by Chloe Walsh
"Hi, Dellie," Ollie said shyly.
"God, Ollie, he said her name is Edel," Tadhg grumbled. "Not Dellie."
"That's okay," Mam chuckled, rising up. "My god, you're the spitting image of your brother," she added, smiling at Tadhg.
Tadhg watched her carefully. "Which brother?"
"Joey," Mam replied.
His eyes widened. "You know Joey?"
Mam nodded. "I do. He's a lovely boy."
Tadhg frowned. "Are you sure you know Joey?"
Mam chuckled again. "So, you like Sookie?"
The hardness in his eyes softened. "She's okay."
"Her voice is funny, too," Ollie announced. "Isn't it, Tadhg? Her voice is stranger than Johnny's."
"She's from Dublin," Tadhg groaned, looking embarrassed. "God, Ollie."
"And what about you, Ollie?" Mam turned her smile on the middle one. "Do you like Bonnie and Cupcake?"
"I love them," he told her, beaming. "They're so big. I want a dog. Like so, so much, but we're not allowed to have one because of when my Dad got the last–"
"Ollie," Tadhg said in a warning tone. "Quiet."
Ollie snapped his mouth shut and blushed.
"What's this about you kidnapping the Lynch children?" my father chuckled as he strolled into the kitchen, looking amused. However, the moment his eyes landed on the three boys standing next to me, his smile vanished. "Oh, dear."
The moment he stepped into the room, the atmosphere changed and the boys seemed to go on high-alert. Ollie and Tadhg both took a step towards me, with Tadhg shifting Ollie behind him. Sean turned into my chest and wrapped his little arms around my neck, clinging to me.
Tears filled my mother's eyes and she covered her mouth with her hand. "Oh, lord."
"Don't cry, Ma," I mouthed as I carefully wrapped my arms around Sean's tiny body and lifted him up. "You're okay, buddy," I coaxed. Nodding he tucked his face in my neck and cupped my cheek with his drool covered fingers.
Men, I realized. They were fucking terrified of grown men. Gibsie and I weren't as much of a threat to them because we were the same age as Joey, who all these children seemed to adore – Shannon included. Disgust filled my body at a rapid rate, making it hard to function. "Lads," I said, dragging myself back to the present. "This is my Da – John." I looked to my mother for help, but she looked just as stumped as I was. "He's a…" I scrambled for the words I needed to put these kids at ease. Clearing my throat, I added, "He's a big eejit, lads, but he's completely harmless."
Their eyes widened in shock as if they couldn't believe what I had just said.
"That's right," Mam said, catching on quickly. Taking my father by the hand, she led him over to the island and shoved him down on a stool so he wasn't so intimidating standing at his full 6'2 height. "He's our fool, aren't you, John?" she added, ruffling his hair. "A big, old softie."
"Hi, John," Ollie said, eyeing my father warily, and offering him a small wave. "I'm Ollie."
"Hello, Ollie," Dad replied, smiling at the middle Lynch boy. "It's lovely to meet you."
"Did you hear that, Tadhg," Ollie said, jabbing Tadhg in the ribs. "He talks the same as us."
"Because he's from Cork," Tadhg muttered, shaking his head. "Obviously."
"Hello, Tadhg," Dad added. "How are you doing?"
"Fine," Tadhg replied warily. "Thanks."
Dad smiled. "So, what did Johnny do, lads?"
"He took us to McDonalds," Ollie blurted out. "Two times."
"Twice," Tadhg corrected with a heavy sigh. "Say twice, Ollie."
"And the playground," Ollie continued, unperturbed. "And we met that weird guy over there –" He paused to point at Gibsie. "Well, Tadhg says he's weird. I think so, too, but he's also kind of nice." Grinning, he added, "He gave me a fiver."
"Thanks, kid," Gibsie chuckled. "I think you're kind of nice, too."
"Oh, so you boys aren't hungry?" Mam asked as she opened the fridge. "Not even for some…." She let her words trail off as she pulled a huge chocolate cake from the fridge. "Dessert?"
"Whoa," Ollie gasped, moving straight for her, all fears of my father forgotten now that there was cake involved. "We're allowed to have some, Dellie?"
"Edel," Tadhg muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Not Dellie."
