The House that Jack Built

by Catherine Barry

  David must have sensed something, for while I sat sipping a cup of tea, he came over and hugged me without warning, without words, without reason. He put his little boy’s arms around my legs and stayed there for a moment. My eyes welled up. I hadn’t anything to say either. Words evaded me for hours. It was good not to have to say anything or do anything. I patted him on the head. No great show of emotion. No irritation. No nothing.

  Tears fell constantly. I washed the dishes and cried. I took the dinner out of the freezer and cried. I ironed my clothes, and cried. I watched Thomas the Tank Engine and cried. The dam burst. Just when I thought I had cried a river of tears, a fresh bout would begin. I didn’t need any particular thing to start me off. I was like a tap. On, off. On, off.

  Fortunately, David did not seem perturbed by his mother’s odd behaviour. Anything was better than my wrath, I suppose. I could not bring myself to say what I wanted to say, I am sorry David. I love you so much. I do not hate you. I never did. I hate myself. That’s what’s wrong with me. I hate myself.

  Words would not do any more. I knew I needed to show him these truths through my actions.

  I was happy to work through this new phase, whatever it was. I knew intuitively not to do anything at all, except go with it, wait and see what would happen next.

  I was preparing to take a shower when the phone rang. I let it ring for an age.

  The sound of it ringing made me cry. Somebody was thinking about me. I wanted to appreciate it. I listened to the format. Two rings. Stop. Two rings. Stop. Then it stopped ringing altogether.

  When it started to ring again, my heart soared. Somebody really, really wanted to talk to me. For a brief second I allowed myself the luxury of hoping it was Joe. Then I answered it.

  ‘Hello?’

  ‘Hello, Jack?’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘Jack Joyce?’

  ‘Yes? Who is this?’

  ‘It’s Andrew Fenton. David’s father.’

  My journey had become a bottomless pit, with no beginning, no middle and no end.

  Chapter 18

  Isn’t it strange. Just when you think things can’t possibly get any worse, they do. There is a certain inevitability about it. You think, Well one more disaster won’t kill me.

  Instead of being enraged with Andrew, my English lover, I had murderous thoughts towards Jill. How else would he have gotten my phone number? I certainly hadn’t given it to him. I was more alarmed at his choice of introduction. I had never heard the term ‘David’s father’; it seemed all wrong. David didn’t have a father.

  ‘How did you get my phone number?’ I demanded.

  ‘Your mother gave it to me,’ he answered.

  ‘Did you tell her who you were?’ I asked.

  ‘No. I didn’t think it would be wise,’ he said.

  ‘You got that one right. How did you find out?’

  There was a long pause. ‘I’m afraid your friend Jill let it slip.’

  Of course.

  ‘Well, whatever you have to say, you had better say it now.’ I couldn’t believe I was encouraging him. I really thought he had just contacted me out of curiosity. I wasn’t taking any of it seriously. The sooner I got him off the phone, the quicker this whole damn thing would be over. I had enough on my plate as it was.

  ‘Have you consulted a solicitor yet?’ he said calmly.

  ‘Pardon?’

  ‘Well, have you decided what you are going to do?’

  ‘Do about what?’ I said impatiently. I was getting a bit pissed off with this jerk that I hadn’t seen in five years.

  ‘Jack, didn’t you receive the letter?’

  ‘What letter?’

  ‘Christ,’ I heard him mutter under his breath.

  Then I remembered the registered brown envelope. ‘Wait — I did get a letter, but I didn’t open it,’ I said.

  ‘I suggest you do so now,’ he said steadily. ‘If you wish, you can phone me back afterwards.’

  I was beginning to feel somewhat uncomfortable with this whole scenario. Putting the phone down, I went in search of the misplaced brown envelope. I found it in the bread bin; it was smeared with tomato ketchup. As I lit a cigarette and studied it, an awful feeling came over me. It occurred to me it was hardly a friendly line or two from my distant lover.

