‘I want Father Doyle, now,’ he ordered.
‘Here’s the doctor.’ Bobby indicated the car pulling into the drive, relieved beyond measure that he wasn’t going to have to go on a wild goose chase looking for the priest. He hadn’t realized what a hypochondriac Noel had become. Poor Carrie, she had a hell of a lot to put up with, he thought as he hurried to open the door.
Twenty-five minutes later he was on his way to the pharmacy to get a prescription. The doctor had given Noel an injection that had made him drowsy, much to Bobby’s relief. Dr Reid had assured Noel that he had a twenty-four-hour stomach virus and that he was in no danger of death.
‘Bit of a worrier,’ he’d murmured to Bobby on his way out. ‘He’ll be fine tomorrow. No solids, some boiled 7-Up, perhaps a slice of toast later.’
Noel had stayed in bed all day and Bobby had busied himself around the house, giving it a good cleaning. He knew Carrie wanted to get a woman in once a week to polish and hoover but Noel wasn’t having any of it. He really ought to start thinking about her well-being, Bobby scowled, as he washed the kitchen floor. She was pregnant and had enough to do looking after her own house without having to hoover and polish and clean her father’s.
He was cleaning the windows when his sister drove up with a tureen of chicken soup and a chicken and mushroom pie for him.
‘My God, you should come and stay more often. The place is gleaming,’ she said, following him into the kitchen.
‘I’m going to say to him about getting someone in,’ Bobby said firmly, as he plugged in the kettle to make her a cup of tea.
‘I’ve been trying to get him to do that for the last year. I know the very woman, too, but he won’t have it. He thinks she might steal things on him. He’s very distrustful sometimes, not to mention judgemental,’ Carrie said ruefully as she ladled the soup into a saucepan to heat it up.
‘I know,’ Bobby agreed, not at all surprised. ‘He’ll just have to get over his sad lack of faith in human nature. I’ll work on him,’ he assured her.
‘I can do my own cleaning,’ Noel said crossly the following morning. He was nibbling on a slice of toast and drinking a cup of hot, sweet tea when Bobby brought up the subject.
‘Dad, be realistic. You’re getting on, Carrie’s pregnant and has got her hands full with her own family. It’s not easy trying to look after two houses—’
‘She doesn’t have to look after my house. I told you I’m perfectly capable of looking after this place by myself,’ he said testily. ‘Don’t worry, I won’t be a nuisance to anyone, least of all you.’
‘Don’t be like that!’ Bobby flared at his father’s ungraciousness.
‘Well who do you think you are, coming here and telling me what to do and what not to do in my own house? And trying to make me feel guilty about Carrie doing a bit of hoovering. She’s never complained to me and she’s well able for it. She’s a young woman. It would match you better if you’d straighten yourself out and go and concentrate on finding a nice girl for yourself and settling down!’ He glared at his son, all his anger coming to the surface.
Bobby stared at him, furious. ‘Listen, you selfish, ignorant, sanctimonious hypocrite. I won’t ever be settling down with a girl and you know it. You know I’m gay and always have been and always will be. It’s the way I was born, however much you want to deny it, so deal with it. And I won’t say it to you again. So cut the crap, Dad. And stop treating Carrie like a drudge—’
Noel’s face mottled puce, his veins standing out purple against his temple as rage permeated every fibre of his being. ‘How dare you! You have a nerve to speak to me like that. Get out of here, get out of my sight, and may God forgive you because I wo—’
‘No, you won’t, Dad, because you’re a judgemental hypocrite! Well one thing I know that it says in the Bible is judge not lest ye be judged. But you’ve spent your life judging even though you think you’re so bloody saintly, spending all your time in church. You think you’re going to go to heaven and I’m not, don’t you? Well let me tell you, you have a lot to learn about compassion and mercy and you won’t learn that on your knees at the altar rails. You would have made a great Pharisee. Jesus had a great name for your sort. Whited sepulchres. I remember that from the Bible, too. It suits you down to the ground. Everyone thinks you’re a good, churchgoing Christian; well, I know better,’ Bobby said heatedly, his voice shaking. He turned on his heel and slammed the bedroom door good and hard.
