Cecelia Ahern - Short Stories - The Every Year Collection

‘Well it can’t be that,’ Mallard smiles. ‘It must have been longer than usual. Why don’t you go for a dip?’

‘That’s a good idea.’ She brightens up and hops over the harsh pebbles that border the lake.

Mallard looks out to the lake and spots familiar characters bobbing nearby in the waters. He quickly follows after her. ‘Actually, I’ll join you, May, those French lads over there were on the flight with us. Never stopped jabbering on for a second, do you remember them?’

‘Oh, you know me, love, I was in my own world. I was just watching the view for the entire journey.’

‘Well that’s what I wanted to do too but it was just bonjour this, oui, oui that, all the way over. And I wouldn’t trust them: males such as those just come over here to ruffle a few feathers, if you know what I mean.’

‘Oh, Mallard,’ May laughs. ‘You exaggerate too much. They look like they’re a friendly bunch to me.’

‘Of course they do, that’s what they want you to think. For Christ’s sake, don’t look now, May, they’re looking right over at us! Ah, hello there!’ He calls across to them and adds under his breath, ‘They’re coming over.’

’ Bonjour.’

‘Eh, yeah, bonjour to you, too. Enjoy your flight?’

‘Oui, oui, it was très pleasant. Scenery was spectacular all of the way. Let us introduce ourselves, je m’appelle Pierre and this is monfrère— my brother—Jean-Paul.’

‘Nice to meet you,’ May says politely.

‘This is my wife May, and I’m Mallard.’

‘Ah! Mallard!’ He laughs.

‘Yes, my parents were imaginative,’ he says, feeling himself heat up.

‘What a charming name.’ Pierre smiles. ‘Enchanté.’

Jean-Paul doesn’t say anything. Mallard eyes him suspiciously.

The four of them bob up and down rhythmically in the water. The motion is soothing and the gentle breeze of the morning sun tickles and brightens their faces, like a paintbrush on canvas.

May disappears as she dives head down into the waters, and not being the best conversationalist in the world, particularly with strangers, Mallard looks around awkwardly.

‘So, Mallard, are you from around here?’

‘No, no, we live more inland, Carrick-on-Shannon to be precise, but thought we’d give this Lake Corrib a crack, seein’ as it was such a lovely day and all and we’ve heard so much about it. We always travel with a large group, from in and around the same area, but we just thought we’d go out on our own for a little while. We’ll head home shortly.’

May, who’s still head down, kicks the surface of the water and manages to splash the three of them.

‘Eh, sorry about that. May’s a keen diver.’ He watches the soles of her feet splish, splash. ‘We’ve got a place in South Africa where we spend the winter, but it’s always nice to get back home, isn’t it?’

‘Bien sur. J’adore Irlande. We come every year.’

‘Is that so? Seems these days it’s the other way around, with the country doing so well and all, the skies are filled with plane loads of people flying out to their holiday homes. Can’t get away from the Irish at all, I find,’ Mallard says seriously.

To his confusion, they both laugh and Mallard can’t relax until May pops back up from the water.

‘Where do you stay when you’re here, Pierre?’ she asks, shaking off the water from her face, sending droplets flying into Mallard’s eyes.

‘Every year we have spent months in Dublin city. J’adore Dublin. We spent most of our days in St Stephen’s Green in Dublin. The weather was splendid, such a lovely park with lake and waterfall. We have been every year, but for last year.’

Jean-Paul shoots him a warning look.

‘Where did you go last year?’ Mallard asked curiously, unsure of Pierre’s brother.

‘We stayed in Kildare last year but never again, now it harbours such sad memories for us,’ Pierre’s tone changes.

Jean-Paul, who has been silent for practically the entire conversation, looks away from his brother and floats ever so slightly away from them, detaching himself from the conversation.

Mallard, not good with emotions, looks to May for help. He cocks his head sideways, motioning for her to say something to the upset Pierre.

‘Oh, Pierre,’ May says softly, ‘I do hope everything is OK.’

’ Non, mon frère—pardonez-moi, my brother—we lost him on our last trip to Ireland.’

‘Oh, dear!’ May says. ‘How did you lose him?’

‘He was shot.’

‘Shot?!’ she gasps. ‘Sweet Lord, where on earth, how on earth, who on earth would shoot him here?’

‘We were exploring the area, we had never been to Kildare before. July last year. Très green, lots of golf courses, very pretty. But we see men, with guns and they bang! bang!, and Luc, he fall down.’

May gasps and moves closer to Mallard for protection.

‘But surely the men were caught? And punished? I hope they were locked away for life,’ Mallard says, feeling angry.

’ Non. I’m sure these men were not, for there was nothing we could do. We had to leave him, to save ourselves. That I will never forgive myself for, but if we were to stay in the area we would be like sitting ducks. We do not know who the thugs are, where they are and how we can prove anything to anyone.’

Jean-Paul looks to him with concern and Pierre responds, ‘ Je vais bien, Jean-Paul. Merci.’

Mallard is suspicious.

‘Oh, that’s awful,’ May sobs.

‘Now now, love.’

‘What is the world coming to, at all?’

‘Oui, the violence. So unfair, so unjust.’

‘I’m surprised you’d want to return here at all,’ Mallard says.

‘We flew to the North of England but it was très froid. Perhaps we will one day return to our home country France, but we prefer it here and Luc would have wanted us to return to this place that we journeyed to together. We travelled here from South Africa with many friends, as I’m sure you saw on our flight, and we will stay with them. Écoutez moi, safety in numbers, Mallard and May, remember that.’

‘Yes,’ Mallard says, huddling closer to his wife. ‘Indeed.’

‘Maybe we should go back home now, Mallard,’ May suggests in a quiet voice. ‘Back to our friends and family.’

‘Yes my love. Perhaps we should.’

They say their goodbyes and Mallard and May watch Pierre and Jean-Paul exit the lake and make their way back to their group.

‘Oh how sad, Mallard. I don’t know what I’d do if I ever lost you.’

‘And I too, my love, I too.’

‘You know I’ve wanted to thank you for not leaving me after we had the little ones—’

‘Now, now, May,’ he interrupts. ‘There’s no need to get into all of that. It’s in the past now.’

‘No, Mallard.’ She turns to face him. ‘I want to talk about it, you never let me talk about it. Most of my friends, and Susie just recently … as soon as they had the little ones, their other halves were off. I’ve heard of it all too often. I don’t know why they felt they all had to form that little male group together,’ she says angrily. Then she softens. ‘But you didn’t. You stayed with me and I appreciate that.’

Mallard takes in her little face, browned and soft. He smiles. ‘I couldn’t have left you, my love, not for a second.’

‘But I am so plain and you aren’t. You are—’

‘Hush, May, why are you speaking like this? I love you. We beat all the odds, didn’t we? All these years together?’

She nods, happily.

‘Now, let’s get back to the rest of them, shall we?’

They bob up and down in the water for a little while longer, watching the sun rising in the sky, feeling content and safe with one another and savouring the moment. Mallard nuzzles May and they smile at one another.