Ten years later
Eranmore, Co Cork
Mia stepped into the room and cast her eyes over the stained and scarred mahogany desk. Although cluttered with stacks of files, she saw some movement behind it. It took a moment for her to recognise the navy woollen blazer stretching across the hunched broad shoulders. But it was the tufts of hair, now greying and curling down over the collar that brought a smile to her lips. ‘Doc?’ she called, straining her neck over the desk.
‘Gimme two secs….two secs, now...’ he groaned, rising slowly.
'Doc, is that you?' she said. Mirroring her surprise, she watched him squint refocusing on who was standing in front of him.
‘Good God, if it isn’t yourself!’ he flushed heaving himself out of his seat reaching for her hand.
‘You remember me then?’ she said, clutching his hand squeezing tightly.
‘How on earth could I forget?’
‘Well, the prodigal one returns,’ she laughed.
‘So I heard, and a married woman too,’ he smiled, his heavy jowls shaking as he acknowledge her. ‘Mia, how long has it been…?’ he asked.
‘Too long,’ she sat, pulling the chair toward the desk. ‘I’d have known you anywhere,’ he smiled.
‘I thought you’d be long gone by now...from here, I mean.’
‘Ah, you were expecting, Niall, you just missed him actually. Little fecker has me as his locum now, can you believe that?’
'Can't imagine where he got that idea,' her mouth curved. 'His mother.’.
'Don’t mind that, you couldn’t stay away, I bet,' she laughed . 'How's ever, you’ll have to do,' she added lightly hoping to hide her deep-rooted gratitude that he had actually remembered her.
‘It wasn’t too long ago when my surgery was full of women queuing to see me.’
‘Maybe the good doctor’s wife hunted them all off to Dr. Hurley’s. You were left with the safe ones.’
‘I’ve never been safe from any of the women in this town.’
‘I can see why.’
‘Stop teasing an old man and tell me what I can do for you?’ he chuckled lowering himself back into his seat.
‘Your prices are gone up for a start.’
‘Again the--’
‘I know-I know, the wife’s idea,’ she rolled her eyes playfully. ‘Golf doesn’t come cheap,’ he added earnestly.
‘A-ha, finally...the truth,’ she teased again.
‘Never mind the truth, make this visit worthwhile and I’ll throw in a discount.’
‘And risk being sent off to Dr. Hurley.’
‘That would make an old man very sad.’
‘It’s really good to see you again,’ she paused.
‘So tell me, have the years been good to you, Mia?’ the sincerity in his voice warmed her.
‘Ah you know, some yes, some no.’
‘And now?’
‘Good. Great in fact...’ her voice trailed off as she saw his brow lift. ‘Really they are. I’d forgotten what a cynic you were,’ she laughed.
‘Cynical no, old yes.’
‘Old meaning all wise, eh?’ ‘That and knowing my patients.’
‘What… even after all this time?’
‘A doctor never forgets,’ he smiled kindly. ‘I thought that only applied to elephants?’
‘Them too,’ he added. An easy silence filled the room as they locked briefly onto each other's gaze, each seeing beyond their effortless words and smiles. The banter almost too easy, without any hint of the time or distance that had passed. Such was her ease, it was hard to believe that it had been almost nineteen years since she had last sat in this room, across from that same face, and as determined then as she was now, but that was where the similarity ended.
It would have been too easy to drift back to that moment and wish that nothing had changed, but it had. It was as if some forgotten part of her had been left behind in this very room, a part she now remembered with stark clarity. The absolute naivety she had about her then, the borderline stupidity even, at how she believed the world worked. What had happened after departing, all those years ago, certainly destroyed any notion of the future she thought she had mapped out.
But with small consolation, having returned here to this very room, she knew she was now finally on the right path back to an ordinary life. A simple, but wonderful, ordinary life. Shrugging at the small triumph she focused again on the ageing blue eyes of the smiling face across at her.
‘So tell me, what do I owe the pleasure?’ he asked, softly interrupting her thoughts.
Letting her eyes drop, her lips twitched. It was an unusual situation for her, if she was honest, and she wasn’t quite sure how to handle it. No one had ever really known her to the extent that this man did, not even Oliver, and yet here he was asking how she was. It was like sitting in front of a mirror and knowing you couldn’t lie.
