In a Moment

by Caroline Finnerty

  They asked her where he was and she wanted to scream to him to run and make a break for it, to run away from it all, but she gestured to his bedroom before breaking down, convulsed in grief, knowing their lives were forever going to be different from this moment onwards. She heard his startled wakening from the hallway, she heard them read his rights, she heard the click of handcuffs and bedroom door belonging to her two younger children opening and their sleepy heads appearing, wondering what on earth was going on. She hadn’t known what to expect, maybe some resistance or that he would put up a fight, but she watched her son crying as he was brought out of his bedroom in handcuffs. He looked smaller, as the inches of his macho bravado had gone. An image of him on his first day of school flashed into her head. Her son. She walked up to him and squeezed his hand and whispered, “I’m sorry. I love you.” She could see the tears in his eyes and there was unmistakable fear within their depths. He looked like the boy that he was. She watched as they pushed his head down into the back of the squad car and then drove slowly out through the estate. She felt her legs get weak and somehow she found her way to the floor. The confused faces of Chloe and Kyle, her own despair. They huddled together heaving in grief. Her heart felt as though it had been knifed in two, split down the middle and left exposed. This was the ultimate betrayal.

  41

  The first time Jean had been to visit Paul was one of the most difficult and emotionally draining days of her life. To see her son behind prison walls was devastating. He was allowed visitors for half an hour every Saturday.

  On her first visit, she was shocked by the security procedures and searches she had to go through just to see him. She had only ever seen this sort of thing on TV. She watched as other people went through the screening rituals, like it was so normal to them. It seemed like water off a duck’s back to some of them, but it dawned on her that maybe they had been coming here for years. Once she was led inside, it was like another world entirely. Life, albeit of a different kind, still carried on behind the old stone walls.

  She had been shown to a small table where she waited for him to appear. As she looked around the room, she saw women with small children running around their feet, there were older people visiting adult children, people of all ages and all types. One particularly well-dressed lady caught her eye. She was dressed immaculately in a full-length fur coat and jewels that you just knew cost obscene money. A man of a similar age was led in to meet her and she wondered what their story might be.

  Eventually she saw Paul being led into the room by an officer. Her heart lurched and yet again she wondered how had she let everything go so wrong that her son had ended up here? She felt the tears filling her eyes but she forced them back. She needed to be strong for him. After all, he was the one having to spend his time locked up here; she could still go home to her comforts, to freedom. The case had yet to go before the court so they still didn’t know how long his sentence would be but she knew that the judge would look upon it severely, a hit-and-run would never be shown any leniency.

  “Hi there,” she said, her voice shaky as she forced herself to act as normally as she could for Paul’s sake.

  “Hi, Mam.” He looked up at her with those large blue eyes that made her melt when he was a baby. For the first time in years there was no anger in them.

  “So how are you getting on?”

  “I’m having a real laugh.” Although he was sarcastic, he was smiling at her.

  “Are they feeding you okay, looking after you okay?”

  “It’s all grand – except obviously I can’t leave, but there are a few lads the same age, so we hang out together.”

  “Well, that’s good, love.” Jean tried to hide her doubt and anxiety. Of course she wanted him to have friends but not the same sort of friends that he had on the outside. How would he ever break the cycle if he kept on meeting the same sorts?

  “Look – I’m sorry, I really am,” she said.

  “I know, but what could you do? I’m not angry.”

  He was being civil, acting like an adult, and it felt strange to her. Strange and good.

  They chatted until a guard came up and told them they had only five minutes left so it was time to start wrapping it up. Jean couldn’t believe the visit was nearly over already.

  “Chloe and Kyle said hi. And Nana, Granddad and Auntie Louise.”

  She didn’t want to bring the twins to visit him, she didn’t want them to see the bleak inside of a prison, she wanted them to stay as carefree and innocent as they could be in the circumstances.

  He said nothing.

  They chatted generally until a guard came up again and told them their time was up.

  “Okay, well I’ll see you next week, yeah?” Her voice quivered.

  “Thanks, Mam.”

  She could see tears in his eyes. He wasn’t the big macho man full of bravado that he pretended to be, he looked vulnerable instead. She leant forward and wrapped him in her arms, his head pulled in tight against her chest. She wished she could keep him there. Soon though he was being pulled away from her.

  “I’d better go, Mam.”

  “I love you,” she mouthed at him, before convulsing into tears.

  She had gone home and fallen to pieces. She knew she had no right to grieve in comparison to the family that had lost their baby but in some ways she couldn’t help but think that she had lost her son too. Yes, he was physically present in the world, but thirty minutes a week across a table supervised by guards for God only knew how many years was hardly a great way to see your son. And he was still so young; it was all such a waste. What if she had done things differently? If she had acted sooner or stood up to him earlier, might things have been different? She knew he would never be the same again, how could he be after spending time in a place like this? She knew he would emerge, with that exterior people seemed to have when they came out of prison, as if they were now hardened to the world.

