Seven Letters

by Sinéad Moriarty

  ‘My dad went off with his girlfriend and now they have a baby together and my mum hates the baby and says it’s ugly and stupid. It’s not nice to say a baby is stupid, though, is it?’ Brona said.

  ‘I think all babies are ugly. My twin sisters are rotten-looking,’ Milo said.

  ‘That’s a terrible thing to say. God’s listening and we’re making our Communion really soon and it’s a sin to be mean about your family.’ Alexandra wagged her finger at him.

  ‘No, actually, lying is a sin,’ Milo retorted, ‘so if I said they were cute, I’d be a liar. Jesus said we should tell the truth, so there. My granddad says he hopes they get better-looking or they’ll be living at home for ever. Mum said that was a shocking thing to say, but Granddad thought it was hilarious.’

  ‘All babies are beautiful because they are made in the image of God,’ Alexandra said firmly.

  ‘Ah-ha-ha!’ Milo cracked up laughing. ‘That means girls look like boys, which is why they’re so ugly.’

  ‘No, my mum said God isn’t a man, he’s a woman.’

  ‘Well, how come in all the pictures he’s a man?’ Conor jumped in.

  ‘Because people in the old days were thick and thought women weren’t good enough to be God, but now we know women are brilliant. My mum says women are waaaaaay smarter than men. She has her own company, so there.’ Grace was triumphant.

  Mia was trying not to laugh, but she had to rein in this wide-ranging discussion.

  ‘Right, class, let’s get started. We have our Communion rehearsal after lunch, so we’d better get some good work done first.’

  At lunchtime, Mia sat in her office while the children ran out to play. She saw Izzy on her own by the flowers. She seemed to be talking to herself, or maybe she was singing. The poor little dote looked so small and alone. Mia put down her sandwich and went to get her coat, but by the time she’d put it on Riley had appeared.

  Mia watched as Riley picked up Izzy and swung her around. Izzy squealed happily. Mia opened the window, so she could hear them.

  ‘How’s my favourite person?’

  ‘I’m a bit sad today, Riley.’

  ‘About your mum?’

  Izzy nodded. ‘I just keep thinking about all those tubes and things all over her body. She was making this scary noise when she breathed, like a big clunky sound. Daddy said it was because of the ven– vent …’

  ‘Ventilator.’

  ‘Yes, that. It was horrible, and she didn’t wake up even when I sang “Let It Go”, even when I shaked her. She was still asleep.’

  Riley crouched down and hugged her little cousin. ‘Hey, I know it’s scary for you and no one wants to see their mum sick like that. Don’t feel you have to be all brave. If you want to cry about it, come to me. I’ll be here every day at lunchtime and we can talk about it. You can cry or shout or even punch me if you feel angry. I won’t mind. Deal?’

  ‘I won’t punch you.’ Izzy giggled.

  ‘I don’t mind if you do. Sometimes when I’m really angry I want to punch things.’

  ‘You seem angry a lot.’

  Riley sighed. ‘Being a teenager is difficult. I’m trying to be less angry and to be nicer to my mum. She’s sad about Sarah too.’

  ‘My daddy is super-sad. I heard him crying last night.’

  ‘Oh, Izzy, it’s just a really tough time. But things will get better. We have to look at the good things. You are loved by so many people. You are gorgeous, smart, funny, cute and kind of adorable.’

  ‘Gorgeous? Even with my stinky glasses?’

  ‘Hey! Glasses rock. Do you want to look the same as everyone else? Hell, no. You want to stand out and be seen. You are a brilliant girl, Izzy. Don’t ever forget that.’

  ‘Jason called me Hedwig – like the owl in Harry Potter.’

  Riley stood up. ‘Which one is Jason?’

  Izzy pointed to a boy with freckles.

  Riley took her cousin’s hand and went over to the group of boys Jason was with. ‘Hey, Freckle Face, are you Jason?’

  ‘Yes.’ Jason looked up, eyes wide.

  ‘Listen very carefully. If you ever make any comment to Izzy again about her glasses, in fact, if you even look at her sideways again, I will come down here and kick your arse. Do you understand me?’ Riley poked him in the chest.

  Jason nodded.

  ‘And that goes for all of you. If anyone is mean or insensitive to Izzy, they will have to answer to me. Is that clear?’

  All the boys nodded.

  ‘Good.’

