by Sharon Owens
Then one quiet Sunday morning, when Emily and Dylan were having a cooked breakfast in the zingy green kitchen, Emily’s mobile phone began to ring. Without even looking at the screen she knew it was her parents.
‘Hello?’
‘Emily, love?’
‘Hi, Dad. How are you?’
‘Not so bad, love. Not so bad. Mind you, we’ve been better.’
‘Dad, just tell me if there’s anything wrong,’ Emily said quietly.
‘I’m only ringing to say hello,’ he said. ‘We didn’t see you at all last Christmas, Emily. We didn’t see you all year. And I’m just being civil now and keeping in touch.’
‘Okay, but I did phone you lots of times, Dad. There was never anybody home, or maybe you didn’t hear the telephone out in the hall. But I was always thinking of you, and that’s the truth. Where were you both? Or were you just ignoring me – because I didn’t come home for Christmas?’
‘Well, now. I can hear you’re very upset, so I suppose I’ll have to tell you what happened.’
‘Oh, Dad, did something happen? What happened?’
‘It’s your mother. She … um … she hasn’t been feeling so good lately. She’s been overdoing things in the drink department, that’s the bottom line. And her doctor said he’d take her in for a few weeks – just for observation, like. A bit of a rest for her, you know?’
‘Has Mum been sectioned again, Dad?’
Dylan looked up sharply from his plate. Emily turned away from him, shaking her head.
‘I wouldn’t call it that, love. They’re just feeding her up a bit, and so on. You know how these young doctors fuss and worry? Maybe they had a bed free and they wanted to fill it up to keep their funding? So anyway, the few weeks she was in hospital turned into a few months. And I didn’t answer the phone, because I didn’t want to worry you.’
‘Oh, Dad, you should have told me. Mum could have died.’
‘Died; not a bit of her. Sure, your mother has been doing her own thing for a long time now and she’s never died on us yet.’
‘Dad, I wouldn’t call it doing her own thing. She’s a chronic alcoholic.’
‘Chronic be damned. Emily, listen to me – there’s no need for you and me to go over all this old ground again. You know she won’t give up the drink, and that’s all there is to it. I visit her every couple of days, and she’s doing fine. She’s getting out next week. I didn’t phone you today for an argument.’
‘Okay, I’m sorry. What did you phone me for, Dad? Are you well enough yourself? You sound very tired. Is there something else wrong? Look, I’ll come home today and go with you to visit Mum. I’ll look up some flights right away and then get back to you, yes?’
‘Ah, love, that would be grand. I’d love to see you again, surely. And so would your mother. That would cheer her up no end, thanks very much. The other thing is … well, I’m in a bit of bother. Yes, a little bit of trouble.’
‘Is it money, Dad? You can tell me. Do you owe money to somebody? Have you had your electric cut off again?’
‘It’s something like that, yes. But it’s not the electric.’
‘How much do you need, Dad?’
‘A lot, I’m afraid,’ he said.
‘Is it more than I can afford to give you, do you think? Is it more than five hundred pounds?’
There was a lengthy silence at the other end. Emily thought she could hear her father cursing himself softly. Her heart turned over with worry.
‘Dad, just say the amount. I need to know before I can help you.’
‘Five thousand pounds would cover it, I dare say,’ he said wearily.
‘What? Five thousand pounds! Are you serious? I haven’t got that sort of money, Dad. What did you do? How did you get into that much trouble? Was it poker?’
‘Maybe it was,’ he said in a doom-laden voice.
Emily had a feeling she wasn’t hearing the full story.
‘Dad, are you sure it’s only five thousand pounds? Or is it more than that? Please tell me the truth. We might as well get to the bottom of it here and now.’
‘It’s ten thousand – are you happy now? Ten thousand. And I promise that’s the truth. I have to pay the money tomorrow or this guy I played poker with will sort me out. He already gave me a bit of a push and a shove in the pub last week, if you know what I mean?’
Emily closed her eyes and took a deep breath.
