If You Could See Me Now Read online

  When she did have Saoirse’s company she tried so hard to be understanding, to treat Saoirse with the sympathy and empathy she deserved. She had learned all about it when she had sought professional help. She wanted advice from as many places as possible in order to help her sister. She needed to know the elusive magical words to say to Saoirse on the rare times that she visited. So even when Saoirse mistreated Elizabeth, she remained supportive and kind because she was afraid to lose her for good, afraid of how much further out of control Saoirse might spiral. Besides, she felt she had a duty to look out for her. But mostly it was because she was tired of seeing all the beautiful butterflies in her life fly away.

  ‘Introduce you to whom?’ Elizabeth replied gently.

  ‘Oh, stop with that patronising tone. If you don’t want to introduce me then that’s fine.’ She turned to the empty seat. ‘She’s ashamed of me, you see. She thinks I let her “good name” down. You know how the neighbours like to talk,’ she laughed bitterly. ‘Or maybe she’s afraid I’ll chase you away. Happened to the other one, you see. He—’

  ‘OK, OK, Saoirse,’ Elizabeth interrupted her play-acting. ‘Look, I’m glad you dropped by because there’s something I wanted to talk to you about.’

  Saoirse’s knee bounced up and down. Her jaw chomped on the gum.

  ‘Colm brought the car back to me on Friday and he told me they’d arrested you. This is serious, Saoirse. You have to be really careful between now and the hearing. It’s on in a few weeks and if you do anything… else, well, it will effect your punishment.’

  Saoirse rolled her eyes, ‘Elizabeth, relax! What are they going to do? Lock me up for years for driving two minutes down the road in my own sister’s car? They can’t take away my licence because I don’t have one and if they prevent me from ever getting one I don’t care because I don’t want one. All they’ll do is give me a few weeks of some community service bullshit, probably helping a few old ladies cross the road or something. It’ll be fine.’ She blew a bubble and it smacked against her chapped lips.

  Elizabeth’s eyes widened with disbelief. ‘Saoirse, you didn’t borrow my car. You took it without my permission and you don’t have a licence. Come on,’ her voice cracked, ‘you’re not stupid, you know well that’s wrong.’

  Elizabeth paused and tried to compose herself. This time she would succeed in talking her round. But even though it was the same situation every time, Saoirse continued to be in denial. She swallowed hard.

  ‘Look,’ Saoirse said, getting angry, ‘I’m twenty-two years old and I’m doing exactly the same thing that everyone else my age is doing – going out and having fun.’ Her tone turned nasty. ‘Well, just because you had no life at my age it doesn’t mean that I can’t have one.’ Her wings were fluttering wildly as if she was trapped in a jar and was running out of air.

  That’s because I was busy raising you, Elizabeth thought angrily. And obviously doing a terrible job of it too.

  ‘Are you going to sit here and listen to our entire conversation or what?’ Saoirse said rudely to the chaise longue.

  Elizabeth frowned and cleared her throat. ‘But what about what Paddy said? Whether you think you did nothing wrong is not important. The gardaí think that you have.’

  Saoirse chewed her gum and her cold blue eyes stared back. ‘Paddy couldn’t organise a piss-up in a brewery. He has no reason to charge me for anything. Unless having fun is suddenly illegal.’ Flutter, flutter.

  ‘Please, Saoirse,’ Elizabeth said softly, ‘please listen to me. They really mean it this time. Just … just relax a bit with the, eh,’ she paused, ‘with the drinking, OK?’

  ‘Oh, shut up about that,’ Saoirse’s face twisted. ‘Shut up, shut up, shut up, I’m fed up listening to you.’ She stood up. ‘My drinking’s fine. It’s you who’s got the problem, thinking you’re fucking perfect.’ She opened the door and shouted so that everyone could hear, ‘Oh, and you,’ she nodded at the chaise longue, ‘I don’t think you’ll be hanging around for long. They all leave eventually, isn’t that right, Lizzie?’ She spat out the name.

  Elizabeth’s eyes glistened with angry tears.

