‘Oh, baby, I’m so sorry.’ She explodes into hideous, snotty crying. ‘I never knew. God’s my judge, I never knew.’
I hunch over and try to block her out.
Colette folds her arms and looks at Mum like she’s disgusted. ‘Theresa, have you any idea what would have happened if he hadn’t had the sense to phone us?’
‘I know, I know.’ Her mood does that sudden flip that makes her so hard to keep up with. ‘I was asleep, I never even heard the door. And then when I was heading out this morning I found this at the bottom of the steps.’ She pulls my beanie hat out of her pocket. ‘And … and bloodstains.’ She shudders.
I wish she would shut up. I don’t want all this drama. I want everyone to leave me alone. But no chance.
‘I done no good till I found you, son! None! And when you weren’t at home I was heart-scared.’ She fumbles for her cigarettes and then catches Colette’s eye. ‘Oh, for Christ’s sake, Colette. I suppose you don’t even let people smoke in your precious mansion.’
‘It’s her house,’ I find myself bursting out and she and Mum both give me funny looks.
‘Come on.’ Colette suddenly takes charge. ‘I think you and I need to have a chat, Theresa. I’ll put the kettle on and find you an ashtray. Declan,’ she turns to me, ‘just give me a bit of time with your mum, OK?’
You’re welcome to her, I feel like saying, but I don’t. I’m just glad Vicky isn’t here to see my mum like this. I switch the football on and leave them to it. I don’t care what they’re saying.
Mum’s eyes are red when she comes back in but she’s calmer. ‘I’m sorry, son.’
‘You always say that.’ I press my lips together so tight that I’m biting them. I’ve always made it too easy for her. I always let on to believe her because I’ve always wanted to believe her, but not this time. I worked it out while I was half-watching Newcastle hammer Liverpool – this time she went too far. Nothing has ever been as bad as waking up at the bottom of those steps, watching my blood seep into the concrete and knowing that my mum was upstairs, hammered, letting it happen. Nothing. Not Gran – and God knows I felt bad enough about that, I know what everyone was saying. Not being sent away; not even finding her unconscious the day all this started.
‘I know.’ She tries to take my hand but I fold my arms even though it wrecks my shoulder. ‘Look, I … I’ve got a drink problem.’ She looks down at her hands.
‘I kind of noticed.’
‘Come on,’ she wheedles. ‘Don’t make this harder for me. I’ve been telling myself it wasn’t too bad, I could handle it. I wasn’t drinking in the mornings; I was keeping the house clean, but …’ Her chin wobbles and I dig my nails into my arms. If I press hard enough will I draw blood? Probably not; my nails are pretty bitten. ‘It was getting worse, wasn’t it?’
I shrug, then decide to answer for once. ‘It’s not just the drinking.’ I spin round to look her straight in the face. ‘Look at me, Mum. This is what that psycho did to me. Just for asking to speak to you! He’s always hated me; he blames me for Emmet getting in trouble. But this is …’
I give up.
Now she’s the silent one. She picks at the skin on her hand. It reminds me of when she was in the hospital and I know what I have to say.
‘I’m not coming home. Not if he’s still going to be around and not if you’re drinking. I can’t take any more.’
I’m ready for her to argue but to my amazement she looks me in the eye and says, ‘I know, son; I don’t blame you. I’m … I’m going back to the unit. Today, if they’ll take me. I have to get off the drink. And this time I’m going to do it properly, I swear. I swear, son, whatever it takes. And you’re going to stay here – Colette wants you to.’
‘And Barry?’
‘I’m finished with him. No, I mean it, Declan. I mean it. Seeing what he did to you…’ She reaches out a shaking hand to touch the cut on my head. I try not to flinch from her touch and instead, my eyes fill with tears. At first I try to stop them, like I always do, cause Mum hasn’t seen me cry for years, and then I think, well, maybe it’s time she did, and I let them roll down my face.
Chapter 40
VICKY
‘Here. Take her while I do some lunch, will you?’ Fiona dumped a wriggling Molly in my lap and my sister’s little hand grabbed for one of my plaits. Dad had gone straight to golf after dropping me off.
