by Jackie Walsh
Noel is nodding and smiling like he’s just been awarded a gold star from his teacher. I’m left with my mouth open, unable to utter a word. Is Conor suggesting we christen Shay on Sunday? He’ll only be two weeks old. And we’ve nothing organised! Has he lost all sense of reason?
The two lads continue their conversation out to the door.
The priest. The church. The food. The invitations. The decorations. The christening robe. My size ten outfit.
I’m lining up all the reasons to abandon this idea before it takes hold, so I can list them to Conor as soon as he walks back in here. Surely if he doesn’t want to ask his cousin, he could ask one of his many friends from the football club? I want time to organise the christening. I’ve been looking forward to it.
Hovering over the crib, I rub my finger across Shay’s cheek and attempt to swallow the sadness that descends on me. It comes quite often now.
‘Well… what do you think?’ Conor walks back into the room like he’s swallowed fourteen cans of Red Bull on his journey.
‘I think it’s a terrible idea.’
‘Why? What’s the problem?’
‘Well, the priest for a start, you have to give him notice.’
I want to cry and to tell Conor this is a mad idea and it’s not going to happen, but his excitement appears to be shooting off the charts. Removing his jacket, he throws it over the back of the chair where it slips to the ground. I’m almost expecting him to roll up his sleeves. He doesn’t. He takes up his phone and opens it.
‘I’m sure Father Cormac can’t wait to splash water on a baby’s head again. There hasn’t been a christening around here in a long time. It’s not like the city, Laura. We don’t have to queue up.’
‘But I want to organise it properly. I want to invite the right people.’
Eventually Conor pays attention to my objection. He puts the phone down and walks over to me. Running his hands through my hair, he looks into my eyes.
‘We can do this, Laura. Together we can do anything we put our minds to.’
I don’t want to. But the words don’t leave my lips. Conor is going ahead with this whether I want it or not. He’s not used to anyone telling him what he can and cannot do. I’m in his house, in his village. This is Conor’s world. I’m just a visitor.
Chapter Thirty-One
On a clear bright day, I can see the top of the bridge that crosses the river Call in the distance. I’m looking at it now, the angled steel sculpture piercing the beautiful view like some goad at nature. Look what I can do.
Before the bridge was built, it took an hour to get to Dublin in a car. Now it takes forty minutes.
‘That’s nearly four hours a week,’ said my husband, the mathematician. ‘Think of what someone could do with that extra time.’
I wanted to say ‘build bridges’ but it was early on in the relationship. It was at a time when I thought my safest response to everything he said was a nod, a yes, or a smile.
It was early on in my pregnancy too. I was happy, at last. This was my chance for a normal life. To take back what I’d lost. Marrying Conor would be the best thing I could do. He proposed as soon as he heard I was pregnant. And now that we were committed to one another, Conor wanted me to meet his mother. Nervous wasn’t the word. Mothers and I hadn’t gone well up to now. I spent most of the journey to Ballycall worrying about what would happen if she didn’t like me. I tried to prod Conor for some information.
‘What’s she like?’ I had asked him when he called to finalise the details of when he’d pick me up. I had no car at the time, I didn’t need one. Imanage was a ten-minute walk from my apartment. No bridge required.
Conor had answered like any other man. ‘Smaller than me. Dark hair. I think she has blue eyes.’
But that’s not what I had meant. I wanted to know if I was likely to be licked by a kitten or mauled by a lion.
As it happened, Maggie was somewhere in the middle. A litten. Very nice at first. She congratulated me on the baby and assured me I’d have everything I needed. She admired my clothes and reminisced about her own pregnancy, showing me photos of Conor as a baby as I twiddled with the dessert. My stomach was full to capacity having just finished off his mammy’s version of Sunday lunch – a huge plate covered with beef, gravy, roasters and veg. Some people never forget the famine.
Everything was going well. Conor was relaxed and I had managed to relax too. It was only when she asked me about my own mother that I saw a shift in her attitude.
