The Insect Rosary

by Sarah Armstrong

  I waited.

  38

  Now

  She was woken by a dog barking. First she thought it was Bruce and then she thought it was Tommy coming to kill them all. It was dark but she had to do it now, with the nightmares fresh in her mind. She pulled a jumper over her pyjamas.

  She crept into Bernie’s room and saw her asleep on her side, next to the fireplace. She shook her gently but Bernie was awake straight away, as if she’d been waiting. She’d always been waiting. They felt their way downstairs. Neither said so, but they knew that if anyone else got up the spell would be broken, the words gone.

  Nancy’s feet ached on the cold floor. She opened the door to the best room and Bernie followed her inside. They sat in the paired armchairs by the fire and Nancy talked.

  Bernie shook a little, her hands clasped tight.

  ‘I took you to Tommy knowing he was going to scare you. He said that, but I swear I didn’t know how. I didn’t know he was going to give me the gun and tell me to point it at you. I left you and went back to bed. In the morning I got really scared when you weren’t there. We looked for you all over and I knew you might be in the stable but I didn’t want to say that we’d been in there before, so I said nothing until it was nearly dark.’

  Bernie leaned towards her. ‘That’s not true. Only the truth, Nancy.’

  Nancy nodded and started again. ‘I did know about the gun.’ She paused but Bernie said nothing. ‘I didn’t want to find you because you’d tell them what I did. But then it was dark and I thought he might really have hurt you, even though he said he’d only scare you. And then I pretended I heard something and opened the door and you were lying there with the rosary beads in your hands and you hadn’t slept at all and only talked about angels, so I didn’t mention Tommy and I didn’t tell them what I did. And I’m sorry.’

  ‘What else did I say?’

  ‘You said, “Tell them what happened, Nancy. Tell them who did it.”’

  ‘And why didn’t you say? Why did you do any of it? I don’t understand.’

  Nancy closed her eyes and then forced them open. ‘He gave me the gun one other time. He said, with all I’d seen, I could be one of them or their enemy. He said if I was one of them I had to learn how to shoot. He told me to aim at the blanket. He said it was full of clothes, just to give me the idea. And I did, twice. And I remember smiling because it was exciting and I was trusted and then I realised that the noise hadn’t been a thud against the ground. And the blood poured out through the hole in the blanket and he pulled it back a little and I saw hair. I didn’t know, I swear I didn’t, but it was me.’

  Bernie’s eyes were glistening. That was all Nancy could see.

  ‘All this time I thought it was Tommy,’ said Bernie. ‘And then, after talking to Tommy, I thought that you must know it was Donn. And it was you. Did Donn know?’

  ‘Maybe. I never told him. I never told anyone. I nearly persuaded myself that I’d imagined the blood, that it was just a trick. Just blankets. But I couldn’t forget what I’d done to you. I will never forgive myself.’

  Nancy had nothing else to say. She waited for Bernie to scream or shout but she just sat calmly with her head resting on the back of the chair. Eventually she spoke.

  ‘Why did you keep quiet?’

  ‘I was ashamed. I pointed a gun at you.’

  ‘Why did you do it?’

  ‘Fear. I was scared. I’d held the gun. I’d fired it. Fingerprints, guns, blood. It was all I could think about. It was all too much. I couldn’t say anything. All of those people there, they were witnesses.’

  ‘Other people?’

  ‘You know those other men we’d see coming out of the barns?’

  ‘I remember shiny shoes.’

  ‘He was there. It was like Tommy was showing me off to him, a performing monkey. He’s the one who gave me the gun, like it was a prize.’

  ‘Did he threaten you?’

  ‘No. he said nothing at all. I knew I’d go to prison or he’d come and shoot us all without anyone saying it.’ Nancy looked at her hands. ‘And I left you with Tommy. That was worst of all. I couldn’t live with anyone knowing that. I couldn’t even admit it to you and just hoped, that with everything else, you’d forget. Basically I wanted us all to forget. Especially me.’

  She looked up to see Bernie close her eyes.

  ‘Are you all right?’ asked Nancy.

  Bernie voice sounded thick, ‘I think so.’

  Nancy waited.

  ‘I’m very cold,’ said Bernie.

