Pack Up the Moon (25 page)

“Emma!” She smiled warmly despite the freeze. “Patricia!” I called out a little too cheerily.

She approached with her arms outstretched and I

walked into her embrace. “I haven’t seen you in such a long time.”

I apologised profusely, face reddening.

She sensed my guilt and immediately put me at ease

with her wide smile. “It’s so good to see you.”

“You too, Patricia.” I meant it despite my embarrassment.

I picked up a sponge and together we cleaned. She talked about her neighbour who had won a trip around

the world and I talked about school. When the headstone was gleaming she asked me if I wanted to join her for a

coffee. I hadn’t managed to speak to John, but I was having such a lovely time with her and coffee meant

warmth.

The skies opened as we made our way back to our

cars. We were both soaking as we entered the coffee shop. A nice old dear took our coats and hung them on a stand

by the door. We sat near the open fire which roared in the corner and we slowly began to melt. A waitress took our orders and we sat looking at one another like old friends

who had been apart longer than they would have wished.

“You look happy,” she said.

The guilt returned.

“Are you happy, Emma?” she asked kindly.

“Yes,” I admitted.

“Good girl,” she nodded.

I didn’t want to tell her about Sean because that would

be unfair. It would have hurt too much, my being happy with John’s best friend while he slept underground. It turns out I didn’t have to.

“And Sean?” she asked.

“He’s fine,” I said blushing.

“Your mother told me about you two and I’m happy. I’m so glad, Emma. We were all worried that you wouldn’t find someone.”

Oh my God. I should have said something.

I couldn’t look at her.

She laughed. “You’re so sweet.”

“I’m sorry, Patricia.” I felt like crying but I was wet enough.

“There is no need to be sorry,” she said.

“I still love him,” I said apologetically and a little pathetically.

“I know me too, but he’s gone and we’re here!’

She was so wise. Suddenly I missed her. “Sean’s great,” I grinned.

She laughed. “I’m sure he is — he’s had enough practice.”

We both laughed and clinked our coffee mugs. It was so good to see her. Later we hugged by the cars and promised to keep in touch. I realised on the drive home that I didn’t have to tell John. He knew and was happy for me.

*

The weeks after Christmas flew. Sean moved in with me in early February. Everyone was delighted for us except Leonard who was suffering intensely on a new diet. Lack of food compounded by a new housemate ensured a

violent reaction. Initially he showed his displeasure by Peeing on Sean’s side of the bed, so we ensured the bedroom door was always locked and this worked well for

a while until one night Sean, finding it difficult to

breathe, awoke in the middle of the night to find Leonard asleep on his face. I woke in time to see Leonard hit the opposite wall, do a kind of flip thing and land on his chubby little legs. Sean explained the situation while Leonard sat at the end of the bed with his neck craned, staring at him venomously. It was only then that I noticed the door was closed. I looked at Sean who appeared locked in Leonard’s eyes.

“You left Leonard downstairs when we were going to

bed, right?”

He nodded in agreement.

I pointed to the door.

“How did he get in here then?” I asked.

Sean went pale. “Jesus, he’s like Chucky,” he whispered.

We sat looking at the cat for a really long time, attempting to work out how he had gained access to

Sean’s face. Eventually the cat gave in and meowed at the door. I let him out and attempted to make light of it. Sean slept sitting up that night and we never did work it

out.

The next morning I mentioned it to Doreen who had

dropped in to escape her husband who had recently

joined the Green Party. Apparently he was separating her rubbish and trying to talk her into getting a system

installed to recycle their waste. She sat at the kitchen table while I made coffee.

“I mean for Christ’s sake, Emma, when I married him, I never agreed to bathing in my own recycled urine.”

I agreed it was more that any vow could withstand. Leonard passed us and I watched him head into the sitting-room. I ran over and closed the door and sought

advice from my older and wiser friend. I explained the troublesome events of the previous night.

“How did he get in to the room?” she asked. I told her I didn’t know.

