The Last Goodbye (35 page)

“Don’t worry . . . as long as you thank me, that’s all that matters . . .”

“You wish, Flynn!”

I heard my new phone vibrate on the desk beside me. I picked it up and when I saw it was Dad I switched it off and put it back down again. This was the second time that he had rung me today. Ben had given him my new number. He had tried calling me several times since my trip home but I hadn’t answered any of the calls. I knew he probably wanted to explain to me his reasons for holding on to the letter for all these years but I didn’t want to hear them.

A few people started to arrive into the gallery just after six. I went over to greet them. I offered them a glass of champagne and handed them a brochure for the exhibition. Nat looked really nervous. I could see her over the balcony, pacing nervously and fiddling with her necklace. She came back down the stairs.

“There’s hardly anyone here!”

“Relax – people always arrive late to these things, you of all people know that.”

“Yeah, I know. You’re right.” She took a deep breath.

Fifteen minutes later and Jensen’s was full to capacity. I had sent the invitation around to our entire mailing list. It was always hard to know how many would actually turn up on the night but this was brilliant. A lot of our regulars knew Nat personally over the years and so they were delighted to come and show their support. Ben had come along with another teacher from the school who was also into photography. Lots of friends of Nat that I knew had turned out too. It was all going really well, except for the fact that I was running around like a mad-woman. Nat went upstairs to mingle with her guests and I was greeting all the newcomers downstairs and trying to keep everyone’s glasses topped up.

After the guests had moved upstairs Nat made a lovely speech where she gave me a special thank-you. My hormones had lost the run of themselves these days and I had tears in my eyes. People were so impressed with Nat’s photos and were coming up and asking her about them. It was the first time that many of her friends had actually seen her work. I was inundated with people asking questions and trying to red-sticker the ones that people wanted to buy. I was running up and down the stairs trying to take for the photos that had been sold. I couldn’t keep up with all the people so Ben had to step in and wrap the photographs that were sold to free me up.

“Eh, isn’t that the same guy from the other day?” I whispered to Nat as I put another red sticker onto a photo behind her.

She spun around and saw the man from last week, his eyes fixed on her photos so that there were only inches between his eyes and the photograph. “All he’s short of doing is studying them under a magnifying glass!”

We observed him for a while before we were called away by a journalist looking to get a photo with Nat and myself.

“That went really well, didn’t it?” I said to Ben who had stayed on to help us clean up after we had closed the door behind the last guest. I had been so busy between greeting guests, selling pictures and telling people about the work that the evening had flown past and I couldn’t believe it was nearly nine o’clock.

Nat came down the stairs with a tray of empty champagne glasses.

“Leave it, Nat – we can’t have the artist cleaning up after their own exhibition!” Ben said. “I’ll give Kate a hand here – you go on and meet your friends for a drink.”

“Are you sure?” She looked at me.

“Go on – we’re just going to clear up the glasses – we can sort the rest out in the morning.”

“Oh my God, I’m literally buzzing. This has been one of the best nights of my life and it would never have happened without you.” She wrung her hands. “Are you going to come?”

“Nah, I’m exhausted but thanks anyway. Have a great night. You deserve it.”

She picked up her bag and walked towards the door.

“And take your time in the morning,” I said. “I’ll be fine for a few hours on my own.”

She stopped at the doorframe and swung back around. “Kate?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you, thank you so much.” She grinned as she went out the door.

After Nat had gone, with only the two of us left behind, the usual stillness of the gallery was restored.

“Here, this is for you.” Ben took a wrapped photograph out from under the desk and handed it to me.

“What’s this?”

“Open it.”

I opened the brown-paper wrapping and took out the photograph. It was the one I had told Ben was my favourite. It was a sepia-toned photograph inside a brown wood frame, of a mother holding the hand of a toddler. Nat had taken it from behind as they walked ahead of her on the path. It was so simple but moving. I’d had tears in my eyes the first time I had seen it.

“Thank you!” I said, throwing my arms around his neck. “You remembered.”

“Of course I did – I knew you liked it and I didn’t want anyone else to buy it first so I put a red sticker on it and wrapped it up when you weren’t looking. And you deserve it – you did so much for tonight.” He raised his champagne glass. “To new beginnings!” he toasted.

“To new beginnings!” I clinked my tumbler of sparkling water against his glass.

“Look, the red light is blinking on the answering machine – do you want to check it before we go?” Ben said just as we were getting ready to go home.

“Nah, it’ll be fine until tomorrow. C’mon, I’m exhausted.”

Chapter 49

The next day in the gallery, I couldn’t help smiling when I thought of how happy Nat had looked last night. I was dying to see her to hear how her night had gone after. I went into the kitchen and made myself a cup of tea. I came out and sat down at the desk. I switched on the computer and, while I was waiting for that to start up, I pressed the button on the answering machine to listen to the messages. Instantly Dad’s hesitant voice filled the air

“Eh . . . Kate, it’s me, Dad . . .” I was just about to press the delete button but there was something about his tone that made me listen to the rest of his message. “Look, I’ve been trying to get you all day on your mobile and I didn’t want to leave a message for you in work like this . . . but eh . . . it’s your gran – she’s not well. She’s been rushed to hospital. We think it might be a stroke. Give me a ring me when you get this, yeah?”

I picked up the phone on the desk straight away and tried phoning Dad back but his phone kept ringing out.

I rang Ben next. Luckily he wasn’t yet in class so he hadn’t switched off his phone. I told him what had happened, the words spilling out of me like I was watching the situation from afar. I couldn’t think straight about what I needed to do to get back to Ireland and be with Gran.

