If You Could See Me Now (26 page)

Poppy tried to hide her smile. “It was a quiet night last night, but seriously, it’s getting beyond irritating now, Elizabeth, you’ve got to believe me,” Poppy pleaded. “Even Becca is sick of it.”

“Is that right, Becca?”

Becca’s cheeks pinked and she walked away from the doorway quickly, not wanting to be dragged into it.

“Great backup,” Poppy grumbled.

“So who gets the money?” Elizabeth asked.

“The pig. He’s raising funds for a new sty. Hum a song and support a pig,” she said, quickly thrusting the pig in Elizabeth’s face.

Elizabeth tried not to laugh. “Out.”

Moments later, after they had settled down and gone back to work, Becca came charging into the office, placed the pig on the table, and said 
with wide eyes, “Pay!”

“Was I humming it again?” Elizabeth asked in surprise.

“Yes,” she hissed, and turned on her heel.

Later that afternoon, Becca brought a visitor into Elizabeth’s office.

“Hello, Mrs. Collins,” Elizabeth said politely, nerves forming in the pit of her stomach. Mrs. Collins ran the B&B Saoirse had been staying in for the past few weeks. “Please, sit down.” She displayed the chair before her.

“Thank you.” Mrs. Collins smiled, taking a seat. “And call me Margaret.” She looked around the room like a frightened child who had been called to the principal’s office. She kept her hands clasped on her lap as though afraid to touch anything; her blouse was buttoned up to her chin.

“I’ve come to you about Saoirse; I’m afraid I haven’t been able to pass on any of your notes and phone messages to her over the past few days,” Margaret said uncomfortably,
fiddling with the end of her blouse. “She hasn’t been back to the B&B for three days now.”

“Oh,” Elizabeth said, feeling embarrassed. “Thank you for informing me, Margaret, but there’s no need to worry, I expect she’ll be calling me soon.” She was tired of being the last to know everything, of being informed of her own family’s activities by complete strangers. Despite being completely distracted by Ivan, Elizabeth had tried to keep her eye on Saoirse as much as she could over the past weeks. Saoirse’s hearing was on in a few weeks, but Elizabeth hadn’t been able to
find her anywhere. Anywhere being the pub, her dad’s, or the B&B.

“Well, actually it’s not that, it’s just that, well, it’s a very busy period for us. There are a lot of tourists coming through and looking for boarding and we need to use Saoirse’s room.”

“Oh.” She sprang back in her chair, feeling foolish.
Of course
. “That’s completely understandable,” Elizabeth said awkwardly. “I can call around after work to collect her things, if you like.”

“Oh, that won’t be necessary.” Margaret smiled sweetly, then shouted, “BOYS!” In walked Margaret’s two young teenage sons, each with a suitcase in his hand.

“I took the liberty of gathering her things together,” Margaret continued, her smile still plastered across her face. “Now all I need is the three days’ pay and that will be everything settled.”

Elizabeth froze. “Margaret, I’m sure you’ll understand that Saoirse’s bills are her own. Just because I’m her sister it doesn’t mean I can be expected to pay, she will return soon I’m sure.”

“Oh, I know that, Elizabeth.” Margaret smiled, revealing a pink lipstick stain on her front tooth. “But seeing as mine is currently the only B&B that will allow Saoirse to stay, I’m sure you’ll make an allow—”

“How much?” Elizabeth snapped.

“Fifteen per night,” Margaret said sweetly.

Elizabeth rooted through her wallet; she sighed. “Look, Margaret, I don’t seem to have any ca—”

“A check will do
fine,” she sang.

Handing over the check to Margaret, for the
first
time in a while Elizabeth stopped thinking about Ivan and started worrying about Saoirse. Just like old times.

