The Blue Pool

by Siobhan MacDonald

  “Leaving the flat’s a bit rash. A bit over the top don’t you think, Kath?” Sarah said gently.

  “For fuck sake, Sarah, what would you know? You’re never bloody here,” responded an upset Kathy.

  “Pardon me for living,” muttered Sarah.

  “Mikey Fahy is just a harmless fool, Kathy,” said Ruth. “Why don’t you get Josh to have a word with him?”

  “Oh yeah, that’s what people always say – ‘He seemed so harmless, we thought he was just a bit slow, we never dreamt he’d attack anyone, and as for dismembering and eating them…who’d have imagined that?’”

  Kathy had unfortunately.

  “Good God, Kath, what do you and Josh get up to? Do you spend your non-coitus time watching ‘Friday the Thirteenth’ and ‘The Texas Chainsaw Massacre’?” asked Ruth.

  Sarah threw Ruth a withering look. Ruth hadn’t meant to be blunt but Kathy was working herself into a frenzy. Some psychologist she was going to make.

  “Stop bringing Josh into this. Josh is a shit. He’s out of my life. I don’t expect I’ll ever be seeing him again!”

  Now that was unexpected.

  Silence.

  Everyone stared at one another, stunned.

  There’s more to this meltdown than meets the eye, thought Ruth.

  “Why is that, Kath?” she said more gently this time.

  “I’m late…”

  “Late?” said Charlotte, Sarah, and Ruth together. And slowly realisation dawned.

  They waited for Kathy to elaborate.

  “When I told him, he asked how I could be sure it was him.” Kathy was indignant.

  Unchivalrous of Josh?

  Yes.

  Unjustified?

  No.

  Surprising?

  No.

  They’d all discussed it in her absence. Kathy never seemed to understand that the easier she was with guys, the less loyalty she received in return.

  There was another long silence.

  “Have you done a pregnancy test?” Ruth asked eventually.

  “No, not yet…”

  “Why ever not?”

  “I don’t have the money.”

  “For God’s sake, Kathy.” Ruth shook her head. “I’ll loan you the money. Hell, I’ll give you the bloody money. It’s only a few quid. Jesus! Why didn’t you say? Why didn’t you just ask?”

  “I’m always borrowing from you. You’re always loaning me money. I didn’t want to ask again.” Kathy hung her head in embarrassment.

  “That’s crap. Don’t be ridiculous!” said Ruth.

  Sarah had edged closer to Kathy, slinging an arm around her shoulder. Charlotte was staring wildly at Kathy. She offered no suggestions, no doubt thinking, Thank Christ this isn’t me.

  Things couldn’t have been worse. There it was. Two situations. Two months left to exams. But Ruth could sort it out. She’d try at least.

  * * *

  The first problem was the possible pregnancy. It was nothing short of miraculous that the situation hadn’t arisen before. Kathy invariably forgot to take the pill, forgot to fill her prescription, or forgot she’d taken it and took it twice.

  The more Ruth thought about it the more she hoped that Kathy wasn’t pregnant. The prospect filled her with dread. Kathy with a child? She could scarcely look after herself. She always displayed such an alarming lack of responsibility for any of her actions.

  They all struggled with their student budgets but Kathy was by far the worst. She had scant regard for money. It didn’t cost her a thought to shell out and buy flowers for the flat. Such reckless spending didn’t just annoy Ruth. Charlotte would often blow a fuse. “Buy flowers by all means,” she’d hiss at Kathy, “but with money of your own, we can’t eat the fucking flowers!” Kathy would also invite her ‘homme-du-jour’ for dinner, leaving the rest of them with tiny portions. “It’s all very well feeding your boyfriends, Kathy,” Charlotte would launch into a rant, “but do so at your own expense.”

  Motherhood and university. Not easy bedfellows, imagined Ruth. Single motherhood alone would present challenges that she doubted Kathy would rise to. And there was telling everyone back home. The social repercussions of being a single mum in rural Ireland could be grim and dire. It was nearly the end of the century but had social thinking moved on that much, Ruth wondered? Kathy’s future could be bleak.

