‘We grew up here!’
‘Yeah, and that was a long time ago!’ I say. ‘I don’t know. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to just … walk around for a bit.’
‘Are you serious?’ says Art.
I’m aware that I may not be thinking rationally. I’m aware I might be fixating on this issue. But I’m also aware that now the idea is in my head, I’ll worry that I’ve somehow jinxed my script if I don’t go. That I missed an opportunity to soak up some authentic Dublin atmosphere and it’ll somehow show.
That Bernard really was right.
‘Yeah,’ I say. ‘Just for a few hours.’
Art looks at me for a long moment and then sighs. ‘Well, it’s not like staring at my laptop all day yesterday made his notes make any more sense. Fine. Let’s go into town.’
Fifteen minutes later I’m sitting on a crowded, overheated bus. Art is cycling in, and we’ve arranged to meet in O’Connell Street. It’s only now it hits me that there’s no real reason for us to do this immersive Dublin outing together. But somehow it never occurred to either of us that wewouldn’tbe meeting up. Before I can ponder this too deeply, I realise the bus has stopped. And not at the lights or at a bus stop. It’s stopped in the bus lane just before the Griffith Avenue junction in Drumcondra.
‘Sorry, folks.’ The driver’s voice comes through the intercom. ‘We’ve got a problem with the engine and we’re going to be here for a while.’
Sighs break out among the passengers and, rather than wait,I decide to walk down the road to the next stop and get another bus. I pause for a moment when I reach Griffith Avenue. When I look down that long tree-lined boulevard, I can see the gates of my old school. I felt sick every day I went through those gates.
I feel slightly sick looking towards them now.
‘McDermott?’
I whirl around to see Art, who has pulled up on his bike.
‘Aren’t you meant to be on a bus right now?’ he says.
‘I was on a bus!’ I tell him what happened.
‘So why are you standing here, gazing into the distance like you’re waiting for your husband to come back from the war?’ he says.
‘I wasn’t gazing,’ I say. ‘It’s just … I went to school down there.’
I immediately regret having said this because Art says, ‘Oh, that’s where you went? I knew some girls who went there.’
Given that we grew up in the same suburb it’s surprising this subject hasn’t come up before, but I never want to talk about school. And I certainly don’t want to hear if Art was best mates with the girls who made my life a misery. So I say, ‘Yeah, my friend Roo and I both went there.’
Luckily this distracts Art from the topic of schooldays because he says, ‘Is she the tarot card person? How did your thing go with her at the weekend? I hope she predicted a glorious future for ourNorthsidescripts.’
‘Yes she is and it went very well, thanks,’ I say, ignoring his facetious tone. ‘Anyway, I’m going to get the bus now.’
Art is silent for a moment and then he says, ‘Why don’t we walk into town? I mean, it’s not too far. Bernard wanted us to immerse ourselves in north Dublin.’ He looks back at the busy main road. ‘Well, this isourbit of north Dublin.’
‘I suppose it is.’ To be honest, the thought of a walk sounds more appealing than sitting on a stuffy bus. ‘Okay, sure.’
We set off, Art wheeling his bike with one hand.
‘Look at us.’ He gestures towards the large, comfortable houses on both sides of Drumcondra Road. ‘Roaming the mean streets to reconnect with our roots.’
‘If you’re just going to take the piss,’ I say, ‘feel free to keep cycling.’
‘Oh, come on, it’s abitfunny,’ says Art. ‘The idea that we could ever forget this city. Especially coming from Bernard. You know he’s spent his entire life in the poshest depths of south County Dublin? He lives down the road from Chris de Burgh. I think it’s safe to say we know the actual northside better than he does.’
I think of how far away Art’s been since our shared college year.
‘Did you miss Dublin?’ I say. ‘When you were over in sunny California? Not just, like, family and friends and stuff. The city itself.’
Art swerves his bike to avoid some dog poo. ‘I didn’t spend the last decade and a half yearning to move back,’ he says. ‘I mean, I missed people I love, but Dublin felt very … small. In every sense.’