The Lost Bookshop(38)

‘Howareya,’ he said, bashfully, head lowered. All innocence.

‘What are you doing here, Shane?’

He opened his mouth to speak, but then an overriding thought came to me. ‘How did you find me?’

‘A mate of mine was up for the day, shopping with the missus. He spotted you.’

‘Where?’

‘On Grafton Street.’

‘So—’ I was trying to calculate it in my head. ‘How did he know I lived here? Did–did he follow me? Was it Mitch?’ I didn’t even have to ask. I knew it was Mitch. He was Shane’s best friend and would have thought nothing of spying on me.

‘Look,’ he said, taking a step closer, which caused me to step back. He seemed visibly upset by this, as though my fear of him was an overreaction on my part entirely. ‘Martha, does it matter how I found you?’

‘It does actually. Do you think it’s normal to have your goons following me around?’

‘Mitch isn’t a goon. Jesus.’

A couple walked past and gave us a wary glance.

‘Can we go inside?’ he asked. ‘I just want to talk.’

I didn’t answer. I wanted to say, No, go away, leave and never come back, forget about me, pretend I never existed, but nothing came out. I just turned away, looking at the street.

‘Your mother hasn’t been well.’

My head spun around to look at him.

‘That’s why I came. She wants you to come home.’

‘What’s wrong with her? Is it serious?’

‘Serious enough, she’s in hospital.’

‘Jesus Christ.’ My hand flew to my chest. It was as though all of the oxygen had left my body. I felt woozy, like nothing was real any more. Not the buildings or the street or my flimsy life here in Dublin. He took my arm and I no longer flinched. It was Shane. He knew me and I knew him. Regardless of what had happened between us, he was here to help me. I looked in his eyes and I could see the sadness that was there when his father died. He knew how I felt. He wanted to help.

‘Okay, come in,’ I said. I walked down the hall towards the stairs leading to the basement, but when I turned around, he wasn’t following. ‘I live in the flat down here,’ I said, pointing to the stairs.

‘Jeez, it’s a nice place, isn’t it?’ he said, putting the flowers down on the console table and wandering into the front room.

‘You can’t go in there.’

He stepped out of my eyeline. After a few moments I followed him in. Madame Bowden was out, so I figured there wasn’t any harm.

‘Was it an accident, or is she sick?’ I asked.

‘What? Oh, it’s cancer.’

My legs went weak and I sank back on the sofa. I couldn’t believe it. It felt like a waking nightmare.

‘Why didn’t she tell me?’ I didn’t expect him to answer; I was simply trying to make sense of it.

‘How could she? None of us knew where you were. You didn’t even leave a note, Martha. I was so worried about you.’

‘Were you?’ I knew I shouldn’t have said it. I could read his face like the weather and that comment made him angry. A flash of him beating me with the head of a mop came unbidden. My arms wrapped around my ribs instinctively. He turned his back on me and he walked slowly around the room.

‘You’ve done all right for yourself though. I can see why you might have forgotten your family.’

‘It’s not like that.’

This was so twisted. I felt myself needing to prove that I still loved him, just to keep things civil. But I didn’t love him. I fucking hated him. I stood up and walked towards the door that led to the hall.

‘Where are you going?’

‘I’d better pack a few things. What hospital is she in?’

‘The Regional.’

He had delayed just a beat, but enough to raise some doubts.

‘Who are you?’ I heard Madame Bowden’s imperious voice from behind us. She was standing in the doorway that led back to the parlour. I hadn’t heard her come in and I had to fight the urge to hug her for her impeccable timing. She held her walking stick more like a weapon waiting to be wielded than a support.

‘Another friend of yours?’

Oh God, don’t say it like that.

‘Th-this is my husband, Madame Bowden.’ I was shivering all over. I didn’t think anything bad would happen while she was there, but I couldn’t be sure.

‘Husband? Good grief, you kept that quiet!’

I wished she would shut up. She was making everything worse. I was immobilised. The past and the present were colliding in the front room and no one seemed to understand how terrifying that was. They continued to exchange barbed pleasantries and I just stood there, my mind racing to nowhere. I found myself wishing that Henry was here.

‘Well, we’d best be off,’ Shane said, walking towards me and taking me by the arm. I remembered this. How it looked normal because no one could see him digging his fingers into my skin.

‘Oh, where are you off to? Somewhere nice? Bewleys do a lovely lunch menu—’

‘Back to Sligo. Martha’s mother is in the hospital, so I’m taking her home.’

Madame Bowden looked genuinely sad, although I couldn’t tell if it was sympathy for me, or for the fact that she would have to make her own breakfast. She was unpredictable in her moods at the best of times – kind and gentle one minute, cold and uncaring the next. I couldn’t rely on her to get me out of this.