He was relieved that he was going back to London today. He’d never set foot in this bloody house again, he vowed as he packed his rucksack and waited for Carrie to collect him to bring him to the airport.
Noel lay shaken and agitated as he heard the front door close and the slam of car doors before the grind of tyres told him that Bobby was driving away, possibly for good. He didn’t care! He was livid. How dare that young pup speak to him the way he had? How dare he accuse him of being a whited sepulchre, quoting the Bible at him? It was surprising that he even knew a quote from the Bible, Noel thought bitterly, still stung by his son’s harsh accusatory slurs. He took a sip of the tea Carrie had brought him and saw that his hands were shaking. It had been a most distressing incident. His heart was beating far too fast. Noel drank the tea and tried to calm himself.
Bobby was never setting foot in this house again and as soon as he was feeling any way better, he was going to go to his solicitor and change his will, Noel decided, feeling a little more in control. Bobby was not going to get one penny of his money. He’d gone too far this time. Noel had put up with enough. He had a good mind to leave it all to Carrie and Dan. Greg and Shauna didn’t need his money. As far as he could see, they were loaded. He heard the car engine getting fainter in the distance and had never felt so lonely in his life.
15
‘You only had another couple of hours to go and you were doing so well. Could you not have risen above whatever he said to you and ignored it?’ Carrie couldn’t hide her exasperation. ‘He’s sick, he’s getting old—’
‘Don’t start, Carrie. He had it coming. And don’t try and make me feel guilty. He’s made me feel guilty about everything, all my life,’ Bobby raged. ‘He never tried to understand. His way of understanding was to bring me to a fucking psychiatrist when I was ten. Do you remember that, Carrie? He was trying to make out that I was a nutcase, and I think he would have preferred it if I had been,’ he added bitterly.
‘Yes, I remember,’ she said wearily. ‘He thought he was doing his best.’
‘Why do you always stand up for him? Why do you never stand up for me? You always take his side,’ he cried.
‘Oh, for God’s sake, Bobby, stop it. You sound like Olivia. What age are you?’ Carrie snapped. ‘I’m sick of the whole bloody lot of you. You’ll be gone, Shauna’ll be gone and I’ll be left to pick up the pieces. He’ll probably get chest pains tonight or something and I’ll end up spending the night in A and E in Our Lady of Lourdes.’
‘Sorry,’ Bobby muttered.
They sat in resentful, angry silence, Bobby casting a lingering look at the graveyard as they drove past. He’d planned to visit before leaving Whiteshells Bay but with all the upset of the morning he hadn’t got round to it. He didn’t want to ask Carrie to stop; she was probably dying to see the back of him, he thought self-pityingly as he stared out the window.
He saw his old teacher, Mrs Crosby – or rather Florence Dympna as everyone in the village called her, as far back as he could remember – crossing the road at the traffic lights. She was wearing a green hat with a jaunty feather. The teacher had always adored hats and had a big collection of them and he’d always admired them when he was small. She hadn’t lost her sense of style, he noted with approval. The lights turned green and they drove on. He smiled as she waved at him. Florence Dympna was a very sprightly eighty-year-old. She’d encouraged his love of poetry and reading when she’d taught him all those years ago. He would have liked to stop and say hello but Carrie’s jaw was set and he didn’t
feel he could ask for any favours.
The houses started to thin out and soon they were driving past Dan’s rows of shining glasshouses, and his neatly kept fields that would soon be tilled for spring planting. The sea sparkled in the sunlight, shimmering and glossy, the sky sapphire. Mediterranean blue almost. A black Labrador bounded exuberantly along the beach, ecstatic with life as his owner threw sticks for him to catch. Bobby sighed deeply. He was torn between missing the beauty of the place he had grown up in and the desire never to set foot in his village again.
‘Shauna’s not coming to the airport. Chloe’s running a temperature, so we’ll just call for five minutes.’ Carrie broke the silence.
‘OK.’ He shrugged. They didn’t speak again until they got to Malahide.
‘I need to get petrol. I’ll drop you off and get it so we won’t be delayed,’ she said distractedly as they drove into the town.
‘I’ll pay for the petrol,’ he offered hastily.
‘Don’t be daft,’ she retorted but her tone was softer and for that he was relieved.
