by Penny Feeny
‘Don’t you dare run out on us again!’ she’d told Tom over and over, not bothering to mop up her tears. She had him where she wanted him for once because he was too feeble to taunt her or answer back. He lay, propped at a slight angle, almost as white as the pillows and as contrite as they come, his words emerging in feeble spluttering croaks.
Pat, who’d arrived soon after breakfast, had observed wryly, ‘You were supposed to come home to celebrate me getting out of this festering place. Not end up in it yourself, you eejit. You know the garda are onto you?’
‘I don’t remember anything,’ Tom mumbled.
‘Don’t be worrying about the red tape,’ said Ronnie. ‘The important thing is to get well. You’ll be on crutches for a while. You’ll have to let me take care of you.’
He’d given her a look of such utter helplessness she thought maybe she’d be able to take him in hand after all and maybe for the first time she’d make some headway. She was a realist though. She was keeping her hopes pinned down.
‘I’m sorry we can’t bring you home with us right away,’ she said, ‘but they’ll let you out soon enough. We will see Kieran off and then I’ll be back again tomorrow.’
‘Clemmie?’ Tom had said, as if he hardly dared voice her name. ‘She’s okay?’
‘She is. She’s gone home with her mother.’ It was where the child belonged, but the manner of her departure rankled. Ronnie’s relationship with Clemmie was unfinished, undefined, and this troubled her. ‘At least the two of you have no lasting damage. Yet again you escaped by the skin of your teeth. So how many layers have you left, Tom Farrelly?’ She shouldn’t hound him. Surely, in any man’s life there comes a point where he has learned his lesson?
It had been hard to tear herself away and Pat had to put the pressure on to get them back in time for Anna’s lunch. They’d eaten very well and were now sitting around a clutter of empty plates, congealing gravy and cooling vegetable dishes.
Eoin and Conor slid down from their chairs. There was a litter of new kittens in one of the outbuildings they were eager to inspect. ‘Don’t you be tormenting them,’ warned Anna. ‘You have to wait until their eyes are open at least.’
Their father went with them and Ronnie moved on to the topic the family had been evading throughout the meal. ‘I don’t know what we should be doing with him,’ she said.
‘Nothing,’ said Anna. ‘He’s a grown man, he has to face his own mistakes.’
‘He’ll not be going anywhere soon. He’ll need crutches for weeks.’
‘Bones mend fast when you’re young,’ said Pat.
‘It’s incredible that he’s never broken anything before.’
‘He can settle himself in the invalid’s chair,’ said Kieran. ‘The one Dad’s been keeping warm for him. He’ll have the two of you running around like blue-arsed flies.’
‘Not me,’ said Pat. ‘No chance.’
‘The true blessing,’ said Ronnie, ‘is that Clemmie didn’t have a mark on her. I don’t know how he would have coped if he’d done her any injury.’
‘So instead,’ said Anna, ‘all he has to think about is himself. What’s new?’
‘Ah no, he’s taken a proper beating. Don’t be so hard on him.’
‘It’s not me being hard! It’s you being soft. You’ve always been too soft. That’s the problem.’
‘Well, Anna, my love, I think you haven’t fared badly yourself. No one can say we’ve not done right by our children.’
‘That isn’t the point, Mam. You put him in a different category from the rest of us and much good has it done him.’
Ronnie bridled. ‘So I’ve been overprotective? It’s what happens, you know, when your child’s been under threat; you’d be doing the same.’
‘There’s nothing special about him though, is there? Nothing to mark him out. I know we wanted to believe the other feller’s sacrifice was worthwhile, but the accident was a simple freak. God hadn’t anything to do with it. You need to see Tom for what he really is.’
‘Anna! I don’t know how you can say these things.’ She looked around the table for support. Pat was toying with a knife, but Kieran’s gaze was steady and uncompromising.
‘She’s right,’ he said. ‘Take the way he handled the kid. Whatever his motives, you can’t call that responsible.’
‘Sure, he was in a state at the time.’
‘Isn’t that just the point!’ said Anna in exasperation.
Kieran said, ‘Not that it matters. You’re unlikely to be meeting Clem again anyway.’
