Whose Life is it Anyway? (26 page)

So, on a freezing cold day in December, my father and his brothers took off their good funeral-going coats and dug Uncle Pat’s grave in their best suits, while the rest of us looked on, shivering. Everyone gave advice – including the striking grave-diggers who tut-tutted about the way the grave was being dug until Uncle Tadhg told them if they weren’t going to dig they could stick their opinions where the sun didn’t shine.

Eventually, the hole was declared deep enough by the majority of the mourners, although some felt they should keep digging. Mum was getting into a fury because she could see that Dad and the others were exhausted and on the verge of collapsing, while the rest of us were in danger of hypothermia.

‘The hole is big enough and deep enough. Now, can we please lay this poor man to rest?’ she said in her don’t-mess-with-me voice.

The uncles then lowered the coffin into the not-so-big hole and you could see it didn’t fit properly, it was a bit lopsided, but no one dared to complain. They were all afraid of my mother. I was worried that his head would be squashed up against the side of the coffin, but then he was dead anyway so it wouldn’t bother him.

Father Hogan said a few prayers, then Auntie Sheila and Sally dropped flowers into the grave and Brian threw in Uncle Pat’s favourite cap.

‘He’d be better off putting a bottle of whiskey in,’ muttered Finn.

‘Don’t be so disrespectful,’ I said, coming over holy now that I knew my help was appreciated and not taken for granted like it normally was. I had a new-found respect for my cousin Brian and his family and I wasn’t going to be mean about Uncle Pat any more.

‘Killjoy,’ said Finn, teeth chattering.

‘Shush,’ I hissed.

‘Amen,’ said the mourners, as Dad and his brothers finished putting the soil back over the coffin.

Siobhan was standing on the edge of the grave keening like an old pro.

‘Get your sister,’ Mum said. ‘She’s making a show of herself.’

I grabbed her by the arm and yanked her backwards.

‘Piss off,’ she snapped. ‘I’m saying my last farewell to Pat.’

‘Mum said you were making a fool of yourself and I was to stop you.’

‘She did not.’

‘Did too. You’re being a drama queen. He wasn’t your dad.’

‘You’re just cold and unemotional. No wonder you don’t have a boyfriend,’ she snarled.

‘Any lad would be lucky to have her,’ said Dad, putting down his shovel and placing an arm round me.

Brilliant! For once Siobhan was caught out being mean to me.

‘I didn’t mean it, Dad, I’m just overcome with it all,’ said the actress.

‘Lookit, girls. My brother is lying in that grave and I’ll never have the chance to talk to him again. Family is the most important thing in life. Don’t fall out with each other because when the going gets rough it’s only your family you can rely on. So I want you to be nice to each other. No more squabbling. OK?’

‘Yes, Dad,’ we said.

‘Now, let’s go home. We’ve only a few more hours of entertaining and then we’ll have the place back to ourselves and we can celebrate Christmas properly.’

Later that afternoon, when everyone was leaving, Sally came over to me. I was, as usual, washing dishes and when I saw her standing beside me I dropped one on the floor. She bent down to help me pick up the broken crockery.

‘We’re leaving now,’ she said, ‘and I just wanted to say thanks. I always thought you were a bit self-centred but you’ve been really nice over the past few days.’

Self-centred! The cheek of her! I was
en route
to being canonized for my selfless acts. I bit my tongue. ‘Uhm, you’re welcome.’

‘You’re very lucky,’ she said. ‘You’ve got a brilliant father.’

‘I know. I’m sorry yours was such a bad one.’

She shrugged. ‘Well, he’s gone now so we can move on. I guess it’s just luck. My Mum’s great and so is Brian, so two out of three isn’t bad.’

‘You got Uncle Pat and we got Siobhan,’ I said, as my cousin laughed for the first time – probably – ever.

‘Well, I’ll see you around.’

‘OK. Good luck, Sally,’ I said, diving back into my washing-up. I was afraid she might hug me and I was worried her killer instinct might rub off on me via osmosis or something.

She left and I breathed a sigh of relief. Finally, everyone was going and we could get our house and our lives back to normal. I vowed there and then to block the whole murder episode out of my mind for ever.

Finn came in. ‘They’re nearly all gone,’ he said, sitting down on a kitchen chair.

‘Where did you disappear to? I’ve been washing dishes on my own for ages. Grab that tea-towel and help.’

