No Way to Say Goodbye (23 page)

His pants were around his ankles when the phone rang again.

The plane landed in Gatwick just after eight a.m. Ivan was up and out of his seat before the seatbelt light flickered off. Sienna grabbed his hand and squeezed it. “It’s going to be fine,” she said, trying to soothe him but instead tears of anger sprang to his eyes. He held them back with a giant effort of will and went about retrieving their hand luggage. He was exhausted – he hadn’t slept a wink since that call. Sienna insisted on driving the hire car and he relented simply because he didn’t have time to argue.

He called his daughter from the passenger seat. “Justy, are you all right, love?”

“I’m OK, Dad.”

“Where’s your brother?”

“Beside me.”

“Put him on the phone, love.”

“Hi, Dad.”

“Hi, son. Are you all right?”

“We’re fine.”

“Your mother?”

“They said she’s sleeping. I haven’t seen her but I think it’s bad, Dad.” His voice broke.

“I’m on my way, Chris. I’m nearly there.”

“OK, Dad.”

He cancelled the call and looked at Sienna. “How could this happen?”

She didn’t have the answer. Instead she told him to open the map so that they could take the right exit and get to the hospital as quickly as possible.

A momentary smile crossed his lips. He liked her no-nonsense approach to an emergency and would be for ever grateful for her help – he wasn’t sure he would have coped as well alone.

They arrived at the hospital just over an hour later. Justine and Chris were in the family room, to which the nurse directed him. Sienna told him she’d get coffee and left him to go in alone. When he entered the small room Justine was lying across the couch, asleep. Chris had his back to him, staring at something in the middle distance.

“Chris!” he whispered, and his little boy turned to him, tears streaming down his cheeks.

“I’m here, son,” he said, hugging him tightly. “I’m here now.”

Justine woke. “Dad!” she said, rubbing her eyes.

“There she is!” he said, his voice light.

She smiled and Chris moved over so that she could share in their father’s warmth. “I missed you, Dad. I really missed you.”

“That’s all over now,” he replied, stroking her hair.

They were interrupted by a policeman who’d been assigned to the case. Ivan told his children to stay put and left the room to stand in the corridor and discuss his ex-wife’s domestic disturbance. “What’s happening?” he asked.

“By the time we got there your ex-wife had been badly beaten and, as you know, she was unconscious. Her boyfriend was gone, but with information provided to us by your son we tracked him down to his local pub. He’s in custody. Obviously we can’t hold him unless your ex-wife is willing to press charges.”

“She’s still my wife,” Ivan mumbled.

“OK.” The man nodded.

“Have you spoken to her?” Ivan asked.

“So far she’s pretty uncommunicative. She’s sleeping now but when she wakes maybe you could have a word.”

Ivan doubted that anything he could say would assist but he promised to give it a try. The policeman walked away.

He spotted Sienna sitting in a chair, drinking coffee and reading the newspaper. He waved at her and she smiled, then shooed him away. He went back into the family room to his two hungry kids. They were in the canteen with Sienna, eating chips, sausages and beans, when the doctor tracked them down. Again, Ivan went into the corridor to talk to him.

“She’s got three broken ribs, a broken arm and a cracked skull.”

“Jesus Christ!”

“She’s lucky to be alive.”

“Can I see her?”

“She’s very upset,” the doctor warned.

“I’m sure she is. I’m only here to help.”

“OK. Follow me.”

Despite being apprised of her injuries, Ivan wasn’t prepared for the reality. His wife’s face was reminiscent of a deflating purple balloon. Her left eye was swollen shut and her lower lip was bloody and stitched. Her arm wasn’t in a cast: it was bandaged, with metal bars piercing her skin.

His hands went to his mouth. “Oh, Norma!”

His ex-wife’s right eye started to leak and he wasn’t sure if it was tears or blood. She tried to talk.

“Don’t speak,” he said. “You don’t have to say anything.”

She shook her head slightly. He pulled over a chair and sat close to her bed. He held her hand. “Mary warned me. I should have come to see you for myself. I was too busy with…”

Norma raised her good hand and placed a finger over her damaged lips.

