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She grabbed a wet wipe from the bathroom and cleaned off her face roughly. Her skin stung and her eyes felt as if they’d dried up with all the crying, but somehow, this sense of being emptied out almost felt as if she was done with getting past the worst. She needed some cheer and, as her little celebration of Christmas had never actually happened, she lit the fire log that had been buried beneath a tonne of Eddie’s old shoes and then switched off all the lights in the flat so she could enjoy her open fire again after all these years. When it took off, she sat back on the sofa, enjoying the flames dancing, the candles lit on the mantelpiece, the peace and quiet of having the place to herself, and yes, maybe she took a certain amount of pleasure in the serenity of knowing that somehow life had just become more authentic for all those tears.
*
The following morning, the alarm clock woke her to the unusual brightness of new snow covering the streets beneath her window. There were a number of things she had to do today, if she was going to make a clean break of things and start this new life that she hoped would open up in some way, to give her, if not the dreams she’d dreamed up until now, then at least a new contentment within herself.
First things first.
It was almost nine o’clock in the morning and she’d promised Francine she’d cover a split shift for one of the agency girls who wanted to finish early. She didn’t have to be at work for another hour, so, after her shower and pulling back the curtains in the flat, she switched on her phone.
‘Eddie,’ she said with a lot more poise than she felt. Inside, her stomach was doing somersaults for all her earlier bravery.
‘Huh?’ It had clearly been a very late night. ‘What time is it?’
‘It’s early, but I needed to talk to you. Are you awake yet?’
‘Huh? Yeah, I don’t have much of a bloody choice now, do I?’
‘No, you don’t. I rang you because I’m finishing things between us!’
‘You’re what?’ She could hear something vaguely resembling wakefulness abruptly come into his voice. She’d like to think he shot up in the bed, shocked and devastated, but this was Eddie, and she knew he was probably too hung-over for devastation to set in.
‘Yes. I’m sorry to spring it on you, by phone, but really, it’s better this way. It gives you time to sort out somewhere to live when you come back to Dublin after the holidays.’
‘You’re throwing me out of the flat?’ He was stupefied and she almost felt a little bad for catching him on the hop, until she remembered the note from Anya. ‘Hang on a minute there…’
‘No. You hang on. I know you’ve been sleeping with Anya and regardless of what you believe, I’m not a complete doormat.’
‘You can’t just throw me out of my home. I have rights.’
‘It’s my flat, Eddie.’ She felt a tremor of fear slip over her as she looked about her newly tidied living room. Could he try and make some sort of claim on the place? Squatter’s rights? She couldn’t bear that, because she realised just how much she loved this little place. It had been her haven when Rachel died and she’d felt exactly the same comfort the previous evening as she’d sat watching the flames lick up the chimney. Why had she taken it for granted over the last few years? It was as if it had turned into little more than a place to sleep, a place to share with Eddie and his vast collection of trainers and video games. It could do with a lick of paint. Everything about it had sort of grown shabbier over the last few years. How had she not noticed that until now?
‘It doesn’t matter who owns it. I’ve been living there for over six years; you can’t just leave me homeless. There are laws about that sort of thing,’ he said and she’d never heard him so vehement before. His words, spitting down the phone, actually made her feel as if her chest was tightening just a little more with every syllable. It was scary, hearing the reality of what was ahead of them coming from his bitter words.
‘Oh, I think you’ll find I can. I’ve spoken to Maya.’ It was a complete lie.
‘Oh, of course, perfect bloody Maya; well, she would have something to say about it. She never much liked me anyway, did she? I was never quite good enough.’
‘That’s not true.’ But Liv knew it was true. It wasn’t time to think about that now, but later, she could reflect on the fact that Maya had always worried about her relationship with Eddie. It turned out she’d been right to be concerned.
‘It doesn’t matter. All my stuff is there. I still have my keys and you have no right to ring me up and just decide that you’re going to…’
‘Can’t you hear yourself?’ It had just dawned on Liv: Eddie didn’t give two hoots about the fact that she knew about his relationship with Anya. All that bothered Eddie was that he had to move out of the flat. ‘Don’t you care that…’ She stopped herself, because she wouldn’t do this. She’d let herself down enough. Now it was time to gather whatever bit of self-respect she had left about her and move on with her life.
‘Some of us don’t have the luxury of caring about much more than making ends meet at the end of the week.’
‘Oh, Eddie,’ she said. God, she’d been taken for a complete fool. She’d paid all his bills. She’d put a roof over his head, for free, and yet, he always had enough money for designer trainers and to spend his Christmas holidays from opening to closing time in Flannelly’s pub getting drunk with his mates. She wanted to ask him about that ring, but she had some small sense of pride left. She needed to forget she’d ever seen it, pretend that some small part of her didn’t believe he’d made it for Anya.
‘Don’t Oh, Eddie me, who on earth do you think you are? First off, you don’t even bother to come home for Christmas and even if you had, it’s not as if you’d want to do anything with me.’ His words fell off. The only place he ever wanted to spend time in Ballycove was at the pub. ‘And then, you ring me up and accuse me of…’
‘I know you were seeing her.’ She held the phone away from her while he absolutely lost it on the other end, but the more he spoke, the more she knew this was the right thing to do. At the end of it all, when he’d played himself out, she waited a beat before she spoke. ‘You’re right about only one thing, Eddie. You still have the keys to my flat and I’d like them back. I’ve moved all your stuff out. I’ve left everything in the workshop. I still have your keys for there by the way, so I propose we do a swap – otherwise… well, I’m going to have to ask Maya to step in.’ And, with that she ended the call. She absolutely wouldn’t put it past him to turn up and let himself in after the holidays, and she knew the sensible thing to do was change the locks; perhaps Pete would help her out with that.
The call shook her. She wasn’t completely naïve – she hadn’t expected it to be easy, but she knew she had to tell him while she was fired up for it. The thing about working in A&E was that you never knew what the day would bring and even a very short shift could empty her out, so making a call like that would be impossible afterwards.
She sat in the tiny alcove by the window. Maya had made this into a window seat for her – they’d bought the deep velvet cushion together. She sat there for a long time after she hung up the phone on Eddie. Her thoughts raced away from her. She supposed it wouldn’t take long for word to get round the village that she’d called time on their relationship. She imagined Eddie, sitting in Flannelly’s for the next few days, milking his sorrows for all they were worth. She pictured his mother, pursing her lips and making nasty insinuations about how she’d never thought much of those Latimer girls anyway. The only blessing was that anyone decent in the village had the measure of both sides a long time before this happened. And then, Liv thought of her parents, having to put up with the Quirkes for Christmas dinner while she’d been up here working without any idea of what was going on right under her nose. She had to speak to them next.
Liv went to the bathroom and brushed her hair, while trying not to make eye contact with herself in the bathroom mirror. She knew she looked terrible, but if she sat with her back to the light, she might just fool her family into thinking that there was nothing to worry about and she was taking this in her stride. She smeared on some rose lip balm and a hint of blusher and then she went back to the window seat and called her mother on FaceTime.
‘Good morning, darling.’ Her mother looked as if she’d just come back from a walk outside; perhaps she’d been down checking on the lambs and this idea sent a now almost familiar pang of loneliness through Liv.
