The Carmel Sheehan Story

by Jean Grainger

  Joe put his arm around Carmel, who was trying to formulate a response but failing. His voice when he spoke was one Carmel had never heard before, dark and threatening. ‘My daughter has every right to go wherever she likes in her own country. And, the day she left that miserable farm was the day her life began. She is my daughter, my blood runs in her veins, and I will never allow you, or any member of your pathetic family, to hurt her ever again. And, her husband is from Pakistan, not India, you ignorant woman, and he is a wonderful man who loves her as she deserves to be loved, not treated like some kind of unpaid maid for your emotionally stunted father. Now, I suggest you take yourself off and leave us alone, or I’ll have you arrested for harassment. Your poor Daddy, as you call him, made Carmel’s life hell along with that auld wagon of a sister of his, and you seem to have followed in the same path. But no more. You have nothing to do with Carmel, or any other member of our family, so take your lardy arse off now and don’t bother us again, do you hear me?’

  Carmel smiled involuntarily. Joe sticking up for her, her dad, fighting her corner, felt so great. She didn’t know where it came from, but the sight of Niamh, so outraged she couldn’t actually speak, struck her as so funny.

  ‘How dare you laugh at me, you little tramp?’ Niamh hissed, leaning forward, spittle escaping her Botoxed, scarlet lips. Just as she was about to continue, a tall, harassed-looking man intervened.

  ‘Niamh, I’ve been looking everywhere for you...’ He noticed Carmel. ‘Oh... Carmel? How are you?’

  ‘Hi, I’m fine, thanks.’ Carmel smiled weakly at Niamh’s long-suffering husband. Theirs was the wedding she had hoped to be involved with in some way. She’d even applied for a passport in case Niamh invited her to go wedding dress shopping abroad, but Niamh had taken Julia instead. Cillian was always a nice lad, though. He’d spoken kindly and politely to Carmel on the few occasions they met. What he was doing with the dreadful Niamh was anyone’s guess.

  ‘Cillian, if I were you, I’d take her out of here before she finds herself up in court for harassment.’ Joe was stern. ‘Come on, Carmel, the rest of the family will be wondering where we’ve got to.’

  He led Carmel away down the street, leaving Niamh seething and snapping at poor Cillian.

  Joe led her into a bright, sunny pub and, without asking what she wanted, ordered her a brandy. She caught a glimpse of her reflection in the mirror behind the bar; she was snow-white.

  She said nothing but took the drink and allowed Joe to bring her to a corner table. He’d got a pint for himself and took a long draught before saying anything.

  She sipped the brandy. It was so strong but warming. She realised she was trembling. ‘I’m sorry,’ she began. ‘I should have—’

  Joe leaned over and took her hand. ‘You have absolutely nothing to apologise for. That woman is a poisonous bitch, and she needed putting in her place. I was glad I got to do it. Who the hell does she think she is? I’ve never hit anyone, least of all a woman, in my whole life, but that was the closest I ever came.’ Carmel had never seen him so angry.

  ‘I thought by avoiding Birr I’d manage to avoid all the Sheehans, but I forgot Cillian is from Galway,’ she said. ‘They must have been here visiting his family or something. I had my eyes closed, leaning against the shop, the sun on my face. It was lovely. I would never have done that before, I’d have felt foolish, and if Bill heard I was going around Birr leaning against walls with my eyes closed he’d have probably had me committed to the county home.’

  From nowhere, Carmel felt the urge to giggle, a combination of relief and entertainment at the idea of her sleeping against shops in Birr—and the image of Bill’s perplexed outrage at such mental behaviour. It made her laugh so hard the tears came down her cheeks, and she shook with laughter.

  Joe watched in amazement as she laughed at the hilarity of the image, but it was infectious and soon he joined in. Within moments, the two of them were almost in convulsions, wiping their eyes and barely able to catch their breath. Two German tourists looked on in bemusement, and the barman who was wiping glasses nearby grinned.

  Eventually, the laughter subsided.

  ‘Oh, Joe, I feel better. I don’t think I’ve ever laughed like that before, but that image just tickled me. Everyone back there in Birr, full of opinions on everyone else’s business, and me just sleeping up against walls... Julia and Bill would need to be sedated to cope with it.’ She wiped her eye once more.

