The Story of Before Page 22

  ‘Shut up! You don’t know what you’re talking about. He’s a friend, that’s all. And you’re pissed off because you’re not around any more. Well, we’re all getting along fine without you, David O’Dea. And if you’re trying to warn me off hanging around with Shayne, it’s not going to work!’

  I shoved my hands in my pockets and stormed over to Kev. David followed after me, his long legs easily keeping up with my strides.

  ‘Everything I wrote in that letter is true,’ he said. ‘You have to believe me. He’s not what you think he is. I thought you of all people would figure that out.’

  I looked into his face. ‘What do you mean, me “of all people”?’

  ‘You’re different to the others around here. I know you are. The very reason you think I’m lying shows that. You don’t accept everything you’re told. You’re always looking for the truth that lies underneath.’

  Was he being serious or was he mocking me? I wasn’t sure. But it shocked me that he knew me so well.

  He touched my arm. ‘But this time, Ruth, you’ve got it wrong.’

  The way he looked at me made me feel hollow. Like I had no brain to think with, no heart to feel with. Could he really be telling the truth?

  And if he was, did that mean everything Shayne had told me was a lie?

  I had a million questions. I opened my mouth, not knowing which one I was going to ask. But another voice spoke before mine.

  ‘Yer back.’

  David let his hand fall from my arm. Shayne bumped his bike over the kerb then threw it down on the grass.

  ‘I . . . yes . . . looks like it,’ David said, his eyes moving between my face and Shayne’s. His voice had changed. ‘Glad to see me, I presume?’

  ‘Glad to see ye? Can’t wait to see the back of ye. And ye needn’t be writin’ to anyone else about me, ye hear? If ye want to say stuff, say it to me fuckin’ face, right?’

  ‘I can write to whom so ever I choose, I’ll have you know.’

  Shayne screwed his face up. ‘Whom so ever? Whom so ever? What the fuckin’ hell does that mean?’

  ‘Whoever then. I can write to whoever I choose. Perhaps that offends you less?’

  ‘Why can’t ye just talk English?’

  Kev came over and whined at me. I picked him up. His trousers were damp from the wet grass.

  ‘You understand me, don’t you, Ruth?’ David asked.

  ‘I . . . I . . . sometimes,’ I stammered.

  Shayne grinned and jabbed a finger into David’s chest. ‘See! I’m not the only one. Even she hasn’t a fuckin’ clue what you’re on about half the time.’

  ‘I’ll thank you not to lay a hand on me again,’ David said, his voice shaky now.

  ‘Thank me, would ye? Ye can thank me all ye like but ye won’t stop me punchin’ yer fuckin’ face in if I want to.’

  David clenched his fists but kept them down by his sides. Shayne spat on the ground and puffed out his chest. He pushed his shoulders back and stepped forward, narrowing his eyes and tossing his hair away from his face.

  ‘Go on, then, hit me if it’ll make you happy,’ David said. He tensed his jaw and a bulgy vein at the side of his right eye throbbed.

  Shayne tilted his head to one side as if he was thinking about his next move. Then his fist shot straight out and he landed a loud smack on David’s open mouth. David barely flinched. Then he lashed back, punching Shayne’s forehead with his right hand and throwing a dig to his stomach with his left. Shayne staggered back a few steps, clearly surprised at the speed and sharpness of David’s reaction.

  Then they came at each other, arms swinging and legs kicking, loud grunts escaping from their mouths as they rained punches down on one another’s bodies. Shayne managed to get David in a headlock, pushing his arm hard against his neck. But David jabbed him fiercely in the ribs with his elbow and hooked his foot around Shayne’s leg. Shayne released his grip and David lurched forward then swung around, launching the full weight of his body against Shayne’s side, toppling him to the ground. He lay like a beetle on his back, arms and legs grappling in the air. David paused for a split second and Shayne rolled over and tried to get up. He wasn’t quick enough. David pointed his toe and, with all the force he could gather, drove his foot into Shayne’s back. Then he did it again. And again.

  Shayne writhed and squealed, ‘Fuck off, ye filthy lookin’ bastard ye! Get off me. Get off ye fuckin’ bollocks!’

  All this time, Kev was in my arms, watching the scene unfold with curiosity. At first he pointed and laughed, and although I knew I shouldn’t have let him see, I was as fascinated as he was and couldn’t bring myself to walk away. But his wonder turned to fear when Shayne started to yell and his little body stiffened in my arms. Despite being less than two years old, he knew that what was happening wasn’t right.

