The Truth Will Out Page 5

  ‘Mum, you look terrible.’

  Gloria surveyed her daughter, whose pyjama bottoms and string-vest top belonged to different sets; her hair was standing on end and the dark circles once confined to her eye area were threatening to take over her entire face. ‘That makes two of us, my darling.’

  Harri caught a glimpse of herself in the long gilt-edged mirror in the hallway. I really need to bin that mirror. She followed her mother into the kitchen.

  ‘I’m cooking,’ Gloria warned, ‘and you are eating.’

  ‘I feel hungry.’

  ‘You do?’ Her voice held hope.

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘You’re feeling better?’

  ‘Well, I’m not feeling worse.’

  ‘Good,’ Gloria was encouraged, ‘that’s good.’

  Harri sat at the counter nursing a mug of tea while her mother made her favourite risotto. Gloria was quieter than usual. They chatted a little and then lapsed into silence.

  Harri, while glad of the silence, was also perturbed by it. ‘What’s going on with you, Mum?’ she said at last.

  ‘Oh, nothing, nothing at all!’ Her mother was shaking her head too rapidly and was clearly flustered, her hands fluttering to her neck. She was lying.

  When Duncan had made it clear that they had no option but to tell Harri the truth, she had fought him.

  ‘Tell George, but we can’t tell Harri.’

  ‘Oh, Glory,’ he said, ‘we can’t do that, love.’

  ‘George will torture us but eventually he’ll forgive us.’

  ‘And Harri won’t?’

  ‘She might not.’

  ‘I don’t believe that.’ He was resolute.

  She had cried more in the preceding few days than she had in many years, only endeavouring to pull herself together when it became evident that her delicate state was tearing a hole in her husband and her son. Buck up, Gloria. She’ll understand. She’s your daughter. She loves you.

  ‘Well, I think I might be coming down with something,’ Gloria said, after a moment or two. ‘I doubt it’s catching, though.’

  ‘Right.’ Harri nodded, unsure.

  ‘You could do with a wash but you do seem a little better,’ Gloria observed.

  ‘I promised Susan I’d go to her house for dinner tomorrow.’

  ‘Good for you.’

  ‘Melissa’s going.’

  ‘A girls’ night?’

  ‘No, Aidan will be there but George can’t make it. Have you spoken to him lately?’

  ‘No, darling.’ He’s calling every five minutes.

  ‘Huh, he’s being weird.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Maybe it’s just me.’

  ‘You’re still coming to dinner on Wednesday?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘George will be there.’

  Harri spun on her stool. ‘He left a message – he said I should be there.’

  ‘Don’t spin, Harri.’

  ‘Sorry.’

  Gloria put a plate of risotto in front of her daughter. ‘Darling, you know I would die for you, don’t you?’

  The fork stopped short of Harri’s mouth. ‘What?’

  ‘I would, you know. I’d gladly die for you both. You, George and your dad are my world. You know that, don’t you?’

  Are mental breakdowns contagious? Have I infected my entire family? ‘I hadn’t ever thought about you dying for anyone and I seriously hope it never becomes an issue – but thank you. I love you too.’

  Her mother smiled. ‘Good girl.’ She seemed relieved. ‘I should go.’

  Harri walked her mother to the front door. They embraced and her mother held her for the longest time.

  ‘I’ll see you on Wednesday?’ Gloria said.

  ‘I promise.’

  ‘Good girl.’

  Gloria was gone, leaving her daughter in a state of suspicion. This is not just me losing it – something’s going on. And as her brother was intent on avoiding her she knew who to pressure for information.

  Susan checked the lamb – it was cooking nicely. Beth had abandoned ship, creeping upstairs as soon as her mother’s back was turned, even though she had promised to prepare the starter. Beth’s so jumpy this evening.

  Melissa was the first to arrive, thrilled to bits to have an excuse to leave her home, her husband and their two children. ‘I can’t believe you managed to talk her into this,’ she said, referring to Harri, while pouring two large glasses of wine.

  ‘I was pretty surprised myself.’

  ‘Is George coming?’

  ‘Apparently he’s busy. He sounded odd.’

  ‘He and Aidan haven’t split up again?’

  ‘No,’ she said, handing Melissa a knife. ‘Start chopping.’