  ‘Well, I’m glad you can see the funny side, pet, even if you have a quirky sense of humour.’ He winked and took another drink from his pint of Guinness.

  ‘Look, what can they do to me at this stage? Nothing. And poor old Cillian. I always liked him; he’s a grand lad.’

  ‘He seemed OK, for the one second I saw him. He’s got his work cut out dealing with that one, though. She’s a lighting wagon, as my mother used to say.’

  ‘Oh, he does. I remember their wedding. Nothing was good enough, like, the money they spent, well, she spent, it was obscene. And Bill signing cheques away for everything, he never saw any wrong in them, and to be honest, they both grew up very spoiled. Sinead—that’s the other girl, Niamh’s twin—is a bit nicer, but neither of them really bothered much with me. Julia was in their ear, though, since they were tiny, so they were predisposed to hating me. And then, when I left Bill, well, that was the icing on the cake, as they saw it. I never had a relationship with them so there was nothing to lose. So I don’t actually know why Niamh was so angry...’ Carmel was surprising herself that she could be so reflective and calm about it.

  ‘Well, as you say, small town, gossip, she probably feels that you disgraced her father or something. But there’s no excuse for the way she spoke to you. None at all. And I’m glad I got the chance to tell her to her face.’

  Carmel looked at Joe, the face she had come to love so much and said, ‘When I was small, I remember this nun in the primary school, she was horrible. Some of them were nice, but this one, she was really mean. Anyway, at the time, kids got free milk in school, but I hate milk, always have—and it drives my asthma crazy. Sharif says it’s often the case with asthmatics; dairy exacerbates breathing problems sometimes, so people who suffer from that tend to shy away naturally from milk and things. Anyway, I asked one of the care workers, not a nun, one of the lay people who worked in Trinity House, to write a note for me to the nun to say I didn’t have to drink the milk. So, the next day, I was terrified, but I handed her the note, signed by the care worker. Another girl in the class, Julie Murphy, also had a note from her dad saying more or less the same thing. Well, the nun went mad, almost inflated in front of me—and she was huge to begin with. I was only a skinny little eight-year-old, and she went mental. Slapped me and Julie with a meter stick and made us stand up for the whole day, no lunch allowed or anything, for having the cheek to ask not to have milk. We were just changing over from feet to meters in those days, so each class had a meter stick, but she used it for slapping the kids.

  ‘Well, Julie went home and told her dad, and the next day he came down and knocked on the classroom door. It was a big timber door with lots of small panes on the top half, solid wood on the bottom. She didn’t open the door, just continued on with the lesson, but held her hand up to the timber bit on the side of the glass to stop him opening it. We were terrified and fascinated at the same time, chanting our eight times tables or whatever, wondering what was going to happen next.

  ‘Well, she’s calling out the tables, and next thing, he wraps his fist in his jumper and smashes his hand through the glass pane, grabbing her by the veil and tugging it off her. We never saw a nun’s head before, they were always covered, so we were just gazing, horrified and terrified and thrilled all at the same time. He dragged her head close to his and through the door said, “If you ever touch my daughter again, it will be the last thing you ever do, you dried up auld Mickey dodger.” He left and we all sat there, not knowing what to do. The nun just pulled herself together and carried on as if not
hing had happened, but she never so much as looked sideways at Julie Murphy for the whole year after that. I remember that night, lying in bed wishing I had a dad to stand up for me like that. And today, my wish came true.’

  Instantly, just like with Sharif, Carmel regretted telling the story.

  But she and Nora had discussed it often, and they’d come to the conclusion that Carmel would have to tell the stories of her childhood, even if it upset Sharif or Joe, because it was the only way of being true to herself. Still, it was hard to see the pain in Joe’s face.

  ‘I wish I could have gone down there, I wish I could have protected you, loved you, I wish things had been so different.’ Joe’s voice was choked with emotion.

