The Story of Before (32 page)

She’d have been able to comfort Kev. She wouldn’t have let me take him out so late in the day when it was getting cold and nearly dark . . .

It was all very well saying to myself that I’d kind of known all along about the something bad, but now it was starting to dawn on me that I might’ve actively played a part in making
it happen.

When we got to the churchyard, the drizzle had turned into proper rain and we got soaked as we walked from the car, through the gates and across the grass towards the copper beech. It was
completely dark now; I could hardly see a thing. I wished Dad would reach out and take hold of my hand. He sniffed and cleared his throat, then asked the sergeant if no one had thought to bring a
torch.

The sergeant called up ahead to the guards who’d made the find, ‘Give us some light there, lads’, and a white shaft cut through the blackness, the spitting raindrops in its
beam glowing like a million bits of splintered glass. Under the spreading branches of the copper beech, two guards stood beside a pushchair and I knew from yards away that it was definitely
Kev’s. I nodded when the sergeant asked if I was sure, the tears starting again.

‘Don’t touch it!’ he said when I tried to grip the handle. Then he smiled at me and softened his face. ‘Not for the moment, anyway. We’ll get it back to you as soon
as we can.’

The copper beech gave us some shelter, but the rain gathered on up the leaves and, every few seconds, big blobs of water splashed down to the ground. The torchlight filtered part of the way up,
lighting the undersides of the twisted branches, making them show silvery grey against the tarry-black layer of the sky beyond.

Had Shayne really pushed David? Was he capable of something as bad as that? Who was telling the truth? And in the middle of all that was happening, did I even care?

The sergeant seemed to think it was a good sign that Kev’s pushchair had been found. I heard him saying to Dad that it showed whoever had taken him couldn’t have gone too far,
because it’d be difficult to carry him a long distance. I didn’t agree. It didn’t really prove anything. And just because Kev might’ve been close by, it didn’t mean he
was going to be OK. I knew the sergeant was only saying it to make Dad feel better.

The guard with the torch came with us back to the car. The beam jigged about as he walked, lighting up the gates, bouncing off the stone wall, and showing up flashes of glistening wet grass
under our feet. And when it zig-zagged over the soft ground in front of the Virgin Mary in her grotto, I noticed, criss-crossing the earth, the twisty, twirly pattern of bicycle tracks.

David was still at his piano when we drove back into Hillcourt Rise, his head and shoulders jerking as he played, and his hands moving fast up and down the keys. It was creepy
the way he was practising when everyone else was out on the green. It didn’t seem right. Like he was trying too hard to be normal. Dad didn’t notice him this time; he was staring out at
the growing crowd on the green. Liz and Vic had joined it, along with people I recognized from Churchview Park and Cherrywood, as well as a few guards who stood with their arms crossed, slightly
apart from the rest of the gathering. Everyone turned their heads as we passed.

‘What are they shaggin’ well looking at?’ Dad asked. ‘And what are they all doing out there anyway? They’re no use to anyone hanging around in the rain.’

‘Human nature,’ Sergeant Pearce said. ‘Just showing their concern.’

‘
Concern
? Wouldn’t it be more in their line to be out searching? Trying to find him? What good is it standing there?’

‘Our men are out in force already, Mick.’ He turned around to face us. ‘Garda units from all over the city, checkpoints, tracker dogs, the lot. Descriptions of the suspicious
individual have been circulated. House searches will start shortly. We’ll call in the assistance of a volunteer team as soon as we feel it’s warranted.’

‘It’s warranted
now
, surely? It’s been over two hours! He’s not even two years old, for God’s sake!’ Dad rattled at the car door in a panic. ‘I
have to get out! What am I doing just sitting here? This is bloody crazy!’

‘Take it easy, Mick. We’re doing all we can. We have to . . . go at this the right way. You understand that, don’t you?’

Dad thumped the sergeant’s seat.
‘He’s only a little boy
! Do you understand? It’s dark and cold and raining, and he’s only a little boy!’

‘I know, I know. Just . . . take it easy, all right? Keep it together for the sake of . . .’ He glanced in my direction.

Dad’s breath shuddered in his chest and I knew he understood what the sergeant meant. I laid my hand on the seat, expecting him to reach across and take it, but he turned away and stared
out the window.

‘You two go on inside now,’ the sergeant said when the car pulled up at our house. ‘I’ll follow you in. I’m going to radio in and get the latest.’ He caught
my hand as I was getting out. ‘Good girl,’ he said, trying to smile. ‘I’m sure we’ll have him back to you in no time.’

