The Space Between Us Read online

  After she’d left the removal men, Eve returned to her apartment, head pounding. She put two painkillers in a glass and poured water over them. She swished them around and didn’t notice the water spill over the top of the glass until she slipped on it. That’s all I need. To be alone in this place with a broken leg. When the tablets had dissolved, she drank them. She felt hot even though it wasn’t a particularly warm day. The gleaming white porcelain tiles were cool under her feet. She rested the glass on the counter and sat on the floor in the lotus position. She stretched her arms over her head and leaned forward, resting her face on the tiles and hugging herself.

  An hour later she was dancing around the kitchen, trying to shake off a particularly intense bout of pins and needles, when the phone rang. It was Ben and he sounded down. He’d had a massive fight with his wife and she’d stormed off to her mother’s for the night. He wanted to come over. The headache had subsided, it was the first phone call she’d received in three days, she was lonely and bored and had missed him: she agreed enthusiastically. Yipeeeeeee, Ben’s coming!

  She took a long shower and dried her hair. She put on her lucky underwear, sprayed herself with perfume and put on one of her two dresses, a black jersey wrap that was comfortable and easy to take off. She really, really hoped that Ben wasn’t wanting to discuss her business proposals but was looking for a little distraction.

  If Eve could have known how things would turn out, she would have told Ben to chase after his wife. She’d have told him never to contact her again. She’d have hung up on him. But that had always been Eve’s problem: she spent little time thinking of consequences.

  2. Will the real Lily Donovan please stand up?

  Wednesday, 4 July 1990

  4.30 p.m.

  Dear Eve,

  Holy moly, I can’t believe you spoke to Glenn Medeiros! I laughed hard when you asked him what he wanted and he pointed to his bike. Still, it’s curious that he just blurted out that he likes you. I mean that takes real guts. I like that. He’s been looking at you for ages so it was obvious, but seriously, how ballsy do you have to be just to come out with it, especially to a girl like you? And you know what I mean by that. And yes, bringing up his perm, blouses and bad poetry wasn’t necessarily the best thing you could have done but at least you didn’t reduce him to tears so that’s good. I’m proud of you. Speaking of which I cannot believe that you kissed Gar AGAIN – what is wrong with you? And yes, I promise I won’t give out although I’m itching to. I’m glad you’ve decided to stay away from him for good and glory, and please do, regardless of how many bottles of Ritz you’ve drunk. And when you’re breaking his heart please remember he’s soft and he’s still into you so please DO NOT mention that you think he kisses like a goose or whatever it is you say. Just tell him that you’ve thought about it, and as you are going to London in September and he’s going to Dublin, you think you’d both be better off staying as friends and leave it at that. Don’t expand. OK?

  Things are really improving here. I’m way happier than I was when I arrived. The restaurant is lovely. The people are really cool. It’s always packed so the hours just fly by and the tips are really, really good. I work six nights a week but it’s only from 6 p.m. to 11.30 p.m. and then we all have a few drinks in the back kitchen. There’s a local late bar and a nightclub and they’re both a great laugh. I’ve become really good friends with two of the staff around my age. Ellen is nineteen, she’s just finished her first year in college in Cork and has so many stories. I know you’re annoyed I’m following Declan there in the autumn but he’s desperate to go to Cork, and Trinity would be awful without him and I seriously don’t know why you care so much. You’re going to be in London and now I’ll know Ellen which is fantastic. Colm is seventeen – he’s going into Leaving Cert next year. You’d love him – he’s six foot four and built like a brick shithouse. He has dark hair and brown eyes and he’s so funny. Honestly, I laugh all the time. He’s a Gaelic footballer (don’t make bogger jokes) but he’s supposed to be very good at it.

  You know me, I’m an early bird so I’m doing a lot of reading in the mornings. I borrowed Ned Linney’s first-year biology, physics and chemistry books. Ned’s the son of the woman who lives on the hill – the posh one that my mum cleans for? Well, he’s a medical student (third year) and the books are OK, I’m getting through them. (I know I’m boring!) Aside from reading during the day, I meet Colm and Ellen for coffee at around eleven and then if it’s a nice day we buy sandwiches and head down to the beach where we pretty much hang out all day. If it’s dull or raining we go to Ellen’s and listen to music and talk about this and that. And I know it’s been raining up there a lot but down here it’s mostly sunny, which is amazing. You should see me – I’m so dark my own mother wouldn’t recognize me. By the way, have you seen her? I’ve tried to call a few times but she’s never there.

