Thin Air (12 page)

He stopped the car and looked around him. Yesterday. Where was yesterday?

He had lunged The Nipper. That much he remembered. The horse was sound and he was impatient. He had intended to trot him over a few poles but he had seemed so keen, he had jumped so well. A glow returned to Gerard’s heart as he remembered. The Nipper was the star of the yard, a jumping genius. And Gerard hadn’t been able to resist putting the bar up, and up, and up. When he came back later and found that the heat had returned to the horse’s leg, a rage had come upon him. Again. Another one. As though the horse was to blame he had let fly at him with all that he had. Fists, boots …

Gerard pulled down a shutter on the memory, dropped his head on to the steering wheel and prayed. The benign, white-robed figure in his mind’s eye never knew rage, never knew lust. Like a child he begged to be relieved of all his sins and to become like Him.

As they headed for home, Specks settled into a steady, energy-saving jog which felt to Trish as if it could have gone on for ever. The cob was wasted. Such strength and stamina, standing all day in the field. He should have been pulling a cart or a plough or a dray. He would have loved it. All the work you could give him wouldn’t tire a horse like that nor shorten his life by a day. A few oats and a bit of grass was all he needed; the battle every summer was to keep the weight off him, not put it on. All those tractors and cars and lorries, all roaring and stinking and poisoning the world while horses like Specks stood idle. It wasn’t fair on him. Never mind him, it wasn’t fair on God. She was smiling as she turned down the boirin but her face straightened when she saw Gerard, slumped over the wheel of his car.

Gerard looked up when he heard the sound of hooves on the stony surface of the track. For a moment he was certain that it was Martina and that the whole thing was a mistake. Then he realised who it was. He flushed and dropped his eyes to his hands, which were gripping the steering wheel. He nodded briefly to Trish as she drew level with the open window.

‘Any news, Mr Keane?’

‘No. You?’

‘No.’

Trish moved on. Behind her she heard the car engine start up. She was sorry for Gerard. There was a lot she didn’t like about him; the way he treated the horses sometimes and his tomcat attitude towards women and sex. But there was a lot of good in him, too. If he sold a horse well he gave her a good bonus. If she needed time off she got it. He doted on little Aine and was always bringing her around the place with him.

And she could imagine what it was like living with that Brigid. She didn’t like the woman at all. She tried to imagine the two of them having sex and felt slightly disgusted and then guilty. Whatever the Keanes were like, they didn’t deserve what was happening to them now.

At the yard gate she slipped out of the saddle. Behind her a contingent of hippies pulled up in a battered van. She led Specks over.

‘Any luck?’

Sam was in the passenger seat. ‘No.’ he said, getting out. ‘That’s Specks, isn’t it?’

‘Yeah,’ said Trish. The whole county seemed to know the horse.

‘Martina sometimes rode him up past our place,’ said Sam. ‘He was great friends with my Lucy.’

Trish wondered who Lucy was, but decided it wasn’t relevant.

‘Did you see Martina up around your place recently, then?’ she said.

Sam shook his head. ‘Not for ages.’

At the top of the drive Gerard stopped and looked right and left. Somehow, he felt, there ought to be a way of knowing which way she had gone. He waited for intuition but he was still there with his engine idling when Brian Burke and Mick pulled up.

Brian got out and leaned in to Gerard’s window.

‘Any news, Ger?’

‘Nothing at all.’

‘Jays.’ Brian looked round at the mountains and back to Gerard. ‘I’m only after hearing,’ he said. ‘I was working till now. Is there anything I can do?’

Gerard shrugged. ‘Half the county’s out there looking, sure.’

‘And come here, what about the Guards?’

‘I told David.’

‘Ah, never mind David,’ said Brian. ‘That lad was in the jacks when they handed out the brains. Are you going somewhere now?’

‘Not really. I was just—’

‘Come on, so,’ said Brian. ‘We’ll go and report it.’

He went back to his car, collected his jacket and gave the keys to Mick. Then he got into the passenger side of the pick-up.

Brian had no land. His father did casual labour for Thomas in the distant past. Gerard would not have considered him close; would hardly have considered him a friend. But at that moment he could have kissed the hem of his garment.