Not that she wanted to. It was just she was so out of practice at being totally honest with people. So guarded had she become of her past, so fiercely protective of her future, that she had decided a long time ago, the truth was too painful to deal with. But with Doc, it was different. He already knew.
‘Hmm...?’ he gently pressed.
‘It's not about what you think…y’know…’
‘Sure, how can you know what I’m thinking?’ he smiled kindly ignoring the flash of coolness flickering in her eyes.
‘I’m a woman,’ she toyed.
‘And I’ve been married as long as you’ve been on this earth.’
‘And that makes you...?’
‘Tolerant.’
She smiled at him affectionately. She knew what he was doing, but she was just trying find a way of responding to him.
Again he waited for her to speak.
‘Seeing you has surprised me, Doc, to be honest. Though I‘m glad you’re here.’
She so wanted to say it, blurt it all out, but for some strange reason, she found the words died on her lips. Seeing him here was not what she had anticipated, but then what did she expect, moving back home to Eranmore. Wasn’t this all part of her ‘journey’ as she had been told.
Journey…it was the most ridiculous analogy, when she thought about it. An easily spoken word, an offhand balm casually used to soften emotional pain. Making it sound all the more acceptable by calling it something pleasant. Acceptable to whom she didn’t know, but journey, or otherwise, here she was and here he was. And now that she was here with him, she suddenly realized that this was exactly who she needed to see. After all, he was the only one who could answer her questions truthfully. ‘So, Doc, why am I here?’ she laughed again lightly.
He didn’t answer.
‘Stop being so bloody pragmatic and indulge me,’ she rolled her eyes.
‘While the sun is shining and the greens are empty?’ he reproached with a smile.
‘Don't imagine you get many prizes for the old bedside manner, Doc,’ she chuckled scathingly.
Leaning forward on his desk, he rested his chin on his fist cauterizing any further small-talk. He had to know. ‘Tell me, Mia?’ he added letting the humour drift gently from his face.
‘I’m good,’ she shrugged nonchalantly.
‘I can see that. Though I sense there's a 'but' coming.’
‘Like most things in my life, there’s always a 'but'.’
‘Life’s full of them,’ he replied.
‘Yeah I know…mine more than most,’ darkness spread across her face.
‘So what is it, Mia?’
‘To be honest I came for something else,’ the smile fell from her lips.
‘First things first, then we'll worry about the other,’ he said.
Turning her face toward the window, she followed the rays of sunshine struggling to shine through decades of dust. Their purity brought an unanticipated smile to her lips as she remembered a time when a blue sky was the most important reason for getting up in the morning. How long ago that was she really couldn't remember, but she could still recall the simple pleasure of it. Before Doc had a chance to prompt her again, a single cloud drifted across her perfect sky, blocking out the sun and its heat for a few moments. This simple act of nature brought her back to the present. ‘I saw him today,’ her words tumbled out.
‘Who?’
‘Him,’ her lips barely moved. ‘Who?’ he frowned.
‘The reason I left?’
‘Oh,’ he acknowledged, and his eyes hardened ever so slightly as his thoughts gathered speed. ‘Here? You saw him here in Eranmore?’ he finally said.
‘Yes,’ she dragged her gaze from the window back to his face. ‘He still lives here in the town?’ he added.
‘Yes,’ she sighed, ‘he sure does.’
‘Has he always lived here, Mia?’ His face creased with concern. She nodded again avoiding his eyes.
‘But I thought you said at the time--’
‘I lied, Doc. At the time it seemed the right thing to do.’
‘And now...? It's never too late, you could always--?’
‘What...name him?’ her lip curved up in disgust. ‘Perhaps.’
‘No. I’ve no intention of going down memory lane with that bastard.’
‘Mia!’ he exclaimed, puckering his lips and holding a hand up. ‘Sorry, Doc, but he is a bastard...and more.’
‘What I mean is you’ve come back to live here, right?’
‘So?’ Her chin jerked up defiantly.
‘And you’re okay with seeing him?’
‘No.’
‘Then why come back?’
‘Closure maybe.’
‘It’s a word,’ he humoured.
