by Jackie Walsh
With a drink in my hand, I walk out to the two women. Besides Amanda, who is upstairs feeding Shay, and Conor, who I haven’t caught a glimpse of in a while, Olive and Deirdre are the only other people I have anything in common with. Abbie is always stuck to Noel, hanging off his arm like she doesn’t trust him.
‘Hi,’ I say, arriving at their side. Deirdre clicks her glass against mine.
‘Great party, how did you manage to organise all of this so quickly?’
‘How do you think?’ I say, before swallowing down a great big gulp of wine. I haven’t allowed myself too much up to now. I felt it was important to keep my composure while saying the first hellos to all these nice people.
‘Maggie,’ the two women say together, causing the three of us to break into laughter. We chat for a bit, everyone admiring everyone else’s attire before moving on to talk about the beautiful church ceremony.
‘Shay didn’t find it all that beautiful,’ I say. The girls laugh again. I join in but my attention is drawn to the lack of activity in the forest at the end of the garden. Still no sign of Pat. I wonder if he will show his face.
Maggie is calling everyone’s attention to the buffet which has now opened. A young girl behind the table of delicious-looking food stands ready to dish it out and a queue is beginning to form. I take the opportunity to check in on Amanda who must be bored stiff upstairs. Conor is coming back from the loo as I exit the door.
‘Everything okay?’ he says.
‘Yes, great, your mam is playing a blinder…’
Conor moves towards the crowd who have gathered for the food and I continue upstairs to where Amanda is lying on the bed, reading her phone. She puts her finger to her lips when I enter. ‘He’s asleep,’ she whispers.
‘Great, come on down, the food is being served.’
Amanda pulls herself off the bed and slips into her shoes.
‘Will he be okay?’ she says.
‘Yes, gosh, he can sleep on his own, you know.’
‘But what if he wakes up?’
I point at the monitor beside the cot and pull her by the arm onto the landing. I want her to come downstairs and be with me so I don’t feel like a complete outsider at my own party.
* * *
The younger crowd are arriving when we get downstairs. I notice Amanda’s charm jump up a notch as we welcome them in the door. My attention is focused on their demeanour; does anyone look nervous to meet me? Could one of these people have sent the card? It turns out the seven of them – three couples and one guy – are full of beans, all chat and excited to be here and thanking me for the invitation. I’ve only met one of the couples before, Bruce and Fiona, and they hand me a present before making their way into the kitchen.
Everyone is eating, except me. I picked at a few canapés earlier and now I’m not hungry. I’m anxious, someone in this room may have sent the card. I take a second glass of wine and go over to where Amanda is sitting with Olive and Deirdre who have moved inside, leaving the outdoors to Conor’s mates. Noel and Abbie are standing outside with them. I wonder if that’s why Olive moved. Pushing in beside Amanda, I ask if the food is nice and they all agree it’s gorgeous.
‘Are you not having any?’ Olive says to me.
‘Not yet, I’ll wait for a while.’
I want to mention Noel and I’m wondering how to bring him into the conversation when he walks in through the big glass open door. He glances down at me, smiling, then looks at who I’m with. The smile disappears and he walks on. Olive has seen him but returns her focus to the plate balancing on her lap.
‘Did you hear Noel is moving away?’ I say.
Olive stops cutting the meat on her plate, but she doesn’t look up at me.
‘Is he? Where to?’ Deirdre says, before filling her mouth with a forkful of ham.
‘Somewhere in the Middle East; he could be there for up to a year or more, which is why we had to bring forward the christening. Conor insisted Noel be the godfather.’
Olive continues to cut the food on her plate but says nothing.
‘Is his wife going with him?’ Amanda says.
‘You can be sure she is,’ Deirdre says. ‘The guy is hardly allowed to go to the toilet on his own, she’s always hanging out of him.’
‘I wouldn’t let that fella off on his own either,’ Amanda chuckles.
Olive immediately turns her head to Amanda. ‘Why?’ she says, lifting her glass.
