Читать книгу I Confess - Alex Barclay - Страница 15

Johnny waited outside the bar until everyone had caught up. He pushed open the door and guided everyone through with a sweep of his arm. The room had a mix of mahogany panelling and slate-grey walls, thick carpet in charcoal grey, and small round tables with green leather chairs. A log fire burned and crackled drawing everyone’s attention until Murph boomed, ‘No way,’ and crossed to the opposite wall. Johnny, Edie, and Helen laughed.

Murph looked back at Johnny and Edie, his eyes gleaming. ‘Is that … is your drinks cabinet an actual confession box?’

‘Yes, it is,’ said Johnny.

Murph shook his head, smiling.

‘It’s a little kitsch,’ said Edie, ‘but we couldn’t resist.’

‘I love honesty bars,’ said Murph. ‘But I prefer lying, filthy, cheating bars.’

‘It’s superb,’ said Clare. ‘Is it from the chapel?’

Johnny nodded. ‘There were four of them, which was a bit much when you think of the size of it. We kept one where it was, ripped the other three out, and had this one restored.’

‘Look,’ said Murph. ‘It actually accepts sins.’ He pointed to a slot, and pulled out the drawer underneath. There were folded-up notes inside. He picked out three. ‘“Stole a bathrobe”, “Filled my purse with croissants at breakfast”, and “Had impure thoughts. Followed through.” Fair play to them. I hope the purse one was an American or she wouldn’t have got far.’

‘Is anyone weird about it?’ said Clare. ‘The sacrilege of it all.’

‘No one’s complained yet,’ said Edie. She put her hand on the small of Johnny’s back. ‘Well done, by the way.’ She gestured around the room. ‘He set this all up.’

‘He’s got the fire on, the candles, everything,’ said Laura. ‘Never thought I’d see the day.’

‘I do this all the time,’ said Johnny, frowning. ‘Why is everyone so surprised?’

‘Jesus – I don’t know,’ said Murph. ‘Maybe because of this.’ He pointed to the wall beside the confession box. ‘Johnny’s glory wall under a picture light, in case we might miss it.’ There were framed newspaper cuttings, Munster team photos, shots of Johnny on the pitch, at award ceremonies, with celebrities. Murph pointed to one: ‘New Zealand, 1989. You played some game.’

‘How you didn’t end up playing for Ireland is beyond me,’ said Clare.

‘I agree,’ said Edie.

‘Thank you, ladies,’ said Johnny. He walked over to the drinks. ‘Right – what are you having?’

‘The time of our lives,’ said Murph.

Everyone put in their orders, and Johnny started to make the drinks.

‘Speaking of time,’ said Clare, ‘this is very early for pre-dinner drinks. This could go horribly wrong.’

Johnny handed her a gin and tonic. ‘Starting now.’

‘That’s my fault,’ said Helen. ‘I can’t last very long in the evenings these days. So apologies to all of you for tomorrow’s hangovers.’

‘Who says I’m going to have a hangover?’ said Clare.

‘As Johnny hands everyone a massive drink,’ said Helen. ‘You’ll all be dying in the morning.’

‘Not me,’ said Patrick, pointing to his 7UP.

‘Do you not drink?’ said Laura.

‘No,’ said Patrick. ‘I gave up years ago.’

‘Why’s that?’ said Laura. ‘Health reasons?’

Patrick nodded. ‘I guess so. Stopped one January and never looked back.’

‘Hey – that’s Clare’s line,’ said Johnny. ‘“Never look back”.’

‘“Eyes ahead” is my line!’ said Clare.

‘It’s “eyes ahead”,’ said Murph at the same time.

‘Relax, the pair of you,’ said Johnny.

Clare looked around the room. ‘You’re all an appalling influence and I know I’m going to end end up in some “District Court Judge in Drinking Shame” situation.’

‘We’re well tucked away here,’ said Johnny. ‘What happens in Pilgrim Point stays in Pilgrim Point.’

‘I’d say any fart I crack off tonight after a rake of pints will go well beyond the boundaries,’ said Murph.

‘Any development on the spa?’ said Clare.

‘Well, the plans are drawn up,’ said Edie, ‘but before we can put in for planning, we have to get an archaeological survey done. And there’s no point getting it done at this time of year, so we’re looking at March for that. And on and on.’

‘Ooh,’ said Murph, sucking in a breath, ‘Johnny fucked up there.’

‘What?’ said Edie. She flashed warning eyes at Murph. ‘No, he didn’t.’

‘Sorry,’ said Murph. ‘He just looked a little—’

‘Bored,’ said Edie.

Johnny frowned. ‘I’m not bored, I’m—’

‘I’m teasing,’ said Edie. ‘The chapel is Johnny’s thing.’

‘The chapel’s not “my thing”,’ said Johnny. ‘It’s—’

‘Jesus, lads,’ said Murph. ‘You’ve got visitors. Did your mammies not teach you anything?’

