Three Little Truths

by Eithne Shortall

  ‘Robin,’ said her mother, but Robin had already turned and walked out of the room. The kitchen door slammed behind her as she strode back into the sitting room, reached into the beanbag and grabbed her phone.

  *** Pine Road Poker ***

  Bernie:

  Warning!!! Sylvie was bitten by a dog outside Island Stores today, circa 2 p.m. An adult male fled the scene with the attacker. Be on the lookout for an unfamiliar large black dog. If you see one please let me know but do not approach. Regards, Bernie Watters-Reilly

  Ellen:

  That’s awful, Bernie. So sorry to hear it. Pets that aren’t kept under control should be taken out and shot.

  Love to Sylvie xxx

  Bernie:

  Thank you, Ellen. And I’m inclined to agree. I actually wrote about it recently and got some great feedback from readers.

  Link: independent.ie/BestParenting/PetsArentPeople

  We’re debating going to the police. She’s quite traumatised.

  Ellen:

  The poor chicken. Let me know if I can do anything. xxx

  Carmel:

  Sylvie seems to have all the bad luck. Is that her third dog bite since the summer?

  Bernie:

  Fourth, Carmel. She’s just too trusting. She loves animals and always thinks the best of them.

  Carmel:

  That must be it.

  Fiona:

  OMG Poor Sylvie!! Will keep an eye out and tell my two to stay away from any dogs. Tnxs 4 the heads up hun!! XXXX

  Ruby:

  I think the new neighbours have a dog . . .

  THREE

  Edie Rice shifted slightly as her phone went silently berserk in her back pocket. She was about to excuse herself to go to the bathroom and check it – leaving people waiting made her anxious – when Daniel’s mother clattered one of her good plates down in front of her with an aggressive sigh. The chicken, wrapped in bacon, bounced.

  ‘Before you say it, I know you’re a vegetarian now.’ Mrs Carmody’s tone suggested she would have drawn quotation marks in the air if she hadn’t had a plate in her other hand. ‘Daniel gave me that bit of information after I’d already forked out for the meat. So,’ she sighed again, ‘I’ve given you the smallest piece.’

  The bacon coat, still sizzling, slipped from the chicken breast and slid a greasy path across the plate. Edie’s throat closed over.

  ‘It’s perfect,’ she enthused when she could manage. ‘And those potatoes look delicious. Thank you, Mrs Carmody.’ She beamed up at her mother-in-law.

  Her phone was still buzzing. Oh gosh. She hoped the Pine Road women hadn’t realised she was the last one to put down rat poison. It was so unlike her, but this particular task kept slipping her mind. Baby brain, she thought, wishfully.

  ‘Yeah, well,’ Mrs Carmody harrumphed, Edie’s positive response clearly a disappointment, ‘I spent all day making that so don’t go insulting me.’ Then she carefully placed the other plate in front of her son.

  ‘Thanks, Ma,’ said Daniel. Edie didn’t like to think badly of her mother-in-law, but his dead bird wrapped in dead pig did not look any larger than hers. He squeezed her hand below the table.

  ‘Everything all right, Edie?’ asked Mrs Carmody.

  Edie gave her another enthusiastic smile. ‘Perfect,’ she repeated, glancing around at Daniel’s father, sister and older brother. ‘Thank you.’ When the others started to eat, she picked up her fork and scraped out a couple of uncontaminated beans from beneath the chicken breast.

  Daniel carefully constructed a forkful of dinner so there was a bit of everything on it. You wouldn’t think it to look at her husband – a tank of a man regularly covered in car oil – but he was a gentle perfectionist. He was thorough and exact and believed if something was worth doing, it was worth doing right. It had taken him a month to propose because he wanted to do it with breakfast in bed and was waiting for the perfect morning light. But Edie had always been far too curious and she found the ring the day he bought it. She felt terrible for ruining the surprise and didn’t tell anyone, including Daniel. Although her nail technician guessed; nobody gets refills that often unless they’re expecting their hands to take centre stage in multiple social media posts.

  ‘Since when are you a vegetarian, Edie?’ asked Daniel’s sister.

  ‘Since last year,’ she said, doing her best not to hear the sneer in Rachel’s voice, and glancing at Daniel who quickly looked away.

