by Oliver Sands
‘Who was that young priest you were chummy with, Breeda? Remember the guy who left the school all of a sudden?’
Dervil took a slow sip from her glass, and tilted her head, a faultless serve across the net. The chitchat and music in the garden ebbed into the background now, and a stench of awkwardness hung around Breeda. She suddenly realised she had nothing left, that she’d been running on fumes these past few days.
‘And what’s going on over here? You sound like a coven of witches.’
The women turned. Dougie had arrived with a bottle of prosecco and a jug of water and was leaning in to top up their glasses. He filled Oona’s empty flute from the water jug.
‘Drink that or no more of this.’
He waggled the prosecco bottle in front of her. She opened her mouth to protest, but instead skulled the water, then held her glass out triumphantly for a proper refill.
As the women busied themselves with top-ups, Breeda saw her opportunity to scarper before Dervil could make any more wisecracks.
‘Back in a sec. Just popping to the loo.’
She kept her head down as she pushed through the crowd. Someone called her name, but Breeda ploughed on, pretending not to hear. There was color in her cheeks, but it wasn’t from embarrassment alone now. Anger surged through her. She was livid. She grabbed a fresh glass of bubbles from a tray on the kitchen counter and headed straight for the downstairs loo. She turned the lock, slammed the seat on the toilet and downed the glass in one go.
The absolute bitch.
So this was how it was going to be. The gloves were off and Dervil was going to try and destroy her all over again. Breeda banged the side of her hand against the tiled wall, vexed with herself for not saying something. But she knew that only would have created a scene, and she couldn’t do that to Oona. Breeda forced herself to sit back against the cistern, her jaw tense. Her eyes found a little crocheted doll she’d bought Oona as a joke one Christmas, now squatting over a loo roll, on the shelf above the basin. As she sat listening to the slow drip of the tap she tried to slow her breathing. Her future was mapping itself out and solidifying with each passing minute: a future with Dervil chipping away at her by stealth and poisoning her name amongst the inhabitants of Carrickross. Breeda closed her eyes and tilted her head back. The champagne swilled and bubbled in her stomach.
Yes, her dad and Dervil’s mother had had an affair twenty-five odd years ago.
Yes, it was wrong.
But it was in the past. They’d been grown adults.
And the sins of the father didn’t belong at Breeda’s feet. Besides, hadn’t Mona Sneddon been just as complicit?
Someone tried the door handle and her body jumped.
For God’s sake. Couldn’t she just have one minute!
Breeda got to her feet and quickly smoothed her hair. She forced an empty smile at herself in the mirror, then opened the door.
‘Oh, hello.’
It was that guy. The flower buyer. The yoga guy with the arse. He was standing inches in front of her, his familiarity still confounding her. He smiled and Breeda noticed a space between his two front teeth. She opened her mouth to say hello but the bubbles she’d just knocked back chose that particular moment to make their presence felt in the form of a thunderous belch.
The stranger stood back, startled. Breeda rushed a hand to her mouth, her eyes wide, only managing to shake her stunned head at her vulgarity. They stood regarding each other for a split second, the silence after the burp more absolute. Then he laughed. He threw his head back and laughed.
‘Well, there’s something you don’t see every day.’
‘I’m so, so—’
‘I’m Aidan,’ He stuck out his hand. ‘Pleased to meet you So-So.’
Breeda bit her bottom lip, and felt the heat evaporate off her cheeks.
‘I’m Breeda. And I’m really sorry about that. What must you think?’
He nodded to the empty glass in her hand.
‘I think you’re probably allowed just one more of those. Any more and we might need to issue a storm warning.
He stood aside to let her out, then shuffled past her into the loo. Breeda turned to hurry off down the hallway, but he called after her, through the half-closed door.
‘Breeda - will I join you outside for that last glass?’
He was looking at her with his dark eyebrows raised.
What the hell, Breeda thought. It’s not like the afternoon could get any worse …
Chapter 28
On an old bench near a laurel hedge in a quieter part of Oona’s back garden, Breeda and Aidan sat and observed the crowd on the lawn. Aidan had begun to tell Breeda a little about himself. He was a cop, on stress leave after an incident down in Dublin a few months prior. As Breeda listened to this she noticed a shadow cross his face. He leaned forward and slowly turned the beer bottle in his hand, momentarily lost in thought. Breeda shifted slightly on the bench. He looked up and shot an apologetic smile her way.
