Wishful Thinking (a journey that will change lives forever) (36 page)

Having watched the rest of the TV report and overheard some more details from passers-by, Louise numbly made her way outside the station.  Injuries, fatalities, devastation, catastrophe – words the news reporters had used over and over again – planted themselves in her brain. 

She couldn’t help thinking of all those poor passengers – like the woman sitting across from her, the one who’d asked Louise if she was all right in the seconds before she’d fled the carriage.  Had she survived?  Had the man in the tracksuit with the briefcase survived?  And what about the woman with the lovely Orla Kiely bag? What had happened to her?  And wasn’t that other person at that same station, the one who
hadn’t
made it on time, wasn’t she a very lucky woman indeed?

Louise’s mind reeled as she tried to take in the enormity of the situation, as she tried to come to terms with it all. 
She
should have been on that train!  Only for the fact that she’d been so sick with worry, so sick with nerves about that stupid court case … she could very well be dead by now! 

She pondered the situation for a few more minutes as she stood waiting with the other passengers for the shuttle bus into town.  It was almost too much to take in – it was as though she’d been given a second chance or something and …

Then in a sharp, unexpected burst of clarity, Louise realised something.  And all of a sudden, she began to see things in a very different light.

Moving very slowly at first – head bent as she went – Louise began to walk away, away from the bus stop, away from the bus that would take the stranded commuters into the city centre, and on to the rest of their lives. 

But not Louise. 

Her footsteps quickening as she walked down the road, she went over it all again in her head.   She was
supposed
to have been on that train.  She was supposed to have been injured, maybe even
killed
in that crash – if she’d been on the train.  And if she hadn’t got out at this station, if she hadn’t felt so ill, she
would
have been on the train.

So, what would have happened if she’d been in the crash, she asked herself, her thoughts racing. 

She certainly wouldn’t have been able to make it into court on Monday and the judge wouldn’t be able to make the judgement against her.  And, if she
had
been on the train,
had
been one of the people who’d died, then there would no longer be any court judgement, any decision to make, would there?

Everyone who knew her knew that she used that particular service.  Since she’d moved out to Dun Laoghaire, she’d taken the same train every morning, along with the hundreds of other regular commuters along the East Coast. 

So, everyone would, reasonably enough, assume that she had been on the train that morning and that she, like so many others had likely perished, wouldn’t they?

Her heart hammered in her chest and her heart soared at the chance she’d been given.  In some weird twist of fate, this was a way out – a second chance. 

And Louise was going to grab that chance with both hands.

Heart pounding and pulse racing, Louise dipped her hand into her bag and exhaled deeply when almost instantly she found what she was looking for.  Yes, her passport was still there, nestled nicely amongst her things – along with the cash she’d withdrawn a few days ago to pay for the New York trip. 

Her breathing quickened and she felt another burst of nervous adrenaline.  She could do this – she really could! Who would know the difference? Who would know that she hadn’t been on the train, that she hadn’t been killed in the accident? 

Nobody, that’s who.   Not Cahill, not the judge, and certainly not horrible Leo Gardner.  None of the people who were about to pull the rug from under her and ruin her life for good would know.  No, nobody would know the difference. 

The train station now far behind her – she had made sure of that – she quickened her pace and headed further along the street towards the nearest taxi rank.  She knew exactly where to go first – somewhere she could lay low for a while, at least until it all blew over and she figured out what she wanted to do.

She patted her bag reassuringly. She had her passport and a nice wad of money, so really, she could go anywhere she liked.  She knew from TV that she couldn’t use her bankcard or her credit cards – that would give the game away entirely – but the cash would keep her going for a while.

Granted, she didn’t quite know exactly what she was going to do when she got to where she was going, but she’d think about that when the time came.  All she knew was that there was no going back.  She’d been given a second chance!

Head bent low as she approached the taxi rank, she barely felt her feet touch the ground as she moved towards a waiting car. 

Neither did she see her newly married friend Gemma Howard waving enthusiastically at her from across the road.

