In a Moment

by Caroline Finnerty

  One evening when Paul was a month old, he started his usual evening screaming but this time his hair was damp with sweat and his body felt hot to the touch. Jean began to worry. She stripped him but nothing was calming him.

  John Grace was knocking on the paper-thin wall next door, shouting “For the last time, would you ever shut that bloody child up!”

  She began to panic because she didn’t know what to do. She didn’t know if he had a pain or if he was sick, she didn’t even have a thermometer to check his temperature. His crying had a shrill, high-pitched tone to it and, as his screams began to get higher and more agitated, Jean panicked. The sensation that her baby was distressed and nothing she was doing was helping him was overwhelming, until eventually she was crying with him.

  And that was it; she snapped. She’d had enough; she couldn’t take any more of this. She wrapped her baby in two blankets and put a woollen hat on his head before putting him into the buggy. She grabbed her bag and coat and ran down the road to the phone box, pushing the buggy in front of her. She dialled her parents’ number.

  “Hello?” she heard her mother’s voice answer sleepily and her father asking who it was in the background.

  “Mam, it’s me.”

  “Jean, love, are you okay?”

  “Paul has been crying all evening – I don’t know what to do!” she sobbed.

  “It’s okay, love, it’s okay. Where are you? We need to help you.”

  “I’m in Cork.”

  There was a short silence. Jean guessed her mother had expected her usual refusal to say where she was and was taken aback when she told her.

  “Tell me exactly where you are, love. We’re coming to get you right now.”

  Instantly Jean felt as though a weight had been lifted from her shoulders. She gave her mother the address and said goodbye. Then she replaced the receiver with a shaking hand and stepped out of the phone box. She took a deep breath in the cool air and exhaled, watching the plume of white air form in front of her. It was going to be okay. She pushed the buggy back to the bedsit. As she sat waiting for them, for the first time all evening, she noticed there was silence. Paul had stopped crying.

  * * *

  It was a tearful reunion for the McParlands. Jean fell apart as the tension of months of trying to hold it all together was released. Úna and Paul peered into the cradle at their little grandson, looking so contented as he slept, showing no signs of his marathon crying session from earlier on. They were appalled by the conditions that Jean and Gavin has been living in. They had known things were bad but they had no idea just how bad.

  When Gavin finally came in the door from work after three in the morning, he was shocked to see Jean’s parents there sitting on the flowery settee. He knew them to see but he had never even spoken to them before. The look of contempt and anger in their eyes was unmistakable. Gavin felt as though they all wanted to attack him.

  “What’s happened? Is Paul okay?” He looked at Jean for answers.

  She nodded and dried her eyes with a tissue.

  “I can’t take it any more, Gavin.”

  “What?”

  “This!” She gestured around the bedsit. “You being gone the whole time, me left on my own looking after Paul with him screaming the place down every single evening. I just can’t take it any more.”

  She could see the hurt register on Gavin’s face. She felt as though she had betrayed him.

  “I thought this was what you wanted?”

  “I do, Gavin, I did – I love you but I can’t live like this.”

  “Christ almighty, I have been working my ass off just to pay the rent, the bills. Do you think I enjoy being away from you and Paul the whole time? We’re parents, we’re grown-ups now, that’s life!”

  Mr and Mrs McParland sat with their eyes looking at the floor. They said nothing; this was up to their daughter.

  “Well, I can’t do it any more,” Jean said quietly.

  “So what are you saying?”

  “I want to go home.”

  “You’re leaving me?”

  “No – I want you to come too.”

  “I’m not going back to that shithole!”

  “Please, Gavin!”

  “No fucking way am I going back there!” He looked at her and shook his head before walking out and slamming the door behind him so hard that it rattled against its thin frame.

  “Would ye ever keep it down in there!”

  John Grace banged on the wall again and Mr and Mrs McParland looked at each other in horror, wondering for the hundredth time since they had arrived here how their daughter ended up in a place like this.

  They all sat in silence for a while until eventually Úna plucked up the courage and asked Jean softly what she wanted to do, saying that either way it was her decision and they would support her.

  Jean was torn, she hated having to choose between the people she loved like this but she was at her wits’ end. Her mind was made up.

  “I’m coming home, Mam.”

  They helped her pack up her small amount of belongings. They wrapped Paul up in warm clothing and put him into the car while she finished off inside. She wrote a letter for Gavin, telling him that she was sorry but that she needed to be close to her family. She told him that she still loved him very much and begged him to reconsider and come home with her, that they would work something out together. She placed the note on his pillow and then closed the door behind her for the last time.

  30

  When Jean arrived home into the familiar house of her childhood, instead of feeling sad all she felt was an overwhelming sense of relief. It was bliss when her mother tucked her up that first night under a mound of blankets and duvets, with her bed already warmed with a hot-water bottle.

  Her parents’ house was warm and comfortable and didn’t smell of dampness. The little things that she had taken for granted before now seemed like great luxuries. The feeling of soft carpet underneath her feet made a welcome change from the sticky lino in the bedsit with holes that were worn through to the concrete floor below. As did not having to wear layers of clothing just to keep warm. She knew it was a much better place for Paul too who seemed calmer from the moment they had arrived.