“Right, Kate, get in a cab and I’ll meet you back at home, okay?”

On autopilot I locked up the gallery and went out to flag a taxi.

When I got home and saw Ben, it all hit me and I fell apart. I tried Dad again but I only got his voicemail. I rang Patrick and Seán’s phones too but neither answered. Ben did a quick search on his laptop to see which airport had the next scheduled flights. He reckoned Stansted was our best bet – there was a Ryanair flight to Dublin leaving soon. The flights to Knock, which would have been closer, had already departed for the day. He ran around and put a few things in a bag for the both of us then I followed him down the stairs and into the car. We drove to the airport in silence. My mind was whirring with worry. I felt so guilty when I thought back to the last time I was home in Gran’s kitchen when I was mean to Aoife. Is that what had caused the stroke?

Occasionally Ben would reach across and rub my hand and tell me it was going to be okay. But I wasn’t so sure.

Chapter 50

It took four sets of traffic lights, one overtaken bus, three loops of the multistorey car park, one queue at the wrong ticket desk, one queue at the right one, two tarry coffees, five cartons of UHT milk – and one embarrassing scene where I tearily begged a flight attendant to let me board without a doctor’s letter before Ben and I were sitting on a flight bound for Dublin.

I prayed even though I’m not religious. I bargained with God. I would take the stairs instead of the escalator every day for the next month. Year. I would stop swearing. Whatever it took, I would do it. I would visit home more often, I would ring Dad weekly without fail, I would even try to make amends with Aoife. Whatever it took to keep Gran with us, I promised that I would do it.

As we descended into Dublin, my heart started up again. The man beside me had claimed our shared armrest so I sat with my elbow leaning on the left and my head resting against Ben’s shoulder. I looked out the window as we made our descent into Dublin.

We caught a thermal stream coming down and the plane jolted before steadying again and then we were down on the ground. The sounds of the engines roared as we landed, the wing flaps popping up to slow us down.

As we hadn’t checked on any baggage we were able to go straight through to security and then out to the Arrivals hall. I tried Dad again as soon as my phone picked up the Irish network but there was still no answer. The not knowing was horrendous. Horrible scenarios were spinning around inside my head.

“They’re all probably at the hospital,” Ben offered, giving my hand a reassuring squeeze. “They probably have to switch them off in case they interfere with any of the machines.”

I nodded. I belatedly texted Nat to tell her what had happened because I knew she would be worried when she arrived at work to find the gallery closed.

Ben followed the signs for the car-hire desks and I followed behind him. We were given a Fiat Punto with an apologetic smile from the woman manning the desk and we set off.

As we drove along the M4 I continued my bargaining with God – I would be nicer and more patient with people. I wouldn’t watch television for a whole year.

Finally Dad phoned me back. She was in intensive care but stable. They were still waiting to hear from the doctor.

It was nearly six o’clock in the evening by the time we pulled up in to the hospital car park. I felt my blood run cold when I thought about the last time that I had been here. I hated this place. Everything about it reminded me of Mam. The grey pebble-dashed walls, the hospital-perfect neat grass verges. The way people spoke in low hushed tones. The sterile smell. The orderly politeness of the other people you met there – the forced camaraderie because you were all in this together. Like everyone was trying to be on their best behaviour. The anxious relatives you met in the corridors as they waited on their loved one to come out of surgery or the lucky ones smiling as they came through the doors, ready for home.

“You okay?” Ben said, turning to me as he took the key out of the ignition and turned off the headlights.

“Yeah, I’ll be fine. C’mon, let’s go inside,” I said sighing. I unbuckled my seatbelt and stepped out of the car. I walked up to the sliding doors and went up to the reception where they directed me to her room.

I met Dad, Patrick and Seán in the corridor outside. They were all standing around clasping polystyrene cups.

“Kate, Ben!” Dad exclaimed when he saw us. “You got here!”

I nodded hello at Patrick and Seán.

“How is she?” I asked.

“Well, she’s come round and she knew who we were but we won’t know the full extent of its effects until they assess her tomorrow. They said that if Aoife hadn’t noticed the signs and acted so fast, things could have been very different.”

“Where’s Aoife?”

“She’s sitting with Gran. We just came out here to get a cup of tea and stretch our legs for a few minutes.”

“Can I go in?”

“Of course. We were just going back in ourselves.”

I pushed open the door and we all filed quietly into the room.

I got a shock when I saw Gran lying on the bed looking so frail. She was sleeping. I watched her chest rise and fall in shallow beats. She seemed to have shrunk since last weekend. Her shoulders had narrowed and the blue hospital gown dwarfed her. Aoife was sitting up near her head, stroking her hand. She was pale and darkness shadowed her face.

“How’s she doing?” I said to Aoife.

She turned to look at me and turned back towards Gran again. Her eyes were red-rimmed and she looked wretched.

“So you were able to come then?”

“I got here as fast as I could –”

She cut across me. “How many times did Dad have to ring you before you phoned him back?”

“Well, I –”

“Dad rang you yesterday evening, Kate – yesterday evening – and you only bothered to call him back today! And yet he still makes excuses for you ‘Oh, Kate’s very busy in London’ or ‘She has a lot on her mind with a baby on the way, y’know’. Gran could have been dead and you would have been oblivious to it because you’re too far stuck in Kate Flynn world. Well, I’m sick of it – everyone pussyfooting around you like you’re the bloody Queen of England returning home and we should all roll out the red carpet because
Kate Flynn
has decided to grace us with a visit!”