  Speaking of my colour and regarding my absent father, I would never ever ask him for a single penny. It’s out of the question so please never ever bring it up again. Besides, I’m making really good money here but still, Eve, I have to stay for the whole summer. I need to make as much as I can and I know it’s hard but there’s nothing I can do about it. I’m really sorry. I do really miss you and I know you’d love Ellen and Colm and they would love you.

  Look, there’s one more thing and it’s a bit sensitive. I know I promised I’d ring you once a week but I have only allotted so much money for the public phone and, well, Declan is suffering up there without me. He has begged me to phone him every day and he talks and talks and it’s costing a fortune so I can’t afford to call you too. So how about we stick to our letters? You write to me every Sunday and I’ll write to you every Wednesday? I know it’s not ideal and please don’t give out about Declan – you know what he’s like and I do love him so please understand.

  OK, I’d better go. I’m in work soon and Colm is coming to collect me. Oh, that’s another thing – please don’t mention that I’m friends with Colm to Declan. I know it sounds strange and I’m sure he wouldn’t mind but he’s so upset I don’t want him to think that there’s anything going on because there’s not and he’s having a hard enough time with me being down here anyway so I don’t want to make it worse for him. Thanks.

  I miss you too and I love you and I promise we’ll have many more summers together.

  Lily XXXOOOXXXOOO

  PS Be nice to Glenn Medeiros and DO NOT KISS GAR AGAIN.

  PPS Forgot to answer you on Young Guns 2. Can’t believe you’d go for Emilio Estevez first and Lou Diamond Phillips second – are you nuts? In fact my list is the direct opposite of yours.

  1. Christian Slater (I love the way he talks)

  2. Kiefer Sutherland (in brown leather, are you nuts???)

  3. Lou Diamond Phillips (all right, but I wouldn’t be running after him)

  4. Emilio Estevez (he’ll always be the weirdo Kirby Keger to me)

  But that’s probably a good thing – at least we’ll never fight over men. XXX

  Lily always woke at seven a.m. on the dot, regardless of the time she had fallen into bed. Seven a.m. struck and – bing – Lily Donovan was awake. She often tried to fight it but in the end her restless legs and busy brain won out and she rose to face the long day ahead. Lily’s husband Declan said that Lily was keenly in tune with her body. He declared it to be a good thing but she disagreed. Sometimes she wished her brain and body could disengage for a short time. Even in sleep she was restless, which meant that more often than not her husband abandoned the bed in favour of the spare room. She liked it when he was gone and enjoyed every second of having the bed to herself, stretching out unencumbered and free.

  On 1 July 2010 Lily woke up in a bad mood. She was fighting her mind and body and stubbornly keeping her eyes tightly shut and her breathing even.

  Declan was walking around the room. The clock hit 7:01 and he started to whistle. ‘I know you’re awake,’ he said.

  ‘Asleep.’

  ‘
Awake.’ He threw a cushion at her.

  ‘Fine.’

  She moved to stand and her insides ached. When he leaned over to kiss her she battled the urge to push him away. She didn’t need to: he ruffled her hair and told her that her breath needed freshening. He continued whistling in the shower and while he dried himself off. She swung her feet out of the bed and threw her head back so that she could stare at the ceiling as she had the night before. Morning, ceiling. Any new cracks? No? Good for you.

  The previous evening Declan had returned home in a good mood. He’d had no surgeries scheduled and, miracle of miracles, nothing unexpected had come in. He’d had time to catch up on paperwork and with patients’ charts. He was energized and frisky. She knew it the second he walked in the door. He winked at her and was all over her while she was trying to put his dinner on the table. She didn’t mind as it had been a while – and if he didn’t initiate sex they didn’t have it. That was for two reasons: 1. If he didn’t initiate it he didn’t want it and was turned off by her advances. 2. She hadn’t particularly enjoyed sex in many years.