  Her family had rallied around ever since she had phoned them to say that Paul had been arrested for his involvement in the hit-and-run. They had been stunned and equally devastated by the news. Although he had been out of control over the last few years, they knew the real Paul underneath: the smiling baby, the good-natured child. They also found it hard to accept that this was his fate and they couldn’t do anything to help him now. They blamed themselves for not acting sooner. Louise had said that if she had known that Jean was saving up to move out of the council estate, she would have just given her the money. But there were so many ‘if onlys’. Jean tormented herself with them, but they had to accept that hindsight wouldn’t help any of them.

  They had insisted there and then in giving her the money to rent a house in the town and to get the hell out of the estate. They knew it wasn’t the solution to Jean’s problems but, if it prevented the twins from going down the same route as Paul, it would be worth it.

  Jean was relieved to finally be able to leave behind the estate so full of bad memories. Every time she looked out the window at the graffiti, the gangs of teenagers younger than Paul, starting out on the same road that he had gone down, she feared that might happen to Chloe and Kyle too. They were at an impressionable age and she knew she had just a year or two before they would want to be hanging out with their peers.

  She was looking forward to the fresh start in their new home; they all needed it after everything they had been through.

  It was emotional boxing up all of Paul’s clothes and belongings and wondering when he would get to use them again. She would come across family photos of him that she hadn’t seen in years and his smiling innocent face would tear her apart. There were a few from his eighth birthday party with big gappy teeth and freckled cheeks as he blew out the candles on his cake. She was glad she had happy memories though; glad she didn’t know then all the pain that lay ahead for them.

  On the day of the move Rita from next door had come over with a small present and some sweets for the twins, saying that she’d miss seeing them b
oth about the place. Jean promised her she would keep in touch and that they would call in to see her frequently and take her to see their new home. Rita had been so good to her over the years.

  The new house was a world away from the house with the leaking windows that were always full of condensation running down the insides. It had all the mod-cons like a dishwasher and a tumble-dryer, luxuries she could only have dreamed about before, but Louise had insisted that they pay the bit extra and have somewhere decent for her and the twins to live. The twins each had their own bedroom for the first time in their lives and she even had an en-suite bathroom with an electric shower. She had to swallow back when she thought about Paul and that he didn’t have a room here. The house was closer too to the twins’ school; they would now be able to walk every day instead of having to get the bus. There was also a good secondary school nearby.

  Although Jean was grateful to her family for all they had done for her, she still wanted to be able to pay her own way so she was back looking for a job. She was lucky that she had a lot of experience from her last job, plus they had given her a good reference, which she supposed she ought to be grateful for under the circumstances. She had a few interviews lined up, all with local firms so she prayed she would get one of them. She knew she had to keep busy, it was the best thing she could do. Although the last couple of months had definitely been the toughest of her life so far and her heart had been broken in two, she could see a glimmer of light again.

  Part III

  42

  Emma had been out Christmas shopping with Zoe when she got the call that would forever change her life. Ironically, it was her first day to leave Fionn since he had been born six months before. She hadn’t wanted to leave him and had hummed and hawed about whether or not to go but, with less than two weeks left before Christmas, she needed to make a start on her shopping. She knew that by having a baby in tow she would get nothing done, between trying to manoeuvre a buggy around shops that were thronged with people and stopping for bottles and nappy-changes, so reluctantly she had left him at home. Adam had practically pushed her out the door, telling her that he’d be fine and he was looking forward to having his son to himself for the day. So with trepidation and a long to-do list, she had kissed Fionn goodbye on the top of his silky head and pecked Adam on the cheek, making him promise to call her if he wasn’t sure of anything. Anything at all, she had reiterated and Adam had laughed at her and gently propelled her out onto the doorstep.

  Sitting on the bus into town, she had stared at her phone, waiting for Adam to ring. After half an hour of that, she rang to check things were okay. He had told her to stop worrying, that things were fine, all under control and to enjoy the day of shopping.

  She had met Zoe then and relaxed into it. They had strolled down Grafton Street where a crowd had gathered around a group of carol singers collecting for charity. They stopped to listen to the spectacular voices as they lifted upwards for the soprano notes of ‘Oh, Holy Night’. The street lights were switched on and swags of ivy adorned with red bows hung from the buildings on either side. Even the lampposts had garlands wrapped around them so they looked like giant candy-canes. The shop windows were all embellished with festive sparkles of red, gold, silver and green, some with traditional snow scenes with slow-moving Santas and elves busy at work. It was hard not to get caught up in the atmosphere.

  They trailed around a few shops, trying on clothes, which was a novelty for Emma who hadn’t had much opportunity to buy clothes since she was pregnant. She couldn’t walk past a baby boutique with a washing-line of miniature outfits hanging in its window. When she came across a ridiculous plum-pudding outfit, complete with a hat that had a holly leaf on top, she couldn’t resist buying it for Fionn.