  ‘Let’s light a fire in the parlour.’

  The sky was still black to the west, but in the parlour she could see the glow of day rising cold over the corrugated roofs.

  ‘Jesus,’ she said.

  Bernie made her jump. ‘Jesus what?’

  ‘I don’t know. Jesus whatever’s going to come next.’

  Bernie glanced at her. ‘You look terrible.’

  ‘I feel terrible.’ She felt that she’d welcome some purging vomiting session, that it may clear the dreams from her. She felt a sneeze build in the back of her nose. She managed to keep it down.

  ‘You really don’t look well,’ said Bernie.

  ‘I’m tired, that’s all. I didn’t sleep well.’

  Bernie had rings under her eyes too.

  ‘I’ve missed you,’ Nancy whispered. Bernie squeezed her hand and let go.

  Bernie had the fire ready to light. Nancy sat in Agatha’s chair. It was just like one of Agatha’s fires, a little wigwam of kindling over barley twists of newspaper, the peat on the hearth ready.

  Nancy couldn’t remember seeing a paper since she’d arrived.

  ‘Where did you find the newspaper?’

  ‘Cassie’s room.’

  Nancy shivered.

  Bernie reached up onto the mantelpiece for the long matches. She lit all the paper twists with one match. Agatha never approved of using more than one.

  Nancy said, ‘Isn’t it weird how the little things stick? Stupid little things like the glacé cherries in that cupboard.’

  ‘Shall I see if they’re still there?’ Bernie opened the cupboard and pulled out a plastic tub. ‘Still here. Expired . . . 1990.’ She put the tub back and closed the door. The kindling had taken enough for her to put some of the peat bricks on.

  Nancy thought about Elian. ‘Do you feel guilty about using peat?’

  ‘No. This is what it was always used for, a little at a time. Not trailer loads so people could have bigger pansies.’

  Nancy smiled. That’s what she’d said. They must have both heard someone else say it. Bernie sat in Donn’s chair and closed her eyes. Nancy felt another sneeze building and couldn’t stop it.

  ‘Bless you.’ Bernie smiled but kept her eyes closed. ‘You’ll be in bed for a couple of days with that cold. Good old summer colds. I’m sure we never got them as children and we were always out in the rain then.’

  ‘Not as bad as the chilblains though.’

  ‘God, no, they’re the worst.’

  Nancy smiled and waited for Bernie to open her eyes. The longer she kept them closed, the more she thought, this is it. This is the start of the breakdown. She’ll never come to terms with it now. She should have been quicker, planned better. She would have to tell Adrian, warn the girls that Mummy wasn’t feeling well. Should she have let her light a fire? She began to edge herself from her chair. Bernie opened her eyes.

  ‘Where are you going?’

  ‘Tea.’

  Nancy made two mugs while keeping an eye on her. The rainclouds were so heavy it looked as if morning hadn’t progressed any further than when she’d got up, but it was seven o’clock now. She set the mugs in front of the fire. Bernie still had her eyes open.

  ‘How do you feel?’

  ‘Quite warm now.’

  ‘No, about – what I said. You seem too calm.’

  ‘I said I needed to know. Now it makes sense. You were scared for your life too. Maybe I’d have done
the same. I needed to know why and now I know.’

  They were both quiet then.

  ‘It wasn’t you that killed him, though,’ Bernie said after a while. ‘It was your hand, but not your fault.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘If he was wrapped up he was probably dead already.’

  ‘I tried to believe that. I don’t think there would have been blood if that was true, but it kept me going for a while. It didn’t feel much different, in any case. I just got really good at not thinking about it.’

  Nancy gave Bernie her mug and they drank the tea. There were footsteps on the stairs and Nancy could see Bernie adjust herself.

  ‘So, you’re OK?’ Nancy said.

  Bernie nodded, ‘I will be.’ She turned to greet the girls.

  Nancy watched her carefully all day. She noted what she said and what she omitted, how she explained the end of operations to the girls, and how she reworked it for Adrian. In both forms it was a victory. She had defeated evil, silence and apathy with good, shouting and action. It didn’t feel so final to Nancy, more a hole that had been placed where the question was. Bernie could fill it again and again. Nancy kept quiet.

