‘I’ll check in and try to get my mother on the phone, see if she’s had any luck with this barrister. I don’t even know how she knows him, but she has lots of friends from different walks of life. I’ll see you in the morning.’ Liam gave him a quick hug, something they didn’t normally do, and Hugo smiled ruefully.
‘We’ll get him out of this, won’t we, Liam?’ he asked.
‘Well, if we can’t, it won’t be for want of trying.’
Patrick sat quietly on the hard tubular steel seat. Opposite him was the detective, Inspector Mc Mullan. Patrick was glad to see him, he had been kind the day Patrick learned of his mother’s murder and they’d got to know each other as the search for Joe Lynch dragged on. The inspector kept Patrick informed each week of the progress, or lack of it. He was a decent man and Patrick trusted him.
Mr O’Kelly was sitting beside him and had spoken to him for a moment before the interview, advising him to tell the truth but not to answer any questions he didn’t want to answer.
The detective took a clean tape out of its box and inserted it into a reel to reel recording machine. It clicked and whirred as he pressed the record button.
‘Interview with Patrick Joseph Lynch, 19th December 1977.’ He looked at his watch, ‘Two twenty-three p.m. Detective Inspector Donal McMullan interviewing. Solicitor Brian O’Kelly also present.’
‘So, Patrick, can you tell me in your own words what happened yesterday? Start off in the morning and try to be as accurate as you can.’ Patrick swallowed and glanced at Mr O’Kelly, who nodded, encouraging him to speak.
‘Well, in the mid-morning up to lunchtime, I suppose, I was at the monastery talking to Father Aquinas. He’s my old teacher and a friend of the family, you could say. When I left him, I went back home. I was clearing up the yard, and I was just going to get the girls from school at three o’clock when Mrs Tobin called me. She’s my neighbour and my late mother’s friend. She’s been helping with my sisters since Mam was killed. Anyway, she told me that Connie and Anna, they’re my little sisters, were inside her house. Anna was upset at school so they sent for Mrs Tobin. Anyway, I went straight over there, and Anna told me that she’d seen our father looking in the window of the classroom and that there was a tall man with red hair with him. Anna doesn’t tell lies, so as soon as she said it, I remembered a place—it’s kind of a pub, not even a pub actually, more of a dosshouse for down and outs, out the Mallow Road where my father used to go when he was robbing. The fella there had a big head of red hair, and he was huge, six four or five, I’d say. My father used to take stolen goods for him to sell. All dodgy people went there; no respectable people ever went into that pub, I’d say. Well, we thought he was gone to England, my father, but then I just thought I’d check this place first.’
‘Why did you not come and tell the guards of your suspicions? Why did you take it on yourself?’ McMullan interrupted, though his tone wasn’t aggressive.
Patrick paused, ‘Well, I wasn’t sure if it was still there, and ye were so good when Mam died. I just thought I’d check the place out and if I found anything, I would let ye know. Stupid, I know now looking back, but that’s what I thought.’
‘All right, carry on. You left the girls with Mrs Tobin and then what?’
Patrick told the whole story, his voice choked with emotion as he recounted Joe’s cackling laugh. When he finished, leaving out no details he could remember of the assault, he sat back in the chair, suddenly exhausted.
‘Did you set out to kill him, Patrick?’ McMullan asked gently.
Patrick didn’t need to look at Mr O’Kelly.
‘No, I didn’t. I was so angry when he was laughing about my mam and calling her names and when he came out, he was plastered drunk, staggering and all that. He was chuckling away to himself and singing, like he hadn’t a care in the world. I thought about Connie and Anna and how scared they were all their lives of him, and what he did to Mam... I just...I don’t know, I wanted to hurt him. I did do it, Inspector, I did kill him, and I won’t pretend that I’m not glad he’s dead, but I didn’t plan it, it just happened.’
‘That’s all for now, Patrick, thank you. Interview terminated two thirty p.m. D.I McMullan attending.’
Standing up, he ejected the tape and labelled it. Patrick was unsure of what he should do. Noting his confusion, the detective sat down again.