“I’ll murder him,” he promised.

“He never laid a hand on the kids,” she said, her words resonating with pain, both physical and mental.

“I know.”

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

“I’m sorry too, love.”

He stayed with her until she slept.

Ivan woke from a broken sleep at dawn. Sienna was sleeping soundly so he got up and moved across the room as quietly as he could. He managed to make it as far as the dressing-table and then he stubbed his toe – the yell was muted and he hopped just once.

“I’m awake,” she said, eyes closed and a grin on her face.

“Sorry,” he said, sitting down on the bed with his foot in his hand. “That feckin’ hurt.”

Sienna stretched, luxuriating in it like a comfortable cat. “The bed’s hard,” she noted and Ivan agreed. “Have you checked on the kids?”

He confirmed that he’d looked in on them next door a number of times during the night.

“They’ll be OK,” she told him, hugging his waist.

“I know,” he agreed, although anxiety was etched into his face. “I’ll have to take them home.”

“I know.”

“I mean them all. Norma too.”

“I know,” she repeated.

“She can’t stay here. She’s got nothing here,” he said, by way of explanation, but Sienna pressed a finger to his lips, much as his wife had to hers the previous evening.

“You don’t have to explain.”

“I don’t love her any more,” he said.

“Good.” She glowed.

“Good,” he said happily.

She lifted the covers. “Now get in here,” she said, pointing, “and then get in
here
.” Ivan, despite all his problems, was only too happy to oblige.

Sienna took Ivan’s shell-shocked kids to the cinema so that Ivan could visit their mother. She seemed a little better than the previous day. Her lip was less swollen and her speech clearer. She wasn’t in as much pain as the morphine had fully kicked in. Her mental state had improved too. She didn’t appear to be constantly on the verge of tears. She’d even smiled at him, or so it appeared, but with the swelling and the stitches it was hard to tell. She told him how many times she had been beaten and why she hadn’t confided in him. He didn’t understand any of the reasons she gave but he didn’t say so because it was unnecessary and Ivan was never one to enter into an unnecessary argument. She reiterated that her boyfriend had never laid a hand on the kids. Ivan had soothed her when she became distressed while she was recounting her latest and most brutal ordeal. Later he brought in two coffees. He helped her to drink hers by holding it to the less damaged side of her mouth as her broken ribs and fractured arm prevented her doing it for herself. She gave up after a few sips.

“The doctor here says you’ll be fit to travel in a week’s time. I talked to Dr Macken and he said he can get you into the Regional in Cork for any follow-up appointments for your arm –”

She put up the good one to halt him. “Dr Macken? Ivan, I’m not going back to Ireland.”

The shock on his face was clear to see.

“What made you think I’d go back to Kenmare?” she asked.

“I don’t understand.” He scratched invisible sea salt from his hair.

“Ivan, I won’t be going back to that house, but we’re staying in the UK.” She tried to meet his eyes.

“Well, where will you live?” he asked, exasperated.

“That’s my problem,” she said.

“
What?
” he all but roared.

“We’ll be fine,” she said sternly.

“No, Norma, you won’t be fine. You’re in bits. You’ve nowhere to live. You’ve got some lunatic trying to kill you and you’ve got my kids.” He was trying to be calm but his face had flushed.

“I’m tired,” she said, when he sat down. “Please leave.”

He got up. “This isn’t over, Norma,” he promised, and left her to her insane thoughts.

The kids were next door, playing with an Xbox he’d bought earlier that afternoon. Sienna sat cross-legged on the bed, listening intently to his rant and attempting from time to time to allay his increasing frustration.

“What the hell is wrong with her?” he said.

“Just give her time.”

“To do what?” he shouted.

“She’s had a shocking experience. You need to give her breathing space.”

“I gave her breathing space and she nearly got herself killed,” he said, lowering his tone.

“You’re not her father. You can’t just drag her home.”

Ivan sat down on the bed beside Sienna and took her hand. “I know. But whatever she does,” he said, with great resolve, “I’m taking the kids home.”

“You’ve spoken to your solicitor?”

“In the car. They need to come home with or without their mother.”

“Is that what you want? To take them without their mother?”

