‘I’m so sorry – but you have no idea what this means to us. We’ve been looking for it ever since . . .’
‘I understand,’ he says. His voice is full of quiet compassion. ‘I am very glad I have found both of you here today.’
‘Please,’ Ella begs him. ‘Please tell us where you got this.’
And he begins, hesitantly at first. He tells them of a journey by car, a journey that took place on the same morning that Daniel fled from Edward’s house and cycled towards home like a demon.
‘I passed him on the road, when I was on my way home from my sister’s,’ he says. ‘He was fairly flyin’ so he was. I overtook him just at Duffy’s yard, and gave him a little beep as I passed. He didn’t wave back, and I was surprised, so I was. Always very polite, your Daniel.’ He pauses. ‘When I reached my own home place, just mebbe fifteen or twenty seconds later, he was still keepin’ up with me, pretty much. Then, just as I got to my own gate, he waved. At least I thought he did. His arm went up into the air, like this,’ Peter demonstrates a vigorous movement, ‘and I waved back from the car.’
Ella can barely hear him over the buzzing in her ears, the sound of her own blood surging in her veins. ‘What happened?’ She keeps her voice as quiet as she can. She has never heard Peter Nugent talk so much.
‘I didn’t think any more about it until . . . until I realized what had happened to your boy. It puzzled me then. And yesterday, it just came to me. That arm movement,’ he demonstrates again, ‘that was no wave. That was him throwin’ some-thin’ over the hedge. So I took myself down to the lower field and I started to look. I had a good idea where somethin’ might land. I’ll make a long story short, and say that I’ve just found it, not an hour ago. I figured it must be his.’
Peter Nugent sits back, takes a long draught of the cup of tea that Patrick has handed him.
Ella finds her own voice at last. ‘We can’t thank you enough. Truly. This is a really important find.’ She stops. ‘When you saw Daniel last Sunday, did he look upset?’
Peter Nugent looks first at Patrick, as though for permission, then at her. Slowly, he says, ‘The boy was in a great hurry, Miss Ella. That’s all I can tell you.’ He looks down at his hands. ‘And for some reason, he threw away his phone. Mebbe someone was callin’ him, annoyin’ him, like. Who knows?’
Ella feels her heart race. Little does he know, she thinks. Little does he know.
They talk, the three of them, for a few minutes more. Ella can’t wait for him to go, but she cannot bring herself to be impolite. Finally, with minutes courteously managed to their optimum, Peter Nugent stands up.
‘I had best be goin’,’ he says. ‘A lot still to do.’
They see him to the door, where he once more affixes his cap to his head, getting the position of the peak just right. ‘My sympathies again to you both,’ he says, gravely. ‘A grand young lad, your Daniel. Very like his grandfather.’
‘Thank you, Peter. For everything.’ Ella tries to smile at him.
‘Yes, indeed. Much appreciated.’ Patrick shakes his hand vigorously once again.
Peter Nugent walks down the driveway, towards the road. His feet scrunch the gravel. Ella waits until he reaches his battered little silver car and then she closes the front door. But Patrick’s face does not share the relief she is feeling. ‘Patrick? What is it?’
He places both hands on her shoulders. ‘I don’t want us to get our hopes up,’ he says.
‘You mean me. You don’t want me to get my hopes up.’ Ella feels anger flare. ‘Why? What’s wrong? Why shouldn’t I?’
‘Because,’ and his tone is gentle, ‘this phone has now been lying in Nugent’s field for over a week. In dew, in rain, in cold enough temperatures at night. I have no idea whether we’ll be able to get any information off it.’
He sees her face fall. He puts both arms around her, draws her to him. ‘I’ll call Sophie. She’ll know. It’s just so cruel to feel so close to getting somewhere, and then to have to pull back. I wish I wasn’t so ignorant about this stuff. All of it.’ He pulls her closer, kisses her forehead. ‘One way or the other, it’s wonderful it’s been found. Let’s just hold onto that.’