‘OK, Bossy Boots,’ he said, coming over to dry the dishes. We worked in silence for a while.

‘Niamh?’

‘Yeah?’

‘Did you know the police questioned them?’

I said nothing, determined not to get dragged into a conversation about it. I was trying to erase it from my mind and Finn wasn’t helping.

‘Well? Did you?’ he repeated.

‘Yes, but it’s all over now, so just forget it.’

‘Do you think they’ll question us? Ask us if we know anything?’

‘No, Finn, they won’t. It was just a procedure. They don’t suspect anyone and the case is closed. Now forget about it.’

He wiped a dish absentmindedly. ‘It’s kind of exciting, though, isn’t it?’ he whispered.

‘No, it’s sad. Now change the subject.’

Finn, realizing that I wasn’t going to entertain his conversation about killer cousins, wandered off, leaving me to tidy up. I was enjoying the peace when Mum came in. ‘Thank God that’s over,’ she said. ‘I feel as if we’ve been mourning him for weeks. Leave those things. Your dad and I’ll finish them later. I want you to come inside and sit down.’

Oh, God, not another pep talk. I couldn’t take any more heart-to-hearts today. I was worn out. I just wanted to be left alone. Mum took me by the arm and guided me out of the kitchen into the good room, which looked normal again now the coffin was gone.

Dad was standing in the middle holding a big box tied with a pink ribbon. ‘Happy Christmas, pet,’ he said.

I pulled off the bow, opened the box and inside was a brand new tennis racket, the most gorgeous tennis dress I’d ever seen and Chris Evert runners to match.

‘Wow!’ I squealed.

‘We’ve got you proper membership to the tennis club, so you can play any time you like. You never know, you might meet that nice boy who asked you to dance again,’ said Mum.

I hugged them both. ‘This is the best present ever,’ I gushed.

‘Now, there’s not to be too much tennis. I want you to keep studying and be the first O’Flaherty to go to university. But, as your mother told me, a girl needs to have fun and you’ve been a credit to us lately so we wanted to get you something you’d really enjoy.’

‘Thanks, Dad, it’s perfect. I’m so glad I got you and not Uncle Pat as a father,’ I said, kissing his cheek… and if he knew what I knew he’d be thanking his lucky stars he’d got me and not Sally as a daughter.

32

After the drama of Uncle Pat’s demise I didn’t mind getting back to a normal routine. It was a relief to go back to school and spend all day discussing boys, makeup and how incredible Rob Lowe looked in
About Last Night
. Sarah remained my VBF – very best friend – and had decided to stay away from drink after the last fiasco had cost her a boyfriend and almost a best friend.

Auntie Sheila sold the house and they moved into a new one, south of the river in a non-Irish part of London, away from the rest of the family. She said they needed a fresh start. She wanted Sally and Brian to go to new schools where no one knew that their father had been an alcoholic who fell down the stairs. She wanted the children to be ‘normal’, to fit in and not be pitied because their father had shown up at the school gates drunk.

Once they’d moved, we didn’t see them very often. Dad called in to see them once a month, but they pretty much kept themselves to themselves and got on with rebuilding their lives.

I knew that Dad was sending Auntie Sheila money every month because I’d overheard Mum talking to Auntie Nuala about it.

‘How much does he send?’ my aunt asked.

‘He covers the mortgage and school fees,’ said Mum.

‘What about the money she got from selling the house?’ Auntie Nuala asked.

‘Sure she needs that to live on.’

‘He’s a good man, your Mick,’ said Auntie Nuala.

‘Well, business is good and family is family. You couldn’t see them short.’

‘No, that’s true.’

‘Did you sort that thing out for Sally?’ Mum asked.

‘I did. She’s booked in to see Dr Montgomery next week.’

‘Is he Irish?’

‘Course he is. The best ones are. Sure we’re such a messed-up emotional lot only our own psychiatrists could understand us.’

Mum laughed. ‘You’re right there.’

Liam was going to college every day and studying hard, while Siobhan was stuck at home with Muireann. But instead of going back to her books and sitting her A levels, like Mum had told her to, she got pregnant again.

She announced it that spring and Dad thought it was great. She was married now, so as far as he was concerned the more children the better. But Mum was furious. She couldn’t even muster a half-smile. When Dad had left the room after congratulating Siobhan, Mum rounded on her. ‘How could you be so stupid?’ she raged. ‘How on earth are you going to raise two babies in the garage?’