‘Ouch! Molly-moo, you little devil,’ I said, tickling her tummy.
She shrieked with laughter and so did Fiona. What did you just call her?’
‘Moll – oh, right. That’s your fault. It’s infectious.’
Fiona hovered in the doorway. ‘She loves you. Look at how excited she is to see you. I think she missed you last night.’
I looked at Molly’s fat red cheeks. ‘God, last night. I hope I never have to do anything like that again.’
‘Your mum said you and Rory were fantastic – by the time she got there you’d dealt with it all.’
‘Well, not really. I mean, we took him to get patched up but there’s still loads to sort out. Mum was trying to get in touch with his mum when Dad picked me up this morning. Theresa’s been drinking for days.’ I smoothed Molly’s thin blonde fuzz over her pink scalp and thought of the gash on Declan’s forehead, the staples stabbing in to close the wound. ‘Fi?’
‘What?’
‘Just … well, I’m glad Dad married you.’
‘Where did that come from?’
‘Instead of some psycho stepmother from hell.’ I shivered at the thought of Barry, even though I’d never met him and hopefully never would. But I’d seen what he could do, all right.
‘Well, thank you.’ She mock-bowed but I could tell she was pleased. ‘I suppose I’d better make you a nice lunch for that.’
‘Ga!’ said Molly.
I pulled the end of my plait out of her mouth and followed Fiona into the kitchen, Molly on my hip, her fat little legs clinging round my waist. ‘Fi, I have this letter I found in Declan’s pocket.’ I took it out of my jeans pocket, a thin, crumpled, grubby envelope. ‘It’s addressed to Cam. I think it’s an apology. D’you reckon I should give it to her?’
‘Let’s see.’ She dried her hands on a tea towel and picked it up. ‘Been in the wars a bit, hasn’t it?’
‘You should have seen Declan.’ I wondered if this was the time to tell her there was blood on her coat but decided not to. Mum would leave it into the cleaners. ‘He wrote me one, too. I read it. He said … well, about the accident and stuff, that he was sorry.’
‘And you think this is the same sort of thing?’
‘Must be. I’m just worried if I give it back to him he might change his mind and not give it to her.’
‘And why would that matter to you?’ She narrowed her eyes and gave me one of her very straight looks.
‘Well –’ I ran my finger over the name and address. ‘Look, I … I haven’t told you everything. About the accident. It was my fault, too.’
‘I guessed.’
I heaved Molly higher up and searched for the right words. It was a pretty incoherent explanation but it was honest.
Fiona poured soup into a pan and set it on the Aga before she replied. ‘I knew you must have done something – or more likely said something – to make him kick off like that. And I knew how jealous you were. You do have a very hurtful tongue when you want to, Vicky.’
‘I know. Rory guessed too – that’s why … Well, anyway, I know it was my fault too and if Flight doesn’t get better I’ll never forgive myself.’ I struggled not to cry.
‘But you’ve forgiven Declan?’
‘Yes, I’ve forgiven him.’ The words felt strange in my mouth. I’ve forgiven him. But I had.
‘Does he know?’
‘Yes. I wish I’d told him ages ago. I felt so much better after I talked to him.’ And I realised, as I said it, that telling Fiona was a huge relief as well, even though I hated admitting to having been such a bitch. I’d already ha
d a bit of a confession session with Mum the night before. We’d stayed up for ages, talking. ‘I want to tell Cam now, and then … yes, I will give her this. D’you think she’ll forgive him?’
Fiona pursed her lips. ‘He abused her trust. I think she’s pretty sore about that.’
‘But if I tell her what I said? I was really nasty, Fi. He told me about Mum having this new boyfriend and I just … God, I don’t even want to think about it.’
Fiona stirred the soup. ‘Tell her what you told me. Give her the letter. It’s all you can do.’
‘I just feel I want to make up to him for being so horrible. And I kind of realised last night – I mean Mum’s always tried to tell me but I wouldn’t listen – he has a pretty crap time at home. He loved it at the yard – I think he was even hoping to work with horses properly – and I did my best to wreck it. Deliberately.’ It sounded so horrible.
‘Have some lunch and then we’ll head up there together, OK? I’ll take Molly in the pram and show her the horses while you speak to Cam.’