‘Ten grand, okay, I’ll tell you what I’ll do. I’ll try to get the money today, though it is an awful lot, Dad. A flight at short notice won’t be cheap either. I wonder, is there any other way of getting the money to you? And that way we could save a couple of hundred pounds? No, on second thoughts I’d better come home and see for myself just what’s going on. I’ll phone you back in a while. Stay close to the phone, yes?’
‘Right, Emily, I’ll stay right here. And thanks, love. I’m sorry I had to bother you with all this old nonsense. I wouldn’t have called you if I had anybody else to turn to, I swear to you.’
‘That’s okay, Dad. But you’ve got to promise me faithfully that you won’t play poker again. I mean it, Dad. If I give you this money now, it’ll take me two or three years to pay it back. So I can’t do it again in a hurry. Do you understand me, Dad? Even if you do get threats, I can’t give you any more money – because I can’t afford the repayments on any extra loan above ten thousand. And this is really going to make life hard for me; I’ll be economizing for years to come. Is that clear?’
‘Yes, it is, love.’
‘Well, you bear that in mind. Because I’ve rent to pay here and a car to run and the wedding debts to pay off. So I mean it when I say it’ll be years before I can help you like this again – and maybe never, if I get a mortgage.’
‘I’ll never ask you for a penny, Emily, love. Never again.’
‘I love both of you, Dad. I always have and I always will. But I know I’m not able to force you to give up gambling. And I can’t force Mum to give up drinking. And if I go on sending money to you both, then I’ll be a part of the problem. Do you know what I mean?’
‘Surely, I know what you mean. All I ask is this one favour, that’s all. And it’ll be the last time. I’ll pay you back, Emily. Every penny of it; I promise you now.’
Emily knew there was more chance of her mother marrying Johnny Depp than her father paying her back all the money she’d given them over the years. But she didn’t want to rub it in. Her father sounded desperately scared. As long as she could make him understand she wasn’t made of money, that would have to do for now.
‘Dad, can you make yourself some breakfast there? Have a cup of tea, yes, and a bit of toast and try to stop worrying? I’ll get back to you as soon as I can. And you’d better be at home when I get back to Belfast today. So please, please don’t go out anywhere, do you hear me? And don’t you dare go and try to win that money back. Do you hear me, Daddy? You might end up in even more trouble. And I won’t be able to give you twenty thousand, right? If that happens, you are definitely on your own.’
‘I understand, Emily. I understand, love.’
‘Okay, Dad. I’ll be in touch, then. And I’ll give you a ring when my plane lands in Belfast, just to let you know I’m on my way.’
‘Right, okay. Bye.’
Emily clicked off her phone, went into the sitting room and sat down gently on the sofa. Dylan came after her with two mugs of fresh tea and set them on the coffee table. He gave Emily a brief hug and looked at her with love in his eyes.
‘I heard that,’ he said, ‘or most of it.’
‘So now you know,’ she said. ‘My poor father is a gambling man.’
‘That’s got to be pretty tough on you,’ he said, shaking his head.
‘It is tough, yes. I thought I was used to it by now. I mean, Dad’s had a gambling problem for as long as I remember. Betting on horses mostly, but poker too when he gets really bad. It’s tragic enough when you have one addict in the family, but when you have two addicts i
t gets a bit overwhelming. I feel terribly guilty sometimes. I should have stayed at home when I was eighteen and looked after them.’
‘Emily, I know I’ve said this before, but you mustn’t blame yourself; please don’t do that. You know that any addiction can only be cured by the addicts themselves. All the TLC in the world won’t help people make the decision to quit. In some cases it only makes things worse, because then they become dependent on all the attention and kindness that their addiction inspires in other people. I know that for a fact, because one of my sisters does the odd spot of volunteer work at a drop-in centre for teenagers.’
‘Does she? Wow, is there no end to the generosity of the Shawcross family?’
‘I’ll take that as a compliment,’ Dylan said.
