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Different Existences |
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“Wonder if I can
ask you a favour, Opal?” asked Ross, the ex SAS red-haired friend who had a
stall at the market in front of hers.
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“Sure, tell me,” said Opal putting down her sketchbook for a
moment on a slack day for the market.
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“I’ve got to go to the hospital for a check-up at nine," said
Ross.
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“As it’s just a routine thing I’m sure I’ll be away for no longer
than a couple of hours - probably only an hour or so.
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If you could keep an eye on my stall - if not, I’ll pack
everything away now and leave it all in the car.”
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“No problem at all - but you must give me a rough idea how much
you want for your records if someone wants to buy one!” replied Opal.
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Nobody was buying much that rather grey and rainy-looking morning
and the owners of the stalls were moaning about not even getting their costs
back.
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“Excuse me, but I believe you’re Josh’s mother?” asked a
pleasant-looking woman of thirty something.
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“Yes, have we met...?” replied Opal.
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“No, we haven’t, but I saw you last Saturday at the football
match where your son’s team won.
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My son Owen meets your boy Josh quite often at these matches.”
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“Oh, so your boy goes to St.
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Anthony’s?” remarked Opal.
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“Yes, it’s very near home and seems to be quite a good school,
especially the parent/teacher relationship.
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The only thing is, I don’t have much time to go to the parents
and teachers meetings as I work long hours all week.
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Luckily my sister goes to them for me.
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By the way, my name’s Irene.”
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Opal and Irene continued chatting quite a while when Steve, the
food stall owner, came by taking orders from the stall-holders for coffee and
tea and bacon and egg rolls and other things.
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“I’m dying for some coffee, Irene.
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Will you have one too?” asked Opal.
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“Look, I’ll get a chair for you from my friend’s stall here in
front.
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He isn’t here at the moment because he’s gone off for an
appointment, so he won’t need it yet.
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I’ve got some Garibaldi’s with me,” said Opal pulling out a
packet of biscuits.
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“So you haven’t got much free time...?” prompted Opal.
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“You can say that again!
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I’m a solicitor and spend my time with troubled minors in
disfunctional families who are in trouble with the police, and so on.
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It seems like a losing battle sometimes - but now and again I
manage to work something out and good comes of it!”
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“That’s marvellous, Irene.
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You do a job which must be very taxing.”
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“Yes, but I wouldn’t have it any other way,” Irene looked
thoughtful, “except that I always feel guilty about not being at home for Owen
until late.
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Luckily I’ve got such a wonderful sister who looks after him when
I’m not there.
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She lives near us and has three children of her own.” She sighed,
“You see, I’m a single mother.”
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That night Opal was having a chat with her husband.
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“You know, Bren, I met such a nice person today - Irene.
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She’s a solicitor who, in connection with social workers, helps
minors in trouble and she’s the mother of a boy of Josh’s age - she’s brought
him up all by herself!”
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“All by herself!
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I bet that was tough.
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She has to be a completely dedicated and single-minded person at
work, and a totally different person at home.
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Two different and separate existences!”
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“Different existences...
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that’s worth a thought!” Opal commented.
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Up in her studio, Opal was working at her new concept.
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She had painted a room in black, white and silver whose walls
were enshrouded with numerous full-length mirrors.
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A woman was standing in the middle of the room.
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Her blanched face was reflected in all these mirrors but in each
one she had a completely different expression as though she were a different
person.
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Her reflection in each mirror expressed the multiple facets and
moments of her life, one intensive and serious to the point of exaggeration,
another showing a total submission of herself, and yet another, lost, mysterious
and unknown.
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But something was still missing and Opal couldn’t pinpoint what
it was.
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“Opal,” it was Irene speaking over the phone.
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“Owen is twelve on Sunday and having a small party.
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Would you like to pop over with Josh - around four o’clock?
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We could have a quiet cup of tea in the kitchen and a chat.”
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“Thanks, I’d love to, but it’s a bit awkward.
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I have a car boot sale until about that time.
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Look, I could send Josh over first and come round later myself
about five o’clock!”
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The next Sunday, Opal turned up a bit late to Owen’s birthday
party.