  Termination? Would Kathy survive a termination, even if she could procure one? Ruth doubted it. Kathy having a baby or Kathy having a termination? Either might be her undoing. Raising money for the pregnancy test was easy. Ruth sold her secret stash of cigarettes to the guys in the courthouse. Handing the cash to Kathy, she told her to get on with the test and put herself and everyone else out of their misery.

  Ruth then turned her attention to the more straightforward problem of Mikey Fahy. She’d thought about it long and hard. They would have to move. It was that simple. But what would she say to old man Fahy, their landlord? On what grounds could she get their deposit back? They could ill-afford to forfeit that. And more importantly, where would they set up home for the two brief months that remained?

  Over the next couple of days, Ruth missed lectures trying to find alternative accommodation. She went to the usual student letting agencies and each time she explained how she needed accommodation for four well-behaved students for two months only. Each agent glanced at her askance. What misdemeanour or foul play had been committed to warrant eviction from their current accommodation, they no doubt wondered. Had they ripped radiators from walls? Taken doors from hinges? Broken furniture to burn? They didn’t have to say it. She could see it in their eyes. Careful not to disclose where they currently resided, Ruth assured them that the fault lay not with the students themselves, but with a rodent infestation that was not being attended to.

  Just as she was about to give up, an agent with a dandruff-coated collar made Ruth an offer. It was not ideal. But it met the two-month requirement nicely. It was a three bedroom house in Laurel Park close to the university. And it was available immediately. The bad news was that it hadn’t been rented lately as the central heating didn’t work. But it was the beginning of April and if the students could manage without the heating, the house was theirs. Ruth took it. As long as the immersion worked and they could have a hot bath, the other three would jump at the idea. At least they’d be rid of Fingers Fahy.

  Next was the problem of the landlord. Ruth braced herself. There was nothing for it but to brazen it out. The same afternoon she was offered the house in Laurel Park, Ruth went into the pub under their flat and marched up to the counter.

  “Mr Fahy, your son has a problem,” Ruth said. “And I suspect your son’s problem is of a sexual nature.”

  Old man Fahy looked nervous.

  “The fact is, Mr Fahy, he’s been interfering with our underwear. As you might appreciate we’re not very comfortable with that,” said Ruth. “No way. In fact, one of the girls, whose father is a lawyer by the way, is quite upset. So you see Mr Fahy we have to leave. In fact, we have to leave this evening. That’s the way it is. So, if you’d kindly return our deposit now we’ll be on our way. In return, we won’t say anything to the Students’ Union about this inappropriate and threatening behavior. But if I were you Mr Fahy, I’d have a good talk with my son.”

  A stunned and tremulous Mr Fahy opened the till and handed over the crisp paper bills without a word. She’d pulled it off!

  That same evening, a ramshackle caravan of bodies transported their student belongings from the flat by the harbour to the house in Laurel Park. The guys from the courthouse helped to carry stuff with their bikes and a couple of shopping trolleys they’d stolen from Dunnes Stores.

  But during all this time, Kathy wouldn’t do the test. She couldn’t bring herself to do it. She bought one. She looked at it. But she couldn’t pluck up the courage to do it, preferring instead the distraction of escape from Mikey Fahy, unlikely sex-fiend.

  Patient at first, Ruth’s sympathy changed
to irritation and then to anger. Traipsing home up the Newcastle road from college, she resolved to waste no more precious time on Kathy. She’d done what she could to help her out. The rest was up to her.

  As Ruth opened the front door, the smell of a barbeque wafted throughout the Laurel Park house. What on earth was happening? Looking through the open kitchen window to the overgrown garden, she saw Sarah and Luke. They were celebrating something. The kitchen table had been hauled outside and covered with a flowery bed-sheet. Alison Moyet was blaring from the radio. Sarah had a daisy chain round her neck and Luke was cooking fish on a makeshift barbecue. He swigged from a bottle of cider.

  “What’s going on?” Ruth called to Sarah. “I thought you were studying. The exams are only weeks away.”

  Sarah swigged Luke’s cider. “Relax, Ruth. We’re celebrating. Have you heard the news?”

  “What news?”

