Somewhere just out of reach.
Because it was Sunday, a rather larger than usual
crowd had gathered at the end of the pier despite
the glum weather. Claire moved Andrew’s buggy
slightly to let people pass. A youngish man clad in
a navy wax jacket sat down.
It was time to go but her legs were steadfastly refusing
to budge. They often resented being marched for
miles. Andrew’s cheeks were a healthy pink and
he was dribbling onto his blue bunny coat. Claire
found a tissue at the bottom of her bag and wiped
his mouth.
‘What a beautiful baby,’ the young man sitting
beside her commented in genuine admiration.
‘Thank you,’ Claire said without looking at him.
He was well spoken. In fact his voice had a tinge
of familiarity. But she was wary of striking up
conversations with men while she was alone with
her child.
‘What’s his name?’
‘Andrew.’
She raised her head to get a look at this well-spoken
man who had taken such a shine to Andrew.
As soon as she did, mutual recognition set in.
‘My God, it’s Tom, isn’t it?’ she exclaimed.
‘That’s right.’ He broke into a smile. ‘You’re
Emma’s sister, aren’t you?’
‘Yeah that’s right. You’ve got a great memory.
What are you doing up in Dublin?’
‘I live here now. I moved from Galway a couple of
years ago . . . So this is your little fella.’ He rubbed
Andrew’s cheek with the back of his hand. ‘He’s the
image of you.’
‘Is he?’ Claire was delighted. ‘People say he has
my eyes but Simon’s nose.’
‘Simon’s your . . .’
‘. . . husband,’ she finished for him.
‘And does he not like walking?’
‘No,’ Claire said unhappily. ‘No, he does not.’
‘So how is Emma anyway?’ Tom swiftly switched
subjects. ‘Still as mad as ever?’
‘Yeah, she’s on a world tour at the moment with a
bunch of friends. They must be in Australia by now,’
she said wistfully, imagining Emma in a bikini on a
remote beach somewhere.
‘I was in Australia myself a couple of years back,
never wanted to come home.’
Claire noticed a sadness in his voice as he spoke.
Perhaps he’d left a girlfriend behind on the other
side of the world. He’d a kind face, deep brown
eyes behind odd-shaped glasses, and a generous
mouth.
Without warning, Andrew picked up Derek the
Dalmatian and flung him with great force. Claire
watched in dismay as Derek bounced down the
slippery rocks towards the direction of the sea and
landed in a small puddle.
‘That’s bold, Andrew,’ Claire said crossly.
Andrew’s little face crumpled. He opened his
mouth and began to howl.
Oh Jesus, please don’t create a scene here now, Andrew, please
.
Tom looked deeply distressed by the drama of it
all.
‘I’ll get it,’ he said chivalrously, standing up.
‘No, leave it,’ Claire urged. ‘The rocks are wet.’
God, it wasn’t worth risking your life for a £3 toy.
But he was gone. A small crowd watched Tom
brave the elements for Derek. When he rescued the
sopping-wet doggy from a pile of wet seaweed, a
couple clapped comically.
Tom beamed as he wrung Derek’s saturated body
in an attempt to dry him. ‘That’s my good deed for
today.’
The wind had started up again. Claire decided to
head back. They walked together along the pier,
Tom taking Andrew’s buggy half way to give Claire
a break. At the car park, Tom offered to get a couple
of ice creams.
‘Sure, why not?’ Claire laughed. ‘I haven’t had an
ice cream here since I was a child.’
They sat in Claire’s Fiat, sticking the pieces of flake
deep into the whipped ice cream.
‘I feel great after that,’ Claire said. ‘Walking is
hugely therapeutic, I find.’
‘That’s how I feel about it.’ Tom gazed through
the windscreen at the angry Irish sky. Wherever he
was, Claire decided, it was a million miles from Dun
Laoighaire pier.
‘I try to come out every Saturday and Sunday,’ she
said quietly.
‘That’s funny, so do I,’ he snapped back into the
present. ‘I’ve never seen you walking here before.’
‘Well, I haven’t been out much recently due to the
dreary weather.’
‘Yeah, roll on the summer, this winter has been
the longest in history. Well . . .’ he seemed to hesitate
‘. . . thanks for the chat.’ He opened the passenger
door slowly. ‘Give my love to Emma when you’re
next talking to her.’
‘Will do.’
‘And you, young man,’ he grinned at Andrew
strapped into his baby seat, ‘you take care of your
mother, do you hear?’
‘Ahhh,’ Andrew answered back joyfully.
He was gone.
What a lovely man, Claire thought. A gentleman.
And nice looking too. She wondered what age he
was. Probably t
he same as Emma – they’d been in t
he same class in UCG. Sure, what’s it to you? she
asked herself, reversing out of the car park. Chances
are you’ll never lay eyes on him again.
‘What do you mean, you don’t know how the interview
went?’ Anna’s mother frowned at the pan of
sausages and turned down the ring.
‘You never can tell,’ Anna said, playing with her
knife and fork, feeling like a child again. Her mother
was using the exact tone of voice she’d used when
asking about the leaving certificate exams.
What do you mean you don’t know how Maths went? Maths is very straightforward. You either know the answers
or you don’t
.
