There’s No Place Like Here

41

Despite Dr. Burton’s threats and protestations, Jack had decided to continue with his mission and make the journey to Leitrim after all. Another night spent in young Bobby’s room had awoken the drive within him to find Donal, not that it had needed much of an awakening. It was the part of him that was constantly wide-eyed and alert, searching around for answers, clues, and meaning with every beat of his heart. He was still clinging to the idea that finding Sandy was his way out. She was the medicine his overworked mind needed in order to rest. Why exactly, he didn’t know, but he had rarely felt such instincts for something in his life. It was as though the part of him that had been lost along with Donal had been replaced by a strengthened sense. He was like a blind man being led by his heightened sense of smell; by touch he could orient himself; by sound he could listen to his heart. When Jack had lost Donal, he had lost his vision but he’d gained a new sense of direction in his life.

He didn’t know what he was going to say to Sandy’s parents when he saw them, if indeed they were home or if they would even give him the time of day. He just kept on following the invisible internal compass that had replaced Donal. At noon he found himself sitting in his car around the corner from the housing estate where they lived, taking deep breaths. It was a Saturday but the small cul-de-sac was quiet. He got out of the car and strolled down the small street, trying to look inconspicuous but feeling and knowing he was completely out of place on the tranquil road, the only moving piece on a chessboard.

He stopped outside number four, where there was a small two-door silver car in the drive that glistened to within an inch of its life. The front garden was immaculate and was a hive of activity for bees and birds. All the summer flowers were out in their glory, colors of every shade, sweet honey scents, jasmines and lavenders. The grass was an even inch in height all around, the border where it met the soil a razor-sharp line that looked like it could cut any petal that dared to fall. A hanging basket overflowing with petunias and geraniums hung from outside the porch door. An umbrella stand sat inside, Wellington boots and fishing gear beside that. By the entrance a gnome hid under a willow tree holding a sign saying WELCOME. Jack relaxed slightly. Here were the boarded-up windows, barking dogs, and burned-out car from his worst-case scenario fears.

He opened the lemon-colored gate, which matched the front door and window frames, like a perfectly edible candy house. There was no creak; just as he suspected. He walked up the even flagstones, not a weed peeking up between the stones. He cleared his throat and pressed the doorbell, its tinkling sound also nonthreatening. He heard footsteps, saw a shadow through the obscured glass get closer to the door. Despite the friendly appearance of the woman he assumed to be Sandy’s mother, the arrival of a strange man on her doorway demanded the porch’s sliding door remain closed.

“Mrs. Shortt?” He smiled and gave her the least threatening face he could.

She seemed to relax a bit more and stepped into the porch area, the sliding door still a barrier. “Yes?”

“My name is Jack Ruttle. I’m very sorry to disturb you at home but I was wondering if Sandy was here?”

Her eyes moved fleetingly over him, quickly surveying the man who looked for her daughter and then she slid the porch door open. “You’re a friend of Sandy’s?”

He doubted saying no would get him any further, but would probably result in the closing of the door once again. “Yes,” he said, smiling. “Is she here?”

She smiled back. “I’m sorry Mr… what did you say your name was?”

“It’s Jack Ruttle, but just call me Jack.”

“Jack,” she said pleasantly, “she’s not here. Is there anything I can help you with?”

“I don’t suppose you could tell me where she is?” He kept smiling, knowing it had the potential to be far more of an awkward moment, a perfect stranger interrogating a mother on the whereabouts of her child.

“Where is she?” she repeated thoughtfully. “I don’t know, Jack. Would she want me to tell you where she is?”

They both laughed and Jack shifted uncomfortably. “Well, I’m not sure how I could possibly convince you of that.” He held his hands out, admitting defeat. “Look, I don’t know what I was expecting when I got here but I just thought I’d take a chance. I’m very sorry for bothering you. Could I leave a message for her? Could you tell her that I’m looking for her and that…” He paused and tried to think of something that could convince Sandy to crawl out of her hiding place if she was in that house listening to him right now. “Could you tell her that I can’t do this without her. She’ll know what I’m talking about.”

She nodded, studying him all the while. “I’ll pass the message on.”

“Thank you.” There was a pause and Jack prepared to wrap it up.

“You’re not a Leitrim boy, by the sounds of it.”

He smiled. “Limerick.”

She mulled that over. “She was going to visit you last week?”