‘Thanks, Fi. Then I want to stay for a bit and spend some time with Flight. Cam said I could start leading him out in hand to graze a bit.’
‘Good idea. Put that monster in her high chair and we’ll have some soup.’
* * *
‘Look: he’s definitely putting weight on that leg.’ Flight pulled at his head-collar rope and moved his teeth over to a juicier-looking patch of grass.
Cam, walking past on her way to the tack room, arms full of tack, smiled. ‘He’s enjoying getting out for a graze, anyway. And the swelling’s down a good bit.’ Fiona pushed Molly’s pram out of earshot and started showing her the horses in the field.
I slid my hand inside Flight’s rug and gave him a scratch on his warm, hairy shoulder. ‘He’s brilliant. Aren’t you, my love?’ Then, as if I’d just remembered, though in fact I’d been waiting for the right moment since we got here, ‘Oh! I meant to give you this.’ I held out the blue envelope.
She put the saddle down on a wall and took it, frowning. ‘What’s this? Fiona paid your livery bill yesterday.’
‘It’s an apology. From Declan. I got one too.’
She turned the envelope over as if she didn’t really want to open it. ‘Bit late, don’t you think?’
I swallowed. ‘Cam, there’s something you don’t know about that day – about why he went off on Flight, I mean – and I think you should know about it before you read the letter. I mean, I think you’ve probably guessed that I … said stuff to him. Because everyone said it was so unlike him. And I wanted to tell you; I just couldn’t.’
She folded her arms and waited.
And I told her what I’d threatened. I played with Flight’s mane the whole time, plaiting and unplaiting the same lock of red hair over and over until he twitched his neck in protest. ‘I wouldn’t have told you,’ I finished. ‘At least, well, I was going to but in the end it seemed too mean. But Declan believed me when I said I would. I suppose he just …’ my voice trailed off and for the first time I met Cam’s eyes. They were very green and very cold.
‘I already knew,’ she said.
‘About the joyriding?’
‘Right from the start. It was in the report his school sent.’
‘And you still let him work here? Why?’
Cam shrugged. ‘He was a good worker. One of the best I’ve ever had. And he loved the horses. I don’t just mean he liked the riding and the fun stuff, but all of it. There was something special about him. Well, I thought so.’ She started pressing round Flight’s cut – that was all it was now – frowning. ‘And I suppose I thought it’d be a good chance for him to try a different sort of life. Maybe if someone had done that for … Well, anyway.’ She straightened up. ‘I was wrong.’ Her voice was brisk.
‘Please, Cam, just read it,’ I begged.
‘You’ve changed your tune,’ she pointed out. ‘One minute you didn’t want him near the place, then suddenly you’re pleading his case. Why?’
‘Because I know how much it was my fault. Because he is special with the horses. Everyone could see it. I could see it too, but I wouldn’t admit it because I was so … so jealous.’
‘I know you were.’ Cam turned the envelope over. ‘The way he was with Flight – you hated that, didn’t you?’
I bit my lip and nodded.
‘He has a real affinity with horses,’ she said. ‘Oh, I know he doesn’t know much yet. In a way, that was a help. He didn’t have preconceived ideas. You know, lots of people just see horses as showjumpers or machines or, you know, fit them into our routines, expect them to be what we want. He didn’t know any of that. He just accepted them as – well, as horses. As themselves.’
‘I know. That was what I hated.’ I scratched Flight’s neck. ‘So – will you let him come back?’
She shook her head. ‘That kind of recklessness – there’s no place for that on a yard full of valuable horses. No matter how good he is. I’m sorry, Vicky; I’m not taking him back just to make you feel better.’
Flight rubbed his head against my chest. I rubbed his ears and nodded at the letter. ‘But you’ll read it?’
‘I’ll read it,’ she said. ‘But I’m not saying it’ll make any difference. Put that saddle away when you’ve a minute, will you?’
And she set off towards her house, stuffing the envelope into her body-warmer pocket like a used tissue.
Chapter 41
DECLAN
‘Declan, for you!’ Colette’s voice yells upstairs. I click the mouse and sigh. I never heard the phone but whoever it is, I don’t want to talk to them.
