“Want me to come with you?”
“Not going.”
“I don’t mind. Sisterly duties.”
“Not going.”
“We could go into town afterward. Get something to eat.”
“Not go-ing.”
He waited for the trademark Dee shriek, but it didn’t come. Instead he heard a gentle brushing sound, and then, “Michael, please come out.”
He had been out, before she got up. He’d fed and mucked out the cows, checked on the sheep—
“And don’t tell me you already did, because you’ve only left your room to do your jobs in, like, a week.”
“Three days,” he mumbled.
“Did you say something? You gotta speak up. I can’t hear you, with the door in the way, an’ all. If you’d open it…”
Michael spun his legs off the bed and got up. Whoa. Dizzy. He wasn’t going to church, but he probably should eat something, except he wasn’t hungry. Carefully, he made his way across the room. Dee was still lecturing him, but he wasn’t paying attention, and it all sounded like blah, blah, blah. He unlocked the door, opened it and frowned. Where—?
“Down here,” she said.
He looked down. She was sitting on the floor, legs crossed, elbows resting on her knees, chin on hands, like a little pixie leaning against his doorpost. He rubbed his eyes wearily. “What’re you doing?”
She bounced to her feet and straightened her leggings. “Sitting outside your room,” she said flippantly, but then looked up and smiled. “Worrying about you.”
“I’m OK.”
“’Course you are. It’s perfectly normal for you to not watch TV or go on Facebook for a whole week—”
“Three days, it’s been.”
“—And now you’re not going to Mass? Come on, Michael. Let me in.”
Michael could feel Dee studying his face, scrutinising him, like she was trying to silently crack the safe to all his secrets. Please don’t ask, Dee. Please.
“Something happened, didn’t it? Three days ago?”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“OK. What do you want to talk about?”
Michael chewed the inside of his cheek, trying to think of a way to convince her to leave him alone. He didn’t want to talk. He was too tired.
“Wanna come to Marie’s with me later?”
“Not really.”
“But you are going to.”
“Do you ever take a hint?”
She laughed. “Oh, I get it. But I’m not walking away.”
He was about to close the door on her, but Dee put her hand on his arm, and he froze. Beckoning with her finger, she took a step back.
“Come on,” she encouraged in the same voice she used when she was trying to coax Tess out of one of her hidey holes. “Come on. There’s nothing to be afraid of.”
If only she knew.
“I could give you a riding lesson.”
Michael shook his head.
“OK. We could just go groom Beauty.”
“Can I say no?” Michael asked in irritation.
“To the riding lesson?”
“To everything you’re going to suggest.”
“Only if you follow it with ‘sorry, Dee, but I have to go to church right now’.”
“I’m not going, I told ye.”
“Why?”
“I…don’t feel very well.”
“You had tonsillitis last month. It didn’t stop you going to church.”
“That was different.”
“Yep. That time, you were actually sick.”
“Dee, please…”
“Look. I’m not gonna make you tell me anything you don’t want to.”
“It’s not that.” Michael sighed shakily. “I can’t.”
Dee shrugged. “I understand. I just figured you might want to see something other than the four walls of your room for a little while.”
He still wasn’t entirely happy about it, but he went back inside, put on his shoes, and then followed Dee downstairs. “I need a drink first,” he said, heading for the kitchen. Over the sound of the water running into a glass, he heard Seamus talking in the living room, he assumed to Chancey, or he could have been on the phone. Either way, at the mention of Connor’s name, Michael turned the tap off to listen. Did Seamus know what had happened already?
“…juvenile record for shoplifting, not that it means much. I mean, I got into a good few scrapes with the law in my teens, as did we all, the difference being most of us grew out of it.”
“Are you ready?” Dee asked. Michael put his finger to his lips and tilted his head in the direction of the living room. Dee rolled her eyes but stayed quiet and listened with Michael as Seamus continued talking away.
“If it wasn’t for his uncle, the lad would’ve been sent down the last time. He can be a bit of an arse, can Martin O’Grady, but family’s everything to him.”