Soon after Gerard left, Sam and his friends came into the house. Joseph went over the maps. Maureen came back from the village with a stone of bacon, a sack of potatoes and a box of cabbages. Brigid wanted to make at least a token protest but she had no energy. She went into the sitting room and sat on the sofa with Aine. Neither of them had the slightest interest in sports but they both watched the afternoon results round-up avidly. When the ads came on Aine said: ‘Mam?’

‘Mmm?’

‘How can you tell if a swan is a boy or a girl?’

‘A swan? I really have no idea. Why do you want to know?’ Aine shrugged. Together they watched the news.

Joseph answered the knock on the door and found Mick on the doorstep, tossing his father’s car keys up and down. Joseph looked past him into the empty car.

‘Did you drive over?’

Mick nodded.

‘You didn’t.’

‘I did.’

‘How come? Did your dad let you?’

Mick nodded again.

Joseph shook his head in wonder. ‘Can I have a go?’

‘Better not,’ said Mick. ‘Any news of your sister?’

‘No.’

‘Want some help looking?’

‘I don’t know, really.’

They went inside and studied the map. Most of the nearby parts were shaded; searched or being searched, but there was a triangle of about twenty-five acres between the quarry and Anthony Ryan’s house that hadn’t yet been covered.

‘We’ll do it, so,’ said Mick.

They told Maureen where they were going. Every pot in the house was bubbling on the range and the kitchen was spotlessly clean despite the crowds.

‘Any scones, Mrs?’ said Mick. Maureen slugged him with a damp tea-towel.

They drove down to the quarry and walked from there.

‘Did your da kill you last night?’ said Joseph. It seemed like weeks ago.

‘Na. He sent me to bed. I could hear them getting off on it afterwards.’

‘What do you mean?’ said Joseph.

‘What do you think I mean?’ said Mick, pumping his pelvis.

‘Yeah? You heard them?’

‘Worse luck.’

Joseph had never heard his mother and father. It hadn’t occurred to him that they had ever done it, let alone that they might do it still.

‘And didn’t they say anything?’

‘Course they did. They said “ooh, uuh, yesss”.’ He mimicked sexual ecstasy until Joseph pounded him in the arm and the two of them ran off some steam across the fields. When they stopped and got their breath back Mick said: ‘My ma took it back to Duffy’s and complained. She said that kind of film should be banned. Betty said that kind of film is banned and she couldn’t understand how it came to be in the shop.’

‘Did she say she’d look into it?’ asked Joseph, and they both collapsed laughing.

People continued to come and go. Sam’s friends went out again but he stayed behind and took over the map in Joseph’s absence. The coloured areas expanded.

The kitchen filled up with steam and Maureen opened the window. The Kellys returned their map and went home. Another group of hippies came back and their dog got into a fight with Popeye. By the time order was restored Maureen had set out heaped plates of bacon and cabbage for them all. When they explained that they were vegetarians and that they’d get something at home she was deeply shocked. She had heard of vegetarians but she thought they were fictional, like snake charmers. Aine said she would have a dinner and she persuaded her mother to come and have one as well. The hippies went home and Maureen went off to get Trish and Thomas to eat the other two meals. By the time she got back to the kitchen another group of searchers had arrived and she set about feeding them. Brigid wished she could keep her; have her sit beside the range and knit sweaters and mother them all, for ever and ever.

In Ennis Garda Barracks, Sergeant Peter Mullins listened in silence as Gerard poured out the story. From time to time he glanced up at Brian. When Gerard had finished he opened the door into a private office and led them into it. Then he sat at the desk with a pen and paper and they started all over again.

Joseph hadn’t much of his mind on what they were doing, but Mick took it seriously and combed the hedgerows and searched every area of jumbled stones and tangled scrub created by old field clearings. The ruin of the big house was in the area they had mapped out to search and they approached it from the back, climbing over a high stone wall in the shadow of a row of beeches. Mick went into military mode, flattening himself against the wall beside the gaping front door and whirling round, hands outstretched, holding an imaginary pistol. Joseph followed him, trying to get into the mood of the game, but his heart was dropping towards his feet and he couldn’t get a grip on his feelings at all. The house gave him the creeps.

Afterwards, Mick found money in the glove compartment of the car and they drove to O’Loughlin’s.