‘I don’t talk to my mother,’ I said.
The room fell silent. Maggie stared at me like I’d just insulted her cooking, before getting up from the table and taking some empty plates to the sink. Conor had quickly changed the subject.
Nod. Yes. Smile. I should have said she was dead.
* * *
After bathing and dressing Shay, I lie him down in the crib. The nurse is due to call at eleven so we both have to look shiny and happy. No complaints. No questions. In and out with her and hopefully that will be the end of it.
After showering, I dress in my finest ‘coping well with motherhood’ clothes. A pair of black jeans and a freshly ironed pink shirt. Happy with my costume, I practice my smile in the mirror. Laura, you look the part.
Out on the landing the sound of gravel crunching gets my attention. Is that a car? I rush to the window at the front of the house and pray the nurse isn’t here already, I haven’t had a cup of coffee yet.
A car approaches but it’s not the nurse. My heart stops. Everything blurs, but I can still make out the police vehicle moving up the driveway.
‘Fuck.’ I rush into the bedroom, scrabbling for the phone with trembling hands.
‘Conor. Quick.’ I can barely breathe.
‘What is it? What’s wrong, Laura?’ His voice is panicked.
‘Come home, quick.’ My words are barely audible between gasping breaths.
‘Is Shay okay? Did something happen to Shay?’
‘The police are here.’
With the phone still in my hand, I return to the window and see one of the two investigators assigned from Dublin to the Vicky Murphy case getting out of the car with Detective Fintan Ryan. Where are they going? Why are they walking past the door?
Pat. They must be walking down the side of the house to Pat’s place. Back in the bedroom I wait for them to appear on the pathway leading to the forest. My heart is thumping, my phone gripped tightly in my hand. Where are they?
Then I see them, walking away from our house and down towards the forest. I close my eyes and urge my body to relax. They’re not here for Conor. Not this time anyway. They’re here for Pat. Does Pat know something? Did Pat kill Vicky?
Conor’s phone is engaged when I call it, so I send him a text message telling him the cops are looking for Pat. No need to come home. Taking deep breaths, I flop down onto the bed and close my eyes. No sooner has my body relaxed, when the doorbell rings.
The nurse walks in, all smiles. She doesn’t comment on the police vehicle parked beside her Nissan.
‘I’m a bit early, Laura. I hope I haven’t come at a bad time.’
‘No, it’s fine.’ Shay is in my arms. I’m flustered and unprepared. My face is probably white, or green from the shock. For a brief moment I thought the cops were here to arrest Conor, especially after overhearing the conversation he had with Fintan the other day. My nerves are still rattled. The last thing I need now is this nurse asking me questions.
‘Okay,’ she says. ‘Where would you like me to go?’
‘Oh, we’ll go in here.’
I direct her into the front room. I don’t want the cops in my view, to be reminded of the card, the photo, Vicky’s coffin coming up the aisle.
‘Are you okay?’ she says, gently placing her hand on my shoulder. The sudden caring gesture ignites my vulnerability and I start to cry. Full-on crying, like a baby… like Shay.
‘Here, let me hold the baby. You sit down,’ she says, taking Shay from my gri
p.
‘I’m sorry, I just got a fright earlier and I feel a bit…’
‘That’s okay. Do you want to talk about it?’
Do I want to talk about it? That for a brief moment this morning I thought the cops were here to arrest my husband? That my whole life flashed in front of me? That every doubt I ever had had become a reality, a quick preview of my very own hell? Do I want to talk about it?
‘No.’
‘Well if you change your mind, Laura, I’m here. Can I get you some water?’
‘No, I’m fine really, it was nothing. I’m just a bit emotional lately.’
‘Of course you are and you’re entitled to be. Your body is still adjusting…’ Her voice drifts off into the usual spiel. I sit, looking at her lips move. After a few minutes she checks Shay still has all his body parts and asks a few questions about his routine. Then she hands him back to me. The warmth of the little bundle against my body brings me comfort.
