‘Declan?’ Cam comes in and sets a tray on the coffee table. Two cups of tea and a plate of toast. Cam sits down with a sigh and stretches out her long legs. Her usually clean jodhpurs are streaked with dirt.
‘Oh God – did you have to do everything yourself?’
‘Lara helped. Sally’s feeding now.’
‘You didn’t tell them?’
‘I said you weren’t well.’
‘I’m OK. I just keep remembering …’
‘I know.’ She twirls her mug in her hand. ‘It’s not the same thing, but … I had to identify my parents’ bodies when they were killed.’
I shudder. ‘That’s far worse.’
‘Different. And that was just a terrible accident. What you saw – I can’t even imagine that.’
‘It was the shock,’ I say. ‘And it’s the kind of thing – I mean you see it on TV, don’t you, but when it’s real… He looked so ugly. And so – so dead. And he did it himself. That’s the worst thing.’ I sip my tea. Try to focus on the warmth of the mug in my hands.
‘Why do you think he did it?’
‘I don’t know. Half the time I saw him he was off his head on something. Drink, glue, drugs. I think he’d have taken anything.’
‘Which probably didn’t do his mental state any good.’
‘He had all this crap going on – but it could have got sorted. I wanted to tell him, it gets better – stuff – if you face up to it.’ I feel stupid saying this. ‘And one time – he had these marks on his arms. And I thought it was his mum’s boyfriend, but now I wonder if he was hurting himself?’ I chew on a piece of toast though it feels and tastes like sawdust. For once I don’t seem to be able to stop the words spewing out. ‘I just – I knew he was in trouble. But that – it’s so permanent. Sorry. You don’t need to hear all this.’
‘Don’t be daft. It’s better to talk about it. He probably didn’t think about it being permanent. Just about wanting everything to stop.’
‘Yeah. There was something kind of desperate about him. Like there was something missing. Like Folly. Oh God, I’m just talking shit. I’m sorry.’ I look into my cup.
‘Look, Declan, I know you won’t be able to get the picture out of your head for a while. But it will go away eventually. I’ll keep you busy here, give you plenty to think about.’
‘If I still have a job?’
‘Don’t be stupid. Now eat that toast and I’ll give you a lift home. I’ve already put your bike in the jeep.’
* * *
After this I can hold it together at work. It helps that Cam knows. She doesn’t make any comment when I’m late the next day because I have to go and give a statement to the police, and she lets me take Spirit out on the farm trail. She makes me go with Lara, but at least I’m on horseback again, and Spirit and Promise go really well together, cantering easily up the long ride.
But for some reason I can’t go near Folly. I’m scared she’ll smell the barn off me or something – I know that’s stupid, but I keep getting to the gate of the field and not being able to go any further.
Mum minds the girls a lot. They’ve been told their brother had an accident and died. They cry sometimes. I wonder how soon before they’ll hear the true story in the street. It’s all everybody’s talking about, even people who didn’t know Cian – even people who didn’t like him. Stacey’s in bits. Her doctor gives her some kind of zombie pills to get her through the first few days. Mum makes her an appointment at the suicide charity. The local paper reports on TRAGIC SUICIDE TEEN.
I keep waking up in the night. Usually from dreams about the barn, but once I have a nice dream that Seaneen’s here, and not pregnant or anything, and waking from that’s even worse than waking from the bad ones.
There’ll be an inquest – not for ages, but that doesn’t stop there being a funeral. Mum offered to stay at home with the kids but Stacey said she’d never get through it without Mum, and then Mairéad says she’ll take them to the zoo with Saoirse and Tiarna for the day.
It’s a lovely clear autumn day. We get to the chapel early, but it’s already filling up, even though people don’t really know the family. For family, read Stacey. There isn’t anybody else. ‘She grew up in care, you know,’ Mum says. ‘She’s had five foster families.’ None of the five foster families comes to the funeral as far as I can see. Neither does Darren. But all the neighbours come. It’s as if they’re saying, if we come to the funeral of this kid, it can’t happen to our kids.
