Читать книгу The Legacy of Lucy Harte: A poignant, life-affirming novel that will make you laugh and cry - Emma Heatherington, Emma Heatherington - Страница 12

I am early. I couldn’t settle at home and I’ve been ‘ready’ for at least an hour, so I thought the best thing to do was just come here and wait. I do feel like it’s an awkward blind date, even though I know it couldn’t be anything more different. I chose my outfit carefully, a little too carefully perhaps, but I think I’ve got just about the right balance. Not too dressy, not too casual. The sun was shining and there was a hint of summer in the air as I drove here, which made my white jeans and pale-blue chiffon blouse feel just perfect for the occasion.

The occasion… what on earth is this occasion anyhow?

I am pondering this to myself when I see Flo come into the bar and she takes a seat and then hides her face behind a menu. I catch her eye and shake my head in laughter. She orders a drink from the waiter and then gives me the thumbs-up. I may have wound her up for doing this but now she is here I actually do feel a bit more settled. I am meeting a total stranger in very emotional circumstances, after all, so it’s good to know she has my back, should it, for whatever reason, go horribly wrong.

I get the waiter’s attention and ask for a tall gin and tonic. I need some Dutch courage now – more than I’ve ever done in my entire life.

‘Are you there yet?’ It’s a text from Simon.

‘I’m here,’ I message back. ‘I’m early.’

‘Good, so am I,’ he replies. The waiter returns and is just placing my drink on the table when I see him.

Jesus.

It really is him. Not Jesus, no, but Simon Harte, Lucy’s brother, walking towards me right here, right now. I smile. I breathe. I glance over at Flo who is staring at him like he is the Second Coming.

I wave. He waves back and smiles and runs his hand through his hair, looking as nervous as I feel.

This is so, so surreal. I stand up to greet him. He is tall. Boy, but he is tall. I swallow back a rainbow of emotions and I can’t hear anything now. The muffled sounds of cutlery and background music and people chatting fade into the background. Everything sounds and looks like a blur. I can see nothing and I can hear nothing. Nothing. Only him. It’s like time has stood still and it is making me very dizzy.

‘Maggie,’ he says, in his soft Scottish brogue. ‘Maggie, Maggie, Maggie.’

His eyes fill with tears and mine do too. He keeps saying my name, whispering it and then he kisses me lightly on the cheek.

‘I… I have to say thank you, Simon,’ I mumble. ‘I just really want to say thank you to you and your family for what you have done for me.’

He stands back, his hands holding my wrists lightly and his eyes dancing, like this is truly a moment he has been longing for as long as I have. I am afraid that if he lets go of me I might fall. The room is really spinning. I focus on his face. His beautiful, smiley, friendly face.

‘You’re real,’ he says. ‘You’re Maggie.’

I feel my heart beat. My lonely, borrowed heart. I think of Lucy and I wonder if she is watching. Does she feel what I feel, what he feels – her very own big brother, who she left behind when she was much too young, has found me? A piece of her is inside of me. I feel guilty and grateful all in one big blow of emotion.

‘I can’t believe you are here,’ I manage to whisper.

For some reason it’s like my own world finally makes sense, like I make sense now. It is Lucy Harte’s brother and his family is the reason I am still alive.

‘I can’t believe I am here either,’ he says and I know he means it. ‘I can’t believe I am here… with you. This is… this is… pretty amazing.’

I feel so unsteady. If Flo looks at me now she will be calling an ambulance as I’m bound to be a deathly shade of white. He purses his lips and breathes in long and hard, then exhales and smiles and his eyes wrinkle and I can tell he is finding this just as overwhelming as I am.

‘Thank you for seeing me,’ he says. ‘I have wondered about you forever. I think we should sit down. Will we sit down?’

‘My heart is racing I’m so totally nervous,’ I mutter and when he looks at me I can see the pain etched in his eyes as the reality of my heart, Lucy’s heart, racing sinks in for him.

He guides me to my seat and I sit down slowly, then take a sip of my drink, hoping it will bring me round. We stare at each other again and smile and stare and smile and stare.

‘You look different to what I expected,’ he says. ‘Not in a good way or a bad way, just different. God, I am waffling again.’

‘Well, you look… you look more tanned than I expected,’ I say with a nervous giggle. ‘Have you been on holiday? I feel very pasty and… well, Irish in comparison.’

He takes a seat opposite me, still smiling, still staring.

‘Yes, I thought I’d mentioned that,’ he says and his eyes wrinkle again.

‘No, you didn’t,’ I reply. I am shaking, but hearing his voice is soothing and I get a real sense of familiarity just being in his company.

I am nervous. I am emotional and I am in awe of this moment. It’s like I am meeting a long-lost family member, someone who has been looking for me and I have been looking for them for years and years and we are finally finding each other and it’s so darn overwhelming.

I signal the waiter’s attention again and Simon orders a beer as he tells me of a week in Greece he spent just after his father’s funeral. He went alone, which impresses me greatly.

‘Do you travel alone much?’ I ask. ‘I’m a bit of a chicken when it comes to going places alone. I always drag Jeff, well used to drag Jeff along or my mum and dad or a girlfriend. Some people prefer it. Do you?’

