The Heart Whisperer (34 page)

‘It's only raining teeny drops,' Willow turned from the window, ‘but that big grey dog is in the garden. Can I go down and say hello?'

‘No!' Ray sat up. ‘But I know the Japanese for dog,' he said, to distract her. ‘It's “inu”.'

Willow smiled. ‘I know the Irish for dog. It's “madra”.'

‘Do you know the Irish for two dogs?' Izzy's eyes narrowed a fraction.

‘Yes.' Willow didn't miss a beat. ‘It's “madra, madra”.'

After Izzy had gone, Willow and Ray took the DART back to Ash's parents' house. Ray hadn't been on public transport for years but Willow loved trains.

It was a ten-minute walk from the station to the house. On the way, she told him a long story about the time she fell off a swing and got a ‘fraction' in her arm.

‘Which arm was it?'

‘I think it was this one.' She put one small hand on his and then frowned. ‘Or maybe it was that one. They all look the same.'

The sun came out. Their shadows appeared on the pavement in front of them. The tall figure and the tiny one, joined at the hand, and suddenly, it hit Ray properly for the first time, even though it
was so obvious. She was part of him. The length of each eyelash, the spiral of each dark curl, the glitter in her eyes when she'd faced Izzy down – none of it could have existed without him.

Long after his looks, his voice, even his life had gone, Willow would still be here. The sun went in. Their shadows disappeared and they walked on. But that feeling of amazement tucked itself into a corner of Ray's heart and stayed there.

Nick had read enough Freud to understand the concept of regression. Was that what he was doing by living at home? Temporarily reverting to his childhood so he didn't have to face the fact that his adult life was in meltdown? Except that perhaps this wasn't temporary at all, maybe this was his new reality.

He had cancelled all his private coaching sessions. How could he tell other couples how to save their own relationships when he had no idea how to save his own? Some of his clients were justifiably annoyed and he felt terrible lying to them that he'd come down with a mystery virus. Now he had to find a way to admit to Oonagh that he had to turn down
The Ex-Factor
. She wasn't going to be annoyed, she was going to be destroyed. But that wasn't why he was putting it off. The truth was, he couldn't face admitting to her or even to himself, that his marriage was in trouble.

The old man was still refusing to take painkillers or see the physiotherapist or to let Nick help to wash or dress him or tidy his room. This morning, while he was in the tiny bathroom off the surgery, Nick had used the time to clear up, shutting out the awful grunts and gasps of pain that were coming from behind the door. He was halfway inside a fresh duvet cover, struggling to get it on to the duvet, when his phone rang.

‘Is this a good time?' Kelly said. There was a hint of warmth in her voice. He had called her dozens of times but this was the first time she had called him.

The duvet cover settled over his head. ‘Yes,' he said.

‘I was hoping you could meet me, today.'

‘At the house?' The old man had a check-up at the hospital, later, but Claire could drive him.

‘Not the house …' He heard the hesitation in her voice and his heart lurched with longing.

‘Just say where and when. I'll be there.'

There was a long pause. ‘At the clinic. I have an ultrasound at three o'clock.'

Nick closed his eyes. ‘Kelly. Don't do this to me—'

‘Please. I'll wait for you in the café across the road. Just say you'll think about it.'

Nick finished making the bed and washed the dishes. He took the old man's Difene with a mouthful of cold tea. He bagged up the laundry and drove to the shopping centre in Dun Laoghaire, where he wasn't likely to bump into any of the neighbours. He left the bag at the launderette then wrestled a rusty trolley from the bay in the car park and jolted it into the supermarket. It had a squeaky wheel and leaned heavily to the left but he didn't have the energy to go back for another one.

He picked up three dozen eggs and six packets of Jaffa Cakes. That was the old man sorted. He forced the trolley, against its steely will, through a section called ‘Get Fresh'. Nick hadn't eaten a fresh vegetable since he'd moved home. He looked at the complicated lettuces, the feathery bunches of carrots, the wild mushrooms, the ten different kinds of tomatoes. What was the point of all of them? His father had lived on a diet of eggs and biscuits for twenty-seven years and he was still alive. If you could call it living.

