‘Normal People?’
‘Yes, that one. Do you like it?’
I considered her question. It wasn’t at all what I expected. I don’t know if I liked it as such, but I couldn’t stop reading it. Connell and Marianne had also come to feel like real people to me. I was completely invested in their lives.
‘It’s good because I feel like I’m a fly on the wall, watching everything happen. And I like that Connell is a country boy, applying to Trinity.’ I smiled.
‘So, the characters are relatable.’
‘Yes! That’s it. But I get so angry with Marianne. I mean, why would she let people treat her that way?’
‘Maybe she thinks she deserves it.’
The realisation was cold and hard. Even I couldn’t see why someone would feel so unlovable that they’d accept abuse. I’d been uncomfortable reading her story all along but at the same time I felt like I wasn’t going through this alone. If it could happen to someone like Marianne, who was wealthy and intelligent, it could happen to anyone.
‘I think it’s easy to get confused about what love is when you’re young. Even the title kind of suggests that we normalise bad behaviour in relationships, or assume that being normal is the most important thing, so we hide all of the ugly stuff that happens to us. I mean, who even is normal, anyway?’
‘Congratulations. You’ve just delivered your first critical review of a book. Now off you go and no more of this nonsense.’
As I walked down the steps of 12 Ha'penny Lane, I looked back to see her fading reflection in the glass of the living-room window. That was how it was when I tried to read her; she was always obscured by the light, rather than illuminated by it. Like an overexposed photograph. She was unlike anyone I’d ever met and maybe that was a good thing.
Chapter Thirty-Three
HENRY
The air felt different somehow, as I got off the bus in O’Connell Street. They say you can never enter the same river twice and maybe the same was true of countries. The streets were busy, full of people with purpose. As was I.
Walking up the steps of number 12, I took a moment to straighten my jacket and gripped the envelope with the letter I’d printed out. I couldn’t wait to tell her about Opaline, Sylvia, the book. I tapped the knocker with a firm but not overly assertive force. It’s the little things.
‘Oh.’
‘Well, you did knock,’ replied Madame Bowden. ‘Shall I simply close the door again and we can pretend this never happened?’
‘No, sorry, I just—’
‘Yes?’
‘I was expecting to see Martha, that’s all.’
‘Oh, were you? Despite the fact that you left without a word, you expected the girl to be awaiting your return? Perhaps with a hanky dabbing her moistened eyes?’
‘No, of course not.’ I was completely flustered.
‘Well then, you can walk back the way you came and we’ll say no more about it.’
‘No, now hang on, I left a note. Didn’t she get it?’ I felt a bit panicked. ‘She does still live here?’
The old lady sighed and rolled her eyes, as though I were a puppy soiling her carpet.
‘Oh, I suppose you might as well come through. You’re here now.’
She stood back and I stepped inside, slightly annoyed at – well, everything. This wasn’t going how I’d planned.
‘I’m afraid you’ll have to fend for yourself if you want tea,’ she said, arranging herself on the cream sofa, with sprays of flowers forming guard on side tables at each end. ‘Of course we could always forgo the niceties and head straight for the brandy.’ She nodded towards a little drinks caddy by the fireplace and I poured us two healthy measures of amber liquid.
‘So, why have you returned?’
‘Hang on, how do you know who I am?’
‘Oh please, let’s not delude ourselves. She told me about you. The scholar chasing after a lost bookshop. I wasn’t sure what she saw in you, but now that I can see you in person,’ she said, adjusting her spectacles, ‘I suppose I can see a certain boyish charm. Is that what attracted your fiancée, Mr Field?’
God, she really had told her everything.
‘Do men like you ever realise the hurt you cause, flitting in and out of people’s lives? No, I suppose not. That would require some sort of intellect.’
It appeared that no response was required from me. I was simply to bear witness to my own character assassination by a woman I had just met – and the worst part was that she was terrifyingly accurate in her summation. Except for one thing.
‘I love her.’
‘How do you know?’
‘Sorry?’
‘What is it you love about Martha? Is it how she makes you feel about yourself? Does she boost your’—she let her eyes fall here—‘flaccid ego? Is that it? Do you get some kind of pleasure out of having two women on the go? I know your type, Mr Field and let me tell you, my Martha is worth ten of you.’
‘No, you see, that’s what I’ve been trying to tell her. The night we kissed I knew I had to end things with Isabelle. But I owed her more than a phone call. I had to go back to London straightaway and explain.’ I felt ridiculous explaining myself to a complete stranger. But I could see how much she cared for Martha and that gave us common ground. ‘I’ve been trying to call Martha ever since but she must have disconnected her number. My sister just had a baby and that delayed my return here, but I got back as soon as I could.’
She seemed to be considering what I had said and it seemed like an age before she spoke again.
‘Much has transpired since you last saw her. I’m not sure if she’ll want to see you.’
‘Please, Madame Bowden. You’re right. I’ve never known or understood what it really means to love or be loved. I’m not going to blame my past, but we all have one and it follows us around like a prison, always keeping us from the person we truly wish to be. Martha is the bravest person I’ve ever met and she’s inspired what little bravery I have inside to listen to my heart for once. I don’t just love her for how she makes me feel, I love her because when she came into my life it was like the lights came on. Everything suddenly had meaning and I think, I hope, it was the same for her. We all have crap parts and good parts inside, but when you meet someone who makes you realise that it’s all okay, you think, what in God’s name did I do to deserve it? All of my life I’ve been searching for hidden treasure, fortunes outside of myself. But Martha, she found them in me. I’m not perfect, by any means, but I know I want to spend the rest of my life making her smile. So I’m damned if I will let her go without a fight.’
She swallowed audibly.
I was almost shaking with the conviction I felt in that moment. For the first time, I had heard myself speak the truth straight from my heart and it sounded as clear and bright as a bell.
After a pause, she raised her glass and, with a grin, clinked it against mine.
‘You might just do, I suppose.’
‘Thank you. I know Martha is still married but—’
The look on her face made me stall my glass mid-air.
‘You might want to take a seat.’