Pack Up the Moon (22 page)

at least some of the colours of the rainbow. It hurt to cry, but I did it anyway. It wasn’t because I was sad — instead it registered as pure fear. In the cold light of day and in the privacy of my own bedroom I found that I was really

scared. I wasn’t Buffy the Vampire Slayer. I didn’t do any kind of karate. I hadn’t even attended a self-defence class. In fact, the one and only time I hit someone I was five and to be truthful it was more of a hair-pulling incident

than actual slaps. I pondered this. I certainly couldn’t have ever been compared with any kind of daredevil. Even at the funfair I was the one sitting on the bench minding the

coats, while everyone else queued for the roller coaster. I couldn’t bring myself to go on a big wheel. I even had a fear of flying balls for God’s sake. Who the hell did I think I was last night? I could have been killed or, worse, that fucker could have got his dirty paws on me. So what the hell dragged me down that lane? I felt a little nauseous and suddenly it dawned on me.

“John?”

I looked around the room suspiciously.

“John? Are you here?”

I’m losing my mind.

I got back into bed and stayed there for the rest of the

day.

*

As anticipated; Christmas Day passed off uneventfully. I didn’t mention my tangling with a rapist to my parents, fearing coronary attacks. Instead I told them that I had fallen while drunk. My mother ranted for twenty minutes, my father laughed and Noel rang, managing to bail me out of trouble even from a distance. It was good to hear his voice. I missed him and wished he were home. He was happy, having a ball, and I was happy for him. Our parents were so delighted to hear his voice that they didn’t dwell

on his broken promise. We didn’t have long to talk. Dad had taken up most of the call talking about the weather.

“Call me when you get home,” Noel said and gave me a number before hanging up.

I couldn’t wait. The day was long. I was bloated. My mother insisted that we watch The Sound of Music and it

was never-ending.

got home after eight. I pulled out the number and called Noel.

“-What’s wrong?” he said.

“Nothing,” I said defensively.

I couldn’t believe he could sense trouble from a

million miles away. And the truth was that I was bothered. My encounter with scum had left a bad taste in my mouth.

“Tell me,” he said.

So I told him my sad and sordid tale.

He didn’t interrupt until I finished. “You’re a modern day Good Samaritan,” he said.

I laughed. “If Good Samaritans kick people’s heads in, then yeah, that’s me.”

“Well, I did use the term modern,” he noted. I smiled. “You’re not angry?”

“You did what you had to and it worked out. I’m proud of you:’

I wasn’t about to tell him my theory about John. I wanted him to stay proud as opposed to him fearing for

my sanity.

“What about you?” I asked.

“I’m great. Not kicking heads in, but living and it’s really great:’

I laughed, genuinely happy. “I miss you,” I said, not being able to help myself.

He told me he missed me too and I wanted to reach

out and touch him.

“When are you coming home?” I whined.

“I don’t know,” he replied.

“Are you still a priest?” I asked.

Silence.

“I don’t know,” he said.

“OK. I love you,” I said.

“I love you too.”

“How’s Sean?” he asked.

Suddenly I felt sad. “He’s leaving for London. He’s going to be an editor of some magazine over there.” Silence.

“Maybe he needs something to stay for,” he said. “That’s not up to me,” I replied.

“Maybe.” Then he added, “John’s been gone a while.” I knew this but didn’t know why he had suddenly said

that.

“I know,” I said.

“Happy Christmas, Emma!”

“Happy Christmas, Noel,” I replied.

I put down’ the phone and opened a bottle of wine. “Happy Christmas, John,” I said and took the bottle to bed.

