Page 66 of Postscript

On bended knee

He made his plea

Of that place he is sentimental

‘I’m loving this!’ Sharon admits. ‘Please let me know when you’re doing this again, I’d love to help. Where to next?’

‘How much time do you have, I thought you said you have a scan today?’

She looks guilty. ‘I made it up. I told my mum that so I could have a few hours off, I’m so tired,’ she says, her eyes glistening.

I hug her.

‘This is the perfect day, really, I know I wasn’t sure about this, Holly, but I’m fully behind you now. There is nothing wrong about doing any of this, and if you need me to tell Gabriel all about it, I will.’

My smile instantly fades at the mention of Gabriel, and I remember all over again that I’ve lost him. I gave him up. ‘It’s too late for that,’ I say, starting the engine.

We travel to Howth Harbour Lighthouse and Martello tower, built in 1817, where Bert proposed to Rita with fish and chips in their hands. The lighthouse caretaker emerges from the small Georgian-style house that is attached to the tower, listens to my story and does me the honour of accepting the letter for Rita. As with the hotel duty manager, and the security guard, I’m discovering that Bert’s story, a human story, is one that these busy people make time to listen to. They don’t divert me, or stonewall me. I’m not going to them with a complaint, I’m not trying to extort them. I’m just asking them to listen and to play their part in somebody’s dying wishes. The kindness of these strangers gives me hope, a faith in humanity: that though sometimes it may feel as though people are shutting down to others, devoid of compassion and empathy, we can still recognise when something is real. We are not altogether numb and unfeeling.

The caretaker takes the envelope containing the limerick:

There once was a fool who got lost

Who was greedy and ignored the cost

I’m sorry my love

From below and above

It’s here I felt your hate truly exhaust

‘I wonder what he did,’ Sharon says, as we walk back along the pier to the car park, eating our own fish and chips.

‘I think we can guess,’ Denise says, her words thick with cynicism.

‘I don’t know what you’re so angry about, you have a perfect husband who adores you and who stayed by your side through everything,’ Sharon snaps. I don’t have the energy to agree, after what Denise has thrown at me already today.

‘I know that,’ Denise says quietly. ‘That’s why he deserves more.’

We are all quietly thoughtful as we travel to our next destination, Sharon pondering the arrival of a baby into an already chaotic life, Denise pondering the demise of her marriage and a future that is not going according to plan. Me about … oh everything.

I park and we get out, looking out at the building Bert has led us to.

‘So this is where Rita forgave Bert,’ I say, looking up.

Our silence is broken as we break the sombre mood to laugh. It’s a hemp shop and tattoo parlour.

‘You never know, they might have gotten high and had his and her tattoos declaring their love,’ Denise suggests.

‘What will I do?’

‘You have to follow protocol,’ Sharon says, holding out her hand for me to lead the way.

I laugh, take a deep breath and enter.

The staff are the easiest of all the spots we’ve been at, they’re moved by the story and excited to play their part, and they even offer to throw in a complimentary tattoo for Rita on her arrival. It’s been a long day, and we’re all quiet, eager to finish. The final destination is a house in Glasnevin.

Sharon reads the limerick.