  She rang Gavin in work the next day but the man who answered told her gruffly that he hadn’t shown up for work.

  “I had a funeral on today,” he complained to her. “That fella will hear it from me now when he shows his face and you can tell him that too if you see him!”

  She left her number and told him to call her or get Gavin to call her if he showed up. She was worried about him now on his own. They didn’t know anyone else down in Cork. She plucked up the courage and decided to ring John Grace to check if he had seen him but he said there was no one there and that after the racket they had made the other night he was glad of the peace and quiet over the last few days. She hung up on him.

  She went back into the kitchen, sat at the kitchen table and put her head in her hands. Her mother was holding Paul in her arms singing a lullaby to him. She looked up at Jean.

  “Any luck?”

  “No, he hasn’t shown up for work and John Grace our landlord hasn’t seen him. I’m really worried about him, Mam.”

  “Give him time, love, I’m sure he’s okay – he probably just needs a bit of space, a bit of time to think.”

  “I feel so guilty, Mam, just leaving him like that – walking out the door with our son after all he has done for us!”

  “There, there, love, I know it’s difficult for you but you need to put yourself and baby Paul first. You couldn’t stay in that place with a baby, Jean, c’mon! Sure the damp alone would have had you running in and out of hospital with him. And him weeks early and everything! It’s no way to raise a child.”

  She looked over at Paul snoozing in her mother’s arms and, granted, he seemed like a different baby since she had come back home. She didn’t know if it was because of the comforts and warmth of where they were or if h
e could sense that his mother was more relaxed, but all Jean knew was that he didn’t scream any more. She lifted him out of her mother’s arms and smiled down at his gorgeous plump face. He smiled back at her.

  “Did you see that, Mam? Paul just smiled at me!”

  “Well, would you look at that! There’s nothing like those first smiles – I remember when you and Louise first smiled at me, I thought I might just burst with happiness.”

  Her mother busied herself making Jean a cup of tea and serving up a plate laden with cream cakes. Having full presses was another thing Jean used to take for granted but now she could really appreciate it.

  * * *

  The days went on and she didn’t hear from Gavin. She had tried the pub on several more occasions and also John Grace, who was now losing patience with her, but they hadn’t seen him or heard from him.

  One day when she was up changing Paul’s nappy she heard the doorbell go downstairs. Her parents were out at the time. She cursed inwardly as she tried to change Paul’s nappy as fast as she could while he kicked his legs in the air and gurgled up at her. She picked him up and went down the stairs. When she pulled back the door she was shocked to see Gavin standing there. She threw her free arm around him in relief as her eyes pricked with tears.

  “I’m sorry, Gavin – I didn’t run out on you, I just couldn’t take it any more.” She sobbed into his shoulder. “But I’ve been trying to ring you. Honest I have. I phoned the bar – I even phoned John Grace every day!”

  He reached out, took Paul in his arms and smiled down at his baby son who had got so much bigger even in the short while that he hadn’t seen him. His pudgy fists thrashing about, Paul beamed back up at him.

  “It’s okay, I’m not angry with you.” He looked at her. “I was angry – I was raging for a few days but I’ve calmed down now and I’ve had time to think and see it from your side. I know I was always working – I didn’t have much choice but it can’t have been easy being on your own all day with a new baby.”

  “Here, let’s go inside, it’s freezing out here and I don’t want Paul to get a cold.”

  “What about your parents?”

  “They’re not here but don’t worry. They’ve been great, really they have. They’re not shouting and screaming at me like I thought they would, they’ve just been really supportive. And they love Paul – you should see my dad with him – he ooohs and aaahs over him – Mam says he was never like that with me and Louise.” She paused and put her hand on his arm before leaning in towards him. “I’m so glad you’re here, Gavin.”

  When her parents came home they were shocked to see Gavin in their living room. For their daughter’s sake they tried to act calmly and not let their disappointment show. After all, he was Paul’s father but, deep down, they had both been secretly hoping that they had seen the last of Gavin Grimley. They left the two of them alone to talk things out, praying that he wouldn’t talk Jean into leaving home again. They were relieved when a couple of hours later they heard Jean letting Gavin out the front door. She came back into the kitchen and told them that he was going to stay with his father. They both breathed out a sigh of relief.

  31

  Gavin let himself back into his father’s house, pushing back the heavy door. He was met by the stale air. He had never noticed it before. He made his way in to his father who was sleeping off the excesses of a bottle of whiskey in his armchair. Gavin couldn’t believe the state he had got himself into. He seemed to be wearing the same filthy clothes since the day Gavin had left and he smelt dirty.

  When he woke and saw Gavin there, he didn’t seem surprised to see him. It was as if he hadn’t even noticed that his son had been gone for the last few months. Gavin tried talking to him but he didn’t seem to register him sitting there, he was so caught up in his own drunken haze.

