Читать книгу Closer Than You Think - Darren O’Sullivan - Страница 11

6th May 2018

St Ives, Cambridgeshire

I sat quietly in the kitchen for half an hour, thinking about how I hadn’t been to see my doctor for a very long time. Dr Porter had been great. She listened. She knew how I felt about most things. But the last few visits, we went around in circles, discussing nothing new. And so, I stopped going to see her. Dr Porter knew most of my secrets. Most. But not all. Some things I couldn’t say, and some things I wouldn’t ever say. My thoughts were interrupted when I heard Mum and Geoff moving around their room, and wondered when they’d join me in the kitchen. Eventually, Geoff crossed to the bathroom and called out good morning as he did.

‘Morning, I’ll make you both a brew,’ I called back.

‘Thanks, love,’ he shouted through the door.

As the kettle began to boil, I felt my phone vibrate in my dressing-gown pocket. I couldn’t help but smile to see who the message was from.

So, it turns out I’m not needed on site anymore. I’m coming back later today. Do you fancy a takeaway? No pressure to say yes.

Paul wasn’t due back till the weekend, and then he was seeing his daughters who lived in Cambridge. With my trip to Ireland in ten days, I wasn’t likely to see him again for another few weeks. I guess that was why our … whatever we were, worked. We were taking things slow, because we had to. Paul was also older than me, quite a few years older. He was divorced and had no intention of having more children, which made things less complicated. At first, knowing his children were adults felt weird. It was one of the first things I had commented on when Mum told me how old they were. But, if we became anything other than two adults getting to know each other, I would cross that bridge when I came to it. With everything else going on – every other bridge I had to cross on a daily basis – it didn’t seem that important.

We’d been spending time together for a few months now. We’d met online, which was something I wasn’t sure I wanted to do but Mum, the most forward thinking sixty-four-year-old I had ever known, insisted it would do me good to meet new people, get me out and about. She had been trying for years, so, finally I said yes. She crafted my profile, stating I was Claire O’Healy, her new surname after marrying Geoff. If she put my surname it would have undoubtedly drawn the wrong attention. She wrote things in the ‘about me’ section I wasn’t sure were entirely true, things she insisted were accurate but told me I couldn’t see. She cropped a photo of me and her in my garden from last year and then hit complete, making me real in the digital world. I didn’t want to see what was being said, assuming people would be unkind. And if I was honest, meeting someone was so terrifying I convinced myself I was happy on my own. It had taken me a long time to get to a place where I could manage my own company, and I wasn’t sure I was ready to share that with anyone. But still, under the fear, I was also lonely.

Mum told me she would vet the potential ‘friends’ I would talk to and be discreet in doing so. She told me most were just looking for sex, but this didn’t faze her. There were a few who appeared desperate, and only one she had seen who seemed nice. So, on a wet night a few months ago, both of us sat at my kitchen table between a pot of fresh tea and she told me all about him. A man named Paul.

When she stated he was forty-eight, I blew on my tea and raised an eyebrow. He was fourteen years older than me, and only fourteen younger than her. But after she read his profile to me, I understood why he’d made the shortlist. He seemed genuine, kind. Devoted to his children. Hard-working. He was a divorcee, but he didn’t seem to have baggage, and I believed it as divorce was so common these days, lots of people didn’t have complications after separation. That was the thing I was most drawn to – Paul appeared to be uncomplicated. Something I wasn’t. With my curiosity piqued, I asked her to show me his message.

Hello, I’m Paul. I’m new to this so not sure what the right etiquette is. You look nice, and it’s nice to be around nice people.

She showed me his photo on the dating website. He looked great. His hair was grey, but in a sexy George Clooney way, and he looked athletic and tall. Mum joked that if I didn’t want to meet him she would, stating that Geoff wouldn’t mind. We both chuckled at the idea. Mum and Geoff had their difficulties, as all couples did. But they loved one another dearly.

Looking back to the picture, in which he was grinning, standing by a river or lake somewhere, I could feel my hesitation rising. Meeting new people had become nearly impossible for me. With each introduction came a fresh wave of panic about who they were and what motivated them. An online introduction was unchartered territory I didn’t feel I could navigate. I didn’t know how you could get to know someone without seeing them face to face and reading their eyes?

‘I’m not saying you have to shack up with anyone,’ Mum said, interrupting my thoughts.

‘Shack up? Does anyone say that anymore?’ I replied, smiling.

‘Claire, stop deflecting. It will be good for you.’

I dropped the smile. She was right; I was trying to sidestep the conversation. ‘Mum, it’s been a long time.’

‘I know, that’s why we’re doing this. You shouldn’t be on your own.’

‘I’m not, I’ve got Penny.’

‘A friend who has a family of her own.’

‘I’ve got you and Geoff.’

‘And we’ve got each other, Claire – you know what I mean.’

‘I’m not sure I can, you know… be around somebody else.’

‘You can.’

‘Fine, I’m not sure I want to.’

‘That’s just your fear talking, Claire. After everything you’ve been through you deserve to have someone nice in your life.’

‘But what about—’

She cut me off by reaching over the table and resting her hand on my forearm, on my scar, and although it had faded and lost its raised texture, it was still there – a permanent reminder of the past. I pulled away awkwardly, and knowing why, she apologised.

‘Claire, we both know Owen would be all right with it, it’s been long enough.’

‘I have no idea how to do this.’

‘Do what? All you’re doing is saying hello. Getting to know him. The best thing about doing it this way is if it’s too much for you, if you decide you don’t like him, you close the app and lock your phone. God, I wish they had this when I was in the market after your dad.’

‘Mum!’