‘I wouldn’t trust him as far as I’d throw him.’
‘But you don’t know him,’ Olive says.
Amanda looks over at me, slowly lifting her glass to her mouth.
‘She was just joking, Olive,’ I say. ‘It’s just because he’s a good-looking man.’ I can see Amanda in the corner of my eye trying her best not to laugh.
‘Well, people should be careful what they say, even in jest.’
Deirdre is chewing in silence, looking at her plate and no one else. Olive tilts her head back and downs a large gulp of wine. Amanda’s comment seems to have bothered her. But why? One minute she’s refusing to shake Noel’s hand, the next she’s sticking up for him. I’m about to mention Noel again in the hope that Olive might say something more about him when a hand lands on my shoulder. It’s Maggie.
‘Time to cut the cake,’ she says, bending over close to my ear.
‘What do you mean… cut the cake?’ What is Maggie talking about? This isn’t a wedding, there’s no ritual for cutting a cake at a christening. Is there?
‘Conor has gone to get Shay,’ she says, hovering, waiting for me to move. I stand up like an obedient child. Shay is asleep. The poor baby has had enough thrown at him for one day, first, getting drowned by the priest, then all the photos we had to stand for.
‘He’s asleep,’ I say, but before I have time to protest any further Conor walks in through the door with Shay in his arms. He’s even managed to put his gown back on. Conor probably knew I’d object to wakening him. Putting on a fake smile, I walk over to Conor with the intention of venting my anger. There are times I feel he does whatever his mother wants. It’s like she has him under a spell. Or could it be guilt?
When I arrive at Conor’s side, I see that Shay’s eyes are open and he looks content so I say nothing. Seeing Shay relaxes me.
‘So, what do we have to do now?’ I say in a low voice, my finger gliding over the warmth of Shay’s skin.
‘I’m sure we’ll be told soon enough,’ Conor says. Maggie is all smiles, hooshing people out of the way as she pushes a trolley with the cake through the crowd. More photos. We smile. I’m standing by the cake when I lift my head to view the crowd. In the distance I see Olive whispering something in Noel’s ear. Noel’s expression hardens. His narrowed eyes follow Olive as she walks away from him.
Chapter Forty-Five
Photo after photo after photo. Maggie made the two of us pose with nearly everyone in the room. It was worse than my wedding day, and this time I had the added burden of scrutinizing each person wondering if they sent the card. But everyone was as nice as could be and I’m still no closer to figuring out who it was. Eventually, Amanda took Shay back upstairs to where he’s now sleeping. I hope. I’ll owe Amanda big-time for this. She’s been great.
In the corner of the room, I spy Olive and Deirdre having a drink, so I slither out from talking to Helen and a group of Maggie’s peers, and go over to sit with them. It’s too late to go back to the subject of Noel; it might look suspicious after what I had seen.
Grabbing a glass of red wine from the counter, I walk over and ask Olive and Deirdre if they’re ready for another drink. Both nod that they’re fine. Olive says she’ll only have one more or she won’t be able to drive home. I’m amazed she thinks she can with the amount she’s had already. You wouldn’t get away with it in the city but down here the rules seem to bend depending on the occasion. She’s not the only one with a car parked outside.
Conor has organised a minibus to collect people later and drop them home, but
the mere suggestion seems alien to some people. And with Detective Fintan leading the way – the man must be on his fifth pint by now – I guess they all feel safe. Let’s hope the detectives from Dublin aren’t planning on making a visit to the village today.
‘I know I shouldn’t say it, especially when I work there… but I find it hard to drink the beer.’ Deirdre is speaking softly so I lean in closer.
‘All beer?’ I say.
‘Well, not all beer, just the Callbrew.’
‘Oh. I prefer a glass of wine myself but I used to drink beer when I was younger.’
‘So did I,’ Deirdre says, a slight slur creeping into her words. ‘And I liked it, but after the accident I just can’t bring myself to swallow it. It reminds me of—’
‘Ah, stop,’ Olive interrupts. ‘Don’t be so stupid.’
