His Father's Son: To save the son he loves, a desparate father must confront the ghosts of his past

by Tony Black

  Marti heard the back door clanging open and there was a gust of wind brought through the house which made the flames of the fire dance and little cinders fly up. Marti knew it must be Aunt Catrin, and when she appeared in her long grey coat with the scarf on her head she looked straight at Brother Michael with big staring eyes. The brother smiled but said he wouldn’t get up because of the terrible bad legs, and Aunt Catrin took off her scarf very quickly. “Oh wasn’t there no need, Brother,” she said, and when she looked at Marti the big staring eyes became very narrow.

  “I had come to have a little chat with Mrs Driscol … about young Marti,” said Brother Michael, “but I think I have caught her a little under the weather.”

  “Ah now, Shauna hasn’t been herself lately. Tis a trying time for her, what with the move and the boy settling in school and so on.”

  “Ah sure it must be.”

  “But, Brother, ye can talk to me – amn’t I family and taking every interest in the boy’s raising these days.”

  “Grand so,” said Brother Michael, and he rubbed his lips together like he was after tasting something very sour. “But first could I trouble ye for a glass of water. The fire is rare and the heat blessed, but sure it dries the throat something terrible.”

  “Indeed it does, Brother,” said Aunt Catrin. “I don’t know what you must think of me making ye sit there without so much as the offer of a cup of tea … I’m so sorry, will ye ever excuse me?”

  “Ah go way now … but tea would be grand, with maybe a biscuit. Haven’t I a terrible sweet tooth these later years.”

  Aunt Catrin smiled at Brother Michael and called Marti to help her wet some tea but when they got into the kitchen she grabbed at his shoulders and started on at him.

  “Marti Driscol, this will never do,” she said, “bringing the brother home from the school is a reddener for yeer poor mother – wasn’t the guards bad enough. Is it a broken heart ye want to add to your mother’s troubles?” When Marti said no Aunt Catrin said well it’s the proper way yeer going about it. “If you was a boy of mine ye’d feel the back of my hand bringing home a brother like this. The kip of ye, standing there as if butter wouldn’t melt.”

  He was getting tired of Aunt Catrin going on and on. She was always saying the same things over and over. Aunt Catrin said it’s a silly boy ye are to Marti and she wasn’t put on this earth to be minding silly boys who should know better, especially those with sick mothers in need of the love and comfort of their only son. Marti didn’t think he was a silly boy because he knew the names of all the counties in Ireland and he knew how long the longest river was in Ireland, which was the Shannon. And he knew how to ask for the toilet pass in the Irish and he even knew for sure now that the little green flower thing on Dad’s arm was called a shamrock. Sometimes in bed at night Marti would lie awake and remember Dad making the shamrock dance on his arm and it made him sad because now he knew what it was called, but Dad wasn’t there to tell.

  Acting the like and bringing the brother home was no joke and it was no laughing matter at all, said Aunt Catrin, when Mam might have to go up the hill to the Cabbage Farm. Marti would have to be doing some growing up in a hurry, she said, or it’s some serious form of hurt that he would be doing to Mam. He would have to keep an eye on her and mind she didn’t start with the long puss, said Aunt Catrin, because wasn’t the long puss just the tip of the iceberg entirely and wasn’t the road to recovery a lengthy one.

  When Aunt Catrin was finished giving out, she told him to butter some bread for sandwiches whilst she wet some tea. A big slab of cheese and a jar of pickle sauce was put out on the table, and Marti thought Brother Michael must be very important because there was nothing like this ever seen in the house before.

  “That’s a fine mess ye have there, is it not?” said Aunt Catrin when Marti was after cutting the bread.

  “I don’t know.”

  “Well, let me tell you it is, Marti Driscol. A fine state of affairs is what it is. Sure, wasn’t there more butter on that knife than on the bread.”

  “I hadn’t finished.”

  “It’s a disgrace, that’s what it is, a living disgrace. Can ye do nothing right? And ye have the kitchen table left like some manner of tip – don’t ye know that’s how ye attract rats? It is, it is, it’s rats is the next thing ye will be adding to our troubles … and what in the name of the Lord is that?”

