Joe nearly dropped his can. ‘You did what? What kind of idiot are you? She’s on her last legs as it is …’
Luke was defiant. ‘At least she’ll be able to use them, then.’
To his surprise, Joe started to laugh. ‘I’ve missed you, Luke. You belong here, you know that, don’t you? More than you do with the Stewarts. We’re all the family you’ve got.’
‘Jesus!’ Luke exclaimed. ‘You’re somethin’ else. You’ve never treated me like family.’
‘No,’ Joe conceded. ‘Not often. But there were good times too, weren’t there? I know I’ve got a temper after a jar or two.’
‘You weren’t drunk when you nearly killed me,’ accused Luke. He wasn’t stupid. Joe was just messing with his head again, playing the family angle to try and confuse him. Luke had always been hurt as much by Joe’s mood changes as by anything physical, and Joe knew that – Luke had made the mistake of telling him, believing he could reach his uncle’s heart. That was at a time when he thought Joe actually had one.
‘We can start again,’ suggested Joe. ‘You’re a Traveller, Luke. You’ll always be a Traveller.’
‘You’re right – I will – but you can fuck off!’ spat Luke. ‘You’re just sayin’ what you think I want to hear, but you’re a scumbag. It’s no wonder you’ll never see Roisin again.’
Afraid he’d gone too far, Luke instinctively pulled back, but the blow he expected didn’t happen.
‘Why d’you think your mam lied to you about Jack Stewart?’
So Mam had lied. Luke swallowed nervously, suddenly feeling more afraid than when he was goading his uncle to hit him.
‘Why did she never tell Jack she was pregnant?’ Joe asked. ‘I’ll tell you, shall I? It was because she didn’t want him to know the truth.’
Luke gave a sardonic laugh. ‘You wouldn’t know truth if it introduced itself.’
‘She was raped.’
Nothing his uncle had ever done compared to the pain Luke felt right then. ‘That’s a lie,’ he said, his voice little more than a whisper. But somehow, he knew it wasn’t.
‘You’re the son of a rapist, Lukey-boy,’ said Joe.
A loud hammering on the front door disturbed Luke’s thoughts. In a flash, Liam had him in a stranglehold, with one hand clasped tightly over his mouth. Joe went to the hallway, calling out ‘Who is it?’ and Luke’s heart leapt when he heard the reply.
‘Jack Stewart.’
‘Sod off,’ was Joe’s response.
‘I’m not leaving,’ shouted Jack.
‘Suit yourself,’ Joe replied. ‘I’ve been workin’ all day and I’m off to bed. Night, Jack.’
With that he put the lights out and returned to the living room, where he cautiously peered round the curtain.
Luke was struggling to free himself, but Liam was a strong man, and if he struggled too much, he was likely to be choked. Please God, don’t let Jack just walk away.
‘Shall we kick the door in?’ asked Matt.
Jack shook his head. ‘Only as a last resort. If Luke isn’t there, we could get ourselves arrested.’ He didn’t actually believe it would come to that as the Kiernans were unlikely to call the police, but he didn’t want anything to get in the way of their search. He wondered if the brothers had fixed the back door after he broke in yesterday.
‘Dad – put your ear here.’ Matt indicated first the letterbox, which he was holding open, and then his mobile phone.
Jack caught on instantly. The text had suggested Luke was here but couldn’t speak. It was possible he’d put the phone into silent mode, but they couldn’t risk calling him before. Now it didn’t matter. Within seconds, he could hear Luke’s phone ringing inside. He stood up. ‘Now we kick the door in!’
Both Matt and Jack assaulted the front door until it burst free of the lock. They were faced by Joe Kiernan, his face ugly, distorted with rage.
‘Get the fuck out of my house!’ he snarled, but Jack ducked the swing of his fist and pushed him aside as he and Matt went into the living room and turned the light on. Liam was still restraining Luke. ‘I’ll break his neck,’ he threatened.
Jack sat down on the sofa. ‘No, you won’t. Even you aren’t that stupid. Now, let him go. We’re going to all sit down and have a nice chat.’
