‘It’s just a few months old.’
‘A few months? Where did you get it from?’
‘Lewis sent it to me.’
‘He sent it to you?’ He couldn’t stop echoing her.
A pause. ‘We’re in touch with one another again.’
cm:
I had heard that his father wanted nothing to do with either him or Kate. After they’d divorced he’d moved to Australia, started a new life. Married again. ‘Since when, Kate?’
‘Since about twelve months ago.’
Since about when she was diagnosed with cancer. Joseph watched her, waiting for more.
‘When I thought that… well, you know what I thought might happen, I realised there were a lot of things in my life I needed to sort out. Lewis especially. So I wrote to him. He wrote back. There were a few letters, then we spoke on the phone. We’ve been ringing each other regularly for the past few months.’ She stopped there.
Joseph glanced at the photo again. ‘And how is he? Where is he? Is he still in Western Australia?’
‘No. He moved from there three years ago. He lives in South Australia now. In a wine-growing area. He lives out in the countryside, with a few vines himself. And some olive trees.’
‘And his new wife?’
‘That marriage ended. Quite a few years ago.’
‘So he’s a farmer now? Growing grapes?’
She shook her head. ‘No, he’s still an artist. He makes tables now, by hand. From wood.’ Kate took a breath. ‘Joseph, I told Lewis you’re going to Australia. He would very much like to see you. To meet you.’
‘He’s remembered he has a son? After all these years?’
‘It was never as simple as that.’
‘Wasn’t it? I thought it was exactly that simple.’
‘I wish it had been. If I could have changed any of it, I would have.’
‘Changed what? Stayed together, do you mean?’ She shook her head, looking deeply sad. ‘No, we couldn’t have done that, I’m sure of that. But perhaps this is a second chance. A chance for you to get to know him.’
‘A second chance?’ Joseph gave a hollow laugh. ‘I’m thirty-four, Kate. It’s a bit late for us to bond, isn’t it? Though we could kick a ball together, I suppose. Or go bike-riding. You know, the normal father-son activities. That would be a nice sight, wouldn’t it? Two grown men ‘ ‘Joseph ‘
‘No, it’s a bit late for that too, isn’t it? There really isn’t any point meeting him.’
‘I think there is a point, I think it’s very important.’ He shook his head. ‘After all these years? I don’t think so. In any case, this is a work trip. It’s not the right time for something like this.’
‘What would be the right time? And how much time have any of us got, to do what we want to do, what we need to do? What we should do?’
She was talking about her cancer, he knew that. He was quiet.
‘That’s why I’ve decided to go and see Lewis again myself. In a few months. Even sooner, if I can.’
‘You’re going to go to Australia?’
She nodded. ‘We need to see each other. The phone calls and letters aren’t enough for us now. I’ve always wanted to see Australia, so I’m going to go to him.’ She paused. ‘What’s happened has surprised us both, Lewis and me. It wasn’t what he expected to happen, let alone what I expected. Not so many years later. It’s funny, looks fade, you age in many ways, but I’ve discovered a sense of humour never changes.’ She gave a sudden, beautiful smile. ‘I’d forgotten the way Lewis could make me laugh.’
‘He used to make you laugh? I don’t think you ever mentioned that before.’
There was another long pause. ‘I’d forgotten it, I think.’
Joseph knew his father was an artist. He’d obviously inherited his design ability from him. Joseph knew he took after his father in appearance too. The height, the dark hair. But he hadn’t known his father had a sense of humour.
He picked up the photo from the table again. Lewis must be in his mid-sixties at least, he realised.
Kate was watching him very closely. ‘Can you extend your holiday? Take more time off work if you have to?’
He shook his head. ‘There’s too much on.’
‘But this is your first holiday in years. You haven’t been away since you and Tessa broke up, have you? Taken any time off work since then?’ He didn’t answer. ‘I’m so proud of you, Joseph, you know that. Of all your success, all you’ve done. But you seem so serious these days. Preoccupied. Working all the time. I’m worried about you.’ ‘You’ve much better things to be worried about than me.’ ‘Perhaps I have. But you’ll always be my favourite subject.’ Kate’s voice was soft. ‘Do you want to go and see Lewis?’ He felt the fight in him start to dissolve. ‘I don’t know.’ ‘You wouldn’t even have to ring him beforehand, he said. He works from home, he’s there most of the time. You could just go there when it suited you. Stay as long or as short a time as you like.’ He turned the photo over. There was an address written on the back: ‘Lewis Wheeler, Spring Farm Road, Sevenhill, Clare Valley, South Australia.’ Another moment passed. She tried again. ‘South Australia isn’t that far from Sydney, is it?’ ‘I don’t know. It’s a very big country.’ ‘But they have planes, don’t they? Trains? Cars?’ ‘I’ve only got ten days off after the conference.’ ‘It would only take one day to meet him. An hour, even.’