Ten
p.m.
in downtown Manhattan, Elizabeth and Mark stared out of the huge black windows of the
114
th-floor
bar that Elizabeth had
finished designing. Tonight was the opening night of Club Zoo, an entire
floor
dedicated to animal prints, fur couches, and cushions with greenery and bamboo sporadically placed. It was everything she loathed in a design—she preferred the more minimalist approach—but she was given a brief and she had to stick to it. It was a huge success, everyone was enjoying the night, and a live performance of drummers performing jungle beats and the happy sound of constant conversation added to the party atmosphere. Elizabeth and Mark clinked their champagne glasses together and looked outside to the sea of skyscrapers, the random lights dotting the buildings like checkers, and the tide of yellow cabs below them.

“To another of your successes,” Mark toasted, sipping from the bubble-filled glass. Elizabeth smiled, feeling proud. “We’re a long way from home now,

aren’t we?” she pondered, looking out at the view and seeing the reflection of the party going on behind her. She saw the owner, Henry Hakala, making his way through the crowd.

“Elizabeth, there you are.” He held out his arms and greeted her. “What is the star of the night doing in the corner, away from everyone?” He smiled.

Elizabeth smiled. “Henry, this is Mark Leeson, my boyfriend. Mark, this is Henry Hakala, owner of Club Zoo.” She introduced the two.

“So you’re the person that’s kept my girlfriend out late every night,” Mark joked, taking Henry’s hand.

Henry laughed. “She’s saved my life. Three weeks to do all this?” He motioned around at the room decorated vibrantly in zebra print, bear skins draped on the couches, leopard print lying across the timber
floors, enormous plants sitting in chrome pots, and bamboo lining the bar area. “It was a tough deadline and I knew she’d do it, but I didn’t think she’d do it this well.” He smiled at her gratefully. “Anyway, the speeches are about to begin, I just want to say a few words, mention a few investors’ names,” he muttered under his breath. “Thank all you glorious people that worked so hard, so don’t go anywhere, Elizabeth, because I’ll have all eyes on you in a minute.”

“Oh.” Elizabeth blushed. “Please don’t.”

“Believe me, you’ll have a few hundred more offers after I do,” he said before he made his way toward the microphone, decorated with a vine of leaves.

“Excuse me, Ms. Egan.” A member of the bar staff approached her. “You have a phone call just outside at the main desk.”

Elizabeth frowned. “Me? A phone call? Are you sure?”

“You are Ms. Egan, yes?”

She nodded, feeling confused. Who would be ringing her here?

“It’s a young woman, says she’s your sister,” he explained quietly.

“Oh.” Her heart beat wildly. “Saoirse?!” she asked, shocked.

“Yes, that’s it,” the young man said, feeling relieved. “I wasn’t sure how to pronounce it.”

At that moment, it felt like the music got louder, the drumming beats were pounding her head; the fur prints all coming together in a blur. Saoirse never called her; something had to be seriously wrong.

“Leave it, Elizabeth,” Mark said rather forcefully. “Tell the woman on the phone that Ms. Egan is busy at the moment,” Mark said to the member of staff. “This is your night, enjoy it,” he said to Elizabeth softly.

“No, no, don’t tell her that,” Elizabeth stammered. It was ten
p.m.
in New York, which meant it was three
a.m.
in Ireland, why was Saoirse calling so late? “I’ll take the call, thank you,” she said to the young man.

“Elizabeth, the speech is about to begin,” Mark warned her as the room began to quieten down and people gathered before the microphone. “You can’t miss it,” he hissed. “This is
your
moment.”

“No, no I can’t.” She trembled and she left him, heading in the direction of the phone.

“Hello?” she said a few moments later, the concern evident in her voice.

“Elizabeth?” Saoirse’s voice sobbed.

“It’s me, Saoirse, what’s wrong?” Elizabeth’s heart thudded in her chest.

There was silence in the club as Henry made his speech.

“I just wanted to . . .” Saoirse trailed off and was silent.

“You wanted to what? Is everything OK?” she asked hurriedly.