‘A word that comes closest to the truth.’
‘Does he know you’re back?’
‘He does now.’
‘He’s seen you,’ a heavy frown etched itself across his brow. ‘He has,’ her eyes hardened.
‘And...?’
‘And he ran like the spineless prick he is,’ she sneered.
‘I don’t know what to say, Mia,’ he added smoothing his finger tips against his forehead.
‘Why do you think I left?’ she asked.
‘I know why you left,’ his voice softened. ‘You had little choice.’
‘No,’ her voice hardened. ‘He didn’t give me a choice. Raping me was his choice!’
‘I know, Mia,’ he frowned.
‘Don’t get me wrong, Doc, it’s not easy, seeing him walk around not giving a rat's arse about what happened to me. But I had to do it, y’know...? I had to take something back.’
‘And have you?’
‘In a sense. I can now look at him, I can see him for what he is without running. That’s something, I thought I’d never be able to do.’
‘Well there aren't many who could do it.’
‘Maybe not,’ she conceded.
‘Don’t get me wrong, Mia, I do understand why you chose to see him again, that can be healing in its own way I suppose…but living here...? Won’t you find it difficult seeing him every day?’ he pressed.
‘Perhaps,’ she agreed, ‘but strangely enough, it’s easier seeing him as he is, for what he is…and, besides, this is my home. Why should I stay away? Why should I make it easy for him? It’s just what he wanted isn’t it? Just what he’s had all these years.’
‘Probably, but what about your husband, what does he think about all of this?’
‘Oliver?’ she shook her head. ‘He doesn’t know.’
‘Mia,’ he admonished, ‘surely you have to tell him.’
‘Hmm,’ she placated.
‘Will you?’
‘No.’
‘Why not?’
She shrugged uneasily.
‘You can still press charges...I’ll--’
‘No. Leave it…’ she paused.
‘But--’
‘Please, Doc,’ she pleaded again, ‘in my own time.’
‘Mia?’
‘Hmm?’
‘Did you ever…talk…to anyone about what happened to you?’ he asked gently.
‘Once,’ she faltered. ‘Did it help?’
‘I suppose.’
He acknowledged her lie with a smile, knowing her reticence to elaborate had ended the subject, but made a mental note to press her more on it when the time was right. ‘Well, Mia, I’ll always be here for you.’
‘I know, Doc,’ she smiled lowering her gaze from his. There was a brief, awkward, silence between them before she spoke again. ‘Can I ask you something?’ she said, interrupting his thoughts.
‘Never stopped you before.’
‘Seriously,’ the smile returned to her face. ‘I’m intrigued.’
Leaning back into her chair she crossed her legs before she spoke. ‘How confidential are your files? Y’know…you’re notes?’
His grey brows knitted as his face broke into a frowning smile. ‘I think I know what this is about.’
‘Well?’ she persisted.
‘Haven’t they been to-date?’ he answered. ‘Yeah, but I need to know for certain.’
‘Have you ever heard any information leaked from this surgery?’
‘No, but--’
‘The only way information has ever come out from inside these walls is from the patients themselves, never from me.’
‘Hmm.’
‘You know that, Mia, why ask me now, after all these years?’
‘Because…’ she hesitated.
’Let me guess? You’re pregnant, aren’t you?’
Her eyes widened with surprise. ‘So you're psychic now as well, eh?’
‘No, nothing as exciting as that, just in this business too long, I guess. There’s an awful lot I know about this community, and when I go, it’ll go with me.’
‘I know, but…’
‘My wife understands patient confidentiality,’ he said, pre- empting her next question.
‘Does she?’ she looked across at him boldly.
‘Women are nosey by nature, it's genetic, think I don’t know that?’
‘Cheeky,’ she smiled.
‘Trust me, Mia,’ he added quite seriously, ‘there are ways and means of maintaining the privacy of every patient that comes through that door. You have nothing to fear being completely open with me. You have in the past and nothing has come to light, so why worry now?’
‘Because maybe I have more to lose now,’ she thought aloud. ‘Not necessarily, perhaps you’ll have more to gain.’
‘You think?’
‘I know.’
‘Does being old give you that self assurance?’ she teased. ‘Yep. That and a 13 handicap.’
