There's No Place Like Here (37 page)

Despite my frustration, I laughed.

“I understand your haste but if I try to bring you to this place it will be another twenty-four years before we get there. I don’t know this part of the woods, I have never heard of this Jenny-May person, and I don’t have any friends who live that deep. If we get lost, we’re in big trouble. Let’s just go to Helena for help first.”

Although he was almost half my age, the boy made sense, and so I grudgingly stomped my way to Helena and Joseph’s house.

Helena and Joseph were sitting on the bench in the front of their house, enjoying the relaxing atmosphere of Sunday lunchtime. Bobby, sensing my urgency, rushed straight to Helena and Joseph while Wanda jumped up from the ground where she was playing and ran to me.

“Hi, Sandy,” she said, grabbing my hand and skipping alongside me as I walked toward the house.

“Hi, Wanda,” I said in a bored tone as I tried to hide my smile.

“What’s that in your hand?”

“It’s called Wanda’s hand,” I said.

She rolled her eyes. “No, the
other
hand.”

“It’s a Polaroid camera.”

“Why?”

“Why is it a camera?”

“No. Why do you have it?”

“Because I want to take a photograph of somebody.”

“Who?”

“A girl I used to know.”

“Who?”

“A girl called Jenny-May Butler.”

“Was she your friend?”

“Not really.”

“Well then, why do you want to take a photograph of her?”

“I don’t know.”

“Is it because you miss her?”

I was about to say no when I stopped myself. “Actually, I did miss her, very much.”

“And are you going to see her today?”

“Yes.” I smiled, grabbing Wanda under her armpits and swinging her around, much to her delight. “I am going to see Jenny-May Butler
today
!”

Wanda began laughing uncontrollably and sang a song she pretended to know about a girl called Jenny-May, which she clearly was making up on the spot, much to my amusement.

“I’m going to come with you,” Helena said, breaking into Wanda’s song, giving her a kiss on the top of her head. I took a photo of the two of them when they weren’t looking.

“Stop wasting the cartridges,” Bobby barked at me, and I snapped his face too.

“No, Helena, I don’t expect you to come.” I waved the photos in the air to dry before placing them in my shirt pocket. “You’ve got the dress rehearsal tonight. That’s more important. Just explain to Bobby where it is.” I began to get jittery again.

She looked at her watch and I had a pang of longing for mine. “It’s just after one. The dress rehearsal isn’t until seven; we’ll be back in time. And besides, I want to go with you.” She touched my chin lightly and winked. “This is far more important, plus I know exactly where we’re going. This clearing is not much farther on from where you and I met last week.”

Joseph made his way to me. He held out his hand. “Safe trip,
Kipepeo
girl.”

I took his hand with confusion. “I’m coming back, Joseph.”

“I should hope so,” he said, and placed his other hand on my head. “When you get back I shall tell you what a
Kipepeo
girl is.” He smiled.

“Liar,” I said, narrowing my eyes.

“Right, let’s go,” Helena said, throwing a lime green pashmina over her shoulders.

We set off in the direction of the woods, Helena leading the way. At the edge of the woods a young woman appeared, looking dazed and confused as she gazed around the village.

“Welcome,” Helena said to her.

“Welcome,” Bobby said happily.

She looked with confusion from their faces to mine. “Welcome,” I said and smiled, pointing her toward the registry office.

The routes Helena chose were cleared and well-traveled trails. The atmosphere reminded me of the first few days I had spent alone in these woods, wondering where I was. The scent of pine was rich, mixed with moss, bark, and damp leaves. There was the foul smell of rotting leaves mixed with the sweet floral scents of the wildflowers. Mosquitoes hovered in small areas, darting in circular motions together. Red squirrels bounced from branch to branch, and occasionally Bobby stopped to pick up an item of interest in our path. We couldn’t walk fast enough, as far as I was concerned. Yesterday I had thought the prospect of finding Jenny-May an impossibility; today I was going back the way I had come, to actually see her.

