Headbanger
Page 22
There was a quiet sense of euphoria too in walking through the streets again. The fact that he was travelling on foot in another man’s clothes made him feel light-headed. He should not be alive at all. And perhaps he wasn’t. He was existing in a kind of twilight, a life after life, or some kind of angel state beyond death, marching with great Gulliver steps in the opposite direction to the general flow of commuters. He seemed to be heading into the wind, moving like an unseen ghost while the traffic rushed past him. He saw faces peering out through the windows of a bus as if they were blind and could not see him. He thought of waving at them but then moved on, heading out along the railings of Trinity College, along Merrion Square, stopping briefly outside a shop to watch people coming and going, buying newspapers, Kleenex, Polo mints for the office. People rushed up granite steps and disappeared into Georgian buildings. Drivers fought over the last parking places while Coyne slipped quietly out of the city. Further out he found himself waiting for a bus, facing out over an endless stream of cars. It was almost silent. As though the sound of the traffic all around him had stopped or been substituted by the crashing of waves and he was standing on the last outcrop of rock, facing out to sea. This was the afterlife. Coyne standing at the bus stop, raising his arms into the air, blessing the rush-hour tide. When his bus came at last, he went upstairs, a solitary passenger on the upper deck.
Fred told Carmel they normally find the body within ten days. As he drove her home, he asked her if there was anything he could do to help. He said he would stay at the house for a while to keep her company in her grief. This was a great tragedy. A moment when the whole nation stood behind her, he said. Carmel collected her children from her mother’s house and went home. The house was empty when she got there. Detectives had already taken fingerprints and left. One unmarked Garda car was still outside, keeping vigil. And as soon as they got inside, Superintendent Molloy phoned to offer his condolences, insisting that the Gardai would make all the arrangements for the funeral. Coyne was a contemporary hero, as far as he was concerned. He had fought the worst enemies of the city. There would be posthumous medals. Molloy said he was coming over to pay his respects, personally.
Mrs Gogarty sat down in the kitchen and began to cry. The children wanted to know why. What was wrong? And Carmel was preparing to tell them – your father had to go away for a while. But how could she explain that he would never come back? They measured his absence in shifts until they saw the dark blue shape of his uniform through the front door. Words like forever and never were concepts that only Coyne could explain.
Carmel gathered the children around her by the kitchen table. Your Dad, she said. He won’t be coming back.
Mrs Gogarty looked at them all red-eyed, waiting for the shock of the news to appear in their eyes. Carmel had to hold all their hands. They looked puzzled. What did she mean, he wasn’t coming back. They looked around at the solemn faces, Carmel, Mrs Gogarty, Fred, waiting for somebody to tell them what was going on.
And then Nuala looked out through the glass in the back door and saw her father on the swing outside. He was rocking back and forth, staring at the sky. Unaware that they had returned.
He’s out in the garden, she said, laughing. He’s hiding outside, on the swing.
Everone stood up and saw Coyne sitting on the swing in his ill-fitting clothes. Tears instantly sprang to Carmel’s eyes as she opened the back door. Then she couldn’t help laughing. This was ridiculous, she thought, as they all stood looking out at Coyne wearing another man’s suit. He was smiling at them. Testing the strength of the ropes. Making signs at her to come out and sit on his lap.
So she ran out and sat on his knee, holding on to him.
Why don’t you draw me on the swing? he said, putting his arms around her.
What, in those clothes? she answered, looking him up and down, feeling the bristle on his face and running her hand through his matted hair.
Jimmy came out and began to push them, rocking his parents back and forth slowly. Nuala and Jennifer ran over to help him, all three of them pushing as though they could never allow the swing to stop. As though they had to keep the swing going for ever to make sure that Coyne and Carmel would never get off. To make sure they remained locked in their embrace for ever. To make sure Carmel would never stop kissing Coyne’s face. At the window of the kitchen Fred and Mrs Gogarty looked out in amazement. They were joined in the same moment by Superintendent Molloy, who stood aghast at the back door, holding an enormous bouquet of flowers in his hand. Next door, Mr Gillespie watched these new antics with great concern. Sad bastard, he muttered to himself, as he leaned down to pick a ball out of a hole in the ground.
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This edition published in 2017
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© Hugo Hamilton, 1996
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