The Insect Rosary (17 page)

Then

The best room was unlocked. I saw the door open and close from my seat on the stairs and caught a glimpse of black walls and pink blossom. I had looked in through the front window often enough but the curtains were always pulled to stop the furniture fading. Now it was open it meant there was someone important here and I waited to see who it was.

Mum came out of her room with Florence in her arms.

‘I told you to get dressed.'

I looked down at my jeans. ‘I am.'

‘Properly dressed. Skirt, socks and shoes, please.'

‘Are we going outside?'

‘You have to get your shoes on, stop arguing.' She herded me back to the bedroom.

‘Who is it down there?'

‘Your great-uncle, Father Seamus.'

‘Who's that? I've never heard of him.'

She sighed. ‘Just get dressed, please.'

Nancy was sitting on the bed, Sunday clothes already on. I fished out my skirt from underneath a couple of tops and stood waiting for her. She hummed and walked out. I dressed. She was waiting for me on the landing, dragging her hand over the bannister. She whispered right into my ear.

‘Bernie, you have to cover for me. I'm going out.'

‘No. If I have to go in there, you do too.'

‘Bern,' she hissed, ‘I have to go. I promised.'

I looked at her. She was trying to look friendly but she still kind of sneered like she was so much older and important.

‘You just wait outside the door until I've gone out the back, OK?'

I shook my head. ‘If you go I'm coming too.'

‘You're such an idiot, Bernadette.'

Mum shouted up, ‘Bernadette! Nancy!'

‘We're coming!' I shouted back and pushed Nancy in front of me so Mum could see her up through the banister. By the time we reached the bottom of the stairs Nancy had her Sunday face on but I could feel she was angry and stayed out of pinching distance.

Sister Agatha was in one of the armchairs by the blazing fire and Father Seamus was spilling over the other. She gestured to us in turn.

‘Father, this is Nancy and Bernadette.'

He smiled and nodded at us. ‘And how old are you two?'

‘I'm twelve and she's ten,' murmured Nancy.

He shook his head and held out his hand. ‘The wee African children I look after are only this big when they're twelve,' Nancy's shoulder, ‘and this big when they're ten,' half way down her arm. ‘I hope you thank God every day for all the food you eat and all the clothes you have.'

Nancy said, ‘Yes, Father.' I nodded, hoping he wouldn't ask me anything. There was a small sofa we could have squeezed onto but we carried on standing between him and the door. He smiled and nodded. I fidgeted. Sister Agatha scowled.

‘Go and see if your mammy needs any help with the tea,' she said. ‘And close the door.'

Nancy got to the door before me so I had to close it. We went to the kitchen where Mum gave Nancy the tray and me the plate of sliced fruitcake. She carried Florence. We walked back in silently and placed our offerings on the table. Sister Agatha poured the tea and gave Father Seamus one of the best side plates with the biggest slice of cake. The rest of us helped ourselves. Mum and Nancy sat on the sofa. I sat at Mum's feet in kicking distance of Florence's legs.

Father Seamus said grace. I bit my lip to remind myself not to look at Nancy because I could feel the laugh bubbling in my stomach and hear the flicker of Sister Agatha's eyelids as she watched me from the corner of her eye.

‘Amen.'

His cake disappeared in three wet bites. Sister Agatha kept hers on her lap, to show him she could resist temptation probably. I picked at mine, fingertip sized crumbs, trying to make sure there wasn't so much in my mouth that I wouldn't be able to swallow it down before a giggle. I didn't trust myself to look up from my plate.

I couldn't help it, whatever Sister Agatha thought, but I was supposed to be ashamed of it. My teacher complained that I did it at ‘totally inappropriate moments,' but that was probably what had made it so funny. Mum got it. She hadn't forgotten how to laugh.

It felt a bit safer so I looked around, keeping my head down. There was a wooden box with a record player in it, but it looked different to ours. There was a handle on the side so you could wind it. I could feel Florence wriggling on Mum's lap and she caught me on the ear with her hard red shoe. I rubbed my ear, but still didn't dare turn round.

Father Seamus talked so much that Sister Agatha had no excuse not to eat.

