Page 46 of Secrets in the Snow
‘We should probably make a move,’ he says when he eventually turns back to face me, both of us lost in thought and dreading the inevitable as the clock ticks away our time together for now. ‘I need to be on the road to the airport by three.’
‘I suppose so,’ I say, as a weight of sorrow engulfs me from head to toe.
Sensing my despair, he sits down beside me again and I cling on to his jumper, grasping it tightly, allowing my fears to disintegrate if only for as long as this final moment lasts. I close my eyes and quickly drift off to a time when I dreamed that someone might love me enough to hold me every time I felt down. And I cry for how I wasn’t sure I’d ever find that in real life. I was convinced that such tenderness and contentment were for other people, but never for me, and now that I have it at last, I don’t ever want to let it go.
‘You’re not making this very easy, Roisin,’ Aidan tells me, and when I look up at him, I see his beautiful eyes are so far away from me, and it stings so deeply. ‘Please don’t make this any harder than it already is. I’ve so much going on in my head and I just want to get this over and done with.’
‘I know, I know, I’m just sad,’ I say, standing up and blowing out a deep breath to shift some energy. ‘But let’s treat it like removing a sticky plaster, yeah? The quicker it happens, the less painful it will be and the sooner it’s over.’
‘I suppose so,’ he says, standing up to join me, then calling out across the sand to the boys. ‘Ben, Gino, you call that flying a kite? Come here and let me show you. You need to untangle the string for a start. Ah, lads, come on!’
And in a case of ‘one for the road’, Aidan spends a last few precious moments with Ben on the beach, which makes me fill up with warmth and tear up at the same time.
We are going to miss him so, so much, but like I thought earlier, it really feels as though he has already gone. His head most definitely is already gone, and I just hope he decides to leave his heart behind.
After a brief but impressive lesson in kite flying which made Ben and Gino whoop with sheer delight, we make our way back from the beach to the cosiness of Ballybray. We drive through the village, past Cleary’s Bar and Truly Vintage, past the corner shop and the various little stores of all shapes and colours and on to the familiarity of Teapot Row, and I try desperately to stay positive about what lies ahead.
As we approach the two little cottages where we’ve made so much history between us I feel an unexpected sense of calm at last. We’ve come through so much together in a relatively short space of time and have such an unbreakable bond, so I know deep down I’ve no need to panic over a few months apart.
At least that’s what I’m going to have to keep telling myself, isn’t it?
We’ll miss each other, yes, but today is most definitely going to be an ‘au revoir’ more than a goodbye, even though we don’t know how long our parting will be.
And so when we stand at the airport terminal in Dublin a few hours later, as hundreds of people bustle past us dragging wheeled cases and all sorts of luggage behind them. It’s a bittersweet moment that I decide to face with a strength I’ve gained over the years from Mabel’s wisdom and more recently from the security of Aidan’s love and friendship. I’m trying to keep a lid on the usual fear that continually simmers and bubbles somewhere within me.
‘So, I’ll see you soon, buddy!’ Aidan says to Ben when we’ve walked as far as we can through Departures at Dublin Airport. ‘And mind your mum for me, won’t you? Tell her to drive slowly and always wear her seat belt, even on short runs! Don’t be afraid to tell her off for that!’
I roll my eyes as I get the hint at my forgetfulness to wear a seat belt sometimes when driving in and around the village in my pick-up truck.
Ben fist bumps with Aidan, then high fives, and finally gives in to wrap his little arms around Aidan’s waist, which makes me swallow back emotion and have to look away.
‘I did say I was pretty hopeless at goodbyes!’ I remind him when he catches me wiping my eyes. ‘OK, just go quickly! And don’t look back, please. Just keep walking and we’ll do the same so that it’s not as painful as it could be.’
‘You’ll be fine,’ he says, kissing me quickly on the forehead. ‘I’ll keep in touch.’
‘I know you will, now go!’ I tell him, and he finally walks away and I do my best to try to ignore the lump in my throat. I paint on a smile, put my arm around Ben, who looks up at me for some reassurance, and then we both break the rules and look back to watch Aidan disappear into the distance as he reaches the sliding doors.
‘Ah man, I can’t wait until he gets back,’ Ben says, his freckled nose scrunched up as he watches the empty space where Aidan stood until now. He fixes his baseball cap and then stands up straight. ‘But we’ll be fine, Mum. I’ll look after you. I promised Aidan, and you know I never, ever break my promises.’
I don’t know whether to giggle or cry at his sweetness.
‘And I’ll look after you too, Ben,’ I say, putting my arm around him again as we walk off towards the early evening sunshine. ‘Let’s get home and do something nice, eh?’
‘Good thinking,’ says Ben, and by the time we reach the car I’m smiling through my tears knowing that we’ve just taken our first step towards a whole new life together.
But if and when a new life with Aidan will ever begin, I have absolutely no idea.
25.
Mabel’s penultimate message arrives unexpectedly on a typical Irish summer’s day in mid-August, just under two whole months after Aidan’s departure.
It’s a day when the weather can’t make its mind up between light showers and brief bursts of sunshine, but as I feel around the envelope which as before bears her very distinctive lilting handwriting, I know immediately that it isn’t a video like the previous two have been. The shape of the envelope is different for a start, and it’s delivered by registered post this time, meaning I have to sign for it, which makes me wonder with all my might what she could be up to next, and question who could be helping her to deliver these packages from beyond the grave?
‘Have you any idea where this may have come from?’ I ask Mickey, who often brings my post into my workplace these days instead of to my home address if he’s passing by and sees me. ‘I know who it’s from, but I’ve no idea where it’s being posted from.’
Mickey holds out the envelope and squints at the postmark, then puts on his glasses and takes a closer look.
‘Looks like it’s been posted locally,’ he tells me. ‘It’s bringing good news, I hope?’
