Chapter Five

~ Ste ~

You're amazed at yourself for managing to find it.

The last time you'd been here, the place had been easier to find because you'd been right in the heart of Dublin. Today you had found the nearest coach station, intending to get yourself to the airport. Instead, in a moment of madness, you ended up hopping on the first bus you saw and found yourself heading back to the city you've not been anywhere near since that day. The day that Brendan had cemented his place in your heart for good - just in case he hadn't been there already.

Now you stand in the middle of this bridge and wonder how you can have felt so lost and broken the last time, when at least then, you still had your youth.

You remember everything so clearly. You'd been leaning against the railings in this exact spot, feeling like the world's biggest idiot for flying all the way from Liverpool to Ireland to take another chance on him. You had glanced around at all the couples strolling along together, growing more and more miserable by the second.

And then Brendan had appeared before you.

That isn't going to happen today, though. And even if you're wrong, and it does; it won't be as simple as it was the last time. Last time, although you'd made him work for it, in the end all it had really taken was an "I love ye, Steven".

Then again, your only purpose on that trip had been to see him; to be with him and to build a proper relationship with him. The reason for this visit was to rid yourself from years of pain that he had been the cause of.

At least, that was how it had started.

You're supposed to go home now. It's the only thing to do. There's nothing else here for you.

So why does it feel like leaving Ireland means leaving behind everything?

After a few more minutes you become aware of the fact that you are now the only person here. A pathetic, lonely looking old man standing on what is arguably the most sentimental bridge in the United Kingdom.

It hurts to tear yourself away from it, as though this is you saying a silent goodbye to a beautiful memory. You feel like you're letting it all go as you walk down the steps and back towards the city.

It had never truly been over before, this link between you and Brendan. But it is now.

Your phone rings just as you're taking that in, and you get it from your pocket to find that it's Leah calling.

"Dad?"

It takes you a moment to find your voice again. "Yeah?"

"Are you alright?"

"'Course." Even as you answer her you can hear how silly it sounds. She must think you're having a nervous breakdown. You probably are.

"Have you seen him?"

"Who?"

Leah sighs. "Keith Duffy. Who do you think, Dad? Brendan!"

You remember the last time your daughter mentioned his name to you. She was six years old and had given his name to one of the ducks in the pond back home.

Now here she is, asking you about Brendan so casually it's almost as though you've spent your whole life talking about him.

"Yes," you answer. "I saw him."

"And?"

"And what, Leah?"

The line goes quiet. She must be able to sense that you're not going to give her straight answer.

"You still there?" you ask after a moment too long, suddenly regretting your attitude. Especially now that there's a chance you'll be left to your own devices again.

"Well I'm not going to hang up on my old man, am I?" she chuckles, and you smile to yourself.

"I just needed a bit of time to clear my head," you offer by way of an explanation for your flippancy. "I'll head home soon."

"Okay," Leah says gently. "Listen, Dad?"

"Yeah?"

"You are loved. By loads of people. You do know that, don't you?"

It's then that you know she's made her own assumptions about what went on between you and Brendan. You may have made it obvious that things didn't go well with him, but being loved is not the issue. It never has been.

You know he meant it when he told you he loved you today. It's that small fact that made walking away so much more painful.

There are tears in your eyes as you carry on walking. "I know," you tell her. "I know."

~ Brendan ~

It takes longer than you'd hoped to reach the bridge, and when you do you feel ridiculous.

He's not there. Why were you stupid enough to think that he would be?

You stand there for a long while, just thinking. You've had so many 'too little, too late' moments when it comes to Steven, but this time there's a finality to it that's never quite hit home before.

It's really over.

He could still be nearby, but then if he'd wanted to be found he would have been here, and you know it.

There's something else nagging at you, though. You just don't believe that he travelled all this way for a confrontation and nothing more. He told you he still loves you, for God's sake.

Even if he clearly hadn't meant to say it.

A wave of grief overwhelms you, and something incoherent falls from your mouth. It takes a further minute for you to realise it was a sob.

You need to pull yourself together. You have a son waiting for you back at Cheryl's, a chance to salvage at least one broken relationship in your life. It's time to get a grip. You have no other choice.

Twenty minutes later and you're almost at the house. When your phone rings, you're so certain it's your sister that you answer it without checking.

