This Is How It Ends (26 page)

H
UGH STOOD AT
the gates of the Four Courts and studied his watch.

He was a full hour early. He decided to go down to the canteen and treat himself to a second breakfast. He was quite hungry actually, he hadn’t noticed that until now. He’d been in such a rush to get out of the house, he hadn’t eaten properly. He queued up with a tray at the counter, placing an order for two fried eggs, two rashers, and two sausages. Some toast and a pot of tea.

“I’ll bring them down to you.”

A young man standing behind him in the queue kept stealing glances over at Hugh for some reason. Hugh was aware he was being watched, but he tried to ignore it. He shuffled along the counter, piling cutlery and napkins onto his tray. He helped himself to some pats of butter, a miniature pot of marmalade with a cheerful gingham lid. He slid the tray on towards the till, offering it up for the scrutiny of the checkout lady.

“That marmalade is two euro.”

“Pardon me, what was that you said?”

“The marmalade, you have to pay two euro for it.”

For a moment he contemplated putting the marmalade back. It seemed to be what was expected of him. But he badly wanted it. He could taste it already, the delicious gloopy tang of it on the buttery toast.

“Yes,” he said, holding out a twenty-euro note. “Yes, that’s all right.”

The man beside him was watching the whole exchange, and for some reason Hugh had the feeling that he was being judged. He picked up his tray and carried it to the farthest corner of the room. He sat down at a four-person table, his back to the wall, where he could keep his eye on everything. Too late, he realized that he should have bought himself a newspaper. They had a stack of them up beside the till. But he wasn’t prepared to go back up and get one now.

The man who’d been watching him had joined a middle-aged couple at a table in the middle of the room. They were having coffee and scones. The man made no secret of the fact that he was watching Hugh. He was leaning in towards the others, but his eyes were fixed on Hugh as he was talking.

There was something familiar about them. Hugh was just trying to place them when his breakfast arrived. A lady in a plastic shower cap set the plate down in front of him. He noticed with distaste that she was wearing a rubber glove.

“Mind that plate,” she said. “It’s hot.”

Without thinking he put his hand out to touch it, scalding the tip of his middle finger. He laid a paper napkin out on his lap, picked up his knife and fork, and tucked into his food.

How long has it been since I’ve treated myself to a fry? he was thinking. Well, I’m not going to have it spoiled on me now just because some oddball is staring at me. Probably a patient, he was thinking, it’s impossible to remember them all.

He cut into a sausage, dipping it into the yolk of his egg with childish pleasure before popping it into his mouth.

They were leaving now, thank God, they were struggling to their feet. The younger man was helping the older pair to gather up their coats.

Hugh kept on eating his breakfast, monitoring their movements out of the corner of his field of vision. It looked like they were coming over this way. Definitely one of them must have been a patient, they were probably coming over to thank him. He’d have to rush them through it or his breakfast would get cold.

“Mary,” the younger man was saying. He was tugging at her arm, trying to stop her. “Just leave it, would you?”

“I’ll only be a minute,” she said, coming round to stand in front of Hugh’s table.

It was only then that Hugh recognized her.

“There’s just one thing I’d love to know,” she said to him.

Her eyes were small and beady, her face dry and lined. The way she looked at him, it nearly stopped his heart. Nobody had ever looked at him like that before, with such pure and unadulterated contempt.

“Have you ever stopped to think,” she said, “how you would feel…”

For the rest of his days he would remember the way she said it. The way she put the stress on that one particular word.

“…how you would feel if it was
your
daughter.”

IMMEDIATELY, THEY SAW
the physical change in him. You noticed it as soon as you saw him coming through the leaded glass door. It was as if the air had been let out of him. He looked deflated. He looked old.

He collapsed onto a chair opposite them. He had a leather satchel with him but he didn’t open it, he just laid it down on the table in front of him. He didn’t say a word to either of them, he just sat there with his helpless little satchel before him. His overcoat was folded over his left arm. He had the appearance of a man waiting for a train at the end of a very long day.

“Good morning, Hugh!” said the solicitor in a deliberately buoyant tone. The barrister echoed the greeting, his voice deep and theatrical. He was wearing his wig and gown. It gave him an added layer of drama, to have his costume on him. The solicitor looked a bit drab next to him, like a plain old female bird. A young junior counsel stood anxiously by the wall. Say nothing, she’d been told. There’s no telling what would set him off.

They all waited for a response but there was no indication that Hugh had heard them. There was no answer from him. He just balanced there on the small upholstered chair, a slight trace of a frown on his face, as if he were trying to remember something.