‘Of course, I know about addiction. My mother’s doctor told me years ago not to pamper her when she was very depressed, because she would enjoy it too much to attempt to get better. And I’ve told myself that a thousand times over the years. I mean, if I moved back to Belfast and took over the housework and all the household expenses for my parents, they would only end up spending even more money on their addictions. And they’d be home at six o’clock every night for their tea, and they’d be all excited about getting fish and chips and a slice of bread and butter. And we’d be sitting there pretending it was all very jolly and normal, with Mum sneaking vodka into her tea, and my dad keeping the racing pages hidden up his jumper. I think I’d go nuts myself if we ended up like that. It’s hopeless, really.’
‘Well, look, if your dad owes some thug of a poker player ten thousand pounds, and your mum is drying out in hospital, then it does sound pretty bad, Emily. But we can’t have you going nuts too, now can we? So I’m going to Belfast with you today,’ he said firmly.
‘Oh no, I couldn’t let you do that, Dylan. Please don’t say you’ll do that. I want to go to Belfast on my own.’
‘Emily, love, I can see you’re in pieces. Now, I won’t tell you not to borrow all that money and give it straight to a gambling addict. You know as well as I do that the experts always advise against making gestures like that. Your Dad will be relieved in the short term. He’ll be on his knees with gratitude, I suppose. But then he’ll do it again next week when the shock wears off.’
‘Yes, he probably will.’
‘So it’s up to you. And I’ll stay out of it. But I’m coming with you today, and that’s final. I wouldn’t be a decent boyfriend if I went home and put my feet up and let you try to cope with this all by yourself. I’ve still got some savings from my banking days. That’s what I’m living on, actually. It’s not enough to bail your father out, but I’ll pay for the flights and we’ll stay overnight and come back on Monday.’
‘Dylan, I really don’t want you getting mixed up in this.’
‘Stop it, I won’t take no for an answer, okay? It’s happening. I’ll sort out the flights and maybe a hotel, nip home and pack a bag. And you can decide what you’re going to do regarding the money – though I wouldn’t give a complete stranger a cheque, if I were you.’
‘I know – I’ll ask Arabella to lend me the money. She’s very well off and possibly the only person I know who could lay their hands on that much cash at short notice. Though, obviously, I’ll be mortified at having to ask her at all.’
‘I wish I hadn’t taken your donations now; we made over a thousand pounds on your stuff, including the kitchen gadgets and the designer shoes and the bridal wear.’
‘No, I’m glad of all that. I’ve had no regrets about it, none at all.’
‘Okay, can I have a look at your laptop?’
‘It’s in that cupboard over there,’ Emily said, pointing to an Ikea desk in the corner of the sitting room. ‘And, Dylan, thanks a million for not running out of the door the minute you found out about my father. And my mother! Not to mention Alex standing me up at the altar.’
‘Hey, why would I run out of the door? None of those things reflect badly on you, Emily. You’ve just been incredibly unlucky so far, that’s all.’
‘I hope bad luck isn’t catching,’ she smiled sadly.
‘You have to make your own luck in this life.’
‘Yes, but it’s got to be easier to make your own luck if you have sane parents and a boyfriend who isn’t obsessed with social climbing.’
‘I take it that’s Alex you’re referring to?’
‘Of course it is.’
‘Well, don’t worry – because I’m your boyfriend now, and I have no interest in playing golf with a bunch of old men in pink pullovers.’
‘Thanks, Dylan, I don’t know where you get your wisdom from.’
‘Hey, I’m no genius. But I’ve had my setbacks too, you know. I lost one friend in a climbing accident when we were both nineteen, and another good mate died when he crashed his car last year.’
‘I’m so sorry. I didn’t know you’d lost two friends.’
‘Yeah, well, I used to have dozens of friends, so I suppose it was bound to happen eventually.’
‘Used to have?’
‘Yes, I don’t socialize as much as I used to. I don’t go climbing any more either. When I turned thirty I grew up a little bit, I guess. I used to get a thrill out of travelling, but when I gave up my banking career I couldn’t afford to indulge. And I sort of lost touch with a lot of my London friends. We didn’t fall out or anything.’
‘Yes, I know what you mean,’ Emily nodded.