Nurse Elaine removes a file from the leather briefcase at her feet.
‘I’m sorry I didn’t have your details with me the last time.’
She places the file on her lap and opens it. Don’t tell me she’s not finished. All I want is for her to leave so I can see what’s going on out the back. Why are the cops with Pat? She said she was happy with Shay’s progress. She can see I’m doing a great job. So, what now? Why doesn’t she leave?
‘The last time I was here, Laura, you voiced concern over the drugs you were given at the hospital.’
Nurse Elaine leans in closer to me.
‘You wanted to know if they could make you hallucinate.’
Sweet Jesus, and people say our health system isn’t efficient.
‘Oh, don’t worry about that, I didn’t know what I was talking about, I was just a bit…’
Bonkers. That’s what I was. I remember it now, trying to figure out if I could have imagined the card.
The nurse is still leaning forward, looking at me.
‘Tired, I was very tired.’
‘And do you still imagine things?’
Shifting on the seat, knowing now how crazy I must have sounded, I shake my head. ‘God, no.’
‘Okay.’ She lowers her head to glance through the file. I’m sorry I ever opened my mouth to her the first time she called.
‘Do you think, Laura, you could have a touch of postnatal depression?’
My eyes shift from Shay to the wall directly in front of me. I don’t blame her asking that question. On her first visit I told her I might be hallucinating and now, this time, I burst into tears before she even has a chance to sit down. How do I explain to her everything’s dandy when she’s not here?
‘No, I’m fine. Honestly. I’m feeling great, actually.’ I smile at her. But this woman doesn’t want to take no for an answer.
‘Are you certain, Laura? Because there are things…’
‘No. I’m sure, I’m fine, no depression or anything like that. In fact, I’ve never been happier.’
Looking back at the file, Elaine turns the page as if searching for something to contradict me with. I’m rocking Shay gently from side to side, eager to find out what is going on with the cops, when she speaks.
‘And after the birth of your first baby, Laura, did you suffer from any postnatal depression?’
Chapter Thirty-Two
I wonder how long he’s been standing there. Did he hear?
Conor is in the hallway when I finally get the nurse to leave. She insists on calling again next week and I have to agree or she will never go.
‘Everything okay?’ Conor says, putting his arms out to take Shay from me.
‘Yes,’ I say, looking closely at his eyes for any sign that he might have been listening. When he leans forward and kisses my head, I’m reassured.
‘Well. Are we doing a good job?’ He jokes to the nurse.
‘Indeed you are,’ she says.
Nurse Elaine pulls her jacket closed and walks to the door. I rush after her and open it before she gets there. She hands me a piece of paper with a mobile number on it.
‘I’ll see you next week but if you need me in the meantime Laura, do call.’
I stop just short of pushing her out the door. Conor is looming in the background, imitating Shay’s gurgling noises.
‘Will do. Thanks.’
Breathing a sigh of relief when the door eventually closes, I glance through the side window, making sure she gets into her car and leaves.
‘The cops didn’t stay long.’ Conor says.
It’s then I notice their car is gone.
‘No, they didn’t. Did you see my text telling you they were here to talk to Pat?’ I move past Conor into the kitchen. He follows me.
‘I was halfway home when I saw it, thought I’d continue, take the opportunity to see my little boy.’ He kisses Shay. ‘And my beautiful wife, of course.’
‘I wonder what they wanted with Pat. Do you think he knows something?’
‘Pat? Huh. No, they’re probably just ticking a box.’
Conor places Shay into his baby bouncer and goes to the fridge. His tall body hovers in search of something to eat. He looks so nice, so sexy in his dark suit. I don’t want to lose this man.
‘Why were you scared, Laura?’
‘What?’
With a slice of ham in his hand, he turns and looks at me before shoving it into his mouth in one go.
‘When the police came. You were scared.’
‘I… I don’t know. I guess anyone would get scared if they saw the cops at their door. They don’t usually call with good news.’
