by Martina Cole
Assumpta and Gabriella exchanged glances. It suddenly occurred to them both just how serious the consequences of their lifestyles might be.
When Assumpta looked at her mother, Carmel saw the fear on her eldest daughter’s face. She had finally broken through to both of her girls.
‘Your father is going to want to kill whoever is responsible, take my word on that. So, please, Assumpta, use your brain for once, and try and make this as painless as possible for everyone concerned.’
Carmel Costello had finally won her daughters’ full attention and, even though she knew it was only because they needed her to stand between them and the man who had fathered them, it was still something of a coup for her.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Michael had just come through the back door of his house and, as he was taking his sheepskin coat off, he called out loudly, ‘Oh, Josephine, you’re not going to fucking believe this, darling. It’s so fucking mental.’
Sitting in her daughter’s kitchen, Lana Callahan was all ears; she knew a serious bit of gossip when she heard it. She shook a warning finger at her daughter, and Josephine smiled. She always told her mother everything eventually anyway.
Michael bounced into the kitchen, all dark good looks and natural confidence. That was his way. He always seemed to be happy with his surroundings; no matter what the situation might be, nothing ever seemed to faze him. He sounded shocked, though, about whatever he had heard. Lana suspected that this was one of the few times he had let his usual guard down.
The sight of his mother-in-law, however, sitting to attention at his kitchen table, stopped him in his tracks. She wasn’t his biggest fan, he knew that, but she was a woman who liked to know what was going on first-hand. And she was like the grave.
So, grinning nonchalantly, he said in a pseudo-dramatic voice, ‘This is something you might regret hearing, Lana, I’m warning you now.’
Lana laughed. She loved to hear the latest gossip, but she was more than capable of keeping it to herself; she knew the danger involved in repeating things she heard in this house, especially when it concerned people like the Costellos and their ilk.
Josephine opened the fridge and took out a can of lager and, as she opened it, she looked at her husband craftily, and said, ‘Come on then, Flynn, don’t keep us in suspense.’
Michael took the beer from her and, after taking a deep drink, he wiped his mouth carefully. Then he waited for his wife to sit back down at the kitchen table before he said seriously, ‘Assumpta Costello is pregnant. Patrick is going off his fucking nut.’
He waited for the reaction he expected, but it didn’t arrive. Instead, his wife and her mother didn’t act even remotely surprised at his news. He had expected them to have been agog, as shocked as he was at the news.
‘Has she named anyone yet, Michael?’ Josephine kept her voice as neutral as possible.
He shook his head, unsure now if this news was actually as secret as he had first believed. Patrick had not said a word to him personally about any of it, he had heard it from Declan. Now he had a good idea why Patrick was keeping this news so close to his chest. If his own wife and her mother were not shocked at the news of Assumpta being pregnant, that could only mean they knew something that he obviously didn’t.
Michael shrugged carelessly, but he was a bit miffed. ‘I don’t know about that. Declan only told me because of Patrick’s extremely erratic behaviour of late. He has been so unpredictable, so fucking angry with everything and anyone. Patrick is obviously keeping all of this well under wraps, and who can blame him? But he is like a bear with a fucking sore arse and, when he finally does fucking let rip, God help the poor fucker responsible. He is like a man possessed. He’s ashamed into the bargain – I bet that’s the real fucking problem actually. After all, she’s still a kid, really.’
Josephine and her mother still didn’t say a word to him about Assumpta or her predicament. That was irritating him. He felt pushed out, as if he was a mug or a fucking outsider, who wasn’t deemed fit to know anything of importance. His good mood was slowly evaporating, and he was regretting his eagerness to discuss any of this with his wife or her mother. His amiable demeanour was gone in seconds and the women were immediately alerted to his changed mood. His voice was flat now, his irritation more than evident as he said sarcastically, ‘I am now assuming that you two ladies know more about this drama than I do. So come on – spill. I’m all ears.’
Josephine really didn’t want to be the one who told her husband about his closest friend’s daughter – well, daughters if all the talk was true. They had certainly kept it in the family anyway. If they had not been Patrick Costello’s daughters, their antics would have been the talk the town for a lot longer and with much more graphic detail. As it was, only a few of the women who were married to men with access to the inner circles had felt safe enough to discuss it amongst themselves, and they had never talked about it to anyone outside. It was far too dangerous. No one would want to be the person who informed Patrick Costello about his daughters’ private lives.
But both of his daughters had been putting themselves out there for a long time, with anyone and everyone who would have them, if the gossip was to be believed. Now Assumpta was pregnant, and it was going to be a whodunnit, there was no doubt about that. If there had been a regular bloke involved, then Patrick might have swallowed it, but that wasn’t the case. Assumpta had been taking on all-comers for a long time, and she was as brazen as she was available. It had been common knowledge amongst the women in the Costello world but, as always in these situations, the men had no inkling whatsoever.
