Page 58 of Coming Home to Inishbeg Cove

Chapter 37

Penny

Dusk was starting to fall by the time we were ready to leave the village. The wind swirled leaves around my feet where I stood on the footpath outside the cottage with my parents as they waited to see Joe, Lucy and me off.

The approaching storm grumbled over our heads, the gathered clouds threatening to burst at any moment.I watched as the waves breached the seawall, each wave sending up higher spray than the one before it. Suddenly the skies opened and rain began to fall, softly at first but quickly building into heavy rain, soaking our clothes instantly.

‘Come here, love, it’s time to go,’ I said, trying to prise Lucy away from my mother, to whom she clung like a limpet.

‘Me no wanna go home!’ she wailed. Her voice came out muffled, as her face was buried in Mam’s neck.

‘Come on, sweetie,’ I coaxed, but she refused to look at me. I felt my eyes fill with tears too. Between the emotional toll of saying goodbye to Tadgh up in the restaurant and now having to say farewell to my parents, I was having a difficult time keeping my feelings in check. I knew I could come undone very easily and seeing Lucy getting upset was not helping matters. As a mother there was something about seeing your child distressed that caused pain deep within your soul and made you want to fix it instantly, but this time I couldn’t – the time had come for us to return to Dublin.

‘Whisht now, a leanbh,’ Mam whispered, cuddling Lucy and barely managing to disguise her own upset. ‘Sure you must be excited to see all your toys ... and the fairies were telling me that all your dollies have been missing you.’

‘I no wanna go, Ganny,’ Lucy sobbed. Her damp hair clung to her tearstained face and the rain had already started to soak through her cotton dress, causing it to stick to her skin in transparent patches.

‘Come on, Lucy,’ Joe said with a little less patience than the rest of us were affording her. ‘We’re all getting drenched here.’

‘We’ll see each other soon, love. Your mammy promised she’d bring you down to visit us in a few weeks.’ It was Dad’s turn to cajole her, but Lucy was inconsolable.

‘Come on, that’s enough now, Lucy,’ Joe said, more sternly this time. Then, without warning, he reached out and took her out of Mam’s arms. He turned to me. ‘I’ll strap her into the car while you say goodbye. Don’t be long – we need to get on the road before this weather gets any worse.’

I nodded while rain ran down my head and face. My heart twisted at the sight of my daughter kicking and screaming as Joe struggled to get her into the car.

I turned away from the car and looked back at my parents, who suddenly looked older. This goodbye was clearly breaking their hearts too, but I knew they were trying to put on a brave face for my sake.

‘Thanks, Mam and Dad, for everything. You’ve been brilliant,’ I said, swallowing a lump in my throat and feeling a surge of emotion for my parents. They had been so good to Lucy and me over the summer, and I would sorely miss having them around. ‘Spending the summer with you was ... so special.’ Having spent a large portion of my adult life believing that life in Inishbeg Cove was stifling, I now realised how wrong I had been. The village was part of me. It would never leave me. Tears welled in my eyes. Suddenly I couldn’t keep it in any longer. Despite my best efforts, I began to sob.

Dad threw his arms around me. For a brief moment I closed my eyes and just let myself be in the safe place that was my father’s embrace. His hug was just as comforting to me now as it had been when I was a child.

‘I know we can’t keep ye here forever, as much as we wish we could, a ghrá,’ Dad said. ‘I hope you and Joe can work it out, but you know you’ll always have a place here if you need it.’

‘Thanks, Dad,’ I choked out.

‘Now you’d better get going before you get soaked.’ He swallowed hard.

I reached out and hugged Mam tightly until the two of us were a sobbing mess then I reluctantly let go and walked towards the car. I could still hear Lucy screaming from her car seat through the glass. I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself before Joe saw how upset I was. He would be expecting me to share his excitement at heading back to Dublin. How could I explain how I was feeling?

‘Take it easy, love,’ Mam warned as they followed me. ‘Make sure you tell Joe to stick to the speed limit.’

‘I will,’ I promised.

I opened the car door and sat in the passenger seat, listening to Lucy bawling behind me.

‘Keep her between the ditches,’ Dad said, clapping his hand on the car roof. I felt an acute wave of tenderness for my father. Dad had been saying this to me whenever I left the village for as long as I could remember. I usually rolled my eyes at his predictability, but this time it was different. I would miss all of his sayings – especially his time-worn ones – and the reassurance of his routines so much.

As Joe pulled out onto the road, I watched Mam and Dad getting soaked by the rain, which was hitting them in horizontal slants. They waved tearfully at us from the footpath. Raindrops ran down the window, meeting other drops to form rivers. My stomach lurched. Lucy’s wailing reached fever pitch in the back seat. Just then the whole sky lit up, as though someone was shining a lamp towards the clouds, as jagged streaks of lightning split the sky open. Thunder rumbled, filling my ears with the loudest roar.

Suddenly I realised I couldn’t go through with it. I couldn’t leave the village. Somewhere over the summer months, I had changed. I wasn’t the same woman who had arrived here with a suitcase and a broken heart; I had grown and discovered more about myself than I had ever thought possible. I belonged in the village now. This was where I’d been born. I belonged here just as much as the sea did, rolling in and out of the cove day after day. It was in my blood.

‘Wait—’ I said to Joe.

‘What’s wrong?’ he asked, turning to look at me across the gearstick. ‘Did you forget something?’

‘Stop the car!’

‘What is it?’ Irritation flashed in his eyes.

The words that I had tried to keep suppressed over the last few days came tumbling out of my mouth. ‘I’m sorry, Joe but I just can’t do it.’