The Boatman's Wife(23)

‘Oh, shit.’ Niamh looked down at her dress. ‘He never said he had a bike.’

‘He’s very dashing,’ her mam said, coming to stand next to her at the window. ‘Who is he?’

‘Dashing!’ Niamh snorted at her mam. ‘His name is Jesse, and he’s Joseph O’Reilly’s new boatbuilding apprentice.’ She went to the door. ‘Mammy, please don’t embarrass me!’

‘As if!’ Her mam raised her arms in mock offence.

Niamh went out into the yard to head off her mam. Jesse had placed his helmet on the seat and was turning towards her.

‘You’ve a motorbike?’

‘Yeah, I bought it for while I’m here.’ Jesse turned to her, giving her a big smile. ‘Thought I told you.’

‘No!’ Niamh said, astonished. ‘Wasn’t it expensive?’

‘I had some money,’ Jesse said. ‘Needed wheels when I was here to see the countryside. She’s a Honda CB400 Four Classic. Beautiful, isn’t she?’

Niamh had never been interested in motorcycles, but looking at Jesse’s bike, she couldn’t help but admire the streamlined curves and lines of the machine.

‘Yes, she is,’ Niamh said, running her hand along the maroon fuel tank before turning to Jesse. She saw him look at her dress.

‘I don’t think that dress will work on the bike,’ he said. ‘Though it’s real pretty.’

‘Give me a minute, and I’ll change,’ she said. ‘You’d better come in. Meet my mam.’

Niamh left Jesse downstairs with her mam, who went into a frenzy of tea and sandwich-making, despite Jesse telling her he wasn’t hungry. She prayed her mam wouldn’t relate any embarrassing anecdotes about when she was little. She grabbed her jeans and pulled them on under her dress, yanked the dress off over her head, and then hunted around for a shirt. She really wanted to wear purple today. She had a deep violet shirt somewhere, but could she find it? Of course, hunting around in her mother’s wardrobe, the violet shirt appeared on a hanger. There’d be words about that later. Niamh fiddled with her hair in front of the mirror. She’d better tie it up if they were going on a bike. She was a little nervous about going pillion; she’d never been on a motorbike before. Though she wasn’t going to tell Jesse that.

Downstairs, Jesse was sitting at the kitchen table, politely nibbling one of her mam’s salad sandwiches, while her mam was asking him questions about Cape Cod.

‘It sounds so beautiful,’ she said, turning to Niamh. ‘Your dad and I nearly emigrated to Boston, you know.’

‘You did!’ Niamh exclaimed.

‘Yeah, Cormac had some cousins over there, working in construction and house painting,’ her mam said. ‘But then you came along, and Cormac insisted we raise you in Ireland.’

‘Come on,’ Niamh said, a little brusquely to Jesse, not wanting her mam to talk to Jesse about her father. ‘Let’s go.’

Jesse stuffed the last of his sandwich into his mouth and gathered himself up. In his biking leathers, he looked even taller than she remembered him.

‘Nice to meet you, Mrs Kelly,’ he said to her mam.

‘Call me Rosemary, please,’ her mam said, giving Jesse a sweet smile. ‘You two have a great time.’

Niamh instantly felt guilty for being cross with her mam. Most parents would be interrogating them, asking where Jesse was taking her. Worried about them going for a bike ride on the twisting Irish roads, where everyone drove too fast. Her mam just looked so forlorn, sitting on her own at the kitchen table.

She went over and gave her mam a big hug, kissing the top of her head.

‘See you later, Mammy.’ She didn’t care if she looked daft.



Outside, Jesse lifted up the pillion saddle and took out a spare helmet, then pulled down pegs for her feet.

‘So, unlike newer bikes, there’s no handle at the back of the saddle to hold on to,’ he said, giving her a flirtatious smile. ‘So, you’ll just have to hang on to me.’

The rush was immediate as soon as they took off down the narrow lane. She was shocked at just how different it felt to being in a car. At first, she felt very vulnerable each time he went around a corner, as if she might slide off the bike onto the road. They were going fast, and yet it felt like she was suspended in space. When Jesse stopped at the junction, she held her hands encircling his entire waist. It felt too intimate, yet it was the only way she also felt safe. As they sped along the roads, she realised she hadn’t asked him where they were going. All she could tell was they were heading south and towards the coast.

Jesse took her down by the sea. The sun was behind them, and the blue Atlantic at peace for once. The sea looked silken as it slowly moved in and out against the rocky shoreline, as if in time to the breath inside her head. Just before Sligo, Jesse took the turn for Rosses Point. How did he know this was her favourite place to be? Where she and her parents had spent the best summer days of her childhood. The innocence of it a bubble of memory inside her head. Mammy in her red bathing suit, lying down on one of the beach towels. Growing smaller and smaller as Niamh’s daddy took her by the hand and led her towards the sea. She remembered him lifting her onto his back as he waded into the water, and feeling the sun on her cheeks.

Jesse pulled up in the car park and switched off the bike. Niamh clambered off the back, a little clumsily, stretching her back and stiff arms.