‘I know but…’ Deirdre crosses her arms over her chest and shivers briefly. ‘It’s just a bit creepy. I was there that day, said goodbye to the man before he ended up—’
‘Stop it Deirdre, for God’s sake,’ Olive says.
Deirdre giggles and looks at me. ‘Sorry,’ she says.
‘You don’t have to say sorry to me, I never even met him.’
Olive excuses herself to go to the bathroom, asking Deirdre if she wants one more drink before they go. It’s almost six o’clock now and people are beginning to leave. I’m really enjoying myself now, the wine has warmed my attitude, and I’d love for people to hang on a bit longer. Hopefully some of the younger ones will.
When Olive steps away, I ask Deirdre if she knows Pat who lives out back.
‘Yes,’ she says. ‘Where is he, by the way?’ She glances around the room, swaying slightly.
‘I don’t know. I haven’t seen him in a couple of days.’
‘Maybe he’s gone loolah again,’ she says, her words very slurred now. Deirdre has clearly enjoyed more wine than she’s used to.
‘Why? When did he go loolah before?’ I say.
‘Ah, when Seamus died he went missing for weeks. We had the cops searching for him. He arrived back out of the blue and told no one where he’d been. It took a long time for him to speak to Conor though.’
‘Why?’ My heart stops. I have the feeling I’m going to hear something I don’t want to.
‘Well…’ Deirdre seems to be struggling getting the words in order and Maggie is moving in our direction, I have to be quick.
‘Why, Deirdre?’
She leans in closer to me and whispers: ‘Pat always blamed Conor for Seamus’s death.’
I’m trying to act cool but my hand is shaking.
‘Why would he blame Conor?’
Maggie is only a few feet away now.
‘Conor was there that day, he was the one who closed the latch on the vat.’ Her words are completely slurred but they cut through me like a sharp knife.
Chapter Forty-Six
My head is spinning. Maggie is talking to me but I haven’t a clue what she’s saying. All I can see are her lips moving. Conor killed his father. It was an accident. But Conor killed his father. Now it makes sense. The secrecy around the accident. The comment Maggie made about a weight being lifted when the coroner’s report came through. And Conor’s reaction to the rumours that surrounded Vicky’s death.
There must have been rumours circling after Seamus’s accident too. Maybe Pat started them, thinking Conor did it on purpose to inherit the business. How wrong he was. Conor never wanted the business. He felt he had been saddled with it. He told me himself. Conor wanted to study astronomy. He only stayed in the brewery because he couldn’t leave his mother after what had happened.
‘Are you going to say goodbye to Fr Cormac?’ Maggie’s voice breaks through the whirlwind going round in my head.
‘What?’
‘Laura, Fr Cormac is leaving.’
‘Oh.’ I put my glass down on a nearby table and walk with Maggie to the hall where Fr Cormac is talking to Conor. Where I get the strength from, I do not know. I manage to say goodbye and thank Fr Cormac for the lovely service. Maggie is adding to my appreciation speech when I look at Conor. He’s looking at me, noticing the change I guess, seeing the white face, the startled eyes. When the priest has left, Maggie passes us both and walks back into the crowd.
‘Laura, are you okay?’ Conor says, leaning in and taking my arm.
I say nothing. I find myself staring at him. I don’t know what to say. I realise I barely know this man. Every day I seem to learn something new about him. And now, he has this big secret that he never told me about.
‘It’s probably the drink,’ he says, watering down his comment with something about my system not being used to a lot of alcohol anymore.
I want to tell him that I know. That there’s no need to hide it from me. That I have a secret too. I want to tell him it’s okay, accidents happen, but Conor is leading me up the stairs, suggesting I lie down for a little while. I think I will.
Up in the bedroom, Amanda tells me Shay has just been fed and should be okay for another few hours. He’s asleep. She hugs me and tells me she’s going downstairs to say her goodbyes. I want to tell her what just happened, but my head is spinning and I don’t know where to begin. Plus, the bed looks so inviting.