  But Peter, Daniel’s older brother, had caught the look. ‘No more steaks for your dinner, Two Straps?’ he said, needling Daniel, though his gaze was on Edie as he chewed, mouth opening slightly wider than necessary. ‘I wouldn’t be putting up with that.’

  ‘I’d say you’ve lots of time to cook, Edie,’ said Mrs Carmody, waving her fork. ‘No kids to look after, just your little job to go to.’

  Edie, who had started nodding eagerly before her mother-in-law had finished, continued to smile, though her insides were contorting. Daniel rubbed his leg against hers.

  She’d stopped eating meat the month they were supposed to start trying for a baby.

  ‘Edie actually got a promotion last week.’

  She beamed. He was still proud of her. He loved her. The rest was just a phase.

  ‘Is it more money?’ asked Daniel’s father, stabbing at his own meat combo.

  ‘A little, I guess, but it’s more of a title thing. I’ll be going from day receptionist to—’

  ‘How much?’

  ‘Of . . . a pay increase? Oh, well,’ Edie looked to her husband, ‘about eighty euro extra a week? I think.’

  ‘For answering phones?’ said Mrs Carmody incredulously. ‘Sure, a monkey could do that. I’ve been doing it for free all my life.’

  Edie did her best to take it as a joke, but Rachel’s sharp laugh scraped the smile from her face.

  She knew Daniel’s family hated her and that the more effort she put in, the worse it got. But she couldn’t help it. It had always mattered to her what other people thought.

  ‘You’re practically a kept man now, bro,’ said Peter. ‘First she buys you a house, now she’s bringing in the bacon. You’ll be able to make up for the economic fuck-ups of Two Straps here, Edie.’ Peter nudged Daniel. ‘Isn’t that right?’ Peter nudged him again. ‘Two Straps?’

  ‘I didn’t buy Daniel a house,’ she said, desperate to get out of this kitchen without a fight. ‘I inherited it.’ Though Peter knew this already.

  ‘Yeah, but who owns it?’ asked her brother-in-law. ‘Whose name’s on the deeds? Ha? Not Two Straps.’

  Edie ignored him. ‘And Daniel doesn’t need me to keep him. My husband is an excellent provider. He gives me everything I need.’

  Suddenly everyone was oohing and sniggering.

  ‘No, I didn’t mean—’

  But Mr Carmody brought his fists down on either side of his plate. ‘No smut talk at the table!’

  Edie reached down for Daniel’s hand but he kept them both above the table. Peter continued to grin at her as he picked up his fork. A familiar knot returned to her stomach. They always got to him. No matter what she did, there always came a moment in this house when she felt Daniel loving her a little less.

  ‘Actually, Two Straps,’ said Peter, ‘I need you to mind Rocky next weekend.’

  Rocky was Peter’s designer dog, although he spent as much time at her and Daniel’s house as he did at Peter’s.

  Daniel took a sip of his coke. ‘You just picked him up from ours yesterday. And we’re busy next weekend.’

  ‘Another dance class, is it? Haven’t you mastered the cha-chacha yet?’

  Rachel tittered.

  ‘We did three dance classes for our wedding, because Edie wanted to. A year ago. Stop fucking bringing it up.’

  ‘Daniel,’ exclaimed Mrs Carmody. ‘Don’t swear at your brother.’

  Peter slapped Daniel on the shoulder. ‘I’m joking! Relax. It’s only one night. I’ll be back for him Sunday, yeah? Anyway, bro,
’ Peter winked at Edie, ‘you owe me.’

  Daniel owed him absolutely nothing. He was forever doing favours for Peter and his brother just acted like he was entitled to it all. Edie didn’t like to think badly of people – she really didn’t, it gave her a pain in her stomach – but her in-laws made it very difficult.

  ‘Happy birthday, Ma,’ said Peter, raising his can in Mrs Carmody’s direction as everyone else lifted theirs.

  ‘Ah, thanks, son.’ Mrs Carmody beamed as she tucked her greying hair behind her ear. ‘It’s lovely to have all my family here.’ She looked around the table, Edie’s face lighting up as she caught her eye. ‘And Edie, of course.’

  ‘We got you a cake,’ said Peter.

