The kids were next door, playing with an Xbox he’d bought earlier that afternoon. Sienna sat cross-legged on the bed, listening intently to his rant and attempting from time to time to allay his increasing frustration.
“What the hell is wrong with her?” he said.
“Just give her time.”
“To do what?” he shouted.
“She’s had a shocking experience. You need to give her breathing space.”
“I gave her breathing space and she nearly got herself killed,” he said, lowering his tone.
“You’re not her father. You can’t just drag her home.”
Ivan sat down on the bed beside Sienna and took her hand. “I know. But whatever she does,” he said, with great resolve, “I’m taking the kids home.”
“You’ve spoken to your solicitor?”
“In the car. They need to come home with or without their mother.”
“Is that what you want? To take them without their mother?”
“Of course not. They’ve been through enough this year but she’s leaving me with no choice.”
“Talk to her,” she said.
“I have!” he said, frustration building once more.
“No, you didn’t. You presumed she was coming home and when she told you she wasn’t you went mental. Going mental isn’t talking.”
“So what do you suggest?” he asked, burying his head in his hands.
“Look at the situation from her point of view.”
“I am. She’s fucked. Excuse my French. She needs to come home.”
“She left her husband, her home town, her friends and her family for someone who ended up beating her and terrorizing her kids. If it was me I’d find it hard to face people.” She shrugged – he’d noticed she did that when she was talking sense.
“You think she’s afraid to come home?” Ivan mumbled, about to scratch his head.
“I think she just needs a little reassurance,” Sienna said, taking his hand away from his hair.
She was right, of course. Norma did want to go home. While Sienna talked with Ivan, Norma lay in her hospital bed contemplating a bleak future. There was nothing but misery for her in the UK. She had wanted for months to go home – but how could she? How could she return to the home town that had watched her walk out on her husband for a man she barely knew? How could she return with her tail between her legs, beaten and broken by that same man? How could she ever walk through the streets of Kenmare with her head held high? People would say she was selfish. People would say she deserved what she’d got. People would say she was an unfit mother to have allowed her children to witness such violence. And all those people would be right.
Ivan took the kids with him for the evening visit. They were subdued in their mother’s presence. They spoke quietly as though they were afraid that a loud noise would break her. They maintained a distance from the wires and protruding steel, but she smiled through her discomfort, insisting she was fine and that everything was going to be all right. Ivan sent the kids to the canteen so that he and their mother could talk, but first he offered to help his wife adjust an awkwardly positioned pillow. Norma accepted his assistance and was grateful for it. He had just placed his phone on her locker when it rang. Mary’s name appeared. He silenced the call, noticing Norma’s fearful expression. He realized it was a link to all those who judged her.
“It was Mary. She’s been worried about you,” he said.
It was obvious she didn’t believe him.
“We weren’t happy, were we?” he asked.
“No,” she mumbled.
“No,” he agreed, “but I would have stayed with you until the end.”
She raised a hand as if to defend herself.
“You were right to walk away. I’m glad you did what you did. You knew something was wrong and you were brave enough to make a change.” He smiled at her surprise. She hadn’t expected gratitude. Norma’s eyes sprang a leak. “Marriages break up, Norma. And no matter what is said or done, everyone knows there are two sides to every story.” He tried to take her hand but she pulled it away.
“Easy for you to say. You’re not the bitch who broke up her family!” Tears ran down her swollen face. “You’re not the one who got what she deserved.”
“My father always says a small town is like a big family. It doesn’t matter what you do or where you go, you’re always welcome home. People still care, Norma.”
She remained silent. A minute or maybe two passed, then Ivan stood and put on his jacket. He leaned down to kiss the small area of undamaged forehead. Then he paused. “You have a lot of thinking to do,” he said at last, “but you need to know this.”
She looked at him quizzically.
“I’m taking the kids.”
She nodded.
“I’m taking them home for good.”
Her eyes filled.
“I didn’t fight you before because I believed they were best off with you. I was wrong. If you choose to stay here, you’ll be alone.”
Tears slid down her face but she was in no shape to argue. “I thought it was all a little too good to be true,” she muttered.
“I meant what I said. I’m glad you left. It nearly killed me but I’m glad. This isn’t about punishing you. It’s about our children. Deep down you know that to be true. You’ve been hurt enough, Norma. You’re in a terrible place but you’ll make your way back, and when you do we’ll be waiting.”
“Don’t take them, Ivan!” she begged.
“I have to,” he said, turned his back and walked away to the sound of her cries.
Outside he wiped away his own tears. I’m so sorry, love.
18. Beauty and the Beast
It was a beautiful spring day. The kind of day that instils a sense of wellbeing in even the most troubled soul – bright green grass, healthy brown bark and deep green leaves on branches that spread out against a translucent blue sky. Light shone down on the pretty town and with it came a heat that was more than the effect of global warming.