  “What?” he said.

  “That, what is it?”

  “It’s a sandwich.”

  “I can see that, sure I’m not an entire fool, Marti. Haven’t ye only gone and cut it into triangles … what is wrong with the squares as a cut?”

  “I like the triangles.”

  “Cutting sandwiches into triangles is getting above yeerself and haven’t ye no call to be getting above yeerself and adopting all manner of airs and graces.” Aunt Catrin shook her head and took the plate of sandwiches onto the tray beside the teapot and left Marti standing behind in the kitchen. When he went through to sit beside the fire Aunt Catrin was pouring tea for Brother Michael and apologising for the sandwiches, which she said weren’t of her making.

  “Ah they will be fine,” said Brother Michael.

  “I have no biscuits but the pickle is very sweet,” said Aunt Catrin, “and I think the boy has spread enough of it about for ye to get the taste of it, Brother. He has been a constant source of worry to his mother and myself of late, Brother, so whatever ye have to tell us this day will be no surprise.”

  “Ah now, it was more of an inadvertent error, ye might say.”

  “An error, Brother?” said Aunt Catrin.

  “Like I say. Sure there is no way of soft-soaping this for ye; hasn’t Mrs Driscol explained the family’s agnosticism very clearly …”

  “Ah no. No. I have the Faith, Father,” said Aunt Catrin, “sure tis her alone is turning her back on Our Good Lord.” Aunt Catrin made the signs that were the cross when she spoke and Brother Michael’s eyebrows were lifted up on his head.

  “I see … ah sure, that puts a different complexion on things entirely. The family has Faith, ye say?”

  “No, we don’t,” said Mam. She turned from the window and threw her cigarette butt in the fire and there were little sparks shot up above the flames. “What is this all about? I want to know now.”

  “Ah, Mrs Driscol, tis a minor mistake, an inadvertent error like I say,” said Brother Michael.

  “What has happened?”

  “Well, ye see there was a mix-up and young Marti was taken, quite innocently, to the Mass.”

  “Mass … ye went to Mass?” said Mam, and Marti looked at her and nodded.

  “And, eh … the confession as well,” said Brother Michael.

  “What? How did this happen?” Mam had the fury on her when she spoke and Marti wondered why she was so angry when the church wasn’t bad at all. The church had been quite a nice place, really, and Marti thought it was all a holy show over nothing. He didn’t understand why Mam was so mad angry and why Brother Michael would even bother to tell her about the Mass and the confession. The only person who looked happy in the whole room was Aunt Catrin, who had the wide smile on her when she stood up and touched Mam on the arm.

  “Now, now, Shauna,” said Aunt Catrin, “sure tis not the end of the world.”

  “Get off me,” said Mam. She pulled her arm away and pointed a finger at Brother Michael. “I told ye, I gave ye specific instructions, did I not?”

  “Ye did. Ye did,” said Brother Michael, “and I can only apologise that I failed to follow them.”

  “Tis easy to say after the event, is it not?” said Mam, and Aunt Catrin tried to get her to sit down but she was for none of it. Her face had red patches all over and her eyes never stopped moving about the place, like they couldn’t settle on one thing.

  “I can say the brother who made the mistake has been reprimanded if it is of any consolation.”

  “It is not,” said Mam. “It’s of no consolation at all.” She
called Marti over and grabbed him tight. There were little kisses placed on his head and then the brother said perhaps it was time to leave.

  “I am very sorry for the distress I have caused ye,” said Brother Michael. “I can promise ye there will be no repeat of this incident in the future.”

  “Oh is that what ye say, is it?”

  “Tis, Mrs Driscol, sure don’t we all make mistakes in this world – real and genuine mistakes – but amends can be made with honest contrition … I can tell ye are a good woman, ye love yeer boy and that is good. I hope ye can see I’m sorry.”

  “Is this the Church now, is it?” said Mam. “Still making the mistakes, but saying sorry for them now?”

  “I’m sure there’s been many changes in the Church since ye last had the Faith, Mrs Driscol. I will pray ye can find some peace.”