Grace Burns had explained that Jenny-May had arrived in the village with an elderly Frenchman, who had been living deep in the woods for years. She had knocked on his door seeking help when she had first arrived all those years ago. Seldom in the forty years he had lived Here had he ventured to the village, but twenty-four years ago he arrived at the registry office with the ten-year-old girl named Jenny-May Butler, who insisted on him being her guardian—the only person she trusted. Despite his desire for solitude, he agreed to care for her, choosing to remain in his home in the woods but making sure Jenny-May went back and forth to school every day and formed and maintained friendships. She became fluent in French, choosing to speak it when in the village, which meant that few of the Irish community were aware of her true roots. Jenny-May cared for her guardian until his dying day, fifteen years ago, and she decided to remain in the home he made hers, outside of the village, rarely venturing to the village herself.

After twenty minutes, we passed the clearing where I had met Helena and she insisted on stopping for a break. She drank from the canteen of water she had carried with her and passed it to Bobby and me. I didn’t feel the heat or the thirst on this hot day, though. My mind was focused on Jenny-May. I wanted to keep moving, keep walking until we reached her. After that, I had no idea what would happen.

“God, I’ve never seen you like this before,” Bobby said, staring at me oddly. “It’s as though you’ve ants in your pants.”

“She’s always like that.” Helena closed her eyes and fanned her perspiring face.

I paced up and down beside Helena and Bobby, hopping around, kicking leaves, and trying desperately to channel the adrenaline that was rushing through me. Feeling more anxious with every second they spent with me, they finally felt under pressure to move again, which I was glad of, but felt guilty about.

The next part of the journey was farther than Helena had thought. We walked for another thirty minutes before seeing a small wooden cabin in a clearing in the distance. Smoke was puffing from the chimney, following the direction of the tall pines until it overtook them, going where they couldn’t go, up and out in the cloudless sky.

We stopped walking as soon as we saw the cabin in the distance. Helena was red in the face and tired, and I felt more guilty for bringing her on such a journey on this hot day. Bobby was looking at the cabin rather disappointedly, probably hoping for something far more luxurious than this. I, on the other hand, was more pumped up than ever. The sight of the humble home before me took my breath away. It was the home of a girl who had always boasted about wanting so much more, yet, to me, the sight of it was a dream, a perfect pretty little picture. Just like Jenny-May.

Tall pines stood protectively on two sides of the house. In front there was a little garden amid the large clearing with small bushes, pretty flowers, and what looked from afar to be a vegetable patch or herb garden. Mosquitoes and flies, when hit by the sun, looked like symbiotic creatures circling in the air, pockets of them scattered throughout the area. Streams of sunlight shone down through the trees, spotlighting center stage.

“Oh, look,” Helena said, handing the water to Bobby as the front door of the cabin opened, and out of it came a little girl with white-blond hair. Her laughter echoed around the clearing and was carried over to us on the warm breeze. My hand went to my mouth. I must have made a sound, though I didn’t hear it, because Bobby and Helena immediately looked to me. Tears welled in my eyes, as I watched the little girl, no older than five, exactly like the little girl I began my first day of school with. Then a female voice called from the house and my heart thudded.

“Daisy!”

Then a male voice: “Daisy!”

Little Daisy ran around the front garden, giggling and twirling, her lemon dress floating around her on the wind. Then from the front door, a man stepped out and began to chase her. Her giggling turned to screams of delight. He made terrifying noises behind her, teasing how he was going to catch her, which made her scream with laughter even more. Finally he caught her and spun her around in the air while she screamed “More, more, more!” He stopped when both were out of breath and he carried her in his arms back toward the house. Just outside the door he stopped and turned around slowly to look straight at us.

He called into the house. We heard the female voice again, but not her words. He stood there looking directly at us.

“Can I help you?” he called, holding his hand to his forehead to shield the sun from his eyes.

Helena and Bobby looked to me. I stared at the man and the child in his arms, speechless.

“Well, yes, thank you. We’re looking for Jenny-May Butler,” Helena called politely. “I’m not sure if we’re at the right place.”

I had no doubt we were at the right place.

“Who is looking for her?” he asked politely. “I’m sorry, I can’t see you from here.” He began to take a few steps forward.