  ‘Ah, now! What did you go and do that for? Don’t be wasting your money on me.’

  ‘Nonsense, Ma. What better thing would there be to spend it on?’

  Edie looked from Peter to Daniel, momentarily confused. ‘We got a cake too.’

  ‘Two cakes!’ Mrs Carmody clapped her hands to her chest.

  ‘No, Ma,’ said Peter evenly. ‘It’s the same cake. Edie’s just trying to make me look bad, because I didn’t physically buy the cake. If it’s about money, Edie, just let me know what I owe. I’m not working at the moment but I should be able to cobble something together. Or maybe I could pay you in instalments.’

  ‘I wasn’t—’

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ interrupted Mrs Carmody. ‘Surely you’re not asking for his money, Edie? And Peter out of work? Surely you’re not that hard up that you can’t spare a few euro?’

  ‘Of course I’m not,’ Edie started to insist. Peter was the one trying to make her look bad; he must have seen her and Daniel carrying the bakery box into the house. And Peter might be technically unemployed but he’d just bought a new car – with a discount from Daniel.

  But Mr Carmody brought his fists down on the table again before she could get any further, and Peter was back grinning now everyone else’s attention was fixed on her.

  ‘What the fuck are we talking about money for?’ barked Daniel’s dad. ‘It’s your mother’s birthday. Get out the cake, and keep the grubby talk for later.’

  Mrs Carmody sniffled slightly. Peter got up from the table, went over to the fridge and produced the carrot cake Edie had carefully chosen and ordered three days earlier, then picked up – and paid for – this morning. It should have been Daniel, at the very least, lighting the candles.

  ‘Ah, son!’ Mrs Carmody clapped her hands, an actual tear in her eye at the sight of her name spelled out in icing. ‘You personalised it and everything.’

  Rachel led them in a chorus of ‘for she’s a jolly good fellow’ but Peter got the sole peck on the cheek. The cake was cut and slices doled out to everyone except Edie.

  ‘Ma,’ said Daniel.

  ‘What? Oh, sorry. Can you eat cake, Edie?’

  ‘Of course she can eat cake.’

  ‘How was I supposed to know that? It’s hard to keep up with all her regimes.’

  ‘That’s okay, Mrs Carmody. It’s just meat I don’t eat. Everything else is fine.’ For the first few months she’d cut down on alcohol and caffeine too, until it became clear she was wasting her time. A glass of white wine was a paltry consolation prize, but it was better than nothing.

  But Daniel’s mother had already gone back to her other son. ‘It’s lovely, Peter, just gorgeous.’

  Edie watched the clock above the sink and listened as Mr Carmody gave out about the family who’d moved in next door. He didn’t know where they were from, but they weren’t Irish. Edie reminded herself of generational differences and unintentional biases and the need to be understanding, but it was no use. There was only so long she could spend in this house before she felt herself becoming a worse person. Everyone was finished eating and they’d been there two hours. She pushed back her chair.

  ‘I’ll just help with these,’ she said, gathering the empty plates to carry to the dishwasher. ‘Thanks for dinner. I’m afraid we have to get going.’

  ‘Oh no,’ Rachel deadpanned. ‘Don’t go. You’re such great craic.’

  Peter snorted so coke came out his nostrils. The familiar knot expanded in Edie’s stomach.

  ‘You won’t stay for a cup of tea?’ said Mrs Carmody, a small quiver creeping into her voice. ‘Daniel?’

  Edie did not look at her husband but she knew he was looking at her.

  ‘We’d love to, Mrs Carmody, but I’m afraid I have a couple of things to get before the shop closes and Daniel—’

  Daniel’s father hit the table again and everyone jumped. ‘It’s my wife’s birthday and if she wants you to stay for tea, you’re staying. Now sit down there and give us another fifteen minutes of your precious time. You’ – he pointed at Peter – ‘stick on the kettle.’ Peter instantly rose from his seat. ‘And don’t drown the bloody thing in milk.’

  The kettle rumbled and Peter rooted in the press for mugs. Mr Carmody leaned forward and gave Daniel a smile that contained no humour. ‘How’s my garage going? I hope your wife’s not making all the decisions about that too?’