Nick did a squeaky turn back into frozen foods, loading up on stuff for himself. Packets of potato waffles, frozen pizzas, cottage pies. All the things he'd bought for himself and Claire when they were young. As he was squeaking back down the aisle, he saw a familiar figure, a tiny girl in a red coat leaning into a chill cabinet on her tiptoes, a halo of freezing-cold air hovering around her dark head. It was Linh. Her parents were right behind her, arguing beside the freezer cabinets.

‘It wouldn't kill you to buy me a few flowers from time to time,' Niamh was saying.

Rory snorted. ‘I was up at five o'clock this morning reading Roald bloody Dahl. You should be buying
me
flowers.'

Nick's trolley refused to turn so he reversed it instead. It squealed like a dying rabbit. He nearly got away without being seen, then Linh blocked his way. She smiled delightedly up at him from under her black fringe and pointed at the trolley.

‘Make the noise again!'

‘Nick? Is that you?' Rory came striding over. ‘Niamh told me the news!' Nick swallowed. Kelly had promised not to tell anyone that they were living apart. Rory grabbed him and pulled him into a hug. To his horror, Nick felt tears come into his eyes and he had to stop himself collapsing against Rory's chest.

Niamh appeared, beaming. ‘Congratulations!'

‘What?' Nick pulled away.

‘On getting the
Ex-Factor
job! Kelly hasn't been answering my calls but I read about it in the paper.'

‘Oh.' Nick nodded, trying to pull himself together. ‘Yes. Right. Thanks.'

‘So,' Rory said. ‘Have you seen a contract yet?'

‘Not yet.'

‘Listen,' Rory said, ‘I want you to swear to me that you won't sign anything till I've seen it. Come down to the office and we'll go through it with a fine tooth comb. OK?'

Kelly was the only customer in the Karma Café. She sat at the window and stared out at the steps of the clinic on the other side of the street. Two-thirty came and went. Then three o'clock. She pulled the raisins out of her uneaten scone and lined them up on the rim of her pink plate like dead flies.

She had missed her appointment now but she still sat there, watching the clinic door opening and closing, willing Nick to arrive. And even after she'd given up, she stayed where she was, trying to summon up the energy to stand up and leave.

A couple came out and crossed the busy street to the café. The woman had long dark hair and a cream coat like Kelly's. The man was fair and slightly taller than Nick, but he had the same build. They came in on a cloud of cold air and pure happiness. The man ordered a latte and a decaf.

‘You want them here or to take away?' the waiter asked.

They grinned at one another. ‘Take away,' they both said together.

‘I've been talking to the team.' The orthopaedic consultant was in his sifties, a stern-looking man with a shock of grey hair and a rugby player's build. ‘We're very concerned about your father's recovery. The physiotherapist says he's cancelled six appointments in a row. I was hoping to talk to him about that, today.'

‘We tried to make him come in,' Claire sighed, ‘but he wouldn't.'

She had tried, Nick thought; he had sat in the car outside the house with the engine running, watching the clock on his dashboard, trying not to think about Kelly lying on her own in the darkness of the ultrasound suite.

‘You need to talk to him about this, as a family,' the consultant frowned. ‘Because every week that goes by gives him less of a chance of living an independent life again.'

‘He was right, you know?' Claire said in the car. ‘If Dad doesn't snap out of it soon he might never get better.'

‘Does everything have to be a drama?' Nick shot through a red light as a double-decker bus pulled out and swerved past them, clipping the wing mirror and snapping it off. The sound ripped through the interior of the car, loud as a gunshot.

‘Pull over!' Claire yelled. She sat, with her shaking hands in her lap while Nick parked and put on the hazard lights, then she turned to him. ‘Now what's going on, Nick? Why are you still living at Dad's?'

He gripped the steering wheel and shook his head.

‘Are you and Kelly arguing about this job in the UK? Does she want you to turn it down?'

‘Yes,' he lied.

‘Well, do it, then,' Claire said softly. ‘She's your family now. You have to do whatever it takes.'

Richard came into the kitchen buttoning up his cuffs. ‘Have you seen my watch?'

