by Sheila Agnew
After Mum calmed the Tiernans down and sent them on their way, she said to me, ‘You know better than that. You have to use your words.’
I said, ‘Sorry, Mum, for letting you down.’
She responded, ‘You let yourself down.’
She topped that with, ‘I’m very disappointed in you.’
Mum made me stay alone in my room without TV or any books or her laptop or other distractions so that I could think about my actions. She occasionally brought me trays of my least favourite food, like Shepherd’s Pie. It was like being in jail except I was not permitted to make the one phone call, which anyone who has ever watched TV knows I was entitled to.
I did come to regret what I did. I could have caused Cian brain damage, or rather, more brain damage because he seemed to have suffered some already. I could even have killed him. I tried hard to think about Cian’s good qualities. That took up most of my time. Eventually, I remembered that he was very generous about sharing his crisps at lunchtime. He always offered them around straight away as soon as he opened the bag. He didn’t wait until the bag was nearly empty and there were only teeny, bitty crisps left at the bottom, like some other kids did.
I felt genuine remorse about my attempted murder. So, I had no problem apologising to him when I went back to school, but it still rankles that he never apologised to me. If it were not for Michael Collins and other brave Irish men and women, Ireland would still be a little British colony and the Tiernans would be nothing but indentured servants. I am not entirely sure what ‘indentured’ means but it sounds right.
Chapter 10
Scott took me with him up to the Bronx yesterday to visit a lame horse at the Riverside stables in Van Cortlandt Park. Through the open doors of the inside arena, we watched a mothers’ and daughters’ group having a riding lesson.
‘Oh no!’ groaned Scott. ‘I think that woman on the chestnut mare is Christina Morgan, one of my more committed stalkers. I don’t know why I am such a magnet for bored divorcees.’
‘Joanna says it might have something to do with your James Bond complex,’ I replied.
‘That’s a compliment,’ Scott said cheerfully.
‘I don’t think anything with the word “complex” in it is a compliment. And maybe if you didn’t always look like you stepped off the cover of GQ magazine, you would have less worries about stalkers.’
‘GQ!’ said Scott with a low whistle. ‘Not bad. I can’t help knowing how to dress, and I buy the GQs for the clients!’
My mouth dropped open.
‘Yeah, sure, the people who come into the clinic, like Mr Fannelli, are so GQ readers.’
Scott pulled off his brown aviator sunglasses and squinted as he peered closer at the riders.
‘It’s not Christina,’ he said with relief, ‘just some woman who must visit the same hairdresser for her extensions. Let’s go find this lame horse.’
One of the grooms led us into the stalls, explaining that the horse had just arrived that morning and he had noticed she was lame. He suspected laminitis. I had never seen a real horse up close before. One time in Dingle, when I was a little kid, I had a ride on a very sweet white donkey called Noddy. But the nearest I have been to a horse was the plastic contraption masquerading as a horse in the play War Horse that Mum’s friend, David produced in a theatre in Belfast last autumn.
The groom led a mare, Bobbi, out of her stall. She was dapple grey with a black mane and markings from her hooves to half way up her knees that looked like black socks. I patted her gently on her neck and she nuzzled her face into me. I inhaled the smell – the intensely warm, comforting, sweetish smell of horse and hay feed. Almost instantaneously, I felt the Joy To The World sha la la la feeling, except it was a quieter, calmer, feeling, like lowercase joy to the world and minus the sha la la la bit.
Looking up from the hoof he was examining, Scott half smiled and half-laughed at me.
‘You get it, Evie. I knew you would. People get horses or they don’t. There are no in-betweens.’
I nodded slowly. I get it. At least, I think I get it.
‘Will she be ok?’ I asked anxiously.
Scott straightened up.
‘It is laminitis but we have caught it early. She should be ok after a few months.’
As he discussed treatment with the groom, I patted Bobbi on her face and scratched her ears, talking soothing nonsense with her. She seemed to like it.
‘Would you like to start riding lessons, Evie?’ Scott asked.
I swung around.
‘WOULD I? Yes, yes, yes, I would LOVE it!’ I said, doing a little half-jump, half-skip.