"Only the three biggest pieces," Mam replied, making her eyes go all wide with fake excitement. "How does that sound?"
Ollie nodded eagerly. "It was Tadhg's birthday last month and he didn't get a cake. He loves chocolate, don't you, Tadhg?"
"It's okay," Tadhg mumbled, edging closer. "I guess."
"Well, come over here with me and we'll cut it up," Mam announced, tone cheerful, but eyes watering. "And I'll get some ice-cream to go with it."
"Oh my god!" Ollie exclaimed, trailing after my mother. "Your Mam is the best, Johnny."
"And you," Mam said as she set the cake down on the counter and lifted Ollie onto a stool. "Remind me just of your sister." Stroking his hair, she smiled down at him. "And you are just as sweet."
Ollie beamed up at her. "I am?"
Mam nodded. "Yes, you are."
Tadhg snickered, joining Ollie at the island. "You look like Shannon."
"So?" Ollie huffed, keeping his gaze trained on the cake Mam was cutting. "I'm sweet."
"You want some cake, Sean?" I asked when his head popped up, eyes trailing his brothers. "I bet it's nice."
"He doesn't talk much," Tadhg explained, eyes widening when my mother placed a huge slice of cake in front of him. "He only says like seven words."
"It's true," Ollie agreed, picking up his slice of cake with his hand and taking a huge bite. "And he hasn't said anything since Daddy hurt Shannon –"
"Ollie," Tadhg groaned, shoulders slumping. "Stop talking."
"It's okay, boys," Mam coaxed, voice shaking a little as she set a plate of cake down in front of Dad. "We don't have to talk about that today."
"Hey," Gibsie interjected then, winking at Tadhg. "Don't you be eating all that cake, fatty. I want some."
Tadhg snorted. "You look like you've had enough cake for a month."
"I'll have you know that it takes hours in the gym to look as good as I do," Gibsie shot back, joining them at the opposite side of the counter, taking the stool next to my father.
"Yeah," Tadhg snickered between bites of his cake – again, using his hands and not the fork beside him, "hours with your head in the fridge."
Gibsie threw his head back and laughed. "You're a cheeky little fucker."
"Gerard," Mam said, giving Gibsie a grateful smile, as she set a plate of cake in front of him. "No bad language."
"Sorry, Mammy K," Gibsie replied with a sheepish grin before stabbing into his cake with relish. "Mmm."
"I'll get the ice-cream," Mam announced then, before hurrying into the utility room, smothering a sob as she went.
"Will we get some?" I asked Sean, who was now physically gravitating towards the food. "Yeah?"
Sean nodded and wiggled in my arms. I took it as a signal to put him down and the minute I did, he scooted towards his brothers, trying and failing to climb up. Both of his brothers ignored him, entirely too focused on their own cake as they scoffed it down. Giving up on getting their attention, he moved around the island, stopping at my father's legs. I watched as he seemed to hesitate before reaching up and tugging on the leg of his pants.
Wordlessly, my father reached down and lifted him onto his lap, not making a big deal of it, as he set his plate of cake in front of Sean. Diving for the cake, Sean started to shove it into his mouth, sitting contently on my father's lap as he ate.
Ollie and Tadhg turned to watch their little brother, both eyeing my father with wary curiosity.
When Mam walked into the kitchen with the tub of ice-cream, she quickly backpedaled out again. Shaking my head, I followed her into the utility to find her sobbing against the freezer. "God love them," she whispered, tears dripping down her cheeks. "Oh, Johnny, those poor babies."
"I kno
w, Ma," I replied, keeping my voice low. "But don't be crying. You'll freak them out."
"It's just terrible," she choked out. "How anyone could do that to those babies–"
"Ma, stop." Closing the space between us, I placed my hands on her shoulders and sighed. "Feed them," I encouraged. "Fill them up with ice-cream and all that shite you gave us when we were small. They don't need any more tears."
"You're right." Sniffling, she wiped her cheeks with the back of her hand and forced a smile. "No more tears."
"Edel," Dad said, popping his head around the door with Sean balancing on his hip. "We need to talk."
"I know, John."
"No." He shook his head and gave my mother a meaningful look as Sean pulled on his tie. "We need to talk now, sweetheart."
