Locked Out of Heaven

by Shirley Benton

  “Stop feeling guilty,” Sammy said. “Whatever you’re thinking, stop it.”

  “Is it that obvious?”

  “You’re sucking not only your bottom lip into your mouth, but your entire chin. Relax. Everyone deserves a night away from reality once in a while.”

  “What you need to worry about now, Holly, is how you’ll get your kids back from my sisters,” Sallyanne said. “They absolutely adore them. Those children are a credit to you.”

  Sallyanne came over to the table with a huge tray. She unloaded four plates containing mounds of sausages, rashers of back, black and white pudding, hash browns, eggs and beans. Damo recoiled.

  “Sorry, Mum, but I can’t eat this. I think I’ll have to go back to bed.”

  “Go on. You’re a sight for sore eyes anyway,” Sallyanne tutted. “You should be old enough to know better than to do this to yourself, Damien.”

  “It’s half Rory’s fault,” Sammy said. “If you hadn’t fallen asleep so early last night, Rory, Damien wouldn’t have come down to Hannigans at all.”

  Damo got up and left. As soon as Sallyanne took the tray away, I saw Rory touching Sammy’s arm.

  “Sammy, I didn’t fall asleep last night,” Rory said in a low voice. “Damo just got up and left.”

  “Really?” Sammy looked at me. “Well, obviously there was something drawing him down to the pub, so,” she winked.

  “Come with me.” I pulled Sammy into the sitting room and filled her in on what happened with Damo.

  Sammy giggled. “Sounds like one of those ‘Is it raining? I hadn’t noticed’ moments from Four Weddings and a Funeral.”

  “It couldn’t have been further from that moment, I’m afraid.”

  “Ah, the drink was to blame. There will be another opportunity, if that’s what you want?”

  I shrugged. “In a way, yes, but it’s all so complicated.”

  Sarah ran into the room.

  “Mummy, I can sing the nashional amptem,” she said, breaking into something that vaguely sounded like the first line of the Irish national anthem.

  “The national anthem instead of the Hail Mary – wow, my aunts are branching out, fair play to them.”

  We bade a reluctant goodbye to Sallyanne and Jimmy the following morning and made the return journey to Dublin. Damo talked and joked all the way back, but no reference was made to the kiss by either of us. And then we were back in Blackbeg.

  “Let me help you with the luggage,” Damo said when we pulled up outside Susie and Willie’s house.

  I walked the children to the front door while Damo sorted out our stuff.

  “Okay, that’s everything.”

  “Thanks, Damo.”

  There was an awkward silence. Even the children didn’t come up trumps and ask for something. They just stood there as if they, too, were waiting to see what would happen next.

  “Holly, about Stephen’s night . . .”

  “Yes?” Damo glanced at Susie and Willie’s front window and hesitated. Then his eyes shifted to the children. “Em . . . we should talk about it another time.”

  I didn’t know if I was relieved or disappointed.

  “Okay. Next time.”

  He nodded and walked back down the driveway without saying goodbye. I watched him go. When I turned round I, too, glanced at the front window, expecting to see a fraction of Susie’s face peering out. I didn’t.

  In retrospect, I should have known right then that something was badly wrong.

  Chapter 47

  As I walked in the door, I was full of resolve to sort things out with Susie. I had no idea that everything was about to change forever.

  The kids and I bundled ourselves and our luggage through the front door, Sarah doing a rendition of “Hark now hear the angels sing,” while Debbie sang a first cousin once removed version, “Fart now beer a bagel ring.” I decided not to correct her.

  “We’re back!” I yelled into the unexpected quietness of the house.

  I opened the sitting room door to find Susie and Willie sitting on the couch, completely silent and staring off into space. The telly wasn’t even on, and I knew from experience that it was Telly Bingo time. Whatever this row was all about, it was even more serious than I’d thought.

  “Everything okay, guys?”

  Susie didn’t react. Willie just shook his head.