When I lay down, I was drunk. Unable to sleep, I lay there in the stillness and I wondered if John could see me. Was it possible? Was heaven a place from where he could look down whenever he wanted? Could he still touch me? It frightened me to think that he was somewhere, knowing that sometimes I forgot to think about him for

a whole day or week or month, knowing that the pain in my heart had dissipated. And although I still missed and loved him, I had to look at his picture to really see him. What if he knew that I couldn’t remember the sound of

his laugh? What if he knew about …?

would rather he just slept. Noel would have said it was God’s way, His plan, and that life goes on. I felt like a

traitor. Maybe he didn’t want me to get on with my life, maybe he wanted rue to love him until death reunited us, and maybe he did send me down that lane. Did he? Did he want me to help that girl or was he sending me a sign. Noel said once that I thought of death as a punishment, but he saw it as a gift. Noel thought everything was a gift. If someone punched him in the face he would have

thanked him. I asked him once if he really believed that he had all the answers. He told me he didn’t. He just believed. That was the problem: I didn’t know if I wanted to. I fell into a drunken sleep, only to wake to my doorbell.

Doreen bustled past me. She had a boxed fruitcake in her hand.

“Thanks,” I said when she put it down on the counter. “Let me look at your face,” she ordered.

She took her time examining my swollen eye. “How’s your hand?” she asked.

“Good.”

I flexed it to show her how well I was doing. I made tea. Doreen preferred tea — coffee made her edgy.

“Sean called me,” she said. “I’d no idea I was living next door to Walker Texas Ranger. He’s worried that you’ve lost your fucking mind.”

I wondered why he’d called Doreen.

“He called you?” I asked.

“Of course he did. Everyone knows how great I am in a crisis. I worked on the Samaritans Help Line for a year, you know. I’ve heard it all.”

I laughed. “There’s nothing to hear.”

She smiled. “There’s always something to hear, love,” she corrected me knowingly.

I told her I had no intention of chasing anymore rapists

down alleyways.

“That’s not what I’m worried about.” She waved her hand in the air dismissively. “It’s time to move on,” she said out of nowhere, but I instantly knew to whom and what she was referring.

“There’s nothing to be concerned about, Dor, really. I have moved on,” I said, looking at the counter.

She reached out and held my face in her hand and

looked into my eyes.

I couldn’t escape her.

“Where’s the girl I used to know? Where’s the girl with the smile that could melt the hardest of hearts? I know you’re in there somewhere, behind all that pain and guilt.”

I wanted to cry. She held my face. Something cracked inside and I gave voice to the feeling I’d run from all these

months.

“It’s my fault! If I hadn’t gone back inside!” Tears burned in my eyes.

She looked at me hard. “Listen to me, young lady, there’s no such thing as ‘if’. You can’t change what happened. It was never up to you.”

I shook my head. “He didn’t want me to go back inside.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“He told me to leave it — he just wanted to go home.” “It doesn’t matter!’

“He’d be here today”

“No! He wouldn’t!’

I pulled away. “Why?” I cried, matching her tone. “Because, Emma, it was meant to be,- she said calmly.

I shrank back and we stayed silent for a while. She took my hand and rubbed it, allowing me to absorb the facts. I did but she didn’t know the full story.

“Dor, I don’t feel him in my heart anymore. It hasn’t been even two years and I can’t feel him. He deserves better. I hate this.” I was crying.

She softened. “Let me ask you this. If it was you who died, wouldn’t you want him to carry on, to be happy?”

Of course I would, she knew that. I nodded. “Why?” she asked.

“Because I loved him!”

“And he loved you,” she said.

I sobbed and nodded and she smiled.

“It’s time to let him go, love. Holding on just hurts both of you,” she said gently.

“Dor?”

“‘Yes.”

“Do you think he can see us?”

“Probably, every now and again. It must be very frustrating for him.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, he has moved on.”

I nodded and deep down I knew it was time for me to

do just that.

*

We were on our way to Kerry. Tom drove, Clo was in the front and Sean and I were in the back. I was happy to leave Dublin, happier to be sitting beside Sean. Being close to him made me feel safe.

It was a long drive. After five hours of sitting, we pulled into a long winding driveway lined with trees. We couldn’t help but be impressed. The house loomed large; the porch light gleamed in the distance. Tom honked the horn. Anne and Richard stood waiting for us. My arse hurt. So did Clo’s — she keep lifting her ass off the seat, rubbing it and saying, “Christ!” a lot.

Sean jumped out of the car first. He and Richard hugged. Clo and Anne danced around together wildly. I stood back smiling. Tom stood back with me observing.

