Jumping in Puddles Page 23

Thankfully the phone rang at that moment and he answered it in his usual cheery style.

  “Liam Dougherty, good morning, and how can I help you?”

  “Liam, hiya, it’s Niamh. I was wondering if you could come round and do a few jobs for me.”

  Liam was surprised to hear her voice. The big house on the hill had been the talk of the village since it was built only two years ago. What could she need doing to it now?

  “Sure, what do you have in mind?”

  “I want the pool filled in. I’m always terrified one of the twins will take a dive in it and we never use it anyway. And then I was wondering if it would be possible to change the windows in my new studio. Do you think we could make them bigger? There’s a lovely view from there and I would love to let more light in.”

  “Well, I’ll certainly have a look,” Liam said, opening his diary. “I can call up tomorrow and sure we can talk about it more tonight at the group. I’ll get you all the figures by the end of the week and you can make your decision then.”

  “Money isn’t a problem,” Niamh said, “and I’ve heard you’re good. So whatever you say is a fair price I’ll pay, but I’d like it done as soon as possible.”

  “We’ll do our best, Niamh. Look, I’ll see you tonight and we’ll get the ball rolling.”

  “I look forward to it.”

  She hung up and Liam admitted to himself that he was impressed with the determined tone in her voice. She seemed a lot stronger than the wallflower who had walked into the community centre a few weeks ago snivelling everywhere. It was nice to see – and of course the work would be great too. While they were kept busy enough at the yard, November didn’t usually bring in a raft of new work and he was grateful for anything they could get.

  Things might in fact be looking up for everyone.

  * * *

  Agnes arrived shortly after six so that Liam could get out to the group. Why she needed to arrive a full hour before he was due at the community centre was beyond him, but she always had been on the compulsive side about being punctual.

  “Granny, Granny!” Poppy cheered. “Let me tell you all about Derry and the fireworks!”

  Agnes raised an eyebrow. “Oh pet, did you go somewhere nice? I’d love to go somewhere nice. I can’t remember the last time anyone took me out for a night.”

  The dig was not lost on Liam, but he simply rolled his eyes (out of her sight, of course) and went about getting ready while Poppy babbled on excitedly in the background.

  Usually he’d throw a jumper on over his jeans and maybe brush his hair but tonight he felt like making a bit of an effort – not so much of an effort that it looked too obvious, but an effort all the same. He shaved, sprayed on some Calvin Klein aftershave, put on his best sweatshirt and looked in the mirror. He had to admit he was impressed with what he saw.

  Poppy had changed into her Dorothy dress and was twirling around in front of her granny. As Liam walked back into the room they stopped to look at him.

  “You smell nice, Daddy,” Poppy said, running to give him a cuddle. “And your face isn’t all spikey.”

  Agnes looked at him and looked for all intents and purposes as if she was about to open her mouth and let rip a litany of questions, but just as he was preparing to tell her that it was none of her business, she swallowed her words back down and said nothing. She did, however, seem to have the slightest hint of a smile on her face as she called Poppy over to show her the ruby slippers once more.

  “Don’t you worry about hurrying home,” she said to Liam. “I’ll put madam here to bed.”

  Liam nodded, kissed them both goodbye and left.

  He had a smile on his face and a spring in his step when he arrived at the community centre. He had purposely left home in time to make it to the centre that little bit early to help Detta with the setting up, but when he reached it Ciara was already setting out the chairs.

  “Liam, how are you?” she grinned as he walked in the door.

  “Just grand,” he smiled back. “Do you need a hand?”

  “Naw, I think I can manage putting four chairs out,” she laughed, “but Detta was sticking on a pot of tea in the kitchen. I’d burn water so I’m not the best person to help. Maybe you could?”

  He blushed and then swore at himself under his breath for acting like a teenager. He was a grown man, for the love of God, and a grown married man at that.

  “You okay?” Ciara asked.

  “Fine, fine,” he muttered walking into the kitchen.

  Detta had her back to him. She was wearing a long cardigan over a long denim skirt and her hair was hanging loosely down her back. Laura would never have let her hair grow that long – anything beyond shoulder length was too messy for her. She liked things to be organised – although Liam had loved it when her hair grew that bit longer. He loved when the wind whipped it around her face as they walked along the beach and he loved pushing it back from her face so that he could kiss her.

  Feeling a pang of foolishness for believing Laura was firmly in his past, he turned and walked back into the main hall.

  “She has everything under control,” he said and sat down, chiding himself for being so childish. Imagine taking notions on another woman!

  Niamh was next to arrive and, to be honest, Liam was glad of the distraction.

  “Liam, how are you? Do you think you’ll be able to fit me in then?” she asked, sitting down beside him.

  “Christ, you pair are fast movers,” Ciara laughed, before blushing. “Not that I want to be insensitive or anything. God, sorry.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” Niamh said with a smile. “Liam here is going to do some building work for me. So Liam, tell me, can you fix it?”

  “Yes, I can,” he replied with a smile. “We can start work the week after next – as long as everything is in place. I’ll be out at ten tomorrow to measure up, if you’ll be about.”

