Mr Lynch’s Holiday (24 page)

Inga was still up painting. She welcomed them in and served them bitter coffee with spiced biscuits.

‘You knew already,’ said Dermot. ‘I remember the bag of rice. For the cats.’

‘I didn’t want to worry you with it.’

‘How did you find them?’

‘That day down at the playground. When we found Ottoline. After you left I had a sense that someone was watching me. I had my suspicions about who it was.’

‘So you knew before then?’

She shook her head. ‘No. Not at all. My suspicion was wrong. It’s shameful to admit it. I thought it had to be someone here and the only person I thought who might possibly ever do such a thing was Roger.’

Eamonn shrugged. ‘That’s not so crazy.’

‘Oh, it is. Poor Roger. I just thought how angry he was with me for feeding the cats and how he liked hunting. I thought he might be trying to teach me a lesson. I sound quite stupid.’

Dermot smiled. ‘Like Dr Watson.’

‘Anyway, I thought I’d leave the carcass in the bag on the ground and then pretend to leave. I waited to see if anybody came back.’ She got out a cigarette. ‘I got a terrible shock when I saw him. Not Roger. Some poor young man. He looked so scared. He picked up the bag and I followed him.’

Eamonn asked, ‘Do you know how many of them there are?’

‘Twelve at least. The lucky few that made it across.’

‘Does anybody else know? What about Esteban?’

‘He knows, I think. His uncle has a farm, and the farmers, they need cheap labour, you know, and the migrants, they need work. It’s been going on for months. A van collecting them at night.’

Dermot had an image of a rusty old transit. He remembered Matty Keegan. Frozen winter’s mornings, the sound of him dressing in the room.

‘Have you told the police?’

She shook her head. ‘I found a charity that works with illegal immigrants. I spoke to them today. They are going to come and talk to the men. I wasn’t sure what to do. I didn’t know who to tell. I didn’t want the authorities involved. The men have been through enough, I think. I hope they will get some help now.’

Dermot nodded. ‘I don’t know what else you could have done.’

She looked out of the window. ‘We talk about strange noises, things that go bump in the night; I think we almost enjoy the idea of ghosts. But real people? Confined to darkness and silence, living among us? It’s so sad. So awful.’

It was after one when Eamonn went, leaving Dermot and Inga talking. It was only when the sky started to lighten that Dermot stood and said, ‘I should be going.’

‘Oh yes, of course. It’s very late. You must have packing to do.’

‘I didn’t bring much.’

‘Well. Later today you’ll be back in England, happy by your own fireside.’

Dermot imagined opening the front door. The familiar smells. The familiar things. Suffocating.

He gestured over at her painting. ‘I would have liked to have seen that when it’s finished.’

‘Oh. Well. Maybe I can send a photo. It’s not the same thing, but if you wanted to see it, I could email you an image.’

He nodded. ‘Email. I’d need a computer for that.’

She smiled. ‘Or I could just post a photograph.’

‘No, you mustn’t go to any bother.’

‘It would be my pleasure. I could send it to you as a postcard and then maybe you could send me a postcard in return.’

‘Of Birmingham?’

‘Why not?’

‘I’m not sure they make them.’

She smiled. ‘Well. Maybe we will keep in touch anyway. I would like that.’

There was suddenly an awkwardness where there had been none. Without warning she leaned forward and kissed him on both cheeks.

‘Goodbye, Dermot, it was really very good to meet you. I hope we will meet again.’

He remained standing in the same spot, feeling the brush of her lips against his skin, the light touch of her fingers on his arms. He looked at her for a long time and then he said, ‘Did you say you had a computer?’

‘Yes, a laptop.’

‘Can you get the Internet on it?’

‘Yes.’

‘And you know how to work it?’

‘Of course.’

‘Do you think you could help me with something?’

They ate their breakfast on the terrace.

‘You’ve hours yet. Did you want to do anything?’

‘I’m happy enough here for now.’

Eamonn thought that he should say more to reassure Dermot before he left. Absolve him of any worry.

‘I’ve been thinking – if this is how it ends with Laura, then this is how it ends. It’ll be hard, but life will go on. I’ll get over it in time.’ He paused and then added in a voice that wasn’t his own: ‘Plenty more fish in the sea!’ He made an expansive gesture at the barren landscape around them and gave a big smile. He was finding it hard to judge the tone correctly. Dermot ignored him and looked out at the horizon.

‘I like it here.’

Eamonn nodded. ‘Yeah. Oh yeah. I mean, me too. It’s great really. A few teething problems, but I just need to give it more time.’

Dermot carried on studying the vista and then turned and looked directly at Eamonn. ‘There’s no future for you here, son.’

Eamonn froze. A distant memory from childhood. His father could read minds. Somehow he had forgotten this.

‘You should speak to Laura.’

Eamonn breathed out. ‘Well, that’s difficult when she won’t speak to me. I’ve emailed her, I’ve texted her, I ring her all the time.’

