Mercy of St Jude (13 page)

How much frigging longer am I going to hear about that goddamn scholarship? Two years on and she's still bringing it up every chance she gets.

“The last year is what matters most,” Violet went on. “And Gerry did just fine.”

“That he did.” Sadie leaned harder on the scrub brush.

“I suppose you'd call him a late bloomer. Ha-ha.”

Sadie turned the water to full blast. Steam filled the air between where she stood and Violet sat drinking tea and eating Jam Jams. Sadie scrubbed harder.

“Not like my Cathy.”

Miserable bitch! I been here four hours now, cleaning shitty toilets, changing sweaty sheets, shining fancy silver, and that one gets herself tea and cookies and planks her arse at the table and eats them right in front of me. Boils me.

“And dear Mercedes, what a saint. Imagine paying for Gerry like that, such a good-hearted woman. And no, I never told anyone. I can keep a secret, believe me.”

“Thank you, Violet.”

Wish I never went and told her about that frigging money.

Violet looked displeased, just as she always did when Sadie used her first name. “Yes. Well…it's too bad, though. Mercedes deserves some credit.”

“Indeed she does, Violet.”

Damned if I'll be calling her Mrs. Green.

“And like I said to my Cathy, I was so proud of her for winning, but really, there's others not as…well, as well-off, to put it bluntly, but what can you do? Cathy won fair and square, no matter what poor Annie felt about it.” Violet took a sip of tea.

Sadie folded the towel and laid it on the counter.

“And poor Francis, getting beat out by Gerry. Must have been a shock.”

The nerve of the woman, some days it was too much.

Violet looked up and caught Sadie's eye. “Oh, but like I said, Gerry earned it, yes indeed he did. And don't you let anyone tell you different now, Sadie.”

“Don't worry about that, Violet.” Sadie picked up her coat and stood waiting, just as she did every week, for her thirty-seven dollars.

Violet took another sip of tea and popped the last piece of cookie into her mouth. She chewed, swallowed, and wiped her mouth with her napkin. Finally, she stood up.

Take your frigging time, why don't you? Not like I got nothing else to do.

Violet took down her purse from the kitchen shelf and, reaching inside, brought out her wallet. She pulled out a twenty, a ten and two fives. Pursing her lips, she put back one of the fives. She opened her coin purse and counted out four dollars in change.

“There you go, Sadie. Plus a little something extra for you.”

Sadie shoved the money into her coat pocket. “I'll see you next week, Violet.”

Damned if I'll thank the woman, either.

1999

Gerry spots a six-pack at the back of the fridge. As he is opening one up, his mother returns from the bathroom again. This time he can smell the liquor on her. The more she drinks, the more careless she gets about hiding the evidence.

Sadie tutts. “That Kevin, always bringing in darn beer.”

“Glad he did. That ham was good and salty.” He takes a long swig. As always, the malty aroma of beer reminds him. He sees her, over the rim of his glass, that first night at Dewey's. When she'd smiled at him, her eyes had registered a sense of surprise. In that moment he'd felt they shared a secret, a feeling that had lasted throughout the night, and, in the end, far longer.

“Gerard?” His mother is eyeing him strangely.

“Yeah, Ma?”

“A million miles away again, you were. Anyway, I said Father got his first funeral Mass tomorrow.”

“Father?”

“You know, our new young Father James. Who else would I be talking about? I think he's right nervous. He didn't have much chance to get to know her so what's he supposed to say? But I knows he'll do grand. Fine man, smart and educated, not like the bunch around here. Big books all over the house - religion, psychology, all kinds of stuff. Pities him sometimes I do, wasting away in St. Jude...”

If there's one thing his mother likes to talk about more than the neighbours, it's the resident clergy. The difference is that she speaks of the priests with more affection and admiration than she speaks of her children, except for him. This no longer embarrasses Gerry. He cannot control his mother, what she says or does, what she thinks, why she thinks it. Sadie is a force unto herself. He's known that since he knew anything.