‘You’ve had too much to drink,’ she says, telling me to lie down. I do as I’m told. Amanda takes my shoes off and pulls a throw over me.
I lie still. Numb from drink… from shock… from life. I close my eyes.
Chapter Forty-Seven
What time is it? The sky is dark above my head when I wake up. For a moment I can’t remember where I am. My head is thumping. Shay? I jump out of the bed and rush over to the cot. Shay is asleep. His tiny lips slightly open. I’m leaning in to feel the warmth of his breath against my face, when the noise from downstairs disturbs the peace.
Laughter and drunk voices. I think it’s coming from the hallway. People must be leaving. Shit, how long have I been asleep? I’ve missed my own party. What will people think? What will Maggie think?
I switch on the light and look at the monster staring back at me in the mirror. Good Jesus, what did I drink? I pull a makeup wipe from the packet on the dressing table and try to remove the black rings around my eyes. My hair looks like it fell victim to a cyclone. What the hell happened? I’m never drinking that much again. And then it crashes into me. The memory, my conversation with Deirdre. The accident.
When I hear the loud cheery voices disappear down the driveway, I step out of the bedroom and listen. It would appear there is no one else left. I can’t hear anyone, only Conor clinking a few glasses. Is he cleaning up? Why is he not pissed like me?
The carpet feels soft below my bare feet. I slowly step down the stairs to where Conor is gathering some rubbish off the floor. My head is thumping and my mouth is dry. Will he give out?
He hasn’t seen me yet. I watch him closely. Poor Conor, what a nightmare he’s gone through with his father’s death and yet he still manages to be upbeat and helpful to everyone. I want to hug him, tell him that I know what happened but as I make my way towards him he turns and sees me. He jumps.
‘For fuck’s sake, Laura, you scared the life out of me.’
‘Sorry. I just needed some water.’
Conor is holding his chest.
‘What time is it?’ I say, looking to the big brass clock that hangs on the wall by the door. ‘Eleven thirty… Gosh, that went on longer than expected, how long did your mother stay?’
‘She waited until nine but you didn’t resurface, and when I went to get you, you were out cold. Then she left with Helen… you can ring her in the morning, it’s too late now.’
My hand is holding a glass under the filtered water tap. ‘Why does she want me to ring her?’ I say.
‘Ah, just ring her and say sorry, explain you haven’t had much drink lately and…’
I turn around to look at Conor. Is he joking? He continues to fill the black bag he’s dragging across the floor. There are paper plates fu
ll of half-eaten christening cake, plastic glasses that were only there as a back-up in case we ran out of real glasses and empty bottles among the debris. The wood that covers most of the floor area looks sticky, not to mention the grey stone below my feet. It’s multi-coloured now. Totally unrecognisable. I’m guessing the party moved up a gear when Maggie and her cronies left.
‘Say sorry for what?’
‘She was a bit annoyed you left the party and went upstairs without saying goodbye to anyone, you know the way she gets.’
The pounding in my head is getting worse. I swallow water then pull open the drawer where I keep the paracetamol.
‘Are you serious?’ I say. ‘I have to apologise?’
‘If it was up to me, Laura, then no, but just to keep the peace.’
There seems to be a lot of effort put into keeping the peace around here. I can’t believe he wants me to apologise. Pushing two pills into my mouth, I swallow the remainder of the water.
‘Maybe you’re the one who should say sorry.’
Conor lets go of the bag and straightens up to look at me. ‘What for?’ He looks confused. ‘What’s wrong, Laura? What the hell did I do?’
‘It wasn’t just the drink that made me stagger, Conor.’ I can hear the anger in my own voice and I don’t like it but I can’t stop. ‘I know about you.’
He moves a few steps closer to me. I put my hands in the air to ward him off.
‘What are you talking about?’
‘The accident… I know it was you who was working the day of the accident, the day your dad died.’
‘Laura,’ he says.
‘You could have told me, instead of me having to hear it from Deirdre. Can you imagine how shocked I was?’