Dermot shook his head. ‘But that’s not speaking to her, is it? Face to face. That’s a conversation.’

‘She’s not here. Have you not noticed? She’s gone.’

‘You get on a plane, you go after her.’

‘Oh, Dad, come on. She wouldn’t appreciate that. There’s no point.’

‘My God. I thought you weren’t like me. I thought you had more sense. “No point”? Jesus Christ. Do anything but talk to her. Anything but say what needs to be said, to her face. Send her your essays every day if you like, but don’t kid yourself that’s talking.’

Eamonn walked to the edge of the terrace and looked out. ‘I used to talk to her all the time. I told her everything. We’d talk all night. After we came here, I started waking in the nights. My heart hammering, difficulty breathing. Panic attacks, I suppose.’ He turned to face Dermot. ‘I could have just leaned over, reached out and held her hand, told her that I wasn’t coping. But I didn’t.

‘She’s very resilient, you know, Laura. Very strong. She took it all in her stride. She dealt with the disappointments here, the weirdnesses, and she still kept a purpose, was still funny. Still herself.

‘She was everything to me. I know that’s corny but it’s true. And it’s not good. To depend on someone like that. I mean, once we’d been everything to each other, but then suddenly we weren’t equal, I was heavier, a big weight that she had to bear, and I didn’t want her to feel it, to know it.’ He rubbed his face with his hands. ‘I just kept on and on and on until she was gone.’

He fell silent for a while.

‘I know I need to speak to her.’

Dermot stood. ‘So why don’t you go and pack your bags?’

‘I better book a flight first.’

‘You don’t need to. I’ve already done it.’

‘You? On the Internet?’

‘I got someone to help me.’

‘Oh. OK. Am I on your flight?’

‘You are.’

Eamonn was a little disoriented but headed to his room to start packing a bag. A moment later he returned.

‘You haven’t packed your shaving things.’

‘I don’t need to pack them.’

‘You’re leaving them here?’

‘I am. I’ll need them.’

Eamonn looked at him. ‘I’m confused.’

‘You’re on my flight, son. On my ticket. I’ve changed the name. They let you do that. To be honest, I wouldn’t have had a clue, but Inga sorted it all out for me.’

‘You’re not coming with me?’

‘I thought I’d stay here.’

‘Here?’ Eamonn was aware of sounding stupid.

‘I’ve got my pension. I’ve got savings. I’ve got more money than I can spend. I can keep up the payments. You go home, there’s nothing to pay there, just the heating of the place.’

‘That’s insane.’

‘Why is it? I like it here. Very much. Haven’t I worked hard all my life? Don’t I deserve a place in the sun?’

‘That’s not the point. This is my mess. I need to clear it up.’

‘You’ve just told me how unhappy you’ve been here but you’re insisting on staying. My God, Eamonn, your mother would have been proud. Maybe they’ll make you a saint after you die.’

Eamonn looked at him. ‘But you’d be on your own.’

‘I’m on my own at home, aren’t I? What’s the difference? I like it here. There are good people around. I’ll make friends. Remember, I’ve done it before – water off a duck’s back to me.’

‘You have it all worked out.’

‘I have it all worked out.’

‘What if you change your mind?’

‘Then I’ll go home.’

Eamonn dragged his fingers through his hair. ‘I thought I’d be happy here.’

‘Maybe you were happy enough at home.’

‘I messed it all up.’

Dermot shrugged. ‘You just took a wrong turning. Everyone’s done that.’

Eamonn went to his room to resume packing. He had not spent a night away from Lomaverde since his mother’s funeral. The idea that he could just get on a plane and leave seemed remarkable. The thought of being anywhere else unbelievable. He found it hard to imagine himself, the person he might be, away from there. It felt to him as if Lomaverde were inside him and he didn’t know how he would feel on a busy street, in the rain, waiting for a bus. He found the prospect of even such prosaic moments exhilarating and faintly terrifying.

He packed an odd selection of clothes, found his passport and only at the last minute remembered his phone, recharging in the corner. There was a message.

He stared at the message for a long time and finally he knew what it was.

He sat down carefully and she woke up. Her face instantly clouded with anguish and she began to cry. He stood up and she quietened and fell asleep once more. Her breathing slowed and steadied and he tried again, bending his knees almost imperceptibly, lowering himself gradually on to the chair. As he made contact with the seat, her eyelids flickered open again, revealing two dark blue irises, burning with betrayal and pain, and she let out a howl. He spoke in a low voice as he got up:

‘It’s OK. I’m sorry. I’m standing. No chair. No chair.’

He cradled the back of her head with his hand. She was asleep within seconds. He stood then for a long time, humming a tune from a long-forgotten advert, the tempo slowed down, a hidden mournfulness revealed in its melody. He swayed in a kind of trance, conscious only of the cycle of the notes, the heat of her head, the weight of her body. Eventually he took her back and laid her next to Laura on the bed. He put his lips to her forehead, placed her hand on her mother’s, and left.