  “I’m always about,” Niamh said. “And I’ve no plans to go anywhere soon, unless you count my plans to drive up to Derry and have it out with Caitlin.”

  “Are you really going to do that?” Detta asked, walking into the room.

  “I have to,” Niamh replied, “But look, this meeting isn’t about me. If we get time later we’ll talk about it.”

  “But this is about all of us, and what we all want to do,” Ciara said, pulling her chair up closer.

  “Yes,” Detta said. “If you want to talk it out, we’ll talk about it.”

  “And miss out on writing a list or something? Look, I know everyone means well but this is something I have to do and I don’t really want people trying to talk me out of it.”

  Liam looked at her face. She had a determined look about her and he knew better than to argue with a woman with that particular facial expression. No good could come of it. It was like the time he asked Laura if he could go away on a lads’ week with the boys from work, or the time she set her heart on a new car even though her own was perfectly fine and money was a bit tight.

  “Well, then, we’ll just get started,” he said.

  “But Ruth isn’t here?” Ciara piped up.

  “No, no, she’s not. This isn’t like her,” Detta said.

  “And I’d brought her a box of chocolates from the shop to thank her for Friday night,” Ciara said. “They aren’t anything fancy, just some Celebrations, but I know she is a fan of the Malteser ones.”

  “Isn’t everyone a fan of the Malteser ones?” Detta laughed.

  Christ, thought Liam, now they’re talking about chocolate. He wondered how easy it would be to turn the subject matter back to things more important – like Niamh’s building work, or football or anything that wasn’t contributing to his transformation into a bloody woman. It was all well and good feeling empowered but he didn’t want to start craving chocolate and a nice glass of wine more than a good rare steak and a pint of beer.

  “Right, well, maybe we should give her a wee ring and see what’s happening?” he said.

  “Yo
u know, I’m worried about her,” Niamh offered. “She called out to see me on Sunday night and while she said she was just passing, it’s very rare that anyone is just passing my house. It’s not exactly on the Main Street on the road to anywhere It’s just a house in the middle of nowhere.”

  “But did she seem okay when she was there?” Liam asked. He knew that Sunday was the day the children were due to have returned from their time away with James and Laura. He couldn’t help but wonder if there was some news he should know about.

  “A little bit jumpy,” Niamh replied. “When I asked her she said she was fine, but you know the way you just know sometimes? I’m the bloody queen at hiding things so I can read the signs.”

  Liam started to feel very nervous. Whatever it was that Ruth was hiding, he knew it was unlikely to be good news. It was highly doubtful she had won the Lotto or secured a blind date with George Clooney. Those kind of secrets didn’t keep you from your friends but bad secrets, secrets about ex-husbands and their new partners, were exactly the kind of things that made you stay away from your support group and walk miles at night on your own.

  “Are you okay, Liam?” Detta asked, her eyes full of concern.

  He shook his head. “I’m fine,” he lied. All he really wanted to do was lift his coat and head right over Ruth’s and have it out with her. He felt an anger build up inside him – why was he always the last to know about everything? No doubt James and Laura were talking marriage or something like that and of course Laura wouldn’t have thought it appropriate to tell him. He was not of importance. He probably never had been to her. How could he even equate this selfish woman with the same one who had cried on the night he proposed? Although, come to think of it, the tears were probably because the diamond wasn’t big enough or the band wide enough.

  “I’ve just remembered something,” he said, standing up. “I have to go.”

  He knew he was looking like a bit of a melodramatic gobshite for walking out but he didn’t really care.

  “Liam,” Detta called as he walked out the door and while he should have turned back, he wasn’t in the form.

  He was now confused and he didn’t want to look back and see her face and feel even more confused.

  * * *

  When Laura had first left he had spent many nights drinking a few beers and plotting a way to get her back. He was going to get rid of dead things. He would join the gym and nip out in his lunch breaks. And he would eat porridge, every morning. He would even go for those bloody facial things so that his skin lost that weathered look if necessary. And then he was going to get himself new clothes, get a hair cut and march up to her workplace, like Richard Gere in An Officer and a Gentleman and whisk her off her feet and give her no choice whatsoever about coming back to him. If necessary he would even learn to dance, or take singing lessons and sing “That Loving Feeling” to her in the bloody pub in front of all his workmates.

  He was determined he would do whatever it took to get her back, to make her his wife again and Poppy’s mammy again.

  Now, as he walked up to her front door, he thought of how far he had come since then but there was no doubt in his mind he still had a long way to go. While she still made him angry and provoked a reaction from him he realised he hadn’t moved on as much he had wanted, or hoped.

  He rapped on the door, with more force than he intended.

  Laura answered. She was wearing her pyjamas and her hair was swept back from her face. She carried a glass of wine in her hand and he could see she had been laughing.

  “Liam! What are you doing here?”

  “Is there something you want to tell me?” he asked.

  “What do you mean?” Laura asked and he blushed as she looked genuinely confused.

  “Is there something you should have told me but haven’t had the good grace to?”