“…what can he be saying about Mercedes?” Sadie is still talking. “I'm sure they met, though I don't think she was going to Mass at the end, never saw her there for ages. Not like some, always there, all pious and righteous, likes of that Violet and Dwight Green. The way them two prances around town, Mr. and Mrs. St. Jude they acts like. Too uppity to clean their own dirt. Hires me to scrape the muck off the floor and the shit out of their toilets. Nerve, ordering me around for a few measly bucks. Frigid old bat she is. And him, acting so upstanding. Hah, I knows about him I do. Puny little bugger. Good match, you ask me.”

“I imagine he knows enough about her. She had a good reputation.”

“Who? Oh, Mercedes. Yeah, sure. Want cake? I done your favourite.”

He rubs his stomach. “Sorry, but I'm stuffed. I can't eat another bite.”

“And to think I wouldn't let the boys touch it all day. And Mark too, caught him with a finger in the icing, stuck it right in his mouth before I had the chance to stop him. Saucy as a crackie he's getting to be. Debra should take a hand to that boy.”

Gerry taps her gently on the nose. “And you'd be the first to stop her if she did.”

“Would not.”

“You would so. You got a soft spot for our Mark, you know you do.”

Sadie shakes her head, but she's smiling. “Anyway, you want cake or not?”

Gerry is so full there's no room for guilt. “I'll have it for breakfast,” he teases.

Sadie frowns. “Gerard, not for breakfast—”

“I'm just codding you, girl. We'll have some after the burial, how's that?”

Her face brightens. “Yes, the funeral. Tomorrow be here soon enough.”

Gerry smiles despite himself. Leave it to his mother to perk up at the mention of Mercedes Hann's funeral.

7

1999

Annie catches her reflection in the mirror above the laundry sink, the puffy skin, the eyes that have forgotten how to be happy. Is this what she's been reduced to, crying her heart out in a dingy basement storeroom? She presses a damp cloth to her face and holds it there. The cold wetness feels fresh against her skin.

She gives herself a few minutes then heads back upstairs. Her mother is talking on the hall phone. Annie wonders crossly who would call so late. As she nears the kitchen she hears Aiden's voice, still bleating on about the Griffins.

“And you know Sadie. Thinks the sun shines out of her darling Gerry's very arsehole.” His voice rises. “There she was on the church steps, bragging about ‘Gerard's wonderful job in international investment', like she got a clue what that is, and his car and his fancy apartment. Pitied poor Father James, her paws were all over him.”

Joe chuckles. “Sadie loves the priests.”

“Then she says, ‘Oh, and the women! Dear Father, sure they're always after him, not a lick of pride these days, ' and on and on she went. I thought she'd never shut up.”

“Sadie's one to be talking about pride. Her own husband had to leave town to get shed of her.” Pat lets his wrist go limp. “Not that she was really his type.''

Sadie is the last person Annie wants to defend but she can't listen to them slag the wife and excuse the husband. “Like he was any prize,” she says as she walks into the room. “Leaving a wife and youngsters to chase gay tail in Montreal. Men!”

“Now Annie, don't be bitter. It makes your face go all scow-ways,” Joe teases gently. “You puts me in mind of Mercie herself when you gets that snarl on you.”

“Quick, cheer me up,” Annie retorts, reaching for a clean mug from the cupboard.

Lucinda comes in. She waits for a quiet moment. “That was Tom Kennedy on the phone. He wants to see the family back here after the graveyard to read the will.”

Annie whirls around. “What do you mean, read the will?”

“That's how she wanted it done, everyone together in the same room.”

“Sounds like one of them soap operas on TV,” says Pat.

“So that's how you spends your time off the boat.” Aiden pushes Pat lightly. “You're a real little woman, aren't you, cooking in the kitchen and watching the soaps.”

Pat swats at his brother. “Get on, Aiden, I do not.”

