Alberta Clipper (34 page)

A moment later, Matt appeared at the door.  “Good morning
,
Chrissy,” he smiled.  His arms were laden with flowers.  “This is for you.”  He handed her a potted purple hyacinth. 

“Thanks
,
Dad.”  She kissed him, and put the pot in a shallow dish on the table.  “Want a coffee or something?”

“Sure why not.  It's cold out there.”  He laid the other flowers on the counter, unwound his scarf from him neck, and sat down.  “How are you feeling?”

Christine shrugged her shoulders and said nothing.  She set about filling the kettle and getting cups down from the press.  “Have you had breakfast?” she said at last.

“Yes, yes.  Just a coffee now would be great.”  Matt surveyed the room, and then turned his chair to take full advantage of the view outside.  “This really is such a nice place,” he said.  “Have you ever looked into buying it?  Would the landlord sell?”

Christine just shrugged her shoulders again.  Matt turned back to face the kitchen.  The kettle clicked as it reached the boil.

“So how was yesterday?”  Apparently, her father was not to be deterred.  “You had your strategy thing, no?  Did your presentation go well?”

“Yeah,” Christine sat down at the table with two mugs of coffee.  “It was fine.”  They sat in silence for a moment.  “Actually, some guys from the Chicago office
sat in on it
.
  Observing.
”

“Oh really?”  Matt jumped on this little piece of news like it was the most interesting thing he had heard in years.  “Is that unusual?”

“Yeah, I think so.”  Christine sipped her coffee.  She could feel her father scrutinising her face.  “There are some rumours that they're thinking of pulling out of the eurozone.  Possibly closing the Dublin office.”  She looked up.  “It felt a bit like a test yesterday.  They just sat there, and didn't make any contribution to the meeting at all.  It was a bit weird.”

“Well,” her father sat back in his chair.  “But don't you manage the Scandinavian business from Dublin too?  And most of them aren't in the euro.”

Christine almost laughed.  “I'm impressed, Dad.  I thought you hadn't a clue what went on at CarltonWachs.  So you have been listening to me all this time.”

“Well, I do retain the odd bit of information.”  Matt looked pleased with himself.  “But what about you?  Presumably they'd still want your services, whether there is a Dublin office or not?”

“Yeah, possibly, I don't know.”  Christine couldn't really think about it today.  It was all conjecture for now anyway.  There was little value in worrying about something that might not ever happen.  Especially today.  She sat staring out the window.  The coffee was churning in her stomach, and she felt nauseous. 

“Well, anyway,” her father said.  “It's not like you couldn't walk into another job if you had to.  Any company would be glad to have you.”

She gave him a half-smile.  “Thanks Dad.”

“So,” Matt drained his coffee.  “I was thinking we would go to the grave now, and then take a drive out to Wicklow.  There's a new garden centre after opening with an organic restaurant attached.  I wouldn't mind trying it out.”  He looked out the window across the bay again.  “It's lovely and dry out, even if it is cold.  It would be a nice spin in the car.”  He turned back to her.  “What do you think?”

Christine thought she would much rather go back to bed and pull the covers over her head and stay there for the day.  She hated how her Dad was talking like she had just decided to take a day off work on a whim, to spend it with him.  Like it was any ordinary day in the year.  But then, she supposed, it was.  For him.  And
for
everyone else in the world
. 
But not for Christine.
 
She clenched the handle of her mug.

“Right,” Matt stood and wrapped his scarf around his neck again.  “Let's go.” 

When she stayed sitting, he took her coat from the back of the sofa where it lay and stood next to her, holding it. 

“Christine,” he said.

She knew by the tone that there was little point in challenging him.  She stood, and he held her coat as she put her arms into the sleeves.  She went out into the hall, leaving her father to check the doors were locked and the lights were off.

~

“Howya
,
love.” 
A
fat woman with a ruddy face hoisted herself from her upturned crate and lifted two white roses from a black bucket on the ground in front of her. 

Christine could feel her father watching the exchange as she handed the woman a note without speaking, and proceeded through the gate of the graveyard.  They walked along the too-familiar path without comment, Christine a few steps ahead of Matt all the way.  When they reached the grave, she stood awkwardly, watching him out of the corner of her eye.  After some moments had passed, she kissed the marble cross quickly and left the roses down beside it.  She took a few steps back, her hands deep in the pockets of her coat.  She mustn't forget, it was his wife here too.  It wasn't all about Christine.  But then.

Matt put his armful of red roses and pink tulips down on the gravel.  The grave instantly lost its sombre appearance and seemed almost garish and showy. 
In spite of everything, i
t made her smile.  She hid her mouth behind the upturned collar of her coat.

“We should think about getting the moss cleaned off,” Matt scratched at a part of the headstone that was greener than the rest.

“Mmm.”  Christine looked around her.  It was strange being here with her father.  With anyone.  The day was clear and cold, but there was some heat in the sun, even in its distance.  She closed her eyes and felt it on her skin.  When she opened them again, she saw her father looking at her.

“Well, I'm ready if you are,” he said.  He turned to the headstone and laid his hand on the top of the cross.  Christine took one more look at the grave with its floral embellishment, and followed her father back towards the gate.

Sitting into the car, Christine felt her phone vibrate.  It was a text message from Craig.

I KNOW U ON A DAY OFF, BUT GIS A CALL IN THE OFFICE IF YOU GET A SEC. IMPORTANT.

Crap.  It was unlike Craig to send a message like that unless it was urgent.

“I need to call the office Dad, okay?”

“Sure
.
”
H
er father looked quietly thrilled at the prospect of his daughter having any interaction with the real world, and he went to turn down the volume of the car radio.  Christine dialled Craig's number.

“Hey.”

