The Lake

by Sheena Lambert

  Peggy looked at Frank. She had wanted to throttle Jerome to get him to stop talking, but now she wanted to hear what Frank was going to say. Her brother took a small step back and picked up a dishcloth. Peggy was grateful for the distance created between them.

  ‘That man’, Jerome went on, ‘had been wearing a gold chain given to him by his mother.’ He picked up a glass and started drying it. ‘It had a medal of Saint Christopher on it. One of the Garda ripped it from around his neck. It cut him badly. He had to get stitches the next day. No one would dress the wound for him in the station.’ He put the glass down gently on a shelf behind him and waved at the two Delaney brothers who were quietly making their way towards the door.

  ‘Night lads. Great session.’

  Peggy remained silent, but kept sipping her drink.

  ‘So, Detective. What do you say? Or have you no opinion on it at all? Do you just sit there and hide behind your badge and ignore all that is wrong and evil with your lot?’

  Peggy could sense that Jerome was looking at her, but she couldn’t meet his eyes. What did he want from her? What did he expect her to do? Join him in his interrogation of Frank, the same man that she had just invited into the pub as her guest, in the hope that they might, what? She didn’t really know what. Her glass was empty and she set it down quietly on the bar.

  ‘You say the man was innocent.’ Frank’s voice was steady. Peggy couldn’t help but be impressed at how calm he remained under such an unwarranted tirade from her brother. ‘Maybe he was.’ He looked up from his glass to meet Jerome’s stare. ‘But maybe he wasn’t.’ He sat back on his stool. She saw him notice her empty glass, before leaning onto the counter and standing up.

  ‘I’m not going to stand here and pretend to you that no Garda has ever been guilty of cruelty, Jerome. But it isn’t an easy time to be in the guards either. And most of us are just trying to do our job. Uphold the law. We’re not all out to get you.’

  Jerome just stood there, eyeballing Frank. Peggy sat watching as everything fell apart in front of her.

  ‘Peggy,’ Frank lifted his bar stool in under the counter. ‘I think it’s time I was off. Thank you. For the drink. And … and for all your help.’ He tipped his head towards Jerome, and smiled once more at Peggy. ‘See you,’ he said.

  Peggy found she couldn’t speak. It was only when he was halfway across the floor that she managed to get the two words ‘Bye, Frank’ past her lips. Her eyes never left his back until it disappeared out through the front door and out of her life. She was still staring at the inside of the door when the last two customers crept quietly out a moment later. Then Jerome was in her field of vision and she watched as he threw the bolt after them, leaving the two of them alone in the bar. She hadn’t realized that she was crying until she saw Jerome stop and stare at her.

  ‘Ah, Peggy,’ he said, his voice full of tenderness. ‘What is it? Don’t cry.’

  He went to approach her with open arms, but she sat straight on her stool and put her two hands out to stop him.

  ‘No,’ she said, her voice broken with tears. ‘Don’t come near me. Leave me alone.’ She pivoted on the stool until she had her back to her brother, her hands lost in her hair, her elbows resting on the bar. She pushed a full ashtray away from her and held her head in her hands again.

  ‘Peggy. Peggy?’

  She could hear him standing at her shoulder.

  ‘Peggy? What is it? What’s upsetting you?’

  She wondered if her brother could really be so stupid. Could he really not know? He had watched Frank leave, just like her. He had seen him go. Had he not understood? She had thought Frank might be someone … someone special. She had known that he was. They had only talked a couple of times; Christ, she had only met him the previous day. Could that be right? But sometimes you just knew. And he had felt it too, she was certain. He had asked her to walk down to the lake. He had shown up again here this evening, for no obvious reason, other than to see her. They had definitely shared something. He could have been … something. Someone. And now, he was gone. And Jerome had practically chased him out. And he had made it pretty clear that he wasn’t welcome back. Oh no, Detective Sergeant Frank Ryan was unlikely ever to return to The Angler’s Rest after that episode. Why would he? Why would he bother involving himself with someone whose family were clearly psychotic and irrational? Peggy lifted her head to look at her brother’s reflection.