“Weird,” she said.

I was hoping for more. She got up, opened the door a crack and looked out at Leonard who was sitting by the

window watching a bird hop across the lawn. Sensing her presence, he turned to stare at her. She stood for a minute, analysing him before closing the door over.

“He’s starving,” she said.

I didn’t understand what this had to do with my cat

being a psycho.

She sat down. “He’s got that supermodel haunted look,” she laughed.

I still wasn’t getting it.

“When did you put him on a diet?” she asked. “Just after Christmas,” I answered.

“And when did Sean start staying over?” she asked. “Just after Christmas,” I answered.

“Well then,” she said, “there you go. He equates starving with Sean. He probably thinks that if he kills Sean he’ll get fed.”

I wondered. “You could be right.”

“I’m over sixty, love. I’m always right.”

And I believed her until she asked me if I’d ever considered putting Leonard into therapy. I complained I was already paying a fortune for a dietician. She nodded sagely and reminded me that I could always have him put

down. I think he heard her because when she was leaving he made a run for her legs. Dor didn’t move — she just

looked down at his chubby little face and threatened to

break it. He backed off.

“A firm hand is all it takes,” she said and left.

I looked at Leonard. “Cop on!” I shouted and bravely turned my back on him and walked into the kitchen.

Later I informed Sean of what I now believed to be

Leonard’s issue. He agreed the theory had merit. We decided that he should be seen to give Leonard his meagre

meals. He did and the cat pissed on his food. We gave him nothing else all night, locked our bedroom door and Sean resumed sleeping while sitting up. This lasted three days. On the third day the cat ate his lo-cal steamed chicken

and after that there were no more murder attempts.

The weeks and months passed and, while Leonard lost weight, Sean and I got used to being a couple. Initially I had been concerned about him moving into the house I

once shared with his best friend. We discussed getting a new place together, but then rents were getting more expensive. I loved where I lived and so did he. We did buy a new bed, but when I couldn’t bring myself to throw out the old one he suggested that we move it into the spare

room and throw out the spare bed instead. He wasn’t jealous or threatened or even annoyed at my position. Instead he understood my reasons and I loved him more

for it.

*

Noel had been gone over a year. Sean and I were at my parents’ for Sunday dinner. My father’s veins were at him, my mother had a headache and I had my period. Sean put on a brave face while surrounded by misery.

“So how’s work?” he asked my dad.

“Painful,” my father responded dully

He asked my mother how her bridge lessons were

going.

“I’m rubbish,” she said.

He started to age before my eyes. I felt sorry for him.

“Sean’s been promoted,” I said brightly. They bucked up and were pleased for him. “He’s going to be editor of a new magazine being launched in May.”

My mother was thrilled because the title “editor” impressed her. However, she couldn’t help but note that men’s magazines are full of rubbish.

“I mean, what the hell do men know about anything?” she asked.

I laughed her off while Sean and my dad smirked at

one another like they had a clue.

The phone rang and it was Noel. My mother nearly stood on my father in her attempt to get to the phone. Instantly their mood improved. My mother was beaming and punctuating every sentence with the word “son”, while my dad insisted on shouting into the phone even though it

was a good connection. When I eventually got to talk to him he told me that he was in Africa. I imagined him with a tan, stubble and hippy hair, snorting coke and playing poker with shady characters, until he mentioned that Sister Augustino and Mother Bernadette had dropped

him into the village to make the call. I told him about Sean and me. Of course he already knew about us and called me slow. It had been four months since we’d spoken and I missed him dreadfully. I called him a cheeky bastard to my mother’s utter disgust.

“Emma, for God’s sake!” she almost cried.

I could nearly hear Noel smile. I asked him when he was coming home and he said sometime that year and

then I said goodbye because Sean kept digging me to give

him the phone. When he got it he wasn’t doing much talking — instead he nodded a lot, then he took the phone out into the hall.

