Chapter 9
‘I’ll be home around ten o'clock, Pat,’ Mary called out, opening up her handbag and checking one last time for her purse. She knew Pat had just gotten paid, but she was still waiting for the right time to ask for the much needed housekeeping. The thoughts of what lay ahead for her in the bedroom later on, made her shudder with revulsion, but what choice did she have, either way, she would have to comply with his wishes whether she liked it or not. He considered it her duty, a duty justified by marital vows.
As far as he was concerned she had no say in the matter. And it was the only way to guarantee getting that much needed money from him. And so the pattern, set very early in their marriage, began. If she wanted money, she had to earn it and earn it she would, in their bedroom, on the flat of her back. In the earlier days, it had been so much more bearable, he would just roll over on top of her, she laying perfectly still beneath him and her fortnightly task would be over in a matter of minutes.
He would then roll off, fall asleep and she would rush out to the bathroom, washing herself, ridding herself of his body and his secretions, praying she hadn’t become pregnant. But lately, the once a fortnight sessions were becoming more diverse, if not perverse.
From the straightforward missionary positions of the first ten years, his aggression had progressed. If he wasn’t pulling her onto his large fat thighs and ramming into her, grunting and sweating beneath her, he would take her from behind. Orally, vaginally, anally, she had complied with it all, but whatever way he took her, he was always rough, brutal even, taking her dry and sore, hurting her more times than not.
But it was the things he said to her as he penetrated her, that added to her revulsion, making her hate herself more. The luminous digits of the alarm clock would tick well over an hour before he would eventually climb off and slump into a heavy post-coital sleep. Then, and only then, would she pull herself away from him and stumble in the darkness of the bathroom scrubbing herself, soothing the bruises and trying to hide the scratches and bites that covered her body. And in all that time, she had just put up and shut up, pulling off the most convincing of fronts to the outside world, making sure she maintained that code of silence and secrecy, because at the very core of this secrecy, lay a deep-rooted shame at what her life had become.
She still couldn’t quite accept just how she had come to arrive in this house, married to such a sadistic man. She had been a willing and a loving wife, a good mother, a kind and thoughtful human- being...and her reward? Pat Dalton. Her marriage to Pat had been degrading and distressing, and though the name-calling and bullying was a constant reminder of that fact, what he demanded in the bedroom was far worse. Over the last twenty years she had been beaten, raped and abused at every opportunity and all carried out in a slow insidious way, a way that ensured compliance and silence.
There were never any marks on her face, no public displays of intolerance toward her, no notion of the sadistic nature that lay beneath the façade Pat liked to portray. For Pat too had a reputation to consider. But once the front door closed Pat Dalton would take off that mask and reveal his true ugliness. It hadn’t gotten easier either, as she had once believed it would. He still disgusted her. But what choice did she have? This was her bed, literally and she would have to lie in it, simple as that.
‘Make sure you stop off at the chipper, I’ll be starving afterwards,’ he ordered.
‘I’ve no money, Pat,’ she smiled evenly for the sake of their guest Ritchie. Pat stood up unfolding one paper note and threw it onto the counter next to her.
‘You’ll get some more later on,’ his moist tongue ran over his bottom lip. Mary recoiled, but not before snatching up the five- pound note and stuffing it inside her bag. Without further word, she left the room and closed the front door behind her as she left the house.
Hearing the door close Pat nudged Ritchie. ‘It’s all sorted, I rang Hennessey’s, you start Monday.’
‘Thanks, Pat, you’ve been a great help to me.’
‘Anytime, son.’
‘I’d appreciate it if you'd let me tell my father about it, Pat,’ Ritchie toyed.
‘Of course, though no thanks are necessary.’
‘He’s a bit fucked-off with me at the moment.’
‘Why’s that now?’ Pat spoke softly. ‘Ah, I upset the McGuire girl.’
‘How?’
‘Nothing really, we were messing about and she got all upset, you know yourself, Pat,’ Ritchie smiled.
‘Oh I get-ya,’ Pat affirmed, winking.
‘Dad was a bit mad at me for trying it on, you wouldn’t believe the commotion it caused?’
‘Did she do that?’ Pat narrowed his eyes, pointing at Ritchie’s cuts. ‘She did, the little bitch.’
‘Little bitch is right, I hope you gave her a slap back?’ Pat nodded righteously.