Inwardly, Jack was raging. As he looked at Luke’s pale, bruised face, he could see first-hand the kind of brutality he’d been subjected to for half his life. All Jack wanted to do was punch Liam in the face, and then do the same to Joe. To make them pay for what they’d done to his wife and son.
‘I want some answers,’ said Jack. ‘And be grateful I’m not tearing you apart.’
Joe laughed. ‘You could try. So – ask away then, Jack.’
‘I know all about your sordid deal with my mother,’ said Jack. ‘I know she paid money to you that was intended for Annie and Luke.’
‘So it’s not your money!’ Luke exclaimed, now free from Liam’s grip. ‘It was mine and Mam’s all along.’
‘Well,’ said Joe, ‘that’s as good a cover story as any. But that money was paid to me and Liam, fair and square, and it wasn’t nearly enough to have to put up with this brat and his lunatic mother.’
Jack had to fight to stay calm. ‘Why did Annie leave me?’
Joe waggled his finger at Jack. ‘It was you who broke in, last night. You sad bastard – twenty years on and you’re still in the dark. Maybe you should be thankful – it’s better not to know some things.’
‘It was you who went through my stuff?’ Luke was staring at Jack, shocked. His son had always been more than a bit cagey about his home life. He probably saw this as another case of Jack sticking his nose where it wasn’t wanted.
‘Sorry,’ said Jack. It sounded lame and he waited for the usual angry rant.
Luke just gave a weak smile. ‘If I’d known, I’d have got you to get some of my stuff.’
Jack smiled back. He’d just cleared a major hurdle, but then Luke’s expression changed. He stared straight at Jack. ‘I know why Mam left.’
Jack’s stomach lurched. This was the first time they’d made proper eye contact since Jack had come to believe Luke was indeed his son. He looked different, maybe because Jack was seeing him with different eyes. His face, so like his mother’s, seemed open and honest, kind and gentle – everything she’d been.
‘She … she was raped,’ Luke whispered, and Jack felt as though he’d died inside.
‘Well, that’s what she said,’ said Joe. ‘But who knows? Maybe she just couldn’t live with the guilt of cheatin’ on ya, Jack. Of bein’ a slag.’
It had been an effort for Jack to keep his cool ever since he’d forced his way into the house, and this pushed him over the edge. He launched himself at Joe, who fell back into the television set, knocking it to the floor.
Taking advantage of Joe’s fall, Jack hauled him up and smashed a fist into his face, watching with satisfaction as Joe fell back to the ground, blood gushing from his nose. The man seemed stunned, and Jack allowed himself a quick glance around the room.
Liam was grappling with Matt and Luke, but Matt took a blow to the stomach and fell back onto the sofa, winded. Jack had no time to help because Joe was getting to his feet again. ‘Jack!’ shouted Luke. He turned to see Liam advancing on him, clutching a flick knife, but Luke sprang between them. Before Jack could react, Joe gripped his shoulders from behind and threw him backwards. As he fell against the corner of the table, he heard Joe shout ‘Liam, you fuckin’ idiot!’ before they both ran from the house.
Gritting his teeth from pain in his bruised side, Jack saw Luke just standing there. He appeared to be in shock. ‘Thanks,’ said Jack, smiling as he got up. Luke didn’t answer. Jack moved towards him, wanting to hug him for what he’d done, until he noticed the spreading red mass on Luke’s stomach
. ‘Jesus, Luke!’
Luke’s face was ashen and his expression one of fear as he sank to the floor. It had all gone horribly wrong, and Jack was beside himself with guilt.
‘Matt, get some towels from somewhere,’ he instructed. He needed to try and stem the flow of blood. Moments later Matt returned with two hand towels. ‘Found the airing cupboard,’ he told Jack. ‘So at least they’re clean.’ Jack folded one of the towels into several thicknesses, and applied it firmly to the wound.
‘Is it 999 here, Dad?’ Matt asked, his mobile in his hand.
‘I don’t know,’ Jack replied, ‘But we’ll take him – I don’t think we can wait.’
Between them, Jack and Matt lifted Luke’s slight frame into the back seat of the hire car.