  At dinner Bernie announced they were leaving.

  ‘Tomorrow?’ echoed Adrian. ‘Do we have a booking?’

  ‘We can sort one. We can be flexible, catch a cancellation.’

  ‘But we’re booked for the day after. I don’t understand the rush. I’d rather have a booking set before we get the kids in the car, really.’

  ‘We’ll be fine,’ said Bernie, flapping one hand toward him.

  Nancy looked away. There was something lighter about her as if she may drift off, untethered, a flickering sky lantern across the sea. Adrian didn’t seem to notice any difference. The children probably did but would hide and deny it if asked. And Elian? He was looking at her, waiting for Nancy to catch his eye.

  ‘I was thinking of taking Hurley to Italy for a few days,’ he said. ‘We have a couple of weeks left and things seem to be breaking up here. There are places I’d like to go, like to show him.’

  Nancy nodded.

  ‘What do you think?’ he asked.

  She wasn’t sure what he was asking. Was she included in this or just required to give another nod? She put a hand to her forehead.

  ‘I don’t feel well.’

  ‘Have a lie down,’ he said. ‘We can talk about it later.’

  She stood up, steadying herself on the table. There was a movement outside in the shadows. She had seen Donn in the yard a couple of times during the day but he hadn’t come inside. She wasn’t sure if he had been inside at all since they started to move the scrap, other than to phone her mother. Maybe he’d been staying in one of the barns. Maybe at Tommy’s. He never even looked towards the house and she felt that they’d moved in and evicted him. He must be just waiting for them to leave.

  One time she saw him and ran outside to catch him, but he’d gone. The next time she looked out his car had gone. Whenever Bernie caught her eye she tried to smile, but she felt responsible. They’d ruined his life. He had nowhere to run home to.

  She sneezed again. ‘I think I will just lie down for a bit.’

  Nancy went upstairs and got into bed. The light through the curtains could have been from any time of day, diffused through gallons of raindrops and her lashes.

  When she woke Elian was asleep. She was hungry now and tried to walk down the stairs in the dark but ran back to the light switch and turned in the landing one, and then the hall one and then the parlour.

  Donn was sitting by the cold fireplace.

  ‘Sorry,’ she said, ‘did I wake you?’

  He shook his head. He had a blanket bunched up on his lap, his feet in their heavily darned socks crossed in front. She sat in Agatha’s chair.

  ‘Are you OK?’

  He snorted and then there was a high pitched sigh. Her throat seized. She couldn’t cope with him crying. There was no sign on his face that he would. He stared into the fireplace.

  ‘Shall I light a fire? It’s chilly.’

  He shook his head. She waited for him to offer something else but he just looked at the ashes.

  ‘We’ll clear it up before we go.’

  He looked at her.

  ‘The fireplace.’

  There was another sigh, like a whimper. This might be the last time she saw him, the last chance to ask anything. The blanket on Donn’s lap stirred and the head of a border collie puppy emerged from the folds.

  ‘Shh, back to sleep, Bran,’ he said, stroking between its ears.

  He was staying. Maybe Tommy didn’t want the farm any more, maybe the hold was broken. Maybe there was a price on Donn’s head and the rest of them.

  Nancy said, ‘I’m glad he’s got a name. Will Agatha come back, now you’re staying?’

  ‘I am selling.’

  Nancy was shocked. ‘Who to?’

  ‘Do you really want to know?’

  Nancy paused. She didn’t want to have to lie to Bernie, but she didn’t want to imagine Tommy owning her farm. It would always be her farm.

  ‘Maybe not,’ she said. ‘Did you know, Donn?’

  She meant about her, about Ryan, but didn’t want to say. He didn’t answer.

  Nancy thought about getting something from the fridge and then decided she wasn’t hungry anymore. She pushed herself up from the chair. At the door she turned to ask if he wanted the light off again.

  ‘It’s someone else buying the farm,’ said Donn. ‘Not Tommy.’

  Nancy didn’t believe him. ‘Thanks.’

  ‘It was only ever supposed to be guns,’ he said.

  Nancy switched the light off.

  ‘At least they told me they were guns,’ he said.

  ‘I understand. We can only know what people want us to know.’

