Blood And Water (29 page)

Please don’t think badly of me. Please don’t think I didn’t care. Because I do. I miss Tommy, you and Mam every day. I wish I could just go home. I’ve made such a mess of things I can’t see any other way out.

He’s not a bad man, you know, Mr. Bertram. I didn’t mean for this to happen, it just kind of did. I’m not sure I can explain properly, but he was always so very nice to me and I was so lonely. I have no friends in Dublin, no one except him. But now, after this he says we can’t be together again and Mrs. Bertram, she hates me and I don’t blame her. She says I have ruined her life. I think she’s right. I know you look up to me, your big sister working in the big city, but now you know I’m not what you think I am. You need to have a better role model than me, Martha. You are such a wonderful, beautiful sister, the best anyone could ever ask for. You have your whole life ahead of you. Don’t make the same mistakes I have and always remember I love you and will watch over you. Look after Mam.

I love you.

Always.

Lillian xxx

It might have been the animal whine that escaped her or perhaps it was Joan’s repetitious calling of her name “Martha? Martha?” that alerted Jimmy and the rest of the bar to her plight.

“Is everything okay there?” Jimmy asked, turning in his seat.

“I-I don’t know,” Joan stuttered, taking the letter from Martha who sat stunned as if slapped.

“Oh my God, Joan,” Martha whispered, bringing her hands to her face while Joan read.

Jimmy got down off his stool and moved towards them.

“It was a lie,” Martha murmured before Joan could get to the end of Lillian’s note. “It wasn’t an accident.” The realisation first that Lillian had died at her own hand followed by the reference to her relationship with her employer was shattering.

At first, they didn’t notice him standing so near, so close he was almost breathing over them, his presence unheeded until he spoke.

“I found her.”

Both Martha and Joan looked up at him from their stools, confused by both his presence and his words.

“I’m sorry?” they asked in unison.

“I found your sister. I was the one who brought her in.”

Part Three

Chapter 26

Sober for over two weeks, Barbara was terrified by the lucidity of her thoughts. Bizarrely, the last time she was teetotal for this long was almost twenty years before during her stay with Lillian in Donegal. And just as there was back then, today there was plenty to occupy those similarly dark thoughts. So much had happened in such a short, concentrated period of time it was daunting being so clear-headed with nowhere to hide psychologically. And that had been her first conscious
dry
decision: to break down her mental cache and admit to what had driven her there in the first place and then to face what was to come. Having held on to the secret for so long it had managed to completely colour her vision of herself and her world. But once exposed it almost immediately became less intimidating. So now they knew. Now there was nothing more to protect, nothing more to hide, nothing more to hide from. Finally, she could relax. And whatever were the consequences, they had to be easier to deal with than the poisonous weight of the shame and disappointment that had cloaked both herself and her marriage for so long.

It was truly regrettable then that her selfish relief should be contradicted by her palpable sense of guilt. And the maxim that every action suffers an opposite and equal reaction reigned true in Barbara’s mind. Her liberation seemed to be balanced by her shame. But as there was no taking it back it was easier to accommodate the unusual equilibrium in her conscience than the disparity of the truth untold.

Her ultimate decision to stay with William was arrived at after infinite agonising hours of introspection in the silence of that room with only the blip of the monitors and William’s deep breathing to keep her sane There was no real complex emotional rationale: she simply had nowhere else to go. No one else she wanted to be with. There was no one else who wanted to be with her. And it was no one’s fault but her own. Over the years she had consciously isolated herself from her children, friends and family leaving her with no alternative beyond her own miserable company. And that idea, the very notion of being totally alone was more daunting than settling, finally, right where she was. And, despite his apparent disenchantment with her as a companion and a wife, coupled with his years of philandering, William too was still there with no apparent sign of going anywhere, except to hell maybe. Perhaps his motivation was the same selfish one as her own, Barbara couldn’t be sure. But what she did know was that if he intended to leave he would have done so by now. No, she decided. It was better to stay and try to piece together some semblance of an existence from the residue of their marriage.

So they sat in the relative silence of their own company, each pre-occupied with their own thoughts, both conscious of the implications of her presence and what it meant to both their futures.

Even Simon McDaid, who visited daily to brief William on the events within government, thought her presence unusual. Not long in the job, he didn’t know William well enough to ask how come all of a sudden she was there. He put it down to the shock of his near-death experience. Barbara didn’t seem interested in making conversation with him so he nodded politely towards her when he entered and left the room, and wondered what was going on behind those sad blue eyes to warrant such a solemn presence.

On the day of William’s discharge Barbara arrived at the hospital in time to cross paths with Kathryn who departed leaving an agitated William and the whiff of Chanel in her wake. But not before kissing Barbara on each cheek.

As Kathryn was normally so aloof in their company Barbara was slightly perplexed by her unusual and animated display of affection and watched as the door closed after her. Turning to look at William she mistook his flushed face and shocked expression as a response to the bizarre conduct she had just witnessed.

“What was that all about?” Barbara asked William.

“Something about her going to the States,” he replied.

“How odd,” Barbara remarked, taking the suit bag that was draped over her arm to hang it from the back of the door. “I brought your things. What time do you think they’ll let you leave?”

“Mr. Murray is on his way now apparently to give me the all clear,” he told her, pulling himself up and out of the bed. “I’ll go perform my ablutions.”

“Right. That’s great.”

She was feeling the familiar anxious sensations beginning to niggle. She had passed the small number of TV crews and journalists outside, waiting patiently for him to be discharged. She dreaded their intrusion and no doubt the performance that was required to entertain them.