‘God no, Pat,’ Ritchie adopted his best shocked expression. ‘Should have, it does them no harm.’
‘Still, it’s done with now, besides, I think I’d better stick to women my own age in future.’
‘Prick teasers the lot of them, son, no matter what age,’ Pat winked again.
‘You’re probably right,’ Ritchie nodded, wishing to changing the subject. There was no way, any woman, no matter the age, would be seen with fat Pat Dalton, but Ritchie didn’t think he had the guile to bullshit the man to that extreme. ‘Well, Pat, thanks again for sorting out the job for me.’
‘Anytime, son.’
I’m not your fucking son, you thick ignorant prick! Ritchie thought as he stood up and carried his plate over to the sink.
‘Leave that be, she’ll do it when she comes home.’
‘Sure...?’
‘That’s her job,’ he answered with a derisory shrug. Standing face- to-face, and almost identical in height, Pat threw his arm around Ritchie’s shoulders, walking him towards the front door.
Ritchie had to restrain his irritation as they walked. ‘Be sure and let me know how you get on?’
‘I will, Pat,’ Ritchie stuck out his hand and clasped Pat's, shaking it forcefully.
‘Your a grand lad, wish I had one like ya,’ Pat grinned. ‘Sure isn’t Maria grand?’
‘She’ll be pleased to hear that, son,’ Pat’s mind began to go into overdrive.
Ritchie saw it too and knew a quick exit had to be made. ‘Thanks again Pat,’ he reached for his hand before turning away and walking quickly away from Pat Dalton and St Jude’s. The charade was enough to make his skin crawl, and even though he was grateful to him for getting him a start, he still thought of him as an uncultivated gobshite, a pathetic parasite living by association off men like his father. At least now, he had a job, one that could bring him cash and ultimately freedom from his father and with it, a chance to finally leave that hell he called home.
***
As he reached home, he saw a silhouette pass by the living-room window, so Ritchie changed direction and walked around to the back of the house. He knew Richard would have heard by now that the McGuire’s had left him go, unharmed and untouched. And only now, standing outside his back door, did he think of what might actually be waiting for him inside. He hadn’t given a single thought to coming home since leaving Pat Dalton earlier. But now he'd arrived, he knew he'd have to go inside, reminding himself that it wouldn’t be for much longer, now that he had a way out. He would just keep out of everyone’s way, work as many hours as possible and then leave Eranmore as fast as he could.
He had hated his father with a depth that frightened him of late, and despised his mother’s continued compliance. As for his brothers and sisters, like him, each, were happy when their father vented his rage on the other. It was survival of the fittest in the Gallagher household and if he was going to have to live with them all for the next few weeks, then he would do just that, survive. Hearing voices in the kitchen as he approached the back of the house, he pushed the door open and slipped quietly in, seeing his father and the family sitting in the dining room eating dinner. As he closed the door behind him, the voices stopped. Richie walked through the kitchen, using every last bit of his courage, it was only after he had passed out of sight did he hear again the low rumbling tone of his father's voice.
The thumping inside his chest grew louder as he continued on. Grasping the banister to steady his climb he couldn’t help but feel the cold sensation of fear prickle the skin on the back of his neck. It was then he realised his father was watching him. Ritchie hovered at the foot of the stairs. The urge to run up the flight of steps and lock himself inside the safety of his bedroom was all consuming. But running from his father would be pointless. He swallowed nervously blinking frantically as his father approached.
‘Upstairs,’ the order came.
Ritchie’s mouth quivered slightly open knowing he didn’t have it in him to take another beating. His heart was pounding, hard cold fear gripped him to his core, and his legs wouldn’t budge.
‘Move’ Richard barked.
Ritchie, having little choice, climbed the steps methodically slowing for a time, desperately trying to delay of what would happen next. As they reached the top of the landing, Ritchie hovered unsure of where to go next, but a sharp thump between his shoulder blades shoved him forward and another shove tripped him up sending him head first into his bedroom. Richard threw him up against the wall. With his father’s weight leaning against him, he had very little room to move. He brought his hands up to his face cowering from the blows he was sure to get, and cried out at a sharp sting of pain as Richard slapped them down.
‘I don’t remember saying you could come back here’ Richard growled, close to his son's face.