“Of course not. They’ve been through enough this year but she’s leaving me with no choice.”

“Talk to her,” she said.

“I have!” he said, frustration building once more.

“No, you didn’t. You presumed she was coming home and when she told you she wasn’t you went mental. Going mental isn’t talking.”

“So what do you suggest?” he asked, burying his head in his hands.

“Look at the situation from her point of view.”

“I am. She’s fucked. Excuse my French. She needs to come home.”

“She left her husband, her home town, her friends and her family for someone who ended up beating her and terrorizing her kids. If it was me I’d find it hard to face people.” She shrugged – he’d noticed she did that when she was talking sense.

“You think she’s afraid to come home?” Ivan mumbled, about to scratch his head.

“I think she just needs a little reassurance,” Sienna said, taking his hand away from his hair.

She was right, of course. Norma did want to go home. While Sienna talked with Ivan, Norma lay in her hospital bed contemplating a bleak future. There was nothing but misery for her in the UK. She had wanted for months to go home – but how could she? How could she return to the home town that had watched her walk out on her husband for a man she barely knew? How could she return with her tail between her legs, beaten and broken by that same man? How could she ever walk through the streets of Kenmare with her head held high? People would say she was selfish. People would say she deserved what she’d got. People would say she was an unfit mother to have allowed her children to witness such violence. And all those people would be right.

Ivan took the kids with him for the evening visit. They were subdued in their mother’s presence. They spoke quietly as though they were afraid that a loud noise would break her. They maintained a distance from the wires and protruding steel, but she smiled through her discomfort, insisting she was fine and that everything was going to be all right. Ivan sent the kids to the canteen so that he and their mother could talk, but first he offered to help his wife adjust an awkwardly positioned pillow. Norma accepted his assistance and was grateful for it. He had just placed his phone on her locker when it rang. Mary’s name appeared. He silenced the call, noticing Norma’s fearful expression. He realized it was a link to all those who judged her.

“It was Mary. She’s been worried about you,” he said.

It was obvious she didn’t believe him.

“We weren’t happy, were we?” he asked.

“No,” she mumbled.

“No,” he agreed, “but I would have stayed with you until the end.”

She raised a hand as if to defend herself.

“You were right to walk away. I’m glad you did what you did. You knew something was wrong and you were brave enough to make a change.” He smiled at her surprise. She hadn’t expected gratitude. Norma’s eyes sprang a leak. “Marriages break up, Norma. And no matter what is said or done, everyone knows there are two sides to every story.” He tried to take her hand but she pulled it away.

“Easy for you to say. You’re not the bitch who broke up her family!” Tears ran down her swollen face. “You’re not the one who got what she deserved.”

“My father always says a small town is like a big family. It doesn’t matter what you do or where you go, you’re always welcome home. People still care, Norma.”

She remained silent. A minute or maybe two passed, then Ivan stood and put on his jacket. He leaned down to kiss the small area of undamaged forehead. Then he paused. “You have a lot of thinking to do,” he said at last, “but you need to know this.”

She looked at him quizzically.

“I’m taking the kids.”

She nodded.

“I’m taking them home for good.”

Her eyes filled.

“I didn’t fight you before because I believed they were best off with you. I was wrong. If you choose to stay here, you’ll be alone.”

Tears slid down her face but she was in no shape to argue. “I thought it was all a little too good to be true,” she muttered.

“I meant what I said. I’m glad you left. It nearly killed me but I’m glad. This isn’t about punishing you. It’s about our children. Deep down you know that to be true. You’ve been hurt enough, Norma. You’re in a terrible place but you’ll make your way back, and when you do we’ll be waiting.”

“Don’t take them, Ivan!” she begged.

“I have to,” he said, turned his back and walked away to the sound of her cries.

Outside he wiped away his own tears.
I’m so sorry, love.

18. Beauty and the Beast

It was a beautiful spring day. The kind of day that instils a sense of wellbeing in even the most troubled soul – bright green grass, healthy brown bark and deep green leaves on branches that spread out against a translucent blue sky. Light shone down on the pretty town and with it came a heat that was more than the effect of global warming.