  ‘Will do, boss.’

  Aidan was next to arrive. He was in and pouring wine before the door was closed. ‘Kisses,’ he said, as usual – the word replaced the gesture.

  ‘What’s up with George?’ Susan asked.

  ‘Can’t say.’

  ‘So there is something up with him,’ said Melissa.

  ‘I can’t say.’

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘Allow me to refer you to my previous statement.’

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous, Aidan. You’ve never kept a secret in your life,’ said Susan, covering a bowl of salad with way too much clingfilm.

  ‘It’s not my secret.’

  ‘So there is a secret!’ Melissa said, nodding to herself in a manner not too distant from that of Sherlock Holmes’s good friend Watson.

  ‘I can’t say.’

  ‘Of course you can,’ said Susan. ‘That is, of course you can if you ever want another referral.’

  ‘Below the belt, Susan, and no, I can’t. George doesn’t know what’s going on. A dinner will be held in the Ryan household on Wednesday night and all will be revealed.’

  ‘Does this have to do with Harri’s panic attacks?’ Melissa said, remembering her conversation with George.

  ‘Maybe. Then again, maybe not.’

  The two women looked at one another, then back to Aidan. It was all terribly dramatic. Aidan loved drama so he hammed it up as much as possible. The doorbell rang.

  ‘That’s Harri,’ Susan said, in a whisper.

  ‘Say nothing,’ Aidan warned.

  ‘There’s nothing to say. We don’t actually know anything,’ Melissa reminded him.

  ‘A good reason to say nothing,’ Aidan said.

  The doorbell rang again. ‘Oh, for God’s sake, answer the door, Susan!’

  Harri had washed and put on something respectable.

  Susan welcomed her warmly. ‘It’s so good to see you. You’ve lost weight. Bitch!’

  ‘Thanks.’ Harri felt awkward. She had considered backing out but had had second thoughts, fearing the wrath of her well-meaning friends.

  Melissa greeted her with a freshly poured drink.

  ‘I’m driving.’

  ‘Oh, well, all the more for me!’ Melissa seemed a little too jovial but, then, she didn’t get out much.

  Aidan hadn’t seen Harri since she’d failed to turn up at her own wedding. ‘I’m really sorry, Hars.’

  ‘Thanks. What’s going on with George?’

  Aidan paled a little. Melissa and Susan were left a little dumbfounded, allowing Harri time to assess the situation. They all know. Bastards. ‘Well?’

  ‘No idea,’ Aidan said unconvincingly.

  ‘Susan?’

  ‘How would I know?’

  Susan lied almost as badly as Aidan.

  ‘Melissa?’

  ‘I can’t say,’ she faltered.

  Harri nodded. ‘Okay. I was beginning to think I was going mad, I mean really mad, but I’m not, am I? Something’s going on. What is it, Aidan?’

  ‘Okay, you’re right.’ He see
med relieved to be forced to capitulate. ‘Your parents are going to make some sort of announcement on Wednesday.’

  ‘What kind of announcement?’

  ‘I swear I don’t know. They wouldn’t say.’

  ‘Try again.’

  ‘It’s about you.’

  Harri felt the breath leave her. Her knees shook a little.

  Susan gently assisted her towards a chair. ‘I’m sure it’s nothing.’

  ‘George doesn’t know what it is?’

  ‘They want to tell you together. If he knew I’d said anything he’d kill me. He didn’t want to upset you.’

  ‘I won’t say a word,’ Harri promised.

  During dinner she was quiet. What could it be? What could it be?

  Aidan, Melissa and Susan managed to get through three bottles of wine and were on another planet. Harri figured she’d stayed long enough to be polite. She went to the bathroom before she said goodbye. When she came out she bumped into Beth.

  ‘Beth, you scared me!’

  ‘Sorry, Harri.’

  ‘It’s okay, I was dreaming.’

  ‘Harri?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘I’m sorry about the whole wedding fiasco.’

  Harri laughed a little. Beth was the first person with enough balls to call a spade a spade. ‘Thanks.’

  ‘Harri?’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘Can I talk to you?’

  ‘Oh. Okay,’ she said.

