Barefoot Over Stones (10 page)

Dan was getting numb to the details. His father sounded as if he was telling the truth, but then Dan reminded himself that Con had often said that the mark of a good politician was someone who could appear sincere and interested when in fact he was neither. If he was delivering a performance Dan could not find it in himself to deliver the appropriate applause.

‘What about her parents? Surely they have noticed that she has got the wrong idea about you?’

‘The thing is the Clancys have always had it hard. Aggie has been suffering with her nerves for years and Ted never did a full day’s work if he had the option of doing half a day instead. He has a fondness for the drink, too, so money is short for the family. I suppose Leda thought of me as a way out, a passport from everything at home. If I worked my brain at all I would have seen how
vulnerable the girl was but I never stopped to think. She started telling her school friends there was something going on and maybe telling them we had been places when we hadn’t and it got to your mother and here we are now. I mean, she asked me for lifts back home several nights and I knew how it would look so I made Columbo or one of the others go instead. In fact I told Paddy Shanahan that a girl of her age shouldn’t be trying to arrange lifts home with people she barely knew. I said it to Ted Clancy too but sure he can barely get himself home most nights so I was wasting my breath.’

‘So why is Columbo acting as if he is concealing a grenade under his coat? He came storming into the hospital as if it was a matter of life and death. He even risked going up the stairs here to try and talk sense into Mam. The man has a death wish.’

‘Look, I am very fond of Columbo but the thing is he presumes he always knows best. When I told him the bones of the story, as I have told you now, he didn’t even listen. His modus operandi has always been to protect the party at any cost. If he suspects danger, even where there isn’t any, he prides himself on being the first to head it off at the pass. He doesn’t really care if I am telling the truth or not as long as the party comes through unscathed and he is seen to be doing his job. To Columbo I am irrelevant in all of this and if he feels that way about me you can be sure that Leda Clancy does not even register. It’s a cruel game, this business, Dan. I am so glad you are doing something that could take you a million miles from here and you need never look back.’

They talked on until first light was breaking over the mountains at the back of the house. Dan told his father what his mother’s demands were for a cessation of hostilities.

‘A wedding and a trip to Rome? Sometimes I can’t get over that woman. I’m not sure if she is bad or mad or both. What business would we have in Rome – the city of lovers and all that? We would be turned back at the airport.’

‘To tell you the truth, Dad, I’m not sure your presence is required in anything but the most nominal sense. Will you do it?’

‘Not if I can help it, no. My marriage has long been a disappointment to me and I don’t really want anyone else shining a light where I won’t dare to look myself. The wound is deep enough without adding salt.’

‘What will you do so? She won’t be happy, I can tell you that. She wants Leda out of the place too, which is just ridiculous. She’s in school.’

‘Well, between you and me, I am not sure that is the worst idea your mother has ever had. Things are bad at home for the Clancy children. The eldest girl is in college – fair play to her – and I am close enough to fixing up the young lad as a plumber’s apprentice. Aggie isn’t able and Ted is not a parent in any sense of the word. I could put Leda in the way of office work and such out of Leachlara. Give her a start so she gets her independence, a course maybe if that’s what she wants. To be honest it’s the least I can do to make amends. She feels let down and I reckon it’s my responsibility even if it’s not my fault.’

Dan looked at his father as he poured himself another generous measure of whiskey. He cupped the glass with both hands as if he depended on it for support. The bottle had gone from over half to a quarter full during the course of their conversation and Con was not bothering to dilute it any more. Not for the first time Dan was shocked at his father’s capacity for drink. It seemed not to have any appreciable effect on him. He must have had a few in the pub too and still his words never slurred and his voice never faltered.

‘So if you are not going to renew the vows or do the whole honeymoon thing, how do you expect this thing with Mam to be brought under control? She is looking for satisfaction and she won’t rest without it.’

