‘What were you told?’
‘That it was Anna.’
Teresa is shocked. Of course she is.
‘Jealousy, I think it was. That’s what I was told anyway.’
She sits back in her chair, and probably won’t even hear the rest of what I have to say.
‘The guards believed it was an accident. The coroner didn’t.’
That’s the only reason that Tom told me what Anna had done. The coroner insisted it was foul play, and I suppose Tom knew that it might end up in court. He said it wouldn’t be fair to your father or your sisters, to drag them through all that. He was keen to protect Anna. To eliminate any chance of questioning. He only told me what she did so I wouldn’t push for an investigation.
‘The whole thing was handled all wrong. The guards in Kilmarra weren’t trained for that sort of thing.’
They moved you before anybody official had come to have a look at you. In the end, it was easy enough for Tom to convince everyone it was an accident. The whole thing got thrown out. Nobody even looked at Anna.
I have chosen to believe that it really was an accident. And although there are times that it builds up within me near the point of violence,her involvement is something that I try to keep in my back pocket. Unsaid, unacknowledged.
‘Everything happened very fast. I think I was in shock until after the funeral.’
Tom insists that we have to look after Anna, that she’s fragile. When I was waist-deep in grief, I agreed without even considering it. But it doesn’t make sense anymore; my life revolving around her, submitting to her. You know, I would walk out on her in the morning. Let Tom look after her. I would take Peggy and never come back, if I only had the means to do it. Money, and a house, and all of the other things a child needs. All of the love I have for Peggy has trapped me at home, with Anna.
I always thought that facing this would break my heart beyond repair. But now I’ve faced it, and my heart isn’t broken at all. And I’m not sure what to do with that.
‘Oh, Jack.’
Teresa says, and for a second I see her hesitating, perhaps even afraid. But she moves closer.
I always hoped that admitting this would set me free. But now I’ve admitted it, and I’m not free. Now, I’m a man without his woman or his god or his sister. I wish I could take it all back. I wish that I could believe in Anna’s innocence, in Tom’s good intentions, in heaven and the soul; because if anyone ever had a soul, and if anyone ever deserved salvation, it’s you, Lillian.
There is a hesitation between us. Teresa wants to kiss me, but isn’t sure if she can. Somehow, I want to do the same. She leans her forehead on mine. A moment of stillness.
The telephone shrieks, and she gets up to answer it.
Anna
I SIT MYSELF AT BETTY’Skitchen table. The smell of fresh bread fills the room, the warm sunlight coming in the window. It’s like a dream. She is close to me. Right next to me. So close that I am wetted by the condensation of her breathing. So close that we are one fluid thing. At last, thinking one line of thought. We touch, the velvet of her fingertip against mine. Her hand against mine. Hip against hip. Rib against rib. Bone against fat. Where we touch, we burn. We become a star. Burning so brightly that we set the kitchen alight. At last, I am home.
Tom’s hand comes to my shoulder.
‘Okay, Anna?’
Oh. I’m at home. Not in Betty’s kitchen at all. A daydream that got out of hand, again. How dour it all seems now, the pale light of a cold sun barely meeting my windows. The smell of nothing. The feeling of nothing. It’s unsettling how quickly it all changes. It was all so vivid, perhaps too vivid; I should have known it wasn’t real. These days, my thoughts are like rushing water. They come and go so fast I can hardly even see them. How am I to make sense of anything like that?
‘Anna?’
Tom tries again. There’s something short about the way he’s speaking. His voice cuts, like he doesn’t want to be talking to me at all.I smile, my eyes wet from the daydream.
‘Yes, sorry! Just thinking about the shopping. I’ve to get a few messages tomorrow.’
In truth, I don’t know what I’m doing with myself tomorrow. I have nothing to do and nowhere to go. Nobody to be with, now that Betty wants her space. I have to stop letting myself drown in deep thoughts. I have to stop talking about what I want, and get what I want.
Tom
AFTER MASS, BILL DROPS PEGGYhome. She is in his geansaí, the sleeves rolled up to half their length. I forget sometimes how young she is. She wriggles in his hands as he ushers her in the door, like she doesn’t want to come home. And by the way he stares at her, he doesn’t want her coming back home, either. I have something that Bill wants. There is something that I take for granted that he is jealous of. I never expected that.
‘Betty would have kept her again tonight, but I said she better come home.’