  They went into Beth’s room and sat down. It was cosy and clean with a desk, a computer, TV, DVD and a sound system with speakers mounted on the wall. ‘God, we could be in Dixons!’ said Harri.

  ‘Yeah. Listen, I’m in a bit of trouble.’ Beth seemed a little jumpy.

  ‘Shouldn’t you be talking to your mother?’ Harri was beginning to panic.

  ‘I really don’t want to.’

  ‘Why me?’

  ‘Well, you’re Mum’s business partner and friend, I’ve known you most of my life and I’ve kind of messed up and – well – you tend to mess up so I thought you might understand.’

  Good argument.

  ‘No offence.’

  ‘None taken.’

  They sat in silence for a moment or two. ‘So what’s the problem?’ Please don’t be pregnant.

  Beth laughed. ‘I’m not pregnant.’

  Thank you, God. ‘I never said you were.’

  ‘You were thinking it.’

  ‘Yes, I was.’

  Beth laughed again. She liked Harri. ‘I’ve got crabs.’

  ‘Oh.’ Harri stood up.

  ‘Will you take me to a clinic in town? I couldn’t bear to tell my GP.’

  ‘You’re sure?’

  ‘Positive. I’ve been tearing the fanny off myself all day and you can actually see them.’

  ‘Oh, God.’

  ‘I know. Have you ever had them?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘You’re lucky.’

  Harri sat on the hard chair by the computer. She contemplated wiping it but feared it would be impolite. ‘Can I ask how you caught crabs?’

  ‘I’m not a slut.’

  ‘I didn’t say you were.’

  ‘But you were thinking it.’

  ‘I certainly was not.’

  ‘Okay.’ Beth smiled.

  ‘So?’

  ‘So I was going out with a guy with for six months. We started doing it two months ago and we were being careful. His parents took him skiing last month. He met a slut, slutted with the slut and, long story short, I’ve got an ice pack shoved down my knickers.’

  ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘I don’t care. He’s a slut.’

  ‘You care.’

  ‘Yeah, I do, but I’m all cried out.’

  ‘I know the feeling.’ Harri stood up. ‘I’ll make an appointment tomorrow.’

  Beth handed Harri her card. ‘Call me directly, okay?’

  ‘You have a card? Sixteen-year-olds have cards?’

  ‘It’s easy. Anyone can do it with a computer and colour printer.’

  ‘When I was your age we really didn’t have a clue.’

  ‘Yeah, well, think about my poor mother – she has sixteen years on you. Can you imagine how green she was?’

  ‘Green but very likely crab-free.’ Harri smiled and Beth laughed.

  ‘You won’t say anything?’ she asked, and Harri promised to remain silent for the second time that night.

  Later, in bed, Harri remained wide awake. Her head was full and yet empty, so many questions and no answers.

  What’s going on? I don’t know. What could it be? I have no idea. Is it about me alone or George and me? I should have pushed Aidan more. Is it my health? I’m thirty years old – surely I’d know more about the state of my health than my parents. Wouldn’t I? Why did Mum say she’d die for me? Why does George feel like he has to avoid me? What could be so bad? How upset does he think I’m going to be? Surely this week couldn’t get any bloody worse. I should be on honeymoon, for God’s sake. God, I ache for James. Please come home! Please forgive me. I’m lost without you. And what about Beth having crabs? Jesus, I didn’t see that coming. Should I tell Susan? No, I shouldn’t break Beth’s trust. It’s good that she came to me. I’m an adult. It was responsible of her. Why didn’t she tell Susan? They’re so close – maybe that’s why. Oh, God, maybe should I tell Susan. Definitely not. I’d love to hunt that dirty little bastard down. I wish I could talk to James. He’d think this was funny – the crabs, not the secret. The secret would freak him out. I feel like tea but I’d better not – I’ll end up pouring it all over myself. Why do I always become awkward and accident-prone when I’m upset? Holy hell, Susan’s baby has crabs! Well, now, what do I really think about that …

  It was after three when Harri finally dozed off.