Rosie was trying to ring Sheila, but there was no answer at Gillian’s house.  By rights, this morning she should be heading off on the train for her usual visit, but after all that had happened the night before, and the fact that she was still at Stephen’s, she hadn’t the energy nor the inclination to go on the journey today.  She hoped Sheila wouldn’t mind.  Anyway, by the looks of things she was off out with Gillian somewhere – and not too concerned about missing Rosie at all. 

She replaced the receiver, idly wondering if something might be wrong.  No, she thought, shaking her head, she was fretting over nothing as usual – Sheila was probably taking a nap, and Gillian wasn’t answering because she was outside hanging out washing or something.  She’d try again after lunch.  Sheila would be devastated about poor Twix.  Granted, her friend was more of a cat lover herself, but even Sheila had gradually been won over by the little spaniel’s cheery antics.

Rosie resolved to try not to think about it.  Twix was gone now, and she had to get over it.  She and Stephen had talked well into the night about lots of things – Twix, David, even Sophie – and as Stephen had said himself, maybe Rosie had relied on the dog a little bit too much, rather than facing up to her son’s bullying. 

“Stephen!” she’d said, shocked at the idea. “David has his moments, and yes he might be moody and selfish, but he’s not a bully.”

“If his moods mean that his mother is afraid to go about her daily business in her own house, then yes, he is a bully.”

She bit her lip, not sure if she wanted to admit this out loud.  “But if he is, then it’s my own fault, isn’t it?”

His eyes widened. “What on earth would make you think something like that?”

“Well, I’m his mother, aren’t I? I raised him – well, me and Martin, of course.  So, if David does have those sort of … tendencies, then I have nobody to blame but myself.”

“Rosie, he’s a grown man! And grown men have to take responsibility for their own actions! As do grown women,” he added, Rosie having explained all about Sophie’s busy life – a life so busy she couldn’t even take a phone call from her upset mother.  “Look, Rosie, you can’t seriously believe that your children’s behaviour has anything to do with the way you and Martin raised them.  You did your best, but eventually they have to make their own way in life. Not to mention the fact that they have their own personalities, their own problems and their own individual way of dealing with them. And how they do that has nothing whatsoever to do with you!” 

Rosie still didn’t seem convinced.

“Think about it,” he continued.  “I have three children, each of them so different to one another – and indeed to me – that I often wonder if they were actually switched at birth.  There are some things you can teach them, lots of things you can teach them actually, but most of it they have to learn on their own.  You said yourself that you and Sophie are very different, yes?”

“Yes, well, she had a lot more opportunities than I had growing up.  She’s well educated, and with that she’s a lot more confident –”

“Exactly, you’ve just admitted that Sophie is different to you – not because you raised her to be, but because of her own personality, her own experiences.  How can you not think the same way when it comes to David?”

“I don’t know.  I suppose in a way, I’m ashamed of how he’s turned out,” she admitted, quietly, almost afraid to say it out loud.  “I’m ashamed of how he’s treating me.  He doesn’t seem to have any respect for me, and surely that’s something you have to teach?”

“Rosie, who knows what goes on inside people’s heads? I’ve tried to figure that out for years with my own kids, with everyone I’ve ever met, and believe me, it’s a waste of time.  Look, I’ll give you an example.  When you walked into my class, that first day, you and everyone else in there had the same level of experience – as in none, yes?”

“I suppose.”

“So, really for me it was like working with a blank slate, a blank canvas if you’ll pardon the metaphor,” he added, eyes twinkling.

Rosie nodded.

“So, should I, as the teacher, feel guilty because every single one of my students didn’t turn out to be as good as you were? That they didn’t learn as quickly as you did?”

Rosie blushed, flattered by this little bit of praise and feeling silly about it.