  I heard Hayley’s voice in the kitchen, talking to the kids. I immediately went out to her.

  “I didn’t know you’d be here, love,” I said, giving her a hug.

  “Dad dropped me off half an hour ago. Mum, Granny and Granddad are acting really weird. That’s why I’m out here. They won’t say a word to me or to each other. They haven’t even had one argument since I arrived!”

  As Hayley spoke, Sarah stood on a chair and pulled some Ferrero Rocher out of a tree-shaped plastic container in a cupboard. Debbie started tickling Sarah’s ankles and repeating the words “Want some!” on a loop.

  “Hayley, can you take the kids down to the shop for an ice cream while I talk to the folks?”

  “Ice cream? It’s freezing!”

  “Live dangerously. No, don’t. I’m being sarcastic, just so you’re clear.” I pressed money into her hand. “Off you go, good girl. Don’t lose any of them.”

  Hayley dragged the double buggy out from under the stairs then put Oran in the back and Debbie in front. With Sarah declaring herself the designated buggy pusher, they took off. I waited until they were at the end of the driveway before going back inside. I had ten minutes at most to get to the bottom of things.

  I returned to the sitting room and sat down between Susie and Willie. I looked from one to the other. They didn’t even register my presence.

  “What in the name of Jesus is going on?” I screeched when I eventually couldn’t stand the tension any longer.

  Susie didn’t even flinch. Willie slowly turned towards me.

  “Your mother has ovarian cancer, Holly.”

  My world stopped. For a few seconds, I didn’t even know where I was, who I was, what I was doing. Eventually, I came to.

  Stay calm. Whatever I did or said next, it had to be said as if I was asking about something inconsequential. If there was one thing I’d learned from Ricky’s death, that was it. Susie didn’t tolerate histrionics.

  “When did you find out?” was all I could think of to say.

  “The day before you recorded Meal Massacre,” Willie said, even though I’d directed my question at Susie.

  “You should have told me,” I said flippantly.

  I sounded like I was annoyed over her not telling me it was raining so that I could bring the washing in, even though she’d been standing at the kitchen window staring out.

  “She didn’t tell me, either,” Willie said. “The only reason I know is because I read a letter from the hospital by mistake.”

  “Was it about treatment? Are you starting something soon?”

  “Oh no, Holly. That would be what any normal person would do, but you know your mother – she has to be different. She’s not accepting treatment.”

  “What?” I stood up, all pretence of nonchalance abandoned. “Why in the world would you not?”

  Susie inhaled slowly. “It’s too late,” she said on the exhale. “I have stage 3 ovarian cancer. It’s spread. The odds of survival even with treatment aren’t good. My plan now is to enjoy the days I have left. Live a little.”

  I remembered her uncharacteristic enthusiasm for Meal Massacre, the red dress, and shivered.

  “No, Mum! You can’t just lie down and—”

  “Die?”

  “Accept this! You have to fight! That’s what you do, remember? That’s what we do.”

  “Every boxer hangs up their gloves sometime.”

  “So that’s it? Cancer wins? And who cares about the rest of us!”

  “This isn’t about you, Holly.” She got up. “Tea and biscuits time for me. It’ll take more than cancer to come between me and my Viscounts.
And don’t follow me, either of you, because I’m not saying another word on this subject.” She stopped in her tracks. “Ah! Christ, Willie, we’re after forgetting Telly Bingo. See if you can get it up on the RTÉ Player there, will you?” She left without waiting for a response.

  “I was hoping you could talk sense into her,” Willie said.

  Ricky’s death excluded, he looked as defeated as I’d ever seen him.

  “She’s never listened to me once before in her life, Dad. She’s not going to start now.”

  The sound of giggles drifted through the window. I glanced out. Sarah’s ice cream on a stick that looked just like the Golly Bars I’d loved years ago was melting and dripping down her coat. Debbie was covered in ice cream – her face, her hair, her clothes – and looked like a human snowball. Even Hayley was smiling.