‘I’ve still got my rugby pals back in Appleton. Anyway, then Sylvia started rescuing horses and I said I’d help her until she was on her feet. And somehow six months has turned into a year.’
‘You’re very good to work for free,’ she told him.
‘It evens out, because I used to be disgustingly overpaid,’ he laughed.
‘Oh, I’ve just remembered – we were meant to be having a lovely breakfast,’ Emily said, going back to the kitchen to find their plates of bacon and eggs all dried up and cold.
‘Never mind,’ Dylan said. ‘I’m taking you out for breakfast. Come on, we’ll go to that lovely café nearby. And then we’ll go and sort out your silly old parents, shall we?’
‘Okay,’ she said, and gave him a long, lingering kiss as a reward. ‘I never thought I’d say this, but I’m glad Alex got cold feet about the wedding. Because if I’d married him, I’d be stuck in Belfast now and I’d have to listen to him complaining about his in-laws embarrassing him, for the rest of my life.’
Quickly they got ready and went bounding down the stairs in the communal hall to face the world.
A few hours later, full of bacon and lattes and carrying a wad of donated cash from Arabella, Emily and Dylan boarded a flight to Belfast.
‘Now, listen – you’re not to worry if you see any houses with cages over the windows,’ Emily told Dylan nervously. ‘My parents don’t live in an interface area as such, but they do live pretty close to one.’
‘What’s an interface area?’ Dylan asked at once.
‘It’s where they’ve built a peace line.’
‘What’s a peace line?’
‘It’s a twenty-foot steel wall dividing two communities that don’t like each other very much. And sometimes teenagers throw bricks over the wall – if they’ve got nothing else to do. And then the teenagers on the other side throw the bricks back again. That’s the interfacing part of the equation. And that’s why the windows near the peace lines have cages.’
‘Can’t these teenagers just go round the wall? Or break windows in other neighbourhoods?’
‘No, they can’t – because the police would see them walking along the main roads with bricks in their hands. Or maybe half-bricks, which we call halfers. Halfers are much easier to throw over a twenty-foot wall, do you see? But, anyway, they don’t stray too far from home, because they like to be able to run back to their mammy when the riot police turn up with their shields and batons.’
‘Oh, I see. So do they throw bricks at the police too?’
‘Some
times they do, yeah. That’s why the police vehicles also have cages on their windows. It’s not really the kids’ fault, you know – usually it’s just one or two hotheads leading them on. Some people seem to get their kicks by starting trouble.’
‘Well, thanks for explaining all of that. I just hope I don’t get shot,’ Dylan joked as they fastened their seat belts.
Emily rolled her eyes, as if such a thing were unthinkable. But in her heart of hearts she was secretly terrified of bringing Dylan home to west Belfast. It wasn’t the most scenic part of Belfast. What a pity her parents didn’t live near the beautiful Mourne Mountains, just a few miles south of the city; the mountains were thought to have inspired the Narnia books by C. S. Lewis. What a pity they didn’t live in a posh village – Holywood, Hillsborough or Helen’s Bay. What a pity they didn’t live in a gated mansion in north Down, or in a bungalow with sea views on the north coast, or on the super-posh Malone Road in south Belfast.
Northern Ireland was packed full of gorgeous scenery and fabulous houses. But trust Mr and Mrs Reilly to live on a bland concrete estate with stray dogs, vandalized trees, sectarian graffiti and empty cider bottles everywhere. She wondered if Dylan would run a mile when he saw the state of the place. Emily tried hard not to resent her parents. And then the guilt came flooding in again like a tsunami, and so the endless cycle of resentment and guilt continued.
It was almost a relief when a spot of turbulence over the Irish Sea temporarily took her mind off it all.
12. Woman in Chains
‘I’ll never be able to thank you enough,’ Emily said to Arabella as she discreetly handed over a cheque for ten thousand pounds two weeks later. Her bank loan had been approved the day before so she could pay her friend back. ‘My father might be dead in his grave by now, if it weren’t for your generosity.’
‘Thanks, sweetheart, don’t mention it. What did you tell your bank you wanted the money for?’