Strange Sally Diamond(41)

Tina thought I should get a job. She said I should have some purpose in my life. I explained that I had already been rejected as a childminder. But Tina asked me to think about what I like to do more than anything in the world. I guess I like to play the piano a lot. Tina wondered if I would consider teaching the piano. She asked me if I was patient. I didn’t think I was. We did two sessions on patience.

I was good at Google and discovered a thing called regression therapy that could help me to remember. Tina was dead set against it and, after she explained, I understood. What was the point in remembering something so traumatic? And how likely was it that anything I recalled would help to capture Conor Geary now?

One day in February, I was talking to Udo in the Texaco shop. He told me the children were looking forward to their mid-term break. I indicated my umbrella and said I hoped the weather would improve because Abebi had told me she wanted to go camping. He thanked me for the information and said he was going to have to disappoint her. He said they would die of exposure in a tent. I told him about Stella’s work with the homeless charity.

‘A young man died of exposure in Dublin last week. You could tell her that,’ I suggested.

‘Sally, you can’t talk about things like that with small children. It gives them nightmares. It should give politicians nightmares.’

‘Thank you for letting me know, Udo, I’ll add it to my list.’ I had a list of things that I should not discuss with the children, written by Martha. I accepted a light hug and he exited the shop.

Caroline was behind the counter. We had swapped a number of recipes and my repertoire of meals was much improved. After Udo left, she said, ‘First the lesbians and now the Blacks.’ Her face was full of disapproval.

‘What’s the matter?’ I asked her.

‘They’re taking over,’ she said. ‘Another three families of foreigners moved into the village in the last month. All because of that bloody meat factory at Mervyn Park.’

‘It’s good. More customers for you,’ I said.

‘They’re not the sort of customers I want.’

‘Why?’

‘I’m not racist, but Ireland is for Irish people.’

‘But Abebi and Maduka are Irish. They were born here.’

‘They’ll never be Irish,’ she said.

‘It’s not good to be racist, Caroline,’ I said.

‘You don’t understand a lot of things, Sally, and this is one of them.’

‘I understand racism.’

‘Stop calling me a racist.’

‘Stop being one.’

Her face was getting redder.

‘Look, you fucking weirdo, in the beginning I felt sorry for you, even after what you did to your poor father, because you were on your own, but now everyone feels sorry for you because of what happened when you were a kiddie. How do we know you’re not exactly like your real father? You fucking psycho. Get out of this shop and don’t come back!’

She was shouting now, and the two other customers in the shop were staring at us. I left as quickly as I could, without taking or paying for my groceries. I did my breathing exercises and remained calm but it was most inconvenient. From now on, I would have to shop in the Gala supermarket and I would have to memorize their shelves.

As I walked home, a car pulled up alongside me and the driver rolled down the window.

‘Hey, are you okay? I saw what happened there in Texaco. What a cow. I gave her a piece of my mind after you left. You should report her to the manager.’

‘She is the manager.’

‘May I give you a lift? Sally, isn’t it? I’m Mark. I’ve just moved here. Lucky I’m white, eh?’

‘Is that a joke?’

‘What? Yes … of course it is!’

He had pushed the passenger door open beside me. His eyes seemed kind and his face was pleasant. His hair was receding. His car was old. I could see he was wearing jeans with a shirt and tie. I couldn’t see his shoes. But you can’t judge a book by its cover, or a kidnapping rapist by the smile on his face.

‘No thank you. I don’t take lifts from strangers.’

‘God. How stupid of me to even think … look, I’m sorry. I’m not … like … predatory.’

‘And that is what a predator would say.’ I walked on a little faster. The car stayed where it was for a long time. I got over the brow of the slight hill and down my lane and the car did not pass. Maybe he was not a kidnapper, but if there was one thing Dad was strict about when I was small, it was getting into cars with strangers. Now, obviously, I knew why. That’s what my birth mother had done, and while Conor Geary was still out there, he could come back for me. That man though, Mark, was not Conor Geary. He was perhaps in his mid-fifties.

Despite more breathing exercises, I was a little shaken by my experiences of the day when I got home. I wanted to tell somebody what had happened. I thought of ringing Stella but she was at work and I was in the act of ringing Martha when I remembered what Tina had said about empathy. Maybe it would be hurtful to Martha to hear that Caroline was racist. But I could tell her about the man. Or could I? How would I explain how he started the conversation with me without explaining what Caroline said? I stopped the call. I needed more friends.

That was the day I decided to move house. I didn’t like to feel unsettled on my own. For the first time in my life, I wanted to be around people.