‘The only way,' he said, ‘to properly eat a mango is waist deep in water. It's true, Agatha, you wouldn't credit it. The fruit of God's gardens out there,' he pointed to hot countries, ‘is so fecund and ripe and juicy that a knife and fork are just impediments to joy. Of course,' he lowered his voice, ‘these low moral standards for civilised behaviour come across in other, less welcome ways. But you haven't eaten a mango properly unless you've stripped off in a hot lake and torn it apart with your teeth.'

Sister Agatha crossed herself. I felt a bit sick, thinking of the unleashed stomach of Father Seamus bobbing in the water.

Father Seamus and Sister Agatha moved onto sinners. Sister Agatha liked her world to be full of sinners and Father seemed to be enjoying making her gasp and call for heaven to help them. I didn't think she meant it. Mum said nothing, except the odd whisper to Florence.

Sometimes the relatives visited us in England, missionaries from far away breaking their journeys back to a ‘home' they expected to be forever unchanged. Except for the Protestants. They always expected them to have fled in the meantime and were surprised to find them still there. I quite liked Protestants secretly. There was only one other Catholic at my school and he was an idiot, but I didn't think I was allowed to say that so I didn't.

The sinful Africans or whoever were quite boring and I began to play with my heap of crumbs. If I crushed them under my fingertip I could nearly cover it and I tried to see how many fingertip gloves I could make before one fell off.

There was a noise in the hallway and the door opened.

‘Hello, Father,' said Donn.

‘Good to see you, Donn,' said Father, but he didn't look pleased at all. ‘Will you join us?'

‘I'm a bit busy at the moment, Father.' Donn turned to my mother, ‘Eithne, can I borrow Nancy for a couple of hours?'

I looked at Nancy, trying to hide her delight.

‘What for?' asked Mum.

‘Donn,' said Sister Agatha, ‘Father was just about to lead us in the rosary. I was just about to send the girls to get theirs.'

My stomach plummeted. I knew where mine was, for once, but I wished I didn't.

Donn shrugged, ‘You can't deny people in need, Agatha.'

Her lips went tight.

He said to Mum, ‘Catriona's locum hasn't turned up yet and she needs someone to mind the phone in the surgery.'

Mum looked at Nancy who nodded. Mum looked at me. I begged with my eyebrows.

‘She can't go on her own. But if Bernie could go with her, I'm sure they'd cope.'

Sometimes I loved my mother more than anything. I did try to make my smile look a little bit saintly as I ran from the room to change.

‘Take your rosaries with you!' shouted Sister Agatha after us.

 

The vet surgery was full of dangerous things that we must not touch. Only the phone, the pen and paper. I didn't know why Catriona had directed all the instructions at me when she'd asked Nancy in the first place.

Nancy answered, ‘I'll make sure she doesn't touch anything.'

‘And I'll make sure Nancy doesn't,' I added.

Catriona looked at Donn, ‘Are you sure this is a good idea, the both of them?'

‘Of course, they'll be fine.' He gave us a warning look and walked her out.

I looked around the shelves at all the fatal white boxes with unreadable labels.

‘I didn't even know she was a vet,' I said, ‘did you?'

‘Yes, she told me at the farm.'

I slipped off my chair and walked over to the shelves. ‘I hope no-one comes in. I can't read these let alone say them.'

Nancy span her chair around. ‘No-one will come in. It's not like a shop. We're just here to answer the phone.' She caught hold of the counter to steady herself. ‘Isn't he boring, old Seamus? Do you think his little African children like him? Maybe they can't understand a word he says so he hits them with his Bible.'

I shuddered. ‘I bet he doesn't speak African.'

‘That's not a language,' said Nancy, but she didn't sound sure.

I sat down again and twirled on my chair. ‘When's she going to be back?'

‘Not for ages,' Nancy bit her finger. ‘We should have brought some cake with us.'

I went around the counter to the small high window. ‘There's a shop across the road. Have you got any money?'

She shook her head, then rested it back and pushed as hard as she could. She went around four times and then grabbed for the counter again.

‘Go back the other way if you're dizzy.'

‘I'm not,' she said. But she didn't do it again.

The cream phone began to ring. She looked at me. I shook my head. She scooted her chair next to it and picked it up.

