The Bright Side

by Alex Coleman

  “Your man who plays Henry is a really nice guy,” I said.

  “He was on The Late, Late Show a couple of months ago. Couldn’t be any more different from his character. He gets letters from old ladies giving out about all the terrible things Henry does and telling him he should be ashamed of himself.”

  “What about Robert?” Colm asked. “Does he get many letters?”

  I had no idea. It wasn’t the sort of information that would have come my way.

  “Oh, yeah,” I said. “Loads. Mostly from girls, you know …”

  “Good man,” Melissa said. “He’ll be off to Hollywood next. Like Colin Farrell.”

  “I don’t know about that,” I said, unable to keep the smile off my face.

  Robert didn’t make another appearance until after the commercial break. This time he was in the pub, talking in a low and serious voice with his best friend, Dodger. I felt the need to do a little more explaining.

  “This guy’s a bit like Valentine, only without the charm. He’s not that bright either. And he has no morals whatsoever.”

  Right on cue, Dodger said he might have a solution to Valentine’s money worries. His plan wasn’t exactly legal – in fact, it was highly illegal – but the risk was small. Was Valentine interested? He was.

  “This isn’t going to end well,” Melissa said when the scene was over.

  “No,” Colm agreed. “Definitely not.”

  “God, I hope they aren’t writing him out,” I said. “He can’t go on forever, I know, but I’d hate to see him going too soon. Off to jail or worse …”

  “Nah,” Melissa said. “He’ll be grand.”

  We watched until the end, but Valentine didn’t appear again.

  Niall did though, shortly after eight.

  He still looked and sounded wrecked, but he said he couldn’t sleep. Melissa and Colm made a big fuss and reached for one of their zoo purchases, the jigsaw puzzle. I said I’d go and put the kettle on.

  Out in the kitchen, I took a few deep breaths and dialled Robert. It rang and rang and rang. But he didn’t answer. I hung up when his voicemail came on. Too good to be true, I thought as I busied myself with mugs and spoon. I knew it. And then my mobile chimed. I dropped the packet of chocolate digestives I’d been failing to rip open and pounced on it. My skin tingled when I saw who was calling.

  “Hello, Robert,” I said.

  “Mum. Sorry, I was on the land line there, couldn’t answer.”

  “Don’t worry about it. So! You were just great, son. And you looked great. Melissa said so too. Very handsome.”

  “Cheers. I thought I fluffed a line in Henry’s office, the one about his suit.”

  “No, no, you were perfect.”

  “I don’t know. It was supposed to sound all agitated and nervous, but I think it came out cocky, like I was taking the piss.”

  “Well, I didn’t think so.”

  This was already just about the most in-depth conversation we’d ever had about The O’Mahonys. And it quickly got even better.

  “Maybe you’re right. Karen didn’t say anything and she’s usually not shy about setting us right. That’s the new director. Mick walked out, did I tell you?”

  “Oh. No, I didn’t know that.” I didn’t know because he never told me anything about work. I’d never even heard of Mick.

  “Yeah. A row about money, everyone says. Good riddance, if you ask me. He was a miserable bastard. Karen’s much nicer. Bit of a perfectionist, but I suppose she’s only being professional.”

  “Oh, yeah. You have to be professional.” “Yeah.”

  “I don’t suppose you want to tell me what happens next?” “Nope. You’ll just have to watch.”

  I heard a smile in his voice and hoped he’d heard the smile in mine.

  “But you’ve seen the scripts and everything, haven’t you? I mean, nothing bad …”

  “Sorry?”

  “This isn’t the beginning of the end of Valentine, is it? Because –”

  “God, no. Onwards and upwards. The stuff we’re shooting now, all this debt business is over and done with.”

  “Good, good. I was worried.” There was a pause. “Were you?”

  “Yeah. I was. Characters get written out, even I know that.” I caught my breath. If I’d said that a week previously, Robert would have said something like “You’d love that, wouldn’t you? Typical.”

  “Not this one,” he said. “If anything, I’m getting more to do. It’s going pretty well, if I say so myself.”

