Cecelia Ahern - There’s No Place Like Here

He awoke at eight forty-five the following morning to the sound of his phone ringing.

“Hello?” he croaked, eyes looking around and momentarily thinking he’d traveled back in time to his teenage years and was waking up at home in his mother’s house. His mother…he felt a pang of loneliness for her.

“What the hell are you doing?” his sister Judith asked angrily. In the background he heard babies crying and dogs barking.

He groaned. “Waking up.”

“Yeah?” she said sarcastically. “Beside whom?”

Jack turned to his right and looked at the blonde wearing not much more than a cowboy hat and boots. “Candy from Houston, Texas. She likes horseback riding, homemade lemonade, and taking her dog Charlie for walks.”

“What?” she shrieked, and a baby cried louder.

Jack started laughing. “Relax, Jude. I’m in the bedroom of a sixteen-year-old boy. There’s no need to worry.”

“You’re what?”

Could he hear gunshots?

“JAMES, TURN THAT TV DOWN!”

“Ouch.” Jack moved his head away from the phone.

“I’m sorry, did that noise from hundreds of miles away disturb you?” she said in a huff.

“Judith, why are you so tetchy today?”

She sighed. “I thought you were only going to Dublin to meet with the doctor.”

“I was but I thought I’d ask around a bit more before I head home.”

“This is still about the missing-persons woman?”

“Sandy Shortt, yes.”

“What are you doing, Jack?” she asked softly.

He rested his head back against Babs from Down Under’s nether regions. “I’m putting my life back together.”

“By tearing it apart first?”

“Remember when we used to do the Humpty Dumpty jigsaw together every Christmas?”

“Oh dear, he’s lost his mind,” she sang.

“Humor me. Do you remember?”

“How can I forget? The first year it took us till March to finish it and all because Mum cleared it off the good room’s dining table in a panic when Father Keogh paid one of his surprise visits.”

They both laughed.

“After Father Keogh had left, Dad came in to help us start again, remember? He taught us to separate all the pieces, turn them all face up first and then get to work putting them together.”

“And they said ‘All the king’s horses and all the king’s men.’” She sighed. “So you’re gathering all your pieces.”

“Exactly.”

“My philosophical baby brother. What happened to trips to the pub and fart jokes?”

He laughed. “That’s still inside me somewhere.”

She turned serious. “I understand what you’re going through and I understand what you’re doing, but do you have to do it all on your own without telling anybody anything? Can’t you at least make it back home for the festival this weekend? I’m going tonight with Willie and the kids, there’s an outdoor band playing and some games for the kids with the usual fireworks display on Sunday night. You’ve never missed one before.”

“I’ll try to get there,” Jack lied.

“I don’t know where Gloria gets her patience from. She seemed so cool about you staying on, but you’re certainly testing her. Are you deliberately trying to push her away?”

Jack was about to launch into another defense of himself but stopped and thought about it for a change. “I don’t know,” he said, sighing. “Maybe. I don’t know.”

“Good morning,” Mary sang, knocking on the door.

“Come in,” Jack called out, wrapping the bedclothes around him.

There was a rattle and a few clinks as the handle lowered and Mary pushed open the door with a tray filled with breakfast.

“Wow,” Jack said, eyeing the food hungrily.

Mary laid the tray down on the writing desk. She didn’t move any magazines or CDs, preferring to allow the tray to rest dangerously on the edge of the desk. Nothing was to be touched. Jack was surprised she had allowed him to sleep in the bed at all.

“Thanks, Mary, everything looks great.”

“You’re very welcome. I used to love treating Bobby occasionally to breakfast in bed.” She looked around the room, wringing her hands together. “Did you sleep well?”

“Yes, thanks,” he replied politely.

“Liar,” Mary said, moving toward the door. “I haven’t slept through one single night ever since Bobby disappeared. I bet you’re the same.”

Jack just smiled, grateful to hear he wasn’t the only one.

“I have to go open the shop now, but take your time. I’ve left a towel in the bathroom for you.” She smiled, took one more haunted look around the room, and was gone.

Jack was glad he’d made a note of all of Sandy’s future appointments before handing her diary over to Dr. Burton. For today she had written “YMCA Aungier Street. 12 Noon-Room 4.” There was no mention at all of what the occasion was, but he noted that she had attended it, or at least made a note of it, once every month. He decided it was best not to call ahead but to go straight there.

He entered the building ten minutes after twelve, thanks to Dublin’s dire traffic he had yet to account for in his travel time. There was no one behind the counter at reception, so he leaned over the desk looking left and right and called out, but to no avail. He was faced with many doors and notice boards advertising fitness classes, child care, computer classes, counseling services, and youth work programs. What was behind door number four? he wondered. He seriously doubted it was another counseling service but whatever it was he hoped it wasn’t a fitness class. Computers, he hoped for; he could do with learning about computers. He rapped lightly on the door, looking for signs of what was inside and hoping, hoping it was Sandy.

The door opened and a lady with a kind face answered.

“Hello,” she said with a smile, her voice almost a whisper.

“Sorry to interrupt,” Jack whispered. Whatever was going on behind the door, it was certainly being done quietly. Yoga-he hoped it wasn’t yoga.

“Don’t worry, people are welcome regardless of the time. Do you want to join us?”

“Em, yes…I was actually looking for Sandy Shortt.”

“Oh, I see, did she recommend this to you?”

“Yes,” he replied, nodding emphatically.

She opened the door wider and a circle of people turned to stare. No mats, he thought with relief, no yoga. His heart beat wildly as he looked for Sandy, wondering if she could see him before he’d spotted her. And if she was looking at him now, would she recognize him? Would she be angry he had found her, hiding in her burrow, or would she be thankful, relieved someone had noticed her absence?

“Welcome. Come and take a seat.” The woman held her arm out toward the circle while somebody unstacked a chair from the side of the small room and brought it to the circle. Jack walked toward them searching from face to face for a sign of Sandy. The circle grew larger as he neared, the movement like an umbrella being opened slowly. He sat down with trepidation. Sandy wasn’t there.

“As you can see, Sandy unfortunately isn’t with us today.”

“Yes, I see that.” He ground his back teeth together and the familiar pain began to throb at the back of his mouth.

“I’m Tracey,” the woman said.

“Hello.” Jack cleared his throat nervously as heads turned to stare at him, assess him, study him, analyze his every awkward move. “I’m Jack.”

“Hello, Jack,” they all responded in unison and he paused, his eyes widening in surprise at the hypnotic tone of their voices. There was a long silence as he shifted uncomfortably in his seat, not at all sure what it was he was supposed to be here for.

“Jack, would you prefer it if the others spoke first this week and maybe next week you can tell us your story?”