  ‘Are you serious?’ she said. ‘What’s upsetting me? Why did you do that?’ Her face crumpled and she started to sob. The sound almost surprised her, but then something within decided that she didn’t care, and she gave into it and wept loudly, her tears dripping into little pools on the stained counter top between her elbows.

  ‘Peggy.’ Jerome attempted to put his hand on his sister’s shoulder, but she shrugged him off. ‘Peggy. I’m sorry.’

  The note of alarm in his voice only made her cry more loudly. They stayed there like that, Jerome standing helplessly behind his distraught sister, Peggy past caring about the scene she was making. After a moment, she put her hands to her eyes and stopped sobbing. She sniffled and wiped her nose with the back of her hand, before reaching across the counter for the dishcloth that Jerome had been using. She wiped her eyes with it. When her vision was clear, she could see that Jerome was still standing behind her, his face even paler than normal.

  ‘What are you sorry for?’ she asked him. ‘For Frank? For never seeing that I might have needs, or plans too? For leaving me to cope with everything on my own?’ She turned and held her arms out to the empty room with empty glasses and full ashtrays, and a fire almost dead in its grate.

  ‘For this?’ she said. ‘For this, Jerome?’

  ‘Peggy … ’

  ‘No. No. It’s been two years now, Jerome. You know, I just realized that today? Two years. What did you expect? What did you all expect? That I would just sit here, every day of every week of every month, keeping things going, placing orders, paying bills, fixing roofs?’ Tears started to form in her eyes again, and she brushed them away with the dishcloth. ‘Changing bloody light bulbs?’ She noticed a slightly bewildered look flicker across Jerome’s face, but he said nothing. ‘You and Carla and Hugo, you all have your own lives … Carla,’ she sniffed loudly; ‘I don’t even know why Carla bothers coming back each weekend. She doesn’t want to be here.’ She looked at Jerome. ‘She certainly doesn’t come back to see me. Her life is in Wexford. Clearly!’ She gestured wildly at the door into the house. ‘And Hugo,’ she paused, ‘Hugo’s gone. Hugo would have been just as happy for this place to be at the bottom of the lake too.’

  ‘Ah, Peggy.’ Jerome pulled over the stool Frank had been sitting on and sat up on it next to her.

  ‘You know that’s true, Jerome,’ Peggy went on. ‘He will never come home to Crumm. Not to live. His life is in England now. And he has no interest in the business. Sure he had no interest even when he was here.’

  Peggy glanced up at Jerome, but he just sat twisting a coaster on the counter.

  ‘And you,’ she said.

  ‘I’m here, amn’t I?’

  ‘No, Jerome. You’re not.’ Peggy sighed heavily. After a moment she stood and walked around behind the bar. She took down a glass and held it under the gin bottle again, emptied a bottle of tonic in after it. Then she stood, staring at the space next to the till.

  ‘Lemon.’

  ‘What?’ Jerome looked up from his coaster.

  ‘We’ve no lemon,’ she said in a quiet voice. ‘Never mind.’ She sat back down on her stool. Only five minutes before she had been sitting in the same spot next to Frank, an evening of possibility lying ahead. A whole lifetime of possibility. She swigged from her glass.

  ‘I’ll be here more,’ Jerome said after some time. ‘I said that already. I know I leave you too much. I’ll be better.’ He reached out and took her hand in his. ‘I’ll spend more time here.’

  For a moment Peggy stopped feeling angry, and only felt sorry for Jerome.
She knew he felt no joy in his pledge. His face was full of burden and duty, not excitement or happy anticipation.

  ‘But you won’t, Jerome,’ she said softly. ‘You might try. You might even be around more for the next few weeks, or months. But you don’t want to be here either.’ She took another swig from her glass. ‘None of you do.’

  She noticed Jerome watching her drink, but she chose to ignore it. She deserved a bloody drink. Suddenly she was reminded of what had instigated this whole conversation, and she felt the anger rise within her again. She pulled her hand away.