‘Right so, Patrick, you’ll now be taken into custody and given prison issue clothing. You did right to come forward, that will help your case. Everything will be taken from you, so I suggest that you give anything of importance to Mr O’Kelly here, then you’ll be assigned a cell and as soon as possible, you’ll be brought before the district court.’
‘What happens then?’ he asked, trying to hide his terror. He knew on some level he was going to be locked up but to hear the word prison made his stomach lurch.
‘Well then, you’ll meet with your legal team, and the judge will send this forward to the circuit court. They don’t deal with crimes like this in the district court. Then the prosecution will prepare the book of evidence and a date will be set for the trial.’
‘Will I get bail?’ He knew he sounded like a kid, but he couldn’t help it.
Mr O’Kelly spoke, ‘Ideally yes, Patrick, but there’s a possibility the judge would see you as a flight risk, so I’d prepare yourself to be in prison until the case comes to trial.’ His voice was kind, he knew how hard this was.
‘I’ll give ye a few minutes there so.’ The detective left the room.
‘How long could that take?’ Patrick asked dully.
Mr O’Kelly placed his hand on Patrick’s arm. ‘Patrick, the best that we can hope for here is that the prosecution brings a charge of manslaughter rather than murder. They’ll decide that based on the book of evidence. You’ll be pleading not guilty to murder, but I’d advise, and I think your barrister will agree when he gets here, that you should enter a guilty plea to the lesser charge of manslaughter, but as I said, we’ll have to wait and see. Either way, Patrick, you will be going to prison. I’m sorry to be the one to tell you, but it’s best if you know the truth.’
Patrick didn’t trust himself to speak, so he just nodded and willed back the tears that stung the back of his eyes.
‘If I do get found guilty of murder...’ Patrick began.
‘Hopefully, it won’t come to that.’
‘But if it does, how long will I be sent to jail for?’
Patrick could hear the clock ticking on the wall. It was the only thing on the drab sludge-coloured walls.
‘If you are found guilty of murder, you’ll be facing life in prison,’ O’Kelly said quietly.
The words hung in the air, and Patrick was finding it hard to breathe. The solicitor’s face swam in front of him, and he thought he might throw up. Mr O’Kelly told him to put his head between his knees and try to take slow, even breaths. After a minute, he felt a bit better and stood up. Mr O’Kelly knocked on the door and a younger guard opened up. He bade Patrick goodbye, and Patrick followed the guard down a corridor in the direction of the cells. As the door closed behind them, Patrick looked around the bare room. There was a bunk with a grey blanket and a thin pillow, a bucket stood in the corner, and that was it. Patrick lay down and stared at the ceiling, terror and despair threatening to overpower him. He tried to visualise a hurling pitch, green grass and blue skies, but it was impossible.
The familiar aromas of stew and soda bread and clean laundry filled the small kitchen, and Liam was glad to be home despite the terrible circumstances.
‘Oh Liam, what in the name of God is going on?’ His mother had been out of her mind with worry, he could tell. As briefly as he could, he told her what had happened in low tones so as not to alert the girls, who were playing with their dolls on the stairs.
‘Where’s Hugo?’ she asked.
‘He’s gone to a hotel. He said to tell you he knows he could have stayed here, but he’s trying to get a bar
rister for Patrick with his mother’s help. Some Irish man who lives in France but isn’t inclined to take cases here so much anymore for some reason. Anyway, he needs a phone to organise it all so that’s why he’s gone to the Metropole.’
‘Right, thank God we have him anyway. We couldn’t afford legal bills. He’s a great lad. Are you hungry?’ his mother asked.
‘Em...yes, something to eat would be nice. We had some sandwiches in the car but, to be honest, we were so upset I couldn’t eat. You should have seen poor Patrick, Mam. He was in an awful state.’
Liam sat at the table as his mother put out cutlery and a plate.
‘So what happens now?’
Liam wished he could tell his mother something other than the truth.
‘He’ll be held in the Garda station overnight and transferred to prison in the morning,’ Liam replied as Mrs Tobin placed a steaming plate of stew in front of him.
‘The solicitor told us that he’ll have a preliminary hearing in the morning to determine if he will get bail or not, and for the judge to send on the case to the circuit court. And then the book of evidence will be compiled. It’s a slow process, and Patrick could spend several months on remand awaiting trial.’
