“The termination thing feels wrong. I don’t think I can do it. I’d have to go to the UK wouldn’t I? How would I arrange that?”
That fact that she’d have to travel to the UK was immaterial. Ruth doubted Kathy would manage to arrange a termination without help even if abortion was legal in Ireland.
Sarah had looked up from the pharmacology notes that she’d been doodling on. Ruth continued to stir the tomato soup, intrigued to hear where this particular train of thought was going.
“Don’t think I can do it,” said Kathy who had by now bitten her nails to the quick. “I can’t afford it anyway.” And then quietly she asked of no one in particular “How much does a termination cost?”
“Maybe I could find out,” came a small voice from the broken armchair.
“Could you, Sarah?” Kathy asked eagerly. “How would you do that? I mean, what do you know about it?”
“I think my sister Penny may have had one,” Sarah had said, sounding unsure. “I’m not a hundred percent, but I think so.”
“Really?” Ruth had asked.
“Yeah. Looking back on it now she was in her last year in Trinity and Mum for no good reason I could see, took Penny across to London in the middle of term. I remember thinking it odd at the time. The idea that Mum would take Penny out of college in the middle of term on a shopping trip is not her style at all.”
Ruth could scarcely imagine having a rational conversation with her own mother about a termination much less even imagine her mother arranging one and accompanying her to London. Nothing was more likely to provoke a violent outpouring of emotion in Ireland than the mention of abortion.
“That was brave of your mother,” Ruth ventured. “Given that it’s illegal here.”
“You think?” Sarah had sounded dubious.
“Flying in the face of a lot of public opinion – yeah that’s brave, absolutely.”
“You’ve got to understand one thing though,” Sarah had said carefully, “where the pharmacies are concerned, nothing stands in my mother’s way. And I mean nothing. There was no way my mother would allow Penny to screw up her career. No way on earth. Penny is needed to prop up my mother’s empire. I hate to say this, girls, but my mother is a mercenary cow. When I threatened to take an overdose from the pharmacy after failing my exams, you know what she said? She stared me straight in the face and said “It would be progress of sorts, Sarah, if you knew anything about doses.”
An embarrassed silence followed.
It was a revelation best left unremarked upon. Ruth recalled feeling a sudden wave of affection for her own loving and supportive parents.
“What do you imagine Penny wanted to do about the baby?” asked Kathy, not wanting to digress.
“I’ve no idea,” Sarah had replied. “As I said, I’m only guessing. But if I’m right, Penny’s feelings wouldn’t have come in to play. How Penny may or may not have felt would have been an irrelevance. She would have had no choice.”
“The thing is, I do have a choice,” Kathy said, continuing to gnaw her nails.
Two weeks later Kathy went to London. Ruth went with her. Sarah’s sister’s advice was never called upon. Ruth had arranged everything from the appointment to the accommodation. She’d gone home to withdraw funds from her post-office account and while she was there she made a discreet phone call to her aunt in Staines. She booked the bus journey as the fund didn’t stretch to airfares. She arranged it all.
Another month of term was missed.
Now, as Ruth sat miserably in her bedroom in Kerry looking at old dancing medals pinned to the wall, she resolved that enough was enough. She was going to pass these re-sits. Then, one last year at college and she was out of here. Back to the States or to London. She’d get her head down, and get on with it. There’d be no more drama or tragedy.
Little did she know.
Kathy
Dublin, Ireland
Present Day
“Can I make popcorn, Mummy?”
“Emma, it’s late, you really should be heading to bed.” Kathy did her best to sound firm. “School tomorrow.”
“Aw please, you said you missed me. Can’t I stay up for another ten? Pleeease, Mummy… promise I’ll go to bed early tomorrow.”
She hesitated. Of course she’d missed her daughter. Weekdays without Emma were far too long. Weekends without her, even longer. Andrew had taken her mid-week this time as he was going sailing at the weekend. Kathy had been a sailing widow long before they’d separated. Nothing came between Andrew and his sailing.
