‘Jason,’ he says.
‘What’s the story there?’
Rory is irked at how casually she has asked about him, as if his life is public property, just because it’s a mess. This is how he must have sounded to Orla when he first asked about Jason. ‘I don’t know his situation. It’s confidential.’
‘Really?’
‘To protect him.’
‘So you know nothing at all about him?’
‘Apart from the fact that it just seems to be him and his mother. Orla never mentions a father.’
‘Well, why am I not surprised?’ Louise’s voice is bitter.
And Rory guesses what’s coming.
‘Another mess created by a man walking out on his family.’
He wants to ask how can she be so sure that’s what happened, but leaves it. The subject is a sensitive one. Louise’s father left when her mother became pregnant with her. Louise never knew him. All she knew was a mother whose best friend was a bottle of whiskey. Growing up in that environment has left its mark.
‘All men, sooner or later, walk,’ she says.
‘Not all, in fairness.’
‘All men, in one way or another, leave – if not physically, mentally.’
He wants to say ‘not me’ but doesn’t want to personalize it. ‘I can’t imagine Barry ever leaving his family,’ he says. Then again, he thinks, Owen was equally smitten when Jenna was born. ‘Not all men are the same, Louise. I know lots of good fathers.’
‘And I know lots of crap ones. Non-ones.’
If she asks him to ‘name one’, she’s going to find that his own father isn’t on his list. Neither is it a very long list. He wonders, now, how the conversation ended up here. And decides to take control. ‘I told Orla I’d help her look for an apartment,’ he says, trying to move the conversation on and strike a blow for men at the same time.
Louise stops chewing. ‘Oh?’
‘Their house is up for auction on Wednesday and she hasn’t started looking.’
‘How come?’
‘I don’t know. End of an era, I guess. She’s leaving everything behind, once and for all.’
She stops eating. ‘Poor thing.’
‘I feel bad that I haven’t kept in touch.’
‘You were busy.’
‘Not too busy to pick up the phone.’ He puts down his fork. ‘I’ve always used that excuse, and, yeah, work’s busy, but, the fact is, I give no time to my family. Owen left her out in the cold and I did nothing to make her feel she was still included.’
‘You can’t be expected to make up for your brother’s actions.’
‘No. But I’d like her to know that just because he ditched her doesn’t mean we all have.’
‘Siofra has kept in touch.’
‘Good for her. Well, now it’s time for this man to do his bit. We’re not all the same, you know.’ It is something he’d like to prove, not only to Louise, but to himself.
Louise raises a doubtful eyebrow.
And that hurts. After all these years, couldn’t she at least have a little faith in him?
8
There is nothing appealing about the first apartment building on their view list. It’s a redbrick, featureless block on a busy main road. The only thing going for it is that it may be in Orla’s price range. Jason, eager for his first experience of the property market, is out of the car before anyone. Orla hurries to catch up. Jenna, home for the weekend, stays where she is in the back seat, finishing a text to someone she gives the impression she’d much rather be with. Rory opens her door and finally she moves.
The show apartments are teeming with people, most of whom seem unfamiliar with the concept of standing back and letting a person through a door. And would an occasional smile be out of the question? But it is not the loss of social etiquette fuelled by a booming economy that is making Rory’s stress levels rise, rather the feverish interest in the properties. With competition like this, Orla’s chances of affording a place are seriously diminished. Such is his concern, that he almost loses sight of the fact that these apartments are nothing spectacular. Just around the corner is an area not unlike the one where Rory was attacked. Security is an issue.
A familiar face, coming towards Rory through the busy hallway interrupts his thoughts. He hasn’t seen ‘Rhino’ Hynes since their school days. He tries to remember his real name and can’t. Rhino has a baby on his chest in one of those slingy things and two blonde identical girls at his feet. Beside him is a beautiful woman, presumably his wife. All of a sudden, Rory does not want one of those ‘So what are you doing with yourself?’ conversations. He ducks into the bathroom, moving so quickly that Orla and the others carry on, Jason suggesting they turn the lights off to see how dark the hallway really is.
Rory is examining bathroom fittings when he hears the voice of Rhino Hynes behind him.
‘Rory? Rory Fenton?’
