The Beach at Doonshean

by Penny Feeny

  She remained attached to him as they entered the drive. The side door to the garage was open and Danny’s new bike lay on the grass with its wheels spinning. Nathan was running about in manic bursts, stopping to pick up fallen twigs, freezing for a second and then darting forward again. Dan usually greeted his father with delight. Today, crouched in the doorway of the garage, he ignored him. Matt glanced over at Nathan and his curious balletic performance; did he have some special ability to keep Dan enthralled? He was an odd boy. He had the same air of insolence as his sister, but also a degree of detachment, as if he were watching things unfold from a distance. He was astonishingly attractive: long black lashes fluttered onto cheeks that were clear and rosy, whereas Kelly’s streaky make-up failed to hide her spots.

  ‘Right,’ said Matt. Feeling off-kilter all the way home, plagued by the women in his life, he’d been looking forward to Dan’s rush of enthusiasm, his intense absurdist chatter – none of which was forthcoming. ‘Time for your friends to go, Danny boy.’

  ‘Can’t me and Nath finish our game?’

  Nathan came out of one of his frozen stances and leapt across the abandoned bike. He released his pile of sticks in front of Danny and both boys began sorting through them, searching for the best weapon, Matt supposed.

  ‘It’s okay,’ said Kelly. ‘I’ll mind them for a bit if you want to go and change, whatever.’ Her phone pinged and she delved for it.

  He looked at his watch. ‘Fifteen minutes,’ he said. ‘Twenty at most. Or Rachael will be on the warpath as well as me. She knows you’re here, right? No arguments. No exceptions.’

  By now she was texting, but she nodded vigorously. He went indoors.

  The house was quiet. Rachael was sitting at her laptop, which she closed hastily at his approach. He’d meant to lead gently into his questioning but something ungovernable took over. ‘Did you think I wouldn’t find out?’ He blurted the words, ugly and aggressive, because he couldn’t lock them in any more.

  A look of panic came into her eyes. He waited for her to deny that she knew what he was talking about. ‘How?’ she whispered.

  He pulled the credit card from his wallet and brandished it.

  ‘Oh that,’ she said, leaning back in the chair. ‘I’ve been meaning to tell you.’

  ‘So what stopped you?’

  ‘I’m sorry.’ A flush was creeping up her neck. ‘I shouldn’t have got carried away.’

  ‘Didn’t you think how it would make me look? A complete tosser.’

  ‘It’s because he’s so persuasive…’

  ‘Persuasive? Who?’

  Her voice dropped. ‘Leo.’

  ‘Leo!’

  ‘I know that sounds pathetic. But I really didn’t mean to cave in.’

  ‘Cave in?’ Matt had taken off his tie. He found himself wrapping it around his knuckles like a bandage or a rope he wanted to tighten. His mind was leaping in different directions. He couldn’t understand the turn the conversation had taken. He hoped he’d misheard her. He knew other men envied him. He knew Rachael caught their attention, from sidelong glances to evident desire. She carried herself regally and she had those wonderful female nurturing qualities too. Who wouldn’t fall for her? Lust after her? But surely not Leo… It didn’t bear thinking of…

  ‘Christ!’ he exclaimed. ‘Are you saying he made a pass at you?’

  ‘Leo?’ She was instantly on the defensive. ‘For goodness’ sake!’

  ‘There’s nothing between you?’

  ‘Why on earth would you think that?’

  ‘Isn’t that what you were about to tell me?’

  ‘Honestly, Matt! What a thing to suggest! You know I don’t even like him much.’

  ‘Sometimes,’ he said, his tongue swelling in his mouth, slowing his speech, ‘when one person is antipathetic to another it’s actually an opposite attracts thing going on. Except they’re in denial. And you did say he was hard to resist: i.e. irresistible.’

  Her complexion paled; she shook her head.

  How did we get off the point like this? wondered Matt. Was it because Kelly had alluded to spying, hinted at mysterious goings-on he should know about? ‘It’s funny,’ he said. ‘When I was growing up I liked the fact he was different from other kids’ dads. More like a reckless older brother. He was a laugh, a bit off the wall. He let us do our own thing. But now, however plausible he sounds, I can see right through him. My mother had a lot to put up with. I never blamed her for not wanting to take it any more. He’s an outrageous flirt and he thinks you’re gorgeous, Rach. And I… How do you do this?’