Ritchie winced openly turning his face as far into the wall as he could.
‘You have no idea what you’re little stunt with that McGuire girl, cost me. If I have to show them that the Gallagher name will not be shat on by a runt like you, then so be it. One thing’s for sure though, sonny-boy, you’re not staying here,’ he snarled.
‘But where’ll I go?’ Richie pleaded.
‘I don’t give a shit, just make sure you’re gone by the morning,’
he answered, his lips curled up in disgust.
Ritchie knew it was pointless saying anything more. It would only result in a punch, a slap, or something even more painful. He didn’t see his father leave, he just heard the eerie click of his bedroom door as it closed after him. Only then did he open one eye to look across to where his father had stood only seconds before and swallowed hard, breathing heavily trying to stifle the sobs but to no effect as small tears began to trickle down the side of his face.
Ritchie conceded defeat, slumped onto his bed, curled into a ball, and sobbed like the child he had never been. For all his bravado, Ritchie Gallagher had finally succumbed to the truth that he was more frightened of his father than of any Mick McGuire’s. He was finished here for good and he now knew it too.
***
Susan Gallagher watched as her husband come down the stairs, gloating and arrogant in his usual vicious demeanour. Putting down her knife and fork, she stood up from the table lifted her plate and walked over to the sink.
‘What’s going to happen to Ritchie?’ her youngest son whispered.
She turned and looked at her children, each reacting with the same fear and bewilderment, she felt. ‘I don’t know, William,’ she sighed. She never knew what Richard would do. He was as unpredictable as an Irish summer, and like the weather he could be full of sunshine one minute or black as a storm cloud the next.
Richard did what Richard did, and that was the law of their land.
Susan turned her back and scraped her dinner into the dog bowl before stacking her plate in the dishwasher. Looking out the window into the twilight evening she saw Richard’s reflection appear beside her.
‘I’ll be back around twelve,’ he said, speaking evenly.
She nodded without turning and heard him snatch his car keys from the counter top, flinching as the noise vibrated around the room. Then she waited as she did every evening, for the atmosphere to change the minute he left, and only when he had, did her children return to the subject of their brother. She knew the questions would be relentless, but she didn’t know what to say, she didn‘t have any answers for them. The heaviness in her chest tightened again and her breathing laboured. Richard had dealt with their son in the only way he knew, by being as cruel and vindictive as possible. What else would she expect him to do, after all he enjoyed the control he had over them all and that included her.
‘Mam, what did Dad do to Ritchie?’
‘Is Ritchie going be allowed to stay?’
‘Is it true about Claudia McGuire?’
‘Is Ritchie leaving home?’
‘Mam...!’
‘Enough! I don’t know what Ritchie’s going to do, alright!’ she cried. Grabbing her handbag, she left the kitchen, marching straight upstairs, not stopping until she reached her bedroom. Closing the door behind her, she crossed over to the wardrobe and pulled open the closet door reaching inside to the back. Rummaging around with her hand until she felt the familiar touch of what she was searching for, she lifted out the quart bottle of Vodka and slipped into the en- suite, locking the door behind her.
Pulling down the toilet seat, she slumped down onto the seat and in one swift move, she unscrewed the cap and lifted the rim of the bottle to her lips, gulping down two large slugs of the bittersweet liquor. As it burned her throat, the welcome warmth soothed her.
Screwing back on the cap, she placed it down beside her and dragged her handbag around to her feet. Reaching inside, she pulled out a small brown phial and counted out two tablets into the palm of her hand. Slapping her open palm against her mouth she closed her eyes as they slowly dissolved. Finally, leaning back against the cold cistern behind her, its hard surface cold against the thin material of her blouse, she opened her eyes once more and reached down for the Vodka again.
This time she sipped the liquid slowly, removing any of the powdered aftertaste left in her mouth. Slowly, she felt the dull ache of anxiety seep away as a welcome blanket of numbness engulfed her. She would go and see if Ritchie was alright in a while, but first she would wait. She would just sit and wait, just as she had always done. She just needed a few more sips before she could move.
Though frequency and volume had increased lately, she was careful to hide how much she drank. But however much she seemed to drink lately, it was never enough. Sighing, she put the bottle to her lips again and swallowed. She would give it a few more minutes and then she would go to her son, like she had always done after her husband hand meted out whatever he decided to their children. And she would do what she always did, she would cry with them.
