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“I know. I’m an idiot. I’m sorry.” To my shame he’d visibly flinched at my raised voice, and I forced myself to calm down; I couldn’t make anything better, but I was damned if I was going to make anything worse for the man.
“No. No, you’re not,” I said, and stepped towards him again so I could take his frigid hands in mine. “You’re just incredibly vulnerable right now, and that makes me worried and a little edgy, that’s all – and that’s entirely my shit to deal with, not yours,” I stated, and glanced at my watch. “Right, you’re not actually that late, so if you can get them down your neck in the next hour or so, you should be home safe. Could you perhaps come to the hotel with me, then go back to Niamh’s?”
“Nah.” Finn shook his head. “To be honest I don’t think I’d be able to find the energy to come back out again and I can’t walk out on her, Lili. I did that four years ago. I’m not doing it again.”
“Okay.” I took a centring breath and focused on not murdering the man I loved. “If you go back with Niamh and Feargal I’ll get a taxi to the hotel, grab your meds, then get the driver to run me back. Does that sound like it might work?”
“Yeah. That sounds good.” Finn gave a relieved nod. “Thank you.”
“But you have to eat whilst I’m gone, sweetheart, okay?” I insisted. “Get Niamh to sort some cereal or something to get your blood sugar back up. And I swear that the moment you look like you’ve had enough, I’m dragging you back to the Rossmont by the scruff of your stubborn Irish neck.”
Finn
After a silent journey back to my sister’s house, Feargal went to collect Sol from his mother’s. When he returned he took the baby into the living room with him whilst I sat with Niamh in her tiny, immaculate kitchen and tried my best to find the gentlest way of telling her about Jimmy Boy Dean.
It was about as awful as I’d imagined: I was used to talking to my counsellor, who was paid to listen to me and deal with the repercussions elsewhere, or better still Lilith, who appeared to have a limitless capacity for absorbing my shit. Niamh, in contrast, was utterly heartbroken and unable to hide it. I didn’t blame her – hearing that her big brother had been repeatedly raped by the man she remembered as ‘Uncle Jimmy’, provider of endless ‘Made in Taiwan’ tat toys and cheap chocolate, was bad enough.
My mother’s unwitting confession that good ol’ Jimmy Boy was my father, and that she’d effectively pimped out her twelve-year-old son to him to pay for her Christmas piss-up, had devastated my sister. She’d started crying when I bolted from the hospice room and hadn’t stopped since.
“Oh God Tack, I swear I had no idea! I mean, he used to come to the flat just about every week and – Jesus, was he doing… that to you all that time?”
I held her close as she sobbed into my shoulder. “Not all the time, no,” I lied, dreading the question that would come next.
“So when, I mean, how many -” her face crumpled again. “I’m sorry, I can’t believe I just asked that…”
I shrugged. “A few times. First time was Christmas when I was twelve. That’s the one that Mam was talking about back at the hospice.”
“But you were at home with us then!” Niamh wailed and looked at me in horror. “We’dhave been in the next room… I don’t understand. He never touched me or Sinéad. Not once…”
I blinked away a flashback of filthy fingernails crabbed through my hair, pinning me face down to my mattress, and the rank stench of stale sweat and dried piss. “Yeah, I know. I’d have fuckin’ killed him if he had.”
keep quiet yer little slut don’t be makin’ me go elsewhere for it ‘cos your sisters are just next door at least you want this can you imagine how loud the little one will scream if I do this to her
“Ah no,” I whispered. “Please not now.” My earlier panic rekindled in my chest as I forced myself to go through the questions Luis had taught me if I ever got near to this place again. The most important one of all: memory, or actual voice?
To my relief I realised that it was a flashback – vivid as all hell for sure, and fucking awful – but still just a memory for now. Did I need to hurt myself to stop the thoughts? No. Not just yet. What would help me feel better? There was only one answer to that: Lili. Calm and rational Lilith Bresson, with such an understanding of my sewer of a life that I didn’t have to explain a thing; I just had to let her know that I was about to fall.
Except I’d told her I was fine and sent her back to the bloody hotel.
Which meant that it was up to me to deal with things for now. I forced myself to take a breath, to review my situation. Sure, I was stressed half to death and trying to deal with Niamh’s anguish as well as my own, but Lilith would be on her way to the house by now, my meds would kick in within the hour, and I could head straight back to the hotel and start dealing with things properly. The second breath came more easily and I felt my chest muscles begin to relax.
I was going to be okay.
“What’s wrong, Tack?” Niamh asked. “You’re still an awful pale colour.”
“It’s nothin’, sweetheart,” I reassured her. “Just give me a minute, yeah?” I was about to go outside for another vape when we heard a key turning in the front door lock.
“S’ just me,” a girl’s voice called from down the hallway. “Fuckin’ bingo grannies needed the hall didn’t they? So we got kicked out on our arses even though we’d paid for that last hour, the bunch of pissin’ auld shitehawks. And bloody Liam called me a slag for this skirt, sayin’ he could see me gee so me an’ Ellie are goin’ into town without him.”
The tone was so much more grown-up than I remembered, but there was no mistaking that spirit, not to mention a Dublin accent you’d need a chainsaw to cut.
“That’ll be Sinéad, will it?” I managed a smile – perhaps the day was about to get a little brighter.
“Ah, damn it, she’s not meant to be back for a few hours yet,” Niamh said, and got to her feet. “Sounds like she’s been on the cider again, too. I’ll go and talk to her first and try and explain some of this stuff.”
It was hardly the response I was expecting. “Look, I don’t mind speaking to her,” I said. “I’ve got to meet her again sometime.”
“Honest Tack, it’s best that I do it. I’ll try and explain… things, okay?” Niamh put a gentle restraining hand on my arm. “She wasn’t in the best of moods this morning – I really don’t want you to have to deal with her when she’s like that, not with everything else you’ve had thrown at you today.”