  “Kathy isn’t pregnant after all – it was a false alarm.”

  “Brilliant news!” Ruth was thrilled. “Kath must be so relieved. Where is she… inside?”

  “She’s gone to celebrate.”

  “Not with you guys?”

  “Well… no, not exactly.”

  For some reason Sarah was being coy.

  “Then where?” asked Ruth.

  “With Josh White,” said Sarah looking sheepish.

  Kathy

  Kathy snipped wheatgrass from the container on the windowsill. She sighed. It was lonely without Emma. Reaching for the blender, she threw in ginger and a banana. It might help counter the rising bile from the night before. That reminded her. She’d better go to the bottle bank before Andrew arrived back with Emma. She didn’t need to give him further ammunition.

  Trust her to end up with a lawyer. A verbal gladiator. A linguistic contortionist. A man who twisted and used her words to tangle her up. Make her look incompetent. Flaky. Unreliable. Epithets that might have once been justified. But not anymore. Kathy was getting her act together.

  In one of many moments of reflection, Kathy tried to think back to where it all started to unravel. Was it when she’d made that tipsy pass at one of Andrew’s junior colleagues? The guy had known she’d only been fooling around. Or was it that time it skipped her mind to collect Emma from school? Kathy had been meditating.

  If she were being honest, the bad karma had started way back. As far back as all the business with Josh White. And before that again. Probably about the time things fell apart at the farm at home. It was her fault. Things could have turned out differently. Kathy might have had another life today, a better life, if she’d listened to her brother. If only she’d listened to Lawrence. That was where it all went wrong, she was sure of it now – back in the farmyard in Roscommon.

  When he’d told her, she couldn’t say she was shocked. In her heart she’d always known. It was obvious. But Lawrence wanted acknowledgement. For those he held dear to him to say it was alright. Lawrence wanted validation of who he was, of what he was.

  That day in the milking parlour, he’d asked for Kathy’s support – and she’d let him down. She had no excuse. How clearly she remembered it still – Lawrence hosing the milking parlour as both of them enjoyed a cigarette one Saturday in April. Kathy was home from college for the weekend attempting to study, away from parties. The exams were in another two weeks.

  “How’s it all going, Kath? Still enjoying university?”

  “It’s a blast, Lawrence. But it’d be a whole lot better still, if I didn’t have these bloody exams –”

  “Too much socialising I expect,” Lawrence said, laughing. “How are you fixed?”

  “I’m not in great shape, Lawrence, to tell you the truth,” she’d said. “I’m behind. I’ve had a few distractions these last few weeks.”

  “I’ve heard the talent and parties are great in Galway. Count yourself lucky, Kath. There’s bugger all happening around here, as you well know.” Lawrence had scuffed the ground with his rubber boot. “It’s impossible to meet someone back here.”

  “There’s time enough for all that, Lawrence.” She was being deliberately obtuse.

  “It’s not easy…” Lawrence had stared into the distance. “This isn’t the kind of place I’d meet someone. Not someone for the likes of me. Dublin perhaps, or maybe even Galway. Definitely not back here.”

  “Come on. You’re a good-looking guy, Lawrence, of course you’ll meet someone.”

  Even as she said the words, she knew she was being disingenuous. There’d never been a single girl in all his teenage years, despite his handsome looks.

  “I doubt it, Kath.”

  Lawrence coiled the hose around his arm and placed it back on its hook. “The way it is with me, I’m stuck back here,” he said. “We both know I’m going to inherit this farm. This is my life, whether I like it or not. It’s all mapped out for me, Kath. I’m expected to marry and have children and pass the land to any son I may have. And so it goes. But you Kathy, you can go off to university. You can get out of here.”

  Lawrence examined his rubber boots to see if they were clean. “And then sometimes I think even if I did find someone, someone special… you know Dad wouldn’t approve, don’t you? You know what I mean, don’t you, Kath?” He spoke softly now.