Josephine could not help resenting the fact that girls like Assumpta managed to get a child without even trying, and grow it inside them without any problems whatsoever. If they didn’t choose to abort the poor child, they just pushed it out with the minimum of fuss. They treated childbirth and pregnancy without any kind of respect, they had no concept of the importance of what their bodies had achieved. Pregnancy was no more than a problem for them. It was just something they could choose to either continue with or, the more likely scenario, remove from their bodies, and then carry on their lives as if none of it had ever happened, as if they had never been lucky enough to have a baby inside them. A little baby that was healthy and snug inside a womb that would not let them down, would not suddenly expel the poor child from their bodies, leaving them not only devastated but, with each painful, bloody failure, feeling less and less of a woman, unable to do the one thing that was expected of them. It was so fucking wrong. She wanted, needed a child more than anything else in the world, yet she had miscarried one after the other. The only baby she had managed to carry longer than a few months had died inside her, and she had gone through the whole pain of early childbirth knowing she would get nothing at the end of it.
She realised that her mother was talking to Michael. She forced herself to listen to their conversation, but she was so hurt, so angry at life.
Michael was shaking his head in amazement now, his earlier annoyance with his wife and mother-in-law gone. He listened closely to Lana as she told him the score about Patrick’s daughters; she was very knowledgeable about them, and their lifestyles – that much was obvious to Michael. It seemed that the women knew far more than the men around them about what was actually going on.
He found himself believing everything that Lana was telling him about the Costello girls and their carryings on. There was a ring of truth in what she was telling him which he couldn’t ignore. He felt the same burning heat of humiliation and anger that his friend would be feeling at his daughters’ shame, and he was sorry to the very heart of him.
‘If Patrick knew that his daughters were laying down with all and sundry on a regular basis he would go off his fucking tree. The men who they have been with can’t have known whose daughters they were cavorting with, surely? No one would dare to touch them knowing they were Patrick Costello’s girls.’
Lana shrugged, irritated now. She had
not trusted her daughter’s husband since the night the Barber brothers had gone on the missing list. He was a dangerous man, who acted like he was normal, but it was all a sham. If she had had her way, her daughter’s wedding would never have gone ahead. Her husband loved him, though; he saw him as the son he had never had, thought the sun shone out of his arse, as did her daughter. But she had sussed the real Michael, and his complete ignorance about men and the lure of girls like the Costellos incensed her. It just proved to her how foolish these men could really be.
‘You listen to me, Michael Flynn. You’d be surprised at just how low some men are willing to sink. From what we’ve heard, those girls have been at it for years. Carmel Costello might not be my favourite person, but she didn’t deserve what those girls have done. She tried to give them a decent start in life. Patrick Costello, the big-headed bully that he is, has to come to terms with his daughters’ actions. It won’t be easy for him, but he has no other option. So remember this for the future, Michael – it takes two to tango. If she can name the father of Patrick Costello’s first grandchild – and that is what her child is, remember, his grandchild, his flesh and blood – I will eat my fucking knitting.
‘And another thing, Michael, while we are all being so honest. I would lay good money on the child being black, or at least dark-skinned. But I expect you and the Costellos will sort it out. “Who would sleep with Patrick’s daughter?” This from a man who knows first-hand what men are capable of, who prides himself on his knowledge of the world around him. Patrick Costello is going to get the shock of his life, and do you know something? I’m glad. It’s about time you realised that you are not the be all and end all. There is always someone who will sneak under your radar, and take what’s yours, destroying everything you hold dear without you even noticing it.’
Michael was utterly taken aback at his mother-in-law’s vehemence. He had only sought to give his wife a bit of gossip, as he usually did when he came home. He told her everything about his life, his work – he always had done.
Josephine, however, had been very quiet throughout this conversation. She had left her mother to tell him what they knew about Assumpta and her unfortunate situation. In truth, he had heard far more about the Costello girls and their sexual gymnastics than he felt comfortable with. He could never let Patrick know that he was aware of any of this.
Lana, he realised, had enjoyed giving him the truth about the situation. Lana had never really been right with him since before his marriage to her only daughter. She had seemed to change overnight. He had put it down to his own mother’s interference, and Lana’s natural concerns for her only daughter. Now, though, he couldn’t help wondering if she just didn’t like him. She had once been his biggest fan – now she had no real care for him at all. Every time Josephine had lost a child, Lana had been there, holding her daughter’s hand, and he had seen her watching him closely, as he grieved the loss of his child with his wife. He had felt her blaming him for each one, even as he guessed that she didn’t want her daughter to carry his spawn.
While they were childless, Lana felt that she had the upper hand. As though the marriage wasn’t really consummated and, therefore, it could be dissolved. She didn’t understand that, as much as he wanted a child, he would always want Josephine more. She was everything to him, and she always would be. It was Josephine who craved a child. He didn’t care any more one way or the other. He just wanted his wife, his Josephine.
He smiled amiably, unwilling to let this woman know that she had affected him in any way. ‘Well, Lana, that’s told me, all right. In future, I will keep my fucking trap shut.’
Josephine could sense the animosity coming not only from her mother, but also from her husband. He had every right to feel aggrieved. Her mother had no right to treat him as she did, to show her contempt for him, and the life he lived. He provided her with everything she could want and more. Josephine knew that she had to say something to her mother. She had to show Michael that she understood how he was feeling, that she was on his side, as she always had been and always would be.