“Richard, Anne, you remember Tom,” I said.

I realised instantly it was a stupid thing to say. They had spent an entire weekend in Paris with him after all. Anne made a big deal about my eye as we made our way into

the house. She, asked if I was OK.

“Just glad to be out of the car,” I replied.

Richard grabbed my hand. “Hey, Rambo!”

I smiled.

Anne couldn’t wait to be filled in.

“But I told you everything on the phone,” I said, despairing.

She stopped filling the kettle while I looked around

her kitchen, which was the size of my entire house.

“Emma, a story is only a real story when it’s told face to face,” she said.

“Since when?” Clo enquired.

“I want to hear everything,” Anne ordered, ignoring her.

“She punched him in the face!’ Clo talked as though she was there and smiled. “And she kicked him in the nuts.”

“It was more of a squeeze,” I corrected.

“Who’d have guessed you were so vicious?” said Anne and they both nodded at me approvingly.

Sean watched us in silence; he was definitely not as impressed as the others. I was glad of it, as I had no intention of ever repeating the performance. Richard appeared from the sitting-room.

“How’s the poor girl?” he asked.

“Fine,” I said.

Although I wasn’t sure that was the case. I had only spoken to her mother once briefly on the phone. She thanked me and said that she was taking her daughter

away on a holiday, which didn’t necessarily convey that the girl was fine, but I was hoping for the best.

Tom and Sean found Richard’s Playstation, so we didn’t see the lads for most of the night. Anne, Clo and I sat in the kitchen drinking wine and looking out onto a

beautiful stone patio, which looked onto a river. It was pretty breathtaking. Clo and I were in heaven.

“This is some place,” Clo commented.

Anne smiled. “Yeah,” she agreed before changing the subject.

We knew she wasn’t totally convinced about living in

Kerry, but looking around it was difficult to sympathise. Clo put on a CD. Anne asked how Leonard was.

“Yesterday, I caught him trying to swallow his toy mouse,” I replied.

Clo laughed and told Anne that the week before he

had managed to get into my fridge and mangle everything

in it.

“That’s so weird,” Anne said.

“Tell me about it. He managed to suck down three lamb chops and half a bottle of white wine!”

Anne thought I should take him to a vet. Clo disagreed and defended his healthy appetite.

Anne was disgusted. “There’s nothing healthy about a cat sucking down three lamb chops with a bottle of

wine.”

“Half a bottle,” I corrected.

She gave me a dirty look before asking if he was fat. He was nearly two years and he shared the same dimensions

as a medium-sized dog.

“He’s big-boned,” I said.

Clo backed me up. “It’s just his breed,” she offered.

Anne gave us both another one of her patented dirty

looks. “Emma, bring that poor cat to the vet,” she said in a tone reminiscent of Doreen.

I nodded my head in defeat and had to admit my cat

had a problem. I briefly wondered if I was a bad mother.

All of a sudden Anne was giggly and explained that she

wasn’t used to drinking as she and Richard had been

following a strict diet, which included no alcohol consumption, for the past two months.

“Why?” Clo asked, shocked.

“To increase our chances of having a baby,” Anne whispered even though the lads were in a sitting-room

about four miles away, in what Clo described as the west wing.

Clo thought about it for a minute. I smiled because I knew what she was thinking. “Funny, I thought most women got pregnant after a decent meal and a few Bacardi Breezers. Or is that just me?”

I choked on my wine. Anne was silent for a minute before noting, “That’s a good fucking point.”

We laughed for twenty minutes. Sean arrived in

victorious. He had beaten Richard at Time Crisis. “Really? How boring,” Clo noted before grabbing his

arse.

He told her she hadn’t a clue while getting a few beers

from the fridge. Anne was still laughing.

“What’s so funny?” he asked.

“Booze,” came her reply.

Clo and I laughed stupidly.

“Right so,” he said and left.

We were halfway through a second bottle of wine and

Anne was slumping.

“It’s shoo good to have you,” she slurred.

Clo and I smiled. This was the first time we’d been together in months and she was right, it did feel really good.

Richard showed us to our rooms while Anne was