‘She was much younger when your dad left so she didn’t carry as much of the burden as you did, Josh.’
‘I know and I’m glad she didn’t have to and I’d never hold the fact that she loves him against her, I just wish she’d see him for what he actually is, that’s all.’
‘Have you considered the possibility that your dad might actually be doing this out of the goodness of his heart, that he wants to make up for leaving in the first place and that he does want to make amends?’ She didn’t believe it either but it was important that she didn’t rile him up any further.
‘Goodness of his heart?’ he was incredulous at how diplomatic she was being. Where had the feisty woman with an opinion on everything gone?
‘It’s not that I don’t agree with you Josh,’ she dropped her eyes to her hands cowering away from the responsibility of declaring how she actually felt. ‘But part of me thinks that we may have to give him a chance.’ She watched as he fidgeted with the coke can in front of him refusing to look her in the eye. ‘You know that it’s no secret that your dad and I have had our issues so it’s not as though I’m taking his side.’
‘Well, whose side are you on then?’
‘Your mum’s,’ Sarah answered.
‘You say that as though I’m not.’ Josh pushed his chair back. Talking to Sarah hadn’t turned out like he had expected it to. He was wasting his time. ‘Leave it, its fine, I’m sorry I came here.’
‘Look,’ she reached across and put her hand on his arm. ‘Don’t go racing off again, you’ve just got here and I was going to order pizza, stay for a minute, will you?’ In the absence of having anything else that might appeal to him she resorted to offering him food, regretting having already eaten the leftovers from the fridge. She opened a drawer in the sideboard behind her and pulled out a menu. ‘You must be hungry,’ she glanced at him hoping her offer had appealed. ‘I’m starving,’ she said encouragingly, ‘and I know you’re always hungry.’ Jenny always spoke about how hard it was to keep him fed. He had an insatiable appetite and she thought he’d be unlikely to pass up the chance of food. ‘We can have a proper chat then, okay?’ He dropped his eyes in embarrassment and shifted nervously in his seat.
‘Okay,’ he agreed reluctantly.
‘Okay,’ Sarah left the room to make the order and when she did so, Josh emptied her glass once more in one full glug before he filled it for her again. He was standing by the sink when she came back in, his can of coke in his hand and a head full of remorse at how aggressive he had allowed himself to be.
‘Look, Say,’ it was a nickname Abbie had coined many years ago and since both Abbie and Josh had become teenagers, it was rare that she heard either of them use it anymore. ‘I shouldn’t have come over here ranting and raving,’ he looked at her, his eyes wide with embarrassment. ‘Or at the very least, I should have told you I was coming,’ he raised his left eyebrow as a spike of adrenaline raced up the inside of his leg as the image of her neatly toned, half-naked body from earlier flashed across his eyes. ‘So I’m sorry for barging in here and shouting and stuff,’ he ran his fingers through his hair pushing the flop of brown hair from his eyes before he pushed himself from the sink he was leaning on. ‘So I think I’ll head home,’ he crushed the coke can between his two hands and placed it on the sink. He had come to Sarah’s hoping to ease the frustration that was bouncing around in his head about his dad, not to add to it. He was heady with the three glasses of wine he had just lowered, a pile of pent up frustration and the image of how sexy she had been when he first called. Staying, whether it was under the guise of being hungry or not, wouldn’t be a good idea.
‘Don’t leave, I’ve ordered the pizza and it’ll be here in the next twenty minutes, can you not stay?’ Sarah pleaded.
‘Well,’ Josh reddened at the thought that was running rapidly through his head. ‘I should go, I’m just all over the place, Sarah,’ he stretched his hands by his side trying to disperse the energy that he could feel beginning to surge.
‘Please,’ she asked again, this time moving towards him and placing her hand on his arm. Her touch reverberated like electricity shooting through him.
‘Don’t do that, Sarah,’ he said, his voice small, apologetic.
‘Why?’ she asked.
‘Because,’ he gulped back the nerves that had gathered at the back of his throat and stretched his back, shaking his head. He couldn’t help the small but significant grin that formed on his lips.
‘Because what?’ she asked again her lips mimicking the smile she noticed on his.