  Her upper teeth closed on her lower lip. Her hands lay quiescent on the laptop. Rachael could do reproachful very well; she could make him feel like a shit without uttering a word. She’s wrong-footed me, thought Matt in a mixture of annoyance and admiration, and I’ve let myself be manipulated. Well she won’t win this one. ‘I’m sorry we got side-tracked,’ he said, going to sit in the chair by the fireplace so there was some distance between them. He crossed his legs, toyed with the credit card. ‘I don’t know how the hell we got onto sex. I was talking about money.’

  ‘So was I.’

  ‘Oh.’ He was confused. ‘So why bring Leo into it?’

  ‘When we went shopping in Southport,’ said Rachael, ‘he made out that I could do a deal, get a bargain I couldn’t refuse. It was only afterwards I realised that’s his technique: he has the fun and someone else carries the can. But it’s not as bad as all that. I mean it wasn’t a stupid purchase and I’d just been paid for the lunch do so I reckoned the money could go towards it. I didn’t realise it would cause a problem with the credit card.’ She spoke with conviction but her fingers pecked jerkily at the fabric of the cushion.

  ‘Then why didn’t you mention it?’

  ‘I haven’t had a chance. I’ve hardly seen you.’

  ‘What was it anyway?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Whatever you bought.’

  ‘It wasn’t an indulgence! I don’t buy designer shoes or dresses, do I? There wouldn’t be any point. We never go out anywhere these days.’

  She was doing it again, attacking him. ‘All I’m asking is what you spent the money on. I’m not going to criticise. I tried to buy something today and I couldn’t. That’s all. I know our finances have been complicated because I had to bail out my mother – which was my fault so it’s not like I’m trying to apportion blame here. But I don’t think we should have secrets from each other…’

  She flinched at this. ‘I know. Only—’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Nothing. I just wanted to choose the right moment so you wouldn’t blow your top.’

  ‘When do I do that?’ Matt considered himself the most reasonable person he knew.

  ‘You’re doing it now.’

  ‘Only with provocation for fuck’s sake! So tell me.’

  ‘It’s a cooker.’

  ‘A cooker?’ Deflated, he had to muster some objection. ‘But we’ve got a cooker.’

  ‘This is a special one. It does so many clever things.’

  ‘You used to tell me the skill lay with the chef.’

  ‘That’s true, but this will increase my efficiency. It will make things easier. It will—’

  ‘Fine,’ said Matt. ‘So this has been a storm in a teacup then?’

  She swallowed. He could see her jaw contract, the fluid line of her throat. Could they really have had this whole scene about a goddam electrical appliance? Or was it masking something else? What if he pushed her to another admission? And if it was to do with Leo, would he want to know? He remembered Julia’s fierce determination to take a stand, the way the divorce proceedings had gathered inevitable momentum. She couldn’t have pulled back if she’d tried. Sometimes he wondered if she wished it undone, if that’s why her reaction to seeing Leo in France had been so extreme.

  He was formulating a question, nothing too accusatory, when Danny rushed in and he lost his chance. Dan was doing a kind of hyperactive
rain dance, which came upon him, Matt had noticed, after spending time with Nathan. He was making fitful leaps from left to right, with his feet together, following some idiosyncratic pattern of his own. His hands and face were grimy and smudged and he was covered with dust.

  Rachael rose, as if glad of the interruption. ‘Darling, you’d better go and give yourself a good wash.’

  ‘Do I have to?’

  ‘Yes. How did you get so filthy anyway?’

  Danny cast down his eyes and put his dirty thumb in his mouth.

  ‘And stop sucking your thumb. It’ll be covered in germs.’

  ‘Have the others gone now?’ asked Matt.

  ‘What others?’

  ‘Kelly and Nathan.’

  His shoulders hunched up to the tips of his ears. ‘Dunno.’

  ‘What d’you mean, you don’t know?’ Silence. ‘Danny, what have you been up to?’

  ‘Nothing!’ Dan ran out of the room. They heard a collision on the stairs and Leo’s muttered curses. The child continued upwards; the curses continued; then the man loomed frantic in the doorway.