‘No, not normally,’ he says and his eyes divert from me slightly.

‘Did I say something wrong?’ I ask. He looks sad now. ‘God I’m talking too much. Sorry, I’m just so –’

‘No, you’re not, you’re not at all!’ he says, brightening up a bit. ‘It was more of a time to grieve than a holiday, that’s all, but anyhow…’

He goes quiet and the waiter thankfully breaks the brief silence by serving Simon’s beer, a Budweiser, by the bottle, like he asked for it. I stir my gin and tonic and feel butterflies in my tummy. Where on earth do we go from here? Food. Yes, food would the next stage, though I don’t know if I can actually stomach food right now.

‘You must be starving,’ I say, handing him a menu, which I realise I have two of. ‘I had a sneaky peek while I was waiting so I kind of know what I want. Though I am so nervous I don’t know if I can eat.’

‘I’m nervous too but I’m always hungry,’ he says. ‘My mum used to say…’

He trails off again and I notice him bite his lip.

‘Go on…’

‘Ah, it doesn’t matter,’ he says. ‘I won’t bore you with trips down memory lane just yet. Now, what do you recommend? I’m normally a steak-and-chips kinda guy.’

I glance over at Flo, who seems to have forgotten her detective mission and is wolfing down a humongous burger. Unlike me, she didn’t have small talk to go through before placing her order, so is well ahead with her grub. It’s just as well I’m not in any despair over here.

I realise that Simon is looking at me, waiting on my answer regarding the food.

‘Oh, sorry, do excuse me!’ I say. ‘I thought I recognised someone there but it’s an uncanny lookalike. Yes, recommendations. Well, I’m having salmon. I had steak here before and it was really good, so I’d say go with your usual.’

He flashes a smile at me and closes the menu. We are slowly beginning to relax now. It is a huge relief as my tummy starts to settle and my senses come back to me. I never felt nerves like that in my life, not even when I met Jeff’s fancy-pants-rich parents and, believe me, that was nerve-wrecking because they hated me and I knew it and that was way before my Britney Spears impression.

‘Steak and chips it is, then,’ he says. ‘Sorry if I’m staring. You’re shaking. Are you really that nervous?’

He keeps looking at me. Yes, staring, but I am doing the same back.

‘I’m something but I don’t know what it is,’ I confess. ‘I am nervous, yes, overwhelmed more so, but I am slowly starting to come around now, very slowly. You?’

‘Same,’ he says and his eyes smile. ‘I’m just in awe that this has finally happened. It’s like this was always meant to be. I just had to find you…’

He fidgets a bit and then continues.

‘Maggie, I hope I haven’t frightened you by landing so soon.’

‘No … God, no.’

‘I’m in deep grief once again in my life,’ he explains. ‘I am vulnerable at the minute and raw but I just needed to see you. I wanted to see that in some strange way, I still have part of my family alive. Does that make me sound like some freaky weirdo?’

I look at Flo. She is still attacking her burger. If she was Jessica Fletcher she would be sacked by now.

I look back at Simon. I look at the table. I look at my hands. And then I find my voice.

‘No, I don’t think you are some freaky weirdo,’ I tell him softly. ‘I have always wanted to meet you, or someone connected to Lucy, so that I could say thank you. I wanted to thank you, thank Lucy, for my life.’

He really looks like he could cry. If I am vulnerable, he is even more.

‘My wife thinks this is a bit crazy but I need to do this,’ he says. ‘I suppose that when my dad died, part of me died too and I just had to find something to hold on to. I’m making this all sound so desperate, but Lucy, well she was special to me and I wanted to see she… well, how she lives on. In you.’

I purse my lips and he puts his hands to his face in sorrow. Oh God, we should have met somewhere more private. This is all too much for a public bar. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what to say.

‘Are you okay, Simon? Do you want to go somewhere else? We could go to the park? For a walk?’

‘No, no, of course not,’ he says, taking a deep breath. ‘I’m sorry. I kind of knew this would happen but… sorry, it’s just a big moment for me, that’s all. I’m very raw right now, Maggie.’

Of course he is. It all makes perfect sense. His little sister, to lose her so young must be the worst thing ever and now watching me, living, breathing, drinking, talking, sitting opposite him. This is a big moment for him, for sure. And for me.

‘I hope I’m doing a good job with her heart,’ I whisper, ‘but to be honest, it’s been broken quite badly lately and I really need to fix it.’

He looks up at me with tears in his eyes. I shouldn’t have said that.

‘Let’s eat first,’ he says as the waiter finally brings our food. ‘Look, I am going to make this meeting positive because it is positive and there’s no point us both sitting here blubbering over our food.’

He attempts a smile.

‘It would be a shame to put this to waste,’ I say, looking at the delicious steaming dishes that are set before us.’

‘It surely would. Bon appetit, Maggie,’ says Simon Harte. ‘I won’t bombard you with everything too soon, but I have something for you that might, just might, help fix your broken heart. Or at least point you in the right direction.’