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“Sorry, Irene, but I couldn't manage any earlier.
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Oh, they seem to be enjoying themselves!” said Opal seeing the
children shouting and screaming and grabbing soft drinks and birthday cake.
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“I recognise your son Owen.
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Yes, I remember seeing him play football!”
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As Opal munched her cake she took a good look at Owen who seemed
little like his dark-haired mother.
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His ginger hair was cut very short and he was already taller than
her.
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“Of course, it’s tough on Owen that he hasn’t got a father,”
murmured Irene, “but my brother-in-law has always made a lot of fuss of him.”
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“I always think that if a child has one parent who loves him, he
is already lucky!" remarked Opal.
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“I suppose so, but I still feel bad about his not having a
father.
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You see, he disappeared from my life before even knowing I was
pregnant,” Irene said softly, showing the fact still hurt.
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She continued telling her story, “I’ve only got my sister Amy.
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We were put into care when I was eight and she was fourteen.
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Later on we lived together until she met her future husband.
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She got married to him and moved up here as her husband had been
promoted - he’s a fireman.”
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They were interrupted by Owen rushing into the kitchen to inquire
if there was any more chocolate cake.
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Once Irene’s son had gone back into the sitting room she
continued, “I was studying law and lived in a flat with a couple of young
students.
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One day a young man came into the burger bar where I worked so as
to pay my way, and well, to cut a long story short, we fell in love - or so I
thought.
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Suddenly after about a week he said he had to go away for a while
but would contact me as soon as he could.
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Unfortunately I never heard from him again.
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Soon I found out I was pregnant and Amy persuaded me I should
move up and stay with her so she could look after me.
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Later on I managed to get a council flat which was near where she
lived.
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I got a trainee solicitor’s job and Amy looked after Owen during
the day.
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I’ll never be able to repay her for what she’s done for me!”
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That night Opal had a dream about women looking confused and not
knowing why.
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They were searching, searching for something that eluded them.
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“Opal, I’ve found a better flat,” announced Ross triumphantly one
morning at the market.
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“All I’ve got to do is to whitewash it and buy a few bits of
furniture - I’m quite good at DIY - and I’m all set to move in!"
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“That’s wonderful,” praised Opal.
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“Oh...
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you’ve had your hair cut.
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You look much better...
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and younger!”
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“You told me the market brought luck - this one certainly has.”
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He then turned to a customer who was looking through a box.
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“You asked me about some Daniel Good records, didn’t you?
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I’ve put some by for you.”
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“Ross,” interrupted Opal.
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“Don’t be too busy tomorrow ‘cos we’re having a pizza party at
five o’clock to celebrate our wedding anniversary.
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We’ve been married for seventeen years!”
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“Congratulations Opal, I’d love to come.
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Actually I’ve got a job for Brendan driving someone up to
Newston-on-Ewe but I should be coming back by about five.”
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At half past four Opal’s parents arrived for the party.
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“Oh Mum, thanks a million!” she replied as her mother gave her a
large covered tin.
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“It’s an apple pie - I made it myself!” said Opal’s young-looking
mother.
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“I helped her too, I watched her make it!” joked Opal’s father
with a bottle in his hand waving it at Brendan.
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Josh and Jane also welcomed their grandparents with a hug.
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“Oh gran - a big slice’s got my name on it!“ exclaimed Josh.
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”There’s also a gorgeous cake in the kitchen Ross has sent us -
you know, the ex-soldier who’s got a stall in front of mine in the market.
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He’ll be arriving soon, and a new friend of mine is also coming -
Irene, and her son Owen.
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Irene’s a solicitor!”
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When Irene and Owen arrived, they soon made friends with Opal’s
parents and laughed at Opal’s father’s jokes.
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Josh took Owen upstairs to see his videogames.
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Jane was very interested to discover that Irene was a solicitor
and told her about her ambition to study law.
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They were soon discussing the legal system and how it works.
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Opal beckoned Brendan into the kitchen looking at her watch.
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“It’s nearly five-thirty Brendan, the pizzas will be arriving
soon.
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Have you heard from Ross?”
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“No, but maybe he can’t get through.