  I slid the bread knife through the sealed opening. It was a court summons. I tried to read the small print but could not understand the technical jargon. I could only surmise from the heading what I thought it was. The panic waves had begun to rise and fall as it slowly dawned on me that it was an application from Andrew seeking access rights to David. I was being summonsed to appear in court. It was the last straw.

  I went back to the phone and dialled the number which he had conveniently printed at the top of the letter.

  ‘Hello?’

  ‘It’s Jack,’ I said hoarsely.

  ‘Hi. Listen, can we — ‘

  I stopped him right there. ‘No. You listen to me, you fucking prick. You are never ever going to get access to my son. You may very well be his biological father, but that is all you are. He knows nothing of you, does not want to know anything about you, and he does not need you. I have raised that child single-handedly from the day he was born. What makes you think you can just walk into his life and suddenly start to play Happy Families? You have no idea what you are getting yourself into. I’ll never agree to access. Never. Do you understand?’

  I was surprised at my own anger. A fierce protectiveness had come to the surface. I was the last person on earth I would have expected this reaction from. They were not taking David away from me as well.

  ‘What you agree or disagree with is none of my concern. I am David’s father and therefore obliged to provide for him in whatever way the courts see fit. I have not just casually walked into his life either. I would have been there right from the start, had I known he existed. From what I hear, it will not be a difficult decision for the judge to come to. If I didn’t live in England and had known about your negligence before, I would have applied for custody long ago.’

  Negligence? What the fuck is he on about?

  ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about, but I do know this. You will never lay your dirty British hands on my child. Over my dead body!’ I said and hung up.

  While I sounded powerfully strong, my legs had begun to wobble beneath me. I sat down and lit a cigarette. I spied a can of Carlsberg under the couch and pulled it out. It was empty. Fuck it! Fuck it! The thoughts were lunging at me now. The fear running rampant through every bone and sinew. I never thought this day would arrive, yet here it was. It was all upon me now. What was I going to do?

  I ought to have known Jill was behind this. The fucking bad bitch. How dare she take it upon herself to inform Andrew of anything? First to betray me by telling him I had had his child, then to go and inform him that I was a negligent parent! To round it off neatly, she then had to go and steal Joe right from under my nose!

  All of a sudden the reality of it all shot through me like a gun explosion.

  I ran to the telephone and took out my little black address book. It took ages for her to answer.

  ‘Hello?’ she answered sleepily.

  ‘Guess who, Jill?’ I said calmly. ‘It’s your old friend, Jack. The one who is the negligent mother, right? You must be able to remember me? I’m the one who had the baby and raised him on my own, only now I’m a negligent mother who is being taken to court by a man who has never seen his child, or even known of his existence until a really good friend of mine informed him of all this. I believe that’s you, Jill. Anything to say?’

  ‘Jack, I did it for David’s sake. He needs a father, now more than ever. One of these days that child is going to get hurt. It is my responsibility as your friend to…’

  ‘Save it, Jill. David could have had a father, until you fucked it up,’ I interrupted her. ‘Your kind of friendship, I can do without. If I los
e my child over you, I’ll fucking kill you. Do you understand me?’

  ‘That’s right, Jack. Go ahead and abuse me too. It’s because I love you that I have acted, out of concern.’

  ‘Love me! You stole Joe from me, now you want to rub salt in the wounds by taking David away too. What’s in it for you? You could have had anybody, but you had to choose Joe, didn’t you. Fuck you, you dumb bitch! You haven’t a fucking clue about anything!’

  ‘You need help with your drinking, Jack. Listen to me…’

  But I couldn’t listen any more. I slammed the phone down. My body was shaking. I was so angry I thought I would kill someone. It only spurred me on to get to the bottom of this problem as quickly as possible. I made a list of people I had to call. That bastard was not going to see my child, no matter what happened. I would fight him tooth and nail.

  I would go all the way. I didn’t care what it took. He was not getting near my son. David was mine. He would always be mine!