“Yes.”

“The one thing I do know about my daughter, she rang me on her way to Glin, was it?” She smiled and it faded quickly. “She was looking for someone of yours?”

Jack nodded, feeling like a teenager faced by a nightclub bouncer and hoping by his silence he would be allowed in.

Mrs. Shortt was quiet while she pondered what to do. She looked up and down the road. A neighbor across the road raised a garden glove to her and she waved back. Perhaps feeling less threatened, she made her decision. “Come inside,” she said, and motioned to him, moving away from the door, heading back down the hall.

Jack looked up and down the road. The neighbor watched him reluctantly step into the house. He smiled awkwardly. He could hear Mrs. Shortt in the kitchen clattering cups and plates. He heard the kettle go on. The inside of the house was as immaculate as the outside. The front door led directly into the living room. It smelled of furniture polish and fresh air, as though all the windows had been left open for the scents of the garden to rush inside. There was no clutter. The carpet was vacuumed, silver and brasses gleamed, wood shone.

“I’m in here, Jack,” Mrs. Shortt called out, as though they were lifelong friends.

He went through to the unsurprisingly gleaming kitchen. The washing machine was running, RTE Radio 1 was on in the background, and the kettle was building up its crescendo to boiling point. From the kitchen there were French doors that led out to the back garden and again it was as well maintained as the front, with a large birdhouse, currently accommodating a greedy-looking robin singing between each peck at the seeds.

“You have a lovely home, Mrs. Shortt,” Jack said, taking a seat at the kitchen table. “Thank you for the kind invitation.”

“You can call me Susan, and you’re welcome.” She filled the teapot with boiling water, covered it with a tea cozy and waited. Jack hadn’t had tea like that since his mother used to make it. Despite welcoming him into her home, Susan was still on guard and stood by the counter with one hand on the tea cozy, the other fiddling with a tea bag. “You’re the first friend of Sandy’s to call by since she was a teenager.” She looked deep in thought.

Jack didn’t know how to respond to that.

“Everybody after that knew better.” She smiled. “How well do you know Sandy?”

“Not well enough.”

“No,” she said more to herself, “I didn’t think so.”

“Every day that I search for her, I learn something new about her,” he added.

“You’re searching for her?” She raised her eyebrows.

“That’s why I’m here, Mrs. Shortt-”

“Susan, please.” She looked pained. “I look around for Harold’s mother and the scent of cabbage when I hear that name. Everything was cabbage, cabbage, cabbage with that woman.” She laughed at the memory.

“Susan.” He smiled. “The last thing I came here to do is worry you, but I was due to meet with Sandy last week, as you mentioned. She didn’t show up and since then I’ve done everything to try to contact her.” He deliberately left out the details about finding her car and phone. “I’m sure she’s fine,” he insisted, “but I really want-” He started again. “I really need to find her.” Sending Sandy’s mother into a panic was the very opposite of his intentions and he held his breath awaiting her response. He was relieved if not a little shocked to see a tired smile crawl onto her face but it gave up, collapsing in a sad heap before reaching her eyes.

“You’re right, Jack, you certainly don’t know our Sandy well enough.” She turned her back to him to pour the tea. “Now let me teach you another thing about my daughter. I love her very much but she has the ability to hide as expertly as a sock in a washing machine. No one knows where it goes, just as no one knows where she goes, but at least when she decides to come back, we’re all here, waiting for her.”

“I’ve heard that from everyone this week.”

She whisked around. “Who else did you speak to?”

“Her landlord, her clients, her doctor…” His voice trailed off guiltily. “I really didn’t want to have to call on you about this.”

“Her doctor?” Susan asked, not minding at all that she had been left until last. She was more interested in the mention of her daughter’s doctor.

“Yes, Dr. Burton,” Jack said slowly, not sure whether to reveal Sandy’s private information to her mother.

“Oh!” Susan tried to hide a smile.

“You know him?”

“Do you know by any chance if it’s Gregory Burton?” She tried to hide her excitement but failed miserably.

“That’s him, but he isn’t so keen on me, in case you’re talking to him.”

“Indeed,” Susan said thoughtfully, not hearing what he’d said. “Indeed,” she repeated with her eyes alight, answering a question Jack wasn’t privy to. She was clearly delighted, but remembering Jack was in the room, she composed herself, intrigue taking the place of a mother’s excitement. “Why is it that you want to find Sandy so much?”