She studied his furrowed old face with fondness. ‘Don’t ever retire, Doc,’ the words fell from her lips, ‘and Doc, you guessed right. I’m pregnant.’
‘How far along?’
‘Far enough to know that I’m pregnant.’
‘Happy?’
‘Very.’
‘Good,’ he nodded.
‘Bet you never thought you’d hear me say that.’
‘What?’
‘That I'm happy about being pregnant.’
‘Stop fishing, Mia, told you long ago, I’m not your judge and jury. Life shoots arrows at people, some get hit and die, others pull out the arrow and patch up the wound.’
‘And I’m a patcher-upper, eh?’
‘Yes you are. Stop beating yourself up over past decisions and enjoy what you have?’
‘And Oliver...?’ she asked.
‘You need be honest with him. These things have a nasty habit of rearing--’
‘Their ugly head, I know,' she finished his sentence. ‘Does he know about this pregnancy?’
‘Yes,’ her mouth softened into a smile.
‘You’re concerned about the delivery, aren’t you?’ She nodded.
‘Well, Mia, I’ll have a word with the Justin Corbett...you're having the baby at St. Francis`?’
‘I'd like to.’
‘Justin’s a good man, I’ll make an appointment for you.’
‘And confidentiality?’
‘Of course.’
‘And you’ll have a chat with him?’
‘I will.’
‘When do you want to see me next?’
‘After your scan sometime. Come in for a check-up and we’ll take it from there.’
She looked around the room as he picked up his pen to write. ‘How come you’ve always stayed?’ she asked.
‘Stayed?’
‘Here. I mean, it’s a place people come back to retire.’
‘You’re not retired, are you?’ he smirked.
‘No. But I came back for...well, to move forward. You stayed, how come?’
‘I had a very good reason to stay.’
‘What?’ she rushed curiously. ‘The climate,’ he shrugged. ‘Tuh!’
‘The people.’
‘Now I know you’re lying.’
‘The golf then.’
‘Tell me.’
‘I just did.’
‘Oh I get it...Dr. Walsh has his own skeletons, eh?’
‘There’s no one in this town who doesn’t,’ he added seriously. ‘Tell me.’
‘Golf.’
‘Okay-okay, I won’t ask anymore. Blackheart!’ she teased. ‘That my dear, Mia, is true.’
‘So…what first? Blood pressure? Weight? Diet? What...?’ she asked.
‘This…’ he held up an empty plastic phial.
Grabbing the empty urine bottle she stood up exiting through an internal door in his office.
‘Hope you’ve Andrex, Doc, none of that cheapo Pound Shop stuff!’ she called from inside the toilet.
A small laugh escaped from his mouth as he leant against his fist, doodling her name on his desk pad. As his hand circled her name with an easy flow, a flicker of genuine concern sparked behind his eyes. If he was honest he had to admit to being overwhelmed by her visit. And it was not because of the manner of her exit, years earlier, from this room and his practice. Rather it was because of the time that had passed and the memories, seeing her, evoked. He really hadn't expected to ever see her again. It had been his perception back then that the beautiful flame-haired girl had been traumatized beyond his experience to help. He recalled, with shame, how he had naively treated her physical injuries only. He had no idea how to deal with the immediate aftermath of that night. Except to make the right soothing noises and follow, step by step, medical procedures on how to document forensic evidence. While muttering foolish, and upon reflection, insensitive predictions on how she would soon recover from her ordeal. Older, wiser, and worn from years of being witness to the depths to which humanity is capable of plunging, made him feel shame and regret at his foolish arrogance that night. Yes, she had recovered, physically at least. But even now he could see the pain in her eyes that had never healed. Could he have done more? He always felt he could have, mainly because she was one of the few patients, he had encountered, who had walked away without any follow-up treatment. Abandoned at such a vulnerable time, so raw, so in need of help. Either he mended them, referred them, or death claimed them, but few if any had walked away from his practice unaided, traumatized and without help. He had failed her in the worst possible way really, not just as a doctor, but as her only friend that night. Perhaps she saw his glaring inability to deal with the ugliness, and in his own way he suspected that her exit from Eranmore was partially down to him. And yet she came back. Hearing the flush of the toilet, he let his pen drop and glanced toward the door.