  As they strolled along side streets, peering in through the windows of the antique jewellery shops, her eye was taken with a vintage chronograph watch with a silver face. It had a manual wind and a brown leather strap. Knowing it would be perfect as her Christmas present to Adam, she had gone inside to look at it. She ran her fingers over the leather strap, softened by years of wear, and when she turned it over she saw it was engraved with the initial ‘A’. An ‘A’ from times gone by, she thought sadly. She took it as a sign. She waited while the shop assistant wrapped it for her. She couldn’t wait to give it to Adam.

  When the shops started to get crowded they decided to treat themselves to a glass of wine over a leisurely lunch. They took seats in the noisy bistro, the floor around their feet covered with their shopping bags. Emma had ordered a goat’s cheese salad and Zoe had gone for a panini. They were sitting back, satisfied with their purchases and sipping their Pinot Grigio, when her phone rang.

  It was her mother. She mentioned something about a car accident. And Adam. And Fionn. Emma couldn’t process all those words together. Her world stopped, she could hear her mother still talking to her at the end of the phone but she couldn’t answer. Nothing would come out of her mouth. She zoned out from the chatter in the bistro, still going on around her. Zoe had grabbed the phone from Emma’s hand and, when she hung up, her face was ashen. She hopped up and steered Emma out of the restaurant, hailing a passing taxi to bring them to St Mary’s Children’s Hospital telling the driver it was an emergency and to hurry on.

  Zoe using the word ‘emergency’ had startled Emma. Was it an emergency? She felt she was watching all of this from above. Only for Zoe, Emma didn’t know what she would have done.

  The taxi had overtaken slow drivers and broken red lights so that only minutes later he was dropping them off outside the hospital. Emma’s dad met them in the entrance foyer and Emma realised that he had been waiting for her. He wouldn’t make eye contact with her but she could tell instantly from his red-rimmed eyes that he had been crying. She remembered thinking how strange it was because she had never seen her dad cry before. He pushed open a door and guided her into a small room with just a laminate-topped desk, a chair and a trolley. Emma had wondered how he had known the room was there or even how there was no one in it.

  Then he said the words that shattered her from within, piece by piece: Fionn was dead.

  Her chest had tightened until her lungs wouldn’t allow her take in any more air. The voices around her became loud and jumbled and her sight became a blurry vision of thick yellow and black stripes. She felt herself sliding away. Her mind left her body, floating upwards, and her feet deserted her until next thing she knew she was falling to the floor.

  When she came around they were still in the room and she was lying on the trolley. They asked her if she wanted to see him. She nodded her head. It was an automatic response but what she meant was that she wanted to see him as she had seen him that morning, smiling and pudgy and happy, but she couldn’t get the words out and they had guided her into a darkened room and placed the delicate body of her baby in her arms. Then they had backed out of the room, closing the door behind them, leaving her alone. It was all wrong. She just stood there for a while, not sure what she was meant to do or even what was happening. She hoped that maybe they had made a mistake and that he really was just sleeping. She stroked the smooth head of her baby. He looked like he was just sleeping.

  After a while she sat back into a rocking chair that was in the room, just staring at him. He was perfect; the only mark on his delicate skin was a small purple bruise over his left temple. Was he really dead? Were they sure? Didn’t doctors sometimes get these things wrong? She stroked his face, which was soft like a peach; it was still warm to the touch but she knew it was not warm enough.

  She whispered into his ear the stories she used to make up about farm animals, while she brushed his downy hair back and forth, using her fingers. She sang the lullabies that had soothed him and she told him how dearly she loved him.

  The doctors had come in after some time and told her it was time. It had taken a while to register. Time for what? Then they explained that it was time to say goodbye. How was she meant to say goodbye to her son? She didn’t want to
leave him go, her baby boy. She was overcome and had heard herself screaming. She didn’t remember much after this. She assumed they had sedated her.

  * * *

  The next few days were a blur of heavy medication, awakening and remembering the awful truth, being overcome with grief and then more tablets. The days blurred into night and back into day again but the change in light didn’t register with Emma. She felt black permanently. It was too awful a thing for a person to take in, so she couldn’t, and instead stayed within her own world inside her head. Concerned faces came and went from her bedside. She had been plied with sleeping tablets by the familiar face of her childhood doctor and these allowed her to retreat back into her place of deep sleep, away from all the worried faces and the horrible physical pain in her chest. Each time she woke she had a blissful few seconds before she remembered what had happened and then her world crashed down all around her and she would relive the horror again.

  It was like a cruel trick every time. And then someone would give her a tablet and she would sleep once again.

  43

  It had taken them nearly three years to get pregnant. Emma had been broody for a long time before she got married. She had wanted a honeymoon baby and had naïvely thought it would be that easy. She had assumed that she would decide the time and a baby would duly oblige her.

  She had done all the preparation. She had done research on what were the best days to conceive, she had started taking her prenatal vitamins and folic acid several months before the wedding. She was ready.

  When they first started trying to conceive, she had assumed that after giving her body a month or two to adjust to coming off the pill it would simply be a case of ‘wham, bang, thank-you, ma’am’ but she soon learnt it wasn’t that easy for everyone.