  “Liam, I think you should go home,” she said sadly.

  “Laura, I have a right to know what is going on with you. You might not like it, but you are still my wife.”

  James walked into the hall and looked at Liam with a mixture of pity and, if Liam was right, amusement.

  “Are you okay, big lad?” he asked.

  “I just wanted to know what is going on.”

  “Nothing is going on.” Laura answered. “Now if you don’t mind –”

  “Well, I do mind actually. I have it on good authority something is going on,” he lied. He knew he hadn’t actually spoken to Ruth yet but, it was obvious, wasn’t it? What else would make her embarrassed to come to the group and to see him?

  “Well, your good authority is talking through their arse,” James said.

  “Liam, go home,” said Laura. “There’s nothing to tell you and, even if there were, I’m not really sure it is any of your business.”

  “How can you say it’s none of my business?”

  “This is ridiculous,” she replied. “We’re arguing over nothing.”

  “Well then, tell me, if this is nothing,” Liam said, his temper flaring, “why is Ruth acting oddly? Don’t tell me it has nothing to do with you two because I won’t believe it.”

  “Believe what you want,” Laura said.

  “Just go,” James added and slammed the door in his face.

  * * *

  When he got home, Agnes was making a cup of tea and singing to herself. She had more of a spring in her step than in recent weeks but he was in no humour for her.

  “Ah, son. How are you? How was the group?”

  He grunted that it had been just fine.

  “Can I make you a cup?”

  “I’m going to have a beer, Mum,” he said.

  “But it’s a work night!” She looked horrified.

  “And I’m a grown man,” he snapped.

  She looked instantly wounded and he apologised before sitting down and drinking the token cup of tea with her before she went home.

  As he climbed the stairs to bed, the only thought that crossed his mind was that he was sick to the very back teeth of women and all their ways.

  35

  “Well, love, how did it go?” Lorraine asked as Ciara walked through the door.

  “It was a strange one, Mum. Ruth didn’t arrive at all and then Liam left early.”

  “You don’t think those two are, you know, together?” Lorraine asked with a sly smile.

  “God no. Not at all.”

  “Shame, they would make a nice couple. Look, pet, I’m off out now but I shouldn’t be too late. Madam went down with no fuss you’ll be delighted to hear. I’ve put the washing machine on for you – could you stuff the towels in the tumble drier before you go to bed?”

  “Yes, Mum,” Ciara said, flopping down on the sofa.

  “Okay, love, take care.”

  Lorraine left and Ciara stared at the flickering TV screen for a few minutes before going up to her room to leaf through the college prospectus Abby had given her earlier.

  It was a good thick book, with a hundred and one different courses and she wasn’t sure where to start. She supposed the night classes would be as good as any, but before that she decided to read the section on “Student Life”.

  The slightly dated pictures showed posed shots of students enjoying a few drinks and a game of pool in the Students’ Union. There was another of a group of people laughing in the library as they pored over books. She had an urge to tell them to shush, but she couldn’t deny the flutter of excitement as she read on about all the facilities on offer.

  The crèche looked great – newer than the one Ella went to now anyway – and while she wouldn’t need to use it while she was at her night classes it was good to know that if she did go on to do the journalism course after she would have childcare sorted. Or at least she would if she could afford to pay for it.

  “You’re being an eejit,” she muttered to herself as she traipsed back downstairs. It was intimidating to consider balancing a full-time course with minding Ella and making a bit of money on the side.

  Cross
that bridge when you get to it, she told herself. For now she wasn’t sure she would be able to get through a few classes a couple of nights a week never mind whatever might come next.

  But having a new focus – her secret escape plan from Rathinch – had given her a whole new perspective on life. She had gone to work that morning, on time and in full uniform. She had sung along heartily to the cheesy country tunes on the radio and Mrs Quinn had looked most unsettled. She had enjoyed making the old doll feel slightly freaked out. Whenever she had barked her orders at Ciara, she had just smiled and got on with her job even when that meant cleaning out the dairy cabinet of congealed yoghurt and moulding cheese.

  “You’ve a spring in your step today,” Mrs Quinn had said, her voice laden with suspicion. Most people would have been delighted to see a young person enthusiastic in their work, but Mrs Quinn wasn’t happy at all. Her statement was more of an accusation than an observation.

  “Aren’t I allowed to be happy?” Ciara smiled.

  “Of course you are. It’s just not often we see it.”

  Ciara had wanted to bark back that Mrs Quinn, who had a permanent look of one chewing a wasp, was one to talk but she just smiled instead. It was strange how a change of focus in her life made the most mundane of tasks that little bit more enjoyable.

  Shortly after three the crowds of school kids began to pour into the shop, eager for a bar of chocolate or a can of Coke to enjoy as they walked home. Usually this caused one of two reactions in Ciara. She would either think they looked pathetically childish as they counted their cents out for whatever they were buying, or she would be swallowed by a sense of jealousy that they were young and free while she was babied up and smelling vaguely of Calpol and dirty nappies. (No matter how often she showered she was sure there was always a vague smell of runny nappy about her.)