Soon after Peter Nugent’s visit, events began to accelerate all over again. It was strange the way time changed its contours once more. All around us, the air felt charged with electricity: a force that seemed to make things happen of their own accord. Within an hour of my call to Sophie, she rang back, jubilant. ‘Good news, Dad. The information on the phone is safe: it doesn’t even matter if the handset is damaged, everything is still there. They’ve even got stuff off iPhones that have been lying outside for three months or more.’
I was so relieved I found it hard to reply. I’d been haunted by the image of Daniel cycling home that Sunday around midday, tormented by yet another text, or a call, perhaps, already fleeing from what he saw as the betrayal of his best friend.
My diary tells me that later that day – although my memory has fixed it on the following one, but it no longer matters – Miss O’Connor arrived at the house. She’d asked to see us after school.
‘Of course,’ I said.
Her visit reinforced that extraordinary sense in those days of something always about to happen, and of both of us, Ella and I, waiting, always waiting. We lived within that strange coexistence of opposites.
Ella greeted her at the door. ‘Miss O’Connor,’ she said. ‘We’ve met before. Daniel was extremely fond of you. Please, come in.’
She shook hands with both of us. ‘It’s Helen, please,’ she said. ‘Daniel was a wonderful boy. I am so sorry for your loss.’
I liked her at once. I liked the directness of her sincerity. She made both of us feel at ease. And she did not keep us waiting.
‘I know that you have already collected Daniel’s portfolio,’ she said. ‘I have also photocopied that picture that Sylvia described to us. Without her coming to me, I would never have known of its existence. It took a while before I could track it down.’
I nodded. ‘We are very grateful to Sylvia,’ I said. ‘She has already been to see us.’
Helen O’Connor nodded. ‘She’s a really good kid,’ she said. ‘And so are most of the others. However,’ and she looked at both of us, ‘we have a few bad apples, as I think you know.’
‘What’s going to happen to them?’ asked Ella, quietly. ‘We really need to take this further. We can’t let it go.’
Helen nodded vigorously. ‘We’re doing everything we can to progress that,’ she said. ‘We want you to know that we have begun our own investigation, and it is very heartening, the number of students who have come forward with information since Daniel died.’
I glanced at Ella. ‘What sort of information?’ I asked, quickly. ‘Is it to do with the Jays?’
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I can’t be too specific just at the moment, but I will tell you that we are in the process of gathering evidence about a systematic campaign of bullying against Daniel, and a couple of other young students. We won’t rest until we have what we need.’
‘Will the police be involved?’ Ella asked.
‘I believe that is entirely likely,’ Helen said. ‘We think there will need to be a criminal investigation.’
Ella and I talked about nothing else after Helen O’Connor left.
‘It will be difficult,’ Ella said. ‘This is a very small community, and we are really going to rock the boat. Fintan’s family is very well connected. I don’t know the others all that well – and, of course, I’ve no idea who Leo is.’
I looked at her in surprise. I hadn’t even thought of our rocking the boat, as she put it. But then, I hadn’t been born in this place. I was far more accustomed to the anonymity of the urban. I always will be, no matter how long I live here. ‘Does that upset you?’
She shook her head. ‘Not at all. I’m just saying that we can prepare ourselves for some resistance.’
I felt angry again. It was an emotion that lived very close
to the surface in those days. ‘I don’t care,’ I said. ‘Let them do their worst. We’re going all the way with this.’
In the meantime, other events were occurring: events that brought us hope and help from a source we could never have imagined.
Edward
THERE IS LOTS OF TALK about Daniel. The teachers mention him almost every class and the counsellors still drop in to see us second years, maybe once a day now, now that things are back to normal. They always say the same sort of stuff. About how information will be dealt with in private. About how certain things are ‘implicated’ in Daniel’s death. About how important it is to find out what happened so that we can stop it ever happening again.
Sylvia reminded me of the emails from Spain. She told me about the website and the pictures and I hadn’t known about those. I felt bad that he hadn’t told me. We sat beside each other at lunch and break sometimes and the Jays left us alone. There was no more whistling or whispering at least that. They’ve been very quiet the past few days. Jeremy doesn’t come to the second-year mall like he used to. He sticks to the third-year end and good riddance to him. Jason and James are still around though.