  39

  Then

  I woke up filthy and cold in Florence’s bed. I couldn’t remember getting there. All I remembered was being quiet and still and not being killed. I heard a car start up the driveway. I dragged myself out of bed and peeped over the window sill.

  Dad’s car, our car, rattled up the driveway with Bruce at his side. The engine shuddered as if it was trying to turn itself back on even when he’d got out of the car. I ran downstairs to see him hug Mum, then Florence and then it was my turn. Nancy wasn’t there. I cried all through tea as Dad apologised for the car breaking down, for missing the boat.

  Mum and Sister Agatha kept offering me food and blankets but no-one asked what had happened. Dad kept looking at me as if he was wondering but he said nothing either.

  Mum put me to bed even before Florence. I left Nancy’s bed and got into Florence’s again. I didn’t think I’d sleep but I did, badly. I woke up to the sun, but I wasn’t sure whether it was morning or evening. Florence was asleep, her arms thrown over her head, and I could hear Nancy downstairs. I got up, pulled my jumper over my pyjamas, and went to Mum’s room to find Dad. The door was almost closed and I pushed it partly and then fully open. I watched them standing at the window. Dad had his arm round Mum and they were looking out of the side window.

  ‘Poor thing,’ Mum said, and rested her head on Dad’s shoulder.

  ‘Donn will sort it out,’ he said. ‘I’ll ask him to do it before the girls get up.’

  My stomach turned.

  ‘What is it?’ I asked.

  They both turned, spinning away from each other.

  Mum smiled awkwardly. ‘How did you sleep? You must have been tired.’

  ‘What is it?’ My breath was coming fast. I felt dizzy.

  ‘Nothing, Bernadette. Go and join Nancy for breakfast.’

  I gulped, ‘It’s a body, isn’t it? There’s a body!’

  I ran towards them and tried to push Dad out of the way. He held my sides, lifted me up and put me on the bed.

  ‘The rooks have hurt a sheep, Bernie. It’s not nice, we don’t want you to see it.’

  ‘A lamb?’ It wasn’t a man, a p
erson. It was a lamb. I burst into tears.

  ‘It was probably sick or injured,’ he said. He put his arm around me and I heard him whisper to Mum. She stood by the window and he sat on the bed next to me. When I’d calmed down to sniffing and rubbed my eyes on the jumper sleeve, he made me look at him.

  ‘Bernie, Mum’s told me that you’ve been sick, but I was wondering if you’d like to go on a really long trip today.’

  ‘What for? Where are you going?’

  ‘There’s an important ring dyke that I’ve never visited, the Ring of Gullion. And,’ he tipped my face up, ‘I think you need a bit of time away from here and a nice long sleep in the car. What do you think?’

  I felt tired and sick, but I wasn’t going to let him leave without me. He was the only person who could keep Tommy away. Tommy knew everything, when he was here and when he wasn’t.

  ‘Take me with you,’ I said. Mum caught my eye with her finger on her lips.

  It took three goes to get the car started, choke out and foot on the accelerator. He let me release the hand brake as we left the drive without Bruce. He must have been with Donn, I thought, and then I remembered the sheep and tried not to cry again. I carefully followed where we were on the map in case Dad asked which way, but my eyes felt too heavy and I closed them just for a bit. I dreamed of darkness and knowing something was there, was following me, was catching up and woke with a gasp.

  ‘Are you OK?’ asked Dad.

  I looked down at the map. ‘Where are we?’ Then I noticed the scream from the engine. ‘Why is it making that noise?’

  ‘It’s, um, I don’t know.’

  Dad was frowning and shifted down a gear. The noise got quieter.

  ‘Dad, do the people here with guns have a good reason?’

  He raised his eyebrows. ‘Does anyone with a good reason need a gun?’

  I sighed. He glanced at me.

  ‘Sorry. No, I don’t think so. They do have reasons, on both sides, but I don’t see how killing people can ever be a good reason for anything. The more people get killed, the more people will be killed in the future. Both sides benefit from the deaths. They make people angry, and angry people will hold guns too. So they get bigger and more powerful and more righteous and no-one can say anything to stop them. They just say, well, my brother, my dad, my wife was murdered and I have to.’