  Aunt Catrin made the signs that were the cross when Brother Michael made his way to the door, and then Mam stopped stroking Marti’s head and ran into the hall after him. “Don’t bother praying for us, we don’t need your prayers!” shouted Mam, and then the door was opened and she threw her hands up to her face.

  Marti stared at Mam, who had the shocked look on her that grown-ups sometimes say is like when a ghost is seen, then he heard a man’s voice he knew say, “Shauna,” and when he turned, he saw his dad standing on the doorstep like some manner of dream had just come true.

  25

  Joey had come all this way for Marti, but wasn’t it the sight of Shauna stood before him in her nightclothes, her hands over her face, unable even to look at him, that jabbed at his heart the hardest. She was worse than ever he remembered her in Australia, the sadness not just in her eyes now but all over. Didn’t she look a wreck entirely. It was a shock to see her so beat-looking, stood there like some manner of wet rag. He felt like picking her up in his arms and running to the hospital. He didn’t know what to expect from her, whether it would be shouts or tears, he didn’t know how he would take seeing her again, but this feeling was surely the strangest so far.

  Her sister, Old Kiss the Statues, pushed past him, leading some old priest onto the street, and Joey saw Shauna drop her hands and reach for Marti. The boy was grabbed tight but he struggled free and ran straight into his father’s arms. “Son, son, son … my beautiful boy. God, it’s good to see you,” said Joey. Marti tightened himself like a limpet, squeezing and hugging and saying the word, “Dad, Dad,” over and over. Joey held the boy tight and when he looked beyond his shoulder he saw Shauna was trembling as she watched the pair of them together.

  He didn’t know what to say or do. He had so many things stored up that he had to say to Shauna but none of them seemed right now. He had started off hating her for taking the boy away from him and then he had tried to fathom why she would ever do such a thing, and then somehow, somewhere along the way, he had got snared in confusion. All he knew as he stood holding his son was that he must do whatever it would take never to lose him again.

  The front door slammed, raising cinders from the fire and dust from the grate, and then Catrin walked back into the room. Her face was pinched, her mouth closed as tight as a vice, and her eyes like two black old pennies burned right into Joey like he was the Devil himself stood in her own godridden home. “How can ye dare?” she said. “How can ye dare to show your face here?” She reached out for Marti and tried to loosen his hands that were gripped on tight.

  “Can ye leave the boy, please?” said Joey. Marti thrashed out at her with his arms and started to whine; he was close to tears. “For his sake if not for mine,” said Joey, and stepped back, out of her clutches.

  “It’s ashamed ye should be … ashamed to come back here,” she said.

  “Oh, that I am. I can assure ye I feel very ashamed to be back here.” He felt his own jaw tighten when he listened to Catrin. He could only speak through gritted teeth. “But what was I supposed to do when my wife is after running off, taking my son?”

  Catrin let out a shriek and tried to grab for Marti again. “Leave, leave this house. Ye have done enough damage—”

  “Catrin, no,” said Shauna. It was the first words she had said and her frail voice was a shock for Joey. “Leave him be.”

  “Leave him be … tis him should be leaving yees both. Hasn’t he brought you to death’s door.” Catrin’s eyes burned deeper into Joey. “She is a flitter away from going up the hill, don’t ye know. A broken woman she is, thanks to you. Is it another member of my family buried outside the Church ye want?”

  What on God’s Green Earth was she going on about, thought Joey. He had done nothing wrong. He had worked his fingers to the bone in a miserable job to keep a house and home for his wife and son, that was all. Was it his fault she had saw fit to throw it all back in his face and come to this, the one place surely she should have been glad to leave behind her forever more?

  Shauna screamed out, “Catrin, stop. Stop it, now.” The outburst looked like the breath had been taken from her entirely, and Shauna slumped down in the chair by the fire. “Joey, give the boy to her. She can take him whilst we talk.”

  “Talk, what’s to talk about?” said Catrin. She was so mad angry that she couldn’t stop herself spitting out the words.

  “Please, would ye just leave us,” said Shauna. Marti started to cry and hang on to Joey, and his mother tried to pacify him. “Be a good boy, Marti, ye can maybe see your dad later, once we have had a little talk.”