"I'm on my way back, Chez, just-"

"Brendan?"

The female voice on the line isn't Cheryl's. You can't quite place it yet, but instinct is telling you that you know this person.

"Yes?"

There's a pause, and then: "this is Leah."

You freeze in place on the pavement. Suddenly you can't speak. She seems to take your silence as a memory lapse.

"Ste's daughter?" she presses, then corrects herself in a thoughtful voice. "Steven's?"

She genuinely remembers you. It's there in her voice, the way she spoke of your own personal name for her father.

"I know who ye are, Leah," you reply gently. "I was just a bit shocked there for a minute, that's all."

"Oh. Right. Well, I'm sorry to call so out of the blue. I just got your number from Cheryl."

Her voice rises in confidence by the time she's explained, and you try to picture what she must look like now. All you can see in your head is that blonde little girl in pigtails, hiding underneath your office desk during the last conversation you ever shared with her.

"How are...things?" You cringe at how awkward you sound. It's doubtful that the adult Leah has called you to make small-talk. You already know she's doing well from the snippet of information her father gave you earlier.

"Er, fine...thanks. But this is actually about my dad. I take it you saw him today?"

You wonder how much she knows. There's no point in lying to her.

"I did. It...didn't end well."

"I gathered as much."

"He didn't tell ye?"

"Not half as much as you just did," she says carefully. And considering you haven't said much about it at all, now you understand what she's hinting at. She doesn't know a thing about your encounter with Steven.

"Brendan, if I ask you something will you promise to give me an honest answer?"

You don't hesitate in your agreement. It's strange, but even though you're sure your absence mustn't have done any damage to Leah's life, you still feel like you owe her for the disruption you caused during those few months you were involved in it.

"Do you love my dad?" she asks bluntly.

Of course you do; you've told him so once already today. But something tells you that Steven's daughter needs to hear it from you herself. Maybe the faith she had in you as a child depends on it.

"I do," you say into the phone, the conviction in your voice even greater than it was when the man himself was standing in front of you today. "I love him very much."

Leah lets out a breath at the sound of your words, and then blurts out another question - although it's more of a demand. "Then why the hell are you letting him go again?"

Stunned, and unable to come up with a good enough reason, you stumble over what you eventually do say next. "He wanted to go, I...I couldn't stop him," you explain weakly.

"Maybe you didn't try hard enough!" she blasts, and you wince. Not at the volume, but because she's right. "I thought you were Brendan Brady. What happened to him, eh? If you really loved Dad that much then you'd fight for him."

"Leah, please." You never expected a lecture from her. It's making your head spin. You're getting a strong idea of what she must have been like as a stroppy teenager. "It's not that simple. I tried going after him, but I'm too late."

"No you're not." She seems calmer again; as if she's just remembered she's a grown woman shouting at an old man. "He text me about half an hour ago saying he's at the airport waiting for a flight home. The next one's not for another hour."

Momentarily you mull that information over. "He doesn't want me any more, sweetheart," you say gently. "I know he still loves me as much as I love him, but I can't make him happy."

You immediately know you've aggravated Leah again by the way her tone changes.

"Well you certainly didn't make him any happier by abandoning him, did you?"

A knot twists in your stomach. "He had Douglas," you offer quietly.

She sighs impatiently. "I loved him as much as anybody else in this family, but Doug was always second best to you, Brendan. Dad knew it, Doug knew it and so do you. So if my dad really means as much to you as you do to him, then you'll go and tell him that right now."

You look up and around you for the first time since answering the phone. You remember the way he'd looked as he'd declared his feelings for you after all those years apart.

You have two choices. Either you can continue on down the road to Cheryl's and pretend this phone call never happened, or you can get yourself to Dublin airport to fight for Steven.

"Okay," you say into the phone. "Okay, I'll find him."

~ Leah ~

Leah hung up the phone and sat frozen in place for several minutes at the kitchen table. She had officially turned into her mother - somebody who just couldn't help but intervene.

Ironically, though, she and her mum weren't on the same page this time.

Amy had tried tirelessly to talk Ste out of going to see Brendan, but he had already set his mind on it. It just hadn't been up for discussion.

Leah knew all about her father's past with this man. Her mother had filled her in one night after Doug's death and a lot of wine.