‘Because,’ he surprised himself that he was even considering telling her. This was his mother’s best friend. Go home, Josh, don’t even try. ‘Because, you are what we lads call a beave and if I don’t leave now I know I’ll do something that you’ll think is stupid.’
‘A beave?’ Sarah shook her head, her cheeks blushing with his advance.
‘Someone who is…’ he dipped his head momentarily. Was he really going to say it out loud? ‘Someone who is, well, older but sexy, if you know what I mean. He wasn’t able to look her directly in the eye.
‘Are you flirting with me, Josh Buckley?’ she asked incredulously.
‘No,’ he stumbled over his words, his earlier confidence beginning to wane. ‘I’m just all over the place and I have been drinking some of your wine.’
‘I thought as much,’ she said.
‘But,’ he was already committed and what would be the harm if he said what he wanted to say. He had already made a fool of himself. ‘But if I was flirting with you, would that be so bad?’
‘Of course it would, for Christ’s sake, you’re only seventeen,’ she took a few steps backwards her heart pounding in her chest.
‘I’m eighteen next month, Sarah, what is it you think eighteen-year-olds do, swap Lego pieces?’ He laughed.
‘Are you joking?’ Sarah asked. ‘Are you actually coming on to me and drinking wine in my house? Holy shit, Josh Buckley, your mother would skin me alive!’
Josh rubbed his hands across his face and shrugged, adrenaline surging through his body. ‘You won’t be my first if that’s what you’re worrying about.’ Every time he thought about putting his arms around her a surge of adrenaline rose inside him and even though he had spent the day on his own trying to walk off his anger, nothing had distracted him more than the thoughts of wrapping himself around Sarah’s body. ‘Look,’ he turned away from her and took another bottle of wine from the rack to put in the fridge to chill. ‘Sorry I drank your wine, I’ll put this one in for you for later and I’ll buy you a replacement tomorrow… and I’m just being a dick, don’t mind me, I just, well…’ he wavered before he continued. What the fuck was he thinking? Who in their right mind would come on to their mother’s best friend and shit, what would his mother say when she found out? ‘Look, I figure, I’ve already messed things up so, just so you know, lads like me would find women like you, well, very attractive, so please don’t get annoyed with me.’ He cleared his throat inhaling slowly to calm the rate of his breathing. ‘I’m practically eighteen so,’ he shrugged blaming his youth for his desires. ‘You can’t really blame a chap for trying.’ He stretched his shoulders and broadened his chest glancing around the room looking for where he had left his hoodie forgetting that she had put it in the dryer to dry.
‘Look, Josh,’ she began, ‘I know things are a little messed up right now…’
‘It’s okay,’ he interrupted, ‘not that it’s an excuse or anything but I’m freaked out, Sarah, I’m so freaked out with him coming back to the house that I really don’t know what I’m doing. Sorry if I made you uncomfortable, I should never have tried it on with you.’ He sniffed and stood in front of her, his large frame towering over hers. ‘You were just so sexy.’ He looked away bashfully.
‘Listen to me, Josh, it’s okay,’ she smiled, flattered that someone Josh’s age would have been interested in the first place. ‘Don’t worry about the other stuff,’ she waved away th
e flirtation of earlier knowing how embarrassed he would be if she spoke about it. ‘I know that you don’t want your father to come home right now and I know that it is probably the most frustrating thing thinking about him carrying on in Oakley Drive as though he owned the place. But you’ve got to at least give it a try, for your mum’s sake and for Abbie’s.’
‘I know.’ He said. ‘Sorry for… you know,’ he looked at her wine glass and the crushed coke can in the sink and grabbed his phone from the countertop. What the hell was he thinking? ‘I shouldn’t have come on so strong and made you feel awkward around me.’
‘It’s okay, Josh, honestly.’ She reached up to him and rubbed his arm. ‘It’s,’ Sarah paused, she didn’t know how to explain what she was feeling.
‘It’s what?’ he asked.
‘Well, it’s not awful to hear a compliment like that but it’s just, you know… awkward?’