‘Hello, vet surgery.'

There was silence as she listened, a look of horror on her face.

‘I'm sorry?'

Silence again and she twisted the pencil around in her fingers.

‘Can you say that again, please?'

Silence. She held the phone out to me. I shook my head and she shook the phone at me. I took it and listened to the voice. It was a man who sounded just like Mary, just noises and the odd pause in which I was supposed to say something. I gently put the phone back on the cradle.

‘Did you understand anything?' she whispered.

I shook my head. ‘Let's not answer it again.' I leaned against the filing cabinet.

She smiled and rested her head back.

‘What's Catriona doing?'

Nancy shrugged. ‘Vet stuff. She's nice. She's not a bit like scary Mary.'

‘And what's happening with the driving? Got your licence yet?'

Nancy frowned. ‘I'm not allowed to talk about it.'

‘But you can to me. I know already.'

‘It's not just driving now. Tommy –'

‘Tommy what?'

She span her chair again and stopped it, facing away from me. ‘Nothing.'

The phone rang and she span back. ‘Don't answer it!'

‘What if it's Catriona?'

Nancy bit her lip. ‘Okay, answer it.'

‘Not me! You're her best friend.'

Nancy looked at me like she wanted to say something. The phone stopped.

She started again, ‘Tommy –'

I waited. The phone rang again.

‘Never mind.'

The phone stopped.

‘Nance?'

She looked at me.

‘You really won't tell him what I said about Skull Lane, will you?'

She looked at me like she was really sad and span her chair away. She stayed like that for ages. I thought she was wiping her face. The phone stayed quiet. I could hear heels tapping along the street, cars driving by. A car stopping. I wanted to say something but there was nothing left. She didn't trust me not to do something stupid and I certainly didn't trust her not to tell. The door to the surgery banged open. Tommy stared at me and then watched Nancy spin around in her chair. I could see that man with the shiny shoes standing outside. I recognised him from the farm. He looked at me and moved away from the doorway back towards the road.

Tommy hissed, ‘Why are you not answering the phone?'

Nancy gaped, closed her mouth and looked down.

Tommy pointed at me. ‘What's she doing here?'

‘Mum wouldn't let me out without her.'

‘Jesus,' said Tommy, turning to the still open door and then back to Nancy. He walked up to her and pointed two fingers. ‘You promised me.'

‘I know! I meant it! Some priest turned up and I couldn't get away. It really wasn't my fault.' Nancy couldn't even look at him but she looked at me, all right. I could see her thinking how to blame it all on me. ‘Bernie made Mum send her too.'

And now Tommy looked at me as well.

‘Another time, then?' he said, and banged the door shut behind him.

Nancy, pale and arms crossed over her body, kicked at the desk for a bit. That was when I first felt scared of her. I was going to pay for this. It wasn't my fault, but he was angry with her, so she was angry with me. I didn't look right at her, just from the corner of my eye, and waited for her to do something.

Now

She followed Bernie down the driveway, feeling the roll of the white gravel under her feet. In the dusk it seemed to glow under the thick trees. She pulled the front of her coat together and zipped it up, anything but think about where Bernie was taking her. She felt her eyes start to fill now and began rapidly blinking.

‘Bernie, I know where we're going. Do we need to do this?'

Bernie was waiting at the end of the driveway, the setting sun making her hair glow a little. She didn't answer. Nancy caught her up and they walked along the verge together. Nancy thought of Bruce, running alongside them. She shook her head and focussed on the landscape.

Bernie lifted the nylon rope and opened the gate. She walked through but Nancy stopped. The mud was thick around the opening with the footprints and sheep shit. A few steps out, in which she nearly lost a boot, and she'd reached firmer ground. A sheep bleated at her and trotted away.

Nancy felt sick. ‘I know, Bernie. I know what I did. You know what happened. Can we go back?'

Those stones, which she'd only seen from here in the dark, seemed the centre of the field from this perspective. The pitch and dip of the field further up wasn't straight across, but more circular, curving in a wide arc. She stood upright and backed away from the stones to have a proper look. There were four large oblong stones, three lying long and upright, and one on top but pushed to the side. Christ. It really was a circle with a tomb.

