Despite the Angels (47 page)

“Okay. Whose car is this?” When Robbie found out that the car was here to stay he perked up and started planning trips. He fell silent, thinking
, and by the time they reached home he was asleep. Lucy carried him up to bed and put him under his duvet. Then, after remembering to phone the Garda station to let them know Robbie was safe, she went to bed herself, feeling that the day had been long enough.

Someone was shining a light in her eyes, shouting at her ‘where is your son? Where is he? Where did you leave him?’ She began to protest that it was not her fault and then she woke up. Martin was in the room and had turned on the light.

“I was asleep.”

“I’m not. And I can’t see in the dark,” Martin lurched towards the bed, “and I’d like to see my wife, because I’m feeling good and a man needs a wife when he’sh feeling good.” Martin sat down heavily onto Lucy’s feet and put a hand on the curve of her hip.

“Well, I’m not feeling good, Martin. Actually, I’m feeling about as bad as I can. I’m very angry with you.”

“Why? Did nothing wrong. Good guy. Try hard, gave you ten quid. Good father, had a good time. Won match.”

“You are not a good father. And you are a lousy husband. You took Robbie from school without telling anyone. I thought you were in Athlone, it never crossed my mind you’d collected him. It would only have taken you a minute to call home and leave a message, or ring work and tell me. But no, you went off gallivanting and left me worried sick.”

“Not sick now. Looking beautiful. Give me a kiss,” Martin leant forward and breathed yeasty fumes at Lucy. She leant away.

“Not now, Martin. I don’t feel loving towards you. You don’t care for me, how can I?”

“My wife. Have to love me - make love to me. Your job.” Martin’s hand was working its way in under the duvet and onto Lucy’s thigh. “Come on, Luce, ’tsa a great day, won the match, good time with the lads, wanta finish it properly.” His fingers walked over her leg towards her groin and he pulled her leg towards him, his hand searching. He was up on one elbow now, leaning towards her, pushing her back onto the pillows with his shoulder, his breath fast and ragged. Lucy felt his knee pushing between hers and she struggled from him.

“No, Martin, stop!”

“Won’t.” Martin laughed and grabbed her arm, pushing her down.  Lucy put her hand over his and gripped.

“That’s the girl. A bit of spirit.” Martin’s knee forced between hers again and Lucy jerked her leg up to get away. Then her head shot back as Martin’s first slap hit her face. The second connected with her nose.

“Bitch!” he snarled, “going for the balls isn’t fair.”

Lucy gaped at him. Fair? Her nose was throbbing and she felt tears starting. She took a deep breath and rolled towards his pinioning hand, pulling her leg free and kicking towards him. Martin grunted and let go. She hit the floor with her knees and in moments had grabbed her dressing-gown and was out of the room and running across the landing into the bathroom. She slammed the door and shot the inadequate little bolt she had screwed on at the very top after taking the key away so that the children would not get locked in by accident. She hoped it would hold.  As Martin swore and banged on the door she threw her weight against it, bracing her feet against the bath. The door bulged and vibrated behind her as he thumped. After a minute there was silence and she heard his feet going back to the bedroom. She sagged onto the toilet, tears streamed down her face and blood trickled onto her lip.

“He’s gone mad! Drunk, but he’s been drunk before. This time he’s mad!”

“No, not actually mad. Just telling the truth. In vino veritas, they say. That is how he thinks. How he has always thought. You should not have married him, I told you.” Trynor was perched on the side of the bath. “Now, come on, wash your face and go and find somewhere to sleep. You can’t talk to him tonight, he’s past it.”

Lucy splashed her face with cold water and looked at herself in the mirror, her eyes red-rimmed, her hair spiky, a bruise beginning under one eye. There was a tentative tap on the door.

“Go away!”

“Mummy?”

Lucy opened the door. Aisling was on the landing, her eyes big in her face, her hair sticking up round her face like a halo. She was clutching Teddo, who had only this year been allowed to stay in bed all day and not accompany her everywhere.

“What’s the noise? Is Daddy angry?”