The two lawyers looked at each other nervously. For a moment, neither of them quite knew what to do.

“Well, Hugh,” said the solicitor at last. “There’s a few things on the list ahead of us but it looks like we should get on sometime this morning. The plaintiff will be the first up.”

Hugh looked through him. He was wearing a strange expression, like he was asleep and the two men sitting across the table from him were just people in his dream.

The solicitor looked down at the stack of papers in front of him and started shuffling through them, looking for something.

“We’ll just take a quick run through things,” he said, glancing up at Hugh. “Just to make sure we’re all on the same page.”

He looked across to the barrister for support. But the barrister had leaned back into his chair. He had his robe spread out under him, his pinstriped legs stretched out into the corridor. He was watching Hugh with an expression of detached amusement, his eyebrows slightly raised as he waited to see what was going to happen next.

The double doors flapped and a gust of wind came through. The next thing a huge round man with a red face was standing beside the table. He had a suit on that looked like a shell he didn’t quite fit into, his body squirming its way out of it.

“McGovern versus Murphy?”

The barrister sat up with a jolt.

“Court five?”

“Yes,” said the solicitor. “Yes, yes, that’s us.”

“The judge is ready for you.”

“Oh, very good. Yes, very good. We’ll be with him directly.”

The solicitor was on his feet now, bundling his papers into a small suitcase he had on the floor beside him.

“We’re in luck,” he said unconvincingly, looking up at Hugh.

“Showtime!” said the barrister. And as he jumped up he wrapped his gown across his chest and pushed out his ribs. A primal gesture, he might as well have beaten on his chest with his fists.

Hugh looked from one to the other of them, a dark shadow passing over his face.

Before they knew what was happening he was on his feet and mumbling a garbled apology. He had his satchel clutched to his chest, his coat still slung over his arm. He stood there for a moment, as if he were waiting for the door of a train to open. The next thing he was on the move. Without another word, he navigated his way round the tipstaff, pushing through the double doors and out of sight.

THEY TRIED TO
catch up with him.

They dashed out after him, the three of them, the young junior counsel struggling to run in her high heels. They stood out on the street looking this way and that, but there was no sign of him anywhere.

They tried calling him on his mobile to no avail. They tried for an adjournment but the judge was having none of it. In the end, they were forced to go ahead without him. Hamlet without the prince, whispered the barrister to the solicitor as they took their seats at the front of the courtroom.

The insurance company made one last push to settle but the family dug their heels in. They wanted their day in court.

As witness after witness was called, as experts arrived from England to testify, still there was no sign of Hugh. Message after message was left on his answering machine, but not a word back. Three days it dragged on for, each one worse than the last.

The outcome was a foregone conclusion.

T
HE DOCTORS SAID
three months and three months it was, almost to the day.

Time is a funny thing, when you put it like that. You’d think it was rigid. You’d think it was something that can only be measured out in equal segments, one minute inevitably following the other at an unforgiving pace. But that’s not the way it works. Time can be elastic too. It can be anything you want it to be.

The doctors said three months and it seemed like such a short time when they said it like that. But what went into those three months, that was the thing that defied all logic! Addie and Bruno managed to squeeze a whole marriage into that skinny little sliver of time.

The marriage ceremony was held in the register office on Grand Canal Street. You were supposed to give them three months’ notice. Addie smiled when she heard that. You had to get a document from the courts to secure an exemption. You had to show you had a valid reason why the standard notification period posed a difficulty for you.

“That we can do,” said Addie cheerfully.

She had planned the wedding herself, right down to the last detail. The silver satin dress she bought in a secondhand shop, she spray-painted a pair of her old shoes to match. No fancy car, no photographer, no flowers, no fuss. She booked Danny’s place for a late lunch and ordered steak and chips for everyone. A stack of meringues as a cake. She told one of the waitresses she’d pay her extra to sing and play the guitar.

“Oh, I see,” said Della, “it’s a crazy wedding you’re having.”

But Addie just laughed. That was the good thing about her situation, she could do anything she wanted to. The freedom of it! She felt like the strings that had been holding her down all her life had been severed. She was floating above the ground now, blowing along like a leaf caught on a gust of wind.

She gave the kids the job of smuggling Lola into the register office. She was absolutely determined that Lola be there.

“She’s the closest thing I have to a baby,” she told them, and they all nodded solemnly.