Sam had started his day with a walk down by the back of the pier. He lay on the grass and stared into the blue sky with a light heart. He had come to love this little place. He had come to feel a part of it. No journey would go uninterrupted by “Hello!” or “How are you?” No distance was travelled without a beep or a wave or a hat tipped in his direction. He was known. He was liked. And even though he hadn’t made those around him aware of his past, he was no longer a stranger to the people of Kenmare. For the most part they didn’t really care where he’d come from or who he used to be. They only cared about who he was now. Gossip mostly favours the present tense and he was grateful for that.
He had thought about coming clean with Mary. He figured she deserved to know the truth. She knew he was hiding and he knew it was only a matter of time before his past caught up with his present. The problem with enlightening her was a simple one. He had grown used to not hating himself and it felt good. That said, he was always on the verge of, and one memory away from, feeling sick. At home he was surrounded by those he had disappointed. They stood before him like mirrors reflecting his every flaw. Here it was different: he had a clean slate. If he told Mary the truth she would become another mirror he had to escape. He didn’t want that. He couldn’t bear the idea of losing sight of her – and not because he was foolish enough to believe in the possibility of a soul-mate. Neither was he stupid enough to think that because his skin tingled in her presence it meant anything more than physical attraction. His senses were often heightened in the presence of a woman he wished to invade. But he would never invade Mary. Instead he yearned to crawl inside her because someone unseen was whispering to him that in her he would find home.
It was such a beautiful spring day that Mary arranged a facial. Spring was a time for buds, lambing, blue skies and exfoliation. She was booked in for midday at Gemma’s on Main Street. Of course she was fifteen minutes early, having miscalculated the time it would take to find parking.
&n
bsp; Patty Winslow was sitting by the window, reading a well-worn copy of The Canterbury Tales while enjoying a complimentary cappuccino. “Hello, dear,” she said, once she’d fixed her glasses on her nose.
“Hi, Patty.”
“A little restoration?” Patty suggested.
“Something like that.”
Patty dropped her book and sat back to look at her.
“What?” Mary asked, a little uncomfortable under scrutiny.
“You appear tired.”
“I haven’t been sleeping,” Mary admitted.
“I haven’t seen dark circles the like of that since Marianne Faithfull was a teenager in love.”
“Well, I’m afraid it’s not love keeping me up all night,” Mary told her.
“And of that you’re sure?”
She sighed. “We’re just friends, Patty.”
Patty chuckled to herself.
The Italian girl at the counter told Mary in broken English that the beautician was running a little late and asked if she would like coffee. Mary asked for a cappuccino. The girl looked at her in horror, shook her head incredulously, and made her way to the kitchen.
“Who is she?” Mary asked.
“Ah, the lovely Lucia!” Patty said, amused. “You see, it’s nearly midday. You ordered what is essentially a breakfast drink, which upset the poor girl’s sensibilities. Italians take coffee drinking very seriously.”
“Really?” Mary mused.
“Oh, yes,” Patty responded. “It really is a wonder how Italy isn’t and never has been a superpower.”
Mary laughed. She couldn’t help but enjoy her upper-class British friend’s acerbic wit.
Lucia arrived with the coffee. Mary introduced herself and welcomed the girl to Kenmare. Lucia melted and Mary’s ignorance was forgiven. “I come to learn,” she said.
“You’re doing great.”
Lucia raised an eyebrow. “Doing great?”
“Doing well,” Mary amended.
“OK,” said Lucia. “Yes.” She smiled. “Nails?” She pointed to her own hand.
“No, but thanks.”
“OK,” she said, with a smile, and went back to the desk.
Patty grinned. “You have such a way with people.”
Mary nudged her.
“So, how’s Ivan?” Patty asked.
“He’s fine – he’s great, in fact. His kids are home and things seem to be going well with Sienna.”
“Splendid.”
“It is,” Mary agreed.
“And Norma?”
“She’s still in hospital and after that he doesn’t know.”
“Of course she’ll come home,” Patty said. “Where else would she go?”
“I don’t know. Either way I hope she finds some peace.”
“And you, my dear?”
“Me?”
“Have you found peace?”
“I haven’t given up,” Mary answered, with a lying smile.
“Any day now,” Patty said, “any day now.” She patted Mary’s arm. “You just be careful not to miss out. Keep your eyes and heart wide open.”
Enjoying Patty’s honesty, Mary took a chance. “Patty?”
“Yes, dear.”
“You and my dad – are you together?”
Patty smiled to herself. “If we are, then I’m certain neither of us would ever admit to it.”
“Why?” Mary asked.
“Because, my dear, mystery is half the fun.”
It was then that Gemma emerged from Room One with Penny trailing behind her. Gemma apologized to both ladies for the delay. She told Patty to make herself comfortable in Room Two while she took money from Penny. Tina would be taking care of Mary but she was just freshening up Room Three. Once payment was received, Gemma scurried into Room Two to Patty.
Penny sat beside Mary. “Well?” Penny said.
“Well?” Mary smiled – although she was shocked by Penny’s appearance.
“Are you well?”
“I am.”
“I’ve been so busy.”
“I know.”
“I’ve missed you,” Penny said.
“Missed you too.”
“Mary, I’ve been working on an article…” She didn’t get to finish as Lucia returned, pointed at her cup and uttered, “Again?”