“Sandy Shortt is here for her,” Helena called.

Immediately a figure appeared at the door.

I heard my large intake of breath.

Long blond hair, slim and pretty. The same but older. My age. The child in her was gone. She wore a loose-fitting white cotton dress and was barefoot. She held in her hand a tea cloth, which fell to the floor when she held her hand to her forehead to block out the sunlight, and her eyes fell upon me.

“Sandy?” Her voice was older but the same. It quivered and was uncertain, displaying fear and joy all at the same time.

“Jenny-May,” I called back, hearing exactly the same tone in my voice.

Then I heard her cry as she slowly started to walk toward me and I heard myself cry as I took steps toward her. And I saw her arms reaching out and felt mine do the same. The distance between us grew smaller, the idea of her being before me becoming more real. Her sobs were loud; mine too, I was sure. We cried like children as we walked toward one another, studying faces, hair, bodies, and remembering, good things and bad. And then we were within each other’s grasp and we fell into each other. Crying and hugging, moving to look at each other’s face, wiping tears from each other’s cheek, and then holding on again. Never wanting to let go.

51

J
ack,” Garda Graham Turner said with surprise, “what are you doing back here? We won’t have results back from forensics for another few days, and I promise you we’ll contact you with the news.”

Time had got to Donal’s body before them, and had spared it no mercy. He had yet to be officially identified, though Jack and his family knew in their hearts it was Donal. Fresh and decaying flowers were found on the site that Alan had visited each week of the year. He had confessed his true story to police the previous night but had refused to give the names of the gang involved. Over the next few months he would stand trial, and Jack was glad his own mother wasn’t around to see the man she helped raise take part of the blame for the murder of her baby.

After discussing the night’s events with his family, it was the early hours of the morning before Jack returned to Foynes. The town was still celebrating the festival with all the energy of its opening hours. He ignored the sounds of music and singing, and went into the bedroom to find Gloria lying asleep in bed. He sat beside her on the bed and watched her, her long black lashes resting on the tops of her rosy cheeks. Her mouth was slightly open, soft sounds of her breath causing her white chest to heave gently up and down. It was that hypnotic sound and sight that compelled him to do what he hadn’t done for a year. He reached out to her, placed his hand on her shoulder, and gently woke her from her slumber, finally inviting her into his world. When they had talked all night about the past year and all he had learned in the past week, he finally felt tired and joined her in her sleep at last.

“I’m not here about Donal,” Jack explained, sitting down in the station on Sunday evening. “We need to find Sandy Shortt.”

“Jack.” Graham rubbed his eyes wearily. His desk and the surrounding desks were covered in paperwork, and phones rang all around him. “We’ve been through this.”

“Not in enough detail. Now listen to me. Maybe Sandy got in touch with Alan and he panicked. You never know. Maybe they arranged to meet and he got nervous she was getting close to the truth and maybe he did something. I don’t know what. I’m not even talking about murder. I know Alan’s not capable of that but—” He paused. “Actually,” he said, his pupils dilated with anger, “maybe he did. Maybe he got desperate and—”

“He didn’t,” Graham interrupted. “I’ve been through it over and over again with him. He doesn’t know anything about her, he had never even heard of her. He had no clue about what I was talking about. All he knew was what you told him, that some unknown woman was helping you find Donal. That’s all.” He looked Jack in the eyes and softened his tone. “Please, Jack, give up on this.”

“Give up? Like everyone told me to when I was looking for Donal?”

Graham shifted in his seat uncomfortably.

“Alan was Donal’s
best friend
and he lied about what happened to him for
one year
. He’s in enough trouble already. Do you think he’s going to bother telling us about what he could have done to some woman he cares nothing about? Was I not right about Alan the first time?” Jack raised his voice.

Graham was silent for a long time, biting down on his already nonexistent nail as he quickly made a decision. “OK, OK.” He closed his tired eyes and focused. “We’ll start searching the site where her car was left.”

52

I
have thought about that moment with Jenny-May long and hard for many hours, days, and nights but I have no words for the time that we spent together that day. It was far too big for words. It was more important than words; it had more meaning than just words.