‘I hope this won’t come across as rude or ungrateful,’ she said, ‘but why did you offer to help my son? I mean you barely know him. And, let’s face it, anyone can see he is crazy about your daughter. So, why are you offering to bring this stranger who has designs on your youngest child into your home? I’m failing to see the angle here.’
Siobhán held up her hands.
‘It’s a fair question. One I would be asking in your position too. So no, I don’t think you’re rude. You’re being a mother. You’re looking out for your child. We told Dylan that everything hung on your agreement. OK, we made the offer for two reasons. Firstly, Diarmuid is totally incapable of denying Laoise anything, and she wants him to stay in Ireland. Secondly though, and this is the bigger reason, Diarmuid really loves the pipes and lots of people helped him when he was young. None of his family was particularly into traditional music, so he was dependent on the kindness of strangers who shared their love of the instrument and talent with him in order to help him get to where he is today.
‘He has been fairly successful and we have built a good life for ourselves and our kids, largely funded by music. If nobody had helped him when he was young, then none of that could have happened, and he would probably have spent his life working in a bank or on a building site instead of doing what he loves. He has passed his talent on to our kids, and they all are stuck in the music world. I suppose with Dylan Diarmuid sees it as his chance to pay something back. Does that make sense? I know he’s mad about Laoise, but I can tell you she’s more than able to stand up for herself. If I was to be worried about anyone I have to say it’s Dylan I’d be worried about to be honest. My husband is a very easy-going man but when it comes to his daughters, he wouldn’t stand for any carry-on from boys. He’s made that abundantly clear to Dylan.’
Corlene laughed. ‘I would have liked to be able to do this for him, I’m his mother but I guess I haven’t always been a great role model. It’s not an excuse I know, but I was a single mom and I spent all my time trying to find the perfect marriage. Not everyone is as lucky as you, you know!’
Siobhán gave a throaty chuckle and said: ‘Are you joking or what? We don’t have a perfect relationship I can assure you. Diarmuid and I do have an understanding though. I don’t give in to every notion he takes, and he doesn’t give in to every one of mine. But if one of us says that something is important, then the other tends to accept it. It’s worked for the past twenty-five years so we’ll probably stick with that strategy.’
‘Sounds like a good plan,’ Corlene agreed. ‘When I said a few minutes ago that I wasn’t always a great role model, that was to understate the case. I’m sure he told you I was a lousy mom. We had a big, long talk about everything last night…probably the first time I’ve ever had a proper conversation with him. I know how much this music study thing means to him…studying that pipe thing that I can’t pronounce…and I really do wish there was some way I could help him to make this happen, but I’m flat broke. It’s just impossible.’
Eyes brimming with tears, she added: ‘I do love him you know.’
Siobhán handed her a tissue. ‘Of course you do. Being a mother isn’t an easy road for anyone, despite how it appears to an outsider. I can tell you there have been times when I’ve been fit to murder all of mine, mostly Laoise, it must be said. But at the end of the day, they’re your kids and you’d do anything for them. It’s a simple as that.’
Corlene smiled gratefully. At last, someone who didn’t judge her.
‘Look, I completely understand if you don’t want Dylan to stay with us, even if you had the money. I mean, as I said, I wouldn’t probably allow it, if the situation were reversed. I can barely manage Laoise when I have her in my sights, let alone if she was left to her own devices. God alone knows what she’d get up to. But our offer stands and, maybe he can work for a while in the States and make the fees and then come back.’
Corlene trusted this “Shove-on” person… God, why couldn’t she be called something simple like Mary? At least she’d be able to pronounce that. The woman was honest and sincere. Dylan would be safe with her and her husband, safer probably than he would be with Corlene herself if she was to be honest.
‘Maybe he could get job. But he doesn’t have any skills, so I think it would take a long time to save up for the fees. But it’s such a shame. Music is all he ever talks about.
I’ve never achieved that much in my own life and I’ve spent all my time trying. I would like to think that Dylan will be different.’