  The fight continued. They rolled about on top of one another, thumping and kicking and belting. I called out for them to stop, my voice sounding weak and useless against the scuffle. Shayne had David pinned to the ground, straining to get at his neck. David struggled to keep his hands away, at one point catching the flesh of Shayne’s arm in his teeth. I started to run, holding Kev’s head close to my neck. If I couldn’t get them to stop, I’d have to get Dad to help. But I’d only got to the edge of the green when I saw him, running towards me, his eyes all dark and fierce.

  ‘Christalshagginmighty! Is it the bloody zoo we’re living in or what? Didn’t I tell you to keep away from that . . . that . . .’ He sped past, yelling over his shoulder at me to take Kev home. But I stood rooted, scared at how angry he was, how he ranted and raved. ‘Animals!’ he shouted when he reached the fight. ‘Bloody animals! That’s enough, you hear me!’ He kicked out at David and Shayne. ‘You’re like a pair of dogs! Have you no shame?’

  ‘Fuck off!’ Shayne shouted. ‘It’s none of yer business!’

  Dad was furious. ‘You think you can speak to me like that, you little pup?’

  ‘I’ll say what I like. Ye can’t stop me.’

  David saw an opening and punched Shayne on the chin. Dad tried to muscle his way between them to break them apart, but got elbowed in the ribs. He slipped on the damp grass and toppled onto the two of them, his shoulder slamming into David’s face as he fell. David hit out, trying to push him away, and Shayne began kicking at Dad’s legs. Dad grabbed Shayne’s T-shirt and twisted the neck of it till his fist was shoved right up under his chin. Then David dived on Shayne, grabbing his hair and slamming his head onto the ground.

  ‘For the love of Jaysus!’ Dad cried out, trying again to push his body in between them. He managed to shoulder David away and ended up sort of straddling Shayne on all fours. Shayne looked up at him with disgust, set his mouth into a snarl and headbutted Dad right across the eyes. Dad reeled, moaned and fell back to the ground, lying flat on his back with his hands on his face.

  Shayne scrambled to his feet, his hair wild and flapping all about his head. He smoothed his T-shirt and shook his jeans back down to his ankles, a sideways grin on his lips. David sat up with his legs bent, resting his arms on his knees, breathing heavily. His right eye was puffy and the cheek underneath was swollen and pink. For a few moments, nobody spoke. Then Kev took his finger out of his mouth and pointed.

  ‘Daddy down,’ he said.

  ‘Did I not tell you to take him home?’ Dad said, screwing his face up in pain and easing himself into a sitting position.

  ‘I . . . Are . . . are you all right?’ I asked.

  ‘Of course I am!’ he said, frowning up at me. ‘Of course I’m all right! You hardly think this pair of . . . of . . . bowsies could get the better of me?’

  Shayne laughed. ‘Bowsies? Yer some old man, you know that?’

  Dad leapt to his feet and leaned into Shayne’s face. ‘Old man? Old man, is it? I’ll . . . I’ll . . .’ He held his fist an inch from Shayne’s chin, leaving it hovering for a second before taking it down and slapping it against his own thigh. ‘Waste of time trying to get th
rough to the likes of you.’ He turned to David. ‘And I’d have thought better of you. What’ll your friend Father Feely say when he hears about this? He won’t be too pleased, will he? After all his efforts getting you into that fancy school.’

  He came over and took Kev from me and I noticed his nose had begun to swell. ‘Now do you see why I told you to stay away from him?’ he said. ‘This is the real Shayne Lawless you’re seeing here. Vicious thug.’ He started walking. ‘Come on. We’re going home.’

  ‘Yeah, go on. Ye big coward, ye,’ Shayne called after us. ‘Don’t know what me ma sees in ye.’

  Dad stopped dead. Then he turned and made a run at him. Kev was scared as he bobbed up and down in Dad’s arms. ‘You see him?’ Dad growled to Shayne when he reached him. ‘This little boy? Look at his face. Look at it!’ He shook his head and sneered. ‘This was you once upon a time, you know. Now look at you. What the shaggin’ hell went wrong?’

  ‘What the fuck are ye talkin’ about?’ Shayne roared. ‘Think yer such a great da, don’t ye? Think the sun shines out of yer precious baby’s arse. I don’t give a shit what ye think. What any of youse think! I FUCKIN’ HATE THE WHOLE LOT OF YOUSE!’

