Freckles(84)



But I can’t stay here.

It’s over.

I pull away from Genevieve, who’s trying to keep me back, but she lets me go. I walk down the alleyway. The media are outside the entrance to the GAA club, awaiting the arrival of the special guest who will never arrive. I’m crying so much I can’t see straight but I know I need to turn left, away from them. As I walk, I’m aware of the stares as people pass me by.

Are you okay, someone asks, concerned.

I stumble on.

Come here, love.

I feel an arm around me. Strong. Tight. An arm that has held me that way for so many years. Pops.

She didn’t want me, I say, crying harder, wrapping my arms around him. I sound like a child. I hear it in my voice. The loss, the hurt, the pain. The little girl aching.

I know, love, I know. It’s her loss. It’s always been her loss. But you had to discover it, didn’t you. You know now. You brave girl. You brave, brave girl, he says hugging me, his voice firm and strong, repeating it over and over, trying to make me believe it. I had to let you do it. I had to stand back and let you do it. My God, it almost killed me. But you’ve done it now. You’re a brave girl, Allegra. Most of us would run away from a thing like that. He speaks to me in the familiar voice and tone, as if I’d fallen on a slippery mossy rock and hurt my knee. Rocking me, brushing my hair, mouth to my ear. Repetitive soothing sounds and words.

This is nice, he says, and I snap out of my zombified state and realise that we’re sitting on my bench without any clear recollection of how we got here.

I have my lunch here every day, I say. Granary bread with cheese. An apple, walnuts, and a flask of tea.

Is that so. Very nice.

Tell me again how you’re here, I look at him, suddenly seeing him properly.

I was up for the post office closure protest on the government, but I thought I’d swing by here, in case, you know …

That’s convenient, I say, wiping my eyes.

Pauline told me to stay away, that you’re an adult who can make her own decisions. He looks at me questioningly. Should I have stayed away.

I shake my head. I’m glad he’s here. You knew what would happen, you knew better than I did, I say, fresh tears falling again. I wipe them roughly, angrily, annoyed with myself.

As a parent, we always consider worst-case scenarios. We’ve got to be prepared for all events, but we always hope we’re wrong.

A sudden car horn gives me a fright. It rings out long and urgent.

Bernard, a voice yells. Bernard!

I wipe my eyes and look up. An attractive older woman, blonde with quirky squared glasses, sticks her head out of her car window, blocking traffic, hand on the horn, a tough but concerned look on her face. I must look a state because she takes one look at me and shouts, I’ll park over here, and speeds away.

That’s Bonnie, he says.

Despite everything, I can’t help but smile. Then I laugh, a delirious kind of laugh.

What’s wrong with you now, he says, all embarrassed.

Ohh, I say slowly.

Stop it now, Allegra.

It all becomes clear.

Stop it, he says, but he can’t fight the smile that’s breaking on to his face.

The post offices, I say, fingers up in inverted commas, winking at him and nudging him. We’ve got to save the post offices.

He’s laughing now, at the teasing, and he doesn’t want to.

How many people were at the protest today, I ask.

Ah.

Come on, tell me.

Two of us.

Did you even protest, I ask.

We had lunch in Stephen’s Green.

We both laugh.

But we’re serious about the post offices.

I believe you.

We’re enjoying each other’s company, he says finally.

Well that’s good, I say, I’m happy for you.

Yes, well. He looks everywhere but at me, he’s embarrassed.

I stop smiling, the penny dropping. Was there even a protest today, Pops, I ask.

I wanted to be here for you, he says. Bonnie said she’d drive.

Who needs four more when I’ve one like this.

I look out and mentally say goodbye to the view, to this place, that accommodated me and my hopes. Time to check out.





Thirty-One


I’m sitting with Pops at home in Valentia drinking his much-improved home brew. It’s a Friday night and we’re watching the aptly named Friday Night Show, the highest viewed live Friday-night entertainment talk show in the country.

The next guest gets my full attention.

This week has been a tumultuous week for the country, says the presenter Jasmine Chu, and especially so for my next guest. Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome our new Taoiseach, Ruth Brasil.

Pops looks at me in surprise. He sits up, turns the TV up.

Thank you, Jasmine, she says sitting down.

Taoiseach, how’s your week been, she asks.

The audience laugh. So does she.

Jasmine, it’s been a wild and wonderful week in many ways. I think what is most important is ensuring that there is stability and contentment within the people of this country. While everything has been going on behind the scenes, I suppose it’s very important to keep the calm and the balance for this country, for us to continue to prosper and move forward … I zone out a bit as she continues the politician-speak about how everything has changed but nothing has changed.

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