Chapter Twenty-Five

“what’s wrong?” a voice called from the back patio door.

Elizabeth was sitting at the kitchen table, head in her hands, as still as Muckross Lake on a calm day.

“Jesus,” Elizabeth said under her breath, not looking up but wondering

how it was that Ivan always managed to appear at the moments when she

least expected him, but needed him most.

“Jesus? Has he been giving you a hard time?” He stepped into the

kitchen.

Elizabeth looked up from her hands. “It’s actually his father I’m having an issue with right now.”

Ivan took another step toward her; he had the ability to overstep the

boundaries, but never in a threatening or intrusive way. “I hear that a lot.”

Elizabeth wiped her eyes with a mascara-stained crumpled tissue.

“Don’t you ever work?”

“I work all the time. May I?” He gestured to the chair opposite her.

She nodded. “All the time? So is this work for you? Am I just another

hopeless case for you to deal with today?” she asked sarcastically, catching a tear halfway down her cheek with the tissue.

“There’s nothing hopeless about you, Elizabeth, however, you are a

case; I’ve already told you that,” he said seriously.

She laughed. “A headcase.”

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Ivan looked sad. Misunderstood again.

“So, is that your uniform?” She nodded at his attire.

Ivan looked down at himself in surprise.

“You’ve been wearing that outfit every day I’ve seen you.” She

smiled. “So it’s either a uniform or you’re completely unhygienic and

lack imagination.”

Ivan’s eyes widened. “Oh, Elizabeth, I don’t lack imagination at all.”

Elizabeth laughed wearily.

Not realizing what he had implied, Ivan continued, “Do you want to

talk about why you are so sad?”

Elizabeth shook her head. “No, we’re always talking about me and my

problems. Let’s talk about you for a change. What did you do today?” she asked, trying to perk herself up. It had seemed like such a long time since she had kissed Ivan on the main street that morning. She had thought about it all day and had worried about who had seen her, but amazingly, for a town that learned of everything quicker than Sky News, nobody had mentioned a thing to her about the mystery man.

She had longed to kiss Ivan all day, had felt scared about that longing and tried to numb herself of feeling for him, but she couldn’t. There was something about him so pure and untarnished, yet he was powerful and

well-versed on life. He was like the drug she knew she shouldn’t take, but the drug that kept coming back to feed her addiction. As her weariness set in later in the day, the memory of the kiss had become a comfort to her and the uneasiness vanished. All she wanted now was a repeat of that moment when her troubles fizzled away.

“What did I do today?” Ivan twiddled his thumbs and thought aloud.

“Well, today I gave Baile na gCroíthe a big wake-up call, kissed a very beautiful woman, and then spent the rest of the day being unable to do anything but think of her.”

Elizabeth’s face brightened and his piercing blue eyes warmed her

heart.

“And then I couldn’t stop thinking.”

“About what?”

“Apart from the beautiful woman?” Ivan smiled.

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“Apart from her.” Elizabeth laughed.

“You don’t want to know.”

“I can take it.”

Ivan looked uncertain. “OK, if you really want to know.” He took a

deep breath. “I thought about the Borrowers.”

Elizabeth frowned. “What?”

“The Borrowers,” Ivan repeated, looking thoughtful.

“The television program,” Elizabeth said, feeling irate. She had pre-

pared herself for whispers of sweet nothings, like in the movies, not this un-scripted loveless conversation.

“Yes.” Ivan rolled his eyes, not noticing her tone. “If you want to refer to that commercial side of them.” He sounded angry. “But I thought long and hard about it and I’ve come to the conclusion that they didn’t borrow.

They stole. They downright stole and everybody knows it, but nobody ever talks about it. To borrow means to take and use something belonging to

someone else and then eventually return it. I mean, when did they ever give anything back? I don’t recall Peagreen Clock ever giving anything back to the Lenders at all, do you? Especially the food, how can you borrow food?

You eat it and it’s gone, there’s no giving it back; at least when I eat your dinner you know where it’s going.” He sat back and folded his arms, looking cross. “And they get a film made about them, a bunch of thieves, while us?

We do nothing but good, but we get labeled a figment of people’s imaginations and are still”—he made a face and made inverted commas with his fingers—“invisible. Please.” He rolled his eyes.

Elizabeth stared at him openmouthed.

There was a long silence as Ivan looked around the kitchen, shaking his head in anger, and then returned his attention to Elizabeth. “What?”

Silence.

“Oh, it doesn’t matter.” He waved his hand dismissively. “I told you,

you wouldn’t want to know. So, enough about my problems, please tell me what’s happened?”

Elizabeth took a deep breath, the question of Saoirse distracting her

from the confusing talk of the Borrowers. “Saoirse has disappeared. Joe, the man with his finger on the pulse of Baile na gCroíthe, told me she

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headed off with the group of people she was hanging out with. He heard it from a family member of a guy from the group she’s with, but she’s been gone for three days and no one seems to know where they’ve gone.”

“Oh,” Ivan said in surprise. “And here I am rattling off my problems.

Did you tell the Gardaí?”

“I had to,” she said sadly. “I felt like a snitch, but they had to know she was gone just in case she didn’t turn up for her hearing in a few weeks, which I’m almost sure she won’t be at. I’ll have to get a solicitor to go on her behalf, which won’t look very good.” She rubbed her face tiredly.

He took her hands and cradled them in his own. “She’ll be back,” he

said confidently. “Maybe not for the hearing, but she’ll come back. Believe me. There’s no need to worry.” His voice was soft, but firm.

Elizabeth stared deep into his eyes, searching for the truth, and smiled sadly. “I believe you.” But deep down, Elizabeth was afraid; she was afraid of believing Ivan, afraid of believing at all. When that happened, her hopes were raised up the flagpole, waving and blowing in the breeze for all to see, and there they would weather the storms and winds, only to be lowered tattered and ruined.

And she didn’t think she could spend any more years with her bed-

room curtains open, with one eye on the road waiting for a second person to return. She was weary and she needed to close her eyes.

Date: 2015-04-20; view: 463