She had never forgotten about the moustachioed man who had once, for a short time, been a part of her family, but no one had talked about Brendan up until then. She often wondered whether that was out of respect for Doug, or because it was just too painful a subject for her father.

But to her, Brendan wasn't a cold-blooded murderer - even though, of course, he had actually killed people. He was the missing piece of her dad; the hole that had been ripped out of his heart back when she was far too young to understand why.

Most people would think what she had just done was completely insane. She had just shouted at a convicted killer, after all.

Most people didn't know this particular ex-convict, though.

It was Leah's happiest memories of him that had jolted her into action, and her Auntie Cheryl had been only too happy to pass on Brendan's number.

Picking up the phone again now, she dialled a familiar number, suddenly needing an ally to confide in.

"Katy, it's me. You won't believe what I've just done..."

~ Ste ~

Your flight is delayed. All you want is to get out of Ireland and forget you ever returned here, and now you're looking at the possibility of bedding down in the bloody airport.

You wish you'd listened to Amy. And you know things must really be bad if you're willing to admit she was right.

With a resigned sigh, you fish your phone out from your pocket to text Leah again, this time to inform her that you'll have an even longer wait to get home than you'd first thought.

Before you can, though, you notice that you've missed a call from Cheryl.

You dial your voice-mail and lift the phone to your ear, but seconds later a voice chimes out over the tannoy. You've got no chance of hearing your message over this, so you hang up and wait for what you assume will be a standard airline announcement.

Only, after a few flight mentions, the speaker leaves a short pause before her last announcement.

"This is a customer notice. Could a Steven Hay please come to the ticket desk. That's Mr Steven Hay to the ticket desk. Thank you."

Panic floods through you, and you desperately try to work out what kind of flight-related complication you're about to face.

You can think of nothing.

When you reach the desk some minutes later, the staff aren't waiting to talk to you at all. Instead, your attention is directed towards someone standing your side of the desk.

You turn to your right, and your breath catches in your throat.

What is it about this man? Why couldn't he find you himself like a normal person?

Maybe because he's never been normal.

"Steven," says Brendan, leaning casually against the counter. His voice is cautious, though.

As well it should be.

"What?" you manage, tensing even more when you notice the woman behind the desk, who seems to be listening in. She must clock the look on your face, because in the next second she moves away, out of earshot.

Brendan is watching you, his face creased with concern. You wish he would stop looking at you like that; even if you're the one causing his discomfort in the first place.

"Well?" you say irritably. "Are you going to tell me why you've just made me run through the airport under false pretences?"

"Ye know why."

"Because you can't handle the fact that I had the last word?"

His mouth curves in a half-smile at your blatant attempt to mock him - the man you once knew inside out.

"Because I can't live the rest of my life without ye," he corrects. Your head is filled with the vivid memory of the first - and last - time Brendan said that to you. Back then, it had meant something.

"I've heard that one before. But you've managed alright without me until now, haven't you."

He moves towards you, looks you straight in the eye. "That's because I haven't been living. No one lives life in a prison cell, Steven. All ye can do is exist."

There's a sarcastic response on the tip of your tongue: "rehearse that while you were inside, did you?"

But it goes unsaid when he suddenly leans closer and holds your face in his hands.

It's like an electric shock to your skin.

"Don't touch me!"

Brendan lets go instantly, his hands dropping limply to his sides. There's a part of you that wants to take it back, to demand that he holds you again and never lets go.

But the rest of you, that ever-present angry part of you that can't help rejecting him now - just can't cope with his touch after so long. He can't just stand there and do that, as if he's never been away from you.

"Steven?"

You look up again to find that he's watching you anxiously yet again. Your conflicting emotions must show on your face.

"Why couldn't you just let me go?" you ask weakly, and Brendan stands rigid, as though he's really having to control himself from reaching out to you again.

He knows you're hurting. Even to your own ears, you've not sounded this fragile in years.

"I almost did," Brendan admits now, and you just about stop yourself from barking out another sarcastic response to that.

"So what changed your mind?" you say instead.

"I spoke to Leah."

You don't understand. You can't seem to connect his words with real life. How can Brendan have spoken to Leah?

"What?"