"This is bullshit," I snarled, pacing my father's study like a deranged lunatic. "I'm not bringing them back there, Da."
"We don't have a choice, Johnny," Dad replied wearily. "We have to return them – preferably before their mother realizes that they're gone."
"That family is in dire need of an intervention," Mam choked out. "I don't know what's wrong with the world, but I can't understand how they're just left in that home with her – or how that man is walking around scot-free."
"Calm down, sweetheart," Dad coaxed, rubbing her arm.
"It's not fair, John," she strangled out. "I can't bear it."
"No, it's not fair," Dad agreed. "But you can't be getting yourself worked up over it."
"Look at them, John!" Stalking over to the window, she pointed outside to where Gibsie was rolling around on the lawn with the three boys. "Look at them."
"I see them, Edel," Dad replied calmly. "I see everything you're seeing, sweetheart."
"If you see them then how can you possibly expect me to send them back?" Mam hissed. "Something has to be done. Better has to be done for those children! They're just kids. They don't understand, and they don't deserve this. And Shannon?" Mam's expression caved. "He saw, John." She pointed a shaky finger at me. "Our son recognized it from the very beginning. He might not have understood what he was seeing, but he heard the cry for help. He heard her. And he unraveled a darkness no child should be exposed to."
"I know," Dad replied, giving her a meaningful look. "But right now, we don't have a legal leg to stand on. Do you want your son to be arrested, sweetheart? Because that's exactly what will happen if we don't do this the right way."
"Then when?" Mam choked out. "When, John?"
"When what, Ma?" I asked, watching her carefully.
Mam opened her mouth to respond, but my father got there first.
"Edel." He shook his head in warning. "This isn't a conversation I want us to have in front of our son."
"Do what the right way?" I asked, suspicious. "What's going on here?"
"Don't ask questions," my father said. "I promise, you don't need to know."
"Of course I need to know, Da –"
"No, Johnny, you don't!" he snapped. "You need to trust me and not ask questions."
"I can't do it," Mam choked out, dropping her head in her hands. "I can't send them back there."
"Johnny, I need you to text their brother," Dad instructed. "Ask Joey to come over here."
"What?" My brows furrowed. "Now?"
Dad nodded. "Now."
"Why Joey?"
"Because he's over eighteen and the least likely to have you arrested," Dad shot back.
"Fuck," I muttered.
"Yes," Dad offered. "Fuck indeed, son."
"But Da, I don't think they should go back there –"
"Do what I say," Dad ordered. "I've never guided you wrong before, and I don't have plans on starting, so just trust me and text their brother."
Frustrated, I dragged my phone out of my pocket and sighed dejectedly. "What do you want me to say?"
"Tell him the truth," Dad commanded. "Tell him exactly what you told us and ask him to come pick them up."
"No." Mam shook her head. "Please, John –"
"Trust me," Dad bit out. "This is the only way, Edel."
Sniffling, Mam nodded. "Text Joey, love."
Panicked, I pulled my phone out and sent a text to the one person I hoped wouldn't have me arrested.
J: Yeah, so, strange thing happened today…
Joey the hurler: Why are you texting me?
J: Because I took your brothers and they're at my house.
Joey the hurler: Why?
J: I don't know.
Joey the hurler: Do you plan on giving them back?
J: I guess.
Joey the hurler: You're really fucked up, Kavanagh.
J: I know.
Joey the hurler: I'm on my way.
"Done," I muttered, sliding my phone back into my pocket. "He's on the way."
"Thank you," Dad said with a sigh.
"Don't thank me, Da," I muttered. "Not for doing the wrong thing."
Mam glanced between me and my father before sighing heavily. "You did the right thing, Johnny." Shoulders sagging, she walked over to where I was standing and wrapped her arms around my waist. "Everything will be okay." Pressing a kiss to my shoulder, she added, "I'll put the kettle on," before walking out of the kitchen.
"What's going on, Da?" I demanded, feeling out of the loop. "What aren't you telling me?"
"I don't tell you a lot of things," my father replied evenly. "Parent/child privilege."
"You know what I mean, Da," I snapped. "If you know something to do with Shannon and you're not telling me, I'm going to lose it."