  My first call was to my solicitor. I had discovered her through my father when I had first had David. Social Welfare had advised me to make a will and appoint a guardian for him, should anything happen to me. It had cost me a hefty sum to have it drawn up. Now I was glad I had gone ahead with it. It could very well come in handy in the next few weeks, I thought.

  I asked her could I visit her as soon as possible and she made an appointment for me to come in the following day. Thank God I was still off work. I had a doctor’s certificate for two weeks. I tried to phone Karen a number of times. After leaving a third message, I realised she wasn’t returning the call. Then I rang Matt and explained it all to him. He was kind and listened, but there wasn’t much advice he could give me. Then I phoned Mam and Dad, who jumped to my defence immediately. I had expected this. It was not out of compassion for me, but for David. They had grown to love him and could not bear the thought of sharing him with anyone else. The more calls I made, the more despondent I became, until I could not stand the overwhelming fear any longer. I dialled Joe’s number.

  ‘Hello,’ I said shyly.

  ‘Yes?’ he answered coolly.

  ‘Look, I know what happened the other night has really upset you, but I need your help,’ I said, shivering with the fear of rejection.

  ‘I already told you, Jack. I’m not available. You must help yourself.’ His voice was harsh. Then he put the phone down.

  I burst into tears. Things had suddenly taken on a very serious overtone. Surely they were all aware of the gravity of my situation? Why were they ganging up on me like this? I was desperately lonely, not knowing where to turn next. I kept glancing at the court summons. I had four weeks to prepare. I had not dreamed of taking Andrew seriously, now I had begun to wake up. I was alone, completely alone. This was one fight I was going to have to deal with by myself. I was ready to face it but I needed support. Just then, David poked his head around the kitchen door.

  ‘Mam, can I go in to Alice?’

  I had forgotten about Alice. Now I missed her more than ever. I needed her more than ever, but I couldn’t bridge the gap. I was sinking further and further into a place of retreat.

  ‘You can go, if she doesn’t mind,’ I said to the hopeful little face.

  ‘Thanks, Mam,’ he smiled.

  Despite everything that was going on, David and I were very close and getting along better than we ever had in the past. I had begun to recognise that he was an innocent party. The thought of having to share him made my stomach churn. I had never prepared for that.

  I realised the simplest of things were what made him happy. Breakfast, dinner and tea made him happy, walks in the park made him happy. Me watching a movie with him made him happy. Why had it taken me so long to learn that his needs were simple? All he wanted was my time. Just like I had needed that attention when I was a kid. It wasn’t about toys, holidays, money. All he wanted was me, to know I was there and that I cared.

  I was shocked that Andrew was even interested in seeing him. After all, surely he had considered that he would have to pay maintenance? What about the distance that separated them? What about the fact that David didn’t even know him? I tried to persuade myself that everything would be OK on the day. A judge would surely consider all aspects of David’s wellbeing.

  In the morning I was awake early and heard the soft thud as the postman dropped something in the letter box. I picked it up — it had an English postmark and stamp. I opened it.

  The letter was from Andrew’s solicitor. This was a man who had obviously done his homework well. The contents of the letter made me laugh out loud. It was such rubbish! Poor Andrew. He was trying to scare me. It had the desired effect, though. My laughter was a cover for fear. By the time I reached my own solicitor’s office my nerve had begun to weaken.

  ‘Hello, Jacqueline,’ she said calmly.

  Greta Leahy was a tough cookie. She had been working as a solicitor for many years and specialised in family law. I couldn’t have chosen a more appropriate representative. A bit of a private book in her personal life, Greta had defended the Joyces on more than one occasion. I needed a strong individual this morning — she was just the ticket. I handed her the court summons and the letter. The offices were cramped and stuffy but had just been freshly painted. The crisp smell assailed my nostrils. I sat in front of her while she fiddled with her glasses. She proceeded to read each letter slowly, making no comment. Then she read them again. After this she put her head on one side. I didn’t like the look of that. I chewed my nails furiously. Then I sat on my hands to stop myself.

  ‘I’m afraid that this is very, very serious.’ She removed her glasses and wiped the inside corners of them with the sleeve of her blouse.

