So why on earth did this gaping hole seem to have opened up in him now? Just when he needed it least? It woke him in the early hours of the morning. Of course, he knew it probably had a lot to do with the fact that he’d booked his ticket, sublet his flat and he was headed for the one place that might be able to give him an answer to this question, that for so long hadn’t meant as much to him as he supposed it should have.
He should be getting a new job, well, probably a new career once the media had finished with him. He should be finding a partner to settle down with, getting his life sorted, looking forward rather than looking back for parents who clearly didn’t see themselves in his future. He told himself these things a million times, during the night, when sleep had played a game of chase he wouldn’t quite keep up with. He tried his best to talk himself out of the notion, that out there somewhere, there was a connection like no other to him – his mother. Perhaps he had siblings, or half siblings, perhaps he could find his father.
The more the notion niggled at him, the more reasons he seemed to come up with for finding out who he actually was. He could list backwards a dozen inherited diseases that could show up in the next generation. Didn’t he want to know if there were markers there before he set off on a road that might be too painful to consider once he’d stepped on it?
There was another thing too, and it was probably this that really worried him the most. The notion that his mother could be alive today, but by the time he found her, it could be too late. He’d seen too many documentaries, people just missing each other by the thinnest thread of time. The more the idea festered, the more he realised he didn’t want that to be his story.
The only problem was, he had nowhere to start. It wasn’t that his parents were being evasive, he knew them too well for that, but rather it was the whole system that seemed to be in place in Ireland for when it came to tracking down anything to do with a parent who simply did not want to be found.
It could drive him crazy if he thought about it too much, and so, by the time he was sitting on the ferry, he’d already talked himself out of making this trip all about tracing his roots. Instead, he would prioritise clearing his head, maybe settling into writing something so he could at least pretend to have been productive and then, if there was the time, or the inclination left, he might just see if there was anything he could learn about his past.
Dan surprised himself by actually falling asleep on the crossing over. He’d woken to the sight of land, the sun driving slowly towards the west and it filled him with a giddy optimism, something that he realised he hadn’t felt in a very long time. He hadn’t been fully sure about the journey on unfamiliar roads to the other side of Ireland before he’d left, so he’d booked a room in a small B&B on the outskirts of the city.
It was a tired little house on the deep end of an estate that looked as if it was on its third generation of occupancy, having become unfashionable for the bright young things. He noticed the houses here looked as if they were owned only by the elderly or inhabited by people who couldn’t afford something better.
‘Ah, you’re going to Ballycove, are you?’ the old lady who welcomed him asked. She seemed to be a little deaf and if the carpet stairs were worn, it certainly didn’t take the fulsomeness from her welcome. ‘First time in Ireland?’
‘Yes, that is…’ He stopped, because how could he possibly explain? ‘The first time I can remember.’
‘Oh, you’re in for a treat in Ballycove, especially this time of year. Mind you, it can be stormy. You’ll want to bring a good rain jacket, but if you get the weather… well, it’s a little bit of heaven,’ she said before offering him half her own dinner, which was sitting on the stove, because he looked like a boy who needed feeding!
‘You’re very kind,’ he said softly, because he had a feeling she was, ‘but I have to meet someone now and then I’ll be straight into bed for an early start tomorrow.’ He’d seen a greasy café just along the road. It would be good enough for dinner and tomorrow he’d explore the capital before heading west to start on this self-prescribed sabbatical that already seemed to be filling him up with a sort of nervous and unfamiliar optimism.
8
Lucy
Her mother had been over the moon and even if Lucy wasn’t sure about her decision, perhaps that was enough for now. She’d spent the last two days worried sick about Jo and the fact that her mother seemed to be completely oblivious to the reality that she had lost almost two stone in weight and her skin had taken on a grey tone that Lucy recognised even if she didn’t want to.