Siobhán thought for a moment. ‘Well, my husband seems to think he has great potential. So, that’s good enough for me. He’s very rarely wrong on anything to do with music and he’s a great judge of character. Pity I can’t say the same for his housekeeping or organisational skills. But I suppose you can’t have it all.’
Both women laughed knowingly and Corlene felt a pang of envy. From the easy way Siobhán spoke about her husband, it was obvious that they really loved each other. Not in the way that Corlene had always dreamed about – expensive presents and romantic gestures – but something deeper, more solid. Dylan would really benefit from living with these people, get to see what a real family was like, how they lived, how they handled life.
‘Thank you Shove-on. I was suspicious when Dylan told me about your offer, but now that I’ve met you and Diarmuid I can see you are good people. I really would love for Dylan to get this chance. But unfortunately it’s a chance that I just can’t give him,’ Corlene said with an audible sigh.
‘What will the two of you do now? When you go back to the States?’
‘Well right now I guess we don’t have a plan. The tour is paid for, so we have somewhere to sleep for the next two nights. Then we fly home…but after that? Who knows? Don’t worry about us though. Something will turn up…it always does,’ she added with a confidence she didn’t feel.
Siobhán resisted the urge to offer suggestions. She was always being teased by her family for being a fixer. It was unusual that on this occasion Diarmuid was the one who was behind the plan to help Dylan. Corlene needed to sort herself out, Siobhán thought, and she sincerely hoped for everyone’s sake it wouldn’t be in the shape of husband number five.
As the two women walked down the corridor to the hotel lobby, Siobhán took out her phone and started writing a text message to her husband. Just as she pressed ‘send’, she looked up to see a small crowd gathered near the Reception desk. An impromptu concert seemed to be underway. Laoise was singing a melody and Dylan was trying to accompany her on the whistle – the pair of them sprawled on a sofa blissfully unaware of their audience. Eventually, Dylan spotted Siobhán and his mother, his face suffused with worry.
‘It’s OK Dylan,’ Corlene reassured him, ‘I didn’t say anything embarrassing.’
He stood up smiling as Siobhán approached and drew him into a hug. ‘Well I suppose it’s goodbye Dylan, at least for now. I’m so sorry things didn’t work out for you. As I told your mam, the offer is open ended and so if you’re ever thinking of coming back to Ireland for any reason at all, just let us know.’
Diarmuid lifted his head out of the book he had been engrossed in and stood up.
‘We’ll see you again Dylan. Don’t forget there’s a set of pipes there for you to borrow any time at all. You’ve been bitten by the bug now, so you won’t shake it off that easily. There are a few fine players over in America too you know who could teach you. I’ll send you some names in an email. Don’t give it up on it anyway, now sure you won’t?’
Dylan followed them out to the car park, gripping Laoise’s hand all the way.
Corlene, Siobhán and Diarmuid made small talk about the hotel landscaping as the two young people clung to each other.
‘I thought you could stay. It would have been so cool,’ Laoise said, tears rolling down her cheeks.
‘I’ll come back Laoise. I promise. I don’t know how, but I’ll try my very best. You are the coolest girl on the planet and I can
’t believe you could like someone like me,’ he said, gripping her hand even tighter.
As Diarmuid drove out of the hotel grounds, Corlene stood with her arm around her son, wishing with all her heart that things could have worked out differently.
From a bedroom window upstairs, Bert Baxter watched, drinking in every detail.
Chapter 30
Dorothy Crane did her best to freshen up standing at the small stainless steel sink in the corner of her cell. She was due to meet her solicitor at the courthouse and would be driven the short distance from the Garda station to the courthouse in a squad car. The prospect of what lay ahead made her cringe. The humiliation of it! Thank God nobody out there in the real world was remotely interested in what went on in this little bog hole of a country, she thought viciously. At least she would be able to get this nonsense over with today, then go home and forget about it. Apart from Juliet, no one needed to know a thing about it. She would swear Juliet to secrecy. Somehow. What had happened to that woman? She was normally such a little mouse, had always struck Dorothy as a bit fragile mentally. No doubt Juliet was now crippled with guilt over her harsh and totally unnecessary words to Dorothy. Well, she’d have to do some grovelling if she wanted Dorothy Crane to take her on a trip ever again!