‘Would it be….’ he moved closer to her and when she didn’t pull away, he didn’t have the willpower to pull away himself. ‘Would it be awful…’ he brushed her hair back from her face, ran his hand around the back of her head and moistened his lips, ‘if I kissed you?’
10.
Trial Day 4
Liam Buckley
‘How are you this morning?’ William asks. He was watching carefully from behind the glass when I ran the press gauntlet outside. It amazes me how grown men and women can, in the name of journalism, shove their cameras in my face and obstruct my path and be downright obnoxious about how they speak to me. It’s nothing less than populist bullying condoned by the authorities, unwanted, consistently negative behaviour that’s allowed – or as has been my experience – encouraged to happen. Journalism, my arse.
‘Okay.’ I say and we both nod knowing that I’m neither okay nor does he want to talk to me about it. I suspect emotion is not his strong point; his currency is cold hard facts. It’s probably why we all play this charade. How are you? Subtext: I’m only passing myself politely, please don’t answer and burden me with your feelings. If you lie and say you’re grand, I’ll pretend to believe you and we can all go about our day as though nothing has changed. We all do it, this mental dislocation thing of putting our heads in the sand to protect ourselves from having to face the unpleasantness experienced by others. The we all have our own shit to contend with and there’s no room for more, or the I’m happy right now so don’t rain on my parade brigade. If we don’t see it, we can pretend it’s not happening, leave the difficult stuff to the shadows and keep the sunny side up. What would William do if I said I wasn’t okay? What would he do if I told him that I’m about to lose my mind?
Should I tell him that when Abbie and Josh had both gone to bed, I spent the night reading every comment anyone had ever made about me and my family and believe me, since Jenny died last June, there have been a lot. Should I tell him that a simple google of my name would have me sentenced to death in some states in America. Although I’m sure he and the team have seen the vile comments for themselves. I even, in the early hours of the morning, looked up the definition of guilt. It says to take account of one’s own actions. To be culpable, blameworthy, responsible, accountable. I am to blame. I’m responsible for everybody’s upset at the moment, Abbie’s, Josh’s, Alex’s – even Sarah’s. ‘And how are you today, William?’ I ask in response.
‘Yes, good,’ William takes the seat beside me and nods towards Lucinda. ‘She’ll most likely call the medical witnesses today, Jennifer’s doctors, and if she still has time, the state pathologist.’ He follows the focus of Lucinda’s eyes. They’ve fallen determinedly on the man just to her left. I presume him to be Jenny’s doctor. I have never met him. To my shame, I had left Jenny by the time she was diagnosed and therefore never had to bring her to any of her hospital visits. He’s a wiry-looking, middle-aged man, most probably the same age as I am, with the body of a runner. Lean, tall, with round glasses worn tight to his face. Did she feel abandoned when I wasn’t with her at her hospital visits? Did she feel aggrieved that the ‘in sickness and in health’ promise I made wasn’t worth the price of the four-tier wedding cake that we never ate?
‘Worst part of the week is over with,’ William says and I scrunch up my forehead trying to understand what it is he means. ‘Monday. Monday’s always the worst, he whispers benignly by way of explanation and I nod as though I agree and do a mental check to make sure I’ve got the right day. It’s Tuesday, the fourth day of the trial. The doctor is ushered towards the witness stand and the room falls silent.
*
I can remember, almost to the hour, the day I first saw Jenny. Her lips were probably one of the first things I noticed about her, that and the way her auburn hair fell down her back. It was in the bar of the Shelbourne Hotel on St Stephen’s Green on the 10th of December 1995. It had been a work Christmas party. I had seen her with her friends and when she broke away to go to the bar, I did the same in the hope that I’d get talking to her. When I noticed what she was ordering, Jack Daniels and Coke, I ordered the same from a different barman and orchestrated a mix-up just so I could talk to her.
‘Eh, I think that’s mine,’ she had said, looking to the barman to confirm and then back to me as I lifted the drink that was placed in front of her to my lips. I remember looking at her and thinking how beautiful she looked up close. She had the most luscious auburn hair and a smattering of freckles across her nose and the green dress she wore clung to her body in all the right places. She was the epitome of Irish beauty. I had told her as much that night.