***
The music was throbbing as Eva approached the pub and peering through the panelled glass she could see the place was buzzing. She only hoped that Mulcahy’s looked much better on the inside than it did on the outside. Pushing the door open, she stepped into a haze of smoke and the sound of bass guitars crushing her eardrums. Seeing the bar up ahead, she walked around to the furthest side of the counter and leaned against the small empty space, taking out her purse.
‘What‘s it to be?’ the barman tugged at the beer tap, leaning over toward her to take her order.
‘Bottle of Miller please,’ she shouted.
The barman placed a glass filled with ice, and a bottle of Miller down on the counter. Eva handed over a five-pound note, but an arm came over her and waving in front of her own.
‘On me,’ the voice beside her said. Turning she saw the face of muscle-boy from earlier that morning. ‘Thanks,’ she smiled graciously. She didn’t miss the nod he gave the barman as he grabbed his change. Normally it would have galled her, his arrogance, but here and now, she found him funny, in an obvious and contrived way, but humorous all the same.
‘Somewhat of a legend around here, are you?’ she lifted her eyes. ‘I wouldn’t say that, they hardly know my name,’ he grinned. ‘Come around the back, it’s quieter,’ he shouted into her ear. She nodded and followed him through to the crowd, thankfully the music faded as they walked.
‘This is more like it,’ Eva smiled.
Doyler turned and smiled. ‘Here, let me introduce you to everyone,’ Doyler pulled a low stool beside his vacant one and sat down.
‘Lads, this is Zoe,’ he announced.
‘Actually that’s not my name,’ she smiled though felt a bit stupid now for lying about something so daft as a name.
‘But I thought...’
‘It's Eva,’ she smiled at the faces looking at her. ‘Hi, Eva,’ the gang echoed.
‘Hi,’ she smiled.
‘Introduce us properly Doyle’s,’ one of the girls said.
‘That’s Aine, Liam, Suz, Niamh, Frankie, Jas, Stu, Robbie, and Carol.’
‘Why is it always `and’ Carol?’ Carol asked. ‘Because you always sit there,’ Doyler said.
‘I get the feeling you lot are used to being introduced to Doyler's spare stool,’ Eva added.
‘Oooooooo,’ they all chorused and laughed.
‘Thanks for driving my sister this morning,’ she turned to Doyler. ‘No prob, did she get back to her fella?’ he asked.
‘Not yet.’
‘Whose this...?’ Aine leant forward.
‘My sister left this morning, she was missing her boyfriend.’
‘And she went back?’
‘Yep.’
‘Fool.’
‘Aine!’ Suz cried. ‘Don’t mind her, she hates all men.’ Not all.’
‘Except the type that bark.’
‘Oi!’ the group roared, laughing at the private joke.
‘I prefer dogs to men...much more reliable,’ Aine added for Eva's benefit.
‘That’s because they can lick their own balls,’ Liam added seriously.
‘Will you stop or Eva will think we're a bunch of perv’s!’ Aine scolded.
Eva laughed easily enjoying the welcome. Sipping on her glass of Miller she leant back in her stool, straining to see Robbie. He lifted his head and caught her glance. ‘Hi again,’ she smiled.
‘Hello,’ he replied with ease this time.
‘I didn’t have to say any prayers tonight, though I did find a small bible on the bed.’
‘That’s just for light reading,’ he smiled across at her. ‘Hey do you two know one another?’ Doyler frowned. They both nodded silently.
‘How?’
‘He helped a damsel in distress,’ Eva murmured. ‘So did I,’ Doyler rushed.
‘And she was very grateful,’ Eva shot back.
Doyler looked at Robbie quizzically.
Eva sensed his annoyance which strangely irritated her. She knew that look from old. Doyler obviously saw himself as pack leader, and was put out if anyone, even a friend, crossed that line. She decided to add a bit of fuel to the fire. ‘And he’s been kind enough to offer to walk the distressed damsel home later, as well,’ she said, sipping innocently on her beer.
A ripple of nodding approval from the women around the table had the effect Eva hoped for. Stu elbowed Robbie in full view of everyone, and Robbie let his head drop further, reaching for his pint.
But Eva caught the start of a small smile lifting his lips beneath the curtain of hair covering his face.