“Daddy got very excited at his match and then he had lots of beer. He’s gone to sleep now,” I hope, added Lucy under her breath. I wouldn’t be able for him if he came at me now. “And you should go back to bed.” She led Aisling back into her room and lifted the duvet, encouraging Aisling to settle Teddo in his place on the pillow and cuddle beside him. She stroked her daughter’s shoulder and sang softly almost under her breath, watching the child’s breathing slow, becoming even and calm. So much for my little triumph, my new car. Just another bad day. More struggle. More keeping it normal for the kids. Covering up. Hiding the problems.

“No, Lucy, not more of the same. Time to change. Listen to me. Time to change.”

But if he thinks I’m going to go on like this, keeping the whole household going, so he can go off to matches on a weekday, steal my son and not tell me where he is, he can think again.

“I don’t like Daddy shouting,” Aisling was looking up at Lucy, “if he goes on he should stand in the Naughty Square, like in Robbie’s classroom.” She closed her eyes. Lucy looked down at her and her eyes filled up. Out of the mouths of babes, she thought, she is right. And I don’t think the naughty square is anywhere in this house. She leant over and kissed Aisling on the forehead, quietly tiptoed out of the room and crept across the landing. Martin was snoring. Lucy eased into the bedroom and opened the wardrobe, pulling out the single duvet that was there for visitors. Then she went downstairs and rolled herself up in it on the couch in the living room and fell into a heavy sleep
. Trynor tried to make sure she didn’t dream.

Trynor was excited and went in a flurry of energies to discuss this development with Jotin and Mohmi. They were waiting for him, with a table laid with a white cloth, holding several dishes. Jotin called over to him.

“Look! Mohmi’s told me she’s able to make food! I've tasted some. Not quite as good as the real stuff on earth, but worth trying. It might save you a return trip.”

Mohmi waved a hand towards the table.

“Guten Appetit! I’ve been trying for ages to create a strudel. You can tell me how successful I’ve been. And I’ve done latkes, though I can’t seem to get them properly crisp, and some weisswurst- those are easier, they have almost no taste anyway. Try them.”

“Did you make any mustard?”

“Sorry, I forgot. That would be tricky.”

“Mmm, the latkes aren’t bad,” Trynor was talking with his mouth full, “maybe need a bit of salt.” Mohmi closed her eyes and waved her hands with great concentration. Trynor took another bite. “Yes, well done. You’ve been practising this, I think?”

“For hundreds of years. Haven’t done these exact recipes before.”

“Did you know we had reason to celebrate? That Lucy eventually realised she can’t stay with Martin?”

“Yes, we’d heard. How is it going?”

“Not bad. There was a great row one morning, Martin was hung over and made things worse by trying to defend himself. Lucy said she was never going to sleep with him again and that he could set up a camp bed in the garden shed. And he said he had more sense than that and that he would go to Colm’s. So he did. He’s there now and Roki is furious, because there is a big row there now, Colm’s wife is not as keen on Martin as Colm is.”

“How are Lucy and the children?”

“Lucy is stunned at how easy it was. Aisling saw how upsetting Martin’s behaviour was and understands a little. Robbie is less sure, but Lucy has told him he can see his Dad whenever he wants, so long as he lets her know, so he’s calm at the moment. Lucy is organising for the two of them to go to ‘Rainbows’ groups for some support. And she has made an appointment with a solicitor. So full steam ahead on the meeting!”

“Haven’t you forgotten, it mightn’t be plain sailing?” Jotin was speaking softly. “Mohmi’s alternative idea might not work out and there’s not as much point getting them to meet if they can’t have the baby. It’s Moonsong insisting on having them as parents again. Maybe, once she’s an adult and can cope on her own we should move them on to another life quickly and make them both the same sex - and straight - so they can notice their abilities and get on with inventing something!”

“No, I want to watch them grow old together, after all this. If something comes up later we can re-think on that and get them out of here quickly. Car accidents are ten a penny. But for now we should let them have some fun,” Trynor was on to the strudel now, “like I’m having now, this is great. Not quite as good as the real thing, but not half bad at all. Well done, Mohmi.”