‘Ok, we’ll get you started. They have classes for beginners on Sunday mornings.’
‘But won’t it be way too expensive?’ I asked, worried.
Scott shook his head.
‘Not a problem. Don’t worry about it,’ and he showed me how to lead Bobbi back into her stall, with my right hand on the halter just below her neck and my left hand further down on the lead rope.
Back at the clinic, concerned owners and their pets took up every spare centimetre of space in the waiting room.
‘Dudley is first,’ said Karen, our new, part-time receptionist.
‘Hey!’ said a bald man in a short-sleeved Hawaiian shirt, walking up to the reception desk and waving his thick, muscular, hairy arms in Karen’s face. ‘What is going on here? I was here first.’
Karen eyed him coolly.
‘Except for appointments, we basically operate on a first-come first-served basis, but we have to see animals with a potentially critical or emergency condition first.’
‘My pet is in a critical condition,’ he complained.
Karen looked at him disbelievingly.
‘Your cat has a skin infection,’ she pointed out, loudly enough for everyone in the waiting room to hear. ‘While we, of course, take that very seriously, it is not something we would classify as requiring immediate or emergency assistance. The sooner you return to your seat, the sooner we will be able to move things along.’
The bald man stood his ground.
‘I am a very busy man. I don’t have the time to waste half a day here. What is it going to cost to get me bumped up?’ he said, pulling out a brown leather wallet.
Karen scribbled something on a card and handed it to him.
‘What is this?’ he asked.
‘It’s the address of the nearest vet, if you would like to go there.’
‘You can catch a cab right outside the door,’ she added.
The man slapped the white card back down on the reception desk and returned to his seat, muttering under his breath about ‘lousy service’. Karen winked at me and I smiled at her before heading into the examining room.
First up was Dudley, a ten-month old beagle puppy that had somehow managed to eat a packet of disposable lady razors. It was all the more bizarre considering that his owner, Mr Graham, is a ninety-one year old widower. He offered no explanation and Scott asked for none. Second, we had an unidentifiable mutt who chased and caught her own tail, managing to break it. Next up, the bald Hawaiian shirt guy with his mangy cat and mangier attitude. He complained to Scott, ‘You should fire your receptionist, she has an attitude.’
Scott sighed. It had been a long morning.
‘Do I come around to your home uninvited and say you should fire your wife?’ Scott asked and, without waiting for an answer, added, ‘No, I don’t! If you don’t like my people, go somewhere else. Now, make up your mind, do you want me to treat your cat or not?’
The bald man looked sheepish. He said, ‘Sorry, I’m having a rough day and I’m more worried about my cat than I care to admit.’
Now it was Scott’s turn to look sheepish.
‘No need to apologise for loving your cat. Let’s get him up on the table and sort out his problem.’
Finally, after the bald man and his cat left, I watched Scott vaccinate an adorable litter of striped kittens.
‘Who have
we got next?’ Scott asked Karen on the intercom, pulling off his latex gloves.
‘Greg Winters with his rabbit, Dr Pepper.’
In strolled a kid about my own age with a tall man with black hair streaked with silver, and silver rectangular-framed glasses. The man greeted Scott, and, taking The New York Times out of his briefcase said that he would wait in the waiting room. He didn’t look like a psychiatrist, I thought, and he has much better dress sense than my old psychologist, Mrs Scanlon. I shut the door to the waiting room behind me.
‘How have you been doing, Greg?’ Scott inquired.
‘Great, apart from my mosquito bites!’ said Greg and I noticed a bunch of swollen red hives on his legs.
‘And how about Finn?’ Scott asked.
‘He’s good too.’
Greg didn’t look very like his brother. Greg has sandy brown hair brushed forward and green eyes and a dimple in his left check, which is wasted on a boy. He is very cute in a could-be-in-a-boy-band kind of way. Finn’s hair and eyes are dark and he looks like the type of boy who makes fun of boy bands.
‘Hi, I’m Evie,’ I said, holding out my hand, forgetting that the kids in New York don’t shake hands, but Greg didn’t seem to mind.