  2 June 1975 – Monday

  HE came home last night. I knew it couldn’t last. He was out of his mind. He hit Mam over and over. I ran to Nosy Crowley’s but she was on the phone to the police before I knocked on the door. Good for her. She was on her own and was too afraid of him to help. I was too scared to go back. I feel terrible but the police and Nosy Crowley said I was right to stay out of harm’s way. Easy for them to say, they weren’t getting their faces punched in. They locked him up and I went with Mam in the ambulance. She kept saying she was fine, and she didn’t look as bad as I thought she would. She’s been worse. Her lip is in bits, though. She’s staying in again tonight. Of course he was let out this morning. Typical. She said that was the end of it. He wasn’t welcome at home again. I’ll believe it when I see it. Why is she so weak?

  Dr B – that’s what I’m calling Brendan now. It has a nice ring to it. Anyway, Dr B was in the hospital last night. He was visiting one of his patients. She’s eighty-eight and dying. He’s so nice. I saw her. She’s bonkers and he could have easily got away without visiting but he did anyway. He asked after Mam. I told him straight out, and he seemed shocked. He tried to talk to her but she wasn’t having any of it. He bought me a coffee later after she’d kicked us out of her room. He said I was strong. I’m not strong. If I was strong HE would be pushing up daisies. It was nice to hear, though, in that sing-songy voice. He said he wasn’t used to people being so open. He said it was a nice change. I don’t know what he means. I’m hardly in a position to pretend. The whole town knows what HE’s like. Well, most of it. What am I supposed to do – bury my head in the sand along with my mam? No thanks.

  I started work today. Mam insisted. I’m glad. I hate sitting around hospitals. Besides, I was actually starting to look forward to cleaning up horseshit. So how great is my life? Henry was nice. He showed me around again and introduced me to the people I’ll be working with. Delamere’s son Matthew will be home all summer. He’s working in the stables too. He’s my age but I don’t really know him, only to s
ee. He goes to a boarding-school in Dublin. He’s tall and cute, really cute, but I think he’s a bit stuck-up or maybe he’s shy. I haven’t made my mind up yet. He was mucking out in the stable next to me and didn’t say a word – well, not to me. He talked to the horse a lot, though. WEIRDO. It wasn’t a bad day, actually. I even got to ride Betsy. I was ready to wee my pants but I thought, why not? It was scary. I felt so high up but it was fun. Matthew was flying around the place on his horse, Nero – he was jumping over fences and everything. I was being led around by Henry. I felt a bit of a twit but Henry says I’ll be galloping in no time. I don’t know whether I like that idea. I’ll see.

  It’s weird being home alone. Father Ryan called earlier to check on me. He told me Dr B had filled him in and asked if I was all right. What is it with Dr B and the priest? I said I was fine but I offered him tea. We hadn’t much to talk about but it felt better having him in the house. He said I could stop by the parish house any time. Why would I do that??? He said he’d called in to Mam but she was sedated. Sedated my eye, she was pretending. Oh, and just to note: Matthew Delamere looks really, REALLY like Starsky from Starsky & Hutch – or maybe it’s Hutch. I always get them confused. He looks like the blond one, except he has brown hair. He has a black cord jacket with patches on the sleeves and I know it sounds nerdy but it looks really good. I think I’ll talk to him tomorrow.

  5. Ms Know-it-all

  The following morning, a horribly hung-over Melissa woke up to the sound of crying. Gerry turned over and snored a little for effect. I know you’re awake, wanker. It was just after five and the fifth morning in a row that Carrie, the baby, had woken for no apparent rhyme or reason. Melissa dragged herself into a sitting position and then stood up. I’m coming, I’m coming. Carrie stopped crying as soon as she was picked up. In the week just past she had decided that it suited her to be walked between the hours of five and seven a.m. As soon as Jacob, Melissa’s four-year-old, and Gerry awoke to get ready for playschool and work, Carrie wanted a snooze.

  The night before, Gerry had promised he’d get up: Melissa had been so tired that she’d threatened to pull out of dinner at Susan’s, even though she was desperate for a night out, not to mention being the designated shoulder for her newly separated best friend to cry upon. He had looked her in the eye and told her emphatically that he would take his turn without word or grumble. He had lied. Carrie had started crying and he had ignored her. Melissa had nudged him gently and he had turned over stiffly. She had poked him and he had huffed. The child was near hysterical by the time Melissa reached her. She could have shouted but what would have been the point? Gerry was a nightmare in the mornings.