‘I need something to keep him warm,’ said Jack, and Matt ran back into the house, reappearing soon afterwards with a duvet. While Matt drove, Jack held Luke tightly in the duvet, still exerting as much pressure as he could on the source of the bleeding.
‘Sorry,’ came a whispered voice. At least Luke was still conscious.
‘What for?’ asked Jack, verging on tears. He strained his ears to listen to the weak response.
‘Bringin’ you nothin’ but trouble.’
Jack’s arms instinctively tightened around his son’s bleeding body, and he felt both shame and grief as Luke struggled to speak. ‘I want a DNA …’
‘You are my son!’ Jack told him fiercely. ‘Don’t imagine anything else.’ He squeezed his eyes shut as tears welled up inside. He opened them to see a faint hint of a smile on Luke’s face, but he seemed to be falling into unconsciousness.
‘Luke – stay with me,’ pleaded Jack. ‘Keep talking … about Kate, about Manchester United … anything.’
‘Cold …’ whispered Luke, who was shivering.
Blood was seeping through the duvet and Jack hugged Luke tightly, trying to warm him. Tears flowed freely as he kissed Luke’s dark head. All the parental feelings he’d been denying for weeks overwhelmed him now. This was his son. His and Annie’s longed-for child. He’d known him for a couple of months, and apart from Luke’s collapse at the funeral, this was the first time he’d held him. His thoughts flashed back to the hospital in Dublin, when Luke was recovering from serious injury, bereft and in shock. Any human being would deserve the comfort of a hug at such a time, but Jack had made no such gesture. Even if Luke had resisted, which he may well have done given his frame of mind at the time, Jack should have made the effort. And now he might never get the chance because Luke had put himself in the way of a knife meant for Jack. He’d let his son down badly. And his wife. ‘Forgive me, Annie – forgive me,’ he whispered.
Chapter Twenty-Three
‘He’ll be okay, Dad. He’s tougher than he looks.’
Jack nodded at Matt’s reassurance, but wishful thinking wasn’t going to pull Luke through the emergency surgery he was having at that moment. A little blood could go a long way, but it was obvious Luke had lost a lot of it. The pool on the floor of the car and Jack’s own sodden clothes were testament to that.
‘It was my fault,’ he said, as he and Matt waited in the Relatives’ Room. ‘I lost control. I let him down – and I let Annie down. I should have been looking out for him.’
There had been a few low points in Jack’s life but nothing compared to this. The guilt was overwhelming as he thought about Luke. Abused physically and emotionally, and seeing the same thing happen to his mother; believing his father had wanted him aborted; and finally, losing the one constant in his life in the most traumatic of circumstances.
It was no wonder his attitude had been hostile and vengeful. Jack had shown no understanding or compassion, no love or support, just impatience, irritation and anger. He rubbed his forehead, wearily. ‘I’ll never forget it, Matt. Holding him on the way here, wondering how much blood he could lose and survive. Wishing I’d treated him like a father should. Christ, Matt – he’d just lost his mother and I gave him nothing.’
He turned in nervous anticipation as the door opened, expecting to see a surgeon, but it was Kate and Emer who walked in.
‘We took a taxi as soon as you called,’ said Emer.
Kate was white-faced and tearful. ‘They said he’s still in surgery. It’s really serious, isn’t it?’
‘He’s in good hands, Kate,’ Jack told her. It sounded lame, for he was far too worried to be convincing. Kate turned towards him as though she was going to hug him but her expression changed to horror as she reached out and touched his bloodstained shirt.
‘Oh my God, Jack! Is that …?’ She swayed and Emer put an arm round her, guiding her to a chair. Kate sat down, head in hands. After a while she took her mobile from her bag, gazing at it through the tears. ‘I took this a few days ago.’
Jack held out his hand. ‘May I?’
It was a photo of Luke, happy and relaxed, smiling into the camera. A Luke Jack had never known. As always, he had the features of his mother, but he was a person in his own right. Why hadn’t Jack seen past the likeness to Annie? Why had he punished her son for what he’d believed were her sins? He returned the photo to Kate just as one of the medical staff came in and informed them Luke’s condition was critical and the following twenty-four hours would be crucial.
