There's No Place Like Here (9 page)

He could hear Sandy’s voice in his head, repeating the same sentence over and over again:
I can only assume that there’s only one thing
more
frustrating than not being able to find someone, and that’s not being found. I would want someone to find me, more than anything.

He carefully placed the cargo onto the ship, lowered himself to the ground, to the surprise of his watching colleagues, took off his helmet, threw it to the ground, and ran. Some watched in confusion, some in anger, but those closest to him viewed his exit with sympathy, for they guessed that even a year on, Jack could no longer sit in his perch high above the ground, so high he felt he could see the entire county and all that was in it, except his brother.

For Jack, running down to his car, all he could think about was finding Sandy, so she could bring Donal back to where he belonged.

Jack’s continuous questions about Sandy Shortt to the hotels, inns, and bed and breakfasts in Glin were beginning to raise eyebrows. Impatience was entering the voices of the once-friendly staff, and his phone calls to duty managers were becoming more frequent. Now, with still no clues as to where Sandy was, Jack found himself taking deep breaths of fresh air down by the Shannon Estuary. The River Shannon was a special place to Jack. He had always felt a connection with the river and wanted to be a part of helping all it carried.

His mother and father had brought the family to Leitrim on a summer holiday one year, the holiday that remained more vivid in Jack’s mind than any other. It was before Donal’s birth, when Jack was barely ten years old. It was on that holiday he learned where and how the great river began, slowly and quietly at first in CountyCavan before it picked up speed, gathering the secrets and spirit of each county, with each part of soil it eroded. Each tributary was like an artery being pumped from the heart of the country, whispering its secrets silently in hushed and excited babbles until it eventually carried them to the Atlantic where they were lost with the rest of the world’s whispered hopes and regrets. It was like Chinese whispers, starting out small but eventually growing and becoming exaggerated, from the freshly painted wooden boats that bobbed on the surface in Carrick-on-Shannon to finally carrying steel and metal ships alongside cranes and warehouses that was the grand excitement of Shannon Foynes Port.

Jack rambled aimlessly down a quiet road along Shannon Estuary, grateful for the peace and quiet. GlinCastle disappeared behind the trees as he walked farther down the track. A splash of bright red glowed from behind the greenery in an area that had long ago been used as a parking lot but was now overgrown and merely used as a walk-through area for ramblers and birdwatchers. The gravel was uneven, the white lines had faded, and weeds grew from between every crack. There sat an old red Fiesta, battered and dented, its gleam long ago rubbed away. Jack stopped in his tracks. He knew this car. It was the Venus flytrap that had captured the long-legged beauty from the garage the previous morning.

His heart quickened as he looked around to find her but there was no sight or sound of any other presence. A coffee-filled Styrofoam cup sat on the dashboard, newspapers piled up on the passenger seat alongside a towel, which led his already overactive imagination to believe she was jogging nearby. He moved away from the car in fear she would return to find him peering through the windows. The coincidence of them meeting once again in another deserted area filled him with far too much curiosity for him to walk away. And saying hello to her again would be a welcome joy to a day lacking in results.

After forty-five minutes of waiting around, Jack began to feel bored and foolish. The car looked as though it had been abandoned years ago in the forgotten area yet he knew for sure that he had seen it being driven yesterday morning. He moved closer to the car and pressed his face against the glass.

His heart almost stopped. Goose bumps rose on his skin as a shiver ran through his body. There on the dashboard, beside the cup of coffee and a cell phone with missed calls, was a thick brown file with DONAL RUTTLE written in neat handwriting across the front.

16

I
tapped my shoe against the plate that once held the chocolate digestives, causing a loud tinkling to echo through the clearing. Around me the four sleeping bodies were lazily stretched out on the forest floor, and Bernard’s snores seemed to be getting louder with every minute that passed. I sighed loudly, feeling like a pesky hormonal teenager who couldn’t get her way. Helena, whom I hadn’t spoken to for an hour, raised her eyebrows at me, trying to show her lack of amusement, although I knew well that she was enjoying every second of my torture. Over the past hour I had “accidentally” knocked over the china, dropped a packet of biscuits on Joan, and had a rather loud bout of coughing. Still, they slept and Helena refused to lead or even direct me out of the woods to the other life she had spoken of.