These and similar thoughts had gone around and around in her head all night long, as sleep evaded her. The possibility of being held on remand while awaiting trial, or some other worst case scenario, she simply refused to entertain. This whole situation she found herself in was a complete farce. Juliet had just slipped and banged her head. It was as simple as that. Bungling, small-minded provincial cops playing at being proper policemen, with all their stupid unpronounceable Irish names…really it was laughable. They probably didn’t have more than one second-rate university in this entire country. They couldn’t even begin to understand how inappropriate it was that a person of her academic standing would find themselves in this ridiculous position.
She wondered if she should check out if this Lucinda McAuliffe woman was even a proper attorney. It was quite likely that the same standards of legal training didn’t apply in this backwater. Hadn’t Conor told them that often in Ireland the local shopkeeper was also the undertaker and the congressman or whatever? This little nugget of information had raised a big laugh from those simpletons on the tour, but now she wondered what a person actually needed in order to qualify to practise law here? Perhaps her fate was now in the hands of a woman who doubled up as a hairdresser for God’s sake!
She looked up as the observation panel on the door was moved to the side. The young uniformed man from yesterday was addressing her, although his accent was so impenetrable she couldn’t make out what he was saying.
‘OK Ms Crane. It’s time to go. Your solicitor will meet you in court. There’s a big case being heard today, so be prepared for a wait.’
Dorothy threw him one of the looks she reserved for undergraduates she considered too stupid to take her course. The young Garda made polite conversation as they made their way to the squad car. ‘What part of America do you come from?’
‘Iowa,’ she snapped, indicating clearly that she was in no humour for small talk.
‘Oh right,’ said the Garda, ‘I was never there.’
‘No’, said Dorothy, dripping with sarcasm, ‘I wouldn’t have imagined you were.’
‘No, I never went that far west. I did my Masters in Ethnic Conflict at NYU after I qualified with a law degree here. I really enjoyed it. It was interesting to see the difference in approaches to crime prevention between the States and Ireland. There’s much bigger ethnic diversity in the States obviously, compared with here in Ireland, so it was a great place to learn firsthand about various world cultures and how conflict between them can be tackled.’
Dorothy gaped incredulously at the young Garda. ‘Are you telling me you have a degree and you are working as a police officer?’
The Garda seemed amused by her question. ‘Well most of the younger generation of Garda Síochana have third- level qualifications. I am actually studying for a PhD in Islamic Studies at the moment. I think problems between Irish nationals and those with Muslin belief systems…racism in various forms if you like…will be a source of major conflict in this country in years to come. We as law enforcers need to understand as much as possible about these cultural practices and belief systems in order to deal with potential conflicts efficiently and sympathetically.’
Before Dorothy had time to respond sarcastically to his mini-tutorial, the squad car pulled up in front of a large, grey limestone building. As the car door opened, Dorothy noticed to her horror two television cameramen and several photographers lined up to her right. Surely to God her case didn’t warrant this amount of media attention? As she emerged from the car and headed for the courthouse, the media scrum moved back when they saw that she wasn’t the person they were waiting for after all.
‘I mentioned to you that there was a high-profile case being heard today. Big drugs seizure off the coast. It was a joint operation between ourselves and Interpol. There’ll be lots of international press here too,’ the Garda said as he ushered her into the building through a side door.
‘This entrance leads directly to the cells so I’ll leave you there and you’ll be called when they’re ready to hear your case. I wouldn’t be holding my breath if I were you though.’
She sat seething on a plastic chair – literally the only furniture in the cell apart from a scarred and battered looking table – as she awaited the arrival of her attorney who, for some ridiculous reason, was called a solicitor in this country.