He smiled, despite himself. ‘You’ve an answer for everything, haven’t you?’
‘I had to have, bringing you up. Always so curious, about things, about people. “How do I do this?” “What makes this happen?” “How does this work?”’
The tension between them eased a little.
‘I know I can’t make you go there, Joseph, but I really do think it’s important. Not just for you. For me. And for Lewis.’
‘I’ll think about it. I can’t say more than that yet.’
She gave her sad smile again. ‘Then that will do for now.’
Eva RAN through Heathrow airport, cursing the weather for delaying her flight from Dublin, cursing the distance between the terminals. She wasn’t just late for her flight, she was very late. ‘Sorry,’ she called over her shoulder as she narrowly missed running into a young couple. In her mind’s eye she was competing for Ireland in the Olympics. She pictured the crowds lining her route, cheering her on. She could almost hear their shouts: Hurry, Eva, hurry, you can make it. She finally saw the sign for the right terminal. At last. Now she just had to find the right checkin desk.
Joseph stood in the queue, waiting to check in. He glanced around the terminal, hardly noticing the crowds and the bustle, still preoccupied by his
conversation with his mother. The subject of Lewis had hung heavy in the car on the way to Heathrow. As Kate dropped him outside, leaning across to hug him goodbye and wish him well, the photo of his father seemed to be burning a hole in his pocket.
At first he’d joined the business-class queue, out of habit. The desk clerk had politely pointed out the economy queue to him. ‘Unless you’d like to upgrade, sir?’
Joseph had thought about it fleetingly, remembering all the horror stories about the 22-hour flight. But he’d dismissed the idea, he needed to do this research. ‘No, thank you. Economy will be fine.’
He finally reached the checkin desk and handed over his tickets, passport and backpack. The middle aged clerk dealt charmlessly with them, hardly meeting his eye as she issued instructions. ‘London to Singapore, change planes at Singapore for Sydney. Your luggage is checked all the way through. Here are your boarding passes. Proceed directly to gate thirty-one for boarding.’
Yes, ma’am, Joseph thought, fighting a temptation to click his heels. He turned away and headed past the long queue toward the departure gates.
Eva stood in front of the banks of monitors, her heart skipping as she saw the boarding message flashing beside her flight. Oh God, which checkin
desk was it? Number fifteen. Back the other way. She turned, bumping into a dark-haired man coming from that direction. ‘Oh sorry,’ she called back over her shoulder, not daring to stop.
Joseph looked back as the woman rushed past him, her long plait bouncing against her back. She seemed quite distressed. An anxious first-time traveller, perhaps. He hitched his daypack onto his back and kept walking.
Eva counted at least ten people in the queue ahead of her. ‘Oh come on, come on, please,’ she urged under her breath. She could feel her heart beating, her blood pressure rising. She tried to calm down. She was in the right terminal, at the right desk. Everything was fine now, surely.
She mentally checked that she’d brought everything - tickets, passport, purse … She’d been doing nothing but run through lists in her mind for the past few days. She felt like entering herself in the Guinness Book of Records: ‘World’s Most Efficient Traveller - Eva Kennedy, aged thirty-one of Dublin, Ireland. Booked and packed for a holiday to Australia in less than a week.’
Meg had followed her around like a puppy, more excited than Eva herself. ‘I just think it’s deadly! Off to Australia to recover from a broken heart. And I get your whole house to myself.’
‘Meg, I don’t have a broken heart.’ She didn’t. She had an annoyed heart, not a broken one.
‘Oh, you know what I mean. Do you think you’ll have a holiday romance? To help you get over Dermot?’
‘Not unless Lainey has a few spare men tucked away in her flat for me, no, I don’t think so.’
Lainey had rung daily with travel tips. ‘Drink plenty of water during the flight so you don’t dehydrate, that causes jetlag,’ she’d advised. ‘Move your legs a lot, you don’t want to get a bloodclot. Bring your own blow-up neck pillow, the ones the airlines supply are like after-dinner mints. Be sure to eat a banana just before you land.’
Lainey hadn’t actually explained what good the banana might do. In any case, Eva had barely been able to fit in what she did want to bring without worrying about a bunch of bananas.
Ambrose had given her a big hug and wished her well. ‘With your holiday and your decision-making,’ he’d said quietly.
She reached the top of the queue at last, and handed her travel documents over with relief. ‘I’m sorry, I know I’m late, my flight from Dublin was delayed. Honestly I thought I wouldn’t make it, I can’t tell you how glad I am to see you.’