Hearing laughter, I had attempted to make my own way out but, finding my way blocked by thousands of identical leering pines, I decided that getting lost once was enough, to get lost a second time in already unusual circumstances would be just plain stupid.

“How long do they usually sleep for?” I asked loudly in a bored tone, hoping my voice would disturb them.

“They like to get a good eight hours.”

“Do they eat?”

“Three times a day; usually solids. I walk them twice a day. Bernard in particular loves the leash.” She smiled into the distance as though remembering. “And then they partake in the occasional personal grooming.”

“I meant, do they eat here?” I looked around the clearing in disgust, no longer caring if I insulted their annual camping resort. I couldn’t help my agitation but I hated to be pinned down. Usually I came and went in my life as I pleased, in and out of others’. I never even succeeded in staying in my own parents’ house for very long, usually grabbing my bag and running out the door. But here, I had no place to go.

Laughter echoed in the distance once again.

“What is that noise?”

“People call it laughter, I think.” Helena settled down in her sleeping bag looking snug and smug at the same time.

“Have you always had an attitude problem?” I asked.

“Have you?”

“Yes,” I said firmly and she laughed. I let go of my frown and smiled. “It’s just that I’ve been sitting in these woods for two entire days now.”

“Is that an apology?”

“I don’t apologize. Not unless I really need to.”

“You remind me of me when I was young. Young
er
. I’m still young. What has you so irritable at such a young age?”

“I’m not a people person.” I looked around as I heard another bout of laughing.

Helena continued talking as though she hadn’t even heard it. “Of course you’re not. You’ve just spent the guts of your life working to find them.”

I registered her statement but decided not to respond to it. “Do you not hear these sounds?”

“I grew up beside a train station. When friends stayed over they’d be kept awake all night by the noise and the vibrations. I was so used to it I couldn’t hear a thing, yet the creaking on the stairs when my parents went to bed woke me every time. Are you married?”

I rolled my eyes.

“I’ll take that as a no. Do you have a boyfriend?”

“Sometimes.”

“Have you got children?”

“I’m not interested in children.” I sniffed the air, “What is that smell? And who is laughing? Is there somebody nearby?”

My head whizzed around like a dog trying to snap at a fly. I couldn’t discern where the sounds were coming from. They had seemed to be coming from behind me but when I’d turned around the noise appeared to be louder in the other direction.

“It’s everywhere,” Helena explained lazily. “What the new people here compare to a surround-sound system. You probably understand that more than I.”

“Who’s making that noise and is someone smoking a cigar?” I sniffed the air again.

“You ask a lot of questions.”

“And you didn’t when you first arrived here? Helena, I don’t know where I am and what’s going on, and you’re not being much help.”

Helena at least had the honesty to look embarrassed. “I’m sorry. I’d forgotten what it’s like.” She stopped and listened to the sounds. “The laughter and these smells are just entering our atmosphere now. So far, what do you know about people who come here?”

“That they’re missing.”

“Exactly. So the laughter, cries, and scents that arrive are missing too.”

“How can that be?” I asked, utterly confused.

“Sometimes people lose more than just socks, Sandy. You can forget where you put them first of all. Forgetting things is just parts of your memory missing, that’s all.”

“You can remember again, though.”

“Yes, but you don’t remember
all
things and you don’t find
all
things. Those things end up here, like the touch and smell of someone, the memory of their exact face and the sound of their voice.”

“That’s bizarre.” I shook my head, unable to take it all in.

“It’s really very simple if you remember it like this. Everything in life has a place, and when one thing moves, it must go somewhere else. Here is the place that all those things move to.” She held her hands up to display our surroundings.

A thought suddenly occurred to me. “Have you ever heard your own laughter or cries?”

Helena nodded sadly. “Many times.”

“
Many
times?” I asked in surprise.