  Relief went through me like a shot of adrenaline. “That’s great. Well, keep up the good work.”

  “I will. Uh … have you spoken to himself yet?” “No. Tomorrow. I’ll do it tomorrow.”

  “All right. Listen, I’m away. Big night out tonight. Again.

  We had a big night out last night too. Very big. Actually, now that I think about it, I might stay in. No – to hell with it, I’ll go.”

  Now he was volunteering social information. It was almost too much.

  “Have fun either way,” I said. “And well done again. I’ll talk to you soon.”

  “Okay. Good luck.” “See ya.”

  We hung up and I went back to getting the tea together, dancing on the spot.

  * * *

  Back in the living room, we had the tea and biccies and all three of us joined in helping Niall with his jigsaw. He wasn’t downstairs for more than half an hour before his eyelids started to droop. Melissa put him to bed again, for good this time, and then we settled in to watch the movie on Channel 4; some cop thing with Denzel Washington. Colm and Melissa seemed to enjoy it, but it washed over me without leaving a trace. I was too pleased and excited by the day’s events to pay proper attention. At eleven or so, I was suddenly overcome with exhaustion; the good kind, the kind joggers are always claiming to experience. I made my excuses and padded off to bed, feeling genuinely happy. Not happy given the circumstances. Plain old happy.

  And that was it – the high point. It was all downhill from there.

  CHAPTER 17

  I woke late on Tuesday morning, at around nine fifteen, and was downstairs less than five minutes later, having showered and dressed at speed.

  “Hiya,” Melissa said, as I entered the kitchen. “Sleep okay?” “Fine, thanks. Where’s Niall?”

  “He’s doing one of his colouring books from the zoo, with one eye on the gorillas DVD that he got at the zoo, while wearing his I’ve Been To Dublin Zoo T-shirt.”

  “Good for him.”

  “He’ll be high as a kite for a month. Now – cup of tea? Cereal? Toast?”

  “Cup of tea for sure,” I said. “And maybe –”

  The doorbell rang. Melissa looked at me as if I had done it with some kind of remote control.

  “Who’s that at this time of the morning?” she asked, then dropped her tea-towel and stomped off down the hall. She seemed to greatly resent the interruption and if the caller had been a salesman or ticket-seller, I’m sure she would have given them short shrift.

  But it wasn’t a salesman or a ticket-seller. It was Gerry.

  My initial reaction, when I heard his voice, was to jump down from my stool and bounce on my toes like an athlete getting ready for the long jump. Then I took a step towards the other door, the one that led to the dining room.

  Niall was coming from the opposite direction; we ran smack into each other.

  “Hello,” he said. “Hi there.”

  He held up his colouring book. “I did a lion,” he said. “Look!”

  Not knowing what else to do, I hunkered down beside him. “Oh, that’s lovely, Niall! You did a great job.”

  Melissa appeared then, pointing behind herself with her thumb.

  “Uh … Gerry’s here,” she said. “He wants to talk to you.” I stayed hunkered down. “Right.”

  And there he suddenly was, peering over her shoulder. “Hi,” he said.

  Melissa stepped into the room. Gerry stayed put. I suddenly thought of A
dam Clayton. I saw him in town one day, walking down South William Street. There was nothing remarkable about him, but I gasped as he went by. Purely because he was so familiar, he seemed somehow more there than everyone else, as if the rest of us were only in 2-D.

  Looking up at Gerry that morning, I experienced a similar sort of effect.

  “Hi, yourself,” I said, horribly aware of the catch in my voice.

  “Come on,” Melissa said to Niall. “Let’s go and watch the rest of your DVD.”

  He grimaced furiously. “But I was showing Auntie Jackie my COLOURING book.”

  “You can show her later, if you haven’t ripped it up or set fire to it. Come on.” She left, dragging him behind her.

  I watched them go, then realised it was probably time I stood up. My knees cracked as I did so. I felt ridiculous.

  “I haven’t come here to argue,” Gerry said, stepping into the room properly.

  I gave him a quick once-over. He looked pale and spent. “Why are you here then?” I asked him.

