Clodagh
Turns out, annoyingly, that Tommy was right. The day Orla had her exam was the last good day of summer.
It’s been pissing down ever since. The longest stretch of consecutive rain we’ve had in five years, and everyone is droning on about it.
And people wonder why thousands of Irish flock to Australia and America every year.
Still, the shite weather has given me the drive I need to focus on my new online small-business course. I managed to blag a sweet discount. It’s perfect for folks like me who want to start their own business but lack the knowledge and confidence.
A florist and a plumber are also doing it, and they are just as confused as me on some of the admin stuff. Not gonna lie, it’s tough. I thought I’d enjoy the marketing side, but I struggle with it, and don’t get me started on tax shit.
One day, I’m determined to give it another shot, but this time, I’m taking it slow so I can really understand each part of running a business.
And today is my last day working at the furniture store. Tomorrow, I fly to London. I’ve decided to give it a shot. My cousin Michelle lives over there, and I can stay with her until I get a job, and I’ll continue my course remotely.
New York seems like a lifetime ago now.
“Clodagh, take this out the front, will you?” Tommy asks me, handing me the finished stool.
“Sure thing.” I grab it from him and saunter out of the workshop to the shop.
Mam is pressed against the window, peering out with two women from the village.
“What are you three doing?”
Outside, there’s a high-pitched whirring sound. The sound is low, but it’s getting significantly louder.
“There’s a helicopter. It looks like it’s about to land on top of the school. Will it be able to land in the rain?”
“So? It’s not like we don’t get helicopters occasionally.” I roll my eyes and come toward the window. You’d think it was aliens.
A black helicopter hovers. It disappears over the top of the shop.
“Show’s over,” I say.
Five minutes later, there’s shouting outside.
Mam and her friends, who have been chattering for the last hour, run to the window. Out of sheer boredom, I follow.
The street is full of people. There would be nothing unusual about that if this were New York. But for a Tuesday afternoon in my sleepy village, this is a rare phenomenon. And it’s drizzling outside.
“Some gobshite just landed a fucking helicopter,” a man in wellies who looks severely pissed off shouts to another guy. “The animals are going nuts.”
More people gather. At the far end of the street, I see the helicopter right in the middle of the green. The propellers slow to a halt.
“Who is it?” I ask no one in particular. A trickle of fear runs through me.
And hope.
Killian?
Of course it’s not Killian, I huff to myself. Stop dreaming. Hope is a dangerous emotion. Why would he be here? It’s morning in New York, and Killian is having breakfast made by his new nanny maid. Or worse, but I can’t bear to think about it.
“Is it the army?” someone asks behind me.
My pulse quickens as the propellers come to a complete standstill. The side door cracks open, and a tall figure wearing aviators steps out.
My heart jumps into my fucking throat. My pulse goes from resting to racing in a nanosecond.
He’s too far away to see his face clearly, but it’s him. I know it’s him. Even if he were a hundred miles away, I’d know it was him.
The other side opens, and Teagan steps out, wrapping her coat around her.
“Who the hell is that?” one of Mam’s friends asks. Her voice sounds like she’s far away, but she’s standing beside me.
Boom. Boom. Boom.
My heartbeat is in my ears, like a drumstick bashing against my brain. That’s all I can hear.
Mam shrugs. “The president?”
“Don’t be silly. It has to be Michael Tierney, the owner of the golf resort.”
I watch as Killian stretches his legs outside the helicopter and talks to the pilot. It’s like watching a movie. This can’t be real. A few people approach him, and he says something to them.
My heart is hammering so badly that I’m going to have a heart attack. What are they doing here?
The guy with Killian points down the street. This way… he’s pointing this way.
Oh my fucking God.
This is the part of the movie when someone screams, run!
I quickly glance at my dungarees and apron covered in dust and varnish. I imagined this moment so many times in my head. Longed for it. Prayed for it.
But now that it’s happening, I want to vanish.
He hasn’t spotted me yet; I’m hidden behind two farmers. His expression gives nothing away. Not from this far away, anyway.
Teagan pops her gum as they walk down the street and points excitedly to the arts and crafts store.
Any minute now, Killian will see me.
I can’t do this; I can’t face him in my hometown. I want to flee down the street or hide somewhere.
In fact…
I scuttle over to the side and take cover behind a row of garbage cans next to the furniture store. I’m not good at thinking on my feet when I have to make a fast decision, so this is the best I’ve got.
“Clodagh?” Mam bleats from the street. “What are you doing?”
“Shush, woman!” I hiss, hunkering down. I just need to wait a few minutes, and they’ll pass. “Don’t say my name.”
“Is she going to the toilet?” her friend asks really, really loudly.
Be quiet, women. I think I am going to wet myself.
Mam shakes her head at me and then turns back to her friend. “She’s been acting weird since she returned from New York. I don’t know what’s going on with her.”
I squeeze my eyes shut and attempt to slow my racing heartbeat.
A loud voice booms, “Clodagh, what are you doing down there?”
I open my eyes to see Tommy pushing away the bins to reveal me cowering in the corner.
My heart sinks. The bin plan was a big mistake.
Huge.