She smiled. “Well, I had the great privilege of being loved by many people. The more people who love you, the more people you have out there to lose memories of you. Don’t make that face, Sandy. It’s not as desperate as it sounds. People don’t intend to lose memories. Although there are always some things that we would rather forget.” She winked. “It could be that the real sound of my laughter has been replaced by a new memory, or that, when a few months after I went missing my scent left my bedroom and my clothes, the scent they tried so hard to remember was altered. I’m sure the image I have of my own mother’s face is very different from how she actually looked but, forty years on and no reminder, how is my mind to know, exactly? You can’t hold on to all things forever, no matter how hard you grip them.”

I thought of the day I’d hear the sound of my own laughter drifting overhead, and I knew it would happen only once because there was only one person who knew the true sound of my laughter and my cries.

“All the same”—Helena looked up to the now bright sky with tears in her eyes—“you do sometimes feel like catching them and throwing them back to where they came from. Our memories are the only contact we have. We can hug, kiss, laugh, and cry with them over and over again in our minds. They’re very precious things to have.”

Chuckles, hisses, snorts, and giggles filtered through the air, floating by our ears on the wind, the light breeze carrying the faint scents like the forgotten smell of a childhood home; a kitchen after a day’s baking. There’s a mother’s forgotten smell of her baby, now grown up: baby powder, skin cream, candy-smelling skin. There are older, musty smells of favorite grandparents: lavender for Grandma; cigar, cigarette, and pipe smoke for Granddad. There are the smells of lost lovers: sweet perfumes and aftershaves, the scent of sleepy morning lie-ins or simply the unexplainable individual scent left behind in a room. Personal smells as precious as the people themselves. All the aromas that had gone missing in people’s lives had ended up here. I couldn’t help but close my eyes and breathe in those scents and laugh along with the sounds.

Joan stirred in her sleeping bag and I snapped out of my trance. My heart began to race in anticipation of finally seeing beyond the woods.

“Good morning, Joan.” Helena sang so loudly she succeeded in waking Bernard, too. He awoke with a start, raising his head and revealing his spaghetti-strip hair hanging to the wrong side. He looked around sleepily, his hand feeling for his glasses.

“Good morning, Bernard,” Helena said so loudly she succeeded in waking both Marcus and Derek.

I stifled a laugh.

“Here you go, a nice hot cup of coffee to wake you up.” She thrust steaming mugs in their faces.

They looked at her sleepily in confusion. As soon as they’d taken their first sip of coffee Helena threw off her blanket and rose to her feet.

“Well, that’s enough hanging around, now. Let’s go, everybody.” She started folding her blanket neatly and packing away the utensils.

“Why are you talking so loudly and what’s the rush?” Joan held her messy bed head and whispered as though she was suffering a hangover.

“It’s a brand-new day so let’s drink up and we’ll head back as soon as you’re all done.”

“Why?” Joan asked, sipping quickly.

“What about breakfast?” Bernard moaned like a child.

“We’ll have that when we get back.” Helena grabbed his mug from him, threw the remainder of the coffee over her shoulder and packed the mug in a bag. I had to look away out of fear of laughing.

“What’s the rush?” Marcus asked. “Is everything OK?” He watched her intently, still unsure of my presence.

“Everything’s fine, Marcus.” She placed a hand on his shoulder caringly. “Sandy just has some work to do.” She smiled at me.

I did?

“Oh, how lovely. Are you staging a play? It’s been such a long time since we’ve done a play,” Joan said excitedly.

“I do hope you give us notice of the auditions well in advance because we’ll need time to prepare. It’s been awhile,” Bernard said worriedly.

“Don’t worry,” Helena jumped in to say, “she will.”

My mouth dropped open but Helena held a hand up to stop me from protesting.

“Have you ever thought of doing a musical?” Derek asked, packing away his guitar. “There would be huge interest in taking part in a musical.”

“That’s a very strong possibility.” Helena spoke as though dismissing a child.

“Will there be group auditions?” Bernard asked, a little panicked.

“No, no,” Helena said, smiling, and I finally knew what she was up to. “I think Sandy will want to spend a little time with everyone alone. Well”—she lifted Bernard’s blanket from off his shoulders and began folding it while he watched open-mouthed—“let’s get ourselves ready so we can show Sandy around. She’ll need to find a good venue for the show.”