  Daniel had worked in the family garage full time, and for peanuts, since the day he finished school. His dad retired three years ago and sold the place to him at full market value. It was entirely, and officially, Daniel’s. Yet Mr Carmody insisted on referring to it as his garage and Daniel, who wouldn’t let himself be undermined in any other circumstance, never corrected him.

  ‘Fine,’ he said. ‘Everything’s going fine.’

  ‘That’s interesting now.’ Mr Carmody scratched his beard. ‘Because Peter tells me things were a bit slow there before Christmas.’

  Edie tensed. The queasiness in her stomach grew stronger. The slow year at the garage had been the cause of everything. It was why they still had cracked tiles in their bathroom and why a greater fracture had threatened to split the two of them.

  ‘No,’ her husband replied evenly. ‘Everything’s fine.’

  ‘Are you sure now, son?’

  ‘I’m sure.’

  ‘You know, I had that place for four decades?’

  ‘I know, Da.’

  ‘And I never once came close to shutting it down. I never once made a loss, even.’

  ‘What’s that?’ said Peter, carrying over two cups of tea and offering one to his father – ‘Get that away from me; it looks fucking anaemic’ – and another to his mother – ‘Oh no, don’t mind me; look after yourselves first’ – before giving one to Edie and putting the other in front of Daniel.

  ‘I’m just reminding your brother that my garage has been in the family for forty years without any problems, so he better not be the one to fuck it up.’

  ‘You were the best mechanic in all of north Dublin, Da,’ agreed Peter. ‘It’s a lot for any young buck to live up to. But Two Straps is doing his best, aren’t you, little bro?’ Then the thirty-year-old man reached for the arm of his twenty-eight-year-old sibling and quickly twisted the skin.

  Edie threw the tea down her throat so fast she knew she’d be peeling the skin off the roof of her mouth for days. But she didn’t care. She could see the Carmody poison starting to worm its way into Daniel. He was too good for them. She had to get him out. When the cup was almost empty, she brought it over to the dishwasher, went into the hallway, got her coat and the faux-fur colour-block scarf that she thought looked very chic but which Mrs Carmody said made her look like ‘a streetwalker’. Then she came back and stood in the kitchen doorway.

  ‘We’re off now, thanks again.’

  Daniel stood and the rest of them, who were laughing at some video Peter had gotten up on his phone, didn’t argue.

  As she left the house, Edie imagined the bad feelings falling from her body. She shook herself silently before opening the car, discarding the last of the ill will on the driveway, and when the passenger door was closed behind her, she took a deep breath of unpolluted air.

  ‘Home we go.’

  Daniel didn’t say a
nything. He just stuck the key in the engine and checked the rear-view mirror.

  She glanced over. ‘You all right?’

  ‘Grand.’

  She watched him, lost in the concentration of driving, frowning at some invisible grievance on the horizon. Had they gotten to him? They usually did. Was he back to worrying, to beating himself up and taking her down by association, to coming up with reasons not to give her what he’d promised?

  ‘You know you’re my favourite?’ she said.

  His mouth twitched and his head lifted. ‘Of my family? I’m not sure that’s much of a compliment.’

  ‘Of everyone.’

  He gave into the smile then.

  Rows of identical houses whizzed past as Edie rolled back her shoulders and felt the knot in her stomach loosen. She loved him and he loved her. It all came back to that. They could let the scaffolding fall because the walls they’d built underneath were sound. That was the gist of the poem she’d read out at their wedding in place of making a speech. She took a deep breath and went for it.

  ‘I know the last few months have been stressful for you, work wise and everything, and we agreed we’d leave it till the new year . . .’

  His eyes flickered from one mirror to the other. They hadn’t actually agreed, so much as he’d left her with no choice.

  ‘. . . but January is already over and . . . it’s coming up again.’

  ‘Already?’

  A brutal memory of standing in a new nightdress – she did a lot of window-shopping at Victoria’s Secret, but this was the first thing she’d actually bought – and him saying he had a headache.

  ‘Yes,’ she said tentatively. ‘Next weekend. So, since things are back to normal at work . . .’

  A headache. That was an excuse women usually gave.

  ‘They’re not back to normal, Edie. I’m just not losing money.’