Page 28 of Rewrite the Stars
‘Charlotte, there you are,’ says Dr Jack, just when I thought I’d escaped undercover. ‘I didn’t mean to chase you off earlier, but Matthew and I have a lot to get through. He’s had a rough ride. It must have been a huge shock to you all.’
I rub my forehead, and nod my head in agreement, afraid of saying the wrong thing again.
‘He’s very lucky,’ is as much as I can think of to say. ‘We’re all very lucky to have him still with us.’
Jack glances at an empty table beside us.
‘I’ve fifteen minutes before my next appointment, then I’m done for the day,’ he says to me. ‘Could you manage another coffee? I’d love to chat to you more if you’ve time. About Matthew, of course.’
I take a seat and within minutes he is sitting across from me with two steaming hot coffees between us. The canteen is quiet at this time of the early evening, as the staff prepare for the rush of staff and family members in for dinner. Soon we are knee-deep in an emotional talk about my brother and I find myself opening up to him in ways I never thought I could.
‘We had a row over a mutual friend,’ I confess to Jack, who looks like he has heard it all in his job. ‘Matthew couldn’t bear the sound of his name and he stormed off. I tried to stop him, but it was too late. I’ll never forgive myself.’
Jack stirs his coffee and adds more milk, listening to me without interruption as I pour my heart out to him, the night in Pip’s Bar so irrelevant now. Once again I regret even mentioning it to him.
‘Matthew has made it clear to me he doesn’t want to discuss that friend,’ he says to me, drawing a line under it from the get-go. ‘He’d been receiving some counselling before, dealt with it then and was advised to try and move on from what happened, so the work I’m doing with him now is in respect of that. We’re focusing very much on where he is now, what he has to look forward to and the acceptance of his new identity.’
‘Of course.’
‘He’s had a lot to deal with in his own head and letting go of the past will hopefully help you all move on – as hard as that may be.’
‘I’m trying to,’ I say to him, trying not to choke on my emotion. ‘I’m really trying to but thank you for bringing me up to date. Matthew is the most important one in all this. If he needs to just move on, then that’s what we’ll do with him.’
Jack’s eyes tell me he knows it’s not as easy as that, especially when he can see mine are full of regret and sorrow.
‘Maybe you need to talk to someone about the way you’re blaming yourself?’ he whispers. ‘I know Matthew doesn’t blame you, Charlotte. You need to go easier on yourself. You have a life to live too, you know.’
‘Thank you,’ I say to him. ‘It means a lot to hear that from someone like you. I can see why Matthew trusts you so deeply.’
He smiles as if he’s heard it all before.
‘Start living again, Charlotte,’ he tells me softly. ‘Even painful endings can lead the way to new beginnings.’
His voice is soothing and comforting, his words are exactly what I need to hear, and they resonate with me because he can be objective in all this. Tom could tell me it’s not my fault until he’s blue in the face, but he’s too involved, whereas Jack is a professional, an outsider. In the time it’s taken to drink a coffee he’s made me feel like I do have hope when it comes to self-forgiveness.
‘I’ll certainly try,’ I tell Dr Jack, feeling much better in myself in such a short space of time. ‘Your words of wisdom will certainly help Matthew, just like they’ve helped me. I better go see how he’s doing.’
And so I walk back down the corridor of the small hospital, with a sense of hope in my heart that I haven’t felt in a very long time.
Chapter Seven
Dublin, December 2016
‘Merry Christmas, boys and girls! Have a lovely break and I’ll see you all in the New Year!’
The children chorus back. ‘Merry Christmas, Miss Taylor!’
The school bell rings and the stampede for the door begins until I raise my voice and call for home-time etiquette, which means to form an orderly line at the door, in alphabetical order of course.
By my desk, I have two huge bags of presents from my wonderful class, containing everything from photo frames, chocolates, candles and bubble bath to mugs with ‘Best Teacher’ on them. My heart is full but somewhat empty at the same time, as I think of the joy I felt on this very day twelve months ago and how I could never have predicted what was round the corner. The day we broke up from school, the night of the big snow, the night we went to Pip’s Bar, the night I spent with Tom …
My phone rings just as I’m getting into the car once everyone has been picked up and wishes of merriment for the festive season have been shared with parents, childminders, bus drivers and taxi drivers, who all play their part in seeing the children home safe every day of the year. Even Patricia the lollipop lady, who rarely seems to have anything to smile about, has a string of tinsel around her generous waist and looks jolly despite the persistent drizzle of rain that hangs over the school yard.
‘Mam,’ I say, cradling the phone under my neck as I fasten my seatbelt. ‘How’s things? I’m just finished so—’
‘Well I know you’re just finished, that’s why I’m ringing,’ she sings down the phone. I know immediately it’s either good news or bad news. Mam never calls me just for the sake of it or for a cosy catch-up. ‘You’ll never believe it, but your friend, that nice doctor Jack Malone with the twinkly blue eyes, just called to say that Matthew is going to be able to come home for Christmas after all! We’re over the flippin’ moon, Charlotte!’
I don’t tell her that I’d an idea this would be the case. I knew this already from Jack, but I don’t want to burst her bubble. However, Mam has more to tell, an additional announcement that I didn’t know about.