  Saoirse banged the door loudly behind her. She had forced the jar lid open and was free to fly away once again. The noise of the bang shuddered through Elizabeth’s body. The office was so silent even the fly that had been buzzing around stopped to settle on the light fitting. A moment later there was a feeble knock on the door.

  ‘What?’ she snapped.

  ‘It’s, eh, Becca,’ came the quiet reply, ‘with your coffee?’

  Elizabeth smoothed back her hair and dabbed her eyes. ‘Come in.’

  As Becca was leaving the room, Elizabeth spotted Saoirse marching back through the reception area.

  ‘Oh, by the way, I forgot to ask you for a loan of a few euros.’ Her voice was gentler. It always was when she wanted something.

  Elizabeth’s heart sank. ‘How much?’

  Saoirse shrugged her shoulders. ‘Fifty.’

  Elizabeth rooted in her bag. ‘You still staying at the B&B?’

  Saoirse nodded.

  She pulled out fifty euro and paused before handing it over. ‘What’s it for?’

  ‘Drugs, Elizabeth, lots and lots of drugs,’ Saoirse said smartly.

  Elizabeth’s shoulders dropped, ‘I just meant—’

  ‘Groceries – you know, bread, milk, toilet paper. That kind of thing.’ She swiped the crisp note out of Elizabeth’s hand. ‘Not all of us wipe our arses on silk, you know.’ She lifted a swatch of material from the desk and tossed it at her.

  The door banged shut behind her as Elizabeth stood alone in the centre of her office and watched the black piece of silk effortlessly drift to the white carpet.

  She knew what it felt like to fall.

  Chapter 10

  A few hours later, Elizabeth shut down her computer, tidied her desk for the twentieth time and left her office for the day. Becca and Poppy stood together staring into space. Elizabeth turned to see what kept their attention. ‘It’s doing it again,’ Poppy sang nervously.

  They all watched the chair spinning around unaided.

  ‘You think it’s Mr Bracken?’ Becca asked quietly.

  Poppy imitated Mrs Bracken’s voice. ‘Chair- spinning isn’t what Mr Bracken would have wanted.’

  ‘Don’t worry, girls,’ Elizabeth said, trying not to laugh. ‘I’ll get Harry in tomorrow to fix it. You two head off home.’

  After saying their goodbyes Elizabeth continued to stare at the chair spinning in silence. She neared it slowly, inch by inch. As she got very close to it, it stopped spinning.

  ‘Chicken,’ Elizabeth muttered.

  She looked about to ensure she was alone and slowly she grabbed the handles of the chair and lowered herself into it. Nothing happened. She bounced up and down a few times, looked to the sides and under the seat and still nothing happened. Just as she was about to get up and leave, the chair began to move. Slowly at first, then gradually it began to pick up speed. Feeling nervous, she contemplated leaping off but as it spun faster and faster she began to giggle. Louder and louder she laughed, the faster it went. Her sides ached. She couldn’t remember the last time she had felt so young, legs up, feet out, hair blowing in the breeze. Eventually, after a few moments, it slowed to a stop and Elizabeth caught her breath.

  Her smile slowly faded and the childish laughing in her head began to die down. All she was left with was complete silence in the abandoned office. She began to hum and her eye scanned across Poppy’s disorganised desk of books of material, paint sample tubs, sketches and house interior magazines. Her eye fell upon a gold photo frame. In it was a photograph of Poppy, her two sisters, three brothers and parents, all squeezed together on a couch like a football team. The resemblance between them was obvious. They had little button noses and green eyes that narrowed to slits when they laughed. In the corner of the frame was a strip of passport photos of Poppy and her boyfriend, both of them making faces to the ca
mera in the first three of them. But the fourth was of them staring lovingly into each other’s eyes. A moment between them eternally caught on camera.

  Elizabeth stopped humming and swallowed. She had known that look once.

  She continued to stare at the frame, trying not to remember those times but, again, she lost the battle, drowning in the sea of memories that flooded her mind.

  She began to sob. Quiet whimpers at first that soon exited her mouth as pain-filled wails from the depths of her heart. She could hear her own hurt. Each tear was a call for help that had never been answered before, and that she didn’t expect to be answered now. And that made her cry even more.