  Lily figured it was an age thing. She and Declan had been together so long it was bound to be boring and predictable, and when it wasn’t it seemed so contrived. Sometimes when he was most turned on she was uncomfortable or it was sore. The previous night had been both uncomfortable and sore. He had secured her to the bed with some stupid handcuffs he’d been given as a joke Christmas present. The headboard was high and Lily was so short that she was dangling, which hurt her shoulders and wrists. Also, her head banged against the headboard as he thrust into her, and she felt as if he was tearing her inside out. She didn’t complain because, if she had, one of two things would have happened: he would have banged the wall and stormed off, leaving her in the handcuffs until his huff had worn off (God knew how long that would have taken), or he’d have ignored her and kept going – at least when he did that he came quicker. The previous night she made all the sounds he expected to hear and, although it wasn’t over as soon as she’d hoped for, she knew it would be a while before she had to endure that particular brand of passion again.

  She got up and moved around, stretching her arms out in front of her. Her left shoulder was aching. Damn it, I’ve pulled something. Lily didn’t have time for injury so she decided to ignore it in the hope that it would go away. She brushed her teeth, got into the shower and idly dreamt of drowning under it. Lily wasn’t a negative person – in fact, she was known to all who loved her as Little Miss Sunshine. She arrived back into the bedroom in a towel in time to greet Declan, who appeared from their walk-in wardrobe fully dressed and smelling of her favourite aftershave. He was handsome when he wasn’t ripping her apart.

  ‘Hey, Lily, why don’t we take a break this month? Maybe we could head to Paris or Rome. What do you think?’

  ‘We’re both too busy.’

  ‘You’re probably right. Maybe when things slow down.’ He pulled her into him and kissed her. ‘Last night was great.’

  ‘Yeah, it was,’ she agreed, and when she moved away he grabbed her arm to pull her back to him. She moaned a little.

  ‘Are you all right?’ he asked, filled with concern.

  ‘I’m fine.’ She pulled him close and kissed him deeply. ‘Everything’s fine.’

  ‘Last night really was amazing,’ he said again, grinning from ear to ear. ‘I love it when you’re bad.’

  Yeah, well, I wish to hell you were any good. Lily smiled, wishing he’d shut up and go away. She had too much to do and was far too tired and sore to pretend her husband was anything other than, at best, mediocre in bed and, at worst, horrible. Still, there’s more to marriage than sex.

  In the kitchen, Lily’s nineteen-year-old son Scott and her twelve-year-old daughter Daisy sat at the table with their father, drinking juice and waiting patiently to be served. Declan was reading the newspaper. Scott was staring into space and Daisy was practising her piano scales on the table. Lily wasn’t sure why her children were up at seven thirty: Scott had just finished his college exams and Daisy was usually a late sleeper.

  ‘What’s this about?’ she asked.

  ‘I’m looking for a job,’ Scott said.

  ‘I’m going to practise for my piano recital. Are you coming, Dad?’

  ‘When is it, Princess?’ he asked.

  ‘Tomorrow.’ She pointed to the large circle on the calendar.

  ‘We’ll see,’ he said. Everyone at the table knew it was unlikely so they moved on without a fuss.

  ‘I’m impressed,’ Lily said to Scott.

  ‘Yeah, well, the early bird,’ he said. ‘Besides, every guy in my year is looking so the competition’s fierce.’

  ‘You’ll get something,’ Lily said.

  ‘In this economy, you’ll be lucky,’ Declan said.

  ‘Don’t be so negative,’ she said, smiling. ‘Who could say no to that cute face?’ She walked over to the oven and turned it on.

  Declan put down his paper and rubbed his hands together. ‘What do you fancy, kids? Omelettes? A mixed grill? How about Eggs Benedict? I think I’ll have that.’

  Scott wanted a mixed grill and Daisy wanted a plain omelette, so Lily got to work boiling the water for Declan’s poached eggs, whisking eggs and pouring them into the frying-pan for Daisy and putting the various meats and puddings under the grill for her son. She was making Hollandaise sauce for the Eggs Benedict when Declan received a call from the hospital. It was an emergency case so he didn’t have time for his breakfast. He left his paper on the table and picked up a piece of fruit from the bowl. ‘Damn it, I was looking forward to that,’ he said, before kissing her cheek.