“Anyway,” Lucinda says, raising a hand to her temple, “Tom's been called to Toronto on some emergency and so we have to do it tomorrow, right after the burial.”

Joe arches back to look up at her. “Can't we let the dirt settle on her first?”

Lucinda shakes her head. “He said Mercedes' exact instructions were to do it as soon as possible and before anybody left St. Jude. With Tom having to go, it can't wait.”

Annie plunks the empty mug down on the counter. “Her and her exact instructions. Bad enough she insisted on a home wake. Who does that in this day and age? Even the poorest bunch in town goes to the funeral home. But no, not Queen Mercedes, she's got to take over the whole house and everyone in it on her way out.”

“Annie, if we can't do her one last wish, what's the good of us?”

Annie is ready to argue the point until she notices her mother's eyes. The whites are streaked with red and the skin beneath is dark and wrinkled.

“What the hell's she up to now?” asks Aiden.

Pat tugs at his beard. “Three days dead and soon to be buried, she's still at it.”

“Always in control, even under the dirt.” Annie waits, expecting someone else to comment. The only sound is the drone of the fridge, amplified by the unusual silence.

“You know what this means,” Aiden finally says. “It's probably true.”

“What is? Mom, what's he talking about?”

“Well, Annie,” Aiden says before Lucinda can answer, “it seems Mercedes may be having the last laugh after all. You see—”

“Aiden Hann, you're just making matters worse with your gossip,” Lucinda interrupts. “Listening to the likes of Bessie Foley!”

“Bessie Foley?” Annie sits down next to Joe who gives her hand a gentle squeeze. “She still at Kennedy's office?”

Pat nods. “Just what you wants in a lawyer's office, Sadie Griffin's apprentice.”

Annie turns to Aiden. “So what did Bessie say?”

Lucinda raises her hand imperiously. “To make a long story short, Annie, Aiden here has been dating Bessie's niece, although I'm not sure that's the right word for what those two have been doing.” She gives Aiden a harsh, disapproving glance. “Never learn, will you? Anyway, Janet, the niece, she said Bessie hinted that the will's going to be a bit of an eye-opener.”

“What Janet said Bessie said,” Aiden interjects, “and I was there, remember, and in all my glory, I might add, was that some people were in for quite a surprise.”

Pat snorts. “Who wants her few lousy bucks anyway?”

Aiden cocks an eyebrow. “Few? How about half a million?”

Lucinda's hand slaps the counter. “The gall of that Bessie Foley. I've a good mind to report her to Tom Kennedy.”

Annie eyes her mother. “Yet you're not surprised at the amount.”

“Oh, don't mind that one. Besides, it's nobody's business.”

She pauses. “There is something else, though. Tom let it slip just now that Gerry Griffin is in the will too.”

“Wouldn't you know it!” says Aiden. “I always knew he had an ulterior motive.”

Pat, who has been tilting his chair back on its rear legs, lets it falls forward with a thump. “What is it with her and that son of a bitch? She'd do anything to spite us, don't matter we never did a thing to her. And he's the biggest bastard I ever met. Well, I've had it with the pair of them.” He stands up. “I'll sit with her tonight and then say good riddance, once and for all. Come on, Aiden.”

As Aiden follows him out, Lucinda drops into his chair. She seems on the verge of tears, a state Annie has become uncomfortably familiar with since arriving home.

“That bunch never were any good.” Joe is suddenly wide awake. “What can you expect the way they carries on, bedding their own kin? God, them Griffins been at that long as anyone can remember. No wonder half the youngsters don't make it.

Look at Sadie, sure, burying two of her own.”

“Really?” says Annie. “Sadie had two more children?”

Lucinda frowns and shakes her head at Joe. He ignores her and leans in close to Annie. “According to rumour, one was a dwarf and the other was so handicapped they said it was lucky it died.” He lowers his voice. “Thing is, no one ever saw them. Home births, they were. And Sadie had them in the ground so fast it'd make your head spin.”