The bell rang for first period. PE. Cross-country.
‘Brendan,’ said Mrs O’Neill, stopping me in my trudge, ‘lunch offer today still stands.’
I wanted that more than anything, to sit safely in her room and not be anywhere else for what I knew would be a long, long day.
‘Thanks, Miss,’ I said, ‘but I wouldn’t want to be starting any rumours.’
She laughed.
‘Well I won’t take that personally,’ she said, ‘but if you change your mind you know my door is always open.’
‘I do, Miss. Thanks, Miss.’
Later, amongst the herd of boys charging across the crispy grass, with numb feet and weak legs, my head sloshing like it was filled with water, I ran harder than I’d ever run before. But I was still the last one to finish.
16
‘Well young fella,’ said Matty Feeney, wandering round the side of the funeral home with a mug of tea in one hand and a cigarette in the other. I was cleaning the vehicle he had driven Ronan in on Monday, which ended up being the only day Ronan had come to school the whole week. ‘You getting that aul muck-skite off the aowl banger there, are ye?’ The gentle-mannered version of Matty who had driven Ronan was gone and the version I was used to had returned.
‘Aye, Matty, did you drive it through a field or what?’
‘Ah would you believe she’s been sittin’ bone idle all week? Bit like ma’self. Naw, that’s Monday’s doin’ all caked in from pickin’ up your wee friend. Thought he’d be my new wee regular. What happened? Has he taken a turn for the worse or what? No one tells me nothin’.’
‘I didn’t get the details myself,’ I said, which was only half true. I hadn’t phoned the McCoys, even though I knew I should, but it felt awkward because I didn’t know them all that well. Plus, it was my fault. I’d probably let them down. I’d failedRonan on his first day. I was wondering if he would ever want to see me again; maybe he’d scream like he did in the canteen any time I came near him.
‘You’re best friends, are yous not?’ Matty said.
‘How’d you know that?’
‘Emma, his ma, said to me on Monday. She was admirin’ how spruce the motor was and when I said it was a young fella called Brendan that looked after the motors she couldn’t believe it was the same Brendan that went to school with her young fella – Ryan, is it?’
‘Ronan.’
‘He let a big laugh out of him at the mention of your name, he didn’t let up for a good minute.’
I stopped what I was doing, gripping the sponge, wringing drips onto my feet.
‘He laughed?’
‘Oh aye, and then when he eased off and Emma said your name again that set him off laughin’ even more. Emma said she’d never seen him go on like that before. So I was surprised to get the call on Monday to bring him home early when he’d been goin’ on like that on the drive in. But sure maybe the two of yous got to have plenty’a’laughs before he left?’
‘No, not exactly, Matty. Actually, it wasn’t a good first day at all.’
‘Oh right, why’s that?’
‘Just wasn’t.’
‘Oh right, surprised to hear that – there’s no doubt with the antics of him in the back of the motor on Monday mornin’ that he was lookin’ forward to seein’ you, or at least that’s the way I saw the situation, but sure I know nothin’.’
Ever since Tuesday, I had been building the belief that it was because of me that Ronan didn’t come back to school. But after what Matty had just said, maybe I was wrong.
‘So is that it then?’ said Matty. ‘No more school for Ryan? – Ronan?’
‘Who said that? My form teacher said he might be back next week. Did someone say no more school?’
‘Ah maybe I’ve got it wrong then. Gerry just said to me there now they’ve cancelled the school run for Ronan for the rest of the term and they’d be in touch in the New Year. But no, maybe I’ve got it wrong, sure Gerry’s in the office there, I’ve no head for keepin’ track of them things ma’self so I don’t.’
I dropped the sponge and went straight to the front door of the funeral home, which was also Mr Feeney’s family home. He always told me not to bother knocking and just come in but I never felt comfortable doing that, I always rang the doorbell. His wife was usually in the midst of household stuff, as well as looking after their two young girls. She opened the door and the smell of something frying in the kitchen hit my nose. Mrs Feeney, even at the early hours of a Saturday morning, always looked like she had just had a makeover at a salon. I wondered what time she got up at to do all that; I never saw her look any other way.