  Izzy and Riley walked away.

  ‘Wow, Riley, you were, like, really scary!’

  ‘I wanted them to know I mean it.’

  Izzy threw her arms around Riley’s waist. ‘I love you, Riley.’

  ‘I love you too. You’re going to be OK. I’m here for you. Now, you have my number in the special phone your dad gave you, don’t you?’

  ‘Yes, I have Daddy’s number, Mia’s, Johnny’s, Granddad’s and yours. Daddy said if I’m feeling bad or need to ask a question about Mummy, I can use it.’

  ‘Well, call me anytime, day or night.’

  ‘I will.’

  ‘Gotta fly or I’ll be late for class. See you tomorrow.’

  ‘Bye.’ Izzy waved as Riley jogged back to the senior school.

  Mia smiled to herself. Her teenager still had a heart of gold buried beneath all the angst.

  29

  Johnny walked into the lobby of the Irish Express building. He filled in his visitor’s badge, got into the lift and pressed the button for the fifth floor as instructed. He looked at his reflection in the mirror. He’d dressed up for this. His best navy suit and the light blue shirt Mia had bought him for his birthday. It was his interview suit, but this was no interview. This was crisis control.

  He got out of the lift and looked around. He could see Jimmy in the distance, in a glass-fronted office. Johnny walked quickly past the rows of reporters and researchers bashing away on their laptops. He kept his head down. He recognized a few faces, but he did not want to get into a conversation with anyone as to why he was there. He strode quickly past a bank of printers churning out pages and a large water-cooler.

  Johnny stood at the open door of Jimmy’s office. The editor waved him in. The desk was covered with precarious towers of newspapers, paper, pens, books, photos and notebooks. There were bright green Post-its everywhere. The walls were lined with shelves crammed with books. A TV on the wall, muted, showed breaking news, and an orange couch was pushed up against the wall.

  ‘Gotta go, I’ll call you later.’ Jimmy hung up the phone.

  Johnny reached out to shake his hand, then sat down opposite him.

  ‘How are you doing?’ Jimmy asked. ‘It’s very hard when your outfit folds. I’ve been there.’

  ‘Yep, it’s hard,’ Johnny said. There was no use lying to a man as wily as Jimmy Dolan. ‘I’m hunting for work, but there’s slim pickings at the moment.’

  Jimmy nodded. ‘We’re under siege, Johnny,’ he said, walking behind him to close the door. ‘The internet is hoovering up our readers. It’s a bloodbath. Survival of the fittest.’

  ‘I intend to survive,’ Johnny said, exuding way more confidence than he was capable of feeling after five months of nothing.

  ‘You’re a good writer,’ Jimmy said. ‘You’ll find something. If I hear of anything I’ll give you a shout. So,’ he said, sitting down in his chair, ‘we have a matter that needs discussion.’

  ‘Your reporter is sniffing around the hospital and you have to stop him.’

  Jimmy stared at him. ‘It’s a good story, and you know it.’

  ‘I’m asking you not to run it, Jimmy.’

  ‘Why not? If this didn’t involve your family, you’d be all over it. I’ve looked at your sister-in-law’s Facebook page, and they’re a very good-looking family. They tick all the boxes. It’s heart-breaking, controversial and contentious, which makes it gold dust. Your reporter’s instinct knows this. This is the real
world, Johnny, and I’ve got a paper to keep going. And you know better than most how hard that is.’

  Johnny looked down at his hands. He had to keep emotion out of this. ‘Look, Jimmy, it is a good story, but my wife and her family are in shreds. If it was your family, you’d do everything to protect them. I’m asking you to sit on this for another while.’

  Jimmy tugged at his already loose tie. ‘When will it be over? This could go on for weeks as I understand it. Months, maybe.’

  Johnny clasped his hands together. He needed to be vague and non-specific. He needed to buy time. ‘Things are not going well, so I don’t believe it will be much longer.’

  Jimmy shook his head. ‘I respect you and I feel for your wife’s situation, but if I don’t run this story, someone else will get it. At least if I run it, you know I’ll be fair.’

  Johnny stared at him. ‘No, you won’t,’ he said. ‘You’ll be a good editor and wring everything out of it.’

  Jimmy smiled. ‘You know me well enough. Put yourself in my shoes, Johnny. There’s no reason to sit on it. And we’ll deal with it sensitively. I’ll put my best guy on it. Denis Jacobs, you probably know him.’

