Mr Lynch’s Holiday

23

He walked down her road, but when he reached her door he hesitated and turned back. At their lunch together she’d spoken about her painting, how it helped clear her mind, focusing just on colour and texture, forgetting all the other things in her life. He’d asked her then: ‘I’d imagine it would put you off, would it? Having someone there watching you paint. Seeing how you do it.’ She thought about it and he saw that he had put her in an awkward position, so he answered for her: ‘Oh it would, it would, I’m sure. Very distracting, having someone in the way.’

She shook her head. ‘No. I don’t think so. With some people, yes, but I don’t think you would disturb me.’

‘I just … I know nothing about it, really. I’ve never seen anyone paint. I’d be interested to see how it’s done, like.’

She had smiled. ‘It would be my pleasure.’

But now he wasn’t sure what he had been thinking of when he made the suggestion. He had been easy in her company, had drunk a little too much of her wine and let himself be carried away. What did he know about painting? Why would she want some ignoramus sitting there, watching her and making idiot comments? Better to be suspected a fool, he thought, than open your mouth and prove them right.

He was walking back up the hill when he heard a voice calling his name.

‘Hello there.’ Esteban was sitting on a plastic chair in the shade of his security cabin. ‘Are you exploring again? Another empty house?’

Dermot shook his head. ‘No. No particular destination in mind. Just fancied a wander.’

Esteban smiled. ‘“Just fancied a wander.”’

‘I felt like a walk.’

‘Yes. I understand. If there is no hurry, join me, please.’ He disappeared into his cabin and returned with a stool, which he sat on. ‘Here,’ he gestured at the chair, ‘please, sit.’

Dermot did as he was told.

Esteban was silent for a moment and then said, ‘I worry that maybe I sound stupid the last time we meet.’

Dermot looked at him in surprise. ‘Not at all.’

‘“Your country is so wonderful. I love Ireland.” All these things. I sound like a child.’

‘It was nice to hear it.’

‘It’s a long time since I was there and I have happy memories. It’s so different to here, so green of course, so … different. Perhaps I think everywhere is better than here.’

Dermot looked around at the deserted estate. ‘I’d say it must be awful dull for you.’ He saw from Esteban’s face that he had not understood and he tried again. ‘The days must be very long. There’s nothing to do.’

‘I check cameras. I read books.’ He smiled. ‘I speak to everyone to practise English.’ He hesitated. ‘Yes, the days are long.’ He was silent for a while. ‘But it is a job and not everyone has a job. Most of my friends?’ He blew air from his mouth. ‘Nada.’

Dermot shook his head. ‘It’s a terrible thing.’ He thought for a moment. ‘It was the same when I was growing up back in Ireland. Nothing to do. No work. No opportunities.’

Esteban lit a cigarette. ‘My mother did not want me to take this job. She never trust the people who own it, the developers. They have a very bad reputation here. When they were building it, they did not do things in a good way. Everything cheap. One man, a worker, died. An injury to his head, bricks fell, he had no protection.’

‘I didn’t know that.’

‘No. It’s not what they tell people when they come to buy their houses. The man’s family, they never got the money, the compensation. It was all bad. Some people have superstition about this place, said it was bad luck to work here, bad luck to build here.’

‘Is that what your mother thought?’

‘No, my mother, she’s not like that. But she did not trust the developers. She said they would not pay me. She was right in the end.’ He flicked a plastic bottle top into the road. ‘Mothers are always right, aren’t they?’

Dermot smiled. ‘Always.’

‘So when you were in my situation, you left your country, you moved to England?’

‘I did.’

‘To London, “where the nightlife is unequalled”.’ Dermot looked at him and Esteban laughed. ‘I always remember that sentence from my schoolbook.’

‘Ah, right, no, not London. Birmingham. The nightlife in Birmingham, well I’d say it was equalled, but it was good enough for me.’

‘And for me too, I’m sure.’ Esteban blew out smoke. ‘I think about it often.’

‘London?’

‘Leaving.’

‘Do you think you will?’

‘I don’t know. We always think it’s better somewhere else. The green grass — that thing. Maybe it’s an illusion. I work here. Lomaverde. Even the name is a lie. I see the people who live here. Are they happy?’

Dermot shrugged. ‘I don’t know. I’m not sure what they were looking for. They didn’t come here out of desperation. They weren’t looking for jobs. Not like those poor souls in the boats the other day.’

Esteban sighed. ‘People struggle to survive. It can make them do wrong things. Things people know are not … good idea.’

‘Risk their lives.’

‘Yes, that, but other things too.’

‘I suppose so.’

‘Things that are not in the law, you know? The black money — there is a lot of that.’

‘Black money?’

‘Hidden. The government doesn’t know. Illegal.’

‘Oh, right. Of course. It happens when times are hard.’

Esteban blew out smoke and Dermot looked at him.

‘Can you drive?’

‘Yes.’

‘Well, there’s an option.’

‘What’s that?’

‘In England. They always need bus drivers.’

Esteban laughed. ‘Maybe one day.’

‘Why not now? It’s easy these days, step off a plane, no need for visas or permits. Your English is good enough.’

‘Getting there is easy, but leaving here, I don’t know. My cousin, he is a few years younger than me. We grow up together, he doesn’t speak English. I’d feel bad leaving him here. And my mother, we’re good friends. If I go she has only my dad. He is nice man, but he doesn’t talk much.’ He threw his cigarette on the ground. ‘Maybe I’m a coward.’

Dermot was silent for a while. ‘I never thought much about all that.’

‘About what?’

‘I never stopped to think what I was leaving behind. I thought if I did that I’d never get away.’

Esteban shrugged. ‘Perhaps you were right.’