Freckles(85)
So can you tell us how it felt for you personally, when you heard you were to become the next Taoiseach of this great country.
I was on my way to an event actually. A business event in Malahide organised by the president of the Chamber of Commerce, where I was to speak to the attendees about women in business. So I must apologise to all those who had gathered at the event to hear me speak and to those who I let down. I received the phone call from the Taoiseach to say that he was stepping down, that he was putting me forward and that I was to go to the party immediately for a vote.
Pops looks at me, fist in the air proudly. They’ll know now, Allegra. I hope they’re all watching.
My heart is pounding. I feel vindicated. I hope that Carmencita is watching. If she isn’t, she’ll hear about it. Of course she will. She was mentioned. She’ll be delighted. Everyone who was at the party, Becky, Garda Laura, all those who thought I’d lied about securing the minister as a guest speaker, will believe me now. Even Tristan and Genevieve, who said they believed me but probably doubted me, will have proof. And yet it doesn’t make me feel better. It’s too little too late. Nothing can change what transpired.
They talk about the Taoiseach, her inspirations growing up, and her aspirations for politics.
A young woman from Valentia Island said to me recently – and thank you, Allegra Bird, if you’re watching – that you are the average of the five people you spend the most time with. And I have to say when I heard the expression it gave me pause. It made me take stock of who was around me, who I want to be, and the traits of those great people I have been surrounded by, as a result of which I have been able to flourish. Because I think that’s what great support does, great mentors and friends, support and guidance, it helps you flourish. I would not be in the position I am in now if it weren’t for those very special five. I want the same for this country. I want this country to be surrounded by the best so that it too can flourish.
Pops reaches out and grabs my hand. And that’s really all I need.
He’s my one. He’s always been my one. The most powerful, my everything. My five people all in one.
Look, Allegra, look, Pops says, pointing to a creature moving on the beach.
What is it, I ask, wriggling my toes in my Wellington boots. My socks are wet. I jumped too much, splashed too hard, I don’t like the feeling of wet feet in my boots. But I like my boots. They’re new. They’re yellow with fish on them and Pops gave them to me this morning as a present because I am five years old today.
Let me tell you about the hermit crab, Pops says, hunkering down close to the crab. Come closer, pet, don’t be afraid, he says, taking me by the hand and leading me from my rock to the sand. He knows I don’t like to touch these things like he does, but he always tells me not to be afraid and I try not to be. I hunker down beside him.
The hermit crab has a soft abdomen, a soft body here, he points, so it needs to be protected by its shell.
Like a snail.
Yes, like a snail. That’s also a gastropod. But different to the snail, Allegra, because as the crab grows, it requires a larger shell. Sometimes they swap shells with other crabs, the bigger crabs leave their shells for the smaller crabs, and so on, like a chain. But sometimes there aren’t enough shells to share and the hermit crabs argue over it. But they usually try to be fair and so they line up, and they wait for the right shell to come along. They’re very picky about their shells, they need them to be just right, but they never keep the same shell forever, they’re always growing and finding new shells to fit them.
We watch as the hermit crab tries to crawl into its new shell.
Later that evening I’m crawling around the living room with the shoebox from my new Wellington boots over my head.
I’m a hermit crab, Pops. I’ve grown and this is my new shell.
Pops chuckles as I crawl on all fours around the living room. Oh you’re a big girl now, pet, aren’t you. You’re going to need a much bigger shell than that.
I remember this now as Pops and I sit in the living room together twenty years later. The year that I’ve had was one of those years, when I grew, when I had to leave my shell and scrambled to find another. I’ve crawled around, on hands and knees, going sideways to move forward, with a cardboard box over my head, trying to find a place to fit.
Thirty-Two
It’s one of the last boat trips of the day, close to 10 p.m. We’re heading to Reenard’s Point on the car ferry for the final run. I’ve been back working on the ferry for the past few days and it’s not been bad coming back because nothing is the same. Nothing can ever be the same when all the time we’re changing. I stand at the edge after going from window to window, from car to car, taking the payments, and I watch the red clock tower of Knightstown get further away. The evening sky is still light, will be until eleven or so. The great stars will shine brightly soon, Saturn and Jupiter are in line with the moon tonight. Next week I begin a new job as a tour guide for the International Dark Sky Reserve, using laser aids, telescopes and high-powered binoculars to show groups the special sights that have guided me all my life. Like turning over a rock on the beach, I’ll help reveal what’s hidden by day. I can’t wait to start. I realise now that the same stars and constellations have always been above me no matter where I travel, but there’s only one place where I can see it all clearly, and that’s here. Home.