‘You look the worse for wear, or are you getting the damned bug?’ Shauna said when she opened the door to him. ‘Where’s Carrie going?’
‘To get petrol,’ Bobby said forlornly.
‘What’s wrong with you?’
‘Had a humdinger of a row with Dad. Called him a whited sepulchre and told him he’d make a great Pharisee and got kicked out of the house for good.’ He grimaced. ‘I think telling him that he’ll never learn compassion kneeling at the altar rails was probably the straw that broke the camel’s back, but at that stage I didn’t care. I wanted to hurt him for the way he’s hurt me.’
‘Way to go, Bobby,’ Shauna said dryly. ‘What was a Pharisee again, remind me?’
‘They were the self-righteous geeks in the Bible who were always thumping their chests and boasting about how much they gave to charity and saying how wonderful they were and how much they knew of the word of God.’
‘Oh, Bobby, I bet that hit a sore point.’ Shauna grinned.
‘He went ballistic, absolutely ballistic. I thought he was going to croak there and then.’ He shook his head as if trying to get rid of the memory.
‘Does Carrie know?’
‘Yeah. She had to make him a cup of tea, he was allegedly so upset. I say allegedly because I know that he was just mad because I answered him back. He’s not upset, he hasn’t a heart to be upset.’ Bobby followed his sister into the kitchen. ‘Carrie’s pretty mad with me herself. She said both you and I’d be gone and she’d be left to clean up the mess. It’s so ironic. That’s what started the bloody row. I was trying to persuade him to get someone in to do his cleaning so Carrie wouldn’t have to,’ he said plaintively as he lifted Chloe into his arms and cuddled her to him.
‘She’s right and I feel bad about going out to the Gulf, but only because of her. It won’t cause me too much grief to be leaving Dad behind and that’s an awful thing to say,’ Shauna confessed glumly.
‘He’s reaping what he’s sowed, Shauna, and I feel just like you so either the two of us are horrible people or what we’re feeling is OK because of the way he treated us when we were growing up.’ Bobby sighed.
‘We’re not horrible people,’ Shauna said stoutly. ‘We’re just trying to deal with . . . with stuff. Will you come out to visit us in the Gulf?’ She hugged him.
‘You bet I’ll come. I’ll want to bond with this gorgeous scamp.’ He kissed Chloe on top of her head as she lay curled against him, her eyes bright and watery.
‘I don’t know if it’s the bloody bug or a new tooth. I could swing for that Della one. Even Greg’s pissed off about it. He went to a meeting with his accountant feeling decidedly queasy.’
‘A Christmas to remember.’ Bobby arched an eyebrow.
‘Or one best forgotten, more like it,’ she said caustically as she went to open the door for Carrie who had just rung the doorbell. ‘Sorry about the mess, the van is coming to take our stuff. Have we time for a drink?’ she asked as her older sister stepped inside.
‘I need to get Bobby dropped off and get back to Olivia and let Dan get to the glasshouses for an hour or so. And I’ve to do a dinner for Dad.’ Carrie glanced at her watch.
‘It’s the last time we’ll be together for a while. How about sharing a split of champagne? We’ll only get a mouthful each,’ Shauna urged, anxious that they not part in such a gloomy fashion.
‘OK,’ Carrie agreed, stroking Chloe’s cheek.
Shauna poured the golden bubbly liquid into three champagne flutes and poured some apple juice into Chloe’s little cup. ‘To better times,’ she toasted.
‘To better times,’ her siblings echoed dutifully but Shauna knew their hearts weren’t in it and she felt like crying as she hugged Bobby goodbye.
‘Don’t!’ he warned as he saw the tell-tale glitter in her eyes.
‘Right, go on,’ she said hastily. ‘I’ll phone you.’
‘And don’t come to the door,’ Bobby said, wishing this part was over.
Shauna bit her lip as she heard the door close behind them. What a horrible way to part. Thanks to Della and to her dad, the family’s last Christmas together for the foreseeable future had been ruined.
‘Don’t get out of the car, drive up to the set-down area and I’ll get out there,’ Bobby said as Carrie indicated left off the roundabout and drove into the airport.
‘Ah no! I’ll park and come in and see you off properly,’ she protested.