  She picked up the summons first. ‘You must appear for the court summons. If you don’t, a warrant for your arrest could be issued.’

  Huh?

  ‘I presume you were hoping you could avoid appearing and that he would eventually lose interest?’ I nodded my head.

  She picked up the second letter. ‘There are some extremely grave allegations in this letter, Jack.’

  I stared at the ground. Much to my disappointment, it didn’t open up. I looked all around me instead. ‘I know,’ I said softly.

  ‘Before we can go any further I shall have to question you about this. If there is even a grain of truth to the accusations, I’m afraid we are in for a bumpy ride, not to mention a costly one.’ She paused and then began to read extracts.

  ‘My client has been informed that your client has a serious drinking problem. Our client fears for the future safety of his son, and is willing to apply to the said court for full custody of the said child David, if he sees fit.’

  I stared at the wall, on which hung a beautifully framed copy of van Gogh’s Sunflowers. I had always loved van Gogh with his vibrant yellows and oranges splattered passionately across the canvas.

  ‘Well, Jacqueline?’ Greta leaned over her desk. ‘What have you got to say in response to this? I have to know if there is any truth in it.’ She was becoming impatient.

  ‘It’s complete and utter rubbish,’ I said. ‘He’s only trying to scare me. He can’t go accusing me of these things. He hasn’t even seen me for five years. It’s all a load of crap!’ I laughed gaily, as if it were a game of Snakes and Ladders.

  Greta began tidying up the files, attaching the letters inside and sighing loudly. ‘I’m afraid I can’t represent you, dear. I must know what I am dealing with. Frankly, you haven’t a hope of winning if you don’t come clean with me.’

  ‘What?’ I replied in disbelief, thinking: Don’t you fucking start as well! ‘I already told you, it’s all rubbish! I swear it is! Besides, he can’t prove anything. It’s just scare-mongering, that’s all.’ I had not prepared myself to be rejected by a middle-aged battleaxe barrister.

  ‘I’m sorry, Jacqueline. I’ve been in practice for a long time, and one thing I am not is stupid.’ She peered down her nose at me. ‘I have se
en this thing time and time again, I am not prepared to fight your case unless you are willing to work with me.’

  I had had enough of her riddles and philosophical scorning. I donned my coat and walked out. She was my last ally. Not to worry, there were a million other solicitors to choose from. Besides, I was a single parent. I could apply for free Legal Aid.

  I found the phone number listed in the telephone directory and rang it. I was refused immediately. There was a waiting list, and the average waiting period was six to eight months. I hadn’t got six to eight months. I hadn’t even got six to eight weeks! The whole telephone conversation had been about as useful as a kick-start for a racing pigeon.

  I wandered home. David was still in Alice’s. I passed her flat and blinked back the tears. I wanted to call in, just to speak to another human being who wasn’t going to jump on the ‘Get Jack!’ bandwagon.

  The Good Shepherd flats had become my home. I looked around me. The dirty Venetian blinds and smell of urine on the steps was almost welcoming. I let myself in and closed the door behind me, then I searched through my purse to check out my financial standing. I had exactly four pounds. Not enough for even two cans. I had to get money somewhere. Just then, I heard a knock on the door. It was David, clutching a beautiful bunch of carnations.

  ‘Where did you get those? I hope you weren’t stealing again.’ I sniffed and admired the beautiful pale pink flowers.

  ‘They’re from Alice,’ he smiled proudly.

  ‘For you?’ I asked.

  ‘No, Mammy, don’t be silly. They’re for you!’ He thrust them in my face. I wasn’t getting too excited, just in case he had made a mistake. The way things were going, I expected them to be snatched back off me in seconds.

  I took the flowers and put them in my one and only vase. This too was a gift from Alice; she had purchased it on ‘The Hill’ some months back. It had a small chip on the lip but was otherwise perfect. I arranged the flowers carefully. Then I walked out the front door and up the familiar steps to Alice’s flat. I knocked at the door. I had hardly finished the second knock when she opened it.