  ‘Get help!’ he yelled. ‘We have to put it out.’ Dishevelled and bleary-eyed as though he’d just got out of bed, he was pulling on his shirt, which billowed open and unbuttoned.

  Matt’s mind performed somersaults. What was Leo doing in bed in the afternoon? Like Rachael, after their day out together. Could she have been sleeping with him? Was it why she hadn’t answered Bel’s phone call? No, that was too ridiculous!

  Leo was shouting, ‘I saw it from the attic.’

  ‘Saw what?’ He wasn’t going to jump into action at Leo’s say-so, but he could smell something acrid and went to peer through the French windows. ‘Is someone having a bonfire?’

  ‘Call the fucking fire brigade,’ said Leo, hunting for the house phone, which had been moved since his day. ‘This is no time to piss about. I have to get them out.’

  Rachael’s hands shook as she jabbed at her mobile.

  Matt said, ‘Get who out?’ A pall of thick smoke was squatting like a thundercloud over the garden; it gave off an unpleasant toxic odour like burning rubber. He was being slow, stupid: the realisation when it reached him was horrific. He forgot his suspicions, his differences with Rachael. ‘Christ, it’s coming from the garage! Do you mean those kids, Nathan and Kelly? Are they in there?’

  The smoke made it hard to tell how far the fire had progressed, but they could hear a crackling, see a flame jumping. The Passat, with its full tank of petrol, was parked in the garage along with old tins of paint, flasks of white spirit and citronella oil.

  ‘Quick! We need to set up the hosepipe. Have we got a bucket somewhere?’

  Rachael was urgently giving their address to the operator. Then she said, ‘The only hose we’ve got is in the garage. And it’s too big to put out with a bucket.’

  ‘Then I’d better move the car.’

  ‘You’d be mad to go anywhere near it.’

  ‘If the tank ignites, it’ll be a whole lot worse.’ He grabbed the keys.

  ‘Matt, wait! They’ve said they’re on their way.’

  ‘The fire brigade? How long?’

  ‘I’m not sure. Five, ten minutes?’

  ‘Ten minutes!’ Shit, thought Matt. A person could suffocate in that time.

  Leo hadn’t hung around arguing. He’d bounded outside. Matt could see him wrestling with the side door, shirt-tail flapping, refusing to be beaten back by the fumes and the heat.

  ‘We have to move the car,’ he said again. ‘It’ll only take a spark.’

  ‘Matt, you’re nuts. Let the firemen do it. It’s what they’re trained for. They have masks and stuff. If you go into the garage now it will just be pointless heroics.’

  Was that a jibe at his father? He said coldly, ‘I’m not aiming to be a hero. But I’m not having those kids on my conscience either.’

  ‘Kids?’ said Rachael, following him. ‘Leo wasn’t raving about rescuing the kids!’

  Matt ignored her. From the front of the garage he couldn’t see what was happening at the back. He struggled to get the key into the lock with hands that were sweaty and uncooperative. His sense of sound, smell, taste, felt deadened, cutting him off from everything but the task in front of him. Getting the car out. There was a moment’s triumph when he managed to crank the doors open but it was short-lived. He should have known – it was common sense after all – that his actions would create a draught, a current of air to fan the flames. They leapt about, joyously.

  24

  The Party

  The function room was a long single-storey extension at the back of the hotel, bedecked with bunting and fairy lights. Vince arrived as the musicians were setting up – a keyboard, a squeeze box and a couple of fiddles. His leg was mithering him again, sending shooting sensations down his calf. Cramp was his diagnosis. He wasn’t going to see the quack over something so trivial, but he needed to sit rather than stand. There were no high stools at the bar – this was not an occasion to turn your back on the room – so he eased himself into a chair against the wall, not far from the band, beating tempo on his knee. The family were still at their celebration meal, in the dining suite, but Pat’s friends were piling in, jostling good-naturedly to fill their glasses.