He’d dropped Emma off in the driveway and she’d arrived on the doorstep smelling of his cologne and cigars. Christ, didn’t he know he shouldn’t smoke over the child? And he had the absolute cheek to talk to her about the odd shot of vodka.
“Did you go to bed early in Daddy’s house?”
“Kind of…” The child scrunched up her face and scratched her head. “Not on Wednesday night. I had to go to dinner with Daddy’s boring friends. It was sooo boring and there was no one for me to play with.”
And he had the gall to talk about her parenting skills.
“Oh really?” Kathy was curious. “You went out to dinner? Was it out to one of Daddy’s friend’s?” She wondered whether Andrew was seeing someone special or playing the field.
“We went to a restaurant that only made fish.” Emma stuck her fingers down her throat. The only fish she found acceptable was fish fingers. And Kathy doubted that Andrew frequented anywhere that served such lowly fare.
“What did you eat?”
“They gave me a fish that looked like a big pink beetle with claws on. Daddy had to crack it open.”
“Lobster?”
“Yeah, I think that was it,” said Emma, scratching her head again. “It was horrible. But Daddy let me have some chips.”
That was big of him.
“Stop scratching your head,” Kathy scolded.
“But it’s itchy. Oh, yeah –and Dad said you have to check that I don’t have nits again. I told him that I didn’t. I pulled out a hair at dinner and I was checking but I didn’t see any. I think Dad was cross at me because the pretty lady next to him moved her chair away.”
“Let me see…”
Kathy made a quick examination of her child’s hair. But she couldn’t see any reappearance of the loathsome creatures either.
“No, Ems – you’re fine.”
She almost felt disappointed. How satisfying it would be to find out that Andrew and his odious friends had been struck by an infestation. The guy was taking his eight year-old out to dinner with lawyers and feeding her lobster. Of course, Emma could have some popcorn.
“Quick then, go and put the popcorn on. David Attenborough will be on in a minute. We’ll have twenty minutes sofa-time.”
Kathy loved sofa-time even more than Emma did. Her daughter was about the only thing she’d ever got right and she didn’t want to muck it up. She never wanted Ems to grow up. She wanted her to stay at home and remain an uncomplicated kid forever.
Over the popping in the microwave, Kathy thought she heard her mobile ring.
“Get that, Ems, will you?”
It would be Andrew ringing her to sign off for the night. He usually did that after dropping Emma home.
“Mummy, there’s a lady on the phone for you.”
Not Andrew then.
“Just coming, who is it?”
“A lady called Charlotte, I think.” Emma handed her the phone.
Her stomach did a flip. Charlotte. Charlotte Moran. Was there news?
She took the mobile. “Charlotte? Hi, everything alright?”
What a stupid thing to say – of course everything was not alright.
“Sorry to ring this late, Kath. I’ve just come back from seeing Richard. Nothing concrete. Just something odd.”
“Yeah, what’s that?” She sank down on the stairs awash with dread.
“Richard said the guy in custody mentioned something about a St Christopher�
��s medal. They seem to think it’s significant. Does that mean anything to you?”
She felt like she’d been struck. Her hand fluttered to her throat. “N-no, not really… I mean… no I don’t think so. Not that I can remember anyway…” she lied. Her skin began to crawl.
A pause.
“Have they… have they found the… the place?” Kathy dropped her voice. Emma was within earshot.
“No. I don’t think so. There’s nothing about that. Only about the medal… you know something sticks in my memory. I seem to remember something about a medal.”
Kathy held her breath. She’d have to say something.
But Charlotte carried on. “I guess you’re right. It’s hard to remember everything that happened. She’s been gone twenty-five years. A lifetime.”
“A lifetime,” Kathy echoed. Her thoughts turned to her brother Lawrence. He’d been gone a lifetime too, twenty-six years this year. His name was rarely mentioned as Kathy had no one to discuss him with. Her parents were gone – slipping from melancholia to the grave. And Emma was too young to discuss such things.
