Page 17 of Coming Home to Inishbeg Cove

‘Sure,’ I said, following him.

‘Would Lucy like to colour, or I can get a jigsaw... I have a few little games to keep young diners occupied.’

‘Some colouring would be perfect, thanks.’

He vanished behind the reception desk again and returned a minute later with a container of stubby crayons and a colouring book.

Lucy immediately set to work, leaving an awkward silence.

‘Oh sorry, I should have given you a menu.’ He jumped up once more and returned a moment later with a leather-bound menu, which he handed to me.

‘So, what do you think you’ll order?’ he asked after a few minutes.

‘Well, what does the chef recommend?’

‘The line-caught sea bream is good – literally just off the boat this morning.’

‘Great, I’ll go with that.’

‘I’ve made homemade fish bites for Lucy – there’s no salt or anything in them. I hope she’ll eat them.’

‘Sounds perfect,’ I said, closing the menu.

‘Let me just tell them in the kitchen.’

He came back a couple of minutes later and sat back down.

‘The restaurant looks great,’ I said. ‘You’ve done a lot of work on it.’

‘It needed an overhaul. For years after Mam and Dad passed away, I guess it became like a shrine to them. I was afraid to change anything in case I was betraying their memory, but business was slowing down. One day I realised I could either keep going as I was and watch the business go under or I could try to put my own stamp on things, so that’s what I did. Thank God, it’s gone from strength to strength ever since. I have two chefs helping me out during the summer season, I have six waiting staff, and Senan gives me a hand when he’s not in school or studying.’

Tadgh’s words reminded me of that awful time in his life. He’d been so young when all that responsibility had landed squarely upon him. Tadgh had been orphaned when his parents were killed by a drunk driver on their way home from a day of Christmas shopping in Limerick. Tadgh and Senan had been in the back seat and had miraculously survived with minor injuries. He had only been eighteen and Senan six. Suddenly Tadgh had been catapulted from being a carefree teenager into parenting his younger brother and trying to keep the family business afloat. Tadgh and I had been a couple for two years at that stage – an eternity for a teenage romance. We had planned on going to college together in Dublin once we’d finished school, but everything changed between us when his parents died. We went from seeing each other every day to barely seeing one another because he was busy working in the restaurant – or, if he wasn’t working, he was taking care of Senan. Tadgh changed overnight; he suddenly grew serious and more mature, and no longer laughed at the things we had once thought were funny. I would call into the restaurant to see him, but he would be under pressure in the kitchen and I knew I was getting in the way. I felt like I was last on his list, but I understood that it wasn’t his fault. If anything, I admired how he had risen to the challenges life had thrown at him, but we were too young for our relationship to survive such a massive change.

One day, just before the Leaving Certificate exams, things came to a head between us, and I told him that perhaps we should take a break for a while. I hadn’t expected Tadgh to agree with me. I had hoped my words might wake him up and make him realise how dangerously close to the brink our relationship was teetering, but he had said that I was right. As we had sat on the wall of the cove, kicking our heels against the stone, looking out on the horizon, I will never forget the wounded expression on his face. His eyes, which were still heavy with the pain of losing his parents, took on a haunted look. Then he had stood up and as tears ran down my face, my boyfriend walked away from me for the last time.

A few months later, it was time for me to go to college in Dublin. I was heartbroken to leave the village alone. Tadgh and I should have been heading off together; it should have been an exciting new adventure for both of us, but it wasn’t to be. Although initially I had missed Tadgh dearly, gradually I became immersed in city life and felt my wounded heart start to heal. As deadlines for assignments and exams loomed, I began coming home less at the weekends, choosing to spend them in Dublin instead. It was also around this time that I met Joe. Although he was much older than I was, there was an undeniable spark between us. He was an enigma, like nobody I had ever met before. He didn’t hide behind his feelings; he made it perfectly obvious from the day we met that he liked me, that he needed me, whereas in my relationship with Tadgh I had felt I was last on the long list of his priorities.

I had deliberately avoided the restaurant on my visits home over the years so, since the day we broke up, I hadn’t set eyes on Tadgh until the day we met on the beach. Of course, Mam and Dad kept me up to date on his comings and goings. They always sounded wistful whenever they mentioned his name, and I knew they wondered why I hadn’t chosen someone solid like Tadgh to settle down with instead of the unpredictable Joe.

‘So, how’s life in Dublin?’ Tadgh asked bringing me out of my thoughts as he poured me a glass of chilled white wine.

‘Great,’ I lied.

‘And Joe, is he busy?’

‘Yes, he’s getting ready for his next exhibition.’ I traced my finger along the slender stem of the glass.

‘Wow, it must be amazing to see work you create being displayed in a gallery. What a feeling.’

‘I guess so...’ I shifted in my chair. I didn’t want to talk about Joe, especially not to Tadgh.

‘So how much longer do you think you will be here?’ he continued.

I picked up a crayon and began helping Lucy to colour a flower. ‘I’m not sure, maybe another week or two...’

That was the question I had recently been asking myself: how much longer was I going to stay? One week had morphed into two, two had quickly moved into three. When would I be able to go back to my home in Dublin? Would I ever? Although I loved my parents dearly and appreciated them helping me out, I couldn’t stay under their roof for the long term – Mam and I would murder one another. Plus, I needed my stuff. I had only taken a small case of clothes for Lucy and a few of her toys, but there were loads of things I had forgotten. I was putting off returning to Dublin because, when I did, I was terrified that it would be the end of everything. Taking my things would mean I’d surrendered. The final act in our marriage.

‘He must be missing her,’ Tadgh probed, jerking his head in Lucy’s direction.