36

Come on, we can walk and talk at the same time,” Bobby said, standing and grabbing my hand to pull me up.

“Where are we going?”

“To rehearsals, of course. Now more than anything, you have to keep up this play lark. People will be keeping their eyes on you whether you notice it or not.”

I got chills again and shuddered. Once downstairs, Bobby started throwing clothes at me.

“What are you doing?”

“People will take you a lot more seriously if you stop dressing like Sinbad the Sailor.” He handed me a gray pinstriped pair of trousers and a blue shirt.

“These are the correct sizes,” I said, looking through the tags, impressed.

“Yes, but I did not take into account the very long legs.” He bit his lip, looking down at me.

“The bane of my life.” I rolled my eyes, handing the trousers back.

“No problem, I’ve got just the thing!” He ran off down to the end of the shop. “This entire rack is for people with very long legs.” He rooted through the hangers, while I looked at the clothes like a kid in a candy store. Never, never had I come across such a luxury.

“My God, I think I might be happy here after all.” I ran my fingers along all the clothes.

“Here you go.” He handed me what looked like exactly the same trousers, but longer. “Put them on quick. We don’t want to be late for rehearsals.”

We stepped outside into the bright sunny day, my eyes aching after being hidden away in the darkness of the musty walnut building. It was noisy with the business of trade going on. People were shouting, bargaining, laughing, and calling out in all different languages, some I had never heard before. A small group of four women turned to stare at Bobby and me as he locked up the shop. I stood on the porch in my new clothes, feeling on display, as they whispered to one another.

“There she is,” I heard one whisper very loudly, so loudly I wonder how on earth she thought I wouldn’t hear her. One nudged another and she was pushed forward, stumbling toward us as we made our way down the steps.

“Hi.” She stopped us in our tracks.

Bobby went to move around her but she stepped to the left, blocking us again.

“Hi,” she repeated, looking at me and ignoring Bobby.

“Hi,” I responded, aware that the group she had emerged from was watching.

“My name is Christine Taylor?”

Was that a question?

“Hi, Christine.”

Silence.

“I’m Sandy.”

Her eyes narrowed as she searched my face, hunting for my recognition of her.

“Can I help you?” I asked politely.

“I’ve been here for two and a half years?” she asked again.

“Oh, I see. That’s”-I looked to Bobby, who raised his eyes to heaven in response-“well, that’s quite a while, isn’t it?”

She studied me again. “I used to live in Dublin?”

“Really? Dublin’s a very nice city.”

“I have three brothers and one sister?” She tried to refresh my memory. “Andrew Taylor?” Eyes searched my face. “Martin Taylor?” Silence. “Gavin Taylor?” Silence. “My sister is Roisín Taylor?” Searched again. “She’s a nurse in Beaumont Hospital?”

“I see…” I nodded slowly.

“Do you know any of them?” she asked hopefully.

“No, I’m sorry, I don’t.” I really didn’t. “It was nice to meet you, though.” We started to move away when she grabbed my arm. “Hey!” I yelped, trying to shake her off. Her grip tightened.

“Hey, let go of her.” Bobby stepped in.

“You know them, don’t you?” she said, moving closer to me.

“No!” I said, stepping back, her grip tightening on my arm.

“My mam and dad are Charles and Sandra Taylor.” She spoke more quickly now. “You probably know them too. Just tell me ho-”

“Get off me!” I pulled my arm violently away from her as the crowd around us quieted and turned to stare.

That stopped her talking and she turned to her friends, who stared back, assessing me.

“I’m sorry, but we’re late for the rehearsals. We have to go now.” Bobby took me by the sore arm and pulled me away. In shock, I allowed him to pull me along, half running, half walking through the crowd, feeling eyes boring into me as we passed.

We finally reached the Community Hall and there was a small line forming at the door.

“Sandy!” one person called out. “There she is! Sandy!” Others began to call out and swarmed around me. I felt Bobby tugging me again, I was pulled backward and the door to the Community Hall slammed behind me. The cast of the play, who sat in a circle, all turned to stare at me and Bobby, who stood panting with our backs pressed up against the door.

“Well,” I said, catching my breath, as my voice echoed around the hall, “is this the bloody twilight zone or what?”

Helena jumped up, “Said Dorothy as she landed in Oz. Thank you, Sandy, for sharing her first line with us,” she said quickly as horrified faces transformed to understanding nods. “It will be a modern twist on an old story,” Helena explained. “Thank you, Sandy, for sharing that with us so dramatically.”

Mary finally pressed STOP as Bobby’s first-grade school play ended and she ejected the videotape Jack had secretly fantasized about burning for the last two hours. He knocked back the remainder of his cold coffee in a bid to stay awake.

“Mary, I really have to get back to Limerick tonight,” he hinted, looking at his watch. In all the time he had spent in her company, there hadn’t been one mention of Sandy. He felt he was being broken in first, being inducted into Mary’s life before they could move on to other matters. All around him in the living room, framed photographs cluttered every surface. Bobby as a newborn baby, Bobby as a toddler, Bobby on his first bike, Bobby on his first day of school, Bobby on the day of his Holy Communion, his Confirmation, decorating a Christmas tree, Bobby in freeze-frame, leaping into a swimming pool on a summer holiday. From bald, to bleached-blond, to mousy-brown hair. No teeth, to missing teeth, to metal train tracks. There were no clocks in this room, time was imprinted in every picture and suspended as if forbidden to tick on from the last photograph; Bobby and Mary on his sixteenth birthday.

Thirty-eight-year-old Mary lived in an apartment above her charity shop, which consisted of clothes, shoes, books, knickknacks, home accessories, and everything else you could imagine. The shop was musty from the smell of second- or third-hand clothes, dusty books that had been well thumbed, and old toys that had been outgrown and outlived. Above was the space that Mary had shared with Bobby all of his sixteen years.

Mary stood up. “More coffee?”

“Please.” Jack followed her to the kitchen, where he found more photographs dotting the walls, lining the windowsill. “Aren’t any of the others I called coming to the meeting?” Jack had been expecting a small gathering.

“They can’t make it on such short notice. Peter lives in Donegal with his two young children and Clara and Jim live in Cork, although they’ve recently divorced so the chances of getting them in the same room will be slim. It’s sad really. Their daughter, Orla, has been missing for six years. I think it’s that that drove them apart.” She poured more coffee. “Things like this, huge dramatic changes in life, have the magnet effect. They either drive people apart or bring them together. Unfortunately the former happened in their case.”

Jack immediately began thinking of Gloria and how this magnetic event had repelled them apart.

“I’ve no doubt everybody will pitch in to help, though, once we need them for something specific.”

“Sandy helped all of these people?”

“Sandy helps, Jack. She’s not gone yet. She’s a Trojan worker. I know you didn’t get the benefit of actually seeing her in action, but she keeps in touch with us every week. Even after all these years, she gives us a weekly call to let us know if there’s any news. Most of the time, and particularly more lately, the phone calls have been to see how we are.”