The child now appeared at the doorway waving her to come into the sitting room. Their nature program had started on TV.
But Kathy couldn’t leave it there. “Tell me more about the medal.”
What exactly did they know?
“There’s nothing more to tell, Kath. Only that they think it’s significant and may want to talk to you and Ruth about it.”
She held on to the banister. Fragments of memory spun round her head. This was exactly what terrified her. The police again. More questioning. More suspicion.
“Have you mentioned to Ruth about the medal?” she asked shakily.
“No, not yet. You know what Ruth’s like about routine. They’re probably all tucked up in bed in her house. I guessed you’d be up – you always were a night owl,” she laughed. “I’ll ring Ruth in the morning – catch her before the office or her golf.”
Kathy thought she heard something in Charlotte’s tone. Was it envy?
“Probably best,” she agreed. She held up a finger to indicate one more minute to Emma, who was now flicking popcorn at her.
Ruth would know exactly how to handle the question of the medal. She’d brush it off – minimise its significance. She’d always looked out for her, making allowances for her weaknesses. She’d covered for her twenty-five years ago. She’d do it again. And as Ruth had often said it wasn’t as if they’d deliberately hidden what they’d done. It was simply a sin of omission – something no one needed to know. Ruth had a knack of making everything seem alright.
“Odd isn’t it, though?” Charlotte carried on, sounding puzzled. “This character turning up after all this time. What do you make of it?”
“I don’t know.” She squirmed on stairs. “I just hope they nail the bastard. I hope he roasts in hell.” The cold of the step had seeped through her jeans, making her shiver.
“Me too,” said Charlotte.
Kathy could feel a tightness grab her throat, a rash creeping up her neck.
“Just one more thing…” Charlotte said and took a breath. “It appears he has a history.”
Jesus.
“He does?” she whispered.
Maybe the guy was insane. Some bum ravaged by life, who fancied a moment of glory.
“This guy – Nathan Queally,” said Charlotte, “he got a dishonourable discharge from the army. The police are trying to find out why. Richard seems to think it was something to do with assaulting a fellow soldier – a woman.”
“Assaulted a woman?” she repeated trying to absorb it.
“Yeah. The guy was a sergeant or something. Anyway, that’s not important. It’s the fact she he attacked a woman… don’t you think?”
She didn’t know what to think. Her brain felt scrambled. First of all the medal thing, and now this.
“It doesn’t sound good,” she agreed.
“It doesn’t, for sure. Listen, Kath, you know that I’m telling you this in absolute confidence, right? Richard would be furious with me if he knew I was blabbing. All this stuff is strictly under wraps for the moment.”
“Of course.”
Like Charlotte needed to say it. Who on earth would Kathy tell? After Lawrence it was the single most shameful period in her life. And there were lots to choose from.
“The popcorn is getting cold!” Emma shouted very annoyed and looking worried now.
“Charlotte, I’m sorry but I have to cut you short. I have to go.” She’d have to wrap it up. “Emma’s home from Andrew’s and I need to have a quick chat with her before she goes to bed. Thanks so much for the news and let me know if you hear anything else, won’t you?”
“Of course I will, Kath,” she said, “and sorry again for calling so late. I’ll give Richard your number just in case the police need to talk, is that okay with you?”
Kathy hesitated. “Sure… that’s fine,” she croaked.
What else could she say?
She hung up.
* * *
No, it wasn’t fine. It wasn’t fine at all. She’d see to Emma and then she’d pour herself a vodka. Unwanted images swirled about her head. Kathy never wanted to revisit that time but pictures of that afternoon lit up in her head like a macabre slideshow. She’d have to pull herself together, to get her story straight. The police would want to speak to her again.
An hour later, Emma tucked up in bed, she poured a vodka and tonic, hoping her life was not about to fall apart. Things had been going so well. She was getting over Andrew. Her finances were not exactly robust, but they were a lot healthier than they’d been in months. Her confidence was coming back. She’d come a long way.