‘Money, Dan. Most things with your mother come down to money in the end. After you there is nothing she cares about more. So I am guessing if I play willing, total up the cost of a suitably
flashy renewal-of-wedding-vows party for a TD and the cost of a luxury trip to Rome, her mind will start racing at the thought of the things she could spend the money on. She could get more silverware for the sideboard that no one sees and a replacement car for the one that nobody ever gets a lift in. I can see the list forming as we speak. Then if I round up the amount by a couple of grand and offer that to ease her pain and embarrassment this whole thing will be put behind us quietly and permanently. A cheque speaks volumes to your mother, always has done. It’s the only way we converse any more. Her silence breaks only when she wants money or at least more money than she already has. She has even taken to leaving Post-its on the kettle with her account number on them – as if I needed reminding of my greatest money hole.’

Dan left his father and his whiskey at the kitchen table shortly before the clock on the wall began to chime for six o’clock. He had been up close to twenty-four hours and his body was succumbing to an enveloping exhaustion that rendered him almost speechless. He had done nothing to sort this mess out except listen to his mother’s grandiose plans for retribution and then hear his father confidently assert he would outsmart her at the end with the power of his cheque book. He promised himself as he climbed into the bed in his old room that he would stay alone for ever rather than recreate a marriage like his parents’: bound together by a child and mutual disdain. It was a horrible way to live. What struck him most about both his parents was their willingness to stay put for the sake of appearances, to endure any kind of misery as long as the set piece of their lives looked well to anyone looking on. Well, Dan had seen enough to know that he would not settle for the same life himself. It couldn’t be that hard to better his parents’ lousy attempt, he thought as he shifted uncomfortably in the bed. The sheets had had the heavy starch treatment so popular with his mother and he lay awake waiting for the bed to soften under him, enough for him to settle into overdue sleep.

The posters on the wall, dimly visible in the morning light, were the ones he had tacked up there a good few years before: George Michael and Andrew Ridgeley togged out in matching white suits and their hair sprayed within an inch of its life. God, he couldn’t imagine how he hadn’t worked out that George Michael was gay. It was so obvious, yet Dan had been so unbelievably innocent. Besides, no one else in Leachlara Community School seemed to have worked it out either – or if they had they hadn’t mentioned it.

Also there was the
St Elmo’s Fire
cast poster that he had stolen from the Carlton foyer in Leachlara. He had a serious crush on Demi Moore for years after that film. Dan smiled to himself as he remembered how many times he had watched the video. God, she was gorgeous, but he wasn’t sure about the really short hair in
Ghost
. It was as if she had taken a saucer from her potter’s wheel and put it on her head. He definitely preferred her with long hair. As he finally drifted off to sleep he decided that he would definitely ask out Alison from Rose’s café. She looked a bit like a very young Demi, he thought with a grin, and if she looked that good despite the shapeless chef’s gear she always wore then she must be really beautiful. Thursday afternoon was when Rose said she would be in again. She had winked at him and his efforts at nonchalance had been lost in her uncontrollable ear-to-ear grin.

‘Well, finally, Dan, I thought I was going to have to reach across there and check for a pulse. Yourself and Alison have been gazing at each other since well before Christmas. It’s time you got a bloody move on!’

‘Yes, Boss!’ he had replied, more than a little surprised by the fact that his attraction to Alison had been so obvious when he thought he had been playing it cool. He had been rumbled – but what did it matter? A date with Alison Shepherd might just be what he needed to forget his family’s misery and memories of all that had happened in Leachlara. He would ask her out on Thursday, he decided, then slept for ten straight hours.

