Jumping in Puddles Read online

  There was a good drama on, and she lost herself in the ups and downs of other people’s lives while trying not to think about hers too much.

  * * *

  Ruth was exhausted when she arrived into work the following morning. She always got in early to put on the heating, boil a kettle and set out the records for Dr Donnelly of all the patients due to make it in for morning appointments.

  She had left the children still sleeping, with a note on the table asking them to please get themselves ready while she was at work. James would be calling round for them at five and he didn’t like to be kept waiting. The weekend cases were filled and ready for the off and she had left the house gleaming. Her note to the children had asked that they try and keep it in the condition in which she had left it but she knew, as she switched on her computer in work, there would be little chance of that.

  Thursdays were her full day at the surgery, but she would ask Dr Donnelly if she could leave a half hour early just to get home and tidy up the worst of her offspring’s excesses before her ex arrived. If she ran really fast back up the hill, she might have half a chance of getting it done.

  At times like this she wished she could spin around `a la Wonder Woman and magic a clean house. Better still, wriggle her nose like your woman from Bewitched and have it all done for her with no effort at all.

  Sitting down, Ruth opened her emails to find one waiting from James. Seems picking up the phone was too much of an effort for him.

  Ruth,

  Just a reminder to let you know I expect to leave on time tonight. We have a long drive ahead of us. Have the children ready for five.

  James

  “Oh shag off,” she shouted at the computer just as Detta walked through the door.

  “You okay?” Detta asked, looking around for signs of anyone else and Ruth turned crimson.

  “Ach, you know, computers.”

  “Don’t trust the blasted things myself,” Detta said. “I’m all up for as little technology as possible. The old ways were the best.”

  Ruth looked at Detta and wondered how on earth she had managed to live ten years in Dublin with her aversion to all things modern. She was a rare duck and that was for sure, but she really did have a pure heart.

  “Can I do anything to help you?” Ruth asked.

  “Oh, I just wanted to make an appointment with the doctor. No rush, you know.”

  Ruth looked at her computer, clicking the email off and set about taking Detta’s details.

  “You’re not registered here,” she said. “I’ll need you to fill out this form.”

  Detta took an ornate pen, decorated with baubles and glitter, from her tie-dyed bag and started writing. “I kept registered with the doctor in Dublin for a long time, but I think I’m finally starting to accept I’m back here for good so I might as well make the change,” she said.

  “Dr Donnelly is lovely,” Ruth soothed.

  “Oh I know, she’s a dote. She has been a star over these last few months but now I think I’ll make it official.”

  As Ruth wondered just how her employer had been a godsend to this woman, and why, she pushed all thoughts of James and his bullying emails to the back of her head.

  * * *

  Dr Donnelly did, of course, let her away from work early and she walked at the speed of light home and managed to just about pull things into shape before James arrived. It was no mean feat, given that her three children had taken to throwing themselves at her feet at every opportunity pulling their best “woe is me” poses.

  She dared not tell them she was planning on going to Derry without them. Blood would have been shed – thirty-seven-year-old Frumpy Mummy blood. So she spent that last half hour in their company not only doing her best whirling-dervish routine but also willing her big mouth not to let her secret out.

  James arrived spot on time. Ruth was actually surprised it wasn’t his usual five minutes early to try and catch her out. He looked her up and down, regarding her with a look of utter disgust, and then grunted at the children that Laura was waiting. Ruth knew though that while in the presence of Laura – who was sitting outside in the car – he would be all sweetness and light. He wouldn’t have let his guard down to her yet, she was sure of that.

  “I’ve put Calpol in the bigger case and left the numbers of the surgery and my mobile there just in case,” she said.

  “I’m not stupid,” James said. “I know how to look after my own children.”

  Ruth nodded. There was no point in biting back.

  “They’ve been a little unsettled. You know, there have been a lot of changes . . .” she offered.

  “They will be fine with me,” he said. “You’ll be fine, kids, won’t you? The place we are going is having its very own fireworks display and there is a Jacuzzi and everything.”

  Eimear’s eyes lit up and even Matthew looked mildly excited.

  “And Eimear, pet, Laura has booked you and her into the spa for a full makeover. A real girly treat.”

  Of course at that the battle was won and Eimear skipped off, tapping a message into her mobile, no doubt telling her friends she had the best daddy ever.

  Ruth couldn’t compete with that. The biggest treat she had managed in recent weeks was a frozen pizza and a family size bag of Maltesers. As for days at the spa, the nearest she got was a trip to the chiropodist about her ingrowing toenail. She doubted Eimear would have wanted to keep her company at those appointments.

  The children left and the house fell silent – but in some ways it was noisier than ever. Echoes of her darkest secret rang around in her head.

  Eventually she dragged herself from the comfort of her sofa, slipped on her jacket and trainers and headed out into the cold evening air.

  It was getting dark. She started walking as fast as she could on the soft sand before moving further down towards the shore to the harder, wetter sand. Her calves were already aching from the effort after ten minutes but there was no turning back – not least because the physical activity was serving to drive the thoughts that plagued her out of her head.