  ‘I know you do, and so do I, but I didn’t tell you that story to make you sad. I told you because I want you to know it’s never too late. Sure, I could have done with parents when I was small. Things would have been so different. But then, it was Dolly led me to Sharif, and then to you, so who knows? Maybe it was for the best. It seems much worse in hindsight, I know it does, and compared to the childhood Jen and Luke had, well, it’s like chalk and cheese. But I’m OK. I’m more than OK, I’m happy. I’m getting stronger every day, and having Sharif and Nadia and all of you, well, like I said, it’s a dream come true.’

  Chapter 17

  When everyone met for fish and chips in the big pub on Shop Street, Galway’s main thoroughfare, the cacophony of voices was almost deafening. There was a huge group of young people, some of them carrying instrument cases, on one big table and the entire McDaid clan on the other. Jen had strolled in to meet them, and she looked rested. Sharif and Zeinab had yet to appear.

  Luke and Carrie were busy telling everyone about how they’d ended up at an African drumming class in the park.

  ‘It was so...like, OMG, like healing or something?’ That upward inflection again. ‘Lukie and me are going to buy some and go busking on Grafton Street when we go home, aren’t we, Lukie?’ She was sitting on his lap, her arms around his neck, nuzzling him.

  He grinned. ‘Er... We’ll see...’

  ‘I can just see the Garda Commissioner being over the moon about that, a member of the vice squad drumming away on the street for spare change.’ Joe winked and nudged Carmel, who was sitting beside him. ‘Just the image the Gardai are looking for.’

  ‘Leave him alone,’ Carmel chided. ‘I’d love to try drumming. It’s supposed to be very good for you.’ She wanted to support her brother, who was getting it from everywhere. Jen and Damien were constantly teasing him, and now Joe as well.

  ‘Thanks, Carmel. It’s nice to know at least one member of my family isn’t picking on me 24/7.’ Luke sighed in mock despair.

  ‘Where’s Sharif?’ Carrie asked.

  ‘Still shopping with Zeinab. He promised to buy her a souvenir.’ Carmel grinned and moved to make space between her and Joe as Nadia returned from the ladies’. Carrie and Luke were on the other side of her father, and Tim was across the table, so whenever Zeinab did arrive, she wouldn’t be able to monopolise Joe.

  With all the business of meeting Niamh, Carmel had never gotten to raise the issue of Nadia with Joe. Instead, she was just going to observe. She deliberately made chat with Tim, Jen and Damien, Sean conked out in the buggy beside them, leaving Joe and Nadia to talk.

  Tim was telling everyone a very funny story about something that happened to him and Brian in Indonesia, and Carrie was very busy nuzzling and kissing Luke, who seemed to have no objections. Every time Carmel glanced over, Joe and Nadia were deep in chat, and they seemed perfectly happy in each other’s company.

  The food arrived just as Sharif and Zeinab entered the bar laden down with bags. Sharif’s face lit up when he saw Carmel, and she pushed over on the bench to make room for him to sit beside her.

  He filched one of her chips. ‘God, I’m starving. I thought I’d never get her out of the bloody shop.’ Then he murmured in her ear, ‘I missed you.’

  A young waitress with lots of tattoos and piercings and multicoloured dreadlocks passed Zeinab by, despite her gesticulating wildly to attract the young woman’s attention. The girl instead stopped beside Sharif.

  It was something Carmel noticed and she often teased him about, how female waitstaff were so attentive. He was gorgeous, of course that was why. Even girls much too young for him could see that. Carmel could see the admiration in this girl’s eyes as she took the order. He did look particularly sexy today in a burgundy shirt, open at the neck, and petrol-coloured jeans that hugged him in all the right places.

  ‘Carmel, you look like a fox in a chicken coup, gazing at him like that,’ Jen whispered to her as Sharif discussed wine with the girl. ‘Not that I blame you, of course.’

  Carmel reddened. ‘I wasn’t... I was just...’

  ‘Just admiring your gorgeous man, I know. As I said, nobody would blame you.’ Jen winked and turned her attention back to what Tim was saying just before they were all distracted by a commotion at the other end of the table.

  Zeinab was trying to insert her rather ample bottom into a space between Joe and Luke, despite there being a perfectly good chair on the other side of the table. When it became evident that she simply wouldn’t fit, she almost barked, ‘Oh, for goodness sake, Nadia, you know I need to have my back to the wall! I can’t sit outside, I’ve told you that so often, but you never listen. Look, you come out here and sit on this chair, and I’ll go in your seat by the wall.’