Jason came up to me yesterday. I ignored him. Edward he said. Then I looked up. He had his hands in his pockets. His face was still brown from the summer, his hair nearly white from the sun. I don’t know why but that made me madder than I already felt. Oh you mean Paki don’t you I said. I must of shouted although I didn’t think I did. I want to ask you something he said. Then the bell rang. Fuck off I said. Why don’t you. Just fuck off.
He waited for me at the bicycle shed at home time. I just stood there looking at him. We didn’t move. He was on his own and that’s the first time ever that’s happened. I want to know what you told them he said and he walked towards me. But I stayed where I was. Held my ground as Fathersir would say. Why what are you afraid of I asked. Just tell me what you said. To the counsellors.
I stuck my face into his. I told them you were a shit I said. You and James and Jeremy. The three of you together. Just a bunch of little shits. Now get out of my way.
He looked different so he did without the other two around him. But he clenched his fists then and started back into me. I pushed him and he stumbled and then he fell. Right then, I couldn’t believe my luck. It made me braver. Remember what I told you this morning I said. You fuck off and don’t ever come near me again.
I got up on my bike and cycled home. Then I cried for only the second time since he died. Pushing Jason wasn’t much but at least it was something I’d done for Daniel.
At least it was something.
Ella
WHEN CHRISTOPHER’S CALL CAME, Ella felt as though time had suddenly stilled.
‘I’ve had this approach,’ he said, ‘and I hardly know what to say to you.’
Now her heart began to speed up. Whatever it was, it had to do with Daniel. Everything had to do with Daniel. ‘Go on,’ she said, ‘tell me.’
‘Well, it has to do with the parents of some young lad at Daniel’s school. His name is Leo Byrne. I don’t know him or them; apparently they’re pretty new to the area. I mean, they’re not natives.’
Ella heard the sound of papers being rustled, could see Christopher at his desk, his glasses perched high up on his bald head. ‘The family have taken over some relative’s farm, I understand. My local GP approached me on Sunday morning: they asked him to make contact with a counsellor, and he thought of me.’ Christopher paused for a moment. ‘The boy’s parents went to see Dr Keane on Saturday. Apparently, they’re beside themselves with worry. Their son is in a very bad way emotionally. I know nothing other than that.’
Leo, Ella thought. It had to be him: it had to be that Leo. It could hardly be any other. She gripped the phone tighter, afraid to let it go, to let anything go. ‘What does he want – what do they want?’
‘A discreet approach to you, apparently. They want the boy to see you, to talk to you. That’s all they would say. They wouldn’t come direct, in case you wouldn’t speak to them. And that’s all I know.’ He paused. ‘I suggested that he could talk to me, that you might not be in a position to see anybody right now. But they were insistent. They wanted to ask for you first.’
‘I’ll see him,’ Ella said quickly. ‘I’ll see him immediately.’
Christopher sounded surprised. ‘Are you sure?’
‘Positive. I’ll explain another time, Chris. I need to see this boy.’
‘Okay, then. But let’s talk immediately afterwards.’
Patrick has counselled caution. He is not sure he likes this. ‘I’ll be right outside,’ he says. ‘All you’ll have to do is call. I think I’d prefer this Leo to say whatever it is he has to say to the police.’
‘Let me meet him, Patrick. Please. I need to speak to him – to listen to him.’
She kept seeing Leo, the crouching animal at the corner of her son’s picture. The one who had not yet pounced. She needed to hear his story.
And now she opens the front door to a tall, gangly figure with his hands in his pockets. ‘Leo?’
He nods, wordlessly.
‘Come this way.’ She walks in front of him down the corridor, steeling herself to face him once they reach her consulting room. She is conscious of Patrick’s unseen presence behind the door of the kitchen. It comforts her. When she reaches the office, she stands back, and allows Leo to walk in before her. ‘Here we are,’ she says.
