A Keeper(39)

‘Are you travelling by yourself?’ Brian had asked.

‘Yes. I have family up the country. My mother died. I’m back to sort things out.’

‘I’m sorry to hear that. It’s hard. I lost my mother three years ago.’

‘She’d been ill.’

Elizabeth felt Brian stealing glances at her as they drove along.

‘And have you family waiting for you back in New York?’

‘No. Well, a son but he’s visiting his father. I’m divorced.’

‘Snap!’ Brian said with a laugh. ‘Two years. How about you?’

‘Nearly eight for me,’ she replied cheerfully.

‘Turns out living on a farm isn’t that much fun. She … sorry, do you mind me talking about this?’

‘No, not at all. I love hearing about other people’s unhappy relationships.’ They both laughed. ‘Where did you meet?’ Elizabeth asked quickly, to confirm that her interest was genuine.

‘A wedding. Where love stories begin. She was down from Dublin. My friend Kevin was marrying a friend of hers. We hit it off and then we dated long distance for nearly a year before I popped the question.’

‘Had she … what’s her name?’

‘Sara without an “H”.’

‘Had Sara never been to the farm?’

‘She had. I’m not really being fair. It was the winters more than the farm itself. She enjoyed it when she could get out and do things, we had a little boat, but the winters are long.’

‘Any kids?’

‘No kids. We tried but no joy. Now of course I’m so glad. Able to make a clean break of it. What about yourself?’

‘A son.’

‘Yes, you said. I suppose I meant, what went wrong?’

‘It’s complicated.’

‘Jesus. That bad.’

They turned to each other and grinned.

As Brian drove away, Elizabeth found herself standing in silence outside the glass and pine front door of Abbey Court. She wondered why there were no other cars. Perhaps there was a car park she hadn’t noticed. She crunched across the gravel and tentatively opened the door. Inside was a generous hallway covered in a shiny cream lino. A series of closed doors each had black plastic signs on them. ‘Office’, ‘Staff’, ‘Day Room’. A corridor led in either direction across the back of the space. Elizabeth was just about to knock on the door marked ‘Office’ when a tall, thin man with a shock of ginger hair came around the corner of the corridor. He was carrying a dark blue rucksack, and his tight skinny jeans were punctuated by the sort of heavily padded trainers some of her cooler students wore in New York, but certainly weren’t what she had expected to find in Clonteer.

‘Can I help you?’

‘Hello. I was hoping to see a patient.’

‘Resident.’

‘Sorry?’

‘That’s what we call them here. Residents.’ He smiled, seeming to acknowledge that what the old people were called wouldn’t change their circumstances.

‘A resident, then,’ Elizabeth said with a wry grin. ‘I was hoping to see a resident.’

‘Well, I’m afraid these aren’t visiting times. The evening staff have just started their shift. Can you come back in an hour or so?’

‘Oh, that might be difficult. I’m just visiting the area, you see. Do you work here? Could you bend the rules?’

‘I’m a nurse. Day shift. Just finishing.’ He tapped his rucksack to indicate his imminent departure.

Elizabeth tried to conceal her surprise. This was not how she had pictured a nurse. It seemed Abbey Court was going to defy all her expectations.

‘I tell you what, if you take a seat in the day room for ten minutes I’m sure I can get you in.’

‘Thank you. Thank you so much.’ The nurse opened the door and Elizabeth stepped inside. Groups of high-backed chairs stood in small semicircles scattered around the large room. The far wall was glass and looked out onto a well-tended garden with some mature trees. It wasn’t what anyone would have described as cosy but nor did it have a cold institutional glare.

‘Can I get you a tea or a coffee?’

‘But you must be going?’

‘Ah, I’m in no rush. I might have one meself.’

‘Coffee then, please. If you’re sure, now?’

‘Certain. It’ll only be instant, is that OK?’

‘Great, thanks.’

The nurse disappeared into a small kitchenette off to the side of the room and Elizabeth sat in one of the chairs nearest to her. A copy of the Irish Examiner was folded neatly on the table and a pile of heavily-used-looking board games was stacked against the wall.

‘I’m Gordon, by the way,’ the nurse called from the small room.

‘Elizabeth. This is very kind of you.’

‘No bother. Who is it you wanted to see?’

‘An old man. Edward Foley. Do you know him?’

‘Old Teddy? Oh, I do. He’s a sweet old thing. Is it long since you’ve seen him?’

Elizabeth paused, unsure of how to answer the question. She didn’t want to lie, but to tell the truth seemed like such an unwieldy story. Before she could decide on her response, Gordon added, ‘I mean, he’s not really with us any more, a world of his own, like, but he’s no bother. You can’t say that about all of them.’ Elizabeth’s heart sank. A wasted journey. There would be no answers. No deathbed reunion weeping for all the wasted years. The past would go unmourned.