He shook my hand anyway.
‘I know,’ he said. ‘You’re the one that took on the bully dirt bags in the park, three to one, right?’
‘What’s that?’ asked Scott.
‘Nothing,’ I said hastily and I smiled meaningfully at Greg who got the point straight away.
‘What’s up with Dr Pepper?’ Scott asked.
Greg hesitated.
‘He’s not really sick. He hasn’t been throwing up or anything but he seems to be itchy.’
‘Rabbits actually can’t throw up,’ Scott said.
‘Wow,’ I said, ‘lucky rabbits! I hate the feeling of puking.’
Scott and Greg lifted Dr Pepper out of his cage.
‘Why did you get a rabbit?’ I asked as Scott began to examine Dr Pepper.
Greg grinned.
‘My Dad’s a shrink and he had one of his shrink theories that it would be good for Finn and me to have pets while he and Mom got divorced. We both really wanted a dog, a Rhodesian ridgeback, but neither of our parents wanted the hassle of a dog, so they bought us a parrot and a rabbit instead. I was so mad at first; when you want a dog, a dumb bunny rabbit doesn’t really cut it. But when I got to know Dr Pepper, I realised he has this amazing personality.’
I glanced at the black rabbit sitting motionless on the table except for an occasional scratch. He didn’t seem to be brimming with charisma.
‘My sister, Alicia, that’s Evie’s mom, had a pet rabbit when we were kids,’ said Scott. ‘He was called Tiger and he used to follow her around like a dog. Alicia brought him to visit me one weekend at college and he became a mascot for our hockey team.’
‘Ice or field?’ Greg asked.
‘Definitely ice,’ said Scott.
‘I play with the Rangers Youth League,’ said Greg. ‘I can’t wait for it to start up again in the fall.’
‘Can girls play?’ I wondered.
‘Sure!’ said Greg. ‘Can you skate?’
‘I can roller-skate, but I’ve never been ice-skating,’ I answered.
‘A bunch of us play at the rink at Chelsea Piers during the summer. You should come with us sometime.’
‘Ok, thanks,’ I said.
‘I’ll hunt out my old boots,’ said Scott, although he had not been invited.
‘Back to Dr Pepper. Have you taken him anywhere different lately?’ Scott quizzed Greg.
‘I brought him to a kids’ pet show and competition in Westchester at the weekend. A pet snail took first prize. Beaten by a stupid pet snail! That’s not even a real pet.’
Greg looked astounded.
‘Dr Pepper didn’t walk away with the prize but he did pick up something – fur mites,’ Scott explained. ‘I’ll put some flea powder on him and give you some more. You can dust him with it again in ten days, so we can be sure they are gone.’
‘Thanks, Dr Brooks,’ Greg said, glancing affectionately at Dr Pepper, still scratching and wrinkling his nose.
I could swear Dr Pepper winked at me.
‘Did you see that?’ I said.
‘See what?’ asked Scott and Greg at the same time.
‘Nothing.’
I scratched Dr Pepper’s ears.
‘He’s growing on me,’ I said and Greg smiled.
Chapter 11
I had a crappy day. It started off okay, with the sun peeping in my bedroom window and the sounds of Scott singing badly while making French toast in the kitchen. Then I heard voices and I knew Leela must be with him. Usually when she stays over, she’s gone before I get up as she’s always going to meetings called breakfast networking. I had forgotten today was Saturday.
‘Come and get it!’ Scott yelled.
I sighed and reluctantly pulled on the green and purple kimono robe Kylie had given me because she is too tall for it now, and sauntered into the kitchen.
Scott and I had planned to go the beach on Fire Island today. We were going to drive to the ferry, taking Ben and some pastrami on rye sandwiches from Zabars. I hoped fervently that Leela did not plan to join us. She hates sand, I reminded myself.
As I drizzled syrup over my French toast, Scott’s cell phone rang. It was his best friend, Jake, suggesting a spontaneous game of golf.
‘Can’t do it,’ said Scott, ‘Evie and I are heading to the beach.’
Leela intervened.