  ‘Why were you so rude to Frank?’

  ‘Ah, Peggy.’

  ‘No. No, Jerome. He had been nothing but pleasant to you. Sure you’d only just met him when you took the head off him earlier. What did he do? What could he have possibly done?’

  ‘Now Peggy. Let’s not go there. You really don’t want to go there.’

  ‘But I do, Jerome.’ She banged her glass down on the counter, noticing that it was already half-empty as she did so. ‘I do want to go there. That’s exactly what I want to do.’ She pushed her hair away from her face to get a clearer view of her brother. ‘I liked Frank. I invited him in here this evening. He was my guest. I liked him.’ She knew she was repeating herself, but she didn’t know how to articulate what she felt. She couldn’t admit the truth to Jerome, that she thought she might really like Frank. That Frank might really like her back.

  Jerome said nothing, but kept tapping the edge of the coaster on the bar.

  ‘Well?’ she said. She reached out and slapped her hand down over his and the coaster. ‘And what was that all about? The guy in Dublin? Was that even true?’

  Jerome swung around to face her. ‘Was it true?’ He yanked the collar of his shirt down and tilted his shoulder towards her. A taut, shiny scar ran part of the way around his neck, like a line of red ink on white paper.

  Peggy’s mouth fell open. ‘Jerome,’ she whispered, and put her hand up to touch her brother’s marred skin. The tears came again. In her mind, Peggy could hear her own questions: when? … what happened, Jerome? … why did they do that to you ? But all that she heard coming from her mouth was her brother’s name.

  Jerome reached up and took his sister’s hand from his neck. He stepped down from his stool, and opened his arms to her and she wrapped herself in his warm, strong embrace, and she wept.

  ‘You’re right,’ he said after a while. ‘I’m not being fair to you.’ He ran his hand down Peggy’s long dark hair, pushing it gently over her shoulder. ‘I’ll never come back to Crumm for good. I can’t … I can’t live here.’

  Peggy could hear the honesty breaking him. She turned her head and rested it against his chest.

  ‘I’d like to move to Dublin. To live in Dublin. For good. I should have said it before. I should have said it two years ago.’ He looked down at her. ‘I haven’t been fair’, he said, ‘to you.’

  Peggy wiped her hand across her cheek. She wasn’t sure what to say anymore. The hurt of Frank’s sudden departure had been muffled somewhat by Jerome’s admission. Although he hadn’t really admitted anything. But Peggy knew. She had always known. And now she knew how hard life was for Jerome. He felt unloved and unwelcome in his home town, and it seemed that things weren’t much easier for him in Dublin either. Dublin; where Peggy had assumed Jerome was totally happy. But where, it seemed, he had been persecuted and vilified. Where life, it now appeared, was every bit as difficult and unforgiving as in Crumm.

  But what if he was to stay there? To leave Crumm for good? What if she really was left here alone with just Carla’s weekend appearances to look forward to? Carrying on as things were, hoping that another Frank might appear out of nowhere to save her? Was that what she wanted? To be like sleeping beauty, held by the brambles and thorns of Crumm; waiting in a deathlike trance for a prince or a knight in shining armour? And what if Frank had been that knight? What if her chance was gone?

  But the alternative – selling The Angler’s Rest, leaving Crumm, starting somewhere new – was that what she wanted? For herself and her siblings to be scattered, with no bar, no base, no homestead? Peggy thought of her parents. Were they still living, she wouldn’t be in this predicament. Were they still living, she would most likely be in Dublin herself. Or London. Or America. But there was little value in thinking that way. She rubbed her face against Jerome’s shirt.

  ‘What do you want to do?’ he said, his arms still tight around her. ‘Peggy? What do you want to do?

  Before she had a chance to think what she really wanted herself, the door behind the bar burst open, and Carla appeared. Her eyes were red, and there were clear lines of black eye make-up running down her cheeks. She stopped when she saw her two siblings in their embrace. She locked teary eyes with Peggy for a moment, before she turned and took a bottle of cider from a shelf.

