The Old House on the Corner (52 page)

‘Leave the chairs, Ernie. It doesn’t matter if they get wet,’ Anna commanded.

‘Well, that’s the most dramatic barbecue I’ve ever been to,’ Gaynor remarked, as she and Ernie between them helped Anna home. ‘Poor woman, what an awful time she’s had. I’m glad she got everything off her chest. Yes, I’d love some cocoa, Ernie. Thanks for asking.’

Kathleen remained, not caring that she was getting soaked, watching Rachel being embraced by her children. Then Kirsty removed the sodden cloth from the table, James began to fold it, and Kathleen said, ‘You were magnificent, Rachel. I can’t believe you’ve been holding that in for so long. Me, I’d never had stood up to it.’

‘I loved him, that’s why,’ Rachel explained. She
looked weary all of a sudden, all her power gone. ‘I used to love Frank very much.’

‘What’s going to happen now?’

‘I don’t know. We’ll sort it out tomorrow.’

‘Good luck then, Rachel.’ Kathleen went indoors and picked up the phone, but Steve still hadn’t rung.

Marie had noticed the car parked outside the row of garages and assumed it belonged to Ernie’s sister or Victoria’s friend. She was having difficulty unlocking the front door. Her hands were wet and the key felt slippery. Patrick was urging her to hurry. ‘Will you stop your nagging?’ she barked. ‘I’m doing the best I can.’

‘But me guitar’s getting soaked, Ma.’

‘I’m sure a drop of rain won’t harm it.’

‘It’s more than a drop.’

The key worked at last and they fell inside. Marie turned to close the door and saw a man coming towards her. ‘I’ve been waiting for you in the car,’ a familiar voice said. ‘I didn’t like to intrude on the party.’

‘Enda!’ Marie took a step backwards and bumped into the guitar. It made an echoey, booming sound and Patrick tut-tutted irritably. ‘Enda Kelly. Come in, come in, before you get drenched.’

‘You’re a sight for sore eyes, Marie.’ He gave her a warm hug, aimed a pretend punch at each of the lads, and grinned, still the same old Enda: tall, big-boned, white-blond hair as flat as a pancake. Marie was transported back to the night she’d gone to his sister’s house and he’d come into the bedroom accompanied by her future husband.

‘How did you know where we lived?’ she demanded, a mere second before realizing it was a stupid question. He knew because his sister, Brigid, had given him the
telephone number off the card advertising the computer and he’d rung and asked Danny for the address. ‘It doesn’t matter. I already know. Let’s go into the kitchen and I’ll make a cup of tea. Liam will be back in a minute,’ she said when Enda and the boys had seated themselves around the table. This was all wrong, Enda shouldn’t be there, but Marie no longer cared.

‘Right now,’ Enda said flatly, ‘Liam Jordan’s in the police station being questioned about his drug dealings.’

It took a long time for the meaning of the words to sink in. ‘But he’s a priest!’ Marie protested when they had. She was shocked to the core, so much so, that the water she was pouring into the kettle missed its target and splashed all over her skirt.

‘I know he’s a priest, Marie. He’s also a murderer. It was Liam who arranged to have your Mickey killed.’

There was another long silence, during which they were conscious of the rain pounding against the windows and thunder rolling in the sky.

Patrick was the first to speak. ‘Liam killed our da?’ His fists were clenched, the knuckles white. ‘If I ever get near him, I’ll kill him with me own bare hands, so I will.’

‘And so will I,’ Danny cried.

‘No, you won’t, boys. Me and a few other lads have been searching for him every-bloody-where over the last twelve months so we could do that very thing ourselves. We never dreamed he was with you, Marie.’ Enda’s blue eyes narrowed. ‘Did you not realize you were protecting your husband’s killer?’

‘Indeed I knew no such thing.’ Marie’s face turned as red as her hair. Just as if! ‘I was protecting our Patrick, or so I thought. He said – Liam said – that the men that killed Mickey were after Patrick too.’

‘But why would anyone want to kill me?’ Patrick spread his hands in a helpless gesture.

Marie angrily banged her fist on the draining board. ‘Enda Kelly, will you kindly explain what’s been going on? Oh, will someone make this tea? I’ve lost the hang of it.’ She couldn’t remember how to switch on the kettle. The wind had risen and sheets of rain were being blown against the windows – the bedroom windows were open and everything would be getting wet, but she didn’t care if they had to swim upstairs.

Danny got up to attend to the tea making. Marie sat and wondered if she was going mad or had she already lost her brain when Mickey died?