‘Good Morning Ms Crane,’ said her solicitor, as she was ushered in by a female Garda. ‘I hope your night wasn’t too unpleasant.’
‘It was dreadful. I never slept a wink. And now, apparently, I must wait until some big drugs case is heard before I can even get into court. Really this is intolerable. Can’t you do anything? I mean you are supposed to be my attorney,’ Dorothy snapped.
Lucinda McAuliffe withdrew a file from her briefcase and sat down. In calm, measured tones, she said: ‘Ms Crane, it seems to me that you are failing to grasp the gravity of your situation. You are charged with a serious assault. On top of that, you made efforts to bribe a member of An Garda Síochana. These two acts show a lack of respect for the law and for law enforcement in this country. I think we should focus our efforts on how best to defend you. Spend less of our time grumbling shall we? Now, as I see it, the testimony of the two witnesses for the State, Mrs em…’ she said, flicking through the file to find her notes, ‘Mrs Juliet Steele and Mrs Anna Heller, will be pivotal. If they are damning in their evidence, then I’m afraid things may go very poorly indeed. Can you give me any indication of how you think they will present the story to the court?’
The extent of the trouble she was in had finally become apparent to Dorothy.
‘I’m sure they will tell the truth,’ she said quietly.
‘Well then,’ Lucinda McAuliffe replied, ‘we’ll just have to wait and see. In the meantime, you should know I have requested that your case be heard first…before the drugs case…as that is likely to go on for some time. We should expect to be called any moment. It is important that you to speak civilly and respectfully to the judge whom you should address as “judge”. Judge Condon is sitting today and, let me assure you, she takes no prisoners, if you pardon the unfortunate pun.’ Dorothy just stared at her, unwilling and unable to react to her incarceration-based humour.
‘Judge Condon has a reputation for being sharp and will not spare you if she feels you are holding her or the court in contempt. Answer any questions you are asked honestly and clearly and try to ensure that you do not display even the slightest hint of derision in anything you say. Believe me, you are in no position to display anything but abject and true remorse.
‘I will argue that you did not intend to harm Mrs Steele and that you are genuinely sorry for any pain you have caused her. As regards the bribery iss
ue, I will simply plead that, having never been in any trouble before, you panicked and had a momentary lapse of judgement for which you are extremely sorry. You will then, if given the opportunity, apologise to the court and to Detective O’Keeffe for casting aspersions on his integrity. Whether or not the case is dismissed, or whether you are sent forward for trial, will depend to a large extent on Mrs Steele’s testimony. However, I must warn you it will also depend on your demeanour. For your own sake, I hope you can manage to come across as very, very, contrite. Now, do you have any questions before we go?’
Dorothy reflected on her earlier idea of questioning this McAuliffe woman’s credentials, but then thought better of it. It appeared that right now she was Dorothy’s only possible hope of an escape from this nightmare situation, so she probably shouldn’t take the risk of antagonising her.
‘I just have one question,’ she said quietly. ‘Based on your experience, what would you say are my chances of having the charges dropped?’
Lucinda McAuliffe noticed the change in attitude in her client and decided to take pity on her and err on the side of optimism. ‘About fifty-fifty I’d say. Are you ready?’
Conor, Bert, Ellen, Patrick and Cynthia sat together in the public gallery watching the seemingly endless comings and goings of Gardaí, solicitors and bewigged barristers. Anna and Juliet had been ushered off to a separate area by a court official.
‘It sure is nice to be in a courtroom gallery for a change,’ Patrick whispered to Cynthia with a suppressed giggle.
‘Why? Are you often in the dock? Perhaps I should have investigated your background a little more thoroughly before agreeing to hitch my wagon to yours, as you Yanks would say.’ Their conversation was interrupted by the clanging of a large wooden door behind the ornate mahogany bench, signalling the arrival of the clerk of the court.
‘All rise,’ the clerk announced, as a tiny woman sporting half-moon spectacles emerged from her chambers and took her seat in the middle of the bench.
The Tour Page 22