  Johnny did know Denis Jacobs and he was a decent journalist, but there was no way he was letting him break the story. ‘What if it was worth your while to hold off?’ Johnny said, his brain racing through the options. He had an idea. It was risky but, then, this was an unthinkable situation that needed a solution, and there was only one he could think of that might work.

  ‘Go on,’ Jimmy said, watching him closely.

  ‘Sarah is my sister-in-law. I’ve known her for almost twenty years. I’ve been in the meetings with the medical team so I know the full story. How about you hold off in exchange for an exclusive?’

  Jimmy’s eyebrows arched upwards. ‘Your instincts certainly haven’t been blunted by bad luck,’ he said.

  ‘It’s not like that,’ Johnny said. ‘I’m not doing it for me. I know it might be interpreted that way, but I’m doing it for my wife and her family. They are in hell. It would be cruel to run this story now.’

  ‘So what will you give me?’ Jimmy said. ‘And when?’

  ‘I’ll give you an exclusive insight into the horrific dilemma the family is facing,’ Johnny said, his palms sweating. There was no turning back now. ‘I can describe the medical situation and the reasons why it’s panning out as it is. As for when, give me two weeks.’

  Jimmy picked up a pen and started clicking it. The noise set Johnny’s teeth on edge, but he stayed quiet.

  ‘OK,’ Jimmy said. ‘I’ll want a good story, though, details. And I can give you a week, but that’s all.’

  ‘Jimmy, I’m begging you here. I promised my wife I’d keep it out of the press. She has no idea that the deal will involve me writing the exclusive. She’ll probably divorce me when she finds out. I’m in deep shit here, Jimmy. Please don’t make it worse. I promise you a brilliant piece, but in two weeks.’

  Jimmy sat back and tapped the pen against his chin. ‘The best I can do is a week, Johnny. If she’s still alive in a week’s time, I’m running it, with or without you. It’s only a matter of time before someone else hears about it. If they do, before the week is up, we’ll have to run it. I’ll call to give you a heads-up if that happens.’

  Johnny nodded. It was as fair as he was going to get. Most editors would have run the story and to hell with his family. ‘All right. Thanks, Jimmy. I appreciate it.’

  Jimmy stood up and held out his hand. ‘I’m sorry for you, Johnny, honestly. I hope things work out for the best, whatever that is.’

  Johnny walked quickly back through the open-plan office and into the lift. He couldn’t look at himself in the mirror. He got out on the ground floor, went out of the glass front doors, turned left and made straight for Mulcahy’s pub on the corner. There, he ordered a whiskey, carried it to the snug, sat down and took a big gulp. What had he done?

  He tried to convince himself that he had done the only thing possible to save the situation, but his blood ran cold at the thought of how Mia would see it. Would she understand? He was risking everything if she didn’t. But if he wrote the story, it would be compassionate and balanced. If it was any other journo, they’d go for the jugular on the sensationalism of their bizarre situation.

  It felt like a crazy twist of Fate that he was now wishing for Sarah’s little boy to die quickly so some hack wouldn’t write a salacious story about his family. What a total mess. He could end up a pariah to the whole family. Adam would probably beat him up. God knew what Charlie would think. Johnny felt sick. He had no choice. If he could make them see that, everything would be OK. Surely they knew he wouldn’t do anything that could harm or hurt Sarah. He adored her. He was doing this for her, so her death wasn’t twisted into something macabre.

  He swallowed the rest of the whiskey, feeling it burn all the way down his throat. For now, he had to pretend everything was fine, that the story was nixed and no longer a threat. It was his job to protect Mia from any more worry. He’d keep reassuring her, and he’d deal with the fallout later.

  30

  Mia’s plan to inject some normality into her life by working each day had already fallen apart. She had been on her way to the hospital last night when Adam had called to say that the doctors didn’t want Sarah to have any visitors until the following day. They had also called a meeting for the next morning, so Mia had rung Fiona Kelly to let her know that she probably wouldn’t make it into the school that day.

  In the waiting room, she sipped a cup of strong coffee and Charlie sat beside her, pretending to read the newspaper. He’d been staring at the same article for ten minutes. Mia’s concentration had disappeared, too. She could barely understand what people said to her: it was as if she was in a fog. Everything was muffled and sounded far away. Riley had asked her for a red pen last night and Mia had made her repeat the question three times. Her brain didn’t seem able to process anything except the medical information relating to her sister.

