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“So before we really get started here, how much did you get paid for the tip-off about Gabriel being at your sister’s birthday?” I asked, once I’d dosed myself with salbutamol.
“I never -” Sinéad began, and I glared at her.
“And don’t even think about denying it.” I straightened out the poster blank-side-up on the table, then sat back and waited until the silence became overpowering.
“Two hundred Euro,” she finally mumbled, and I winced.
“Two...? Really? Oh for fuck’s sake. Well, they certainly saw you coming,” I said. “Okay, this is what’s going to happen now. In a moment you’re going to sit there in absolute silence unless you’re spoken to for as long as it takes me to sketch your portrait. At the end of that period, if you’ve managed to keep your mouth shut and actually listened for once the sketch will be yours and you get to do what you like with it, and you can go where you like.”
“Why bother with all this drawing shit? Why not just bollock me like you want to and be done?” Sinead asked.
“Because ‘this drawing shit’ helps me think,” I replied. “And it’s where I’m most comfortable and in control. And also if I’m completely honest, right now drawing is giving me something to do with my hands so I don’t slap you into next week.”
Sinéad fell momentarily silent at that, and before she could voice her disdain yet again I showed her the screenshot on my phone. “This was the latest auction price for one of my preparatory sketches for a piece I did from a few years back. Just a little more than two hundred Euros, as you can see.”
Sinéad squinted at the screen and read the amount. “Shiiiiit,” she exclaimed.
“‘Shit’ indeed. And I imagine any sketch I did of you right now would go for considerably more than that. Do we have a deal?”
She narrowed her eyes.“So, what, I just sit here, you draw me whilst you’re talking at me, and that’s it?”
“Yup, pretty much,” I nodded. “Look, I’m offering you the opportunity to create a firebreak here. I think you’ve dug yourself so deeply into your own personal war that you can’t find a way out, and this truly is your last chance to reverse that trend. Do we have a deal?”
“Suppose.” Sinéad gave another shrug. “Our lift’ll be here soon anyways.”
“That’s very gracious of you. Well in that case I’d better make a start, eh?” I said, and picked up the pen. For the first time in weeks I let my hand start to move across a blank page, and all the clamour of the day fell entirely away and the muscles in my chest released their grip. For this brief but blissful time, I was at home.
Without looking up, I started to talk. “Firstly, I need you to know that I’m not bluffing when I say that no matter what happens, I will be on that plane with Finn tomorrow whether you decide to join us or not. He has worked so bloody hard to heal over this past year and I am not prepared to put him or his health at risk for anything or anyone. Is that clear?”
Yet another shrug. “Sure.”
I didn’t respond to the attitude, just focused on Sinéad’s portrait and let the silence embrace us both again as I worked.
I spent five minutes furiously sketching before I spoke again. “What did McKenna say to you about your brother?” I asked, deliberately avoiding the man’s honorific.
“What? Nothin’!” Sinéad stared at me. “How would you even know McKenna said anythin’ about Finn? If he even did, I mean.” She asked, and I noticed she hadn’t bothered adding the man’s title. That was promising...
I shaded a little of her jawline. “Because I think for someone as smart as you to be this furious with your brother, someone’s been deliberately fuelling your anger. And I also think that McKenna himself has a serious amount of guilt that he needs to deflect, and you’ve been an ideal conduit.”
“No…” Sinéad began, but I interrupted her.
“Whoa. Just give yourself a minute to think before replying for once and I’ll ask again, what has McKenna said to you about Finn? It probably won’t have been full-on criticism – I'll have been something far more subtle so it sounded like he was completely on your side,” I explained, then returned my focus to the portrait and waited. Finally Sinéad sighed, and I knew I was right.
“Right, when all that… stuff started coming out about Finn and what he did and all, McKenna was great, you know?” she said. “He’d let me go and talk to him any time the others in my class were giving me shite about the trial – and believe me, they did most days. He told me that even God hates the sin he still loves the sinner, so although what Finn was… I mean, did… was wrong, God would forgive him as long as he repented…”
“Oh, that fucking evil bastard,” I said under my breath. “Look Sinéad, everything your brother said about that fucker is true. Father Baroja – that’s Finn’s priest back home, and a genuinely good man – started the investigation against McKenna months ago. I’m guessing it must have hit the stage where things are starting to come out, and I highly doubt Finn is going to be his only victim.”
“But he never touched me, though! I’ve known him for years and he’s never done anything like... that to me!” There was real anguish in Sinéad’s voice, and I could see that her wall was crumbling. Still I pushed on.
“And I’m honestly so very glad of that,” I said. “But it’s likely that his ‘type’ is young teenage boys, just like your brother was when McKenna raped him, so there will be others that he did assault. Finn coming forward means there won’t be any more, and his doing that is one of the bravest things I’ve ever witnessed. And whilst you’re an idiot you’re by no means stupid, so my guess is that deep down you know all this is true and right now your fury is being fuelled by more denial than you know how to handle, at a point in your life where everything else seems to be falling apart too.”
I fell silent and let the words sink in whilst I worked on capturing that raw, feral beauty that all the Strachan siblings possessed. Next it would be time to share a little of my own story.
“Right. You probably already know that Coyle O’Halloran assaulted me when I was at Albermarle, and standing in court just to talk about that one miniscule corner of what we went through still gives me nightmares,” I said. “And it’s all there in the court records, neatly summarised as ‘Digital Penetration of the Vagina’, leading to a conviction of Aggravated Sexual Abuse on top of all the other shit he did. Just that first glimpse of his twin today brought it all back. I was terrified.”
“You didn’t look like you were,” Sinéad said.
“I very rarely do,” I conceded. “But believe me, I was. And if it was that bad for me, imagine your brother reliving every single he went through, just to make sure there wouldn’t be any more like him.”
