A Part of Me and You: An empowering and incredibly moving novel that will make you laugh and cry
up under dark wavy hair and I laughed in reply. There was no way I was out of his league. I knew well that he must have had women drooling over his every word. I remember his dark brown eyes, under knitted eyebrows that made me go weak at the knees … though that may have had something to do with the cocktails and vodka Birgit and I had consumed before we bumped into him at the bar. If only he knew what he left behind when he walked away the next morning.
And speaking of the outcome of our very quick encounter, my reminiscing doesn’t last long before I’m interrupted by a raging ball of hormones that knocks once on the door and then enters, hand on hip.
‘I thought you said we were going for dinner soon?’ she says, and I don’t know whether to laugh or shout at her newfound stinking teenage attitude.
‘We can go soon, yes, I was just about to get changed,’ I tell her. ‘Is it still raining?’
She rolls her eyes as if I have just asked her something as obvious as what my name is.
‘Of course it is still raining. It’s lashing out there. I really don’t know why you brought me here. Is there a McDonald’s nearby? I’m starving.’
‘Starving?’ I say to her in reply. ‘Do you mean that in a literal sense because I highly doubt you are “starving”? You can’t be starved after the lunch we had earlier.’
‘Okay then, I’m just bored and I eat when I’m bored. Is there a McDonald’s or even a Subway or a KFC?’
‘No, Rosie, there is no McDonald’s here, not one Big Mac in sight for miles and miles and isn’t that wonderful?’
Her eyes screw up and her face twists and I swear I barely recognise this person in front of me. Who on earth kidnapped my darling daughter and left me with this devil child?
‘How does anyone actually live here? It’s like the middle of nowhere!’ she pants. ‘They don’t have proper wi-fi and have you seen the TV? It’s like something from the 1980s.’
Ancient history then, obviously.
‘You haven’t even seen the place properly yet,’ I remind her. ‘We’ve only just got here. Give it a chance.’
But Rosie is ready with her next complaint.
‘And does it always rain in Ireland? Every time I look out that window it’s pissing down. Does it rain every day?’
‘No, not every day, Rosie.’
‘I heard it does,’ she says. ‘I Googled it, after waiting ages for the page to load up and it said to expect four seasons in one day. So does that mean it might snow later tonight? Wonderful!’
‘Well, it doesn’t rain on Wednesdays,’ I try to joke but again she looks at me like I’m the one from another planet. ‘Look, give me twenty minutes and we’ll go and explore and see if there is any part of this village that appeals to you at all, no matter about the rain. You seemed to like that young barman earlier?’
‘Mum, don’t be so gross. I just kind of liked his accent. Now, please, I’m starving.’
‘Okay, okay, I will be twenty minutes,’ I tell her again. ‘Can you wait that long or will you die of boredom in the meantime?’
She lets out a deep sigh.
‘Can I go for a walk while I’m waiting?’
‘In the rain?’
‘Yes, I can take an umbrella. There are two by the door. Or maybe I’d be safer in one of the wetsuits in this weather.’
I pause, wondering if I should let her go wandering alone and then I realise that we really are in the middle of nowhere and it is broad daylight and I suppose I should encourage any glimmer of enthusiasm that she shows for our stay.
‘Be back in twenty and take your phone in case you get lost,’ I say, knowing that this too might be the most ridiculous suggestion in the world to make. ‘Don’t go far. Just along the harbour.’
‘I’ll hardly get lost when there’s nothing here!’ she sulks back and at that she is gone, leaving me with the slam of not one door, but two, as she makes her way out onto the harbour pier.
I savour the silence when the door slams shut. She is so full of anger, I just know she is. I want to protect her so much but I am tired, too tired to talk too much about anything after such a long day. I need to keep going though; I came here to spend time with Rosie so no matter how much she is grating on me this evening, and as much as I would rather crawl under the duvet than go out for dinner, I need to keep going.
In the meantime, I rub my throbbing temples and relish in this moment I have to myself. Twenty minutes apart won’t kill us. At least I hope not.
Shelley
I arrive home around six and I’m so glad to see Merlin at the gate. He’s wagging his tail and barking with joy now that he finally has some company after a long afternoon on his own. He is soaked through from the rain and when I get out of the car he makes sure I am too as he jumps up onto my clothes with his muddy paws.
‘You’re an eejit, Merlin,’ I tell him. ‘Why didn’t you stay inside out of the rain? That’s what we made you a dog flap for!’
He doesn’t care what I say of course and is much more interested in what I have in my shopping bag, though I can assure him the contents aren’t very exciting at all. I hate cooking for one but for the next few evenings I don’t have a choice. Well, technically I do have a choice. I could take up Eliza’s offer, or I could do as Matt suggested and call one of my ever-patient friends even though they are fed up making suggestions to help me get better. There is no getting better from grief. They say time heals but I’m not so sure of that anymore.
Merlin follows me to the front door, still barking and wagging, and when I reach the doorstep I see why he is so excited. I sometimes swear that dog could talk if he tried and he glances up at me and then down at a bouquet of flowers that sit on the sheltered porch and back up at me again, as if to gauge my reaction to this unexpected delivery.
‘Gosh, I really wasn’t expecting this,’ I say to the dog. ‘Who was here, Merlin? I wonder who these are from.’
The cerise pink, white and sap green flowers really are a sight to behold and I open the door and take them into the hall, followed of course by my trusty friend. Merlin waits and watches as I put them on the sideboard, take off my damp coat and leave my shopping on the floor, before opening the card attached to the flowers with anticipation.
I read the greeting, take a deep breath and exhale long and hard just like I was taught to do in therapy when I need to really release some nervous energy or stress. Then I fetch my phone in my handbag to text my friend Sarah for her kind thoughts.
Bless you for remembering, I say to her and then make my way to the kitchen to fetch a vase for the flowers and give them the attention they deserve. By the time I reach the sink she has messaged back.
I will never forget her, she replies. Take it easy and call me if you need me. No pressure x
I put the flowers on the dining room table and I do, to my surprise, get some comfort from how they brighten up the whiteness of the room. It was my part of the deal with Matt when he finally talked me round to staying in this house after Lily’s death to keep everything totally white. I redecorated from top to bottom, all plain and neutral with no frills, no heaviness, no colour I suppose, and most of all, no heart. Bless him, he played along and has let me take everything at my own pace, but I was and still am numb. I need my surroundings at home where we lived with her to be dumbed down too, with no memories on the walls. I put all her little paintings from playgroup that decorated