  The house was filthy, the kitchen had used plates and cups piled high, the curtains were closed and Gavin wondered if they had ever been opened since the day that he left. He walked back out and went up to his room. He couldn’t believe he was back in this shithole.

  * * *

  Gavin knew he would need to get another job. He tried the village pubs first as that was what he had experience in and was offered a job in O’Casey’s Pub. It was a lively place where all the young people in the town went. The place was literally heaving with people every Thursday, Friday and Saturday night and they had a DJ playing. It was worlds away from the place where he’d worked in Cork. Here there were four barmen on a shift, all young fellas like himself. The queue for the bar was always ten deep, with people ordering pints and shorts. The barmen were allowed to drink a few pints on the job as well – as long as they weren’t falling around the place no one minded. At the end of the shift they would all sit down and drink a few nightcaps before heading off for home. Sometimes a few girls would stay back too and they would have a right laugh playing drinking games as the girls flirted to get more free drink. He loved going to work; there was always banter and craic.

  He would call over to see Jean and Paul each evening on his way to work but he never felt as though he could fully relax in the McParland household. They watched his every move, waiting for him to make a cock-up before they would pounce on him. Of course Jean assured him that they weren’t but it was clear as day in the looks he would get from Úna and Paul. They would look over his shoulder as he played with baby Paul; if he swung him in his arms they would tell him “Be careful with him!” or if he heated a bottle for him, they would double-check it again to make sure it wasn’t too hot. They didn’t trust his judgement or didn’t seem to see that he was trying his best for his son. Some days if Paul was overtired, he wouldn’t come to Gavin and he would scream crying if he tried to pick him up. Jean’s parents would hurry over and take him out of his arms and of course he would instantly quieten then. He felt like roaring at them ‘He’s my son for fuck sake – I’ve a right to hold him too!’ but instead he internalised it and it went with all the other put-downs and the ‘not feeling good enoughs’. Jean never spoke up for him and Paul wondered whether she just didn’t notice or if she was afraid to speak up against her parents, but either way it infuriated him how she could be so oblivious to it all.

  He knew something had changed between them since they had come back to Ballydubh. Although he would never admit it, he resented the fact that she had chosen her family over him. He had been willing to give it all up for her but when push came to shove, she hadn’t been willing to do the same for him.

  He had asked Jean several times to come out with him to O’Casey’s when he had a night off. He had told her it was a great spot but she rarely came; she wasn’t one for drinking and found the crowd that frequented O’Casey’s raucous. It was only then that Gavin realised that they were essentially different people. Sometimes she seemed so innocent to the ways of the world. How had he ever thought that she would be able to survive on her own in Cork without the back-up of her family? He’d had to do it for years since his mother had died but Jean wasn’t tough like him.

  He saw her as ‘one of them’ now. Her mannerisms were the same as her parents’ and the way she would ask her mother first if there was a decision to be made about Paul drove him demented. ‘Should I put a cardigan on him, do you think, Mam?’ she would ask her mother instead of asking him, as Paul’s father, what he thought. He couldn’t even remember the last time they had been intimate. The only time they would get alone together was if they brought Paul out for a walk. Gavin knew she was a great mother to Paul – she would cuddle and kiss him and they had a bond like no other – but he found himself looking at her and wondering how they had even been together.

  32

  As the years went on, things stayed the same. Gavin would call in for an hour on his way to work in the evenings. Jean’s parents would mumble a greeting to him and he would grunt one back, even though they despised each other. He knew the McParlands looked down their noses at him; their feelings hadn’t thawed with time. But he didn’t
really care what they thought. Paul was old enough now to play with him and he would come running up to him as soon as he came through the door. He loved the rough-and-tumble play with his daddy.

  When Paul started in primary school, Jean had got a job in the mornings in a solicitor’s office in town, doing a bit of admin work. She seemed to like it and they were impressed with her aptitude so they had begun to give her more work on higher-profile cases and trust her with more complex issues. They suggested she should study a legal course part-time and said that they would even pay for the course but when she reluctantly told them she didn’t have a Leaving Cert they had been shocked and never brought it up again.

  * * *

  One night Gavin came home from O’Casey’s feeling warmed up by the couple of whiskeys they’d had after work. “Hey, Dad!” he shouted in to his father. He didn’t respond so Gavin went into the dark sitting-room to check on him. He saw he was fast asleep in his armchair. Gavin stumbled over an empty bottle of whiskey that he had left on the floor and sent it clattering across the bare floorboards until it careered loudly against the radiator. He picked up the bottle and went up to bed.

  When he got up around lunchtime the next day he went back into the sitting room to see if his father had even moved since the night before. When he saw him in the exact same position, his arms resting at the same angle, his mouth half-open the same way as when he saw him in the dark the night before, he knew something was up with him. His heart somersaulted and he ran forward and put his hand on his father’s arm which was cold and stiff. He tried to pull him forward and listen to see if he was breathing but there was nothing. He realised then that he was dead. No, Dad, please don’t be dead!