The coffin is already at the altar when we go in. It’s draped in a Liverpool flag. I never even knew he liked football. I can’t help wondering if he really did or if somebody thought it was the right thing to put on a teenager’s coffin.
Mum goes on up to the front with Stacey. She holds her hand, but they don’t look like lesbians. You can get away with that sort of thing at a funeral. I don’t want to go up there – I don’t want it to look as if I’m claiming he was my best friend just because I found him. I sit near the back on my own. Last time I was in here was for Seaneen’s granny’s month’s mind. Seaneen cried and held my hand.
A cluster of teachers from school come in. The headmaster and deputy and Mr Dermott. Dermie nods when he sees me looking round. I nod back but I’m glad he’s at the other side; I don’t think I could talk to him.
‘Hello.’ I look round at the voice. It’s Vicky, her boyfriend Rory and Colette. ‘What are you doing here?’ I whisper. ‘You never knew him.’
‘Don’t be stupid,’ Vicky says. ‘We’ve come for you.’
That’s nice, but it somehow makes me feel even lonelier. I let on to be praying so I don’t have to make conversation.
Then I feel somebody slide in at my other side and I move up to make room. ‘Declan.’
I open my eyes. ‘Seaneen.’ She looks enormous and tired.
‘Isn’t it terrible?’
‘Yeah.’
‘I wish …’
‘Yeah.’
I’m so aware of her beside me. She takes off her jacket and sets it down between us. She sees Vicky and Colette and leans across me to whisper hello. Her curls brush my cheeks. Her perfume’s the same. Her eyes are swollen. She sits back down and rests her hand on her bump. She gives it a wee rub. It’s the gesture I always found so annoying, but now I think it’s kind of protective. And for the first time I think, that’s my son in there. Not just a baby who’s come along and wrecked my plans, but a human being. He won’t always be a baby. He’ll grow up. Like Cian. Like Folly. Not like Flame. Flame never had a chance. Cian – I don’t know when it was too late for Cian.
I want to say all this to Seaneen. I turn to her but I can’t speak. Her fingernails are bitten. I want to take her hand so much I have to flick through a missal to keep my own hands busy.
The music changes note and the priest walks in. ‘I thought youse were all at the zoo,’ I whisper to Seaneen. It’s the only thing I can think of to say.
She bites her lip and shakes her head, and then the funeral starts.
4.
‘Give my love to your mum,’ Colette says, hugging me. ‘I’m sorry she wouldn’t come with us, but I understand she wants to support her friend.’
‘She’ll be glad you came, though.’
‘Sure you don’t want a lift on up the road?’ The four of us have just spent the last hour having lunch in a café on the Falls Road. I tried to find Seaneen after the funeral, but Colette just grabbed me and said she was taking me out for lunch. Vicky and Rory talked about their trip and Vicky showed me some photos of Flight jumping at the National Championships, which should hurt but somehow didn’t. He looked happy and successful.
‘No, I’d like the exercise. Thanks.’
They all pile into Colette’s Golf and I wave them off.
It’s a long enough walk home, but I’m glad of it. The only way I sleep, these nights, is to knacker myself. I feel strange, walking up the Falls Road in a suit. I probably look as if I’ve been in court. I loosen my tie.
And Seaneen. Those days when we’d sneak into my empty house when Mum was in rehab, we weren’t only having sex. We talked about everything. She’s the only person who’s ever been able to get me to say much. Maybe that’s why I miss her so much.
And maybe she doesn’t miss me. But I wish I could tell her what I thought in the chapel this morning – that I see now that the baby’s a real person. And I want to do more than just send money for him. That I don’t know anything about being a dad but I do know that a kid needs as many people as possible to keep it grounded and safe, to help it believe in itself.