‘Sorry. Didn’t mean to be a party pooper. Here – feel this …’
He took her hand and slowly ran her index finger along the hairline of his forearm as far as his wrist. Her fingers traced the grooves and hollows under his flesh. She kept her eyes on his wrist, could sense his eyes on her.
‘What is that?’
‘Just some plates and pins. A souvenir from my job.’
‘Are you, like, some kind of bionic man.’
He took his arm back and slugged from his beer. ‘I like to think of myself as The Terminator, actually’.
‘Ah, OK, well I guess I can call you Arnie.’
Across the garden, a group of tipsy women — with Oona as their ringleader — were gathered around a makeshift dance floor, hellbent on getting Finbarr Feeley to throw a few shapes for them. The poor guy’s face was flushed with embarrassment, and Breeda felt an urge to run over and rescue him. But she remained on the bench, a dull wariness holding her back. Earlier that afternoon, after leaving Nora’s, Breeda had swung by Bayview Rise to pick out her summer frock from storage. On parking the car she’d noticed the grass on their front lawn was uncharacteristically long, longer than Finbarr had ever let it grow. If Nora saw the state of the garden she’d fuss and fret about it putting off prospective buyers, and as Breeda had stuck her key in the front door she’d wondered if Finbarr’s nose might be out of joint. He had every right to be off with her, after she’d been so short to him the day the For Sale sign went up. The man deserved better, and an apology was overdue. But now, back at the barbecue, as if reading her mind, Finbarr looked over from the dance floor. Breeda smiled at him, he nodded a smile back, and she instantly felt her shoulders soften.
Beside her on the bench, Aidan took another swig from his beer bottle.
‘Who’s that fella?’
‘Who, Finbarr? He’s just my neighbor.’
‘Have you noticed he keeps looking over here. He’s been staring daggers at me since we started talking.’
She turned to look at Aidan, then back over at the farmer.
‘Finbarr? God no, he doesn’t have a bad bone in his body. He’s probably just wondering who you are, is all …’
At that moment Finbarr gave into the surrounding pack and started to unleash a few dance moves to their whoops and cheers. He caught Breeda’s eye again and they both started to laugh. Breeda watched for a moment, weirdly proud of him, glad to see him enjoying himself. Even from this distance she could see the plucked cuffs on his old jacket from years of snagging his sleeves on barbed wire fences up the back fields. And as she sat watching him she wondered if the gentle giant in his torn tweed jacket might find himself someone special someday.
‘How’s the lemonade going down?’
Breeda glanced at Aidan. ‘Much better than the bubbles, thanks.’
‘Well, hopefully it stays down too this time.’
She went to swat his shoulder but shifted on the bench and brushed her fingers through her hair instead. She barely knew t
his guy. Yet something …
‘So Aidan …’
He gave her a look.
‘Sorry. So Arnie … what’s a nice cop from Dublin doing in a place like this?’
‘Ah, you see, it’s such a lovely afternoon and Dougie—’
Now she did push his shoulder.
‘No, you dope. I mean what brings you to Carrickross village – the official center of the known universe – are you on holiday?’
‘Oh …’ He laughed, and settled back against the bench, ‘No, not on holiday exactly. I guess you could call it a confluence of events. The incident down in Dublin,’ a brief pause, ‘then a death in the family …’
Breeda put a hand to his arm.
‘I’m sorry … I didn’t mean to pry …’
‘No, no, you’re grand. I’m just—’
They looked up. Oona had come over, breathless from laughing so much, and collapsed onto the spare space on the other side of Aidan.
‘Do you mind if I sit for a minute? That Finbarr one cracks me up.’ She fanned her glowing face, and then turned to them. ‘So it looks like you two have met then?’
Aidan answered for them. ‘Yeah, but we actually crossed paths earlier in the week.’
Breeda shifted in her seat again.
So he’d remembered her from that day when he was buying the flowers.