‘So, what are the plans for the chapel?’ said Patrick.

‘Well …’ said Johnny.

‘Well …’ said Edie.

‘What I think we should be doing,’ said Johnny, ‘is corporate events or yoga retreats or conferences or gigs or whatever. We’re in the perfect spot – away from it all, no mobile coverage unless you want to use WhatsApp, no distractions—’

‘And the views,’ said Clare. ‘And the Wild Atlantic Way.’

Murph turned to Edie. ‘And what do you think you should be doing with it?’

‘Not talking about it tonight,’ said Edie, giving him a bright smile.

‘And on and on it goes,’ said Edie. ‘That’s why it’s sort of … in limbo.’

‘Or “under renovation”, as I like to call it,’ said Johnny.

They fell into silence.

‘So,’ said Johnny, turning to Laura, ‘how are you? How are the kid … s?’

‘Good one,’ said Laura. ‘Yes, I’ve more than one. And they’re alive. After that … well, Mammy’s on the lash, isn’t she?’ She took a long sip of her drink.

Murph laughed. ‘Johnny’s like “thank fuck we got that out of the way”.’

‘I hate people banging on about their kids on a night out,’ said Laura.

‘It was a genuine question,’ said Johnny.

‘And have you any more question … s?’ said Murph.

‘Ah, give him a break,’ said Laura. ‘He’s had a fair few knocks to the head over the years. Children: Séamus, seven, Paddy, five: healthy, happy, and tapped.’

‘And the father?’ said Johnny. ‘Both Frank’s?’ He smiled.

‘Johnny!’ said Edie.

‘I see a lot of Brad Pitt in Séamus,’ said Laura.

Johnny turned to Clare. ‘What about your lot?’

Clare smiled. ‘Children: Ava, nineteen, Lucas, fourteen, Marco, twelve. Husband: Alan, forty-eight. Cuddly toy. Toaster. Microwave oven.’

‘Not a child to my name,’ said Murph. ‘Until the knocks on the door start.’

‘Not a child to my name, either,’ said Patrick.

‘Any woman on the scene?’ said Laura.

Patrick shook his head. ‘No.’

‘Man?’ said Clare.

Patrick smiled. ‘Also, no.’

‘And would you like to meet someone?’ said Clare.

‘I would, I suppose,’ said Patrick, ‘but it’s hard enough, these days. And I wouldn’t be one for internet dating.’

‘Multiple women on the go, here,’ said Murph. ‘No apologies.’

‘I hate to stop you mid-candid admission,’ said Clare, ‘but do you mind if we sit down?’

‘Of course,’ said Edie. ‘Sorry.’

‘No,’ said Clare, ‘it’s my shoes.’

‘Remember “don’t puke on my shoes”, “take off my shoes”,’ said Murph.

‘Oh, God,’ said Laura.

‘And the gas part was you were talking to yourself,’ said Murph. ‘Laura, pasted, forehead down on a white plastic table—’

‘That I had to climb under,’ said Helen, ‘so I could take off the shoes.’

‘Well, of course you did,’ said Murph.

There was a chorus from the others, ‘“I couldn’t say no!”’

‘Do I say that a lot?’ said Helen.

They all laughed. ‘Yes,’ said Edie.

‘Yes!’ said Murph. ‘It’s why we all love you.’ He turned to Laura. ‘There’s not many who’d risk climbing under a table when you’re gearing up.’

‘And she managed to have the wherewithal to tell me make sure the shoes were “out of splashing distance”,’ said Helen.

‘Ah, lads,’ said Laura. ‘Clare – you were right. We need to be allowed to forget this shit.’

‘Sure, that’s no craic,’ said Murph.

‘Right, everyone,’ said Johnny. ‘Go – sit. I have a few things to check on and I’ll be back.’

Helen let Johnny pass, and pulled Edie to one side as everyone else sat down.

‘Am I sensing tension?’ said Helen.

‘Where?’ said Edie.

‘Johnny and Patrick?’ said Helen.

Edie’s eyes widened. ‘What? Why do you say that?’

‘Do you really think Johnny believes I randomly bumped into Patrick last week, and just said, “Come on down for my birthday dinner”, given that the last time I laid eyes on him was when he came to say his goodbyes to Sister Consolata in the hospital – and she’s dead – what? Ten years?’

‘Why would Johnny not believe you?’ said Edie.

‘Apart from him or his wife usually being the people who drive me to Cork?’ said Helen. ‘For which I am eternally grateful, obviously.’

Edie smiled. ‘Pleasure. But – you could have been up there with anyone.’

‘I know – I told him I was with one of my nurse pals, but I’m just … questioning the wisdom of your plan. And I was wondering if you were too. Johnny looks on edge.’

