Made With Love

Chapter 18

As promised, Johnno Ryan is elbows planted and jabbering away at us bright and early in Cathal’s safari shod office. A strand of his wild white hair keeps falling into his face, and he keeps tucking it behind an ear. How old is this guy? Ninety?!

‘First day on the reef, I’m all suited up,’ he says. ‘Got the fins on, tank, the whole bit, and the man says for me to jump in. I think that’s what he said. He was Swiss or German or something. Anyway, I see the lads next to me are sort of leaning backward and going in that way, so I waddle over to the back of the boat and lean waaay back. Slammed smack into the dive platform. Bone came right through the wetsuit!’ Johnno hoists up his leg to show off the cast.

‘Jesus H,’ Dermot whistles.

‘Have you the forms, Johnno?’ Clare asks, blunt as a shovel.

‘Oh yeah, yeah,’ he says and riffles them out of a binder. He pushes the top sheet over to me. ‘Just here and here,’ he says. My hand wavers above the dotted lines, blood roaring in my ears. I sign and hand the form to Clare.

‘Sorry about all this,’ Johnno says. ‘I’ll file these straight away.’

‘Do,’ Clare says.

He shakes our hands and hobbles out.

I heave a sigh and look over at Clare. ‘I’ve got to run by St. Enda’s. Say goodbye.’

‘Right,’ she says.

‘I can drop you down,’ Dermot says.

‘No,’ I smile up at him. ‘I like the walk.’

An eerie quiet hangs over the factory. No mechanical strumming, no footfall, no chatter. I let myself into the office and fire up my laptop. I run a search, and a stream of high tech cooling systems pops onscreen. ‘Overnight, guaranteed’ they say. I like the sound of that. I click away and print out the invoice. Then I send a text to Michael. ‘Shipping off on the four o’clock ferry.’ I start packing up my things.

‘Still hard at it?’ Bridie says and pads in from the factory floor. She hugs me tight. ‘What ever are we going to do without you?’

I hand her the invoice. ‘Make lots of cheese,’ I smile.

Her eyes bulge. ‘But how did you—’

‘Clare.’

‘Clare?’ she balks.

There’s a sharp knock on the outer door, and Bridie swings it open.

‘Got a delivery for St. Enda’s?’ a courier says.

Bridie squints at the box. ‘Is that a computer? No, you must have the wrong place!’

‘You’re grand,’ I say and sign for the parcel.

‘Sure I don’t know how to work one of those things!’ Bridie reels.

‘Cormac will show you how,’ I reassure her. ‘You’ll be able to update the website and keep track of the online orders.’

‘Well, I never... And that’s from Clare too?’

‘That’s from me,’ I grin.

Bridie hugs me to her as if she hadn’t a notion of letting go. ‘Thank you, Julie. From all of us, thank you.’

‘It’s me that should be thanking you,’ I sniff.

‘Whatever for?’ Bridie laughs.

‘For showing me who I am.’

Bridie snuffles through happy tears. ‘You’re very welcome,’ she says.

‘I better get going. The ferry’s due at four.’ And I haven’t even packed!