Claire was taking off Dog's lead. ‘Did you look in the bathroom?'

While he went back in to check she picked up Dog's rug and shook it out. A slightly gnawed leather belt fell out but there was no sign of the Rolex. She got down on her knees and peered under the cooker while Dog watched her, his hairy head cocked to one side, his ears pricked up with interest.

‘What the hell have you done with it?' she hissed at him.

Richard was standing in the door looking surprised. ‘I really thought I left it on the bedside table,' he said, sheepishly.

‘I didn't mean you.' Claire blushed. ‘I meant …'

He walked over and tilted her face upwards with the tip of his finger. ‘You do know that talking to yourself is the second sign of madness.' He looked at Dog. ‘You don't think he took it, do you?'

‘No.' Claire stood between them. ‘I'm sure it's just under the bed or something.'

‘I've looked everywhere. I wanted to wear it today for luck. I'm presenting the final cuts of your virals to the board.'

The ads were being recut for the fifth or sixth time, Claire had lost count by now. She was starting to worry that there might be something very wrong with them that Richard wasn't telling her.

‘Fingers crossed.' She crossed her fingers, kissed him on the cheek, then uncrossed one hand and picked one of Dog's long grey hairs off Richard's starched collar.

Dog was circling a tree in the park, sniffing the trunk carefully. ‘What happens if a watch goes through a dog?'

‘Hang on a sec!' She could hear the clatter of pots and the sound of Greasy Pete whistling ‘Once, Twice, Three Times a Lady' in the background. After a minute Eilish came back. ‘Is the watch waterproof or water resistant?'

‘It's water resistant to a thousand feet.'

‘Well, that's got to be good news, right?'

‘I hope so. Richard will be broken hearted if anything happens to his Rolex.'

Dog was doing the little foot to foot thing he did before he
squatted, like a golfer getting ready to tee off. ‘I think he might be about to go! How will I know if Richard's Rolex is in there?'

‘You'll know, Claire, trust me. Those things weigh a ton.'

‘Any sign of my watch?' Richard looked tired.

Claire shook her head. ‘How did the meeting go?'

He shrugged his coat off and ran his hand through his short, blond hair. ‘Badly. The board is like bloody Jurassic Park. Those old guys just can't get their heads around the social media thing.'

‘They're not going to run the virals, are they?'

‘Not in this market, which is incredibly frustrating, but it's not the end of the world. There's a meeting of international Vitalustre marketing directors in London on Monday. I'm going to present the virals over there. If two or three other markets buy them we'll break even on the production spend.'

‘But if they don't?' Claire wondered whether she should offer to repay her fee. She still had eight thousand euros left in her account.

‘They will. The rest of the world gets digital. We're just in the Dark Ages over here!' He pressed his thumbs against his eyes. ‘Can we stay over at my place tonight? I'd just like to get into bed with you without that dog bursting in on us for once. It's been a long day.'

Claire had had a long day too. She had brought Dog to the park four times and watched him like a hawk. She had turned the flat upside down. Then she had Googled ‘my dog ate my watch'. If the battery leaked, Dog might get very sick. The advice was to feed him lots of soft food and watch for any signs of discomfort. She had already given him an entire packet of cooked pasta shells and she was defrosting a shepherd's pie. ‘Do you mind if we stay here? I just don't want to leave Dog on his own.'

‘Honestly, Claire. Sometimes I think you care more about him than you do about me.'

‘I don't even like dogs.'

‘Well, drop him over to your father for the night.'

‘I can't. Nick's allergic to dogs and he's living there for a while.'

‘Really?' Richard had been trying to arrange a meeting with
Nick for weeks now, he loved his show. ‘I thought he had his own place in Donnybrook.'

‘He does but he's having problems with his wife. I don't think he wants anyone to know.'

‘That's a bit ironic, isn't it?'

‘What do you mean?'

‘Well, your brother, the relationship guru, is all over the TV and radio lecturing the rest of us about how to have trouble-free relationships. That's kind of misleading.'

Claire snapped before she could stop herself. ‘About as misleading as giving me a twelve-week blow-dry and pretending my hair looks this good because I use Vitalustre!'