  Elizabeth marked off another day on her calendar with a red pen. Her mother had been gone for exactly three weeks this time. Not the longest amount of time so far but long enough for Elizabeth. She hid the calendar under her bed and got into bed. She had been sent to her room by her father three hours ago as he had grown tired of her excited pacing in front of the living-room window. Since then she had been battling to keep her eyes open. She needed to fight sleep so that she wouldn’t miss her mother returning. Those were the best times because her mother would be in one of her happy moods, delighted to be home, telling Elizabeth how much she’d missed her, smothering her with hugs and kisses so much that Elizabeth couldn’t remember ever feeling sad.

  Her mother would float through the rooms of the house almost as if her feet weren’t touching the ground. Her words were big whispers of excitement, her voice so hushed making Elizabeth feel that every word her mother breathed was their big secret. Her eyes glistened and danced with delight as she told her daughter of her adventures and who she’d met along the way. Elizabeth certainly did not want to miss all that while she was sleeping.

  Elizabeth jumped out of bed again and splashed ice-cold water over her face from the sink in her room. Stay awake, Elizabeth, stay awake, she told herself. She propped her pillows up against the wall and sat up straight on her bed, staring out through the open curtains and out to the dark road that led into blackness. She had no doubt that her mother would be back tonight because she had promised her. And she just had to keep that promise because it was Elizabeth’s tenth birthday the next day and she wouldn’t miss that. Only weeks ago she had promised her that they would eat cakes, buns and all the sweets they wanted. And they’d have balloons of all Elizabeth’s favourite colours that they’d bring out into the field, let them go and watch fly away up to the clouds. Elizabeth hadn’t stopped thinking of it since her mother had left. Her mouth watered for fairy cakes with pretty pink icing, and she dreamed of pink balloons attached to white ribbons floating up to the blue sky above. And the day was almost here, no more waiting!

  She picked up Charlotte’s Web, a book she had been reading at night to keep herself awake and she turned on her torch as her father wouldn’t let her keep the lights on past eight. A few pages in and her eyelids grew heavy and started to droop. She slowly closed her eyes, only intending to rest them for a little while. Every night she fought sleep because it was always sleep that allowed her mother to slip away into the night and it was sleep that missed her big arrivals. Even when her mother was home she fought it, instead choosing to stay outside her door, sometimes watching her sleep, other times protecting her and guarding her from leaving. Even the rare times that she did sleep, her dreams shouted at her to wake up as though she was doing wrong. People were always commenting to her father that she was too young for the dark circles under her eyes.

  The book fell away from Elizabeth’s hands and she was lost to the world of sleep.

  The front gate creaked.

  Elizabeth’s eyes shot open to the brightness of the early morning and her heart beat wildly. She heard the crunching of footsteps over gravel as they approached the front door. Elizabeth’s heart did cartwheels across her chest with delight. Her mother hadn’t forgotten her; she knew she wouldn’t have missed her birthday.

  She leaped out of bed and did a little dance around her room, not knowing whether or not to open the door for her mother or to allow her to make the grand entrance she loved doing so much. She ran out into the hall in her nightdress. She could see the blurry image of a body through the rippled glass of the front door. She hopped from foot to foot with nervousness and excitement.

  Elizabeth’s father’s bedroom door opened. She turned to face him with a grin. He gave her a small smile and leaned against the doorframe, watching the door. Elizabeth turned her head back to the door, twisting her hem of her nightdress in her little hands. The letter box opened. Two white envelopes slid through and landed on the stone floor. The figure at the door began to fade again. The gate creaked and closed.

  Elizabeth dropped the hem of her nightdress from her hands and stopped hopping. She suddenly felt the cold of the stone floor.

  She slowly picked up the envelopes. Both were addressed to her and her heart quickened again. Maybe her mother hadn’t forgotten, after all. Maybe she had got so caught up in one of her adventures that she couldn’t make it home in time and had to explain it all in a letter. She opened the envelopes, careful not to rip the paper that could contain precious words from her mother.

  Both were birthday cards from distant, dutiful relatives.