Rory turns. Feigns surprise.
‘I thought it was you,’ says Rhino.
‘Rhino Hynes,’ says Rory.
Rhino clears his throat. ‘I’ve dropped the nickname.’
Rory’s memory is letting him down.
‘Liam,’ Rhino helps.
‘That’s right. Of course. Liam, how are you?’
Rhino’s family has gathered in the hallway, looking in.
‘Good, great. In Floxams Stockbrokers now. And you, you did medicine, didn’t you?’
‘Yup.’
‘So,’ Rhino says, eyes scanning the bathroom, ‘you looking at investment properties?’
‘Eh, yeah.’
‘Me too. My third.’
‘Good for you.’ Rory is reminding himself of the Rhino he knew in school – weedy, always cogging, no friends. Looks like he has left that life far behind. As if on cue, his cherubic daughters dash in and hug his legs.
Rhino gives Rory a look that says ‘Kids!’ ‘You here on your own?’ he asks.
‘No. No. The wife’s around here somewhere.’ Rory has the decency to colour, especially when it occurs to him that the property tycoon might want an introduction.
‘Liam,’ the beautiful woman calls from the hallway, ‘I’ll be in the car.’
‘Listen, I’d better go. Great to see you, Rory. Are you bidding on this, by the way?’
‘Eh. Don’t know yet. Just got here. We’ll have to see.’
‘Right. Right.’
Rhino, Rory notices, is keeping his own cards close to his chest. Like he always did. Rory watches him leave, baffled at himself. How had he allowed himself to be intimidated by a guy who earned his nickname by picking his nose?
He finds Orla, Jason and Jenna in ‘the master bedroom’. Tastefully done, dark wood, white walls. Standing at the door, he watches his supposed family – Jenna looking bored, Orla checking cupboard space and Jason turning off the light – and thinks what a different man he would be if he had a family. A doer, risk-taker, a man unafraid to live life. Or is that a load of rubbish? Maybe he’d have ended up like his brother, and running from it all.
Orla turns, smiles and joins him. ‘Where did you disappear to?’
‘Checking the bathroom.’
‘Again?’
‘Again.’
She runs her eyes over the room. ‘Not bad value, considering the market,’ she says, voice low.
Jason moves closer to hear.
‘I don’t know, Orla,’ says Rory. ‘It’s not a great area.’
‘I know, but won’t these new apartments bring it up?’
‘I’d be very careful. The last thing you want is junkies on your doorstep.’
Orla’s eyes widen. She glances quickly at Jason who, Rory notices, is now glaring at him, chin jutting out. Rory looks at Orla for clarification.
Jason shoves clenched fists into his pockets and pounds from the room.
‘What did I say?’ Rory asks.
Orla shakes her head. ‘Don’t worry about it.’
But he does.
They find Jason
in the sitting room, hands still in pockets, but standing tall, questioning a young woman in a suit, the estate agent presumably. ‘How far is the nearest bus stop?’
‘Just up the road,’ she says, indulging him as though he is a genuine contender. When she sees Rory and Orla, she smiles as if to say, ‘cute kid’.
Orla goes to him. Rory hangs back.
‘So, what do you think, Jase?’ she asks.
‘It’s OK,’ he says, in a tone that implies that he’s not interested, but is too polite to say so in front of the woman. Then he adds, ‘Better go and see those other ones now.’ In the lift on the way down, he ignores Rory, talking only to Orla, ‘You can’t let them see if you’re interested.’
‘Are we?’
‘I think it’s good.’
Rory doesn’t want to imagine what Jason’s own home must be like.
The more apartments they see, the quieter Orla becomes. Finally, she decides she’s seen enough and they return to the house she has four more days of calling ‘home’. Jenna disappears to her room, Jason to the TV. Orla heads for the kitchen, where she slumps at the table, head in her hands.
‘You OK?’ Rory asks, still standing, edgy, wanting to be somewhere else.
She looks up. ‘Yeah, fine.’
‘It’ll be OK,’ he says, making himself join her at the table.
‘How? How will it be OK? Anywhere decent, I can’t afford. Anywhere I can, I hate.’