‘I don’t see why not.’ The fact was, she’d felt an emptiness just under her ribs (at least that’s where she imagined it) ever since she’d seen the vacant bed in the ward. She could have done with a while longer to get to know her granddaughter.
‘Because he’s blown it with Monique, that’s why. She wasn’t fussed on letting him bring Clemmie over in the first place. So what makes you think she’ll trust him again?’
‘She might give him another chance if she sees he’s reformed.’
‘You plan to work on him, do you?’
‘I like a challenge,’ said Ronnie sharply. Their criticism had got her hackles up. ‘And I’ll have him where I want him. While he’s hobbling around over the next few weeks he can make himself useful, play with his nephews, practise some parenting. I’ll sort him out – you wait and see. He’ll be better off away from London. It must be a dreadfully corrupting place.’
Kieran and Anna roared at this but Ronnie wouldn’t be fazed. There were advantages to being a stubborn old matriarch. She knew how to deal with calamity: stay resolute.
‘The magistrates may take a tougher view,’ mused Pat. ‘Put him away. For all we know he could go up before someone who’s been wanting to get even for years.’
‘I daresay we could find out who’s to judge him,’ said Ronnie. ‘But I, for one, shan’t complain if he loses his licence.’
‘You do realise,’ said Kieran, ‘that he’ll be driven mad by frustration, hanging around here.’
‘Well I won’t stop him leaving when he’s ready to go.’
‘It’ll have to be under his own steam. Don’t expect me to come back and fetch him.’
‘As if I would!’
Kieran lolled in his chair. He didn’t seem to be in any hurry and Ronnie wasn’t going to chivvy him. Let him relax before his journey, there’d not been much chance of that for any of them. And it would be a lonely drive without Tom to accompany him. She wouldn’t relish so many hours of silence herself. She spread her elbows on the table and rested her chin in her hands. Anna rose and began to collect the empty plates and stack them in the dishwasher.
They were startled when the doorbell rang. Nobody they knew ever came to the front door. Friends and neighbours tended to walk in through the scullery, kicking off muddy boots if necessary, calling out a greeting. A delivery might arrive from a courier who wasn’t one of their regulars, but this was a rare event – so rare that it took Ronnie a while to recognise the peal of the bell.
Anna, on her feet, was quicker to react. ‘I’ll see who it is.’ In fact the front hallway was used as a handy storage space, full of cardboard boxes, and she had to shout through the letter box to tell the visitors to go round the side. They heard the rasp of the dog’s bark and the sound of clipped voices.
Kieran leapt up. ‘It’s Bel.’
‘Well now,’ said Ronnie, thinking there was no harm in some light ribbing at the girl’s expense. ‘Let’s hope she makes it through the door without falling over.’
Bel entered the kitchen hesitantly. She was wheeling a floral suitcase and wearing jeans so tight the wind whistled through the gap in her legs. ‘Hey, I hope I haven’t come at the wrong time. I’m not disturbing you? Only Mum needs to get going. She has to drive to Cork for her flight.’
‘No,’ said Kieran, too quick, too tender. ‘Not at all.’
Her eyes were bright and bold. ‘It’s brilliant news about Tom, isn’t it? I was
so delighted when I heard.’
‘Yes,’ said Ronnie. ‘It’s a relief to us all.’
‘I’m sorry I shan’t be able to see him before we go, but I hoped you’d give him my… our best wishes. Speedy recovery and so on.’ She turned to Kieran. ‘So here I am.’
He said, ‘The boys are messing with some new kittens. D’you want to take a look too?’
He’ll do anything, thought Ronnie, to get her out of my orbit. I’m not going to bite her for goodness’ sake. ‘Can you spare the time?’ she said. ‘I thought you had to be off.’
Anna interrupted. ‘It’s Bel’s mother who’s in a hurry. I’ve put her in the sitting room.’
The widow was here too? Ronnie nearly burst out: Why couldn’t she join the rest of us? Why does she have to be given special treatment? Why is she sitting like the queen on my best suite? Instead, she said. ‘Can we offer you something? You’ve had your dinner, Bel? You’re not hungry? I could make you a sandwich. We’ve plenty of beef left over.’