  ‘What’s wrong with you?’ she asked, ostensibly to the bottle in her hand.

  Peggy pulled away from Jerome. ‘Nothing,’ she said.

  Jerome busied himself lifting stools from the floor onto the tables in readiness for sweeping in the morning. Peggy stood down from her stool, and went to dampen the last embers of the fire.

  ‘It emptied out very quickly,’ Carla said, glancing up at the clock.

  ‘There’s some benefit to having the guards around,’ Jerome muttered.

  ‘Oh, so was lover-boy back?’ Carla sneered. ‘Maybe you’re in with a chance after all, Peg.’

  Peggy clutched the iron poker tightly and thought how she’d enjoy giving Carla a good whack with it across her skinny arse. ‘I doubt that very much,’ she said into the grate. She looked over to where her sister stood behind the bar, one hand on her hip, the other holding a tall glass of cider. The sight of her suddenly made Peggy feel sick. ‘So where’s your own lover-boy?’ she said.

  ‘Fuck off, Peggy.’

  ‘No, no, Carla. You’re well able to dish it out. You come home every weekend and dish it out to me. Where is he? Or did you start on him too, and he saw sense? Did he realize that his wife isn’t actually half the cow you are after all? Has he gone scuttling back down to Wexford?’

  Peggy could tell that Jerome had stopped moving and was standing watching her, a stool turned in his hands, midway between the floor and the tabletop.

  ‘Shut up.’ Carla banged her glass down on the bar. ‘You don’t have a clue what you’re talking about. Sure how could you? You wouldn’t know a man if he came up and slapped you across the face.’ She took a drink from her glass. ‘Which is all you deserve.’

  ‘Fuck you, Carla.’

  ‘Right back at ya, little sister.’

  ‘Girls … ’

  ‘Oh don’t you even start, Jerome,’ Carla said. ‘You probably ran him out of the place.’

  Peggy looked at Jerome. He shook his head.

  ‘Oh yes, is that what happened?’ Carla laughed. ‘I can see it now. Sure it wouldn’t suit our darling brother for you to have any sort of life now Peggy, would it? How could he spend half his time … oh no, more than half his time, up in Dublin, cavorting, or whatever it is you boys call it these days, unless he had you tied down here to The Angler’s Rest? Sure it wouldn’t suit him at all for poor little Peggy to have a boyfriend in Dublin too. Or Galway, or wherever the hell he was from.’ Carla leaned forward on the bar, clearly enjoying the reaction she was getting. Her siblings stood, one by the fire, one by the wall, looking across at each other.

  Peggy didn’t know what to think. Jerome was still standing, stool in his hands, shaking his head.

  ‘Oh Peggy, it suits us all for you to be stuck here in Crumm till the end of your days. I sure as hell won’t do it, and neither will Hugo. And sure aren’t you making a grand job of it?’

  ‘It’s not true, Peggy.’ Jerome didn’t take his eyes off her.

  ‘Ah now, Jer. It’s probably a little bit true,’ Carla said, swigging from her glass.

  ‘Shut up, Carla.’ His voice was dark. Menacing. ‘You’re on
ly happy when you’re causing trouble. Trouble here, trouble in Wexford. Trouble for the poor gom wife of that gombeen man. Why are you always causing trouble? You’re the same your whole life, Carla. You’ve never changed.’

  ‘Ara feck off with yourself, Jerome Casey. Like you’ve never caused any trouble yourself? Don’t get me started on you and your little exploits with Sean Hogan.’

  ‘You’re such a little bitch, Carla.’

  ‘Stop it!’

  Carla and Jerome stopped. Peggy was standing with her eyes shut tight, tears coursing down her cheeks, the poker still tight in her grasp.

  ‘Stop it.’ She opened her eyes to them both staring at her. Jerome put the stool back down on the floor.

  ‘Why are you being so horrible?’ Her words were almost lost through her sobs.