Dad smoothed his hair down then wiped his hands over his face when we walked in the door. Mel and Sandra came rushing out, asking if there was any news. ‘Not yet, not yet,’ he said.
He ruffled both their heads then put his arms around them. ‘Everything’ll be OK. Don’t be worrying, you hear me?’ They nodded and he ushered them back into the sitting
room.

I hated the way he was soft and caring with the others, while he’d been all hard and cold towards me. Tears stung my eyes as I watched them. I blinked them away, wondering where Shayne was
and picturing the whirly lines of the bicycle tracks I’d seen in front of the grotto.

Dad went up to check on Mam. When he came back down, I heard him saying in a low voice to the guards that she was out for the count and it was just as well they’d insisted on calling Dr
Crawley. ‘She wouldn’t have been able for all this,’ he said as the sergeant came in the door. ‘I hope to God it’s over soon.’

We went into the kitchen. The floor was clean. Sandra had swept up all the bits of wallpaper while we were gone.

‘No news yet, I’m afraid,’ the sergeant said. He pulled out a chair and sat down, facing the man in the tree, studying him closely and drumming his fingers on the table.
‘So, tell me, Ruth,’ he said. ‘How do you like living in Hillcourt Rise?’

‘I . . . it’s . . . we . . . Fine. It’s fine. We haven’t been here that long, really.’

‘But long enough to know if you like it? And long enough to make friends, hmm?’

He was a grey man. Everything about him was grey: his skin, his eyes, his hair. Even his teeth. Nothing about him stood out. Nothing about him was distracting, and there was no one thing on his
face to focus on. His nose wasn’t big, his eyes were neither dull nor twinkly, his mouth was . . . just a mouth.

‘I suppose. A few.’

‘And who would those few be, eh?’

Dad stood over by the sink, lighting a cigarette with a match from the box he’d flung on the floor earlier. Sandra had tidied them up too. And she’d washed all the cups and put them
away and wiped down all the worktops.

‘I don’t know . . . everyone,’ I said with a shrug.

The sergeant smiled. ‘Everyone! Well, aren’t you the popular girl?’

‘What’s all this got to do with anything? What does it matter who she’s friends with?’ Dad said, angrily flicking ash into the sink. When he turned back around, his face
scared me. His skin was ghostly and his eyes were sunken into his skull. His hair was flecked with white and, for a moment, I puzzled about how that could be when it was Sunday and he hadn’t
been out at work. Then I realized it wasn’t paint, but lots of little white hairs showing up under the fluorescent tube. Dad looked old.

‘Just exploring all the avenues,’ the sergeant said. ‘She was the last one to see the little lad.’

‘She told you who was there when he disappeared, didn’t she? It’s him you should be quizzing. Assuming you shaggin’ well find him.’

‘I’m aware of what she told us.’ He waved his hand at the wall. ‘That this . . . I don’t know, tramp, down-and-out, wino, whatever you want to call him, was hanging
around. But just because she says she saw him, it doesn’t mean we have to . . . well, that we have to . . . What I mean is, we have to keep all our lines of inquiry open.’

‘So what you’re saying is you don’t necessarily think he’s your man?’

‘I . . . suppose you could say that, yes.’

I nearly smiled. Finally, they were coming round to believing me. I felt sort of free, and light as air. But then I remembered why the guards were there in the first place and the feeling began
to fade. When the sergeant spoke again, it disappeared completely. Everything went black. I was thrown into a deep and silent lake, weighted down with a hundred bricks.

‘There wasn’t anyone else in the graveyard, was there, Ruth?’ the sergeant said. ‘It was only you and your brother, wasn’t it?’ He leaned closer to me.
‘Now . . . is there anything you’d like to tell us?’ I was sinking now. Melting blobs of faces floated in the air, voices were muffled and faint. I felt the heat of more tears in
my eyes, the weight of a hand on my shoulder. ‘Now, now. It’s all right. Don’t be upsetting yourself. Whatever it is, we’re here to help. Isn’t that right,
Mick?’ The sergeant patted my arm. When his face came into focus, I could see he was smiling; the kind of smile people use when they’re pretending they care how you feel.

‘What? What do you mean?’ Dad asked him, blowing smoke out of his nose.

‘I’m not sure we’re getting the real truth here.’ The sergeant stood up and walked over to Kev’s highchair. He picked up his blue bowl and looked at it as he spoke.
‘What were you doing in the graveyard in the first place, Ruth?’