Emma Duignan was working at the bar. She looked on with disdain as Mick tossed the keys on to the bar and ordered two pints. She had been to school with Martina.

‘Any news?’ she asked Joseph.

He was sick of hearing the phrase.

‘No.’ They had decided on lager because it was quicker to pull than stout. With their glasses in their hands they turned their backs to the bar and leaned against it.

‘I was over at Mannion’s today,’ said Joseph.

‘What for?’

‘Checking the lake. With Doggy Fogarty.’

‘With Doggy? Were you?’

‘Yeah. I saw that Mrs Mannion.’ He leaned closer to Mick. ‘She had hardly anything on. She was dead embarrassed when she saw the priest.’

‘Was she?’

‘I wouldn’t mind playing with her in the games room.’

‘You dirty dog.’

Joseph laughed. He hadn’t eaten anything since breakfast and the beer was going to his head very fast.

‘I’d show her a thing or two,’ he said.

‘Have you got two, then?’ said Emma from behind them. ‘D’you hear that, Mrs Mannion?’ She looked across into the lounge as she said it.

Joseph stood up straight and the colour flooded his face but there was no one there. The lounge was empty.

Emma turned her back on him.

‘It’s good to see that you’re so concerned about your sister,’ she said.

When Maureen had fed everyone who wanted to be fed she cleared up and went home. There was still enough food left in the pots to supply a small army.

Thomas went down to his house, laden with scraps for Popeye. Aine went with him to see if the swan had come back.

‘How do you know if a swan is a boy or a girl?’ she asked.

‘God, I don’t know,’ said Thomas. ‘Why?’

Aine said nothing, and Thomas went on: ‘Sure, it’s gone now anyway, isn’t it? It flew away.’

‘She might come back,’ said Aine.

Trish went back to the yard just as dusk was falling. The frost that had been threatening earlier had gone and the air was warm and damp beneath a heavy cloud cover. She opened the paddock gate for the new fillies who returned to their box eagerly as if they were afraid of the coming dark. Specks called after them from the jumps field but they had each other for company, and they didn’t reply. Trish went round with hay and nuts and topped up all the water buckets, then stood looking out into the garnering night. It wasn’t cold. The old mare would be all right without her rug.

Suddenly, unexpectedly, the house was empty. Brigid thought of the mountains again, but they were hidden by the blue dusk outside the kitchen window. She went upstairs with the intention of looking for clues in Martina’s room. A circled address. A letter, perhaps. She prayed for a letter. But as she passed Joseph’s room she found that she couldn’t remember where he was. She knocked on the closed door, and when there was no answer she went in.

The place was dishevelled, even though it was only a day or two since she had cleaned up. Automatically, she went in and started to pick the dirty laundry off the floor, underwear with yellowy stains, stiff socks, a white shirt with a grey collar and biro-marks all over the sleeves. The only thing in the room that was tidy was the bed. The duvet had been pulled up neatly over the pillows.

Brigid couldn’t remember when she had last changed the bedclothes. She pulled the duvet back to see and it was then that she discovered the magazine. She picked it up and looked through it, horrified. She had found a few copies of
Playboy
once, among a pile of
Ideal Homes
that someone had given to the parish sale of work. They had been bad enough. This was many times worse.

It was a blow, and the fact that it was a blow reminded her of that other one. Every time she thought of Martina now the hope seemed less and the pain was worse. She couldn’t stand to have those obscene pictures in the house. Quickly, before anyone could come in and see what she was doing, she ran downstairs and dropped the magazine into the range.

Gerard and Brian stopped at O’Loughlin’s on the way home, just for a quick one. The pub was beginning to fill up, but Joseph was the first person that Gerard saw. Brian saw him stop, saw what he was looking at, put a hand on his arm that was both a support and a restraint.

‘Jaysus,’ he said. ‘See what happens when you give them the keys.’

Joseph heard the hush and turned to see his father in the doorway. He wished he were dead and then he wished that he hadn’t had the second pint, and then he saw Brian. Now his father would know everything. He had one wish left. He started to laugh.

Brian threw the two lads out and told them to sit in the car. He got a pint and a couple of shorts into Gerard and put the blame of Mick and the tense situation they were all in. Gerard began to calm down and get things into proportion. He was glad Brian was there. He was glad there was someone else to decide when it was time to leave.