The Shelter of Neighbours by Eílís Ní Dhuibhne

Author:Eílís Ní Dhuibhne
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Blackstaff Press Ltd
Published: 2012-03-26T16:00:00+00:00

She is trying to find her way out of the bathroom section when Tomas appears.

She knows it is him, even though she has not seen him for thirty-odd years. She hides behind a shower enclosure and looks at him.

He has not put on weight, which means that you can assess the effect of the years on him accurately – there is no distortion apart from the one. The same frame, the same features, but aged, like a tree in winter. No flaming autumn for the human race. Tomas’s hair is grey and white, a bit thinner than back then but still present and correct. Nothing disastrous has happened to his face. The skin is redder, or darker; it has the thickish, leathery look men’s skin gets – the opposite of the translucent, baggy thing that happens to women. (Hers has not started doing that, not yet. Maybe under the eyes. When she looks in the mirror, she sees the same face she saw thirty years ago.) He has glasses, fine gold-rimmed ones. That is new. She has glasses, too, just for reading, and she is wearing them now, because she cannot read the labels without them.

He obviously works here – he is wearing a work suit and has one of those green plastic clipboards that managers in shops carry under their arms.

He loved archaeology, his dream was to excavate something in Greece, she cannot remember what.

Oh well. Archaeology. One of those luxury subjects that does not necessarily lead to a career. Though he was good, he believed in himself and the subject. He was determined to make it.

They should talk. But now the exhaustion of the long day overcomes her, and she cannot act. Does she really want to hear about his shattered dreams – or remind him of them? – because, like hers, they will not have shattered in some big, brilliant crash. That is not what happens. The dreams slowly fizzle out, drip by drip, so that you hardly notice until … now. What were her own dreams? Apart from him?

Another thing that she feels, rather than thinks. She is not looking her best. Her hair is a mess. And she wore clothes she does not like much, in the rush of getting up and out this morning. The linen skirt with the uneven hem does nothing for her, or the white T-shirt that has gone greyish in the wash.

To escape for a moment, gain time, she slips into one of the display bathrooms and pretends to be fascinated by the taps on the bath.

Tomas passes this bathroom and looks right in through the fake door.

He sees Ingrid. She turns her head and they stare at one another across a funky square toilet bowl.

She decides at that moment. She is going to speak to him. Of course she is. He was the love of her life.

Then her mobile rings, loud in the little space, playing the Nokia tune.

Tim. He has landed in Boston. He’s waiting at the carousel

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