  After everything they’d been through, how was I going to tell my kids we were going to lose Susie?

  The next few days brought the ever-present element of surrealism in my life to a whole new level. Susie was stoical about her condition, almost unmoved, as if somehow she’d been expecting this or had been waiting her whole life for something tragic like this to happen. Her only reaction since I’d discovered the truth had been to bump up her daily intake of fags from twenty to sixty a day. She didn’t smoke in the house when the kids were around, so she now spent most of her time sitting on the step outside the back door, or huddling in the garden shed if it was raining. Even Ricky’s death hadn’t sent her into sixty-fags territory. Things were indeed very bad.

  I wandered out to the garden. I knew I’d find Susie somewhere – all I had to do was follow the smell of smoke. She was sitting on an old Castrol GTX oil barrel that was wedged in between the back of the shed and the fence at the end of our garden. God only knew why that barrel was there, but it was easy to work out why Susie was.

  She threw her eyes to heaven when she saw me.

  “Will I actually have to die before I get any peace round here?”

  Susie inhaled so hard that half of her cigarette burned away instantly. It was like watching a child suck spaghetti into its mouth. I watched, fascinated, despite the fact that there were glaringly obvious more important things to think and talk about right then. She usually took short drags of her fags and tried to make them last, but it looked like those days were over.

  “Don’t look at me like that,” she said sharply. “I’m fucked now anyway. And my lungs aren’t the problem, are they? I should never have cut down, for all the good it did.”

  She suddenly looked delighted with her twisted justification in her vice. I wriggled into the limited space behind the shed and lowered myself onto the ground beside the oil barrel.

  “I suppose there’s no chance of you lot moving out now that you know about this, is there?” Susie said. “My God, talk about bad timing. Your social welfare and rent allowance finally comes through before Christmas, then this puts the kybosh on everything. I won’t be able to go to the toilet without one of you lot following me now. I’m stuck with you all being my shadows until the day I die.”

  “Moving out is the last thing on my mind now.” Everything to do with the requirement to make money and move things on seemed insignificant now. “Doing the treatment will buy you some time, surely?”

  “And what good is that if I’m too sick from chemo and surgery to stand being alive?”

  “But isn’t there a chance the treatment will cure you?”

  “It’s a very low chance.”

  “Any chance at all is worth it!”

  “Worth it for whom? I’m the one who’ll have to go through all that misery and suffering knowing that the odds of it doing me any good are minimal. It might make you two feel better knowing something is being done, but you’re not the ones who’ll be experiencing it. So no, I won’t be taking treatment and prolonging the inevitable just to let you two sleep better at night. It’s better this way.”

  “But—”

  “No, Holly. Don’t be so goddamn selfish. I’m not answerable to anyone except myself. Go inside now.”

  “Susie—”

  “I’m telling you nicely. Don’t make me turn nasty.”

  “But—”

  “Holly, fuck off. You, of all people, telling me what to do! You had a problem with your marriage and you ran away from it. You uprooted your kids and put your ageing parents out for your own purposes. You did what you wanted to do. Why can’t I? Why do I always have to be thinking of what’s best for you lot?

  “Cliff will hardly miss seeing me a few times a year – it’ll probably be a relief for him when I’m gone. Willie will have peace at last and as for you . . . well, if this is the catalyst to get you to go back to your husband, some good will come out of it. Overall, it’s better this way.”

  “I can’t believe you’re just giving up!”

  “I’m facing reality. I suggest you try it sometime soon.” She waved a hand lazily in my direction. “Don’t let me keep you, Holly. This cubbyhole isn’t big enough for both of us.”

  Dismissed. And it would be exactly the same story on my many subsequent attempts to talk to Susie. Once she was determined to do something, she’d do it – and it looked like dying was no exception.

  Chapter 48

  31 December 1994 (continued)

  I wasn’t finished, Diary . . .

