Chapter 2: Settling in

We drive most of the way up to the school in relative silence, with me concentrating on watching the road carefully because the sun has come out soon after the rain and the glare of the wet road generally heading North-North-West is distracting, especially at the afternoon traffic increased with parents picking up their children from school. Why is it that when it rains so many parents drop off and pick up their kids? Surely the kids have got used to Irish rain by the time they go to school. If it didn’t rain, they’d miss it.

I have to pick up my kid up from school anyway because a few months ago she was subjected to some bullying from older girls on her way home; it was outside the school and the school seemed powerless to do anything about it. I work out of home so it wasn’t much of an inconvenience to me most of the time. So I stopped her using the bus and and started to drive her to and from school.

I think the bullying has had an effect on her, hardening her somehow. She used to be so loving but she has been getting increasingly belligerent towards me. A shame, because she used to be such a sweet schoolgirl, now she seems to have the attitudes of a teenager three years too soon.

Etain uses the towel to pat her hair dry without bothering to undo the tight braiding. Even dry the hair looks jet black in contrast to her white skin, even her bare arms are white. I only steal glances at her and assess that she could even be as young as 18, in looks, but she seems to have an air of confidence that makes her seem older somehow. Although I suggested before she got in that she get her mobile out and key in the Garda’s emergency number, she has made no attempt to do so and doesn’t seem afraid of me. Although I’m 6-1 to her 5-6, I’m slim and ‘bookish’, nerdish rather than athletic. I don’t do gym, just 45 minutes’ running at weekends. Because Caoimhe’s not a morning person, I can get out of the cottage early on Saturdays and Sundays for a run without her feeling abandoned.

“The school is only a couple of minutes away from here,” I say at last, “your clothes are soaked through, so you can stay here in the warm car while I fetch her from the school building. They won’t let us drive inside the school and there’s a no-parking restriction on the road either side of the school gates. Will you be all right on your own just for a few minutes?”

“I am often on my own, Richard, and I am comfortable sitting here. Where is the music coming from? Because that fella can’t hold a tune to save his life.”

“Ah, he’s from Canada.”

Leonard Cohen is an acquired taste, he may have been a poet which may be why the words are more important than the delivery. I like him but Caoimhe absolutely hates most of the music I play and I guess to a 10-year-old it is ‘oldies’ music. Etain clearly enjoys new younger music.

“Hey, I have some Olivia Rodrigo on my mobile that I could play instead,” I grin knowing that although girls of 10 love that stuff, an older teenager might or might not.

“Do they play reels or jigs, Richard?” she replies, “because I love to dance and you can’t possibly dance to this.”

Jigs and reels? Well, you can knock me down with a feather.

“Gee, I do have some traditional music,” I reply, “and have a collection of a number of traditional albums on shuffle.”

The traffic is not too heavy here and we are going slow to suit the built-up area, so I click on my cell phone and find the selection and press, a snatch of fiddle music, which starts halfway through the last time I played it.

I laugh as Etain starts to jiggle in her seat.

Two minutes later I park as close to the school as I can. No other cars are about so I know without even looking at the clock that delaying to pick up my wet passenger means I am the last terrible parent to pick up their precious rugrat.

“You stay and listen to the music, I’ll go fetch my daughter.”

“All right, Richard, I’ll wait. You know you’re lucky, a daughter is a blessing.”

Yeah, only at times like this having a daughter also means I know I’m going to get a thorough grilling for being late and picking up a hitchhiker.

Caoimhe is abusive at my lateness as she has been to me for some months.

“Well, father, what bloody time do you call this?” Caoimhe spits, standing under the shelter of the overhang in front of the school entrance with her arms folded. She gets fined from her pocket money if she swears; a year ago she started using ‘feck’ or ‘fecking’ and I had to put my foot down and she ended up with an overdraft, but it taught her a lesson. There is a light rain falling, even though the sun, low in the late afternoon sky, is shining and highlighting her fiery frizzy red hair.

“I’ve seen her, Dad, I saw her as you parked the car and spoke to her before you go out. Who’s the young woman in the front seat? You haven’t started courtin’ now have you? At your age, you should be ashamed of yourself, Dad. Or is it that your goin’ through a mid-life in yer ould age?”