  He picked up his bike and got ready to swing his leg over but David got to his feet and held onto the handlebars. ‘Wait. Don’t go yet. Hang on. Look, I . . . I’m sorry for, you know, the letter and stuff. I didn’t mean anything by it. I was only trying to . . .’ He looked at Dad. ‘We’re sorry, Mr Lamb. Everything got out of hand.’

  ‘We’re sorry?’ Dad said. ‘You needn’t be apologizing for him, do you hear? He can speak for himself.’

  Shayne shrugged and spat but said nothing.

  ‘Well, you know what?’ Dad said. ‘I don’t want your shaggin’ apology anyway. You can stuff it up—’

  ‘Shayne and I would’ve sorted it out, Mr Lamb,’ David cut in. ‘We’ve always sorted things out by ourselves before.’

  ‘Oh, really? I can see how you’d have sorted it out all right,’ Dad yelled. ‘You wouldn’t have been happy till one of you was half shaggin’ dead! You’re a disgrace, you know that? An absolute disgrace!’ He stroked Kev’s head as he spoke. ‘I’d be ashamed of my life if any son of mine ever behaved like that. It’s your fathers I feel sorry for. God help them. What did they ever do to deserve the likes of you? I’ve a good mind to . . . to . . .’ He trailed off, shaking his head and gulping, knowing straightaway he’d put his foot in it.

  ‘To what, Mr Lamb?’ David said, his face drained of colour, his voice flat and grave. ‘You’ve a good mind to what? Have a word with them? Have a word with our fathers?’ He nodded at Kev. ‘Your dear little angel might not grow up like me and Shayne, if you’re lucky. But he’s had a bit of an advantage right from the start, hasn’t he? At least he knows who his father is.’

  Shayne stayed silent. His mouth hung open as if he wasn’t sure what had just happened, but his gaze grew tight and steely and he stared over at Dad. David caught my eye and my breath quickened, wheezing in and out of my chest so fast I could hardly catch it. His jaw clenched as he bit down hard, and behind the mask of his face, I could tell his whole insides were on fire.

  Dad didn’t reply to David’s words. There was no way back from what he’d said. And I knew there wasn’t a hope in hell he’d say sorry. He wasn’t going to let them think they’d won. He reached up and touched his swollen nose, then turned and walked away. I followed after him, watching Kev’s head resting on his shoulder. Before we got to the house, I looked back and saw the two boys still standing on the green where we’d left them, their bodies dark, rigid shapes against the bright green growth of new grass.

  Bridie came out her front door as I passed. ‘Just waiting for Majella,’ she said, fussing at the lacy scarf around her neck and trying to sound all important. ‘We’re off to the Westgorman Park Hotel for afternoon tea.’ She obviously hadn’t seen the fight. ‘Kevin’s getting as big as a house. Saw your daddy bringing him in there. Mammy away again, is she?’ I gave her a thin smile; I wasn’t going to give anything away. She frowned but then Majella’s car appeared in the cul-de-sac and she gave a little yelp, teetering down the drive in her too-tight shoes.

  Dad handed Kev to me as soon as I stepped into the hall. ‘Your mother phoned earlier on,’ he said, his voice all flat and grim. ‘I’m going to collect her now. Can I trust you to look after your brother for an hour or so?’

  I nodded.

  ‘And I want to talk to you when we get back.’

  I didn’t need to be told what it’d be about.

  Kev bawled when Dad left. I could tell it was because of the fight. It wasn’t his usual cry – the screechy, whiny one that made me want to plug my ears and dive into the hall cupboard. It was more like what you’d call sobbing or weeping, and his eyes were filled with a sadness I’d never seen in him before. It was like he’d just figured out there were other people in the world besides himself, and he wasn’t the only one who could feel pain. He looked more like Dad than ever, and as the tears streaked down his cheeks, it was almost like watching Dad cry.

  The others had been told to hoover the sitting room and give the place a general tidy up before Mam came back, and they knew from the tone of Dad’s voice not to argue. They didn’t know about the fight but Sandra said Dad’s nose looked funny and she asked what had happened. I wasn’t in the mood for explaining so I said I’d tell her about it later.

  I had a feeling that a lot of things would be out in the open once Mam and Dad came back from Auntie Cissy’s.