Then she realised with horror that there was an alternative, and a flush of heat reddened her face …
He’d noticed her checking out his arse at yoga.
He was watching Breeda now, his eyes narrowed, a cheeky smile threatening to erupt.
‘You don’t remember?’
Breeda opened her mouth, then closed it again.
‘The other day, on the road. You threw me the filthiest look as I passed you,’ he turned back to Oona, ‘Granted I was probably going a bit too fast for that road…’
‘On the motorbike. That was you!’
He turned back to Breeda and laughed, a laugh she was already beginning to like hearing. Just then an annoying chime interrupted them. Breeda took out her phone, killed the alarm, then groaned as she closed her eyes and slumped down the bench. Her pumpkin carriage awaited on the street.
‘Guys, I’d love to stay but I have to make a move …’
‘Ah, Bree! Nora?’
‘Nora.’
‘And how is the patient?’
Breeda grimaced at Oona. She thought of Lady Muck propped up in her bed, the servant’s bell never far from her twitchy fingers.
‘Oh. You know …’
‘Can’t you stay for one more? Aidan here will think you’re very rude for running off …’
‘Sorry, but I best not. I don’t want to end up in the naughty corner.’
Breeda forced herself to stand and smoothed down her dress. Aidan stood too, leaving Oona glued to the bench.
‘Well, it was lovely chatting, So-so.’
He gave her hand a single firm shake.
‘You too, Arnie. I might see you again if you’re in town for a bit.’
Oona piped up from the bench, not one to be ignored.
‘So, how’s the new place going, Aidan? Dougie says the electrics are all finished now? Bree, you know that big house up on Riley’s Hill …?’
Breeda turned to Oona, then looked back at Aidan.
‘Riley’s Hill?’
Oona again, ‘Yeah, himself and Dervil took over that big empty house. They got it for a steal. But once—’
Oona kept talking but Breeda could no longer hear her.
Aidan was watching Breeda with a look of confusion to match the one on her own face. His hand was still wrapped around hers. A sharp voice made Breeda jump, and her bowels clenched again.
‘Aidan, fetch the car please. I’ll see you out front in a second.’ Dervil’s eyes were fixed on Breeda, and Breeda, in turn, dropped her own eyes to the lawn.
Aidan let go of Breeda’s hand, then touched Dervil gently on the shoulder.
‘Are you alright, Derv?’
She gave a barely perceptible nod. ‘Migraine.’
Aidan walked off, then turned at the corner to give them a farewell salute. ‘Catch youse soon,’ he shouted, ‘And thanks for a great barbecue, Oona.’ And with that he was gone.
Breeda shriveled at Dervil’s continued glare, and when Oona stood up Breeda’s hand found her arm and held on, grateful for her presence.
‘Oona, be a sweetie? I’d love a glass of water so I can pop a couple of these painkillers … Would you mind?’
‘Of course, Dervil. Not a bother. Wait here.’
Breeda looked after Oona’s retreating back and felt a fresh panic rising. She wanted to cast a hook, to yank her friend back, and stick onto her like a barnacle about to weather Armageddon. Her eyes darted around the people nearby, but they were all totally oblivious to her predicament. The awkward silence stretched in front of her, and Breeda turned her eyes back to Dervil.
‘I didn’t know he was your husband!’ she blurted, louder than she’d meant to.
The eyebrows raised a fraction, but Dervil held her tongue – an invitation for whatever was the next nugget of wisdom about to leave Breeda’s mouth.
‘What I mean to say is, we were only talking. I have absolutely no interest in Aidan, Dervil. I’m not that sort of girl.’
She went to speak again but Dervil silenced her with an upheld hand. Over Dervil’s shoulder, Breeda could see Oona rushing back towards them, a pint glass of water slopping in front of her. Marie Boyle was merrily traipsing after her with a tray of vol-au-vents fresh from the oven. Breeda suddenly didn’t want them near her – she didn’t want witnesses for what now might be about to unfold. Oona presented the water glass, but Dervil ignored it, her eyes still locked on her prey.
‘Breeda, I want you to stay away from me.’
Breeda made a single silent nod, keenly aware of Oona and Marie sensing tension in the air.