When I get to the estate I go straight round to Seaneen’s street instead of turning into Tirconnell Parade. I’ve never been so anxious to get to her, not even at first when we couldn’t keep our hands off each other. With any luck Granzilla will still be at the zoo. I look up at Seaneen’s window. The curtains are shut and the light’s on, which is a good sign.
But Granzilla opens the door. She looks as if she can’t quite believe the sight of me in a suit instead of covered in mud and sweat, but it doesn’t seem to make her like me any more.
‘Yes?’ she says as if I’ve come round the doors selling dodgy DVDs.
‘Is Seaneen in?’
‘Yes.’
‘Oh. Great.’ I hadn’t expected it to be so easy.
‘Is that all you wanted to know?’ She makes to close the door.
‘What?’ Sarky bitch. ‘I mean, can I speak to her? Please?’
Granzilla shakes her head. ‘She doesn’t want to see you.’
‘How do you know?’
She comes out and pulls the door closed behind her. She folds her arms. ‘She doesn’t want to see you.’
‘Mairéad, give me five minutes. I only want to talk to her.’
‘She never wants to see you again.’
‘Since when?’ I go to push past her but she blocks me.
‘If you don’t leave my house, I’m going to call the police.’
‘Ah, for Christ’s sake, Mairéad.’ I’ve lost all sense of pride, so I throw back my head and yell up at the window, ‘Seaneen! Seaneen!’
The curtains don’t even twitch.
Mairéad gives me a triumphant look. ‘Right? That’s your answer. Now leave my house and my daughter alone. She’ll contact you through the Child Support Agency and that’s all.’
And she goes back in and shuts the door in my face.
5.
I last for two minutes in my own house. Mum’s left a note saying she’s over the street. ‘I’m sorry not to be there for you more,’ she’s scribbled. ‘I’ll make it up to you.’
I pull the curtains. It’s nearly dark outside. In about a month it will be time to put the clocks back and then it really will be winter. One of the winter showjumping leagues starts tonight – Cam and Lara will be away at that, trying to get some points. Did I really think I’d be joining them on Folly? It seems so trivial now.
But thinking about Folly makes me ache to go and see her. I’ve lost Seaneen – and the baby – which I never thought I’d mind about as much as I do, and Folly’s all there is now.
Even though I’ve messed it up with her and she hates me.
I run upstairs and pull off my suit and throw on my old yard clothes. It’s stupid to be setting out at this time, but I’m in one of those moods, the kind of mood I tried to explain to Cian. I grab my bike, throw my leg over it and then remember to stop and put the lights on. Then I start cycling.
I can’t cycle past the barn so I go the long way and it takes forever.
As I turn into Cam’s road I know what I’m hoping for – that she won’t have gone jumping, that she’ll be there to talk to me. Or even somebody else. Maybe Sally will be there. It doesn’t matter, just somebody to help me push away this loneliness.
But the yard’s in darkness. The lorry’s not there and the house is dark. Pippa must have gone too, to support Cam. The barn is locked, but I have my keys. There aren’t many horses in. Spirit and Promise’s stables are empty of course. Joy looks up briefly from her haylage munching, then loses interest. Nudge comes over for a rub on the nose.
The sight and smell of them is comforting, because they’re horses, but it’s not enough.
I go back out, locking the door behind me. I try not to think about Cian letting himself into that other barn. Taking the rope from the door. He must have felt there was nobody.
I make my way across the yard, past the school and down the path to the fields. I trip over a stone, bang into the fence. There are a few nickers and snorts of surprise as the horses hear the gate unclick. It sounds louder in the dark.
I suppose those shadows at the bottom of the field must be Folly and the Welshies. I think of how stupid it would be to go down there in the dark and get kicked. She won’t come near me anyway because I haven’t brought any treats.
I call her, just in case there’s going to be a miracle, but nothing happens.
I stand under the tree. The moon, which was full the night I found Cian, is still pretty big and it hangs low in the sky. Once my eyes get used to it I can see fairly well. Folly is standing with Mary, or possibly Midge, and they’re grooming each other. They look like one animal, a strange two-arsed horse.