  I couldn’t calm Kev. No matter how many faces I pulled or toys I showed him or funny noises I made, he continued to cry. After a while, his sobs turned shivery, rippling through his body and causing loud, shuddery sounds to escape from his throat. I knew the only thing that might make him stop would be to put him in his pushchair and take him for a walk. The appearance of a dog or a flock of birds was usually enough to have him smiling again. I told the others I was going and they looked relieved; even the hoover didn’t mask the sound of Kev’s crying.

  It was beginning to get a bit chilly, but by the time I realized it, I’d reached the top of the lane and I figured it was too late to go back to get Kev’s coat. I knew it’d be dark soon anyway so we wouldn’t be out for long. As the pushchair rattled down the lane, the sight of a scrawny black cat put a smile on Kev’s face and he finally began to quieten down.

  All sorts of thoughts ran through my mind. I wondered what Mam and Dad would talk about on the car journey home. Would Mam sit there in silence, holding all the things I’d said about Dad and Liz inside, making Dad ask her what the shaggin’ hell was wrong? Would Dad tell her about the fight on the green, leaving out the bit where Shayne said he didn’t know what his ma saw in him? Or maybe he’d say nothing and just pretend he’d been horsing around with Kev and that’s how he’d got the bump on his nose. And I thought about how it’d all be different once they came home. Dad had said he wanted to have a talk.

  The truth – whatever it was – was going to come out. I knew it.

  Things had gone too far to be kept secret now.

  I walked through Churchview Park then out onto the path that ran around the church grounds and, before I realized it, I was heading through the gates of the graveyard. Kev was asleep now, his head lolling to one side and his arms and legs dangling out of the pushchair like a rag doll. I knew Mam would probably go mad because I’d allowed him to fall asleep so late in the day, but the poor thing was exhausted from all the crying and he needed a bit of a rest.

  The graveyard was deserted. All the Sunday visitors had long gone. Fresh flowers had been left at the graves: cellophaned bouquets of pink roses; bunches of bluebells and buttercups stuffed into jam jars; wreaths of red and white carnations. The air was soaked with the scent of them all and as I pushed Kev past the rows of grey headstones, it was as if we were cutting through a thick mist of expensive perfume. I breathed it in deeply, its sweetness rushing up my nostrils, filling my lungs an
d filtering up to my brain. It made me kind of light-headed and woozy, and my legs wobbled slightly as I walked deeper into the middle of the graveyard. I turned a corner and stopped beside a tree, its branches like an umbrella over my head. Closing my eyes, I leaned against the thick trunk, feeling the hard, knobbled bark pressing into my back.

  Everything was going to change once I got back home. There’d be no pretending any more. The wave of something bad was almost on the shore now. I could feel it. I could hear it. I could sense it in the air. It was going to crash down once Mam and Dad came in the door and our lives would never be the same again. Even if Mam hadn’t told Dad what I’d said, she wouldn’t be able to keep it inside for ever. It would all have to come out.

  Kev shifted and gave a little moan. I opened my eyes. It was beginning to get dark and the air was getting colder so I slipped off my cardigan and draped it over his legs. He smiled in his sleep and I touched his cheek and, at that moment, I pictured Mam’s face the last time she’d held him, after I’d told her about Dad and Liz. She’d said he was ‘the only one’ and I wondered what she’d meant. Maybe that he was the only one of us who didn’t give her any trouble, the only one she could depend on not to cause her any grief. The only one she could count on not to make her sad.

  I passed by Dick Goggin’s ‘final resting place’, as Bridie called it, with its newly laid layer of fine blue-grey stones and cement vase of red plastic roses at the base of its headstone. ‘Because they don’t wither, dear,’ Bridie had told me when I’d asked her why she kept fake roses on Dick’s grave even in summer, when she could’ve picked bunches of real ones from her own garden. They were better than nothing though. Lots of graves had been forgotten about, their headstones casting black shadows across their flowerless stone beds.

  Only minutes had passed since I entered the graveyard, but already a murky dusk was filtering down from the sky, turning the air grainy and making it hard to see. It was time to head for home. A clammy dampness descended all around as I made my way towards the gates. I shivered. I looked down at Kev. He was still fast asleep, slumped down with his head on his chest. But his legs were bare. My cardigan had slipped off and was nowhere to be seen. Though I thought about leaving it and going back to find it the next day, I didn’t want Kev to be cold. And it was my fault he didn’t have his coat in the first place. So I left him at the side of the path and started walking back.