It seems like tears mightn’t be far off. He has sat down too soon. Now he is stuck. ‘It was our first day. There’ll be plenty of other options.’
She gives him a look. ‘I’ve worked it out, Rory. The auctioneer said to expect about 1.2 million for our house.’
‘Wow.’
‘Wow nothing. Split it in two. Subtract our mortgage, and all the fees. Then to the places we’ve been looking at, add stamp duty.’
He recalls the extortionate prices – two bedroomed apartments for over seven hundred thousand.
‘And what kind of mortgage will I get on my one income at my age? They only give thirty-year mortgages to kids. I’m in trouble, Rory. This is why I didn’t want to look.’
‘It’ll be OK,’ he says, not at all sure that it will.
To his embarrassment, he sees that she has started to cry. Elbows on the table, forehead in her hands, she says, aloud but to herself, ‘Why do I have to be the one to make all the compromises, always?’
Fuck, Rory thinks. He injects confidence into his voice. ‘We will find a place.’
‘A place maybe, but not the right place, not a place I can bring Lieutenant Dan. Why should I have to find him “a good home”? He has a good home. He’s part of the family.’ Her voice wobbles. ‘What’s left of it.’
Rory’s eyes scan for tissues. Hoping kitchen paper will do, he hands her two sheets from a roll decorated with snow-flakes.
She blows. ‘I’m sorry. I’m an idiot.’ She scrapes her fingers through dark shoulder-length hair. ‘I just don’t know what to do, Rory. I’ll have to move out of the area. I’ve lived here for so long. I don’t want to go. And what about Jason’s school?’
Rory decides against pointing out that Jason may have gone by the time she has to move. ‘Look,’ he says, ‘maybe it was a mistake to view places until after the auction. We don’t know what you’ll have to spend. You might be surprised. The market’s flying.’
She blows her nose again, but this time as if to mark the end of the tears.
Rory is encouraged. ‘And I’m not sure that there’s a whole lot of difference in price between a townhouse and an apartment. You might be able to afford a place with a garden. Let me check it out.’ He’ll talk to Siofra, who has been looking for a bigger house since Daisy was born. She’ll know the name of that property website he’s heard about on the radio.
Orla forces a smile. ‘Thank you.’
Two mugs of coffee later, Rory has moved the conversation well away from property. He has even managed to make her laugh, which is what they’re doing when Jason comes in to get a drink. He makes a point of ignoring Rory.
‘God. I’ve really pissed him off, haven’t I?’ Rory says when he has gone again.
‘He’ll be all right.’
Rory hesitates. ‘You don’t have to tell me and I’m not fishing. I just don’t want to keep putting my foot in it… His mother’s a drug addict, isn’t she? I can’t come up with any other reason why he reacted like he did to what I said.’
She gets up to close the door. Back at the table, she lowers her voice. ‘Yes. She’s an addict.’ Orla pauses. ‘She overdosed. Jason found her, thought she was dead. Had to call 999.’
‘Jesus.’
‘He was taken into care. The health boards are his legal guardians for the moment.’
‘Where’s the mother now?’
‘Out of rehab, trying to cope with life without drugs. According to the social worker it’s the hardest time, back in your old environment, trying to change your ways.’
‘D’you think she’ll make it?’
‘I don’t know. I hope so. For Jason’s sake. But then…’ she sighs. ‘You should have seen him when he arrived here, Rory, so thin, so neglected. He still hoards food, you know, hiding it in his room as if he still can’t trust when he’ll eat again.’
Rory remembers him pocketing food at the barbecue and tries to imagine what it must be like to have to depend on someone like the guy who attacked him – for everything, including love.
‘She’s coming on an access visit on Wednesday. Same day as the auction. Thought it’d take my mind off it.’ She laughs without mirth.
‘She’s coming to your home?’
‘With a social worker.’
Social worker or no social worker, Rory’s not sure it’s a good idea.
‘I’m so nervous.’
Rory can imagine.
But he has misinterpreted. ‘I want to like her, welcome her, but how can I forget how she’s treated Jason? I keep telling myself that it was the drugs and it’s a good sign she wants to meet him so soon after getting out of rehab.’
Rory isn’t so trusting.