“Michael!” Dee hissed.
“All right! I’m coming!” He gulped down the entire glass of water in one go. Dee was already out of the door, and he had to run to catch her up.
“Are we really gonna brush your horse?”
“Groom.”
“Same difference.”
Dee huffed. “It’ll make you feel better.”
Given there was nothing that could possibly make him feel worse, he compliantly fell in step beside Dee, moving back to trail behind as they approached the stable. Dee unbolted the door and entered, quietly saying hello to Beauty as she moved around with slow precision, clipping two short reins to the bridle, which she attached to rings on either side of the stable doors. She went through to the storeroom at the back to get the brushes and other tools, leaving Michael and Beauty eyeing each other up. He’d never been this close to her before, and she was truly beautiful. Deep soulful eyes with long black lashes, a narrow white flash down her nose and hair with the colour and sheen of a chestnut. He wanted to stroke her, but he was nervous.
“You can groom her flanks,” Dee said, handing Michael a brush. “It’s her favourite thing. I’ll start at the front.”
Michael moved to Beauty’s left side and began to brush from front to back, quickly becoming entranced by the pattern the bristles made in the horse’s sleek coat.
“See?” Dee said. “She’s got her ears up.” Dee stroked Beauty’s nose. “You love that, don’t you, girl?”
Michael smiled and continued brushing. Dee was right about it making him feel better. The horse’s body was smooth and solid beneath his palm, grounding him, and he could feel his troubles ebbing away to a safe distance. The ache in his neck and shoulders from weeks of stressing finally started to ease.
“Are you still getting hassle on Facebook?” Dee asked without looking away from what she was doing.
Michael immediately tensed again. “I didn’t know you knew,” he said quietly.
“Shit.” Dee frowned. “I, um… OK. Remember that time I borrowed your phone?”
“Um, no?” He mimicked her ‘stating the obvious’ tone. She’d looked at his messages?
“There was a group conversation on the screen when I went to log you out. I only read a tiny bit, and I…” Dee sagged. “I blabbed to Marie. I’m sorry.”
So that’s how Marie found out. “It’s all right,” he said, though it wasn’t. Not at all.
“I shouldn’t have said anything. I just didn’t know what to do. I’m really sorry, Michael.”
He appreciated her honesty, but he still wasn’t happy. If it had only been the online stuff, then Dee telling Marie and Marie telling Shay would have put an end to it. Now it was worse than ever, but that wasn’t Dee’s fault.
“I’m glad you told Marie,” he said, and he sort of was. Dee had done it because she cared about him, and it was no longer his lonely secret. “I’ll tell you what happened three days ago, because if I don’t, I think I might go mad. I understand if you need to tell your dad about it, but I’d rather you didn’t.”
; “If you don’t want me to, I won’t. I promise.”
“I’d never make you promise that.”
“Why not? It’s only my dad.”
“Do you realise how lucky you are to have him?”
“He’s a pain in the ass.”
“He loves you, and he’d kill to protect you.”
“He’d do the same for you.”
“I doubt that very much, but he’d tell Seamus, and I don’t want him worrying about me.”
Dee looked him straight in the eyes. “Tell me what happened three days ago.”
Michael took a deep breath for courage, and began.
<<<>>>
He had to admit he was impressed. Three mornings on the trot, Dee had got up early and gone out with him to deal with the cows. Considering her dad was a cowboy, she seemed to know surprisingly little about caring for cattle. She was shirking, he knew, but he was glad of the company just the same. It kept his mind off his troubles and stopped him going stir crazy.
With the morning jobs done, they returned to the house and Dee went for a shower, muttering all the way up the stairs about how much cows stink, although it was the feed that stank, not the animals, and she’d been nowhere near that. Once she was out of the bathroom, Michael also went to shower and then took his time getting dressed, trying to eke out the day. He was so tempted to check Facebook, but what was the point? The only person who spoke to him these days was Dee, and she was just across the landing. He heard her bedroom door close.