Something had bothered him about her return, and now he knew exactly what it was. He knew that this wasn’t over for her yet.
Experience had taught him enough to know that the truth would come out and sooner than Mia would expect. But this time he would be ready. Fixing a large smile to his lips as she returned, he reached out taking the bottle from her.
‘I’m going to make sure I see what you do with it this time, Doc. Bet you’re bottling it and selling it to Mulcahy’s as beer.'
‘And how else does a poor locum supplement his green fees? He laughed.
***
Robbie sank both hands deep into the scalding dishwater, ignoring his father's jaundiced eyes burning right through him from behind. He knew the man had hated him, at least that's how it had been for as long as he could recall. And he also knew almost by script what he would say and do next. It was old and worn and always laced with malevolence. Pat’s rage came randomly and generally whenever the mood took him. A loss at the bookies usually did it, or if he felt slighted in some way. But knowing Pat, they could just as easily be imagined scenarios, made up in the lunacy of his paranoid mind. The only people who ever saw this side of him lived behind the door of No. 7 St Jude’s Cottages.
‘Sit down, Pat, I kept you some dinner,’ Mary Dalton twitched in her seat.
Stumbling across the kitchen toward her, his belch rolled up and out floating the stench of regurgitated ale beneath her nose. ‘I'm not eating that shite, give me your purse!’ he belched again thumbing at his nose.
Mary didn’t move, neither did Maria. Robbie knew just as his mother and sister knew, Pat fingering his fat bulbous nose was the first sign of his growing irritation.
He swayed.
‘Pat...’ she swallowed.
The room was silent apart from the sounds of plates being stacked on the draining board.
‘Just give me your bag,’ He ordered. ‘Pat, I’ve little--’
‘Give me your fucking bag, I said!’
‘It’s over there,’ her eyes flickered toward the counter top.
Turning heavily on his heel he swayed across the room pulling her handbag toward his bulging gut. The sound of Pat’s incoherent mumbling could be heard as he rummaged through the bag pulling out bundles of letters, utility bills, and a set of rosary beads.
‘Jesus, Mare, you’ve enough shite in here to fill a quarry.’
Her hands twisted and interlocked nervously on her lap, but she said nothing.
‘Where’s your purse?’ he snarled throwing her bag to one side, scattering the rosary beads across the countertop.
Taking his hands out from the washing bowl, Robbie dried them on the dishcloth and turned around. ‘I have money,’ he said, his words slipping out evenly.
‘I don’t want your bastard money,’ Pat slurred, curling his lip up in disgust. ‘I want my own money.’
‘Pat…please,’ Mary interjected.
‘Enough of the fucking whining, just give me your purse!’ he roared. ‘And don’t mind lying to me, I know you’ve money. Just don’t want to give it up in case that fucker-there needs it for his faggot college.’
Mary shot to her feet clattering her fork against her plate. ‘Leave him alone,’ her voice shook.
‘Fuck's sake, Mare, the little bastard’s not even yours and you’re spending my money on that…that little queer!’ he sneered.
‘Stop it!’ her words caught in her throat.
‘Ah shut up woman and give me your purse. Let me get out of here away from ye and that half-breed.’
Rushing passed him Mary pulled open the cupboard door and reached into the back. Snatching her brown leather purse from behind some cups, she shoved it with small force into his bulging stomach.
‘Now that wasn’t so hard, was it?’ he smirked emptying the purse into his hand. Shoving the loose change into his pocket, his mouth twitched malevolently as darker thoughts glistened behind his small piggish eyes. ‘Be up when I get home,’ he warned, before turning and walking from the room.
Nobody spoke until they heard the slamming of the front door. ‘You okay, Ma?’ Robbie sighed.
She let a smile flicker across her lips.
‘Here take this,’ he reached into his pockets and stuffed two paper notes into her hand.
Her eyes fell upon two twenty pound notes, at least half his wages from his summer job. ‘No, love, I’ve more put away, you keep that.’
‘Put it with your millions then,’ he winked. ‘Honestly, Rob, I do. I just don’t let him know.’
