Authors: Marita Conlon-McKenna
‘There’s nothing to lose, Lucy. Why don’t you come with me?’ she had said.
Lucy did consider it, but knew that finding a job might be very hard in Canada. Megan had qualifications and a hefty redundancy package from the bank to tide her over, whereas she would have to borrow the money from her parents.
‘I promise to let you know the minute I find a job for you. Then you just book a flight and come over,’ Megan had urged. ‘You’ve nothing to keep you here.’
In August the three girls sadly said goodbye to ‘the party house’, Anna deciding to move in with her boyfriend Ted.
‘He’s been asking me for ages, so I guess now is a good time to try out living together … hopefully we won’t kill each other!’
Lucy liked Ted. She was happy for him and Anna, even if it meant that she was temporarily homeless and had to move back home with her mum and dad.
‘Your room is still there for you,’ welcomed her mum. ‘It’s good to have you home, Lucy.’
It was good to be home, but she felt embarrassed at twenty-five years of age to be dependent again on her parents. She knew they were puzzled and didn’t understand what was happening to her. Her brothers Niall and Kevin both had good jobs: one working in a big insurance company and the other in an upcoming green energy company which he had joined after qualifying as an engineer. Emma, her older sister, was not only married and had a little boy called Harry, but had a great job in Google’s Dublin head office. She knew her folks wondered where they had gone wrong with her. Why was she such a disaster compared to her brothers and sister?
She had taken the studs from her ears and nose, lightened her hair colour and even purged her wardrobe of denims and Doc Martens, but it had been to no avail … there were just no jobs. Her dad would sit down with a pad and pen with her, and draft and redraft her CV when he came home from his work at the bank.
‘Lucy, you must have some idea of what you would really like to do! The sort of career that would satisfy you, the kind of work you want.’
‘I loved Phoenix Records,’ she said. ‘It was a great buzz working there.’
‘Given the current climate, no one is going to be opening another record store in Dublin – or anywhere else for that matter,’ said her dad, irritated.
‘I know.’
‘So you need to focus on something else, Lucy, and try to get experience working in a different environment.’
It was easier said than done. Her reams of unanswered CVs were a testament to that fact.
She had done a bit of babysitting and childminding for her brother Kevin and his wife Cassie and their baby Sophie, and also for her sister Emma. She loved minding her little niece and nephew. Sometimes, through one of Jeremy’s contacts, she got a bit of work on the promotion side for big gigs coming into the city’s large music venues. It was hand to mouth stuff, and she didn’t know how much longer she could keep it up as week after week friends headed for London, New Zealand, Australia and Canada.
‘Something will turn up,’ her mother said soothingly, again and again.
Lucy knew she was a useless case. She’d loved school, and been happy there, but her exam results had been pretty awful. She wasn’t academic, and had struggled to get through the Leaving Cert, unlike her brothers and sister. She had scraped into one of Dublin’s smaller colleges, realizing after her first term studying marketing and business and French that she had absolutely no idea what she was doing, but enjoyed the social life. She had flunked her first-year exams, and halfway through repeats in her second year came to the conclusion that there was absolutely no point in it, and just dropped out.
She had tried lots of other things: computers, interior design, tourism, massage, web design … and hated every single one of them. She had racked up a fortune in fees over the years, and still had no idea of what her calling in life was.
Sure, she’d like to get married and have kids, but that didn’t really count as a career aim. Her sister Emma had Harry, the most huggable three-and-a-half-year-old on the planet, but she still had to work. She and her husband had a massive mortgage on their small house up in Sandyford.
‘Lucy, think yourself lucky you are not caught up paying a mortgage like us.’ Emma grimaced. She had given up her Volkswagon Beetle, her fancy clothes, her fake-tan sessions, nail bar and spa treats with her girlfriends, and romantic breaks with Gary in order to keep paying the bills. At least Harry was able to attend the crèche attached to her office, and would start school next year.
‘Any news?’ asked Lucy’s mum hopefully, coming into her room with a pile of washing she had brought in from the line.
‘Just another letter with a great big no!’ Lucy sighed, feeling sorry for herself. ‘Mum, I can’t see how I am ever going to get a job unless I emigrate.’