“You in there?” she called.
“Yep.”
“OK. I’ll see you downstairs.”
Michael sighed at the inevitability of another day spent doing what Dee wanted, checked his reflection in the little mirror on his chest of drawers, gave his hair a quick ruffle with a brush, and went down for his orders.
“So Christmas shopping, then,” Dee said, gathering together her phone, bag, scarf, gloves…
“Wh-what?” Michael had done all of his Christmas shopping already—he’d even bought a present for Tom to say thank you for sticking up for him, which was stupid, really. How was he going to give it to him? Secret Santa? But even if he hadn’t finished his shopping, there was no way he was going anywhere that Connor might be.
“My dad said if you’ll be my chaperone, I’m allowed to go shopping.”
“Why d’you need a chaperone?”
“Because…because he’s my dad?”
“Fair dos. But why me?”
“Why not you? Come on. Let’s get outta here.”
“But—”
“Dad’s gonna drop us off and pick us up.”
“But—”
“Unless you’d prefer to stay back and help clean the house before Paddy and Aidan get here.”
Christ, he’d forgotten Seamus’s brother and brother-in-law were coming for Christmas. He’d been looking forward to seeing them again—before all the hassle started—and it pissed him off. Connor had no right to ruin his Christmas. No right at all.
With that realisation, Michael’s misery became determination. “Right then, Deidra. Let’s do this thing.”
<<<>>>
“Me arms are gonna be down past me knees at this rate,” Michael grumbled as Dee shoved yet another bag his way. She looked him up and down, and grinned.
“They are already,” she said. Michael made a sulky face, and she laughed. “I think we should go get hot chocolates.”
“Fine by me.”
They walked back up the high street to the very festively decorated and steamy coffee bar a minute’s walk from where they’d arranged for Chancey to pick them up at five o’clock. It was already half past four—just long enough for a hot chocolate and a giant cookie each. Or three—after hardly eating for days, Michael’s appetite was back, and he was starving.
While he munched away, Dee took out the many gifts they’d bought and laid them on the table. “Who’s that tie for?” he asked through a mouth full of double choc-chip.
“Um…” Dee smoothed the grey silk flat and shrugged. “I thought Aidan might like it.”
“OK.” Apart from for his wedding, Aidan hadn’t worn a tie, as far as Michael could recall, but he didn’t want to rain on Dee’s parade, so he changed the subject. “Thanks for looking after me these past few days.”
She shrugged, only half paying attention to Michael because she was absorbed with her phone. “I’ve got nothing better to do.”
“Ha! Thanks very much!” Michael folded his arms and huffed.
“Stop being so hypersensitive, Michael.”
“Hypersensitive? Are you kidding me? You’re the only friend I’ve got, and only because there’s ‘nothing better’.”
“I didn’t mean it like that.”
“Right.”
Dee flashed him a glare and angrily shoved all of their purchases back into the bags. He felt a pang of guilt, because she was right; he was being hypersensitive. At no point since Sunday had she complained when he’d snapped at her, and he’d done so several times, even though he knew she was just trying to find ways to cheer him up. They’d had a great afternoon together, and he wasn’t about to undo that, especially when they had house guests.
Dee’s phone chimed. “My dad’s here,” she said, locking her phone again and sliding it into her pocket. Michael stood and held out his hands, ready for her to load him up with the bags. She did the honours and then looked him sternly in the eye. “And for the record, I like it when we do stuff together. The only thing I’d like more is a boyfriend.”
Michael laughed. “You and me both. I’m sorry.”
She smiled up at him. “Forgotten already.”
Despite his burden, she slipped her arm through his, and they walked to the car park, where Chancey was waiting in the pickup. The radio was blasting Christmas songs, and Dee gasped excitedly as she fished in one of the bags, pulling out a small white box. Shuffling along the seat, she reached forward, plugged a cable into the cigarette lighter, up-ended the box on top of the dash, and then slowly lifted the box away.