‘Save it for me so,’ he smiled easily. Both of them knew what that meant, his mother would save half and buy food with the rest.
‘I’m going out!’ Maria announced, scraping the legs of her chair as she rose from the table.
‘Your dinner, love?’
‘Not hungry,’ she seethed. ‘Maria?’
Both of them heard Maria mutter ‘bitch’ as she stormed passed them both slamming the door just as her father had done moments earlier. Sighing heavily, Mary wondered what was wrong with Maria these days, why she seemed to have so much contempt for her lately. What she could be so angry at her for, she had no idea. But then, looking back, just like her father, Maria had always been angry at something.
Unlike Robbie, she had found Maria demanding and defiant and not so easy to like, at times, but loved her all the same. In fact she loved her with all of her heart and more, and had always done her best to make sure that Maria didn't go without. Even Pat, as mean as he was, never seemed to mind what was spent on their daughter, even if it was all for show. Every single event in young Maria’s life was highlighted. Birthdays, Christmas, Communion, anything that Maria wanted Maria got.
Mary wasn’t stupid though, she knew that this had spoilt her daughter, but rather than make her happy and grateful, it seemed to make her angry and selfish, just like her father. With Maria, enough was never enough. Robbie on the other hand, unwanted since the beginning, had a kindness for her that knew no bounds. He was the only constant in her difficult life, despite having no blood ties to her whatsoever. Unlike her daughter, for which Pat had gladly proved his virility to the world, Robbie was a stain on Pat Dalton’s good name. Mary laughed when she thought about his delusional need to be seen as important man in the town.
But knew what they said behind his back around here, what they really thought, most of which she agreed. Though she wasn’t stupid enough to admit it publicly as knowing Pat, he would knock her into next week if she ever opened her mouth.
‘Ma?’
Robbie interrupted her thoughts. ‘Why do you stay here?’ he asked. ‘Where else could I go, Rob?’
The apathy in her voice, heard a thousand times before, saddened him. ‘Away from here. You know I’ll be gone soon, Ma, and...’
‘I know, love, and I’ll be where I’ll always be…here.’
‘Why? You owe him nothing and don’t say it’s anything to do with Maria.’
‘It’s nothing to do with either of them. This is my home, Robbie,’ her voice took on rare sound of defiance.
‘Then you’ll have to come to London to see me, Ma. I’ll never set foot back here, not unless the fat fucker dies first.’
‘Ah, Robbie, don’t talk like that.’
‘I mean it, Ma. I owe him nothing.’
He saw the flicker of loneliness in her eyes and forced a smile to his lips. ‘Don’t worry, Ma, you know I’ll always be back to see you.’
‘Of course you will, pet…’ she returned the same broken smile, but she knew better.
‘C'mon!’ Eva whispered. ‘Answer the bloody phone!’
‘Medway Travel, Martina speaking,’ a female voice sang. ‘Er…hello. How much is a flight to…’
‘To where?’
‘Cork,’ she whispered.
‘Where? I'm sorry you will have to speak up, I can't hear you.’
‘Er…Cork,’ Eva said, a little louder.
‘York?’
‘No, Cork!’ she hissed. ‘Where’s that?’
‘In Ireland,’
‘Ah, Cork.’
‘That’s what I said,’ Eva rolled her eyes. ‘When?’
‘Monday.’
‘Any particular Monday?’
‘Er, any Monday.’
‘Time?’
‘Morning.’
‘One moment please.’
Hearing the tapping of keys, Eva bit down hard on the side of her thumb, tearing at the edge of her nail. ‘Hello?’ She whispered again quietly stealing another glance through the banisters toward the door behind her. No response.
‘Righty-o,’ the Medway's girl said. ‘Hello?’
‘One moment please?’ Martina sang, while clicking, pausing and tapping her keyboard at the other end of the line.
Just tell me how much, Eva mouthed silently, sticking out her tongue at the unseeing Martina.
‘Who on earth are you talking to, Eva?’
Snapping her head up in surprise, Eva's mouth opened as her mother walked in through the front door.
‘Hope it’s not Marc. Mel will go mad if you’re winding him up again,’ her mother added.
‘It's not Marc, Mum.’
‘Give me a hand with the shopping when you’ve f