She listened to the shower run in the hospital en suite and imagined him going through his rituals – his methodical, step-by-step, same every day routine since the day they met. Standing at the window she looked out without seeing, intrigued and distracted by the heat from the radiator that lifted the light particles of dust into the air, visible only because of the sun that beamed in through the windows.

Are you sure
, she asked herself, watching their weightless rise and fall.
Is this what you want?

But she didn’t get a chance to answer as McDaid knocked and entered the room.

“He’s in the shower,” Barbara informed him as he looked quizzically from the empty bed to her like she’d done something with William.

He smiled with an awkward nod. “Great. The car will be here in about an hour to pick him up. We’ll head straight to the house. If that’s okay with you, Mrs. Bertram?” He never had to consult with her before now, so it didn’t come naturally.

Recognising his discomfort and not wanting to upset his tenuous confidence, Barbara did as good a job as she could manage at a reassuring smile.

“Of course, that’s fine.”

“Great, great,” he faltered. “I’ll come back in a while so.” Turning on the spot he left with speed.

Was it her or just him? Barbara wondered, slightly amused by the effect she had on him.

Dressed in beige slacks and plum-coloured V-neck jumper with an open-neck pink shirt beneath, William emerged from the bathroom standing tall and proud, already getting into character for the performance that was to follow.

“How do I look?” he asked.

“Very dapper. A picture of health,” she declared kindly. “How do you feel?”

“Like a cooped-up hen. I can’t wait to get the hell out of this place.”

As he refused emphatically to leave the hospital in a wheelchair, they compromised by allowing him to walk the last few metres to the door with Barbara by his side. The orderly wished him well as he got out of the chair to make the last leg of the journey unaided – evidently irrelevant to William as he didn’t turn to either thank or acknowledge him.

“Dickhead,” Barbara heard the young man mutter under his breath before turning back without waiting to see him exit safely into the waiting huddle of journalists.

She cringed as they walked through the automatic doors, feeling like a fake, standing there with her arm hooked in his, the good wife, smiling as they fired questions at him, bulbs flashing and garish microphone heads pointing at them.

“Feeling better, Minister?”

“Are you relieved to be alive?”

“Is it true they’re negotiating for your retirement, Minister?”

The questions were fired fast and furious.

Instinctively Barbara felt her fingers clutch at his forearm that was significantly less muscular than the last time she held him in that way. She almost leapt from her skin when in a seemingly instinctive gesture he placed a protective hand over hers. All part of his act or a genuine display of affection?

“Mrs. Bertram, Mrs. Bertram!” one of them called. “Are you glad to have your husband out and well? What are your plans for the day?”

But she didn’t answer. She couldn’t, she wouldn’t know what to say and anyway, they didn’t really care, did they? All the while she held the smile firm on her face and when finally William spoke it was slow but well-practised.

“Thank you all so much for your good wishes,” he boomed. “Your thoughts and prayers were a reassuring presence during my operation and recovery.” He gave them a smile to melt the hearts of the nation, oozing a captivating magnetism while his voice commanded silence over the sound of the clicking cameras. “I’m delighted to tell you I’m very well and I hope, after a couple of quality days with my family …” he looked down at Barbara as he spoke, “I’ll be ready to resume normal duties at Government Buildings.”

Barbara thought she might choke. She could see the female journalists flutter their eyes at him – she had to admit he did still cut a very dapper figure – while the men in the group watched and listened with admiration and envy.

“I’d like to say a special word of thanks to the doctors and staff here at our excellent St. Mary’s National Hospital – their care has been second to none. So, thank you, thank you all.”

He paused for a moment to let the random applause finish.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me, Barbara and I are going home,” he finished with a dramatic flourish.

Even the way he referred to her by her first name in such a casual manner made her think that there was no doubting Ciara was his daughter: he was the ultimate diva.

Leading the way through the small crowd McDaid guided them to the waiting black Mercedes. Opening the door William stood back to let Barbara in and with a final royal wave stepped into the car before the door snapped shut and they drove away at speed.

Tempted but not brave enough to ask ‘
What the hell was all that?
’ she sat the journey out in silence while the men talked politics, strategy and defending his position in the Dáil.

His illness, McDaid warned from the front seat, had the vultures circling and he needed quickly to re-establish his authority.

They needed something substantial to use as leverage, William mused, something that would attract the media to generate sufficient publicity to get him back in the mind’s eye of the voting public and quash any insurgents brave enough to take him on.

“So what are the options?” he asked while McDaid consulted his iPhone.

“We’ve got the gay marriage debate – you could take a position on that?”

William shook his head.

“There’s always the water charges, but I wouldn’t recommend that – it could go either way and there’s too much negative noise.” McDaid flicked down through his list. “How about Syria or the Middle East?”

“Not really. I need something a little more edgy, something with teeth,” William growled, clenching his fist. “No one understands what the hell is going on over there anyway.”

“I’ll have to come back to you on it. Let me see what I can come up with.”

“Well, don’t wait too long – we need to turn this around PDQ.”

“Yes, sir,” McDaid responded and turned to sit back properly in his seat and bury his head in his phone.

The house was deathly silent and overbearingly warm.

“Oh, sir, I’m so glad to see you back and looking so well!” Gladys gushed from the hall as they entered. “I have everything all ready for you in here.” Proudly she opened up the sitting-room door.

“Thank you, Gladys,” he replied. “Have you lit the fire in the study?”

“Yes, sir,” she replied earnestly.

“William, do as the doctor said,” Barbara suggested. “Take it easy for the next few days – you need to rest.”

Back in command, he told her, “I’ll join you in a minute,” and nodded to McDaid to follow him to the study.

Once inside with the door closed McDaid handed William a thin file from the brown leather satchel that hung loosely across his body. “This is what you asked for,” he said as William took it. “Nothing really in it.”

“You read it?”