Meadhbh had decided from the beginning that she would be someone else here.
When she had still been in primary school, Meadhbh came to the conclusion that she didn’t like her own handwriting. Somehow it didn’t feel like it reflected who she was, seemed like it might belong to someone else – so she changed it. She made a concerted effort to adopt a new handwriting style and by the end of the school year she just naturally wrote that way. Now, she feels like she could possibly change her personality in the same way. Through sheer force of will.
She decided that this was her opportunity to play around with a new identity. She would be funny and brash. She would flirt and dance and act like she couldn’t name the Minister for Finance if you put a gun to her head. She would be mysterious and loud and charming and bold. She wanted excitement. She wanted fun. She wanted all of these things.
And then at the end of the summer she would return home, go back to school and just be herself again.
During the day, Meadhbh is kept busy: getting up early each morning and having breakfast with the others before heading to whatever job she has been assigned to. They put her on the information desk for the first week where she smiled and handed over leaflets and vouchers and booked people on guided tours. It was easy work. The tourists are amiable and are all genuinely happy to be there. After that she was given work to do on one of the farms. It was much harder than the information desk, but she liked hard work, and she came to realise that she enjoyed physical labour.
It was so much more rewarding than sitting and smiling all day. And because she didn’t have to deal directly with tourists, it also meant she had plenty of space to think in peace. On those nights she would always fall into bed and be asleep within minutes. So efficient. No glare of LCD screen or screech of car brakes outside. Just serene sleep.
***
Meadhbh is on her break, sitting at a picnic table under a canopy eating her free sandwich, and watching as a group of tourists wander past checking their maps for the thatched cottages and hay bales which remained intact all year round. It is the usual Gaeltacht fare here: ye olde style pubs, faux-stone cottages in expertly ruined condition, elderly men paid to sit on stone walls with pipes and caps and traditional music playing everywhere seemingly by magic but actually emanating from a state-of-the-art sound system.
It might seem quite impressive if you don’t notice the cracks and the PVC and the computerised holograms. If you didn’t know you might think that this was what Ireland actually looked like.
Meadhbh checks her watch. It is slightly past one o’clock and her shift at the pub will begin soon. She finishes the last bit of her sandwich and puts up her hood. It is raining lightly but then it rains all the time here. Apparently, the tourists liked the rain. It’s what they expected so the authorities had purchased a special machine that caused clouds to converge and could create rain out of nothing. Tourists would hang around shivering in wellington boots, but you could see that they loved it really.
A truly authentic experience. Every couple of days the machine would be switched off, the clouds would part, and the sun would shine brightly once more. Umbrellas would be lowered and raincoats discarded, and all the tourists would believe that it was just their good luck to get a spot of fine weather.
She likes to arrive at the pub before anyone else – when the shutters are still down and the place is still and quiet.
She begins to take down the chairs and stools, but she is distracted by a noise behind her. She turns and sees that is Cathal. He apologises for being late even though he isn’t, asks how she is and begins to wipe down the bar and small tables.
Cathal is charming and funny and easy-going. Meadhbh’s instinct is to be a little shy around him, but she fights against that. She talks like she normally wouldn’t: talks about herself, about her morning. She even makes a joke – she usually wouldn’t take the risk at humour – and he laughs generously. He tells her that his dad had been eager for him to come to the Gaeltacht, that he had been here as a teenager and said it was the best summer of his life.
As he talks, she watches him carefully, wishing she knew what he was thinking. Sometimes she thinks he might like her. When it is just the two of them, he is warm and complimentary. They get along well. And then other times, when they are with a large group, it is as though he is giving attention to everyone else in the room but her.
It is opening time and so Cathal opens the shutters, allowing light to stream in and brighten the interiors. The place doesn’t look half bad: the dark wood, the decorative bottles of beer and liquor. He then retrieves a small bottle – its label reads ‘Authentic Irish Pub Smell’ – which he sprays it liberally around the room. Meadhbh watches as the tiny spheres of liquid fall through the air and land on various surfaces.
The first tourists arrive, and they start handing out pints of creamy black liquid. Their shift ends at six o’clock but later tonight the live session band will arrive, and the tourists will sing along to bowdlerised classics.
Afterwards they will have the opportunity to buy a copy of the original recording and get their photograph taken with the band in exchange for a handful of punts. The tourists are good fun really. She never gets any hassle from them; they are always happy to be here.
Once the pub closes, they will get back in their bus and will be brought back to their hotel singing into the bus driver’s ear. Tomorrow morning, they will be given a choice of tours: a trip to a historic house, a visit to a battlefield or shopping in the local town. On the third day of the holiday, there is the choice of going hiking in the mountains or taking a donkey ride around the lake. And then on the fourth day they get back onto their bus and head off to their next destination.
As the pub begins to fill up, Meadhbh feels the energy of the place take her over. She is having fun with the tourists playing a character: being fun and flirty. They are generous with their tips.
Later, she will tell Cathal about the secret spot high up on the hill overlooking the village. She will ask him to join her there after their shift. And she will kiss him. She has just decided that. It won’t be the beginning of some great love affair; it will be something inconsequential, light, fun. An adventure. A story. And it might be the beginning of something else.
- Louise Hegarty is a writer from Glanmire, Cork. Her debut novel Fair Play was published in March