‘It is?’ my answer had come only after I had cheekily taken a sip. ‘Oh, sorry, you’ll have to let me buy you a drink now to make up for it,’ I had said. ‘It is Jack and Coke, isn’t it?’ I asked her, knowing full well that it was.
‘It is,’ Jenny had been shaking her head slightly in what looked to me at the time to be disbelief. I nodded at the barman to bring two more and we each poured the coke over the crackling ice and whiskey before we lifted the glasses to our mouths in unison, all the while looking at each other.
‘So,’ the whiskey had warmed the back of my throat. ‘What are the chances of that?’ There had been an undeniable sparkle in her eyes, she was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen.
‘The chances of what?’ she had asked grinning. ‘Jenny, by the way,’ she had placed her glass on the bar and had held out her hand for me to shake.
‘Liam,’ I had said. ‘I meant what are the chances of you and me ordering the very same drink at the very same time?’
‘Do you mean what were the chances or what might the chances be in the future?’ she had a playful grin on her face. ‘Because one refers to the probability or the likelihood of the same thing happening in the future, you know?’
‘Yes,’ I had beamed at her reply, trying but failing to come up with anything that sounded even remotely as clever. ‘I do indeed know the difference,’ I had managed and hesitated while she moved closer to me, grabbed my arm and led me away from the bar area so we were standing by the alcove just inside the bar doors with our rattling iced-whiskey glasses in our hands. As I had moved behind her a heavy scent of perfume wafted up my nose, intoxicating me more than the double whiskey I had just lowered.
‘That’s better, so what were we saying?’ When she had leaned into me, her hair brushed off my cheek, sending shivers down my spine.
‘I’m not sure what we were saying but I think you were actually flirting with me by insinuating that my grammar, or use of auxiliary verbs, was incorrect,’ I had been delighted that I had remembered some terms from English class. Her eyes had widened in equal measures of surprise and interest with what I had said.
‘No, I wasn’t,’ she had a smirk on her lips trying to feign indignation. ‘I don’t flirt, and there’s no need to go all auxiliary on me,’ they way she had lifted her hands up as though she was surrendering had made me smile. ‘I was just checking on whether you want to know if there is a likelihood of it happening in the future or whether
or not us, you and me, getting a drink together was all in the past.’ She had this way of biting her bottom lip when she was nervous and even though she had come across quite confident, I could tell she wasn’t in the habit of being so forward. ‘Anyway, you got the last drink so now I’ll have to buy you one back, you know, just to keep it even.’
‘You don’t need to…’ she had placed her fingers on my lips to stop me from objecting and her touch was like electricity.
‘I want to, I prefer things to be like that.’ She had said.
‘Okay.’
‘And I must say, the whole ordering the same drink as me just so you can pretend that you just happened to be drinking my drink by mistake was smooth.’
‘So you’re on to me, then.’
‘Yep.’
‘Well, just so you know, the whole grammar line… has to be the most original chat-up line that I have ever had the pleasure of being victim to, that was smooth too.’
‘If not the most grammatically correct,’ she had added matter-of-factly and clinked her glass off mine.
*
When I think of it, the night I saw Jenny for the very first time, it takes all my strength to hold back the tears. It was so perfect then, the night I fell in love with her. The night I vowed never to hurt her.
‘Professor Hegarty,’ Lucinda juts her chin forward a touch and stretches her neck sideways. Every time she stands she looks as though she grows an extra inch and the sincerity in her expression is hard to deny. It’s the same obscure expression she has in the video clip that both the news stations ran last night and the night before. I expect it’s the same clip they’ll use every night. Lucinda Cassidy looking refined and professional, followed by me scurrying clumsily from a silver Nissan Almera taxi, my head down as though I was facing into a headwind and a contorted expression on my face. ‘Can you tell the court what you were treating the deceased, Ms Jennifer Buckley for?’ she looks in the direction of the jurors making sure they know she means them. It’s them she needs to convince, they’re the ones she’ll manipulate with her turn of phrase, her academic sleight-of-hand and she’s not leaving anything to chance. Dr Hegarty nods, takes a sip of his water and begins to speak.
When the Time Comes Page 21
