Page 63 of Unbound

“Ciaran. He did that. He did that to me,” Sinéad admitted. “That… thing with his fingers. Said it was a ‘present off Finn’.” She surreptitiously wiped at her left eye with her index finger; her first sign of pure vulnerability.

I nodded. “Yeah, I know,” I said, as gently as I could manage. “But you know what, Sinéad? You survived it, and I can guarantee that will have pissed off every single O’Halloran beyond measure. And you’re still here and still absolutely full of fuck, and if you can channel just a fraction of that rage you’re going to be absolutely unstoppable. That’s actually pretty impressive, don’t you think?”

“Really?” Sinéad asked, sounding genuinely shocked. “I just reckoned you hated me. I’d hate me, if I were you.”

“To be fair I was fully expecting to,” I admitted. “Look, I’m not going to tell you to stop being angry at the world – that would be rather hypocritical for a start, considering my own track record – but it’s really time for you to stop running around like a rebel without a clue. Get angry at the people who deserve it instead, rather than your brother.”

Sinéad didn’t respond to that, but I didn’t care. As long as she had to sit there and listen to me every single word I spoke possessed a power, and from years of experience I’d learned that there was more power still in the silence I curated.

“I couldn’t see my counsellor agreeing with that suggestion, like,” Sinéad eventually said, and craned her neck a little to see her portrait.

“No peeking.” I turned the page towards me. She would see it when it was finished. “No? So what would she recommend?”

“Oh God,”Sinéad actually laughed. “Her advice is to do breathing exercises and shit. ‘Next time you want to smack someone Sinéad, try thinking of beautiful mountain streams instead,’ that sort of thing.”

“And has that worked for you so far?” I asked.

“No, not noticeably,” she said, and this time it was my turn to laugh.

“Then keep getting angry,” I said. “In fact, get fucking furious. Become absolutely incandescent with rage if you need to, but never inwards. Never at the people who love you. Aim outwards, and take the bastards down.”

“And has that worked for you so far?” Sinéad parroted, but the malice had definitely receded.

I gave the question some thought. “Yes, about eighty percent of the time. But I’m definitely calming down on a year-on-year basis – I blame your brother’s good influence.”

“Yeah, but you can go proper off it, can’t you? I’ve seen that bit of you on YouTube loads of times. Smackin’ that spanner Johnny Buckle that time he talked about your mam? I mean fair play though, he was an arsehole and you were fierce.”

That had been the very first time Finn had seen me; a nightmare interview on some trashy late-night chat show that had gone on to change both our lives. “Yeah, he definitely hit a nerve,” I admitted. “I was just a little younger than you when my world fell apart in the most messy, public way you could imagine, and he brought it up as a deliberate attempt to rile me. I’m guessing you’ve read about the details?”

“Yeah, I know about that bit. Didn’t your da find out your mam was a brasser and chuck youse both out or somethin’?

I sighed. Sinéad clearly ‘knew’ the salacious tabloid version, which had been widely circulated following Blaine’s trial. “In a nutshell of sorts,” I conceded. “The slightly longer version is that my father was a Member of Parliament and all-round shit who’d always known that my mother had been a prostitute when she was younger – it was how they’d met, after all – and he and his accursed family forced my mother to leave when the information became public just before an election.” I took a breath and glanced down at my now near-complete drawing. I’d definitely done worse.

“I chose to go with her,” I continued, “And went from attending a private boarding school to what was officially the roughest secondary school in South London. Then two years after that my mother died of suicide when the torment from her schizophrenia became more than she could bear. I came home from school one day and found her dead.”

Sinéad was staring at me wide-eyed. I guessed I’d truly grabbed her attention at last. “So, whilst I would never state that I understand exactly what you’ve gone through over these past few months, I would say I’m pretty knowledgeable about the unfathomable joy of attending class when you’re an unwilling central character in your school’s drama of the decade.”

“Shiiit,” Sinéad said, then fell silent, lost for words for once.

“Oh absolutely, shit indeed,” I nodded, then smiled. “You know, I remember having a very similar conversation to this one with your brother not long after we met. He had the same reaction as you, if I recall.”

“Really?” Sinéad asked.

“Yup. Stubborn bastardry clearly runs deep in the Strachan gene-pool. Along with boundless courage and those amazing cheek-bones.”

“Fuck. You full-on love him, don’t you?” Sinead finally asked.

“Totally and utterly, with every ounce of my wizened, frozen heart,” I admitted. “And he loves you. And you also have a home and a family that adore you unconditionally and completely. Believe me, when I was fifteen I’d have sold my soul for just a fraction of what you have.” I heard my own voice catch at the admission.

I took a steadying breath and continued. “For the record, the one thing I do think I understand is this. You loved – and love – your brother, and he left you. And whether you choose to believe it or not, I can understand why that made you so angry, I really can. But what you need to understand is that Finn gave everything he had to you and Niamh. And in the end, when there was absolutely nothing else left, he gave himself.

He fully expected to die alone on Albermarle and he still felt that he’d made the right decision, because he was able to give you and Niamh a better life because of it.” I said, then for one last time I focused on capturing the young woman’s ethereal beauty on the back of that tattered poster, and let her absorb what I’d just said.

When I glanced up again, tears were glistening on her cheeks. As soon as she saw me notice, she furiously scrubbed at her face with the back of her hand. I don’t want this!” she half-sobbed. “I don’t want any of this fucking shite! I just want my life back where I can just get up in the morning and not have to worry about whether or not the O’Hallorans are gonna jump me for a laugh, or have every comedian in my fucking class ask me if my fucking brother ever fucked me up the fucking arse!”

“That sounds like an entirely reasonable request. So. What do you intend to do about it?” I asked.

“I don’t fuckin’ know!” Sinéad replied.

Source: www.allfreenovel.com