Burnt onions were not a smell naturally conducive to romance. Alison could have killed Ciara for leaving the place in such a tip again. The kitchen units were strewn with vegetable peelings and utensils that had stirred a deep dark pit of something that was probably Ciara’s attempt at Bolognese. A massive heap of congealed pasta nearby was a further clue to the recipe that had been attempted. Alison had encouraged her flatmate to start cooking dinners because for the first six weeks they lived together she seemed to eat nothing but toast and cereal. Alison had even written down some simple recipes. The remnants of this dinner did not bode well for Ciara’s progress. Alison would have to spend the next half-hour cleaning up the mess before she could degrease herself after an afternoon at the Daisy May. In fairness she hadn’t had a chance to tell Ciara that what she had been dreaming of for months had now finally come to pass. Dan Abernethy had asked her out and she was so proud that she hadn’t collapsed before she managed to say yes. She had felt Rose’s lurking presence behind them cleaning tables, taking ages to clear what she would normally have tidied in a few short minutes. It felt as if she was making space for something to happen but it wasn’t until Dan clasped her hand in his as she set his mug of black coffee in front of him that she allowed herself to believe that this gorgeous, sophisticated man could be interested in her. His eyes were so intense that she felt her face fire up in a maddening blush when he spoke to her.

‘Will you come out with me, Alison? To the pictures or to the pub or for a pizza, whichever one you fancy . . .’ He punctuated the ensuing pause with a heartfelt, ‘Please?’

She was finding it difficult to get the words out because all she could concentrate on was the fact that her hand was touching his and his eyes were fixed on her face waiting intently for her answer. Eventually her vocal cords managed to discharge their function.

‘Yes, I’d love that. A drink would be nice.’ What was she saying? She didn’t even drink, but a film would be useless. She wanted to be able to look at him, listen to him, and a darkened cinema was not the place. Oh well, she would drink water all night if it meant finally spending time with Dan.

A customer at the other end of the counter slammed his mug on the countertop in a sullen unspoken demand for a refill. Alison darted to him with the coffee jug, relieved to have negotiated accepting the date without making a total idiot of herself by stumbling on her words or burning his hands with the scalding coffee or tripping over herself while trying to coolly move away.

With that Rose dropped her cleaning cloth and with it her long-drawn-out pretence of table polishing. She let out a dramatic sigh and approached Dan where he was seated at the counter with a massive smile on his face. ‘Well, I do hope your future patients won’t be as long waiting for a fecking blood transfusion or an amputation, Dan Abernethy, as I have been waiting for that little invitation of yours. It would be less painful to watch a snail crossing the street in heavy traffic. I’m going out for a cigarette, boy. My nerves are well and truly shot.’

Dan laughed. He was mad for Rose and very grateful to her that she had made herself scarce so he could talk to Alison alone.

Conlon’s pub in Camden Street wasn’t a popular student haunt and so was quieter on a Thursday night than most of the other pubs on the street. That was one of the reasons Dan had chosen it for his date with Alison. He wanted to be able to chat with her without any of the lads from his class
butting in with their smart comments. It was a tradition to rag any couple on a date and Dan knew how merciless it all could be because he had been part of the good-natured taunting gang on several occasions. Alison was different to any of the girls he had been out with before. She was a bit mysterious and reserved and he wanted time to work her out for himself before anyone else had his or her say about her. He knew from Rose that she was from Cork, some smallish country town, though Rose couldn’t remember the name of it. He knew like himself that she was an only child and that she was in first year Arts in Trinity. At twenty-four he was a good bit older but Alison – and he presumed their enthusiastic matchmaker Rose had filled her in about himself – didn’t seem to mind. In fact she seemed delighted he had asked her out, if somewhat shell-shocked.

He had offered to pick her up at her flat in Ranelagh but she had insisted that she would meet him at Conlon’s. The bus from Ranelagh stopped at the top of the street before it swung around on to Harcourt Street so at most it was only a few minutes’ stroll. Dan arrived early, driven out from his flat off Leeson Street partly by nerves but mostly by his flatmate Anthony’s liberal use of pound-shop aftershave, which he considered essential for a night on the pull. ‘Captivate’ was the latest brand adorning the toilet cistern in a frighteningly industrial-size can. Sparingly, Dan had told him, was the best way to impress a girl but Anthony continued to use quantities that would dip a flock of sheep and cure them of all their infestations. When he came to think of it, Dan decided sheep dip probably had the edge on any of Anthony’s wooing scents.

‘I think, Ant, the only captivating you will be doing tonight is if they fall at your feet overpowered by the whiff of your aerosol poison.’