“It’s easier when you’re on the outside.”
“I don’t know what to do.”
“Talk to her.”
“And say what? Hi, Elle, we think you’re insane?”
“No, Jane, talk to her, listen to her, tell her that you care.”
“Oh, yeah, thanks, she’ll love that, bearing in mind she threw a shoe at my TV the one time Dr Phil was on. The off/on button still sticks.”
Now Jane sat in Rose’s basement apartment and they debated what Jane should and shouldn’t say to her sister for more than an hour. Rose was adamant that no doctor go near her girl. “They only make it worse, Jane,” she said, “and you’re so good with her.”
“I can’t be responsible for her mental wellbeing, Rose.”
Rose slapped her thigh. “Which is exactly why I didn’t say anything before. You had enough on your plate. Bloody Dominic! The first time I saw his snivelling face I should have knocked his bloody teeth out. He wouldn’t have been so cute then.”
“You know, Elle isn’t the only one with mental problems in this house.” Jane stood up and walked out of the door.
“Darling, we’re all mad – you, me, stupid bloody Dominic, precious Tom, that poor titless woman, the woman next door, Paddy the postman. There isn’t one of us that someone hasn’t thought mad at least once.”
“Yeah, well, this madwoman is going upstairs.”
“Just talk to her. Just be good to her!” Rose shouted, as Jane was closing her front door. Please mind her, Janey – please don’t let them take her, because when they come, it only gets worse.
The funeral took place on the Friday. Leslie made her way to Jane’s and arrived in time to see Kurt running down the steps with toast in his mouth. “Hi, Kurt,” she said.
“Hi, Wezwee.”
I’ve been called worse, she thought.
He left the door swinging open for her so she walked inside and called Jane. Jane came down the stairs in black. Leslie looked at Jane and then at herself. She was wearing red. “Is this inappropriate?” she asked.
“No, you’re fine.”
“Are you sure? We were never particular about wearing black at family funerals but other people are funny about it, aren’t they?”
“You’re fine.” She looked up the street outside for Kurt but he was gone. “I missed Kurt,” she said, following Leslie into the kitchen. “Did he look okay?”
“He was running and spoke with his mouth full – so if that’s okay?”
“Irene broke up with him.”
“Oh,” Leslie said. “I’m sorry to hear that. I know you were fond of her.”
“Yeah, well, I’m fonder of my son. I’m actually a bit pissed off with her, which is stupid and childish, I know. He’s devastated.”
“He didn’t look devastated.”
“Well, he is. She told him he studies too much, if you can believe that.”
“They’re young, and young people break up all the time.” Leslie poured herself a coffee.
“And I wouldn’t mind but he doesn’t study that much at all,” said Jane. “Obviously more than when he was in school but this is university – and medicine, for God’s sake! What did she expect?”
“Jane, are you taking Kurt’s break-up a little worse than he is?”
“No. Maybe. I don’t know. He won’t talk to me about it.”
“I don’t blame him.”
Jane poured herself a coffee and sat with Leslie. “I slept with Tom.”
Leslie spluttered, and coffee dribbled down her chin. Jane handed her a tea-towel and she dried her face. Jane took it back, aimed for the washing basket behind her and landed the shot.
“Tom, the husband of the woman we’re looking for, that Tom?” Leslie said.
“That Tom.”
“I don’t know how to feel about that.”
“Me neither. I really like him but I don’t know if it’s because I actually really like him or that I like him because he’s unavailable. If my history’s anything to go by, it’s probably the latter. And then there is the fact that he’s married to my childhood best friend, who he loves and is missing. And, if I’m honest, I think she’s dead.”
“Hah!” Rose shouted, from the doorway. “I knew you thought she was dead all along.”
“Rose,” Jane said, “have you ever heard of knocking?”
Rose sat down beside Leslie. “How are you feeling?” she said, pointing at Leslie’s chest.
“Fine.”
“You’re so brave,” Rose said. “I would rather have died.”
Leslie laughed, and Jane silently thanked God for her friend’s good humour.
Rose was going to the funeral even though she hadn’t laid eyes on the Walshes in twenty years. Jane had attempted to talk her out of it but she was determined to pay her last respects to the woman who had taken her daughter on holiday on many occasions in the eighties.
“But you didn’t like her,” Jane argued. “You thought she was a holier-than-thou, pain-in-the-arse Bible-basher.”
“Jane,” Rose said, “that really is no way to talk about the dead.”
Jane gave up. Rose was in good form because she loved a good funeral.
“Where’s Elle?” Leslie asked.
“She’s making her own way.”
“I’m really glad you’ve made up,” Leslie said. “She was lost without you.”
“Do you hear that, Jane?” Rose said. “She was lost without you.”
“Shut up, Rose.”
“Darling, if you think you’re going to bag a man with that kind of attitude you’re wrong. I mean, I know Tom’s standards aren’t particularly high and he has a penchant for cheeky little cows, but maybe if you toned it down just a tad you’d have better luck.”