‘It looks different from here,' Nancy whispered.

‘It looks different in the light, you mean? You've seen it from here, Nancy.'

The sheep, which had been so still she thought they were asleep, broke like a wave and ran either side, back up the field. She never quite liked sheep.

‘So?' said Bernie.

‘What?'

‘Just say it. What you did right here. I know we both know but I've never heard anyone say it. Just tell me why you did it.'

‘I don't know why I did it. Children do stupid things, you know that. I'm going back.' Nancy walked slowly back to the gate. It felt the same, walking away from Bernadette in this field. She felt the horror of what she was doing echo back, and stopped.

‘Oh fuck!'

Nancy turned. Bernie was standing at the open side of the stones. Nancy heard her cry, tiny like a kitten, and Bernie fell to her knees. Nancy ran towards her but waited just short of the stones.

‘What is it? Is something there?'

‘He's still here.'

‘Who is?'

Bernie covered her face and sobbed. Nancy looked back to the gate and up towards the house, her bedroom window. There was no-one there. She slowly walked behind Bernie and saw the gap between the stones. She couldn't see anything. She got right behind Bernie and looked down into the ditch below the stones. She gasped.

‘Is that a body?'

The bones weren't exactly where they should be, but it was clear enough. The sun shone through the far gap created where the stones didn't quite create a corner. A skull. A corner of a ragged blanket.

‘That blanket.' Nancy fell to her knees as well. Her stomach felt heavy, the base of her throat tight.

Bernie shook her head. ‘I can't believe they left him here.'

Nancy could feel her hands trembling. Her words came out too quickly. ‘Who is it?'

‘What?'

‘Who is it?'

Bernie wiped her eyes and looked at Nancy. ‘It's Ryan, of course.'

‘No.' Nancy stumbled to her feet, ‘It's not him. He left. We know he did, didn't we see him leave? Mum said. I'm sure Mum heard from him.'

‘It's him.'

‘I can't –'

Nancy staggered away, trying not to be sick, looking for something to lean on. There was nothing. She pulled herself to the top of the bank and sat down heavily. She focused on her breathing, on looking normal in case Hurley looked out of her window, in case anyone looked out. Bernie was bent over. She looked like she was praying. Nancy wanted to tell her to get up, to run, but she couldn't. All she could do was watch.

The sun was almost set, filtered through far off trees. Bernie forced herself up and sat down next to Nancy.

‘I didn't know,' said Nancy. ‘Ryan. I didn't know.'

‘I know. I can tell.'

‘Some things are so vivid. Even what was missing is vivid. Like when you got back you didn't speak for a month. That was the beginning of the end.'

‘I didn't die, Nancy.'

‘In a way, you did. And then you started talking and you never stopped. But you weren't you anymore.' Nancy looked back to the stones. ‘What do you want me to say?'

‘I just want you to admit what you did. I want you to acknowledge how it all started. No-one believed me. It only got so bad because you wouldn't tell them what you knew. When I wasn't talking you should have been.'

Nancy closed her eyes. A plan, a night time escapade after everyone was asleep. Bruce and the stones. She looked at Bernie. She wanted to tell her it only gets worse and worse. Bernie could only hate her more. Words were dangerous.

‘Why did you come back here?' she asked Bernie.

She raised her palms and spread her arms wide. ‘Mum told me you were coming here. She wants us to make things right before she dies and all that. But that's not it. That's not why I'm here. I knew it was my last chance. It seemed like the last ever chance to find out.'

‘Find out what?'

‘What you know. It was the only time I could ask you.'

Nancy could smell blood and apples.

‘This is what I know,' Bernie whispered. ‘Uncle Ryan came back and Tommy killed him. Then Tommy started to flirt with you, all the driving lessons and make up, and you took his side, and I knew and no-one would ever believe me. You gave me up and then you gave up on me. No matter who I tried to tell, they thought I was mad because you never said a word.' Her voice dropped almost to a whisper. ‘Say it now. Just say it.'

Nancy kept her eyes on the stones and thought about nothing but breathing until she was sure she wouldn't be sick.

‘Can we leave the field?' she asked.