‘We’ll manage,’ said Siobhan, clearly put out that Mum wasn’t happy for her.

‘Where’s your brain gone? You can barely cope with Muireann. Why, in God’s name, couldn’t you wait until Liam was finished his studies, you had your own house and a proper salary coming in?’

‘Dad said he’d help us out. It’ll be fine. Besides, I don’t want my children to be too far apart. I want them to be close in age so that they get on well.’

‘Have you conveniently forgotten how difficult you found it after Muireann was born?’ Mum asked. ‘And, by the way, your father’s not made of money. You need to stand on your own two feet and be responsible for your children.’

‘Everyone says it’s easier the second time because you know what you’re doing and it’s not so scary,’ said the baby factory.

‘Easier!’ said Mum, laughing. ‘How can it be easier when you have a toddler demanding your attention and you’re trying to feed a baby? It’s twice the work, twice the lack of sleep and twice the worry.’

For a woman with three children, she was being very negative. If this was her reaction to two kids, Finn’s arrival must have pushed her over the edge.

‘How did you manage with three?’ I asked.

‘I just got on with it. We didn’t have choices in those days. There were no crèches you could drop your child into if you wanted to work. But you do have choices. I told you, Siobhan, that I wanted you to finish your A levels this year. You’ve no qualifications now, and if you ever want to work you’ll find it very difficult to get hired.’

‘I do work. I’m a full-time mother,’ said Siobhan. ‘I choose not to work outside the home.’

‘You’re only a child,’ Mum said, shaking her head. ‘You’re too young to be tied down with nappies.’

‘Why can’t you be happy for me?’

‘Because I don’t like to see you throwing your youth away. You should be out enjoying yourself in college, not tied to the kitchen sink.’

‘Look, Mum,’ Siobhan said, beginning to cry. ‘I know I let you down by getting pregnant and I know you really wanted me to go to university and have the life you didn’t have. But I’m trying to make the most of marriage and motherhood and it would be really nice if you could be a bit more supportive and less critical. I know you’re ashamed of me, but I’m doing the best I can.’

I actually felt sorry for her. You could see she was really hurt by Mum’s disapproval.

Mum went over and hugged her. ‘Don’t you ever say that again. I’m as proud of you as I’ve always been. I never meant to make you feel bad. I’m just disappointed that you didn’t get more time to be young and carefree. I think you’re a fantastic mother to Muireann and I know you’ll be wonderful with this baby too. I’ll help you as much as I can, and so will Niamh.’

Typical! I knew I’d get dragged into it somehow. I did enough babysitting as it was. Now I’d have to do twice as much. I had to get out of this house and away to college.

Only a year to go…

Irish Daily News

‘Packing’

Niamh O’Flaherty

When a woman packs to go on holidays she takes out everything she owns and puts it on the floor in the bedroom. She finds things she forgot she had. A pair of jeans she used to love. Do they still fit?She tries them on. They’re very tight, but with a lot of effort she can get the zip up. She’s thrilled. She finds some old T-shirts and puts those on too. Hours pass as she tries on all her clothes.

Finally, she needs to decide what she absolutely must pack. She has promised her boyfriend she will only bring a small suitcase. After much soul-searching, she packs three pairs of togs and three bikinis. She packs matching wraps, flip-flops and hats for the togs and bikinis. Then she packs seven sundresses, one for each day – they’re bound to get dirty with sun cream and she doesn’t want to spend her holiday doing laundry – plus a big beach bag, a small casual bag and a dressy going-out bag, one big sun hat, one medium size, and two sun-visors.

Then she packs two pairs of shorts, four T-shirts and three pairs of jeans – travelling jeans, skinny jeans for going out at night and her most flattering suck-my-tummy-in jeans. She packs three glitzy tops to go with her skinny jeans, three shirts to go with her travelling jeans and two of her favourite T-shirts to go with her flattering jeans. She packs wedge sandals to go with the flattering jeans, two pairs of trainers to go with the travelling jeans and two pairs of high heels to go with the skinny jeans.

She packs three glamorous dresses, in case they end up meeting lots of new people and going out every night – as opposed to last year when they were in a coma every night by eleven. She packs high heels to match each dress and a colour co-ordinated wrap.