‘No, don’t, Carrie. I hate saying goodbye. I’m much better going in on my own, please.’ He turned to her.
‘Are you sure?’
‘Positive.’
‘Sorry about getting mad.’
‘Sorry about leaving you to pick up the pieces,’ he reciprocated as she pulled into a space and cut the engine.
They flung their arms round each other and hugged tightly and then Bobby got out of the car, opened the back door to grab his rucksack and was gone with a quick wave.
Tears welled up in her eyes as she headed for the exit. What a dreadful way to say goodbye. Their family was even more fractured than before and all she wanted to do was go home to Dan and lay her head on his chest and feel his strong arms round her. If it wasn’t for Dan she’d be sunk, she reflected as she drove out onto the M1 and headed back home.
Bobby wandered into Hughes & Hughes and stared unseeingly at the rows of books adorning the bookshelves. He’d checked in and had half an hour to spare before boarding. The best thing to do was to not think about it at all, he told himself firmly as a raft of titles made him focus on his reading requirements . . . He needed to concentrate and find a good thriller to take his mind off everything. He might as well forget about home. London was his home now. There was no going back.
‘The things he said to me, Carrie. They were scurrilous. He has no respect at all. I’m his father. Well I’ll tell you one thing, I’m going to my solicitor and I’m cutting him out of my will,’ Noel fumed as Carrie set a plate of steamed fish and creamy mashed potatoes in front of him.
‘Oh, Dad, you can’t do that.’ She was horrified.
‘I can and I will,’ he said forcefully. ‘I don’t want ever to set eyes on him again. He’s gone too far this time.’
‘That’s a very unforgiving thing to do, Dad. You might regret it. And you know Mam would be very upset to think that you’d do that to Bobby or to any of us,’ Carrie said firmly. ‘It’s vengeful and spiteful, Dad, and beneath you,’ she added, trying to appeal to his better nature.
‘I don’t want a lecture from you,’ he retorted, stung by her remarks.
‘Fine. I’m going home to my family; thank God we love each other. If you need me, ring me,’ Carrie said pointedly.
Her father maintained a stubborn silence and she let herself out of the house and wished that she, and not Shauna, was heading to foreign parts.
‘That’s it, Mrs Cassidy, just sign this document, please. Good luck in the Gulf.’ The frei
ght van had come to take the clothing, personal possessions and few belongings they intended bringing to their new home. The young man handed her a pen and indicated where she should sign her name. She did so with a flourish and felt a wave of anticipation. After the past couple of days she was delighted to be going abroad. Away from her father, away from Della and her manipulative behaviour, away from painful memories, away from everything. Greg was right, they were young, and they should make the most of life. It was her and Greg’s choice to try another lifestyle. There was nothing to stop Dan and Carrie from doing likewise should they ever want to.
She’d had enough guilt trips laid on her, she told herself fiercely. She wasn’t going to let another one ruin her future.
16
‘Great party, Shauna,’ Liz Delahunty, an old friend from her Saudi days, congratulated her. ‘I wish I was going back,’ she said wistfully. ‘I can’t persuade Mick, he says the political situation’s too unstable.’
‘It seems to be OK in the Emirates. If it ever gets really dicey we’ll just come home,’ Shauna said lightly. A few people had brought up the political situation but she wasn’t too concerned. Greg had friends all over the Gulf and they were keeping him up to date.
It was almost eleven thirty and the house was jam-packed with friends and neighbours. The caterers had done a great job and a huge buffet was laid out on the table in the dining room.
Not even Della and Eddie could ruin her evening. She’d phoned them a few days before the party and told them that they had to find a babysitter for Kathryn if they wanted to come. The house was to be a baby-free zone. Carrie’s sister-in-law was going to mind Olivia, Davey and Chloe in Whiteshells Bay so that they could party the night through.
Della hadn’t been too happy, but for once Shauna had been adamant. If they were coming they had to leave Kathryn at home. Shauna hoped against hope that they wouldn’t come, but she knew in her heart and soul that they’d be there.
She’d borrowed the pump-up bed again and made it up and put it in the smaller bedroom. There was a divan in there as well. Della and Eddie could decide whether they wanted to share the pump-up or Della could have the divan. Carrie and Dan were having the double bed in the guest room with the en suite.
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