And now this.
Her life had been such a bunch of highs and lows. At times, the lows had threatened to swallow her up. But there’d always been someone to sort her out. Twenty odd years ago it had been Ruth. Things had been a mess back then. Yet, no one could have known just how bad it would get that summer. The summer of ’91.
Topping up her tumbler, she poked through her CDs. It was here somewhere. Where the hell was it? Nearly all of the CDs were ‘Best of’ collections. They’d been given to her as presents by Andrew for Christmas and on her birthday. Even the crappy CDs dried up towards the end.
There. She had it.
‘The Best of Talking Heads’. She put on the track that reminded her most of the girls. The track that reminded her of Sarah – ‘We’re on the road to nowhere’. It had been the anthem of that summer.
They’d been naive and stupid. Scoffing at exam results, pretending they didn’t care. Though deep inside they were gutted. As she settled into her bean-bag, she let her mind wander back. To a time of bravado and gallows humour, all four students obliged to pack in summer jobs to do a bunch of re-sits.
Kathy could picture all four linking arms and chanting “We’re on the road to nowhere,” as they marched back to Salthill, to the house they’d rented for re-sits. Listening to the lyrics brought back bittersweet memories. Had they invited bad karma by singing such lyrics with gusto? Had they tempted fate with their irreverence? Would their lives have imploded regardless?
She looked at the clock and wondered if Charlotte had passed on her phone number to Richard yet. As she glugged back her drink she remembered him as being too dull for her liking. But that was Kathy’s failing, not his. Even though she’d had sex with him, he held no interest for her. She knew now what her problem was – she was attracted to screw-ups. With the benefit of hindsight, plain steady Richard would have been a better catch than that shit, Josh White or bloody Andrew.
Richard was the one who’d suggested they go to the Blue Pool. He’d made it sound romantic. A crescent of cabins hewn into the hillside, that overlooked a stretch of water. It was neither a pond, nor a lake. It was something in between, he’d said. To call it a pond would be to do it an injustice but to call it a lake would be far too grandiose.
She remembered she wanted to go, but
Mam and Dad were finding it hard, alone on the farm without Lawrence. She’d been torn. She should stay with her parents. Failing her exams had scarcely even registered with them. They went about their daily lives with a joyless vigour – the farm and all its needs providing a faltering raison d’être. She convinced herself that they wouldn’t notice if she left them for a weekend to go to Charlotte’s uncle’s cabin.
Her finances were dire that year. She’d loaned a wad of money to Josh for a geology trip before he’d vanished from her life. A chance remark about the geology trip to a fellow classmate elicited nothing but blank stares. What a fool he’d made of her. Going to the student welfare officer to look for money had also been humiliating. She couldn’t bring herself to tell the woman she needed it for a termination. Her trip proved fruitless and humiliating. With the student welfare office adjacent to the bar, Kathy’d been seen legless too many times. From the welfare officer’s face it was obvious she didn’t think Kathy a deserving case.
Ruth had again come to her rescue. She’d provided funds for everything. The termination, the bed and breakfast, the ferry, and the bus. She’d even gone with her to the clinic. Kathy had really wanted to pay Ruth back by working that summer. But just like everything in her life, her plan had fallen apart when she’d failed her exams.
Then there was the re-sits. Richard’s suggestion that they go and spend a weekend at the cabin in North Clare while waiting for results seemed just what she needed. Phone calls were made, plans were hatched, and Ennis was picked as a convenient meeting point. Ruth and Kathy could catch a bus there. Sarah could get a train there. And Charlotte could meet them at the station in her little Ford Fiesta.
Kathy thought her nightmare year was over.
It hadn’t even begun.
Charlotte
The Blue Pool
August, 1991
It was 1991, a hot Friday in late August, and Charlotte had been driving for hours. The homemade L sign had started to peel away from the inside of the windscreen in the heat of the day. The car didn’t have a radio and she’d sung every song in her repertoire. She was screamingly bored.
The Blue Pool Page 9