nods absently, twirling a breadstick in his hand.
“Does he often come for lunch?” I ask.
“Luke?” Louise shrugs. “Not really. He’s busy. Pat and Susan come by every other week.”
“I almost didn’t recognize him.”
“Well, that’s what happens when you don’t visit,” she says.
Alright. Fair. “But he looks different, doesn’t he?”
Her eyes flick up. “What do you mean?”
“You know.”
“No.”
“You know .”
“I don’t, Abby.”
Is she really going to make me say it? “Like really hot,” I whisper. “Right?”
She stares at me. “I guess.”
“Come on. You can say it in front of Tomasz.”
At his name, Tomasz drags his gaze from the pasta section. “Huh?”
“Objectively he looks extremely different,” I insist.
They’re both staring at me now.
“If you say so,” Louise says finally. “He’s always just been Luke to me.”
I slouch back in my chair. “Never mind.”
Tomasz flicks the menu closed. “You’re right,” he says to Louise. “It is the mushroom fettuccini.”
“I know.” Louise is still looking at me. “So any plans for tomorrow?” she asks in a “or are you just going to hang around the house all day?” voice.
“Not really.”
“Maggie Breslin says she saw you coming out of the funeral home.”
“Maggie…” I roll my eyes, picturing the village gossip. “Small town much? She could have said hello instead of spying on me from behind a lamppost.”
“What were you doing there?”
“Applying for a job, Louise. Is that allowed? Or does Maggie Breslin think I’m having an affair with the funeral director?
” They were the only place in town advertising any vacancies.
I handed in my résumé feeling pretty confident but got a call twenty minutes later saying they thought I was too overqualified for what they were looking for.
I mean, duh. Tell me something I don’t know.
“A job?”
“Yes.”
Tomasz looks concerned. “With the dead people?”
“It was for the receptionist role and I didn’t get it, so none of it matters. Tell Maggie to mind her own business.”
A strange look crosses Louise’s face. “I thought you were applying for jobs back in New York.”
“I am. It’s only temporary, so I don’t go insane while I’m here. Don’t worry,” I add. “I’m not putting down roots.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
Tomasz smiles encouragingly before we can launch into another argument. “I think a job sounds like a great idea, Abby. Maybe you could help Louise with the whales.”
Louise and I glance at each other, silently agreeing not to pursue that ridiculous suggestion.
“I didn’t know you were intending to stay so long,” she says instead.
“I’m not.”
“But long enough to get a part-time job.”
“I told you, it’s just so—”
“Okay,” Tomasz says loudly. “Who wants to see me put my finger through fire?” He pulls the candlestick toward him before swiping his finger through the flame. “See?”
“Thrilling,” Louise says flatly.
“Your turn.”
“No.”
“I’ll protect you.”
“You’re such an idiot,” she mutters but doesn’t protest when he lifts her hand, doing the same thing.
My sister smiles in a way I rarely see on her, soft and sweet, and I glance away at the suddenly intimate moment, meeting the eyes of the still crying child, now with tomato sauce smeared all over their chin.
“I think I’ll have the lasagna,” I say, and turn to catch the waiter’s attention.
The mood doesn’t get better when the food arrives.
Louise and I eat our dinner in silence, while Tomasz keeps up a steady stream of chatter about the dire fate of his football team back in Poland.
Two scoops of surprisingly good gelato follow, but with nothing to talk about, we ask for the check and then we’re back outside, lingering by the door as Louise puts the receipt away and Tomasz rubs her back and I stand there wishing I hadn’t come.
I wish I’d stayed home and given them an evening to themselves, especially when Tomasz works so many night shifts.
“I think I’ll do a loop around town,” I say, zipping up my jacket. “Get some fresh air.”
Louise opens her mouth but Tomasz gives her a not-so-subtle dig with his elbow. “Okay,” is all she says.
“I might go to Pete’s,” I add, glancing down the road at the pub. “See who’s around. I promise I won’t wake you.”
“If you’re sure.”
“Positive. Don’t wait up.”
“If you find a rave, let us know,” Tomasz says with a grin. He places an arm around Louise’s waist and steers her in the direction of the house. I pretend to go the other way before slipping down a side street, instantly regretting my decision.
Now what?
A couple of people linger around the Chinese place a few doors down and I can hear music coming from Pete’s, but I have no inclination to go there tonight. It’s not the kind of place where I could drink anonymously in the corner.
But I can’t go home. I want to give Louise and Tomasz some time together that doesn’t involve me hiding in my room like a sulking teenager.