Outside the block he stood blinking for a moment, waiting to adjust to the light and the heat. He walked into the street wondering which way he might go when he caught a glimpse of movement high on the hill above him. He shielded his eyes with his hands and looked up towards the black shape. It was a
human figure, picking its way slowly down the steep path. Eamonn’s legs recognized him first. They started moving, seemingly independent of his will, up the slope. He called out: ‘Hello there!’ And was pleased to hear the surprise in his father’s voice.

‘Eamonn?’

He made his way quickly up the track until he stood smiling and out of breath before him.

‘What’s this?’

‘Surprise.’

Dermot looked at him. ‘But I’ve nothing ready. How long have you been here? Have you had a drink even?’

‘It’s fine. We let ourselves in. I was just coming out to find you.’

‘I haven’t even a cot set up. I could have had it all arranged.’

Eamonn reached out and touched him lightly on the arm. ‘The best visits are unannounced, you used to say that.’

Dermot looked at him and then smiled.

‘Well, then.’

‘Well, then.’

Eamonn frowned. ‘You look strange with a tan.’

‘I always had some colour in my face.’

‘That was Birmingham bus-driver colour. Now you’re all Mediterranean. It makes you look …’

‘Wealthy and handsome?’

‘No. Like a labourer. You look like you’ve been out building a motorway.’

‘Oh, I see.’

They walked down the hill together.

‘I’m sorry I wasn’t here. I was walking. Best time to do it, before it gets too hot.’

‘You look well.’

‘I feel fine.’ He looked at Eamonn. ‘And what about you? Are you all well?’

‘We are.’

‘You look like you’ve gained a little weight.’

‘Takeaways. I missed them.’

‘You’re less skeletal now. More cadaverous, I’d say.’

‘That’s good.’

‘And everything’s OK, is it?’

Eamonn smiled. ‘Yes. Everything’s OK.’

‘What’s funny?’

‘You sound like Mom.’

‘Do I? I suppose I do. How is the little one?’

‘She’s good. A baby. You know. She doesn’t sleep.’

‘Do you know who she is yet?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Your mother and I, we used to look in at you in your cot when you were sleeping, and ask: “Who are you?” You were a little stranger come to live with us. A mystery. We were waiting for you to reveal yourself to us.’

‘No, I’m not sure she’s done that yet.’

‘Good for her.’

They left the hillside and walked along the street.

‘I see the pool’s been restored to its former glory.’

‘It wasn’t that big a job in the end. We found the right fellas to do it, and it didn’t cost an arm and a leg. Just a crack in the lining. I like to sneak over there at night.’

‘Why do you need to sneak?’

‘I suppose I don’t really. There’s nobody to mind. I float on my back in the dark, looking up at the stars, thinking. A nocturnal fish, that’s what Inga calls me. I can give the cats a rare fright when I sit up.’

They reached the apartment block. He hesitated as Dermot held the door open.

‘Come in, come in, will you.’

Eamonn looked over at the pool.

‘I’d love a swim now. Do you fancy it?’

‘I do not. There’s someone inside that I’m very keen to see.’

Eamonn nodded. ‘She’s asleep. She didn’t sleep last night.’

‘Well, it’s no more than you deserve. You were the worst. She’ll be a good girl now for her Granddad. I have a cupboard there in the kitchen with a few little things in that she’ll like.’

‘Dad, please don’t stuff her with rubbish.’

‘What? I’m not going to stuff her. She can have a little chocolate, can’t she? My God, I bet you have her eating dried fruit and yoghurt.’

‘She likes yoghurt.’

‘Because she doesn’t know any better.’

Eamonn shrugged. ‘Try not to wake Laura. She’s exhausted.’

Dermot smiled. ‘Well, she can take it easy now for a few days. You both can. You just let me get on with it.’

Eamonn crossed over the road and let himself in through the turnstile. A few minutes later he heard the gate open again.

‘Did he wake you up?’

‘No. I was awake.’

‘Is she still asleep?’

‘He’s watching her. I mean literally: watching her. Peering into her face. She’ll get a shock when she wakes up.’

Something moved behind them and they turned to see a mottled cat emerging from the shadows under one of the sun loungers. It scampered away in panic at the sight of them.

Eamonn looked at her. ‘How are you?’

‘OK.’ She pushed the hair out of her eyes. ‘What about you?’

‘Yeah. OK.’

They stripped and stood at the edge of the pool. It never failed to entice. The clean lines. The perfect contrast. The endless blue.

‘It’s strange to be back.’

‘Maybe it’s too soon.’

They held hands, experiencing the same desire to break the surface of the water. To feel the shock of the cold.

‘No. It’s OK, I think. A few days. It’s finite.’

He smiled and they leaped together into the view.