Behind the counter, the woman was ignoring her, tapping away at the keyboard, her long fingernails making rhythmic clicks against the plastic. ‘I’m sorry, madam, but that flight is fully booked.’
Eva felt a cold rush down her spine. ‘I beg your pardon?’
‘There isn’t actually a seat available on that flight at the moment.’
‘Oh please, there must be. It wasn’t my fault the plane from Dublin was delayed. My ticket has been confirmed, there must be room for me.’
Another clickety-click of fingertips on the keyboard. ‘I can get you from Singapore to Melbourne, it’s the London to Singapore leg that seems to be oversubscribed. You’re on a waiting list, there’s every chance you’ll get on.’
Waiting list? Every chance? This was some start to her big adventure. She couldn’t even get out of Heathrow. Eva started to blame herself, thinking she should have got an earlier flight from Dublin. She shouldn’t have run with this crackpot idea in the first place. She should have stayed put in Ireland for her holidays. Kilkenny was supposed to be nice this time of year No, don’t think like that. Stand up for yourself. This problem with the seat isn’t your fault. You’ve paid for your ticket. Surely they can find room for you?
Exactly. Eva had worked in the delicatessen long enough to know that politeness would get her much further than aggression. ‘I really do need to be on that plane to Australia tonight. And my luggage is already on its way through to Melbourne. Surely it
would be far too inconvenient to unload it at this stage?’ The woman sighed, looked at the queue stretching behind Eva and called over to a young man in a suit passing behind the counter. ‘Ray, can you deal with this? A seat allocation situation.’ Eva flashed the young man the biggest smile she could muster, praying that her dimple had chosen this moment to appear. She needed all the help she could get. She’d even waggle her lovely eyebrows at him if she had to. The young man looked solemnly at her, then at her ticket and passport. ‘Miss Eva Kennedy, travelling from Dublin, is that right?’ He had an American accent. She nodded. ‘I’ll take over here, Janice.’ He moved to the neighbouring computer terminal, unattended at that moment. ‘Now, Miss Kennedy, let’s see what we can do here. I’m actually hoping to get over to Ireland for a long holiday next month, when my placement here finishes. My grandmother was from Tipperary and my great-grandfather on the other side was from Offaly, he came out to the States in the 1840s …’ Oh holy God, Eva thought, fighting a growing feeling of panic. Was this really the time to hear about his family tree? She smiled fixedly as he told her about his great-aunt Tilly who had traced all his ancestors several years ago. He was certainly very
well informed. ‘It’s A Long Way To Tipperary’ started playing in her head.
The young man finally finished the story of his family tree, clicked away at the keyboard then beamed at Eva. ‘Now, ma’am, you’ll need to be quick. Take this card and run as quickly as you can to that counter down there. Ignore any queues. Just give them this and tell them Ray said they should look after you.’
She smiled in huge relief. ‘Thanks, Ray. And I hope you enjoy Ireland when you get there.’
The other counter was halfway to the end of the departure hall. She was breathless by the time she got there. ‘Ray said …’
The middle-aged woman listened to her explanation, took the card and tapped at a keyboard. ‘Yes, Miss Kennedy, we have managed to find you a seat. An upgrade. I’m sure you won’t mind. You’ll be travelling to Singapore business class this evening. Boarding through gate thirty-one at this moment. Have a good journey.’
There must have been a terrible mistake, Joseph thought. They must have accidentally put him in the children’s seats. Surely they didn’t think an adult could sit in this position for more than twenty hours? He’d come out atrophied, like one of the Pompeii earthquake victims, frozen solid in a bent position
for the rest of his life. He moved around again, trying to stretch his legs. He could hardly feel his feet and his neck was aching. And they hadn’t even taken off yet. At least he had the window seat, through some minor miracle. And the two seats beside him were free. He might manage to contort his body in such a way that he could half lie down. A loud racket at the front of the plane broke into his thoughts. Over the headrests in front of him he watched as two twenty-something males weaved their way down the aisle. One was dressed in a Princess Diana commemorative sweater, the other in a dirty yellow T-shirt bearing the slogan ‘I went to London and all I could afford was this bloody T-shirt’. Joseph ducked as one of them threw something in his direction. The object bounced into the empty seats beside him. It was an oval-shaped red leather ball. One of the pair scooped it up in big, shovel-sized hands. ‘Sorry about that, mate,’ he said in a broad Australian accent. Joseph was about to say something in return but he was already being ignored. He watched as the young man held the ball aloft while his friend took a series of photos with a battered-looking camera. ‘This footy’s been right round Europe with us,’ one of the pair explained to a harassed flight attendant. ‘How lovely,’ she said in a distracted voice.