“Hey
,
Christine.  Sorry, I know you’re on a day off.”  Craig sounded officious.  “Doing anything nice?”

Christine looked over at her Dad who was trying to negotiate the traffic on the main road outside the graveyard.  “Nothing special.  What's the matter?  It sounded urgent?”

“Well, it's
Shay
's kid.  Lucy.  She's been taken into hospital.  Happened last night, I think.  It sounds pretty serious.”

Christine
’s skin bristled
.  “What's wrong with her?”

“Dunno, but she had some sort of seizure, and they had to get an ambulance.  I don't know much more really.”

“Holy God.”

“Yeah, well I knew you and
Nina
a
re close, so I thought you might want to know.  Mark said she's unconscious.  In a coma, I presume.  Anyway, that's it.”

“Right, thanks for letting me know
,
Craig.”

“No worries.  I'll see you tomorrow.”

“Yeah.  See you tomorrow.”

Christine looked at her phone.  Should she call
Nina
?  There was probably no point, she would most likely be in the hospital with her phone switched off. 

“Everything okay?”  Her Dad flicked his gaze from the road before him to his daughter.

“Not really.”  Christine put her phone down on her lap.  “You remember
Nina
? 
Shay
's wife?  You met her once.  She used to work at CarltonWachs.  Before I started there.”

“Sure, yes.  Nice girl.”

“Yeah.  Her little girl is in a coma.”

“Oh no.”

“Yeah.  All of a sudden.  She had a seizure or something.”  Christine looked out the car window.  “It sounds bad.”

“That's terrible.”  Matt sneaked another look at Christine.  “How old is she?”

“Oh, she couldn't be more than three.  She's their baby.”  Christine shook her head.  “They're only back from holiday. 
Shay
was showing me photos of her just the other day.  Herself and the two boys.  She's gorgeous.”

Outside her window, bare trees whizzed past.  Nests they had sheltered with their foliage through the summer sat exposed, like tumbleweed caught high in the branches.  Little nests, undoubtedly built with such hope back in spring, now empty.  Abandoned.

“Poor
Shay
,” she said.

They drove along in silence.  It was a while before Christine noticed that they were
headed
south, in the direction of the garden centre her father had suggested visiting.  She considered arguing with him, but then where else had she to go today?  She decided at that moment to let her father take charge.  To let him look after her for the day, to tell her what to do and where to go.  She also decided against calling
Nina
.  She would text
Shay
's phone later.

“Did your mother ever tell you about the time you got lost on holidays?  We were in Cork.”  Her father concentrated hard for a moment.  “Or maybe it was Kerry.  Anyway, we were on a beach.  A beautiful, remote beach.  And we lost you.”  He looked at Christine.  “Did she ever tell you?”

Christine shook her head.

“She probably didn't want to remember it.”  He bit his lower lip.  “She was frantic.  We both were.  We had been watching Aggie so carefully in the water.  She would have been, oh I don't know, maybe six?  Or seven?”  He looked at Christine like she might be able to tell him.  “I'd say you couldn't have been more than four.  Aggie was in the water, just at the edge, and we were watching her so carefully, afraid a wave might come in and knock her down, I suppose.  You were just playing near us, digging in the sand.”  He turned to her.  “You never liked the water,” he said.  “But then, I looked up, and you weren't there.  And I couldn't see you anywhere.”  He shuddered at the memory.  “I told Patricia to get Aggie, and I went off down the beach, looking for you, calling your name.  But you were nowhere.  We couldn't understand it, because you had been there moments before.  Back then, you didn't really think that someone might have taken you, but you were only little.  And the water -”  He stared off over the steering wheel.  Staring back twenty-five years.  Like he was watching an old cine film that he would much rather have forgotten all about. 

“Well you must have found me, cos I'm here now,” Christine smiled at him.

He looked at her, his eyes glassy.  “We did,” he said.  “You were probably only gone five or ten minutes at most, but I'm telling you, it felt like an hour.  Especially to your mother.”

Christine looked down at her hands.  Her poor darling mother.  “So where was I?” she asked.

“You were up in the dunes,” Matt said softly.  “I saw you first.  Your mother came just after me, dragging poor Aggie by the hand.  You were completely oblivious to the whole episode.  You didn’t realise we were searching for you at all.  And do you know, we stood watching you there, even through our panic.”  He shook his head.  “Still to this day, I -”  Matt exhaled and leaned back against the car seat.  “You had found a steep dune, and you had climbed to the top, and were running down.  So fast.”  He turned his head to her again briefly.  “You were only little.  It must have been terrifying.  But you ran do
wn, squealing.  And your
legs couldn't keep up and you'd tumble to the ground at the bottom, laughing, out of breath no doubt.  But then you got up, and climbed the dune again, and did it all over.”  He laughed to himself.  “We must have watched you do it three or four times before your mother couldn't bear it and had to go to you and hold you in her arms.  She really did think we had lost you.”  He sounded serious again.  “But you looked so, so free.”  He smiled at the memory.  “So fearless.”

Christine looked at her father.  His face was full of pride and admiration for that little girl.  She couldn't remember ever being lost, but she remembered the dunes.  The feeling of being out of control, of her legs moving forward half on purpose, half by gravity.  The feeling of standing at the top, and looking down, knowing what lay ahead, heart racing.  The feeling of being terrified, but of leaping out anyway.  The feeling of exhilaration.  She remembered feeling all of those things. 

And she remembered seeing that pride on her father's face, all through her life, through school plays, well fought hockey matches, good exam results, when she qualified with her degree in Maths in Dublin.  She had once earned his pride, his admiration.  But it had been so long since he had looked at her in that way, she had almost forgotten.  She had once been that little, fearless girl he had been so proud of.