‘I . . . I was taking Kev for a walk. I already told you.’

‘To the graveyard? On a chilly evening? And it nearly dark?’

‘I didn’t
plan
to go there. I just kept walking and that was where I ended up. I like going to the graveyard.’

‘You like going to the graveyard? What little girl likes going to the graveyard? And by herself?’

‘What are you trying to say?’ Dad asked him. ‘Why all these questions? What does it matter anyway, for God’s sake?’

‘Just doing my job, Mick. Just doing my job. Hers is the only story we have.’ He placed Kev’s bowl carefully back on the tray of the highchair. ‘We have to be sure
it’s the right one.’

‘The right one?’ Dad asked.

‘She could’ve been anywhere . . .’ The sergeant’s voice started to rise. ‘With anyone! And the only person she says she saw is some . . . some
cartoon
man
she conjured up nearly two years ago!’

Dad’s face turned grim and hard. He spoke through his teeth. ‘Just because you lot haven’t been able to find him, you think he doesn’t exist! Is that it?’

‘Look. Let’s be realistic here. Little girls don’t go off to the graveyard of a cold and dark Sunday evening on their own. There must be something else to this. She must be
leaving something out. You said yourself she was great at spinning yarns.’

I glared at Dad.
Spinning yarns?

He put his head in his hands and spoke into his palms. ‘That’s not what I said and you know it. I said she had a great imagination.’

‘Same thing, isn’t it? Didn’t you say she thought you were carrying on with the Lawless woman? Wasn’t she trying to convince her mother you were having it off with her up
in the woods after work every evening? Well? That’s what you told me, isn’t it? Or maybe you’re the one spinning the yarns, Mick? Maybe you really
are
playing away? No
smoke without fire, eh?’

Dad picked up Kev’s bowl and fired it onto the floor. ‘For
Christ’s
sake! What are you trying to do? You’re supposed to be helping us here! My son is out there
somewhere! Do you not understand? I want him back here when his mother wakes up, do you hear me? Do you fuckin’ well hear me?’

Sergeant Pearce stood looking at Dad, his eyes not blinking and his mouth set into a straight, hard line. ‘Put the kettle on there, lads,’ he said. The two guards who’d been
standing by the back door nodded and followed their orders.

‘Put the
kettle
on?
Put the shaggin’ kettle on
! Is that all you can do?’ Dad roared.

‘Take it easy now, Mick. You’re not doing yourself any favours here, you know.’

‘I’m not shaggin’ well interested in doing favours! Not for you or me or anyone. I just want you to do your job and get my boy back!’

The sergeant sighed. ‘That’s exactly what I’m trying to do, and I’d appreciate a bit of co-operation, if you don’t mind.’ He sat down again. ‘Now.
Let’s go over everything that happened today, Ruth.’

‘I’ve told you everything already,’ I said, wiping my nose with my sleeve. ‘And what’s the point in going over it again when you don’t think I’m telling
the truth?’

‘Look. We’ll go back a bit further this time. Give me an outline of the day since you got up this morning.’

Dad paced up and down the kitchen as I spoke. The guards put the teapot on the table and the sergeant listened and nodded while he poured. I stopped a couple of times, trying to figure out
whether or not he believed me, but his face gave nothing away. He sipped quietly at his tea, saying, ‘Go on’ or ‘Continue’ or ‘Keep going’. It was only when I
got to the part about the fight on the green that he finally asked me a question.

‘So your dad got involved in this fight, did he? This is the . . . eh . . . horseplay he mentioned?’

‘Well, he . . . I mean, he . . . It wasn’t his fault, he—’

‘What was I supposed to do?’ Dad interrupted. ‘Stand by and let them kill each other? I had to try and stop them.’

The sergeant scratched his ear. ‘So you think it was a good idea to roll around on the ground with two lads less than half your age?’

‘
For God’s sake, it wasn’t what I wanted
! I didn’t come out intending to get my head bashed in, did I? It was the natural thing to do, to try and break it
up.’

‘And tell me, what was this fight all about anyway? Any idea?’

My head started to spin. I couldn’t get my brain to concentrate on one thing. Millions of ‘whys’ and ‘because ofs’ and ‘if onlys’ swam around my head.
What had it been about? I couldn’t remember. I knew it’d been clear earlier on but now, after all that had happened, it was fuzzy and coming through only in bursts.