‘Indeed.’
‘So, one night after I was sure he was asleep I ransacked the car. I found three different sorts of pills and another two in his briefcase.’
‘Shit.’
‘There were no labels on the bottles and the pills were unmarked so I took one of each and brought them down to the doctor. She sent them off to a lab. It turned out he was on sleeping tablets, amphetamines and Valium.’
‘Amphetamines? But I thought he had a problem sleeping? Why was he taking a stimulant?’
‘I know; it didn’t make much sense to me either but as he was taking so many things to make him sleep, I guessed he needed them to get him through a day’s work.’
Johnny shook his head. ‘Poor bastard. I hate what he did to you, Marianne, but it sounds like he was in a bad way.’
‘He was.’
‘Was he hurting you right up until the end? Did it get worse?’ His eyes widened. ‘He didn’t—’
‘Didn’t what?’ Marianne frowned, and then realized he was wondering if Dominic had raped her. ‘Oh, no, nothing like that!’
‘Good,’ Johnny said, looking relieved.
‘And no, it didn’t continue until the end, although he continued to get worse. He wouldn’t get help though and I was afraid that he would start on the kids so I decided to throw him out.’
‘But you didn’t go through with it, did you?’
‘No, Dot begged me not to.’
‘Did she know what was going on?’
‘She knew he was taking pills but she knew nothing about his violence. I’d had enough by then so I told her everything.’
‘That can’t have been easy to hear.’
Marianne wiped her eyes. ‘Trust me, it wasn’t easy to tell. Dot worshipped Dominic. It was one thing to hear he was a drug addict but to hear he beat up his wife too . . . Anyway, that’s when she offered to move in; she said that she’d be the buffer between us and that if he ever harmed the children she would call the guards herself. So,’ Marianne shrugged, ‘I agreed and it worked.’
‘I’m so sorry, Marianne.’ Johnny gave her hand an awkward squeeze. ‘I had no idea that any of this was going on. I can’t believe Helen didn’t tell me—’
‘Don’t you dare go home and give out to her,’ Marianne warned him. ‘I swore her and Jo to secrecy.’
He held his hands up. ‘Okay, I won’t say a word.’
‘Now do you understand why I don’t believe we’ll get the life assurance money?’ It had been a discussion that had been going on for days now. Marianne was convinced that the claim wouldn’t be honoured but Johnny maintained that it was not that straightforward.
‘Nah, I still think that’s defeatist talk.’
Marianne laughed. ‘You don’t give up easily, do you?’
‘With respect, sweetheart, you’re too close to the situation to be objective. Take out the emotion and suffering and examine the facts. Dominic wasn’t taking hard drugs. These pills are all available on prescription.’
‘But they weren’t prescribed for him, Johnny,’ she argued.
‘They weren’t recreational either,’ Johnny pointed out. ‘He was a sick man looking for help. Granted, he looked in the wrong place but he wasn’t taking drugs just for the hell of it.’
‘Maybe,’ Marianne said, although she still wasn’t convinced.
‘Did he take out the policy before he started taking the drugs?’
‘I think so.’
‘Excellent. Had he been taking the drugs at the time he completed the application form and not admitted it we wouldn’t stand a chance.’
‘We don’t stand a chance anyway, Johnny.’
‘If you’re right, it won’t be the end of the world. Dominic had a good job and I’m sure you’ll get a generous pension. I assume you own the house.’
Marianne shook her head. ‘No, we have a mortgage.’ When they had moved from their small terraced house in Santry to the larger semi-detached four-bedroom house in Howth, Dominic refused to buy the house although the idea had greatly appealed to Marianne; she’d have loved it if they’d owned their own home outright. But Dominic had dismissed the idea saying that it made much more sense to invest the money; it would be an excellent nest egg for when he retired. Marianne had bowed to his decision as money was his business and he took care of the family’s finances.
‘Oh, I’d just assumed . . .’ Johnny gave a casual shrug. ‘Not to worry, what’s the monthly repayment?’
‘I hate to admit this but I have no idea,’ Marianne said feeling foolish.
‘Well, no reason why you should. You took care of the family and he looked after the bills. If you want me to take a look at your finances, just say the word. I don’t want to overstep the mark but—’
‘No, please,’ Marianne said eagerly. ‘I’d appreciate it; I’m completely out of my depth. He kept all our business papers in two box files upstairs. Hang on and I’ll get them.’
‘Great.’ Johnny glanced at his watch and stood up.