"She called me just as I was walking back from the bridge," he explains. "I went to look for ye there, assumed I was too late to catch ye. Then suddenly your Leah was on the phone, giving me an ear-bashing. Takes after that mother of hers, that one."

You don't know how you feel about this revelation. Not the fact that Leah takes after Amy, obviously; you'd known that since her teenage years and, besides, she was hardly going to take after you, was she?

No, it's the way your daughter has taken matters into her own hands and contacted Brendan, of all people. That's what you can't get your head around. Even though the very idea of it is, of course, a classic Amy Barnes trait. Pure interference.

"What did she say?"

Brendan pauses, keeping his eyes level with yours. Poised to listen to his answer, you find yourself studying the few flecks of colour that still remain in his moustache.

"She told me to man up and find ye, before ye walked out of my life for good," he informs you.

You have nothing to offer in reply. Not yet. Yes, he's found you; but the result is still pending.

"Look, Steven, I know this is never going to be good enough, and there will never be enough time for me to make it up to ye. I know there are probably still a million things I don't know about your life since I left it."

You think about everything Brendan's missed; the amount of times you've needed him desperately, or simply just wanted him with you. Even if you were willing to tell him, you don't know where you'd start.

"I can't promise to be everything ye deserve," he continues. "But I can promise that if ye'll have me, I'll spend the rest of my life trying to give ye the happy ending ye were supposed to have."

You feel your eyes starting to sting with tears. They're uncharacteristically beautiful words coming from Brendan. The intensity of his promise takes you back to that last day in Chez Chez, when he'd bared all his demons to you and, for a short time afterwards, the only thing left to face had been your future together.

You want that hope back again, even though any future you have with him won't be the same thing you pictured when you were twenty-three.

All the energy you've put into hating him is starting to wash away.

Brendan has been standing close to you for the past few minutes, but now, in the wake of his speech, he takes a few steps back.

You miss the heat from his body immediately, hadn't realised the effect it was having on you until the second it disappeared. It's a wonder the burst of desire hasn't crippled your ageing body, because you haven't felt it on this level with anyone else since him.

You look at his face - pale under the weight of uncertainty for your next move - and before your brain has time to change it's mind, you're launching forward and flinging your arms around him.

It takes him no time at all to recover, and within seconds his own arms are encircling you.

You forget yourself. You forget where you are and even what you were doing before this moment.

Later, you'll remember this moment and consider the fact that the building could have been on fire, and the pair of you still wouldn't have noticed a thing.

~ Brendan ~

You find yourself saying things to Steven that you never expected yourself capable of saying out loud. Even thinking back to that night in Dublin, this little monologue feels...momentous.

Or at least it could be, if it were to make a difference.

You've made him a promise. You think it's the most genuine promise you've ever made him. Only, now you're beginning to feel self-conscious. He doesn't reply, and you're on the point of preparing yourself to leave him alone for good.

And then suddenly he's in your arms.

You don't waste any more time, wrapping him close against your body and inhaling his scent. Everything about it feels the same as the last time you held him. You remember a time when you were too scared to do this. Now the only thing you're scared of is never being this close to him again.

He breaks away when the speaker blares out, announcing another flight that's ready for boarding.

It's Steven's flight.

"Don't go," you plead, and he sighs, long and deep.

"I have to," he replies, and yet again you think: that's it then, it's over. Done. Until he finishes the sentence. "That return ticket cost me a fortune!"

And somehow, miraculously, he's grinning at you.

On that smile alone you would quite happily jump on the plane with him. But you need to get back to Declan. You want to get back to see Declan. Besides, why would you want to go back to Chester, where there's the very real possibility of coming face to face with a fire-breathing Amy Barnes?

The last call sounds for the flight to Liverpool, and Steven leans in to peck you on the cheek, lingering for a moment longer than most people would.

"Bye, Brendan."

And from the kiss right down to those last two words, he's so calm and casual in comparison to how he was before that you begin to worry all over again. Were these last few minutes simply closure for him?

"Steven?" your voice pitches embarrassingly in your panic to stop him. "Are ye...?" You're not really sure how to end the question. 'Are you coming back?' 'Are you really going to leave me?' There's so much more to say, and the thought of this being the last chance is killing you.

It's his eyes you notice first when he turns around and smiles at you again. They're telling you everything you need to know.

This is not the end.