  Marti was still crying when he was led away by Catrin into the next room. He clung on to the jamb of the door and when his fingers were pried free he held his arms out to his dad as though he thought it was the last time he would ever see him. The sight put the heart crossways in Joey. Had he come so far to see nothing but pain? Catrin pulled the door until it was almost closed and said she would be no more than a footstep away and wouldn’t her ears be open for any manner of carry-on by himself. Joey said nothing but glowered darkly at her, and then he was left alone in the room with Shauna.

  “Ye might as well sit down,” she said.

  “I’m fine where I am.”

  “Why did you come here?”

  Joey tutted. He couldn’t believe she was asking him this – wasn’t it his question to ask, surely. “Are you serious? I would think it was feckin obvious why I came here – because my wife left me and took my boy, perhaps!” He felt more confused than ever. He knew Shauna was ill, but did she really expect him to have done nothing? Did she really expect him to just write her and the boy off after what had happened? “It must be a mighty shock to ye, I suppose, to see me standing here like this. Was it too afraid ye thought I would be? Were ye hoping this was the last place on earth I would turn up? Was that your plan, eh?”

  “No,” said Shauna. She had a look on her face that Joey couldn’t read. She was neither found-out nor guilty. There was a hint of shame in her but for what it was he couldn’t figure. Did she see what she had done to him? What she had done to Marti? Or was it the same sense of shame Joey felt just being in Kilmora, where everyone knew them and their secret that he’d tried all these years to forget? That he had tried all these years to get away from.

  “You just wanted to hurt me, didn’t you? You wanted to bring me back here to shame me, didn’t you? Well, you’ve done that. I feel shame for what happened here. I feel the eyes on me in the street, feel them pointing – whether they are or not, I feel them, pointing and saying, ‘There goes Joey Driscol. Get a good look at a man whose eternal soul is damned straight to Hell.’ I feel it, Shauna, does that make ye happy now? Do you think I’m suffering as much as you now?”

  “No. No. No. Joey, that wasn’t it.” Her eyes were a mass of tiny red veins, tears spilling down her face. “Why does it have to be me? Always me. It was you … you made me come here.”

  “I never did. I didn’t. How could you think I would ever do that?” Joey pushed the suggestion back at her. He was having no part in her plan to put blame on him. It was like when he had read her diary all over again – the hur
t, the shame and the anger, all rolled into one. She wasn’t right. He had tried so hard to be a good man, to fix things after what they had done, to mend the mistake they made in Kilmora all those years ago.

  “I killed the child inside of me, Joey … It was our child and I carried all the shame.” Shauna had never spoken of her abortion. Never in more than a decade. It was ancient history, and there was no point dredging up ancient history, thought Joey. They had made the decision together but it was Shauna crossed the water to England herself. It was Shauna bore the most pain and Joey knew it. Nothing could erase the pain she had felt. He had his pain too – hadn’t she done it for him, to save the dream he had for their life together – but how could his pain compare to hers?

  Joey remembered the night Shauna told him she was to cross the water. “Will be best,” she said. They were on the pier end, huddled together from a storm out at sea, rain lashing the tin roof over their heads. They held each other tight and cried for what she was about to do.

  “I won’t let ye go,” said Joey.

  “No, I must,” said Shauna. She had taken the notion and there was no stopping her, no turning her back. The thought of what they were about to do frightened Joey but she seemed so sure. She seemed the strong one.

  “You cannot.”

  “Joey, I must. Wasn’t it for the best only … You will have the Trinity soon and we will be together after. Now is no time for the likes of this.”

  “But, Shauna, it’s our child.”

  “Joey, we have our whole life to face. A child now would destroy everything, your only dream. What would you be then if you gave it up? What would you think of me then?” She was so firm, so sure. She knew Joey would waver and she took to the boat alone.

  When the boat pulled out to sea with Shauna and the child she was carrying, Joey watched with tears streaming. The boat’s lights were fading into the distance, the course was set, but he wanted it to be different. If they stayed there would be no Trinity and no future other than Gleesons and the pair of them forever under Emmet’s roof. What life would it be, for them and for any child born of sin raised under his father’s roof? Shauna knew it; she saw Joey’s hopes for them wasted and she would have none of it. She put herself through it for them.