“Of course I shouldn’t feel guilty, because people aren’t simply blank canvases upon which you can imprint your view of the world,” Stephen went on. “Everyone is different, unique, whatever you want to call it.  David and Sophie got great guidance from you and Martin – I’ve no doubt of that whatsoever, but you’re not responsible for the kind of adults they are now. Sophie seems very selfish certainly, but perhaps she’s been mollycoddled and indulged by her husband. You said Martin never indulged her?”

“No, he always felt it was good for the kids not to have everything handed to them.” Martin had been adamant about that. Sure, wasn’t that his argument for not helping Sophie out with getting a house in the first place? And as it turned out, he’d been dead right. Sophie had been all over her in the weeks leading up to the signing over of the deeds, and then once she got what she wanted, she couldn’t be seen for dust!

“So, how then,” Stephen persisted, “can you hold yourself responsible for the fact that she’s turned out selfish anyway – in the same way that David has become introverted, and as you say, less respectful.  When it comes to our children we can have the greatest intentions in the world, give them the benefit of our own experiences, teach them the difference between right and wrong, but, Rosie, we have absolutely no control over what they do with that knowledge.  That’s up to them and them only.”

She nodded, understanding. “But I made a mistake in signing over my deeds to Sophie and probably an even bigger one in giving David the run of the house.”

“Rosie, you’re their mother.  All you did was try to help them.  Just remember you did
your
best and don’t beat yourself up thinking that your children’s faults are your faults.  They’re not.  But what you
shouldn’t
be doing is letting them get away with it.  You deserve better.”

“I know that,” she admitted quietly, Stephen’s sensible words finally getting through to her. She’d spent so long blaming herself for her children’s behaviour, it was a relief to think that she might not have been totally at fault after all.

Stephen sat forward. “Now, I need to visit the estate agent’s about this place in the morning, and when I’m finished, we’ll have lunch and then I’ll drive you back to the house. If you want I can stay for a while, until David comes home.  Personally, I think it would be better if I wait outside in the car or something – he mightn’t react well to some stranger being there while he and his mother have a little chat – but I’ll be there one way or the other, OK?”

Rosie nodded. She wasn’t looking forward to it having ‘a little chat’ with David, but she knew it had to be done. “Thanks, Stephen.”

“And from what I’ve heard about your husband, he seems like a very sensible no-nonsense bloke, and I suspect he wouldn’t want you worrying like this – nor would he let David get away with upsetting you like that.”

“No, he wouldn’t,” Rosie smiled.

“You say that David gets home from work around five-thirty …”

“I’d rather go home before then, if you don’t mind – to get changed and everything,” she said hurriedly.

“Of course. Well, look, I should be back from the estate agent’s around twelve, so how ‘bout we go and have lunch in McDaniels in the village – they do a grand carvery – and then I’ll drop you back to Wicklow early in the afternoon, OK?”

Now, this morning, despite her great intentions of having it out with David, Rosie was feeling nervous about going home today.  Not only that, going home meant she had to face an empty house, one that was even emptier now without Twix, she thought sadly, trying to suppress a small tear. 

And the truth was, she really wasn’t sure what to say to David.  The disgust she’d felt for him last night after scaring the dog away frightened her.  No decent mother should ever feel that way about her son.  Then again, she thought, remembering Stephen’s words, no decent mother should be made to.  And David had treated her badly, there was no doubt about that.  She’d have to confront him, let him know how much he’d upended her life with his return, let him know how much he’d hurt her.  She was going to ask him to move out too – there was no way they could go on the way they were, and she knew now that there was no way she was going to be talked into doing so.  She didn’t know what would happen if he did move out though, and wasn’t at all sure if she wanted to stay in that house on her own any longer.  A tiny part of her wished she could go off to Tralee with Stephen, although that was silly, to say nothing of the fact Stephen hadn’t even asked.  But she liked the fact that he’d given her the courage to stand up to her son.

Well, don’t get carried away, you haven’t done it yet! she admonished herself.  But she would.  She’d tell David a few home truths and, while she was at it, she might end up doing the same with Sophie.

Rosie smiled.  Sheila would be delighted that she’d finally developed a bit of backbone.