‘Safe to say, he never crossed her again,’ Elizabeth said softly.
‘It didn’t really change things for you though,’ Jo said sadly. It still bothered her that Elizabeth had spent a lifetime shackled to a lie of a marriage when she might have made a life with someone who cherished her and maybe even had a family of her own.
‘No. But if you hadn’t stood up to him that day, we both know my life would have been a lot worse.’ Stillness wafted across the water and they both remembered Eric pushing Elizabeth to the ground and with that one horrible move, Jo had known that she would end up another statistic of ongoing domestic violence if she didn’t step in straight away. ‘She has a deadly right hook. Did you know that?’
‘Yes, well, he bloody deserved it and let me tell you, if I run into him in the next world, he’s in for another bashing for leaving you up to your bloody eyes in debt at the end of it all.’
‘What if we were to have a charity swim?’ Elizabeth said suddenly. ‘We could have it in aid of whatever you’d like, Jo, and you could be part of it…’ She didn’t continue, because they all knew she’d only be part of it this year and that was if they were very lucky indeed.
‘We could,’ Lucy said then, turning over from her back. Jo could feel her daughter’s eyes on her. ‘We could ask all the women in the village to join us for a midnight swim and…’
‘The Ladies’ Midnight Swimming Club could keep on going…’ Jo said softly, but she felt an unexpected swell of emotion at the idea of it.
‘We’re going to keep on going – you know that already,’ Elizabeth said good-naturedly. ‘But this would be different. This would be every woman in the village. All of us, out here in the darkness and raising money for…’
‘Breast cancer,’ Lucy said firmly. ‘I think it should be breast cancer. Pink ribbon – it’s the best cause I know of. What do you think, Mum?’
‘I love it,’ Jo said softly. ‘There’s only one thing…’ She laughed now, threw her head back on the water and strangely, the sound of her own laughter was unfamiliar. It was the cancer of course, eating through her insides. ‘It should be in the nip. A dip in the nip! That’s what I’d enjoy most, thinking of all of you, down here, in the altogether and jumping into the water…’ She could just imagine every woman in the village, from the most uptight to the most unlikely, coming down here and rallying for each other and every other woman who might be affected by this horrible disease. ‘Think about it, Elizabeth, even old crabby boots O’Neill… herself.’ And they all began to laugh at the notion of Eric’s former receptionist pulling off her interlocking knickers before diving into the cold Atlantic.
22
Dan
Elizabeth was true to her word. It had taken a few weeks to organise, but she’d managed to set up a meeting with one of the old nuns who had once been in St Nunciata’s. Sister Berthilde was ancient according to Elizabeth and so rather than transferring to another convent they’d shipped her into a nearby nursing home; apparently no-one had expected her to last so long after it all finished up.
The nursing home was tucked away at the end of a very well-maintained drive, with only one discreet sign pointing you in the direction of Cois Farraige – which Elizabeth translated as Riverside. A small stream ran through the grounds, but it had been fenced off, probably in the name of health and safety for residents who might end up losing their way. Inside, the unmistakable aromas of early dinners and late breakfasts mingled with a velvet underlay of cleaning products, chiefly bleach and something that probably purported to be pine. Still, he had to admit, the reception – a medley of muted greys and golds – wore the air of a health spa as much as any nursing home he’d ever have imagined. A young, ponytailed girl on reception insisted on showing them to the day room after she watched him rub disinfectant cream on his hands.
Sister Berthilde had the frame of a woman who had spent her life in combat with everyone and everything that dared to cross her path. Even now, although he presumed that age had shaken out some of her volume, her hands, ears and nose were all large enough to put on any man who had a decent frame to match. Her mouth was set in a long, downward scowl and her eyes watched him from beneath their wrinkled hoods. They were distrustful from the moment Elizabeth introduced him and part of him felt pity, that for a woman who spent her life serving others, she did not expect a visitor who might have come with good wishes.