‘I think it went fine,’ Anna said to shut her up.
‘So you’re in with a good chance then?’ Mrs
Allstone cracked one egg after another and splashed
them onto the pan, making a hissing sound.
‘Oh I suppose,’ Anna made a face.
‘You’re not getting any younger, you know.’
‘I know, sure don’t you remind me every time
I’m over?’
She really didn’t know why she bothered calling at
all. Their dear son didn’t bother his barney phoning,
never mind calling round.
Yet, they’d watched joyfully as Roger swotted
for his first-class degree and secured a job in a
prestigious Dublin firm before being headhunted by
an international London-based company. His salary
was six figures, his bonus probably twice that.
Anna had lacked the natural academic ability of
her brother and her parents had never let her forget
it. Neighbours were filled with stories of Roger’s substantial
success, but stories concerning Anna were
s
wiftly skimmed over. What they conveniently failed
to admit though, Anna thought wryly, was the fact
that Roger was living with a divorcee ten years his
senior. And her two kids by two different fathers.
Roger hadn’t even come home for Christmas last
year so intent was he on avoiding his mother’s disapproving
stare. Life wasn’t always what it seemed
in the Allstones’ sunny Stillorgan residence.
‘So what does this boy do with himself?’ Her
mother was referring to Jake, who was on his way
to her parents’ house. Anyone under forty was a boy
according to her.
‘Stockbroking.’
‘I see.’ Her mother gave a faint smile. Stockbroking
was respectable, obviously. Not as stable
as law or medicine of course, but it would do. ‘I wish
you wouldn’t ask strange men to barge in on your
father and me when we’re not expecting them. The
kitchen’s a mess. I’ve left your father’s underwear
on some of the radiators and there’s a stink in the
hall. Someone must have let the dog in.’
‘He’s not coming to meet you,’ Anna snapped.
‘He’s collecting me and we’re going out for a drink.’
‘He’s not drinking and driving, is he?’ Her father
looked up from his unappetizing-looking fry.
‘No,’ Anna said. ‘And he’s not coming in either.’
‘I don’t trust a man who doesn’t want to meet a
girl’s parents. You’d wonder what he had to hide,’
Mrs Allstone sniffed.
The doorbell rang. Anna made a dash for her bag
and coat, kissed her parents goodnight and fled.
As she fastened her seatbelt in the passenger seat
of Jake’s car, she looked up and saw her mother
peeping out of one of the bedroom windows. She half
expected her to call out, ‘Be home by ten or else.’
‘You look smashing.’ Jake was, as usual, forthcoming
with the compliments. ‘Nice time with your
folks?’
‘Very nice,’ Anna lied. She wasn’t about to go
into her whole family history with a stranger. She’d
done it before only to find the stranger suddenly got
abducted in the middle of the night. ‘My parents
were in great form.’
‘I can’t wait to meet them.’ Jake started up the
engine.
‘I’m sure they’d be delighted to meet you, too.’
Not
.
‘Any siblings?’
‘Just a brother. Roger.’
‘Fantastic.’
‘Yes.’
Whatever
.
‘Is he as funny as you?’
‘No.’
Jake screamed with laughter. Anna stared at him
in mild horror. She wasn’t sure if she liked being
thought of as hilarious. It put pressure on you to
try to make people laugh all the time. Tonight she
felt like being serious. Something to do with meeting
her parents perhaps.
They whizzed along the dual carriageway. Jake
put his foot down and they sped into town.
Jake held open the door of Elgon’s bistro for her.
A young girl took her chocolate-coloured scarf and
coat, then they were led to a table for two.
Anna glanced around the room to see if she recognized
anybody. She spotted a friend of her brother
deep in conversation with a glamorous brunette.
Uh oh, she grimaced. As far as she knew his wife
was definitely a redhead. A group of well-known
politicians were laughing loudly in one corner, a
well-known actor was sipping champagne with his
second wife – or was it his third? Anna graciously
accepted her menu. Ah yes, this was the life she
was meant to lead. Being driven around town in a
fancy car, by a nicely dressed man who thought she
was as beautiful as a supermodel and as funny as a
comedian. It was the BIZ!
Anna opted for the vegetarian bake and Jake chose
the salmon. He ordered the second most expensive
wine on the list. She smiled at him. He had class.
Yes, he was the one. Not for the rest of her life,
mind. God, no! But he’d be great at Victoria’s party.
Jake was up there with the best of them.
Jake made a toast to the most stunning girl in
the room. Anna looked around tentatively to see
who it might be. ‘It’s you, silly,’ Jake whispered.
Anna immediately softened. She felt anything but
stunning. But she wasn’t about to chide Jake for
flattery. Flattery was everything.
‘Thank you for a wonderful evening,’ she said
between mouthfuls of chocolate mud pie.
‘The pleasure is all mine,’ his eyes twinkled, ‘but
the evening isn’t over yet, is it?’
‘Well . . . no,’ Anna replied hesitantly. She wondered
what he was thinking. He couldn’t come back
to her place, that was for sure. And she didn’t
particularly want to go back to his place either.
Sure she hardly knew him. ‘We could go dancing?’
she suggested.