  In fact, soon she began to feel quite elated. There was something about this walking which made her feel empowered. She felt as if it was just her, the sand and the sea. She felt close to nature – like she belonged in a John Denver song and eventually she found herself bursting into a chorus of “Poems, Prayers and Promises” as she strode on.

  She was just reaching an impressive crescendo of tunelessness when she came across a small figure sitting cross-legged on the beach, staring out at the sea.

  “Are you okay?” she called to the dark figure. Locals who would choose to sit on the wet sand on a cold night staring out to the sea were few and far between. It crossed her mind it could be darling Niamh who, having finally flipped her lid, was about to make a run and jump into the black sea.

  Heart thumping, she called again “Are you okay?” while at the same time trying to keep a safe distance in case it wasn’t some lonely soul but instead an axe-murdering madman waiting for his prey to come dancing along the beach like a buck-eejit singing John Denver songs.

  She really wanted to move on. She couldn’t be coping with this complication when all she had done was come for a walk on a cool night to clear her head and recover from the tension of dealing with her husband and relinquishing her children into his care. And yet she couldn’t walk on and then have some poor fecker on her conscience.

  “Excuse me!” she called again, a little louder this time, and moved a little closer.

  The long curls draped down the back of the small figure at least made her breathe a sigh of relief. It wasn’t Niamh and her sharp, razor-cut bob. A small face looked up – just about the same age as Ruth herself and not looking in the least bit distressed.

  “Detta? Are you okay?” she asked, relieved that she wouldn’t have to attempt to run away from an axe-murderer on soft sand.

  “Ach me, I’m grand. Just balancing a chakra or two.”

  Detta climbed
to her feet, smiling warmly at Ruth. Dressed in loose-fitting yoga pants and figured tracksuit jacket she made Ruth feel instantly frumpy in her Dunnes trainers and sweatpants. Who would have known that under those floating skirts and cardigans there was such an impressive figure? But then again, Detta didn’t have three kids.

  “Balancing a chakra?” Ruth asked.

  “Yoga. It keeps me fit and more than that it keeps me sane.”

  “Ah, I see,” Ruth said warmly. “You need a little chill-out time after dealing with us loonies and our problems.”

  “We all need a little chill-out time and we all have our problems,” Detta replied. “I see you’re out pounding the sand yourself.”

  “Nothing like the sea air to clear your mind.”

  “Or a cup of tea,” Detta said. “Fancy one? We could nip over to mine. I’ve a brand new packet of chocolate biscuits ready for the opening.”

  With that Ruth’s intentions of ignoring her sweet tooth went out the window and she nodded and the two women set off for Detta‘s house for some therapy that would be a whole lot less stressful on the muscles than a run along the beach.

  Detta’s house was not at all what Ruth expected. If she was honest she wasn’t sure what she had expected – perhaps lots of incense and bean bags instead of proper chairs. But it was an ordinary house – nothing fancy and definitely with a proper sofa. There were a host of CDs, self-help books and DVDs organised neatly into bookshelves. A couple of pictures of Detta, smiling with a handsome teenager, sat on top of the shelves and Ruth made a mental note to ask Detta who he was. He looked vaguely familiar – and he certainly had made Detta happy. As far as Ruth knew Detta had no brothers or sisters so it was unlikely this young man – who she guessed was around the same age as Thomas – was a nephew. Would it be too nosy of her to ask, she wondered? As she thought about it Detta walked into the room with two cups of tea and glanced at the photos herself. She smiled at them, sat down and looked at Ruth.

  “I’ll tell you about him one day,” she said and she changed the subject.

  Ruth knew not to push it any further – sure, didn’t they all have secrets they weren’t ready to talk about?

  22

  “Is it tonight, Daddy?” Poppy asked, jumping on the bed and waking Liam from his sleep.

  Blinking, he looked at the red glow of the alarm clock beside the bed: 6.30. He groaned.

  “Tonight’s a long way away, Poppy. Now go back to bed, or climb in here and go to sleep because it’s going to be a late night and I want you to be well rested.”

  “But, Daddy, I’m so excited. I’ve been trying to get back to sleep for hours and hours and hours but every time I close my eyes I see fireworks or imagine I’m wearing my red sparkly shoes and my brain just doesn’t want to sleep.”

  “But you will be too tired to enjoy it if you don’t get a proper rest first,” he bargained.

  “Okay, Daddy, I’ll try.”

  There was silence for the best part of two minutes before her voice chirped again.

  “I’ve tried, Daddy. Really, really, really I’ve tried but I can’t sleep. I’m too excited.”

  Poppy sat up and stared at her daddy. Her eyes were still heavy with sleep and her hair was a mess of dark bed-head curls on top of her head, but even in the dark Liam could see the glint in her eyes.

  “Okay, darling, you win, but you might want to think about a nap later.”

  “I will, Daddy, I promise,” Poppy said, crossing her fingers over her heart and smiling. “I’ll go downstairs and make breakfast. Have we Coco pops? I love Coco pops. Ailish in school prefers Frosties, but I told her that only Coco pops make the milk turn chocolatey, so it’s chocolate and breakfast so it’s good for you.”