  He scratched the stubble on his chin. “I just wanted to let you know . . .” He closed his eyes and shook his head.

  At that moment, I would have bet the house that he was going to say, “I’m leaving you for Lisa.” I was heading for the floor again. I just knew it.

  “Chrissy did a stupid thing last night,” he said. The room spun. I teetered back on my heels.

  “What do you mean, stupid? What kind of stupid?” One possible answer occurred to me immediately. It turned out to be the right one.

  “She took a little revenge,” Gerry said. “On … our neighbour.” “Our neighbour? What, are you afraid to use her name?” He nodded as if to say, I deserved that. “Lisa, then. Chrissy put a brick through her living-room window and threw a tin of red paint over the roof of her car.”

  I felt a little finger poking me in the ribs. I’d said something about window-bricking in Arnotts. “Oh, for Christ’s sake! When was this?”

  “About three this morning.”

  “How do you know it was her?” I asked, knowing it was a useless question.

  “Well … she didn’t plan it very well. She threw the brick first, then did the car. Lisa was at her bedroom window like a shot when she heard the noise and she recognised Chrissy. She started hurling abuse and Chrissy hurled some back. She didn’t even run. She just stood there in the drive.”

  I let my head drop and wearily trudged towards a stool. “Terrific,” I said. “You might as well sit down.”

  Gerry did so. I looked at him across the island. He could have phoned me with this information. There’d been no need for him to show up in person. He was using it as an excuse, I realised. I considered calling him on it but decided that there was no point.

  “So, what are you telling me? She’s in jail?” “No. The Guards weren’t involved.”

  “How did you get involved?” I asked. “I can’t imagine you woke up. And I doubt that Chrissy told you.”

  “No, eh … no. The other … uh …” “Lisa told you.”

  “Yes.”

  “Knocked on the door for a cosy wee chat, did she?” “No, Jackie. She kicked the shit out of the door for a very uncosy wee shouting match. She wanted to call the Guards, but I wouldn’t let her. And she made a lot of noise about the repair bills too.”

  I tutted.

  “It was the first time I’d spoken to her,” Gerry added. “Believe it or don’t, it’s up to you. But it’s the truth. If I had my way, I’d never have spoken to her again.”

  “Yeah,” I sneered. “After the way she treated you.” He chose to ignore that.

  “What about Chrissy?” I said then. “What did she have to say for herself?”

  “To me? Nothing. She’d gone by the time I knew what was happening. I called over there first thing this morning, but she wouldn’t answer her door. Or the phone.”

  “Right. I’ll go now. Tuesday’s her day off, she might still be at home.”

  “We should go together.” I froze. He noticed.

  “We don’t have to go in the same car,” he said wearily. “If you don’t want to.”

  “It’s not that … Gerry, she told me …” “What?”

  “She told me she doesn’t want to talk to you. I mean … ever again.”

  He frowned at me as if he didn’t quite follow. “That’s silly. I’m her father.”

  “I know that. But she’s very upset. And angry.”

  “I’m her father,” he said again. It was the only argument he had.

  “I think it’s better if I go on my own,” I said. “Just for today. Just until … just for today.”

  “No,” he said and slowly shook his head. “Everybody’s mad at me, everybody hates me. Fair enough. I deserve it. But I’m not running away from my responsibilities. This is my daughter we’re talking about. I’m going.”

  “But you’ve already tried to talk to her and she wouldn’t. What’s the point in going there again?”

  It was as if I hadn’t spoken.

  “I’m going,” he said bluntly, “and that’s all there is to it.”

  I was tempted to point out that he was in no position to be getting pushy. But I didn’t.

  “All right,” I said. “Separate cars.”