‘Johnny always looks on edge,’ said Edie. She caught Helen’s expression. ‘Sorry – that’s awful. Just … you’re making it sound like I’m doing something terrible, when all I wanted was for Patrick to see the inn. That way, if the investment thing becomes a real issue, and Patrick is interested, it won’t be a bolt from the blue – he’ll have been here, seen what we’re doing.’

‘You don’t feel bad, lying to Johnny?’ said Helen.

‘No,’ said Edie. ‘No. The inn is … we need investment, Patrick has the means, he’s our friend.’

‘But the last time you saw him was three years ago. And that was because you needed a favour.’

‘Yes – about the inn,’ said Edie. ‘Because I knew he was in hedge funds, I knew how successful he was, and unlike anyone else I could have asked, he knows Beara. This was a big investment – you know that. Johnny and I were in the States at the time. Patrick was in New York. All I asked him to do was meet me for a chat. And he could have said “No” if he didn’t want to help. I’d have done the same for him. And he was the one who offered to view the place, so …’ She shrugged. ‘Look – he’s a nice guy.’

Helen nodded.

‘I couldn’t have approached just anyone, saying that I wasn’t sure whether or not my husband had a clue what he was doing,’ said Edie. ‘And I wouldn’t have known what a third party would need to be able to give me informed advice. Nor would I have known how to actually gather it all together without Johnny being on to me. I knew what Patrick did, he knows us both, and he knows the property, and after looking at everything, he said, “Go for it!” So he believed in it as a business, which – in my mind – makes him the most logical person to approach as an investor.’

‘No – I know,’ said Helen. ‘It makes sense – sorry. This is my issue. I think I’m feeling guilty because Johnny’s so good.’

‘He is good,’ said Edie, ‘which is the whole point of Patrick being a possible investor – to actually relieve Johnny of pressure.’

Helen glanced up at Edie. ‘Clare – incoming.’

‘What’s going on here, ladies?’ said Clare. ‘It all looks very serious.’ She narrowed her eyes. ‘Are we setting Helen up with Patrick?’

Edie and Helen laughed. ‘No,’ said Edie.

Laura came up behind Clare. She glanced back at Patrick and Murph. ‘Murph’s on about horses.’

‘I was about to say that I’m not sure I believe Patrick Lynch that he’s single,’ said Clare.

‘Why would he lie about that?’ said Edie.

‘I don’t know,’ said Clare.

‘I totally believe he’s single,’ said Laura. ‘I’d say the mother frightened him off women for life. You look back and you think, was she well in the head at all?’ She paused. ‘In fairness, my two will probably think the same about me.’

‘Well, he’s made a success of himself,’ said Helen, ‘so she must have done something right.’

‘Whatever went on in that house,’ said Laura. ‘Good enough for her, the mother died before she could cash in.’

‘Laura!’ said Clare.

‘What?’ said Laura. ‘She was an oddball. Was she ever outside the door? Remember, you’d go by the house, and if the door was open, you’d see the Sacred Heart …’

‘Sure, every house had a Sacred Heart back then,’ said Helen.

‘They did not,’ said Laura. ‘And none were in your face like that.’

Edie glanced over at him. ‘Poor Patrick.’

‘Not any more,’ said Laura.

The others laughed.

‘Right,’ said Edie. ‘I’ll be back. I have a few last-minute bits to do.’

‘I’m mortified,’ said Helen, ‘Honestly. I don’t mind if we have spaghetti on toast.’

Laura rolled her eyes. ‘How about nuggets and chips? Would you eat them if she landed them up in front of you?’

‘Yes!’ said Helen.

‘You would, of course,’ said Laura. ‘Sure, you can’t say “no”!’

The others laughed.

‘What?’ said Helen.

‘Your catchphrase,’ said Clare. ‘“I couldn’t say “no”!”’

‘It is not,’ said Helen. ‘Is it? Did I say that a lot?’

Edie smiled. ‘You still do.’ She put her hand on Helen’s shoulder, and gave it a squeeze. ‘There are worse catchphrases to be known for.’

Edie did one last check of the dining table. She stopped at each place setting, turned the childhood photos right side up, and stood them against a wine glass. When she reached Patrick’s, there was the sound of paper crinkling underfoot. She stepped back and crouched down. There were two pages on the floor – lined, yellowed, ripped from a notebook, both rigid from where a red or black biro had moved back and forth across them with such force, it had broken through the page in places. Edie took them in her hand, and stood up. Her legs went weak, and she reached out for the back of the chair to steady herself. There were crude drawings of faces on each page – circles for heads, black Xs for eyes. The first had a crooked line for a mouth, and a jagged head wound, spurting blood. There was a hammer drawn beside it. The second had a large circle for a mouth, a noose around its neck and a rope that disappeared off the top of the page. HA HA HA HA HA was written to the right of it, and underneath: BYE BYE PATRICK LYNCH.