‘Did he admit he did it?’ she asked.
‘Sure, I suppose there’s no future in saying he didn’t, Mam. He said he did it, that he didn’t intend to kill him, but that when he saw him laughing about his mother, something inside him snapped and he did what he did. He’s telling the truth, which is the only way forward here.’
Mrs Tobin nodded in agreement. ‘I suppose you’re right, but what’s to become of those two little girls? They’ve been through so much already.’
‘Well, I had a quick word with the detective, remember him? The man who told Patrick about his mother.’
‘Yes, Detective Inspector McMullan. He’s been keeping Patrick informed about the search for Joe Lynch, he’s been very good.’
‘Well, he was the one questioning Patrick at the station. Anyway, I asked him if he could use his influence to suggest that the girls stay with you rather than going into care. That was all right, wasn’t it?’ Liam ate his delicious stew, he didn’t realise how hungry he was.
‘Of course, I couldn’t have them taken away. Will they let me keep them, do you think? Until Patrick is released.’
Liam put down his fork.
‘Well, maybe Father Aquinas could help with that, as well. I know he deals with the children’s services through his work above in the school. I know you love them, but Mam, you have to understand, there’s a really good chance that you’ll have them for years if Patrick gets convicted. It’s a big undertaking.’ He knew his mother wouldn’t hesitate, but he wanted her to be fully aware of what she was getting herself into.
‘Kathleen was my best friend. She’d do the same for me. I love those little girls and if I can give them a home for as long as they need it, I’m very happy to do it. I’ll talk to Father Aquinas in the morning and see if we can arrange to do whatever needs doing. Please God, Patrick won’t have to go to jail, but I know he’s after landing himself into serious trouble. We’ll just have to wait and see if Hugo can get this miracle man from Dublin or France or wherever he is and see what he’ll have to say about it.’
‘We’ll have to tell them.’ Liam nodded in the direction of the hall.
‘Finish your dinner, and we’ll do it together.’ His mother squeezed his shoulder.
They cleared away the plates and called the girls into the kitchen. He was dreading this, but it had to be done. There was no point in lying to them, they would find out anyway and it was vital that Connie and Anna trusted them. Mrs Tobin held Anna on her lap, and Liam put his arm around Connie. They left out the gruesome details and tried to paint Patrick in as positive a light as possible, focusing on the fact that their father was dead and could never hurt or frighten them again. They seemed relieved but kept asking for Patrick.
Liam looked at his mother, unsure of how much they should be told. She gave him an imperceptible nod, they had to be told something and a diluted version of the truth was the only option. They had had so much pain and sorrow in their little lives already, how could he tell them the person they loved and relied on most in the world might be locked up for years?
‘Girls, the thing is, Patrick was very cross with your father for hurting your mammy and for frightening you. All he wanted to do was protect you. He got so cross that he hit him and when Patrick did that, well, your father died. Now the guards don’t want people going around hitting other people and making them hurt or die, so Patrick will have to go into a court and a man called a judge will decide if Patrick should go to jail or not for doing it.’
As the words he spoke registered on their faces, Liam never felt more inadequate.
‘But Liam, the guards won’t take Patrick away from us. He’s the good one, isn’t he? Daddy was the bad man not Patrick. They won’t put Patrick in jail, will they, Liam?’ Connie’s eyes filled with tears while Anna clung to Liam’s mother.
Liam pulled her onto his lap and stroked her hair. ‘I hope not, pet, but even if they do, me and my Mam and Hugo will look after ye, so try not to worry. We are doing everything we can to help Patrick, I promise you that. Hugo is getting a very clever man from France to come and explain to the judge that Patrick is very good. We just have to pray that the judge sees that.’
Eventually, the girls fell asleep, and Liam sat up in the kitchen with his mother, thinking about the last twenty-four hours. They tried to stay positive, but the outlook was bleak. As they were about to go to bed, there was a gentle knock on the front door.
Liam went out and was surprised to see Hugo shivering on the doorstep. It had begun to snow heavily again and Hugo only had a light coat.