‘That’s enough, now. I think it’s time you went home, Mum.’
Lana looked at her daughter in disbelief. She was being asked to leave, told to leave. It wasn’t a request, her daughter was aiming her out the door all right. It was a dismissal.
Michael smiled genuinely then. He was pleased that Josephine could see his point of view, understood how he hated it when her mother treated him with such contempt in his own home.
Lana felt her face flush with humiliation. Josephine treating her so shabbily hurt her deeply, but she couldn’t retaliate.
‘Come on, Mum, Dad will be wondering where you are.’
Lana walked out of the room with as much dignity as she could muster. In the entrance hall of her daughter’s home, she picked up her coat from the arm of the large leather sofa that was all but lost in the huge space that Lana had always admired. Her daughter’s home was not just big, it was also very beautiful, Josephine had the money needed for such a property. Michael had always given her daughter whatever she wanted but, even knowing that, Lana still couldn’t bring herself to forget what he really was or what he was capable of.
Josephine held the front door open, and Lana walked out of the house quickly. But she couldn’t resist one last jibe; she was so offended at the treatment she’d received, which she felt was so unfair. She wanted nothing more than her daughter’s happiness. Josephine was a lot of things, but she wasn’t happy. How could she be with a violent thug like Michael?
‘I can’t believe you are really doing this to me, Josephine. I would give you the world on a plate if I could and you know that.’
‘Oh, I do know that, Mum, I always have. But Michael is my husband, and he has already given me the world on a plate, in case you haven’t noticed. He has also given you and Dad a good earn. You’ve never been so well off. And if I have to choose between you both, you know it will always be him, Mum.’
Lana walked away. As she got into her car, she heard the front door close loudly behind her.
Michael hated seeing his wife so torn. He wanted to protect her from anything that might harm her. It was his job as her husband. He opened his arms and pulled her into them. He could feel her body relaxing into his, knew that she was where she wanted to be.
‘I’m so sorry, Josephine. I don’t know what that was about.’
She hugged him tightly, enjoying the feel of him, the smell of him. He felt so safe, so strong. ‘Oh, forget about it, Michael.’ She wanted to change the subject. Make it all go away. ‘How much does Patrick know about his daughters, do you think?’
He sighed in consternation. ‘I really don’t know. Declan told me about it in confidence. Patrick hasn’t said a dicky-bird – now I know why. If what your mum said is true, and I think it probably is, Patrick will have a hard time taking all that onboard. Who wouldn’t? He thought the sun rose and set with his girls. They were his reason for living. His kids, his flesh and blood.’
Josephine didn’t answer that. She hoped that her flesh and blood, this pregnancy, would finally come to fruition and give them the one thing they couldn’t buy. Just one child would be enough – that’s all she wanted.
‘I tell you this much though, Josephine. Whoever Assumpta names as the culprit will wish they had never been fucking born.’
Chapter Thirty-Four
Patrick Costello was practically hyperventilating, such was the vehemence of his anger. He knew he had to be alone for a while, so he had come into his office and poured himself a very large whisky. He sipped it slowly, savouring the strong taste, and the burn as he swallowed it down. He needed the alcohol to give him at least a modicum of inebriation, to take the edge off feeling too much.
This had never happened to him in his life before. He was never unable to control his emotions. His daughter’s pregnancy was bad enough but, coupled with her bare-faced refusal to name the culprit, his usual aplomb was rapidly deteriorating. He took an
other large sip of the whisky, praying for it to calm him down and give him some kind of peace. He needed to deaden his emotions for a short while, until he could once more control himself – and his actions.
He was going to kill someone soon – that was a given – and, if his daughter didn’t answer his questions, there was a good chance that the dead person might actually be her. It was her reluctance to name anyone as the father which had finally convinced him there must be more than one person in the frame. If it had been a love job, she would have come clean. He could have accepted that, could have understood the power of youth, of being in love for the first time. He wasn’t a complete fucking moron, he could have overlooked such behaviour if it was down to love. He would still have been angry, but he would have allowed for his daughter, his baby, to have been caught up in her hormones.
But it wasn’t like that at all. This was devoid of any romance and, therefore, of any reason he could have found to forgive her. She had no idea who was the father of her child and she didn’t seem to care either. It was as if the child she was carrying inside her was nothing more than an inconvenience. She just wanted it gone from her, aborted, taken away as soon as. It was actually her complete disregard for the child inside her that really concerned him. His Assumpta, his lovely girl he had adored, was treating her pregnancy as simply a problem to be solved. She did not seem to comprehend the enormity of what was happening to her, that she was now the guardian of another human being, a child that she had created. She didn’t understand that, as Catholics, they had no option but to bring the child into the world, and love it unconditionally, no matter the circumstances of its conception. That was the whole ethos behind being a fucking Catholic in the first place – especially an Irish Catholic. You sinned, and you then lived with that sin. You loved that sin, and you cared for that sin until it wasn’t a sin any more – it was the best thing to have happened to you, a gift from God Himself. It was given to you for a reason – to make you a better person, and show you the miracle of life, and how it can bring you peace, and more love than you could ever imagine.