“Deidra…” Chancey warned, though he was laughing, too.
“Uh-huh?” Dee nodded and grinned at her dad.
“Oh my God, that’s wicked!” Michael hadn’t seen Dee make this particular purchase, and the pair of them ended up giggling helplessly as, over and again, the miniature Santa on the dashboard dropped his pants and mooned through the windscreen at whoever happened to be in front of them.
They sang along to the radio all the way back to the farm, pausing briefly to collect their bags and point out the car parked in the yard—Paddy and Aidan’s hire car—before they resumed singing at the tops of their voices and went inside.
“D’you think you could lower the volume a little?” Chancey said, going ahead of them down the hallway.
“Daddy, don’t be a grump,” Dee broke out of song to say. They dumped their bags at the bottom of the stairs and trooped into the living room. And stopped dead.
Aidan was sitting in the armchair, while Patrick sat on the arm, but that wasn’t who stopped Dee and Michael in their tracks. It was the other two people sitting on the sofa—a woman Michael didn’t recognise, and a man he did.
“H-Harrison? What the…?”
“Hey, Mike.” Harrison smiled, although it was a terrible smile, like he was waiting for a bucket of cold water to tip over him at any second.
Michael shook his head in disbelief. Harrison was here for Christmas? He beamed at Dee and then charged straight over to Harrison and threw his arms around him. “Harry! You’re here! Best pressie ever!”
Interlude:
Christmas Eve with
The Williams Brothers
An evening of singing Christmas carols—what better way to spend Christmas Eve? First up, Patrick, who had drunk too much sherry, crooned his way through ‘The Little Drummer Boy’, leaving Aidan doe-eyed and gooey.
“Jaysus, Paddy,” Seamus exclaimed, shaking his head in dismay at his younger brother. “What�
�ve you done to him? I swear he never used to be a soft eejit.”
“Ha. Says he with the sappy cowboy almost sittin’ in his lap.”
Seamus glanced down at Chancey’s legs and then up at Chancey’s face. He grinned, feeling warm all over. Their first Christmas together, and they had a houseful. Perfect.
“Right, so, what you gonna sing, then?” Patrick asked.
“Well…” Seamus’s gaze remained on Chancey as he spoke. “I was thinking I’d sing ‘Away in a Manger’ but with the right tune. You know what I mean, Paddy?”
“Aye, I do that.”
“The right tune?” Chancey asked.
“Yeah. Not that dodgy version yous all sing.”
“Maybe our version is the correct one?”
“Aye, and Jesus was born in a stable in Texas, was he?” Seamus began singing ‘Away in a Manger’ in an exaggerated Texan accent and to the ‘American’ melody. He just about made it to the end of the first verse before he was crying with laughter, as was everyone else in the room.
“Christ, Seamus, you fairly murdered that, didn’t ye?” Patrick ribbed.
“I’ll sing one for real after Harrison and Pru have had their turn,” Seamus said, with a wink at Harrison’s friend Pru, surprised when she shook her head. She’d struck him as being something of a party animal. In fact, in her presence, the formerly quiet and unassuming Harrison was a lot more fun than he’d been the last time Seamus had seen him.
“Nuh-uh. I sing like a frog with a sore throat.”
“Aw, come on, Prudence,” Harrison goaded. He, too, had downed a few glasses of sherry, and it had made him chatty and daring. “Any requests?”
“Silent Night?” Pru suggested, miming pulling a zipper across his lips. Harrison gave her a weary look.
“I’ll sing with you, Harrison,” Aidan offered.
“There ya go.” Pru folded her arms and sat back, clearly pleased to be off the hook.
“You know, Aidan, I think our ‘Silent Night’ would blow ’em all away. What d’ya think?”
“Sure.” Aidan shrugged and stepped over Patrick’s legs—he was sitting on the floor and leaning against the sofa, with Tess lying next him, on her back. Patrick made a grab for Aidan, and he stumbled, letting himself fall into Patrick’s arms.
Seeds of Tyrone Box Set Page 65