Jane groaned. “Just go to the car.”
They got to the church on time. Jane sat at the back but Rose walked halfway up the aisle because she didn’t want a pillar blocking her view. Elle joined Leslie and Jane. The atmosphere between Elle and Jane was a little strained. Although Jane had forgiven her, Elle wasn’t sure why and Jane had decided against explaining her reasoning. Instead she had merely said that blood was thicker than water and that if Elle wanted her to represent her artwork she would, as long as she promised not to set it on fire again.
“I promise,” Elle said.
“Why did you do it?” Jane asked.
“It wasn’t good.”
“You didn’t have to burn it, Elle.”
Elle stayed quiet for a while. “Do you really forgive me, Janey?” she then asked.
“Yes.”
“Don’t you want to hear an explanation?”
“No.”
“I’m really sorry.”
“I know.”
Jane left then because she’d felt awkward and still angry and she needed to talk to Dr Griffin before she spoke to her sister openly and honestly. And since she’d spoken to Dr Griffin she’d been biding her time, delaying the inevitable. Jane wasn’t ready to face the possibility that Elle had a problem, so how could Elle do so?
They sat quietly waiting for the church to fill and the Mass to begin. In the front pew Ben Walsh was on the outside and beside him was Kate, her arm linked in his. Next in line was Eamonn, then his wife Frankie, Kate’s husband Owen, and Tom at the end. There was little or no talking among the main mourners.
Rose got up out of her seat and made her way back to where her daughters and Leslie were sitting. “Push in,” she said.
“What are you doing?” Jane whispered.
“It’s no fun on your own,” she said.
Elle grinned and pushed in.
“Push in a bit further,” Rose demanded, so that her view would be uninterrupted. They all pushed in for Rose. She sat in and looked around. “You’d think for such a Holy Joe she’d have a few more to her funeral.”
“Mum,” Elle said, “don’t be such a cow.”
“Sorry, darling.”
The priest came out and everyon
e stood, bar Rose. “You won’t catch me standing for one of those arrogant church bastards,” she whispered.
For the next forty minutes the priest talked and read the same old passages from the Bible that they always read when a person died, they said prayers, knelt, stood, sat, knelt, stood and sat, and then knelt, stood and sat some more. Leslie, Elle and Jane got up and queued to receive Holy Communion. Rose sat where she was. “You won’t catch me taking Communion from one of those arrogant church bastards,” she whispered. After Communion and before the priest gave the last blessing he invited Breda’s family to come up to the altar and talk about her. Ben couldn’t find it in him to speak because it was all he could do to stand. Eamonn got up, walked onto the altar and took a second or two to compose himself.
“This is the good bit,” Rose said.
Leslie, Elle and Jane ignored her.
Eamonn cleared his throat. “I’d like to thank everyone for coming here today. My mother would have been really pleased with the turnout.”
Rose looked around with a face on her which suggested that if Breda would be impressed she certainly wasn’t.
“My mother was a good person. She was kind, caring, giving, friendly, happy most of the time. She wasn’t jealous or boastful, she wasn’t selfish and she wasn’t hurtful. She believed in God. She believed in prayer and she came here nearly every day of her life until recently. Most of you know we lost Alexandra in June 2007. My mother believed that God would save her. She believed that He would bring her home. ‘She’s still with us, Eamonn,’ she’d say. ‘She’ll be home any day, any day now. God will deliver her from evil.’ When God didn’t deliver her from evil my mother got so sad and so sick that it made me angry about all the time she’d wasted here on her knees. But then I thought, What if God couldn’t deliver Alexandra because Alexandra was already gone? What if the pain and suffering of my mother’s loss was so great that instead of delivering Alexandra from evil He delivered my mother instead? Who knows what’s real and what isn’t? My mother took comfort in believing in a God who could hear her, and I may not be the most religious of people but today of all days and for her sake I’d like to think He did. Thank you.”
Elle was crying and Jane squeezed her hand. “That was lovely,” Elle said.
Leslie was silent but nodded in agreement. Rose blew her nose.
Jane, Leslie and Elle joined the queue to sympathize with the family.
Jane sympathized with Owen, then Frankie and Eamonn. “That was really lovely,” she said.
“Thanks. I hope she would have liked it,” Eamonn said.
“She would have loved it.”
Eamonn hugged her. “Every time I see you I think of Alexandra. I miss her, Janey.”
“I know you do, Eamonn,” Jane said, and her eyes filled. “I miss her too.” She moved on to Kate, who hugged her and thanked her for coming, and then to Ben, whose blue eyes were swimming. “I’m so sorry, Mr Walsh.”
“Thanks, Jane.”
She reached Tom and shook his hand, but he drew her into a hug and they held each other tightly – so much so that Kate and Frankie both noticed. Frankie smiled at them. Jane pulled back. “I’ll see you in the graveyard,” she said, and Tom nodded.