I turn to look back the way I came and from where she stands you can see where my SUV is parked through the school railings and Etain can be seen observing us through the side window. As she sees us turn and look in her direction, she smiles and for an instant her smile outshines the sun.

“Oh, she’s cute, father, what school does she go to?”

‘Be polite for once, Keev, and play nice, she’s not a school girl, she’s our new next door neighbour.”

I smile at Etain, returning her brilliant smile with what counts as my best smile, silently thanking my parents for paying for the orthodontist to sort out the mess in my upper set during my formative years.

“Really? She moved in today?”

“No, not yet, I picked her up and I’m taking her home after collecting you along the way. She asked to meet with you, being young girls, her a teenager and you almost one, might have a lot in common. We probably need to stop for groceries though because the house is empty and she doesn’t appear to have an auto.”

“So what’s she doing in the car?” she questions, “did she ring for you to collect her from the station?”

“No, she was walking all the way along the Slievenamon Road and she got soaked, not just from the rain but seriously splashed by a wave of dirty water from a passing truck. I stopped to pick her up.”

“Dad, you should never pick up hitchhikers, for all you knew she might’ve been a murderer.”

“Nah, I’ve never picked up a murderer yet and, look at her, she’s only a wee girl, not much bigger than you.”

“You only need to pick up one murderer Dad, you bloody eejit, the first crazy pick up’ll be your last and I’ll become a broken-hearted orphan and a guest of the County and end up homeless and hopeless. So who exactly is she? I didn’t see any signs up for the cottage being up for sale.”

“No, the cottage has not been sold, she’s Mrs Wisniewski’s niece. As far as I know she may be house-sitting and getting the place clean and lived in to max out the price until the cottage is sold. Usually, when old people like her aunt has to go in to a retirement home, the property would be sold to meet the care home fees, but maybe allowed a few months’ grace until sold, so be nice to her, she tells me she doesn’t know anyone else around here.”

“If she’s her niece, how come we’ve never seen her around here before? And I can’t remember Katie ever mentioning any relatives except her sister, who used to live in our place before you and Mum moved in and long before I was born. What was the sister’s name now? ... Beverley?”

“Yes, Bev, no Bevin, I think. Well, this is their niece and her name is Etain, she’s young, student age I guess, seems nice and friendly, has got excellent taste in music, and she’s now our only neighbor. So, for once in your short life, Keev, please play nice.”

We start to walk down the path to the gate.

“I’m always nice, Da —” Caoimhe insists, “and Katie was as spry as anyone that old that I know. I mean, weren’t you surprised when you saw her note about leaving?”

“Sure, but when we bought our cottage, she’d only just lost her husband and then her sister who lived in our place moved in with her for a few months, but I remember Katie saying that they got on each other’s nerves and her sister Bev moved out. I’ve no idea where she went, as Katie handled the estate agent and was the main contact. I think Katie liked your mother a lot and accepted our offer over others even though we could barely afford it at the time. She was a great comfort to me when Ella died. Katie adored you, you know, and not just because she accepted being your godmother.”

“Yeah, me too, I loved Katie. She never judged me. I’d love to see her again, can we find out where she is and go visit?”

“We’ll see what Etain says. We don’t know how well she is. There’s a lot of dementia around among old people.”

“OK, so where did you pick her up?”

“I picked her up in the rain, she’s still soaked and not been home yet. So we’re not going directly home, but to the store for groceries and whatever else she needs to move in.”

I realise that the large bag she’s carrying isn’t large enough to contain any change of clothes. I remembered that Katie only left me a note a few months ago to say she was moving out into a home and asked me to keep an eye on the place for a while. I’d been given a back door key many years before, as I had given our front door key and the code to the alarm to her, as good neighbors and she had clearly used my key to leave her note on my kitchen counter where I’d see it when I put my coffee maker on. I cleaned out her frig and moved all her house plants into a sheltered part of the garden by the house where I could water them easily. I never felt the need to check her drawers or wardrobes but was sure she only had ‘old people’ clothes and I rarely saw her wearing anything new or fashionable, so Etain would probably not find anything at all to change into.