When Leo enters the room, Ella feels the air displace around him. He ploughs his way in, takes a sharp turn to the left, dives into the armchair that she is just about to indicate. He flings himself forward, his legs splayed. He bristles, his energy radiating towards her in angry waves.
‘Make yourself comfortable, Leo,’ she says. ‘My name is Ella.’
He doesn’t answer. One knee bounces up and down as he keeps the ball of his foot slammed into the wooden floor, his heel in mid-air. ‘I don’t want to be here. My parents made me come.’
Ella sits and waits for a moment. ‘You’re angry,’ she says.
His leg continues to jerk, up and down, up and down, even more furiously than before. Ella notices his right hand, clenched around the arm of the chair. The index and middle fingers are stained a rusty brown. A smoker. And the nails are bitten to the quick.
She waits for a moment, to let him settle. The rage is a shield, she’s sure of it. She looks at him now, curious. Right this minute, he doesn’t look anything like a crouching animal. He looks much more like a terrified and guilty child. She breathes deeply, quietly. He is not leaving this room until she knows whatever it is that he is hiding.
‘You have a choice,’ she says, after a moment. She makes sure that she is sitting well back in the chair, her hands resting lightly on the arms. Her tone is neutral, careful. ‘You can walk out of that door any time you like. No one is forcing you to stay.’
He glares at her. The eyes are unblinking. ‘I said I would,’ he said. ‘It was the only way they would leave me alone.’
‘They?’
‘My parents. They keep at me an’ at me.’
‘And have you any idea why?’
He shrugs. ‘Just stuff.’ He shoves at something with the toe of his trainer, concentrating very hard on the floor.
Ella wants to make eye contact again, however briefly. More than that, she wants him to start talking. She is finding it increasingly difficult to sit and face one of Daniel’s tormentors. ‘Well,’ she says, ‘as long as you’re here, why don’t we just use the time to have a conversation? If we don’t like each other, you can go and talk to someone else. Either way, you’ll have done what your parents asked, and they might give you a break.’
She says this with a small smile. Leo looks up, catches it. Just for a moment, his leg stops jerking up and down. Then it resumes, even more quickly than before. ‘This is all bullshit,’ he explodes.
She gestures towards the door. ‘Then leave. You can tell your parents you tried. But that it’s all b
ullshit.’ She prays, silently, that she is making the right call.
Now he meets her gaze, flinches at the challenge he sees there.
‘I can’t,’ he says. ‘I agreed. They made me promise.’ The admission seems to deflate him. His leg stills and he has sagged forward, as though the force of his anger is all that has kept him upright.
‘Okay, then.’ Ella nods. ‘We can spend the time in silence, or we can talk. It’s up to you.’
He just stares at her. His eyes give nothing away.
‘There is something troubling you, Leo, and you obviously can’t talk to your parents about it. My job is to be objective, not to judge you on whatever it is I hear. You can say what you want. And I won’t be shocked.’
‘How do you know?’ He seems to shoot the question at her.
‘How do I know what?’
‘How do you know you won’t be shocked?’
‘That’s a good question. Maybe because I’m trained not to be shocked. I’ve been doing this job for over thirty years, so I’ve probably heard about problems a lot more than most people. The thing is, you don’t need to be afraid of what you think, or feel – you are free to say it here.’
‘I’m not afraid,’ he says, too quickly. Ella notices that his tone is no longer so aggressive.
‘Okay, then. So, where would you like to begin? How about explaining the promise you made at home? How did that come about?’
He shrugs, looking at the ground again. ‘They think I’m depressed.’
‘And what do you think?’
He squirms, his fingers plucking at something on the arms of the chair. ‘How would I know? Everyone just keeps gettin’ at me. It’s pissin’ me off.’
Ella waits until he looks up – not quite at her, but somewhere in her direction. ‘Let’s take a step back, Leo. Why don’t you tell me a bit about yourself first, about your family, your school – whatever comes to mind.’
The Things We Know Now Page 28