‘You know the weekend Mickey went to London to stay with his sister for her birthday?’ Enda began. ‘Before he left, he took her back to the hotel where she worked – what was her name, Marie?’

‘Patsy. Still is, unless she’s died herself while we’ve been away.’

‘The hotel’s one of those grand places that cost the earth to stay in and a small fortune to buy a drink. Patsy took Mickey into the bar and got him a lager: she probably got it buckshee, her being on the staff like.’

‘What’s this nonsense in aid of?’ Marie asked impatiently. ‘What’s it got to do with my Mickey being murdered?’

‘I’m coming to it, girl,’ Enda replied, just as impatiently. ‘Who did Mickey see in the bar, but Father O’Mara, now known as Liam Jordan, not dressed as a priest, but all done up in a posh suit and sitting with two other guys. Mickey recognized one: a Unionist racketeer, well known in the drugs trade. He would’ve run a mile, but it was too late. The priest had already seen him.
And that, my darling Marie, is why your Mickey had to be killed.’

‘I remember,’ Marie said slowly, ‘it saying in the papers that kids were being offered drugs in schools, in parks, discos: all over the place. And Father O’Mara – Liam – was behind it and he had to kill Mickey before the truth came out.’ It was
that
simple. Her darling husband had been in the wrong place at the wrong time and had had to die to save Liam’s miserable life and protect the drugs business. Marie didn’t think she would ever set foot inside a church again, ever say another rosary. It was so unfair. What sort of God would let such a heinous thing happen? They all grimaced when thunder shook the house and the windows rattled in their frames. She asked, ‘How do you know this, Enda?’

‘Because Mickey rang me from the airport and told me what he’d seen.’

Patrick said, ‘I was offered cocaine at school, Ma. It happened more than once.’

‘Jaysus, Mary, and Joseph, what is the world coming to!’ Marie fell silent. She didn’t possess the words to describe how she felt about Liam Jordan. Eventually, she said, ‘But why did he want our family out the way? He insisted we leave, said it was dangerous to stay.’

‘It wasn’t Liam’s hand that held the gun that saw Mickey off, Marie. There are men even more ruthless than him. Perhaps he genuinely thought you were in danger, that Mickey had said something the minute he got home. Or maybe he thought you’d be good protection while he hid himself away. We weren’t searching for a family man when we searched for Father O’Mara.’

‘That’s probably it, Enda,’ Marie cried. ‘Like a fool, I went and told him that you knew who’d done for
Mickey and that you weren’t the only one. It was only afterwards he started going on about Patrick and us having to hide out. Jaysus!’ She felt like killing herself. ‘Me sisters use to tell me I had the biggest mouth in Donegal.’

‘There’s been no harm done, Ma,’ Patrick said philosophically, patting her hand. ‘We just spent a lot of time away when we didn’t have to.’

‘Even so, son.’ She sighed and said to Enda. ‘What made you ring this number and ask for the address?’

‘Because our Brigid thought it just a wee bit peculiar that you denied being Marie Brennan when she knew full well you were. There’d been a rumour the priest had made his way to Liverpool – this city is a hot spot for drugs. Did you know that, Marie?’

She shook her head. ‘No, I did not. The people I’ve met here have been charming through and through.’

‘Anyway,’ Enda went on, ‘I didn’t exactly put two and two together, but we got someone to watch this house and they saw his holiness leave.’ He smiled grimly. ‘They followed him and he met up with a couple of unsavoury looking boyos in a pub on the Dock Road, spent a lot of time on his mobile, people came in and out to see him and went away with some very suspicious looking packages.’ He sat back in the chair and folded his arms. ‘The peelers were onto him like a shot when we fingered him – anonymously mind.’

‘So,’ Marie said slowly, ‘it’s all over. Now we can all go back to Donegal and live with me mam.’ She couldn’t wait. Tomorrow morning, first thing, she’d start to pack, although it would be desperately sad to say goodbye to Sarah and the other friends she’d made.

‘Ah, no, Ma,’ Danny wailed. ‘I’d sooner stay.’

‘Me too,’ echoed Patrick.

‘We can’t, lads,’ Marie told them. ‘I’ve no idea who this house belongs to and I’ve no intention of sitting here waiting to be thrown out.’

‘But will we still be getting Victoria’s computer?’ Danny persisted.

‘In the morning, before she goes. She said so at the barbecue tonight. Now, Enda,’ she said briskly in an attempt to take charge, be herself again, ‘would you like a sandwich of some sort and I’ll make more tea, not that I made the first lot? And there’s a bed upstairs free if you want it, although I’ll change the bedding first. I’m sure you won’t be wanting to sleep between Liam’s old sheets.’

