Page 99 of The First Time I Saw You
There is a giant Irishman sitting on my sofa. A giant Irishman who tells me that Sam is here in Wales, that he should be here in my cottage, that he left hours ago.
‘Let me call Mrs McLaughlin,’ he says, pulling on a pair of glasses and punching the screen of his mobile phone with slow, deliberate movements. I offer to make us a drink, which he tells me would be grand, my lips smiling at the familiarity of his mannerisms, at the love I already feel towards this loud man. My house is filled with his voice; the depth of it throws its arms around the sofa like long-lost friends, the strength of his presence stretching into every dark nook and cranny, mending cracks and smiling at the creases hidden in the curtains.
I’m almost finished making the tea, when the elastic band begins to wrap itself around me; my focus slides towards the kitchen clock, which frowns and tells me they are coming every twenty minutes. I concentrate on the voice from the lounge: ‘Are you sure now, you’re sure he was on his way to Sophie this afternoon? And where was he getting a taxi from? Mac-what?’ I breathe slowly as the elastic begins to relax. ‘Mac-lun-uth?’
‘Machynlleth?’ I ask, returning to the lounge.
‘Our Sophie says Mak-hun-hleth?’ he repeats into the phone, my heart quickening. Our Sophie.
‘That is not what you said at all, Mrs M, it sounded nothing—’
‘That’s only half an hour away,’ I say quietly as Mr McLaughlin argues with Mrs McLaughlin. He looks up at me from his phone; his eyebrows have the same arch as Samuel’s, I notice; thicker, but each familiarity I find comforts me.
‘Our Sophie says it’s only half an hour away. Of course I’ve not rung the police yet, I thought he would be busy canoodling, didn’t I? Sophie? Yes, she’s grand, love, about ready to pop, though!’ He smiles at me, his cheeks rising, the skin around his eyes crinkling. ‘Of course she doesn’t know, do you think I’d be calling you if she did? For the love of God, woman, where are your brains?’ He holds the phone away from his ear while long-distance expletives fly across the sea and spray my lounge.
‘OK. Right-oh, I’ll give the police a bell, ask them if they’ve seen my stupid son and his friend Michael stumbling around the Welsh hills.’ He rolls his eyes at me, and a giggle erupts from my mouth. ‘I know, I know . . .’ His voice softens. ‘He’ll be grand, probably got lost and gone into a pub.’ He looks away from me and mumbles, ‘Love you too, Mrs M.’
‘Who, er, who is Michael?’ I ask as I pass him his cup.
‘Michael? He, well, you’d best ask Sammy about that one.’
‘How . . . how is he coping? With the . . . sight loss?’ Mr McLaughlin sags with relief.
‘You know, do you? About the accident?’ I nod as the elastic begins to twist.
‘Well, in that case, I can tell you. Michael is his cane, love, helps him get about.’
‘Let me, get the taxi numb—’ my mouth holds the rest of the sentence as the elastic thins and begins to drag my insides upwards to an imaginary summit, ‘—bers,’ I finish as the pain slides down the other side of the mountain.
‘Are you OK there, Sophie love? You look a bit . . .’
I smile and straighten myself up. ‘I’ll just get my phone.’
Beethoven plays as I’m put on hold while the taxi firm speak to the driver who picked Sam up from Machynlleth. Beethoven stops in full flow as they explain that Samuel was dropped off by the side of the road.
‘Right, and he left him? Your driver left a blind man on the side of the road and encouraged him towalkup a hill that has steep banks either side?’ I’m walking up and down behind the sofa and Mr McLaughlin is watching me with a mixture of concern and something else. It takes me a moment to place it but the word settles: pride. I feel a blush rise up my neck as I look away from him. ‘Well then, I trust your drivers will be the first to help us try to find him. Now tell me exactly where you left him.’
‘Right!’ I smile as I strap myself into the seat, adjusting the belt below my bump and instructing Mr McLaughlin how to push the seat back so his kneecaps aren’t forced up by his shoulders. ‘Let’s go and find him, shall we?’ I take a quick glance at the time, hoping I can get there before the next pain comes. I follow my headlights along the narrow road, rounding bends, and pull up beside the dip, which was flooded, and look up to where Samuel would have had to walk on his own.
The winds argue with the branches of the trees, convincing them to lean to the left, but they resist, their opinions swaying to the right. Darkness tries to hide the snarls, but the wind snaps back.
I follow Mr McLaughlin’s torch beam as I step out of the car. I try to tell him that there are hidden trails all along this part of the wood, but the elastic swallows my words and forces me to lean forward; I grip the roof of the car. I close my eyes and breathe out.
‘Oh Sam, what were you thinking?’ he asks out loud as he shines the torch back up the road we have just driven down.
‘Something must have—’ My words are swallowed by the pain. I lean my hands on top of the bonnet and concentrate on my breathing. When I open my eyes, Mr McLaughlin is tapping on his phone again.
‘I’ve seen that look a few times in my life, Our Sophie, how long – ah, Mrs M, we’ve got an emergency on our hands. Me and Our Sophie have just come to where they dropped Sammy off and the stupid eejit has gone off climbing his way up a bloody mountain road, by himself! He must have gotten lost.’ I notice the concern that crosses his face as he says these words. They are supposed to sound flippant, but as he looks up at the dense forest that leads up to the road, I can see fear hiding behind his tone. ‘But listen, Our Sophie is doing that thing with the face and the breathing and the bending over, just like— mmmhmm, right, grand.’ He looks up at me. ‘I’m to put you on speaker phone.’
‘Sophie?’ A soft voice, the same accent, enters the darkness of the roadside.
‘Hello?’ I answer, breathing out, the trek almost over, the elastic almost slack.
‘Ah, it’s lovely to hear your voice, so it is, we’ve heard so much about you.’
‘Oh, umm, it’s nice to hear you too.’
‘Now then, how far gone are you?’