They decided Lola needed a disguise. They dressed her up in a sunhat and a velvet wrap that they draped around her shoulders like a cloak. Then they manhandled her into a cloth carrier bag that they slung over Elsa’s shoulder. All you could see were Lola’s frightened eyes peering out from under the brim of the hat.

“Straight out of
ET
,” said Hugh when he saw her. And the kids crumpled into a noisy heap of giggles.

Tess sat Lola beside her on the bench, keeping her arm around her to hold her steady. She fed her a stream of dog biscuits from her pocket. The registrar was very cool. She pretended not to notice.

Afterwards they all strolled round the corner to Danny’s. They drank champagne from stubby little wineglasses and Bruno read out the messages that had been sent by his sisters. There was a strict ban on speeches, but Maura stood up anyway and proposed a toast. Nobody else attempted to speak, not even Hugh, who was surprisingly quiet. He kept patting Addie’s arm, his eyes glistening behind his glasses with what looked alarmingly like tears.

After lunch the waitress settled herself and her guitar onto a high stool by the bar.

“First dance,” said the little girls, starting up a chant. “First dance, first dance.”

Bruno stood up and held his hand out to Addie with a flourish. The kids were all clapping as she was dragged to her feet. She followed Bruno over to a tiny patch of floor space between the table and the coffee machine. Still holding Bruno’s hand she leaned over and whispered something in the waitress’s ear.

By special request of the bride, announced the waitress. And she started to sing, in a clear sweet voice:

Bruno threw his head back and laughed, spinning Addie round by her waist in a tight little circle. They were both of them singing along as they danced:

The little girls were up dancing now, waltzing awkwardly along the narrow aisle in pairs, crashing into the tables as they went.

Hugh and Maura sat side by side in quiet solidarity. They looked for all the world like an old married couple. Simon was watching the girls nervously, afraid they were about to break something. Della was staring at Addie and Bruno in horror, following them with her huge round eyes as they moved about the room.

“They’re mad,” she said quietly to herself, “they’re completely bloody mad.”

Addie and Bruno were whirling around the room, lost in their own private joke. Della jumped up and ran to the loo in a flood of tears.

BEFORE THEY LEFT,
Addie asked Danny to take a group photo. In the photograph, they’re all standing outside under the shadow of the awning. Addie and Bruno are in the center of the group with the little girls spread out in front of them. Hugh and Maura are standing to one side. Hugh has his arm draped awkwardly around Maura’s shoulders, pulling her into the picture. Simon and Della are on the far side, Simon’s hands firmly planted on Lisa’s shoulders. Tess and Stella are both craning their heads back to look at Addie. Elsa is crouching down to hold Lola still.

Afterwards, Della will study that photograph time and time again, searching for any evidence of what it was they were going through. She will scrutinize their faces one by one, looking for an indication that there was something wrong. She will stare at her own face, looking back in time for some visual evidence of her agony. But there’s nothing there. It’s quite eerie. It’s as if the photograph failed to capture anything at all.

In the picture you see Hugh standing tall, his head held high with his old air of defiance, his glasses reflecting the light. Maura is leaning in under his embrace, as jaunty as ever. Simon is at ease with himself, his shoulders thrown back, his child held square in front of him like a shield. Della has adopted a frozen smile. She looks as if she’s been placed in this group by mistake. They could all be strangers to her.

Bruno is standing proudly in the center of the picture, his arm around Addie’s waist. He’s looking straight at the camera, a patient air about him. And Addie, Addie looks like she doesn’t have a care in the world!

FOR THEIR HONEYMOON
they drove down to the south coast. Bruno had found the hotel on the Internet. A stone building set into the cliffs, it had an infinity pool looking out over the sea.

“How did you find it?” asked Addie. “It couldn’t be more perfect.”

Outside the window the view was clear right to the other side of the bay. You could pick out the mobile homes on the far headland. You could see the fluorescent yellow and pink buoys rolling in the water, the mustard-colored lichen on the rocks below the hotel.

They were sitting in matching armchairs facing out of the window. They were drinking champagne out of thin flutes, both of them bundled up in huge white hotel bathrobes. Addie had her feet perched up on the coffee table in front of her. For once, she’d painted her toenails.

“I feel like a character in an F. Scott Fitzgerald novel. I feel like some beautiful tragic person in a Swiss sanatorium.”

He turned and looked at her and his eyes were so sad.

“Oh, Bruno. Please don’t look at me like that.”

She turned her head to look out the window. She took a sip of her champagne.

“You’ll marry again,” she said gently.

