Catherine O’Flynn - Mr Lynch’s Holiday

‘I am. I’ll need them.’

Eamonn looked at him. ‘I’m confused.’

‘You’re on my flight, son. On my ticket. I’ve changed the name. They let you do that. To be honest, I wouldn’t have had a clue, but Inga sorted it all out for me.’

‘You’re not coming with me?’

‘I thought I’d stay here.’

‘Here?’ Eamonn was aware of sounding stupid.

‘I’ve got my pension. I’ve got savings. I’ve got more money than I can spend. I can keep up the payments. You go home, there’s nothing to pay there, just the heating of the place.’

‘That’s insane.’

‘Why is it? I like it here. Very much. Haven’t I worked hard all my life? Don’t I deserve a place in the sun?’

‘That’s not the point. This is my mess. I need to clear it up.’

‘You’ve just told me how unhappy you’ve been here but you’re insisting on staying. My God, Eamonn, your mother would have been proud. Maybe they’ll make you a saint after you die.’

Eamonn looked at him. ‘But you’d be on your own.’

‘I’m on my own at home, aren’t I? What’s the difference? I like it here. There are good people around. I’ll make friends. Remember, I’ve done it before — water off a duck’s back to me.’

‘You have it all worked out.’

‘I have it all worked out.’

‘What if you change your mind?’

‘Then I’ll go home.’

Eamonn dragged his fingers through his hair. ‘I thought I’d be happy here.’

‘Maybe you were happy enough at home.’

‘I messed it all up.’

Dermot shrugged. ‘You just took a wrong turning. Everyone’s done that.’

Eamonn went to his room to resume packing. He had not spent a night away from Lomaverde since his mother’s funeral. The idea that he could just get on a plane and leave seemed remarkable. The thought of being anywhere else unbelievable. He found it hard to imagine himself, the person he might be, away from there. It felt to him as if Lomaverde were inside him and he didn’t know how he would feel on a busy street, in the rain, waiting for a bus. He found the prospect of even such prosaic moments exhilarating and faintly terrifying.

He packed an odd selection of clothes, found his passport and only at the last minute remembered his phone, recharging in the corner. There was a message.

He stared at the message for a long time and finally he knew what it was.

He sat down carefully and she woke up. Her face instantly clouded with anguish and she began to cry. He stood up and she quietened and fell asleep once more. Her breathing slowed and steadied and he tried again, bending his knees almost imperceptibly, lowering himself gradually on to the chair. As he made contact with the seat, her eyelids flickered open again, revealing two dark blue irises, burning with betrayal and pain, and she let out a howl. He spoke in a low voice as he got up:

‘It’s OK. I’m sorry. I’m standing. No chair. No chair.’

He cradled the back of her head with his hand. She was asleep within seconds. He stood then for a long time, humming a tune from a long-forgotten advert, the tempo slowed down, a hidden mournfulness revealed in its melody. He swayed in a kind of trance, conscious only of the cycle of the notes, the heat of her head, the weight of her body. Eventually he took her back and laid her next to Laura on the bed. He put his lips to her forehead, placed her hand on her mother’s, and left.

Outside the block he stood blinking for a moment, waiting to adjust to the light and the heat. He walked into the street wondering which way he might go when he caught a glimpse of movement high on the hill above him. He shielded his eyes with his hands and looked up towards the black shape. It was a human figure, picking its way slowly down the steep path. Eamonn’s legs recognized him first. They started moving, seemingly independent of his will, up the slope. He called out: ‘Hello there!’ And was pleased to hear the surprise in his father’s voice.

‘Eamonn?’

He made his way quickly up the track until he stood smiling and out of breath before him.

‘What’s this?’

‘Surprise.’

Dermot looked at him. ‘But I’ve nothing ready. How long have you been here? Have you had a drink even?’

‘It’s fine. We let ourselves in. I was just coming out to find you.’

‘I haven’t even a cot set up. I could have had it all arranged.’

Eamonn reached out and touched him lightly on the arm. ‘The best visits are unannounced, you used to say that.’

Dermot looked at him and then smiled.

‘Well, then.’

‘Well, then.’

Eamonn frowned. ‘You look strange with a tan.’

‘I always had some colour in my face.’

‘That was Birmingham bus-driver colour. Now you’re all Mediterranean. It makes you look …’

‘Wealthy and handsome?’

‘No. Like a labourer. You look like you’ve been out building a motorway.’

‘Oh, I see.’

They walked down the hill together.

‘I’m sorry I wasn’t here. I was walking. Best time to do it, before it gets too hot.’

‘You look well.’

‘I feel fine.’ He looked at Eamonn. ‘And what about you? Are you all well?’

‘We are.’

‘You look like you’ve gained a little weight.’

‘Takeaways. I missed them.’

‘You’re less skeletal now. More cadaverous, I’d say.’

‘That’s good.’

‘And everything’s OK, is it?’

Eamonn smiled. ‘Yes. Everything’s OK.’

‘What’s funny?’

‘You sound like Mom.’

‘Do I? I suppose I do. How is the little one?’

‘She’s good. A baby. You know. She doesn’t sleep.’

‘Do you know who she is yet?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Your mother and I, we used to look in at you in your cot when you were sleeping, and ask: “Who are you?” You were a little stranger come to live with us. A mystery. We were waiting for you to reveal yourself to us.’

‘No, I’m not sure she’s done that yet.’

‘Good for her.’

They left the hillside and walked along the street.

‘I see the pool’s been restored to its former glory.’

‘It wasn’t that big a job in the end. We found the right fellas to do it, and it didn’t cost an arm and a leg. Just a crack in the lining. I like to sneak over there at night.’

‘Why do you need to sneak?’

‘I suppose I don’t really. There’s nobody to mind. I float on my back in the dark, looking up at the stars, thinking. A nocturnal fish, that’s what Inga calls me. I can give the cats a rare fright when I sit up.’

They reached the apartment block. He hesitated as Dermot held the door open.

‘Come in, come in, will you.’

Eamonn looked over at the pool.

‘I’d love a swim now. Do you fancy it?’

‘I do not. There’s someone inside that I’m very keen to see.’

Eamonn nodded. ‘She’s asleep. She didn’t sleep last night.’

‘Well, it’s no more than you deserve. You were the worst. She’ll be a good girl now for her Granddad. I have a cupboard there in the kitchen with a few little things in that she’ll like.’

‘Dad, please don’t stuff her with rubbish.’

‘What? I’m not going to stuff her. She can have a little chocolate, can’t she? My God, I bet you have her eating dried fruit and yoghurt.’

‘She likes yoghurt.’

‘Because she doesn’t know any better.’

Eamonn shrugged. ‘Try not to wake Laura. She’s exhausted.’

Dermot smiled. ‘Well, she can take it easy now for a few days. You both can. You just let me get on with it.’