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Ah yes, he’s calling now!” Brendan sat down to take the call.
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“Oh no!
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the traffic has been diverted due to a spill on the motorway...
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he says not to worry about him as long as we save him a slice of
cake!”
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The afternoon passed quickly and Irene and Owen went away having
enjoyed themselves very much.
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“Well, the party’s been a great success - pity Ross couldn’t
enjoy it to,” said Opal as she and her mother carried plates and glasses into
the kitchen.
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Just then Ross arrived looking pretty tired.
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“Congratulations!
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I’m so sorry I missed meeting your other guests, but it really
wasn’t my fault."
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“Poor Ross - don’t worry.
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Come and sit down and meet my parents.
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I’ve saved you some pizza and cake.
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I’ll warm the pizza up.
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What would you like to drink?"
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It had come on to rain suddenly and Opal was trying to salvage
the books at the front of her stall.
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“Hello Opal,” said Irene trying to manage some plastic bags full
of vegetables and fruit and holding up a huge umbrella to protect herself.
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“I’ve just called by to thank you for the other day.
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It was so nice meeting all of you.”
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“Oh, Irene, it was a pleasure.
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The boys seemed to get on really well together!”
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“It must be wonderful having such jolly parents.
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Your father is so amusing!”
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Opal reflected that Irene wouldn’t know what it was like to have
a family reunion as she hadn’t grown up with her parents.
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“He has his moments!” replied Opal.
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“Look, don’t stand there getting drenched.
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Come and sit inside for a minute while I finish doing this!” Opal
pulled at the tarpaulin covering her stall and almost gave herself a shower by
mistake.
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“You see the tall chap in front trying to rescue his records -
he’s the friend who couldn’t get to the party...”
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Opal stopped in her tracks.
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Irene was sitting completely still, looking straight in front of
her.
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She was staring at Ross.
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Then in a flash Opal understood.
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The red hair - Owen was a tall boy with the same red hair!
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Ross, who was having difficulty in putting a heavy box away in
his car, suddenly turned around as though he could feel someone was watching
him.
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He looked towards Opal’s stall still holding the box in the
pouring rain and finally seemed to pronounce the word, “Irene!" which couldn’t
be heard through the violent rainfall.
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He simply put the box down again and walked ghost-like towards
Opal’s stall uncaring that his clothes were becoming sodden.
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When he reached the stall he stood completely inert just staring
at Irene.
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Opal remained where she was and watched.
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He then walked around the stall and knelt silently at Irene’s
side.
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Now Ross seemed to wake up from an age-old sleep and reached for
his wallet.
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From inside he drew out a photograph in a plastic container.
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It was of them both.
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A very joyful younger Irene with longer loose hair and a Ross who
couldn’t have looked happier.
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Irene stared at the photograph for a moment and then opened her
bag and reached for her purse.
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She unbuttoned it, withdrew a photo of her red-headed son Owen
and held it up for Ross to see.
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By now both of them had tears in their eyes and reached out to
embrace each other.
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That evening Opal stayed up with Brendan sitting hand in hand
narrating this extraordinary tale.
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“We’d never seen the terrible scar on the back of Ross’s head
because of his long unkempt hair.
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He’d been injured during his SAS services and was in a coma for
some time.
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Afterwards he was in such a confused state of mind that he
couldn’t find Irene’s address any more.
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When he was finally discharged, he was still a wreck.
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He went to her old flat where she had stayed with some students,
but of course she was no longer living there.
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Ross was still anything but well and began to think about their
relationship and that he could only bring problems to her.
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So he gave up at this point.”
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“Well, are they going to see each other again - is Ross going to
meet his son?” asked Brendan.
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“I don’t know, but I think there is hope.
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Irene has understood that Ross didn’t just leave her in the lurch
- he was desperately ill and she also realises that Owen should have a
relationship with his father.
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Let’s wait and see!”
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Opal stared at her unfinished work.
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She decided to paint the reflection of the woman in a mirror in
the centre of the picture in bright shades of red and orange depicting the
burning passion that was within her.
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“Mm..., I think I’ve got it right now,” said Opal to herself,
putting her brush down.
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THE END |