  The chatter continued as she jumped off the bed and padded down the stairs. Liam sat up and stretched. It was going to be a long day and he had hoped that Poppy would sleep until at least gone nine. Every day when she was at school he would have to practically beg her to get up to make it to class in time, but Sod’s Law being what it was, now that she had a day off she was up at the crack of dawn.

  If he had known she would have woken so early there was no way he would have had that extra can or two of beer the night before.

  Rubbing his stubbly chin and yawning, he sighed. These were exactly the kind of times when he would have loved for Laura still to be here so she could take over and he could crawl back under the duvet for an extra hour or two asleep while she did mummy-type things like make breakfast and clean. He groaned as he thought of last night’s dinner dishes still sitting by the sink, the remnants of their meal now cemented to them no doubt.

  “Put them in the dishwasher as soon as they’re done and you won’t have to deal with this in the morning,” Laura would have teased him. It drove her mad how he could leave dishes beside the dishwasher or in the sink but never think to rinse them off. He had been better since she left but last night, while trying to calm an overexcited Poppy and after an exceptionally stressful day in the site office, he just couldn’t find the motivation.

  “Daddy,” a voice called up the stairs, “is it Hallowe’en all day?”

  “Yes, love,” he said, heading down to the kitchen.

  “Well, can I put on my costume now then, being as it’s Hallowe’en all day and all? I mean there’s no point in putting on boring old clothes, is there?”

  “Now, Poppy, I know you’re very excited but I don’t think you should put your dress on just yet. Keep it nice for tonight. Now which would you like to do today, come to work with me or go and see your granny?”

  Poppy grimaced at the mention of her granny – although in fairness to her she did her best to hide it, turning her face from Liam and opening the fridge to fetch some orange juice.

  “Hmmm, I’d really like to go and see Mammy,” she said with a sigh.

  Liam felt his heart sink to his boots but at the same time he knew he should be wary – Poppy could buy and sell the best of them.

  “You know Mammy is away at the moment.”

  “Yes,” Poppy sighed dramatically, “with his children. Not me. But I don’t mind, Daddy, honest.”

  As she looked at him, her eyes as wide as that annoying little cat in the Shrek movies she loved so much, he had to think quickly. He had to get this just right – tune into the female psyche and deal with it in the best manner possible because if he got this wrong, either his daughter would never forgive him or he would leave himself in the unenviable position of being at her beck and call for the rest of her childhood years, never mind the dreaded teenage years.

  “Sweetheart, you know your mammy loves you. And you know she has promised that the two of you will do something really nice together next week. How about you come with me to work and then we’ll both go to Granny’s for lunch and then I’ll take the afternoon off and you can be in your costume by two at the latest.”

  Poppy considered the proposal and, realising that was about as good as it was going to get, smiled. “Okay, Daddy,” she said.

  Liam sighed with relief. That was one crisis averted. Now if only he didn’t have to spend the rest of the day appeasing women. He would have his mother to deal with and then the rest of the women from the group. They were nice people though, he thought. He wondered if Niamh would come along. He knew that Ruth had planned to go and see her after she hadn’t showed at the meeting but he hadn’t seen Ruth since. He had told her that she could call on him after the children left if she needed some moral support but he was kind of glad that she hadn’t. He would prefer not to think at all about the fact his wife was off on her jollies with another man and his children while he was fighting a battle of wits with an expert emotional blackmailer with a passion for a fecking Dorothy costume.

  “You women will send me to the nuthouse,” he muttered as Poppy drank her orange juice.

  “But you love us, Daddy,” Poppy said, matter of factly, and set about getting dressed.

  * * *

  Liam was grateful that
he could take Poppy into the site office with him. It was one of the perks of being boss, even if he did have to spend the day before making sure nothing questionable was left hanging about. His was a typically male office and there was generally a tabloid left open at page three hanging about, or some rude scribbles on a notebook. The fellas at the office were great when it came to Poppy and would chat nineteen to the dozen to her, but that didn’t mean they made sure not to leave the odd snot-covered hanky or half-eaten sandwich festering somewhere.

  Liam had taken a good slagging the day before when he donned his rubber gloves and gave the place a good going over.

  “All right, Missus Mop!” Paul had shouted as he walked into the office trailing a heap of muck and sand on his boots.

  “Jesus, would you watch yourself, I’ve just hoovered,” Liam had chided, which of course had been met with snorts of laughter from the lads.

  “I take it the wee woman is coming in with you tomorrow then?” Paul asked.

  “Aye, so no farting, swearing, dirty pictures or spitting please.”

  “We’ll be on our best behaviour, Mrs Doyle, don’t you worry,” Paul laughed, sitting down and resisting his usual urge to put his muddy boots up on the desk and have a read of the paper.

  “We’ll only be here half the day,” Liam said, “so youse can do whatever you want in the afternoon. I’ve been roped into driving a mini-bus up to Derry for the fireworks.”