‘Like you liked Mummy?’ she said, so innocently as if she had just asked for a biscuit, not recognised a person who had caused them such torment.
‘No,’ Cillian said, a little too quickly. ‘Yes, and no. I like Mummy because she gave me you, and you are my bud, right?’
‘Right,’ Orla shouted, and April heard the sound of palms clapping together.
‘Right. Daddy likes April as a friend, but as maybe more and I wanted to ask you what you thought.’
Nothing was said for a moment, and April rubbed her leg to ease the cramp that had seized it. She couldn’t move now; she’d give herself away and that would be far worse than eavesdropping. Which was bad enough. Ever the interloper.
‘I like her, Daddy. She’s nice. You know Sarah Jenkins, from nursery?’
‘Yeah?’
‘Her mummy went away, and then her daddy met another lady.’
April could feel the gasp from Cillian in her bones, let alone hear it.
‘Yeah?’ It was barely audible.
‘Yep,’ Orla said, making a few little nibbling noises at the rabbits. ‘Sarah likes her, and she goes places with them.’
‘Would you like April to go places with us sometime, like that?’ Cillian’s voice sounded calm, and chilled but April knew what this question meant. She knew he needed this answer, because she did too. She knew as soon as it was asked, that this was the thing holding her back from taking that next step. From telling Cillian that he had fixed her business, and her shattered heart.
‘Dur, Dad, that’s what I’m saying!’ As ever, Orla was straight to the point, and April had to stick her hands under her armpits to stop herself from throwing an air punch or two. ‘We should do that!’
Cillian grunted a little, and when April looked the feet were gone, and the two of them were dancing up the garden, singing Meatloaf’s finest as Orla sat astride Cillian’s shoulders. He had his hands tight around her legs, wiggling his bum as he sang his heart out. She watched them till they were out of sight, and then slowly made her way back up to the house too. Waiting a decent amount of time, she crept back inside, soon swallowed up by the joviality. Martha’s eyes narrowed when she looked at her, and then she flicked her head to the right. Cillian was sitting on one of the sofas, Orla chatting away about rabbits to one of the other children at the party. She locked eyes with him instantly, his head turning as soon as hers searched his, but his face was passive. He looked at her a beat longer and then looked away. Saying something to Orla, they started to say their goodbyes and Cillian pretty much hoicked her over his shoulder and ran out of the place.
April stood there, stunned, staring at the door. She must have done that for ten minutes before Martha nudged her arm, George’s face mirroring hers with care and concern. Great, everyone knows. She felt the sting of tears threaten to come and she made her fake, ‘happy happy don’t worry about me’ goodbyes to the couple, waved distractedly at Judith and Henry, and went to leave. Judith and Henry were still very much exploring their newfound relationship, and only had eyes for each other so they didn’t even notice.
Elvis had listened to all of this in a seemingly interested way, only trying to eat her glass once or twice. Given that she’d left the party, she couldn’t very well go back in for another glass, or bottle, and it probably wouldn’t be a good idea anyway.
‘Are you okay, April?’
George was walking down the path towards her, dipping his head to Elvis by way of greeting.
April wiped at her tear-stained, make-up-smeared face and tried to smile at him, but she was pretty sure she looked like an Alice Cooper tribute singer, and that made her think of Cillian again, because everything did. That’s when the snot bubble came, and April gave up altogether on looking dignified. George, to his credit, remained utterly unflustered. Passing her a cotton handkerchief, he sat down a little way away from her and Elvis, who kept eyeing him as he did every new person. The ultimate guard goat.
‘I met Martha at your chalet park, when I was just about to go into the Navy.’ He smiled then, which made him look rather boyish. ‘I know Martha gave you the letters, but there’s always two sides to the story. Martha was always meant for Charlie, and their families were hinged around that for years. When Martha and I met, we tried, but we just missed our chance.’ He turned back to the house, looking around as if he couldn’t quite believe where he was. ‘Truth was, I should have fought harder. I left, and the love of my life married another man. I always regretted that. I should never have got on that train.’
April’s memory sparked at his words, and she remembered one of the letters, one that he hadn’t seen. The one where Martha told him that she went to get him; she chose him. He didn’t know.
‘What are you saying?’ she said, as politely as she could. She needed to think about this. Martha hadn’t told him about the letters, so should she tell him? Would it matter anyway? The past was something that couldn’t be changed. She knew that only too well. ‘Are you not happy now?’
George chuckled, as though it was absurd. ‘I’m the happiest I’ve ever been, but what else could we have had? How much more time together? They say youth is wasted on the young, but I rather think that’s a load of old bull.’ April laughed, and he leaned forward, closer to her. ‘It’s wasted on the things we dare not hope to have, so we never try at all. You decided to help Martha, and here I am. What do you want, for your