  Nadia was about to leave her seat, despite the fact that her food had already arrived, when Joe piped up, ‘Look, my grub hasn’t come out yet, so why don’t you take my seat, Zeinab, here beside Nadia, and I’ll sit out there with Tim?’ Before Zeinab could think up any other reason, it was all done and a very disgruntled Zeinab found herself beside her sister, far away from the object of her desires.

  Jen tucked in with gusto. ‘I’d love a beer,’ she grumbled as Damien ordered another pint. ‘Don’t ever let me hear you saying the “we’re pregnant” remark. If we were pregnant, we would both be on the fizzy water.’

  ‘I know,’ Damien said. ‘I’ll make it up to you when the spare arrives...’

  ‘The what?’ Sharif asked.

  ‘The spare, that’s what we’re calling him. Like, y’know, the way the royals have an heir and a spare? Well, we already have the heir, so this one’s the spare.’ Damien winked surreptitiously, knowing the effect his words would have on Jennifer.

  She glared at him. ‘That’s what you’re calling him, or her—it might be a girl, you know.’

  ‘Joking... I’m joking, my darling... I know how crap it is, feeling sick and knackered tired all the time. And you’re being such a trooper, I mean it, I’m so proud of you.’ He gave her a kiss, and her frostiness melted.

  The fish was smoked cod, and in the thin beer batter with a tartar dip, it just melted in the mouth. The chips were cut from real potatoes and smothered in salt and vinegar. It was delicious. Sharif finished his huge portion and then started on what was left of Carmel’s. She wondered where he put it all. He ate so much but never gained weight.

  ‘So, Joe, what’s on the agenda for tomorrow?’ Nadia asked.

  ‘Well, tomorrow and tomorrow night and possibly the next day, we’ll be in the glorious county of Mayo,’ he announced extravagantly.

  ‘Where we’re hoping I won’t be run out of town,’ Tim added wryly.

  ‘Well,’ Zeinab said, ‘I must say, if we were in Pakistan, a man who lived such a lifestyle...’

  Only Carmel and Carrie heard her. All the others were busy laughing at Sean, who had spread ketchup all over the table surface. But she wasn’t done. Carmel was horrified. What was she about to say? She couldn’t let the others hear.

  ‘Isn’t it so funny how they named a place after a sauce?’ Carrie piped up loudly.

  Everyone turned to her, bemused.

  ‘What?’ Jen was perplexed, and even Luke’s brow was furrowed.

  ‘Mayo, like, it’s totally random, ri
ght? Like there’s nowhere called Ketchup or Mustard, is there, Lukie?’ She smiled innocently.

  Joe stifled a smirk. ‘Well, Carrie, pet, I think the name comes more from the Irish word,Maigh Eo, and when the British changed the place names, they didn’t really consider what it meant, just what it sounded like. So that’s why we have such funny-sounding place names. In Irish they make perfect sense.’ Joe’s smile was kind so as not to humiliate her.

  ‘Oh, I see,’ Carrie said and gave her attention to her meal, but not before giving Carmel an almost imperceptible wink.

  Carmel exhaled. Carrie had really saved them acute embarrassment there. Zeinab was about to launch into her ‘gay is a lifestyle’ rant. She’d treated Carmel and Nadia to it one afternoon after meeting the outrageously camp Zane, and they had been horrified. Of course, Zane had ramped it up for Zeinab. He’d explained to Carmel once that being gay in his West Indian culture was still very much frowned upon, and he’d endured terrible bullying as a kid, so now he was out and proud and to hell with anyone who objected.

  But Zane was only one side of the story. Tim was quite another. He was gentle and quiet, and Carmel would have been mortified if Zeinab had said anything hurtful to him.

  Zeinab shifted uncomfortably in her seat, and Carmel shot her what she hoped was a clear warning. She’d known the older woman still was having trouble accepting Tim. One evening before the trip, she’d asked why Tim didn’t just take anti-gay drugs or get hypnotised to get him ‘back to normal.’ She’d then gone on to explain that he’d probably never met the right woman and got nervous so he resorted to his own gender out of fear. And, according to her, there were no gay Pakistani men.