Elle and Leslie were following and shaking hands and Kate reminded Ben that Elle was the girl who had painted all the pictures of the Missing and that Leslie had been behind the findingalexandra website.
“Thank you, girls, thank you so much.”
They both nodded and told them how sorry they were.
It was odd but all three women, Jane, Elle and Leslie, felt like they weren’t just at Breda’s funeral but that they were at Alexandra’s too. They discussed it in the car on the way to the graveyard. Leslie was the first to bring it up but the two others were quick to agree. Rose congratulated herself on being the only one who had worked out the woman was dead a long time ago.
“We’re not saying she’s dead, Rose,” Jane said.
“Oh, fine, Janey – the funeral felt like it was for both Alexandra and Breda and yet you’re not saying you think she’s dead. Are you in the habit of burying the living?”
They arrived at the graveyard, parked the car and followed the crowd to the plot that would be Breda’s final resting place. As they walked in line the heavens opened and heavy rain fell, drenching them all in seconds.
“Oh, for fock’s sake!” Rose said, and Jane nudged her.
They walked from grave to grave under a dark and forbidding sky.
Eamonn stood over his mother’s grave, soaked to the skin, and he told the crowd who were gathering around him and his family that his father had chosen the casket his mother would rest in, Kate had chosen the flowers, he’d chosen the readings and the music would be chosen by Alexandra. “She loved Jack Lukeman and this is one of her favourite songs. I know my mother would like it and it seems appropriate. It’s called ‘Rooftop Lullaby’.” He nodded at Owen who pressed play on the CD player and everybody stood in silence. Eamonn dropped his head and stared at the coffin in the ground.
“Mother, is there something in the sky?
Something up there that they hide,
a jewel for me and you,
apple trees with falling fruit.”
Kate held an umbrella over her father’s head.
“Oh Daughter, now I don’t know
but I believe that its beauty’s beyond words,
it’s like a tune that I can’t sing
but I’ve heard it sung by birds.
It’s a rooftop lullaby
falling from the sky
sends us to sleep tonight.
It’s the apple in your eye
keeps you as sweet as pie,
dreaming through the night.”
Kate’s husband Owen held his umbrella over her.
“Oh Father, now won’t you tell me
if you know where does half the moon go
when it’s not up in the sky
it disappears before my eyes.”
Ben Walsh stood in silence, looking into the middle distance, unable to bring himself to look at the box that held his wife beneath him.
“Oh my son, why does morning break each day
why do people pass away?”
The rain continued to fall on the people gathered in the graveyard and the people outside walking by and trying to get on with their day. It fell in the cities and the suburbs. It fell by the coast and it fell on the mountains … and under a dark sky, under dead foliage and in a forgotten part of the Dublin mountains, the rain fell so heavily that the earth slid and moved, and under that dark sky, dead foliage and in that forgotten part of Dublin’s mountains, a high-heeled black boot poked through.
“Oh it’s the mystery in truth
it’s the innocence in youth
or a rooftop lullaby
falling from the sky
sends us to sleep tonight,
it’s the apple in your eye
keeps you as sweet as pie
dreaming through the night.”
Chapter 16
I Ain’t Crazy
Life’s a little mystery waiting to be solved,
questions they come pouring down with a little pinch of salt,
forever poised to conquer, forever poised to fall
but every time I close my eyes I hear these voices call.
Jack L, Metropolis Blue
December 2008
Leslie had successfully avoided Jim for a month when eventually, through his tenacity and refusal to take no for an answer, she gave in and met him for a walk. They walked in silence engaging in a little small-talk, and when they found a little bench by a bandstand they sat watching a young band play to a small group of their teenage friends. Jim told her that he had gone home and felt very stupid the night he had given her Imelda’s letter. He further explained that it was not his intention to suggest that the only reason he was in Leslie’s life was because his dead wife had asked him to be. Jim hadn’t considered fo
r a moment that Leslie would jump to that conclusion but now he felt a bit of a fool for not considering the possibility. His intention had been to show Leslie how brave she was and how proud her sister would have been to see her not only surviving but living. He wanted her to know how happy seeing her surviving and living made him. He wanted her to know that he cared for her.
“But you don’t love me,” Leslie said quietly.
“I think that I do,” he said.
“But?” Leslie said, sensing the word was coming.
“But you’ve just gone through a massive life-changing operation.”
“It’s been more than four months.”
“That’s no time.”
“You think I’m using you,” she said.
“No,” he said. “I would never think that.”
“You think we could never have anything because you belong to Imelda,” she said.
“No,” he said, shaking his head. “I let Imelda go a long time ago.”
“But you never remarried,” she said.
“Because the relationships I had didn’t work out. Age, distance, incompatibility – there were a million and one other reasons that had nothing to do with Imelda.”
“Do you think you could really love me?” Leslie asked.
“I do,” he said.
“So?”
“So I’m scared. Are you really ready for love?”
“I am,” she said.
The One I Love Page 26