‘I want you to stay away from Aidan too.’
‘No problem, I didn’t—’
The raised hand again.
‘And I most definitely want you to stay away from my elderly mother.’
Three pairs of eyes now regarded Breeda, and the blood rose to her cheeks once more.
‘You see, Breeda, in my lexicon, the Looney name is synonymous with scum. Filth. Crud. Excrement. You know, like a steaming dog turd in a piss-stenched back alley, best to be avoided.’
Breeda didn’t know, but she found herself nodding, desperate for this to be over.
‘We’re both adults. We both know about your father.’ Dervil put a sarcastic emphasis on the last word. Oona and Marie looked from Breeda to Dervil, then back again, spectators just lacking some strawberries and cream.
‘And the thing is, Breeda, every time I have to look at your face I think of that pig and the havoc he wreaked on my family.’
Breeda’s tongue flailed inside her mouth, a salmon out of water. She wanted to interrupt, to explain that she’d only recently found out about the affair herself, to say it wasn’t her fault. But she stood silent and shamefaced.
A frustrated sigh came from Dervil, and Breeda watched with relief as her kitten heels turned and walked away. Breeda looked up just as Dervil stopped to consider something, and then turned back to face them.
‘Incidentally, Breeda – Aidan isn’t my husband. He is in fact my brother.’
The three women watched on intently, and now other people had picked up on the drama and looked on too.
‘But I strongly suggest you give up any notions of romantic dabbling on that front…’ then with a parting shot over her shoulder, ‘Unless you’re into incest.’
The words hit Breeda’s brain, but their meaning lagged behind, and she felt something shift under her feet as Dervil strode off. She steadied herself with a hand to Oona’s forearm. Her eyes found the patch of lawn where Dervil had been standing just a moment before, and she heard the words echo in her head. And then it rammed into her with full force – why
she’d always felt a curious pull towards Aidan. From the moment she’d spotted him outside the florists there’d been something about him; the shock of black hair, the familiar side profile, the gappy smile, their ease with each other. Breeda felt her body start to go and she latched her other hand onto Marie’s forearm. She thought of Aidan’s eyes. The same as hers. The same as her fathers.
‘Sweet Jesus,’ said Oona.
The tray in Marie Boyle’s hand tipped, and the three women watched as a suicide of vol-au-vents raced to the grass.
Chapter 29
The drive back to Nora’s must have logged somewhere in the depths of Breeda’s dazed brain, but the people and buildings which drifted outside the car window were beyond her vision, part of another world. It was Aidan’s face alone she could see now, and her mind’s eye pictured his features, as she remembered him sitting on Oona’s garden bench only twenty minutes before. She tried to deconstruct his face, to calculate the ratio of Sneddon to Looney hidden in his DNA. From her mouth she forced a slow deep breath. A jittery little disquiet had started to vibrate deep inside her and it was now swelling and breaking in the shallows of her limbs. Her fingers twitched on the steering wheel, and she gripped it more tightly, trying to anchor herself to a shifting reality.
I have a brother.
She mulled this fact over, let the word play out on her tongue, a hovering sommelier awaiting her verdict.
Christ. I have a brother.
Her head shook at the utter craziness of the last week, at the new normal which had marched unannounced into her life. A father found and a brother discovered, all in the space of a few days. What was next – a meth lab in Nora’s attic?
Breeda parked the car outside Nora’s, killed the engine, and sat listening to the ticking of the cooling motor. The digital clock on the dash read 17:55. She needed a moment to simply sit and let it all wash over her, to let the news soak into her bones and become a part of her.
Had Nora known about Aidan? Was that the reason all along for the tantrums and threats, the fight at her mother’s grave, the heart attack – had she been so revulsed at the shameful prospect of Breeda uncovering a bastard child in the stale depths of the family closet? The clock on the dash blinked over to 17:56 and Breeda looked towards the house. On either side of Nora’s front door the two olive trees stood sentry, resisting the early evening breeze. She just wouldn’t mention it. How could she? It would simply have to be another topic on the list of things to be avoided at all costs. After all, she’d never forgive herself if she caused Nora another coronary.