So this is it. I’ve ruined everything. I’ve lost Seaneen; I’ve lost the chance to be a proper father to the baby; I’ve lost Folly because I rushed her and abused the tiny bit of trust she had in me.
I put my hand on the trunk of the tree and feel how rough it is. One of the branches is covered in teeth marks from Folly’s assaults on it. I think again of the wooden pallets in the barn, and then it’s only a moment to the hanging body of Cian.
Stop it, stop it, you can’t keep torturing yourself.
But if I’d listened more. If I’d taken him more seriously. Maybe even if I’d given him that money.
The tears that wouldn’t come at the funeral are pushing up the back of my throat now and I hate myself for them because it’s only self-pity, but I can’t stop them. I rub my sleeve against my face but I just end up with a wet sleeve and a stinging face because it’s a rough woolly jumper. The horse shapes at the bottom of the field have gone, melted away in the dark like the ghosts I once thought Folly was.
At the start of the summer I thought I was so clever, winning that trophy, getting that job – and what am I left with? Nothing. Just a mess.
‘Declan.’
I must be imagining the voice. There couldn’t be anybody here at this time of night. Even if Cam came back from the show early she wouldn’t come down to the field in the dark.
Then I feel a hand on my shoulder and I jump. I swing round.
‘This is the first place I thought of,’ Seaneen says. I bury my head in her neck and hug her hard. She can’t be real. I’d have heard her. But she feels real, and the tears on her face are wet, and her hair tickles my cheek in a very real way, and the bump pressing against me is solid and warm.
‘How did you …?’
‘Don’t talk.’ She hugs me harder until we both pull away. I reach out and blot her tears with my finger. She does the same for me.
‘How did you know I was here?’ I ask.
‘Where else were you going to be?’
‘Your mum said you didn’t want to see me. I came to your house but she said –’
‘I know. I … I lay there and I heard you calling me and I wanted to get up and look out. I was goin
g to, and then – I don’t know, Declan. I didn’t want it to be just because of … the funeral and all. Because ever since it happened I’ve wanted you …’
‘Me too.’ Then I realise that’s not the whole truth. ‘No – not just cause of Cian. I never wanted to lose you.’
She chews her lip.
‘Seaneen – about the baby …’ I put my hand on her belly. It’s hard but soft at the same time. I know if I leave my hand there long enough there’ll be a movement. ‘I never … you were right, I was running away. I thought because I stayed – because I said I was sticking by you – that I was doing the right thing, but I was only pretending. I never saw it – him – as real. Not a person, just a – well, a problem.’
Her eyes are dark green in the moonlight. ‘He will be a problem,’ she says. ‘He’ll be all kinds of problems. But that’s not all he’ll be.’
‘I want him to have two parents. I know I might be crap, but I want to try.’
‘You wanted to leave me. Go abroad.’
‘Not any more. Everything’s different now.’
She leans into me and for a moment I feel her breath soft on my cheek. ‘I don’t want this just to be a kneejerk reaction,’ she says.
‘To Cian?’
She nods. ‘I can’t stop thinking about him.’
‘I know. And you can’t say that something good could come out of him killing himself. That’d be sick. But…’
‘So would it be better if nothing good came out of it?’ she asks.
‘It would be better if it hadn’t happened.’
‘I know.’ We don’t say anything for ages. Then Seaneen says, ‘I don’t want to be a mum at nineteen. I’m terrified. What if he grows up like Cian, thinking life isn’t worth living? What if I can’t give him what he needs to be strong?’ Fresh tears are running down her face but her voice is fierce.
‘I know. That’s what I feel. But I thought you … I thought you secretly wanted a baby.’
She shakes her head. ‘Not yet. But’ – she shrugs – ‘I’m going to have one, so …’
‘Will you let me help you? I don’t mean just the money, or minding him sometimes – I mean, us, together, properly.’
Grounded Page 21