The crowd laughed loudly inside as Henry’s voice boomed, “And last but not least, I’d like to thank the wonderful Elizabeth Egan from Morgan Designs for designing this place so wonderfully in such a short space of time. She’s created something that’s completely different from what’s out there right now, making Club Zoo the most popular, trendy, and newest club on the scene, guaranteed to have people lining up down the block to get in. She’s down the back there somewhere. Elizabeth, give us all a wave, let them know who you are so they can steal you away from me.”

Everyone turned around in silence, searching for the designer.

“Oh,” Henry’s voice echoed. “Well, she was there a second ago, maybe someone’s snapped her up already to do a job.”

Everyone laughed.

Elizabeth looked inside and saw Mark standing alone with two champagne glasses in his hand, shrugging at everyone who had turned to him and laughing. Pretending to laugh.

“Saoirse.” Elizabeth’s voice broke. “Please tell me if there’s something wrong. Have you gotten into trouble again?”

Silence. Instead of the weak sobbing voice Elizabeth had heard previously, Saoirse’s voice had become strong again. “No,” she snapped. “No, I’m
fine. Everything’s
fine. Enjoy your party,” and she hung up.

Elizabeth sighed and slowly hung up the phone.

Inside, the speech had
finished and the drums had started up again, the conversation and drinks continued to
flow.

Neither she nor Mark was in the mood to party.

Elizabeth could see a giant
figure looming in the distance as she drove down the road that led to her father’s bungalow. She had left work early and was searching for Saoirse; so far nobody had seen her for days, not even the local publican, which made a change.

It had always been a difficulty trying to direct people to the bungalow, as it was so cut off from the rest of the town. The road didn’t even have a name, which Elizabeth thought was appropriate; it was the road that people forgot. Postmen and milkmen new to the job always took a few days to
find the address, politicians never canvassed to their door, there were no trick-ortreaters. As a child, Elizabeth had tried to convince herself that her mother had simply gotten lost and couldn’t
find her way home. She remembered sharing her theory with her father, who gave a smile so small it was hardly a smile at all and replied, “You know, you’re not far wrong there, Elizabeth.”

That was the only explanation, if you could even call it that, which she got. They never discussed her mother’s disappearance, neighbors and family visiting hushed when Elizabeth was near. Nobody would tell her what had happened and she didn’t ask. She didn’t want that uncomfortable hush to descend on them or for her father to storm out of the house when her mother’s name was mentioned. If not mentioning her mother ensured that everyone was happy, then Elizabeth was happy to oblige, as usual.

She didn’t think she really wanted to know anyway. The mystery of not knowing was more enjoyable. She would create scenarios in her head, painting her mother in exotic and exciting worlds and she would fall asleep imagining her mother stranded on a desert island, eating bananas and coconuts and sending messages in a bottle to Elizabeth for help. She would check the coastline every morning with her father’s binoculars for sign of a bobbing bottle.

Another theory was that she had become a Hollywood movie star. Elizabeth sat with her nose almost up against the TV screen for every Sunday matinee, searching for her mother’s grand debut. But she grew tired of searching, hoping, imagining, and not asking and eventually she no longer even wondered.

The
figure in the cottage didn’t move from the window of Elizabeth’s old bedroom. Usually her father would be waiting in the garden for her. Elizabeth hadn’t been inside its walls for years. She waited outside for a few minutes and when there was no sign of her father or of Saoirse, she got out of the car and slowly pushed open the gate, goose pimples rising on her skin from the noise of the gate’s hinges. She wobbled up the uneven stone slabs in her high heels. Weeds popped up from their homes in the cracks to study the stranger trespassing on their territory.

She knocked twice on the green-paint-flecked door and quickly pulled her
fist away, cradling it as though it had been burned. There was no answer, yet she knew there was someone in the bedroom to the right. She held out her hand and pushed open the door. There was a stillness inside and the familiar musty smell of what she once considered home hit her and stopped her in her tracks for a few moments. Once she had adjusted to the emotions the scent had woken up inside her, she stepped inside.

She cleared her throat. “Hello?”

No answer.

“Hello?” she called more loudly. Her grown-up voice sounded wrong in her childhood home.