On the way home I asked him what he and Noel were

talking about, but he just smiled and said nothing. I found this very annoying and reminded him of my freakish

strength, but he still wouldn’t budge. As soon as we got home he distracted me with sex and I soon forgot what

was bugging me.

Two Sundays later, Sean couldn’t make it to dinner at my parents so I trudged over alone. My parents and I sat at the dinner table and were discussing Leonard’s dietary

progress when the doorbell rang. My mother got up to answer it. Dad and I were discussing the fat content in tuna when we heard my mother scream. My heart sank and my stomach turned. My father jumped up, but I was ahead of him. We ran into the hall expecting terror; instead we found my mother wrapped around Noel and

Sean grinning beside them. My father enveloped his son and my mother. It was like a scene from The Waltons.

“Hey, Em,” Noel said, grinning over my father’s shoulder. “Did you miss me?”

My parents parted and I grabbed him and held on

tight. My dad stood back, watching his children with tears in his eyes. Noel escaped me and he went back to Dad. They hugged tight and my dad cried. My mother gave Sean three desserts as a reward for bringing her son home,

so he ate while Noel told us of his travels, showed us photographs of exotic places and handed out trinkets

from around the globe. He was relaxed and when he laughed his eyes sparkled. Eventually my parents, worn out by excitement, went to bed, leaving Sean, Noel and me alone together, three old friends catching up on one another’s lives.

Noel was thrilled that Sean and I had finally found

each other. (His words not mine.) I called him a sap. Noel called me a hard ass and Sean agreed. I couldn’t help but remember John and how he and Noel had such a good

friendship. The thought, although fleeting, made me smile. Sean glimpsed my smile and squeezed my hand, returning me to the present.

It turned out that Sean had confided his feelings for

me to Noel a long time ago.

“You weren’t the only one who came to Confession, Em,” Noel told me.

Sean laughed, remembering getting carried away during one of their confessional chats and lighting up a fag. Noel had smelt smoke and thought the church was on fire.

We talked most of the night about African culture, Asian technology and about what amazing creatures

elephants were. It was Noel’s first night home so neither of us brought up the future. We didn’t want to push him into revealing his plans.

*

Clo arrived over to my place the following Saturday. I was lost in laundry. She was beaming.

“What?” I asked.

“Tom asked me to marry him,- she replied.

I dropped my washing basket.

She laughed and did a little happy dance. “I said yes.”

I tripped over the washing basket, but managed to hug her without further injury. It turns out they had been sitting at home watching This Life and during an argument

as to whether Miles was sexy or a pain in the arse, Tom asked her to be his wife. Just like that. They were going to buy the ring that afternoon. We sat together in the kitchen.

“It’s funny the way things work out, isn’t it?” she asked.

“I suppose,” I said and I knew what she meant.

“For so long I thought the next wedding would be

you and John.”

I smiled at her. “Me too,” I said.

“Do you think he would have liked Tom?”

I nodded my head. “Definitely!’

She smiled. “Yeah. Tom would have liked him too.” She asked me if I still missed him. I told her I did. “But you wouldn’t change your life now?” she asked. I told her I didn’t have the power to change anything

and that for the first time I understood why and I

wouldn’t want to change it — after all, if I did control life

and death I’d probably fuck it up.

“This world is a chessboard and we are mere pawns,” I declared with an air of pomposity.

She looked at me blankly.

“We just have to try to enjoy the game,” I attempted to explain.

“Shut up,” she said, putting me back in my place.

I laughed. “OK, but you know what I mean.”

“Nobody knows what you mean when you go off on

one,” she smiled. Then, after a while, she said, “It’s good to see you happy.”

“You too,” I smiled.

Everything was going to be alright, at least for a while, and I could live with that. Sean was my future, I was in love and maybe there was a part of me that was in love

with him from the first time I met him. I definitely thought he was a ride. I smiled as I remembered. She asked me what I was smiling at so I told her. She agreed he was a ride.