Conor laughs. He turns back to the fridge and takes another slice of ham in his hand.
‘Well I don’t want you to worry, Laura, you sounded extremely panicked on the phone. You have nothing to worry about.’ Shoving the meat in his mouth, he walks over and holds my face in his hands. When he’s swallowed the mouthful, Conor pulls me close to him and kisses me. The heat of his body against mine makes me feel safe. For a brief moment, I relax, forget about the cops, the card, the nurse, the words I heard over the baby monitor. But it doesn’t last long. When he pulls away, I feel my strength leave with him.
Chapter Thirty-Three
And so it begins. The circus. Or what would definitely pass for one. Conor invited Maggie to help me arrange the christening because, as he sees it, she’s very good at that sort of thing.
Apparently Father Cormac was delighted to be doing the ceremony this Sunday.
What a week it’s turning out to be for him. A funeral and a christening. He even thanked Conor, believing the decision was made to boost the morale of the village, not to facilitate Noel.
The phone call to Amanda didn’t get the same reception. She thought it was a mad idea and seemed a bit taken aback that I hadn’t put up a better fight. She expressed disappointment at not being able to go on a shopping trip for the outfits we were going to look lovely in. She hummed and hawed about her availability, saying she had plans for Sunday. But eventually she caved in and became excited.
* * *
‘Lots to do, lots to do.’ Maggie walks into the kitchen with an old notebook in her hand, her hair and makeup put on hold due to the immediacy of the visit. I notice her age is more pronounced in the greyness of her skin, the wrinkles on her forehead, around her eyes. Her dry hair is tied up in a bun, revealing grey strands that she usually manages to conceal. Maggie’s energy level doesn’t seem to be suffering though. She’s talking non-stop.
Shay lies on my lap. This little person, unaware of the celebration being arranged in his honour. Leaning forward, I take a deep breath, inhaling his smell, it’s like airborne Xanax, relaxing me while the other woman in the room goes on and on and on.
Balloons, like we didn’t have enough of them last week. The cake, which has already been ordered from someone Maggie knows and believes to be the best cake-maker in the whole world. The music, some local DJ who caters for all ages, according to Maggie. ‘We’ll just
have it airing in the background, not too loud.’
I notice her use of the word ‘we,’ and smile to myself.
The food will be supplied by the same company who catered for Seamus’s funeral four years earlier. The best caterers around, they do all the big events. Suddenly Maggie has my interest. Not that I had intended questioning her about Seamus’s death, but the opportunity has presented itself. I’m going in.
‘That must have been a very big crowd,’ I say, my eyes still focused on little Shay.
‘Oh, they came from everywhere. I couldn’t believe the amount of people. The church was bursting at the seams and even the church grounds were full. Seamus was a very popular man.’
‘It must have been a terrible shock for you, losing your husband so suddenly.’ I lift my gaze to look at Maggie and notice her abandon the notes she’s been scrawling in her diary to look out the window.
Silence. Maggie is staring into the distance, her lips pursed, her eyes drooping with sadness. I wasn’t trying to ignite her grief, but clearly, I have.
‘You must miss him,’ I say.
Shay has fallen asleep in my arms.
‘Every moment of every day,’ Maggie says.
Turning her head, she looks at me placing Shay into the crib. ‘But life goes on, Laura. You don’t notice it at first, going through the motions, relying on the clock to tell you what to do. Time to eat, time to sleep, time to wash.’ She moves from the stool and comes over to the crib. ‘But now I have you, little man.’ Bending over the crib, Maggie kisses Shay on the forehead.
I don’t know whether to continue pushing her. I want to ask her who was there when he died but I decide not to. I didn’t expect to stir such emotion. Maggie had given me the impression that she was in full control of everything, that her life was wonderful. But evidently it’s not. Her heart is broken. She just does a good job at hiding it.
‘I haven’t gone near the place since it happened,’ Maggie says, dragging me back on board my mission. If she wants to talk, I’m all ears.