“Thank you. Pleased to be of assistance. I’ve been talking to Moonsong again, about how to manage this time round. And she’s happy whatever we can arrange. So I’m fine tuning my plan now, looking for actual people and guides to help. We have a few years, if they aren’t actually together yet.”

“No, we have to work on that,” Jotin said “For a start, you have to get her into the right dancing class. There’s David, learning the waltz and the cha-cha and being madly popular with all the wrong women; I’m on my toes keeping him from getting too tightly embroiled with any of them. Carmel is a great help, keeping him away from most of the younger ones and that had a good spin off value, she voted for divorce and so did a lot of her friends. She’s a persuasive woman and she’s so fond of our David she wanted the best for him. And enough others like us were obviously working too, a lot of Davids and Lucys out there and a few Carmels, so the law is changed. But there is our Lucy, learning to dance her chakras! What possessed you to let her join that class?”

“She heard about it at art therapy. Actually, I think it helped her to centre her energies and realise what was going on, how much energy she was losing to Martin. He was doing fine and she was becoming exhausted.”

“Well, thankful for small mercies, I suppose. Nothing wasted, even if you didn’t plan it.”

“It did cross my mind. I’m not a totally useless guide!”

“I didn’t suggest you were. So which of them should move? We’d better be clear about it, or they’ll both move and we’ll be no better off.”

“Good plan,” said Trynor, “perhaps we should write a list, like Lucy does?”

“Next time round, I certainly think so. Or call in some older guides to keep an eye on us. This time, I think Lucy should move class. The ballroom dancing is sociable, so I can’t see how I’d get David out of it. And if she learnt the steps, they could dance together again, like they have before and you remember where that led, every time!” Jotin’s eyes twinkled.

“You’re right. I’ll get working on it. You keep David safe in the meanwhile. Apart from Carmel, is he interested in anyone at the moment?”

“Mildly. He’s had coffee after the class a few times with a woman called Mary. She’s pleasant, separated like him, but it’s not very intense. The minute he sees Lucy it’ll be goodbye Mary.”

“Have you pushed him to go for a divorce? He’ll qualify when it comes in next year, Kathleen has been gone for four years already, that’s long enough. Not that they have to be married to have a baby, not these days.”

“You’ve forgotten, we had a vasectomy. It’ll take him a while to realise he should think of getting it reversed. If that even works; I don’t think we can be sure of it. But he has thought of divorce, he had several drinks to celebrate when the referendum was passed. He told the girls that it was probably the three of them and Carmel that swung it!”

“Work on them both to get divorced,” Mohmi broke in, “My idea depends on it.”

“How are things going with your idea?” Trynor was still a bit excited, everything had changed for Lucy so recently.

“I’m still working on the details. Be patient, there’s no rush.”

“No. And I think Lucy shouldn’t meet David just yet. She is too sensible to allow herself to fall for anyone she meets on the rebound. That’s why she stayed so long with Martin.”

“Why?” Jotin was puzzled, “What rebound was she on?”

“No, I mean she is sensible. Prides herself on it. Always makes her head rule her heart, she’s been shouting me down for years, only just started listening. If she’d listened sooner, she’d never have got involved with that wastrel in the first place. Down with sensible! Long live listening!”

“Hear, Hear,” said Jotin and Mohmi, and they all laughed.

“So, can we do it this life, do you think?” Jotin was lounging on some soft grass, looking up at Trynor and Mohmi, who were sitting on a bench eating strudel with whipped cream. “Can we actually get them together? They’re both single at last, we had better get on with it quickly. Your Lucy is a beautiful young woman still, someone else might grab her. Get her into flowered shirts and I’ll get David into her vicinity, then we can relax. I hope.”

Trynor wiped cream off his mouth. “Your idea working out, Mohmi?”

“Yes, it’s all systems go, as they say on earth. I’ll explain when you’ve got them together. Just don’t worry about Dawn,
Moonsong, she’ll be able to join them eventually.” Mohmi finished the strudel and got up. “I’m going to learn how to create flowers next. Not so tasty, but beautiful. I’m starting with snowdrops. See you.”