When she came downstairs he was standing in the hall waiting. ‘I really appreciate everything you’re doing for me, Johnny. It would take me for ever to sort out Dominic’s estate alone. I don’t know how I’d have coped without you and Helen these last few weeks.’
He shot her a look. ‘Oh, I think you underestimate yourself; you seem to have coped with a lot more than you’re letting on. Oh, Marianne, I’d have killed him if I’d known what he was doing—’
She put a hand on his arm. ‘Don’t start all that again.’
‘Is it okay if I say one more thing?’
‘Go ahead,’ she smiled.
‘I never really warmed to the man,’ Johnny admitted.
‘Why?’ Marianne asked curiously.
‘I’m not sure. I suppose he was a bit too smooth for my liking.’
‘He wasn’t too fond of you either,’ she confided, laughing.
He looked at her in surprise. ‘Really? Why?’
‘Oh, it wasn’t just you. He thought it was a mistake for me to stay in touch with anyone from St Anne’s, said I’d be better off forgetting that part of my life.’
‘But you were quite happy there, weren’t you?’
‘Absolutely,’ Marianne agreed. ‘But he seemed to think that it was something to be ashamed of. I told him that there was no way I would ever give up my friendship with Helen and Jo and he accepted that.’ She didn’t add that Dominic had become more and more scathing of her friends and their husbands as time went on. He’d made less of an effort to hide his feelings and though they hadn’t commented on it, she knew they must have noticed; they weren’t stupid.
‘I’m glad you didn’t let him come between you.’
‘Oh, so am I, Johnny,’ she assured him, ‘so am I.’
Chapter Four
‘Will you plait my hair, Mum?’ Rachel asked.
‘After I’ve made dinner,’ Jo told her.
Di looked up from her magazine. ‘What’s for dinner?’
‘Pork chops.’
The girl wrinkled her nose ‘Ugh. I hate pork.’
‘Well, I’m sorry, love, but if I only cooked what you like, we would live on fried chicken and garlic bread.’
‘And what’s wrong with that?’ Di grinned.
Rachel giggled.
Her big sister tossed her magazine aside. ‘Come here, I’ll do your hair.’
‘Really?’ Rachel’s eyes widened in delight and she immediately sat herself down in the chair Di had pulled out and shook back her long blonde hair.
Jo smiled. It was nice to see the girls getting along. They had been very close when they were younger but these days Di was always either reading magazines or texting her friends and had little time for her sister.
‘Ow, that hurt!’ Rachel yelped.
‘It wouldn’t if you held still,’ Di retorted, brushing her little sister’s long hair with sweeping strokes. ‘Why do you want your hair done anyway?’
‘I’m going over to Tracy’s house.’
‘Tracy?’ Di met her mother’s eyes over her sister’s head.
Jo shrugged. Tracy Donovan was the most popular girl in her daughter’s class but had always ignored Rachel and never invited her to her flashy birthday parties; Rachel was devastated especially as all of her friends were always there. And now, suddenly, she was part of Tracy’s crowd and was spending more and more time at her house. Greg was thrilled that Rachel had been welcomed into the Donovan fold as Tracy’s father was some big noise in the city, but Jo wondered about the girl’s motives; why the sudden interest in her daughter? The front door slammed announcing Greg’s arrival home. ‘Okay, girls, I’ll be serving up in a minute, tidy up, please.’
‘But I’m not finished,’ Di protested.
Greg walked into the kitchen and frowned. ‘What is this? A hairdressers?’
‘Hi, Daddy.’ Rachel smiled, oblivious to his sarcasm. ‘I’m going over to Tracy’s so Di’s doing my hair.’
‘Oh. Well, hurry up. I’m hungry.’
Jo smiled. ‘Pork chops, your favourite.’
He came to look over her shoulder. ‘Make sure you cook them properly.’
‘I will. Did you have a good day?’
‘There’s no such thing as a good day any more with the state this country is in,’ he grumbled.
Jo didn’t bother replying, instead lifting the pot of potatoes off the stove and strained them into the sink.
‘But, Dad, that’s good for you, isn’t it? You’ve never been so busy,’ Di pointed out.
‘Because stupid people spent beyond their means and then come running to me to sort out their problems.’
‘But you’re an accountant. Isn’t that your job?’
‘Don’t be so cheeky, miss,’ he muttered and left them, scowling.