  Of course she knew. But she chose to ignore Lawrence’s plea for understanding, for sympathy, for support. And so she evaded the question. Kathy evaded anything that might prove problematic. She deliberately muddied their exchange so she wouldn’t have to shoulder the burden of telling her parents. She knew that Lawrence would never tell them. He wouldn’t be able for the stony silence, the refusal to countenance any deviation from the norm. Their parents were ordinary people. They reveled in their ordinariness. They didn’t want anything different.

  “What you need is a holiday, Lawrence,” she’d said. “I’ll speak to Dad about it. I’m sure he’d cope on the farm for a week or two on his own. I’ll talk to him tonight.”

  She remembered the look of grinding disappointment on his face. His mashing the cigarette stub slowly into the ground. “Thanks for that, Kath.” His eyes had been downcast. “You’re a good kid. Hey, you look after yourself down in university, you hear? Don’t let those exams get you down.” She remembered the feel of his calloused hand squeezing her shoulder. The pressure of those strong sun-freckled fingers.

  She’d speak to their father about Lawrence needing a holiday. But not about anything else. Not about the fact they should stop asking him when he was bringing a woman home to the farm. Because that would never happen.

  If only Lawrence had been as strong on the inside. If only he’d been more robust. If only Kathy hadn’t been so weak. If only she hadn’t been such a coward. She let the opportunity pass.

  The following Saturday afternoon, on their return from shopping in the town, Kathy’s parents spotted something in the field beyond the hay-barn. Something odd by the horse chestnut, with its blossom of April flowers. Drawing closer to what was swinging in the breeze, Gretta Moran let out a chilling primal wail. It was heard all across the fields. Her only son had hanged himself and swirls of magenta-coloured blossom rained gently on his head.

  * * *

  Why did he do it?

  What could have been so awful that he couldn’t have shared it with them?

  They’d never known he was unhappy.

  Was this true, Kathy wondered? She’d known Lawrence wasn’t happy for years. All he’d ever wanted was acceptance of who he was. He’d asked Kathy for help and she had turned away.

  Ruth, Charlotte, and Sarah all came to the funeral. They were awkward. They didn’t know what to say. They’d been to funerals of elderly people with mottled skin and aged bones. But her brother Lawrence looked young and handsome lying cold and dead on the mortuary slab.

  “Do you think you might come back to college next week, Kath?” Sarah took her gently by the arm.

  “I’m not sure,” Kathy had answered. “I know I need to get out of here. This place is wreckin
g my head.” Since it happened, her mother had taken to bed, only getting up that one time for the funeral. Her father just stared into the fire until all that remained was embers.

  So, a few days after the funeral, Kathy made her way back to university. She was weighed down with guilt, melancholy, and wearing Lawrence’s St Christopher’s medal. Her parents wanted her to have it. She’d had no idea why. St Christopher was supposed to guide people on their travels but the guy was a crock of shit. He’d let Lawrence down. He hadn’t shouldered her brother over rocky waters. But then neither had Kathy. Neither had their parents. Each and every one of them had let him down.

  Back in the Laurel Park house, it was business as usual. A different kind of mania gripped the house. Exams were about to begin and an edgy panic reared its head.

  Kathy felt removed from all the hype, stuck inside her grief. The exams seemed ridiculous, irrelevant, and above all irreverent. How dare everyone carry on as normal? Didn’t the world know that Lawrence had died?

  Kathy sank into a self-imposed solitude. She sat in the bedroom looking out the window as students cycled to and from the rows of uniform houses. Every now and then, Ruth would knock on the door and ask if there was anything she could do.

  Charlotte’s brother Richard came to pay his respects. He tried to lift the mood by taking them for a restaurant meal in town. Kathy appreciated the kindness that was shown to her. Sarah would keep her company, into the small hours, as they got high on instant coffee. Kathy felt guilty knowing she was distracting Sarah from her studies.

  One night, Sarah asked the question that everyone else had wanted to. “It isn’t any of my business, and tell me to get lost if you want, Kath, but do you have any idea why Lawrence did it?”

  “He was gay,” she answered. “Can you just imagine what it’s like being gay in a rural town? Being the only son of a small farmer with an even smaller mind?” She was surprised at the vitriol that welled up inside her. And immediately she felt guilty for laying the blame at her father’s doorstep. Kathy herself had denied Lawrence.