  He ran out of the door and Lily binned the sauce, then dished up the mixed grill and the omelette. She sat with them at the table and drank coffee while they ate. This had been her morning ritual for as long as she could remember. At some point after the kids were born Lily’s meals had been reduced from three to two and sometimes one, depending on how busy she was.

  ‘I was thinking maybe Granddad might let me work in his garage,’ Scott said, when he was halfway through his breakfast.

  ‘Oh, I don’t know,’ Lily said.

  ‘Can’t I ask?’ He knew the answer, which was why he hadn’t brought it up in front of his father.

  ‘You know how your dad feels about his father.’

  ‘It’s a job and you heard him – they’re hard to come by in this economy. I don’t want to go to college without a cent in my pocket.’

  ‘That won’t happen.’

  ‘He worked there when he was my age and I know Granddad would love to have me. It’s only down the road in the car.’

  ‘I’ve talked to your dad about a reasonable allowance,’ she said.

  ‘I don’t want to rely on you for everything. Look, I know he doesn’t get on with Granddad but I do.’

  ‘And that’s great.’

  ‘So?’

  ‘I’ll talk to Dad.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Really.’

  ‘Thanks, Mum.’ He put down his knife and fork and headed up the stairs, taking off his T-shirt as he went.

  Lily walked out of the kitchen and watched him go, her hands on her hips. ‘I thought you were going out looking for a job,’ she said.

  ‘Well, let’s see what Dad says about me working for Granddad first,’ he said, grinning.

  ‘You’ve already discussed this with your grandfather, haven’t you?’

  He nodded, then ran back to bed. She smiled to herself. Scott knew how to play both his parents but his mother especially. You’d make a good politician, son. You’re just about sneaky enough.

  Daisy was always a slow eater – even as a baby she’d taken hours to feed. She played with her food and nibbled tiny morsels but she’d never leave a plate with food on it. Everyone else in the family would be on dessert while she’d still be on her starter. It was just the way she was. Lily sat down with her daughter and poured herself a second cup of coffee. Between m
outhfuls Daisy practised her invisible scales and hummed a little. Lily hummed along and mimicked her daughter’s hands until they appeared to be playing the piece together.

  ‘Perfect,’ Lily said.

  Daisy was very like her mother in that she demanded perfection from herself and didn’t tolerate failure. She wasn’t as naturally intelligent as Lily, or as gifted, but she had brains, talent and her father’s drive, which more than compensated. She continued to pick at her omelette and told Lily a story about a boy in her class who had been mean to her and a few of her friends and was now in care. ‘It’s awful, isn’t it, Mum?’

  ‘Terrible.’

  ‘He was horrible to Tess – he even threatened to pull down her tracksuit bottoms.’

  ‘But he didn’t. Did he?’

  ‘No, but she was freaked and walked around holding them up all day.’

  ‘He sounds like a nasty piece of work.’

  ‘He is, but Tess says his father used to beat him.’

  ‘That’s no excuse.’

  ‘He broke his arm once.’

  ‘He could have broken his back – it still doesn’t give him the right to go around pulling girls’ tracksuits down.’

  ‘OK. Take a chill pill, Mum.’

  Lily laughed. ‘ “Chill pill”! Who do you think you are? The Fresh Princess of Bel Air?’

  ‘I don’t even know who that is,’ Daisy said. She finished her omelette and handed her plate to her mother, who took it without comment.

  Daisy got up and went into the dining room to play the piano for real and Lily got busy cleaning the kitchen. She knew she’d been obtuse about the poor boy who had gone into care. After all, he hadn’t pulled down Tess’s tracksuit and clearly he had a very difficult life, but she was sick of everyone making excuses for bad behaviour. Bad things happened to people every day and it was no excuse to become selfish or twisted, violent or sinister. Lily believed in turning a frown upside-down and she couldn’t understand why others didn’t do the same. Lily had always been that way, even though she had grown up with a woman who had resented her for being born.