Eventually, Kate fell asleep on Matt’s shoulder, exhausted from tears and worry. Emer looked worn out, too, but Jack needed to speak to her and motioned her to follow him outside into the corridor, where he told her Luke’s revelation.
‘Raped?’ Emer looked shocked to the core.
Saying it aloud meant finally facing it, and Jack wanted to be sick. ‘Sorry. I need to be by myself for a bit,’ he said, as he walked away.
The hospital chapel was open but empty. Jack sat near the small altar, his head in his hands. Concern for Luke had suppressed all other emotions, but here, alone with his thoughts, he was able to focus on what he’d learned.
Annie had been raped. The horror of that fact was now hitting him like an actual body blow, and he had to fight waves of nausea. His mind would take him so far – Annie distressed, fighting an attacker – but then it would cut off. He couldn’t bear to imagine her in pain, perhaps in fear for her life.
Why hadn’t she told him? The question tormented him. Had she thought he would reject her? Was the shame too much for a devout Catholic? Or was it that Annie didn’t know who the father of her child was – Jack or the rapist? She’d been strongly against abortion so that would never have been an option, but the thought of carrying a rapist’s child would have been traumatic.
And so the possibility again presented itself that Luke was not his son. Despite their difficult history, this didn’t make Jack feel any kind of relief. He now had more positive feelings for Luke than at any time since he’d known about him. What had happened was neither Luke’s nor Annie’s fault. They had all, Jack included, been the victims of a crime. One of the worst crimes possible.
Jack’s mind was reeling with so many thoughts and possibilities as he stared at the row of flickering candles near a statue of the Virgin Mary. Annie’s face appeared in his mind – the beautiful girl of all those years ago, not the broken figure in the hospital morgue.
‘I’m sorry, Annie,’ he whispered. ‘For everything.’
He felt a rush of love for her, a love he’d thought had gone forever but which had been reignited when he’d sat on her bed. He hoped wherever she was now, she’d found peace. His torment would continue, but perhaps he deserved that for doubting her. He’d been weak for just accepting that non-existent detective’s report – shouldn’t have trusted his mother. Should have been man enough to make his own decisions. And he should have swallowed his pride and looked everywhere for her.
When he finally left the chapel, Emer was waiting outside and took his hand. He could feel the tightness in his face, caused by the sti
ckiness of dried tears. Emer’s expression was one of compassion and sympathy. She understood. That was why he loved her. He squeezed her hand. ‘When Ollie was a puppy, his mother was hit by a car. She died on the roadside. Ollie just sat by her, whimpering. Lost. I picked him up and held him close to me for most of the day – to be there for him. I could feel his pain. His confusion. I offered him love and security.’
There was no need to explain the analogy to Emer. No need to reiterate that he’d failed Luke. That he’d never afforded him the same compassion he’d given his dog.
‘I need some air,’ he said, and together they went to the hospital’s main entrance. A heavy rain was falling so they stood by the doorway.
‘Annie loved the rain,’ he said. ‘She’d often run down to the lake to watch the drops falling into the water.’
‘She was a good person, Jack,’ Emer said. ‘And she loved you. I doubt she ever stopped. Even after …’
Even after the letter. Jack put an arm round her shoulder, pulling her closer to him.
‘How do you feel about Luke now?’ she asked.
‘How do you mean?’
‘Well … you know there’s a chance he … may not be your son. A lot of men might—’
‘I’ve always thought there was that chance. The difference now is it wouldn’t have been any fault of Annie’s. In one way, it’s easier because I know now why she left, but part of me wishes I didn’t. How can I go back to Baronsmere and behave as if nothing’s happened? I’ll be looking at everybody with suspicion.’
‘I don’t suppose you have any idea who it was?’
‘I’ve been thinking, of course, but it was over twenty years ago. It’s hard for me to be objective. These are people I’ve lived with all my life. Of course, it could have been some stranger passing through …’
‘I don’t think Annie’s rapist was a stranger.’
‘Why not?’ Jack’s voice was sharper than he intended.
‘There’d be no reason for her not to tell you what had happened if it was a stranger – and the majority of rape victims know their attackers. That could have made things much more complicated for her …’
Beneath an Irish Sky (Choc Lit) Page 37