life today – my mother.’
‘Your mother?’
‘Yes – my biological mother. We’ve never met. She gave me up for adoption when I was a baby. There’s never been any sort of contact, but today was meant to be the big day. My social worker helped to set it up so that we would meet on neutral ground and in a public place like they advise … But what a fecking disaster. I guess she just chickened out – didn’t want to meet me at all.’
‘Don’t be so hard on yourself and on her.’
‘What?’
‘It must be a very difficult situation – for both of you.’
Erin couldn’t believe it. This stranger was actually taking her mother’s part.
‘You could say that!’ she laughed. ‘Talk about understatement.’
‘I think they are closing up now,’ he nodded in the direction of the restaurant manager, who was coming towards them. ‘We’d better go.’
‘I suppose.’
Erin grabbed her bill from the table and paid.
It was four thirty p.m. and she just couldn’t face going home to the apartment or to her parents and the barrage of questions she would get. God knows how many missed calls and texts she’d logged; everyone would be dying to find out how things went with Kate. But she wasn’t up to facing them yet.
‘Will you go home?’ he asked, standing beside her at the door.
‘I couldn’t face it yet,’ she admitted candidly, trying not to cry.
‘My place is still in use,’ he explained, ‘but if you fancy a drink, there’s a nice bar around the corner … Not too loud or noisy, a good place to chill.’
Erin found herself nodding and falling into step with him as they made for O’Reilly’s.
The place was dead – just two old codgers nursing pints of Guinness up at the bar and a few Italians sitting at a table near the door. They’d obviously been shopping and were having a reviving drink.
‘What will you have?’ he asked.
She was dying for a drink and he got her a glass of wine.
‘Thanks.’ Erin realized that she didn’t even know his name.
‘I’m Matt,’ he said, introducing himself as he took a sip from his pint.
‘I’m Erin – Erin Harris,’ she said formally, shaking his hand. ‘I’m sorry that I’ve interrupted whatever you were working on.’
‘Just doing a few script changes for a documentary I’m making,’ he said, looking at her. He had the darkest eyes she had ever seen – liquid, almost like a deer or a dog.
‘You work in film?’
‘Yes, for my sins. I go from project to project, on commissions we get from RTE or TV3, or Channel 4 or BBC. It’s always a hassle trying to get projects off the ground and up and running. Budgets are being slashed all over the place, so it’s tough out there!’
‘Tell me about it!’ she laughed. ‘I work in graphic design.’
‘Which company?’
‘De Berg O’Leary.’
‘They’re good. I’ve met that guy Declan a few times. He did the design for us on a big documentary we made for BBC about Cromwell a few years back.’
‘I remember that,’ she said, impressed. ‘He has a poster of it in his office. Maybe you want to work?’ she added, gesturing towards his laptop case.
‘Nah, I’ve done enough for today. I’ve a bit of editing on a piece we filmed a few weeks ago, but it can wait.’
Erin felt relieved. Half an hour later she was buying him another pint and trying to drown her sorrows in a lovely glass of Merlot.
‘You okay?’
‘Not really,’ she admitted, ‘but I’d prefer to be sitting here than facing a hundred questions from everyone.’
‘They’re just curious,’ he said. ‘Everyone’s probably worried about you.’
Erin soon found herself confiding in this stranger, telling him all about herself, her family, and about Kate, the woman she was meant to meet.
‘That’s probably the end of it,’ she trailed off. ‘It’s better to forget her, not try to see her again.’
‘Do you usually give up so easy?’
‘No, I don’t,’ she protested, ‘but—’
‘Then
‘Your mother?’
‘Yes – my biological mother. We’ve never met. She gave me up for adoption when I was a baby. There’s never been any sort of contact, but today was meant to be the big day. My social worker helped to set it up so that we would meet on neutral ground and in a public place like they advise … But what a fecking disaster. I guess she just chickened out – didn’t want to meet me at all.’
‘Don’t be so hard on yourself and on her.’
‘What?’
‘It must be a very difficult situation – for both of you.’
Erin couldn’t believe it. This stranger was actually taking her mother’s part.
‘You could say that!’ she laughed. ‘Talk about understatement.’
‘I think they are closing up now,’ he nodded in the direction of the restaurant manager, who was coming towards them. ‘We’d better go.’
‘I suppose.’
Erin grabbed her bill from the table and paid.
It was four thirty p.m. and she just couldn’t face going home to the apartment or to her parents and the barrage of questions she would get. God knows how many missed calls and texts she’d logged; everyone would be dying to find out how things went with Kate. But she wasn’t up to facing them yet.
‘Will you go home?’ he asked, standing beside her at the door.
‘I couldn’t face it yet,’ she admitted candidly, trying not to cry.
‘My place is still in use,’ he explained, ‘but if you fancy a drink, there’s a nice bar around the corner … Not too loud or noisy, a good place to chill.’
Erin found herself nodding and falling into step with him as they made for O’Reilly’s.
The place was dead – just two old codgers nursing pints of Guinness up at the bar and a few Italians sitting at a table near the door. They’d obviously been shopping and were having a reviving drink.
‘What will you have?’ he asked.
She was dying for a drink and he got her a glass of wine.
‘Thanks.’ Erin realized that she didn’t even know his name.
‘I’m Matt,’ he said, introducing himself as he took a sip from his pint.
‘I’m Erin – Erin Harris,’ she said formally, shaking his hand. ‘I’m sorry that I’ve interrupted whatever you were working on.’
‘Just doing a few script changes for a documentary I’m making,’ he said, looking at her. He had the darkest eyes she had ever seen – liquid, almost like a deer or a dog.
‘You work in film?’
‘Yes, for my sins. I go from project to project, on commissions we get from RTE or TV3, or Channel 4 or BBC. It’s always a hassle trying to get projects off the ground and up and running. Budgets are being slashed all over the place, so it’s tough out there!’
‘Tell me about it!’ she laughed. ‘I work in graphic design.’
‘Which company?’
‘De Berg O’Leary.’
‘They’re good. I’ve met that guy Declan a few times. He did the design for us on a big documentary we made for BBC about Cromwell a few years back.’
‘I remember that,’ she said, impressed. ‘He has a poster of it in his office. Maybe you want to work?’ she added, gesturing towards his laptop case.
‘Nah, I’ve done enough for today. I’ve a bit of editing on a piece we filmed a few weeks ago, but it can wait.’
Erin felt relieved. Half an hour later she was buying him another pint and trying to drown her sorrows in a lovely glass of Merlot.
‘You okay?’
‘Not really,’ she admitted, ‘but I’d prefer to be sitting here than facing a hundred questions from everyone.’
‘They’re just curious,’ he said. ‘Everyone’s probably worried about you.’
Erin soon found herself confiding in this stranger, telling him all about herself, her family, and about Kate, the woman she was meant to meet.
‘That’s probably the end of it,’ she trailed off. ‘It’s better to forget her, not try to see her again.’
‘Do you usually give up so easy?’
‘No, I don’t,’ she protested, ‘but—’
‘Then
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