  He spotted the English doctor and her daughter as they entered, with that diffident air of guests uncertain as to why they were asked and why they had come. The mother, trim but tense, was smart in trousers and a tailored shirt. She was the type of woman (erect posture; compact, agile limbs) who would do well on a horse. He couldn’t picture the daughter on horseback. Her movements were unguarded. She collided with old Brian Malone and sent his Guinness sloshing over the side of his glass. Draped about in exotic colours, she hovered at her mother’s side, iridescent and fragile as a dragonfly.

  Vince bent to massage his calf and noted with surprise that he was wearing odd socks. He couldn’t think how this had happened. Teresa paired his socks into neat rolls and stacked them side by side in his top drawer. Surely his Teresa wasn’t losing her touch? Had she been distracted by her detective work? Raking up the past. He couldn’t understand why she didn’t let things lie, why she felt compelled to take it upon herself to broker a reunion. She hadn’t even allowed the business with the little black girl – and hadn’t she caused a fine buzz of gossip? – to deflect her.

  Teresa was presently at the far side of the bar, rearranging the buffet. She had strong opinions on the capabilities of the staff (teenagers taken on for the night with no proper training). Apparently they should have established a regular sequence with the platters of sausages and drumsticks, spring rolls and sandwiches and salad trimmings – but there was no point trying to explain to people who wouldn’t listen. It was easier to do things yourself.

  Vince watched his wife with a mixture of admiration and contentment. She meddled, it was true, but she made life flow more easily too. The socks were an aberration – or possibly his own fault entirely. She caught his gaze as she dusted her hands together and gave an eloquent toss of her head. (She’d been earlier to the salon and a copious blast of spray ensured that not a hair faltered.) He knew this was a reproach because he wasn’t circulating, so he pretended to shout across to Frankie on his accordion. Frankie had his eyes shut to the strains of the ‘Black Velvet Band’ and wouldn’t have been able to hear anything anyway.

  When Vince looked for Teresa again she had swooped down on the lady doctor. He had the distinct impression she was talking about himself and this was borne out when the daughter drifted over. She stood above him in her glowing colours like a figure stepping from a stained-glass window.

  He jumped to his feet, quelling the tremor in his leg, because he wouldn’t want to be thought ill-mannered.

  ‘I’m Bel,’ she said with a pretty English accent and a smile that lit up her face. ‘And you’re Teresa’s husband. We’ve been very well looked after.’

  ‘She’s a capable woman,’ he said, taking Bel’
s hand and pumping it. ‘How are ye finding the place?’

  ‘Oh the cottage is just lovely. And everyone is so friendly… I mean, you know, like inviting us tonight. You don’t expect to be included in parties or whatever when you’re here for such a short holiday. Although Mum was a bit apprehensive to be honest…’ She paused and started to twist the ropes of beads hanging around her neck: a curious mixture of beads and feathers, in fact, that made him think of witchcraft. ‘She hasn’t been able to relax all day. We’ve been driving around the Ring of Kerry because we had to keep moving. All the way to Waterville, but we couldn’t stop for more than a few minutes anywhere. We’d hop out of the car, take in the view and half a dozen photographs, hop back in again and Mum would go on driving. We came back on a deserted road through the mountains, it was so in the middle of nowhere, like you were totally enclosed in this vast secret valley and the whole magical place was yours. Absolutely amazing. I think the range was Macgillycuddy’s Reeks. I had to learn that so I could get it right. It’s such a wonderful name: Macgillycuddy.’

  ‘You covered a lot of ground,’ said Vince.

  ‘Yes I know. Because she wouldn’t stop. Because she’s so wound-up. But I think everything will be fine. Did you know that I met Tom already? On the boat? It was through Clemmie actually. She’s here somewhere, isn’t she?’

  It seemed to Vince that the daughter with her twirling pendants and tumbling words was more excitable than the mother, who was listening to Teresa and calmly sipping her wine. The band finished their tune and as they started up another the double doors to the dining room opened and the family began to come through. (As usual on these occasions, the timing of the meal had over-run.) The two little boys raced ahead, dipping and weaving at knee-height like puppies, while Anna chased after them with difficulty on account of the sandals, seemingly attached to her feet by a single slender thread. Pat and Ronnie, both, were being mobbed by their friends who earnestly wanted the couple to know how delighted they were and what a grand spread it was, Pat would have loads more birthdays like this one, and weren’t they all having great craic and who was next in line for a drink?