"Nothing about Shannon," Dad told me.
"Then what's going on with you and Mam? What did all of that mean?"
My father sighed. "Johnny, you really don't need to know."
"I want to know," I countered hotly.
"But you don't need to know," he shot back with an air of finality in his tone. "Because what your mother and I talk about is private."
"Are you fighting?" I asked, at a complete fucking loss. "Over the Lynchs?"
"If we are, then that is also private," Dad shot back, not missing a beat. "Respect that."
Jaw-ticking, I swallowed down a snarky response and nodded stiffly.
"Good man," he said, pulling his car keys out of his pocket. "Now, I need to go and make a few calls and see if I can keep you out of prison – at least until you turn eighteen." He turned and walked for the door only to halt and spin back around. "I forgot to ask you how training went?"
"Fine," I grumbled.
"And Coach Dennehy?" he pushed. "Any word yet?"
No… "Uh, can we talk about it later?" I said instead. "My head's wrecked."
"Of course." Giving me a wink, he said, "Colorful family you've gotten yourself attached to, son."
"Like you can talk," I shot back accusingly, thinking about my mother's side of the fence.
"Don't remind me," Dad muttered. "See you later."
"Yeah." I frowned after him, wondering what the hell he was up to. "I'll see ya."
54
Pound Shop Razors
Shannon
"We are living our best lives, girls," Claire announced as she dumped the contents of her days' worth of shopping onto her bed and grinned. "Now, it's makeover time."
"No," Lizzie grumbled, flopping down on the bed, looking thoroughly exhausted. "Forget it. I'm not doing anything else for rest of the evening."
"Oh yes you are," Claire chirped. "We're having makeovers and that includes you, grumpy pants."
"Claire," Lizzie snapped. "You dragged us all over the city shopping for seven hours. I am exhausted."
"I'm kind of with Lizzie on this." Sinking down on the floor, I pulled off my runners and rubbed my feet. "It's already seven in the evening, and I'm really tired." And I want to go see Johnny…
"Exactly! I didn't traipse all over Cork City, buying all of this crap just for it to go to waste," Claire growled, tapping her foot. "You're both getting makeovers and you're both going to love them."
&n
bsp; Exhaling a heavy sigh in defeat, I climbed to my feet and nodded. "Fine, I'll do the makeover."
"Yay," Claire squealed, clapping her hands. "Thank you, Shannon."
"Turncoat," Lizzie muttered under her breath.
"For that, you're going first," Claire countered, grinning devilishly at Lizzie. "And I'm starting with that unibrow."
"She doesn't have a unibrow," I chuckled, sifting through the pile of goodies on the bed.
"No, I don't have a unibrow, Shan, but she'll have a fist to the face if she comes anywhere near me with tweezers," Lizzie shot back.
"Why do we need razors?" I asked, picking up the packet of razors and a can of shaving foam.
"Because we're going gardening, girls," Claire replied breezily. "Down under."
"You come anywhere near my vagina with a razor and I'll stab you," Lizzie warned. "I'm not even joking."
"Fine," Claire countered. "You're such a beast you'd need the whole packet to tame you."
Lizzie rolled her eyes and gave Claire the finger.
"Yeah." I eyed the packet of razors warily. "I'm not sure this is a such good idea."
"It's a terrible idea," Lizzie interjected. "You shouldn't be shaving down there anyway. That's what waxing is for."
"Well, I can't afford waxing," Claire huffed. "I'm not a millionaire, Lizzie."
"So, you're going to mangle yourself with pound shop razors?"
"They cost two euro," Claire countered.
"From the pound shop," Lizzie added sarcastically.
"Why are you trying to ruin this for me?" Claire demanded, glaring at Lizzie. "This is supposed to be a fun, bonding moment."
"Have you ever shaved down there before, Claire?" Lizzie asked.
Claire frowned. "No."
"Well, if you had, you'd know that I'm not trying to ruin anything for you, I'm trying to save you both from friction burn," Lizzie drawled. "But whatever, go right ahead and scalp yourself. Just don't come running to me when you're walking around like a constipated cowboy."
"Well, I think it's a great idea." Claire encouraged.
"Of course, you do," Lizzie mocked. "God, you're so clueless."
