Erin Kaye - THE PROMISE OF HAPPINESS

‘I’m going to take Oli home now,’ she said, walking over to the table and unhooking her bag from the back of a chair where she’d hung it earlier. The strap got tangled and caught between the bars on the back. Viciously, she yanked it free.

When she turned to leave, Sian blocked her way but Joanne stopped her.

‘I think we all need to cool off – let her go.’

Louise found Oli in the playroom with Abbey and Holly, all three quietly watching a DVD of The Incredibles. He was lying on a beanbag, his eyelids fluttering like moth’s wings, with his thumb wedged in his mouth. Overcome with a sudden fierce love for her child, Louise knelt on the floor beside the beanbag and planted a gentle kiss on his smooth brow and on his round, red cheek, so soft and hot. He was as pure and innocent as an angel – her angel, her gift from God, sent from heaven. Oblivious to just how much he had been wanted and how much she loved him.

She thought of the conversation with her aunt and anger coursed through her veins once more at the thought of how her parents had denied his origins. And in their denial they had made Oli’s story a shameful one, something to be hushed up, avoided, condemned and criticised. Louise looked into the face of her child and determined not to let him be affected by such prejudice. Not her darling boy.

A week later and Louise surveyed the table in front of her, littered with bank statements and an opened laptop displaying a spreadsheet. She ran her hand through hair she should’ve washed that morning and sighed. No matter which way she looked at the figures in front of her, it seemed she had no choice.

She glanced at Oli sitting too close to the TV on the cream carpet watching cartoons. Her gut tightened. She hated the fact that the decision to return to work was, for financial reasons, being forced on her. She began to prowl through the small neat flat, straightening the cushions on the sofa, picking Oli’s toys off the floor. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. Looking after a pre-schooler single-handedly was hard enough without the pressure of having to earn a living. Before Oli, when she’d worked full-time she had only herself to take care of – and Cameron. But he looked after her too.

She sat down on the sofa, hugged the cushion to her chest and remembered how Cameron used to meet her after work and take her to dinner. Once, for no particular reason, he’d turned up with a bunch of forty red roses in his arms. He had been romantic and fun – they’d had great times together. She smiled and imagined him turning up on her doorstep now with flowers in his hands, like he did that day, grinning from ear to ear. She glanced at Oli and thought that if only Cameron could see him, he would love him as much as she did … But that was a fantasy, of course. And the life she’d lived before felt as though it had belonged to someone else entirely…

Oli had changed everything. Her circle of friends had changed. More and more she found herself socialising with other mothers, women she doubted she would have bothered with if it hadn’t been for the fact that they had children the same age. Amongst the people she regarded as her true friends, like Cindy and Max, whom she had known for the longest time, she had begun to feel boring, out-of-touch, uptight and out of date. They didn’t want to listen to stories of Oli’s latest accomplishment or how long he’d slept the night before. And she hated it when she caught herself indulging in obsessive mum-speak or spent the end of an evening glancing at her watch, worrying about getting home in time for the babysitter.

They listened politely, of course, too kind to tell her to shut up, but she could see the way their eyes glazed over while their minds drifted off. At the end of the day, she had realised, nobody was as interested in Oli as she was. Not even Max, despite his promises and good intentions. Because in the end he’d let her and Oli down, and she really wasn’t sure if she could ever forgive him.

But, Louise had told herself, the sacrifices would all be worth it in the end. She had prided herself on the fact that her child would never be shoved into a crèche or raised by strangers – bar the few hours a week in Edinburgh that she had felt essential for her sanity. And now, because of events beyond her control, that was precisely what she would have to do. Anxiety tightened around her neck like a noose.

She took a deep breath and told herself to keep things in perspective. Most mothers worked, single or not, and their children grew up into perfectly well-rounded, happy, successful adults. Look at Joanne’s family – the girls hadn’t suffered from their mother going out to work, albeit it was part-time and she was always there for them when they got home from school … A very different proposition, thought Louise with an anxious glance at Oli, from going out to work full-time. But, Louise reminded herself, being at home with Oli had been a luxury, an indulgence, a privilege. She had lived an inward-looking, self-contained life for the last three years – it was time to join the real world once again.

She googled Loughanlea and spent half an hour bringing herself up to date with the extraordinary project. The scale and scope of it was impressive, and the objective, visionary – it had taken over ten years of dreaming and planning to reach the stage it was at today. The old abandoned cement works – a fifteen-acre site of the most unprepossessing land imaginable on the fringes of Ballyfergus Lough – was in the process of being transformed into a major, ultra-green, recreational and leisure centre. The development would create four hundred permanent jobs – and hundreds more in the construction phase – and bring millions pouring into the local economy. Northern Ireland had never seen anything quite like it. Something in the pioneering spirit behind the project, the idea that someone had dreamt this and then made it a reality, moved Louise. And made her want to be part of it.

Louise looked at the number scribbled on the piece of paper that Sian had pressed into her hand at Joanne’s party. It belonged to one of Andy’s close friends who, as well as being a site architect for Loughanlea, was also a member of the board. With one last glance at Oli, she steeled herself, picked up the phone and dialled. ‘Hi,’ she said. ‘I’m Louise McNeill, Sian’s sister. She gave me your number …’

The voice that replied was as rich and velvety as that of the Jamaican continuity announcer Neil Nunes on Radio 4 – though the accent was all Ballyfergus. ‘Hi. I’m Kevin Quinn.’

‘I was wondering if you could spare a few moments to talk about Loughanlea?’ said Louise.

‘So you’re Sian’s sister,’ said the voice like melted chocolate. ‘She said you might call. It’s great to hear from you. How are you settling in? Sian tells me you’ve just moved into a new flat on Tower Road.’

The personal nature of these questions threw Louise for a moment. ‘Why, yes, that’s right. I moved in a couple of weeks ago.’

‘Good. Good,’ he said, his bass voice like an instrument. ‘And how are you finding Ballyfergus?’

Louise felt herself go weak at the knees and then caught herself. She cleared her throat. ‘Not much changed to be honest, Kevin,’ she smiled into the phone.

He chuckled. ‘Well, that just about sums up Ballyfergus, Louise. You’re not in the big smoke now. Things move more slowly here, though Loughanlea might be the exception. I think it might just put Ballyfergus on the map.’

She could’ve listened to his voice all day but, realising this was her cue to get the conversation on track, she said, ‘Yes, tell me about the marketing job. It sounds interesting.’

‘Well, from what I understand, Louise, they’re looking for someone with the experience and drive to market a world-class venue. Do you think you’re up to the job?’