‘I’ll have the tea, Marie, but say no to the sandwich and the bed. There’s supper and a bed waiting for me at our Brigid’s just along the road.’ He stretched. ‘I’ll sleep better tonight, knowing that the priest’s had his comeuppance, although I’d rather have shot the bastard and sat and watched him die.’

‘And so say all of us,’ Patrick murmured.

Marie didn’t say anything, just made an involuntary Sign of the Cross and thought about her darling Mickey.

‘This is my last night, Gran. My last night in our house.’ Victoria sighed as she sat on the bed and changed the pillowslips for dry ones – the window had been open and they’d got wet. ‘What am I supposed to do with the bedding in the morning,’ she asked her grandmother fretfully, ‘roll it up in a ball and throw it away? Or shall I put it in a plastic bag and ask Gareth to give it to charity? Debbie won’t want our old sheets and stuff, that’s for sure …’

‘They’re coming to live here, Gran.’ Victoria stroked the bed on the side where Gareth had slept the few
nights they’d been together. ‘I suppose I’ll learn to live without him. After all, I’ve hardly known him a week, but you can find out an awful lot about a person in just seven days, almost everything there is to know in fact, enough to realize you want to spend the rest of your life with them.’

She looked out of the window. Victoria Square looked different tonight: the wet bricks looked darker and the roofs shone like they were covered in silk. The lamps seemed to be drooping, as if the weight of the water was too much for them, and the light they emitted was weak, casting a pale, feeble circle underneath.

‘I suppose I’d better get to bed. I’ll have a busy day tomorrow.’ Her suitcases were already packed, but there were bound to be last-minute things she’d forgotten. ‘Anyroad, Gran, goodnight. Next time I talk to you, it’ll be from America.’

15
JULY
2001

St Swithin’s Day

Victoria had been up for two hours when the telephone rang. The taxi was coming at ten to take her to Manchester airport and she was already dressed for the journey in a cream linen suit with a blue T-shirt underneath. Her passport and airline tickets were in her bag, along with a book to read, a packet of paper handkerchiefs and two packets of mints. The rest of the bag contained all the rubbish she usually carried around: she hadn’t thought to clear it out.

She picked up the phone. It was Carrie, calling to wish her good luck and have a safe journey. ‘As soon as I get to a computer, I’ll send an email,’ Victoria promised.

The receiver had hardly been replaced a minute, when the phone rang again. This time it was Gareth. Her heart melted at the sound of his voice.

‘Hi,’ he said huskily.

‘Hi, yourself.’ She nursed the phone against her face, as if it was Gareth himself.

‘I’ll be coming over to say goodbye, but I thought I’d ring and say my own, personal goodbye first.’

‘Goodbye, Gareth,’ she whispered.

‘Goodbye, my darling Victoria. If I say adieu does that mean we’ll meet again?’

‘No, its au revoir.’ She could hardly speak her voice was so thick with sadness and longing.

‘Then au revoir, my one and only love. Be happy, won’t you?’

‘You too, Gareth. Au revoir.’

‘Just in case I won’t be able to stop meself from leaping on a plane one day very soon, where will you be working in New York? I forgot to ask.’

She knew, and she knew that he knew, that he would never be free to leap on a plane and fly to New York. Nevertheless, she told him where she would be. ‘My office is in the World Trade Center. I’ll be on the ninety-somethingth floor.’

‘Wow! That’ll be some view. You never know, I might turn up one of these days.’

Someone was knocking on the back door. ‘I have to go, Gareth.’

‘I know, I heard the knock. It’s the Jordan boys. I’m in my office and I saw them go in.’

‘Bye, Gareth.’ She put down the phone and opened the door to the Jordans. Their red hair was wet after the short walk from their house. It had rained steadily all night and now it danced in the pools that had formed in the concrete path around the emerald green lawn. She hadn’t been able to sleep for the monotonous drumming on the roof.

‘We’re going back to Ireland, to Donegal,’ Danny announced. ‘Me Uncle Gerry’s coming over in a van tomorrow to take us and our stuff back.’

‘And we bought you this.’ Patrick handed her a tiny cardboard box. ‘It’s a little St Christopher medal to attach to your watch.’

She thanked them both profusely and said she’d attach it before she boarded the plane. ‘Then I’m bound to arrive safely, aren’t I? Now you’d better go upstairs for the computer.’