‘Why don’t you go play golf with Jake, sweetheart?’ she said. ‘You haven’t seen him in ages. I want to treat Evie to a girl’s day, a manicure and a nice lunch.’
I nearly yakked up a piece of my French toast.
Scott said, ‘Thanks, Leela, but I think Evie has her heart set on the beach.’
Leela looked meaningfully at me. I hated her but she was right. Scott hardly ever got time to hang out with Jake.
‘No, that’s ok,’ I said. ‘We can go the beach another time. I’ll go with Leela.’
‘Are you sure?’ asked Scott.
‘Totally,’ I said.
‘I’ll see you in fifteen minutes,’ he told Jake.
After hanging up, he said, ‘Thanks, Leela, very sweet of you,’ and he gave her a long, lingering kiss on the mouth. I had no French toast left or I definitely would have choked.
I never had a manicure before and I was embarrassed to hold out my rather grubby little nails. I don’t bite them but they don’t appear to be interested in growing. But Jordan, the Filipino guy who filed my nails, was very easy to talk to. He told me that he wants to be a comedian on a TV show called Saturday Night Live and he is taking improvisation classes at night. He suggested that I choose a pale pink colour for my nails called ‘Ballet Slippers’, but I picked a blueish colour called ‘Midnight Destiny’. Then I just flipped through magazines, waiting for Leela to finish. She went into the waxing room for a very long time. I heard her say she wanted her lip done and it made me giggle on the inside to think of her with a moustache.
After leaving the nail salon, Leela took me to a boring restaurant in midtown where they only served salads, but they did have more than a hundred different kinds. We looked at our menus and I put my napkin in my lap as Mum had taught me. Leela put her BlackBerry in her handbag and I felt a little alarmed because I never saw Leela without her BlackBerry close to hand before.
She swirled the ice in her iced coffee.
‘Are you enjoying your little vacation in New York?’ she asked.
‘Yes,’ I said.
‘Good!’ she replied. ‘You must be so excited now about going back to Ireland?’
I didn’t answer, busy poking at my salad, trying to identify some of the mysterious looking beans.
‘Great!’ she said, even though I hadn’t said anything. ‘And maybe, when you are grown up and have finished college, you will come back to New York for a visit. I’m sure
Scott would like that.’
I shivered. The air conditioning was way too cold.
‘Here,’ she said. ‘Have my scarf.’
‘No thanks,’ I said.
‘How is your cookbook going?’ I asked in an innocent voice.
Her eyes narrowed and she pursed her lips together.
‘I haven’t dated the right connections,’ she answered, ‘but I will get there.’
Then she smiled breezily.
‘Isn’t this fun?’ she said, ‘having a girls’ lunch.’
I didn’t answer.
She continued, ‘I know how important it is to you to be in Ireland, back with all your friends and your godmother, Lainey is it?’
‘Do you mean Janet?’ I said.
‘Yes, Janet, that’s the one. I need you to give me her phone number and her email address.’
‘What for?’ I asked.
‘So I can get the paperwork moving.’
‘What paperwork?’ I wondered.
‘To transfer full custody of you to Janet.’
My jaw dropped.
‘That’s got nothing to do with you,’ I told her.
‘Oh, of course not, I’m just trying to save poor Scott some money by doing the paperwork myself instead of him having to pay another attorney to do it. That would be a terrible waste, especially when he is so strapped for cash and the clinic expenses are so high and he has that new receptionist’s salary to worry about – Kelly.’
‘Karen,’ I corrected automatically.
‘Do you want your uncle to have to pay thousands of dollars to a lawyer?’ she said, in a fake shocked voice.
‘No, of course not,’ I said angrily. ‘I just didn’t realise anything had to be done, and won’t Scott and I have to sign the papers?’
She shook her head.
‘You are the child. You’re not even allowed to read them.’
‘It’s my life,’ I said angrily.
‘But your life does not belong to you in the eyes of the law,’ she said primly. ‘Yes, Scott has to sign, but we can get them ready now. If I tell Scott before I do the work, he will want to pay my law firm’s fees, which is what we are trying to avoid, isn’t it?’