‘Jason is dying to see her. He’s been saving for weeks for a present…’
Rory understands now the bribe to play rugby, and his heart warms to the boy. He won’t be so quick to judge in future. ‘What’s he getting her?’
Orla’s face drops. ‘Cigarettes. He says she wouldn’t want anything else.’
Rory tells himself it doesn’t matter what the kid thinks of him, but for some reason it does. He is genuinely sorry to have upset him. Would like to start over. Jason ignores him when he enters the TV room. So he sits down and gives the television his full attention. It’s The Simpsons. The boy has taste. They watch it together. Rory laughs out loud. Jason is quiet. Finally, when the programme ends, Rory says, as though it has just occurred to him, ‘Hey. Thanks for all your help on the property hunt.’
Jason turns, looks him straight in the eye and says, ‘I wasn’t doing it for you.’
Rory considers apologizing. But what for? Saying the word ‘junkie’? Surely that would make a bigger deal of the whole thing? He gets up. ‘See you soon, OK?’ He ruffles Jason’s hair.
The boy reaches up and flattens it back down.
That night, there is a change in Rory’s recurring nightmare. Jason is in it. Rory is trying to protect him. But he’s out of reach. In danger. The syringe! Rory jolts awake, his own scream reverberating in his head. He looks at Louise, still asleep. He mustn’t have screamed after all. He eases into a sitting position so as not to wake her. His body is still reeling, chest constricted by panic. It had been so real. He’d been there, felt everything, the fear, the panic, the horror when he couldn’t save the child.
He is not slipping back into that nightmare. He reaches for his sweatshirt. Finds a pair of socks. Wanders through the apartment lit only by the orange glow of the streetlights outside. He opens the balcony door. Outside, a dense fog hangs and the air smell
s salty. A lone foghorn booms eerily in the distance. Rory goes back inside, switches on the TV. As the problems of Tony Soprano suck him in, he begins to forget his own.
He wakes to brightness and the smell of bacon. There is a duvet over him. The TV is off. His watch says eleven. He hasn’t the energy to get up. Louise appears, looking wideawake and fresh, in denims and black polo, her hair swept up. Her energy makes him want to go back to sleep. She sits beside him, kisses him good morning.
‘Couldn’t you sleep?’
‘I was a bit restless.’
‘This thing is worrying you, isn’t it?’
‘No,’ he lies. ‘I just keep getting these nightmares. The attack, over and over again.’
‘Then you must be worried.’
‘I’m not worried,’ he barks, and is instantly sorry. He apologizes. ‘I’m edgy, OK? I thought I’d have moved on by now. It’s ridiculous.’
She’s quiet, as if afraid that anything she says is going to be the wrong thing.
‘What d’you want to do today?’ he asks, cheerily.
It takes a moment for her to adjust. ‘I don’t mind. Nip in to Grafton Street?’
The thought of crowds makes his insides tighten. ‘I’d like to go see Daisy.’
She looks surprised. ‘Daisy?’
He remembers the scene at Barry’s. ‘Don’t feel you have to come. I won’t stay long.’
‘It’s not that I don’t want to come. It’s just not like you, that’s all.’
‘What’s not like me?’
‘I don’t know, visiting your family, I guess.’
‘She’s my godchild.’
‘I know, yeah. And I think it’s good you want to see her.’
‘You don’t have to come, if there’s something else you want to do…’
‘No, I’d like to come.’
‘OK. Thanks.’
Why are they being so polite?
Siofra and family are just in from Mass. It’s news to Rory that his sister goes. Mass was a habit they broke in their early teens, behind their father’s back. Tony must be into it. Or maybe it’s something you return to when you’ve kids. He looks around Siofra’s busy kitchen. Of all the rooms in a home, he thinks, this is the one where families congregate. At the apartment, he and Louise always chill in the sitting room. Kitchens are cosier, he decides. But he can see that Siofra and Tony need more space. The worktop is cramped, with Siofra making coffee, and Tony sterilizing baby bottles, a job he cheerfully claims to hate. Daisy, asleep in her portable car seat, is occupying the only clutter-free corner of the kitchen, while Alex has giant pieces of Lego all over the floor.
Do You Want What I Want? Page 6
