Catherine O’Flynn - Mr Lynch’s Holiday

‘Ghosts,’ said Eamonn.

Inga was still up painting. She welcomed them in and served them bitter coffee with spiced biscuits.

‘You knew already,’ said Dermot. ‘I remember the bag of rice. For the cats.’

‘I didn’t want to worry you with it.’

‘How did you find them?’

‘That day down at the playground. When we found Ottoline. After you left I had a sense that someone was watching me. I had my suspicions about who it was.’

‘So you knew before then?’

She shook her head. ‘No. Not at all. My suspicion was wrong. It’s shameful to admit it. I thought it had to be someone here and the only person I thought who might possibly ever do such a thing was Roger.’

Eamonn shrugged. ‘That’s not so crazy.’

‘Oh, it is. Poor Roger. I just thought how angry he was with me for feeding the cats and how he liked hunting. I thought he might be trying to teach me a lesson. I sound quite stupid.’

Dermot smiled. ‘Like Dr Watson.’

‘Anyway, I thought I’d leave the carcass in the bag on the ground and then pretend to leave. I waited to see if anybody came back.’ She got out a cigarette. ‘I got a terrible shock when I saw him. Not Roger. Some poor young man. He looked so scared. He picked up the bag and I followed him.’

Eamonn asked, ‘Do you know how many of them there are?’

‘Twelve at least. The lucky few that made it across.’

‘Does anybody else know? What about Esteban?’

‘He knows, I think. His uncle has a farm, and the farmers, they need cheap labour, you know, and the migrants, they need work. It’s been going on for months. A van collecting them at night.’

Dermot had an image of a rusty old transit. He remembered Matty Keegan. Frozen winter’s mornings, the sound of him dressing in the room.

‘Have you told the police?’

She shook her head. ‘I found a charity that works with illegal immigrants. I spoke to them today. They are going to come and talk to the men. I wasn’t sure what to do. I didn’t know who to tell. I didn’t want the authorities involved. The men have been through enough, I think. I hope they will get some help now.’

Dermot nodded. ‘I don’t know what else you could have done.’

She looked out of the window. ‘We talk about strange noises, things that go bump in the night; I think we almost enjoy the idea of ghosts. But real people? Confined to darkness and silence, living among us? It’s so sad. So awful.’

It was after one when Eamonn went, leaving Dermot and Inga talking. It was only when the sky started to lighten that Dermot stood and said, ‘I should be going.’

‘Oh yes, of course. It’s very late. You must have packing to do.’

‘I didn’t bring much.’

‘Well. Later today you’ll be back in England, happy by your own fireside.’

Dermot imagined opening the front door. The familiar smells. The familiar things. Suffocating.

He gestured over at her painting. ‘I would have liked to have seen that when it’s finished.’

‘Oh. Well. Maybe I can send a photo. It’s not the same thing, but if you wanted to see it, I could email you an image.’

He nodded. ‘Email. I’d need a computer for that.’

She smiled. ‘Or I could just post a photograph.’

‘No, you mustn’t go to any bother.’

‘It would be my pleasure. I could send it to you as a postcard and then maybe you could send me a postcard in return.’

‘Of Birmingham?’

‘Why not?’

‘I’m not sure they make them.’

She smiled. ‘Well. Maybe we will keep in touch anyway. I would like that.’

There was suddenly an awkwardness where there had been none. Without warning she leaned forward and kissed him on both cheeks.

‘Goodbye, Dermot, it was really very good to meet you. I hope we will meet again.’

He remained standing in the same spot, feeling the brush of her lips against his skin, the light touch of her fingers on his arms. He looked at her for a long time and then he said, ‘Did you say you had a computer?’

‘Yes, a laptop.’

‘Can you get the Internet on it?’

‘Yes.’

‘And you know how to work it?’

‘Of course.’

‘Do you think you could help me with something?’

They ate their breakfast on the terrace.

‘You’ve hours yet. Did you want to do anything?’

‘I’m happy enough here for now.’

Eamonn thought that he should say more to reassure Dermot before he left. Absolve him of any worry.

‘I’ve been thinking — if this is how it ends with Laura, then this is how it ends. It’ll be hard, but life will go on. I’ll get over it in time.’ He paused and then added in a voice that wasn’t his own: ‘Plenty more fish in the sea!’ He made an expansive gesture at the barren landscape around them and gave a big smile. He was finding it hard to judge the tone correctly. Dermot ignored him and looked out at the horizon.

‘I like it here.’

Eamonn nodded. ‘Yeah. Oh yeah. I mean, me too. It’s great really. A few teething problems, but I just need to give it more time.’

Dermot carried on studying the vista and then turned and looked directly at Eamonn. ‘There’s no future for you here, son.’

Eamonn froze. A distant memory from childhood. His father could read minds. Somehow he had forgotten this.

‘You should speak to Laura.’

Eamonn breathed out. ‘Well, that’s difficult when she won’t speak to me. I’ve emailed her, I’ve texted her, I ring her all the time.’

Dermot shook his head. ‘But that’s not speaking to her, is it? Face to face. That’s a conversation.’

‘She’s not here. Have you not noticed? She’s gone.’

‘You get on a plane, you go after her.’

‘Oh, Dad, come on. She wouldn’t appreciate that. There’s no point.’

‘My God. I thought you weren’t like me. I thought you had more sense. “No point”? Jesus Christ. Do anything but talk to her. Anything but say what needs to be said, to her face. Send her your essays every day if you like, but don’t kid yourself that’s talking.’

Eamonn walked to the edge of the terrace and looked out. ‘I used to talk to her all the time. I told her everything. We’d talk all night. After we came here, I started waking in the nights. My heart hammering, difficulty breathing. Panic attacks, I suppose.’ He turned to face Dermot. ‘I could have just leaned over, reached out and held her hand, told her that I wasn’t coping. But I didn’t.

‘She’s very resilient, you know, Laura. Very strong. She took it all in her stride. She dealt with the disappointments here, the weirdnesses, and she still kept a purpose, was still funny. Still herself.

‘She was everything to me. I know that’s corny but it’s true. And it’s not good. To depend on someone like that. I mean, once we’d been everything to each other, but then suddenly we weren’t equal, I was heavier, a big weight that she had to bear, and I didn’t want her to feel it, to know it.’ He rubbed his face with his hands. ‘I just kept on and on and on until she was gone.’

He fell silent for a while.

‘I know I need to speak to her.’

Dermot stood. ‘So why don’t you go and pack your bags?’

‘I better book a flight first.’

‘You don’t need to. I’ve already done it.’

‘You? On the Internet?’

‘I got someone to help me.’

‘Oh. OK. Am I on your flight?’

‘You are.’

Eamonn was a little disoriented but headed to his room to start packing a bag. A moment later he returned.

‘You haven’t packed your shaving things.’

‘I don’t need to pack them.’

‘You’re leaving them here?’