‘Declan!’ This time she sounds impatient. I shut down the computer and drag my feet down the stairs. It still hurts to move much.
Colette’s hovering in the hall, looking sort of shifty. ‘There you are! You’ve got a visitor.’
Oh, God. This is worse than I thought. At least on the phone you can cut someone off.
‘Come on.’ She sort of propels me into the living-room and leaves me at the door.
And sitting on the sofa, looking round, taking everything in, but sort of nervous, too, judging by the way she’s chewing on her fingernail, is Seaneen.
‘Hiya,’ she goes, like she just bumped into me outside the chippie. She shakes an envelope at me. ‘Dermie asked me to bring this round.’
It’s a Get Well card, a funny one. Looks like everyone’s signed it – Cathal Gurney’s writing takes up half the card – and tucked inside it is a piece of folded paper. I unfold it and read: ‘Hope you’re feeling better. You might like to know that you got four Cs in your mocks. So all you have to do is repeat that in June and you’re on your way. Congratulations. Looking forward to seeing you back at school soon. Martin Dermott.’
‘So what’s he say?’ Seaneen demands.
‘Just teacher stuff.’ I look at her properly for the first time. She’s wearing a short denim skirt and for once her curls aren’t pulled back from her face, but bouncing loose like a lion’s mane. She’s wearing make-up.
‘How did you know where to come?’
She grins. ‘Well, I knew it was this street. And I’ve seen your Colette’s car often enough. So I got the bus to the Lisburn Road and then just walked up the street looking up all the driveways until I found it. I got some funny looks, right enough.’
The idea of Seaneen Brogan going to all that trouble … I shake my head. ‘What if Colette’d been out?’
‘Oh.’ She says it like it’s no big deal. ‘I was going to knock on a few doors. I’d have tracked you down in the end.’ She looks round. ‘Your Colette’s house is massive! But,’ she lowers her voice, ‘it’s not very swanky, is it? I thought it’d be more posh. When Chantelle’s da got his claim their new house had all like marble fireplaces and white carpets. But this is all bookshelves and those hippy rugs.’ She sounds dead disappointed. Then she grins. ‘You don’t look as bad as I expected, anyway. I thought you’d be battered black and blue. Everybody’s sa
ying Barry McCann threw you down the stairs of the flats and split your head open.’
‘Well, yeah, sort of. I got staples.’
‘Yuck!’ She screws up her mouth. Then, ‘Can I see?’
‘If you want.’
She comes over to me and I push back the hair on the side of my head to show her. ‘Wicked!’ She traces round the wound with cool, soft fingertips. She slides them down my cheeks and suddenly the feel of her fingers on my face makes me catch my breath. ‘Your face isn’t marked,’ she says. Her lips are inches away. There’s a tiny scratch on the bottom one; a darker line showing through her pink lip gloss. She smells like strawberries.
The door opens. Colette nearly wets herself when she sees us. ‘Oh – sorry! I was just going to … no, I know, Declan, why don’t you take Seaneen out for a coffee? You haven’t been out the door since you got here.’
‘OK, back in a sec.’ I dash upstairs. It would look a bit sad to get changed but luckily I’ve got my new jeans on and my favourite blue hoody. Colette went round to our house a couple of days ago and brought loads of my stuff over. I quickly brush my teeth, rub a bit of something in my hair – some stuff of Vicky’s but it seems to do the job – and make a face at myself in the bathroom mirror.
Colette waylays me on the stairs. ‘Here.’ She slips me a tenner. ‘Go out and enjoy yourself.’
‘We’re only going to Starbucks or somewhere.’ I don’t want her to think it’s a big deal.
‘She’s very pretty,’ Colette says.
‘Shh!’
She laughs. ‘Go on. And tell Seaneen not to worry about buses; I’ll take her home later.’
It’s weird being outside. I breathe in the dry, cold air, and shake off the feeling of indoors that’s been clinging round me. It’s even weirder walking down Colette’s street beside Seaneen. Sometimes her hand bumps mine. I sort of want to take her hand; I don’t think she’d mind, but I don’t know. I put mine in my pocket to make things simpler.
Taking Flight Page 24