  Maybe that was the problem: her brain was fried after all this medical jargon and she couldn’t take in anything else.

  Olivia bustled into the room. She was immaculately dressed, as always. Mia wondered briefly if she tattooed her lips red. Her lipstick never seemed to budge or fade. It didn’t even come off on mugs or glasses. It was astonishing.

  ‘Oh, my goodness, that car park is always full. I had to drive around four times before I got a space.’

  ‘You should have let me park,’ Charlie said.

  ‘Not a bit of it. Sure you’ve enough to worry about without dealing with parking. Now, I brought us a flask of green tea.’

  Olivia took out a flask and two cups. She poured Charlie some and handed it to him.

  ‘Green tea?’ Mia raised an eyebrow.

  ‘I’m trying to get used to it,’ Charlie said, grimacing as he sipped.

  ‘It’s very good for him, Mia. All this caffeine is making him jittery and he can’t sleep. The poor man is worn out. He’s up pacing the floors all night. I’ve to beg him to come to bed so I can massage him to sleep.’

  Mia spluttered. Sweet Jesus, she really didn’t want to picture that particular scenario. Damn it, now the image of Olivia in a frilly nightdress, with her boobs hanging out, massaging Charlie’s naked body was in her head. Oh, Sarah, where are you when I need you? Mia groaned inwardly.

  ‘Are the doctors in with her?’ Olivia asked.

  ‘Yes,’ Charlie said. ‘There seems to be a lot of activity around her, and Angela said we couldn’t go in yet. The physiotherapist was in earlier and now the medical team are assessing her. They want to have a meeting with us at ten.’

  Olivia handed Charlie a square cracker with seeds on it. He took it reluctantly. ‘Would you like one, Mia? They’re endurance crackers. I got them at this fabulous health shop that’s just opened up beside the golf club. The man said they’re extremely light and crispy while providing long-lasting energy. They’re gluten-free
, soy-free, nut-free, sugar-free and oil-free.’

  ‘And taste-free, no doubt,’ Mia said. ‘No, thanks.’

  Olivia tutted. ‘You can’t survive on coffee, Mia. You need to keep your strength up. You’re bordering on skinny as it is. Breakfast is the most important meal of the day. Eat up, Charlie. The man said these fill you up and keep you going until lunchtime.’

  Mia watched as her father chewed joylessly on the dry crackers. Olivia’s phone rang. She answered it and began to talk loudly, then got up and took her call outside into the corridor.

  ‘Nice crackers, Dad?’

  ‘I’d say cardboard tastes better.’ Charlie tried to pick some seeds out of his teeth. ‘Give me some of your coffee while she’s distracted.’ He grabbed Mia’s cup and drank deeply. ‘God, that’s good. This auld green tea tastes like grass.’

  ‘So tell her you hate it.’

  ‘Ah, I wouldn’t do that. She’s only trying to help. She’s a heart of gold.’

  ‘Dad, you’re in the horrors of Hell. If you want a coffee, drink a bloody coffee.’

  ‘I do when she’s not around, but she likes to fuss, and I don’t want to hurt her feelings. Besides, it’s nice to have someone caring for me, especially now.’ Charlie looked down at his dry cracker.

  Mia rubbed his back. ‘I know, Dad. I’m glad you have Olivia.’ He was right: it was lovely to have someone care for you. Johnny had got up early that morning and made Mia porridge with cinnamon, just the way she liked it.

  ‘Well, try to be nicer to her,’ Charlie said pointedly. ‘Sarah always was. But sure she was nice to everyone.’

  Yes, she was, Mia thought, but she didn’t have the pressures I have. Why didn’t her father ever acknowledge that Mia was doing a good job keeping things going, trying to save them from losing the house, juggling work and motherhood, trying to prevent Johnny from spiralling into depression and think of ways to get him a job? It was always ‘Sarah’s so nice.’ Well, Mia was nice too, maybe not as nice as her sister but she had more shit to deal with. Charlie never, ever acknowledged that or praised her, and it hurt. Right now, it really bloody hurt. Sarah was dead, and only Mia and Charlie were left. Mia needed her dad. She needed him to be kind to her and supportive, not critical and judgemental.