  * * *

  I should have let him pull out first. This was the thought that ate away at me throughout the entire journey from Ranelagh to Chrissy’s flat in Swords. If I’d let him pull out first then I would have been able to lag behind and would eventually have lost him – or rather let him lose me. Instead, I had to drive the whole way with Gerry and the car I had ruined permanently visible in my rear-view mirror. I realised my error at the very first set of traffic lights. As I stared miserably into the mirror, wondering how I could have been so stupid, I was horrified to see Gerry raising his hand and – briefly, tentatively – nodding his fingers, one by one, like a child. What else could I do? I waved back. The moment reminded me of Friday morning and my peek through the front window at home. All these inappropriate waves … If this was a movie, I thought, then that would mean something. I made a shameful effort to get away from him by slowing up at amber lights and then racing through, but it didn’t work and made me so nervous that I abandoned the idea after a couple of goes.

  It was just after eleven when we arrived at our destination. I got out of the car and walked across to the main doorway. When Gerry joined me, we nodded meaningfully at each other like a couple of detectives about to raid a drug den. But that was where the analogy broke down. Real detectives would have said a few words to each other. Gerry and I stuck with the nodding.

  Chrissy’s building was small and squat and frankly ugly. According to the buzzers by the front door, it contained fourteen separate flats, which didn’t seem possible. Chrissy was in number three, on the ground floor. I jabbed the appropriate buzzer and was surprised when she answered almost immediately. Somehow, I had imagined that it would take a while.

  “Yes?”

  “Chrissy? Chrissy, it’s me. Mum. Your mother.” Silence.

  “Chrissy, I –”

  “Come in.”

  The door clicked and opened half an inch. The intercom went dead. I had planned on saying, “I’m here with your dad”, just to remove the element of surprise. Now my chance had gone.

  “After you,” Gerry said and held the door open.

  As ever, I became quite alarmed during the short walk from the entrance to Chrissy’s front door. She paid a small fortune in maintenance fees, but wherever the money was going, it sure as hell wasn’t on maintenance. The walls of the communal corridors were grubby and chipped, the carpets badly stained. There was a funny smell, not unlike that of a dog’s basket.

  Chrissy poked her head out of her apartment while Gerry and I were still coming down the corridor. She didn’t look all that happy to begin with, but once she saw that I was not alone, she bared her teeth and disappeared inside again. The door slammed before we reached it. I decided to go with the no-nonse
nse approach.

  “Chrissy!” I shouted, banging the door with my palm. “Open up right now.”

  There was no reply. Gerry stepped forward and gave the door a gentle little knock.

  “Come on, love,” he said (so softly that I doubted his audibility). “Let’s just have a chat.”

  Still no reply. I tried the thumping and shouting approach again, which meant that we were back in detective mode, this time as good cop and bad cop.

  When Chrissy once again failed to respond, I looked to Gerry and said, “This isn’t working. Maybe you should wait in the car.”

  I expected an argument, but he merely nodded once, quickly, and turned away. All of a sudden, I was furious. A great many factors had contributed to my current predicament, of course, but my daughter’s stubbornness was the one I lighted on.

  “Chrissy!” I roared as Gerry disappeared from view. “I’m not kidding, open this bloody door right now! Your father’s gone, it’s just me. Open up. Now.”

  I heard movement straight away, but she must have just been pacing around; ten, fifteen seconds went by before she returned to the door to reopen negotiations.

  “You’re taking little trips together?” she said incredulously. “Jesus Christ!”

  “We came separately,” I said in a sort of shouty sigh. “And he’s gone now. Open up!”

  There was another series of rustles, and then finally she did as I had asked.

  “Is he really gone?” she said through the crack she’d opened in the doorway. “Don’t lie to me.”

  “No,” I said. “He’s standing behind me and as soon as your guard’s down, we’re going to force our way in.”

  She squinted at me.

  “Yes,” I clarified. “For Christ’s sake … he’s gone.” “Good,” she said, opening up properly. “Because I might throw up if I have to look at his face.”

  “Don’t talk about your father like that,” I said, stepping in and slamming the door behind me. Chrissy jumped, startled not so much by the sudden noise, I suspected, as by my attitude. I forged ahead while I had the initiative. “If you think I’m grateful to you for what you did, you’ve got another think coming. I’m not. Far from it. I’m disgusted. Did it ever occur to you that I might have enough on my mind without you turning to crime on top of it all?”