Doyler slapped the back of his hand against Robbie’s thigh. ‘Dark horse, ain’t ya?’ he muttered.
‘Oooooo…something tells me the Doyle’s has been ousted,’ Aine shrieked.
Doyler flashed a full sarcastic grin at her, then dropped the smile and supped from his pint. ‘So, where did you two meet?’ Doyler pressed, wiping the froth from his upper lip.
‘Drop it, Doyle’s, will you,’ Niamh warned, sensing his irritation. ‘I’m only asking, it’s not like it’s a secret, is it?’ he jerked his head toward Robbie.
‘Ignore him, Eva, he can’t figure out how any woman could refuse his charms,’ Niamh laughed.
‘All two and half inches of `em,’ Aine chuckled.
Eva supped more on her beer but felt the atmosphere change dramatically between Robbie and Doyler. She hadn‘t wanted to cause this aggro, least of all between friends. She was a short-stay visitor and would be gone very soon. The rest of the evening passed with Doyler becoming more and more inebriated as the hours passed, and she had spoken no more with Robbie, focusing instead on the girls and enjoying the craic as they ripped the guys beside them apart. Ordinarily the group was relaxed and fun, but the hostile atmosphere between the two boys was growing and it was making Eva edgy.
Glancing at her watch, she saw it had just gone half eleven and realised that is had been a while since she had eaten. Feeling like she could do with some food before she got too drunk and seeing the chipper on the way in, she decided it was time to leave and get something to eat.
‘Going to the loo, hang on, I’ll go with you,’ Carol grabbed her bag.
‘Kinky lot, ye are, going off to the loo in groups,’ Liam said, grinning.
‘Ye only go alone because ye're worried that the guy next to you might have a bigger willy,’ Carol cackled.
‘Which wouldn’t be hard amongst you lot of flea knobs,’ Aine shrieked.
‘No,’ Eva laughed, ‘I’m off home.’
‘What, now...?’ Aine asked, looking shocked.
‘`Fraid so. I’ve been evicted, starved, and made half drunk in the space of twenty four hours. I need my bed,’ she laughed.
‘Eh, Rob...?’ Stu elbowed him again.
Robbie swamped the remainder of his pint and grabbed his jacket, leaving a brooding Doyler chatting to the two Ahern sisters a couple of feet away.
‘It’s great meeting you all, if you’re ever in London, look me up,’ Eva added sincerely.
‘Well we’re here tomorrow night, same time, if you fancy coming over for one,’ Aine shouted after her.
‘I just might.’
‘That’s if you're not saying the Rosary,’ Carol shouted. Eva smiled. ‘Thanks again, I really enjoyed myself’
‘Hey, Doyler, Eva’s going!’ Aine shouted falling back into her seat roaring loudly at his stony expression.
Eva looked across at him smiling politely, but he just turned away.
Prick! She shrugged. Robbie walked ahead of her leading her through the crowd and the music. Outside, the cool soft drizzle was welcome against the heat of their bodies.
‘Robbie...?’
‘Yes?’ he said, slinging his jacket over his shoulder.
‘You don’t have to leave, you can go back inside with your friends.’
‘Do you want me to?’
‘No. But I don’t want to spoil your night just because I’m hungry.’
‘You’re not, honest.’
‘Sure?’
‘I'm sure.’
‘I don’t think your friend Doyler was too happy,’ she probed as she
walked toward the chip shop. ‘No?’
‘Did you?’ she asked.
‘Dunno really, didn’t give it much thought,’ he lied.
‘You don’t suppose he got the wrong idea, do you?’
‘About what?’
‘About me turning up there tonight.’
‘Probably...if I know Doyle’s.’
‘But I didn’t turn up to see him,’ she added. Eva would have never normally have been so obvious, but the combination of beer, lack of food, and the fact that she fancied Robbie made her all the more mischievous. But Robbie didn’t seem to take the bait. The fresh night air made her feel woozy and along with the small amount of food in her stomach, Eva was beginning to feel quite drunk. He was unbelievably polite and reserved. She stopped in her tracks and watched as he took a few steps forward.
Suddenly noticing she wasn’t in step with him he turned around. ‘Robbie...?’
‘Yeah?’
‘Is there anywhere we can, I don’t know...go for a walk?’