“No,” Penny said sheepishly. She had already indulged in four of the strongest espressos in an attempt to disguise the smell of booze, which had seemed determined to seep from every pore.
Lucia left them alone.
“Are you free later?” Penny asked, having decided that the waiting area in a beauty parlour was not the ideal place to break news she needed to break.
“Sorry,” Mary said. “I’m taking Sam to visit Dick Dogs.”
Penny reeked of booze and now Mary acknowledged that her friend had a drinking problem. What now? What can I do?
“Dick Dogs?” Penny repeated.
“He used to be friends with Sam’s grandmother’s brother,” Mary explained.
“Don’t waste your time on him, Mary,” Penny warned.
“Excuse me?”
“You don’t know him.”
Tina emerged from Room Three before Mary had time to respond. She didn’t say goodbye to Penny – she was so hurt by Penny’s cryptic words. Instead she just followed Tina into the small room filled with scented candles and soft music.
Penny left immediately, knowing Mary wouldn’t be calling her and berating herself for not telling her friend why she had offered such advice. It was clear that the man had found his way through the armour that shielded Mary from most. It was even clearer that in exposing him Penny was risking her friendship. She didn’t want to lose Mary, yet instinct told her to publish. The story was ready to go – she was just waiting on one thing. It was a long shot but still a possibility. Mia Johnson was scheduled to play at Wembley the following weekend. Then she had one day off before she played in Dublin. Penny was waiting to see if Mia would take the time to travel to a small town in Kerry to talk to the woman who was about to expose her errant boyfriend – or, indeed, face the man himself. After all, it would make an excellent ending, and if she didn’t, well, that suggested another kind of ending. Either way, it was a story worth telling.
Mary needed to know who she was allowing to steal her heart. He was dangerous and hadn’t the capacity to love, only to hurt. Mary had already been through hell and high water. Penny might lose her friend through exposing Sam for the selfish, weak bastard he was, but at least she would save her from grievous heartache. She’s suff ered enough.
Tina had lived in Kenmare for five years. She was a born-and-bred Dubliner and she didn’t mind admitting to anyone who would listen that the transition from city to country was a bitch. She would never have dreamed of moving to a small town in Kerry had it not been that she’d met the love of her life in the Big Tree on Gardiner Street one Saturday night before an All Ireland final. At first she couldn’t understand his thick culchie accent and he found her flat Dublinese as difficult, but by the end of that night, language had lost meaning and within five months they were engaged. She had settled in well, and even she would admit that, although Kenmare was full of culchies, two of whom were her children, and although she had to travel to find a branch of Next, the quality of life was far superior to what she had left behind. And although her extended family had spent a great deal of their time slagging her off about her move, it was all she could do to stop them visiting every chance they got. She enjoyed her job at the salon: it was a hub of activity and rarely did anything go on in the town that was not first discussed or revealed there.
While she was cleansing Mary’s face she filled her in on her theory regarding the parentage of a local teenager’s newborn.
“I didn’t even know she was pregnant!”
“You and the rest of us, honey. Josie Riordan says she didn’t know herself. She went into the hospital with suspected appendicitis.”
“No!”
“Oh, you’re way behind. It’s bleedin’ bizarre in this day and age not to know you’re pregnant and it’s not like the young one’s mental.”
“Maybe she was just scared to say anything,” Mary surmised.
“That one? She’s a cheeky mare. I don’t know kids today. It wouldn’t have happened in our time.”
“Tina…” Mary said, about to remind her that she herself had been a teenage mother.
“It was out before I thought. Jaysus, Mary, I’m sorry.”
Mary laughed.
After that Tina was silent, busy massaging Mary’s face and shoulders. Her embarrassment made her work harder at relaxing her client. By the time she left her alone for fifteen minutes with a face-pack on, Mary was fast asleep.
Mary was standing on an empty street. She looked up and saw the red light glowing above her head, then at the ground where it was reflected in the rainwater pooling by the grate at the side of the road. Oh, no. Not again. The familiar teenage boy with a hood pulled tight over his face came around the corner. Please let me go! He was running as before and she could taste his panic. She watched him turn in time to see the boys following. Run! she screamed. Run! But she’d seen this movie before and, no matter how long or hard she called, the boy would be caught. Please don’t make me watch this! she cried, into the night sky. I don’t want to be here!
She turned away when one of the boys grabbed him. She heard the thud as the boy hit the ground. She heard him cry out as the blows connected. I won’t watch it! she roared. Do you hear me? I won’t watch it! She tried to flee the scene but every corner she turned brought her back. The boy leaning against the car was grinning sadistically, watching as the boy was kicked. Darkness seeped from his every pore. She wanted to hurt him. Violence welled inside her.
“Look, Topher’s excited!” he sneered.
Oh, no!
“Give him a go!”
The boy-bear called Topher moved in and the others made way, leaving the hooded boy on the ground, too badly beaten to run. She felt his broken knuckles clutching at his face and saw his body curl into the foetal position.
I’m so sorry! I’m so sorry!
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