He shook his head. “I won’t.”

She had her eyes fixed on the sea as she spoke. Her tone was matter-of-fact.

“Oh, you will. You’ll marry again. I’d like you to, it would be the greatest compliment you could pay me. Della says people who’ve had one good marriage always get married again.”

She turned to face him.

“It makes sense,” she said. “It’s because they know how to be happy.”

When she turned back to the window the view had disappeared. All you could see was thick white cloud across everything, like a curtain. You could hear the sea, you knew it was there. You just couldn’t see it.

“You’re forgetting,” Bruno was saying, “I’ve also had a number of unhappy marriages.”

“Oh, don’t be worrying about that,” she said. “We’ve managed to break that cycle.”

That night they ate seafood in the hotel restaurant. They said no to coffee and dessert and they were in bed by nine. They left the bedroom window open so they could listen to the sound of the waves crashing endlessly down onto the sand as they slept.

DURING THE DAY
they walked the beach.

“God, I miss Lola,” said Addie. “I feel so disloyal walking on a beach without her. We should have brought her with us.”

“Oh, I’m sure she’s having a good time with Hugh.”

“What would you give to be a fly on the wall?”

“Poor Lola,” said Bruno with a little shake of his head.

“Poor Hugh,” said Addie, laughing.

“I bet they’re getting on like a house on fire.”

Addie hooked her arm into his, looking up at him hopefully.

“Bruno,” she said. “Do you think there’s any chance that Hugh might get attached to her?”

And by the look on her face, he knew what it was that she was asking him. He knew what she was hoping for.

“Stranger things have happened,” he said, squeezing her hand.

And she nodded happily.

“It’s nice to think of them together.”

They stopped walking. They had reached the end of the beach. The clouds had parted and the sun was out, the spray from the waves dancing in the sunlight. They turned to face the sea.

“Let’s swim!” she said all of a sudden.

“Are you crazy?” said Bruno. “It’s April!”

But she was already pulling off her runners. She was dragging her jumper over her head. The next thing she was standing there before him in her vest and knickers.

“Come on! Quick, while the sun is out.”

Looking at her there, it was hard to believe there was anything wrong with her.

Bruno struggled out of his clothes, piling them up beside hers on a rock. Hopping along on the balls of his feet, he followed her across the damp sand towards the water.

He went in up to his knees, his arms out either side of him. He flapped them up and down, as if he were hoping he might rise and hover above the water. She was ahead of him. She was already in beyond her hips.

“Just so you know,” he shouted, “I don’t think we should be doing this.”

She turned from the waist, the wind blowing her hair across her face.

“What are you so worried about?” she called back. “That it might kill me?”

And with that she plunged her shoulders down under the water. He took a great leap and dived in after her.

They both came up gasping. Laughing and spluttering, swimming like crazy to keep the blood flowing. Bruno swam one way, and she swam the other. Then they turned and came back towards each other.

“It’s heaven!” she shouted. She was lying on her back, looking up at the sky. “I love it!”

She flipped over onto her front again, swimming up to where Bruno was standing chest deep in the water. She draped her arms around his shoulders. She wrapped her legs around his hips, and pressing her pelvis into his, she sat up out of the sea. She was almost weightless.

“Would you look at us,” she said, throwing her head back and laughing a dirty laugh. “Straight out of a honeymoon brochure.”

And she bent her head down to kiss him, her wet hair whipping his face, her arms closing tighter around his neck. The kiss could only have lasted a few seconds. But for Bruno it would be frozen in time. He would carry that kiss with him always.

THEY BROKE THEIR
trip off a day early.

“Bruno,” said Addie as they finished breakfast one morning. “I think I need to get home.”

And Bruno didn’t ask her why. He just went back to their room and started packing up their things. He gathered up their walking boots and their raincoats and their jumpers and he threw them into the suitcase. He took the wet swimsuits off the hook on the back of the bathroom door and he sealed them inside a plastic bag before putting them into the case too. He tossed the little shampoo bottles into his toiletry bag, he checked under the bed, and he looked inside the wardrobe to make sure they weren’t leaving anything behind. Then he carried their suitcase out to reception and paid the bill. He left Addie sitting on a sofa inside the door while he went to bring the car round.

“You’re a good husband,” she said as she sat in the car. “I couldn’t have got myself a better husband.”

But Bruno didn’t reply. He waited until she had the car door closed, then he swung a tight circle and drove down the hill towards the village. The beach was on their right as they passed through, another moment and it was gone.