‘I’m sorry, pet. It’s not your fault. It’s the stupid politicians and bankers that run this country that have brought us to this. Who would believe married men and women with families and mortgages are losing their jobs, and talented people like yourself not even getting called to an interview? Honestly, Lucy, it makes my blood boil. In my day jobs were ten a penny. If you didn’t like a job or your boss you just quit! Upped and left, and usually found something better. There were jobs and opportunities galore. How did we come to this, I ask you?’
Lucy was so fed up of it. She didn’t want to talk about her problems and set her mum off on another of her regular diatribes against politicians and political parties. Ever since her mum had gone back part-time to study arts in college she had loved talking about politics – which was one of her subjects!
‘I might sign on for another course,’ Lucy said hesitantly.
Nina Brennan looked sceptical.
‘What kind of course?’
‘I saw one on learning the techniques for making stained glass windows. It’s starting next month. Or I could learn how to do mosaic tiling!’
‘Lucy, why would you want to go making stained glass windows?’ asked her mother gently. ‘Or do mosaic tiling?
‘It’s something to do!’ Lucy sighed. ‘Something a bit different!’
Nina Brennan harrumphed in disbelief.
Lucy stared stubbornly at the 1980s pink floral print wallpaper in her bedroom.
Something had to change. Something really had to change!
Staring at the figures on the screen, Alice tried to control her mounting panic as numbers began to slide and disappear before her eyes. What had she done? Had she touched something on the computer keypad by accident? Had she hit delete? This job was going disastrously! She looked over at the desk where Kelly Riordan was inputting numbers as quickly as humanly possible, her attention riveted on her own screen.
‘Kelly!’ she whispered. ‘Kelly!’
She couldn’t hide the urgency in her voice, and the twenty-four-year-old, looking up, sensed her quandary and immediately came over.
‘What have you done, Alice?’ she whispered fiercely, surveying the damage on the Excel account before her and leaning forward and hitting an icon. UNDO.
Alice watched incredulously as the figures magically seemed to reappear and the column of numbers began to look some way right.
‘Thanks.’ Alice was so grateful to the skinny blonde for all her help over the past few weeks. Kelly seemed to be
constantly bailing her out of trouble, dealing with her mistakes, and covering up her utter ineptitude at doing accounts. How had she landed herself in this situation, working in Ronan, Ryan & Lewis’s at something she hadn’t a clue about? Hugh had been more than kind offering her this job, but in her heart she knew that she was in way over her head! At her age she couldn’t compete with Kelly and John and Aoife, and all the other young people here who had college degrees, and were studying accountancy, and seemed to be able to just work away at the computers easily. Her simple ECDL computer course, taken last year, had barely prepared her for the kind of work she was expected to do. She was a dinosaur out of step with the modern office world of laptops and digital downloads and iPods. She must have been mad to accept Hugh’s charitable offer of work in the accountancy firm.
‘Everything OK, Alice?’ Hugh looked concerned as he stopped near her desk.
‘Mmmm.’ She smiled. ‘Fine, thanks, Hugh. I’m just trying to sort a few things out here.’
‘Good.’ He looked relieved, and she watched him walk back towards the door to his bright office overlooking Fitzwilliam Square. He really was a good man, and he and Sally had been so supportive since Liam had left her.
It had been hard, so hard to get back up on her feet after Liam’s affair with Elaine and his demand that Alice and himself separate. It had felt like someone had taken a saw and severed her arm and left her raw and bleeding and shocked. She had driven by Elaine’s apartment twice and contemplated murder – or something more mundane like
throwing a brick through the second-floor wrap-around glass windows of her modern city-centre apartment overlooking the river. Only the thought of the disgrace she would bring on her family had prevented her from doing such an idiotic thing!
So, while Liam and Elaine lived happily in their glass tower, she struggled to keep her head above water financially, pay her bills, run their home of nearly twenty years and make the best of working in Ronan, Ryan & Lewis.
She glanced at the clock. Only two hours and she would be free to take the DART back home to Monkstown. She’d bring the dog for a walk, heat up the remainder of the lovely shepherd’s pie she had made last night, put her feet up and watch the TV.
‘Alice! Alice, have you got the copy of the Dunderry report?’
Alice jolted out of her reverie to see the large stocky figure of Alex Ronan standing in front of her.