‘Er….’ Robbie was genuinely perplexed by Eva. He had no clue what she would say or do next, and hated showing his blatant inexperience.
‘I need to ask you something.’
‘Aren’t you hungry?’ he reminded her.
‘Yeah,’ she suddenly remembered her rumbling tummy. ‘C’mon, let's get some chips and find somewhere to sit,’ she stepped forward linking her arm through his. Arm in arm and in complete silence they walked into Ned’s and ordered their food from a quizzical O’Keefe, then shot out the door as fast as they could before the pubs emptied on top of them.
‘Where shall we go?’ she asked. ‘I know a place.’
‘Oh yeah, take all your women there, I bet?’ she teased.
‘No,’ he looked at her oddly. Bringing her down a side street and through two short alleyways led them onto a gravel path leading to a small wooden hut by the beach.
‘What’s this?’
‘The lifeguard's hut.’
‘Are we allowed?’
‘Nope.’
She laughed. Robbie pushed open the door of the small timber shed clutching the large bag of chips and batter-sausages. Eva shivered, not from the cold touching her but from expectation. Looking out across the wide Atlantic, she watched in awe as bright moonbeams rode the low waves crashing gently against the shoreline. Inhaling the salty air, the unfamiliar sounds and rhythm of the sea, enchanted her.
‘Were in,’ he whispered.
‘Why are you whispering?’ she whispered back.
‘Dunno,’ he laughed. Shoving the door open with his shoulder, they clambered inside the tiny wooden cabin and stood for a moment, illuminated by the moon.
‘C’mon, let’s eat,’ Eva smiled. Sliding down the length of the timber wall, they tucked silently into the warm chips and sausages, slugging longingly on the cans of Fanta and washing down the salty take-away taste from their lips.
‘Needed that,’ Eva sighed contentedly. ‘And me,’ he replied.
Eva sighed contentedly and looked toward Robbie. Her face was inches from his, as she watched the dark silhouette of his face. He became aware that she was looking at him now and he so desperately wanted to look back, but couldn’t bring himself to. He knew he would blush, stutter and show how inept he was. Instead he focused on a stray piece of thread sticking out from the seam of his jeans.
She knew he was nervous and she also began to realise he had not done this before.
She suddenly wished she hadn’t been so rash in coming down here and was now worried about rushing him or making him feel uncomfortable in any way. After all she had been exactly where he was once upon a time. Eva marvelled at the air of innocence that hung, like an invisible buffer, between them. If he was sitting in London, at some club, she would have no doubt by now been well acquainted with his mouth, his hands and his body and yet here she was trying hard to keep a reign of her intentions without scaring him off.
It was intriguing to be on the opposite side of the fence for once and it made the moment all the more special. She liked Robbie but knew that what she did next would determine their immediate future. She wanted so much to put her lips upon the fullness of his mouth, so much so she could practically taste him. It would be something she would remember for the rest of her life, the waiting, the moment it would happen, but wait she would. Besides, she felt so relaxed with him, she began to consider telling him why she was actually in Eranmore. She didn’t think her instincts had been wrong so far.
Now she was about to find out. ‘Robbie...?’
‘Hmm?’
‘I’m going to tell you something...’
He didn’t answer. He knew what was coming. She’s got a fella. Knew this was too good to be true.
‘Look at me,’ she prompted gently.
She could only tell he was looking at her by the direction of his face, his expression lost in pervading shadow.
‘I’m searching for someone.’
‘Who?’
‘Someone I need to find.’
‘What for?’
‘To answer some questions for me.’
‘Who is it?’
Eva bit down on her bottom lip, running her tongue over its moist surface.
‘I have no other way of finding out, and I don’t want anyone else to find out that I'm looking for this person.’
‘Sounds serious, Eva,’ he shifted his weight toward her.
‘It is, that’s why I need your help. But it can't go any further than these four walls or I will have to go home.’
‘Okay.’
‘How old do you think I am?’
‘Don’t know …17…18?’ he shrugged ‘21.’
‘21,’ he gulped. ‘Yep.’
‘Oh.’ Shit! She’s going to think I'm way too young. Shit-shit!
‘You’re, what, 18, 19?’
‘19,’ he added despondently. ‘It doesn’t matter does it?’
He shrugged.
‘It doesn’t matter to me,’