told me not to worry.
I worried anyway.
The phone stops ringing. Then a click, and Brendan’s monotone. ‘We’re not in. Leave a message.’
‘You could sound a bit more …’ I said when he recorded the message.
‘A bit more what?’
‘Well … interested, I suppose.’
I don’t remember what he said to that. Nothing, I expect.
I hang up. Dad smiles at me and says, ‘Did I ever tell you about the time Frank Sin—’
‘Dad?’
‘Yes, love?’
‘What would you say if I told you we were going on a little trip?’ This is crazy. I can’t go. I have too much to do here. Too many responsibilities. Besides, I’ve got no change of clothes. Or even a toothbrush.
‘But what about your mother?’ Dad asks. ‘She has to come with us.’
I scan the front of the terminal building. Maybe Iris will come out? She seemed stunned when I left. She was probably expecting me to do something. What should I do?
THINK.
I can’t just get on a boat. What about Dad? And the girls? They’re both under pressure at the moment; Kate with her play debuting in Galway next week, and Anna, in the last year of her politics and philosophy course. Studying for her finals.
Brendan told me not to ring him at work unless it’s an emergency.
‘GoldStar Insurance, Brendan Shepherd’s office, Laura speaking, how may I help you?’
‘Oh, hello … I …’
‘Is that you, Mrs Shepherd?’
‘Well, yes, yes it is, I—’
‘I’m afraid Brendan is in a meeting and he—’
‘I’m … sorry, I don’t want to disturb him, but I need to … could you …’
‘Certainly, one moment please.’
‘Greensleeves’. It sounds soothing after the brisk efficiency of Laura Muldoon. She’s worked there for years. Brendan says he couldn’t manage without her. His right-hand woman he calls her.
A second round of ‘Greensleeves’, and still no sign of Iris. Part of me knows for a fact that she is on the boat. That’s what she said she was going to do, so it seems likely that that’s what she’s done. Still, I look for her at the main door of the building. Just in case.
‘Terry?’ Brendan sounds worried. ‘What is it? Is everything okay?’
‘Well, no, but, I—’ What to say, exactly?
‘Are the girls all right?’
‘Yes, yes, they’re fine, it’s just—’
‘I’m in the middle of an important meeting. The Canadians arrived this morning. Remember?’
‘Yes, of course.’ How could I have forgotten about the Canadians? Brendan has talked of little else but this takeover for months now. There’s talk of rationalisation. He’s worried about his staff. Losing their jobs.
‘Can you print out last week’s bordereaux on the financial services portfolios?’ Brendan asks.
‘Pardon?’ I say.
‘Sorry, I was talking to Laura there. Listen Terry, I’m going to have to—’
‘Wait.’
‘What is it?’ His impatience is almost tangible. I clear my throat.
‘Brendan. I need to talk to you. It’s about Iris.’
‘Iris?’ He wasn’t expecting that. I can’t blame him. Iris is not someone who usually warrants an emergency phone call.
‘Yes, Iris,’ I say, so there can be no doubt.
‘What about her?’ The urgency is gone from his tone. He thinks this is one of my worrying about nothing scenarios.
‘Well, she’s … talking about going to Switzerland. She says she’s going to a place where she can … it’s a clinic. In Zurich. They help you to … you know … end your life.’
‘What?’
‘Iris is going to Swi—’
‘No, Jesus, I heard what you said, I just … what the hell is she doing that for?’
‘Well … she says it’s to do with her MS and—’
‘But there’s not a bother on her. She’s not even in a wheelchair.’
‘That’s why she wants to do it now, she says. While she still can.’
‘That makes no sense whatsoever.’
‘Look Brendan, there’s no time to explain. The boat is leaving in …’ I check my watch. ‘… an hour and a quarter, and—’
‘Boat? What boat?’
‘The boat to Holyhead.’ It was a mistake. Ringing Brendan.
‘But she’s going to Zurich, you said. Why would she—’
‘She doesn’t fly. You know that.’
Brendan makes a sort of snorting noise down the phone. ‘So she’s going to kill herself, but she’s taking the boat just in case the plane crashes? Jesus, even for Iris, that’s crazy.’
‘Don’t say that, it’s—’
The sound of a foghorn wails through the air, startling me.
‘Where are you, Terry?’
‘I’m … I’m at Dublin Port.’
‘What are you … Jesus Christ, you’re not thinking of going with her, are you?’
‘Of course not. I mean, probably definitely not. It’s just … she’s by herself and …’
Crackling on the line now, then a door – Brendan’s office door – being firmly closed. When he speaks again, his voice is louder. Clearer. As if he is pressing the receiver hard against the side of his face.
‘Terry, listen to me now. She’s not going to go through with it. This is one of her notions. Like that time she said she was going to trek through the Sahara Desert.’
‘She did trek through the Sahara Desert.’
Brendan