Jo grinned as she mashed the potatoes. She loved that Di wasn’t in the least bit intimidated by her father; she was such a confident sixteen-year-old, although she knew that Greg thought she should be much more respectful. Jo foresaw many more clashes ahead between father and daughter. Di wasn’t at all happy with the way her dad talked to her mother and though Jo pretended it didn’t bother her, her daughter wasn’t fooled. Rachel seemed oblivious to it all but then she was the apple of her daddy’s eye, partly because she was the image of his dead mother, whom Jo had detested.
As soon as Jo had met Margaret Buckley she knew she had an enemy. The woman was obviously disgusted that her only son was marrying the product of a dysfunctional family who had ended up in a children’s home – or an orphanage as she insisted on calling it. Jo hadn’t been wrong; Margaret had done her best to split them up. Thankfully, Greg was unaware of his mother’s hostility, or at least he’d pretended to be, and proposed anyway. Jo hadn’t hesitated. He was a decent man and he was offering her the chance of a good home; one where she would never brace herself for a slap, step over her father’s inert, drunken figure on the stairs or stay out of the house, shivering on the green, until she thought it safe to creep back in. And on the days that Greg irritated or upset her, she would remind herself of the dark days of her childhood and count herself lucky that, never once in their marriage, had he made her feel afraid.
‘There!’ Di stepped back to admire her handiwork and Rachel turned to her mother, smiling. ‘Is it nice?’
‘Lovely. Now, tidy up and set the table.’
When they were sitting around the table, Jo sighed as Di pushed her food round the plate and Greg made a production of sawing his meat. ‘You did say I should cook it well,’ she couldn’t help saying, after his knife had screeched off the plate for the third time, making her wince.
‘Yes, but I didn’t say cremate it,’ he muttered.
‘It’s lovely, Mummy,’ Rachel said loyally.
Jo gave her youngest a smile. Her family’s attitude towards food often baffled her. Jo had come from a home where meals were hit and miss. If her mother thought of cooking a proper dinner it was usually tasteless and the rest of the time meals were a case of grabbing something when you got the chance; Jo remembered surviving on dry cereal on many an occasion because there was no milk. In St Anne’s they’d eaten whatever was put in front of them whether they liked it or not because if they didn’t, they went hungry until the next meal.
Now as her family laboured over their food, Jo ate every morsel, excused herself and put the plate and cutlery in the sink. Then she went upstairs to the bathroom and stuck two fingers down her throat. As she cleaned herself up afterwards and reached for her toothbrush, she felt almost happy.
Helen served up the sirloin steaks with baked potatoes, mushrooms and onions and her special gravy.
‘Oh, nice one, Ma, this looks great.’ Colm grinned in delight and went to the fridge for two beers.
‘What do you think you’re doing?’ she asked.
‘Leave the lad alone,’ Johnny said. ‘A lager won’t hurt.’
Helen tutted and fetched two glasses of water, setting one down next to Colm’s beer. He winked at her and she couldn’t help smiling. He was cheeky but irresistible with it and sometimes she thought that she would burst with pride when she watched the way every man, woman and child responded to his charm. ‘Have you finished your homework?’ she asked.
‘I just have to revise some poetry and I’m done.’
‘Poetry.’ Johnny shook his head as he attacked his steak. ‘As if that’s going to be of any use to you in the building trade.’
‘An honours degree in English is useful in any walk of life,’ Helen retorted.
‘You’re right, love.’ Johnny smiled. ‘Your mother’s always right, lad, remember that.’
‘I’ll get honours in everything,’ Colm said confidently between mouthfuls.
‘Do you think you’ll be able to get out the door with the size of that head?’ his father asked.
Colm shrugged. ‘Just stating the facts.’
‘You’ve worked hard, lad, but make no mistake, you’ll have to work harder at university.’
‘Not a problem; it will be worth it when you’ve popped your clogs and I’m running the show and raking in the cash.’
‘I’m not planning on shuffling off for a good few years and there isn’t much cash to be raked in these days.’
‘And your father worked round the clock for that money,’ Helen reminded her son. ‘We saw so little of him that sometimes you would bawl when he picked you up because you didn’t recognize him.’
‘Nah, I did that because he’s ugly.’
‘Cheeky little bugger,’ Johnny laughed.
‘I don’t know why you think that’s funny, you’re the image of him.’ And he was, Jo thought, from the shock of black hair to the dark eyes and smile. And though Johnny was over six foot, their seventeen-year-old son was nearly as tall as him. They also had the same quick wit and equally quick temper but neither of them stayed angry for long. The only traits Colm had inherited from his mother was her love of music and obsessive tidiness; Johnny’s messy habits drove them both mad.