Page 37 of Chaos Theory

THIRTY-FIVE

MAEVE

We’re following Matthew’s car along country roads in Shane’s Jeep, making our way to the Cliffs of Moher.

This will be only my second visit to these tourist-attracting cliffs, in spite of the countless times I’ve written about their sweeping majesty and the dramatic drop to Atlantic waves that bash themselves against the rocks below.

Shane says you really feel like you’re on the edge of Ireland there – the next stop is America.

It’s just me and Shane in the car. Lizzie insisted that Kobi travel with her.

Claire stayed behind to tend to farm business, but before we set off, she presented Kobi with a parting gift – a lambswool shawl, made by local weavers, which she draped around his head and knotted at the neck.

Claire said the cliffs are a very windy location.

I can make out Kobi in the back of Matthew’s hatchback, next to Lizzie’s car seat. I imagine the conversation they’re having and feel a little pang at missing it. I glance over my shoulder at the back seat of our car, for no discernible reason.

Shane’s eyes flick in my direction. ‘I know what you’ re thinking.’

‘Oh?’

‘Alone at last.’

‘Ha! Don’t flatter yourself. It’s so quiet without him though, isn’t it?’

‘Yep. I suppose it’s fair enough that Matthew wouldn’t let us take Lizzie in our car. Although, to be fair to us, we’ve had some good practice at being parents lately.’

I laugh. ‘Raising a child is probably way easier than looking after Kobi.’

I look over at him warily. I’m pretty sure this is just banter.

We’re due to stay at the Lisdoonvarna hotel tonight for the so-called ‘honeymoon experience’, but neither of us has raised the topic, or how we’re going to get out of it.

I have to admit he looks good though. The country air, good food and rest seem to be agreeing with him.

I could imagine Shane having a life like this – driving around rural Ireland, hurling matches twice a week, pints with the lads on a Friday, big family lunches on a Sunday.

Maybe some kind of freelance consultant job, where you charm the client with an impressive presentation but no one really knows how many hours you spent preparing for the meeting.

Yes, Shane makes sense here. I don’t. And he and I definitely don’t.

‘You’re very good with Kobi,’ I say.

He smiles. ‘Thanks. I’m trying. Things don’t always go to plan, as you know.’

‘I do know. You’d think a machine would be easier to control. I’m still very much making it up as I go along.’

‘Well, you’re doing a great job at it. He’s happy as a clam right now, getting all these new experiences.’

‘I suppose. But if anything were to go wrong…’

‘You’d figure it out. You always do.’

He slows the car, looks both ways before turning at a junction. I look at his hands on the wheel. I don’t know why exactly but a surge of happiness pulses through me. I feel myself smile and give in to the feeling. I’m just going to enjoy today .

I shield my eyes from the sun as I get out of the car, grab my hat before it takes flight from my head. The day is bright and blowy. Deep shadow follows harsh light in a carousel that makes me dizzy, and we haven’t even left the car park yet.

The wind whips my hair around. I take in the cliffs. I can feel a buzz in the air, like people know this is a special place. Clumps of tourists gather, eager to walk the clifftop trail. Just a thin guard-rail preventing their plunge to certain death in the icy waters below.

After Shane unloads Kobi’s wheelchair, I call an impromptu group meeting on the edge of the car park. ‘Hey, let’s have a quick chat about this, can we?’

I point at Kobi as he arranges himself in the wheelchair, the blanket laid across his lap and the shawl knotted at his neck. He rolls away a couple of metres, his back to us. He seems to be observing the cliff scene a little distance away. Lizzie goes and stands beside him.

‘Sorry, Matthew. Now that we’re here, I’m not sure how suitable this is going to be for Kobi. Maybe he should skip the cliff walk part and just go straight to the visitor centre?’

Matthew begins explaining our options for less treacherous cliffside walks, gesturing at various paths in different directions. Shane is already taking photos of the surrounds.

Over Matthew’s shoulder, a dart of movement catches my eye. Oh no.

I silently reach out to grab Matthew’s pointing arm. I move it like the big hand on a clock to point to what I’m looking at.

‘Lizzie,’ I whisper. The word catches in my throat.

Matthew sees what I see.

‘Lizzie!’ he shouts as he runs after his daughter.

But the girl has a vital thirty-second advantage and is now speeding across the car park, haring between the rows of vehicles, oblivious to the inherent danger it poses to a small, unsupervised child .

Shane springs into action. He takes off behind Matthew, waving his arms.

My legs go to jelly. All I can do is watch the scene unfold as my mind turns the moving images into slow motion.

The car park is packed. Lizzie’s yellow raincoat bobs along without a care.

She’s so small and getting further away.

I look at where she’s headed. A sign for ice cream outside a coffee kiosk at the other side of the car park.

At the end of the row, the taillights of an oversized SUV light up. It’s going to reverse. Lizzie continues a straight-line dash that will take her right into its path in about twenty seconds’ time. No, no, no .

Suddenly a blur of chrome and wool flashes by in my peripheral vision.

Kobi! The robot speeds across the car park, his powerful grip spinning the wheels of the chair, the shawl streaming behind him in the wind.

He quickly overtakes Shane, then Matthew, gaining ground with every second as he hurtles towards Lizzie.

The SUV begins a swift reverse manoeuvre in the same moment that Lizzie reaches it.

The wheelchair arrives a split second later, just in time to take the full force of the mechanical beast as it slams to a halt with a loud crunch.

Kobi is thrown forward out of the chair, which keels over on its side, one wheel spinning in the air.

Lizzie stands frozen in shock. A moment later Matthew snatches her up into his arms.

‘Kobi,’ I say, stunned. A wave of nausea hits me. But hearing my voice speak his name galvanises me.

I run across the car park, dodging past onlookers. The driver emerges from the vehicle and Shane intercepts him. Matthew is comforting Lizzie, who is crying but appears to be unharmed.

A small crowd is starting to gather. I push past them, looking for my brave robot. ‘Kobi!’

There he is, curled up on the ground. He looks so small and fragile. I kneel beside him. I pat down his legs, arms and torso for injuries.

‘Please, please be okay,’ I repeat over and over as tears blur my vision.