I’d taken another week to pluck up the courage to say hello. Our chat was slow, both he and I not responding quickly to one another. I half expected him to rush in, overload me with messages. But he seemed as tentative as I was. We kept our conversation light, commenting on the weather and things happening in the local news. Eventually we both opened up a little and spoke of musical interests, our hobbies and our jobs – well, his anyway. I wasn’t sure if it was weird or fated that Paul was in a similar line of work to Owen. But while Owen had worked on building sites, installing cables and switches into homes before they were decorated, Paul oversaw the building projects at a more senior level. I wondered, for a moment, if they might have met, but quickly quashed the ridiculous thought. When Paul asked me about what I did, I lied and told him I was taking time away from childcare. Well, part lied. Technically, I was taking time out: nearly ten years, in fact.

He spoke of his children often, and I spoke of not having any. We didn’t talk about our pasts and I was glad he didn’t ask. We exchanged emails, eventually numbers, and when we spoke over the phone, I couldn’t hide the nerves. My voice shook as I fumbled for words to say. He commented on my accent, asking where in Ireland I was from and I was surprised he knew the area. Paul had family near Limerick and had visited a few times when he was younger. Then, after a month or so of chatting, we had our first dinner with Mum and Geoff. As weird as it sounds to be going on a double date with my mother, I was glad she suggested it. I couldn’t face it alone.

We met at an Italian place in nearby Huntingdon. He made me laugh – made us all laugh, in fact – and appeared to be completely composed despite telling me after, via message, that he was nervous all evening. He was kind, we all could see it. Geoff, who was protective over me, treating me like his own daughter, told me as we drove home that night that he liked Paul a lot. When Mum noticed he didn’t drink after he opted for a soda and lime when we had a bottle of red, she was won over. I wasn’t so sure; both Mum and Geoff had to convince me I should see him again. Our next date, if you could call it that, was breakfast at a café nearby. I went alone, and for our short but lovely meet, the past didn’t matter; the future wasn’t real. We were just ‘in the moment’. Two people talking and sharing and laughing like nothing else mattered. I almost felt normal again.

What I liked about Paul the most was his patience. We had shared a few kisses, each time becoming more fervent. But no further than that – I wasn’t sure how ready I was for anything more. It had taken me years to be comfortable in my own skin.

It was a lovely surprise to know he would be back today. And, although I was still trying to be cautious, I couldn’t help feel excited by the idea of us spending time together. He was the first person in a long time I had let myself become close to (other than Penny, of course, but that was different).

Now he knew who I once was, and what I was. He didn’t know much, as he hadn’t followed the story when it happened, but he knew enough to not need an excuse to head for the hills. But here he was, for now. I wasn’t expecting it to be for ever. Not once he knew everything. And over the next few weeks, with the anniversary approaching, it was likely he would know most of the details. Someone, somewhere would dig up the past and force me to relive what happened in some magazine or online blog. Then the messages of support would come back, and my quiet life that I fought so hard to maintain would become noisy once more.

My phone vibrated again, lifting me from my daydream, as another message came through.

Or, if you prefer we could eat out somewhere?

I replied, the smile staying firmly in place.

No, a takeaway would be lovely.

His reply was instant.

Perfect. I’ll be leaving the site in a few hours, then another few to get home (if the traffic gods are kind).

Don’t rush, I’m not going anywhere.

Watching my screen, I saw the three dots telling me he was messaging back. It seemed to last a lifetime. Eventually he responded.

I hope not.

Regardless of the fact I was older and wiser and more battle-scarred than a teenager, I couldn’t help, for a moment, feeling like one. My heart fluttered.

Geoff walked from the bathroom back into his room as Mum came into the kitchen. I turned my back, busying myself with the tea. I hoped she didn’t see my cheeks had flushed. When I turned to face her she smiled, still groggy from sleep. She was wrapped in her dressing gown, which was frighteningly similar to mine. Was she young-looking, or was I dressing myself as an older lady? I wasn’t sure. She kissed me on the cheek, sat at the kitchen table and asked me what my plans were for the day, expecting the answer to be as it was most days: ‘Oh nothing, I’m just going to potter around.’ When I sat opposite her and flippantly said Paul was coming over for a takeaway, she couldn’t hide the mischievous glint in her eyes.

‘Oh.’

‘Mum! I know what that smile means, don’t be so crude!’

Geoff walked into the kitchen scratching his stomach and yawning, like an old bear waking after a winter’s sleep. He noticed I was blushing. It didn’t shock me; Geoff was one to notice the small things.

‘You two all right?’ he asked.

‘Oh, more than all right, I’d say,’ Mum replied, her tone playful and teasing.

‘Oh yeah?’

‘Claire is on a promise.’

‘I’m not on a promise, Mum! Who even says that anymore? Paul’s just coming around for a bite to eat.’

‘Yeah, Geoff did the same thing nearly twenty years ago.’

‘She’s not been able to get rid of me since,’ he said, laughing and squeezing Mum’s shoulder with his wide calloused hand before sitting at the table beside her.

‘You two are hopeless,’ I said, smiling at them before getting up to grab the mugs.

‘So, what time is he coming over?’ Geoff continued, blowing on his tea.

‘I don’t know, later?’

‘Want us to pop out and get a bottle of wine or something?’

‘No, I’ll go,’ I said, and both Mum and Geoff looked at me a little too quickly.

‘Claire, shall I come with you?’ Mum asked delicately.

‘I’ll be fine.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘Yeah, I want to go for myself.’

‘Good for you!’ Geoff replied, a little too eagerly.

It wasn’t every day I had something to look forward to. It wasn’t every day I even needed to get dressed. Paul coming back and wanting to see me filled me with an unexpected sense of purpose. I needed to do something before seeing him. I decided I wanted to be out in the world, to get us a bottle of wine and something for dessert; I wanted to be the one to do it.

I had to prepare myself first.