Page 84 of The Rebound
“I’m so sorry, Louise.”
“Sometimes when I see a family I just…” she trails off, and I remember back to Roman’s when I first came home. The odd expression on her face when the toddler began to cry. I’d put it down to annoyance at the time but now I wonder if it was something entirely different. “And I can’t tell anyone,” she continues.
“Of course you can.”
“I can’t. It’s not talked about. Even now. Mam is dying for a grandchild. I told her we’re waiting, but I don’t know how long I can keep using that excuse. And there are websites and forums and stuff but they’re mostly for people with actual problems and I feel bad invading their space and—” She takes a breath, shutting herself up. “I know there are people with bigger issues. I know that we’re lucky we’re healthy and we have a house and jobs and each other but I just… I want…”
My hearts breaks at the sudden yearning her face, a vulnerability I’ve never seen on her before.
“Why am I telling you this?” she asks suddenly. “Did you drug my water?”
“Maybe it’s the dramatic vista,” I say. “Or maybe it’s because you really do need to talk about it.”
“But with you?”
I laugh at the doubt in her voice. “I’m a good sister.”
“You’re fine.” But she’s smiling now. “Don’t tell Mam, okay? Thirty-three years old and I’m still worried about disappointing her.”
“It’s not your fault. You know she’d hate it if you thought that.”
“Look who’s talking.”
“Fair.” I tug my shoe back on, lacing it tight before reaching for my phone. “You could get a dog.”
Louise snorts. “Don’t. Tomasz would love one.”
“And you wouldn’t? You have the space.”
“Yeah, and who’s going to be the one to look after it? Plus it’s expensive. What if it gets sick?”
“You need to stop thinking about money.”
“That’s all I think about. That’s all anyone thinks about when you don’t have enough of it. You should know that by now.” She nudges my foot. “How’s the blister?”
“Okay. Rubbing a bit but…” I lose my train of thought, staring at my screen and the notification staring up at me.
A missed call from a Dublin number.
A second later another notification appears as if I summoned it. A voicemail.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” I say faintly. “Missed call. I better ring them back.”
“Sure,” Louise says as Jess finally returns, drawing her in for a selfie.
I leave them to it and walk a few steps away as I click into the voice message, holding the phone tight to my ear.
Hi, Abby. This is Caroline, calling from Stewarts. I’m just ringing in relation to your recent application for our associate post. If you could give me a ring back on this number, that would be great. I’m going to send you an email now too. Speak soon.
I listen to it a second time, the words just audible over the noise of the wind. My heart starts to thump, suddenly nervous, and I don’t even think as I call the number back.
It rings and rings without connecting.
“You won’t get any signal up here,” Louise calls from behind me. “Try down there.”
I turn without answering and go down a few meters to a small rocky outcrop. Another try and this time it connects.