  Her shoulders slumped and her heart fell. She turned to face her father and shook her head slowly. His face darkened and he stared angrily into the distance. They caught eyes again and for a moment, a rare moment, Elizabeth and he shared the same knowing feeling and Elizabeth didn’t feel so alone any more. She took a step forward to give him a hug.

  But he turned away and closed his door behind him.

  Elizabeth’s bottom lip trembled. There were no fairy cakes or buns that day. The pink balloons floating up towards the clouds remained nothing but dreams. And Elizabeth learned that imagining and fantasising did nothing but break her heart.

  Chapter 11

  The hissing of the water boiling over onto the cooker brought Elizabeth sharply back to the present. She raced across the kitchen to lift the pot off the hob and lowered the heat. She poked at the steamed chicken and vegetables, wondering where her head was today.

  ‘Luke, dinner,’ she called.

  She had collected Luke from her father’s after work, although she had been in absolutely no mood to drive down that road after sobbing in her office. She hadn’t cried in years. She didn’t know what was happening to her over the last few days. Her mind just kept drifting, and she never drifted. She always stayed the same, had stable, controlled thoughts and was always constant, never stopped. Nothing at all like her behaviour today at the office.

  Luke shuffled into the kitchen, already dressed in his Spiderman pyjamas. He stared sadly at the table. ‘You didn’t set a place for Ivan again.’

  Elizabeth opened her mouth to protest but stopped herself in time, remembering the advice the websites had given. ‘Oh, didn’t I?’

  Luke looked at her in surprise.

  ‘Sorry, Ivan,’ she said, taking out a third plate. What a waste of food, she thought spooning broccoli, cauliflower and potatoes onto his plate. ‘I’m sure he doesn’t like chicken so this will have to do.’ She placed the plate of leftover vegetables down opposite her.

  Luke shook his head. ‘No, he said he really does like chicken.’

  ‘Let me guess,’ Elizabeth said, cutting a corner off her own, ‘chicken’s his favourite.’

  Luke smiled. ‘He says it’s his favourite kind of poultry.’

  ‘Right.’ Elizabeth rolled her eyes. She watched Ivan’s plate, wondering how on earth Luke was going to manage to eat a second plate of vegetables. It was difficult enough trying to get him to eat his own.

  ‘Ivan said he had fun in your office today,’ Luke said, forking broccoli into his mouth, chewing quickly and making a face in disgust. He swallowed quickly and gulped back some milk.

  ‘Did he?’ Elizabeth smiled. ‘What was so fun about my office?’

  ‘He liked the chair-spinning,’ he r
eplied as he speared a baby potato.

  Elizabeth stopped chewing and stared at Luke. ‘What do you mean?’

  Luke popped the potato into his mouth and munched. ‘He says spinning around in Poppy’s chair is his favourite.’

  Elizabeth for once ignored the fact that he was speaking with his mouth full. ‘Did you speak to Poppy today?’ Luke loved Poppy and sometimes chatted to her when Edith called the office to check a detail with Elizabeth. He knew Elizabeth’s office number by heart – she had insisted he learn it as soon as he learned his numbers – so it was quite possible he might have called, missing his little chats with her while Edith was away. That must have been it, she thought, relieved.

  ‘Nope.’

  ‘Did you speak to Becca?’

  ‘Nope.’

  The chicken suddenly tasted like cardboard in her mouth. She swallowed it quickly and put down her knife and fork. She watched Luke eat, lost in thought. Ivan’s plate went untouched unsurprisingly.

  ‘Did you speak to Saoirse today?’ She studied his face. She wondered if Saoirse’s little role-play in her office earlier had anything to do with Luke’s new obsession with Ivan. Knowing her sister as well as she did, she would have continued to taunt her had she found out about an invisible friend.

  ‘Nope.’

  Perhaps it was just a coincidence. Perhaps Luke was just guessing about the chair-spinning. Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps. Where had all her certainties suddenly gone?

  ‘Don’t play with your vegetables, Luke. Ivan told me to tell you that they are good for you.’ She may as well use the Ivan situation to her advantage.

  Luke started laughing.

  ‘What’s so funny?’