They helped each other up and walked up the field towards the house. Nancy tugged at the string, then gave up and climbed over, followed by Bernie.

Bernie looked away, back towards the stones. Nancy wanted to look anywhere but at her. She didn't want to remember. Too late. It was coming back, Cassie's room, keys in locks, silences, footsteps and, everywhere, Tommy.

Bernie spoke, ‘You always hated getting into trouble.'

Nancy closed her eyes. ‘I don't understand how these things are connected. It was at home when it all got really awful. You can't find anything here to explain what you did. You blamed everyone. You even blamed Dad and he even wasn't here, was he? He didn't know anything.'

Bernie barked a laugh. ‘Anything? Do you believe that? And even if you do, that means that you know Mum did.'

‘You took it out on him more. I never understood that.'

‘He was the one who could have said something. Why didn't he? It wasn't his home, or his family. He should have done something.' She pointed towards the stones. ‘He's the one who made me go there.'

‘It wasn't his fault. He blamed himself more than Mum did. You know what it did to him.'

‘Nancy, getting someone to admit the truth has become absolutely vital to me staying alive. He knew something. Everyone knew something. Everyone suffered.'

‘Don't you think-'

Bernie interrupted, her eyes narrow. ‘Do you seriously think you're going to suggest something that hasn't been covered in the last thirty years of being committed, therapies, analysis, drugs, all the rest of it? If you do, please say it.'

Nancy shook her head. ‘So, what do you need now?'

‘Tell me what I don't know.'

Nancy sighed, ‘Bernie –'

‘Anything. I've wanted to ask you again for so many years, but I couldn't do it by phone or email. I know you. It had to be us and it had to be here. You spent so much time with Tommy, you must know something.'

Nancy looked around for something to give her. ‘They used all of the barns, just about. There was a large metal case where they buried the guns.'

‘You saw that?'

‘I wasn't supposed to. When they realised –' Nancy covered her mouth. She still couldn't say. ‘It was real, wasn't it?'

Bernie eyes were wide. ‘Anything we can find, any information can help me get one over on him. Knowledge is power, Nancy. I want to have the power, for a change. Where did they bury them?'

Nancy held her hand over the wasteland between the barns and the cow shed. ‘Here. Somewhere here.'

The rain was starting now, falling from the dark blue sky, tapping on Nancy's raincoat and making it bloom blotches. She pushed her hands further into her pockets and picked her way across the yard. She climbed over the bits of metal and lumps of grass which had grown over other, unknown rubbish. Her wellies slipped on something wetly sheering from the ground, but she didn't fall. She took in the gate at the end which led to the field behind them, although she couldn't see it, and the open gate leading to the silo and hay loft, which she could just about see through the thin trees. Turning right around she saw the cow shed and, turning right again, the brick shed with its passageway to the yard, the garage, and then two further sheds. So many hiding places.

Bernie was still standing by the gate, waiting. She seemed to have decided something and walked to Nancy.

‘If no-one is going to tell me,' she said, ‘I'm going to find proof I can hold in my hands.'

‘Proof of what?'

‘Proof of anything they were doing. Proof that I'm not mad.'

‘You're not. What will you do with it? You can't go to the police.'

‘Why not?'

Nancy thought of Hurley. ‘It goes too deep. What about Donn and Agatha? What about Mum?'

‘What about you?'

Nancy nodded. ‘What about me?'

Bernie lowered her voice again. ‘Nancy, I won't ever tell. I can keep my mouth shut.'

‘Bern, you have never once kept your mouth shut! You have always told and talked and shouted. You have always told at least one person and I know because that person used to be me. You will talk. You can't help it.'

‘Nancy, you owe me.' She touched Nancy's arm. ‘Will you help me look?'

‘For what?'

Nancy tried to turn away and Bernie pulled her back.

‘Will you?'

‘I can't, Bernie. I don't think I want to know.'

Bernie grabbed Nancy's hand.

‘If you do, I'll try to go home. I'll try to visit Mum and Dad.'

Nancy looked at her eyes. Bernie had never lied to her, not on purpose. She talked and talked, but she always meant what she said. Nancy owed her.

‘I'll help.'