The girl glanced in horror at the remains of the succulent rib. ‘We’re fine. Honestly.’
‘A drink then. Coffee? Tea? A glass of brandy?’
‘Julia wants to speak to you,’ said Anna.
‘To me?’ said Ronnie, staring at Bel who met her gaze with round, innocent eyes.
‘That’s what she said. We’ll clear up in here, the rest of us. You get along now, Mam.’
‘She wants to apologise,’ said Bel so quietly Ronnie was uncertain if she had heard her correctly.
She left them to it. In the front room the three-piece suite had been newly recovered in a pale sophisticated linen that looked as grand as a picture in a magazine (although they had to keep the door closed against the dog and his long moulting hairs). Julia wasn’t sitting on it; when Ronnie came in she was standing by the window as if a budding fuchsia hedge were the most interesting sight in the world.
The women had met only twice before, in crowded public places. This was the first occasion they had faced each other without an audience.
‘Hello,’ said Julia – Ronnie could see the contraction of her throat as she swallowed. ‘I hope you don’t mind my… dropping in?’
She held out her hand so Ronnie was obliged to take it. ‘I can’t say I’d expected you. But you’re welcome, naturally.’
‘You welcomed me to your party too,’ Julia said. ‘And I behaved unforgivably. I wanted you to know how sorry I am.’
Ronnie wouldn’t forget her manners, but she was not in any hurry to accept an apology, however abject. The widow may have suffered in the past, but that didn’t stop her being culpable now. In addition, Ronnie was piqued by the way Clemmie had been stolen from under her nose. In her mind, Monique Beaumont and Julia Wentworth metamorphosed into a single adversary.
She eased herself into one of the chairs and indicated Julia should take the other. Julia sat in the same neat, decided manner with which she’d proffered her handshake. She bore herself with a composure very different from that of her daughter. She reminded Ronnie of a sleek well-behaved dog, a pointer or a greyhound.
‘I heard that Tom is out of danger,’ she said. ‘That he’s recovered consciousness. I’m so glad. And the child…’
‘We have lost the child,’ said Ronnie.
It was gratifying to see Julia’s face drain white. ‘Oh but surely… I thought she wasn’t hurt!’
Ronnie said, ‘The situation was difficult for all of us. We had never met her before. My son was doing his best, but it put him very much on edge. You know the result.’ She waited a beat. ‘And now Clemmie’s back in England with her mother and there’s an end to it. Do you have a granddaughter?’
‘No,’ said Julia. ‘Not yet. I mean… one hopes.’
‘One hopes indeed.’
They both fell silent. Ronnie wasn’t used to her hands being idle. She wished she had her knitting with her, the rhythmic clack of the needles to counter the hush. Julia’s fingers were playing a tune in her lap, a barely perceptible betrayal of her nerves. Eventually she spoke.
‘It was kind of you to invite me to your party. But it was stupid of me to accept. It wasn’t going to achieve anything… Except, I suppose, curiosity satisfied. Curiosity can be dangerous. I should have known that. I shouldn’t have put either of us through it.’
Ronnie nodded. How many times in the past three days had she wished the invitation retracted, Teresa’s meddling undone?
‘I jumped to the wrong conclusion,’ said Julia. ‘And I lost my temper. We ought to have better control of ourselves in adulthood, but sometimes we just revert, don’t we? That’s the risk of bottling things up: you can crack under the strain. It must have been awkward for Tom, too.’
Tom had known well enough who the widow was, the significance of her. Ronnie had spelt it out to him and he’d taken it in his stride – at least she’d thought he had. He said he liked the girl; he’d be happy to meet the mother. But he must have been putting on a show for her sake. She reflected on the way he laughed everything off. Pretended he didn’t care. About the voice, the music, the lack of career, the disappointments in his life. That painful gap between potential and achievement.
‘Tom’s inclined to be impulsive,’ she said. ‘The sort who’ll act first and think later. But he’s a good man. A bit of a tease sometimes, nothing worse.’ She stopped. What was she doing, making excuses? She should be keeping her mouth shut.