“I was worried about her when she didn’t turn up to meet me in Glin, and then I was unable to contact her, which made me even more concerned.” It was partly true but it sounded lame and he knew it.

Susan appeared to know it too. She raised her eyebrows and spoke in a bored tone. “I’ve been waiting for three weeks for Barney the plumber to come and fix my sink but I haven’t yet planned on visiting his mother.”

Jack looked absentmindedly at her sink. “Well, Sandy is looking for my brother. I even got in touch with a member of the Gardaí in Limerick.” He felt his face flush as Susan let out a sound of surprise. “Graham Turner is his name, in case he calls.”

Susan smiled. “We called the police on three occasions at the beginning but we’ve learned not to, now. If Garda Turner asks around he’ll know not to continue with his investigations.”

“He’s already done that,” Jack said grimly, and then he frowned. “I don’t understand all this, Susan. I can’t understand where she’s gone. I can’t fathom how she can disappear so cleverly without anyone knowing where she is, without anyone wanting to know where she is.”

“We each have our hiding places and we each put up with the little quirks of the people we love.” She rested her head on her hand and seemed to study him.

He sighed. “That’s it?”

“What do you mean?”

“That’s it? Just let people vanish? No more questions asked? Come and go as you please? Flutter in and out. Disappear, reappear, and disappear again? No problem!” He laughed angrily. “Nobody worry about a thing! Don’t bother caring about all the people at home that love you and that are worrying themselves sick to death about you.”

There was silence.

“You love Sandy?”

“What?” He screwed his face up.

“You said…Never mind.” She sipped her tea.

“I’ve only ever spoken to Sandy on the phone,” Jack said slowly. “There was no…relationship between us.”

“So by finding my daughter, you find your brother?” He didn’t have time to answer the question. “Do you think your brother’s hiding place is the same as Sandy’s?” she asked boldly.

And there it was. A complete stranger, someone who had met him no more than ten minutes before, had summed up the ridiculous notion behind his frantic search, in one question. Susan allowed a few moments to pass before offering, “I don’t know the circumstances of your brother’s disappearance, Jack, but I know he’s not in the same place as Sandy. Here’s another lesson,” she said softly, “a lesson Harold and I have learned over the years. No one ever finds the other sock in the washing machine, not through actively looking, anyway.” She waved her hand dismissively. “Things just turn up. You can drive yourself crazy trying to find them. It doesn’t matter how neat and tidy you keep your life, it doesn’t matter how organized things are.” She paused and laughed sadly. “I’m a hypocrite, I somehow pretend to myself that a tidy house will make Sandy come home more often. I think, if she can just see everything, if she can see that everything is in order and has its place, then she won’t have to worry about things going missing.” She looked around the spotless kitchen. “Anyway, it doesn’t matter how much, how often, or how closely you keep an eye on things because you can’t control it. Sometimes things and people just go.” She waved her hand through the air on the last word. “Just like that.” Then she placed the comforting hand over his. “Don’t destroy yourself trying to find out where.”

They said their good-byes at the door and Susan, trying to hide her embarrassment, said, “Talking about things turning up, if you do come across Sandy before we do, tell her I found her purple diary with the butterflies. It was in her old bedroom. Unusual, because I’ve cleaned out that wardrobe dozens of times but never came across it.” She frowned. “Anyway, it would be important for her to know.”

She looked up and waved again across the road and Jack turned to see a woman similar in age to Susan. “That’s Mrs. Butler,” she said, although it was of no importance to Jack. “Her daughter Jenny-May went missing when she was ten years old, the same age as Sandy. Such a lovely little girl, an angel, everyone said.”

Jack, suddenly interested, studied the woman some more. “Did they find her?”

“No,” Susan said sadly, “they never did, but she has left that porch light on every single night for twenty-four years hoping she’ll come home. She’ll barely go away on holiday, she’s so afraid she’ll miss her.”

Jack slowly walked back to his car, feeling odd, different, as though he had switched bodies with the man who had only an hour ago entered the Shortt household. He stopped walking, looked to the sky, and contemplated all that he had learned through meeting Sandy’s mother. He smiled. And he cried as relief washed over him like a waterfall raining down. Because for the first time in a year, he felt like he could finally stop.

And start living again.