  “Hawaiii! Get up here!” Susie shouted.

  For someone who had a pathological fear of stairs and always had to take the escalators in shopping centres, Hawaii managed to make it upstairs before Susie had finished her sentence. You could tell she couldn’t wait to get back to the centre point of the drama.

  She was smirking when she walked in, but the smile soon died on her face when she saw the state of my hair. I’d barely washed the shampoo out and hadn’t even touched conditioner.

  “What kinda style d’you want?”

  I shrugged.

  “Do an updo,” Susie said. “Something sleek.”

  Hawaii frowned so hard that her eyes disappeared.

  “When it comes to this mop, we don’t have time for something sleek.”

  “Oh, no wonder you can’t get a job! Just use your imagination and sort it out.”

  The next hour – maybe it was more, maybe it was less, I don’t know – passed by in a blur of hairspray, powders, chiffon and false gaiety from Sheila, who was determined to cajole everyone into pretending everything was just fine, thank you very much. When it was finally over, Susie pushed me in front of a mirror.

  “Now, look at yourself! A big change from a while ago, eh?”

  I looked at my reflection impassively. My hair was . . . high. I wasn’t sure how to describe what Hawaii had done – half chignon, half beehive, I suppose was the most accurate way to attribute it to some form of hairdo – but she’d added about three inches of height to my frame by whatever the hell it was she’d used. My make-up was striking and far too overdone for my taste, but my taste wasn’t coming into anything today, so really, it was just perfect.

  The dress made me look delicate and fragile as opposed to just small. I resembled a little pixie who’d been sprinkled with magical fairy dust and temporarily transformed into something far more beautiful than it actually was. But no amount of external help could even begin to impact on how I was feeling inside, Diary. If I’d felt bad this morning at what I was about to do to Terry, it was nothing compared to how devastated I felt about destroying Damo through what I was about to do.

  I met Susie’s eyes in the mirror and glared at her. She stared back challengingly at me, daring me to do something and knowing I wouldn’t. In that moment, I hated her. She may have given up her life for me and all the rest of the same stuff I’d heard over and over throughout the years, but that was no excuse for her living her life vicariously through me and forcing decisions on me. But she could do it, because she knew I’d never turn my back on my family – not after everything we’d been through. The trouble was, I wasn’t confident enough that sh
e wouldn’t turn her back on me. Susie had been a loose cannon since Ricky’s death and was capable of anything.

  My cousin Annie, whom I couldn’t stand, was my bridesmaid. I’d ordered her to get herself ready at home, even though her mother, Sheila, was coming here, and to meet us at the church. I told her it was because I’d be sick with nerves if there were too many people around and although she probably didn’t believe me, she was happy to do things that way. She didn’t like me any more than I liked her and both of us knew we were only going through the motions because our mums would have throttled the pair of us if we didn’t.

  Susie forced me to wait downstairs with her, Hawaii and Sheila until it was time to go. Willie drove me to the church five minutes before the ceremony was due to start. Terry had wanted to organise a limo and all that nonsense, but I’d put my foot down, even though Susie had sulked for days about it. I actually couldn’t believe she hadn’t gone behind my back and organised one anyway.

  I prayed for the journey to take longer than it did, Diary, but a drive to a church that was less than a mile away was never going to take all that long. Willie tried to do small talk all the way, but I was having none of it. For a few seconds, I hated him, too. He was as tough as nails with the neighbours whenever anyone pissed him off, but he let Susie get away with murder. I knew there was no point trying to rally him for support against Susie, so I just ignored him and let him mumble about how weddings didn’t suit me and he hoped I’d only do this once.

  “Well, look at that. Bang on time,” Susie said when she’d pulled up in Hawaii’s car – which she was driving while Hawaii had sat in the passenger seat looking annoyed – before making her way over to us.

  She said it as if it was a stroke of luck, instead of being the result of a organisation on her part to make sure I wasn’t a second late.