‘It’s somewhere here,’ she said evasively, trying to work out which pile she had put it in and remember if she had done the changes he had requested.
‘Where? I’m in a hurry, their finance guy is phoning me in a few minutes about something, and I want to check the figures.’
‘I’ll find it, Alex, don’t worry.’
Alice frantically scanned the in-tray on her desk and the slide-out drawers, looking for the report Alex had given her to update, trying to ignore his exasperation and impatience as he watched her get more flustered and panicked. Having the senior partner standing over her was making her feel useless, like some school kid on work experience.
Coming closer, Alex impatiently began to go through her work.
‘I can find it myself,’ she said indignantly, as he pulled open the drawer and banged it back before rifling through the polished black leather tray on her desk.
‘There it is,’ he said, grabbing it.
‘That’s the Graham—’ she began.
‘And Dunderry report I want. The companies merged eighteen months ago, and we acted for Dunderry.’
Her face blazed red. She felt stupid.
He peered at the printout figures.
‘You’ve inverted two of the columns,’ he said grimly. ‘Transport and rent … there is a difference, you know.’
She apologized profusely, knowing that Kelly and Aoife and the rest of the office were watching what was going on.
‘I’m sorry, Alex.’
‘So am I,’ he said, marching towards his office door.
Kelly gave her a little reassuring smile, and Alice, trying not to cave in to her overwhelming feelings of inadequacy and embarrassment, buried herself in another deadly dull report.
Since Liam had left she had tried out a few ways of earning money, but this was without doubt the worst. She had worked as a sales assistant in Elegance, the small gift shop in Foxrock, during the busy Christmas period, done bits of babysitting for friends of friends, had even set up a little business selling homemade cupcakes to local cafés and at the weekly farmers’ market in Dun Laoghaire until the cupcake market had got totally oversaturated and she had begun making less and less profit. She had done the catering for two
funerals and a twenty-fifth wedding anniversary party, but couldn’t hope to compete with the more established caterers who were struggling for business.
Alice wasn’t proud. She was willing to try most things, but it was becoming more and more obvious that she just wasn’t cut out for office work! She’d have to talk to Hugh. Explain how she felt. Money or no money she didn’t know how much more of working in Ronan, Ryan & Lewis she could stick. She glanced up at the clock. Only one hour and forty minutes to go …
Rob Flanagan looked out across Dublin Bay. From the bay window of the sitting room of the large Georgian house on Clifton Terrace where he lived he could see the magnificent spread of water that ran between Dun Laoghaire Harbour and Howth Head. There was a strong breeze blowing, and he watched as the sails of the yachts caught the wind and gathered pace, skimming lightly as they raced each other. In the distance the large Seacat ferry, bringing passengers and cars from Holyhead in Wales to Dublin, slowed as it approached Dun Laoghaire Harbour. He sighed to himself, watching the constant flow of traffic below and the groups of people walking along the seafront. Mothers and fathers with strollers, elderly couples, joggers in tracksuits, young lovers hand in hand. Nowadays he seemed to spend hours up here, people watching, wondering what was going on in the lives of others instead of trying to get on with his own. It was still too painful … too raw; and today, like some days, he didn’t see how his life could ever return to a semblance of normality and happiness again. When Kate had died, it had felt as if part of his life had ended too.
The large sitting room was full of family photos in polished silver frames. A family photographic history displayed for all to see. Their wedding, their silver wedding anniversary. Proud young parents with new baby sons; birthday parties for their two boys; first communions; graduations; holidays in Donegal and Spain and Florida; and one of those expensive family portraits with them all wearing pale blue and trying to pretend that they weren’t posing, Kate laughing at the fun of it all as they stared at the camera. That happiness caught for ever. He touched her face through the glass. She’s beautiful, he thought … was beautiful. He searched his memory, trying to recall the last time he’d told her … actually said to his wife that she looked beautiful. To his shame he couldn’t remember. He must have said it last year when they were going to his sister Brigid’s son’s wedding in Wicklow. He surely had admired Kate’s outfit, at the very least. All the things he could have said to her, should have said to her … to let her know just how much she meant to him, and he had never bothered … never taken the time to talk to her, to talk to his wife. Now the time had gone, all run out, and it was too late. Too much had been left unsaid.