Julia said, ‘In my case, there’s been all sorts lately, boiling away under the surface. My ex got the brunt of it. I’d been so worried about Bel, you see. Did she tell you she’d had malaria? It’s easily treatable – as long as you’re swift enough with the antidote. But it’s made her vulnerable. That’s why I over-reacted when I met Tom.’ Her chest began to heave. She picked up her bag from the floor and hunted in it for a tissue. ‘I was misreading the situation. I know that now. But I never intended to cause harm to anyone. I’m so sorry.’
Ronnie had satisfaction, did she not? The woman who had disrupted her family was begging for forgiveness. There were people round about who could bear a grudge for decades, but Ronnie wasn’t one of them. She couldn’t see a person weep without wanting to console them. She forgot that Julia had shaken her off when she’d tried to embrace her at the party. She went to perch on the arm of the other woman’s chair and patted her shoulder.
‘When a child’s been saved you see them differently,’ she said. ‘As a boy, Tom played up something shocking, the tinker, because he knew he could get away with it. Maybe he’ll have finally learned better now. He’s had a jolt – we all have – and it gives you a new perspective.’
Julia tilted her head so that she was looking up at Ronnie and because the shape of her face, the cropped hairstyle, the dark eyes had scarcely changed, Ronnie was back in the Coroner’s Court again, reliving the grim formalities of the inquest. Evidence as slippery as the rocks. Nothing to hold on to, but a man gone, a boy who was supposed to have a fine future in front of him.
Julia’s voice was husky, as if the unshed tears were collecting at the back of her throat. ‘In a job like mine you can spend a lifetime reassuring other people. Don’t worry, he’ll grow out of it – that sort of thing. Not always of course; sometimes you have to reach into your own reserves, offer what relief you can. I thought I was strong, because I’d coped with tragedy before. I could handle things. But actually, in practice, I’m just as frightened as the next person… Loss isn’t less painful a second time around.’
Ronnie’s hand was still resting on her shoulder; she placed her own on top; their fingers interlaced. ‘It seems to be easier to admit these things to a stranger. I bumped into Vince Hogan on Doonshean beach a couple of days ago.’
Ronnie was confused. What did Vince have to do with anything?
‘I discovered he’d been behind the bar when William and I went in for a drink. Will’s last drink. We’d quarrelled you see and Vince saw it first hand: the damage my bad temper could do…’ She paused, as if
remembering, and then continued. ‘We were still on the beach when Bel rang with news of Tom’s accident. My fault again. That’s why I’m here. I shouldn’t have been so angry with him. I’m not proud of myself.’
Ronnie held her tongue. Julia was constructing a fragile peace and she didn’t want to say the wrong thing and spoil it. The living room, being little used and thickly carpeted, felt disconnected from the rest of the activities in the farmhouse. They were in a sealed bubble and the silence – no clock, no radio, no TV – was almost overpowering.
Then Julia said guardedly, ‘There’s another reason I wanted to see you. The memorial stone. When I came across it, it totally flummoxed me… It was so unexpected.’
‘Ah,’ said Ronnie, thinking it was safe now to return to her own chair, letting the cushions sigh at her back. ‘We knew it could have been Tom buried the other side of the wall. It was a small enough gesture, to thank your husband. We had no other way of doing so once you had disappeared back to England. At the inquest I did try to speak to you.’
‘I’m afraid I was too numb to take anything in.’
‘We put the plaque up when the land was ours. Then the parish started running out of space for burials so we sold them a couple of fields. Now your husband has company and other visitors to remember him. That’s good, is it not?’
‘Oh yes, it’s wonderful.’ She hesitated. ‘I have to admit when I first saw it my emotions were all over the place. But it’s the most moving tribute I could have imagined. We scattered Will’s ashes, Matt and I, so there’s nowhere else…’
A pity, thought Ronnie. Everyone should have a place to mourn.
Julia continued with an effort. ‘Matt’s very like his father actually. Both in appearance and in temperament. He has a strong sense of fair play, keen to do the right thing. He’s the same age as William was when he died, so every year from now on I’ll be getting a glimpse of what might have been. How he might have grown old.’ She shivered and narrowed her eyes, as if imagining an alternative future.