‘Hugo, God Almighty, come in, it’s freezing.’ He led his friend inside and shut the door on the blizzard outside. ‘I thought you were staying at the Metropole?’
‘I was,’ Hugo replied shivering as he took off his jacket, now covered in snow. Mrs Tobin appeared with a towel for his hair and led him to the range before putting on the kettle.
‘I had to come and tell you. My mother managed it, after about fifty international phone calls. This d’Alton initially refused the case. He doesn’t like working in Ireland. Apparently, not good enough for him or something. Anyway, whatever the reason, she’s managed to convince him. She said they had a mutual connection, and she has met him once or twice so she spoke to him this evening, and he’s finally agreed to take the case as a favour to her.’ The relief shone out of Hugo’s eyes.
‘Oh, Hugo, that’s marvellous! Well done!’ Liam felt some of the earlier despair dissipate, maybe there was hope after all.
Mrs Tobin hugged him. ‘Thank you, Hugo. I don’t know where we’d be without you, honestly I don’t, you’re a Godsend.’
‘Mrs Tobin, just as I was telling Liam earlier, please don’t thank me. I want to do it, you’re all like family to me, I’ll do whatever I can to fix this.’
‘I know you will, pet.’ Mrs Tobin held his hand. ‘We all will. And you’re dead right, we may not be related by blood, but we’re family all the same. Not another word, I promise. Now, a cup of tea and a slice of fruit cake? Or would you rather a rasher sandwich or I’ve got a bit of stew left over.’
Hugo chuckled for the first time in weeks.
‘Just like when I used to come down on Thursdays and I’d eat enough for ten men and leave with my pockets full of cake. You kept me alive all those years, you know? A rasher sandwich would be lovely, and maybe a bit of cake for after? I meant to eat in the hotel, but I was so busy on the phone I forgot. Gosh, I didn’t realise the time,’ he said glancing at his watch. ‘Perhaps I should have left it till the morning.’
Mrs Tobin kissed him on the top of his head. ‘You’re as welcome here as the flowers of May, Hugo FitzHenry, you always were and you always will be. Now, sit down there, and I’ll get your food. T
here’s no way you’re going back out in that weather, so settle yourself down there by the fire. Liam, run upstairs and get him some dry clothes, he’ll catch his death in those wet trousers. It might not be as fancy as the Metropole, but I won’t have it on my conscience that you get pneumonia so you’ll stay here tonight.’
‘Well, that’s telling you.’ Liam grinned as he went to get Hugo something to change into. When he came back down, Hugo was warming himself by the range. He took the hand-knit sweater, shirt, and the corduroy trousers gratefully and ran upstairs to change.
‘You look less like a drowned rat now, at least.’ Liam smiled as his friend came back.
‘Thanks, Liam. I was soaked through. How are the girls, did you tell them?’
Liam filled Hugo in on the conversation as he devoured an entire plate of rasher sandwiches followed by half a fruit cake.
‘Where do you put it, Hugo? You could eat for Ireland but there’s not a pick on you,’ Mrs Tobin wondered with a smile. ‘You were always the same, though you were a pudgy little lad when you came here first.’
‘I forget to eat, Mrs Tobin. I think that’s it, some days I eat nothing at all and then realise it at ten o’clock at night. The cook is probably fit to strangle me though she never says. I’m rather like a camel, I believe, stock up and then go for ages and ages.’
‘What you need is a good woman to mind you, doesn’t he, Liam?’ Mrs Tobin joked, ruffling Hugo’s hair.
‘Mam, like myself, Hugo needs a woman like he needs a hole in the head, sure haven’t we you? Wouldn’t some young one only be pecking at him and he footloose and fancy free?’ Liam caught Hugo’s eye behind his mother’s back and gave him a wink. Hugo smiled and despite the awfulness of the situation, felt a warm glow of love for these people.
‘Sure, you’ve plenty time yet anyway, I suppose. We’ll have to focus on Patrick now, and on these little girls. I’ll pray hard tonight and ask Seán and Kathleen to intercede with Our Blessed Mother for Patrick.’ She kissed both of them on the head and went up.
Jean Grainger Box Set: So Much Owed, Shadow of a Century, Under Heaven's Shining Stars Page 98